Chapter 68 Emma and Harriet
The matter of Michaela going to women's college, truth be told, was casually brought up by Logan.
That day the two had just finished dinner, curled up on the sofa playing video games, and Michaela complained that the modification shop boss had docked her wages again. Logan, holding a cigar in his mouth, glanced at her: "You can't spend your entire life tightening screws, can you? You're so young, wouldn't it be good to go to school and study for a couple of years?"
Michaela was stunned for a moment, lowering her head to pick at her fingers: "My grades aren't good, and besides... the tuition isn't cheap either."
"If your grades aren't good, just study a major you like. What is money anyway?" Logan waved his hand and casually transferred a sum of money to her: "I had my assistant look at a school for you. It's not far from home, the major is suitable, just go report tomorrow."
He spoke casually, as if he were casually buying a piece of clothing.
Michaela stared at the numbers on her phone, unable to snap out of it for a long time. Finally, she bit her lip and said "Thank you", her voice as soft as a mosquito's buzz.
Logan rubbed her hair, not taking it to heart.
In his view, for a young girl, always soaking in a modification shop full of engine oil smell was not a long-term plan. Reading more books could never be wrong.
After school started, Michaela was a bit apprehensive at first, afraid she wouldn't get along with those girls from well-off family backgrounds.
But having struggled in society for so many years, her ability to read people's expressions had long been honed, and with her straightforward and unpretentious personality, within a few days she became close with her desk mate Emma Woodhouse and her neighboring seat Harriet Smith.
Emma was a typical delicate and graceful young lady of a modest family, with a gentle temperament and soft-spoken words. Her family ran a small business, and she was free from worries about food and clothing. Harriet had a lively personality, with two dimples when she smiled, and her father was a lawyer, so her family background was also quite well-off.
Neither of them had any spoiled airs, nor did they look at Michaela differently because she used to do modification work. The three girls gathered together every day to eat, attend classes, and visit the tuck shop, becoming inseparable within a few days.
That afternoon after school, as soon as Michaela walked out of the teaching building, she saw a bright black Lamborghini Reventón parked at the school gate, its lines extremely sharp, causing passing students to turn their heads frequently.
She was wondering what was going on when the car window rolled down, revealing Logan's slightly roguish face, and he raised his chin at her: "What are you dazing for, get in the car."
Michaela blushed, hurried over, pulled open the car door and sat inside, looking a bit embarrassed: "Why did you drive this here, it's too flashy."
"This car was just idle in the garage, so I drove it casually." Logan shrugged, just about to step on the gas to leave, when Michaela suddenly patted her forehead with an apologetic expression: "Oh, I forgot! Today I made plans with Emma and Harriet to go shopping, it's all my fault for zoning out just now and forgetting. You go back first, okay? I can just take a taxi myself."
"What a big deal." Logan didn't mind, took out his phone and transferred her another sum of money: "Eat something delicious after shopping, tell me if it's not enough."
As soon as his voice fell, the voices of the two girls came from the side: "Michaela! We were just looking for you—"
Harriet skipped and jumped over, saw Logan in the car, was stunned for a moment, then her eyes lit up, and she poked Emma beside her.
Emma was also a bit reserved, politely nodding at Logan in the car.
Michaela blushed even more, and just as she wanted to introduce him, Harriet spoke up first, asking with a smile: "Michaela, is this your friend? It just so happens we haven't eaten yet either, how about... together? It's more lively with more people."
After saying that, she secretly tugged at Emma's sleeve. Emma softly let out an "Mn" and nodded along: "Yeah, let's go together."
Both of them had seen Logan on the news, and Wolverine's reputation had long spread all over New York. Now that Zhenren (Immortal) was right before their eyes, it would be fake to say they weren't curious.
Michaela looked at Logan, her eyes carrying a bit of expectation.
"Sure, I haven't eaten yet anyway." Logan smiled and didn't refuse: "Get in the car, you guys pick the place."
The two girls looked at each other, both a bit pleasantly surprised, and hurriedly pulled open the car door to sit in the back seat.
The car steadily drove away from the school. Harriet was the liveliest, and after a short while she wasn't so reserved anymore, chattering and asking questions: "Mr. Logan, can you really freeze iron soldiers out of thin air? Were you at the scene on the day of the expo too?"
"Just call me Logan." Logan held the steering wheel and casually replied: "I only froze them for a moment, it's not as exaggerated as the internet blows it up to be."
"That's amazing!" Harriet's eyes were sparkling, "I was dumbfounded watching the video that day, if it weren't for you, so many people would have gotten hurt."
Emma sat beside her, though she spoke little, she nodded in agreement from time to time, her eyes full of admiration.
Michaela sat in the front passenger seat, listening to her two friends praise Logan, her lips couldn't help curling upwards, feeling sweet inside.
Logan chose a French restaurant with a nice environment, a quiet location, and exquisite dishes.
When ordering, he told the three girls to order whatever they wanted, and he casually asked for just a steak and a glass of whisky.
The dining atmosphere was very relaxed, Logan spoke with wit, didn't put on airs, and occasionally told a couple of funny stories, making the three girls laugh nonstop.
Harriet was the most open-minded, asking from interesting school events to his usual hobbies. Logan also answered patiently, not mentioning anything about superpowers, only saying he usually fished, played video games, and occasionally gathered with friends.
The meal lasted for nearly two hours, and by the end, it was already dark outside.
Logan drove them back. Emma and Harriet lived in the same community, which happened to be on the way.
The car stopped at the entrance of the community, the two girls thanked him, pushed open the car door and got out.
Harriet still waved her hand and shouted: "Logan, let's eat together again when you have time next time!"
"Sure." Logan smiled, raised his chin at them: "Go on in, pay attention to safety when it's dark."
Watching the car disappear at the end of the road, the two turned around and walked into the community.
As the evening breeze blew, Harriet hugged her arms and couldn't help exclaiming: "Oh my god, Zhenren (Immortal)is even more handsome than in the video! Look at when he smiled just now, my heartbeat skipped half a beat."
Emma smiled with pursed lips and gently pushed her: "Keep your voice down, don't let people hear."
"It's true anyway." Harriet curled her lip, leaned close to Emma and whispered, "Look at him, he's handsome, has a great figure, a mature temperament, is rich, and is a hero who saved hundreds of people... Who can withstand this."
Emma didn't refute, her cheeks just turned slightly red. During dinner just now, the way Logan casually handed them tissues, and his low voice when speaking, really made one's heartbeat accelerate a little.
"And he's too good to Michaela, saying he'll send her to school and doing it, casually transferring five figures of money, and even driving a Lamborghini to pick her up." Harriet clicked her tongue twice, "Michaela is so lucky."
