The Eternal City had quietly grown like a monster breathing damply under the bed at midnight. Natasha Romanoff had never imagined that the Eternal City had become what it was now. She had assumed it was an underground organization, an armed faction, or perhaps a rising financial power, but lifting the covers now revealed a full-blown government institution. When Victoria Hand implemented her harsh laws, there had been resistance from Wakanda. But after an intelligence agency deliberately allowed a local warlord to raid a controlled zone, all dissent vanished.
Though the Eternal City brought iron-and-blood order to Africa's war-torn regions—including but not limited to enforcing curfews, sterilization injections for large families, labor reformation for criminals depending on their offenses, flogging and executions, compulsory education for children, mandatory worker training, literacy eradication, and epidemic control—these were things many white liberal idealists would find unacceptable. But Agent Romanoff understood that Solomon's methods were the most effective.
Where survival is the priority, there is no room for human rights.
The arcane sorcerer's activities in Africa were, in essence, charitable. The hand-made products from the locals had no market. Apart from what Wakanda absorbed, Solomon bought everything himself—some even ended up on Mars. Still, it wasn't a complete loss, because until the solar-powered mining stations were fully operational, most of the raw materials needed for the Martian foundries came from Africa. And with an overwhelming number of war orphans in the region, transporting people to Mars and selecting soldiers for recruitment had nearly exhausted a department head in internal affairs.
"Why haven't you conquered the world yet?" she joked, still shaken, trying to calm herself down. Anyone faced with those interstellar warships would inevitably experience a deep fear of massive objects. Natasha was no exception. Even after returning to the real world, the shadow cast by those ships wouldn't dissipate so easily. She took another sip of her sweetened tea, letting the warmth steady her nerves.
She truly believed just one of those warships was enough to conquer Earth. Solomon didn't need to go through all this extra effort.
"I'm a builder, my dear. Destruction is always easier than construction, but I'm no tyrant," Solomon said without hesitation as he revealed the true scope of his problem. "I lack manpower. I don't have enough people to operate this warship, to wield my weapons in frontal assaults, or even to rebuild infrastructure. The cloning pods are running at full capacity, and irreplaceable electronic components are slowly dying—but I have no choice. I must train officers capable of commanding naval warfare in outer space. Only professionals can harness these powerful ships and wage war among the stars."
"Aren't you afraid I'll tell someone about all this, hmm?" Natasha's eyes sparkled. "Do you trust me?"
"I've always trusted you, Natasha. I trust that you understand the importance of information. Some may think I'm driven by ambition, but that's not true. These interstellar warships are being prepared for an apocalyptic disaster—for the future of the human race. Very soon, we'll face a war so devastating that it could destroy all civilizations. We must give everything we have just to survive."
"A prophecy?" she asked. "The Chitauri? Is that what you revealed to the P5 nations' representatives at the Tri-Helix headquarters?"
"I showed them part of the future, but no one believed me. That war will be the first in which humanity, as a species, faces a common enemy—but it won't be the last." The agent looked up and saw sorrow in the arcane sorcerer's eyes. His far-reaching vision was beyond the comprehension of ordinary people, and no one could understand his sense of urgency. Yet from beginning to end, he never forced that pressure onto the masses, tending to them like fledgling birds in a greenhouse, afraid they might break. "They believe the Chitauri are too far from Earth to be a real threat, and as long as the Tesseract is in Asgard's hands, we're safe—or perhaps, defeatism has won out. I have no interest in their thinking because I don't see them investing in space exploration. With the Chitauri's orbital strike capabilities, humanity's current civilization stands no chance. Even dragging them into a ground war wouldn't result in victory."
"Isn't that the truth? According to you and Thor, Asgard handles threats in the physical realm while Kamar-Taj handles magical ones. We still have time to catch up with Asgard's technology."
"Ordinarily, yes. But Asgard has long lived under the shadow of its own destruction. Its doom will come even sooner than Earth's. We're basking in the final light of the Aesir. From this point forward, we must leave Earth if we want any chance of survival."
"It's that dire? We need to tell Thor…"
Solomon waved her off, cutting her short.
"They've had millions of years to prepare. We must face the coming catastrophe on our own. The Battle of New York was only a small-scale raid, and the Chitauri were merely pawns in a much greater war. We will be facing the true mastermind behind them. The universe is full of alien civilizations, and the Chitauri's master has destroyed many of them—just to satisfy the bloodlust of a creature cursed countless times. In the face of such a threat, all of humanity must join this war and drive those disgusting alien vermin out of our star system."
Solomon refilled Natasha's tea and gently pulled her onto his lap.
The agent nestled into him without resistance, like curling up against a massive teddy bear. She could hear Solomon's heart beating strong and steady; she felt his warmth.
"Right now, I'm the only one in the world with interstellar warships and the matching technological level. I have to step up and deal with this. You know what would happen if I handed that technology over to humanity as it is now—just the power armor tech made the oligarchs do everything they could to suppress Stark. Now imagine what they'd do with starships and support systems. That hatred comes from a fear of the uncontrollable. Their hatred for me would surpass what they felt for Stark. They would desperately wish me dead. That's human nature—I don't blame them, but I also don't want to be the one to spark World War III. Before that war comes, I won't waste resources needlessly."
"You know what we call people like you on Earth, right? Heroes, darling."
"No, I'm not, Natasha," Solomon shook his head. "Only those men and women who give their blood for the human race deserve that title. I'm simply fulfilling the responsibilities that come with my position."
"You always downplay the price you pay. Always." Natasha shook her head. "Was the power armor you gave me also for the war?"
"A skintight suit alone can't face our enemies," Solomon chuckled. "That power armor was custom-built for you. Sleek but tough, with servo motors running completely silently, paired with energy wrist blades and a high-mobility jetpack—you'll be the deadliest assassin on the battlefield."
(End of Chapter)
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