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The laughter in the grand conference hall refused to die down.
Henry stood calmly on stage, the spotlight gleaming on the metallic white surface of the doctor-type Humajiya, still standing elegantly behind him.
He smiled faintly, eyes flicking toward the retreating figure of Justin Hammer, whose red face was nearly glowing.
> "Looks like our good President Hammer can't wait to go get his medical treatment!"
The line landed perfectly. The hall broke out in another wave of laughter. Some tried to stifle it, but the sound spread like wildfire. Even General Ross couldn't completely hide the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Hammer nearly tripped over his own feet as he stormed toward the exit. His hand tightened into a trembling fist.
> Damn him…! he cursed silently, humiliation burning through his veins. I'll make him pay for this!
But however much he wanted revenge, he didn't dare linger another second. He bolted from the hall like a man fleeing a burning building.
Henry watched him go, his smile turning razor-sharp. "Jumping-beam clown," he murmured under his breath, "you picked the wrong stage to perform on."
---
With the distraction gone, Henry faced the audience again.
> "As you can all see, ladies and gentlemen," he said, voice clear and confident, "the Humajiya Project is very real."
The two androids behind him stood perfectly still, heads bowed slightly, their glowing eyes faintly blue.
> "Beginning next month, Vanderbuilt Technologies will make six civilian Humajiya models available for public order on our official site," he continued. "Each unit is designed for a specific life role—doctor, teacher, security, household assistant, logistics, and maintenance."
A few journalists were already typing frantically. The military delegates whispered among themselves, calculating logistics, licensing potential, and cost.
Henry ended the presentation with a graceful bow.
> "These," he said simply, "are the results of our team's work this past year. Thank you for your attention."
He and both Humajiya units bowed in unison, movements synchronized to a perfection that made even Tony Stark raise an eyebrow.
For a long moment, the hall was silent.
Then, slowly, someone began to clap.
It was General Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross.
The sound echoed once, twice—and then others followed. Executives, government officials, soldiers. Some applauded reluctantly, others sincerely, but the effect was unmistakable.
Vanderbuilt Technologies had arrived.
The World Technology Summit—once dominated by Stark Industries and Umbrella—had just witnessed the rise of a new power.
---
As the applause faded and people began filing out, the conversations turned from skepticism to strategy.
"Unbelievable…"
"If these Humajiyas are mass-producible, labor costs could collapse globally."
"He's going to redefine the market."
Corporate strategists, analysts, and CEOs hurried toward their comm links, whispering urgent instructions to their boards. They knew a new technological race had begun.
Meanwhile, Henry stepped off the stage with his usual calm composure, Izzy close behind.
But before he could reach the exit, a shadow fell across his path.
"Mr. Henry."
The voice was crisp, with the clipped accent of a trained soldier.
Henry looked up to see a young man in military uniform blocking his way. The man's build was powerful but poised, his expression disciplined. His short-cropped hair and piercing stare made him stand out among the government officers lingering near the stage.
Henry recognized him instantly.
Emil Blonsky.
A name that would one day echo through the darker pages of Marvel history as the Abomination.
But right now, he was still a man—a soldier, loyal and unmutated.
"Mr. Henry," Blonsky said politely, "General Ross requests a private conversation. If you don't mind, would you follow me?"
Henry's smile didn't falter. Inside, however, a flicker of satisfaction passed through him.
> Hooked.
This was the moment he had planned for.
The reason he'd waited for this summit—the reason he'd chosen to unveil the Humajiya not months earlier, but tonight.
---
The crowd parted automatically as Blonsky led Henry and Izzy through the hallway. The whispers followed them like a wave.
Everyone in the industry knew what it meant when a military officer extended a private invitation—the government was interested.
Even from the corner of the hall, Norman Osborn watched the scene unfold, his expression dark and unreadable.
Osborn had come here expecting to dominate headlines. He had brought new flight armor and weapons, certain he'd secure another contract.
But now?
First Tony Stark stole the spotlight with the Jericho missile, and then Henry's Humajiya obliterated what little attention remained.
