Baghdad burned.
Missiles screamed through the night sky as the U.S. launched a full-force campaign to topple Saddam Hussein's regime. The dictator's palaces were reduced to rubble. His Republican Guard scattered.
But Vekom had seen it coming. Weeks before the first missile struck, a clone infiltrated the Defense Ministry and copied every financial and military ledger.
The vaults under Tikrit? Emptied.
The biological weapons caches? Sold to anonymous buyers.
And Saddam's most loyal commanders?
Now Vekom's clients.
He watched live footage from orbit. Fire traced the city like veins of a dying beast. The Americans were hunting ghosts.
Vekom had already replaced them with new ones.
A message pinged on the system.
Message Received: Middle East Consortium - Confidential
Urgent request: 50 stealth drones, 500 anti-tank rifles, 200 man-portable AA systems.
Payment: $1.2B wired in cryptocurrency.
Vekom nodded. "Send it."
Minutes later, underground launch pods deployed shipments via suborbital drop—untraceable, unchallenged.
In North Korea, the rogue general Vekom had armed was spiraling out of control.
Surrounded by paranoia, he declared independence from Pyongyang and threatened to launch a nuclear warhead if any force tried to stop him.
Satellite footage showed the missile—an ancient Soviet relic—being primed for launch.
World leaders panicked.
Vekom smiled.
He had programmed this contingency.
Another clone, embedded deep within the general's bunker, activated the failsafe.
The nuke's payload detonator? Removed.
Instead, the warhead launched... and exploded midair in a brilliant, fiery display.
Harmless.
But enough to send shockwaves through every intelligence agency on Earth.
No one understood how it failed.
No one knew Vekom had been in the room.
Chaos spread.
Israel ramped up border security. Iran scrambled fighter jets. Saudi Arabia called for UN intervention.
And into this storm, Vekom offered peace—on his terms.
He proposed private security solutions.
Drone-enforced ceasefire zones.
Neutral cities protected by his clones posing as international peacekeepers.
The world began to accept.
One contract at a time.
And all the while, Vekom expanded.
One clone whispered into a diplomat's ear.
Another bribed a general.
Another seduced a crown prince.
Piece by piece, the Middle East was becoming his.
And from orbit, Vekom watched it all unfold.
He didn't need to rule openly.
He just needed to control how the game was played.
And soon, he would control the board itself.