With his new plan in mind, Arnold returned to the upscale apartment to collect Corinna. He didn't just want her as a lover; he wanted her under his roof where he could monitor her.
At home, Sarah had just finished preparing breakfast when she saw her son walk through the door with a woman—a woman roughly her own age. A flicker of maternal intuition gave her a strange feeling, but she kept her composure.
"Mom, this is my friend's mother. She'll be staying with us for a while. Her name is Corinna. Auntie, this is my mother, Sarah," Arnold introduced them smoothly.
The two women shook hands. Sarah was curious and cautious, while Corinna was uncharacteristically shy. Despite being older than Arnold, she felt the odd pressure of meeting her "mother-in-law." After a quick breakfast, Arnold left a stack of bills on the table and headed out again.
"Does he do this often?" Corinna asked, watching him go.
Sarah nodded. "Always. He's always out earning for us. I just pray he comes home safe every night."
Arnold arrived at the Stark Industries building. He wasn't there to kill; he was there to trade. He had used his system to exchange points for an AK-47—a weapon decades ahead of its time—along with its complete manufacturing blueprints.
He approached the front desk and pulled out a banknote. "Hey buddy, pass on a message. Tell Mr. Stark that a weapons designer named Arnold has a new patent to discuss. It'll only take a minute."
The guard glanced at the money. "I'm a man of duty."
"Two hundred," Arnold said, adding more cash.
"Money cannot sway my resolve!" the guard said righteously, though his eyes were glued to Arnold's wallet.
"A thousand," Arnold sighed, producing a thick wad of cash. He scoffed internally; in this era, if money couldn't solve a problem, it just meant you hadn't spent enough. "It's just a message. If you won't take it, I'll find someone who will."
"Deal. Wait here." The guard snatched the money and disappeared.
Minutes later, the guard returned, looking breathless. "Go in. Someone will take you to the eighth floor. You have exactly sixty seconds."
Arnold took the elevator up. The office he entered smelled of expensive tobacco and expensive mistakes. A woman with smudged makeup was rushing out, looking like she had just finished a very personal "meeting" with the boss. Arnold wasn't surprised; Howard Stark's reputation preceded him.
Behind the mahogany desk sat a middle-aged man with a sharp mustache and an unruly aura. Howard Stark looked a bit tired, but his eyes were piercing. "You're the 'expert'? Go ahead. You have one minute."
Arnold didn't waste time with words. He laid the blueprints on the desk. "You're a genius in mechanical engineering, Howard. You tell me what this is worth."
Howard glanced at the drawings casually, but his posture changed instantly. He leaned forward, his eyes widening. "Gas-operated... rotating bolt... this is sophisticated. Do you have a prototype?"
Arnold produced the AK-47 from his bag. Howard rang a bell, and two burly guards entered. "Take this to the range. Run every test. I want a report in ten minutes. Move!"
As the guards left, Howard poured two glasses of red wine. He offered one to Arnold, lighting a cigar. "I follow the European journals closely. I've never heard of a designer named Arnold. Be honest with me."
"I invented it. Do you believe in inspiration, Howard?" Arnold chuckled, lighting his own cigarette.
"I believe that when genius strikes, anyone can become Einstein. But you don't look like a scientist. You look like a man who knows the gutters of this city."
"People without money have to live in the gutters," Arnold replied, making no attempt to hide his ambition. "I'm seizing my opportunity to climb out. I want to be like you—making money in a room with air conditioning."
"Haha! I like an honest man." Howard clinked his glass against Arnold's. "I think we're going to be friends."
The test results came back faster than expected. Howard scanned the data and whistled. "Reliable, high fire rate, and it looks like it could survive a mud bath. I'll give you ten million dollars for the buyout."
Arnold shook his head. "No. I want one million in cash, and five percent of Stark Industries' shares. Furthermore, for every future patent I bring you, I want more shares—up to thirty percent."
Howard's eyes flickered. Stark Industries was growing, but it wasn't a titan yet. "You have a lot of faith in my little company."
"I prefer emerging industries over old money like Wayne Enterprises," Arnold said, looking at his wine. "Starting a business keeps you young."
In his mind, Arnold was already calculating. With Howard's backing, he wouldn't just be a "neighbor" or a "friend's lover." He would be a shadow king of the military-industrial complex.
........
