The time on the plane was painfully boring.
Fortunately, Howard was there.
Cough. Cough.
Of course, not for any weird reasons.
It was simply that two scientists with strong foundations could complement each other.
"Oh... what you said makes a lot of sense," Howard muttered, stroking his small mustache. "A hovering car would reduce ground friction significantly and greatly increase speed."
The colonel sitting nearby rolled his eyes.
"What the hell is a hovering car? Isn't that just a plane?"
His knowledge simply wasn't broad enough.
He had no idea what maglev even was.
If it were Howard, he would immediately understand and start extending the idea.
Talking to him was like a duck explaining things to a chicken.
If the topic switched to military tactics and battlefield maneuvers, Ryden would probably be the one rolling his eyes.
He'd hear every word.
And understand none of it.
Different fields.
Still, the trip wasn't bad.
He could read, chat, and occasionally glance at passing beauties.
But he missed Ms. Jennifer.
And Aunt Laura.
Whenever Ryden felt frustrated, his efficiency dropped sharply.
He needed someone to vent to.
Now that there was no girlfriend around, it was extremely annoying.
Talking with Howard opened a new door for him.
The man's thinking was genuinely sharp.
Just not the sharpest.
Probably because half his brain was busy thinking about women.
The autumn wind in Berlin felt bleak.
The airport was huge, wide, and crowded with civilian and military aircraft.
Most were transport planes moving supplies.
Very few people could afford private air travel.
That was a luxury for the rich.
And not a particularly safe one.
Not everyone could fall from thousands of meters and walk it off like the Hulk.
Compared to the depressed United States, Berlin's streets were packed.
Everyone was working.
The war machine had started turning, and materials of every kind were needed.
That created jobs.
Just in terms of soldier benefits, the German Third Reich was unmatched.
Even the relatively wealthy United States could only stand aside and say-
"Big brother, you're amazing."
"Big brother, keep going."
Toothbrushes. Razors. Canteens. Lunch boxes. Toothpaste. Lighters.
All uniformly issued by the military.
This was why the German army fought so fiercely.
You get paid well.
You work hard.
That rule applied everywhere.
Watching the bustling streets, Ryden sank into thought.
It seemed his idea was correct.
When war broke out, the most profitable things were military supplies.
And food.
His investment plan was clear.
Acquire large amounts of farmland.
Put idle people to work growing corn, potatoes, and carrots.
These three were staples.
Corn could be food and pressed for oil.
Potatoes could replace rice.
Carrots provided vitamins and reduced oral diseases.
Most importantly, they were cheap, easy to grow, and not picky.
Just plant them.
They'd grow.
Like sweet potato leaves in a certain country.
The common people loved them.
When war fully broke out, the farms would be producing continuously.
A massive and stable income source.
Making money from war wasn't moral.
But if you didn't take it, someone else would.
Thinking about it that way made it easier to accept.
It was like picking up girls.
They'd be picked up by someone anyway.
So why not you?
Worst case, you get rejected.
Maybe slapped.
So what?
Ryden nearly covered his mouth to stop himself from laughing.
The officer who received them was German.
Rigid.
Precise.
His manner was stiff to the point of severity.
That kind of soldier was qualified.
As for whether he was strong-
That was another matter.
The Adlon Hotel was designated for the academic exchange.
Besides American scientists, researchers from many other countries were staying there.
No matter how intense the war became, scientists were treated better than most.
By the time they settled in, it was already afternoon.
Only a few hours remained before the evening banquet.
It was Ryden's first time abroad.
The feeling was novel.
Not excitement.
More like quiet emotion.
If only they'd gone to France.
The women there were famously passionate.
He stayed in his room.
Didn't go out.
He didn't know the area, and there was nothing worth seeing.
Better to read.
He didn't understand German anyway.
The surface looked calm.
But darkness often hid beneath calm waters.
Staying put was safer.
He needed to find a way to make contact.
Even better if he could locate the Super Soldier Serum.
If he could get a sample, he could study it further.
Inventing something new was hard.
Improving something existing was easier.
Still not simple.
Ryden was stubborn about the serum.
Right now, it was the only realistic path to power.
Relying purely on black technology meant locking himself away for thirty or forty years.
Maybe then he'd build something like a flying Iron Man suit.
Technology was only an aid.
Real strength required something tangible.
By then-
The yellow flowers would have already wilted.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Someone knocked on the door.
Ryden frowned slightly and checked the peephole.
A man with round glasses stood outside.
He opened the door carefully.
"Hello. Who are you looking for?"
The middle-aged man looked calm.
Intelligent.
He smiled and extended his hand.
"Hello. I'm Zola. A pleasure to meet you, Ryden. Our first meeting, little junior."
Ryden's pupils contracted.
Dr. Zola.
Hydra's chief scientist during World War II.
He smiled calmly.
"So it's Senior Zola. The pleasure is mine. I'm honored. Please, come in."
Two sturdy bodyguards stood outside.
One white.
One black.
Dr. Zola spoke flatly.
"Wait outside. I'd like to have a proper conversation with my junior."
"Coffee or black tea?" Ryden asked, casually touching the magnetic pistol strapped to his outer thigh.
One of his trump cards.
The hotel room was well-designed.
Likely because of the price.
Tea and coffee were prepared for guests.
"No need to trouble yourself," Zola said. "Tea will be fine."
He removed his hat.
Almost bald.
Was it true that smart people went bald?
Zola.
Lex Luthor.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
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