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Phase 5: Changing world III
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Part 1
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Hammer Industries HQ
New York, US
"Mr. Hammer, I must warn you again, it might not be wise to sue Stark Industries at this time."
Justin Hammer glowered balefully at his lead legal expert. He took a hefty mouthful of whiskey and enjoyed the burning sensation as it went down.
"Stark's trying to get us out of business, the bastard, and he might just do it if we let him!" Justin bellowed. "We're the budget solution for the world over! That's our thing, and until now, there was no shortage of people buying our guns! Now Stark is going after our market share!"
"Even if that's true, Mr. Hammer, it's clear that the US government has found reasons to support him. Trying to sue both the government and Stark…." The old fart trailed off. "We need to know more about the why of it before filing in lawsuits, is all I am saying."
"By then, it might be too late. If Stark's prototype fusion reactor works…." Justin grits his teeth. "And it will work because it's fucking Stark, then the bastard will have a license to print money. Stark Industries will use that to ruthless advantage. We're already seeing it with their ongoing negotiations! Things changed! We can't wait!" Justin smiled for the first time that day. "Think. We won't be the only ones going after Stark. If he gets fusion up and running, Coal's fucked. Once the infrastructure is in place, natural gas and oil prices will really begin to fall" He chuckled. "And not just because everyone's been speculating to raise the prices, betting on the continued increase in prices until we ran out of the stuff, and suddenly, Stark threw a wrench in that scheme too."
Justin drained his glass and pointed at the lawyer.
"Get the lawsuits filed. We won't be the only ones doing it. I feel it might help everyone threatened by Stark to bury the bastard in red tape."
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Hydra facility
Russian Federation
Machines beeped and hissed, all tied up to his father. Ivan sat on a nearby chair, staring at a nearby wall painted white. At least the painkillers still worked, even if the dose his father needed was nearly fit to kill a man.
Anton Vanko opened his watery eyes and wheezed. "No regrets, my boy. The mistake was mine, and I'm paying for it. I've made many mistakes, and my only regret is that you ended up here with me."
"It's all right. It certainly beats prison." Ivan mumbled.
Anton wheezed again. "That one was on you. Plutonium, really? You're lucky you're not stuck like me, boy."
Ivan rolled his eyes. He took precautions. His father took precautions too, but they didn't work. Even with the best available materials, there were issues with scaling up and down the Arc reactor they've been working on for nearly a decade. A large one to power up a building or a district could be reinforced, shielded, and with the proper cooling, remain stable. A small one, no larger than a car's battery, can work too. Such designs were close to the edge of what current material science allowed.
Something in between, fit to be portable, potent enough to power up vehicles, and perhaps energy weapons? The last prototype went out of control, burned through its reinforced housing with ease, and created a radiation beam that sliced right through Anton.
It killed Ivan's father then and there, just slowly. Vanko's hands twitched. He wanted to hug his father, comfort him, or shake him for fucking up. He couldn't. As close as his father was, he was behind thick transparent 'curtains' made to catch radiation.
Sooner rather than later, he would have a choice to make. One large dose of painkillers and his father would fall asleep one last time, free of pain. It was either that or watching him fall apart because of the radiation.
It was a stupid accident all around. Suppose they had used a different alloy for the experimental containment vessel. In that case, there might have been no radiation burst, just a powerful energy arch and perhaps a jet of plasma.
Then again, either of those could be lethal if they hit someone.
"Worry not, my son. You'll charge the world! I know it! I taught you everything I know!" He gave him a pained smile.
Anton's teeth were bloody.
Ivan closed his eyes. It was time. There was no need to watch his father slowly die. It wasn't like there was much left to say. He pulled out a small remote from his pocket. It could override the safety restriction on the painkillers his father had access to.
Anton looked at him, then nodded and closed his eyes. Ivan pressed the button.
=IS=
The Golden City
Wakanda
It was rare for the Tribal Council to meet in an emergency session. Wakanda might not be without issues. However, they seldom raised in importance and danger to require hasty actions.
Today was different. For centuries, War Dogs scoured the world for dangers against Wakanda. They brought back technologies and knowledge to ensure the continued prosperity of their people. These actions, alongside the incredible advances spurred by their vibranium, secured Wakanda's uncontested technological position in the most dangerous decades since the tribes first united in a single nation.
War Dog, after War Dog, reported what they learned. America and Europe stirred. They were on the edge of leading the whole world in an unprecedented technological race, one that had the potential to threaten Wakanda's position of primacy and thus endanger their security.
"This is of no concern to us!" M'Baku scoffed. "Who cares what outsiders do? Our problems are right here, in this city! You've all forgotten our roots and spit on our traditions!"
Old M'Kathu groaned at that outburst.
"We're Wakanda's first line of defense!" The leader of the Border Tribe reminded the Council. "We know what primitive outsider weapons can do! We've built our defenses on assumptions that might soon become obsolete! Our shield and holographic fields hide us and give us specific advantages. We're equipped and trained to fight in close quarters, protected by artillery. We all excel in fighting a type of war the outsiders abandoned long ago because we can force such a fight on any outsider group that attacks us. If this changes, we can lose it all."
