“Apologies for the call, honey. I was going to ask you to buy fish while you’re at the store, but I found it at the bottom of the freezer. So, ignore that last voice message. See you when you get home. I love you.”

The moment John’s voice stopped playing in her earbud, Maya pressed six.

“Voicemail marked to be saved. Warning: you have saved the maximum amount of voice messages,” the automated system message said. “You have one new message.”

In the quiet waiting room for Director Grindstaff’s office, Avanti sat next to her. Maya knew her earbuds leaked audio when the volume was too loud. Most likely, Avanti could hear every voice message.

She didn’t care. It didn’t matter if listening at such a high volume damaged her ear. How many more times would she hear his voice?

“Hey, baby. I know that you’re napping, but Red Soq just won the East City tournament we were watching before I left. I tried to tell you Scarfour’s victory would’ve been too obvious,” John said. “I tend to believe in the underdogs. Sometimes, I fear you feel I’m just being argumentative for the sake of, but…never, honey. I just have an affinity for those that fight against the odds. And, for being right. So, I told you so. That’s all. Sleep well. I love you.”

“Voicemail full. Unable to save message. Voicemail full. Unable to save message. Voicemail full.”

A part of her hoped she could hear John’s voice again if she pressed the button once more. Desperation forced her to push it again, and again, and again. Her hands shuddered. Maya tightened her grip. She let her head hang, and the tears fell into her lap. “Message marked for deletion. There are no new messages.”

She’d saved all of his audio messages over text. She’d redownloaded every archived video she recorded of him. She’d filled her voicemail with his random calls and explanations.

It wasn’t enough to wipe his final look of betrayal from her memory.

Her phone slipped from her grasp, clattering against the carpet. Avanti placed it back into her palm, closing her fist.

“Cherish the messages you saved, rather than grieving the ones you didn’t,” she said. “Times like this make me envy the devices of your society.”

“You can’t capture sound?”

Avanti sighed and waved upwards with her hand. From head to toe, an illusion of West Gale appeared in the center of the waiting room, perfectly replicating the elaborate pattern of his cloak. His face looked smaller than it did on TV, yet still more tired and rugged.

“I can make illusions of anything I’ve seen before. I can make voices, but…”

Avanti rose and tried to run a hand along his jaw, but it fell through.

“I can’t make him,” the West Gale clone said. “I can only make memories.”

Avanti dispelled the illusion and sat back down, her expression even darker than before.

If anything, Maya had to admit the alternate perspective did cheer her up a bit. The pieces of him were enough to stave off the haunting memory of his final moments at her hands.

“You were right,” Maya said. “That wasn’t justice. I wasn’t thinking about anyone else, or about the mission when I shot.”

“You wanted her dead more than you wanted John alive.”

Maya averted her gaze, fixating on a fluorescent light.

“Then we owe it to them to finish it. For John. For West. For Silk Music.”

Maya nodded. The door to Director Grindstaff’s office opened up, and Senior Agent Hale peeked out.

“Are you okay, Maya? We’re ready for you.”

Maya checked that she had everything in order — her notepad, her cracked phone, and her spare recorders. The time to mourn had passed.

It was time to finish the job.

Senior Agent Hale closed the door behind her and Avanti as they stepped into his office. Books lined floor-to-ceiling shelves made of exotic african blackwood on either side of the ornate office. Director Grindstaff himself stood at the window, facing the sparkling city skyline. As he turned to regard them underneath bushy white eyebrows, his wide frame still felt as intimidating as ever.

The director of the largest government intelligence agency in the world came around the desk with a frown, his arms wide open. “I’m so sorry, Maya. I heard about what happened,.”

“Thank you, sir, but I don’t want a hug from you,” Maya said.

Director Grindstaff nodded. “You’ve always been direct for someone of your generation. I understand. Let’s get down to the bottom of this, then. Show me what Decker hasn’t.”

He took a seat, Hale posted beside him, and Maya laid her evidence out on the stage of his desk. She started from the very beginning, recapping the information she gained from Mr. Stone and his students, comparing their copy of Gigabyte’s data to the facts Decker reported.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

She emphasized the parts he conveniently omitted, like Apex’s real name, her exact motive, and all of her allies: everyone from ranks thirty three to fifty. Mindgame's testimony proved how Apex had blackmailed them all into working for her, threatening families and hurting their loved ones.

The topic finally shifted to Arise Health when she described how Arise Health, her parents’s company, owned a controlling stake in the company that mined the material Synapse needed to power himself. Arise Health had records of either directly handling the Fighters found dead after their fights, or taking over and having them transferred from other hospital networks. At the same time, earlier, Arise Health had paid the coroner off to say her body was never discovered.

Arise Health manufactured the Memory Shot, an illegal drug Mindgame had confirmed the purpose of. Everything came back to them financially and organizationally supporting Apex’s mission, and the Director’s and Hale’s reactions shifted from intrigue to surprise to raw dread.

“This flash drive and my other personal backup contains all of my recordings, an unedited original copy of Gigabyte’s data, and Arise Health’s schematics of their underground facilities where they house hostages and produce the Memory Shot. Avanti and I were infiltrating one of the facilities, when we encountered Apex herself.”

