Chapter 45: Allen's Ten Great Inventions
One of the core divisions of S.H.I.E.L.D., the Technology R&D Department, has always been a key investment target for the military's top brass.
As per tradition, a technology review is conducted once every quarter, allowing the military to select promising innovations for further investment.
Many researchers had already presented their work.
Right before Allen's turn was Dr. Pym.
Yes, the very same Dr. Pym who punched his wife into the Quantum Realm, got himself cuckolded, and earned the title of "Domestic Violence Man."
Watching as a single Pym Particle shrank a target down to the size of a grain of rice, the military higher-ups were visibly impressed.
However, Pym Particles were still in the experimental stage and had yet to reach the level of technological maturity required for practical application.
Howard Stark wasn't participating in this showcase—his research focused on the energy sector, where even a single device was the size of a tank. He was simply here to watch the spectacle.
"This thing is amazing! If only we could use it to..."
Allen glanced between his legs, his smile growing particularly bright.
"It seems Pym Particles can only shrink but not enlarge. They still can't restore objects to their original size," Howard explained.
"Shit. Useless garbage."
Allen scoffed without hesitation. "Anyone can make things smaller."
As Dr. Pym stepped down, Allen swaggered into the center of the room, with Wilson pushing a cart beside him.
This young expert, who had recently improved the Super Soldier Serum, was no longer a secret to the military's top ranks. Many were eager to see what fresh and exciting innovations he had brought.
Allen's gaze swept across the room, eventually locking onto several senior officers whose heads had already embraced the fate of a "shining peak."
"As we all know, hair loss is a man's greatest enemy. After thorough research, I have developed a special shampoo that completely resolves this century-old problem."
Allen shot Wilson a look, prompting him to awkwardly retrieve a plastic bottle.
"Ta-da! Introducing—Balding Shampoo!"
Taking the shampoo, Allen explained, "Just one use, and I guarantee your scalp will be as smooth and shiny as a lightbulb under the sun. The only thing that can rival this product... is a lighter."
Pointing at the senior military officers, Allen grinned. "So? Tempted?"
The room fell silent.
No one responded to such a deranged question.
Everyone was trying to prevent hair loss, and he went ahead and solved it permanently.
No more worries. No more hair either.
On the sidelines, Howard's eyes gleamed—he had already seen a business opportunity.
This Balding Shampoo wasn't just for scalps. Imagine using it to remove armpit hair or… ahem… more private areas. It could be a gold mine!
"This doesn't excite you?"
Allen tossed the shampoo aside and got serious. "Wilson, bring out the next product—Fireproof Styling Gel."
Wilson placed a mannequin head on the table and pulled out another bottle.
Allen applied the gel to the mannequin's hair, sculpting it into a flamboyant pompadour.
Then, with a flick of his lighter—whoosh!
The flames engulfed the mannequin head, turning it into a blazing torch.
The rubber head quickly charred and deformed, but the exaggerated pompadour remained perfectly intact.
"Withstands temperatures up to 1,000 degrees without an issue! Our slogan? 'Even if you're reduced to ashes, your hairstyle stays!'"
Psychopath!
If someone burns at 1,000 degrees, they'll be reduced to dust, yet their hair will remain untouched? You trying to give crematorium workers a heart attack?
Of course, if used correctly, this product had serious potential.
It could be applied to the firefighting industry or used as a fire-resistant coating. Allen just wasn't marketing it properly.
"Not bad."
A brigadier general's expression softened slightly—at least this one had practical value.
"Good taste. Here, have a lollipop."
Allen walked over and handed him a candy.
Frowning, the general accepted it. Seeing Allen's eager expression, he unwrapped it and put it in his mouth.
The next second, his eyes widened—he could hear music inside his mouth!
"Surprised?"
Allen flashed a wide grin. "Introducing my next invention: Explosive Musical Lollipops."
"E-Explosive?!"
Terrified, the general almost spat it out. If this thing exploded in his mouth, his whole head would be gone!
"Don't take it out!" Allen quickly stopped him. "As long as you keep licking, it won't explode. Finish it, and you'll be fine."