"She's good to begin with." Emma said softly, "Michaelahas a good personality too, and gets along well with us."
"That's true." Harriet nodded, her eyeballs turning, "Let's get closer to Michaela in the future. Anyway, being with her is happy, maybe... we can see Logan a few times."
After saying that, she winked at Emma. Emma blushed even more, but didn't refute, considering it tacit agreement.
The two chatted and laughed as they walked into the stairwell. The thoughts of the young girls were like willow catkins drifting in the evening breeze, light and airy, carrying a sort of unspeakable, inexplicable yearning.
Meanwhile, inside the car, Michaela turned her head to look at Logan's profile and whispered, "Thank you for today, both of them were quite happy."
"Small matter." Logan held the steering wheel with one hand and rubbed her hair with the other, "Get along well with your classmates. If there's anything you don't understand about your studies, tell me, and I'll find someone to tutor you."
"Mm." Michaela nodded, leaned against the back of the seat, looking at the streetlights flying past outside the window, feeling warm inside.
She had never imagined before that one day she could sit in a college classroom for classes, have friends she got along with, and have a person like this who took her matters to heart.
The car steadily drove in the night, the light and Shadow of the street lamps flickering on Logan's face.
As Michaela watched and watched, she couldn't help smiling.
Logan noticed her gaze, turned his head and raised an eyebrow: "What are you looking at, so engrossed?"
"Nothing." Michaela hurriedly lowered her head, the tips of her ears glowing red, and muttered softly, "Can't I look at you driving handsomely."
Logan let out a low chuckle, didn't expose her, stepped on the gas pedal, and the car drove towards the direction of the Villa.
Chapter 69: Anna
At a little past 7:00 PM, Logan curled up on the sofa in the living room of the Villa, munching on a pizza while flipping through TV channels. When he casually switched to the news station, the anchor happened to be reading a brief report: CIA Special Operations Directorate Chief William Rollins suffered an accidental shooting yesterday and died on the spot, and relevant departments are currently investigating.
Logan's chewing motion paused for a moment, then he let out a sneer and pressed the remote control to change the channel.
There was no need to think to know it was done by Frank.
Clean and neat, without any hesitation, completely fitting that guy's style.
He had no interest in inquiring about the specific process; whether he ambushed for three days and three nights or directly broke into the other party's safe house, none of it mattered.
As a friend, he had given the reminders that should be given and helped where help was due; fulfilling his obligation was enough.
As for whether Frank would turn into some kind of Punisher in the future, it had even less to do with him.
The World would keep spinning no matter who left; people had their own paths to walk, and he had no reason to crowd over and point fingers.
Just as he was thinking about this, his phone vibrated, and Jessica sent a message consisting of only six short characters: "When are you paying the final balance?"
Logan smiled and shook his head, directly transferring one million over.
Within two seconds, a call came through. Jessica's voice sounded even brighter than usual, yet she was forcibly pretending to be calm: "Consider yourself a man of your word. Let's state this in advance: this one million is a bonus, and the salary will still be settled monthly. Those are two different matters."
"Money-grabber." Logan laughed and scolded, "Rest assured, you won't get a penny less. You don't need to keep an eye on the Castle family's side for now; just take an occasional glance at the safe house, and the pay will be issued as usual."
"There's such a good thing?" Jessica was stunned for a second, then chuckled, "Alright, you're a decent boss. Whenever there's such easy and well-paying work in the future, remember to prioritize calling me. Fighting and killing aren't my thing, but staking out and digging up information is my specialty."
"Got it, you won't miss out."
After hanging up the phone, Logan tossed his phone aside, and Ares trotted over happily, resting his head on his lap.
He rubbed the big dog's head, unable to help laughing.
Frank's matter had come to a temporary close, and New York quieted down again.
Calculating the time, Thor the God of Thunder was also about to descend to Earth. With Asgard's bunch of messes and that guy Loki, just thinking about it gave him a headache.
However, Logan didn't plan to get involved. When immortals fight, mortals suffer; he was too lazy to join in that kind of excitement.
Anyway, S.H.I.E.L.D. would end up cleaning up the mess for Asgard's affairs anyway; it wouldn't stir up much of a storm. He just needed to peacefully live his own little life.
Yet the tree desires silence, but the wind will not cease; trouble always loved to seek him out on its own.
The next morning, Pepper called over, getting straight to the point: "Logan, those companies and stock accounts under your name, do you plan to just leave them scattered like this? I heard from Fox that you don't even have a proper person to manage them, and financial reports are piled up in half a room without you even looking at them."
Logan had just woken up, leaning against the head of the bed while yawning: "What big deal is that, leaving them there won't break them. They're just small money anyway, they won't lose much anywhere."
"Small money?" Pepper raised her tone, her tone full of exasperation at his lack of ambition: "Your biomedical shares plus the tech company on the West Coast, along with all sorts of real estate, add up to almost half a branch of Stark Industries. And you're just leaving them like this? Listen to me, hurry up and recruit an assistant specifically to help you manage these chores, lest one day you get sold off and don't even know it."
Logan rubbed his glabella, thinking it made sense.
Over the years, he had bought a little here and a little there, accumulating quite a few stocks, companies, and real estate. Usually, he relied entirely on Emma to occasionally help look after them, but she had her own business too; he couldn't keep bothering others all the time.
Recruiting an assistant would indeed save a lot of worry.
"Fine, recruit if you want." He casually agreed, "I'll have HR handle it."
"Don't bother HR, I'll take care of this." Pepper neatly took over, "You introduced Fox to me back then, and now the two of us get along like besties; I can handle this little matter with a wave of my hand. I guarantee I'll find someone reliable for you, capable, and doesn't talk much, so you won't find it annoying."
Logan smiled: "Alright, then I'll wait for Director Pepper's good news."
He hadn't taken it seriously at first, thinking Pepper would find an experienced workplace elite, a capable professional woman who could quietly handle documents.
Three days later, when Pepper appeared in his Villa's living room with someone, Logan's hand holding the coffee paused for two seconds, and a strange expression couldn't help but surface on his face.
The woman standing beside Pepper was tall, wearing a neatly tailored dark gray suit skirt, her silver hair styled into an immaculate bun, her eyebrows deep and sharp, her bridge of the nose high and straight, her lips slightly pale, and her whole person exuded a cold and professional aura.
Her standing posture was straight, her hands crossed in front of her, and her gaze calm, revealing no excess emotions.
Anna Poliatova.
Logan silently recited the name in his heart, almost laughing out loud.
In his past life, when he had nothing to do, he had watched this movie: a top assassin from the former Soviet UnionKGB, with outrageously good martial arts, a double agent bouncing back and forth between intelligence agencies of various countries.
