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LOCATION: UNREGISTERED CARGO VESSEL
AREA: NORTH ATLANTIC OCEAN
COORDINATES: 48.0000° N | 32.0000° W
DATE: SEPTEMBER 22, 2026 | TIME: 0900 HOURS
He still wasn't sure how many days he had spent stuck in the completely dark room, but Viktor Malenkov had to admit that the captivity, the darkness, and the damp, musty room was all starting to get to him.
He'd been a special forces operative, among the best in Russia. He'd been on the front lines of so many operations that he'd lost count.
And, he'd developed a sort of reputation in certain circles for his particular brand of brutality. Sure, sometimes it was just a sniper shot to the head or heart from 800 meters away. He was the top marksmen Russia had ever produced, after all.
But when he was hired to obtain information from people… Those were the jobs he relished the most. It was that sort of "no boundaries" work that really got his creative juices flowing.
The mere thought of the things Viktor had done in the torture chambers he'd set up… It sent a shudder down his own spine. Not from disgust, but from excitement.
Most of the time, it wasn't even for the money, either. Getting paid to unleash his depravity on the world was only a bonus.
Sitting there in the dark, more thrash metal blaring through the speakers, Viktor smiled.
When I get loose, I'm going to make these assholes wish they were never born. They're going to regret their decision to keep me alive…
He struggled against the restraints, and grunted as they drew even tighter. His left shoulder still ached from having been dislocated, and the fact that his arms and legs were locked into the same position for days on end wasn't helping matters.
Viktor grumbled more, swearing to all the gods of blood and darkness that he would have his vengeance.
Around 0900, Samir opened the door. The music cut out immediately, and it took a minute for Viktor's ears to adjust.
He squinted into the sudden bright light, until his eyes adjusted, too.
"Rise and shine!" Samir said. A wide grin covered his face. "You didn't expect visitors, did you?"
Samir turned to the door, and Grim stepped inside, followed by another man.
The visitor was dressed in light brown khakis and a black, long sleeved polo shirt. A small logo was printed on the chest, but Viktor was still having a hard time focusing.
Samir removed the gag and let it fall into the fetid puddle on the floor.
Viktor barely noticed, as realization set in.
"You…" his voice was hoarse. He tried clearing it, but it was unproductive. "You're Gideon Blackwell."
Gideon nodded.
Viktor had heard of Gideon Blackwell. A man who made billions from producing weapons that were far crueler than they needed to be.
If he could move his arms, Viktor would have saluted the man.
Gideon stepped into the room, and leaned forward, looking Viktor into the eyes.
He was only inches away.
This is my chance…
Gideon was about to speak, when Viktor moved suddenly. He slammed his head forward, attempting to headbutt the wealthy arms dealer.
But he missed.
How could I miss?
Gideon, who had died a thousand deaths in the past month, had honed his reflexes to rival the best MMA fighters.
He noticed the movement as he was about to speak, and moved his head a few inches to the side.
Viktor's momentum pulled him forward, crashing into the floor. His nose took the brunt of the force, and a sickening crack echoed through the metal room.
"Ouch," Samir said. "That looks like it hurt."
Grim laughed as he and Samir lifted Viktor into a seated position again.
"Looks like that shoulder dislocated again."
He punched Viktor in that spot again, and a loud pop sounded as Viktor winced. Blood ran freely from his nose down his face, and onto the front of his shirt.
They stood there in silence as they watched the bleeding stop.
"Vitalyx is really amazing," Grim said. "It even healed Mallory McInnis."
"What?" Viktor asked, his eyes wide open in shock. "You're lying."
Grim pulled up his phone and scrolled to the New York Times website.
---
Voss Foundation Head Survives Assassination Attempt
---
Viktor looked down at the ground.
He'd never failed an assignment before.
Not once.
He also knew the price of this particular failure.
"You may as well kill me now," Viktor said. "If you let me go, those who hired me will hunt me down anyway."
"Anatoly is being dealt with," Gideon said. "Just as you are about to be dealt with."
"What the fuck do you know?" Viktor asked. "Some soft businessman from America…"
Gideon backhanded Viktor across the nose.
It started bleeding again.
Samir laughed aloud as he saw recognition cross Viktor's face. Gideon was no longer a "soft businessman." Not after what he had been through.
Gideon leaned forward once more, right in Viktor's face. Almost daring him to try the headbutt again.
"You're about to learn your true measure as a man. You think you're tough, just as I did."
He turned to Grim and Samir.
"I wonder how long he'll last before he breaks."
They all laughed as Samir picked up the gag and tied it back in place, causing Viktor to choke on the brackish water again.
The three men left the room, turning out the lights as they did.
This time, there was no music.
The absolute silence was, somehow, worse in that moment.
What the hell are they talking about, learning my true measure?
Anatoly relaxed in his dacha overlooking the Black Sea. The sun was just setting over the water, and streaks of orange and red filled the sky.
Sochi at this time of year was like a dream. The overbearing heat of summer had just begun to give way to cooler breezes coming in off the water.
Balance, he thought, is what it's all about.
Anatoly lifted the heavy-cut crystal glass to his lips and took in a sip of Hennessy XO. Two large ice cubes clinked in the glass, and the sound mixed with gulls overhead soothed his soul.
Sure, the assassination attempt had failed. Somehow. He was still waiting for a report from Viktor Malenkov.
Viktor was one of the greatest operators Anatoly had ever seen. His ability to escape after such a high profile shooting was legendary.
