Two weeks passed. By mid-May 2008, the basic civil reconstruction across Sokovia was running smoothly on its own schedule.
Adrian, Wanda, and Pietro drove north, leaving the capital behind to inspect Strucker's captured mountain base.
The fortress was cut deep into granite cliffs, hidden beneath pines and snow. Below the surface lay heavy subterranean foundries and automated chemical laboratories that HYDRA had built in total secrecy.
Adrian walked onto the gantry overlooking the primary smelting hall.
Below him sat six massive electric induction furnaces, cold and dark. Next to them were heaps of raw iron and bauxite ore brought down from the northern mountain mines.
Adrian connected his interface link to the terminal panel on the railing.
On the monitor, green vector lines formed the calm face of Sophia.
<< Action: Automated metallurgy overhaul and domestic alloy casting. >>
<< Problem: Sokovia lacks access to imported specialty metals; conventional steel will degrade under high-stress rail and industrial pump loads. >>
<< Process: Sophia scans mineral samples of local iron and bauxite; calculates precise heat cycles to burn away sulfur impurities; calibrates the robotic casting molds for high-density structural alloys. >>
<< Result: Smelting parameters locked. Induction furnaces firing. First thirty-ton run of reinforced structural alloy commencing. >>
The deep hum of heavy electrical coils shook the floorboards.
Bright orange heat bloomed inside the first furnace as the raw ore began to melt. Robotic cranes swung into position, pouring glowing orange metal into precision ingot molds without a single human worker breathing the fumes.
"That metal looks different from what we used on the dam," Pietro remarked, leaning over the safety railing.
"It has higher tensile strength and resists corrosion," Adrian replied. "We won't need to purchase turbine casings or rail steel from foreign sellers. We produce it right here."
In the lower cleanroom laboratories, the robotic assembly lines were also reconfigured.
Instead of assembling experimental plasma weapons, the micro-manipulator arms were programmed to print standard logic chips and circuit controllers for domestic electrical plants.
Pietro handled the internal supply line. Moving at a steady hundred miles per hour, he transferred refined copper ingots and quartz trays between the warehouse spurs and cleanrooms in minutes, eliminating all logistical downtime.
Wanda stood by the dispatch terminal, her mental firewall keeping her mind completely clear. She tracked every manifest and supply voucher, making sure zero records slipped out of the mountain complex.
By noon on May 14, 2008, the facility was operating as an independent, closed-loop industrial center.
Inside the control room, an overhead television monitor tuned to international news suddenly emitted a loud emergency chirp.
A live news bulletin flashed across the screen from CNN:
BREAKING NEWS: ANTHONY STARK FOUND ALIVE IN AFGHANISTAN.
Pietro stopped mid-step, holding a metal crate, and looked up at the screen. "He's alive?"
On the screen, grainy military footage showed an American transport helicopter landing at a desert outpost.
Tony Stark emerged in a tattered shirt, supported by soldiers and his close friend, Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes. Three months after the ambush in Kunar Province, the billionaire had walked out of the desert on his own two feet.
Two hours later, a live press conference broadcast from Stark Industries headquarters in California filled the monitor.
Reporters crowded the room as Stark walked in wearing a dark suit and sunglasses. Instead of standing at the lectern, he sat down flat on the carpeted floor, unwrapped a fast-food cheeseburger, and took a bite.
Pietro burst out laughing. "Look at him. The richest man in America is sitting on the rug eating burgers. Did the sun fry his brain out there?"
Wanda did not laugh. She watched Stark's face closely through the screen.
"He isn't joking," Wanda said quietly. "Look at his eyes. He looks like someone who finally saw what his work actually does."
On the screen, Stark took off his sunglasses, looked straight into the bank of flashing cameras, and delivered his statement.
"I saw that I had become part of a system that is comfortable with zero accountability," Stark said into the microphone. "I had my eyes opened. I came to realize that I had more to offer this world than just making things that blow up. And so, effective immediately, I am shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark Industries."
The press corps erupted in chaotic shouting. Obadiah Stane rushed toward the microphones behind him, his face pale, trying desperately to manage the crowd.
Pietro blinked, staring at the screen in disbelief. "He shut down his own weapons business? Just like that?"
"He saw the blood on his own hands," Adrian said, watching the broadcast.
Adrian turned off the television.
"When the largest arms manufacturer in America cancels its primary military contracts overnight, the fallout is massive," Adrian said calmly. "American defense contractors will spend the next six months fighting each other over the empty contracts. Their intelligence agencies and military leaders will be completely consumed by the chaos in their own backyard."
"Which means nobody is looking at us," Wanda said, catching his thought immediately.
"Exactly," Adrian said. "America is distracted, and our supply lines are secure."
The heavy blast doors of the control room slid open with a mechanical hiss.
Inspector Radovan stepped inside, carrying an official diplomatic pouch bearing European courier stamps.
"Mr. President," Radovan reported, handing over the document. "A diplomatic dispatch just arrived from Vienna. European trade representatives are requesting an official economic summit in Zubrovka next week. They want to know where our treasury funds came from, and why our factories no longer require Western imports."
Adrian took the dispatch, scanning the formal text.
"Let them come," Adrian said, dropping the letter onto the desk. "We will meet them on our own terms."