In the vintage-decorated office, Howard poured a glass of red wine for himself and Ryden.
"Excellent, nephew. You really are the son of that old guy Ethan Hunt. You've surprised me. Oh, you're still in school. I suppose you shouldn't drink. Kacy, bring a cup of coffee for my little guest."
Ryden's lip twitched.
This Howard was really something. He had already poured the wine and set it in front of him, only to take it back.
What "can't drink" nonsense.
"Mr. Hunt, here is your coffee. Please enjoy."
A beautiful secretary in a short-skirt uniform brought the coffee over with a smile, her cat-like stride deliberately unhurried, fully showing off her youthful figure.
"Alright, kid. Tell me your requirements. This gun is very good. Sell me the blueprints, and I can give you a fair price. Believe me, I worked with your dad. I won't cheat you."
Howard's cynical expression instantly shifted, turning serious and professional as he swirled the wine in his glass.
"Alright, I believe you. Even though I remember the old man saying Howard was the bottom-ranked scientist in America."
Ryden quickly took a sip of coffee before the stingy Howard had any ideas about taking that away too.
"Cough-cough! Hey! Wait! What do you mean 'bottom-ranked'? Damn it! I am the most outstanding, smartest, number-one scientist in America!"
Howard couldn't stay serious for even a second and immediately started freaking out.
He couldn't even get angry at a dead man. That stubborn old Hunt was too vicious, ruining his reputation in front of the younger generation.
"I don't know about that. But I'll definitely surpass you."
Ryden set the cup down.
"These are the blueprints for the AK-47. I've researched its power and market prospects. On the current market and the European battlefield, it completely outclasses the German StG 44. I want shares in Stark Industries. At least ten percent. I won't interfere with management. I just want my dividends every month."
He calmly stated his bottom line.
Negotiations depended on who you were dealing with.
With someone like Howard, who had a scientist's temperament, being direct and skipping the probing phase actually earned respect.
Sure enough, Ryden's bluntness made Howard serious again.
"Ten percent? Big ambitions for a kid. Why not just take the money?"
A confident smile appeared on Ryden's face.
"Simple. With my technical support and your professional management, what we gain in the future will far exceed a lump sum. Or do you lack confidence?"
His tone was calm.
Too calm.
It carried a certainty that made his words hard to doubt.
Maybe this was charisma.
"Hahaha! Excellent. If the old man knew his son was this outstanding, he'd be proud. Ten percent it is."
Howard slammed the decision down without hesitation.
"Wait here. I'll have someone draft the contract. Your words have made the great Howard very satisfied. Kid-no, partner. Minority shareholder of Stark Industries. What else do you want? Say it. As long as it's not excessive, I can agree."
Howard drained his wine in one go, his face flushed with excitement.
All because of Ryden's compliment.
Others didn't know, but Howard did. Ever since he quit the Academy of Sciences to start a business, he'd been laughed at constantly.
Right now, Stark Industries only repaired broken firearms. It had no real foothold in the weapons manufacturing industry.
That had made him restless and angry.
But now, the opportunity had arrived.
Once this AK-47 was placed in front of senators and tested by the army, those officers and soldiers would pressure the senators for him without a word from Howard.
"I plan to go to MIT for further study. I'm almost ready to graduate. High school doesn't have much left to teach me. University has more resources."
Ryden paused.
"I also need two thousand dollars in cash. To be honest, researching this weapon has basically drained me."
He shrugged helplessly.
If he weren't down to his last dollar, he wouldn't have sold the designs. Going solo would have been far better.
"Haha, interesting kid. I almost forgot. Blowing up your house last time must've cost a fortune."
Howard waved a hand.
"Two thousand is nothing. I'll give you ten thousand. The company doesn't have much cash right now, but it will soon. Tomorrow I'll visit the senators. This weapon is our first step upward."
His eyes gleamed.
"I believe you can create even more."
That was the look of someone who had discovered true talent.
"That's enough for now. With sufficient funding, I can design rifles with even better performance. But stability comes first. Soldiers don't want to carry a firestick that jams in the middle of battle."
Ryden spoke with certainty.
A one-time sale was a loss.
Shares were long-term profit.
The secretary worked efficiently.
In under two hours, the contract was finished, typed line by line on a traditional typewriter.
Judging from the formatting alone, she wasn't just a decorative vase.
After carefully confirming the terms, Ryden signed his name.
From this moment on, he was a shareholder of Stark Industries.
A true golden goose.
"Dinner tonight? Minority shareholder?"
Howard reverted to his usual cynical tone.
After receiving the blueprints, a single glance told him Ryden hadn't held anything back. The technical details and assembly notes were complete and precise.
The moment the drawings came out of the backpack, Howard knew this minority shareholder had come prepared to win.
Still, the kid hadn't been greedy.
Both sides stood to gain.
A clean deal.
With this weapon, Stark Industries' rise in the American arms market was inevitable.
"Once the military order is secured, then we can celebrate."
Ryden shook his head.
He had no interest in banquets. He'd rather go home and experiment or read.
Learning made him happy.
Howard shrugged. The invitation had only been a formality anyway.
With the AK-47 in hand, he was already busy planning his entry into the arms market.
"As you wish, minority shareholder."
Leaving the Stark Industries building, Ryden felt his back straighten.
No wonder people said money brought confidence.
It was true.
His steps felt light, almost floating.
If he weren't worried about getting mugged out of pure spite, he might not have been able to resist doing a shameless moonwalk down the street.
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