Under the watchful eyes of a large crowd of mutant protesters, police officers, and National Guard soldiers, Xiang Qian boarded the ferry to Alcatraz Island with an escort from Wude Group's U.S. branch.
Because of the state of emergency, the air route here had been closed. The only sea route still operating was a small ferry owned by Worthington Industries.
After he hung up on Nick Fury, other calls finally started coming in—from politicians and businesspeople. Quite a few of them were "unaware of the truth," or at least pretending to be. They simply expressed concern for Xiang Qian's safety.
Xiang Qian brushed them off with a few words, keeping his manner just above the baseline of proper social etiquette. He spoke a little more earnestly only when the White House chief of staff and the secretary of defense called.
A news alert suddenly appeared on Xiang Qian's wristband, catching his attention.
He had designed the wristband's smart technology himself. Its information-processing system had strict filters and alert conditions for the flood of online news, where truth and falsehood were hard to distinguish. Unless something was truly urgent, the wristband wouldn't notify him.
"The FDA Is About to Approve the Mutant Serum for Emergency Release." Xiang Qian read the headline, which neatly summarized the entire article, and gave a cold smile.
"Talk about adding fuel to the fire. The official regulatory agency is stepping in to vouch for the serum's effectiveness. Is someone afraid Worthington Industries won't die fast enough?" Xiang Qian thought maliciously.
"No, Worthington Industries isn't their only target. Whoever's pushing this is afraid the U.S. government and military will get all the benefits to themselves."
Worthington II had proactively sought cooperation with the U.S. government, giving the government and military first dibs on the profits from the serum. The forces that had been beaten to the punch would have to muddy the waters if they wanted a chance to fish in them instead of going home empty-handed.
Xiang Qian assessed the chaos unfolding before him from a purely self-interested perspective. "The fruit isn't even ripe, and they're already fighting over who gets a seat at the table. The capitalist world really is never united."
Xiang Qian gazed at Alcatraz Island, now within arm's reach. A few people stood at the dock to greet him. Among them was a gray-haired white man: Worthington II, the man at the center of the storm.
There was no one from the military in sight. General Ross was presumably making his position clear: a U.S. Air Force lieutenant general might be forced by a political deal to follow orders from the Department of Defense, but he wouldn't willingly go groveling before a businessman.
"Welcome, James." The old man embraced him warmly, as though they hadn't had a furious argument over the phone barely a dozen hours earlier. "I have some good news for you."
Xiang Qian put on a fake smile. "Your serum got approved for release?"
"You already know? You're certainly well informed. The official announcement won't be out for another half hour." Worthington II could barely contain his excitement. "Our serum can go on the market immediately."
"News travels fast online."
Xiang Qian casually shook hands with the other people there to greet him, then walked toward the island's main building alongside Worthington II. The two companies' entourages followed behind, making small talk in separate groups and leaving the two bigwigs to themselves.
As they walked, Xiang Qian casually surveyed his surroundings. The island had changed dramatically since his last visit. Most strikingly, the stretch from the dock to the main building was lined with military fortifications, and the old helipad was piled high with waterproof bundles that were clearly military supplies.
"Is General Ross's command post in the building?" Xiang Qian asked casually.
Worthington II seemed uncomfortable being so close to the military. His voice sounded a little stiff. "Yes. The Air Force, the Marine Corps, and the White House all take the laboratory's security very seriously. There are also some security agencies—I can't even tell which departments they belong to. They think Alcatraz might come under armed attack. You saw it yourself on your way over: the California National Guard is stationed across the bay too. They're making a huge fuss over nothing!"
"You can't be sure of that, Mr. Warren." Xiang Qian stopped not far from the main building. "More and more radical Mutants are gathering downtown and along the coast. Reports say there could be tens of thousands of them. You've lived in California for a long time, haven't you? You must remember what happened in Los Angeles in 1992."
Worthington II didn't think much of it, but he knew Xiang Qian's biggest concern about the prospects for their companies' cooperation was security—or at least, that was the impression Xiang Qian had given him.
"Don't worry, James. We're on an island. Even if those protesters get out of control, they can't reach us."
"You have no idea how powerful Mutants really are," Xiang Qian muttered. He seemed to be complaining about Worthington II, or perhaps just talking to himself. Before the other man could respond, he started walking again. Worthington II, baffled, hurried after him.
