"So this so-called 'meeting' was really about breaking into the CIA Deputy Director's home, cracking open his safe to steal documents, and scamming a congressman out of a stash of illicit money?" Stephanie asked with amused curiosity as she settled into the soft single-seater sofa in the hotel room. "Had I known, I would've come with you. My negotiation was dull beyond belief. The Black-Armor Interrogator has confirmed the prince's identity, and everything else is proceeding according to plan. All I had to do was play the clueless buyer. This is the gift he sent me—a box of cigars, my only real gain today. What were you hoping to find in the CIA Deputy Director's safe, my lord? That's the kind of job our assassins or spies could've handled. No need for you to get involved personally."
"It was a promise, Stephanie," Solomon said as he walked to the window and drew the curtains. The afternoon sunlight poured through the glass, glinting off the brilliant body of the brandy in his glass. He raised it to his nose, inhaled deeply, then took a sip. "The second half of this mission will be handled by someone else. My part was simply to give that person a chance."
"Your mission's not over?"
"No. There's still the revenge," Solomon replied. "Once I finish this drink, we'll head to the airport and leave Washington. This city won't be safe for the next few days. Let's not get dragged into this swamp."
"Bring the cigars," he added. "I'm sure they smell fantastic—even with the lid still on, I can tell."
"I doubt the CIA Deputy Director and some congressman would turn Washington upside down over their little secrets."
"They wouldn't—but the person I helped has much bigger plans."
In the following days, a creeping tension spread across every news outlet in Washington.
First, the CIA Deputy Director was found hanged in his bedroom. Then a J.P. Morgan banker was discovered hanging outside his hotel window, strangled with wire. Every sign pointed to execution rather than suicide. The Washington police went all in, and even the Secret Service joined the investigation. But nothing could stop the killings. Each day brought new victims, and the executions grew increasingly grotesque—hung, crucified, flayed. The killer clearly intended to send a message through their suffering.
While Victor Von Doom fully unleashed his dark imagination, Solomon and Stephanie had already returned to the Eternal City, resuming their usual work.
The deaths of a few politicians and financiers were minor affairs. The Eternal City had far greater concerns.
On the day of their return, Solomon approved a large-scale grain procurement plan. The next day—right when news broke about the CIA Deputy Director's death—he authorized the construction of a hydroponic farm and began the acquisition of several Eastern European companies. Stephanie was surprised to see the deals go through without resistance; the target company's executives seemed paralyzed with panic. As more news of killings in Washington surfaced, hesitation turned into surrender. Each acquisition was approved swiftly, and entire management teams withdrew without protest.
As the murders continued, the Eternal City's acquisition scope grew bolder. The newly acquired companies were then consolidated under a single corporate entity, per Solomon's instructions. Stephanie was certain the media was hiding terrifying truths and that all the murders in Washington were tied to these companies. The Eternal City had done similar operations before—just not with this level of efficiency.
Then came the next phase.
The Eternal City launched a new construction initiative: schools, hospitals, prisons, highways—all the essential infrastructure—targeting that tiny Eastern European nation. Wakanda served as the primary contractor. Though Shuri tried to use this project as a pretext to speak to Solomon about those green-skinned aliens, Stephanie intercepted her.
"No comment, Shuri," Stephanie said coldly. "Even if you're a Wakandan princess, you don't get to know everything. If you have time for curiosity, maybe pay more attention to King T'Chaka's health. Our ambassador says he needs medical attention."
"How's the warm-up going?"
"Quite well," Victor Von Doom replied via a public phone booth. Speaking over such an unsecured line was risky, but both he and Solomon knew what could be said—and what couldn't. "I'll be home soon. My work here is finished."
"Faster than I expected. I've prepared a cake for you," Solomon said, hanging up and turning to the next report.
The document reported that an armed team had boarded an assault transport to rendezvous with Camila and Lara Croft in Peru. The team had engaged with local drug traffickers and uncovered evidence of Trinity's operations, along with clues to their next move. Camila had led her team in an assault on various cartel strongholds throughout the city. Though it wasn't the original plan, Camila had used her authority to issue the attack orders.
When Stephanie first handed Solomon the report, it was to ask how Camila should be punished. But Solomon issued no reprimand—in fact, he tacitly approved her decision.
Both Camila and Victor Von Doom wanted to see their homelands rise from poverty. That was why they joined the Eternal City. Solomon had promised his allies that he would save lives his way. Without the Eternal City, both of them would've continued down their separate paths—growing more isolated with every step. They needed allies. That's why they signed the contract.
Camila had saved lives in her own way. Solomon would not blame her. That was the Eternal City's promise.
Unlike Peru—closely watched by the U.S.—the small nation of Latveria, far on the other side of the world, would become deeply tied to the Eternal City. With that, the Eternal City would no longer face its most dangerous weakness: population. Once schools, hospitals, shops, and factories were built, Solomon would have the manpower to solve other challenges. He needed soldiers, scientists, and agents.
He had promised Victor Von Doom: the Eternal City would train locals to become soldiers—to defend their own country. These Latverians would also become soldiers of the Eternal City, offering their lives for Solomon's dream.
"The Latverian Legion. That's the name," he said.
Per Victor's design, all the body armor to be issued from the warehouse would bear the Legion's insignia—twin deep-green lightning bolts. The helmets would be inlaid with the Eternal City's golden imperial eagle. Victor would transform this exploited agricultural backwater into a high-tech nation. The Eternal City would benefit in turn, finally breaking free from Wakanda's technological chokehold.
But first, there was one last thing Solomon and Victor had to do.
The Eternal City had acquired only the oligarchs' shares—the royal family's wealth remained tightly held. To truly liberate Latveria, they would have to seize the nation, eliminate the royal family, and break the chains holding the people hostage.
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