In the movie, it was set in the nineties; he didn't expect that coming to this Universe, she would run straight into the twenty-first century and even become an assistant recruited by Pepper.
The inclusivity of this Universe was truly something else.
Logan complained inwardly, but on the surface remained unmoving. He put down his coffee cup and raised an eyebrow at Pepper: "Is this the reliable candidate you mentioned?"
"Let me introduce her: Anna Poliatova. Previously she worked as a senior executive assistant in Europe, proficient in six languages, understands finance and legal affairs, with an exceptionally brilliant resume." Pepper patted Anna's arm, smiling with complete satisfaction: "Selected through three rounds of interviews by me, absolutely reliable, more than enough to handle your little industries."
Anna nodded gently, her voice cool and steady, revealing no extra emotions: "Mr. Howlett, hello."
"Don't be so polite, just call me Logan." Logan leaned on the sofa, sizing her up twice, intentionally putting on a casual appearance: "I'm not someone with that many rules. Usually, you don't need to come to work every day; just handle the documents well and keep an eye on the accounts. When there's nothing else, you don't need to report at any time."
He wanted to see what this KGB ace assassin was aiming for, giving up being a proper spy to run over here and be a tiny assistant.
Was she sent by the CIA? Or remnants of the KGB? Or coming for his identity as a Mutant?
Whatever.
Anyway, the other party couldn't hurt him. Recently his days had been boring to death, so hiring someone to act under his nose every day could also be considered passing the time.
Anna didn't seem to notice his thoughts, or if she noticed, she didn't show it, only nodding slightly: "Alright, Mr. Howlett. I will familiarize myself with the business as soon as possible, and communicate with you in a timely manner if there are any issues."
Her sense of propriety when speaking was extremely strong, not a word too many or too few, and her expression management could be called perfect. Looking at her, she really seemed like an assistant with extremely high professional literacy.
If Logan hadn't known the bottom line in advance, he really would have been fooled by her.
Pepper didn't notice anything amiss, and continued to chime in from the side: "Rest assured, Anna's capability is definitely not a problem. I've looked at the project proposals she did before; they're better than quite a few veteran employees under my command. Handing those messy industries of yours to her will guaranteed get them sorted out clearly for you."
"Alright, anyone Pepper chooses, I'm definitely assured of." Logan smiled, lifting his chin at Anna: "Then starting work tomorrow? The office is right in the second-floor study; if you lack anything, tell the housekeeper directly."
"Alright, thank you very much, Mr. Howlett." Anna bowed slightly, her posture proper, without a single flaw to pick out.
After chatting a bit more about work matters, Pepperpulled Anna away, saying she would take her to get familiar with the surrounding environment and conveniently sync up the previous documents.
After the two left, the living room quieted down again.
Logan picked up his coffee and took a sip, the corners of his mouth curling up into a playful smile.
Interesting.
A top assassin acting as an assistant—this kind of treatment isn't something just anyone gets.
He wanted to see how long this Miss Anna could hold back before showing her true colors, and what she was aiming for. Anyway, days are long; they could play slowly.
He took out his phone and sent a message to Jessica: "Help me check someone, Anna Poliatova. No need for too much detail, just see who is behind her."
After sending it, he tossed the phone aside. Checking or not checking didn't really matter; it was just a way to find some work for Jessica so that chick wouldn't constantly nag about having little pay and too much work.
Outside the window, the sunlight was just right, and Areswas lying at his feet yawning.
Logan stretched lazily, muttering in his heart that life was indeed getting livelier.
That was fine too; it was always more interesting than fishing and playing video games every day.
He smiled, picked up the game controller, clicked on "Metal Gear Solid", and continued playing the level he hadn't cleared yet.
Chapter 70 Fishing
During Anna's first week on the job, Logan barely saw her.
Every day when he woke up and wandered into the second-floor study, the desk would always be neatly piled with sorted documents—financial reports, contracts, and documents waiting for signature were all categorized, with sticky notes clearly marking which needed a signature, which only required a review, and which had risk suggestions clearly labeled.
The butler said Anna arrived punctually at eight every morning and left at six in the evening, never slacking off or wandering around, and aside from necessary work inquiries, she didn't say a single extra word.
That afternoon, Logan rarely didn't go out fishing and was holed up in the study playing video games. When Annaknocked and came in to deliver documents, he had just beaten the boss and was smoking a cigar while watching the clearance cutscene.
"Mr. Logan, this is the sorting report of all industries under your name, as well as the subsequent management optimization plan." Anna gently placed the folder on the desk, her voice cold and steady, "There are a total of seven holding companies, twelve commercial real estate properties, and three stock funds. I have already filled in the three missed tax reporting items in the previous accounts; the dividend plan for West Coast Biomedical has room for optimization, and it is recommended to adjust the shareholding structure to save about two million in taxes each year. The details are all written on the third page."
Logan raised an eyebrow, reached out to pick up the document, and flipped through it.
He couldn't even remember how many miscellaneous properties he had under his name, all of which he had bought casually over the years, making or losing money entirely by luck.
Anna had only been here for a week, yet she had sorted everything out so clearly, even marking which real estate was vacant and which stock should be dumped, with a clear and well-structured plan that was so professional not a single flaw could be found.
"Not bad." Logan put down the file, smiled as he leaned back in his chair, and looked her up and down twice, "Much more competent than I expected. Pepper really didn't misjudge the person."
"It's my duty." Anna slightly nodded, her expression unchanged, as if accomplishing such a big thing was just a piece of cake, "If there is no problem with the plan, I will arrange for people to execute it next week. Feel free to speak up if there are any adjustments."
"No need for adjustments, just handle it as you see fit." Logan waved his hand, casually pulled open the drawer, and tossed a black card over. The card drew an arc in the air and landed steadily in front of Anna, "There is ten million in here as an office petty cash fund. Usually, social engagements, team expenses, and all sorts of miscellaneous costs come out of it. Tell me if it's not enough, don't hold back."
Anna's gaze fell on the black card, and there was finally a slight fluctuation.
She froze for a second, then looked up at Logan, her eyebrows furrowing imperceptibly: "Mr. Logan, the office petty cash doesn't need this much. According to standard norms, one hundred thousand is enough."
Having worked as an executive assistant so many times, she had never seen a boss casually toss out ten million as pocket money.
Calling it petty cash, but with this amount, let alone office work, it was enough to support a small team.
"Is it much?" Logan puffed a smoke ring while biting on his cigar, nonchalantly, "I have no concept of numbers, and it's just sitting there anyway. I trust your work, spend what you should, and you don't need to report accounts to me. If we really had to figure things out down to the last penny, I'd find it troublesome."
He said it lightly, but inside he was calculating his own little scheme.