The buildings on Alcatraz had originally been built to the standards of a military fortress, then later converted into a prison. Neither purpose called for spacious, comfortable quarters. The hallways were narrow and gloomy, and the many soldiers coming and going were building temporary fortifications in them, making everything even more cramped and chaotic.
"They're being a little paranoid, aren't they?" Worthington II said with an awkward laugh, reopening the conversation. "I don't think the situation is going to get any worse. Plenty of Mutants are radical, but many others welcome our serum."
Xiang Qian gave no indication either way. "Is that so?"
"Of course." Worthington II's spirits rose again. "After the press conference, we started officially accepting reservations for the Mutant Serum. Do you know how many we've received in less than twenty-four hours?"
Worthington II shouted excitedly, "More than 120,000! Can you imagine? 120,000!"
When it came to population figures, Xiang Qian didn't really want to scare these Americans, who had never seen numbers like that.
In the less than forty-eight hours since news of the Mutant Serum had been made public, visitors to the Wude Group website's message board had already launched a petition demanding its prompt release. Nearly a million people had voted.
"Bright prospects," Xiang Qian said without emotion.
Worthington II failed to notice how dismissive Xiang Qian was and continued indulging in his rosy vision of the future.
"A friend of mine in the White House told me the president is considering issuing a temporary medical assistance bill to provide dedicated medical loans to Mutants struggling to make ends meet, so they can afford the Mutant Serum. James, do you know what that means?"
"Of course, I understand. It means the serum's once-prohibitive cost is no longer an obstacle to expanding its market." There was finally a hint of emotion in Xiang Qian's voice, but it wasn't the excitement Worthington II felt about the rosy market prospects. He was silently mourning Worthington Industries.
The White House's actions were, in fact, accelerating Worthington Industries' destruction. Xiang Qian couldn't tell whether the president was acting intentionally or not, or whose interests he represented. Either way, Xiang Qian didn't believe for a second that American politicians genuinely cared about improving Mutants' welfare.
First, the FDA was allowing the serum to hit the market early. Then the White House floated plans to help roll it out on a massive scale. It was one death warrant after another, urging radical Mutants, including the Brotherhood of Mutants, to hurry up and strike.
Worthington II had no sense that he was a victim. Right now, he was focused on something else. "James, cost is no longer the biggest obstacle to expanding the market. There's just one problem left..."
"I know, I know." Xiang Qian smiled and cut him off. "The technology for mass production. You need my Extraction Catalysis Technology to help you produce it at scale."
Worthington II looked tense. "Yes, we need your help. The laboratory is producing the serum too slowly to meet demand. Just imagine: once we can manufacture it at scale, production will multiply, then grow tenfold. Worthington Industries' stock price will soar again and again, and the entire stock market will go wild over us!"
"I thought you developed the serum because you felt sorry for little Worthington," Xiang Qian suddenly said, his face turning stern.
Worthington II nearly choked. Of course I did it to help my son. But can I say that to a bunch of profit-driven shareholders like you? Would any of you understand? The only thing you understand is money, money, money! Aren't you always going on about investment security because you're afraid your money will go down the drain?
Xiang Qian watched the old white man's bewildered expression, then suddenly grinned. "All right, Mr. Worthington, it was just a little joke. Don't take it to heart. As long as I confirm that my investment is safe, we'll reach a cooperation agreement very soon."
"But before that, I still need to meet a few people and make some assessments." Xiang Qian's face settled into a businesslike smile. "You've done everything you can on the business side, and I have no objections. But security isn't your area of expertise."
Worthington II gave a few awkward laughs, accepting Xiang Qian's way of letting him off the hook, and followed his lead. "Of course. General Ross is waiting for you in the command center."
"That lieutenant general certainly has a big ego." Xiang Qian looked toward a conference room nearby, clearly marked as a military command post, then suddenly stopped. His tone had turned distinctly hostile.
As if deliberately trying to one-up General Ross, Xiang Qian brought up something else just outside the command center. "By the way, what about our little cash cow, Jimmy? Can I go see the boy first?"
Worthington II hesitated for less than two seconds. "Of course. You should meet him. He's an unfortunate child too, born with a curse..."
With their negotiations about to begin, this was a crucial moment for Worthington II to maintain a good relationship with Xiang Qian. Besides, Xiang Qian hadn't asked for anything unreasonable.
He just wants to stand Ross up for a while and embarrass the general.
Having witnessed the two of them argue over the phone, Worthington II thought he'd seen through Xiang Qian's intentions.