'Hello, Dr. Reed Richards.'
'Hello, Miss Artoria Stark. I'm delighted you came to see my project.'
After replying, Artoria soon got Reed's answer. With Gwen she arrived at the Military-supplied tower. The Military liked Reed—especially with Stark Industries out of weapons and monopolizing new energy, they sought cosmic power: limitless if harnessed.
Weapon potential made them back Reed; otherwise a Space-station launch would never clear red tape.
'Dr. Richards, my firms are mostly e-sports; I doubt I can help. Why partner with me, not my brother?'
Reed showed Artoria a portion of his capabilities, explaining the details of the cosmic storm and the project's purpose; the outcome, for now, remained unknown. After glancing through the proposal, Artoria asked Reed curiously:
'I'd originally sent an invitation to your brother, Mr. Tony Stark, but he didn't seem interested.'
As he spoke, Reed wore an awkward yet graceful smile. Not being driven to tears by Tony's razor tongue was a testament to his climb from the bottom—he'd endured plenty. Without a heart of steel, a conversation with Tony Stark could literally end in cardiac arrest.
'Besides, Miss Artoria, we're alumni of the same university—I'm just two classes ahead. I transferred out, but we're still schoolmates. I believe you can see that humanity's future lies in Space, not forever confined to Earth. We're helping mankind take that vital step.'
Reed painted a flawless future. If you didn't know he'd end up rubber-like—stretchy, soft, or solid on demand—you'd almost buy his spiel. As Artoria prepared to feign consideration and leave, a stunning woman appeared: golden hair cascading over her shoulders, a sizzling figure, skin more delicate than most Western women's—gorgeous, almost like a hybrid.
'Artoria, long time no see. Never thought you'd turn up here.'
The beauty greeted Artoria like an old friend, leaving her momentarily stunned—Do we know each other, gorgeous?
'It's me, Susan Storm! After middle school we split for high school; I changed schools. I might look different now, but you're basically the same—just all grown up.'
'Chubby?'
Artoria stared at Susan in disbelief. Americans recycle first names, so hearing 'Susan' hadn't rung any bells. The cute, slightly plump girl before her didn't resemble the future Invisible Woman, so she'd dismissed the possibility. Yet here was the real deal; Artoria had once defended Susan from bullies. Years had blurred the memory, but now it resurfaced—the chubby kid who used to trail behind her, sniffling.
'I'm not chubby anymore.'
Susan shot a displeased glare at Reed, who was stifling a laugh. He rubbed his nose in embarrassment and turned away, giving the two women Space—business could wait.
'All right, definitely not chubby. Time flies—the teary-eyed little butterball who followed me around has turned into a bombshell.'
Truly the proverbial 'eighteen changes of a grown girl.' Even Artoria was startled. Had she known Susan would bloom like this, she'd have… ahem… nurtured their friendship. Pity little Artoria had kept her cool all the way through college, barely socializing. Only Hope had been her lifelong bestie; true friends were few.
'What are you doing here, Susan? Did Dr. Reed hire you?'
Artoria asked, curious about their relationship status—maybe she could stir the pot.
'I don't work here. My boss is Victor Von Doom—an incredibly wealthy foreign company. I haven't been there long.'
'Dr. Reed's project just caught my boss's eye.'
Susan sounded vexed; honestly she couldn't fathom why her boss would sink money into this colossal unknown—typical tycoon with cash to burn.
'Are you investing too, Artoria?'
'Not at the moment, but doesn't a joint trip to Space sound romantic? I'd love to see the boundless cosmos myself.'
Artoria kept her answer vague. What she wanted wasn't merely to sightsee in Space. Those cosmic rays could rewrite DNA and grant super-powers—but the process was dicey. Take Ben Grimm: he'd gained immense strength and durability as The Thing, yet lost his human appearance and ended up divorced—pitiful.
'Let me caution you, Artoria: this isn't pocket change. A hair-thin margin could send all that money down the drain.'
'No worries, Susan. I'm prepared.'
Touched by Susan's concern, Artoria nodded. Someone else was already fronting the funds; she could guess his motives. Doctor Doom—Victor Von Doom—was Reed Richards's arch-rival. Crushing the competition would delight him; a few hundred million meant nothing. Trouble was, this was a tens-of-billions project. She'd supply minor shares—materials and energy—leaving Doom to foot the rest.
'How about a drink tonight? It's been ages.'
'Sure! I'm free anytime.'
Susan beamed at the invitation. Boss could wait; she hadn't seen her childhood 'hero' in forever. Dr. Reed, your future wife may have just slipped away. Artoria mentally mourned the single bachelor.
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