In the leeward area not far from the cliff where Doom struggled with ice and stone, a different scene played out.
Nolan sat observing, a white wolf fur cloak draped over his shoulders. The pelt was thick, luxurious, providing insulation against Antarctic winds that still found ways to bite.
He crossed his arms over his chest, posture wide open and relaxed. He'd positioned himself on a rough rock that had been weathered by wind and sun into something approaching a natural throne.
From here, he could watch the training without interference. Observe without being observed.
At this moment, David, whose optical sensors flashed with rhythmic blue light, stood nearby. The Man of Iron shook its metal head with what might have been amusement.
It grilled steak before a portable cooking setup, the meat sizzling over heat provided by a compact thermal unit. The task was performed casually, hands moving with automatic precision while attention remained elsewhere.
At the same time, David spoke in Nolan's direction without turning. "My lord, are you so confident that Mr. Doom can join the training team directly? Shouldn't we give him some adaptation period first? At least he should be familiar with the training items before throwing him into the deep end."
The concern was valid. Most recruits received orientation. Graduated introduction to the brutal regimen.
Nolan, who had squinted his eyes against wind and light, raised his chin slightly. The motion exposed his throat to the cold, but he didn't seem to notice.
He lightly sniffed the scent of meat slowly escaping into the frigid air despite the wind trying to steal it. His enhanced senses caught the aroma easily.
"David, Doom is too smart." Nolan's voice carried consideration, philosophy developed through experience. "But sometimes, being too smart is not a good thing. Especially since he is also a scientist and a master of witchcraft who can make his own power armor."
He paused, organizing thoughts. "The dependence and habits he's developed in the past will make him subconsciously look for shortcuts to solve problems... but many times, facing the problem head-on is the only way to truly solve it."
David's cooking motions didn't pause, but its attention focused completely on Nolan's reasoning.
"Moreover, his position in the past was too high." Nolan continued, voice taking on instructional tone. "Countless people supported him when he was a student and a rebel. Now he's become the spiritual leader of a small country. He may be an idealist at heart, but there are some shortcomings that cannot be made up for without personal experience..."
He gestured vaguely toward the distant cliff. "In simple human terms, he needs to get in touch with more ordinary people, and preferably make some friends and brothers. Real connections. Not followers. Not subjects. Equals."
The distinction mattered enormously.
"I even hope that Doom can select some Gang Dogs with witchcraft talents from the remaining candidates to form his own Stormtrooper team." Nolan's voice carried enthusiasm for the possibility. "In this way, don't we have two action teams operating simultaneously?"
The strategic value was obvious. Redundancy. Flexibility. Expanded capability.
"If everything goes well, I hope he can gradually grow into a marshal overlooking the overall situation in the future, rather than an ordinary commander or technical sergeant." Nolan's tone took on something approaching paternal pride. "That would be such a waste of his potential."
As Nolan finished speaking, his gaze remained fixed on the distant cliff face. His slightly squinted cyan wolf pupils suddenly tightened, focus sharpening!
Then he saw it. The tiny figure far away, barely visible against rock and ice, successfully getting help from another climber. Clinging to the rock wall again after the fall.
Saved. Learning. Bonding.
Nolan couldn't help spitting out a mouthful of white mist that slowly dispersed on the wind. A smile crossed his features, genuine pleasure at confirmation.
"Look, David. This is a great start."
The rescue. The camaraderie. Everything proceeding exactly as hoped.
"My lord, your barbecue is ready for eating."
At this moment, David standing aside shook its metal head slightly, the motion carrying satisfaction. It brought a plate of roasted meat exuding steam before Nolan, the food still hot despite the cold.
Nolan didn't have any false reserve or pretension. He raised his hand immediately to take the barbecue and started stuffing it into his mouth with enthusiasm. The meat was perfectly prepared. Charred outside. Tender inside. Seasoned simply but effectively.
"My lord, do you need me to report on the recent situation in the base?" David's mechanical voice carried over the sound of chewing. "Can I add some interesting anecdotes for you?"
Nolan gestured with the hand not holding meat. Continue. He was listening.
"During our absence in Latveria, Raditus has successfully repaired two Thunderhawk transport aircraft." David's report was comprehensive, organized. "According to the tech-priest, the technical drawings and production lines are under preparation for manufacturing new ones."
The voice continued. "At the same time, the Rhino personnel carrier has become viable. Because of its simple structure, there are four production lines that can already mass-produce the required parts separately. However, the service life of the engine may be reduced by about one-third due to Raditus's lack of complete technical mastery."
A pause for assessment. "It is completely sufficient for local operations within Earth's atmosphere and conditions."
Nolan nodded while eating, processing the logistical information.
"As for other bits and pieces, such as melta bombs, the foundry can also manufacture them in large quantities now." David's tone carried a note of warning. "I have asked Raditus to designate a separate area to manufacture those dangerous explosives or seriously polluting items. Safety protocols."
"Well... when I have time, I will go and see how powerful the melta bomb is firsthand." Nolan's voice carried anticipation. He'd read specifications. Wanted practical demonstration.
