Marvel Transmigration: I Possessed Iron Man

The car pulled up to a sprawling factory on the outskirts of the city, one of Hans Industries' hidden facilities.

"This is our workplace. Just one of my little hideouts," Hans said with a grin to Ivan, who had just regained consciousness. But Master Ivan was still badly injured and tried to get up and escape—only to find himself surrounded by hulking bodyguards who weren't going to let him go anywhere.

"First, take the cuffs off my friend," Hans instructed the guards.

"Apologies. I'm a huge fan—I didn't mean to make a bad impression."

Watching the bodyguards handle Ivan roughly, Hans frowned and couldn't keep quiet.

"Don't treat him like that. He's not some wild animal."

"That's enough. Leave us," Hans said with a wave.

"He's dangerous," one of them warned.

"We'll be fine. Just go," Hans insisted.

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

Ivan remained where he was, gritting his teeth against the pain.

"And you are?" he asked, voice low.

"My name's Justin Hans. I'm here to talk business. Please, take a seat," Hans said politely, extending a hand.

Ivan didn't respond. His face was blank, but inwardly, his hatred boiled. To him, all these Americans were the same—leeches living off the sweat of others.

In the center of the factory was a dining table piled high with luxurious food.

Ivan sat down slowly. Though three of his ribs were fractured, he didn't show it. He simply kept a toothpick in his mouth, grinding it between his teeth.

"Help yourself. What's today's special, Jack?" Hans asked a nearby guard.

A burly man in a black suit stepped forward, carrying a tray crowned with a golden lid.

"Salmon with sauce!" he announced.

He placed the tray before Ivan and lifted the lid. Sitting in the center of the large plate was a sliver of salmon—barely finger-sized.

"Haha, isn't it dainty? Whatever you want, we've got it," Hans laughed, then pointed at the oversized cup in front of him.

"I've got a sweet tooth. This dessert was flown in from San Francisco—some Italian specialty, topped with organic ice cream. I love this stuff."

Ivan said nothing. His cold stare never wavered.

"I could tell you wanted to kill Tony Stark too," Hans said with a smile. "When you stood in that arena, facing him like a war god, the whole livestream went wild! Everyone was cheering for you."

"You were making a statement. I knew it. And I knew you knew I'd be watching. So I couldn't just let the cops take you away and waste all that talent. But let me give you a tip: don't just go after him directly. If it were me, I'd tear down his legacy, ruin everything he's built. You and I—we're the same. The only difference is I've got money and connections. What you need is someone to back you."

"And I just happen to be the perfect sponsor."

Ivan chuckled. The sound rumbled from deep in his chest, and a gold tooth flashed in the light.

"You want me to build weapons for you? I like your style. I'm willing to work with you," he said—in Russian.

Hans blinked, dumbfounded. He hadn't understood a single word.

"Do you speak English? I can get a translator. Not sure you caught what I was saying."

"Very good man," Ivan finally replied in English.

"A good man! My man!" Hans grinned broadly.

The two of them shared a laugh.

"Come on, let's have a drink!" Hans laughed until he practically choked.

Ivan reached across the table for a bottle of vodka.

"Hey!"

"What is it?" Hans looked puzzled.

"I want my bird," Ivan said.

"Your bird? You want a bird?" Hans frowned.

"I want my bird," Ivan repeated flatly.

"I'll get you ten birds!" Hans offered.

"I want my bird," Ivan insisted, stone-faced.

"Fine! Whatever. Are you talking about your bird back in Russia?" Hans asked, starting to question Ivan's sanity.

"I want my bird."

"Screw your damn bird! Say that one more time and I swear I'll kill you!" Hans suddenly exploded.

"OK." Ivan went quiet.

"You'll be working here from now on. Don't worry about food, clothes—whatever you need, we've got it. Women? Say the word—I can get you as many as you want," Hans said, gesturing at the factory space.

"Women? What if I want Pepper Potts? Can you get her for me?" Ivan asked, still chewing on his toothpick.

"Can you talk like a normal human being? Do you even know what happens to people who go after Tony Stark's woman? The last guy vanished without a trace." Hans rolled his eyes. Russians—always marching to a different beat.

"Let me show you my masterpiece," Hans said, signaling to his team.

The lights switched on, flooding the vast, ten-thousand-square-meter facility. The entire production floor lit up like a stadium. Lined up in neat rows were dozens of iron robots, standing like soldiers waiting for inspection.

"I got the blueprints from Victor. I rushed the first prototype—I was in a hurry. Patience isn't really my thing, so it came out kind of rough," Hans said with pride.

Victor had contacted him the same day he fled the country, offering to sell the Iron Man prototype schematics for a hefty price. Hans ended up paying five million dollars for them.

Victor used the cash to escape to Mexico.

What can you say? That's how it goes when you're rich and reckless.

"Take your time looking around. Treat this place like home. However you live at home, do the same here," Hans thought smugly. With this kind of hospitality, the guy would be bowing to him soon enough.

"OK."

Ivan kicked off his shoes and laid down on a nearby desk.

...?

Did he think this was a brick bed in Siberia?

The sight of Ivan's sweaty, blackened feet made Hans gag. He nearly threw up his imported dessert.

"That's... quite something. Ivan, how about we check out the workspace first?" Hans asked, inching two meters away.

"Fine."

Ivan slipped his shoes back on. The nearby guards finally let out a breath—they'd nearly passed out from the smell.

He walked over to a computer on the production line and immediately began typing.

The screen flickered with a series of commands.

"Uh, probably not the best idea to mess with that," Hans warned.

"We need to set up passwords before you start messing around in the system," he added, turning to Jack.

"Jack, set him up with a password. Now."

(End of Chapter)

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