Ryden buried himself in his work when a spark of inspiration hit.
He thought he'd found a solution to the energy problem.
If nuclear fusion was too radioactive, then maybe high-temperature hydrogen-amine fission could work as a secondary energy source.
His group watched him tensely.
Was he really going this far?
When the bell rang, Ryden was still buried in formulas.
Terrence had to shake him.
"Hey, wake up! You said we were buying parts. Let's go before we get locked in the lab!"
Ryden snapped out of it.
The hallways were already flooding with students eager to leave.
Only he, Terrence, and the beautiful Dia remained in the room.
"Goodbye, Teacher! See you next week! Have a great weekend!" Ryden packed up, glancing at his crush.
He knew the fastest way to win a woman was money and talent. Tony Stark was proof of that.
Dia smiled warmly.
"Thank you. Don't forget to review while you're out having fun!"
Terrence froze.
He had never seen Dia smile. She was always an ice queen. He didn't even know she could look like that.
Ryden had to tug him away before he started drooling.
Outside, Terrence gasped.
"Ryden, did you see that? She smiled! So pretty!"
Ryden stayed calm.
"What's the use of looking? Winning her over is what matters. School's almost over. Where are you planning to go?"
Terrence sighed.
Racial discrimination was still around, even if it wasn't as bad as a century ago.
"I'll probably go to the Third Vocational School and join the army in a few years. I'm not a genius like you. I'm counting on you to pull me up later. Come over for dinner tonight. Your house is empty anyway."
"Fine, haha. Let's hurry before Rocca spots us."
Rocca was a white supremacist who thought he was superior.
He bullied anyone without a background.
Ryden's "mad scientist" reputation and the big explosion had kept him safe so far.
Down the street, they saw Rocca and his goons bullying a scrawny boy, forcing him to kneel while Rocca stepped on his head.
The streets were filled with ragged homeless people waiting for relief.
It was the Great Depression.
America's war profits from World War I had thrown global finances out of balance, triggering a massive crash.
Factories shut down. Workers were laid off.
On Wall Street, people jumped from buildings every day.
Crime followed close behind.
Walking into an alley meant getting mugged, or worse.
Old Forest Street was the electronics district.
During the Depression, everything was cheap due to overproduction.
The McCorkle Building was the largest electronics wholesaler, even supplying the military.
Ryden and Terrence swept through the shops.
Ryden bought something, tossed it to Terrence, and moved on without stopping.
Starters, high-density coils, insulation tape, resistors. The limits of 1930s technology.
He even found a usable vacuum tube circuit board.
The heart of primitive computers.
Ryden bought in bulk.
He carried the important components. Wires and resistors were scheduled for delivery.
The shop owner only agreed because Ryden paid in shiny gold U.S. dollars.
In this era, fifty dollars beat the most handsome face.
Terrence was huffing under nearly sixty pounds of parts.
"Are you done? Save some money for food! My house doesn't have that much to eat!"
As they left the building, they bumped into a very thin man and a weary but gentle middle-aged woman.
With a single glance, Ryden recognized them.
The future Captain America.
He looked exactly like the movies. Scrawny, weak-looking, but with eyes full of quiet steel that no serum could create.
They were carrying a black-and-white television, clearly trying to sell it.
Both looked malnourished. Their clothes were old and patched.
Ryden had a passing thought.
Being a hero was hard. Knowing one was great.
He'd leave saving the world to the Avengers while he focused on alien tech and chasing girls.
"Excuse me, are you selling that TV?"
Sarah stopped and looked at the boys. One Black, one a handsome mixed-race youth.
"Yes. Can we help you, young man?" Her upbringing kept her polite even now.
Steve stayed slightly behind her, watching them with curiosity.
"I'm Ryden Hunt, a student at Brooklyn Second Middle. This is Terrence. I'm running some experiments and need parts. If you're selling, I can buy it directly. You'll get more than a pawn shop, and I'll pay less than retail. Can I take a look?"
The offer was hard to refuse.
Sarah hesitated, then set the TV down.
"It's our family's television. I lost my job recently and need money to live. It's only a year old."
Ryden checked it carefully.
"Not bad. I'll give you a hundred dollars. A shop would offer fifty or sixty, and a new one costs me over a hundred fifty. It's fair for both of us. What do you think?"
A professional offer.
Sarah nodded.
"Alright. But we need cash."
"No problem. I do need a favor. Can you help deliver it to my house? It's nearby, on Blue Street. I spent my carrying money on parts, so I need to go home to get the cash. If you trust me, please follow me."
Sarah hesitated. Crime was everywhere these days.
Steve stepped forward, gripping the TV.
"It's okay, Mother. They're just students. Let's go. It won't take long."
Seeing her son's resolve, Sarah agreed.
Terrence carried his overloaded bag.
Steve carried the television.
Blue Street was a lower-middle-class suburban area of Brooklyn.
Ryden lived in a newly repaired three-story wooden house.
He lived alone. His sister worked at the police station and was rarely home.
He hadn't even seen her since reincarnating.
"Make yourselves at home. Sorry about the mess. Terrence, drop the stuff and go home. Tell Mrs. Rhodes to save a plate for me. Thanks."
Ryden led them inside and went upstairs for the money.
Terrence dumped the parts and gasped for air.
"Ryden, you vampire. Where's my commission? And you're crashing at my place again without even giving me water?"
He grumbled his way out.
Steve looked around the house, unable to hide his envy at the space.
His eyes lingered on the strange mechanical devices scattered across the tables.
Ryden came back down, handed Sarah the cash, and poured them coffee.
"Please count it. And if you're interested, I may have a job for you."
Sarah confirmed the bills were real.
"What kind of job, sir?" In this economy, thousands competed for dozens of positions.
She needed this.
"How many people in your family? Experience? Name and age?" Ryden asked, sounding like a recruiter.
"My name is Sarah Rogers. I'm forty. This is my son, Steve Rogers. I was a nurse at a private clinic, but it closed. I can bandage wounds, cook, and care for the elderly."
Her hands were tense. This was her family's future.
Ryden nodded.
"Where's your husband?"
Sarah's eyes dimmed.
Steve answered instead.
"He passed away. He was in the 107th. He died from mustard gas during the Great War."
Ryden paused, then showed restrained surprise.
"I'm very sorry. A war hero's family."
He nodded once.
"That makes me feel even better about this."
🍊 Boost This Fanfic! 🍊
Every 100 Power Stones gets 1 bonus chapters! 🚀