The soft offensive approach had to be done this way. Money, power, and trust were smashed over one by one; whether you were an ace assassin or a double agent, being bombarded with this free-range style of trust every day, your mind would inevitably waver a bit.
Anyway, he had more money than he could ever spend, and his speed of making money was much faster than spending it. Taking out ten million to play a game of turning someone over was a guaranteed profit without any loss.
Anna was silent for a few seconds, and finally reached out to pick up the card. When her fingers touched the card, her movement paused extremely lightly.
"I will plan and use it reasonably." She was still in that cold and professional tone, only her voice was half a fraction lower than before, "Thank you for your trust, Mr. Logan."
"Such a small matter." Logan waved his hand, looking completely unconcerned, "Right, if you have any personal needs, feel free to mention them. Houses, cars, salary, all are easy to talk about. Working with me, I can't let you suffer any losses."
These words were half true and half false.
It was both a test and an olive branch thrown out. He wanted to see whether this ace born from the KGB, in front of solid benefits and unreserved trust, would waver in her stance for even a split second.
Anna didn't take up the conversation, but slightly bowed: "Thank you, Mr. Logan. If there is nothing else, I will go out and organize the contracts first."
"Go ahead."
The study door gently closed, and the room grew quiet again.
Logan leaned against the back of the chair, twirling a lighter with his fingertips, the corners of his mouth curling into a bad smile.
Interesting, too interesting.
When Anna took the card just now, the flash of hesitation in her eyes, he saw it clearly.
So what if she was an ace assassin? Working as an assistant here every day, taking the millions in pocket money casually tossed by the boss, after a long time, no matter how firm the stance, it would shake a few times.
He took out his phone and sent a message to Jessica: "Report anytime there is movement on Anna's side, don't watch too closely, don't get discovered."
Jessica instantly replied with a "Received", followed by a "Boss is generous" meme, probably figuring out how to ask for a bonus again.
Logan smiled and threw the phone back onto the desk, lowering his head to glance at the sorting report.
The text was printed, and the annotations were handwritten. The handwriting was sharp and neat, just like her, looking cold, hard, and disciplined.
"A KGB ace acting as my exclusive assistant, who would believe it if I said it out loud." He shook his head with a chuckle, casually threw the report aside, and picked up the game controller again, "Anyway, since I'm idle anyway, I'll play along with you slowly."
In the days that followed, Anna indeed didn't let him down.
Not only were the accounts kept in good order, but even several real estate disputes that Emma previously found troublesome were smoothly resolved by her, with decisive and clean methods without any dragging of feet.
Logan completely became a hands-off boss. Except for occasionally signing a few characters, the rest of the time he fished when he should fish and played games when he should play games, living a life even more leisurely than before.
He wasn't idle either, constantly changing ways to 'feed' her.
Today he said she handled things smartly, reward of five hundred thousand; tomorrow he said a cooperation was successfully negotiated, reward of a car. The reasons were more casual than the last, and the money was like it blew in from a big wind, tossed out without a care.
Every time, Anna would hesitate for a few seconds, then thank him and accept it, never declining and never actively asking for it.
On the surface, she was still in that cold and professional look, coming to work and leaving on time every day, speaking little and doing work well, without a single flaw to be picked on.
But Logan could feel that the look in her eyes when she looked at him gradually lost its initial vigilance and alienation, and gained a little something indescribable.
This Friday, Anna came over to report next week's schedule before getting off work.
After finishing the main business, she hesitated for a moment and took the rare initiative to speak: "Mr. Logan, next Wednesday there is a biomedical industry summit, and the organizers sent an invitation letter. Will you attend?"
"Not going, boring." Logan didn't even raise his head, staring at the game screen, "You go represent me, you understand it better than me anyway."
Anna was stunned for a moment: "Me? Wouldn't that be inappropriate."
"What's inappropriate about it." Logan pressed the controller, nonchalantly, "My assistant attending on my behalf is only natural. Buy your own gown and jewelry, just swipe it from that black card, don't save money for me. If you lose face for me, I'll deduct your salary."
He said it casually, but in reality, he was delegating power.
For an occasion like an industry summit, letting an assistant attend on behalf was equivalent to directly pushing her to the front stage, giving her plenty of face and resources.
Anna stood in place, was silent for a good while, before softly responding: "Okay. I will handle it properly."
When she turned to leave, her pace was half a beat slower than usual. The moment the door closed, Logan raised his head to glance at the door panel, smiling full of calculation.
Fish, after all, have to be caught slowly.
The longer the line is let out, the more interesting it is when they bite.
He wanted to see how long this deeply hidden ace spy could hold out.
Whether to continue completing her mission, or slowly lean towards his side.
Anyway, he had plenty of time and plenty of patience.
With days so idle, having someone accompany him to act was much more interesting than playing video games every day.
Logan whistled, the character in the game had just cleared the stage, and the word 'Victory' popped up on the screen.
He smiled, tossed the controller aside, picked up his coffee, and took a sip.
Chapter 71: Platform and Mobile Phone
Year 2010.
The summer heat had already begun to rise over New Yorkin June. The air conditioner in the study on the second floor of the Villa hummed, blowing out cool air, yet it failed to dispel the utter boredom on Logan's face.
Slumped in a wide leather chair with his long legs propped on the edge of the desk, he twirled a slider phone between his fingers. The plastic keys chafed his fingertips; pressing anything required sliding the phone open, a hassle that made him want to crush it and toss it straight into the trash.
A neat stack of documents sat on the desk. On top was the project progress report from the Silicon Valley team, with pale yellow sticky notes pasted on the edges. Elegant yet sharp handwriting marked key milestones and risk alerts, and the pages requiring his signature were even corner-folded.
There was no need to guess to know it was Anna's handiwork.
Having been on the job for a full month, this star assistant from the KGB had long sorted his chaotic mess into impeccable order. From her nearly imperceptible frown upon first hearing about a short-video platform to now calmly reporting on user persona research and competitor analyses, her professionalism was completely flawless.
A knock sounded on the door right on time—three taps, evenly paced and measured.
"Come in." Logan tossed the phone back onto the desk and habitually clamped an unlit cigar in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth.
Anna pushed the door open and stepped in, clad in a crisply tailored dark gray skirt suit. Her silver hair was meticulously pinned up, and she held a tablet in her arms, her strides as steady as if measured with a ruler.
"Mr. Logan, the core Silicon Valley team is fully staffed, office space has been leased in Palo Alto, and legal and financial integration is complete. The initial draft of the product prototype is ready, but we've hit a bottleneck on a core issue."
She placed the tablet on the desk and tapped the interactive prototype on the screen. "Existing mobile devices rely on physical buttons or single-point resistive touchscreens. Operations like swiping and pinching to zoom are fundamentally impossible to implement. Forcing it onto them would result in a terrible user experience; the technical department estimates user retention wouldn't exceed ten percent."
