“Mr. Clark Kent, are you really planning to mortgage your farm?”
Hamlin, the Citibank manager, asked with a hint of disbelief.
He had heard rumors at a party about Clark Kent—a wealthy man from Bolivia who, despite his riches, seemed to be duped by a simple farmer. Kent had spent a significant fortune buying up land in the town of Rashitas, but now it appeared he was running out of funds.
“Yes, these are the investments Mr. Kent has made in the farm. We now have hundreds of acres of premium pastureland,” said Cade Eagle, pulling out a stack of documents.
“Mr. Kent has also spent over a million dollars constructing a reservoir that holds more than two million cubic meters of water, solving the farm’s water supply issues. The high-quality vegetables and rice we grow will be directly supplied to Austin’s top-tier restaurants.”
The stack of contracts included agreements with a dozen high-end restaurants.
Hamlin couldn’t believe his eyes as he examined the contracts, which turned out to be genuine. The satellite maps clearly showed that a new reservoir had indeed appeared on the farm. Just the presence of the reservoir had increased the farm’s value exponentially. In drought-stricken Texas, a reservoir with abundant water could significantly boost crop yield and even allow for the sale of water.
For years, Texas had suffered from drought, with 64% of the state affected and, in 2011, an astonishing 98% under severe drought. State reservoirs were holding only 65% of their average water capacity.
That area wasn’t supposed to have shallow groundwater, yet here was Clark Kent—an exceptionally lucky man.
“Though we’ll need to conduct a field assessment, if everything checks out, Citibank is prepared to offer a ten million dollar loan.”
Hamlin beamed with enthusiasm as he escorted them out of his office, showing none of his previous reservation and coldness.
As they exited the office, Broly, feeling uncomfortable, tugged at the collar of his shirt. He despised wearing such restrictive clothing.
“We did it!” Cade clenched his fist in triumph. He had meticulously prepared all the paperwork, including negotiating those contracts with the high-end restaurants. Now, the bank’s valuation of the farm far exceeded what Broly had initially paid to acquire it.
After realizing that the farm lacked cash flow, Broly decided it was time to start selling off the farm’s produce.
…
“Ten times leverage to short Oscorp? You must be insane!”
Foreman, a manager at the securities firm, looked at Cade like he had lost his mind.
Since Tony Stark’s press conference, stocks related to military industries had been on the rise. Oscorp, which was involved in military equipment research and production and had signed deals with Stark Industries, was the second hottest stock in the sector, right after Stark Industries itself.
Everyone was betting on Oscorp’s stock to continue rising, and only a madman would take such a gamble.
“This is my decision. Even if I lose, it’s my money. All I need you to do is handle the trades—borrow and sell,” Cade replied calmly, fully confident that his plan would succeed. If it did, his dream of becoming an inventor would come true.
…
In Juarez, Mexico, inside an ordinary-looking warehouse, a group of burly men were busy organizing crates of contraband. The crates were filled not with ordinary goods, but with rifles, ammunition, and grenades. There were even crates containing Gustav recoilless rifles and their respective ammunition.
The men were checking the inventory against their list, and the stockpile they had gathered could fuel a small war. The Mata cartel had smuggled these weapons from the United States, ready to be distributed to various locations.
“Falcon’s forces are on their last legs. Soon, the Mata boss will control all of Mexico,” one henchman boasted as he counted the grenades.
After the fall of the Reyes cartel, the Mata group became the undisputed leader of Mexico’s underworld. With drugs flowing north into the U.S. and money returning by the truckload, the cartel’s influence soared.
Barlow Mata, the cartel’s leader, had begun publicly appearing as a philanthropist, investing millions in schools and hospitals in his hometown of Guadalajara. He even purchased a soccer team, becoming a media darling as the city’s grassroots hero.
“Don’t forget where these weapons come from—Kingpin still rules the underworld. Keep your mouths shut and don’t bring trouble to the boss.”
A few months ago, Kingpin himself had visited Mexico to meet with Barlow Mata. No one knew what was discussed, but after the meeting, an enraged Mata had executed five mid-level officers and their families, sparing no one—not even infants.
Those officers had been the ones calling for Mata’s group to break away from Kingpin and operate independently.
Despite his dominance over Mexico’s underworld, Barlow Mata was still nowhere near Kingpin’s level.
Suddenly, a thunderous crash erupted as the warehouse roof was torn apart by an unknown force, and sunlight poured in through the hole.
“What the hell?”
“Did some idiot accidentally pull the pin on a grenade?”
A wave of intense pressure knocked everyone unconscious.
Broly snapped his fingers, and the entire stockpile of weapons floated into the air. From one of the opened crates, he grabbed a rifle, and bullets began to float from the ammunition boxes, automatically loading into the magazine.
His mastery over ki had grown so refined that he now possessed telekinetic-like abilities.
(Later in the Dragon Ball manga, Goku used similar techniques in his battles against Piccolo at the World Martial Arts Tournament and with Frieza on Namek.)
Broly took the rifle and fired a shot into each unconscious head, then levitated all the weapons out of the warehouse. Flying a few hundred meters away, he picked up a Gustav recoilless rifle, loaded a round, and aimed back at the warehouse.
Boom!
The entire warehouse was obliterated in a single blast from the high-explosive round.
Broly was preparing for his next operation. Acquiring weapons for forty or so men without attracting attention was impossible, even for Alejandro. However, with former Mata cartel members in his ranks, it wasn’t hard to learn the locations of the cartel’s armories.
This haul was enough to arm over two hundred people—far more than he had anticipated.
Seated atop his Flying Nimbus, Broly took off, flying low toward the farm with his newly acquired arsenal. Everything was ready; soon, Alejandro’s plan would be put into action.
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