(Timeskip - 1994)
Skull Island - The Lower Sanctuaries
Howard Stark walked slowly along the smooth cobblestone path.
He breathed in the pure air of the island and felt a wave of emotion wash over him.
He had been a resident of this hidden sanctuary for over two years.
No one in the outside world could have predicted this outcome.
A man who was legally dead, murdered on a snowy road, was living more freely than he ever had in life.
During his later years on the surface, Howard had always pushed himself to fulfill his obligations to S.H.I.E.L.D.
He invented weapons, drafted logistics, and manufactured equipment for the agency.
But he had been exhausted. The spark of genuine discovery had faded.
Everything at S.H.I.E.L.D. was heavily regulated, chained to bureaucratic work plans, and deeply dull.
He never expected his raw, youthful passion for science to reignite after his resurrection.
Skull Island was a technological paradise.
The facility housed satellite arrays and quantum processors that exceeded the most advanced human technology by centuries.
Howard found himself unable to pull away from the vast ocean of extraterrestrial and magical knowledge.
He spent his days in the laboratories, dissecting alien schematics and magical physics.
In quiet moments, he actually found himself regretting his initial hesitation on that dark road.
He regretted not selling his soul entirely to Ernst when he first signed the blood contract.
His limited service term meant several tiers of highly advanced technology remained classified and locked away from his clearance level.
At first, Howard assumed his servitude would be a nightmare. He expected to be locked in a dark, subterranean cell, forced to churn out weapons for a literal demon.
Instead, he woke up in a cloned, youthful body on a vibrant, beautiful island.
He was surrounded by thousands of resurrected mutants possessing bizarre, reality-bending abilities.
Howard quickly realized the truth. Ernst was not a literal demon from biblical scripture.
He was a highly evolved human, a mutant mastermind with a terrifying understanding of genetics and dimensional physics.
The so-called demonic resurrection was simply an extreme application of advanced science and mutant power.
Because of the contract's restrictions, Howard was physically bound to the island. He could not leave.
Still, his relentless work ethic and his ability to solve massive technical bottlenecks had earned him significant favor.
Ernst rewarded utility. Howard received heavy discounts on his service time.
More importantly, he earned priority access to the Red Queen's global surveillance network.
He could request status updates on his son, Tony, at any time.
Knowing that his son was thriving and carrying the Stark legacy forward brought him immense peace of mind.
The news relieved his lingering guilt.
The level of technology on the island defied all traditional logic.
Howard had analyzed equipment clearly ordered directly from deep-space alien syndicates.
If these machines were weaponized by a malicious actor, they possessed the yield to instantly eradicate Earth and the entire human race.
However, Howard was no longer worried about global annihilation.
He had studied Ernst. If the man truly wanted to burn the planet, he would have done it decades ago.
The world remained peaceful because Ernst preferred it that way.
As Howard sighed, looking up at the artificial sky, a calm voice sounded directly behind him.
"Mr. Stark. So this is where you wandered off to."
Howard turned around.
Standing on the cobblestone was a middle-aged man dressed in a meticulously tailored, aristocratic suit.
Kerry.
Howard did not dare underestimate the man. Kerry was Ernst's most trusted executive and the supreme butler of the shadow empire.
Kerry managed a massive, hidden global industry with exacting precision.
While his success was largely due to Ernst's terrifying foresight and the Red Queen's logistical assistance, Kerry's own managerial ability was exceptionally sharp.
"Our newly developed mobile communication device is finished," Kerry announced, adjusting his cuffs.
"You should return to the lab and inspect the prototype."
"Of course," Howard agreed instantly, his scientific curiosity piqued.
"We must go. This brand new device is the culmination of our recent engineering sprint."
Howard walked briskly alongside Kerry.
"Although it is not the most advanced alien technology we possess," Howard noted, "it is calibrated for the current, primitive consumer market on the surface."
They entered the sterile, bright lights of the primary development laboratory.
As soon as Howard walked through the automated doors, he saw Ernst.
The leader of the Black Shadows was casually tossing a sleek, rectangular device up and down in his hand.
"Ah, you are both here," Ernst declared, catching the glass and metal rectangle.
"The prototype has been rigorously tested. It meets our projected expectations."
Ernst tossed the smooth device across the room to Kerry.
"I have decided to name it the Apple iPhone," Ernst stated smoothly.
"Just as the apple holds a legendary status in history and science—from Eden to gravity—this specific device will permanently revolutionize the human telecommunications industry."
Kerry examined the smooth glass screen, his executive eye immediately analyzing its commercial functionality.
Satisfied, Kerry nodded. He planned to take the sample directly to the manufacturing wing for immediate mass production.
Ernst, brimming with seemingly impossible ideas for future software development and app integration, began outlining the next decade of upgrades.
Kerry listened with deep admiration, unaware that Ernst was simply reciting the established technological timeline from his past life.
Suddenly, the Red Queen's holographic avatar flickered into existence on the laboratory console.
"Dr. Ernst," the AI's voice cut cleanly through the air.
"A visitor from the United Kingdom has triggered the perimeter wards. He seeks an immediate audience."
Intrigued, Ernst raised an eyebrow.
His European castle was incredibly remote.
It was heavily shielded by magical wards and shrouded in perpetual, telekinetically manipulated cloud cover. It rarely attracted uninvited guests.
"Identify the visitor," Ernst commanded.
"It is Headmaster Albus Dumbledore of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," the Red Queen replied.
A secondary holographic screen appeared, displaying thermal and optical footage of the old wizard standing in the Scottish mist.
"Biometric analysis indicates he is highly anxious, despite his attempts to conceal it," the Red Queen reported.
