I Have No Hate, and I Must Feel

A warm cup of tea sat steaming on the polished ebony desk. Allen Michael—AM— leaned back in his chair, watching the man before him with quiet amusement. General Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross was not the same man he had been weeks ago.

The aging general had transformed.

His once-weathered body was now powerful, refined, and efficient. The white hair and beard remained, but his posture, the way he moved—it was sharper, more disciplined. The enhanced Super Soldier Serum had worked flawlessly.

Ross flexed his fingers, testing his new strength. He smirked.

"I won't lie, AM," Ross said, rolling his shoulders, "this is impressive. Not just the standard serum either—I can feel it working. Stronger, faster… hell, even my senses feel clearer."

AM took a slow sip of his tea before replying.

"I assume the Gamma infusion worked, then?"

Ross nodded.

"Damn right. The controlled radiation acted like chemo therapy. No mutations, no breakdown—just pure enhancement. Lucky for me, we had enough Gamma-tech left over from Banner's experiments to make it viable."

AM chuckled, placing his cup down.

"So, you're satisfied?"

"Of course," Ross said, flexing his hands once more. "Now, let's talk terms. You didn't give me this for free."

AM smirked and turned his head slightly.

"Secretary."

A soft hum filled the air as AM's personal AI assistant stepped forward. She was the pinnacle of artificial intelligence—human in appearance but undeniably inhuman in precision. Her smooth, synthetic arm shifted, a thin slit opening as neatly printed documents emerged from within.

Ross grunted.

"That's still creepy."

AM chuckled, handing him three **thick files.**

"You'll get used to it."

Ross took the first file and flipped it open. His eyes quickly scanned the legal jargon.

Document 1: Transport & Supply Protection

AM tapped the desk.

"This ensures that all my warehouses, transport lines, and product shipments remain under full military protection. No third-party interference, no corporate buyouts—everything stays safe."

Ross nodded.

"Makes sense. Consider it done."

He signed without hesitation.

Then, he moved to the second document. His expression shifted.

Document 2: Exclusive Military Rights – No Foreign Control

Ross narrowed his eyes.

"Under no circumstances will AM's weapons or technology be under the control of any foreign government."

Ross looked up.

"Care to explain the reasoning?"

AM's smile faded slightly.

"Hitler happened because he had no fear of the League of Nations." AM's voice was smooth but firm. "Unchecked power led to unchecked destruction. If the United States remains the world's primary protector, then our allies will stay in line. And our enemies will restrain themselves."

Ross processed that.

A world where America held the leash. Where there were no rogue players, no unnecessary risks.

"Hmph." Ross smirked. "You talk like a politician."

"I talk like someone who understands power." AM countered.

Ross let out a chuckle before signing.

"Fine. But if the President breathes down my neck about this, I'm throwing you under the bus."

AM just grinned.

Finally, Ross moved to the last file… only to pause.

It wasn't a contract.

It was simply a list.

A catalog of weapons, technology, and experimental projects.

Ross's eyes skimmed the pages:

- Precision Missiles

- Clean Energy Reactors

- Next-Gen AI Systems

- Bio-Weaponized Animals

"You're selling all of this?" Ross asked.

"For the right price," AM replied casually.

Ross chuckled, shaking his head.

"You're either a genius or a madman."

"Perhaps a bit of both," AM said, amused.

Ross signed the final document before standing up. He pocketed the files and gave AM a serious look.

"Before I go, I have to ask." Ross crossed his arms. "I assume you already know about Hydra's remnants in S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

AM sipped his tea.

"Of course."

"Then tell me next time," Ross said. *"If any of my underlings are compromised—hack my systems, use my account, I don't care. As long as someone understands that humanity needs to evolve."

He turned to leave, but paused at the door.

Without looking back, he muttered,

"Thank you."

Then, he was gone.

AM sat in silence for a moment, swirling the tea in his cup.

His gaze drifted to the now-empty seat Ross had occupied.

"I didn't do it for thanks," AM murmured to himself.

His fingers tapped the desk.

"I did it for myself."

Not the total truth, but not necessarily a lie.

He smiled to himself.

The world was changing.

And he was the one holding the brush.