Chapter 25

One Year Later – 1940

Dr. Myron paced back and forth, his mind a storm of anxiety. The deadline loomed closer, and time was running out. Sweat clung to his brow as frustration gnawed at him. 

"The research has stalled, even with the brightest minds on it," he muttered, gripping the edge of his workbench. "If no one else can figure this out… I'll have to do it myself." 

Determined, Dr. Myron pulled out the Vibranium sample, its dull shimmer casting faint light across the cluttered laboratory.

He carefully placed it on the table, eyes burning with a mix of hope and desperation. Alongside it were stacks of incomplete blueprints—failed ideas for a stronger metal alloy. 

Meanwhile, Charles sat with his hands clasped, resting his chin on his knuckles in his room. A sharp grin curled on his lips, the faint hum of anticipation buzzing in his thoughts. 

'Come on, Dr. Myron… clutch up. I need that Proto-Adamantium formula," he thought, his grin growing wider. 

Dr. Myron worked deep into the night, every test resulting in failure after failure. Frustration blurred the lines between calculation and instinct.

Sleep began creeping in, and before long, the doctor's head dipped forward, resting on the desk. 

In his fatigue, his hand carelessly bumped a vial, sending a chemical solution spilling onto the Vibranium sample.

The glowing liquid soaked into the metal, and the two substances began reacting—fusing at the molecular level. Myron stirred awake just in time to witness the transformation. 

The Vibranium shimmered unnaturally, its surface shifting like liquid steel. The alloy hardened, becoming something entirely new—something stronger. 

Charles watched the process with sharp, knowing eyes. He whispered with satisfaction, "Nice." 

"So that's how it's done. I've got everything I need now—Proto-Adamantium and even the incomplete Adamantium formula."

The Next Day

The lab buzzed with excitement as researchers huddled around the newly forged alloy. Tests confirmed what they had suspected: the new metal was virtually indestructible. It was a breakthrough unlike anything they'd ever seen. 

Dr. Myron, now wide awake and basking in unintended success, knew this discovery had the potential to change the course of history.

But there was a problem. The fusion process had only yielded enough of the new alloy for a single prototype. 

With little choice, he made a practical decision. "We'll shape it into a disk. It's perfect for tank armor." 

For the next few weeks, the researchers worked tirelessly, reshaping the metal into a solid disk.

Each hammer strike echoed through the lab like the beat of a war drum. They smoothed its surface until the alloy gleamed, radiating a strange, unyielding power. 

When the work was finally complete, the disk was presented to the President, an artifact born from desperation and ingenuity. 

Most of the research team was finally allowed to leave after their grueling efforts. Exhausted but satisfied, they returned to their homes. 

However, a select few stayed behind—Charles, Dr. Levina, and several engineers and scientists. They had no intention of going home. Their destination lay elsewhere. 

...

The group arrived at the Hydra base under the cover of night, their footsteps muffled by the cold stillness of the air.

Dim industrial lights flickered above, casting long, jagged shadows along the concrete walls. 

As Charles stepped through the entrance, the atmosphere shifted—subtle, but undeniable. His presence rippled through the space like a silent current, pulling everything into uneasy stillness. 

The Hydra personnel stationed nearby faltered mid-motion. Engineers stopped fiddling with their equipment, soldiers froze mid-step.

Their gazes locked on him, their expressions blank, as if a switch had flipped inside their minds. 

Charles let his hands rest casually in his pockets, his expression calm but sharp. With the faintest tilt of his head, he extended his will. 

'From this moment on,' he thought, his mental voice smooth and precise, 'you will serve me—and only me. But act as you always do. No mistakes.'

The command slipped into their minds like poison disguised as honey, spreading quietly but thoroughly.

Their resistance, fragile as glass, shattered without a sound. Scientists, engineers, and soldiers alike stiffened under the invisible weight of his control, their individual wills dissolving into nothing. 

Then, as quickly as it had come, the trance lifted. Their eyes flickered back to life, movements resuming as if nothing had happened.

Someone returned to adjusting a wrench, another soldier cleared his throat, and the hum of normal operations resumed around them. 

Charles allowed himself a quiet, satisfied smirk. He had planted the seeds—soon, everything would be his. 

"Now," he murmured under his breath, "I just need the Hydra leader and their lieutenant. Once they're mine, the rest will follow." 

His voice was calm, almost casual, as if discussing a mundane errand. The gears of his plan were already in motion, and in his mind, the outcome was inevitable. 

For a moment, Charles glanced at the soldiers and scientists working diligently around him, unaware of just how deeply they were already under his control. 

With a soft chuckle, Charles turned to Dr. Levina—though he preferred to call her by her real name, Cassandra Romulus, one of Hydra's most trusted lieutenants. 

"Cassandra," Charles asked, his tone light but deliberate, "when can we fly out to meet the leader and the lieutenant?" 

She glanced at him with a practiced, calm expression, though there was a flicker of curiosity behind her sharp eyes. "Possibly tomorrow, sir," she answered smoothly. 

"Good," Charles said, running a hand through his hair as if brushing off an invisible weight. "I'd like to get this over with and head home." 

Cassandra hesitated for a moment, then ventured cautiously, "If you don't mind me asking, sir… what exactly are your plans?" 

Charles gave a small, almost lazy smile, as if the question amused him. "World peace, probably" he said casually, his voice carrying just enough sincerity to make it unsettling. "But for now, just focus on research. And remind the others—no moves that could expose Hydra. I want things to stay quiet." 

Cassandra nodded, though the edge in her posture hinted at lingering questions. "Understood, sir." 

For a moment, the two stood in silence, Charles gave her a slight nod, signaling the conversation was over.

Cassandra returned the gesture and turned to leave, her footsteps echoing softly down the corridor. 

Charles watched her go, his expression unreadable.

With that thought, he exhaled quietly, thinking, 'Better to have a private army than nothing. In this world, I'll take whatever I can get.'