"Welcome back to Fux News Television. Breaking news: after consultations within the African Union, the Tanzanian government will intervene in the transfer of the Mkuju River uranium mine rights."

[TN:Lol Fox News Fux News]

"The Mkuju River deposit contains abundant nuclear materials, and in 2005, the government transferred the mining rights to Uranium-10."

"Uranium-10, a subsidiary of the Russian State Atomic Energy Corporation, is dedicated to the safe mining of uranium resources and the promotion of global nuclear energy development."

"But in recent years, due to a sluggish uranium market, the company had to slow down operations. Combined with domestic turmoil, Uranium-10 sought to transfer its mining rights, ultimately deciding to sell them to Roxxon Energy Group for $200 million."

"However, the Tanzanian government suddenly stepped in, stating that Uranium-10 failed to meet the required mining quotas, violated environmental protection regulations, and paid far less tax than expected. They plan to revoke Uranium-10's mining rights and, according to the contract, repurchase all on-site equipment at cost—estimated at $7 million, far below Uranium-10's investment."

"From $200 million down to $7 million. Uranium-10 has condemned this as an act of robbery, claiming that all rights have already been transferred to Roxxon."

"Reports suggest Roxxon is seeking international arbitration to settle the dispute."

"Tanzania has already made it clear: they will not recognize any international tribunal. Africans have the right to dispose of their land according to their laws. This statement has received support from the African Union."

"End of frontline report. Now, let's turn to Houston, where we have an interview with Roxxon's spokesperson."

"Hello, Ms. Kurtz. We'd like to hear your views on the current dispute over the Mkuju River mine. Roxxon's main business has always been oil—why suddenly shift focus to uranium?"

Ms. Kurtz, the very image of a corporate powerwoman—dark brown mid-length hair, tailored black suit, healthy complexion, carefully applied makeup—waited patiently for the reporter to finish before replying.

"First, let me correct a misconception: Roxxon Energy Group does not only deal in oil. We are dedicated to providing the world with better, more stable energy supplies, and we invest in all kinds of technologies and industries that make the world a better place."

"Given the limits of today's oil supply, we've long been exploring superior alternatives. Clearly, nuclear energy is the future. And if you know your history, you'll see Roxxon has always been at the forefront of energy innovation—including nuclear power."

"As for the Mkuju River case… this is not a dispute. This is a robbery."

Kurtz leaned toward the camera, her expression sharp:

"When you sell something and take the money, that's capitalism. There's no justification for clawing it back at a fraction of the price afterward. Who covers the gap? Who pays for the lost time and costs to the buyer?"

"We sympathize with Uranium-10 and, despite the risks, are willing to assume control of the Mkuju deposit. We'll negotiate directly with the local government."

The interview could have ended there—Kurtz even switched to her polished "closing" smile.

But the reporter suddenly shifted tone, pulling out a phone:

"And what about this? Reports suggest Uranium-10 slashed costs by hiring cheap local labor without giving them proper safety equipment."

Kurtz froze. The reporter tilted the phone so the camera could catch it.

The screen showed a video from Bloom, the hottest video-sharing app in the U.S.

The footage displayed Tanzanian officials presenting images of local workers suffering radiation sickness, and children born with deformities caused by radiation exposure.

Another image showed barrels marked with radioactive hazard symbols being dumped into freshly dug pits near forests and grasslands.

Caption: Tanzanian government discovers illegal nuclear waste dumping at Mkuju River mine.

Clearly, as disposal costs spiked, the mining site had simply buried radioactive tailings, wastewater, and waste rock on site.

That might be acceptable for ordinary mining waste—but these were radioactive materials!

The reporter rattled on like a machine gun:

"And this! This photo was just released! Uranium-10 has already transferred control to Roxxon—so are you the ones behind this? What is Roxxon planning?! I'm here for answers!"

Before he could finish, security dragged him away, the feed cut instantly.

Chaos erupted, but Fux News terminated the broadcast.

In front of his TV, Dario had been lounging calmly, but now he rose silently to his feet.

Almost immediately, the phone rang.

[Kurtz: "Uh, sir, I'm so sorry—"]

[Dario: "I don't want to hear it."]

[Kurtz: "Understood… The reporter claims he wasn't bribed, that he was just… misled by online media."]

[Kurtz: "We'll investigate further."]

[Dario: "Then keep investigating."]

Dario crushed the phone in his hand, his expression calm.

Losing his temper solved nothing; smashing phones was just a little rich-man quirk. For him, it barely took effort.

ctOS was already deployed in several major U.S. cities, including San Francisco and New York. Deployment in other cities had stalled, but he couldn't stop mobile apps.

Ordinary netizens could just download ctOS's mobile apps—video sharing, job boards, payments, transit finders, and more. Over 100 million U.S. users, 800 million worldwide, with numbers rising fast. His other media companies couldn't keep up.

None of this surprised him. But without Dr. Zola, they had no real edge online.

So they shifted resources from cyberspace into the real world. But controlling reality cost far more than manipulating opinion online.

Take this uranium case: he spent enormous sums and favors to secure a deal with Uranium-10. But deployment took time. Atlas was already on the ground in Africa—anything could happen out of his control.

Still, it didn't matter. He had money.

The U.S. military would act.

Soon after, his Somali allies sent good news.

[General Ross: "Dario, you really should see these steel soldiers in action."]

[General Ross: "The port of Galkayo has been cleared. If you want to invest in Somalia, now's the time."]

Somalia, Galkayo Port, al-Shabaab territory.

Since the 1990s, Somalia has been a near-anarchic state, plagued by armed factions. Piracy branded them as terrorists.

Al-Shabaab, hostile to Somalia's transitional government, had only last month been designated terrorists by the Pentagon.

The assault arrived on schedule: ships, planes, and drones cutting off all outside contact.

In the city, civilians cowered in ruins, praying to survive—just as Al-Shabaab had once driven out rival factions.

The world would never know what happened here. A massacre.

Steel soldiers, dripping with blood, moved through the port, tossing bodies into the sea.

This special unmanned combat unit answered to one man alone: General Ross.

The gray-haired, lean general walked with firm resolve.

The Sixth Fleet provided only blockade and support. Combat was left entirely to the machines.

The steel soldiers were efficient, merciless. No men, no moral dilemmas, no political constraints.

Only the cold storm of metal crushing pirates beneath its weight.

When the cleanup was done, the Navy would occupy the site, establishing a base for coming African operations.

No one would ever know.

Squish.

Ross stepped in a pool of blood, frowning.

Ironically, the only one stained in this battle was the commander himself.

Stark had built something remarkable.

[Dario: "Excellent. The international court will issue a ruling tomorrow. We need to amplify the momentum—let these black slaves see some color."]

[Dario: "Since you've secured the area, I'll send you new equipment. Not Stark's—mine. Test it for me."]

[ General Ross: "Understood. Stark designed airdrop modules for these soldiers—I was planning to test them anyway."]

Ross left the port. In the jungle, two terrified Africans hid, clutching a battered camera.

"Barika… we—we should run."

The tall one trembled, clutching an old AK.

The short one, shaking, swallowed hard but kept filming:

"No… a few more shots. We stole a destroyer—if they catch us, we're dead anyway! These photos… they'll matter."

"Matter to who? Photos can't kill anyone! Stop spouting nonsense!"

But the short one ignored him, whispering as he snapped more pictures:

"The enemies of these Americans… are other Americans."