Logan raised an eyebrow and reached out to swipe through the wireframe diagrams on the tablet.
The short-video interface on the screen was impressively detailed: vertical swiping to switch videos, double-tapping to like, collapsible comment sections—all ideas he had mentioned offhandedly, yet Anna had actually directed the team to replicate them to the letter.
Unfortunately, in an era dominated by feature phones with physical keys, even the best interaction design lacked the hardware to support it.
"I knew it. These damn phones don't even have a proper touchscreen; you have to press arrow keys just to scroll through videos. Only an idiot would use that every day." He clicked his tongue and bit down on his cigar. "Since existing ones won't work, we'll just build one ourselves."
Anna's hand holding the pen paused for half a second. She looked up at him, a faint, almost imperceptible flicker of surprise crossing her ice-blue eyes. Yet she didn't ask "why," stating matter-of-factly, "Developing a proprietary phone involves the entire supply chain—hardware, chips, operating system, and screens. It has a long development cycle, requires massive investment, and current touch technology is immature. The risk of failure is very high."
Her tone was standard assistant risk advisory, but Logancaught the underlying subtext: Boss, you're making reckless trouble again.
He chuckled, leaning back in his chair to look at her. "What's there to fear about high risk when we've got money to burn? Don't worry about the money; I'll handle the technical issues. Keep an eye on the team and push the software framework to its absolute limit. Don't worry about current hardware constraints—make it as user-friendly as possible. Once the phone is built, we'll pre-install it directly."
Anna was silent for two seconds. She lowered her gaze and jotted down the requirements in her notebook, her handwriting remaining neat, though the tip of her pen paused slightly on the words 'proprietary phone.' "Understood. Please set a budget limit so I can arrange the fund transfer."
"Transfer five hundred million over first. We can add more later if it's not enough." Logan spoke nonchalantly, as if five hundred million were five dollars instead of U.S. dollars. "By the way, set up meetings with headhunters in materials science and semiconductor chips. Poach some talent. Double their salary, with stock options calculated separately."
"Understood." Anna packed up the tablet, bowed slightly, turned, and left, closing the door almost soundlessly.
Logan stared at the door for two seconds, rubbing his chin with a grin. A month ago, this stone-faced assistant would have certainly added 'Please reconsider carefully.' Now, she only asked about the budget without questioning the reasons—she had adapted quickly.
He pulled out his phone and texted Jessica: "Keep a close eye on those technical directors poached from Silicon Valley. Run thorough background checks to make sure none are plants from competitors. Double bonus after you finish."
Jessica replied in a second with a "Got it, generous boss" meme followed by a little figure rubbing its hands for money, putting her money-loving nature on full display.
Logan chuckled, tossed his phone back on the desk, got up, and grabbed the flight jacket draped over the back of his chair.
Hardware problems? Go find Tony.
That guy might talk tough, but when it came to new technology, he was greedier than anyone. A few teasing words would have him taking the bait hook, line, and sinker.
The roar of the harley tore through the afternoon streets, drawing frequent glances from passersby.
Nowadays, 'Wolverine' was also considered a New Yorkcelebrity; people waved at him wherever he went.
The reception at Stark Tower was already more than familiar with him. Seeing him enter, they immediately guided him in with a smile, skipping the sign-in entirely.
The door to the 36th-floor laboratory was left ajar. From inside came the hissing sound of a welding torch, mixed with Tony's muttered grumblings.
Logan pushed the door open and saw Tony crouching over a workbench, half his body leaned inside the chest piece of the mark viii. A streak of black soot smudged his face, making him look as if he had just crawled out of a coal pile.
"Yo, Mr. Stark, wrestling with sheet metal again?" Leaning against the doorframe with the unlit cigar in his mouth, he teased, "This mark viii doesn't look as sturdy as the Mark VII. It's not going to be another flashy piece of junk, is it?"
Tony didn't even look up. The welding torch hissed with sparks as his retort drifted over: "Still better than certain people who sit around idling all day. Bored of fishing? Or tired of walking the dog? What new toy are you trying to mess around with now? Let me state upfront: modifying cars or upgrading security is fine, but don't expect me to build you an automatic fishing rod."
"Think bigger. Fishing is nowhere near as interesting as making big moves." Logan walked over, casually picking up a capacitive component from the table to weigh in his hand. The cool metallic texture rolled between his fingertips. "I'm planning to launch a short-video platform called 'Astral'. But then I found out these crappy phones don't even have a decent touchscreen; scrolling through a video takes forever, and the user experience is hot garbage. I came over to get your help—let's build a touchscreen phone together."
Tony finally shut off the torch, slammed the tool onto the table with a loud clank, took off his safety goggles, and turned around with an expression that looked at Logan like he was an idiot.
"A touchscreen phone? Logan, have you gone senile from fishing? Current resistive screens are as mushy as Play-Doh; tapping them does nothing half the time, and you want multi-touch swiping? You think it's your Magnetic Field Manipulation, moving however you want?"
"If resistive screens don't work, then we make capacitive screens." Logan pulled over a chair, sat down, grabbed a piece of scrap paper, and began sketching with a pen. "Use conductive glass as the surface layer with a capacitive grid underneath. A touch of a finger alters the electrical signal, enabling multi-touch, swiping, and zooming. Pair that with chemically strengthened glass to resist scratches and drops—isn't the feel a hundred times better than these crap buttons?"
As he spoke, he sketched, outlining the core interaction logic of future smartphones: home screen icons, pull-down notifications, side-to-side page turns, and pinch-to-zoom. The lines were rough, but the logic was terrifyingly clear.
At first, Tony had his arms crossed with an expression of 'let's hear how much nonsense you can spout.' But as he listened, his brow furrowed, and his body unconsciously leaned forward, his disdain gradually replaced by intense curiosity.
When Logan finished drawing the interaction logic, Tonysimply snatched the pen, crouched over the draft paper, and began modifying parameters, muttering rapidly: "Regular glass won't do; it shatters on impact... Needs chemical strengthening, an ion-exchange process... The capacitive grid spacing is too wide, sensitivity is insufficient, we need to redesign the chip algorithms... And the OS—existing systems all follow physical button logic; it has to be rewritten from scratch..."
Logan leaned back against his chair, watching this guy instantly enter the hyper-excited state of a tech geek, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He knew it would be like this. No matter how much Tonyscoffed, whenever he encountered an entirely new technological frontier, he was more eager than anyone.
"Sir, the capacitive touch solution proposed by Mr. Howlett is theoretically feasible," Jarvis's steady voice rang out. "Combining Stark Industries' specialty glass technology and chip development capabilities, the prototype development cycle can be compressed to one to two months. Mass production is estimated to take three months if production lines are added."
