Marvel: The Villain Chapter 349 Damn

The elder, desperate to prove his utility, rallied the warriors loyal to him and scoured every inch of the mining district.

Meanwhile, the others waited in Shuri's laboratory. Though the dozens of floors had been picked clean, the view through the reinforced windows told the story of what this place once was. Vibranium truly was the most precious substance on Earth; even in the hands of Wakandans, it had been used to conjure technological miracles.

An hour later, the defector warriors returned to report. The findings mirrored Alex's data: the mines were empty. Following T'Challa's final command, Shuri had deployed the remaining hundreds of Wakandan flyers to emergency-transport every gram of processed Vibranium out of the mountain. Along with it went the research data, the proprietary equipment, and every high-level scientist.

The core of Wakanda had vanished into thin air.

Christine's eyes flared with a cold, dangerous fury. "Your King was quite the strategist," she hissed. "We expend the effort to conquer this nation, only to be left with a hollow, ornamental shell."

Her soft tone made the elder tremble violently. Terrified of being held responsible, he stepped forward, waving his hands frantically. "Your Majesty, you must understand! T'Challa and his father, T'Chaka, were men of bottomless selfishness and deceit!"

"T'Chaka sent T'Challa abroad as a child to hoard foreign knowledge, while our own children were kept restricted by the old ways," The elder spat, eager to distance himself from the fallen regime. "He handed the labs to his daughter to keep the crown's power absolute. T'Challa followed in those footsteps. Their betrayal of the tribes was something we could never have predicted!"

Christine considered the political structure Chloe had described. "I heard the King did not rule alone. The Tribal Council supposedly held more power than the throne. If T'Chaka was sidelining you, why did no one resist?"

The elder beat his chest in a show of performative grief. "Those short-sighted fools cared only for their own comfort! They clung to tradition like anchors. As long as they kept their titles, they didn't care who sat on the throne. We were pushed out of the inner circle long ago."

And yet, Christine thought, those chose to die on the battlefield rather than surrender to us. In terms of character, they were far more respectable than this sniveling turncoat.

She waved a hand dismissively. "I see. I won't blame you for this."

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" The elder beamed, bowing low.

"However," Christine continued, "The lack of processed Vibranium is a problem. And Shuri took all the technicians. Do you have any people left who understand mining and refining?"

The elder's face fell. He shook his head. "No, Your Majesty. As I said, the core knowledge was kept within the royal family's inner circle. We elders held status, but no real technical power."

Without technology and talent, everything would have to start from scratch. Christine's brow furrowed. "It seems we'll have to handle the mining ourselves."

Without the proper instruments and data, it could take months—maybe years—to turn raw ore into weapons and ships. Damn you, T'Challa.

"Harley," Christine turned. "Time is of the essence. Go back to the base and bring our research teams here. Specifically, anyone who specializes in metallurgy and rare earth extraction."

Harley nodded. "On it."

*

Washington D.C., The Triskelion

Ever since the Joker Organization's general coordinates had been leaked, reconnaissance satellites had been scrubbing the region non-stop.

Five minutes ago, a high-resolution image had been captured. Now, it sat on the desk of Director Nick Fury. The photo showed over a hundred unidentified oval-shaped craft engaged in a fierce dogfight with a legion of armors.

Fury stared at the image, his one good eye narrowed. "When was this taken?"

"Six minutes ago, sir," The agent replied.

"Understood. Get back to it."

Once the agent left, Fury picked up the photo. The armors, with their specific anti-detection coatings, were undeniably the Joker Organization's air wing. But the ships? No nation on Earth possessed craft of that design.

Unless it was a secret black-ops unit. But if someone had this kind of hardware, why wouldn't they coordinate with the UN? Every government was loud about wanting the Joker dead, but when it came time to pull the trigger, they all played chicken.

Were they aliens? Or was this a new secret weapon the Joker was testing against his own drones? Fury couldn't find a logical answer. He grabbed the photo and headed for the elevators. Finding suspicious unidentified craft in Africa was a matter of global security; if he sat on this, he'd be lucky to end up in a military prison.

