WHAT'S IT GONNA BE

Vlad Chenkov was a phantom, a master assassin with a reputation for being untouchable. His career spanned over two decades, with a staggering body count of over nine hundred confirmed kills. This was a man who had honed his craft to perfection, with a skill set that made him nearly invisible.

Vlad's expertise was rooted in his ability to blend into his surroundings, to become one with the shadows. He was a chameleon, a ghost who could stalk his prey for days without being detected. His arsenal of skills included advanced marksmanship, hand-to-hand combat, and an uncanny ability to read people and situations.

His portfolio was a laundry list of high-profile targets: wealthy businessmen, politicians, and even royalty. He had taken out a notorious Colombian cartel leader, an Arab sheikh with ties to terrorism, and even a corrupt East African head of state. The authorities had given up trying to catch him, and his name was whispered in fear by those who knew of his existence.

Vlad's training had come at the hands of his parents, Wladimir and Angelika Chenkov, both veterans of the KGB. While his father had taught him the basics of espionage, it was his mother who had schooled him in the art of assassination. Vlad had taken her lessons to heart, building a reputation as one of the deadliest killers in the world.

Vlad's reputation as a master assassin was built on his flawless track record - except for one mission that still haunted him like a specter. The memory of it sent a shiver down his spine. He had been hired by a mysterious client with deep pockets and a ruthless streak, tasked with eliminating Charlee Saunders-McIntyre. The payday was staggering: $50 million.

Vlad had executed the hit with precision, but his target had refused to stay dead. She had risen from the ashes like a phoenix, and then dropped a bombshell: she was the CEO of Saunders Inc., a CEO rumored to be merciless in the underworld. The revelation sent a chill down Vlad's spine. If he had known his target's true identity, he would have never taken the job.

But now, his reputation was on the line. Wilbur, his client, had called him back to finish the job, his voice dripping with malice. "You failed once, Vlad. Don't fail again." The threat hung in the air like a guillotine, waiting to drop. Vlad knew he had to eliminate Charlee once and for all. He agreed to take on the job again, but this time, he was demanding a hefty $200 million. The stakes were higher, and Vlad knew he was dancing with death.

Vlad's eyes locked onto Charlee's, his mind racing with the implications. What no one had told him was that Saunders-McIntyre wasn't human. The rumors he had heard about her were true - and worse. He felt a cold sweat trickle down his spine as he realized he was in over his head.

"Who are you working for?" Charlee's eyes blazed with pyrokinetic fury, and she unleashed a wave of flames that engulfed Vlad's hair. He screamed in terror, his body writhing in agony as he tried to extinguish the blaze.

Vlad's screams turned to sobs as he begged for mercy. Charlee's smile grew wider, her eyes flashing with sadistic pleasure. With a flick of her wrist, the flames died down, leaving Vlad's hair a charred, smoldering ruin.

The door burst open, and Donnie strode in, a hulking figure with a menacing grin. He twirled a knife with deadly precision, his eyes glinting with a killer's instinct.

"Hey, boss lady," he said, his voice dripping with deference. "You getting what you need from our friend here?"

Charlee's gaze never left Vlad's face. "Oh, I'm just getting started," she purred, her voice dripping with malice. "And soon, Chenkov here will be singing like a canary." Charlee's voice was laced with venom as she spoke. "One last time, Chenkov. I want you to answer my question. Don't bother denying it. I know Wilbur sent you, and I know he paid you $250 million to kill me." Vlad's eyes narrowed, his mind racing with the implications and fear. How did she know? Could she read minds?

"My hackers have moved all the money from your shell accounts to mine," Charlee continued, a sly smile spreading across her face. "And, as of now, I'm two billion dollars richer." Vlad's gut twisted with anger and fear.

Charlee's eyes seemed to bore into his soul as she delivered the final blow. "Now, if you tell me what I want to know, I'll kill you myself and return $50 million to your account. But if you refuse... I'll approve the death of your wife, Ivana, and your sons, Viktor and Vladimir. And, just for kicks, I'll leak your location to your enemies." Vlad's world went dark, his mind consumed by a singular thought: His family had to be safe, Spencer Wilbur be damned.