Chapter 908

Well, today’s demonstration had revealed rather more than the Eredar Twins had intended.

Saloras and Orriseth exchanged uncomfortable looks, neither quite sure what to say.

Still, the Far-Sight Satellite had certainly lived up to its name. Ever since they’d sacrificed—well, launched—Dester into orbit, the first thing the little monster had done was expose someone’s most intimate secrets.

If this incident eventually resulted in a few divorces, lawsuits, or even murders, nobody could say they hadn’t been warned.

On the other hand, the demonstration had thoroughly proven the satellite’s capabilities.

Not only could it observe people on the ground with extraordinary clarity, capturing their faces and expressions in remarkable detail, but it could also switch between viewing angles that ordinary satellites couldn’t achieve.

It could even see through certain obstacles.

The method of demonstrating these capabilities had been somewhat embarrassing, but that was hardly relevant to the technology itself.

"Well... its reconnaissance capabilities are certainly impressive. It clearly surpasses conventional military satellites."

Elizabeth Morgan had finished consulting briefly with the technical advisers she’d brought along. Moore DuPont, meanwhile, had retreated to a corner of the room to contemplate his personal catastrophe.

Elizabeth continued.

"However, I have one question. What about its guidance capabilities?"

A military satellite couldn’t rely on reconnaissance alone. Precision guidance was equally important.

The United States already possessed some of the world’s most advanced targeting systems. Their guidance errors were measured in mere meters, perhaps three or five depending on the system.

That was an impressive standard, and one that few countries could hope to surpass.

"That’s nothing to worry about."

Saloras answered without the slightest hesitation.

"Its guidance capabilities are beyond question. Once it identifies a target, it can deliver death with extraordinary precision. Its accuracy exceeds that of existing military satellites."

She wasn’t exaggerating.

The satellite itself—Dester—already possessed offensive capabilities.

It was, quite literally, a space-based weapon.

When one considered that the entire thing had cost approximately two hundred thousand dollars to manufacture, the savings were almost absurd.

Why bother spending billions developing a conventional orbital weapons platform when you could simply put a demon in a metal box and send it into space?

Missiles and guidance systems were almost unnecessary.

Of course, they could still incorporate conventional guidance technology if needed. Additional functionality was never a disadvantage, especially when it helped avoid unnecessary public panic.

"However, there’s one small complication."

Orriseth turned toward Elizabeth, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"The satellite’s guidance signal uses a rather specialized transmission protocol. Receiving it requires a new type of electronic component."

She paused.

"Unfortunately, our company isn’t particularly experienced in manufacturing electronic components, nor do we have the necessary production channels. So we’d like to entrust that part of the business to an electronics company under the Morgan family’s control."

Her smile widened slightly.

"Naturally, the final choice of subsidiary will be left to Miss Morgan."

Elizabeth smiled.

"Well, I certainly won’t refuse such a generous offer."

The arrangement was almost amusing.

A company capable of building a satellite with technology far beyond conventional military standards was claiming it lacked the expertise to manufacture electronic components.

Who would believe that?

The twins were clearly looking for a way to distribute the profits and bind the Morgan family more closely to Umbrella.

By tying the two organizations together through shared business interests, they could turn a commercial partnership into a lasting alliance.

But why would Elizabeth object?

Once a profitable opportunity landed in her lap, she had no intention of giving it back.

GPS might soon become a thing of the past.

Just imagine the scale of the market for compatible electronic components, both military and civilian.

It would be an enormous business.

Of course, the great financial dynasties still cared about appearances. They might be willing to do almost anything for money, but that didn’t mean they abandoned every pretense of dignity.

At least, not when doing so offered no additional benefit.

"If possible," Elizabeth said, "I’d like your company to name the component."

The twins exchanged a brief glance.

"Hmm..."

After a moment, they settled on a name.

"Let’s call it Galahad."

At that moment, Gabriel, who had been dragged along by the Eredar Twins for training, suddenly raised his head.

He looked around in confusion.

What did one of his Round Table Knights have to do with this?

Then he thought about it.

The first thing this satellite had discovered after reaching orbit had been an adulterous encounter. And Sir Galahad had his own complicated connections to the legends surrounding Lancelot.

Perhaps the name wasn’t entirely inappropriate.

Gabriel lowered his head again.

Well, it wasn’t as though the four members of his household weren’t all technically himself.

No real loss.

Poor Sir Galahad, though.

"There’s one minor imperfection in today’s launch."

Saloras spoke again, her expression turning slightly regretful.

"We had to accelerate the schedule, so the launch vehicle was purchased rather than manufactured by our company. Naturally, that won’t be the case in the future. We’ll build our own rockets."

She turned toward Zolar Rockefeller.

"However, I can’t promise anything about the availability of raw materials without your family’s assistance. We’d like the Rockefeller family to handle that side of the business."

Zolar immediately nodded.

"You can count on us. We’ll provide the finest fuel available. No watering it down."

The twins seemed satisfied.

"Now, about the satellite’s production costs..."

Moore DuPont had finally recovered enough to rejoin the conversation.

He was still visibly shaken, but business was business.

