"Liberate Somalia!"
On the streets of New York, young students marched with banners held high. Workers along the way gave them thumbs up.
Unlike other cities, only New York could host a protest this harmoniously—
In many cities, especially those that hadn't fully adopted ctOS infrastructure, police power was still overwhelming.
On the sidewalk, a man wearing a baseball cap moved quickly, blending into the crowd.
Still, ctOS detected that his behavioral patterns didn't quite match his outward appearance.
[Target Information:
|| Target ID: #A-5498 |
| Age: 32 |
| Gender: Male |
| Occupation: Software Engineer |
| Deviation Metrics: |
| Behavioral Deviation Index: 76.3 (Normal Threshold: 60) |
| Risk Level: Moderate Risk |
| Deviation Trend: Rising (+5.6% / hour)
]
[Continue monitoring.]
[Little Octopus: Boss, she's acting well—better than last time—but I could tell at a glance she's a woman.]
The balding man removed the cap and dropped onto a bench by the roadside, casually glancing upward.
Her eyesight was excellent. She saw Leo step up to the window, electrify the glass, and turn it directly into two-way transparency.
They locked eyes—
For operatives of this caliber, even half a second of eye contact was excessive, almost sloppy.
But she quickly connected a device into an interface hidden inside the bench. To an ordinary observer, nothing looked amiss.
A concealed communications port.
That's right—this seemingly ordinary resident was none other than Black Widow Natasha, whom Leo had encountered once before.
[Natasha: What's wrong this time?]
[Leo: Honestly, you did fine last few times. It's just that big data updates and algorithms keep iterating.]
[Natasha: Fantastic. The Sixth Fleet is expected to launch an assault tomorrow at 6 p.m. The targets are Bosaso and Hobyo—full occupation.]
[Natasha: Simultaneously, airdrops will take place at Garoowe and Beledweyne. Once encirclement is complete, the next target will be Galkayo.]
[Natasha: Genius, you have to tell me you have a counter. Because no matter how I look at it, you're going to have to abandon Somalia.]
The plan bypassed Somaliland, relying on overwhelming force projection to execute a lightning strike against Somalia—a country already fragmented and lacking strategic depth.
It was unquestionably reckless and brutal, but it also struck directly at Leo's weak point.
In terms of individual combat capability, Atlas held the advantage. Even ground warfare might not lag far behind.
But overall strength was another matter entirely.
This "small detachment" of naval power included one aircraft carrier, one cruiser, two destroyers, one nuclear submarine, one supply ship, and three amphibious assault ships.
On the open sea—even as just a fraction of the Sixth Fleet—it was an overwhelming force no coalition of fifty-plus African nations could withstand.
A few rounds of naval bombardment would leave little alive in any port.
Naval guns were terrifying.
If this operation succeeded, Galkayo's land and sea logistics would be completely severed.
Defeat would be inevitable.
Leo pinched the bridge of his nose—
This was already the best possible outcome from off-field maneuvering.
Domestic outrage had forced them to deploy only a limited force as cover. He had Natasha feeding him precise intelligence from inside.
Now it was time for a head-on clash—
And he realized they were still not hard enough.
Garoowe and Bosaso lay to the north; Beledweyne and Hobyo to the south.
He could only prioritize keeping the southern route open.
This would become the frontline.
[Leo: Understood. Anything else?]
[Natasha: One more thing. The opposition candidate's approval ratings aren't looking great. Barnes is doing far better.]
[Leo: That's not exactly classified intelligence, is it?]
Natasha didn't know about Leo's private arrangement with Secretary Barnes. That deal was known to no one.
[Natasha: …You know… your ctOS system could also be used for voter mobilization. If you're lacking inspiration, I've got some findings.]
[Leo: I'll take a look—but I won't use that method.]
[Natasha: Fair enough. Third thing—Tony Stark hasn't appeared in public for a while. Don't you find that strange?]
For ordinary people, a week off the grid was nothing.
But Stark was different. The media chased him relentlessly.
What car he drove. Who he dated. What he wore. Which house he stayed in.
And he loved the attention.
But for an entire week, he hadn't appeared at all.
[Leo: That's odd. But clearly, Somalia is my priority.]
[Natasha: True. But not for me. This will become my assignment—so you probably won't see me for a while.]
[Natasha: Another agent will contact you.]
[Leo: Then don't send anyone at all.]
[Natasha: Okay.]
Natasha stood up from the bench and disappeared into the sea of people.
This time, she did it cleanly—ctOS never even registered when she vanished.
The intervals between the two worlds were growing shorter.
That likely meant Roxxon, having secured more energy, had accelerated synthesis of that special fuel.
Outside the window, a massive billboard played Barnes's campaign image—
"Resilient WWII veteran, leading us to victory."
The image gave Leo a sudden, uneasy sense of déjà vu.
It looked almost identical to Night City's mayoral campaign posters.
In Night City, both the sitting mayor and the challenger promised to support him—raid Dogtown, skim profits, treat illness.
In New York, both the popular candidate and the less popular one were effectively on his side, promising post-election policy adjustments—shifting focus from war and oil toward sustainability.
It felt as though, if he could just endure the election—
Endure Extreme Metal in Night City—
Endure the battle in Somalia—
Then this final darkness before dawn would end with both worlds winning big.
That feeling made him instinctively uneasy.
Could everything really be won in one stroke?
[Unstable energy burst: 24 hours]
Leo turned and walked toward the prototype equipment lab.
[Leo: I need to review the designs again.]
"Move, move, move!"
T'Challa leaned half his body out a window, shouting at the top of his lungs.
In the mangroves, electric off-road vehicles raced across the ground. Construction machinery hammered the earth, compacting soil. Mercenaries in exoskeletons assisted the work.
Drones streaked through the sky, capturing everything—not just for navigation and command, but to ensure such rapid construction didn't trigger abnormal satellite signatures.
All of it was to anchor massive electromagnetic railguns into the ground.
Flatbed trailers lowered turret bases directly onto prepared foundations, hidden beneath camouflage tarps—
The Wakandan Royal Guard had to deploy twelve electromagnetic cannons within a single day, so they could give the U.S. Navy a "surprise" once it approached the coast.
Not far away lay Hobyo, a tiny port.
Naturally well-positioned, but poorly developed, it could only accommodate small vessels.
For generations, the poor here had lived by fishing and weaving, barely scraping by—
After tomorrow, it would almost certainly be ruins.
Because that was how the U.S. Navy fought:
Before landing, they shelled everything flat.
And that—
Would be the moment to fire back.
Compared to the first time they stole U.S. warships, T'Challa felt calmer about firing directly this time.
Because now he knew—
If they lost, they would lose everything they had fought for.
Everything they already had.
And everything they were about to have.
"Wakanda Forever!"