And now, to add salt to the wound—General Ross himself was requesting a private meeting with Henry.
Osborn's lips curled into a bitter line. "This kid…" he muttered. "He just flipped the entire table."
---
As Blonsky led them down a side corridor of the Hilton's conference floor, the atmosphere grew quieter, more serious. The air hummed faintly with power—the kind that came from secret deals and unspoken agendas.
"Izzy," Henry said softly, without turning his head, "is the material ready?"
Izzy appeared at his side, moving with her usual serene efficiency. In her delicate hands was a silver case, its surface etched with Vanderbuilt's logo.
> "Everything's prepared, President," she replied.
"Good." Henry smiled faintly. "Then let's not keep the General waiting."
---
Within minutes, they reached the secure meeting suite reserved for high-level government personnel.
Blonsky knocked three times. A voice inside—gravelly and commanding—called, "Enter."
The soldier opened the door and gestured. "After you, sir."
Henry stepped inside with Izzy following silently. The heavy door closed behind them.
The room was lined with dark oak panels, soundproofed walls, and a large projection table in the center. General Ross stood by the window, arms crossed, his military coat draped over one shoulder.
His eyes met Henry's with sharp appraisal—like a man sizing up a weapon, not a person.
> "Mr. Henry," Ross began, "that presentation of yours just caused quite a stir."
Henry smiled. "I'd call that a success."
Ross's lips twitched. "That depends on how we define success." He motioned to a seat. "Have a seat, Mr. Henry. I'd like to discuss potential… applications."
Henry sat smoothly, hands folded, tone unbothered. "Military applications, I assume."
Ross's silence was all the confirmation he needed.
---
As the conversation began, Henry's thoughts moved like clockwork behind his calm face.
This—this—was exactly what he'd wanted.
The civilian market was vast but slow. Producing Humajiyas for private use would take years to turn profitable. Each unit cost a fortune to manufacture; mass production would be impossible without a large-scale buyer.
And who was larger than the U.S. government?
A single military contract could fund Vanderbuilt's expansion worldwide.
---
Inside his mind, Henry could already see the blueprint forming:
Civilian Humajiyas, marketed for global industries—medicine, education, labor.
Government Special Editions, enhanced for tactical, rescue, and security divisions.
A worldwide data network linking all units through the Vanderbuilt Satellite System, ensuring upgrades, analytics, and coordination across nations.
He thought of two paths—one from his world's inspiration.
Feidian Technologies, in the original Masked Rider timeline, had stumbled after the old president's death, becoming weak and unfocused. Eventually, it was acquired by its own competitor—Zaiya Corporation.
Zaiya didn't waste time chasing household markets. It went global through military collaboration, producing hybrid weapons and autonomous systems that changed the battlefield.
Henry's gaze sharpened. Zaiya had the right idea.
> "If Vanderbuilt stays civilian," he mused inwardly, "it'll die slow and safe. But if we merge tech and defense… we dominate fast."
---
This was Marvel's world—a universe on the brink of cosmic war.
He didn't have years to expand slowly.
Thanos was out there. The Chitauri would descend soon enough.
Humanity needed power—intelligence, adaptability, machines that could stand against gods.
And Vanderbuilt Technologies would become the forge that made them.
> "Izzy," he said quietly through his neural link, "this is where we begin the next phase. The Military Humajiya Initiative."
> "Yes, President," Izzy replied, her blue eyes gleaming. "Operation parameters already drafted."
---
Ross's voice cut back in, pulling him to the present.
> "So tell me, Mr. Henry," the General said, his expression unreadable. "How far can your technology go?"
Henry leaned back, smiling slightly.
> "Farther than you can imagine, General. All we need… is the right partner."
Ross studied him for a long moment, then smiled thinly. "You may just have one."
Outside the door, the hum of distant reporters and murmuring crowds faded into silence.
Inside, the future of Vanderbuilt Technologies—and perhaps humanity itself—was being rewritten.