It had been several days, but Anatoly knew Viktor was working his way to safety in Mexico or Canada, and would make contact any day now.
Anatoly was sure Viktor hadn't been captured, because he knew that if the Americans had gotten the shooter, they'd be parading him all over the news.
Americans always seemed to care about the show more than the substance.
It would be the biggest headline of the ages. Seeing nothing, Anatoly knew Viktor was just maintaining a low profile, as he always did.
Anatoly swirled the golden-brown liquid in the glass and took another sip.
He exhaled slowly. Life was good.
"Are you coming back to bed?"
Giggles sounded out from the bedroom, and Anatoly turned toward them from the veranda. The girls were both twenty-one.
Models for a lingerie company, too. Anatoly was particularly proud of this conquest. His wife was in Paris on a little holiday with her girlfriends, so Anatoly decided to blow off some steam.
He watched the girls have a mock pillow fight. The last rays of sunlight seemed to flow from the horizon, across the sea, just for the purpose of illuminating their fit bodies.
Swinging the pillows at each other and laughing innocently, their breasts swaying back and forth.
It was mesmerizing.
It was also the reason Anatoly didn't see or hear a figure climbing over the veranda behind him.
The girls screamed, and Anatoly turned.
Erik Drexler, the notorious commando from Germany, stood over him. Anatoly was not a short man, standing at a respectable enough six feet, but Drexler had a good six inches on him.
The commando moved so fast that Anatoly hardly registered the movement, before he found his arms zip-tied together behind his back.
"How dare y—"
His words were interrupted when Erik pulled a ball gag tight behind his head.
"Nice of you to provide the instruments of your own torture," Erik said.
He turned to the girls, who were cowering in a corner of the bedroom, whimpering.
Erik dragged Anatoly along as he grabbed a Maserati key fob from the dresser.
Holding Anatoly still in one hand, he tossed the fob to the girls.
"Get dressed and get out of here," he said. "Keep the car as payment."
"Mmmp pfff!"
Erik backhanded Anatoly, and a deep red mark formed across the man's cheek almost immediately.
The girls quickly got dressed and scurried out of the bedroom, and moments later Erik heard the front door open and close, then the throaty growl of the Maserati Granturismo as it drove away.
"Just you and me now," Erik said. "Now, where shall we begin?"
He dragged Anatoly to his office down the hallway and zip-tied his ankles to the feet of a rolling leather office chair.
The last rays of sunlight, reflected off the Black Sea, cast golden hues through the richly appointed office as Erik got to work.
He started by methodically going through the papers on top of the large desk. Then the center drawer, and the three drawers on either side.
He found a set of small keys in a hidden panel under the second drawer on the left, and didn't miss the look on Anatoly's face as he presented his find.
"Now," Erik said aloud, "where would a pig like you keep a safe hidden in an office like this?"
He stroked the stubble on his chin in thought as he walked slowly around the perimeter of the office.
Of course his high Perception had picked up Anatoly's glance toward a paining hanging on the east wall, but he was enjoying watching the man squirm as Erik drew ever closer to it.
After several minutes, he stood before the painting.
"Hm," Erik said, "a Black Painting by Goya. How fitting."
He reached up and carefully lifted the masterpiece from the wall, revealing an oversized safe embedded behind.
"Right, here we are."
He turned to Anatoly.
"If you're not scared yet, just wait to see what happens next."
He inserted two heavy keys into the to locks, and then began spinning the wheel until he heard tumblers click into place.
Erik knew that to anyone with Perception under 100, this would be utterly imperceptible. A man like Anatoly would only protect his secrets with the highest-grade safes money could buy.
He spun the stainless steel wheel slowly to the left, then stopped. He kept going until he heard the mechanism inside unlock.
He turned the two keys and the door swung open.
Anatoly's eyes widened in shock and fear.
"I told you that you'd be scared. No tools needed. Pretty amazing, right?"
Erik laughed, while Anatoly groaned in his chair. His shoulders slumped visibly as Erik slid the stacks of currency and passports from six different countries aside, and pulled out a single manila folder.
When he read what was inside, he made an executive decision. He'd planned to let Anatoly go through the same thing Gideon Blackwell and Viktor Malenkov had.
But this was just too insidious.
His newly enhanced Identification popped in the moment Erik looked the man in the eyes.
---
Identification:
Name: Anatoly Brezhnev
Class: N/A
Level: N/A
Profession: N/A
Level: N/A
Disposition: Smug
Status: Unarmed
---
Smug. Even in this situation, Anatoly thought he was untouchable.
Erik decided his soul could take whatever backlash it would incur from ending this disgusting man's life.
He drew his combat knife from his hip, and just before he sliced it across Anatoly's throat, he said: "See you in hell."
Erik wiped the blade clean on Anatoly's clothes and sheathed it before sending a System message to Grim and Samir.
---
Anatoly eliminated.
Need to talk.
Urgent.
---
Grim looked at Samir.
"I guess we can't let the System sort them all out. Wonder what's so urgent."
Samir told Erik to call once he was back on safe ground, while Grim sent a message to Ronan.
It was time for Viktor to enter a nightmare scenario of his own. This man, Grim hoped, would learn some humility and change his ways.
With his talents, he would be a massive asset for the Peacekeepers. Because Grim knew that Earth wouldn't stay hidden forever. The green nanites were proof of that. He was sure they were some sort of an intervention from outside.