Tony glared at the empty air, seeming annoyed that Jarvishad undermined his posture. "Who said I agreed to make it? I'm just calculating feasibility!"
Though his mouth was as stubborn as a rock, his fingers were already clattering across the keyboard, pulling up the materials laboratory database to check the formula parameters for specialty glass.
Logan chuckled. "Right, you didn't agree. Your hands just felt like typing on their own."
Without turning around, Tony snapped back, "Cut the crap! You fund the R&D in full; laboratory usage fees and labor costs are calculated separately. Once it's done, I want thirty percent of the touch technology patents."
"Thirty percent? Why don't you rob a bank?" Logan raised an eyebrow. "Ten percent at most. Take it or leave it. If you don't do it, I'll go to Hammer Industries. Justin is rotting in prison anyway, so his team is dirt cheap. At worst, it'll just take a bit more time."
"Don't you dare go to those useless hacks!" Tony bristled instantly, whipping his head around, the soot on his face trembling. "Hammer Industries would be lucky to make a phone that can make calls, let alone touchscreens! It'll probably leak electricity every time someone taps it! Fifteen percent, not a penny less! Otherwise, I'm telling Pepperthat you play games all day at work and egg me on to skip work for side gigs!"
"Fine, fine, fifteen percent it is." Logan raised his hands in surrender with a laugh. "But I have conditions: a working prototype within six months, and touch latency cannot exceed ten milliseconds. If it delays my platform launch, your patent share is halved."
After haggling for a while, they finalized the deal: Tonywould handle hardware R&D and OS adaptation for the touchscreen phone, with Stark Industries providing technology, labs, and engineers; Logan would fully fund the R&D and oversee software development and operations for the 'Astral' short-video platform; core touch patents would be split 65% to Logan and 35% to Tony. The bet was whether the platform's daily active users could break ten million in its first year—the loser would cover an entire year's supply of 18-year single malt whiskey, plus a three-day private rental of the Monacocircuit to fool around as much as they wanted.
Once the agreement was settled, Logan got up, dusted off his pants, and prepared to leave. Tony suddenly called out to him, nodding toward the door. "Your assistant Anna—Pepper keeps praising her in my ear, saying she's way more dependable than the vice presidents under me. Where did you dig her up? Her European resume looks a bit hollow; you'd better watch your back."
Logan paused, turning back with a half-smile. "What, getting jealous because Pepper praised her? Want to poach her? Too late. She's on a seven-figure annual salary plus stock options now. You can't afford her."
"Who cares about poaching your staff?" Tony rolled his eyes, picking up his torch and aiming it back at the chest piece. "I'm just warning you: don't invite a wolf into your house, only to end up getting sold and helping them count the cash."
"If I get sold, even better." Logan opened the door and waved. "Saves me the headache of reading financial reports every day. I'm off. Take your time welding your tin can. Let me know when the prototype is ready."
From behind him came Tony's shout of "Get lost!" mixed with the hissing of the welding torch—lively as ever.
Logan rode his harley leisurely back home. The evening breeze carried the summer heat against his face. With the unlit cigar in his mouth, he was in high spirits.
In truth, whether it was the phone or the short-video platform, it was all just stuff he was messing around with out of sheer boredom.
If it succeeded, it would add some fun to this boring World.
If it failed, it wouldn't cost much money anyway. It wasn't like he could just fish, walk dogs, and play video games every day while waiting for the Chitauri to invade, right?
When he returned to the Villa, the lights in the living room were on.
Anna was standing by the bar, conducting a video conference with the Silicon Valley team via her tablet. In fluent British English, her delivery was swift and clear as she methodically outlined adjustments to the product framework, even providing alternative solutions for several technical bottlenecks raised by the other side, professional beyond belief.
Hearing footsteps, she looked up and gave Logan a slight nod to indicate the meeting was still ongoing, her fingertips swiping swiftly across the tablet to log their questions.
Warm yellow light fell over the tips of her silver-gray hair, plating it in a soft glow that softened her usual icy sharpness.
Logan didn't disturb her and headed straight upstairs. As he walked past, he glanced at the tablet—it displayed a high-fidelity prototype of the Astral app, featuring a clean color palette and fluid interactions, even better than he had anticipated.
By the time he finished showering and came downstairs in loungewear, Anna had just concluded the meeting and was packing up her tablet.
Seeing him approach, she reported, "The technical team was very energized to hear that there's a solution for the hardware issue. I've instructed them to proceed with software adaptation according to the highest specifications without worrying about existing device limitations. I will arrange for them to interface with the Stark Industriestechnical team shortly."
"Quite efficient." Logan walked over, poured a glass of whiskey, and leaned against the bar. "Tony agreed. Prototype in six months. Tell the team to go all out—money is no object."
Anna nodded, tapping her fingertips on the tablet a few times to record the schedule.
After a few seconds of silence, she took the rare initiative to ask an off-topic question: "You convinced Mr. Stark? I assumed he wouldn't be interested in... this kind of entertainment project."
"He's not interested in the project." Logan scoffed, taking a sip of whiskey. "He's interested in new technology. Whenever he encounters an untouched domain, he leaps at it without needing any coaxing. That guy is all bark and no bite—a few words and he took the bait."
He spoke with a smug look, like a child whose prank had succeeded.
Anna looked at him, a faint trace of a smile rippling across her ice-blue eyes, swift as a ripple passing over water, gone in an instant. She lowered her head, her voice half a degree softer than usual. "You are quite right."
With that, she picked up her tablet. "If there is nothing else, I will head out. I left the weekly meeting materials in your study, with key points highlighted in red."
"Yeah, get home safe," Logan replied casually.
Watching Anna turn and leave, her skirt brushing the floor, her stride remained steady, but lacking some of the initial tension.
Logan swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching the amber liquid lap against the walls, and rubbed his chin with a smile.
He turned and walked into the study. Sure enough, the weekly meeting materials were arranged neatly on the desk. On the top sticky note, besides the key points circled in red ink, a tiny star had been drawn in the bottom right corner—so small you had to lean close to notice it, drawn with sharp strokes identical to her handwriting.
Logan raised an eyebrow, picked up the sticky note to look at it, and promptly set it back on the desk with a smile.
Chapter 72 Launch
In August, New York City was as hot as an upside-down steamer, but the underground laboratory of Stark Towerwas pleasantly cool.
Two silver-black prototypes sat side by side on the table. Their bodies were as thin as a card, with a completely flat reinforced glass panel on the front where not a single button could be found, looking completely out of place among a pile of clanking armor parts.
