6 First, recruit.

When I settled into my new life, I went around, ate food, and just enjoyed life, almost getting distracted like a kitten.

but I got my head out of my ass and went back to work.

When Ordis was setting my credentials, we bought an abandoned warehouse in New York Harbor with the money we stole from rich folks.

Most of the money we stole won't even be noticed; it was moved around so much that you will never be able to track it.

It was all to set off my first rendition of my operations, which would be disguised as a corporation.

As I stand here, surveying the immense warehouse that now falls under the domain of Emberfall Corp., this dilapidated structure, once a forgotten relic of a bygone era, will now serve as the perfect disguise for my clandestine plans and operations.

Now it is under fast-paced renovation, with the designs of Ordis pulled out.

Each contractor I hired was given a specific task, never more than two. This way, their focus remained narrow and their understanding of the project fragmented. None of them could comprehend the bigger picture.

This first step is very important for me, and I really don't need to screw it up.

Some may think that starting a company once you drop into a new world is kind of cliche, but hey, this is the fastest way to climb up the hill and become its king.

Every stolen dollar was put to use, ensuring the warehouse was secure and reinforced to an unprecedented degree.

Within these walls, a makeshift base of operations will emerge. It will be a hub of innovation and a center for plotting our next moves and orchestrating a new order.

As I walked inside, it wasn't much, really, yet.

Just rooms upon rooms that will hold a lot of stuff when I get going with my hiring.

After all, every workplace needs the talent to occupy it.

And the talent I am eying is no ordinary one.

My gaze is fixed on those who have been discarded by society—those who suffered unjustly and met their untimely demise.

They were cast aside, their potential wasted, and their lives cut short.

I see their potential, their untapped abilities, and their strengths.

They are like diamonds in the rough, waiting to be discovered and polished to reveal their true brilliance.

I aim to rescue these fallen souls and put them to good use.

One of those people is Ivan Antonovich Vanko, a man consumed by unfocused revenge who stands as one of those individuals lost in the depths of despair.

From a young age, Ivan was exposed to his father's bitter resentment and his deep-rooted desire for vengeance against the Starks.

His father's misguided teachings, fueled by personal grievances, slowly poisoned Ivan's mind and molded his beliefs. His quest for revenge was a misguided attempt to find purpose and meaning.

but it ultimately led him down a path of self-destruction. In his pursuit, he resorted to acts of violence, causing havoc and chaos but achieving little of true significance.

And now I am heading to Russia to save him before the straw breaks the back, and I know how to save Ivan and bring him to my side.

If there is anything he cares about, it is his dad, so I will save him as an act of goodwill.

I walked into the cold Russian village with its rusty and depressing feeling that was everywhere.

It seems like Ivan projects the essence of this village, a place where his father trapped him, not letting him reach his full potential because he wanted to make an extra buck on the black market.

I reached the Vanko residence, which is a broken and poorly built house; rotted and started crumbling down, I am still wondering how it stands.

*knock knock*

I stood there waiting outside wearing my long coat and Ushanka hat.

The unlubricated door made a whine that would make my brain explode if I didn't control my senses.

"Kto ty?" he said as he tilted his head.

I just tilted my head back at him, not really understanding him.

"I am sorry, but I don't speak Russian, but that doesn't mean my proposition won't be understood," I said while grinning at him.

"Who are you?" he said in broken English when he realized I'm not Russian

"I am Sol Brightburn, I am here to talk to you about a business opportunity" with a bright smile pulling up my best businessman imitation, and extending my hand.

As he ignored my hand, he gazed at me with a calculating look while chewing on a toothpick. He popped his head outside, looking left and right before he let me in.

Looking around, I can't help but feel claustrophobic about their hoarder house, spare parts everywhere, countless bottles of vodka, cigarette packets, diesel generators, a bed, and TV—it's all an entangled mess.

I looked around and looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Why does a talent such as yours choose to live in this gutter?" I genuinely asked.

He looked at me and started speaking broken English while pouring a cup of vodka.

"Money doesn't fall with snow."

"Well, you just didn't try to make it do so, Ivan," I said while still looking around like a tourist.

