"You're going to attend the Stark Expo?"
Hurley's face was full of surprise, her expression like a mother discovering her son, who hadn't left the house in months, had suddenly decided to go out and join a club activity.
Stark had invited Harry before the Expo, but Harry hadn't stated whether he would give a speech on stage, so there was no special Osborn session—unlike Tony's keynote presentation.
He had even missed the opening ceremony, which Hurley always felt was too headstrong of Harry.
The Expo was right here in New York, not somewhere else.
So now, when Harry proposed attending the Stark Expo, she felt as if she had seen a ghost.
"What's wrong? I didn't refuse before, there were just too many things to do."
Harry wasn't lying about that.
As for joining the Expo midway, not to mention Harry's connections, Osborn Enterprises was currently even holding a slight edge over Stark Industries during its transition period, making them a heavyweight exhibitor.
Cutting the line was no problem at all.
"Alright, although it's a bit late, it's a good thing you're willing to go on stage and showcase the company's products. I'll contact Ms. Potts immediately."
"Mm, also, I want to bring a few sets of power armor this time."
"Showcasing power armor at Iron Man's Expo?"
Hurley didn't quite understand.
But the power armor Harry wanted to display didn't conflict with the Iron Man Suit at all; displaying the power armor was mainly to let the Osborn private security forces make an appearance and break things in.
Frank had already recruited several veterans—most of whom were physically disabled.
After receiving the Osborn Group's truly high-tech prosthetic limbs, they were willing to work for Osborn.
Harry didn't plan to have them directly participate in the exhibition, but they would clear the area and protect the public when Hammer Industries caused a scene at the fair.
"Yes, and I won't be the only one attending the exhibition this time. I'm taking Frank with me; I'll have him report the specific list of names to you."
Ding-dong.
The office door opened automatically. Frank had arrived, holding a file in his hand.
"Frank is here. Perfect, I'll have him give you the personnel list now."
Frank's mental state was quite good, at least much better than he appeared in the TV series.
"This is the list of combat personnel, Ms. Rachel."
Taking the list, Hurley's expression clearly changed. She looked at Frank, then at Harry:
"Combat personnel? We are going to an Expo."
"Sorry, force of habit. It's the security personnel list, Ms. Rachel." At Harry's signal, Frank swapped the term and repeated himself.
"Yes, security personnel. Remember I told you the company was going to establish a security department? Maybe it will develop into a security company in the future, who knows." Harry spread his hands.
"Another huge expense, right?" Hurley tapped her clipboard with a pen and added the matter to her memos.
"Frank, let's go see your brothers." Harry stood up.
"Alright, Boss. They want to see you too."
Frank had recruited a total of 40 people in the first batch. One of them was his good friend—Curtis Hoyle, a black man and a trustworthy combat medic who had served with him in the Hellhound Squad.
Curtis's left leg had been injured on the battlefield, leaving him basically half-crippled; he had been selling insurance since his discharge.
He and Frank were very close and had stayed in contact after leaving the service.
"Glad to meet you, Mr. Osborn." Curtis stepped forward with the recruits.
"I'm glad to meet you all as well. You are all wonderful people." Harry smiled and shook hands with Curtis.
Hearing this, the recruits actually laughed.
"Sir, you're the first person to say that. The nicer ones only say we were great soldiers."
"Is there a conflict? Not at all." Harry smiled and sat down in front of the recruits.
"You all had convictions in your hearts when you went to the battlefield, so you are people of conviction."
The soldiers smiled but didn't speak.
Maybe that was true once, but going to the battlefield and not going are two different things.
"And you went to the battlefield and survived. In the eyes of most Americans, war is just a string of victory reports in the newspaper. Only you are the ones who have seen the truth."
"So regardless of what you think, I believe you are people who have proven your convictions—whether you feel you were deceived or otherwise."
The soldiers fell silent; what Harry said was the truth.
The U.S. government deceived people with lies, saying they were fighting a just war, but clearly, that wasn't the case.
The media portrayed the U.S. military as heroes, but heroes aren't treated like this.
"So, your convictions are firm now, at least you know what you want."
"Shouldn't that be a bad thing? This doesn't sound like a recruitment speech." As the words fell, many people laughed.
"I once attended a recruitment for a private military contractor. They told me the country had invested millions of dollars in me, so I should go fight and kill. I told him: screw you."
These soldiers clearly related to this story, and most laughed in understanding, though there was a hint of helplessness in the laughter.
Harry laughed too.
"See, I won't lie to you like that, telling you that war is fought for your faith or for the gratitude of others. The Crusades ended a long time ago."
"What I want to tell you is that here at Osborn, you are using your skills to earn dollars, not for some American conviction or anything else. And the price Osborn can offer you is the highest."
The soldiers looked at each other and said nothing.
"Of course, sometimes you'll help protect the World."
"Hey, Boss, you said you wouldn't lie to us."
Harry shrugged. Whether you believe it or not is your business, but that's the reality.
The atmosphere was harmonious. Harry took a quick look at this batch of soldiers; most had leg disabilities. Osborn had provided them with an unreleased version of military-grade prosthetics.
However, the functions of the prosthetics were relatively simple, mainly enhancing mobility.
After all, they would have standardized combat armor; flashy prosthetics weren't the first choice on the battlefield.
"Where did you find these brothers?" Harry asked Frank.
"The Department of Veterans Affairs. I have a close friend there—Desmond Doss. As soon as he heard Osborn wanted to help solve the problems of these veterans, he was over the moon."
"That legendary World War II medic? You certainly have wide connections. You've vetted their backgrounds, right?"
Hearing Harry's words, Frank shrugged.
"Of course. Besides, no one cares about these disabled veterans. Homeland Security, the CIA, and the FBI aren't interested."
That was the truth.
A mentally sound veteran with an intact body might receive invitations from those organizations after retirement, especially a highly decorated veteran like Frank.
But those with physical disabilities often weren't so lucky. Moreover, physical disabilities usually led to mental health issues more easily, making it difficult for them to reintegrate into society from various aspects.
But the veterans Frank found were mostly experienced and highly capable—considering the battles they had been through, it was a miracle they only had physical disabilities.
"I also have a good friend who now runs a private military company. He's interested in providing us with some excellent soldiers, but I thought I should consult with you first."
Frank's good friend, a private military company... Harry shook his head.
"Anvil? Better not."
Frank didn't know yet, but this 'good friend' was the type to stab his brothers in the back.
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