Color display technology could push the television industry forward.
It would also revolutionize cameras and projectors.
Ryden, who had been absorbing knowledge like a sponge, received an invitation from Howard today.
They were going to Germany.
An academic exchange.
The organizer was the famous mechanist Dr. Zola. His invention of the Tiger tank had allowed the German army to advance smoothly. The laboratory under the German military gathered a large number of talented individuals.
They had specifically invited Ryden.
Whether it was goodwill or a trap, he couldn't tell.
Looking at the invitation in his hand, a faint smile tugged at Ryden's lips.
Dr. Zola was technically his senior.
But they had never met.
They had been competing in the shadows.
Ryden invented the AK-47.
Zola built tanks.
It felt like rivals finally meeting face to face.
Since he was invited, he might as well go.
Who knew what he'd gain?
World War II hadn't officially started yet.
Germany, however, was clearly preparing for something. Troop movements were frequent. Plans were being laid.
The plot was about to begin.
Before that, it would be best to locate the Super Soldier Serum.
Blitzkrieg against Poland. Two days. Surrender.
Bypassing the Maginot Line. Besieging Paris. France falling.
Dunkirk.
These were decisive battles. Hundreds of thousands. Even millions.
In a battlefield filled with shells and bullets, survival was never guaranteed.
Even Steve Rogers couldn't change that.
Captain America fought in small and medium-scale engagements.
Large-scale warfare was different.
One person couldn't turn the tide.
Bluntly speaking, in front of aircraft and artillery, even Iron Man would be blown apart.
Once shells and bullets piled up to a certain level, everyone except the Hulk would have to kneel and sing.
Ryden calculated the timelines.
The Wonder Woman incident would probably happen earlier-during the Dunkirk evacuation, when someone accidentally flew into Paradise Island somewhere in the Atlantic.
Captain America's main story would be around '42.
After Pearl Harbor at the end of '41, the United States finally entered the war.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Ryden returned to the laboratory and packed his tools and equipment.
On a trip abroad, it was safer to rely on his own gear.
Life came first.
Before leaving, he gave a proper farewell to Aunt Laura and Mrs. Jennifer.
Then he set off.
Maybe there would be something new waiting for him.
In Brooklyn's 49th Street district, a fifteen-story building had been purchased.
The Spades Gang officially moved in.
According to Ryden's plan, they would transform into a legitimate company and step away from the shadows.
Courier services were the first to take off.
The key was their promise-triple compensation for damaged goods.
With receipts, customers could claim cash directly.
Painful at first.
But it built trust.
People who used it said it was good.
It started with laundry.
Then expanded into food delivery.
Orders by phone. Delivered to the door.
At the same time, they founded a newspaper.
Novel Daily.
It didn't make much money initially.
The real value was employment.
A lot of idle hands were put to work.
And media power was never small.
Exclusive news. Praise. Smear campaigns.
All tools.
Useful tools.
Especially once superheroes emerged.
Mutants saving the world.
The Avengers fighting aliens.
Hydra's activities.
Politicians' dirty deals.
All of it could be reported.
Public outrage could be ignited worldwide.
By then, the Sokovia Accords would be a joke.
Driving the fastest vehicle available, it took less than two hours to get from MIT to Brooklyn.
Low population helped.
Otherwise, traffic alone would've driven him insane.
An Iron Man suit would be nice.
Cool.
Practical.
Mutant abilities were often too specialized.
The Hulk was great at demolition.
Not so great at construction.
He hadn't seen her in over half a month.
In the top-floor office, the future Madame Hydra still looked young.
Not much older than Rio.
Probably similar in age.
Ryden didn't ask.
Most women didn't like that question.
Unless it was a job application.
A white blouse hugged her figure. A black trench coat draped over it.
Long high-heeled boots.
Black hair tied in a ponytail.
Clean. Sharp.
After handling gang affairs for weeks, she was starting to look like a real boss.
Add a whip, and she'd be a queen.
"Ryden, you're back." Ophelia smiled. "How have you been?"
Their cooperation was smooth.
Like a honeymoon.
Sometimes a single phone call at night was enough to align everything.
"I'm good. You?" Ryden took the black tea she personally brewed. "That old scumbag still bothering you?"
Very few people ever got tea from her.
Most got bullets.
"Thanks to you, things are fine." Ophelia didn't hide anything. "He wants me to get technology from you. Hydra doesn't lack money. It lacks talent and tech."
Their interests aligned.
No direct conflict.
"Good." Ryden nodded. "How's recruitment? Don't rush. We'll get our chance. When we strike, we finish it in one move. Miss it, and we'll be passive."
A sharp glint flashed in his eyes.
He either didn't fight.
Or he crushed the opponent.
When weaker, he endured.
When strong, he came back and made the other side submit.
No noble last stands.
No pointless mutual destruction.
Quiet shots. Quiet entry.
That was the real way.
"Training has already started," Ophelia said. "And Ryden... you're going to Germany, right? Be careful. That man-Schmidt-has opinions about you."
Another secret.
Information inside Hydra was easy to obtain.
Ryden raised a brow.
"Does this Schmidt like men?"
Pfft.
Even Ophelia spat tea.
It sprayed straight onto Ryden's face.
She hurriedly grabbed a tissue.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" She laughed helplessly. "You shouldn't joke like that. We're talking about serious matters."
She froze mid-sentence.
Silence filled the room.
After a long moment, their lips parted.
Ryden calmly took another sip of tea.
"Now we're even."
"I'll kill you, Ryden!" Ophelia snapped. "You bastard!"
Her first kiss.
For a brief moment, she really wanted to kill him.
Just for a moment.
Eastern European women liked strong men.
Especially those raised in war.
Men who could give them a sense of security.
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