· VCM In a remote, abandoned factory in Queens, New York, a convoy of sleek black cars screeched to a halt.
From the center vehicle, flanked by a team of sharp-suited bodyguards, Justin Hammer stepped out, adjusting his expensive cufflinks as he surveyed the dilapidated structure.
He barely recognized the place, despite it technically being under his name. With a calculated stride, he moved forward, flipping through the file handed to him by his secretary.
"Ivan Vanko, Russian, correct?" Hammer muttered, skimming through the sparse dossier.
Vanko was an enigma. According to the intelligence reports, the government had tried running his fingerprints through their databases, only to turn up nothing. It was as if the man had never existed.
No paper trail. No digital footprint.
Nothing.
But none of that mattered to Hammer.
The only thing that did was that this man had replicated the Ark Reactor—the very core of Stark's Iron Man suit.
Tony had humiliated him at the Senate hearing, smugly claiming that no other nation—or company—could match his technology within the next five to ten years.
Hammer had been publicly embarrassed, his own weapons division labeled as second-rate.
But now? Now, the breakthrough he had been desperately chasing was within reach.
He could already envision the fallout.
Tony Stark had built himself up as a superhero, an invincible genius, but the illusion was about to shatter.
With Vanko's work coming to light, the military would undoubtedly renew its demands for Stark to hand over his suit designs.
His monopoly on cutting-edge tech would be broken, and the sharks lurking in the shadows—government agencies, rival corporations, international powers—would all swarm in for their share.
Hammer smirked to himself.
"Tony, you promised me a spot at the Stark Expo. I can't wait to return the favor with a surprise of my own."
"Sir, Vanko should be arriving within the next two hours," his secretary informed him.
Hammer nodded.
"Fine. I'll wait. I've always respected genius, after all."
He strolled toward the warehouse entrance before pausing.
"By the way, is our little welcoming banquet ready?"
"Yes, sir, but…" The secretary trailed off, eyes widening as he looked toward the set-up banquet table.
It was already occupied.
A young man sat at the head of the table, his face partially obscured by a sleek metallic mask.
To his right lounged a striking blonde woman draped in white, and beside her, a red-skinned, long-haired woman with an eerie, almost demonic presence.
A maid in a pristine black-and-white uniform moved gracefully between them, setting down a glass of wine.
The guards Hammer had originally stationed in the room? They were now unconscious, sprawled across the cold concrete floor.
Hammer's eyes narrowed. "And who the hell are you?"
The bodyguards at his back wasted no time drawing their weapons, fingers tightening over triggers.
A single command from Hammer, and these intruders would be riddled with bullets.
The masked man merely spread his arms in a gesture of peace. "Relax. We're not here to cause trouble. Quite the opposite, actually. We're here to offer you a mutually beneficial partnership."
Hammer scoffed. "And I'm supposed to just take your word for it?"
The masked man sighed, almost disappointed. "Figures. Yuriko, would you kindly escort Mr. Hammer to the table? Maybe then we can have a proper conversation."
The maid—Yuriko—turned to Hammer with empty-looking eyes.
"As you wish, Master."
The rhythmic clicking of her heels echoed as she stepped toward him.
Hammer frowned.
"I don't have time for this crap. Take them out."
His bodyguards opened fire.
"Bang!"
The shot barely rang out before Yuriko moved.
In a blur, she evaded the bullet, her movements eerily fluid.
It was instinct—something buried deep in muscle memory.
She had no recollection of who she once was, but her combat reflexes remained razor-sharp, honed beyond human capability.
Before the guards could react, she lunged.
"Protect the boss!" one of them shouted, forming a shield around Hammer.
The first bodyguard—a hulking man nearly two meters tall—collapsed as Yuriko struck with a single, bone-crunching punch.
His weapon clattered to the floor, useless.
A second guard tried to raise his gun, but his hand barely twitched before a blade flashed.
"Shhk!"
His weapon—and his fingers—fell away in bloody fragments.
Yuriko's posture shifted.
Her hands flexed, and with a sickening metallic scrape, long, razor-sharp claws extended from her fingertips.
"H-Holy shit!" Hammer gasped, stumbling backward as his guards dropped one by one.
Screams and gunfire filled the air, but it was over in mere seconds.
Yuriko stood amidst a circle of fallen men, her claws dripping crimson onto the cold floor.
She turned back to Hammer, blood staining her immaculate uniform.
But instead of striking, she retracted her claws, folded her hands in front of her, and bowed slightly.
"Please take your seat, Mr. Hammer."
Hammer trembled as he hit the ground, scrambling back like a cornered rat.
"S-Stay back!"
One of his remaining guards, half-conscious, mustered the strength to raise his gun, firing three desperate shots into Yuriko's chest.
She staggered.
Blood bloomed across the fabric of her dress.
Then, before Hammer's horrified eyes, the wounds began closing.
Skin knitted itself back together in seconds.