Tony had half a doughnut in his mouth, his fingers swiping rapidly across the screen, the corners of his mouth upturned enough to hang an oil pot: "Did you see that? Multi-touch, eight milliseconds of latency, two milliseconds less than what you asked for. Only with my level of skill could this be done; if it were anyone else, getting a screen to light up in half a year would already be considered good."
Logan reached out and took one, his fingertips sliding gently across the glass, and the icons on the main screen flipped smoothly following his fingertips.
He opened the Astral beta version again, flicked his finger upward, and short videos switched seamlessly; double-clicking the screen popped out a little red heart; pinching with two fingers made the image zoom in and out accordingly, and the tactile feel was unbearably smooth.
He even tried using micro-manipulation with Magnetic Field Manipulation to draw a line, and the line was as steady as if measured by a ruler.
"Not bad, barely usable." He spoke casually, but his fingers were very honest, repeatedly testing the browser, mini-games, built-in drawing board, and even playing with the sliding search in the contacts list twice.
After testing, he threw the phone back onto the table and bantered: "It's a bit better than that previous slider brick, at least you don't have to pick at the keyboard every day until your fingers hurt. With this gadget, how do you have the nerve to stubbornly hold on to thirty-five percent of the patents? I think giving you ten percent would be too much."
"Bullshit!" Tony instantly bristled, throwing away his doughnut, pointing at the phone and counting his contributions: "The special reinforced glass is a formula mixed in my laboratory, drop-proof, scratch-proof, and fingerprint-proof! The touch chip is an algorithm modified by me and my team after pulling all-nighters for a month! And this system kernel, written from scratch to finish, has three times the code volume of your short video platform! Thirty-five percent is me giving in to you!"
"Fine, fine, fine, you're amazing, you're great." Logan smiled and raised his hands in surrender, casually picking up the other unit and stuffing it into the pocket of his flight jacket: "I'm taking the sample away to give to Anna for publicity materials. She has already put together the pre-sale plan, and sales start promptly on the first of next month. You don't have any objections to the pricing, right?"
"Just set the price however you want, anyway it won't lose money." Tony curled his lips, but his eyes glanced at Logan's action of pocketing the phone, and he stubbornly said: "Hey, use it carefully, that's an engineering prototype, don't drop it for me. If you break it, I won't fix it for you."
"Got it, stingy ghost." Logan waved his hand and turned to walk away. Behind him came Tony's shout of "Remember to bring back a double-cheeseburger", and without looking back, he flipped him off.
When he returned to the Villa, Anna was sitting in front of the living room coffee table, with three computers placed before her. The screens respectively displayed global publicity channel coordination, pre-sale page debugging, and final review of media press releases.
Hearing footsteps, she looked up and saw the prototype in Logan's hand. Her ice-blue eyes lit up for a moment, so fast it was almost uncatchable.
"Did you bring the engineering prototype back?" She put down her cold coffee, reached out to take it, her fingertips gently touching the back of Logan's hand, and quickly pulled them back.
Lowering her head to carefully examine the phone, she tentatively tapped the screen, and the smooth feedback made her slightly raise an eyebrow.
"Yeah, that guy Tony pulled all-nighters for a month and finally managed to cobble together something presentable." Logan slumped on the sofa, casually grabbing Ares's big head and rubbing it: "Is the publicity all arranged?"
"Everything is arranged properly." Anna put the phone on the table, tapped her fingertips on the keyboard a few times, and brought up the complete plan: "Pre-sales open globally and simultaneously across the three major main competition zones of North America, Europe, and East Asia, with offline experience stores landing simultaneously. The first round of media press releases has been sent out, and review units for tech media will be shipped tomorrow. In addition, I contacted several old-school manufacturers to discuss system licensing, but all were rejected. Their words weren't very pleasant, saying that we are a 'toy-like gimmick' and 'won't last half a year'."
She spoke flatly, with no emotion discernible, but Loganpicked up the subtext of "these idiots don't know quality when they see it" and couldn't help laughing: "Normal, after all, we're smashing people's rice bowls. Don't mind them; the harder they talk down on us, the more their faces will hurt later. The pre-sale price will be as previously decided, starting at 599 U.S. dollars, and you can see about adding storage versions."
"Alright." Anna nodded and added, "I had the technical department add three layers of encryption to the bottom layer of the system, and the hardware is bound to a unique identification code, making cracking extremely difficult. Mr. Stark's side also provided an anti-reverse engineering chip solution; even if someone takes the machine apart, they won't be able to copy the core algorithm."
Logan raised an eyebrow.
He hadn't specifically guarded against piracy matters, but Anna had actually arranged everything in advance, even getting the technical coordination with Tony's side done.
Hiring this assistant was simply more worry-free than hiring a CEO.
"Not bad, you thought of things even more thoroughly than I did." He praised with a smile: "This month's bonus is doubled, go transfer it from the account yourself."
Anna's hand holding the pen paused for a moment, and lowering her eyelids she said "Thank you, Mr. Logan", but the roots of her ears blushed faintly, as fast as an illusion.
She quickly lowered her head to continue typing on the keyboard, pretending to be busy, but the temperature of her ear tips didn't drop for a long time.
Logan saw it all in his eyes, the corners of his mouth hooked into a slight mischievous smile, and he didn't point it out.
Just as they were talking, Jessica's message popped up, followed by three rolling emojis, and finally the main text: "Boss! You gave me too many tasks, you delayed my information searching! Mental damage compensation and overtime pay need to be increased!"
Logan replied with a smile: "Finish investigating the backgrounds of those technical directors in Silicon Valley first, and if you investigate well, I'll top you up with a lifetime membership."
Jessica instantly replied with "Boss is generous", followed by a little figure full of drive, completely exposing her money-loving attribute.
On the day the pre-sale opened on September 1st, Loganwas originally curled up on the sofa playing games, thinking that it would take at least two or three days to sell off the million units of inventory.
As a result, just three minutes after the pre-sale opened at 10 a.m., Anna's call came through, her voice carrying a rare hint of urgency: "Mr. Logan, the pre-sale has crashed."
The game controller in Logan's hand almost dropped to the floor: "Crashed? Can't sell? That shouldn't be, no matter how bad Tony's technology is, it shouldn't be that nobody buys it."
"It's not that it can't sell, it's that it sold too fast." There was a trace of imperceptible amusement hidden in Anna's tone: "Forty-seven seconds after going online, the one million inventory was completely sold out. The server was crowded and crashed three times, and the technical department is urgently expanding capacity. There are still over two million reservations in the back-end that didn't grab one, asking when inventory will be added."
Logan was stunned for two seconds, then burst out laughing: "Forty-seven seconds? So fierce? Alright, add inventory, add another two million units, and release them in batches. Tell the technical department to expand capacity, expand it to death, don't lose face like that."
