Chapter 6: The Roaring Twenties
The mid-1920s were a symphony of reckless abandon, and Arthur Sterling was its silent, unseen conductor. While the world danced to the frantic rhythm of jazz and drank champagne from crystal coupes, Arthur moved through the decade with the cold, predatory grace of a shark in a shimmering, sunlit sea. The Chimera Compound had remade him. He was no longer simply a man with future knowledge; he was a superior being, walking among a species he now viewed with a mixture of clinical pity and strategic interest.
His enhancement was a constant, quiet hum beneath the surface of his perception. He required only three hours of sleep a night, a state of deep, efficient cellular repair that left his mind razor-sharp and his body brimming with a vitality that felt electric. At the lavish galas he now forced himself to attend, the cacophony of a hundred simultaneous conversations was not a confusing roar, but a tapestry of data he could sift through at will. He could hear the desperate tremor in a stockbroker's voice as he lied about his portfolio, see the subtle flicker of a politician's eyes as he weighed a bribe, and smell the faint scent of fear on a rival industrialist. The world was an open book, and he was its only true reader.
His empire, formally consolidated under the monolithic name 'Sterling Imperium', had become a leviathan. Its industrial and financial arms were mature, a well-oiled machine that generated wealth with terrifying efficiency. But Arthur knew that true, lasting power was not built on factories and stock certificates alone. It was built on the foundations of culture, information, and land.
In 1926, he convened a meeting in the Imperium's new corporate headquarters, a gleaming art deco skyscraper that stabbed at the Manhattan skyline, a blatant monument to his power. Charles, his face now permanently etched with a look of paternal pride and deep-seated awe, sat at his right. Silas Blackwood, older and more gnarled but his eyes as sharp as ever, sat at his left.
"The age of brute force acquisition is over," Arthur announced, his voice echoing slightly in the cavernous boardroom. He stood before a panoramic window that overlooked the city. "We have the money. Now, we will purchase the power that money cannot directly buy. We will purchase the future."
He outlined a three-pronged strategy of expansion, a diversification so ambitious it made their wartime profiteering look like a child's game.
The first pillar was Technology. Arthur established the 'Prometheus Division' of the Sterling Institute, shifting its focus from pure research to applied science. While companies like RCA were investing fortunes in bigger, better radios, Arthur directed his scientists toward a technology most considered a fanciful dream: television. He poured millions into the development of cathode ray tubes and signal transmission, knowing he was laying the groundwork for the most powerful information-delivery system of the 20th century. He was quietly patenting the future of media, content to let his rivals dominate a technology he already considered obsolete.
The second pillar was Entertainment. Arthur traveled to the sun-drenched hills of Hollywood, a place he personally found vapid but strategically essential. He didn't buy an existing studio; he created one from scratch. 'Astra Pictures' was born with a mission statement that baffled the established movie moguls. Instead of churning out cheap serials, Astra focused on quality, prestige, and, most importantly, innovation. Arthur, with his perfect memory of film history, knew exactly where the industry was headed. He funded the development of sound-on-film technology, preparing for the revolution of the 'talkies' years before The Jazz Singer would make its debut. He signed visionary directors deemed too artistic by other studios and discovered talented young actors and actresses, moulding them into stars. To the world, Astra Pictures was a beacon of quality. To Arthur, it was a social engineering project, a factory for crafting the dreams and desires of the American public, a tool to make them value what he wanted them to value.
The third and most secretive pillar was Real Estate. Using a labyrinth of shell corporations, Sterling Imperium began a quiet, massive acquisition of land. It bought up square miles of what was considered worthless desert in Nevada and New Mexico. It purchased vast tracts of woodland in the Pacific Northwest and remote, rocky coastlines in Maine. It acquired mineral rights to entire mountain ranges in the Rockies. Silas and Charles couldn't understand the strategy. They saw no immediate return. They didn't know that the Great Sage had overlaid Arthur's MCU knowledge onto the geological survey maps. Arthur was buying the future sites of SHIELD bases, secret research facilities, and deposits of rare earth minerals that would be worthless now but priceless in the age of nuclear power and advanced electronics. He was buying the very ground upon which the future would be built.
With these new ventures underway, Arthur made another strategic shift. After years of deliberate reclusion, he emerged into society. He was no longer the boy-wonder; he was Arthur Sterling, the enigmatic tycoon, the most eligible and unreadable bachelor in New York. His presence at any event became its centerpiece. He moved through the opulent ballrooms and smoke-filled speakeasies of the Roaring Twenties like a visiting deity, his tailored suits fitting his perfectly optimized physique, his expression a mask of polite, impenetrable calm.
These forays were not for pleasure. They were harvesting expeditions. He was a social architect, building a network of influence that would be his true source of power. Silas Blackwood opened the initial doors, but it was Arthur's own unnerving charisma that sealed the deals. He cultivated relationships with ambitious politicians, using his foresight to identify and privately fund the men he knew would rise to power, men like a certain ambitious New York governor named Franklin D. Roosevelt. He would engage them in conversation, subtly seeding ideas and policies that would benefit his long-term goals, his proposals so logical and well-reasoned that the men would later believe the ideas were their own.
