Hammer Industries, office.
Fernando, summoned by his boss, felt uneasy. The moment he pushed open the door, a document on the desk was hurled at him. With his reflexes, he could easily have dodged it, but that would only have stoked the other man's anger further.
The sharp corner of the folder cut the security chief's forehead, blood streaming freely down his cheek. He looked utterly miserable, but even that failed to calm Justin Hammer. He shouted, "A whole month! Sean Sipes is still alive and well, Umbrella has signed a long-term order with the Department of Defense, and his energy weapons are practically entering mass production!"
"Tell me, where are your mercenaries?"
Faced with his boss's furious interrogation, Fernando could only feel that the security chief's generous annual salary was not easy to earn. That famous New York genius had gone to Eastern Europe for a half-month vacation, which should have been a perfect opportunity. He had sent out two elite mercenary squads from Hammer Industries Security, yet those elite fighters—men who had stirred political unrest in small nations and assassinated African tribal leaders—had all become after-dinner snacks for the Blood Clan and werewolves. Officially, however, they had encountered a shootout with local gangs and tragically perished to the last man.
Based on Fernando's years of experience, he felt something was off. Yet there was not a single flaw in the report. Who could have imagined that those lunatic Romanian Gang members would resort to a suicide attack, and that it would happen on the very bus the mercenary squad was riding, with no sign of prior planning whatsoever?
Having written it off as a coincidence, the security chief contacted Wade Wilson as soon as the New York genius returned. To be honest, Fernando did not like that foul-mouthed