Billionaire in Kingsman with a Marvel System

While William was contemplating how to go after De Beers, Thor's voice came over the cabin intercom: "Guys, please take your seats; we're about to take off."

Barney and his team looked at William, who nodded, "We're heading to South Africa."

"Understood," Barney replied as he walked to the cockpit. Seconds later, the plane began accelerating, skimming over the water for a few hundred meters before slowly lifting into the sky.

Sitting in his seat and pondering for a while, William took out a secure satellite phone and called his neighbor in New York, Yuri Orlov.

The phone rang for a long time before a very impatient voice answered, "Good morning, this is Yuri Orlov. Who is this?"

William, holding the satellite phone, wondered if he had dialed the wrong number or if Yuri had taken some drugs. The last time at the Upper East Side homeowners' meeting, Yuri Orlov had been extremely courteous to him. "Yuri, it's me, William Devonshire."

"Ah, sorry, Mr. Devonshire," Yuri Orlov quickly apologized upon realizing it was William. "I've just had some issues here, sorry to keep you waiting. What can I do for you, Mr. Devonshire?"

Yuri Orlov stood by his window, holding the satellite phone and speaking in a flattering tone to William while glaring at the surveillance van parked outside his building. His eyes were fixed on Jack Valentine, the team leader of the International Small Arms Surveillance Group, who was stepping out of the van.

Yuri had been under surveillance by Jack Valentine for over six months. What irritated Yuri was that Valentine wasn't targeting more dangerous arms dealers but was fixated on him, a dealer of small arms, causing him to lose a few million dollars over the past six months.

Had it not been for his adherence to certain principles and the fact that having Valentine watching him had its advantages—preventing any unofficial hits from the US authorities—Yuri Orlov would have already used his connections to get rid of Jack Valentine. 

But now, Yuri was furious. Unable to find any solid evidence against him, Valentine had turned his attention to Yuri's wife, Ava Fontaine. This had become a headache for Yuri, as Ava, influenced by Valentine, had started pushing him to give up the arms trade and pursue legitimate business.

Damn it, Yuri mentally cursed his naive wife, who, with just a bit of persuasion, had turned against her husband. She didn't realize that without his relentless pursuit of profit, they wouldn't afford their lavish lifestyle.

With household expenses and the mortgage on their Central Park apartment, Yuri needed to spend at least $200,000 a month. If not for the money he had made in Africa over the past few years, he'd have gone bankrupt by now.

Accustomed to the high profits of the gray market, Yuri found legitimate businesses like oil, timber, and mining frustratingly slow and bound by restrictive regulations.

But his bad mood lifted as soon as he received William's call. Yuri's tense face finally showed a hint of joy. To him, a wealthy man like William was a potential super client. Otherwise, Yuri wouldn't have gone out of his way to ingratiate himself with William at the Upper East Side homeowners' meeting. Doing business with someone like William could instantly turn his struggling company around.

"Mr. Devonshire, no matter how much oil, timber, or minerals you need, I can provide them at the lowest prices, with guaranteed quality."

"Ha, Yuri, I know what you do. I'm not looking for those things. Don't tell me you've stopped selling 'Angel Kings' and 'Mommy's vacuum cleaners.' I'll be waiting for your call, Lord of War," William said before hanging up, not believing for a second that Yuri, who had been an arms dealer for nearly 20 years, would truly quit to sell oil.

Listening to the dial tone, Yuri stood by his window, understanding what William meant by 'Angel Kings' and 'Mommy's vacuum cleaners.'

'Angel Kings' was arms dealers' slang for AK-47s. 'Mommy' referred to rocket launchers, 'vacuum cleaners' meant helicopters, and 'Mommy's vacuum cleaners' referred to armed helicopters.

Considering the likely large quantities someone like William would need, Yuri's fingers itched with the prospect of the profits, imagining the million-dollar commissions from selling just one 'vacuum cleaner.' Even though he had been out of the game for half a year, the idea of making millions on a single deal was too tempting.

Yuri's heart ached as he thought about his promise to his wife, but he knew that dealing with someone like William, who could pay in full, was a rare opportunity. To an arms dealer, William was a platinum five-star client, an opportunity he previously wouldn't have dared dream of.

Just as he was drowning in regret, there was a knock on the door. His wife, Ava, walked in with a smile, "Yuri, the Grand Marshal of Libya, Andre Baptiste, is about to arrive. You should get ready to meet him."

"Huh? I thought we were meeting at the hotel. Why is he coming here?" After a moment's thought, Yuri said, "Get my clothes ready. I'll tidy up and be right out."

With two things converging at once, Yuri made a swift decision. He couldn't resist the lure of his old profession any longer. Only the arms trade gave him a sense of achievement. 

Besides, with Andre Baptiste Sr., his decade-long business partner, coming in person, Yuri realized he had little choice. If negotiations with Andre Baptiste Sr. failed, who knew what he and his crazy son, Andre Jr., might do? At the very least, his wife and children would be in danger.

After tidying up his documents, Yuri stepped out of his study. Dressed in a suit and tie with Ava's help, he heard the doorbell ring.

"Go ahead, darling, don't keep the guests waiting. I'll prepare some drinks."

"Thank you, dear." Yuri opened the door and stepped outside to find Andre Baptiste Sr. and his maniacal son grinning at his doorstep.

"Damn it, Andre. Why did you come directly to my house? Can't we discuss this at the hotel?"

"Good morning, Yuri," Andre Baptiste Sr. smiled as he hugged Yuri. "You're hard to find. If not for some connections here, I wouldn't have known my arms dealer had retired. Aren't you going to invite us in for a drink?"

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