"How much did it actually cost? I think it’s time you gave us the figures."

Orriseth calmly raised two fingers.

"The satellite is worth two hundred million dollars."

Her expression didn’t change.

She delivered the figure as casually as someone announcing the price of a cup of coffee.

"With the launch costs included, the total comes to approximately three hundred million. In the future, we’ll manufacture everything ourselves, which should reduce expenses considerably."

She paused to let the numbers sink in.

"Our intention is to lease the satellite to the United States government for twenty billion dollars annually."

The shareholders looked up.

Orriseth emphasized the next part.

"Twenty billion dollars every year. Payment must be made in full. We won’t accept installments."

She smiled.

"Once the contract is signed, we’ll recover our investment immediately and still make a substantial profit."

The three representatives exchanged surprised looks.

Their own calculations had placed the satellite’s production costs at well over one billion dollars.

They hadn’t expected Umbrella to bring the figure down so dramatically.

After a brief discussion among themselves, Elizabeth made a decisive gesture.

"We won’t distribute this year’s profits as dividends. We’ll reinvest them into future research and development."

It was a simple calculation.

A few billion dollars in annual dividends might be a considerable sum to an ordinary investor, but for the Morgan, Rockefeller, and DuPont families, it was hardly life-changing.

They would gain far more by reinvesting the money and expanding the company’s technological advantage.

It was better to sacrifice a little profit now in exchange for a much larger return later.

"Then we’ll gladly accept your continued support."

Orriseth didn’t hesitate to accept their decision.

However, Saloras’s expression soon grew more serious.

"You’ve all invested considerable effort into supporting our company’s plans. Unfortunately, events don’t always unfold as expected."

She glanced around the room.

"It seems we’ve encountered an unforeseen complication."

The shareholders immediately stiffened.

An unforeseen complication?

Had their plans attracted unwanted attention? Was someone trying to stop the project?

If so, perhaps they could still reconsider their decision about reinvesting this year’s profits.

"Please take out your phones."

Orriseth addressed the room.

Although the twins hadn’t explicitly requested it, Elizabeth and the others had switched off their phones before entering the meeting, both out of courtesy and respect for their hosts.

"Open YouTube. If you don’t have the application, download it. Then find today’s most popular video."

She paused.

"One small detail: it’s currently listed under the comedy and remix category. After watching it, don’t forget to like, share, and subscribe."

The three representatives exchanged confused looks before taking out their phones.

They soon found the video.

It showed the high-speed gun battle that had taken place in Washington, D.C.

The assassination attempt against Nick Fury.

Elizabeth watched the footage carefully.

"Washington, D.C.... Judging by their uniforms, those men appear to be Congressional police officers."

Her expression grew serious.

"This can’t be a minor incident. A gun battle of this scale in the nation’s capital is bound to have serious consequences."

She looked up.

"But what does this have to do with us? Don’t tell me the person being attacked is one of your people."

"We’re not nearly that capable."

Saloras gave a cold laugh.

"According to the intelligence we’ve obtained, the person being hunted was Nick Fury, the current director of S.H.I.E.L.D."

She paused.

"He’s currently missing and presumed dead."

"What?!"

All three representatives exclaimed simultaneously.

The director of the world’s most powerful intelligence organization had been attacked in the capital of the United States?

Who could possibly have done something like that?

Had the American government finally lost patience with S.H.I.E.L.D. and decided to confront the organization openly?

No. That didn’t make sense.

They had heard rumors that the government’s tolerance for S.H.I.E.L.D. was wearing thin, but surely things hadn’t deteriorated to the point where officials would authorize an assassination attempt against its director.

This wasn’t some minor political dispute that could be settled over dinner by three wealthy families.

Elizabeth slowly raised her head.

Across the table, she exchanged a troubled look with Moore DuPont.

Zolar noticed their expressions and glanced toward the Eredar Twins.

A terrible possibility began taking shape.

The twins had described an unforeseen complication.

Then they’d shown them footage of Nick Fury being hunted down.

Could they possibly be responsible?

Elizabeth felt a bead of cold sweat forming on her forehead.

She’d admittedly played a few political games during their previous dealings. She’d even leaked some relatively harmless information about Umbrella to S.H.I.E.L.D.

But that had been a minor maneuver.

Surely the twins hadn’t responded by simply arranging for the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. to be murdered?

If that was how they handled inconvenient problems, perhaps it would be wiser to keep their distance.

The Morgan family had no desire to become associated with terrorists.

"During our first board meeting, we discussed the future of humanity."

Orriseth suddenly stood.

She slowly surveyed the shareholders.

"Today, however, we need to discuss our own future."

She raised one hand toward the entrance.

"To help demonstrate the truth of what we’re about to tell you, we’ve invited a special guest."

The conference room doors opened.

An elderly man entered.

He was slightly overweight, with thinning white hair and a pair of sharp, somewhat sinister eyes.

The three representatives recognized him immediately.

All of them rose from their seats.

"Gideon Malick."

This was no ordinary guest.

Although his personal fortune couldn’t compare with the combined wealth of their families, his political connections and influence were considerably greater.

Malick had once served as the United States representative on the World Security Council.

