Locke hadn't expected the Ancient One to come find him on her own.
The moment she arrived, she got straight to the point. "Did you kill Odin's two sons?"
Locke blinked, then shook his head immediately. "Of course not. That old man is terrifying. Why would I kill his sons?"
The Ancient One studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Good. Because if Asgard launches an attack, I can stop Odin. You, however, cannot stop his army."
Locke hesitated for a second before leaning forward slightly. "Master, let me ask you something. Can I use his two sons to trade for something?"
She gave him a strange look. "You want to blackmail Odin?"
"No." Locke waved both hands at once, denying it so quickly it almost sounded suspicious. "How could I possibly do something that shameless? It's just… Thor's hammer. Odin said whoever could lift it would own it, right? He definitely didn't expect me to be standing there."
He pointed at Mjolnir beside him, his expression turning serious. "I picked it up fair and square. But I'm worried he'll go back on his word and just take it from me by force. So what am I supposed to do?"
The Ancient One's eyes moved to the hammer, then back to him. "So you want Odin to trade the hammer for his sons."
"Exactly." Locke nodded with complete sincerity. "I hand over his two giant sons, you help me talk to Odin, and if he agrees, we put it in writing. Nice and clean. What do you think?"
She snorted. "What does that have to do with me?"
Locke immediately looked offended. "Master, when those demons from Mexico invaded New York, I was the one helping you fight them off. You can't just turn your back on me now. And last time, you said you'd teach me your mystic arts, but you didn't even leave a phone number. That's not exactly what I'd call sincere."
The Ancient One rolled her eyes. "You're far too petty for someone who wants to rule the world. Odin might very well keep his word and let you keep the hammer without asking for anything in return. But understand this clearly—I will never help you threaten him."
Locke stared at her. "Do you honestly think he'll keep his promise?"
She glanced at Mjolnir again, then calmly shook her head. "No."
His eyes widened. "Then what am I supposed to do? Go beg him?"
"That is one option."
"Impossible," Locke said at once. "Absolutely impossible."
He paced a few steps, frowning harder and harder as his mind raced. Then his expression shifted. "What if… instead of making a deal, I help him educate his sons?"
The Ancient One raised a brow. "That brute and that snake?"
Locke stopped moving.
Once the idea surfaced, the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Odin and Mephisto really were the same kind of disaster when it came to parenting. These ancient beings ruled realms and toyed with worlds, yet somehow raised children who were either arrogant lunatics or manipulative monsters.
Gods and devils really were proof that power did not produce functional families.
The Ancient One seemed to come to a similar conclusion. After a moment, she gave a faint nod. "If you can truly straighten those two out, then yes. This might actually be possible."
Locke's eyes lit up.
Good. Very good.
If that was the case, then he'd drag those two divine princelings all the way down to the gutter of ordinary human life and beat some sense into them until they woke up properly. Sons of gods? Fine. He'd teach them how the bottom of society really worked.
Far away in Asgard, Odin sensed the presence of his two sons again and seemed to settle, his divine aura smoothing out as he sank deeper into his sleep. For the moment, at least, he wasn't going to come crashing down from the heavens in a rage.
Before the Ancient One left, Locke stopped her one more time and asked for a magical restraint—something capable of suppressing Loki's divine power. She looked mildly annoyed, but in the end, she did provide him with a mystic binding belt designed precisely for that kind of problem.
Once she was gone, Locke opened the Absolute Zero Zone and released the two brothers.
Thor looked dazed and sluggish, while Loki recovered just fast enough to start spitting venom. "I am a god. You despicable mortals—"
Locke ignored every word of it.
Instead, he turned and called for Frank.
"Take these two," Locke said flatly, "and put them to work. Illegal labor. Hard labor."
Frank didn't even blink.
…
A little while later, the phone rang again.
President Obama was calling.
He still hadn't given up on the idea of surviving his term and dragging his presidency over the finish line by whatever means necessary. As the first Black president of the United States, he clearly had no intention of disappearing quietly. He had spent the last stretch of his administration trying to persuade Locke to back him, reminding him of prior understandings and old arrangements.
But things had changed.
The balance between offense and defense had flipped long ago.
Unless, of course, there was a new prize on the table.
On the line, Obama sounded puzzled. "Wakanda? What exactly is that? Is that even in the United States?"
Locke let out a quiet laugh. "Wakanda is a country in Africa, Mr. President."
"African country?" Obama sounded even more confused.
"Yes," Locke said mildly. "On the surface, it looks like a tiny tribal nation. In reality, it may be the richest, most advanced, and most technologically powerful country on Earth."
There was a beat of silence before Obama snapped back, "Impossible. The most advanced country on Earth is obviously America. How many aircraft carriers does this Wakanda have?"
"None," Locke replied. "But they do have an energy shield covering their entire country, and that shield has kept the outside world from even discovering them. Their fighters and weapons are advanced enough to humiliate any military power on the planet."
"How is that possible?" Obama practically shouted.
"Do you know what vibranium is, Mr. President?"
There was a pause. "The metal that's worth ten thousand dollars a gram?"
