Chapter 56

FIRST DEFEAT

Annie stumbled and almost lost her footing.

Her opponent was taller than her, not that it was any surprise, but he was also quicker than she wanted to admit. He fought with a clean, efficient style, and every strike landed with a weight that reached deep even into her metal.

She tried to press the fight anyway, finally slipping into the wild rhythm that had carried her through each victory so far. Strike, close, then grapple. Anything to break his flow. But he gave her nothing to work with. His hands and feet moved as if he’d been born inside the ring. Each block turned into a counter, each mistake she made punished.

Her back hit the cage with a thud. She drew a breath to lunge, but his fist cracked against her chin, snapping her head back. A kick buried itself in her stomach. Air left her in a rush.

The mat rose to meet her.

For a moment, she just lay there with her chest heaving. The crowd’s roar washed over her like a storm.

Yamika didn’t raise his arms in victory. He crouched and offered a hand instead.

“You are very skilled, Ginger Goblin. Even with your natural disadvantages. But you are not ready to step onto this level just yet. I look forward to our rematch when you are.” His voice was steady, almost quiet against the noise.

Her jaw ached, but she reached up and took the hand anyway. He pulled her to her feet with effortless strength. Only then did he turn to the stands and lift his arm. The arena shook with approval.

Healers swept in. One guided her to the side, already pressing glowing palms to her ribs. Warmth spread through her chest, easing pain that she hadn’t realized had spread that far. Pain which shouldn’t have spread at all, given she’d been using MetaMetal Adaptation.

“As the defeated, healing services cost twenty thousand credits,” the healer said. His voice was flat and professional. “However, one of your viewers has anonymously sponsored you this time.”

She nodded automatically, then frowned. “Viewers?”

“Yes, of course. All arena fights are livestreamed across the galaxy. You have drawn quite the viewership already.” He glanced up, seeing the confusion on her face. “It was in the contract you signed.”

She blinked. “Oh. Right. Yeah, of course. The contract. I totally read that. Probably just got hit in the head one too many times.”

The healer gave a small shake of his head and returned to work.

The announcer’s voice boomed, having finished announcing the victory.

“But let’s give it up for our own Ginger Goblin, Scrappy! Fourteen and oh until tonight, now tasting her first defeat! And from the looks of it, she’s only getting started!”

The crowd exploded again, stamping feet against the stands. Annie raised a fist despite herself.

Leaving the cage, Annie allowed the last of her metal to fade away. Sweat immediately beaded across her forehead as her flesh body returned. Fans leaned over the railing, shouting her name with arms outstretched.

She gave them a grin and a wave, then had to hop to slap a few hands, their cheers chasing her down the ramp.

The tunnel swallowed the noise quickly enough, replacing the bright arena with dim lighting and scuffed walls. Her footsteps echoed after her.

She replayed the fight in her head, examining every blow, every stumble. She’d gone in thinking sheer grit and aggression would carry her like it always had. But he’d baited her into fighting his way; calm and technical. She’d let herself get dragged into a pace where she was outmatched.

Her jaw tightened. Combat Lock had locked her right in, all right. So focused on matching him strike for strike, that she’d ignored the smarter plays, relying on her powers to carry her to victory. She’d failed to twist the fight into the kind of messy scrap she excelled at.

Instead, she’d played his game. And lost.

Fourteen and oh, now fourteen and one. Annie shook her head and kept walking.

Lesson learned. Next time, I’ll fight my way.

And win.

Talia sat surrounded by the glow of half a dozen monitors, each crowded with strings of code and fractured data trees. The stolen hard drive’s contents remained locked tight behind Santiago Systems encryption. The password she had pulled from the director’s mind had only given access to the drive itself, with the standard layers of encryption hidden behind it.

She had scraps of their older encryption keys tucked away in her memory, and those gave her inroads. Outdated inroads, but still useful. Coupled with what she’d pulled from the director’s memories, lines of text and repeating file headers, she was forcing progress one line at a time.

Painfully slow progress.

