Fox reported,
"800 million."
"Combined with the previous 500 million, we've borrowed stocks that were worth a total of 1.3 billion before the value drop."
"When news broke that Tony was returning and would be holding a press conference, Stark Industries stock actually rallied for a bit. But now, it's plummeting again."
"Still, thanks to Obadiah's public statements, some institutions and individuals are holding out, thinking the board won't pass that motion."
Smith thought for a moment, then spoke:
"If some people are still optimistic, that's our window. Offload all Stark shares as quickly as possible and drive the price down further."
"Once we're out, we start short-selling—sell low while simultaneously buying back cheap shares."
"When the time is right, I'll let you know when to go all in and start acquiring Stark stock."
Fox nodded,
"We're already dumping our shares, but since the market's in freefall, it'll take some time."
Smith understood. It was inevitable. So he shifted the topic.
"Fox, I need you to find a large plot of land. We're buying it to serve as our new base and headquarters."
"This place is too small. Bulma can't even build the hypergravity chamber I need."
Fox thought for a moment,
"I'll have someone look into it. But most of our liquidity is tied up in the stock market. We'll have to wait until this round is over before we can afford land and construction."
"We need a new revenue stream. The Assassin's League has some businesses, but they're not exactly profitable."
"We only inherited part of the High Table's cash assets. And since the Continental turned into a branch office, we've had to reinvest a lot of that money."
Smith nodded thoughtfully.
Technically, the League wasn't short on money—but "not short" was a relative term. With the lab, the gravity chamber, and now a new HQ in the works, the cash burn was accelerating—especially the lab, which was a massive money pit with no return… at least not yet.
The League's most valuable assets were land and a trove of antiques and jewelry—wealth built through centuries of inheritance. Its businesses were scarce. A textile mill had kept running out of tradition, but it barely broke even.
Right now, the only thing truly profitable was the Wax Bath—a unique restorative treatment. It could be turned into a lucrative global brand, especially if launched using the former Continental's resources. A premium ticketing model aimed at high-income clients might work.
Still, that would take time.
There was another idea: sell combat training, specifically gun kata. But Smith had no interest in turning the League into a training school.
After mulling it over, Smith Doyle recalled something from the original story—Bulma had once repaired a damaged scouter. What if he gave her the one he had? Could she replicate it?
Even a stripped-down version—a low-end "beggar's edition"—would be enough.
They could market it as extraordinary tech, sell it at a high price, and rake in cash.
SHIELD and other agencies would definitely be interested. He could make a killing.
After a moment of silence, Smith finally said,
"I've got two solid ideas for new revenue streams."
Then he pulled out the scouter and added,
"Fox, take this to Bulma. Ask her to focus on this scouter for now."
"She doesn't need to make an exact replica. Just simplify it—produce a basic model."
"This will be our next major source of income."
Fox's eyes lit up when he saw the device.
"Perfect! I've always wanted a scouter."
"I'll take it to her right away. Honestly, I've never seen anyone like her—so damn smart."
"She's only sixteen, and I'd bet Tony Stark wasn't even half as brilliant at that age."
Smith smiled but said nothing in response.
---
Meanwhile, elsewhere—
The Hand was holding a rare full-member meeting—called by Madame Gao herself.
All five "Fingers" were present: Alexandra, Madame Gao, The Gambler, Sowanda, and Murakami.
They were once Elders of K'un-Lun, but had been exiled for using dragon bones to extend their lives.
The Gambler turned to Gao.
"What could possibly be so important that you'd bring all five of us together?"
Gao looked around the room and began,
"Recently, I've been working with Kingpin in New York. We've been moving high-purity 'flour' through Rand Corporation's channels."
No one flinched. That sort of minor smuggling wouldn't warrant a full summit. Maybe the building owned by Rand had been approved for excavation?
Gao went on,
"From Kingpin, I heard something intriguing. Our old enemy, the Assassin's League, has been making waves again—they just destroyed the High Table."
Murakami frowned slightly.
"Even if they did, that's not enough reason to call all of us in."
"As far as I know, only three members of their bloodline remain. They're barely a threat to us anymore."
Gao chuckled,
"Patience. If that's all there was to it, I wouldn't have summoned you."
Seeing that she had their attention, she continued,
"During the war between the League and the High Table, I uncovered something very interesting."
"Dragon Balls. All seven of them."
The room erupted.
"What?! Impossible!"
Having once come from K'un-Lun themselves, they knew exactly how rare and powerful Dragon Balls were. Over the centuries, they'd recovered several dragon bones—but never once laid eyes on a Dragon Ball.
Dragon essence was concentrated in the orbs. When a dragon died in K'un-Lun, its Dragon Ball was passed on to strengthen others. Even as former Elders, none of them had ever seen one.
This wasn't just about extending life. With seven Dragon Balls, their power would skyrocket. They'd be able to crush the True Pure Society under Stick's command.
Alexandra's breath caught.
"Are you sure?"
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