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LOCATION: UN GENERAL ASSEMBLY
CITY: NEW YORK, NEW YORK
DATE: SEPTEMBER 17, 2026 | TIME: 10:00 AM
The underlying atmosphere at the United Nations General Assembly was decidedly different from what the world had known for so long.
Normally marked by brinkmanship, overt signs of bravado or hostility, the 2026 UNGA carried with it a tone of hope and brightness.
After the normal opening ceremonies, the gathered assembly began proceedings by honoring Elliot Voss.
Mallory McInnis was present to accept the honors on his behalf. Her speech was as uplifting as the serums she helped distribute to the world.
---
Mallory McInnis
UNGA Address Honoring Elliot Voss
Mr. Secretary-General, distinguished delegates, honored guests… thank you.
I stand here today not as a politician, nor as a diplomat, but as a servant, and as someone who has been privileged to walk a small part of the path alongside Elliot Voss.
If Elliot were here, I suspect he would tell me not to make too much of this moment. He never cared for ceremonies, and he would remind us all that the true measure of his work was not in speeches, but in lives touched. In children who will never fear disease. In parents who can now grow old without growing frail. In nations and people that no longer see scarcity as an unmovable wall looming over them.
Elliot believed, and showed us, that the boundaries we thought defined us were, in truth, not insurmountable.
He believed that science was not just the pursuit of knowledge, but the pursuit of hope. And he proved that one idea, when pursued with courage, can change the trajectory of the world.
Today, as we honor his memory, I ask that we also honor his vision. Not as something complete, but as something now entrusted to us.
The serums we have shared, the technologies now in motion, are not an ending. They are a beginning.
For the first time in human history, we face the possibility of abundance instead of scarcity. Of health instead of fear. Of cooperation instead of conflict.
That possibility is fragile. It will certainly be tested. But it is real. And it is ours to protect.
So let us take this moment not just to remember Elliot Voss, but to dedicate ourselves to the work ahead. To build a world worthy of the gift we have been given. A world that does not simply endure, but one that ascends.
---
Her speech ended, and the last words hung in the air for several moments before delegates from all over the world stood and clapped.
The raucous applause rang through the large hall, and Mallory's cheeks flushed red.
This is all for Elliot Voss. I'm just the messenger here…
Mallory stepped down from the dais and began walking toward the back of the hall to exit. Applause continued thundering through the spacious room.
She was stopped along the way with thanks and well-wishes from delegates, who had moved forward to line the aisle, clapping the entire time.
Mallory finally made it to the exit, and turned one last time to wave to everyone before moving with her entourage into the lobby.
"Ms. McInnis, we'd like to take some photos in the Plaza out front, if you have the time?"
A throng of photographers from major news and media organizations around the world waited for her answer.
"Of course," she said, smiling.
She was guided through the doors and onto the iconic spot in front of the United Nations building. Facing First Avenue, she felt the early autumn winds buffet her hair.
Behind her, a line of 193 flags lined the plaza, blowing in the breeze. The sun shone on her face, and the scene was perfect for a photo shoot.
They gave her two small bottles that were supposed to represent Vitalyx and Rejuvenex. She thought it was cheesy, but she acquiesced.
As the clock struck 11:00 AM, Mallory smiled as she posed for the pictures.
Just as the first camera clicked, followed by dozens more, a shot rang out across the plaza.
A sharp crack from far away.
Then a whoosh…
Then a hole opened up in Mallory's chest.
Just above her heart, blood began drizzling down her blazer.
Mallory stumbled.
Darian rushed in, shielding her, and rushing her to their SUV waiting nearby. Grim was right behind them.
The reporters and photographers shouted, and UN security radioed in the incident. FBI and NYPD were there in minutes, combing the surrounding buildings to find the shooter.
The ambulance driver floored it, weaving through Manhattan traffic with light and sirens blazing. Darian cradled Mallory's head, her blood soaking through his jacket and onto his shirt.
"Stay with me, baby! Stay with me!" His voice cracked on the second plea.
Grim held pressure on the exit wound, his combat training overriding the terror clawing at his chest. He was on the phone with the hospital, preparing the trauma team for their arrival.
Mallory's eyes fluttered, her lips moving soundlessly.
"Don't try to talk," Darian said, tears streaming down his face. "Just hold on. We're almost there."
His phone buzzed. It was Vanessa.
She must have seen the news.
