The cameras swept over the crowd; all the various teams of villains, or solo villains, heroes, or mercenaries forming an unruly mob advancing forward. Nicky paused the video for a moment. There. A figure covered head-to-toe in white tights. Good lord, what was she thinking? That was probably the worst costume she'd ever worn, including some of the ones she'd picked out as a teenager during her 'punk rock' phase. What was she? the Streak?

Just a set of the same sort of armored, friction-resistant material every speedster other than Lightning needed to wear to avoid ending up on fire and naked after a jog, and apparently a few pockets full of small throwing projectiles. No logos. No markings. As if she were deliberately setting out to be the most bland, generic figure she could.

Which, of course, meant that she stood out like crazy in a crowd of villains. The only other figures he could see in all white were a group in Klan robes called the 'White Knights' who were undoubtedly just genuine Klansmen with something to prove and who would be a likely feature of the gag reel for the entire tournament.

He gave a long sigh, and leaned back in his chair, turning to the young man in the booth; a seemingly ordinary freckle-faced teenager, albeit one properly dressed in a black dress shirt and slacks with a white tie; forming a contradiction to Nicky's own white suit and black tie. "No, we don't need to keep an eye on her, bobby. She's one of the heaviest hitters on the island, and surrounded by a sea of security. Unless we want to rig a match... which is strictly against both my own rules and that of the family so long as we're the house... there's no means, or need, to protect her til this is over. No standing by with rifles, no traps, nothing."

The teen shrugged. "Okay, Uncle Nicky. Just watching out. We all know how kick-ass she is, but I've only known she was family for a couple years now... and during that time she got almost killed by robots, and Eyeball had to rescue her. "

Deep down, Bobby was jealous; his half-sister had been lucky enough to be found when she was young. While Bobby had been using his superhuman reflexes to be a perfect pick-pocket, and keep himself alive in a household where his mother spent her government checks mostly on meth, she'd been groomed to lead a whole branch of organized crime... and gifted with the power to run close to a thousand miles per hour.

Despite that... she was his older sister. One who, the entire time he'd known her, had been welcoming, helpful, and ultimately forced him to realize just how badly his parents had impacted him; the doctors said that, if he hadn't been so malnourished as a child, his body and powers both would likely have been far more capable now that he was an adult. Nicky hadn't just given him a nice house, a great job, and so many opportunities..

He'd given him access to medical care that might, someday, make him as capable as he'd have been if he'd had the chance to grow up with uncle Nicky the whole time. Instead of just being able to slow time down to a crawl, he was slowly getting faster, healthier, stronger. Who knew what he could be capable in a year or two.

Nicky set a hand down on Bobby's hand. "Don't worry about it. Eyeball is in there with her as another contestant. If she actually needed the help, which I doubt, he'd be there. I've got a much more important job for you."

Bobby nodded. "Of course, boss."

Nicky chuckled. It always seemed to be 'boss' when he didn't agree with him, and Uncle Nicky when he was asking for something. "This one is a bit... problematic. We finally tracked down your last sister, and are going to make her the usual offer."

"Oh! Of course I'm in." He smiled. Most of his half-brothers and sisters lived on La Famiglia now; all of them, powers or not, had been offered cushy jobs, homes, anything they needed.

"She was a late bloomer. Got put up for adoption, went to college, and didn't realize she had speed to her until she got shot at while she was on the job... bagging and tagging evidence for the FBI. She's a new recruit at the DMA, going through training."

"...Oh." Bobby was at a loss. He had no idea how to handle a sibling that was possibly an enemy.

"Here's the deal. She never knew her dad, or the family. Has no idea she's related to us. And if it comes out that she is, it might interfere with her new job. So we need to handle this delicately. I need you to speak with her privately, let her know what's going on, give her the chance to join us if she wants, without screwing with her life. She's working human trafficking, nothing to do with the Family, so no reason to start a fight, either."

"Okay, Nicky. What's the plan?"

"If she wants nothing to do with us? Hands-off. If she wants to sign up? Bring her into the fold. If she just wants to keep in touch? We can start giving her 'anonymous tips' about folks smuggling little girls to help her career."

Bobby nodded, thinking about the possibilities. "It could be great to have a woman on the inside. So am I heading to DC?"

"No, actually... she's going to be coming here. A few DoD big-wigs are coming here for a few demos of tech down on Research Row, and while she's still just a trainee, her and her mentor are gonna be among the security teams. We've got her room numbers, basics of the whole plan, but she and her mentor are sharing a suite, so you might need to get creative to get her alone."

***

As the crowd was sorted out into teams, there was a fair amount of jostling, friendly banter. Newly made friends and enemies comparing weapons, talking about tactics... and watching the center of the arena.

The massive bulletproof dome had a series of smaller cages arranged in it today; so that 'newbie' teams and individuals could prove themselves with feats of power and strength, or by having demonstration matches against Pale Ones, monsters, or those unfortunates deemed unworthy of a chance to live.

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

The closest contestant Eyeball and Kidney were watching was... ridiculous. A man wearing what seemed to be overalls, with an animatronic tail attached, was loudly boasting of his power as he stalked around the cage; a group of four Pale Ones locked up, currently unmoving; a fairly common sight, as the controllers were used to turn random corpses... usually with a mask over their head, or even the controller itself over their face, to keep loved ones from recognizing them.. into zombie fodder to show the crowds what villains could do.

"I am the T-Rex! With my powerful jaws and deadly tail I will crush my enemies!" The dull brown overalls, the long metallic tentacle that served as a tail, a simple t-shirt... the man looked ridiculous, and nobody had ever heard of him.

