Getting A System In A Modern World

Silas spent the rest of the day with Alex, sharing stories and casual conversation. By the time night fell and Alex drifted off to sleep, Silas finally saw a genuine smile play on his brother's lips—a sight that filled him with relief and warmth.

Before he left, Silas bent down and gently pinched Alex's cheek, whispering, "Sweet dreams, champ."

He stood up and glanced at Luna, who nodded silently, acknowledging her task to keep a vigilant watch.

The hospital entrance was quiet, the cool night air brushing against Silas's skin as he made his way to the car. He slid into the driver's seat and let out a long sigh, taking a moment to absorb the day's events.

Just as he was about to start the engine, his phone vibrated. The caller ID flashed a familiar name, and a knowing smile tugged at his lips.

"Hello, Mr. Yusmaorobis," Silas greeted smoothly.

President Yusmaorobis's voice was cautious, almost wary. "Mr. Silas, I hope I'm not interrupting. There's something rather important I wanted to discuss."

"No interruption at all. How can I assist you?" Silas replied, eyes glancing at the moonlit cityscape ahead.

"It's not so much assistance as it is a request. There's someone who wishes to speak with you. He's asked for your contact information, and I wanted your approval before sharing it."

He was about to ask when he saw a message from Luna and his eyes widened slightly in surprise.

'I see...'

A smile painted his face as a brilliant idea popped up in his head.

"You can give him the number, Mr Yusmaorobis," Silas replied, stunning President Yusmaorobis momentarily.

He was surprised by Silas' response. He knew that the fact that Silas mentioned the gender of the person meant that he already knee who it was.

This got him even more curious. He was curious to know just what the limits of Silas' capabilities are.

"Understood. I believe you'll hear from him soon," Yusmaorobis said, unable to mask his intrigue before ending the call.

Silas smiled when he saw this. He was very surprised and curious to know the reason why that person wants to speak with him. But he could already take a guess and he was looking forward to it.

He didn't have to wait long as moments later, his phone rang again, the displayed caller ID by Luna, just as he expected.

He let it ring twice before picking up, leaning back into the seat with a composed expression.

"I must admit, I was surprised to learn you wanted to speak with me, President Dmitry,' Silas said, his voice carrying a subtle edge.

"To what do I owe this honor, President of Russia?"

The silence in the car was broken only by the rhythmic hum of the engine and the distant city noises filtering through the night.

Silas's gaze remained steady, eyes narrowing slightly as he listened for President Dmitry's response.

He could almost picture the man on the other end—sitting at a polished desk, surrounded by aides with clipped expressions and hushed voices. This wasn't just a call; it was a move in a larger, hidden game.

"Mr. Kurt," President Dmitry's voice finally echoed in his head, carrying the weight of authority, experience, and something Silas couldn't quite pin down—perhaps curiosity or veiled caution.

"It's an honor to speak with someone who has captured the world's attention so quickly. I trust you are well after recent events."

Silas's lips curled into a subtle smile. He knew this was more than polite conversation.

"As well as can be expected, President Dmitry. I'm curious, what prompted this sudden outreach?"

There was a pause, brief but deliberate. Silas could sense the president's calculated choice of words, as if weighing each one before letting it slip.

"Your capabilities have become the subject of significant discussion among world leaders," Dmitry began, his tone diplomatic but edged with a faint sharpness.

"Your recent show of speed and strength—saving your family against impossible odds—that's not something that goes unnoticed."

"It was a personal matter," Silas replied, his voice steady, unyielding. "One I took care of in the only way I knew how."

"Of course," Dmitry acknowledged. "However, it has sparked many questions—not just about you, but about the future balance of power."

Silas's gaze hardened as he leaned back into his seat. He knew where this was going.

"Are you concerned, President Dmitry? That the balance may tip in an unfavorable direction?"

A chuckle, low and surprisingly genuine, came through the line. "Concerned? Perhaps. Intrigued, certainly. You see, Mr. Kurt, when an individual exhibits the kind of power that can shift the axis of influence, it's only natural for nations to take note—and some to act."

"I hope you're not referring to the same kind of action Daniel took," Silas said, his tone carrying a warning edge.

"No," Dmitry said smoothly. "I am far more interested in dialogue than confrontation. Russia has always valued those who wield power with wisdom. Which brings me to my proposal."

Silas remained silent, urging the president to continue.

"I believe there is an opportunity for cooperation," Dmitry said, his voice firming with conviction.

"The world is changing, and the old ways of establishing dominance no longer suffice. We are at the cusp of a new era—one where individuals like you will shape history. I wish to be on the right side of that future."

Silas's eyes flickered with interest. "And what exactly does this cooperation entail?"

"Strategic partnership," Dmitry said without hesitation. "Not as a servant to any state, but as a powerful ally. One who ensures that, should there be any global conflict or imbalance, there is someone capable of restoring it before it spirals out of control.

I won't insult your intelligence by suggesting you need protection, but alliances are not built on need alone. They are built on shared goals."

Silas absorbed Dmitry's words carefully. The offer was intriguing, layered with subtle implications.

An alliance with Russia, a powerhouse not easily swayed or intimidated, could tip scales in more ways than one. But with such a partnership came its own risks—trust, strings, expectations.

"I'll consider your offer," Silas finally said. "But understand this, President Dmitry—I am no pawn, no weapon for hire. If I align with anyone, it will be on my terms."

"Spoken like a true leader," Dmitry replied, a note of admiration in his voice. "I look forward to hearing your terms."

The call ended with a mutual understanding—a first step in what could become a complex and potentially world-altering relationship.

Silas placed his phone down and stared into the night, the city lights below him flickering like stars scattered on the earth. The future had never seemed so uncertain, yet full of potential. One thing was clear: whatever came next, he would be ready.

With a deep breath, Silas started the car and drove off into the night, his mind already weaving plans and possibilities. The big boys' game had just changed, and he was more than ready to play.

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