The cyan-blue screens shifted as Aleksander continued to review the target’s movements.
“Cortana, filter Campo’s upcoming itinerary,” Aleksander instructed, his eyes scanning the data.
A sleek digital calendar materialized in the center of the room.
“Floriana Campo is scheduled to host a high-profile charity fundraiser in New York in exactly two weeks,” Cortana replied, projecting the structural blueprints of a luxury hotel ballroom.
Aleksander looked at the layout.
A public gala.
It was the perfect stage to make a statement.
His mind immediately began running through tactical scenarios—a localized, untraceable neurotoxin slipped into her champagne, a discreet blade in the blind spot of a VIP lounge, or perhaps a staged, fatal medical emergency that wouldn’t draw panic.
“Aleksander, there is a complication,” Cortana interrupted, pulling up a new, heavily redacted Interpol file right next to Campo’s face.
“Underworld chatter indicates that another party has already placed a hit on Campo.
The contract was accepted by an operative named Alban Veseli.”
Aleksander’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“The Freelancer.”
“Correct,” Cortana confirmed.
“He is a notoriously ruthless assassin who disguises his hits as massive, catastrophic accidents.
He targets entire buildings, commercial airplanes, commuter trains, and cargo ships just to eliminate a single target.”
The holographic screens instantly populated with horrifying images of derailed trains, collapsed structures, and smoldering wreckage.
“According to traced reports, Veseli is responsible for the deaths of over 3,600 innocent people,” Cortana continued, her artificial voice remaining entirely clinical.
“Almost all of those casualties were simply collateral damage to ensure his primary targets were eliminated.
Intelligence analysts compare his scale of carnage to state-sponsored terrorist organizations.”
Aleksander stared at the staggering death toll.
To someone raised by the surgical, absolute discipline of the underworld’s highest tiers, Veseli wasn’t a professional.
He was a sloppy, undisciplined butcher who masked his lack of precision with massive explosives and senseless slaughter.
It was a severe insult to the art of assassination.
A cold, predatory grin slowly spread across Aleksander’s face.
“Track his movements and locate him for me, Cortana,” Aleksander ordered, his voice dropping into a deadly, focused calm.
“We are going to New York for the fundraiser, but the parameters have changed.
This time, we have two kills.”
“Acknowledged, Aleksander.
Initiating global trace on Alban Veseli,” Cortana hummed.
There was a brief pause as her advanced processors sorted through deeply encrypted financial trails.
“However, there is one final piece of intelligence you must hear regarding Veseli’s contract.”
Aleksander paused, looking back at the main screen.
“Go on.”
“I have traced the shadow accounts funding the hit,” Cortana explained, bringing up a single, blank silhouette on the monitor.
“The client who hired The Freelancer to kill Campo…
is Raymond Reddington.”
Aleksander’s grin faded into a look of absolute, focused clarity.
The Concierge of Crime.
The man who sat at the absolute center of the global criminal underworld, brokering deals for cartels, dictators, and spies.
If Reddington was pulling the strings, this was no longer just a standard assassination.
Reddington never did anything without a dozen layered, hidden motives.
It was a high-stakes game of chess against a grandmaster.
“Keep monitoring Reddington’s encrypted channels,” Aleksander commanded, turning away from the screens and walking deliberately toward the heavy steel doors of his armory.
“This just became incredibly interesting.”
Aleksander stepped through the heavy steel doors and walked toward the reinforced back wall of the bunker.
As he approached, biometric sensors scanned his vitals, causing the solid concrete panels to smoothly slide apart.
Behind them was a heavily illuminated, glass-encased vault system—a recessed, climate-controlled armory designed to house Apex Industries’ most classified tactical assets.
Standing dead center in the brilliant white light was his prototype combat suit, a masterpiece of bleeding-edge engineering and lethal functionality.
Aleksander rapidly cataloged the specifications as he looked over the armor:
A full-face, angular helm covered in reinforced matte black plating.
Across the front, a sharp, horizontal V-shaped visor glowed with a piercing cyan light, acting as his tactical HUD.
Two small, wing-like crests extended upward from the top sides, giving the helmet a predatory, robotic silhouette.
The upper chest was shielded by a solid, glossy black armor plate precisely contoured to the pectorals to deflect high-caliber impacts.
Below it, the abdominal area transitioned into a highly flexible, dark blue synthetic weave.
This muscle-like material was segmented into horizontal, biomechanical ridges, with small, circular cyan nodes and cybernetic markings glowing down the center line to regulate the suit’s internal temperature and power distribution.
