Fraternity Headquarters – Bulma's Laboratory
Smith found Bulma hunched over a workbench, soldering iron in hand, assembling what looked like a compact radar unit. The lab had transformed over the past weeks, equipment scattered across every surface, diagrams pinned to walls, the organized chaos of an active research facility.
"Bulma."
She looked up, blue hair slightly disheveled, safety goggles perched on her forehead. Her face brightened immediately. "Brother Smith! Perfect timing."
She set down the soldering iron and retrieved a device from the completed projects shelf. "I finished the Dragon Ball Radar, but I can't test it without actual Dragon Balls to detect."
Smith accepted the radar, compact, elegant, with a display screen and several control buttons. The craftsmanship was impeccable despite the limitations of Earth manufacturing.
"The Dragon Balls have a one-year recharge cycle," Smith explained. "Someone made a wish recently, so they've turned to stone. Won't be detectable for another eleven months."
Bulma nodded, understanding immediately. "Then the design should be solid. We'll verify functionality once they reactivate."
Smith pocketed the radar. "What about the medical pod? Any progress on replication or understanding the healing fluid composition?"
Bulma's enthusiasm dimmed slightly. "The medical pod is... challenging. The technology is several generations beyond current Earth capabilities. Some components don't have earth equivalents, exotic matter configurations, energy field generators that require materials this planet doesn't produce naturally."
She gestured at her equipment. "I can't replicate it with what's available here. The tech base is too limited. That said, John Wick used it for treatment yesterday. Results were excellent, all his accumulated injuries healed completely. He's in the best physical condition of his life."
That's good news, Smith thought. John at peak performance is a significant asset.
"Don't focus on replicating the pod then," Smith said. "Spend time learning Earth's technological landscape, what materials are available, what manufacturing processes exist, how the science differs from your home universe. Understanding the limitations will help you work within them."
"Already on it," Bulma confirmed. "I've been studying materials science databases for days. Which brings me to something interesting, this world actually has supergravity laboratory technology."
Smith's attention sharpened. "Explain."
"Humans here proposed supergravity research concepts in the last century," Bulma said, pulling up files on her tablet. "Several countries built functional supergravity labs using centrifugal force. The technology exists and works. With modern materials and engineering, I can absolutely build a gravity chamber for training."
She paused. "But there's a size problem. A functional gravity chamber needs significant space, we're talking about a structure at least fifty feet in diameter, probably larger for higher gravity multiples. This facility..." She gestured around the lab. "Way too small. You'd need a dedicated building, probably outside the city where construction won't draw attention."
Smith processed that. The gravity chamber was essential for Saiyan training, his power growth depended on it. But Bulma was right about the space requirements. The textile factory headquarters couldn't accommodate that kind of construction.
Which means I need a proper base. Somewhere with enough land for expansion, facilities for research, training grounds, storage. The Fraternity's growing beyond what this building can support anyway.
"You're right," Smith said. "I'll have Fox start looking for suitable property. Something large, private, with room to build whatever we need."
Bulma's eyes lit up with a different kind of excitement. "Speaking of going places, Brother Smith, can I explore the city? I've been cooped up in this lab for weeks, and I'm dying to see how this world differs from mine."
Smith considered that. Bulma wandering New York unsupervised could be... complicated. She was brilliant but impulsive, with a teenager's sense of invincibility. On the other hand, keeping her locked in a lab indefinitely was both cruel and likely to make her less cooperative.
"If I have free time, I can take you," Smith offered. "Or ask Puar, Fox, or John to escort you. But your work here is still a priority, no extended trips until the gravity chamber project has clear direction."
Bulma grabbed his arm, shaking it enthusiastically. "That's perfect! I don't need to go far. Just want to explore the neighborhood, see how people live, check out the local tech."
She pulled up a world map on her tablet. "Brother Smith, why does this planet have 193 separate countries? That's insane! In my world, there's one unified global government with 43 administrative regions. How do you get anything done with that many competing jurisdictions?"
Smith smiled at her bewilderment. "It's complicated. Long history of wars, cultural differences, geographical barriers. Earth's never achieved the kind of unity your world has."
"Sounds inefficient," Bulma muttered, but her curiosity was clearly piqued rather than judgmental.
Stark Industries Rolls-Royce – En Route to Press Conference
Tony stared out the car window, his mind churning through logistics and consequences. The press conference would change everything, his relationship with Obadiah, the board's confidence, Stark Industries' stock price, probably his friendship with Rhodey.
Worth it.
A thought occurred to him. "Pepper, what exactly did you promise Smith Doyle for the rescue?"
Pepper turned in her seat, pulling up documents on her tablet. "One hundred million dollars in scientific research equipment and materials. Here's the list his people sent over."
She handed him the tablet. Tony scrolled through, advanced fabrication tools, exotic alloys, computational systems, prototype energy components. Nothing particularly dangerous or restricted, but expensive and specialized.
"Standard R&D procurement," Tony noted. "No problem. Push the order through today and schedule delivery within a week."
"There's more," Pepper said carefully. "I also promised a shipment of Stark Industries weapons and, " She hesitated. "Ongoing access to our military procurement channels."
Tony's scrolling stopped. He looked up sharply. "You promised weapons supply channels to him?"
"I was desperate," Pepper said defensively. "You were missing for three months, declared dead, and the military's search operations had failed completely. Smith Doyle's organization was the only option that could actually produce results."
She met his gaze steadily. "And they did. You're here. So yes, I promised whatever it took."
Tony set down the tablet, processing that. "What exactly is Smith Doyle? I know he's got some kind of superhuman abilities, but beyond that..."
"I had JARVIS compile everything available," Pepper said. "The full dossier is on your home computer. Short version: he leads an organization called the Fraternity. They recently absorbed the Continental Hotel network and destroyed something called the High Table, basically consolidated control over most organized crime globally."
Tony whistled softly. "That's... significant operational capability."
"The intelligence I gathered suggests they're selective about targets," Pepper continued. "Not random criminals-for-hire. More like... vigilante justice with international reach." She paused. "Though 'vigilante' doesn't quite capture the scale."
Tony absorbed that information, his analytical mind already working through the implications. Smith Doyle commanded a global network, possessed superhuman capabilities, had access to advanced technology Pepper didn't fully understand, and now expected weapons supply channels from Stark Industries.
Which I'm about to shut down permanently.
"Pepper, about that weapons channel promise..." Tony chose his words carefully. "That's going to be complicated."
"Why?"
"You'll see at the press conference." Tony's jaw set. "But I'm going to breach that part of the contract. We'll need to renegotiate."
Pepper's confusion was evident, but she didn't push. They'd arrive at headquarters in minutes, and whatever Tony was planning would become clear soon enough.
Tony stared out the window again, thinking about Smith Doyle. The man had saved his life, demonstrated extraordinary abilities, and clearly had resources that rivaled major corporations. Maybe weapons channels weren't what he really needed anyway.