Terminator

As night deepened, Sean sat alone in the conference room. Through Skynet’s omnipresent awareness, he kept a close watch from afar on Doctor Doom’s path of conquest.

"Doom has gone out of control?" Skynet’s mechanical, icy voice sounded.

It had ended its brief call with Victor Doom. The Latverian had not acted according to the original plan. Instead, he had provoked the local gangs and Warlord first, stealing a crate of weapons-grade plutonium—an important raw material for the nuclear industry that could be used as both nuclear fuel and fissile material for nuclear weapons.

"He is doing something very dangerous," Skynet concluded.

According to the International Atomic Energy Agency, uranium-235 or plutonium-239 with a purity of 92% to 93% was considered weapons-grade. Once they reached a certain quantity, they could trigger a nuclear explosion. It was generally believed that six to nine kilograms of weapons-grade plutonium or twelve to sixteen kilograms of uranium could be used to make a nuclear explosive device.

Given Victor Doom’s excellent education and scientific talent, refining weapons-grade plutonium through electrolysis and creating a compact nuclear bomb with sufficient destructive power would pose no problem at all.

"Did Doom offer any explanation?" Sean showed no surprise. He seemed exceptionally confident in Doctor Doom after the personality conditioning and memory alteration.

"He believes our plan is too slow. To fully enter Latveria’s core of power would take at least three or four years, and that is assuming everything goes smoothly."

Hearing Skynet’s answer, Sean raised an eyebrow. He regarded Magneto’s trip to Africa and Doctor Doom’s return to Latveria as casual moves. He had not expected them to become useful immediately; he merely intended to proceed gradually and expand his territory.

At present, all of the young man’s energy was focused on expanding and strengthening North America in preparation for the arrival of the Cosmic Overlord and the Chitauri army. That was the great crisis that would determine the future course of this world.

"In fact, Doom is right. If he wants rapid development, then the plan we made is indeed too slow—does Doctor Doom have a better proposal?"

Sean did not take offense. He had merely given the original Victor Doom an entirely new personality rather than completely brainwashing him, so it was hardly strange that the other man had ideas of his own.

"What I need is a ruthless conqueror, not an obedient puppet. A Doctor Doom capable of independent thought and understanding is more useful to me. If I wanted to brainwash an absolutely obedient robot, there would have been no need to choose Victor Doom and invest so much time and effort in him."

"Sir, are you creating a threat for yourself?" Skynet still did not understand. "Victor Doom will become a minor variable."

From an artificial intelligence’s perspective, every variable should either be strangled in the cradle or turned into something controllable. Otherwise, according to chaos theory, an uncontrolled variable would eventually produce vastly different results.

A widely circulated folk rhyme offered a vivid explanation—

For want of a nail, a horseshoe was lost. For want of a horseshoe, a horse was lost. For want of a horse, a battle was lost. For want of a battle, a kingdom was lost.

Sean leaned back with his hands behind his head, a relaxed smile on his lips. "Wouldn’t that make things more interesting?"

"Besides, you are there. If Doom wants to become Latveria’s uncrowned king and build a mechanical kingdom, how could he possibly do without Skynet’s help? Has the first-generation metal bionic robot been completed?"

"Mr. Ivan Vanko has produced the first-generation prototype. It uses a newly developed composite material that combines hard metal with soft foam rubber and can shift between the two properties. The material contains bismuth, indium, and tin, mixed with porous silicon foam. The foam is soaked in molten alloy and then placed in a vacuum environment. This removes the gas from the foam’s pores and replaces it with alloy…"

"This alloy has a very low melting point. Once the temperature exceeds that point, it melts, and the resulting new material becomes highly flexible. After the material cools, its rigidity increases, though it can still be bent freely. Mr. Ivan Vanko intends to improve it into a freely transforming liquid metal with the hardness of a superalloy, then use it to build the second-generation machine."