"What do you propose, Elder M'Kathu?"
"Go on. Ask our War Dogs how outsiders fight. Let them remind us all what we might face if we're discovered. Look me in the eyes and tell me that what the Americans are working on won't greatly blunt our defensive advantages when ready and distributed among their warriors!"
T'Chaka rubbed his chin and looked at the War Dogs standing tall and proud in front of the Council.
M'Kathu's questions were largely rhetoric. The War Dogs already explained what the Americans were working on. Fusion energy, which by all accounts, they wanted to be introduced as fast as possible. Advanced alloys to better protect warriors and war machines. Stark, a name well known even in these hallowed halls, was working on energy weapons, or so the War Dogs believed.
In time, it might not matter that vibranium would still be better and give Wakanda an advantage. When all was said and done, Wakanda was a small nation. Its army, no matter how advanced and well-trained, was small. The reported changes meant that the price to outsiders for overcoming Wakanda's defenses might turn from an unsustainable one to a blood price governments might be ready and able to pay.
"Buy us time to find new ways to defend Wakanda," M'Kathu announced. "I don't care if this means unleashing our War Dogs on unsuspecting outsiders or if we use the Trade Tribe's contacts to become the ones guiding how the outside world advances! Doing nothing is madness!"
"You'll have us reveal ourselves!" M'Baku erupted. "Such madness goes against all our traditions! I will not have it! Your love for this damn technology got us here in the first place! We've wasted an incredible number of resources in your War Dogs, King T'Chaka! Use them! This is the price of all your hubris!"
T'Chaka suppressed a wince. There was no simple answer that the Council might agree to. Elements within the Merchant Tribe had been pushing for more trade and connection with the outside world for decades, ever since the outsiders began to show commendable levels of civilization and enjoyed a reasonable amount of technology in their daily lives.
M'Kathu spoke sense too. T'Chaka had visited the outside world more than a few times. Because of that and constant reports from the War Dogs, he knew that the outsiders continued to advance faster and faster. At this rate, they would have eventually caught up with Wakanda or at least come close enough to it.
However, recent developments ensured such a thing might happen in his lifetime instead of being something his son or grandson would have to worry about for decades.
It wasn't like the War Dogs hadn't assassinated people before. It happened because people knew too much about Wakanda or got their hands on vibranium. The other reason was darker. This very Council in the past authorized assassinations because someone was dabbling with sciences once upon a time deemed too dangerous for outsiders to possess. The rapidly changing world ensured such assassinations would be largely pointless and dangerous. Knowledge and progress spread like wildfire over the past century. Killing a scientist or even destroying a laboratory with everyone inside would, at best, slow things down. The War Dogs almost exclusively watched and reported for the past few decades instead of acting proactively.
The last time this Council discussed an assassination, it was another Stark. That became a moot point after someone else murdered the man. T'Chaka faced a similar decision for the second time in his life.
Should they kill Howard Stark's son to buy Wakanda more time? Would the risk be worth it? Could he afford not to act?
"I want viable alternatives!" T'Chaka put his foot down. "We're Wakanda's Tribal Council, our people's supposedly wise leaders! Act like it! M'Kathu, elaborate on your position. What do you want us to change in our defense? Why do you believe that unleashing the War Dogs might be wise? And why did you suggest risking it all through revealing who and what we are?"
The heated discussion was far from over when the sunset and artificial lights lit up the city with a bright gold shimmer.
Even if the Merchant Tribe was willing to trade more with the outside world, its leader wasn't too keen on revealing what Wakanda was. The only thing the heated discussion made clear was that no one would support showing Wakanda's technology to the world. Not even if it was in an attempt to guide it in a way that might benefit them best.
That left them with two options – prepare as well as possible for discovery and potential war while ignoring the outsiders or do the same while buying Wakanda as much time as possible.
T'Chaka himself wasn't a fan of either option. They were lacking. Yet, his request for better options fell on deaf ears. He thought about his late brother, N'Jobu's obsession with colonizers and his manic desire for war. That arrogance, that belief that Wakanda could do it all alone, he could see it in the actions and words of almost all of the Councilors.
Even M'Kathu, who warned them of outsider danger, underestimated what unleashing the War Dogs might mean. Even worse, when push came to shove, he didn't vote for sharing any technology with the outside world. How else could the Merchant Tribe even attempt to influence the world at large in a way that matters?!
T'Chaka looked at the bickering Elders, and his heart sank.
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AN: Here we see some of the fallout of Stark's efforts to begin uplifting Earth. We also see consequence of Hydra Heads being more diverse, and entrenched. Further, this is the first time we get a glimpse at the practical limitations of the Arc technology, which is constrained by the needs of better material science and advancements in other fields to shine, which will be the case with both repulsors, and SW tech Sith Tony is recreating. The Vanko part of the update also indicates that Tony hoarding Arc tech is a mistake...
Finally, we get a glimpse of Wakanda, and its politics...