The air in the abandoned warehouse was thick with the stench of old engine oil mixed with rust. Damp moisture seeped from the corners of the walls, dripping onto the greasy cement floor with a monotonous "plop." Ulysses Klaue sat beside a pile of moldy wooden crates, clutching a dirty rag in his hand, pressing it tightly against the deep, bone-revealing wound on his right arm. Blood had long since soaked the cloth, but he didn't bother to clean it. His bloodshot eyes were fixed on the rickety metal table in front of him, the veins on his eyeballs bulging and twisting like earthworms.
Just hours ago, he stood in Wakanda's magnificent plaza, basking in the vanity of a victor. The roar of the sonic cannons still echoed in his ears, and he felt like the master of the world. But now? He was hiding like a stray dog in this godforsaken place that even rats wouldn't bother with. The feeling of falling from the clouds into the mud was like a dull knife sawing back and forth in his heart.
"Tsk." Klaue gritted his teeth, tightening the rag even more, wincing in pain, but his expression only became more ferocious. He abruptly stood up and kicked over an empty oil drum beside him. The loud metallic clang echoed through the empty warehouse, the reverberation making his eardrums ache. The sound brought him no pleasure, but only increased his irritation.
"Damn Black Panther! And that freak whoever popped up out of nowhere!" Klaue roared at the air, spittle flying everywhere. "If it weren't for that hoodie kid blocking my way, I would have gotten the Vibranium by now! They ruined my plans, and I, Ulysses Klaue, will remember this for the rest of my life!"
He grabbed a rusty iron can and slammed it against the wall. The can hit the wall with a dull thud and rolled to the ground. Klaue was panting heavily, his chest heaving. He couldn't let this go. Wakanda's defenses were formidable, but they were built on isolation. As long as he found a breakthrough, as long as he had the cooperation of others, those so-called Vibranium treasures would be his for the taking sooner or later.
Just then, a faint footstep came from the darkness deep within the warehouse. The footsteps were very light, like a cat stepping on cotton, but they were exceptionally clear in the silent night. Klaue immediately became alert, his right hand instinctively reaching for his waist, where a pistol had been tucked, but which he had lost during the escape. Now he could only rely on his body and his indomitable spirit.
A figure emerged from the shadows. The man wore a long, dark gray trench coat with the collar turned up high, obscuring most of his face except for a pair of cold eyes. He didn't speak, but simply stood there, as if examining a piece of merchandise or assessing prey.
"You're Klaue?" the newcomer asked, his voice hoarse and mechanical, as if it had been altered by a voice changer, making it impossible to discern his gender or emotion.
"I am." Klaue straightened up, trying to look as disheveled as possible. Despite the blood still flowing from his arm and the dust covering his body, his eyes showed no sign of backing down, only greed and ambition. "Who are you? Someone from S.H.I.E.L.D..? Or some clueless mercenary leader?"
The man didn't answer, but slowly walked to the tin table, took out a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it. In the flickering light, he illuminated a badge peeking out from under the hem of his trench coat—a skull and crossbones symbol surrounded by thorns.
Hydra.
Klaue's pupils contracted slightly. This organization was a taboo and a legend in the underworld. They didn't adhere to international law like S.H.I.E.L.D.., nor did they engage in aristocratic games like the Hellfire Club. They were pure chaos makers, fangs in the darkness.
"I don't need your name, I don't need your identity." Klaue sneered, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, feigning indifference. "If you're here to collect protection money, you've come to the wrong person. I'm penniless right now, not even enough money for a bottle of painkillers. If you want to kill me, then do it; I don't plan on going back alive anyway."
The man exhaled a smoke ring, his expression obscured by the swirling smoke. "We're not here to collect protection money, nor are we here to kill you. We're here to discuss cooperation."
"Cooperation?" Klaue raised an eyebrow, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "What's there for me to cooperate with? I'm a criminal wanted worldwide, and you're experts at dirty work. If we team up, it'll be a case of two negatives making a positive, and we'll only get worse off."
"You're wrong." The man stubbed out his cigarette, his gaze sharp as Blade. "In Wakanda, your failure wasn't due to a lack of ability, but to your isolation. You faced a kingdom with a century of technological accumulation and the protection of super soldiers. Going it alone, you'd never open that door. But what if we joined forces?"
Klaue fell silent. He knew the other man was right. His defeat in Wakanda was largely due to underestimating T'Challa's strength and overestimating his own men. If there had been stronger firepower support and more professional tactical coordination, the outcome might have been completely different.
"Tell me," Klaue's voice deepened, the contempt in his eyes vanishing, replaced by a calculating glint. "What do you want? Money? Power? Or some kind of shady experimental subject?"
"What we need are resources," the man said calmly. "And what you can offer is the key to those resources. Vibranium is more than just a metal; it's energy, it's weaponry, it's the key to changing the landscape. Hydra needs it, and you want it. It's a win-win situation."
Klaue squinted, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the wall. He was weighing his options. Joining Hydra meant relinquishing some control, meant taking orders from others. For Klaue, who always loved being in control, this was undoubtedly a humiliation. But looking at the wound on his arm, and thinking of Wakanda's impregnable walls, he knew he had no other choice.
