Chapter 72: Red Square Rendezvous

 

Moscow. The "Red October" Industrial Zone. 10:00 AM.

The train arrived at a desolate freight station. Sebastian, Harper, and Dr. Braun stepped out into the biting Russian wind. A black limousines—an old Soviet ZIL—was waiting for them.

"You called ahead?" Braun asked, shivering in his thin coat.

"Ivan always knows when I'm in town," Sebastian opened the door. "He has satellites."

They drove through the grey city, past the Kremlin, past the tourist spots, deep into the industrial heart of Moscow. The car stopped in front of a massive, derelict chocolate factory. Guards with AK-74s and face masks stood at the gate.

"Leave the weapons," a guard grunted.

Harper hesitated. "Do it," Sebastian said. "If Ivan wanted us dead, the car would have exploded five miles ago."

They surrendered their pistols. They walked into the factory.

---

[The Merchant of Death]

Inside, it wasn't a chocolate factory. It was a cathedral of war. Tanks were parked in rows. Crates of missiles were stacked to the ceiling. Drones buzzed overhead like angry hornets.

In the center of the warehouse, sitting on a velvet sofa placed on top of a T-90 tank, was Ivan Volkov. He was wearing a white tracksuit and eating caviar from a tin with a spoon. He was huge, loud, and dangerous.

"Sebastian!" Ivan roared, spreading his arms. "My favorite capitalist pig! You look... different." He jumped down from the tank with surprising agility. He circled Sebastian, sniffing the air. "You smell like blood. And cheap train soap."

"Hello, Ivan," Sebastian didn't smile. "I need shopping."

"Shopping?" Ivan laughed. "My friend, you are worth 100 million dollars dead. Victoria Vance sent the alert to every hitman from here to Siberia." He pulled a golden Desert Eagle from his waistband and pointed it at Sebastian’s chest. "Why shouldn't I just shoot you and collect the bounty? It's easier than shipping crates."

Harper tensed, ready to move. But Sebastian didn't flinch. He walked toward the gun, until the barrel pressed against his heart.

"Because 100 million is pocket change, Ivan," Sebastian said calmly. "And because I can give you something money can't buy."

---

[The Offer]

"Oh?" Ivan cocked his head. "And what is that? Your company is frozen. Your assets are gone."

"The Future," Sebastian said.

He signaled to Braun. The nervous doctor pulled out a tablet. He showed Ivan a simulation. Not of a weapon. But of a Soldier. A soldier who could heal from gunshot wounds in minutes. Who could run at 40 mph. Who needed no sleep.

"Project Helios," Sebastian whispered. "The West calls it a cure. I call it... an upgrade."

Ivan’s eyes widened. He lowered the gun slightly. "Super soldiers? I thought that was a myth."

"Look at me," Sebastian spread his arms. "Three days ago, I was a cripple in a wheelchair. My legs were dying." "Now?" He suddenly grabbed the barrel of Ivan’s Desert Eagle. With a quick, violent twist, he didn't just disarm Ivan—he bent the barrel of the gun. SCREECH. The golden steel groaned and twisted uselessly.

Ivan stared at his ruined gun. Then at Sebastian. "Blyat," Ivan whispered. "You are the prototype?"

"I am the proof of concept," Sebastian dropped the bent gun on the floor. Clang. "Help me kill Victoria Vance. Help me destroy the Syndicate." "And when I take back my empire... I will give you the exclusive distribution rights for the Helix Serum." "Imagine, Ivan. An army of immortals. Sold by you."

Ivan looked at the twisted metal. He imagined the trillions of dollars. He grinned. A wide, shark-like grin.

"I like you, Sebastian," Ivan clapped him on the shoulder (hard enough to stagger a normal man, but Sebastian didn't move). "Okay. We are partners." "What do you need?"

---

[The Armory]

"Everything," Sebastian said.

They walked through the aisles. Ivan was like a kid in a candy store. "This," Ivan pointed to a sleek, black rifle. "The AS Val. Integrated suppressor. Subsonic armor-piercing rounds. Silent as a whisper, hits like a truck." He tossed it to Harper. Harper caught it, checked the action expertly. "I like it."

"And for you, my super-friend?" Ivan asked Sebastian.

Sebastian walked past the assault rifles. He stopped in front of a glass case. Inside was a suit. Not Iron Man armor. But something tactical. Sleek. Matte black plates over a Kevlar weave. A helmet with a HUD (Heads-Up Display).

"The Ratnik-3 Prototype," Ivan whistled. "Exoskeleton support. Ceramic plating. Thermal vision. It was too expensive for the Russian army."

"It's perfect," Sebastian touched the glass. He needed the exoskeleton not just for protection, but to support his legs if the serum's effects fluctuated.

"And one more thing," Sebastian turned to Ivan. "I need a way to get back into the US. Unseen."

Ivan laughed. "That is the hard part. The airspace is locked down." "But... I have a submarine." "An old Kilo-class. It smells like cabbage and diesel, but it runs silent."

"A submarine," Sebastian nodded. "From a cargo ship to a sub. We are going deep."

---

[The Shadow]

While they were loading the gear, Harper pulled Sebastian aside. "Are you serious?" she hissed. "You're going to give this maniac the Super Soldier serum?" "That's worse than Victoria having it!"

Sebastian looked at her. His golden eyes were unreadable. "I promised him distribution rights," Sebastian whispered. "I didn't promise him the formula." "When this is over... Ivan will find out that the 'serum' I give him is just fancy saline solution."

Harper stared at him. "You're going to double-cross a Russian warlord?"

"I'm going to double-cross everyone, Harper," Sebastian adjusted his new tactical gloves. "Until we are safe."

"Sir!" A guard ran in, looking pale. "Mr. Volkov! We have a problem." "The perimeter sensors... they just went dead."

BOOM. The main gate of the factory exploded. A black APC (Armored Personnel Carrier) smashed through the wall. On the side of the vehicle was a symbol: A Red Skull. The Crimson Guard. The Syndicate's elite Russian branch.

"They found us," Ivan roared, grabbing an RPG. "They dare attack Volkov in his own house?!"

Sebastian pulled on his helmet. The HUD lit up red. Targets detected: 20.

"Suit up, Harper," Sebastian’s voice came through the comms, distorted and terrifying. "Test drive time."