The silence of the Atlas depot site was a stark contrast to the usual chaos of Stark Tower. In Tony Stark's personal workshop, the only sounds were the gentle hum of repulsors cycling down on a new Iron Man boot and the aggressive clinking of ice in a glass of expensive Scotch.
A holographic news feed played silently in the corner of his vision. The headline read: "ATLAS BIOTECH LANDS MASSIVE RECONSTRUCTION CONTRACT." Below it, a slick corporate video showed silent, clean construction equipment and glowing blue battery units.
"JARVIS," Tony said, his voice flat, not taking his eyes off the schematic of a power coupling he was ostensibly repairing. "Run it again."
"Certainly, sir," the AI's calm British voice responded. The video rewound and played again. "The contract, valued at an estimated $450 million for the initial phase, grants Atlas Biotech exclusive rights to provide off-grid power solutions for the Vista Verde-led reconstruction of Lower Manhattan."
"Off-grid," Tony muttered, taking a sip.
He finally turned, gesturing at the feed with his glass. "Where's the tech coming from? Who's backing them? A guy doesn't just whip up a battery that makes my stuff look like a potato clock without a serious R&D pipeline."
"My analysis of their patent filings is complete, sir," JARVIS replied. A complex schematic of the HyperCell appeared in the air, alongside pages of dense chemical formulae and engineering notes. "The technology is revolutionary, but not... alien. The principles are an extreme refinement of existing lithium-ion and solid-state battery concepts. The patent cites numerous failed research paths from the last decade—obscure Japanese papers, dead-end DARPA projects, proprietary research from defunct companies. It is as if someone took twenty years of global battery research, identified every single dead end, and then solved them all simultaneously."
Tony leaned forward, his engineer's mind engaging despite his suspicion. "That's... annoyingly brilliant. The lattice structure for ion transfer... It's insane. The heat dissipation... huh." He scowled. "It's like they had a perfect roadmap. Nobody gets it right on the first try. Nobody."
"According to the filings, sir, they did not. The patents reference 'thousands of iterative simulations' and 'proprietary modeling software' that allowed them to bypass traditional prototyping. The science is, for all intents and purposes, sound. It is simply decades ahead of its time."
"Sound," Tony echoed, unconvinced. "And this Sam Jackson? Let me guess, he's a secret battery savant?"
"His public profile remains that of a restaurateur, sir. However, the patents are filed under the names of Dr. Arishem Patel and Dr. Lena Reynolds, both recently hired from MIT and Caltech with impeccable credentials. It would appear Mr. Jackson is the money and the vision. They are the brains."
Tony stared at the names. "So he's not a genius. He's a talent scout with a blank checkbook and a scary-good intuition for picking winners." He drummed his fingers on the workbench. "I still don't buy it. That kind of leap doesn't just happen. Keep digging. I want to know who their suppliers are. Where are they getting the raw materials so pure? That kind of lithium doesn't just fall off a truck."
—
S.H.I.E.L.D. Triskelion – Command Center
Nick Fury's skepticism was a colder, more pragmatic thing. He stood before the main holotable, Maria Hill at his side. On display were the same patent files Stark was reviewing.
"The science checks out, sir," Hill reported, her tone neutral. "Our lab rats at Sci-Tech are pissed. They say it's theoretically possible, just... they should have thought of it first. The patents are ironclad. Atlas owns it."
"Science doesn't just 'check out' from nowhere, Hill," Fury growled. "It's built on the backs of a thousand failures. This..." he gestured at the schematic, "...reads like a greatest hits album of energy research. It's too clean."
Clean," Hill confirmed. As for the man himself, our psych profile is thin. He's charismatic, reclusive, and has a preternatural ability to hire the right people. Dr. Connors from Oscorp is now consulting for him exclusively. He's assembling a world-class team."
"He's assembling an empire," Fury corrected. "An empire that appeared out of thin air the second the world got knocked on its ass." He didn't need to mention the other thing that appeared out of thin air—the black-suited figure. The coincidence was a splinter in his mind.
"He's providing a crucial service, sir. The reconstruction is moving twice as fast thanks to his power grids. The mayor loves him. Trying to move against him now would be... politically unwise."
"I'm not talking about moving against him," Fury said, though the thought had certainly crossed his mind. "I'm talking about knowing what he is. A benefactor? An opportunist? Or something else?" He turned to her. "I want a team inside. I don't care how. Get an agent on his payroll, in his building. I want to know who he really is."
"Undercover ops on a US civilian company, sir? The oversight committee—"
"Let me worry about the committee," Fury interrupted. "This isn't about corporate espionage. It's about threat assessment. That technology represents a strategic asset. I need to know who controls it before someone else decides they want to."
—