Miyu Tanaka was one of the backroom nurses for the Maeraka tournament. She’d just finished her nursing program, and with a fresh license, here in Morocco, this was the only place that would accept her. She had to do well. She had to prove herself — it would look great on her resume if she did well taking care of the Fighters that returned to their lockers.
That was the story.
That was her character.
She held a hot towel against Blight’s back, soothing her muscles after her narrow victory against Fayez the Great. The plan was still successful. Blight had shown up in Fayez’s own tournament, fought him in the first round in his own arena, and taken his spot.
Blight winced. “So. Is this the point where he comes back here to challenge me?”
“Sorry? I have no idea what you mean.” Miyu pinched the back of Blight’s neck hard with her other hand, drawing blood with her nails.
I’m in character, you idiot. You don’t know me.
Of all steps to go wrong, it wouldn’t be from her own ally leaking her identity.
But, Blight wasn’t wrong. A few heavy footsteps, and the door slammed open. Fayez’s great figure took up the frame from shoulder to shoulder, his arms crossed.
“Well. The wolf is nothing but a puppy that still needs milk from its mommy.” He slammed the door behind himself. “Are you tired? Proud about your victory, I assume?”
Miyu drew back in fear. She was never used to being this close when two Fighters were about to fight.
That was her character.
So, when Fayez shot her a glare, she ducked her head down and bowed as she hurried towards the door.
“Victory against me once is not the end of your battle, my friend. That’s not how things go, in my tournament. You do not arrive on my doorstep and dethrone Fayez the Great and expect to walk away without a rematch.”
Miyu opened the door to leave, but Fayez’s back was to her.
She closed it back.
“There. I waited because I didn’t want the girl to get caught. This is barely enough room as is,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. “But I challenge you to a—”
“I don’t think so.”
Miyu pulled her wig off, and Apex pulled the scrub top over her head, hair settling into her face, the breeze against her shoulders as she only wore a tight black tank top.
Fayez turned on a dime. “You! When did you get in here? No — you were the nurse?! You’re the one on TV they called—”
“Shh! Don’t say it too loud! Your cameras might pick up on my name,” Apex said, pointing at the security camera in the corner of the room, with a blinking green light.
Cue.
Right at that moment, by her signal, the green light blinked away. “Actually, no. No one’s there to hear. Your security team’s on my payroll, now.”
Fayez clenched his fists, taking a hesitant step back. Behind him, Blight shot up from her seat, circling towards Apex. “So, you were with her. This wasn’t just a challenge,” he said, chuckling. “You plan to slay Fayez the Great inside of my own tournament hall?”
Apex thought for a moment and shrugged. “Just about. First, though…that grab of yours seems handy. I have a close range, grab, sure, but a longer-range grab?” She smiled. “Perfect. I challenge you to a—”
A Limiter brace clasped around her neck.
Her strength vanished.
A figure clad in black leaped from the shadows, shoving Apex away from the wall, reaching to clasp golden cuffs around her wrists. Apex slapped the cuffs away, flinching for a Sunshot, but her powers were gone — Limited. On the figure’s black long coat, she recognized the emblem of the Supernatural Regulatory Bureau.
Gloves gleaming green, cuffs in hand, the Agent shoved her back. Apexlost her footing, but in one swift movement, she pulled a knife from a sheathe at her hip and threw it into their neck.
The door flew open. Agents flooded the room.
Her powers were limited, but that was her character.
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Avanti tented her Fingers in the gesture of the ancestors, sending a silent prayer for the hours to come.
She huddled in a dark locker room, crowded with shadows all not daring to make a sound. The SRB Agents weren’t too different from the Enforcer mages back home. Both were sworn to protection against the supernatural — at least, what the world considered supernatural, but what they simply knew as magic of theirs and the System. Where the Enforcer mages were clad in black cloaks, the Agents were the same thing in black suits.
Maybe they all weren’t so different after all.
“All agents, the Infiltrator is striking. Execute Plan Alpha.”
It felt wrong having to rely on technology like the others. As soon as the earpiece went off, the Agent in the lead, Director Steele, pushed the door open. Down the hall, the other locker rooms flew open. A tidal wave of black rushed through the hallway, with Avanti in the center, and Director Steele kicked the door to Blight’s room open.
Blight was on the left. Fayez was ahead, standing in front of the bench. They planted an Agent with invisibility into Blight’s room as the Infiltrator, but they laid dead against the wall.
Apex was on the ground, a Limiter brace around her neck, her eyes like iron.
