Benford was at the central podium, nodding slightly at Eddie as he entered.
Eddie nodded back; when someone offered courtesy, he didn't reject it.
"All right, everyone's here. The meeting begins. The Tall Oaks disaster has been upgraded to Level Five. A colossal creature is advancing toward neighboring towns, releasing viral gas that turns humans into zombies. We must eliminate the monster immediately to prevent further spread," Benford said gravely.
Everyone had seen the footage and understood the severity.
At this moment, the council of elders and Benford were united in their desire to contain the disaster as quickly as possible.
"Use a missile to wipe it out. Necessary sacrifices are unavoidable. Evacuate residents within a two-hundred-mile radius and establish a quarantine zone. Move quickly, and produce a vaccine," one of the elders said.
This decision meant abandoning the survivors still struggling in the city, although they were already few in number.
Once the missile strike leveled Tall Oaks, every living thing inside would be reduced to ashes!
Eddie didn't object; let others die so I can live. He was no saint, and benevolence could be left to someone else.
Click. He lit a cigarette and took a satisfied puff, disinterested in the meeting itself.
Sure enough, Benford immediately turned to him. "Dr. Eddie, we need your help developing a vaccine. You're the world's top virologist, and your R&D speed is unmatched. The Western Federation needs you—the world needs you!"
Eddie flicked away the ash. "As long as the price is right, everything's negotiable. I'm a businessman, not a philanthropist."
"Five billion!" an elder blurted without hesitation; a mere five billion was no problem.
"I'm not interested in money; I'm interested in rare materials," Eddie said, wagging his index finger.
The cocky display annoyed everyone. Kid, that's not cool. Everyone here is older than you—show some respect.
"What materials do you want?" the elder asked.
"Rare earths, aerospace alloys, and submarine-grade composites," Eddie replied, sending the list.
Everyone received the list; many items were strategic materials banned from export—perfect for building weapons.
Banning sales is about denying the enemy. If I have it and you don't, I can stifle your development.
"Planning to crown yourself king?" Benford suddenly asked, unwilling to fund a future rival.
Eddie sneered, disdainful. "I've no interest in ruling. I want to build spacecraft. There's nothing left on Earth to study, so I need a hobby. Besides, the world's dangerous—who knows what monsters you'll cook up next."
Federation intelligence found no ties between Eddie and any nation; he stood alone. His only weakness might be beautiful women.
Unfortunately, every attractive female agent sent after him vanished without a trace.
Eventually, no one bothered; it was like throwing meat buns at a dog—gone forever.
"We agree to your terms, but you must deliver the vaccine within one week," Senate President Orca demanded.
"No problem. Get me the data and the materials. If I'm short by one gram, you'll regret it," Eddie snorted.
No one had ever threatened the Western Federation's top brass before; Eddie was the first, and they couldn't touch him.
That was the most infuriating part—watching him strut and being unable to do a thing!
Chapter 616: Kelly's Supper of Begging
None of the Western Federation's elders, including President Benford, considered reneging.
When facing someone capable of producing vaccines, they could just as easily create more powerful bioweapons, and by Using terrorists, they could exact revenge.
So reneging depended on the target; whether they were easy to bully was entirely up to oneself.
After only a brief study, Eddie had the C-Virus vaccine formula figured out. With the data Carla had given him, he could whip up a batch in just a few hours.
Without Carla steering the project, progress on the C-Virus had stalled; the lab staff seemed useless—no one capable of taking the reins.
He tapped a few keys, the pharmaceutical unit hummed to life, extracting and compounding the agents through the special heat-and-cool protocol.
"The protocol's on the computer—follow it to the minute. I'm getting coffee; this is your chance." Eddie left with his female bodyguards.
Lyon was in charge here; with Benford safe for now, he oversaw vaccine production. If the batch succeeded, it would save most of the city.
"Go. I'll watch the line—every extra minute means more lives." Lyon nodded gravely; since the hermaphroid Tyrant Morpheus died he'd grown silent.
Eddie didn't care; snatching Ada before Lyon ever met her had been a mercy. Ada now lived happily: a strong, enduring husband and a beautiful daughter—every happiness a woman could want.
Lyon could never have given her that; he didn't have the means.
Leaving the lab, Eddie climbed into the Rolls-Royce, savoring the perks of real wealth.
The car stopped at a small villa inside a gated community—spokeswoman Kelly's place, a tidy purchase courtesy of her position.
Kelly had changed into an evening gown and ten-centimeter wine-red heels, following Eddie's instructions to the letter.
Light, tasteful makeup made her surprisingly beautiful, radiating that statuesque "White Woman" allure.
"Doctor, welcome—good afternoon. Please come in; dinner's ready and waiting. I hope you'll enjoy it." Kelly bowed low, having learned from her best friend just who he was.
Eddie wasn't merely rich—he was wealth incarnate. Few could approach him, whatever the gossip said.
"My, how quickly your attitude's changed. Good—keep it up. Drop the resentment and I'll teach you true humility." Eddie stepped inside.
Fresh fruit adorned the coffee table. Lisa stepped forward, sniffed delicately, and popped a piece into her mouth.
After tasting, she narrowed her eyes. "Darling, it's clean—drink without worry."
Lisa was a professional bodyguard; she could scent the faintest poison. Protecting Eddie was her mission. Their daughter already existed, so she'd accepted her fate.
Kelly silently thanked heaven she hadn't tried anything; had she poisoned the food, she'd already be meeting her maker.
Eddie sat, swirled his wine glass with aristocratic grace. "Smart girl. Sit—since it's dinner, let's dine properly."
Kelly obeyed without protest; faced with a stronger man, she dared not utter a single no.
Red wine, filet mignon, a beauty at his side—wasn't that the standard tableau of the Western Federation elite?
"Dr. Eddie, do I still have a chance to return as spokeswoman?" Kelly asked deferentially, yet pride still laced her tone—her supposed racial superiority.
"You? Forget spokeswoman; staying home to raise children is the only job you're fit for." Eddie sneered and downed his wine.
"Raise children? I don't have any." Though over thirty, Kelly ruled her household; her husband dared not contradict her.
These so-called upper-crust elites love to perch on high, ordering others around as if born superior.
Dinner done, Eddie hoisted Kelly over his shoulder. "Let me show you—right now—what 'raising children at home' means."
Eight hours later, in a small West African town, blacks packed the streets; whites were a rare sight—almost none.