"What are the conditions?" Klaue asked. "How can I trust that you won't betray me? After all, your reputation in the underworld isn't exactly stellar."
The man took a black metal box from his trench coat pocket and placed it on the table. "This is the latest prototype of a sonic jammer, ten times more advanced than the one you used in Wakanda. It can block most energy detection, making your infiltration a breeze. In addition, we will send an elite team to assist you in training and improving your combat capabilities. As for the reward..."
The man paused, then took a stack of photos from the box and pushed them in front of Klaue. "If you help us get Vibranium and complete the subsequent resource transfer as required by us, we'll give you a bonus enough to live comfortably anywhere. Plus, we'll help you avoid some unnecessary trouble."
Klaue picked up the photos and glanced at them. They were blurry images, some appearing to be the interior of a laboratory, others to the schedules of certain political figures. They meant nothing to him, but he understood that this was Hydra's way of demonstrating its power. They were telling him: We are everywhere, we are omnipotent.
"I need time to think about it." Klaue put down the photo and rubbed his temples. "After all, this isn't a small matter. I need to discuss it with my 'friend'."
"You have no friends," the man said coldly. "You only have one choice now. Either join us and become Hydra's agent in Africa, responsible for securing Vibranium; or continue rotting here, waiting to be captured by S.H.I.E.L.D.. or those nasty Mutants. The choice is yours."
Klaue stared at the man, a surge of anger rising within him. He hated the feeling of being threatened, and he hated his current predicament even more. But he also knew that anger wouldn't solve anything. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.
"Alright." Klaue finally nodded, forcing a fake smile. "I'll join. But I have one condition. I need a certain degree of autonomy in the operation against Wakanda. I can't follow your orders in everything. After all, I'm more familiar with the terrain and defenses there."
The man stared at Klaue for a few seconds, seemingly assessing the truthfulness of his words. Finally, he slowly nodded. "Okay. But the success rate of the operation must be at least 80%. Otherwise, you'll bear the consequences."
"Deal." Klaue reached out, wanting to grasp the hand wearing a black glove.
However, the man didn't reach out. He simply waved his hand and turned to walk into the darkness. "Remember your promise, Klaue. Don't let us down."
As the man's figure disappeared into the darkness, the warehouse returned to a deathly silence. Klaue stood there, looking at the black metal box on the table, a cold smile slowly spreading across his lips.
He picked up the box, opened it, and looked inside. The instruments inside shimmered with a ghostly blue light, exuding a high-tech feel. This was exactly what he needed. With this, plus the troops provided by Hydra, he would be confident of success in the next attack on Wakanda.
" Ye Mo, Emma Frost, T'Challa..." Klaue murmured these names, his eyes gleaming with the flames of revenge. "Just wait. This game has only just begun."
He carefully put the box away, then took an old-fashioned satellite phone out of his pocket. He pressed the dial button and, while waiting for the call to connect, straightened his clothes, trying to make himself look more presentable.
The call went through.
"Hello, it's me." Klaue's voice became respectful and cautious. "It's done. I've made contact with 'over there.' Yes, they're interested. I'll proceed as planned. No, I won't betray them, at least not now. I need more support, especially intelligence about Wakanda's interior. Okay, I'll provide it as soon as possible. Goodbye."
After hanging up the phone, Klaue let out a long sigh of relief. He walked to the warehouse door and pushed open the rusty iron gate. The sky outside was gloomy and oppressive, covered with dark clouds, as if a downpour was imminent. The distant mountain ranges were indistinct, like a giant beast lurking in the darkness, waiting for its prey.
Klaue lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and the pungent smoke filled his lungs, giving him a brief numbness. He looked up into the distance, his eyes filled with longing and ambition.
" Vibranium, you're mine now." He murmured to himself, his voice carried away by the wind and dissipated into the cold air.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Ye Mo sat in front of a pancake stall, biting into a fried dough stick, staring blankly at the system notification sound that popped up on his phone screen.
[Ding! An abnormal energy fluctuation has been detected. Origin: Northwest. Intensity: Moderate. Suspected to involve a high-risk mutation source or a special metal reaction. Host is advised to remain vigilant and activate " Vibranium Sense " for a deep scan if necessary.]
Ye Mo paused, stopping his chewing of the fried dough stick. He looked up at the northwest sky, where thick clouds obscured all light.
"The northwest? Where did that guy Klaue go?" Ye Mo frowned, a vague feeling of unease creeping into his heart. Back in Wakanda, he had sensed that a larger force was pulling the strings behind Klaue. Now it seemed that this force had surfaced.
He took out his phone and sent Emma Frost a message: "Are you there? Something feels off. There's an unusual fluctuation in the northwest direction. I'm going to check it out."
After finishing, Ye Mo stuffed the remaining half of the fried dough stick into his mouth, patted the crumbs off his hands, and stood up. The hem of his black hooded sweatshirt swayed gently in the wind, and his eyes gradually sharpened.
No matter what conspiracy Klaue is plotting, he won't succeed easily. After all, he's a man with the " X-Gene Resonance System," not someone to be trifled with.