She rolled backwards as someone missed a sleeping dart. A second Agent fired a projectile that would put anyone to sleep, too, yet Apex dodged and sprang upwards into a drop kick into Fayez’s face. Fayez had blocked, but he still reeled as she flipped atop the bench and put an arm around his neck.
Apex held a knife against his neck, the razor-sharp point shimmering in the flickering fluorescent lights.
The mechanical, technological clacking of guns being drawn sent chills up Avanti’s spine. She saw her own crime, saw what she did to Maya’s husband. But, banishing the thoughts, she extended a hand over the crowd and cast a darkness Illusion over Apex’s mind. To her, the room would plunge into blackness, robbing her of sight.
She pulled on Fayez’s neck even tighter.
“Stand down, Haruki Takahara!” Director Steele boomed, pointing a rifle. “You’re under arrest for several counts of murder, kidnapping, ransom, international terrorism, and for compromising the security of the Ultimate Versus tournament.”
“That’s all? You guys didn’t do your research.”
“Release Fayez and come quietly! This is your only chance to surrender!”
Apex’s shoulders rose and fell with each rapid, panicked breath, despite the grin on her face.
“We will not hesitate to open fire.”
“Wait, wait, excuse me?!” Fayez raised his hands. “That wasn’t in the plan! I can’t — I’m not bulletproof!”
“You should listen to him, Steele,” Apex said. “Killing innocents is against your code, especially innocent Fifties. He doesn’t feel very knife proof, either.” She pressed the blade against his furry neck, drawing a line of blood.
Fayez struggled and barked against her strength, his face turning red.
How was she still strong enough to restrain him? Avanti’s stomach churned. Something was off.
“Stand down!” Director Steele shouted. “This is your final warning!”
“All units, Plan Beta! Plan Beta! Shift to Plan Beta!”
Fear seized Avanti’s ribcage. The director stiffened. “Copy? This is Director Steele — what’s going on out there?!”
This time, Avanti could clearly hear the voice. They could all hear that it wasn’t an Agent, but Atlas himself.
“We have moles. The Limiter Brace is a fake! It’s fake! Target is still able!”
Ahead, Apex dropped the knife. A blinding white ball of light gathered in her palms, building in size. “You should’ve vetted your Agents more, Steele. You’d be surprised what some people are willing to give for their family — even their own life.”
“Open fire!”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Fayez the Great screamed, desperately raising his hands. Gunfire clapped through the room, bullets passing right through his shield. Flecks of blood splattered onto the locker, but some bullets drew sparks against Apex’s skin as it transformed to gold. From head to toe, her entire body solidified, reflecting the bullets.
Avanti intensified her illusion spell, losing her own hearing as she assaulted Apex’s senses with gunfire multiplied a thousand fold. She threw illusions of blinding lightning bolts, of the horrifying sight of her own body being ripped to shreds.
None of it fazed her.
Apex remained a prideful statue of gold, her grin frozen as the ball of white energy grew to the size of a basketball.
Fayez’s body dropped. Agents dived to the floor. Beside her, Senior Agent Hale ripped his suit jacket apart as his skin took on a deep crimson hue and his horned head touched the ceiling, muscles thickening. He lunged right at her. Apex opened her palm.
The small ball of light rippled an instant before the sun invited itself indoors.
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Rafiq just wanted some popcorn.
Halfway through the match, he split off to find the concession stand, hoping to grab a snack and take off the uncomfortable hood without worrying about a challenge.
The stand was tucked away in a room down a side hallway from the stairs that split the bleachers. Most people were still watching the main fight and waiting for Fayez’s rematch with that Blight girl. Because of that, the concession area was quiet—just a worker sorting chips and popcorn and a lone woman eating a sandwich against the wall.
The explosion hit just as Rafiq grabbed his popcorn.
With a deafening boom, the ground rumbled, like the Earth had pulled the rug out from underneath them. Rafiq’s ears popped, and the violent shudder threw the popcorn from the worker’s grasp. Rafiq held the counter for balance, ears ringing.
Did someone use a powerful ultimate?
The fighting outside had gone silent. Then, the thundering of footsteps and screams. Then, battle. It sounded like everyone was fighting everyone in the other room, with the previous sounds of shouts and special moves multiplied a thousand fold.
Behind him, the lone woman pulled her hood and cloak away, revealing a full black suit with black glasses.
The Supernatural Crisis Intervention Unit.
The raid.
As Rafiq reeled, the server wildly tossed the bag of popcorn at him and slammed his roll-up door shut.