"and being poor doesn't give you an excuse to be a snub" I add sarcastically while scanning everything with X-rey vision, and I already noticed his dad in the other room, being a lump.

"Get down with it; what do you want?" he said in really broken English.

"I want to hire you to unlock your full potential and make you take his place in the magazines," I said while pointing to the stickers of Tony Stark that littered the wall to push his buttons and sear him.

"Ivaaaaaan" a voice from the outside called "Kto tam??".

He looked at me, and I looked at him, and I just spoke with a smirk.

"So that's who's holding you down in this dump, right?' I said this while chuckling.

As always, he saw this as an opportunity for aggression, and he jumped on me, trying to push me.

As his hands hit me, nothing happened; he was just pushed back to his place by his own momentum, and he started to look at his hands with confusion.

'Not so strong today?' I thought to myself.

"Don't disrespect a man in his home," he spat out.

"I am not disrespecting you; I am just addressing the issue, an issue I can help you solve," I proposed with open hands.

"How? He got hepatocellular carcinoma; no one was able to cure him, and we are not that well, as you see," he said, with hope and skepticism tinting his tone.

"Well, that's an answer for later, but all I know is that your father doesn't have much left, so I need to know if I can trust you," I asked with equal skepticism.

"I'll do anything. save him," he says now, with no hints of the toughness he showed before.

"Yes, I will, but I'll address the elephant in the room, which is you, Ivan." I pointed my finger at him.

"Me?" he asked with a lost tone.

"Yes, you. Every action you take is fueled by a bad decision-making process," I started to explain.

"Your actions were a reflection of the toxic ideology that had been imprinted on you by your dad; his own action got him into his situation, and now he's stopping you from actually doing anything meaningful with your life."

"You could've been on these posters already, but no, you stayed here and kept up with your dad's BS, even adopting it."

He didn't say anything; he just lowered his head and clenched his fist when faced with actual facts.

"But I am here; you can call me a good samaritan or an opportunist; labels matter not; what matters is what we can achieve by looking ahead instead of trapping our potential in the now."

"But I need to make sure you won't backstab me because I know your potential, but I also know your flaws, which will be problematic for our partnership."

"Partnership? You say," he said with a skeptical smirk.

"So what do you say? Get over yourself and your dad and start thinking about doing what you love, which is creating. or die in the gutter like him?"

He looked at me while being lost in his inner thoughts.

He looked in the direction of his dad's room and looked at me again.

I just raised both eyebrows while taking a presenting stance.

"Before we make any deals, what exactly do you want me to do? make weapons?" Ivann asked, trying to get a hint from me on the nature of the deal before he made out with the devil while cuffed to the bed.

"Maybe, but I'm not sure yet. I can give you resources, and you have creative freedom, but all the tech will be top secret unless we choose to make it public; after all, you don't want someone snooping around your stuff," I said with a smile, hinting at the clandestine nature of our work.

He smiled and nodded while making a satisfied face and nodding. "Good, very good."

"As for your father, for now, I will put him into suspended animation, halting his declining health. We have a plan to create something in the future that will solve his health problem and even get him back to working conditions. Maybe come work with us."

"Okay, I accept."

I brandished an alien-looking syringe.

"Hi, this is just a fancy sedative; I'll take him with me now, but I assure you he will join you in no time. Trust me, after all, we will be working close to each other, so don't worry about me running off on you."

When he finally bought my sales pitch, I then started to throw in the fruit.

"You will be provided with exotic materials and blueprints to jumpstart your work; you will be part of a bigger team working in a synergic manner to put your technology to its best use; and no gram of steel or copper will be wasted. I believe in your abilities, Ivan, and your ability to grow past this self-loathing, self-destructive self."

"Now, you have to prove yourself to both me and yourself, okay?" I said as I extended a hand.

After we put our numbers into their respective columns and ironed out all the wrong pre-conceived notions and misconceptions about the nature of work, I gave him dates and told him when he would be provided a visa to come to New York since he's not sanctioned like his dad. I then took his now-sedated dad into my car and drove off.

Reaching a secluded place full of only snow and mountains, I signaled to the transport ship to come my way and to take Ivan's dad and put him into suspended animation in one of the hibernation pods.

The first mission was a success, a good sign for what comes.