The Savior of American Comics? I'm the Subspace Evil God!

Chapters 517, 950, and 951: The Hydra's Scheme (Part 2)

Alexander Pierce listened quietly to Steck Pantecost's roars throughout, his face expressionless, as if he were watching a poor performance.

He only spoke slowly and deliberately when the other person was panting from excessive excitement.

Although his voice was not loud, it was like a dagger coated with deadly poison, precisely aimed at Steker Pantecost's most fatal weakness.

"General Pantecost, anger will not solve anything..."

Alexander Pierce's face once again displayed that knowing, all-knowing smile of someone in a high position. "Let's put it more plainly," he said.

He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and calmly took out a document.

The document's cover bore the eagle emblem of S.H.I.E.L.D., and the title was even more striking: "Feasibility Assessment and Acceptance Plan for the Comprehensive Integration of Strategic Resources of the PPDC Organization and the Titan Hunter Mech Force by S.H.I.E.L.D."

And in the author's section, Nick Fury's name is prominently displayed!

Alexander Pierce deliberately pushed the draft across the desk, right within easy reach of Steker Pantcost.

“Take a look at this, General Pentecost! This is Director Nick Fury… Oh, the ‘recommendation’ he couldn’t wait to submit while you were still fighting bloody battles in the Pacific, even before the fighting was completely over.”

Alexander Pierce's tone carried a perfectly measured hint of mockery and provocation, "How about it? Isn't S.H.I.E.L.D. incredibly efficient? It's clear that Director Nick Fury has been eyeing your prized Titan Hunter mechs for quite some time now..."

The moment Steker Pentecost's gaze fell on the document cover, his pupils suddenly contracted!

A chilling coldness instantly shot from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, but it was quickly replaced by overwhelming rage.

He grabbed the draft abruptly, the paper twisting and deforming under the weight of his large fingers.

"Nick Fury, you damned, despicable bastard!!!"

Steker Pantecost uttered the name through clenched teeth, his voice twisted and shrill with extreme anger.

He flipped through the draft quickly, the cold, hard words inside feeling like a sharp knife stabbing into his heart.

Assessing the asset value of the PPDC organization, planning the handover timeline for the Titan Hunter mechs, and outlining a reassignment plan for senior research personnel...

Every word is filled with blatant plundering.

It's as if the PPDC organization and Tasty Pantecost are just a piece of fat meat waiting to be cut up!
You, Nick Fury, the battle has only just ended, and you're already abandoning all pretense and trying to steal my Titan Hunter armor?
You're a fucking dog!

This is more than just kicking someone when they're down!

This is blatant looting during a crisis; it's robbery!
Steker Pantecost was so angry that his vision blurred, and he felt a sweet, metallic taste rise in his throat.

Although he had long known that Nick Fury was ambitious and coveted the Titan Hunter armor of the PPDC organization.

But he truly hadn't expected the other party to be so shameless, so impatient, and so utterly without any bottom line...

I've barely suffered a major setback, and Nick Fury is already driving in a truck with a list, ready to raid my place?!

Is this something a human being would do?

Anger surged through his veins like gushing magma.

But what followed was an even deeper sense of powerlessness and a chilling despair.

Steker Pantecost looked around. This office, which symbolized the highest power of the Security Council, now felt to him like a meticulously arranged prison.

He could almost see that around the collapsing body of the PPDC, those so-called "allies" who had once supported him and the PPDC, including Nick Fury's S.H.I.E.L.D., as well as other eye-catching organizations and even different factions within the Security Council, were like sharks that had smelled blood, sharpening their knives and preparing to pounce and devour the legacy left by the PPDC.

Especially those six Titan Hunter mechs, which embodied countless hours of his hard work and represented humanity's highest achievement in fighting behemoths!!

The problem is, he has no choice at all now.

He is now isolated and helpless, trapped in a predicament, and even his anger seems so pale and powerless...

So, in desperation, he could only place his only hope on Alexander Pierce across from him.

He silently prayed that the other person would lend him a hand at this moment.

Although the possibility is extremely slim...

Meanwhile, Alexander Pierce, behind his desk, keenly observed the fascinating changes in Steker Pantecost's expression, and he knew that the time was right.

So he put on that hypocritical mask of 'I'm doing this for your own good' again, leaned forward, lowered his voice, and said with a seductive, heartfelt tone:
“General Pantecost, anger will not help… Now, you only have two paths before you.”

He held up two fingers. "First, if cooperation is refused, the PPDC organization will be dissolved according to procedure... So, this draft..."

He gestured across the table at Nick Fury's document, "and other similar things, will be formally discussed at the Security Council meeting."

"Given Nick Fury's methods and connections, coupled with the 'public opinion pressure' currently facing the PPDC organization... who do you think will ultimately end up with your six precious Jaegers?!"

Steker Pantecost gripped the draft tightly, causing the paper to warp and deform.

"The second way..."

Seeing that Steker Pentecost was helpless, Alexander Pierce's voice was like a devil's whisper, with a hint of seduction.

"At this critical moment, you bravely stepped forward, held a press conference, and took the initiative to address the 'public misunderstanding' caused by the tactical choices in the 'Pacific Campaign,' thus bringing a period to the curtain call of the [PPDC Organization] with the air of a... tragic hero... thereby quelling the rumors and shifting the focus!!"

Upon hearing the proposal, a fierce struggle appeared in Steker Pantecost's eyes.

But all of this was exactly what Alexander Pierce had anticipated, so he skillfully threw out the seemingly tempting but actually illusory bait.