“Shoot! Hey, kid!” the woman called out to him in Arabic. “Are you with the raid?”
“The — shit, yeah!” Rafiq threw his hood and cloak aside, the popcorn crunching underneath his shoes. “She got Fifties with her?”
“All over the place. It’s a warzone out there. I didn’t know they were hiring Fighters so young for this, but we need to move. Focus on the marked targets. You have your cuffs, right? Detain who you can!” she shouted, sprinting out of the room without even checking. “If you run into one of her Fifties, just—”
A bullet ripped through her shoulder with an ear-piercing pop. She exclaimed in pain and grabbed her arm, rushing at her attacker. Rafiq moved to attack, but she and her attacker struggled back into the small room.
And his legs rooted themselves to the ground. Synapse, the fortieth Fighter in the world, shoved the agent against the wall beside the concession stand’s roll up door. Light gleamed inside of her teeth, and Synapse dived to the ground as a beam of light erupted from her mouth. Prone, Synapse raised his sniper rifle without even looking down the scope.
A single bullet spoke louder than the war next door.
A single bullet slammed the Agent against the wall, her limp corpse dropping with a crack.
Synapse rose, panting, his audible breaths computerized and synthetic. “You aren’t with the raid. You’re…Rex. The now Platinum-Class Rushdown of the School of Flow.” His red eyes narrowed into a squint.
Rafiq clenched his fists.
“No. Do not be stupid, child. You’re outnumbered, outclassed, and I am not—”
Down. Forward.
Rafiq summoned a dodgeball as Synapse raised his sniper barrel. He flung the dodgeball at Synapse’s barrel, redirecting it upwards. The bullet’s heat whizzed over his head.
Heart pounding in his throat, Rafiq grinned. “I challenge you to a ranked fight, Synapse!”
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Daniel knew fights were louder when you weren’t the one fighting. During a fight, you got too into it. While focusing on you and your own opponent, the sounds of your own moves and shouts became background noise. Two fights at once were even louder — that, he only encountered once in the days before they left South City. If two were that bad, three at once would likely be deafening.
He lost count of the number of fights going on in every direction. Stray special movies and ultimates flashed through the thick dust blanketing the entire area and giving the air a dusty, dirty scent, mixed in with the smell of fire and the raw energy humming through the air.
He couldn’t even count the number of fights around him. Stray specials and ultimates flashed through the thick dust choking the air, leaving behind a dirty, burnt scent spiked with raw energy. The black sky loomed overhead through the gaping hole in the ceiling, where half the arena used to be.
Everywhere he looked, people in black suits and body armor brawled with Fighters, and some Fighters turned on each other in the chaos. Rubble and debris blurred the edges of his vision. The Thunderdome was tearing itself apart.
Where were the original two Fighters?
A stray energy blast charged through the smoke.
Snapping out of his stupor, Daniel countered and rolled aside in the slowed time. The smoke stirred — six people fought in that direction. Above him, the ceiling cracked, and a gigantic piece of concrete came crashing down, forcing him to dive out of the way,
His heart hammered as blood streamed from a cut he didn’t even feel, thanks to the adrenaline. Daniel pulled his cloak away, senses buzzing in the chaos, head spinning. Carmen went to the bathroom. Rafiq went to the concession stand. Mr. Stone was right beside him.
Where were the audience seats, anymore?
He ducked underneath a stray arrow, eyes falling on two more brawling figures. Daniel squeezed a pebble in his hands. This was it. This was the raid they came for, the chance they were hoping for to find a Fifty.
But he had to find Carmen.
A plume of fire pierced through the smoke like a beacon of light, drawing Daniel’s attention to the seven foot tall man with horns atop his red skin, muscles bulging as he battled a haunting, familiar face.
Apex.
The demon-turned man roared over the battlefield, belching a ball of fire. Apex easily dodged, and flames danced around her leg before her blazing kick sent him flying away. An instant later, the demon-turned man came back flying overhead, throttling Apex between his massive palms as they crashed in the distance.
And at the same time, an unaimed beam of light blasted through the crumbling ceiling. Debris fell — death screamed over the chaos.
As Daniel stood there with his head on a swivel, a figure of orange tackled him in a sprint. The woman rushed towards a side hallway, pushing him against the wall. She had green hair and piercings, but a horrible gash scaled the upper right of her face, continuing into her singed hair.
“Daniel Chase? You’re the boy West sacrificed himself for,” she said, panting.
“I — what? Who’re you?!” Daniel stammered.
