Alexander's phone buzzed, Amelia's text illuminating the screen.
"Hey love, heading to my hometown with my parents for 2 weeks. Miss you already."
Alexander's expression softened. He had grown accustomed to Amelia's presence.
"Ethan, I'm taking a break," Alexander said, showing him the message.
Ethan nodded. "You deserve it, bro. You've earned it."
Alexander smiled, feeling grateful for his brother's understanding.
He texted Amelia back, "Stay safe, beautiful. Can't wait to see you soon."
Amelia responded with a heart emoji.
Alexander pocketed his phone, feeling a mix of excitement and longing.
Two weeks without Amelia would be challenging, but he knew their relationship was strong.
Ethan clapped Alexander's back. "Let's focus on wrapping up loose ends. We've got this."
Alexander nodded, refocusing on their mission's aftermath.
Alexander and Ethan wrapped up their mission, and the Morano empire went belly up.
Director Jackson called, sounding grumpy as usual. "Mission classified. Don't leak it on social media."
Alexander rolled his eyes. "Got it, sir. No Instagram stories."
Ethan chuckled.
The brothers parted ways, Ethan heading to a secret spa for spy R&R (rest and reconnaissance).
Alexander returned to HQ, analyzing mission logs and plotting world domination...just kidding!
Their mission accomplished, the brothers relaxed, knowing the Morano family wouldn't bother them...until the next adventure.
Alexander face-planted onto his bed, snoring loudly. His alarm clock read 3:14 PM – Spy Standard Time (SST).
Suddenly, his stomach growled, protesting the lack of food. Alexander's eyes fluttered open.
"Food," he croaked, stumbling to the kitchen.
He scavenged for leftovers, finding a mysterious Tupperware container. "What's this?"
A post-it note read: "Best consumed before Armageddon."
Alexander hesitated, then dug in. The taste was...interesting.
"Note to self," he thought, "order pizza tonight."
As he ate, Alexander's phone buzzed – an unknown number.
"Alexander, you're needed." The voice was cryptic.
Alexander's instincts kicked in. "Who is this?"
The line went dead.
Alexander's phone buzzed. "Target: Raphael Torres. $10 million. Details encrypted. Meet courier at Club Eclipse tonight."
Alexander raised an eyebrow. "Who is this? Batman?"
He researched Torres, a shady businessman linked to money laundering. "Sounds like a stand-up guy," Alexander quipped.
After accepting the mission and receiving a $5 million advance, Alexander infiltrated Torres' mansion disguised as a caterer.
Torres' security detail: 10 guards, 2 patrols, and 1 pesky Rottweiler. Alexander's gear: Walther PPK, silencer, grappling hook, and poisoned canapés.
"Showtime," Alexander whispered, offering Torres a canapé.