*

In the World Security Council wing, Alexander Pierce was buried under paperwork. He looked up as Fury entered. "Fury. You look like you've seen a ghost."

"You have no idea," Fury said, sliding the photo onto the desk.

Pierce looked at the image and stood up so fast his chair clattered against the wall. "What is this?"

"Satellite recon from fifteen minutes ago," Fury explained. "In the suspected Joker activity zone."

The presence of the armors confirmed the Joker's location, but the ships were the real wildcard. "And these?"

Fury shook his head. "I've been staring at them for ten minutes. I've got nothing. That's why I'm here."

Pierce sighed, his expression grave. "I don't recognize them either. This is... beyond strange."

The implications were too high for them to handle alone. They needed the five Council members. "With this photo," Pierce said, flicking the edge of the paper, "You can finally talk back to the Council for once."

Fury gave a dry, cynical laugh. "When have I ever stayed quiet for them?"

*

The five Council members were even more unsettled. The tech level of the unidentified ships appeared to exceed any known military standard.

"SHIELD is to maintain 24-hour surveillance on this sector," The lead Councilman ordered. "Until the heads of state can convene and reach a conclusion, do not—I repeat, do not—engage. We cannot risk an international, or interstellar, incident."

Fury nodded. For once, they were in agreement.

As they left the meeting, Pierce handed the photo back to Fury. "The Joker. Again. It feels like we've spent our entire lives chasing this ghost."

"He was an earthworm when we first noticed him," Fury mused. "You, me, SHIELD... none of us took him seriously enough. Now, he is out of our reach."

Pierce patted his shoulder. "Which is why Project Insight must stay on schedule. The preparations are complete. I'll be formally presenting it to the Council at the next session. You're still with me on this, Nick?"

Project Insight—the ultimate weapon to eliminate the Joker and any potential threat before they could even strike. Fury had dreamed of this for years. "Don't worry, Alexander. I'm in your corner."

"Good. Now, stop working for a night. Go home. You've been sleeping in your office since the UN bombing. The heads of state will take days to argue over this photo. Use the time to rest, because once the orders come down, none of us are going to sleep for a month."

*

Back in his office, Fury signed his last report. He looked at the clock. 22:33.

He hesitated, thinking of Pierce's advice. Finally, he grabbed his keys. He needed to be sharp for what was coming. He took the elevator to the underground garage and climbed into his unremarkable black Chevrolet SUV.

He pulled out of the Triskelion and drove three blocks before stopping at a red light.

Which house tonight? he wondered. Every time he left the office, he had this dilemma. Four directions, four choices.

U-Turn: Back to the Triskelion bunk. Secure, but stressful.Straight: The quaint townhouse on the edge of the historic district.Left: The luxury penthouse downtown.Right: The quiet, secluded villa in the suburbs.

Hill used to joke that this intersection was the "Crossroads of Nick's Life."

Hill... Fury shook the thought away.

The light timer flickered. 5 seconds left. He ruled out the office; he couldn't relax there. 3 seconds. He ruled out downtown; too much noise. That left the townhouse and the villa.

At the last second, he followed his gut. The villa was too comfortable; it made a man soft. He'd go to the townhouse.

The light turned green.

The SUV began to roll forward into the center of the intersection. Suddenly, the steering wheel jerked violently to the right, the tires screeching as the car veered off its intended path toward the suburbs.

Fury's eyes widened. "What the hell?"

The dashboard flickered. [Propulsion System Failure]

"Restart!" Fury commanded.

[Restarting...] [Restart Failed.] [Restarting...] [Restart Failed.]

The system was in an infinite loop.

"Contact SHIELD Dispatch!" Fury yelled.

[Communication System Failure]

"Initiate Flight Mode! Get us off the street!"

[VTOL Engines Failure]

Fury gripped the wheel, his jaw set. "Is there anything in this damn car that still works?"

[Air Conditioning and Infotainment Systems: Operational]

Fury stared at the screen for a beat. "Motherfucker."

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