As night deepened, Sean sat alone in the conference room...
Through the omnipresent awareness of Skynet, he maintained close surveillance over Doctor Doom's path of conquest from afar.
"Has Doom gone rogue?" Skynet's cold mechanical voice sounded.
It had just concluded a brief communication with Victor Von Doom...
The Latverian had deviated from the original plan, and instead provoked local gangs and warlords. He stole a case of weapons-grade plutonium, a critical material for nuclear industry, usable as both nuclear fuel and fissile material for atomic weapons.
"He is engaging in highly dangerous actions," Skynet assessed.
According to IAEA standards, uranium-235 or plutonium-239 with a purity of 92% to 93% is classified as weapons-grade.
In sufficient quantities, these can trigger nuclear explosions. Generally, 6-9 kg of weapons-grade plutonium or 12-16 kg of uranium is enough to construct a functional nuclear device.
Given Victor Von Doom's education and scientific genius, refining weapons-grade plutonium through electrolysis to create a compact yet devastating nuclear bomb would be trivial.
"Did Doom offer any explanation for this?" Sean showed no surprise, as if entirely confident in the reconstructed personality of Doctor Doom.
"He believes our plan is too slow. Penetrating Latveria's power structure would take at least three to four years, assuming everything proceeds smoothly."
Hearing Skynet's reply, Sean raised an eyebrow...
He had viewed both Magneto's expedition to Africa and Doom's return to Latveria as long-term moves, not expecting immediate results... just gradual expansion of influence.
For now, all of Sean's focus was on consolidating power in North America to prepare for the arrival of cosmic overlords and the Chitauri fleet... the true crisis that would decide this world's fate.
"Doom isn't wrong if he seeks rapid progress... our original plan is too slow. Does Doctor Doom have a better alternative?" Sean wasn't angered.
He had reshaped Victor Von Doom's personality, not brainwashed him into mindless obedience. Independent thought was to be expected.
Sean added, "I want a ruthless conqueror, not a submissive puppet. A Doctor Doom capable of reasoning and judgment is far more useful to me. If I wanted blindly obedient machines, I wouldn't have invested so much time and effort in Victor Von Doom."
"Sir, are you creating a threat to yourself?" Skynet remained puzzled, "Victor Von Doom represents an unpredictable variable."
From an AI's perspective, all variables should either be eliminated at inception or brought under control. Chaos theory dictates that uncontrolled variables inevitably lead to vastly divergent outcomes.
A well-known nursery rhyme illustrates this vividly:
For want of a nail, the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe, the horse was lost.
For want of a horse, the rider was lost.
For want of a rider, the battle was lost.
For want of a battle, the kingdom was lost...
Sean leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head, a faint smile playing on his lips, "Isn't that what makes it interesting? Besides, with you overseeing things, how could Doom establish his mechanical kingdom in Latveria without Skynet's assistance? Speaking of which... is the first-generation bionic robot ready?"
"Mr. Ivan Vanko has completed the prototype. It utilizes a newly developed composite material that blends rigid metal with flexible foam rubber, capable of transitioning between states. The alloy contains bismuth, indium, and tin, combined with porous silicon foam. By saturating the foam with molten alloy and subjecting it to a vacuum, the gas in the foam's pores is replaced by alloy..."
"...This alloy has a low melting point. When heated past that threshold, it liquefies, granting the material extreme pliability. Upon cooling, rigidity returns while maintaining flexibility. Mr. Vanko intends to refine this into a liquid metal capable of shape-shifting, with the hardness of superalloy, for the second-generation model."
Sean paused, as if recalling something amusing, then chuckled, "Designate this robot as Terminator... Once Victor Von Doom secures control of Latveria, mass-produce these machines. Toss out the local gangs and warlords, he'll be that land's uncrowned king..."
...
~Latveria, Prime Minister's Palace~
In the opulent central hall of the palace, a glittering Swarovski chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling, bathing the gold-adorned space in radiant light...
White silk tablecloths draped over polished surfaces, adorned with fine china. A gloved waiter poured red wine into a crystal glass with practiced elegance.
This extravagant palace, dubbed the "Prime Minister's Residence" by Latverians, was the nation's seat of power.
Its owner, Prime Minister Bonucci, dabbed his lips with a napkin after dinner, casting a disdainful glance at the warlord beside him:
"Do you have any idea how many promises I had to make to pry that case of weapons-grade plutonium from the Western-backed faction leaders? I gave it to you to trade for advanced weaponry... helicopters, tanks, artillery shells. And you 'lost' it."
Cold sweat dripped down Razio's rugged face. Were it not for his crumbling dignity, he might have groveled at Bonucci's feet, begging for mercy.
Latveria had no true monarch...
As leader of the majority party, the Prime Minister wielded absolute authority. Even the old aristocracy backing Razio wouldn't dare cross him lightly.
"Twenty-four hours. Retrieve that plutonium. As for whoever stole it... I don't care if he's a mercenary or a madman. Eliminate the problem." Bonucci discarded his napkin.
His rise to power had relied on aristocratic support, but no ambitious statesman would remain a puppet forever.
To win public support and expand his authority, he needed to sever ties with the profit-hungry old nobility. Otherwise, they'd simply replace him with another obedient figurehead.
Tensions between political factions and the aristocracy had escalated in recent years. Both sides were biding their time, outwardly cooperative while secretly preparing to annihilate the other.
Opportunists like Razio thrived in this climate, playing both sides... but one misstep meant ruin.
Bonucci had made contact with a formidable Eastern European organization. Rather than let the rotting aristocracy drag this nation to hell, he'd strike a deal with the devil...
The mysterious group bearing the Hydra insignia demanded much, but their offers were tempting.
The performance-enhancing drugs recently adopted by the U.S. military, Umbrella's energy weapons, the stolen plutonium… these would allow Bonucci to build his own private army.
"This nation's future won't be sacrificed for a bunch of old fools."
After dismissing Razio, Bonucci strode calmly to his study...
Eight highly trained bodyguards stood watch outside. The "Prime Minister's Residence" was both the safest and most dangerous place in Latveria.
Seated in darkness, a setting he found conducive to thought, Bonucci steepled his fingers, contemplating his next move...
Allying with Hydra was merely using one predator to hunt another. To become Latveria's sole ruler required far more meticulous planning.
As the Prime Minister pondered matters of state, a figure emerged from the shadows. A deep green cloak rustled faintly, like a specter materializing.
"Good evening, Prime Minister."
A steel mask gleamed in the dim light, its hollow eyes reflecting cold fire...