His most crucial encounters, however, were with the other great families of industry. He needed to understand the players who would shape the coming decades, especially those tied to his future knowledge. This led him, inevitably, to the Starks.
He arranged a 'chance' meeting at the 1T927 Innovators' Expo, a showcase of new technology. Ricardo Stark was there, a brilliant but perpetually flustered engineer, overshadowed by his son, Howard, a young man who vibrated with a brash, arrogant energy. Howard Stark, barely out of his teens, was demonstrating a new type of electrical relay. He was a showman, all flashing smiles and confident patter.
Arthur approached the booth with Silas in tow. "An impressive design, Mr. Stark," Arthur said, his voice cutting through the crowd's noise. "But your switching mechanism is inefficient. You're losing nearly eight percent of your energy to heat dissipation."
Howard's confident smile faltered. He turned to see Arthur, whose calm, analytical gaze seemed to strip his invention bare. "And who the hell are you?" Howard asked, his tone bristling with defensiveness.
"A potential investor," Arthur replied smoothly, ignoring the question. He pointed to a component. "If you were to use a silver-tungsten alloy for your contact points and reconfigure the magnetic coil into a Helmholtz arrangement, you would not only eliminate the energy loss, but you would increase the switching speed by a factor of three."
Howard stared at him, dumbfounded. The suggestion was not just insightful; it was something he had been struggling with for months in his private notebooks. For this stranger to diagnose and solve the problem with a single glance was impossible.
Ricardo stepped forward. "That's… that's brilliant. I am Ricardo Stark, and this is my son, Howard."
"Arthur Sterling," he replied, giving a slight nod.
The Stark name set off a cascade of data from the Great Sage. «Howard Stark. Genius, inventor, future founder of S.H.I.E.L.D. Key figure in the development of the Super-Soldier program, vibranium technology, and the Arc Reactor. Personality profile: Arrogant, narcissistic, desperate for his father's approval, but driven by a genuine desire to innovate. Highly susceptible to intellectual flattery and challenges to his ego. Prime candidate for future manipulation.»
"Sterling?" Howard's eyes widened with recognition. "You're that Sterling? The boy-wonder who owns half of New York?"
"An exaggeration," Arthur said dismissively. "Your work is interesting, Howard. You have a spark of true genius. It is, however, undisciplined." He turned to leave. "Do try my suggestion. I will be monitoring your progress."
He walked away, leaving Howard Stark sputtering, a fire of indignation and grudging respect lit in his eyes. The seed was planted. He hadn't made a friend or an enemy; he had established himself in Howard's mind as a superior, a benchmark against which the young genius would now measure himself. It was a relationship he would cultivate for decades.
As the years roared on, Arthur's power grew exponentially. His network was vast, his wealth was a weapon of global reach, and his body and mind were honed to a post-human edge. By the autumn of 1928, the party of the decade had reached a fever pitch. The stock market had detached from reality, becoming a great, glittering bubble of pure speculation. Everyone was a genius, everyone was getting rich, and everyone believed the prosperity would last forever.
Arthur stood on the private balcony of his penthouse office, which occupied the entire top floor of the Sterling Imperium building. The city lights spread out below him like a field of fallen stars. The night air was alive with the sounds of the city: the blare of car horns, the distant wail of a jazz trumpet, the hum of a million lives burning bright and fast. He held a glass of water, the liquid perfectly still in his steady hand.
Great Sage, he thought, his mind a silent oasis of calm amidst the city's frantic energy. Final report on the market.
«Acknowledged. Analysis of all major economic indicators is complete,» the Sage replied, its tone as sterile as the void of space. «The margin debt has reached 1.5 billion dollars. The market capitalization-to-GDP ratio is at an unprecedented and unsustainable 3:1. Industrial production has begun to decline while equity prices continue to accelerate. The bubble is structurally compromised.»
Conclusion?
«A catastrophic failure of the financial system is now inevitable. The collapse will be triggered by a confluence of minor events, creating a cascade of margin calls and panic selling. My projection indicates a 98.6% probability of the event commencing within the next twelve months. The resulting economic depression will be global in scale and will exceed the severity of all previous downturns in recorded history.»
Arthur took a slow sip of water. He felt the cool liquid slide down his throat, a simple, physical sensation in a moment of world-altering revelation. He looked out at the glittering, oblivious city, a city dancing on the precipice of ruin. He felt no pity. No fear. No moral qualms.
He felt the cold, thrilling certainty of a predator whose prey was finally, blissfully wandering into the perfect ambush.
He had spent the decade building his ark. His wealth was insulated, his assets were diversified, his power was entrenched. He had seen this storm coming from a lifetime away. While the world had partied, he had prepared. While they had celebrated, he had built his weapons.
The Great Depression would not be a disaster for him. It would be his chisel. It would be the tool he would use to carve away the last vestiges of the old world's power structures and sculpt a new world in his own image. It would be the crucible that would allow him to seize true global control.
The music of the Roaring Twenties was about to stop. And in the silence that followed, his would be the only voice that mattered. He closed his eyes, savoring the anticipation. The chaos was coming. And he was so very ready for it to begin.