Because of Kotoamatsukami's control, General Ross naturally wasn't about to tell the truth to the soldiers around him. He only tossed out a vague line about "classified military intelligence," warning them not to stick their noses where they didn't belong.
After changing into a fresh uniform, Ross left the site in a hurry. Haruto had given him a task, and now there was an entire mountain of work to take care of.
Directly contacting the Security Council was out of the question. Without solid evidence proving that Wakanda possessed vibranium, he had no intention of exposing his ambitions.
Even so, Ross was still a general. He didn't have the authority to launch a full-scale war, but within the Army, his voice carried serious weight. If he wanted to mobilize a task force, he hardly needed anyone's permission.
"First step… put together a special operations unit. Get them into Wakandan territory. We need hard data on vibranium."
Ross quickly settled on the plan.
But he also understood the geography made infiltration far from simple. Dropping men into Wakanda would be risky. To ensure their safety—and guarantee mission success—he wouldn't be stupid enough to send them in unarmed, wandering blind through hostile territory.
His eyes narrowed in thought.
"Looks like I'll need some old friends to help out."
At the very least, Ross figured, a hundred soldiers would be required, moving in coordinated teams. If things went wrong, that number might have to swell to a thousand. Failure wasn't an option.
Even though, in his mind, Wakanda was nothing more than a backward agrarian nation with no real standing in world affairs, Ross wasn't naïve. An operation of this scale always carried the chance of unexpected complications. And this mission, above all, could not afford surprises.
After weighing his options, he decided to reach out to an old comrade: Robert Maverick.
Maverick had once fought at his side, sharing blood and battlefields. Later, though, he left the Army for the Navy, where he climbed the ranks to Rear Admiral—now wielding genuine influence in naval command.
If they could work together, this mission would be twice as effective with half the effort.
Setting aside—for the moment—the destruction Haruto had caused at the Army base, Ross picked up the phone and placed the call.
"Ross, it's been a long time. You must be under a lot of stress lately."
The line crackled with Maverick's booming, good-natured voice. He knew plenty about Ross's current headaches—chasing the Hulk, the Broadway disaster. He even guessed his old friend wasn't calling for a friendly chat, but to ask for help.
Truth be told, Maverick didn't mind. He'd missed those days, shoulder to shoulder with Ross on the battlefield.
Ross's answer was short. "Yeah."
He really had been troubled—troubled by Senju Haruto's overwhelming strength, by the impossibility of containing him, and by the looming threat that Haruto might shift the world's balance of power and undermine America's dominance.
But now? With Kotoamatsukami clouding his mind, all of that was gone. Everything he did now served one purpose: helping Haruto secure vibranium.
So Ross didn't waste time. He cut straight to the point.
"I found vibranium, Maverick."
The words were simple, but they froze Maverick cold. His excitement faltered into stunned silence, pupils dilating as if his ears had deceived him.
Vibranium.
On the black market, its price had soared past ten thousand US dollars per gram. Every branch—land, sea, air—dreamed of getting their hands on it.
"Say that again, Ross," Maverick breathed, almost disbelieving.
"I've found a stockpile. Enough to fully arm both your forces and mine." Ross paused, letting the weight of it hang in the air before adding, "Remember Steve Rogers?"
"Captain America? Who could forget? He's still our national icon. Every museum has exhibits of his life and photos." Maverick's answer was instant. Captain America's name was etched into history books, into every school textbook, almost as revered as a president.
"In fact," Maverick chuckled, "kids worship him more than any president. But why bring him up?"
"Because you're forgetting—his weapon. The shield. Vibranium."
At the mention of the shield, Maverick fell silent.
He knew that shield well: able to absorb any kinetic force, neutralize impact, and serve as the hardest defense on Earth. No physical weapon could break it.
If such shields could be mass-produced and issued to soldiers, Maverick knew what that meant—an unstoppable, invincible army.
The thought alone made him lean forward, breath quickening. Ross's mention of vibranium had his full, undivided attention.
"So," Maverick asked at last, "where do we get it?"
Every year, the military procured tiny amounts of vibranium, but the price was crippling. Entire budgets couldn't cover it. They only ever managed scraps—nowhere near enough to outfit an army.
Now Ross's voice carried like the whisper of the devil in his ear, stoking temptation.
Ross lowered his tone.
"Wakanda. There's an entire vibranium mine there."
He hesitated, then added, "But to convince the higher-ups to launch a full-scale invasion, we need undeniable proof. Evidence. And for that, I'll need a warship. With your men and mine aboard, we'll head straight into Wakanda. Once it's done, I'll pay you… a ton of vibranium."
Ross's voice was gravel-deep, conviction running through every word. He had no idea yet what awaited them in Wakanda. To him, it seemed simple: if he and Maverick joined forces, nothing could stand in their way.
Nothing.
Maverick listened, processing every detail. Part of him balked—could this really be true? But another part, the soldier and the opportunist, weighed the glittering lure against his doubts.
It didn't take long for the scales to tip.
"I understand," Maverick said at last, his voice steady but tinged with greed. "Ross, I'll cooperate. But not for a single ton. I want two."
He paused. Then his ambition flared.
"No… ten tons. If there's really as much as you say."