Blonsky kicked open the Villa door, holding a box of potato chips in his hand, yelling, "Dominic! Dominic! You have to come see this quickly! Our good landlord, Mr. Hammer, is showing off on TV again!"
Dominic, who was originally lying in a hammock in the bedroom enjoying his "afternoon tranquility," frowned at the shout, a hint of impatience flashing in his eyes. The next second, he instantly flashed to the sofa in the living room, sitting down like an afterimage, not forgetting to reach out and pick up an extra-large bottle of iced cola from the coffee table. He lazily twisted open the cap, and the bottle made a soft "hissing" sound. Dominic took a deep breath, enjoying the sound.
He held the bottom of the bottle with both hands and gulped the cold cola down his throat in one go, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, as if his whole body was immersed in the sweet carbonated bubbles. Finally, he let out a long, satisfied "Ah—," slammed the bottle down on the coffee table, and raised an eyebrow at Blonsky: "Speak, what's that landlord who only barks making a fuss about now?"
Blonsky's mouth was full of potato chips, and he said indistinctly, "Quickly watch TV, he's challenging Tony!"
Dominic's eyes darted to the TV screen. On the screen, Justin Hammer stood in the center of the press conference stage, wearing an exceptionally flamboyant suit and holding a glass of champagne. His smile was as stiff as if it had been glued on, as if he feared it would shatter if he moved his expression even slightly. He excitedly raised his champagne, his voice carrying that typical overly enthusiastic tone:
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this great press conference! I am your friend—Justin Hammer! Today, I bring you a revolutionary new product that completely overturns our imagination of weapons! Let's take a look—the 'Eisenach Armor'!"
The TV camera switched to an armor suit placed in the center of the stage. It looked somewhat imposing, but upon closer inspection, one could find several obvious welding marks and a bunch of inconspicuous small parts, seemingly used to fill the space. Hammer stood next to the armor, patted its shoulder, his smile becoming even more radiant: "Look at this guy, it can not only fly, but also shoot—uh, launch multiple missile systems!" When he said this, he deliberately emphasized the syllables "shoot" and "launch," seemingly wanting to make these two words particularly powerful.
Dominic scoffed, put his feet on the coffee table, and looked up at Blonsky: "Good heavens, he doesn't really think he invented some 'super armor,' does he? Eisenach? That name sounds like it's for a used tractor. Is he planning to ride this junk to plow the fields?"
Blonsky stuffed potato chips into his mouth and laughed in agreement: "Haha, maybe, after all, looking at this armor, it really can adapt to various 'harsh environments.'"
On screen, Hammer continued to boast endlessly: "This armor is not only easy to operate, but can also automatically adjust targets for precise strikes! Simply put, wearing it makes you an invincible god of war on the battlefield! Even Tony Stark has to think twice!"
When Dominic heard this, he almost sprayed the cola out of his mouth. He couldn't help but cover his mouth with his hand, his voice full of heavy sarcasm: "Ah, 'invincible god of war,' yes, yes. That sounds just like a drunk guy in a bar bragging about how powerful his 'fists' are. Hey, Hammer, don't force your armor to hold up, it looks like it has to pedal a few times with its feet just to get airborne."
Hammer continued to boast to the audience below, sometimes saying how indestructible the armor was, and sometimes saying it could "adapt to various mission requirements." As for the reporters below the stage, although they held microphones in their hands, their eyes clearly wrote "Are you serious?".
Blonsky crunched on his potato chips, chewing loudly, and asked with a smile, "Dominic, how do you think Tony will respond?"
Dominic shrugged and spread his hands: "My guess is, if Tony knows this guy Hammer is yelling nonsense again, he'll probably stand in front of him, hand him a screwdriver, and say, 'Hey, friend, a screw fell off, tighten it,' and then pat his shoulder and say, 'Keep bragging, no one believes you, but it's quite amusing to listen to.'"
Blonsky laughed, spraying potato chips from his mouth: "Haha, classic Tony!"
Dominic shook his head gently, drinking cola and watching the screen where Hammer continued to arrogantly yell. He grinned, his eyes full of playfulness: "Alright, Mr. Hammer, you go ahead and enjoy yourself. Anyway, when you really take this junk to the battlefield, don't cry and say, 'I just wanted to ask Tony over for a drink.'"
