A modern man in 1930’s Americas

From Weapons to Innovation

"Thompson is just a small company. They don't even have their own R&D organization," Hans said with disdain.

"Oh?" Charlie Lee looked up at him with curiosity.

"Boss, the company producing these weapons is the same one that makes your Python revolver," Hans added, pointing at the revolver tucked into his waistband.

"Colt?" Charlie raised an eyebrow, glancing at the firearm.

"Yes, Thompson is nothing more than a shell company managing external sales. They don't even have manufacturing plants. Their facilities have been repurposed into warehouses."

"And all they have is the Thompson gun. In peaceful times, if it weren't for sales to gangsters, they would have gone bankrupt by now. The M1911A1 semiautomatic pistol, which the U.S. Army adopted back in 1926, is also produced by Colt. But Thompson owns the manufacturing patent for the Chicago Typewriter."

Hearing that Colt was a strong player in military arms, Charlie's interest peaked. "How is Colt performing as a company? Any chance we could acquire them?"

"It's difficult," Hans replied with a touch of regret. From the moment Aegis started its division design, they'd been monitoring the market for light weapons manufacturers, including Colt, renowned for its excellence in pistols.

"Colt has plenty of cash flow thanks to massive orders from the U.S. Army," Hans explained.

"It doesn't matter. Eva, instruct the think tank to approach them and explore possibilities for investment or collaboration. Also, reach out to Thompson and make an offer for their patents," Charlie said decisively.

While acquiring Colt would be ideal, collaboration would suffice. After all, if cooperation blossomed, their gun designers could easily become part of Charlie's inner circle. His philosophy was simple: "What's yours is mine, and what's mine is… still mine."

The Chicago Typewriter, renowned for its performance in close combat, was a formidable weapon. While sales in peacetime were lackluster, Charlie was well aware of the looming Second World War.

"The signs are there. The propaganda and rallies from certain factions are impossible to ignore," he thought grimly.

By the time the war broke out, Charlie envisioned refining the Chicago Typewriter's design and securing large military procurement contracts. With over eight years left to prepare, the potential profits were exhilarating.

Pleased with his foresight, Charlie, accompanied by Eva, left the current site under the protection of his bodyguards, heading toward the Skunk Factory.

The journey from the city along the west coast was rugged, the under-construction road riddled with bumps and uneven surfaces.

"Is this Highway 1?" Charlie asked, noticing workers erecting signs.

"Yes, construction has been dragging on for eight years," Eva replied with a neutral expression.

Charlie couldn't hide his frustration. "The pace here is infuriating. They can spend years just building a basic road. No wonder it's so hard to get things done around here."

He then asked, "By the way, do we pass by Hearst's Castle on this route?" Recalling images of the grand estate from his past life, Charlie was curious to see it during this time period.

"Boss, are you referring to the Hearst family's villa? We passed the site earlier—it's up on the hill," Eva replied.

According to Eva, the now-famous Hearst Castle was still in its early stages of construction, with the foundation recently reinforced. It wasn't yet known as a castle but referred to as the "Enchanted Hill."

"How long has it been under construction?" Charlie asked with mild disbelief.

"It began in 1920, so it's been ten years," Eva confirmed.

Charlie shook his head in exasperation. "Only in America can something take this long to build."

Privately, he fantasized about building his own luxurious estate in the future. "At this rate, I'd need to start planning now to see it completed in my lifetime."

Arriving in Santa Barbara, the refreshing coastal air, mixed with the fragrance of flowers, felt like a purifying balm to Charlie.

"No wonder the rich flock here," he mused, comparing it to the smoke-filled air of Chicago and Los Angeles.

"That's our R&D center," Eva said, pointing to a facility ahead as she switched from heels to flat shoes.

The factory was modest, its size comparable to four garages. Guards were stationed at the entrance and patrolling the perimeter, their presence reassuring.

"Relax and come back before dinner," Charlie instructed the monks.

The men, accustomed to balancing security with leisure, nodded and headed toward the town.

Inside the factory, the scene was a chaotic but productive mess. Tools, machinery, and semi-finished products lay scattered across the workshop, with oil staining nearly every surface.

"Miss Eva," a slightly overweight, balding man with glasses greeted them warmly.

"This is Johnson, the chief designer at the Skunk Factory," Eva introduced, gesturing toward Charlie. "And this is my boss."

"Welcome to the Skunk Factory, Mr. Lee. You've chosen an excellent name for this place," Johnson said, shaking Charlie's hand with enthusiasm.

"Oh? Why do you think so?" Charlie asked, intrigued.

"Because it's bold and memorable. Skunks remind me of oil and blades—two things essential to our work," Johnson explained with a chuckle.

Charlie nodded, masking his amusement. In truth, the name was just a product of his whims, but he enjoyed the idea of his casual decisions being interpreted as profound insights.

"Maybe I should hire some literary experts to immortalize my 'wise sayings' in an autobiography someday," Charlie thought with a smirk.

Johnson then delved into the factory's ongoing projects, particularly their work on dual-engine designs to enhance aircraft power-to-weight ratios and stability.

Charlie, overwhelmed by the technical jargon, redirected the conversation. "Do you have a prototype ready?"

Caught off guard, Johnson stammered, "The engine is still in the experimental stage. Developing a prototype will take time."

Realizing that Charlie's question bypassed the usual process of factory tours and detailed explanations, Johnson felt pressured.

"Relay any challenges or resource needs to Eva. Remember, this factory is a place to experiment freely. Think big, bold, and imaginative," Charlie encouraged.

He emphasized that innovation often stemmed from audacity, likening it to his own ambitious rise. "When the prototype is ready, let me know."

Johnson, interpreting this as a demand for faster progress, resolved to push his team harder. "We'll show the boss our capabilities before the year ends," he muttered determinedly.

Later, as Charlie strolled through Santa Barbara with Eva, he reflected on the Skunk Factory's potential.

"Pressure is good for geniuses—it brings out their best ideas. Just wait; the results will be worth it," he said confidently.

The thought of future private jets, luxury cars, and yachts fueled his excitement. Yet, he couldn't help but lament the lack of futuristic technology in his life.

"Why couldn't my reincarnation include a cheat system or advanced tech memories?" he mused with frustration as they entered a local bar.

Inside, a wealthy young man blocked their path, attempting to flirt with Eva.

"Excuse me, miss. May I have the honor of buying you a drink?" the man asked with exaggerated politeness.

"Step aside," Charlie said firmly, frowning at the interruption.

Though the man apologized and backed off, Charlie's mood soured. Settling into the bar, he ordered a drink and mentally mapped out his next steps, his ambitions as grand as the California coastline surrounding him.