Her fingers drummed against the desk as she watched another attempt to grind through the permutations. The computer reported a failure, reset, and tried again. She’d asked Alexander if it was something he could help with, but he’d shaken his head. The computer would do as he asked, but either he or the machine itself still needed to possess the key to unlock the door.

She thought of her old AEGIS clearance. Entire departments dedicated to this sort of work. Teams of specialists, tools developed at absurd expense. She would have filed a request, waited a week or two, and then received exactly what she needed. All it would have cost her was a dozen requisition forms, a security briefing or two, and the constant reminder of how she lived her life in chains.

The sentimentality washed away with that last thought.

A laugh broke free before she could stop it. “Nostalgic for the leash,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Never again.”

She pushed back from the desk and rose, rolling her shoulders until the knots cracked free. The automated scripts would keep chewing at the wall whether or not she sat watching. Her eyes lingered on the screens, on the neat cascade of commands, on the precise ordering of the work.

“Perfection,” she said softly, mocking herself. “I can’t even have a locked drive without obsessing over it.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

A stretch followed one last glance, then she turned toward the door. The gym would clear her mind better than another hour staring at numbers and letters.

As she left, one monitor flickered. Lines of scrambled data reassembled into a legible fragment for just a moment.

Santiago Systems EEES (Experimental Extraterrestrial Empowerment Site).

Then the progress bar slid back into motion, starting over. Methodical and inexorable.

The doors closed behind him, and once again Augustus found himself ushered into the Queen of Hearts’ private office. Paul’s single question had been enough to grant him an audience, just as last time.

She was radiant this evening, dressed in a flowing gown of gold that shimmered with each movement, as though she’d just returned from some important function. When their eyes met, she rose and crossed halfway, extending her hand. Augustus inclined his head, bowed over it, and brushed his lips against the back of her hand.

Her laugh was light, almost girlish, though he knew better than to mistake it for anything but calculated.

She gestured for him to take a seat. He took it, and she returned to her own across the table.

“My dear Augustus,” she said, settling gracefully into the chair, “I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon. Not that I mind, of course, but I assume this occasion to be business rather than pleasure. How may Astra Omnia be of service this evening?”

“My apologies if I interrupted something important,” he replied.

She flicked her fingers, dismissive. “An opportunity to meet with Grimnir, and the eminent Mr. Greaves in particular, is no interruption.”

He inclined his head. “I’ve been reaching out to certain people. Searching for information about the recent System announcement, and… the events surrounding it.”

Her lips curved faintly, a small smile that did not touch her eyes. “I would expect nothing less from such an experienced operator.”

He frowned at that.

The smile faded. She leaned forward slightly, voice softer. “Despite my best efforts, I’ve not managed to dig up anything of substance. Your time as a ranger remains a delightful mystery to me. Consider it a mark of good faith that I chose to leave it that way.”

Augustus held her gaze. “I appreciate the consideration.”

She inclined her head, but her next words were edged with curiosity. “It does make one wonder, though. Why would a man of such experience choose to follow one so… untested?”

The silence stretched. She let it, patient and composed, eyes sharp but not pressing.

Augustus allowed himself a moment to think. His gaze drifted past her, through the wide viewport behind her desk, where the blue curve of Earth glimmered against the endless black.

“What sort of person would you want to run a restaurant?” he asked at last.

Her eyebrows arched delicately. She considered the question rather than dismissing it. “Someone good with people,” she said finally. “Managing personnel, keeping clients happy, maintaining appearances for investors. Someone with charisma and presentation skills. And attention to detail.”

He nodded. “What about a sports team?”

“Experience in the game,” she said, warming to the exercise. “A coach who can drive morale but also be a taskmaster when needed. Someone the players trust to make the hard calls.”

Augustus leaned back. “And what kind of person do you think I’d want to lead a group of supervillains?”

She fell into quiet contemplation. The pause was long, and this time it was Augustus who waited, similarly patient and composed. Then her lips pressed together, and she nodded slightly. “I see. Leadership is not simply about experience. It demands distinct qualities and drives, depending on what it’s meant to achieve.”