When the bars sprang free, and the four Pale Ones charged forward; a bit clumsy, but with a strength and durability only possible from someone that had no concern at all for the survival of their own muscles and flesh; the man stepped forward; swinging the tail-tentacle around, knocking three of the Pale Ones into the bars.. and then turned to the fourth.

His mouth stretched out in an impossible, grotesque fashion as he leaned forward, and bit down on the fourth. his jaw crushing through the controller, the skull, and the brain inside, leaving the Pale One dropping to the ground, twitching, half of its head gone... as he chewed on a mouthful of bone, rotten brains, and metal.

The crowd was disgusted and amazed as he turned and spat a spray of metal and bone shards at the other pale Ones; causing numerous tiny cuts through the flesh, almost severing a few limbs, which now dangled limply, and leaving brains and blood splattered against the plexiglass walls outside the cage.

Viper's own amusement turned into a form of awe as he watched the lunatic use the tail to keep the Pale Ones off-balance and literally bit chunks out of them, one by one, disabling them, somehow yanking off arms and legs with a mouth that, when it wasn't stretched beyond recognition, looked normal... before turning back to the crowd. "I am the T-rex! hear how I roar!" Followed by... a deafeningly loud scream that actually sent cracks running through the plexiglass.

After a few moments, the announcer recovered from the display enough to interject. "And after that surprisingly dangerous display from our most recent competitor, I need to remind him, and everyone else, that breaking the bulletproof glass between you and the crowd during a match is an instant disqualification... and doing it during these demonstrations means that the cost of the glass will come out of your winnings, if any."

As the man stalked out of the cage, head held high, he was greeted with a strange blend of confusion and respect from the other competitors. Viper shook his head, watching the next contestant enter; for the moment, the glass was still mostly intact, just cracked, so they cleared out the last set of Pale One corpses, a lift delivered four more to the cage; and a new contestant entered.

***

Far more subdued and tame than the previous contestant, this man looked like a normal mercenary; dull grey body-armor that wouldn't have looked out of place among Eyeball's own collection if it were a bit darker, though more in the nature of kevlar and carbon fiber without much actual plating outside of a set of heavy gauntlets and the helmet; the helmet having the streaks of long-dried blood running down it.

While most of the armor looked fairly new, and nobody had heard of this 'Executioner' before, he seemed to be a solid professional. Two handguns, armored gauntlets, calm, collected... a look that wasn't too far off from dozens of other contestants as he stepped into the ring.

When the door shut, and the cages popped open, the four Pale Ones charged at the man; who calmly side-stepped the first one, delivering a single swift punch... that seemed to explode right through the victim's controller, head, and all, sending bits of flesh and metal flying.

Viper stared at the effect, as the man calmly moved, side-stepping, swinging... each punch did absolutely devastating damage, and hit like a gunshot going off, sending splattered bits of his enemies across the field.. he was moving with evidence of long combat practice, and while he might have super-strength, Viper didn't think so... it seemed more likely those gauntlets had something special about them.

It was quick; brutal. No real showmanship like the T-rex had shown; four swings; four destroyed Pale Ones. He stopped after the last one; smearing a strip of the corpse's blood over his helmet; and then nodded at the crowd, before stepping out; ignoring the cheers, as at least some of the audience appreciated his showing.

For the next half-hour, the next fights were a mixed bag; one ordinary gang-banger wearing his pants around his knees and holding a handgun sideways, clearly in over his head, had stepped in with a handgun and bulletproof vest, as well as far too much confidence; and ended up dragged out with two broken arms, a broken leg, and so much blood loss they weren't certain they could save him; an unfortunate counterpoint to some of his fellow gang-members who had made more impressive showings themselves. Almost as surprising, a drunken redneck with a pump-action shotgun and no apparent armor or superhuman abilities had emerged in overalls and a ballcap; gleefully crushing controllers with the stock of his gun, shooting one of them, and battering the last one around with obvious joy before putting it in its place; receiving far more cheers and laughter than the far more impressive showing of the Executioner. You could never be sure what you'd get with that sort; it could be anything from an incredible warrior to a useless sap.

Finally, they moved to the heavy-hitting newcomers; a rarity, as, generally, if you were a heavy-hitter, they knew what you could do, and you didn't need to prove anything. Technically, Viper should be in one of this sort of matches, to prove what he was capable of; but had easily avoided that, considering he was a part-owner of the arena. If anyone asked, the arena could simply say he was a previous contestant, entering anonymously as a new villain.

These matches were more about showing off than proving you were worth being in the arena, as simply crushing a few Pale Ones would get you entry, either as a team or solo. Whatever monster that could be found or genetically engineered might be tossed in there; some of the supervillains that had previously experimented making hideous Chimeras overseas out of blending meta and animal into generally short-lived abominations had labs here on the island, and used the arena to test their creations. The man in charge of assembling all of these to fight in the arena was one such supervillain; going by the code-name 'Doctor Disaster'; though whether he was really a doctor was unknown.

And as a heavily armored figure, who gave his name as 'The Black Knight' stepped out onto the arena floor, two sets of gates lifted... revealing a pair of 3-ton, betentacled horrors; hideous monsters that appeared to be a giant beetle crossed with a squid, with a core insectoid body and a series of long, claw-tipped tentacles.

"Okay, folks! You've all seen Doctor Disaster's horrors before. Most wouldn't want to even face one; but our next contestant claimed he could face however many we were willing to lose. Lets see whether he's full of crap or ready to kick it in the big leagues!"

The two horrors let out waiis of pain and anguish as they emerged onto the arena floor; the creatures would only live for a few weeks after being hatched out of their eggs in the lab, a deliberate design to ensure they didn't get loose in the wild, and apparently every moment of those short lives was suffering; suffering they were intent on taking out on whoever was unfortunate enough to enter the same room with them.