On the TV screen, Hammer continued to pose for the camera with a smile, as if he were the savior of the armor invention World. Meanwhile, Dominic leaned back lazily, his expression relaxed and at ease, as if watching a funny stand-up comedy show.
Justin Hammer walked out of the glory of the press conference with a sense of utter superiority, his mood practically soaring to the clouds. When he returned to his massive armor production line, a satisfied smile still hung on his lips. The entire production line was brightly lit, mechanical arms busily working in an orderly fashion, occasionally emitting mechanical roars, like a grand symphony, and the conductor of this music was Hammer. He looked proudly at the rows of Eisenach Armor being assembled, his heart filled with pride.
"Wow, looking at this scale, it's so beautiful it makes you want to cry," he murmured to himself, raising the champagne in his hand as if to toast himself.
Hammer walked past a huge billboard that bore the new name he had given his armor production line - "Hammer Industries Future Factory." The large words shone with golden light, and a line of smaller text was added next to them: "With our power, make you the master of the battlefield." The advertising slogan was catchy and made him feel particularly grand.
"Hmm, Future Factory, that's a good name." He smiled proudly, indulging himself.
Walking to the center of the production line, he looked at the missile launch platform on one side, where the missiles he called "ex-wives" were neatly arranged. He gently patted one of the missiles, like patting a pet dog's head, smiling somewhat ambiguously: "Hey, 'ex-wife,' I've always believed in your power. Don't disappoint me this time, aim at that guy Stark, and give him a good shot."
Hammer continued walking forward, talking to himself in self-indulgence. He held the champagne, walking with an elegant stride, as if the entire factory was his kingdom, and he was the uncrowned king of this kingdom. Soon, he reached the end of the production line, where Ivan Vanko was silently debugging the core system of the Eisenach Armor, his expression focused, his hands rapidly typing on the keyboard, as if the whole World had nothing to do with him.
Hammer walked over to Ivan with leisurely steps, took a sip of champagne, a smug smile on his lips: "Hey, buddy, how's it going? Everything going smoothly?" His tone carried obvious superiority, as if Ivan was just a little technician working for him. "Listen, as long as you get these armors ready and take down Tony Stark and his damn company, I won't care what you do in the future. Run away? Oh, my dear friend, why run away? Isn't it better if we create the future together?"
Ivan slowly raised his head, his sharp eyes gazing at Hammer through his messy hair. That look sent shivers down one's spine, as if hiding endless coldness. Although a faint smile hung on his face, his eyes were full of contempt and disdain. He twitched the corner of his mouth slightly and uttered a sentence in English with a thick Russian accent: "As long as I can kill Tony... I'm willing to do anything." He spoke slowly and deliberately, but each word was heavily emphasized, as if he were making an oath.
Hammer patted Ivan's shoulder, his smile even brighter: "That's right, buddy! Focus on the target, take down Stark, and we'll both make a fortune." He leaned down, lowered his voice, and said in a deliberately intimate tone, "You understand, right? After you do this, I won't stop you from going wherever you want or doing whatever you want."
Ivan stared at Hammer coldly, his eyes as icy as a blade. He forced a smile, his voice full of heavy sarcasm: "Of course, 'boss.'" He deliberately dragged out the last word, making it sound particularly harsh. Inside, however, a feeling of disgust churned: "Тупой американец…" (Stupid American), he cursed inwardly, a fake smile still on his face.
Looking at Hammer's self-indulgent appearance, Ivan felt even more disdain: "You think you're smart, but you're just another self-righteous fool." A bold plan gradually formed in his mind, and the corner of his mouth curved slightly, as if he had made a decision. "Since you like to control everything so much, just wait and see who is really controlling whom."
Hammer finished the last sip of champagne, raised the glass high, and shouted proudly to the entire production line: "Come on, take down Tony Stark and become the new king of industry! This is the future of our Hammer Industries!"
His words echoed throughout the factory, as if foreshadowing the impending war. But he didn't know that the Russian man beside him had already secretly planned another game that he couldn't control.
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(End of Chapter)