Locke smiled. "Do you know how much vibranium Wakanda is sitting on?"
Obama's voice went dry. "How much?"
"Estimates put their reserves at ten thousand tons."
The line went dead silent.
For more than ten seconds, Locke heard nothing but faint breathing. Then Obama sucked in air so sharply it was almost painful.
"You're sure?"
Locke gave a quiet chuckle. "You heard me correctly. Run the numbers. Even if you slash the value again and again, it would still be enough wealth to change the future of the entire United States. If you were the president who brought that into America's hands, they wouldn't just remember you—they'd carve you into Mount Rushmore."
Obama said nothing for a long moment.
Then, in a much lower voice, he asked, "If they're really that advanced, why haven't they conquered the world?"
"Because they're arrogant," Locke said. "Imagine a group of people hiding behind an invisible wall, watching the rest of the world suffer while they smirk and call everyone else backward. Every war, every famine, every collapse—they watch it all and refuse to interfere. They look down on everyone outside Wakanda. That's why they stay hidden. They don't see the rest of humanity as equals."
He paused, then continued. "The other reason is numbers. Their technology is extraordinary, and their warriors are formidable, but there aren't enough of them to dominate the world outright."
There was another long silence.
Then Obama's voice returned, angry now. "So during the slave trade, they watched all of it happen?"
"I believe so, Mr. President."
"During two world wars, with tens of millions dead, they just stood there?"
"I believe so, Mr. President."
"They watched the world bleed, starve, scream, and burn—and did nothing?"
"…Yes, Mr. President."
Obama's anger exploded. "Then they don't deserve moral superiority. They don't deserve to lecture the world about civilization. They're parasites hiding behind a wall while everyone else pays the price."
"Yes, Mr. President."
His breathing was rough now, and when he spoke again, his tone had changed completely. "Do you have a location? Intelligence? Anything concrete?"
"Of course I do, Mr. President."
Locke had already found Wakandan information buried inside old S.H.I.E.L.D. files. They had been quietly tracing the origin of vibranium for years, and their investigation had narrowed things down to an abnormal region in Africa. Locke sent every piece of relevant intelligence directly to Obama.
He had considered this possibility long ago.
If Obama could stay in power longer, or even just drag more authority into his orbit before the end, that would benefit Locke immensely. The two of them had too many hidden transactions and too many overlapping interests to pretend otherwise. And if Wakanda really could be cracked open, Locke would naturally be one of the biggest beneficiaries.
With Obama in office and the Avengers sitting at the height of their public prestige, whatever came out of Wakanda would end up in either American hands… or Avenger hands.
That same night, explosive news erupted from the White House.
According to the official narrative, an American soldier had mysteriously vanished while on a mission in Wakanda, a tiny African nation. The United States demanded an explanation from Wakanda, only to receive what it described as total noncooperation. Within hours, the House, Senate, White House, and Pentagon had all rushed emergency measures through the system and approved the deployment of three aircraft carriers to Africa.
The official reason was simple enough: the United States would seek justice for its missing serviceman, and it would not rest until he was found alive—or his body was recovered.
The rest of the world was baffled.
The most baffled person of all, however, was Wakanda's king, T'Chaka.
Because he had learned about this whole crisis from newspapers and television like everyone else.
He was utterly stunned.
When had America informed him of anything? When had American troops entered Wakanda on a mission? And how exactly had the situation reversed so completely that the United States was now demanding he hand over people he had never even heard of?
It was naked bullying dressed up as international outrage.
But whether he liked it or not, the American military was already moving.
Then, just as the confusion was spreading, another familiar face jumped into the fire.
J. Jonah Jameson.
On television, roaring as always, he practically vibrated with outrage. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is beyond belief! Imagine learning that there's been a hidden nation sitting on unimaginable wealth and technology while the rest of humanity suffered! They have a treasure that fell from the sky, a resource that should have changed the whole human race—but instead they kept it for themselves and watched the world struggle!"
A drone video appeared on-screen, showing forest rushing by beneath the camera. Then, suddenly, the drone seemed to smash into something invisible. A flash of sparks erupted, and for the briefest moment a blue energy shield shimmered into view.
Jameson jabbed at the screen like he wanted to break it. "That nation is Wakanda! Think about it. Think about the wars, the hunger, the disease, the suffering. Think about how much of it could have been reduced if the technology hidden behind that shield had ever been shared with the world. Vibranium isn't just a metal—it's power, medicine, progress, wealth, survival. And Wakanda hoarded it all."
Before Jameson had even finished, newspapers all across America were already running front-page headlines.
The New York Times: "Could Vibranium Have Changed the War Against Demons?"
The Los Angeles Daily News: "Wakanda, Look at the Suffering Beyond Your Border."
The Wall Street Journal: "Global Markets Could Be Transformed by Vibranium Access."
And the number-one song on the Billboard charts was "A Thousand Reasons to Kill Wakanda."
....
Join my P@treon FOR FREE and get 5 advanced chapters.
Paid members can get upto 60+ chapters ahead of the public release.
Link : [email protected]/thebookaddict