Chapter 81: The Dream Factory of Future Technology

The first transport aircraft returning from Berlin landed at the main U.S. military base in New York at around eight o'clock that evening.

The New York military base was brightly lit, and as the hatch of the aircraft opened after landing, thunderous applause broke out from the tarmac. As several forward officers disembarked first, when it was Kyle’s turn to step down the aircraft stairs, dressed in his black combat uniform, the applause became markedly more fervent and spirited.

Kyle glanced around as he walked forward, noticing that dozens of uniformed officers and suited officials had come to welcome them. Among them stood General Chester, the commanding officer for this campaign. Beyond the restricted area guarded by American soldiers, a crowd of journalists and photographers were hoisting their old-fashioned cameras, snapping away under the relentless flashes of blinding white light.

“Everyone, thank you for your hard work!” General Chester first greeted those disembarking, then stepped forward. Under the astonished gazes of many officers and officials, he warmly patted Kyle’s shoulder and smiled, “Well done, Kyle! Truly worthy of the title ‘war hero!’”

“At least I’ve lived up to this major general’s insignia you pinned on me,” Kyle replied with a shrug, pointing to the rank insignia on his left shoulder—a badge he had deliberately put on just before deplaning.

Many of the officials present shook their heads and smiled wryly. Perhaps only Kyle would dare speak so casually to a five-star general.

General Chester, however, didn’t mind. Smiling, he said, “You’ve fought on the front lines for over a month. You deserve a rest—go home and take a few days off.”

“After a few days’ rest, am I to be sent on another campaign?” Kyle asked offhandedly. After all, with Germany, the primary aggressor, just having fallen, it signaled the end of all conflict in the European theater.

The Second World War was rapidly approaching its final stages.

“There’s a plan…” General Chester began, but quickly stopped, casting a meaningful glance at Kyle. In a lowered voice, he said, “I’ll have a soldier inform you when the time comes. For now, just go home and get some rest. As the nation’s pride and hero, we can’t have you collapsing from exhaustion.”

Though the last sentence was spoken in a half-teasing tone, genuine concern was evident.

Kyle nodded. “Then I’ll be off. Fury will handle the follow-up arrangements in Germany.”

Somehow, Fury had become his de facto representative.

At that moment, Fury, wearing his signature eyepatch, was stepping off the transport aircraft, leading the way as armed soldiers escorted prisoners off the plane.

The officials shifted their attention to the prisoners. While defeating Germany was a major achievement, securing German scientists and military intelligence was equally important.

Taking advantage of their distraction, Kyle gave a small wave, signaling Logan—who had blended in among the soldiers—to follow him, and together they left the military airport.

Noticing Kyle’s departure, a swarm of journalists and photographers hurriedly grabbed their equipment and chased after him, hoping for an interview. Unlike Steve, who had already been extensively publicized as Captain America before ever seeing combat, Kyle, the hero who had fought ceaselessly on the front lines, had never granted an interview, despite being featured in numerous documentaries. Every news outlet in New York dreamed of securing his first exclusive interview.

The reporters sped up in pursuit. Just as they were about to catch up at the main gate of the military airport, a stretch limousine suddenly pulled up outside.

Kyle and Logan climbed in, and the car sped off, leaving the panting journalists behind, enveloped in a cloud of exhaust.

Inside the luxury car, a professional bodyguard sat at the wheel. The center and rear of the vehicle formed a spacious, open lounge, with plush sofas lining each side.

Under the soft lighting, Kyle and Logan sat on one side, while a gentleman with a neatly trimmed mustache, exuding refined elegance, sat opposite them—none other than Howard Stark.

“Glad you didn’t get caught by those reporters, or it would’ve been quite a hassle,” Howard said, patting his chest in relief—clearly a man accustomed to dealing with the press.

“If I wanted to leave, there’s nothing they could do,” Kyle replied with a faint smile. Then, with mild surprise, he asked, “But you—when did you return from the European base?”

Howard answered, “The American research institute called me back about half a month ago to help out. I just finished up a few days ago; otherwise, I wouldn’t have had the time to pick you up.”

“The institute’s current project must be… nuclear weapons?” Kyle asked bluntly.

Howard didn't say it outright, but nodded slowly. “The technology is in its final stages. It won’t be long before we can build a prototype for testing.”

“It seems the war really is about to end,” Kyle mused, leaning back into the sofa, momentarily lost in thought.

Once the war ended, it would be time to set his own plans into motion.

“By the way, who is this gentleman? Aren’t you going to introduce him?” Howard glanced at Logan, who hadn’t spoken a word since boarding.

“Just call him ‘Logan.’ I met him on the battlefield—he’s my…” Kyle hesitated, struggling to find the right term, and finally settled on, “bodyguard.”

A national hero symbolizing conquest and strength, the most formidable soldier in the U.S. military, needing a bodyguard?

Howard was left dumbfounded, glancing from the silent Logan to the earnest-faced Kyle. “Are you serious?”

“No lie,” Kyle chuckled. “Once you see Logan in action, you’ll understand. In fact, I’m sure you’ll be quite interested in him.”

“For you to choose him as your bodyguard, he must be extraordinary,” Howard said with anticipation, turning warmly to Logan. “Hello, I’m Howard Stark.”

Logan gave a curt nod, saying nothing more, clearly uncomfortable with social interaction.

Howard, a bit embarrassed, stroked his mustache and turned to Kyle with a suggestion. “Last time at the training base, I promised to buy you a drink when you got back. Since we’re free tonight, why not go for a few rounds?”

“Sounds good,” Kyle agreed. Having just returned to New York, he indeed had nothing pressing to do.

The limousine drove out of the military district, down the main thoroughfares, and into the heart of bustling New York City, finally stopping in front of a towering skyscraper.

“I thought you were taking me to a bar. What’s with the change of plans?” Kyle said as he climbed out, looking up at the giant building that soared from the city center, its top lost in the night sky.

The modern industrial building, more than sixty stories tall, was constructed from reinforced concrete and steel. Every window glowed with bright lights, and the silhouettes of busy staff could be glimpsed within. Across the façade, illuminated letters spelled out “Stark Industries” in enormous English lettering.

Striding across the plaza in front of the building, Howard spread his arms wide to Kyle and Logan, his voice ringing with confidence, “Welcome to Stark Industries—the dream factory of future technology!”