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Jimmy listened to Gail's report and nodded.
Just as he expected.
"Stop this research direction immediately," Jimmy said without hesitation. "I have to say, Jack was a complete amateur when it came to business."
He spoke plainly.
"He didn't even understand the most basic principle of turning research into profit. He was suited to be a pure researcher, not a company founder."
Jimmy looked around the room.
"A small company. Massive ambitions. No connections. No hospitals. No regulatory channels."
"And he wanted to jump straight into drug development."
Jimmy shook his head.
"Forget where you'd apply for clinical trials or how you'd get approval. Even if the drug worked perfectly, who were you planning to sell it to?"
"The people who can afford it won't dare to use it."
"The people who dare to use it won't be able to afford it."
He continued calmly.
"Unless Blood Orchids can be grown like potatoes on a farm, this model collapses."
"If you grow them only in labs, the product becomes too rare and too expensive to use."
"If you scale it to farms, the product becomes common and worthless."
"So either way, it's a dead end."
"Whether the research succeeds or fails, the outcome is the same."
The room was silent.
Jimmy turned to Gail.
"You're new to working in labs. You need to break this habit early."
"Unless it's your own lab, every experiment has exactly one goal."
"Monetization."
"If you don't work toward that, you will never be valued by investors or management."
"And you will never have funding."
Jimmy's voice remained steady.
"Only when you have money can you afford to chase real research."
"Without money, you can't even sustain daily life. Let alone dreams."
No one interrupted him.
Gordon nodded slowly.
Jimmy's thinking aligned perfectly with his own.
At some point, Gordon had been seduced by Jack's grand promises.
Now, the company had been acquired, split, and nearly dismantled.
If Stark Industries had not stepped in and kept them, all of them would already be looking for new jobs.
It wasn't that starting over was impossible.
It was the loss of something they had built.
Something they believed in.
Now that Gordon realized the lab belonged to Jimmy, and that the entire company was nothing more than a gift from Stark to his nephew, the emotional gap was hard to ignore.
In Gordon's mind, everything condensed into two words.
Make money.
Research that does not make money is meaningless.
---
"So what do we do," someone finally asked.
"Cosmetics," Jimmy answered immediately.
"Skincare products."
"Masks, Creams, Topical applications."
"If Blood Orchid restores cellular vitality, then its first and strongest application is cosmetic."
"Cosmetics face far fewer regulatory barriers than pharmaceuticals."
"They are not injected, not ingested."
"Approval is faster, Risk is lower."
"If it genuinely promotes cellular rejuvenation, it will dominate the market."
Jimmy continued.
"Once the brand is established, others will naturally attempt to study deeper applications."
"Breaking biological limits. Extending lifespan."
"And when they do, they won't be able to avoid Blood Orchid."
"They won't be able to avoid us."
"That's why the environmental simulation lab is the real core asset."
"If they want collaboration, we set the terms."
He paused.
"This lab is currently operating at a loss, cc That's fine."
"But once results appear and products generate revenue, all of you will receive equity based on contribution."
"That will be written into contracts."
Jimmy looked at them one by one.
"So work hard."
"This isn't empty talk."
"It's reality."
The room felt different now.
For the first time since the collapse, the path forward was clear.
And for the first time, they believed this company could truly survive.
Jimmy watched as the Blood Orchid bulbs were carefully buried in the soil.
Each bulb was placed directly above a fragment of vibranium.
Even after planting all of them, there were still many vibranium fragments left unused.
Seeing this, Jimmy suddenly remembered something.
He still had Fruit seeds.
There were quite a few of them left.
Since the materials were already here, he decided to try.
Jimmy buried several Fruit seeds in the soil.
He turned to the technician in charge of plant management.
"Leave these alone, don't tend to them."
"Even if they don't sprout, or if weeds grow instead, don't touch them."
After that, Jimmy dusted off his hands and walked away.
There was no meeting.
No authority displayed.
No long speech about corporate philosophy.
Yet he had given everyone something far more valuable.
A clear future.
---
After Jimmy left, Ben finally said what everyone had been thinking.
"No wonder rich people just keep getting richer," Ben muttered. "They don't think like us."
"The same thing in Jack's hands was a dead end either way."
"In Jimmy's hands, it's brought back to life in minutes."
No one argued.
---
At that moment, a staff member approached with a row of sealed storage containers.
"Director Gail Stern," he said respectfully. "These are the remaining Blood Orchid samples. Where should they be stored?"
"Oh. Follow me," Gail replied immediately.
She walked briskly, confidence obvious in her steps.
Ben hurried after her.
For a moment, it seemed like he had finally gotten it together.
Unfortunately, that optimism faded quickly.
He was still hopelessly devoted.
At least Ben's medical background made him genuinely useful.
Even if his help was limited in product development, he would be invaluable in safety testing and regulatory compliance.
---
With everything settled, Jimmy returned to his routine.
School.
Home.
Training.
Once a week, he visited the laboratory to learn and observe.
On weekends, or whenever he had free time, he trained at Damon's place.
At this point, Damon no longer had much left to teach him.
---
Perhaps the destruction of the Frank D'Amico organization had left a lasting impression.
Hell's Kitchen had been unusually calm lately.
The gangs were cautious.
No one wanted to draw the butcher's attention.
After Frank D'Amico's building was sealed off by police, investigators searched it for days.
They found nothing.
Not even the results they fully believed in themselves.
One man.
From the ground floor to the top.
Breaking through reinforced concrete.
No explosives.
No firearms.
The police had no explanation.
But S.H.I.E.L.D. did.
---
"Anything new," Phil Coulson asked.
As a liaison officer, Nick Fury had assigned agents to monitor the situation closely.
This case had not originally warranted intervention.
But the moment the police report mentioned abnormal structural damage, S.H.I.E.L.D. stepped in.
Any man-made supernatural event with this level of destruction demanded attention.
Uncertainty was a threat.
And threats needed oversight.
Coulson examined the scene carefully, scanning with a handheld device.
"No explosive residue," he said. "The breach in the upper floor contains metallic traces."
"It looks like something extremely heavy struck upward from below."
"That's impossible," another agent said. "I'd rather believe this was an explosive."
Coulson shook his head.
"It wasn't."
He paused.
"If General Ross didn't have the green guy locked up, I'd think it was him."
Coulson pocketed the device.
He glanced at the file photo one last time and turned away.
---
Bullseye
Threat Level Two.
Ability. Extreme precision with thrown objects.
Known feats include slicing a throat with a playing card, firing a paperclip through a skull by exhalation, and killing a target through a window from ninety-one meters away using a toothpick.
---
The case was closed.
But the shadow it left behind was only beginning to spread.
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