Derek's wealth was vast—so vast, in fact, that if the truth ever leaked, he would instantly become the richest or one of the richest people on the planet.
The Raven Corporation alone held ninety-nine point six billion dollars.
Blackfire Technologies was seeded with one billion dollars.
Across his network of shell companies and offshore accounts, Derek controlled another seven hundred and thirteen billion dollars.
Reindeer Logistics, now fully under his ownership, was valued at four hundred and twenty-six million dollars, its valuation inflated after the takeover frenzy.
It was an empire—cold, silent, and absolute.
And yet… Derek felt hollow.
All his wealth, all his victories, all the destruction he had unleashed—none of it meant anything if he did not reshape the world. In two lifetimes, he had seen wealth without impact, power without direction, brilliance wasted on petty greed.
He refused to be that kind of man.
Things would change soon.
The world would change soon.
---
That Monday afternoon, Blackfire Technologies made its first true move.
A purchasing team, backed by Derek's silent authorization, acquired a twenty-five-story building in downtown Los Angeles. Sleek, modern, glass-covered—a structure that could house a future empire. The building cost eighty million dollars.
But the purchase was only the beginning.
Derek allocated five million dollars for a complete interior remodel.
Another twenty million dollars was committed purely for security.
And not basic corporate security.
Not cameras, badges, or guards.
He wanted the building harder to break into than the White House, the CIA headquarters, and the Pentagon combined.
Encrypted elevators.
Reinforced server vaults.
Spectrum jammers.
Biometric locks.
Faraday shielding.
Private communication networks.
Internal surveillance blind spots known only to him.
Blackfire Technologies was going to be the birthplace of something dangerous—something revolutionary—and Derek wouldn't let anyone sniff around before he was ready.
The contractors moved fast.
Derek made sure of it.
---
Two weeks later, renovations were still ongoing, but the shell of his vision had taken shape—metal, glass, circuits, conduits humming with potential.
That morning, Blackfire posted a series of cryptic recruitment calls across select forums and private message boards:
Blackfire Technologies is hiring:
• Web developers
• Web designers
• Historians
• Psychologists
• Graphic designers
• 3D artists
• Animators
• Computer engineers
• Mechanical engineers
• Analysts
• Cryptographers
• Support staff
• Receptionists
…and many more.
There was no job description.
No details.
Only qualifications and an invitation:
"If you want to help build something unprecedented, apply."
The internet exploded.
Speculations ranged from a new tech startup to a government-backed black project.
Derek simply watched the chaos unfold from his hotel room, calm and silent.
Three days later, he boarded a flight to Los Angeles with Alan Payne and a small team of attorneys—his temporary interviewing board, until Blackfire had a proper HR department.
Los Angeles was exactly as he remembered from his past life—crowded, loud, filled with dreams and disappointments wrapped in sunshine. Derek walked through the terminal dressed casually: black hoodie, jeans, sneakers. He blended in perfectly.
When he arrived at the building for the interviews, he expected perhaps dozens of applicants.
What he found instead were hundreds.
A swarm of talent spilling through the lobby, lining the halls, circling the block.
Derek blinked once.
"Damn," he murmured.
Alan smirked nervously. "Seems your mystery marketing worked."
Derek almost laughed. "Let's get started."
The interviews lasted all day.
Derek was straightforward, efficient, and brutally honest.
Some applicants were brilliant.
Some were clueless.
Some had experience that stunned even him.
Even with the help of Alan and the newly hired lawyers, the last candidate walked out at 11:04 PM.
By the time Derek stepped outside, the night air was cool and quiet. He felt drained—but satisfied.
He was building a foundation.
---
The next morning, Derek stood in the newly renovated lobby of the Blackfire building. Smooth marble floors. High ceilings. Temporary lights. Clean white walls waiting for branding.
In front of him stood the one hundred applicants he had personally selected.
Men and women from different fields, different states, different backgrounds—but every one of them brilliant.
He spoke calmly, hands in his pockets.
"Welcome to Blackfire Technologies. You're here because you impressed me. You're here because you have skills the world underestimates. And you're here because you're going to help build something that will change history."
A ripple of excitement moved through the crowd.
Derek continued:
"You won't begin work immediately. You get one week. Use it to talk to each other, understand each other's strengths, and familiarize yourselves with this building. Your work will require absolute synchronization. If you can't function as a unit, you won't function at all."
Murmurs filled the room—confusion, curiosity, awe.
Derek then scanned the crowd.
"Ruth Garcia."
A dark-haired woman in a fitted blouse and slacks stepped forward. She had sharp eyes, sharp posture, and a military calmness. Derek noticed several employees watching her—they could tell she was different.
"Follow me," Derek said.
They walked toward the elevators, leaving behind a sea of whispered gossip:
"He's so young."
"Do you think he's legit?"
"What exactly are we building?"
"That receptionist… she walks like old military."
"Is this some black-budget project?"
"I heard he's a billionaire."
"No, someone said he's richer than Bezos—"
"That can't be real."
Derek ignored it all.
Inside an empty office—bare walls, bare floors, no chairs—Derek and Ruth stood across from each other.
He opened a file on his tablet.
"You served in Afghanistan," he said. "Army veteran. Four years of active duty. Specialty: breacher. Door charges, forced entry, building clearance."
Ruth nodded, chin steady. "Yes, sir."
Derek studied her for a moment.
"Do you still know your way around weapons?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you know any good people who'd work security for me?"
Her eyes narrowed subtly. "What kind of security?"
"The kind that actually matters," Derek replied. "Preferably former special forces, people who don't panic, don't freeze, and don't talk."
Ruth hesitated only briefly.
"I can check. I still have contacts."
"Good," Derek said. "I want to meet them as soon as possible."
He held her gaze.
No smile.
No softness.
"Blackfire needs a security division. I want the best. Not mall cops or corporate rent-a-guards. Professionals."
Ruth swallowed once.
"Yes, sir."
"Dismissed."
She left the room with a quiet nod.
Derek remained behind, staring out of the window at the Los Angeles skyline glowing under the morning sun.
Now, finally, he could begin his real work.
The work that would reshape the world.