Apple Headquarters – Executive Boardroom.
The air in the conference room was stifling. Around the long table, the board members sat in tailored suits and stony silence. At the head of the room, Tim Cook felt the full weight of their stares.
Apple's stock had been on a steady decline since his trip to China. Every minute that ticked by was another few million dollars vanishing from their collective worth.
This was not a friendly meeting.
"Cook, what did you bring back from China?" asked a calm, authoritative voice.
The speaker was a bespectacled man in his fifties—Levinson, chairman of Apple's board and one of the most influential figures in American biotech. As CEO of Genetek, he'd transformed a near-bankrupt company into a $100 billion pharmaceutical empire. Wall Street admired him. His words carried weight.
Cook straightened in his chair. Though he was Apple's CEO, Levinson—and the board—ultimately held the reins.
"To be honest, Levinson, this trip… didn't yield much. In fact, you could say I went all the way there just to make a fool of myself," Cook admitted.
"We don't care about your embarrassment," came a gruff voice from across the table. "We care about what we gained."
All heads turned slightly toward the speaker—Shugel, former CEO of Northrop Grumman and a living legend in military-industrial circles. His company had delivered the B-2 bomber, the Global Hawk, and the Nimitz-class aircraft carrier. No one knew how much Apple stock he held, but everyone in the room treated him with deference.
Even Cook swallowed hard before replying.
"I met with the chairman and president of the Marching Ant Company. I offered to acquire them outright."
"And?" Levinson asked.
"Flat rejection. No hesitation. They said the company's not for sale," Cook said grimly. "So I shifted to a strategic partnership—launching a smart assistant for iOS."
The room stayed quiet. Cold, analytical eyes watched him.
Among them: former U.S. Vice President Al Gore, Disney's CEO, the ex-chairwoman of Avon, partners from BlackRock, and Boeing's former CFO. A lineup that could rival a G7 summit.
"I explained the need for system-level access," Cook continued. "Their assistant requires integration with the OS. Without the iOS source code, it can't function properly."
He paused.
"I proposed mutual openness—we'd share iOS source code; they'd share the Smart Assistant's code. They refused. Said they might port it to iOS, but only if we handed over the iOS core. Negotiations ended there."
A heavy silence settled.
"Company update?" asked James, Boeing's former CFO.
"In Greater China, our mobile business dropped to 9% market share last quarter," Cook said. "We're now ranked fourth. Since Marching Ant released their Smart Assistant, the drop has steepened. If we can't match them, or upgrade Siri fast, we'll be pushed out completely."
That was the heart of it.
Marching Ant's assistant had pushed smartphones a generation ahead. If Apple didn't catch up, it was Nokia all over again.
Cook looked around the table. "So, what do we do? Do we… share the iOS source code?"
The question hung in the air like a bomb.
The directors were deep in thought. In another country, perhaps they could force a buyout. But this was China. The government's grip on capital influence was tight. China was not the U.S., not Europe. There were no backroom deals, no regulatory sabotage. No "unseen hand" to bend the rules.
In short, they couldn't touch Marching Ant.
Even if they wanted to.
The silence stretched. Finally, Shugel leaned forward, fingers interlocked.
"It is impossible to open the iOS source code. A giant does not bow to ants."
No one disagreed.
Cook nodded stiffly. "Our upcoming S2 phone is ready for launch. If we had a smart assistant to pair with it, we'd crush the market. Without one…" His voice faded.
No one replied. Everyone was calculating risks and outcomes.
When the meeting adjourned, Cook exited quietly, drowning in thoughts of slipping market share, board pressure, and the slow, creeping threat from China.
Minutes later, in a black car outside Apple HQ…
Shugel sat in the back seat. His face was a stone mask of wrinkles and cold resolve. He dialed a secure number.
A voice answered instantly.
"Sir?"
"Find two people," Shugel said quietly. "Send them to China. I want something retrieved. Budget: ten million."
"Understood. I'll arrange it now."
Shugel hung up. A rare smile crossed his face—thin, calculated, dangerous.
The car pulled away from Apple, followed by others carrying America's most powerful board members.
Meanwhile, in China...
With Cook gone, the storm around Marching Ant began to die down. Operations resumed as if the network rumors and hack never happened.
Apple made no statements. No counterattacks. Only silence.
Yet, the Butterfly Eye 2 and Butterfly Assistant continued to dominate headlines.
As Marching Ant's flagship smartphone, Butterfly Eye had already exceeded two million pre-orders—a number far beyond industry forecasts. The overwhelming response made it clear: users loved the product.
The first batch of phones had already shipped. Demand was skyrocketing. Production was ramping up.
Zhao Min had already dispatched teams to connect with European telecom operators. The goal: push Butterfly Eye into the European market and replace Apple's dominance.
As for the U.S.?
Not on the radar. Not yet.
Even Huawei, despite years of effort, had only scratched the U.S. market. Marching Ant had no illusions. That fight would come later.
Right now, the focus was Europe.
Back at headquarters, Chen Mo stood in his lab, arms folded, staring at seven detailed schematics pinned to the wall.
The next frontier: robotics.
Each blueprint displayed a section of the robot—head, torso, limbs, internal systems. The body design was especially complex. That's where most of the tech was concentrated.
He had already passed the part designs to Zhao Min. Their master fitters were working on prototypes. Once done, Chen Mo would begin the assembly.
But before that—he needed a power source.
Specifically, a compact high-output battery suitable for advanced robotics.
Chen Mo exhaled and turned back to his desk. A new task was waiting.
Southwest China – borderland jungle.
From a dense forest trail, two imposing men stepped out, eyes sharp and dangerous.
"I thought this place was off-limits to mercenaries," muttered the black man on the left, scanning the underbrush. "Doesn't look that tough to me."
"Bol, don't get cocky," the other replied. "Let's finish the job first. Then we can talk tough."
"Fine, fine. You're always so damn careful, Jack."
They disappeared into the shadows, unaware they were about to step into the lion's den.