After hanging up, Logan rolled over and called Tony. As soon as it connected, he heard the other party's blustering voice: "Holy crap, Logan! Did you see that! Forty-seven seconds! One million! I told you this thing is bound to be a hit! You were still bargaining with me over patent fees, now do you know who the biggest contributor is!"
"Got it, got it, you're awesome, you're great." Logan smiled and retorted: "Hurry up and let the factory increase production capacity, so people don't curse us for hunger marketing when shipping is slow later. I can't afford to lose that face."
"Need you to say it?" Tony was extremely smug: "I already added three production lines to ensure there's enough. Oh right, orders from Europe are lined up until next year, and telecom operators from various countries are frantically coming over to negotiate customized phones. Pepper is almost driven crazy by busyness, cursing me every day for not giving a heads-up in advance."
The two bickered back and forth on the phone for a long time before hanging up.
Logan leaned on the sofa, scrolling through the pop-up news — "Epoch-Making Product! Astral Phone Declares the Arrival of the Touchscreen Era", "One Million Units Sold Out in Forty-Seven Seconds, The Era of Button Phones Ends", "From Wolverine to Business Tycoon, Another Miracle by Logan Howlett", with headlines more exaggerated than the last.
He smiled and shook his head, opened the Astral app, casually filmed a video of Ares running wildly with a frisbee, added the line "First post, for my dog", and clicked publish.
Anyway, new user registration defaults to following him first, so he'll just post something casually to occupy a spot.
On October 1st, the Astral phone officially went on global sale, and the Astral short video platform went live simultaneously.
Early in the morning, Logan was woken up by phone vibrations.
Anna sent over the first-day data: global offline stores had long queues, the online initial sale of three million units was completely sold out; twelve hours after the Astral platform went live, registered users broke five million, and the volume of uploaded videos exceeded one hundred thousand.
Logan opened Astral while yawning, and the homepage was a hodgepodge of everything: someone showing off a newly unpacked phone, someone filming their own cat rolling its belly, someone demonstrating passing a touchscreen mini-game, and someone playing the guitar and singing facing the camera. The comment section was lively, just like a weekend market.
He clicked into his homepage and was almost startled — the number of followers had already broken four million and was still skyrocketing at a rate of hundreds per second. After all, new user registration forced a first-follow, so it was hard not to grow. The comment section was even more lively, with nicknames flying all over the place:
"The Wolverine boss turns out to be the number one user!"
"What boss, call him the Touchscreen Godfather!"
"What godfather, call him the Wolf King!"
"Dog owner, update on Ares quickly! I'm just here to see the dog!"
Logan didn't know whether to laugh or cry at what he saw, and casually posted another video of Ares tearing up the house and chewing on the sofa, with the caption "Number one house-tearing champion, won't change even after getting beaten".
Scarcely half a minute after posting, likes broke ten thousand, and the comments were all "Hahahahaha so cute", "Wanna rua", "Boss, do you still need someone to walk the dog, as long as meals are provided".
As he was scrolling with relish, he suddenly saw a familiar profile picture — silver armor paired with showy black sunglasses, ID named 'Tony Stark', and the verification tag brightly reading 'Iron Man himself'.
Having registered for less than ten minutes, followers already numbered in the hundreds of thousands. The first video was a first-person perspective of the mark viiiskimming low over the New York skyline, with the wind howling, captioned "Faster than a sports car".
Logan raised an eyebrow, opened the comment section, and sure enough saw Tony interacting with netizens, uttering endless flashy remarks, for a moment complaining that sports car power was no good, and for a moment saying the armor color scheme could be modified further. He smiled and left a sentence in the comment section: "A bit too slow at flying; last time I teleported across New York it was even faster than this."
Within two seconds, Tony replied: "Your teleportation makes people dizzy, mine is smooth, comfortable, and allows you to drink coffee. What do you know about flying experience."
The two bickered back and forth in the comment section sentence by sentence, driving netizens crazy with joy, and comments refreshed even faster than the video view counts. The topic #Iron ManWolverineAstralMutualBickering# rushed to the top of the platform's trending list in no time.
Over the next few days, Astral's popularity shot upward like riding a Rocket.
Some people shared gourmet cooking tutorials on it, some taught makeup and outfits, some filmed street extreme sports, and even New York City council members opened accounts to deliver municipal speeches.
Originally just a short video platform to pass the time, it stubbornly developed social attributes.
Adding friends, sending private messages, building interest groups — as functions were used, they became more and more complete, virtually becoming a new generation of social hegemony.
The old-school phone manufacturers who talked down on it back then had long been silent, and a few fast-reacting ones sneaked into developing their own touchscreen phones, but unfortunately all core touch patents were grasped tightly in the hands of Logan and Tony, and no matter how they bypassed it, they couldn't get around the barrier, leaving them only to worry anxiously.
Intelligence agencies of various countries had indeed thought about cracking it, but the encryption layer made by Tony was harder to chew through than S.H.I.E.L.D.'s firewall. Dismantling a dozen machines still failed to touch the edge of the core code, angering Fury enough to smash coffee cups three times in his office.
Logan didn't care about this at all, walking the dog when it was time to walk the dog, fishing when it was time to fish, and when he was free, scrolling through Astral, watching Tony bicker with netizens, and watching netizens post all sorts of bizarre daily lives.
Anna managed all the company's big and small affairs in an orderly manner, without him having to worry a single bit; Jessica slacked off scrolling through Astral while conscientiously investigating clues, taking every single penny of her salary and bonus, living a life more nourishing than anyone else's.
That afternoon, he was curled up on the sofa scrolling through videos, when he scrolled to a new update posted by Tony — the camera facing a plate of charred cheeseburgers, next to a smoking frying pan, captioned "Trying new products, improving next time".
Logan laughed so hard he almost spilled his whiskey on his pants, and casually commented: "Don't improve anymore, improve any further and the kitchen will blow up. Didn't Pepper kick you out?"
Scarcely half a minute after posting, the phone rang, and Tony's exasperated voice came through: "Logan, are you that idle! Squatting in my comment section every day looking for trouble, right!"
"Who told what you posted to be too funny." Logan smiled and leaned on the sofa, Ares dozing at his feet, with just the right sunshine outside the window, "Right, don't forget the bet, once daily active users break ten million you lose, the whole year of eighteen-year single malt plus Monacofull-venue booking."
"What's the rush! It's only been online for a few days!" Tony stubbornly insisted, "Wait until next month to see, no one knows who will win or lose!"
After hanging up the phone, Logan smiled and shook his head, throwing the phone aside.
He had originally just been extremely bored, wanting to tinker with some gadget to relieve boredom, never expecting to stumble right into making such a huge commotion.