He answered, putting it on speaker with shaking hands. "Darian? What happened? I saw the news. Oh god, is she—"
"She's alive," Grim said. "We're two minutes from Langone. Get here as fast as you can."
"I'm already in a car," Vanessa said, her voice tight with barely controlled panic. "I'm stuck in traffic. Twenty minutes."
Mallory's hand twitched in Darian's grip.
Her pulse was there, slow but steady under his fingers at her wrist.
The SUV lurched to a stop under the Emergency canopy at the NYU Langone Medical Center. "We're here!" the driver shouted. The doors flew open and the EMTs swarmed.
"Single GSW to the upper chest," Grim said. "Just left of the sternum. Clean exit wound. She went unconscious en route. Her pulse is slow but present."
The trauma team nodded. They gave her oxygen and rushed her away.
Grim and Darian sat down. Tears continued falling down Darian's face.
Grim couldn't stop thinking about how little the wound was bleeding. He looked down at Darian's jacket.
He should be covered in arterial spray.
The team wheeled Mallory into Trauma Bay Two at a run. The thoracic surgeon, Dr. Patricia Huang, had been briefed en route: gunshot wound to the chest, VIP patient, possible cardiac involvement.
"Get me four units of O-neg on standby," she called out. "I want the OR prepped for emergency thoracotomy. Where's cardiothoracic?"
"Two minutes out," a nurse replied.
Dr. Huang cut away Mallory's clothing, exposing the wound. She'd seen hundreds of GSWs in her fifteen years at Langone. High-velocity rounds. Close range. Drive-bys. Suicides. Every variation of how humans could destroy each other with firearms.
She'd never seen anything like this.
"What the hell?" The words escaped before she could stop them.
The entry wound, a neat hole just left of the sternum, should have been bleeding profusely. Should have been destroying lung tissue. Should have been—
"Doctor?" The cardiac surgeon, Dr. James Chen, had arrived and was staring at the monitor. "Her vitals are stabilizing. BP is 110 over 70 and rising."
"That's impossible," Dr. Huang said. She bent closer, examining the wound with her penlight.
The tissue at the edges wasn't just clotted. It was... reconstructing. She could see what looked like crystalline filaments weaving through damaged muscle fiber, pulling it back together.
"I need a closer look. Get me the—"
Mallory gasped, her eyes flying open. Panic flooded her face.
"Easy, easy," Dr. Huang said, placing a hand on Mallory's shoulder. "You're at Langone. You've been shot, but you're stable. Can you hear me?"
Mallory tried to speak, but only managed a wet cough. Dr. Huang watched the wound during the spasm, expecting blood to well up.
Instead, the tissue contracted, sealing tighter.
"Is it the serums?" Dr. Chen asked quietly. "The Vitalyx and Rejuvenex?"
"I don't know," Dr. Huang admitted. "But I've read the literature. Enhanced healing, yes. But this..." She gestured at the wound. "This is something else entirely."
A nurse checked Mallory's pupils. "Pupils equal and reactive. She's trying to speak."
Dr. Huang leaned in close. "Don't try to talk. Just rest. You're safe."
Mallory's lips moved. "...Darian..."
"Your husband is right outside."
Mallory's eyes closed again, but this time her breathing was steady. Regular. The monitors showed a heart rate dropping from 120 to 95 to 80.
Normal resting range.
"Turn her on her side," Dr. Huang ordered. "I need to see the exit wound."
They rotated Mallory carefully. The exit wound, which should have been catastrophic, baseball-sized, shredded tissue, possible spinal involvement, was already half-closed. As they watched, the edges continued knitting together.
Dr. Chen pulled off his gloves. "I've been practicing medicine for twenty years. I have no idea what I'm looking at."
"Document everything," Dr. Huang said. "Every vital sign, every observation. Time-stamped photos of the wound progression." She looked at the clock. "It's been eighteen minutes since the shooting. This woman should be in surgery for the next six hours. Instead, she's healing faster than I can assess the damage."
"Wheel her to recovery," Dr. Huang said, "but keep her for observation. I'm on call tonight. I'd like to talk with her."
An hour later, Darian and Grim were in the hospital room with her. Darian had pulled a chair next to the bed, and he was holding her hand.
"My god," he said, "I really thought we lost you there."
Mallory smiled weakly.
"I honestly thought that was it for me, too."
Grim was in the corner, quiet.
He'd been texting with his contacts in the FBI. Because, while he was glad Mallory was doing well now, Grim's mind was on something else.
Revenge.