Sean paused, as though recalling something amusing, then smiled. "Name this robot ‘Terminator.’ Once Victor Doom gains control of Latveria, mass-produces the machines, and kicks those local gangs and warlords aside, he will become the uncrowned king of that land."

In Latveria, within a magnificent palace located in the city center, glittering Swarovski crystal chandeliers hung from the lofty dome, bathing the resplendent hall in brilliant light. Multicolored dinnerware rested atop white silk tablecloths as gloved attendants uncorked a bottle of red wine and slowly poured it into tall stemmed glasses.

This grand palace, built at tremendous expense, was known among the people of Latveria as the "Prime Minister’s Palace." It was the nation’s center of power. Having finished dinner, Bonucci wiped his mouth with the napkin tucked beneath his collar, then cast a calm glance at the Warlord beside him. A trace of disdain flickered in his eyes.

"Do you know how much effort I spent, how many promises I made, just to obtain that crate of weapons-grade plutonium from those party leaders backed by Western powers? I gave it to you in exchange for more advanced weapons, helicopters, tanks, artillery shells… but you ruined everything."

Cold sweat streamed down Lazio’s fierce face. If not for preserving the last shred of his dignity, he would have gladly knelt down and licked the other man’s shoes, begging for forgiveness in the humblest manner possible.

Latveria had no king in the true sense. As leader of the majority party, the prime minister held the greatest power in the country. Let alone a warlord like Lazio, even the old nobles standing behind him would not dare offend Bonucci lightly.

"Twenty-four hours. Bring that crate of weapons-grade plutonium back. As for that man who came out of nowhere, deal with him however you wish. I do not care whether he is a reckless desperado or a mercenary. Just solve the problem."

Bonucci removed his napkin. His own abilities had helped him reach his current position, but naturally, he could not have done so without the support of those old nobles. Yet no mature politician with greater ambitions would ever be content to remain a puppet displayed for others to manipulate.

If he wanted public support, greater authority, and further development, he had to cut ties with the old nobles who only knew how to demand benefits. Otherwise, once he stopped obeying them, they could simply support someone else and put that person in power.

In recent years, the conflict between the ruling party and the old nobles had grown increasingly sharp. Both sides were waiting for an opportunity. While they maintained a good relationship on the surface, they had secretly been gathering strength, each seeking to wipe out the other in a single stroke.

Warlords like Lazio took advantage of the situation, playing both sides for profit. This country was full of such opportunists. They thought themselves incredibly clever, but once they chose the wrong side, they lost everything. Losing their fortunes was the best outcome they could hope for.

Bonucci had made contact with a vast organization entrenched in Eastern Europe. Rather than let those decaying old men drag the country into hell, he might as well make a deal with the devil. That mysterious force bearing Hydra as its symbol had an astonishingly large appetite, but at least it was sincere.

The Human Enhancement Serum that had just begun to spread through the United States military, Umbrella’s new energy weapons, and that crate of weapons-grade plutonium… all of it was enough for Bonucci to raise a private armed force of his own.

"This country’s future cannot be buried in the hands of a bunch of old men."

With a casual gesture, he drove Lazio away. Though the man was merely a crude warlord, he truly possessed considerable influence in Latveria.

Bonucci walked unhurriedly into his private study. Eight highly trained professional bodyguards stood outside the door. The grand building known as the Prime Minister’s Palace was heavily guarded and tightly defended, perhaps the most dangerous and safest place in the country.

Seated in his chair, Bonucci did not turn on the lights. The darkness was instead more conducive to active thought. He rested his chin on his clasped hands. Cooperating with Hydra was merely using one tiger to devour another; if he wanted to become Latveria’s sole ruler, he still needed more meticulous planning.

As the powerful prime minister pondered affairs of state, a figure emerged from the shadows. A dark green cloak stirred faintly in the wind, ghostlike.

"Good evening, Mr. Prime Minister." Accompanied by a cold metallic voice, an iron mask gleaming with a chill light emerged from the darkness.