He struggled to swallow the full mouthful of food occupying his mouth, jaw working hard. Then moved his jaw experimentally, confirming he could speak clearly.
"Testing would be instructive," he added.
David slowly shook its metal head, blue light pulsing in acknowledgment. "Okay, my lord, I will notify Raditus in advance to prepare appropriate testing grounds..."
The ancient machine paused, then continued. "Oh, there are also some alien technological items stored in the wreckage of the space hulk that need the help of the machine spirit Procellas to identify and classify properly. However, Raditus has indeed made up his mind not to have any contact with Procellas whatsoever, and I still need to handle this matter personally."
The tension between tech-priest and machine spirit remained unresolved.
"Other than that, there is no important news in the Twin Islands base..." David's tone shifted, carrying something approaching gossipy interest. "My lord, the American continent has been very lively recently. Do you want to hear about it?"
At this offer, Nolan's attention sharpened. His chewing slowed.
"Oh? Speaking of which, what has Tony Stark been doing recently?" Curiosity colored his voice. "Why haven't I heard any news from him? Why, did he completely wither away after experiencing an Exterminatus demonstration?"
The question was half-serious, half-mocking.
At this moment, Nolan, who had been eating steadily, suddenly stopped chewing entirely. He squinted at David with full attention now and asked in casual tone that didn't match his intense focus.
"Haha... The next thing I want to say is related to Mr. Stark specifically." David's mechanical voice carried amusement. "It can even be said that his reckless behavior caused a series of subsequent butterfly effects throughout the region."
Nolan leaned forward slightly. This promised to be interesting.
"Since the end of the slum incident, he has never left the American continent. He's been hiding in his home for a long time to manufacture his mechanical armor obsessively." David's report was detailed, drawn from multiple intelligence sources. "According to information that Jarvis accidentally revealed during routine communication, the number of armors can almost form two complete teams now..."
The proliferation was concerning. Impressive. Typical Stark.
"By the way, if you have personally seen the latest mechanical armor he is currently using, you will definitely be able to find a lot of inspiration for the speed-type power armor design," David added helpfully.
Nolan started eating again but sneered without raising his head, the sound carrying through food. "Haha, I will ask him for the copyright fee when I utilize any innovations... David, keep talking."
"Okay, my lord..." David's account continued. "Actually the cause of the matter is very simple on the surface. A mechanical armor mercenary named 'Crimson Mecha' was hired by fossil energy plutocrats who united because Stark Industries planned to promote clean energy aggressively."
The economics made sense. Threatened industries fighting back.
"The mercenary was hired to launch a terrorist attack on Stark Industries' clean energy unveiling ceremony. Maximum publicity. Maximum damage to credibility."
Nolan's jaw tightened. He continued eating but with less enthusiasm.
"Even if Mr. Stark doesn't want to go out in public, doesn't want to be Iron Man anymore, he must have stepped in to stop the attack. But since he doesn't seem to have come out of his psychological shadow from the slums, his mental state was not very good during the engagement."
David's tone carried clinical assessment. "The scope of the battle with the 'Crimson Mecha' slightly expanded beyond the original combat zone, and it also affected some acquaintances who should not have been involved. Such as our old friends."
Hearing David's words, Nolan was slightly startled. His mind ran through possibilities.
He subconsciously said, voice carrying dawning realization, "Old friend? Uh... don't tell me that Thor went to New York."
"My lord, you guessed it right." David confirmed. "Thor needed to accompany his mortal girlfriend, Ms. Jane Foster, to a lecture conference at New York University, so he unexpectedly encountered the aftermath of the fight between Stark and the mercenary."
Of course. Thor's tendency to be in the wrong place manifesting again.
"You also know Thor's character..." David's voice carried the tone of someone describing inevitable disasters. "Especially in front of the woman he loves, he will naturally not tolerate threats or violence. He would have to intervene."
"Haha... I guess Tony must have been beaten badly by Thor, right?" Nolan's laugh was genuine, already imagining the scene.
At this moment, Nolan seemed completely focused on what David was relating. He even lost the desire to eat the barbecue that was gradually cooling on his plate, setting it aside.
"My lord, you guessed wrong this time..." David's mechanical voice carried what might have been satisfaction at surprising Nolan. "The person who finally stopped the conflict between the two combatants was none other than Captain Rogers, who had temporarily disguised himself in different costume to avoid recognition, and the agents led by a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent codenamed 'Hawkeye.'"
Rogers. Of course Rogers would be there. The man attracted trouble.
"And, to a certain extent, it's not all their credit for stopping the fight," David added with clinical honesty. "The two hot-blooded idiots above woke up first and realized they were being stupid. Otherwise, the battle would have continued until someone was seriously injured."
Nolan could picture it. Thor and Tony. Both proud. Both stubborn. Both volatile.
"Of course, the follow-up to this matter is not over yet..." David's voice took on ominous tone.
A pause for emphasis. "After all, I said it was the butterfly effect. And butterfly effects are just beginning to manifest."