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LOCATION: SILVANE PHARMACEUTICALS HQ
CITY: STAMFORD, CONNECTICUT
DATE: JULY 17, 2026 | TIME: 7:00 AM
It was bad enough that those bastards at the Voss Foundation made their announcement at the start of the third quarter. Silvane Pharmaceuticals had a press conference scheduled for July 31st to announce their new drug, Cellestra, which reduced the growth of most types of cancer tumors by five percent… in 60% of patients.
The Vitalyx announcement was bad enough. But the idea that it seemed to work… to actually fucking work, was just too much.
Silvane Pharma had sunk over $1.6 billion into the research and development of Cellestra, and in one day, Vitalyx had rendered it utterly obsolete.
Who would ask for something that only slowed tumor growth, only some of the time, when they could drink a little bottle and have it all go away?
Jack Coltrane, the CEO of Silvane Pharmaceuticals, sat at the head of the table in the boardroom.
The shareholders meeting was set to begin in an hour, but he was there early. He thought maybe if he stared out the window long enough, something might come to him.
What was he going to do?
As if the lost funds weren't enough, the Silvane stock price had plummeted along with the entire medical, biotech, and pharmaceutical sector.
What was once a growing, promising stock worth $432 a share was now selling off so hard that the New York Stock Exchange had to pause trading. Again.
It was an unmitigated disaster.
The news on the radio as he was driving in that morning said that the entire healthcare sector was poised to shed trillions in value within a week.
He'd considered killing himself, of course.
But what kind of father and husband takes the easy way out and leaves his family alone? He was angry as hell, but he wasn't a coward.
As he sat there, still with no solution, his two top deputies entered. They were early too.
"Couldn't stare at the bedroom ceiling anymore?" Coltrane asked.
They talked for fifteen minutes before Jack realized his VP of Sales hadn't said anything.
He was drinking his coffee and looking down at the table.
"Brad? What the fuck is up with you?" Jack asked.
"Huh?" Brad said as he looked up from the table.
"Sorry," he said, "it's just, uh…"
"Spit it out," Jack demanded.
Brad turned his head sheepishly.
"My wife and father-in-law took it. Behind my back. They went on the 15th while I was still at work."
"And?"
"And," Brad continued, "Ellie's cataracts are gone, Jack. And my father-in-law, well… his tremors are also completely gone. He was at Stage 4 Parkinson's, and he was just sitting there watching TV last night with us, holding a glass of water. Steady as a fucking surgeon."
Jack sighed. Of course it was real.
Elliot Voss was a cutthroat competitor in the industry, but he was always honest.
"Damn…" Jack said, still not sure how to handle the shareholder's call that was now fifteen minutes away. "What the fuck are we going to tell them?"
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System Broadcast
Vitalyx Recipients: 599,324,059
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LOCATION: EL PRESIDENTE'S OFFICIAL RESIDENCE
CITY: CARACAS, VENEZUELA
DATE: JULY 17, 2026 | TIME: 3:30 PM
Grim and Li knew that countries like Venezuela were going to be a challenge. Countries where there was a fear the government would use force to hoard the Vitalyx supply required things to be handled differently.
Early on in the planning, a list was made and contingencies put in place. In the case of Venezuela, the dictator Diego Zamora was, in the end, rather easily appeased.
In the rolling hills of Altamira, east of Caracas, sat a sprawling compound overlooking the city.
Minutes after the broadcast of Mallory's announcement ended, a black Mercedes G650 Landaulet with darkly tinted windows pulled up to the compound where El Presidente Zamora lived.
National Guard troops roamed inside and outside the tall wrought iron gates.
The $220,000 special edition vehicle pulled to the guard gate, and the Peacekeeper inside rolled down his window.
"Special delivery for El Presidente Zamora," he said.
"We have no appointment for you. Go away," the guard said dismissively.
The Peacekeeper wasn't backing down.
"If Comandante finds out you were the one who turned away this delivery, he'll have your head. Now open the fucking gate."
He turned his head toward the gate and waited.
"How dare you!" the guard shouted, when his phone buzzed.
The red one, not the normal one. Zamora was calling him directly.
He answered it, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead instantly.
He hung up, and without another word, he pressed a button and the gate opened slowly.
The Peacekeeper thanked him politely and pulled through.
As they arrived at the circular drive in front of the mansion, they took in the scene. This dictator, like most others, lived in absolute luxury.
White stucco walls held up a red clay roof. The mansion must have been 20,000 square feet at least, judging by the impressive façade.
The Peacekeepers exited the vehicle and were patted down by guards.
Two more went to the back of the car and went to inspect the crates.
"Don't touch that," the driver said. "It's got a fingerprint trigger and you will destroy the gifts inside if you don't follow the procedure."
He stepped back, but was not happy about it.
Moments later, Diego Zamora, El Presidente himself, stepped out of the massive double doors into the sunlight.
"Comandante," the Peacekeeper said, "please accept these gifts. There are two hundred doses of Vitalyx for you, your family, and your staff here. All we ask in return is that you allow us to freely distribute the serum to your people."
The dictator looked at the two men for a few minutes, sizing them up. Something deep inside him responded to the primal strength he saw, and he slowly nodded.
"Leave the car here and you have a deal," he said. "I've been looking for a G-wagon Landaulet for a while. Do you know there were only a few hundred ever made?"
The driver laughed.
"No problem, sir. Can you hail us a taxi back to town?"
Zamora had a guard drive them back to Caracas along with his word that they would not be harassed in their distribution. Having received proper tribute first, Zamora was glad that his people would be healthier.
Maybe it'll calm the unrest.
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LOCATION: HOSPITAL VARGAS
CITY: CARACAS, VENEZUELA
DATE: JULY 17, 2026 | TIME: 6:30 PM
Three hours later, at one of the busiest hospitals in the bustling capital city of Caracas, Hospital Vargas had people lined outside the door.
Those who required medical attention, ironically, were able to get in to see a doctor immediately. They were treated, then given their dose of Vitalyx and sent on their way.
The others had to wait in line. For hours.
Early in the evening, two trucks pulled up to the hospital, and four heavily armed men descended.
They wore combat fatigues with National Guard patches on the shoulders, and they began shoving their way through the line toward the front door of the hospital.
They pushed an elderly woman aside and entered the double doors, speaking rudely to everyone who dared to look their way.
When they reached the front of the line, they spotted the room to the left where patients were being escorted.
The four National Guardsmen shoved the door open, and the doctor looked up at them in surprise.
"What's this about? We were told—"
Two of the guards pointed their rifles at the doctor.
"By order of Comandante Zamora, all Vitalyx supplies are to be requisitioned for redistribution. Step aside and nobody will get hurt."
Two Peacekeepers were on duty in the next room, and they heard the declaration.
They stepped through the door.
"What are you doing?" one of them asked.
"It's none of your fucking business," the guardsman said, "we are the authority here, and we're taking the vials with us."
The two men moved faster than anything the doctor had ever seen.
One instant, four armed men pointed AK-47s at him, and the next all four were disarmed and on the floor bleeding.
"El Presidente Zamora authorized all of this," the Peacekeeper said. "There's enough for everybody. Why steal and hoard it?"
One of the National Guardsmen reached for a pistol in a holster on his side, and found his hand broken before he could even wrap his fingers around the grip.
In the end, two of the guardsmen walked away unscathed after agreeing to back down, while the other two made poorer decisions.
Right on the brink of achieving perfect health, their lives were snuffed out instead. Greed is indeed a deadly sin.
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System Broadcast
Vitalyx Recipients: 632,824,467
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