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Summary
“Poppycock!”
“Building a moonbase?! How would you transport the materials?”
“You’ll never achieve what couldn’t be done even with 21st century resources…”
The words he had naïvely thought he would never have to hear again were once again tearing his calm and collected presence down like dozens of knives ripping into silk, revealing his cold, hateful, and undoubtedly dangerous side for everyone to see. The blood rushed in his ears, muting the idiotic voices for a fleeting moment and a vein popped in his temple when he finally snapped.
“As I always thought, this new world…” The clawed glove darted towards the capsuled evidence of this new era of potential scientific inventions they were living in. “… ought to be led by an iron fist of weaponized science. Not by the mob rule of you foolish masses…”
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Xeno goes nuclear and there's only one man capable of defusing that anger.