Following the cabinet meeting, Clarice did not return to her office as usual. Instead, she took her private car and left the Pentagon. On the road, she placed a quiet call.
"Professor Hank, has there been any progress in the lab?"
"My apologies, Madam," a tired, aging voice replied. "I can confirm the technology is genuine, but the experimental phase is ongoing. We are still some time away from formal results."
For a civilization to master technology far beyond its own level was not a simple matter of copying a blueprint. It was a systemic overhaul. Much like giving a typewriter to a monkey, the priority wasn't the story the monkey might write, but first teaching it to read.
After a few brief words, Clarice hung up. She hesitated for a moment before dialing a number with no name attached. The call was answered on the second ring, as if her call was just as vital to the person on the other end.
"Miss Alice, I need to see Mr. Skygnaw..."
Edge State (Alaska), Northern District: Pester.
After half a year of rapid expansion, the village of Pester had officially been incorporated as a town. At noon, a bearded man walked into a well-known local bar. The place was a favorite for long-haul truckers, not because it was cheap, but because it was owned by Aura Group.
Aura Group, which had built its empire on smartphones, was now dipping its toes into the service industry—though only here. The food and drinks were exceptionally cheap, almost as if the company were subsidizing the arduous lives of its drivers. In reality, Aura Group paid its transport teams far better than any other freight company. These drivers weren't hurting for money.
The bearded man, Lamarr, walked to the bar and ordered a drink. He began to scan the crowd, looking for a target. Lamarr was an undercover agent for the FBI. A month ago, he had stumbled upon a suppressed file within the Bureau.
The file suggested that Pester, in the northern wilds of Alaska, was a hub for a massive smuggling ring. However, much of the data had been scrubbed. The records stopped at the location name. There were action plans for a raid on Pester, but no results—as if an irresistible force had stopped the investigation just as it was about to begin.
This had piqued Lamarr's interest. Years of fieldwork told him there was a conspiracy at play—collusion at the highest levels.
Since Skygnaw and Clarice had reached their agreement, Alice's resource shipments to the Edge State had become semi-public, often operating under the Aura Group banner with an air of total impunity. The two bases in Alaska didn't mine ore or drill for oil, yet they supported the daily energy consumption of over a dozen high-level Decepticons, including two Commanders. Alice was the backbone of that operation.
Because of this, it hadn't taken Lamarr long to trace the trail back to Aura Group. Today, he was here to find out exactly what was in those crates being hauled into the wilderness.
"Another round, Leo!"
"We unload tomorrow and head back the day after. Tonight, we drink!"
"Cheers!"
A few meters behind Lamarr, a group of drivers were getting hammered. One was nearly sliding under the table. Lamarr took a sip of his beer, watching them through the mirror behind the bar.
Target acquired.
"Another one, sir?" The bartender, wearing white gloves, gestured to Lamarr's nearly empty glass of dark lager.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Thanks." Lamarr blinked, snapping out of his observation.
After three more rounds, the drivers—now completely incoherent—were helped out of the bar by the staff. Lamarr settled his tab and watched them being led to a nearby motel. He waited for the server to return, then straightened his jacket and walked toward the motel.
"Hi, afternoon." Lamarr walked up to the front desk, looking anxious. "The guys from the bar just brought some friends of mine in. One of them, Leo... he's got my truck keys. He took them by mistake when he was drunk, and I need to get home."
The motel owner didn't buy it immediately. "A friend? What's his name?"
"Leo. Check the register."
Lamarr's tone was steady, perfected by years of lying to suspects.
"Alright, checks out." The owner closed the ledger. "But like you said, he's passed out. For the guest's safety and privacy, I can't just—"
"Please, help me out." Lamarr gripped the owner's hand, surreptitiously sliding a folded bill into his palm.
The owner glanced down, his expression shifting from reluctance to begrudging cooperation. "Fine. I'll let you in, but I'm coming with you."
"Of course. Thank you."
Lamarr had already seen Leo put the keys in his jacket pocket at the bar. Ten minutes later, he walked out of the motel with the ring of keys in his pocket.
What Lamarr didn't know was that the moment the door closed behind him, the motel owner picked up the phone. "Yeah, is this the Aura Group transport lead? It's the motel. I've got something to report..."
Lamarr was caught the moment he pulled the lever on the back of Leo's trailer. A group of drivers, led by the transport captain, swarmed him.
"F-word!"
The captain delivered a sharp kick to a stripped and bound Lamarr. "Talk! Who are you? You trying to steal our cargo?"
Because Pester was still catching up on infrastructure, the fleet was parked in an open lot. They weren't moving to the warehouse until morning. If the cargo had been compromised, Aura Group would have made the captain's life a living hell. He shuddered just thinking about it.
"Captain!" One of the drivers ran over, pulling the leader aside. "Look what I found in his clothes."
He opened his hand to reveal a black-and-gold badge. At the top were three capital letters: FBI.
The captain's face went pale. He felt a sudden, sharp pain in his back teeth. They were just a transport crew—how had they managed to hook a federal agent?
"Turn him over to Aura Group Security," the captain decided instantly. "This is too deep for us. We stay out of it."
"Got it," the driver nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation.
"What about the truck?"
"Lock it up!" the captain barked. "Act like nothing happened!"
The captain led Lamarr away while the others re-secured the trailer. Many of the drivers knew something was off about these runs, but why would they stop? The money was good. No one wanted to break the cycle of "everyone gets paid." Especially not when Aura Group was involved. Aura was a titan; they couldn't afford to offend them.
Lamarr was handed over to Aura Security, interrogated, and a report was eventually sent to Alice, thousands of miles away.
"I see. Thank you."
In her office, Alice hung up, her brow furrowed. With Clarice's protection, things had been quiet for months. No agency had been bold enough to come knocking. Lamarr might be a small player, but his badge represented a much larger threat.
"Alice, what is it?"
Black Panther's form shimmered into existence in the corner of the office. He spent most of his time cloaked, acting as her silent, inseparable bodyguard. He took Skygnaw's orders to the letter.
After all, everyone knew: when eating, sit against a wall; when fishing, wear a helmet; and when having a meeting... bring a robotic panther.
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