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"This is an antique car produced before World War II, right? But where did this vehicle co from? And that hood ornant—I rember it belonging to HYDRA during the war."
Henry asked the question as a frail old man, supported by a younger companion, appeared inside the garage.
"You are correct, Mr. Brown," the elderly man said. "The original owner of this car was Johann Schmidt—the Red Skull of HYDRA Germany during World War II.
"This was originally Colonel Phillips' war trophy. The master purchased it from him. The vehicle contains technology far beyond what should have existed in that era.
"That was also why General Phillips, after his promotion, was willing to part with it. In the master's hands, this car could produce far greater value."
The old man was none other than Howard Stark's close friend and butler, Edwin Jarvis.
Naturally, Henry treated an elder like him with respect.
"Mr. Jarvis, it's been a long ti."
"Oh? Have we t before? Please forgive an old man—my mory isn't what it used to be."
"At Mr. Howard Stark's funeral. At the ti, I attended as Ms. Audrey Hepburn's assistant, accompanying Ms. Katharine Hepburn."
Walking up beside the car, the old butler steadied himself with his cane and waved off the younger man's support.
Looking at the war trophy before him, he said:
"The master kept this car not only because he was fascinated by the technology inside it, but also for another reason.
"It's said that this was the last automobile Captain Arica Steve Rogers ever rode in. He even kissed Agent Peggy Carter on it once. Because of that old sentint, the master preserved the vehicle."
Henry looked at the antique machine with reluctant admiration.
"So this really is a car with a story."
Edwin Jarvis nodded.
"Yes. Which is why I hope its next owner is soone who understands those stories. Rather than a young man who can't even be bothered to appreciate them."
Tony Stark, who had just been subtly jabbed, rubbed his nose and accepted the criticism.
This old gentleman was not soone he could argue with.
Turning instead toward the young man standing beside Jarvis, Tony asked:
"Eric, when are you planning to officially start working at Stark Industries?"
The young man replied, "Grandfather already arranged my position. I'll first work under a senior product manager at Stark Industries. After I produce so results, I'll lead projects independently."
Tony Stark nodded.
"Mm. Starting from the basics is good. Compared to people trained directly under and then sent elsewhere, I also need people with different perspectives helping out. Work hard."
In truth, Tony Stark wasn't actually much older than the young man.
It was just that the beard made him look older, and since Howard Stark had only fathered his sole heir at fifty-three, Tony's generation ranking was inexplicably a level higher.
The part that left Henry speechless was that these people genuinely thought this counted as "starting from the bottom."
Forget it.
Trying to discuss what "the lower class" ant with people born holding golden spoons in their mouths was idiotic no matter how he thought about it.
Even if they understood, so what?
Already losing interest, Henry made no effort whatsoever to hide the expression on his face.
Right now, all he wanted was to return to his ho in Los Angeles and sleep properly.
Once he recovered his energy, things were about to get busy.
Perhaps because his desire to leave was too obvious, even Tony Stark couldn't ignore it.
He first turned to the elder of the household, Edwin Jarvis, and asked:
"No problem with giving the car away, right?"
"Young master, it is your property. I naturally have no objections regarding how you choose to dispose of it."
The old butler's attitude remained calm and composed. He didn't start lecturing the younger generation simply because Tony had shown him respect.
And Tony Stark wasn't actually seeking permission either.
He was rely giving everyone one last chance to object.
Once they were done speaking, he would still do whatever he wanted.
"So," Tony said, "where should we send the car? Tell Pepper—she'll handle it for you."
The newly hired personal assistant, who had been standing quietly nearby, finally stepped forward.
Henry glanced at the future lady of Stark Industries.
"Pepper?"
Tony Stark grinned.
"Pepper. Her nickna. Didn't she introduce herself?
"She's the woman who discovered errors in projected figures inside a financial report, got ignored by her boss, then fired for insisting on it—and still had the guts to co directly to with the report.
"Before Happy's guys could drag her out, she actually threatened them by saying she had pepper spray in her purse, and whoever touched her would regret it. I thought it was hilarious, so I kept her around.
"Oh, and the mistake she found was real. As for those two idiots, they're on probation now."
The female assistant muttered quietly under her breath:
"My na's Virginia. Not Pepper."
"What? What'd you say?" Tony Stark asked loudly, not hearing clearly.
"Nothing. I said it's an honor to assist Mr. Brown."
Maybe those two still lacked self-awareness, but for a certain Mr. Henry—whose single status had just been restored—being force-fed romantic dog food made him want to go ho and pet cats even more.
Forget flying comrcial later.
He'd just fly ho himself.
"Mr. Brown," Virginia Potts asked, "would you like us to deliver the car to the parking garage at Stark Pictures in Los Angeles?"
The fact she asked that clearly showed she understood Henry's living situation fairly well.
At the very least, she knew Old Gary's apartnt building didn't exactly have a proper garage.
If this car were left parked on the street overnight, Henry would already consider Los Angeles residents unusually moral if all six tires were still attached the next morning.
"No need. Leave the car here. The underground parking garage at Stark Pictures is still a public-access area. Leaving an antique like this there wouldn't be safe at all."
Frowning, Tony Stark asked:
"Why don't you just move sowhere with a garage? You're still renting that little apartnt. With your current net worth, it's not like you can't afford a house. Did Sony's compensation paynt not fully arrive yet?"
"It's just a place to sleep. If I made it as huge as your place, how many employees would I need to hire just to maintain it without working myself to death?"
"You're the one who told money should circulate," Tony shot back. "So what about your own money? Have you spent any of it?"
Henry replied with complete confidence:
"From a macroeconomic perspective, your money isn't my money, so of course I support circulation. If you don't spend it, how are other people supposed to earn it?
"But my money is my money. I'd rather leave it sitting there growing mold in case I need it soday. Is there sothing wrong with that? Forget all that nonsense about money circulation—that's just capitalist brainwashing."
"Ah, you… damn it."
The young master's mood worsened yet again.
He truly should not talk too much with this infuriating guy.
At the perfect mont, the old butler Edwin Jarvis stepped in smoothly to diate.
Changing the subject, he asked:
"Mr. Brown, would you care to stay for lunch? I can have the kitchen prepare an additional al for you."
Henry would never argue with food.
Imdiately accepting the offer, he said:
"Gladly. I'll trouble you for a al, then."
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