"Perhaps a pressing, catastrophic matter compels him to seek your direct intervention."
Ernst chuckled dryly.
"Such desperate, political schemes are not my style, Red Queen. Let him wait in the cold for a few minutes."
Ernst leaned against the lab table, pondering the true reason for the Headmaster's sudden visit.
His intelligence network had already flagged the recent, chaotic anomalies in the British wizarding world.
The Dark Lord, Voldemort, had recently achieved full biological resurrection.
The hidden magical society was plunging into panic.
"Dumbledore, without a doubt, seeks to weaponize me against Voldemort," Ernst concluded aloud.
"But I will not be swayed into fighting a local war that offers zero tangible benefit to my empire."
He carefully considered what Dumbledore could possibly offer as payment.
Standard magical items like Slytherin's Locket or Gryffindor's Sword were trivial.
Ernst possessed the alchemy skills to forge superior weapons in his sleep.
The truly precious artifacts the Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, and the Cloak of Invisibility—were heavily tied to the boy, Harry Potter.
Dumbledore would resist trading the Deathly Hallows.
Lost in rapid thought, Ernst finally settled on a very specific, highly valuable magical treasure.
He made his decision.
Ernst vanished instantly with a sharp crack of displaced air, leaving Kerry and Howard staring at the empty space.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
The Scottish Highlands - Ernst's Castle
Meanwhile, outside the towering, mist-shrouded fortress, Albus Dumbledore waited with mounting anxiety.
Coming to Ernst Shaw was a desperate, final resort.
Their initial, tense negotiation years ago had left a lingering, heavy distrust between them.
Dumbledore had granted Ernst unrestricted access to ancient magical knowledge in exchange for his nuclear research.
The man was dangerously unpredictable.
But with Voldemort's forces escalating their silent war and infiltrating the Ministry,
Dumbledore had exhausted his conventional options. He had no choice but to seek the monster's assistance.
Fortunately, Ernst did not make the old wizard wait too long.
A heavy, metallic groan echoed through the damp air.
The massive castle gates rumbled open.
A long, sleek bridge constructed from an unknown, obsidian-like alloy extended seamlessly over the chasm, offering a silent, imposing invitation.
Dumbledore, accustomed to utilizing magical shortcuts like Apparition or portkeys, felt a sudden, unfamiliar vulnerability.
Ernst's advanced technology actively suppressed and nullified ambient magic within the castle grounds.
Dumbledore's wand felt like a useless twig in his pocket. He was forced to rely on mundane, physical means.
He took a deep breath, adjusted his robes, and walked slowly across the obsidian bridge.
The oppressive, heavy silence of the fortress amplified his internal anxieties.
As he stepped inside the grand foyer, a nervous house-elf named Winky greeted him.
She bowed low before silently leading him down a long, immaculate corridor toward a stately reception room.
Ernst was already waiting for him.
He sat in a high-backed leather chair, projecting a picture of relaxed, casual courtesy.
After exchanging brief, hollow pleasantries and declining the tea offered by Winky, Ernst decided to cut cleanly to the chase.
"Professor Dumbledore," Ernst said, steepling his fingers.
"Let us dispense with the tiring formalities. I know you seek something specific. Speak plainly."
"A direct, transactional approach serves both of our interests better."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, silently appreciating the ruthless frankness.
"Very well, Ernst. I confess, I come seeking your immediate aid."
Dumbledore leaned forward, his blue eyes losing their usual twinkle.
"As you are aware, our world is in total turmoil. Voldemort's resurrection has plunged us back into a nightmare."
"His political and magical power grows unchecked in the shadows. I fear his forces may soon overwhelm the Order. I implore you to intervene on our behalf."
Ernst shook his head slowly. A touch of mock regret colored his tone.
"Professor, while I did technically attend your school, I remain an outsider to your hidden society."
"This is a local, ideological conflict. It is best resolved internally by your own people. Why should an outsider meddle in a civil war, especially without massive, personal gain?"
A hint of deep disappointment flickered across Dumbledore's weary face, though his voice remained carefully steady.
"Dr. Ernst, you are right. It would not be fair to burden you with our war."
Dumbledore shifted his tactic seamlessly.
"However, perhaps your assistance could come in other, less direct forms."
"Years ago, you used your unique science to upgrade Remus Lupin, a werewolf. His enhanced abilities have proved invaluable in our skirmishes against Voldemort's forces."
Dumbledore watched Ernst closely.
"Could you consider offering a similar enhancement approach for other members of my Order?"
"Enhancing strength is not a simple, charitable feat," Ernst countered smoothly, his face an unreadable mask.
"It requires incredibly rare biological materials and a massive expenditure of restricted energy."
"I offer such specialized aid only when I am sufficiently incentivized. Lupin's case was a highly unique experiment; his biological potential simply exceeded my initial expectations."
Behind his calm facade, Ernst masked a silent, cynical scoff.
He saw clearly through Dumbledore's attempt to manipulate the tactical board.
Despite his earnest, desperate pleas, the old wizard was still holding back key pieces of his true agenda.
Ernst possessed a highly evolved, telepathic sensitivity to another's mental state. He easily detected a subtle, calculated discord within Dumbledore's spirit.
It was a clever, political ploy, but Ernst would not be swayed so cheaply.
"Is there truly no other option?" Dumbledore asked, his voice now holding a heavy, genuine tinge of desperation.
"Every single day, innocent witches and wizards perish at Voldemort's cruel hand. The magical world faces its darkest hour, Dr. Ernst."
Dumbledore lowered his head slightly. "I implore you to reconsider your price."