The bullets slid out, clinking onto the ground like discarded shell casings.
Hammer stared, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
His eyes darted to the bullets rolling toward his feet, as if seeing them would make it all less real.
And then, he screamed.
...
"Don't come any closer—I can do it myself." Hammer's voice trembled as he cast a wary glance at Yuriko, then, without further hesitation, he pulled out a chair and sat down.
His gaze shifted nervously between the three figures seated at the table.
"Now that's more like it," the masked man said smoothly. "We can finally have a civilized conversation."
Hammer swallowed hard, forcing himself to regain some composure.
He wasn't an idiot—if they hadn't killed him yet, it meant he was still valuable.
He had to use that to his advantage.
"You mentioned cooperation," Hammer said, choosing his words carefully.
"That's interesting. But, if we're going to do business, I'd prefer to see the face of the man I'm dealing with. No offense, but it's hard to trust someone when they won't even show their true colors."
He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.
This was a gamble—pushing boundaries to see how far he could go.
To his surprise, the masked man chuckled.
"Fair enough." Without hesitation, he reached up and pulled the mask away, revealing a young, unfamiliar face.
Hammer studied him, searching for some kind of recognition, but he came up empty.
"You can call me Accelerator."
Hammer forced a smile and adjusted his posture, shifting into businessman mode.
"Well then, Mr. Accelerator, I'm Justin Hammer, executive CEO of Hammer Industries." His tone dripped with practiced enthusiasm.
"Let's cut to the chase—what exactly are you offering?"
Accelerator leaned back in his chair, resting his chin on one hand.
"Mr. Hammer, I heard about your little… disagreement with Tony Stark at the military committee meeting.
How he publicly humiliated you, claiming that even if you had twenty years, Hammer Industries would never come close to replicating his Iron Man suit."
Hammer's jaw tightened.
"I don't need a reminder," he muttered, forcing his expression to remain neutral.
But his eyes flickered with something else—curiosity.
Accelerator smirked, catching Hammer's momentary lapse. "Tell me, Mr. Hammer… what if you didn't need to replicate his suit?"
Hammer's expression darkened for a moment before something clicked.
His eyes widened.
"Wait… are you saying you've cracked the key technology behind the Arc Reactor?"
Accelerator shook his head. "No. Energy research isn't our focus."
Hammer deflated slightly. "Then what is?"
Accelerator's smirk widened as he gestured towards Yuriko. "Biotechnology."
Hammer blinked, then turned his gaze back to the eerily silent woman standing beside him.
His mind raced back to the effortless way she had torn through his guards.
The inhuman speed. The razor-sharp claws. The wounds that healed instantly. His mouth went dry.
"She's… a biological weapon," Hammer whispered.
Accelerator leaned forward, lacing his fingers together.
"We prefer the term 'biological perfection.' Yuriko is the result of years of research—cutting-edge human enhancement. And she's just the beginning."
Hammer didn't respond immediately.
His business instincts were already kicking in.
He had built his empire by recognizing potential, and what he was seeing now?
It was unlike anything on the market.
This could be bigger than military hardware—bigger than the Iron Man suit itself.
Sensing the shift in Hammer's interest, Accelerator continued.
"With Stark Industries pulling out of the arms business, there's a massive power vacuum in the market. Every weapons manufacturer is scrambling to fill that gap. You've been trying to do the same, haven't you?"
Hammer's fingers tapped against the table.
He didn't need to answer—his silence said enough.
Accelerator reached into his coat and slid a stack of documents across the table.
Hammer picked them up and skimmed the pages.
He didn't understand all the technical jargon, but he understood the implications.
"Enhance self-healing, replacing bones with metal…" Hammer muttered under his breath. He exhaled sharply and placed the papers down.
"Madness. Absolute madness."
"But genius," Accelerator added smoothly.
Hammer leaned back, eyeing him skeptically.
"And yet… if this self-healing technology is so advanced, why are you using it for weapons?
If you released this in the medical field, you could revolutionize the world.
No more disease, no more suffering.
Why limit yourselves?"
Accelerator smirked, then motioned towards Yuriko again.
"You're missing the catch. Enhanced healing comes at a price—it affects the brain. Intelligence, emotions… they're altered. And beyond that, the accelerated cell division required for rapid healing has a cost."
Hammer's mind clicked into place. "A lifespan issue."
Accelerator nodded. "Precisely. You can't mass-market a medical breakthrough if it shortens the patient's life."
Hammer exhaled, absorbing the information.
"So you're saying… your product is more practical in warfare."
Accelerator spread his hands.
"More than practical—it's the future. Unlike Iron Man suits, which cost millions per unit, our technology is cost-efficient. How much does one of Stark's suits go for? Twenty million? More? Let's be real—at that price point, only governments and billionaires can afford them. But a soldier enhanced with our biotech?"
He grinned.
"That's a mass-market opportunity."