"Yes, those black beasts were meant to be out in the fields picking cotton anyway. Lately they've been making a fuss about 'demanding equality.' We might as well find a chance to..."
"Dealing with that Black Man Priest is the FBI's business. I heard Edgar Hoover's patience is already close to its limit. All we need to do is wait. If necessary, we can activate the Broken Arrow Plan, and 'just happen' to lose one or two nuclear missiles."
Seeing there was nothing serious left to discuss and everyone had begun looking toward the Future, the lead General tapped the table and stood up: "Let's start preparing for action. For now we still need to handle what's right in front of us. I have to go to the press conference and meet the reporters. Gentlemen, our Super Soldier corps will one day conquer the whole world for us, and when that time comes we will all be true Heroes! Dismissed!"
He picked up his service cap from the table, gave everyone a slight nod, and strode out of the conference room.
The saluting men naturally had no objections. After the General left, the dark conference room quickly emptied until only two people remained.
One was the Army Major General staff officer who had just proposed eliminating William and Steve, a favorite in the General's eyes; the other was the Air Force Colonel who had stayed silent from beginning to end, regarded by everyone as someone whose career path had narrowed.
The two men, who normally seemed to have nothing to do with each other, quickly shook hands before walking out together, and in rapid whispers said to each other:
"To secure our place in the world." X2.
Then they left the room and walked down the long corridor in different directions. The lights stretched their shadows out enormously, and their mission was only just beginning.
......
"General! General! Please, let me say a few words!"
The General, hurrying toward the press briefing hall, suddenly heard someone shouting at him. If not for the fact that the small figure was being held by the Guards like a rag doll, he might not even have noticed this Dwarf.
Because he was a Dwarf, the man looked somewhat comical no matter what he wore—let alone in this ill‑fitting tweed suit with a red tie. The oversized frames of his glasses covered almost half his face, making him look as if he had just crawled out of some junkyard.
His hair was very long and clearly uncombed, both greasy and wildly disheveled. At this moment he was clutching a dossier in a death grip, struggling in the Guards' hands.
"Young man, you look unfamiliar. How did you get into the Pentagon?"
The General glanced at his watch. He still had a few minutes. Amused by the Dwarf's ridiculous antics and shrill voice, he decided to indulge him with a few words.
Seeing the General speak, the Dwarf immediately grew bolder. He slapped away the Guards' hands, lifted his chin, and straightened his suit: "The Pentagon's defenses, for a genius like me, hardly count as airtight."
"Don't tell me he crawled in through the ventilation ducts? Well, with that height advantage, hahahaha."
"Haha, makes sense."
"..."
The officers behind the General clearly didn't take the Dwarf seriously; their whispering grew noticeably louder.
The Dwarf remained perfectly calm. This was an opportunity he had waited a very long time for; there was no way he would give up over a little mockery. Once his plan succeeded, he would become the richest man in the world, a world‑famous scientist. By then these soldiers and politicians would only be able to look up at his chin.
"General, I am Bolivar Trask, a scientist specializing in physics and biology. I came here this time to save our country."
"Oh? I thought that was our soldiers' job."
The General said with a smile. The other man sounded just like a refrigerator salesman, always prone to exaggeration.
The moment Bolivar opened his mouth, the General understood: just another scientist holding what he believed was a valuable project, trying to get the military to buy in.
With that thought, the General lost interest. He waved his hand, intending to turn and leave.
Of course, he also meant for the Guards to toss this Dwarf out.
"Destroying the enemy is the Military's responsibility. I'm only here to provide a new kind of Weapon! A Weapon designed specifically to exterminate Mutants!"
Seeing the Guards closing in again, the Dwarf quickly opened the folder in his hands and raised the beautiful design inside high over his head, displaying it in front of the General.
The General only cast it a casual glance at first, but that single glance made him stop in his tracks.
He stepped closer, took the file, and looked at the design of a Robot as tall as a six‑story building, constructed entirely of metal. The page was covered in all kinds of parameters, as well as Weapons tailored to counter all sorts of Mutants.
"Young man, this giant Robot is your design? It's a Weapon?"
After seeing Hydra's giant Robot the previous night, the General felt the United States Military absolutely had to have a giant Robot of its own.
Bolivar nodded, smiling as he pushed up his glasses and sniffed hard. He knew this powerful General had already taken an interest in this Weapon: "Yes, a Weapon of tremendous power. We all saw what happened in our country this time. That freak who could control metal is clearly a Mutant!"
"Oh? You're very familiar with those freaks?"
The General's interest grew. The man's assessment aligned perfectly with the plan they had just discussed in the conference room. Whether this self‑proclaimed scientist was telling the truth or not didn't matter; what mattered was that someone from the Scientific Community was backing the theory that 'Mutants are a threat.'
Once there was a homeland threat, the budget would inevitably tilt toward the Military, and everyone in the Pentagon would enjoy the Good Days.
Bolivar's face twisted as he began spitting saliva while expounding his views in front of the General.
"It's these monsters who disrupted our happy lives! They keep the people living in constant danger! My whole family were victims of the New York fire back then—that was the work of Mutants! I saw with my own eyes a burning man fly past in the sky. In that entire building, I was the only Dwarf child who survived! From that moment on, I worked in a circus to make a living while self‑studying all kinds of scientific knowledge, day after day for decades, all for the sake of revenge!"
"But we already have enough troops and Weaponry to deal with Mutants." The General flipped through the file in his hand. The information here was far from complete; clearly the little man was holding something back. He wasn't one of those naïve scientists.
Bolivar pushed up his glasses, tossed his hair, and held up his short, thick finger:
"That's only for Mutants who have already been exposed. What about those who haven't? They'll blend in among humans. Those filthy beasts will use their X Gene to breed with Ordinary people, polluting our human gene pool and gradually assimilating us! According to my calculations, once the total number of Mutants reaches 12% of Earth's population, humanity will head toward inevitable Extermina!"
"This..."
With a Geneticist presenting this view, the General found that the more he thought about it, the more terrifying it seemed. This was slow‑motion murder!
"That's what I came to say, General. Please look at my invention! It can drag those Mutant rats out of their burrows everywhere and string them all up from the streetlights. For the sake of a pure world—long live humanity's Earth!"
Bolivar worked himself into such a frenzy that he was foaming at the mouth and flailing his limbs, a sight that filled many able‑bodied people around him with fear.
When someone does shady things for profit or gain, people can usually accept it. That's called Darkness; where there is Light in human society, there is Darkness.
But someone who will stop at nothing for revenge or faith—that is called Madness. Normal people tend to fear madmen, because they are unpredictable.
The General pressed a hand on his shoulder, signaling him to calm down—this was, after all, a busy corridor:
"Young man, I have to attend a press conference now to respond to what happened yesterday. Go wait for me in my office first; we'll discuss the details afterward. Oh, and your Robot is very impressive. Does it have a name?"
Bolivar wiped the froth from the corner of his mouth, smiled, and gave a slight bow, fully aware of how he should present himself: "Of course, General. It's called the 'Sentinel' Robot, and it will be the United States' loyal Guard."