"As long as you're willing to cooperate... I, Alexander Pierce, in my capacity as Chairman of the Security Council, assure you!" He patted his chest, his tone resolute, "Even if the PPDC is temporarily disbanded, those six Titan Hunter mechs will absolutely not be handed over to any organization or individual, including S.H.I.E.L.D.!"

"I will use my maximum authority to put them on the highest-level sealing list and store them in an absolutely secure secret location!"

Alexander Pierce's eyes suddenly became incredibly sincere. "I know that these Titan Hunter mechs are your life's work, your only hope for the future."

"Rest assured, when the time is right, when humanity needs to use their power again, when a more suitable environment emerges... I believe the Security Council will need a commander who is familiar with them and can unleash their full potential."

"And that person can only be you... General Steker Pantecost!!!"

"How about it? This deal is for you, preserving your lifeline, lying low and waiting for the right moment... It's far better than being swallowed whole by Nick Fury and his gang!"

Paint cake!

A blatant empty promise!

Is the time ripe?

What does it mean when the time is right?

It's likely that the "opportunity" Alexander Pierce speaks of will never come, or will only be defined when it serves his personal interests.

Steker Pantecost was fully aware of this.

The old fox on the other side was merely exploiting his resentment and feelings for those Titan Hunter mechs, forcing him to become a pawn in quelling the rumors.

But in order to temporarily freeze these powerful war machines and prevent them from falling into the hands of Nick Fury or other forces eyeing them... he had no choice!

They could only listen to the other side's story and take all the blame and accusations upon themselves according to the Security Council's arrangements, in order to win that negligible sliver of a possibility.

Looking into Alexander Pierce's seemingly sincere but actually extremely cunning eyes, and then at the predatory draft of Nick Fury in his hand, Stark Pentecost felt as if all the strength had been drained from his body.

A tremendous sense of exhaustion and icy despair nearly overwhelmed him completely.

He felt like an African lion whose teeth and claws had been pulled out and who was trapped in a snare, ultimately forced to lower his proud head in the face of an irresistible force.

"……All right."

Steker Pantecost's voice was dry and hoarse, as if sandpaper was being rubbed, each word exhausting his strength, "Chairman Pierce... I... will follow your arrangements."

This short sentence seemed to announce the end of his political life and the culmination of his life's work.

His burly body swayed as if he might fall at any moment, and he barely managed to stand by holding onto the edge of the table.

The sharpness, anger, and resentment in his eyes were completely extinguished at this moment, leaving only endless defeat and resigned compromise.

Alexander Pierce's face immediately lit up with a 'relief' smile. He stood up, walked around the desk, and enthusiastically patted the dejected Steker Pentecost on the shoulder, offering words of encouragement:
“A wise choice, General Pantecost! You've suffered for the greater good…”

"But rest assured, history will remember the enormous contributions and sacrifices you have made today!!"

He then personally escorted the distraught Steker Pantecost to the office door, his face plastered with feigned concern the entire time.

The heavy oak door slowly closed behind Steck Pantecost's staggering figure.

However, the moment the door closed, all the "gratification," "concern," and "encouragement" on Alexander Pierce's face vanished like the tide, leaving only a trace of indifference and a hint of sinister triumph.

He walked quickly back to his desk and pressed an internal communication button.

A few seconds later, the office door slid open silently, and his trusted aide, Jasper Hitwell, with his signature bald head, strode in with his usual obsequious smile: "Sir, you wanted to see me?"

Alexander Pierce didn't look at him. Instead, he walked to the huge French windows, turned his back to Hitwell, looked at the beautiful scenery outside, and gave the order in a voice as cold as ice:
“Steker Pantecost has agreed to cooperate, after he finishes that destined-to-be 'tragic' press conference…”

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes flashing with a venomous light in the reflection of the glass. "Send the Winter Soldier to take care of him after he leaves the press conference and returns to his residence... Remember to make it look like a suicide."

Hitterville's smile froze, a hint of surprise and confusion flashing in his small eyes: "Uh, sir? Was this really necessary?"

"Once the PPDC organization is officially disbanded, that black guy will just be a powerless retired general, a washed-up loser. What threat will he pose to us? Why waste time and energy killing him?"

"idiot!!"

Alexander Pierce whirled around, his eyes sharp as knives, and glared at Sitwell. "I always tell you to use your brain more and stop flattering people... is your brain filled with mush?!"

Hitwell was so frightened that he shrank back and fell silent.

Alexander Pierce suppressed his anger, patiently lowering his voice to explain, "The disbandment of the PPDC organization and the mothballing of the Titan Hunter mech are just the beginning..."

"Will that old fox Nick Fury, and those other greedy hyenas, just stand by and watch six superweapons with the power of the Titans lie quietly rusting in the warehouse?"

"They will definitely try every means to lobby the upper echelons of the Security Council, exert pressure, demand the lifting of the lockdown, demand the allocation... Those Titan Hunter mechs are not only a huge temptation, but also a hot potato!!"

"Therefore, unless we have a strong enough and lasting reason to shut everyone up, the secrecy will not last long."

"What if the other council members choose to agree to give those Titan Hunter mechs to some organization? Wouldn't that delay our important business?"

"Besides, that bastard Nick Fury has plenty of ways to bypass my direct orders..."

Alexander Pierce's lips curled into a cruel and shrewd smirk as he walked to his desk and slammed his fingers heavily on the surface.
"And the 'accidental death' of Steker Pantecost is the perfect reason!!"

"Especially if his death were cleverly framed as... being unable to withstand immense pressure? Being driven to his death by certain forces eager to seize the legacy of the PPDC, such as S.H.I.E.L.D.? Or even committing suicide out of guilt?"

(End of this chapter)