Leaving the general in a state of existential crisis, Allen eagerly returned to his cart and pulled out a briefcase.
"Being a secret agent is tough work. So, in the spirit of workplace wellness, I drew inspiration from two… acquaintances I met at Arkham Asylum—Vincent and Leon—to create the Ultimate Spy Briefcase."
"Don't be fooled by its simple appearance. This thing is loaded with features."
Opening the case, Allen pulled out four metal rods, carefully comparing their sizes.
The audience immediately started speculating—was this some kind of weapon?
Within a minute, Allen had screwed the rods together, flipped it upside down, and sat on it.
"Super Spy Chair."
Pressing a button, his seat began vibrating.
"When a spy is on a long-term stakeout, their legs are bound to get sore. This chair lets them sit comfortably while working. It even comes with vibrating massage and heated cushions. And in an emergency, it can launch the user over a wall!"
"Howard, isn't it awesome?"
Allen turned to Howard expectantly. The latter awkwardly nodded. "Your inventions sure are... something."
"Next up—The Prankster Gun."
Allen picked up a peculiar-looking firearm.
"The first shot fires forward. The second shot fires backward. Prevents enemies from using it against you."
Tossing the gun back into the cart, he didn't find it particularly exciting.
After rummaging through the cart, Allen retrieved a syringe.
"Introducing—The Regret Injection."
"One dose, and the recipient will be overwhelmed with remorse for every mistake they've ever made."
Allen's gaze slowly drifted to Wilson, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
"You're insane!"
Wilson immediately realized Allen's intentions. Clearly, he wanted to test the serum on him.
No one doubted Allen's research capabilities. But if this thing actually worked, he'd end up blurting out all his embarrassing secrets and socially dying on the spot!
Wilson bolted behind Howard, refusing to be a guinea pig.
"Come on, just one shot! I promise you'll feel refreshed and reborn!"
Allen chased after him, syringe in hand.
Stuck between them, Howard panicked. "Careful! Don't stab me! Try it on a prisoner instead!"
"It's just a small dose—only lasts a minute."
"Still, you can't use it on colleagues!"
"No big deal. Honesty is the best policy!"
"That's a one-way ticket to public humiliation!"
"Wait… where's my syringe?"
Allen suddenly noticed the syringe was missing.
A moment later, everyone anxiously checked themselves to make sure they weren't the unlucky victim.
Then—thud!
A colonel collapsed to his knees, eyes brimming with tears. A syringe was sticking out of his thigh.
The serum had taken effect.
The room fell silent.
Everyone eagerly awaited his impending public disgrace.
"I'm sorry! I betrayed America! I leaked cargo ship schedules to the Chrysanthemum Nation! I've been doing it since last year! I was blinded by greed—please forgive me!"
Gasp. A traitor.
At this point in history, America was raking in war profits, sending thousands of cargo ships worldwide.
Leaking shipping routes and schedules? This guy was dead.
"General, I was wrong!"
The colonel grabbed a brigadier general's leg, weeping. "Give me a chance to redeem myself!"
"You'll have plenty of time to reflect at your court-martial," the general replied, lollipop still in his mouth.
"General, I shouldn't have taken advantage of your drunken state to seduce your wife and engage in… deep communication. I deeply regret it now."
As soon as these words fell, the entire room erupted.
Social death was never a solo affair—at that moment, a glaring green light of betrayal shone over the young major's head.
"Lieutenant General Winx, your son and I truly love each other. Even though our relationship isn't accepted by societal norms, I sincerely hope for your blessing."
"Bless your damn horses."
Chaos broke out among the military high command, with a group of people pummeling a single individual.
Most others simply hoped the drama wouldn't drag them in. After all, two highly respected generals were now standing there, their faces dark as thunder.
One had a wife who cheated.
The other had a son who came out.
Either way, it was enough to stir up a storm within the military.
Of course, media moguls who thrived on public spectacle would undoubtedly plaster this across the headlines, turning it into a nationwide entertainment feast.
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