"Who?" General Ross shot up from his chair in shock. "You're William Devonshire? The one from England?"
"If you think just anyone could get your private number, I can wait while you confirm my identity and call you back," William said coolly.
"And honestly, it's not that hard to get your number, especially after all the calls you made recently."
"Damn it—did you hack into my communications system?"
Already feeling guilty just from the fact that William had called, Ross lashed out, half-angry, half-panicked. "You trying to get yourself banned from ever stepping foot in the U.S. again?"
"Hah. Got any proof?" William chuckled. "And don't forget—you're holding classified materials taken from England. Maybe I should have a little chat with President Benjamin Arthur about that?"
One classified document? Weren't there two? Ross's expression faltered. William's words left him unsure and second-guessing himself, suddenly regretting not bringing Strange and Tobin's body back with him.
But after a few seconds, he regained composure. William wouldn't bring up the CIA scandal—after all, the intel came from Eric, a British MI6 operative.
If the scandal went public, the CIA would be in hot water—but the Brits wouldn't escape unscathed either.
That gave Ross a bit of leverage. He stiffened his voice. "So what do you want from me?"
"Nothing much." William chuckled. "Just wanted to let you know that not only have you been targeting the wrong enemy, but real alien infiltrators are already inside your system."
"Hmph." Ross frowned. Though a little shaken, he barked back, "Cut the drama. You don't strike me as the type to hand out helpful warnings.
By the way—that general you had your werewolf take out last year? He was a friend. We graduated from the same military academy."
"My condolences," William smirked. "Shame. Such a high-ranking officer, assassinated like that. Ross, your country's dangerous.
Good thing I'm not American—I don't have to live with that constant paranoia."
Ross clearly wasn't close to the dead general; otherwise, he wouldn't have brought it up like a casual power play.
"Fine. Let me show you something useful to lighten your grief."
William sent him a website URL. Ross grimaced at the condescending tone and started typing the link into his laptop—then suddenly stopped.
"Hold on," he said, and hung up the phone.
Hearing the dial tone, William rolled his eyes. "Idiot. If I wanted to hack your base, you think I'd do it through a link like some bargain-bin virus?"
Ross left his office with his phone and hurried to the base's control center. He had his tech staff triple-check the website. Only after they confirmed there was no threat did he send them away and open it himself.
As soon as he did, the spider drone attached to his uniform hijacked the control room's network, giving Sunday full access.
Before Ross could even finish reading the differences between Autobots and Decepticons, Sunday had already rifled through every server on the base.
"Sir," Sunday said, playing a video for William, "this base experienced a major incident four months ago."
And there he was—the Big Green Guy.
On-screen, Hulk was tearing through the base, smashing everything, then vanishing into a forest a hundred kilometers away.
William smiled. "Check if Bruce Banner is currently in Brazil."
"On it, sir."
As he browsed the files on the super-soldier serum, William grinned. "Tell me—if I handed this intel over to the Brits, would they dare to secretly conduct human trials?"
"Apologies, sir. I can't answer that. But based on Ross's experiments, the serum is far from stable. It has severe side effects."
"Exactly why I want to use it." William smirked. "Contact Harry Hart from Kingsman. Tell him dinner's on me tonight.
And invite Gareth too."
"Yes, sir. Messages sent."
Ring ring.
Ross called back, voice strained. "Is this information... real?"
"Of course. If you want proof, come to England. I'll introduce you to a living Autobot."
"This…" Ross hesitated. Go to William's turf? Right after stealing classified data from England? The trap was practically screaming.
"Relax," William chuckled. "If I were going to come after you, I wouldn't bother calling you first.
Besides, Ross—when it comes to aliens, our principles might be more aligned than you think."
Ross thought about it. "You mean… shoot first, ask questions never?"
"Exactly." William laughed darkly. "Shoot first, always."
After his laughter faded, William said, "I like you, Ross. Sure, you stole from me.
But we're both humanists. We shouldn't waste time squabbling over petty U.S.-UK politics.
We should be focused on wiping out alien invaders who threaten our beautiful way of life. Don't you agree?"
Our beautiful way of life, huh? Ross raised an eyebrow. Thinking of William's many tabloid scandals, he actually found the logic sound.
If society collapsed, wealth, gold, antiques—they'd all become worthless.
If he were in William's position, he'd also do whatever it took to protect his fortune and power.
Which gave him an idea: maybe he could use William's influence to help secure control of Sector Seven.
"If I gain command of Sector Seven," Ross said, "and we confirm the data you provided—especially the existence of Decepticons—I'll make time to visit London."
Perfect. That's exactly what William wanted. If Ross hadn't mentioned Sector Seven, he would have.
That's why he deliberately fed him the Qatar base footage—to bait him.
"Sector Seven?" William pretended to hesitate. After a pause, he muttered, "I heard Tobin had two incisions on his waist—each hiding a microchip.
So that means the UK's research on Transformers was copied by Tobin?"
A beat.
"And the original was recovered… but the copied data—including the footage of the Decepticons attacking the Qatar base—ended up in your hands?"
"Hm?"
Ross's mind clicked. He realized that William—despite being British—was actively helping him secure control of Sector Seven.
For the first time, Ross believed that William really did prioritize the alien threat above national allegiance.
"A few days ago, I ordered a vinyl of Elvis Presley," Ross said casually. "Maybe if I like it, I'll send you a copy."
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