For advance chapters /patreon.com/HandsomeDuckGod
Seeing the flash of surprise cross the Chancellor's face, Graves leaned forward. In all his years of service, very few things surprised Roland Thayer.
"Sir, what is it?"
Thayer shook his head with a faint smile and handed over the tablet.
"That boy is going to give me gray hair. Take a look."
Graves took the tablet. The first thing he saw was the name "Ethan Mercer" in a trending headline. Then he read the post.
His fishing rod nearly hit the water.
This kid really says whatever comes to mind.
Entering the biological field? If an ordinary person had posted it, nobody would have cared. But with Ethan's current profile, a casual remark could move markets and dominate news cycles for days.
Graves's expression soured. Thayer, watching from the side, just smiled.
"He's a child, Nathan. Don't be too hard on him."
"Whatever you think of his social media habits, the boy has made contributions to this Republic that most people don't manage in a lifetime."
"Based on those two technologies alone, he could post ten thousand jokes online and I'd still cover for him."
Graves was opening his mouth to respond when his phone rang.
He looked at the screen. His jaw tightened.
He answered.
"Hey there, Director! How's the fishing going?"
The greeting was so aggressively casual that Graves's brain needed a full three seconds to recalibrate.
"You — you have the NERVE to call me right now!"
"Why is your mouth like an open window? Can't you keep it shut?"
"Why do you post everything on social media before consulting anyone?"
Ethan, on the other end, could hear the exasperation rising with every sentence. He recognized the tone. Linda had the same one. Frank had the same one. It was the universal frequency of people who cared about you and were furious about the way you were making them worry.
"My fault, completely my fault. Director, I promise, next time I'll check with you before posting anything."
The apology was delivered with the specific sincerity of someone who had no intention of keeping the promise but understood that the situation required the words.
Graves's anger subsided by approximately one degree.
"Fine. What do you want?"
Now that the conversation had reached the point, Ethan's tone shifted from apologetic to business.
"Director Graves, I need the most advanced biochemical laboratory in the Republic. Full access, exclusive use."
"I also need supporting biochemical equipment. I'll send you a detailed list."
"And three hundred million marks in funding."
The silence on the other end of the line lasted long enough that Ethan briefly considered whether the call had dropped.
Then Graves's voice came through, each word bitten off separately:
"IS. THERE. ANYTHING. ELSE."
"That's about it for now. I'll let you know if I think of anything later."
"TO HELL WITH YOU!"
"Are you shaking me down? Do you think I'm running a charity?"
"And what do you need a biochemical laboratory for? Instead of continuing your armor research, what kind of trouble are you cooking up now?"
Beside him, the Chancellor raised an eyebrow. The boy was serious. The social media announcement hadn't been a joke or a provocation. Ethan Mercer was genuinely requesting government resources to enter the biological field.
Ethan, hearing the incredulity in Graves's voice, understood the problem. Nobody believed him. Again. The pattern was so familiar it was almost comforting.
He also understood that talk alone wouldn't convince the Director. The resources he was requesting were substantial, and even with his status, securing them required justification.
Time to make an offer.
"One finished set of battle armor."
Graves went quiet.
"Built to a higher specification than Mark One. Improved defense. Better power endurance. And I'll include some additional capabilities that the first suit didn't have."
He paused.
"A complete, operational battle armor, delivered to the Republic's military. In exchange for the lab, the equipment, and the funding."
On the riverbank, Thayer was already nodding.
Graves saw the Chancellor's signal and, despite every instinct telling him this was going to end in frustration, agreed.
After hanging up, he turned to Thayer with the expression of a man who'd just been robbed and wasn't sure how it had happened.
"Sir, why agree to this? Lending him a biochemical facility and equipment for what is almost certainly a dead-end project? And three hundred million marks for one suit of armor?"
Thayer set his fishing rod in its holder and spoke with the patient calm of a man who'd been thinking three moves ahead since before the phone rang.
"Three hundred million for one suit of armor is expensive, Nathan. That's true in isolation."
"But this transaction makes the Republic of Valoria the first nation on earth to incorporate powered battle armor into its military order of battle."
"In the competition between major powers, being one step behind means being every step behind. We can't afford to let another nation field this technology before we do."
He paused.
"As for the money, the equipment, and the laboratory — consider it an education. If the boy hits a wall in biology, the failure will teach him restraint. He'll learn his limits, temper his confidence, and come back stronger."
"And if he doesn't fail?"
Thayer looked at the water.
"If he doesn't fail, then three hundred million marks was the best investment this government has ever made."
His fishing float dipped beneath the surface.
"Nathan, keep a close eye on that boy. With talent like his, it won't be a decade before he becomes the most important person in this Republic."
Ethan set down the phone and stared at it.
That had been too easy.
He'd walked into the negotiation expecting a fight. His internal bottom line had been three complete suits of armor plus five finished reactors. The Republic was his own country, and he wasn't going to be stingy, but three hundred million marks in funding, exclusive lab access, and a full equipment package was a lot to ask for one armor suit.
Yet Graves had agreed without haggling. No counteroffers. No committee reviews. No "let me get back to you."
Just... yes.
If this guy ever went into business, he'd be bankrupt in a week.
If Director Graves had heard Ethan's internal assessment of his negotiating skills, the fishing rod would have been repurposed as a blunt instrument.
The Bureau's efficiency was, as always, terrifying.
Within three hours of the phone call, a car pulled up outside Ethan's house. He packed a single bag, said goodbye to Linda (who handed him three containers of food and a stern warning about eating properly), and climbed in.
The drive was long. And strange.
At a certain point, the escort vehicle stopped, and a Bureau agent politely but firmly blindfolded Ethan. The blindfold stayed on for what felt like two hours. When it came off, the landscape had changed completely.
Desert. In every direction.
The desert stretched to the horizon, dry and vast and utterly empty. The kind of terrain where a wrong turn didn't mean getting lost. It meant dying of dehydration before anyone found you.
In the center of this emptiness, like a mirage that had decided to become real, sat a laboratory complex.
The architecture was unusual. Low-profile. Designed to blend with the terrain from above. But the equipment visible through the entrance bay was anything but camouflaged: gleaming, state-of-the-art, the kind of technology that most universities in the Republic had only seen in catalogs.
The most advanced biochemical laboratory in the country. Built in the middle of a desert. So secret that even the person using it had to be blindfolded on the way in.
Ethan stood at the entrance and rubbed his nose.
Every young man has a hero's dream. The Super Soldier Serum wouldn't make him Superman. But Captain America, in the Earth-Prime memories, had been something beyond an ordinary human. Stronger. Faster. More resilient. A body that didn't break when the world tried to break it.
The thought that he could become that strong sent a current of excitement through his chest that he hadn't felt since the first time the Mark One's repulsors had fired.
He picked up his bag and walked inside.
The serum research had begun.