~Salvador Grand Docks, African Coast~
As far as the eye could see, the receding tide had left behind muddy tidal flats littered with dozens of dilapidated aging ships...
Like the corpses of giants, they lay silently under the melancholic glow of the setting sun, exuding an aura of decay.
Among them, one vessel could still be considered 'new', barely clinging to its youthful vitality. Unlike the other cargo ships, it hadn't yet been scrapped due to years of neglect or equipment failure.
Hundreds of African workers scurried like busy ants through the dimly lit interior of the ship, neatly arranging crates of firearms, grenades, and other military weapons in the cargo hold.
Among them, even bulky and intimidating shoulder-fired rocket launchers could be seen.
To these laborers, the nailed-shut wooden crates filled with guns and grenades were no different from bread and butter... at least, that was the reality in some parts of Africa.
These not-so-advanced weapons would be sold by the ship's owner to African warlords, tribal chiefs, Chechen militants, and even certain religious organizations claiming to fight for freedom.
Ulysses Klaue, the black-market merchant of the African continent, dealt in far more than just arms... In fact, this burly bearded man occasionally moonlighted as a mercenary or robber, targeting high-value antiques or cutting-edge scientific equipment.
Surprisingly, this black-market dealer who was born into a military family even held a Ph.D. in physics and had reportedly studied acoustics for a time...
Of course, most of the time, Klaue remained a diligent middleman, trafficking military supplies and reaping massive profits.
Nearly every warlord, small-nation leader, mercenary group, and transnational security company in Africa had done business with him to some degree.
With his extensive connections and covert channels, even Stark Industries (before its pivot to clean energy) had once been one of his suppliers. After all, weapons stamped with 'Stark Industries' used to fetch double the price.
Especially among those unsophisticated buyers... they were like nouveaux riches, unable to discern quality, so they always went for the most expensive option.
Klaue's favorite saying was: If the price is right, anything can be bought...
"...I don't care who scammed you. I gave you six sets of short-range heat-seeking missile systems, and all I got in return was a boatload of rusted scrap. You will compensate me, or the next missiles I send will fly straight to your front door!"
Clad in a pair of filthy combat boots, Ulysses Klaue paced back and forth in his office.
His clothes reeked of engine oil, and a military knife hung at his waist. His rough and imposing appearance radiated danger, making it clear he wasn't an easy man to deal with.
"Mr. Erik Lehnsherr?" Klaue hung up the phone and flashed a grin at the white-haired elder seated in his office chair, "Apologies for the wait. You're a VIP introduced by Mr. Wesley... I should've rolled out the red carpet. But business is business. Sometimes you've got to finish one deal before moving to the next..."
Magneto frowned, replying, "Mr. Klaue, I don't mind the delay. But next time, perhaps you could clean your office before I arrive... maybe even spray some air freshener."
The black-market merchant's office was a noxious blend of grease, sweat, and body odor, compounded by the stifling heat of the enclosed ship cabin. It was downright suffocating...
"Frankly, sitting here negotiating with you is torture." The Brotherhood leader minced no words.
He had been gradually relocating his people to Africa, leveraging the support provided by Sean to temporarily secure an alliance with a warlord named Sowande.
But carving out a foothold in Africa's warlord-ruled landscape required more than just a handful of mutants... After all, they were competing with transnational security firms, energy conglomerates, and guerrilla factions for territory and resources.
They needed steady supplies of food, weapons, and medical provisions. These were the essentials for establishing a stable stronghold.
Relying solely on brute force and lacking long-term resources would make sustainability impossible, no matter how powerful Magneto himself might be...
"My oversight. Someone of your stature must find this environment unbearable... Truth be told, I'd love to discuss business over fine wine in a presidential suite."
The black-market dealer was well aware of who sat before him... the infamous Magneto, a veteran powerhouse among mutants.
If the old man wished, he could obliterate this ship with a flick of his wrist. Every firearm in the cargo hold would turn traitor, leaping to harvest the lives of Klaue and his men.
Klaue was no fool... His rise to prominence wasn't just due to his crew of ruthless mercenaries or his own reckless audacity... a sharp mind was equally indispensable...
Magneto covered his nose, waving a hand dismissively, "Enough, Mr. Klaue. Let's get to the point. As Africa's most notorious black-market dealer, I trust you can fulfill all my needs; weapons, military equipment, medical supplies, and so on..."
Erik had no patience for further banter. Securing the urgently needed supplies was paramount.
With a stable environment, they could soon build a thriving sanctuary for their people...
"Of course, no problem." Ulysses Klaue thumped his chest emphatically, his bearded face stretching into a grin that only accentuated his yellowed teeth, "Mr. Wesley was exceedingly generous. He settled the first payment before you even arrived... Payment first, service after... that's my unshakable principle."
The black-market dealer glanced at Magneto, then added meaningfully, "But I can offer far more than that!"
The Brotherhood leader raised an eyebrow, "Mr. Klaue, besides arms dealing, do you have other talents to showcase? Woodcarving, perhaps? Carpentry?"
Before this meeting, Magneto had thoroughly researched Ulysses Klaue.
As Sean's temporary ally, he, like Victor von Doom in far-off Latveria, had been granted limited access to Skynet...
Purchasing supplies and negotiating deals were merely a facade. If they truly needed these resources, Rand Corporation's cargo ships could easily handle the logistics.
The founder of Umbrella was never stingy with his allies. At his level, wealth and power were trivialities.
Though Magneto didn't know what Sean truly sought, he was certain it wasn't something as juvenile as money or authority...
Back in his underground prison cell, Magneto had remarked that he saw a familiar shadow in Sean... an insatiable ambition reminiscent of Sebastian Shaw. But compared to the deceased Black King, this young man was far more inscrutable...
Seizing what he thought was an opportunity, Ulysses Klaue dropped the two keywords:
"Wakanda. Vibranium."