Brooklyn Street was located in the heart of New York.
A seven-story building hung with flashing neon signs that read "STARK INDUSTRIES" in English.
Unlike the hundred-story skyscraper of the 21st century, the current Stark Industries was still in its fledgling stage.
The founder, Howard, was only thirty-seven, having recently resigned from the Academy of Sciences to start his own business.
The streets were filled with a vintage atmosphere, giving Ryden, who came from the 21st century, the illusion of traveling back in time.
The cars on the street were old-fashioned, boxy sedans—rigid and formal, lacking the aerodynamic beauty of later automobiles.
"Hello, I'm looking for Mr. Howard. Please let him know that a son of Ethan Hunt has something important to discuss regarding weapons cooperation. Please make sure to pass that on, thank you, beautiful lady!"
Ryden put on his "good boy" persona to speak with the sweet-looking receptionist on the first floor.
"Certainly, one moment. May I ask your name?" the sweet receptionist replied warmly.
Finding a job wasn't easy these days; normally she wouldn't bother with just anyone, but this was a clean-cut boy, and the first impression was different.
Besides, since he was conveying a message for an elder, he was likely just a messenger.
"Ryden Hunt. I appreciate the help, beautiful sister." His tongue remained sweet.
In the future, many consumers in Guangdong were lost in the "Handsome boy" and "Beautiful girl" greetings from shop assistants, willingly emptying their pockets!
The receptionist picked up the hand-cranked telephone to call the boss.
"Hello, Boss, there's a boy named Ryden Hunt, Mr. Ethan Hunt's Son. He says he has matters regarding weapons cooperation to discuss with you."
Howard, who was currently flirting with his secretary and about to make a move, was interrupted by the sudden ringing of the phone on his desk.
The bell startled the flustered secretary, who ran out with a blushing face.
"Dammit! If you don't give me a logical explanation, I'll show you how the most outstanding engineer in America can make you unemployed!"
Howard, whose "good deed" was interrupted, shouted in annoyance.
"What? Ryden Hunt? Never heard of him. Uh, wait, what did you say? Ethan Hunt!! Isn't that old stubborn goat dead? Hmm, weapons cooperation? Let me think. Oh, I remember now! Ryden! That's the little scientist who likes to blow himself up!! Haha, send him up!"
Howard seemed to recall previous news and reports.
After all, a playboy like him wouldn't remember a child's name unless it was attached to Ethan Hunt—a former colleague known for being a stubborn old coot—and his science-geek son, an experimental maniac who burned or blew up houses at the drop of a hat.
Howard really couldn't forget that!
The receptionist breathed a sigh of relief.
Thank goodness she didn't get into trouble; it seemed she had interrupted the boss's "fun." Howard's womanizing personality was common knowledge.
She smiled at the waiting Ryden.
"Mr. Hunt, this way please!" She made an inviting gesture with her right hand.
Via a traditional vintage elevator, Ryden reached the seventh-floor penthouse.
After waiting for a few minutes, he finally entered the office.
His eyes landed on a middle-aged man with a signature mustache and a cynical expression.
He had an aura of wicked charm that easily attracted women.
No wonder he was such a playboy; he certainly had the capital for it.
"Shh, kid, you're the one looking for me. You look alright; it's a miracle the last explosion didn't blow you away. Tell me, what cooperation project do you have? If you're just here to reminisce, I'm afraid I don't have the time to chat with a 'slow-burn' genius. Who knows if you'll blow up my office!"
Howard had a very American sense of humor, and his "trash talk" skills were top-tier.
He also seemed a bit... well, neurotic! Yeah, that was it.
Neurotic.
Perhaps all scientists are more or less neurotic.
Ryden didn't get angry.
He knew that without the face of his "cheap" father—whom he had never met and would never see again—he wouldn't even have been qualified to enter today.
Granted, Howard's enterprise was still in its early stages, but he wasn't someone the average person could just see.
If every Tom, Dick, and Harry could see Howard, his office would have turned into a public restroom long ago!
He pulled a pile of parts from his backpack and, right in front of Howard, began to assemble them step by step.
Click! Clatter! The sound of metal and birch wood colliding, the snap of latches locking into place—it was music to the ears.
Howard twitched his mustache, watching the boy assemble the firearm with a curious gaze.
He wasn't afraid of an attack; he was just interested in the child of his old, stubborn colleague.
A scientist without quirks isn't a true scientist, and in the eyes of others, someone who caused fires and explosions in every experiment was a dangerous person.
Only those with insight would understand the other's merits and strengths!
A roughly eighty-centimeter-long assault rifle was placed on the desk.
Thud! In less than half a minute, the AK-47 was assembled.
"This is the weapons cooperation you mentioned?" A hint of interest flashed in Howard's eyes.
As an engineer, he had a deep understanding of weaponry.
One look told him the construction of this assault rifle was simple, but he didn't know how it performed.
If the power was sufficient, it could truly outclass most firearms currently available!
"This is the AK series I designed. This model is the latest, the AK-47. Simple to assemble, easy to maintain, and adaptable to special combat environments. Whether it's river crossings or desert warfare, it can still function normally after being soaked in water or buried in sand without jamming. Most importantly, it's easy to mass-produce at a low cost. It uses 7.62mm rounds. As for whether it's real or not, you'll know once you try it." Ryden calmly introduced the light weapon that would define the twentieth century.
Howard picked up the AK-47 and felt it over.
"Follow me!"
The two went to the firing range on the first floor.
The surrounding staff immediately greeted their big boss when they saw him.
Howard ignored them and had an assistant bring over 7.
62mm rounds to begin the experiment.
Single-shot, full-auto, close-range, long-range sniping.
He tried everything.
From the feel of it, it was indeed a fine weapon.
Following Ryden's words, he threw it directly into a water tank.
After five minutes, he took it out.
Rat-tat-tat!!! He pulled the trigger, and the bullets fired just the same, with no danger of a barrel explosion! The accuracy didn't drop much, and no jamming occurred.
After firing over two hundred rounds, Howard finally put down the AK-47, a trace of admiration in his eyes.
With this weapon, he was certain he could land that military contract! "Excellent. Jarvis, you try it!"
He tossed the assault rifle to a middle-aged man who had appeared behind Howard at some point.
His meticulous expression gave off the strong vibe of a British butler.
Hearing his master's command, he picked up the rifle and began the test.
Ryden didn't say a word from start to finish, just watched quietly.
True gold doesn't fear the fire.
Although some parts of this gun were polished in a hardware store, the dimensions were standard.
Therefore, theoretically, it could achieve the advantages of an AK-47; he wasn't worried about that, having tested it himself.
Only with a good weapon could there be further negotiations.
If the goods weren't good, then what was the point—talking about life and dreams?
Jarvis put down the rifle.
"Sir, the feel of this rifle is excellent. The effective range is about three hundred meters; beyond that, the accuracy drops significantly. In full-auto mode, the recoil is smaller than that of a light machine gun. The rest requires further testing."
"Excellent, Jarvis. Continue testing the performance of this rifle. Ryden, was it? Oh, I knew my nephew Ryden was a genius. Come on, let's have a proper talk in my office."
Howard patted Ryden's shoulder excitedly, not forgetting to take a verbal advantage before they left.
The way he walked with a spring in his step looked like he was gloating! At their first meeting, Ryden felt that like father, like son—just like Tony Stark, Howard wasn't much better.
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