Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

A "broken arrow" was the military term for a dangerous accident involving a nuclear weapon that did not result in nuclear war. In particular, it referred to the loss or theft of a nuclear weapon.

Evenson found it almost hilarious that humanity had developed specialized terminology for losing nuclear bombs.

At this rate, perhaps the responsibility for wiping out human civilization would never even reach Thanos, despite the Mad Titan being several thousand light-years away.

Of course, Evenson wasn’t bringing up the term as a military historian.

He was using it as an arms dealer would.

He wanted a black nuke.

A nuclear weapon of unknown origin, unregistered and untraceable.

Evenson took a small sip of vodka and glanced at Milhak’s expression.

Nuclear weapons had always been treated as symbols of destruction and catastrophe. They were practically synonymous with the end of the world. Evenson had expected that asking for one would finally crack the arms dealer’s carefully maintained composure.

Instead, Milhak merely said, "Oh."

Then he calmly climbed out of the hospital bed and reached beneath his mattress.

"I haven’t spent all this time lying here waiting to die," he said as he pulled out a stack of printed documents and began flipping through them. "I figured you’d eventually come visit and make some sort of request, so I prepared some information in advance."

He finally pulled out a single sheet and handed it to Evenson.

"You want a broken arrow, right? I definitely don’t have anything like the Tsar Bomba. But I’ve collected a few other types. Their models are listed here. Take your pick."

Evenson stared at him.

This time, it was Milhak who had failed to surprise him.

It was Evenson who was stunned.

He quickly scanned the document.

It contained a long list of nuclear weapons.

Ballistic-missile warheads. Submarine-launched weapons. Nuclear artillery shells. Even nuclear land mines.

"Hm... heh."

Evenson didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

He waved the sheet of paper.

"Are nuclear weapons really this common now?"

"You think nuclear weapons are priceless treasures?" Milhak asked. "After the great motherland collapsed, do you know how much a nuclear bomb was worth in the former Soviet republics?"

He raised one finger.

"About the price of a BMW."

"That’s..." Evenson looked at the list again. "That’s really damn cheap."

He lowered his gaze to the paper.

Everything in the world could be assigned a price. Usually, that price was determined by the cost of producing the thing.

Nuclear weapons were different.

The actual manufacturing cost of a nuclear weapon could be surprisingly low. In countries with mature nuclear technology, one might genuinely cost no more than an expensive car.

But detonate that same weapon in the wrong place, and it could become the opening act of the apocalypse.

Every nuclear warhead carried that possibility.

The damage caused by a single bomb could reach far beyond buildings and bodies. It could damage the future of humanity itself.

And people had sold those things to arms dealers for the price of a BMW.

Selling humanity’s future for the price of a car.

If that wasn’t cheap, what was?

"It was cheap," Milhak agreed, clearly understanding the meaning behind Evenson’s words. His tone grew solemn. "But what did the people selling them care about?"

"The country they had devoted their entire lives to had disappeared almost overnight. What kind of despair do you think that left them with?"

"They were people who had access to nuclear weapons. Once their country collapsed, what did they imagine waiting for them?"

"Purges. Reprisals. The gallows. Exile to Siberia."

He shrugged.

"Whatever the details, they didn’t see a future."

"So they focused on the present," Evenson said. "Sell everything valuable they had, eat well, drink well, have a good time, and don’t worry about tomorrow."

Milhak nodded.

"Exactly."

"Right."

Evenson rubbed his face.

There wasn’t much point getting worked up over disasters that had already happened.

He pointed to one of the entries on the list.

"That one. Give me two."

The words had barely left his mouth when something about the situation struck him as absurd.

It felt like he’d just ordered two plates of pancakes at a diner.

"Portable?"

Milhak glanced at the model Evenson had indicated and smiled.

"That’s an extremely rare model. I only have those two."

"Who knows how many you actually have."

Evenson rolled his eyes.

Milhak didn’t argue. He merely chuckled.

"Please wait a moment. I’ll have someone bring them over. I have no intention of sleeping on top of a nuclear bomb."

"What’s the difference?" Evenson said mockingly.

As though putting a nuclear bomb somewhere else meant you weren’t sleeping on top of one.

Milhak gave a dry chuckle.

He had no answer to that.

"By the way, I don’t think I’ve formally introduced you two."

The wait for the delivery was becoming somewhat boring. Beyond their business transaction, Evenson and Milhak had very little to discuss. Still, Milhak didn’t want his guest to think he was being neglected, so he searched for something to talk about.

"This is my daughter, Natalia Voskaya."

"Voskaya?"

Evenson had barely been paying attention until he heard the surname.

He froze.

His gaze moved to Natalia Voskaya, then back to Milhak Berikov.

The sympathy on his face was immediate.

"That’s... rough."

"Cough!"

Milhak, who had just been drinking vodka, nearly choked.

After several seconds of struggling to catch his breath, he finally explained, "She’s my biological daughter. She simply took her mother’s surname."

"Oh."

Only then did Evenson nod.

Milhak continued.

"Our line of work is extremely dangerous, so I don’t want too many people knowing she’s my daughter. And I certainly don’t want her taking over my business in the future."

He glanced proudly at Natalia.

"She’s an excellent student of economics and business management. Her future may be far brighter than mine."

"Maybe she’ll build an industrial park of her own someday," Evenson said, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"Maybe I don’t have much of a future at all."

Natalia clearly had no interest in the praise.

She kept her expression flat.

"I took a month-long leave from my internship to take care of my father. My boss fired me outright."

She crossed her arms.

"Russia really isn’t very accommodating toward women."

An ordinary parent might have panicked upon hearing that their daughter had lost her job.

Milhak wasn’t particularly concerned.

"Perhaps I should speak with your boss. He’ll realize his mistake."

"Sure. Maybe."

Natalia pursed her lips.

"At that point, I might as well take over your business."

She had originally chosen an ordinary job precisely to keep her identity secret. If Milhak stepped in on her behalf, what was the point of keeping anything secret?

"If you don’t have a job, find another one," Evenson said casually. "If you’re actually capable, you won’t have trouble finding someone willing to hire you."

He shrugged.

"A Russian company fired you. Maybe an American company will hire you instead."

Natalia gave a noncommittal shrug.

She clearly took it as nothing more than an attempt to make her feel better.

Just then, someone arrived with Evenson’s purchase.

Judging from the delivery man’s utterly calm expression, he obviously had no idea what was inside the package he was carrying.

The two portable nuclear weapons looked remarkably ordinary.

They resembled a pair of oversized nanmu wooden chests.

Evenson opened one and looked inside.

There was only a metallic control panel and a single red button.

He closed it again.

There was no way he could determine whether the things were genuine. He would have to take them back and let someone with the appropriate expertise examine them.

Still, he doubted Milhak had the courage to deceive him.

"Very pleasant doing business with you."

Evenson picked up both cases.

"I’ll be going, then."

Before either of them could say anything else, he vanished from the room.

Natalia stared at the spot where he had disappeared.

Then she blinked and looked at her father.

"He never mentioned paying, did he?"

"No."

Milhak nodded calmly.

"Put it on his tab."

He had never expected Evenson to pay in cash anyway.

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