Six months later…
Clad in a heavy protective suit, Shane was meticulously conducting a small-scale nuclear fusion experiment.
His concentration was absolute, his eyes locked onto the small pulsed laser in front of him, his breathing held shallow and light.
Suddenly, the laboratory door was pounded loudly.
The urgent shout of a Black student came from outside: “Mr.
Shane, your phone is ringing!”
Startled by the abrupt noise, Shane’s hand twitched.
That single tremor nearly caused an irreversible experimental disaster.
Fortunately, after months of dedicated study and countless trials, Shane was no longer a novice.
He regained his composure instantly, aborted the experimental sequence, and skillfully shut down all the instruments.
Only after the equipment had completely stopped running did he look toward the door with a frown.
The Black student was one of Professor Puen’s students.
Two months ago, once Shane was able to complete the scheduled experiments independently, Professor Puen stopped coming to the lab personally.
He simply told the lab security to keep an eye on Shane and sent this student over—officially to assist, but effectively to act as a watchdog.
If Shane touched anything outside the experimental protocol, the student would immediately notify Professor Puen to come and stop him.
In truth, Shane felt more at ease without supervision.
What he was actually dissatisfied with was the student himself—he disliked the man on a fundamental level.
“Crude.” “Rude.”
Those were the labels Shane had silently assigned him from the very first moment they met.
What bothered Shane even more was the inexplicable hostility in the student’s eyes.
Shane had pondered the reason for a while and eventually understood.
He checked every single box of the other man’s resentment: his status as a white man, his wealthy background, his outstanding scientific talent, and the favoritism shown to him by Professor Puen.
Sometimes Shane even mocked himself, thinking that if he were in the other man’s shoes, he would probably feel the same enmity.
“Got it, thanks for the heads-up.”
Shane suppressed his annoyance and gave a brief response.
He re-checked the instruments, confirmed everything was safely shut down, and quickly tidied the workbench.
*I don’t know how he got into this school.
For such a top-tier university, they failed to fix his vulgarity.*
*Not even the rules of a civilized society can constrain him.
Truly beyond help.*
As he grumbled internally, Shane walked into the decontamination room.
He strictly followed the protocol for cleaning and radiation checks.
After exiting the experimental area, Shane opened his locker and took out his phone.
The screen lit up, showing a call from his financier, Ryan.
He immediately unlocked it and called back, his voice carrying a hint of fatigue from the experiment.
“Hello, Ryan.
What’s the news?”
On the other end, Ryan’s voice was grave.
“Mr.
Shane, news just came in.
He is currently missing.”
“Because of this, the Stark Industries stock in your account is likely to plummet.
I wanted to ask if you want to sell immediately?”
Ryan paused and added, “However, my suggestion is to hold.
After all, Tony Stark is only missing, not confirmed dead.
If the military finds him, the stock will likely rebound.”
Shane fell into a brief silence.
He knew clearly that now was not the best time to sell.
According to his vague memory of the movie plot, the optimal time to dump the stock would be after Tony Stark was rescued but before he held the press conference.
That was the only way to squeeze out the maximum profit.
The problem was that he couldn’t remember the exact timeline of Tony’s rescue.
He couldn’t be sure when Tony would return, let alone predict the timing of the press conference.
Knowing Tony, he would likely hold the conference the moment he got back.
After weighing his options, Shane made his decision.
“Sell now.
Liquidate all Stark shares.”
Ryan was clearly stunned.
His tone was incredulous.
“Sell everything?
Sir, are you sure?
Tony Stark is just missing; he might be found very soon…”
“Sell it now.
I don’t want to repeat myself.”
Shane cut him off, his tone brook no argument.
He knew these financiers too well; they only thought about earning commissions from their clients and would always try to talk a client out of a decision that didn’t align with their advice.
Ryan was silent for a few seconds before finally conceding.
“Very well, sir.
Since you insist, I’ll take care of it immediately.
I guarantee that by the closing bell today, there won’t be a single share of Stark Industries left in your account.”
Shane didn’t say more and hung up.
He scrolled through his contacts, found the number for another financier named Henry, and hit dial.
The call was answered quickly, and Henry’s cheerful laughter came through the line.
“Hello, Mr.
Shane!
How could I ever forget a client like you?
Every client who brings me a paycheck is my god.”
A faint smile touched Shane’s lips, but he knew better.
The man didn’t “remember” him; he just smelled the money.
“Enough small talk.
I have a job for you.”
Shane got straight to the point.
“I want to short Stark Industries stock.
I can transfer the account and funds to you tonight.”
Henry on the other end was visibly shocked.
His tone became serious instantly.
After a brief pause, he fell into silence.
“Mr.
Shane, are you sure you want to short Stark Industries?
To be frank, Tony Stark is only missing, not confirmed dead.
The risk of shorting is immense.
Have you really thought this through?”
Shane laughed softly, his voice firm.
“I’m sure.
I want to short it.
And I have one requirement: the timing of the short must be after Tony Stark is rescued but before he returns to New York.”
“Remember my requirement.
If the timing is missed, all losses will be on you.”
The other end fell silent again.
Shane could faintly sense Henry weighing the pros and cons.
Not long after, Henry’s voice came back, sounding much more certain.
“Alright, Mr.
Shane, a pleasure doing business with you!
Where should I meet you to sign the contract?”
Shane glanced down at his watch.
“The coffee shop across from MIT.
If you’re fast enough, I’ll be there for the next hour.”
“Don’t worry, sir.
Fifteen minutes!
I’ll be there in fifteen.
Please wait for me.”
Henry’s voice was urgent, and he hung up in a hurry.
Shane slipped his phone into his pocket, straightened his clothes, and walked out of MIT.
Twenty-five minutes later, Henry rushed into the coffee shop, looking apologetic.
“Sorry, sir, traffic was a nightmare.
I’m late.”
Shane didn’t hold the lateness against him.
He waved it off and said bluntly, “It’s fine.
Let’s sign the contract.”
After checking and signing, an hour passed.
Shane walked out of the coffee shop with Henry seeing him off, then hurried back to the MIT Nuclear Laboratory.
His research into the technical data for nuclear batteries had reached a critical stage.
If the massive interests involved in Tony Stark’s disappearance hadn’t been so significant, he wouldn’t have stepped a single foot out of the lab.