The Genius System

Two coups in a single day... no one could have imagined such a thing.

The region was relatively stable compared to other countries on the continent.

Two strategic nations had changed leadership so quickly that the world had no idea how to react.

Far away, inside the Oval Office at the White House.

The American president had called an emergency meeting with his advisers.

The room was silent. Everyone could feel the tension in the air.

Finally, the president spoke:

"How could something like this happen so suddenly without our field agents warning us? What are our intelligence agencies even doing? Where the hell is the CIA?"

All eyes turned toward the CIA director. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and replied:

"Sir… just minutes after the coup in Geria was announced, we lost contact with all our agents on the ground."

People began looking at each other. Both coups were clearly more complicated than they had thought. Ignoring their stares, the director continued:

"Before we even had time to assess the situation in Geria… the same thing happened in Tunisia. We've lost contact with every one of our assets in both countries."

Everyone present was intelligent. Hearing those words, they all understood that this was no longer about some isolated third-world rebellion.

The United States had lost control.

After winning the Cold War, America had become the world's uncontested superpower. Most nations depended on it, even followed its lead in declaring war.

But over the last two decades, that influence had been slowly eroding.

First came Russia, the successor to its old rival, the Soviet Union, competing in energy and arms. Then China, the dragon awakened. China developed rapidly, becoming a global leader in technology and exports, and eventually the world's largest economic power. And then, came the appearance of Mister X.

Brief though it was, his presence dealt another blow to the U.S.

He had helped a country like Macro become a nuclear power, a technological and academic reference, especially with the creation of his futuristic city, dramatically reducing America's influence in the region.

The president remained silent. Everyone waited for his decision.

He let out a long sigh, stood up, walked over to the window, and said in a tone mixed with nostalgia and regret:

"There was a time we used to organize coups… or support them… to extend our influence and weaken our enemies. Now we're the ones being hit."

He turned toward his advisers, his voice now firmer, more determined:

"We won't let our enemies act freely. The United States is still the superpower it once was. No one can dethrone it. Call the press. What these countries did is illegal. We will not tolerate it.

Contact our allies, tell them we're ready to go to war if necessary. Send more agents into the field. Find any group opposed to these new regimes. If none exist, create one.

Tell the NSA to do whatever it takes, attack the infrastructures of both nations, cause chaos, fuel public discontent. Recover every piece of intel you can, I want to know who's behind this."

"Yes, Mr. President" they all responded almost in unison, then left to carry out the orders.

None of them noticed the odd behavior of one of the president's closest security guards.

Meanwhile, in the streets of New York, a black sedan moved slowly through traffic.

Suddenly, a phone rang.

The driver answered:

"Hello?"

"…"

"Understood. I'll deliver the message" he said, and hung up.

The conversation had been short.

He glanced at the rearview mirror, observing the man seated in the backseat.The figure sat with the calm assurance of someone who had nothing to fear and nothing to prove.Mid-forties, perhaps. His face was sharp and symmetrical, with a clean-shaven jawline that hinted at military discipline.His hair, a rich chestnut brown, was neatly combed back, not a single strand out of place, as if chaos simply refused to touch him.His eyes,icy blue, unwavering,scanned the pages in his hands with surgical focus.Not the eyes of a man who read for leisure, but those of someone who dissected information, who hunted meaning between lines.

He wore a crisp, white dress shirt, buttoned to the collar without a single wrinkle in sight.But it wasn't the shirt that caught attention,it was what it revealed.His physique was unmistakable. Broad shoulders, dense with muscle. Powerful forearms rested loosely on either side of the folder, veins subtly tracing paths beneath the skin like rivers under ice.Every movement he made was economical, precise.There was no need for him to assert dominance,his presence alone was enough.

He looked like the kind of man who could walk into any room and control it without speaking a word.

"Sir" the driver said softly.

Without lifting his eyes from the papers in his hand, the man replied "Mm?"

The driver relayed the message he had just received.

No one would have imagined that the details of the President of the United States' private meeting were already known to someone hundreds of miles away, even before his advisers had left the White House.

After hearing what the driver had to say, the man didn't react.

A small smile formed on his lips, but he didn't stop reading.

Hearing no answer, the driver finally said: "Sir, this unknown player… he could disrupt your plans."

The man finally lifted his eyes, looked out the window at the New York streets, then said:

"Every human wants something, Steven. It's not the first time we've faced something like this.

We give them what they want, and they become obedient.Even the most powerful among them… just wanted a seat at the table."

Steven understood what the man meant. Throughout history, many had tried to change the world.

To fight the system.

But in the end, they were human.

And every time… after discovering the truth…

They chose obedience.

Steven hesitated before speaking again: "And if the other side refuses, sir?"

The man's smile widened just slightly. Then he replied:

"A man once said: Plata o Plomo… You can imagine the rest."