However, he’d resigned after taking responsibility for the disastrous decision to authorize a nuclear strike against Manhattan during the Battle of New York.

That should have ended his political career.

Instead, he’d somehow emerged from the scandal almost untouched.

He had subsequently become a special adviser to the federal government, a position that carried considerable influence. Even the President treated him with deference.

It was difficult to understand how someone could make such a catastrophic strategic decision and still emerge with his reputation largely intact.

But Malick’s influence extended beyond the United States.

Those with sufficiently high standing in political and financial circles knew that he also maintained extensive connections in Russia.

He was particularly influential within the Russian military, where numerous senior officers were willing to accommodate him.

An American government adviser with such extensive ties to the Russian establishment?

And nobody seemed particularly concerned about it?

That alone said a great deal about the man’s influence.

In fact, the three families had initially taken an interest in Umbrella partly out of respect for Malick.

They hadn’t expected him to personally attend today’s meeting.

Malick stepped into the room and paused briefly.

For a moment, he seemed almost overwhelmed by the situation.

He clearly hadn’t expected events to develop this way.

But circumstances had left him little room to reconsider.

Hail, Hela.

He gathered himself.

Years in politics had taught him how to command a room, and he soon recovered his composure.

He walked to an empty chair, sat down, and politely gestured for the others to do the same.

Then he spoke with an expression of profound regret.

"First, I must offer an apology. I’ve failed to live up to the trust placed in me by the American government and its people."

The opening statement did little to impress the shareholders.

It sounded like the sort of carefully rehearsed political apology they heard every other week.

But Malick continued.

"I once served on the World Security Council. My responsibility was to supervise and oversee S.H.I.E.L.D."

He lowered his head.

"Yet I failed to fulfill that responsibility. I allowed myself to be manipulated by people with ulterior motives, and as a result, I made a terrible decision."

Elizabeth and the others exchanged glances.

Was this why he’d come?

Was Malick attempting to rehabilitate his reputation after the Manhattan nuclear strike? Perhaps he intended to make a political comeback.

"I know my previous mistake cannot be excused. But I have repeatedly asked myself how I could have made such a disastrous decision."

Malick shook his head.

"That incident forced me to question whether I’d properly fulfilled my responsibilities. More importantly, it made me wonder whether S.H.I.E.L.D. was concealing problems that the Council had failed to discover."

He paused.

"However, my colleagues and I had been diligent in our oversight. We had examined S.H.I.E.L.D. repeatedly, sometimes even going too far in our scrutiny."

His expression hardened.

"Yet we never discovered any fundamental problems."

He let out a quiet sigh.

"Eventually, I decided that remaining on the Council would accomplish nothing. I stepped down and pursued another approach."

He looked toward the twins.

"I personally spearheaded an agreement between this company and the United States government to establish a new department: the Black Badge Division."

"That department..."

Moore DuPont looked surprised.

"Is it owned by this company and you?"

The Black Badge Division had been established shortly after the Battle of New York.

It was a specialized organization tasked with handling extraordinary threats and incidents beyond the capabilities of conventional law enforcement.

Initially, it had operated under the umbrella of the American military. More recently, it had been transferred to the Federal Emergency Management Agency.

It had also caused S.H.I.E.L.D. considerable trouble on several occasions.

Its reputation had grown particularly quickly following the recent Enchantress incident.

"The Black Badge Division exists to protect our country and its people from extraordinary threats."

Malick corrected him firmly.

"It is a public service, not a private business."

He continued.

"Since its establishment, we’ve arranged numerous interactions between the Black Badge Division and S.H.I.E.L.D."

"From the outside, it might have appeared that we were simply competing with them for influence. In reality, we wanted the Black Badge Division to investigate S.H.I.E.L.D."

Malick slowly closed his eyes.

"We’ve finally reached a conclusion."

His expression became one of profound sorrow.

"And the truth is horrifying."

He opened his eyes again.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. ceased to exist many years ago."

The room fell silent.

Nobody seemed to understand what he’d just said.

What did he mean, S.H.I.E.L.D. no longer existed?

What about the headquarters in Washington? What about the agents, the aircraft carriers, and the countless operations still being conducted under its name?

Were they all imagining things?

"Operation Paperclip."

Malick looked around the table.

"You’re all well-educated people. I’m sure you’re familiar with it."

Elizabeth nodded.

"I am. Near the end of World War II, the American government recruited a large number of German scientists to prevent the Soviet Union from gaining the technological advantage."

"That’s correct."

Malick nodded.

"However, the scientists we recruited weren’t limited to those who had worked for the Third Reich."

He paused.

"They also included HYDRA scientists. And the organization primarily responsible for accepting them was S.H.I.E.L.D."

The shareholders listened closely.

"Our original intention was to reform these individuals, change their ideology, and make them serve the interests of the American government and its capitalist system."

Malick’s expression darkened.

"But the opposite happened."

He shook his head.

"Like a colony of parasites, they infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D. They spread throughout the organization, slowly infecting it until the entire body was corrupted."

He looked directly at the three representatives.

"Many years ago, S.H.I.E.L.D. had already become HYDRA."