“Someone close to West.” She grabbed him by the arms. “You need to get out of here. If she sees you here, you’re dead. The exit’s that way!” As she pointed down the hall, her eyes gleamed pink, and an arrow appeared floating in the air.
Before he could respond, she ran off, pink magic gleaming around her hands as she plunged back into the chaos.
His heart drummed against his ribcage, threatening to follow the exit arrow on its own. Daniel flattened himself against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut, fighting for breath. He tried searching for Mr. Stone’s voice, for Chip’s caw, for the crack of Carmen’s lightning — even the bounce of Rafiq’s dodgeball.
If he ran back in, he might encounter Apex. To get back to his family, he had to survive.
But he had to make sure Carmen was okay. He had to protect her.
He couldn’t live without knowing if she was safe — he’d rather die beside her.
Down the hallway, opposite the arrow, an SRB Agent in a black suit was shoved into the corridor, and fired green, firework-like explosions at his attacker before a crimson shield caved his chest in. Goosebumps slithered up Daniel’s spin as another corpse fell.
Sir Guardian paced over and yanked at the air, pulling his shield back into his hands without even touching it. His helmet was gone. Ginger hair matched his thick beard, framing his heavy, squared jaw and beady eyes.
The forty-first Fighter in the entire world glared at him.
Daniel tried to let the facade of swagger show through his tone, but it came out shaky as he shouted over the fighting. “Bad time for a rematch?”
“You!”
Sir Guardian’s shield sliced through the air. Daniel waited a half rest and met the spinning crimson disc with his forehead, countering the impact. He phased through and grabbed it mid-air, using his counter-enhanced strength to throw it right back.
Easily, Sir Guardian caught his shield, and surprise flashed through his gruff expression. The arena shuddered under a distant explosion, and the overhead lights sputtered like dying stars.
“You’re nothing but a thorn in our side. I don’t have time for you,” he spat. “Maybe I should save the boss some time and kill you here.”
“We fought once and I beat you like it was nothing. Don’t pretend you can take me down that easily.”
“We fought? You were outnumbered 11 to 1 — don’t get cocky like you still have that advantage, boy.”
“Oh, I’m not cocky ‘cause of that. I’m cocky ‘cause all I see is an angry, knock-off Captain America,” Daniel said, popping his knuckles. “I challenge you to a ranked Fight, Sir Guardian!”
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Carmen couldn’t stand to be in the arena bleachers any longer.
After this long without the Memory Shot, her thoughts felt trapped in her brain, threatening to explode from her skull with every second in that loud room. The lights were too bright. The seats, too uneven. Every cheer and shout of the crowd scratched against her ear drums.
And so, while everyone waited for Fayez’s rematch in the back rooms, she took that chance to leave for the bathroom, to watch it in peace and quiet.
That was how she ended up in a stall, massaging her temples, and watching her menu when the bomb went off.
It had to be a bomb — the ground buckled beneath her like a tremor, almost knocking her off the seat before the bathroom lights blinked out. Heart racing, she shut her menu.
Then silence. It stretched on, each second a pitch-black eternity.
She grasped her faux platinum pendant as the lights flickered back on. Worry throbbed in her skull. Was Daniel near the explosion? Mr. Stone? Rafiq?
The fighting started once she pulled her phone out. First it was five referees at once, then ten, then twenty. In seconds, she lost count on which sounds were referees and which were just fighting.
Carmen shot to her feet, summoning Chip in his muscular form to punch the stall door off of its hinges. The metal crashed against the concrete, worsening her headache, sending a spike of pain through her skull.
She stumbled out into the wide hallway outside the bathroom, leaning against the wall as reality spun. This was it. This was the raid, their time to find a Fifty, as planned.
And she still had no Memory Shot.
“Scuse me!”
A man ran right past her, his hair crackling white and yellow, like the violent end of a live wire. He threw the rest of his cloak off.
Electrohead, the 35th-ranked Fighter in the entire world, the one who had replaced Steelstorm.
Apex’s lackey.
“No, no, no! Damn! This was exactly why she wanted us here — I gotta hurry, or I’m so dead!” he exclaimed.
“Hey!”
Electrohead stopped in his tracks, turning on a dime, his eyes wide. “Please don’t tell me you recognize me,” he said. “You don’t know who I am…do you?”
Carmen took a final swig of her water bottle and tossed it aside, shoving through the headache through willpower. This was her chance to make her destiny. She wouldn't let the Memory Shot cost her the fight — she could be perfect without it.
“I know who you are. You’re Electrohead, and I challenge you to a ranked Fight!”