The deal was finalized: Arnold handed over the blueprints and walked away with five percent of Stark Industries and one million dollars in cash. In 1939, a million dollars was a staggering weight of paper; he had to store the heavy boxes in the back of his car. This was his first true fortune.
As he drove toward an intersection, a woman caught his eye. She had an exceptionally beautiful face, fair skin, and vibrant red lipstick that perfectly complemented her dark, wavy hair.
"Peggy Carter?" Arnold murmured. He was stunned to see the future founder of S.H.I.E.L.D. standing right there on a Brooklyn street corner.
Peggy looked around, sensing eyes on her, but saw nothing out of the ordinary until Arnold pulled his car up. He watched her with a gaze that wasn't just lecherous, but calculating. Peggy was used to being stared at; she walked toward the car with the confidence of an officer. "Sir, excuse me. Could you give us a ride?"
"I don't usually act as a taxi, but for a lady as striking as yourself, I'll make an exception," Arnold replied, sliding his money boxes out of sight.
A moment later, Peggy pushed a wheelchair toward the car. In it sat a paralyzed old man—her father, Rutt. Beside them was a mature, elegant woman who looked remarkably like Peggy, though the fine lines at the corners of her eyes spoke of a deeper grace and upbringing. This was Peggy's mother, Sagina. She was the kind of mature beauty that Arnold found impossible to ignore.
"Thank you so much," Peggy said with a grateful smile.
"Think nothing of it. We might even become friends; I've always preferred a home-cooked meal to a restaurant," Arnold joked, stepping out to help. As he lifted the father into the car, his hand brushed against Sagina's hip. He felt her body stiffen for a second before she forced herself to relax. She remained expressionless, likely dismissing it as an accident, but Arnold felt a surge of dark excitement. He was definitely getting lucky.
"Where to?" Arnold asked, stubbing out his cigarette before they got in. The small gesture of respect didn't go unnoticed by the two women; they saw a kind man beneath his rugged, unruly exterior.
"An apartment building on Beilun Street," Peggy said.
"That's not far from my place," Arnold noted. "Nice area, though expensive. You don't sound like locals. New York is a hungry city; you'll need a good fortune or a better job to stay afloat here."
"I have a job that covers our needs. I'm Peggy Carter. This is my mother, Sagina, and my father," Peggy introduced.
"I'm Arnold. A pleasure to meet such a lovely pair of sisters," he said with a wink. He was careful not to look them up and down too aggressively; he wanted to build an image of a witty, helpful gentleman. But inside, he was already planning. If Steve Rogers was destined for Peggy, Arnold was more than happy to give the Captain a "green hat" before the war even started.
After helping the Carters move their belongings and leaving his number, Arnold headed home. As he entered, he found Steve and Bucky waiting anxiously.
"What's this? Looking for a free meal?" Arnold joked, handing the groceries to his mother. He sat down, noting the door to Corinna's room was shut; she was still recovering from their five-hour marathon.
"No, Arnold. Bucky's in trouble," Steve said, his voice heavy. "Bucky's father lost everything at the casino. He's been arrested for the debt, and his mother, Mrs. Emmy, is drowning in gambling losses too. We don't know where else to turn."
The situation was grim. Bucky's parents had been lured into a high-stakes game run by a Japanese syndicate—the Yamaguchi-gumi. They were notorious for drugs and prostitution in the New York docks.
Arnold frowned. He knew how to handle the Japanese gangs; they respected strength and feared the American authorities. "I'll look into it. I'll go speak with Aunt Emmy first. If the casino cheated them, I can negotiate. If not... I'll just pay the debt."
Bucky looked down, ashamed. "I'm sorry to drag you into this. I have to report to the military camp tomorrow. If I get caught up in a gang war, my career is over before it begins."
"Don't worry about it. Go get some air," Arnold told them, dismissing his friends.
Steve paused, looking at Arnold. He felt a strange shift in the house; Arnold didn't act like a younger brother anymore. He acted like the head of the family.
Once they were alone in the kitchen, Arnold wrapped his arms around his mother Sarah's waist, pulling her into a deep kiss. He pulled a vial of medicine from his pocket—the one he had bought from the system. "Mom, take this after dinner. It'll clear up that cough and make you feel like a new woman."
He pressed himself against her, feeling her breath hitch. Sarah blushed deeply, her heart racing at his boldness. "I... I will, Arnold. Just be careful out there. Mom loves you."
"I love you too, Mom," he whispered, giving her a final squeeze before heading out to deal with the Yamaguchi-gumi.