“What tier is she?” Hale asked.

“In destructive capabilities, her known stolen abilities only place her at a Tier Nine, superhuman level at the most. Stolen moves alter her physical capabilities to match the original owner. So, when she uses Slam Buster, she becomes as powerful and durable as The Beast once was.”

Director Grindstaff nodded. “But I’m hearin’ that destructive power isn’t her forte.”

Maya shook her head. “Death is. Haruki Takahara is a killing machine. She’s time-control capable, and she was trained at a Fifty level. Her moveset can counter any archetype, and her skill can rival any master.”

Hale sneered, holding his chin. “How did you even get out alive?”

“Avanti and I derived a plan of described on my flash drive to counter her known abilities, for the sake of escaping. It worked until…” Maya trailed off, remembering John’s final look. Her grip on the table trembled.

“Until she pulled the rug out from under you.”

“When she brought John out.”

Director Grindstaff rose from his seat and rubbed the top of his head, pacing towards the window.

Hale seethed, clenching his fists as a deep crimson pulsed underneath his skin. “Damn.”

“Damn indeed, my boy. This may be the greatest threat the Fighting world has ever faced. Fighting her is fighting at least seventeen of the Fifty, one of the world’s biggest corporations, and our own men, for God’s sake!” Grindstaff threw a barrel-sized punch into the window, cracking the bulletproof glass.

“Agent Wolfe, you said you narrowed down her pattern, right?” Hale said.

Maya nodded. “Avanti and I have enough reason and evidence to believe that she’ll strike next in Morocco, to force a puppet to challenge and then kill Fayez the Great during the underground Maeraka tournament.”

“Then, that’s where we strike.” Hale cleared his throat. “Sir. This sounds like an Omega Level op to me.”

“I haven’t seen one of those since the day I took this position from the dead man before me,” Director Grindstaff said. “I’ll reach out to Grenda, and see about getting as many of the Fifty Apex hasn’t touched as we can.”

Maya’s heart skipped a beat. Grenda Steele — the Director of the Supernatural Crisis Intervention Unit. Once the SIU identified a threat, the SCIU were the heavy hitters to handle them.

“Don’t you have a favor you can cash in with Zeus’s champion?” Hale asked.

“Apparently, ‘god law’ forbids them from allowing their champions to engage in ‘mortal matters’,” Director Grindstaff said, holding up air quotes. “I’ll do what I do. Jackie!”

The director’s assistant peered into the room. “Yes, sir?”

“Take that flash drive from Agent Wolfe. I want a report on everyone ranked in the top one hundred that can carry out her plan in an hour..”

“Yes sir!”

“And you, Senior Agent Hale. I’ll leave apprehending Decker to you.”

“Can I assume his Agents to be compromised, too?”

“I want you to assume his fucking dog is compromised.”

Agent Hale popped his neck, a grin on his face. “Understood. Consider it done.”

With that, he left the room. As the door slipped shut, she could hear the rising activity passing through the previously-empty waiting room. The agency kicked into gear, but she wouldn’t be left out.

“What about me, sir?” she asked.

“You? What about you?” Director Grindstaff laughed. “You get the only thing you deserve. After all, I must personally congratulate you, Wolfe. You investigated where no one else dared, with no regard to your own safety and no support, yet you did all of the hard work and created your own support,” he said, gesturing to Avanti. “If this is what you can do on your own, I look damn forward to seeing what you do with a few Agents under your belt.”

Maya gasped. “You mean—?”

“A promotion when this is all done?” He smiled. “Get used to calling yourself Senior Agent.”

“I…thank you, sir, but what do you actually want me to do? What do you want us to do?” The promotion could come later. She had to get involved. She had to do something else to help the plan directly.

Yet, Director Grindstaff’s expression softened, like she was a kid asking Santa for a pony. “I want you two to rest.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I don’t want to remind you of what just happened. Both of you, I want in Witness Protection and far from the action. I don’t want to risk losing my new favorite soon-to-be-Senior Agent.”

Maya stammered, her heart pounding in her ears. All this, to not be there when the job was finished? To not be there to pull the trigger? Avanti sneered in shock, right beside her.

“At least, that’s what I want,” Director Grindstaff said. “But look at you. I know that's not what you want, and I’ve seen enough to know telling you no is pointless.”

“Really?!”

“You know your own plan better than anyone. Help Jackie assemble a strike team, get your friend involved, and I want a report at our meeting in Room 110 in an hour. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to call in some favors from the Lord above.”

Director Grindstaff waved her out of his office, and Maya nearly leapt out of her own skin in happiness on the way out. She brushed past an intern rushing across the waiting room with a stack of papers. In seconds, the director’s call for action had spread like wildfire, and two more Senior Agents entered and knocked at his door.

This was it. This was the chance she needed. As she and Avanti crossed the room to Jackie’s desk to help with forming a plan, her mind raced. If they were assembling anyone skilled enough to help take down Apex, she couldn’t leave him out.

She had a favor of her own to call in.