Augustus’s eyes lingered on the planet spinning below. “Exactly so. Leadership is a young man’s game, and an old man’s responsibility. I gave it up a long time ago. To answer your real question, I follow his lead because I trust him to take us in the right direction.”

Augustus sighed. “Besides, what he was doing at first was something that mattered to me. After that, he did something else that felt right, and so we kept going. It is very easy to go along with someone else’s plans when they take you where you want to go.”

“And now you have a cause,” the Queen whispered. “That is almost the same way I fell into all of this.”

“Mm. Besides, he works hard and learns fast,” Augustus said. “If you point out something he lacks, he takes the time to learn without complaint. He listens when others have better ideas. I know he’ll accomplish great things as long as he has the right people looking out for him.”

“And one of them is the old warrior, watching out for youthful mistakes?” she teased.

“Something like that.”

She inclined her head, the gold fabric of her gown catching the light as she did. “Thank you,” she said, and this time there was no playfulness in her tone. “Truly. For sharing that with me.”

Augustus nodded idly, then tensed. His eyes flicked toward her with the faintest suspicion.

Her smile curved, amused. “No. I promise, I did not use my power on you. As I told you before, I prefer to reserve it for those I dislike. I am charming enough without it, I’ll have you know.”

He let out a low laugh and eased back in his chair. “My apologies.”

She waved it away with a delicate hand. “No need. I might think less of you if you hadn’t considered it a possibility.”

Her expression shifted, returning to business. “What is it you wish to know, Augustus?”

“Whatever you’re willing to share about the System. I can offer what I have learned and experienced in trade.”

“That’s fine,” she said smoothly. “I already have access to the report that the Throne of Scales submitted to AEGIS. Let us say Grimnir owes a small favor in return. I’m sure you’re good for it.”

Augustus’s brow lifted before he could stop it. Of course she did. She was a broker in everything but name, seated just outside the reach of the United Earth Government, playing her own careful game. Still, that she’d acquired what even his military contacts struggled to obtain was surprising.

“I want to know about the scale of the attack,” he said. “How many were affected?”

She considered him for a moment, then gave a slow nod. “Estimates place it at sixteen percent among both superhumans and the cybernetically augmented, though the pattern differs. Among superhumans, the distribution included those without combat experience. Among the augmented, almost all affected were experienced combatants.”

He absorbed that in silence, the numbers heavier than they sounded.

“Even the people on Astra Omnia were hit. We have recordings of them disappearing, then reappearing later, dead or having survived a fight,” she continued, her voice measured. “Of those attacked by these so-called invaders, only about thirty-four percent survived. They’ve chalked that up to the many non-combatants involved.”

Augustus inclined his head. “I see. Thank you.”

Her eyes softened slightly. “One of my own was among them. Benny.” She drew a breath, though her composure remained intact. “He was alone in his apartment when it happened. Cultists came for him and staked him to the floor. Cut him open while he still lived and performed some kind of ritual before killing him.”

“I am sorry for your loss.”

She smiled sadly.

But the question pressed at him, and he asked it. “How do you know the details?”

“Because the last thing Benny painted, on the wall behind where we found his body, was a depiction of three men in black robes performing a ritualistic murder. It turns out that his prophecies truly were more than just drug-fueled madness.”

Augustus bowed his head slightly, understanding her meaning. “I see. Thank you for sharing that, too.”

“Trust is currency, Augustus. We should never spend it lightly,” she murmured. “Benny made many claims about you and the other members of Grimnir after you met. It’s why I was so intrigued when your efforts coincided with my interests.”

“Anything we should know?” he asked.

The Queen of Hearts regarded him in silence for a moment. “Nothing that would change your paths, I suspect.”

Augustus didn’t press the matter. He could tell that she wasn’t the sort of person who would budge when her mind was made up.

They exchanged a few more words, polite closing conversation after such heavy topics. When he rose, she didn’t follow, only lifting a hand in farewell.

Augustus stepped out onto the plaza, steps carrying him toward home.

He’d come to Astra Omnia seeking clarity. And he would return to Grimnir with plenty to share; enough even to fill a night with discussion and debate.

But he still had more questions than answers.