Smooth, dark gray rounded pauldrons capped the shoulders, each fitted with a tiny, glowing turquoise ring indicator that monitored the suit’s kinetic shielding.
The biceps and forearms were heavily encased in structured black plating, terminating in heavy, segmented black gauntlets built for devastating hand-to-hand combat and absolute grip strength.
The hips and outer thighs were protected by thick, dark gray composite panels.
The inner thighs and lower legs utilized the same form-fitting, flexible blue synthetic weave as the abdomen to ensure maximum agility, reinforced down the shins by sharp, matte-black armor greaves.
It was not a suit designed for stealth; it was a suit designed for absolute dominance.
Aleksander reached out, his fingertips grazing the cold glass of the vault.
A charity gala in New York full of high-society elites, a human trafficking broker posing as a saint, a deranged mass-murdering assassin, and the shadow of Raymond Reddington looming over the entire operation.
The high school drama of Riverdale was already fading from his mind.
This was the world he was built for.
”Cortana,” Aleksander said, his voice cold and resolute as he stared at the glowing cyan visor.
“Run the final diagnostic on the prototype weave and calibrate the visor’s targeting UI.
I want the suit ready for deployment before the gala.”
“Diagnostics initiated, Aleksander.
The prototype will be fully calibrated and combat-ready well before the gala,” Cortana confirmed, the cyan lights of the vault pulsing in rhythm with her voice.
As the thick glass sealed itself back up, Cortana shifted the holographic displays around the room.
The dossiers on Campo and Reddington minimized, replaced by a massive, rotating, three-dimensional strand of human DNA glowing in a bright, healthy gold.
”While we are finalizing preparations for New York, I have a progress report on the RegeneX synthesis,” Cortana announced.
Aleksander turned his attention to the golden helix, his calculating mind effortlessly shifting from tactical assassination to revolutionary bio-engineering.
It was a highly advanced cellular serum designed to target and replace old, damaged, or dying cells with fresher, younger ones.
At its core, it could rapidly heal severe wounds, repair failing internal organs, and actively reverse the cellular aging process.
It was, for all intents and purposes, the Holy Grail of biology—a literal Fountain of Youth.
He had originally engineered it as a practical solution to a logistical problem.
The advanced Medical Bay at Apex Industries was state-of-the-art, but its physical space and resources were limited.
The waitlists for patients needing organ transplants or critical trauma care were simply getting too long, and the appointments took up too much time.
RegeneX was designed to bypass the surgical bays entirely.
”The latest batch has achieved a one hundred percent cellular integration rate with zero immune rejection,” Cortana reported.
“It is ready for mass production.”
Aleksander studied the data streaming beside the DNA strand.
“Hold off on mass production of the pure formula, Cortana.
We cannot release the raw serum.”
”Explain,” Cortana prompted.
”If we drop a single, perfect cure for aging and disease onto the global market, it will completely destabilize the global economy, the healthcare sector, and global population dynamics, it will create a war” Aleksander explained calmly, pacing slowly around the glowing hologram.
“Humanity is not ready for a Fountain of Youth.
We need to control the flow.”
He swiped a hand through the air, fragmenting the golden DNA strand into three distinct, diluted segments.
”We are going to divide RegeneX into specialized, commercial variations,” Aleksander instructed, his CEO persona taking full control.
High-End Cosmetics: “First, we release a highly diluted topical version marketed toward elite skincare.
It will eliminate wrinkles, clear blemishes, and rejuvenate the skin without altering the internal organs.
It will dominate the luxury market.”
Commercial Pharmaceuticals: “Second, a pill variant.
It will boost the immune system, slowly repair minor internal damage, and increase general vitality.
We will market it as a next-generation daily supplement.”
Trauma and Medical Care: “Finally, a concentrated, hospital-grade intravenous version for critical injuries.
It will be strictly regulated, heavily priced, and used exclusively for repairing failing organs or severe tissue damage.”
”By dividing the formula, we solve the Medical Bay overflow, generate three separate, massive revenue streams, and maintain complete control over the technology without causing global panic.”
”A highly logical and profitable strategy,” Cortana agreed.
“I will begin fragmenting the RegeneX formula and preparing the patent filings under Apex Industries’ medical division.”
Aleksander offered a faint, satisfied smile.
He was about to dismantle a human trafficking ring in New York and cross paths with the most dangerous criminal mastermind in the world.
But right now, he had just revolutionized global healthcare from the basement of a quiet house in Riverdale.
”Perfect,” Aleksander said, grabbing his jacket.
“Keep synthesizing the variants.
I need to get some sleep.
I have high school in the morning.”