No time to waste

Aaron gripped the steering wheel tightly as he navigated the busy city streets.

Out of nowhere, a car pulled up alongside him, the driver leaning out the window.

"Get off the road, you sucker!" the man shouted with a mocking laugh before speeding away, laying on the horn.

Shaking his head, Aaron continued on until he reached the towering glass facade of the Balsey Corporation headquarters.

He parked his sleek black sedan in the underground garage and made his way towards the reception area, climbing a grand marble staircase.

"How can we help you, Mr. Aaron?" the well-dressed receptionist asked politely.

"I'm here to see my brother," Aaron replied gruffly. Ramsey Balsey.

With a nod, the receptionist made a quick call. "Mr. Balsey, your brother Aaron is here to visit." There was a pause before she looked up. "He says to send him through."

Aaron had to pass through three different security checkpoints, being waved by handheld metal detectors and having his bags thoroughly searched each time. As the guards patted him down, he thought to himself, "Is my brother really this paranoid? What's with all this crazy security?"

Finally, he reached the elevator bay, the floors tiled in polished granite. An automated voice intoned, "Welcome to Balsey Corporation" as the doors slid open. Aaron punched the button for the 34th floor and was granted access to Ramsey's private office suite after checking in with another receptionist.

"Aaron, good to see you, brother!" Ramsey boomed, rising from behind his enormous mahogany desk to embrace him. The two brothers, so different in stature and temperament, shared a hearty laugh together.

Ramsey poured two generous glasses of Jack Daniel's whiskey and handed one to Aaron. "Let's catch up, shall we?" he said with a sly grin.

As they sipped their drinks, Ramsey said, "Say, do you remember that guy we sold the M1024 cannons to in Africa last year?" Aaron nodded. "Well, he wants to place an order for a thousand more! Can you believe an order that big?"

Aaron's eyes widened. A thousand high-powered armored weapons like that could supply a small army. "Damn, Ramsey...the Balsey Corporation really is blowing up."

"You have no idea," Ramsey said, leading Aaron from the plush office. They took the elevator down to the 16th floor, which required Ramsey's biometric fingerprint to access. "Welcome to paradise, brother."

The huge, hangar-like room was divided into separate sections that revealed the true extent of Balsey Corporation's operations. One area was a flurry of activity, manned by engineers in lab coats who appeared to be manufacturing guns, ammunition, and other advanced weapons systems.

Another section looked like a crude medical facility, where muscular men with vacant stares were being injected witha glowing blue serum by scientists in biohazard suits.

"What is that stuff?" Aaron asked, unable to mask his unease as one of the men erupted in agonizing convulsions before seeming to regain his senses, looking suddenly rejuvenated and even more fearsome.

"A proprietary supersoldier serum," Ramsey explained calmly. "The effects are temporary but increase the subject's strength and resilience four times over."

They moved on to another area labeled "Bioweapons Engineering." Here, Aaron saw even more bizarre and unsettling scenes - scientists messing with tubes and vials of sickly, mutagenic substances.

"This is our serum production line," Ramsey continued. "We're working on enhancing and weaponizing various engineered pathogens - viruses, bacteria, you name it. Bioweapons with a variety of effects, from paralysis to complete cellular disintegration."

Aaron felt ill watching the workers, garbed in hazmat suits, so casually handling such deadly materials. Ramsey, however, looked pleased as a father admiring his children's success.

"With these bioweapons, Balsey Corp aims to gain a complete monopoly. We'll be able to undercut and eliminate any competition and maximize our profits by controlling the technology and resources."

Finally, they came to a restricted area marked "Project C-Virus" that required yet another retinal scan to access. "This is our crown jewel, you could say," Ramsey said with evident pride. "A custom tailored pathogen designed to bypass all conventional treatment and protective measures. One hundred percent lethal."

Aaron simply stared at his brother in disbelief. This entire operation beggared belief.

Just then, Ramsey's phone buzzed. He checked it and grinned. "Ah, perfect timing. Our next shipment is arriving at the docks in an hour." He clapped Aaron on the shoulder. "Come on, we don't want to keep our friends waiting."

They returned to the garage and slid into the luxury sedan Aaron had arrived in. Glancing at his watch, Ramsey said, "We'll have just enough time to grease a few palms when we get there."

An hour later, they pulled up at a secluded warehouse by the port just as a rusty freighter was pulling in. Aaron and his crew of heavily armed men fanned out, greeting the arriving ship. Once its cargo was offloaded into a semi truck, they would escort it safely to one of the Balsey Corporation's clandestine storage facilities.

What they didn't know was that a mile away, crouched atop a shipping container, Detective Lopez was stealthily photographing the entire operation through the lens of his high-powered camera. He had been investigating the Balsey Corporation for months, suspicious of their dealings and sudden rise to prominence.

After snapping dozens of damning photos, Lopez rose to make his escape. But in his haste, he fumbled his pistol, letting it clatter to the ground of the metal container with a loud clang. The sound immediately drew the attention of Aaron's crew.

"Did you hear that?" one of the thugs muttered, drawing his weapon. "Over there!"

Lopez tried to make a run for it but was quickly spotted and seized by the mobsters. The wiry detective was no match for their fists and boots as they rained down blow after blow until he was left a bloody, barely conscious heap on the ground.

"Talk, you rat!" Aaron snarled, pressing the barrel of his pistol to Lopez's mangled face. "What were you doing here?"

But no matter how they threatened, beat, and tortured him, the tenacious detective refused to say a word. Finally, one of the men found the camera and saw the photographic evidence of their crimes.

"The son of a bitch was snapping pictures of us!" he roared. "Filmin' the whole damn thing!"

With a furious bellow, Aaron smashed the camera into pieces and hurled it into the dark waters of the harbor.

"Take care of him," he growled at his men. "Permanently."

The one they called Andre simply nodded, scooping up Lopez's fallen pistol. He pressed the muzzle to the top of the detective's bloodied head and pulled the trigger, silencing him forever.

Though they had destroyed the camera, unknown to them the all-important roll of film remained hidden in Lopez's pocket, the only evidence of their crimes. With the grisly job done, Aaron and his cartel loaded up the truck and rolled out, the detective's fate a mere inconvenience to be brushed aside.

Their cargo was the latest shipment of a deadly new synthetic drug called Colos 1,000, masterminded by the twisted genius of Ramsey Balsey. They transported it to a secure, sprawling warehouse nearly 17,500 square feet in size where it would be stored, processed, and distributed to their waitingclients.

As the truck's cargo bay doors opened, Aaron surveyed the latest product that would soon saturate the streets and fuel the fires of the Nicosia Cartel's criminal empire. He grinned wickedly. "Let's get to work, shall we?”