Heroes, Villains, and Renegades Fiction: Trial of Strength part 12

 Jordan jumped, tumbled, and dodged left and right. Each movement evaded a strike from The Catalyst, a trainee roughly his height and build. Slipping under another swung arm, Jordan landed a solid blow to Catalyst’s side, then swept his leg and tripped the other hero.

“That’s enough!” Coach Thrasher bellowed from the edge of the mat.

The large, four-armed coach pointed at a med droid. The robot hurried onto the mat, scanned both fighters, and gave an all-clear signal. Thrasher stepped through the ropes.

“Good work,” he said. “I’m impressed. Your agility has improved a lot this week.”

Jordan, still catching his breath, replied, “Thanks. That obstacle course you have me run every morning helped. The way the targets keep changing has made me a lot more aware.”

Thrasher nodded. “Your martial arts background helps with that agility too. Keep relying on both your training and your powers, and you’ll become a formidable opponent.”

Catalyst asked, “How’d I do?”

“Fine, fine. You’re learning,” Thrasher said. “Extra credit for helping out. Now go shower.”

Jordan wiped sweat from his brow. “Do you think I’m ready? My time here is almost up, right?”

Thrasher considered for a moment, then nodded. “You could always use more training, that’s normal for any hero who wants to stay sharp. You’ve learned and grown a lot in this week. I think you stand a real chance of surviving the competition. I can’t promise you’ll win, but you’ll put on a strong performance.”

“I… don’t know how to take that,” Jordan said as he walked with the coach.

“I don’t sugarcoat things, kid. You’re strong, agile, and you’ve got good common sense. Those traits will take you far if you lean on them. But there are a lot of powerful people who want this, so you’ve got a hard road ahead. Stay focused, trust your strengths, and be ready to take a hit when it comes.”

“Got it.”

“Now hit the showers and get some dinner. I’ve got rookies to terrify.” Thrasher walked off with a wicked gleam in his eye.

Jordan had come to understand the coach. Thrasher was brash, powerful, and smart. He knew his craft and pushed his trainees hard, but it was all to make sure they were truly ready.

After a hot shower, Jordan stepped into the lounge near the training area where other hero trainees relaxed. Soft couches filled the room, and a large television showed the ongoing tournament matches.

The sports announcer, who normally called A.W.W. events, now spoke like a news anchor. “We’re looking at the end of week two of the Avatar’s challenge. A new group of champions from around the world is converging on A.W.W. HQ Arena for a king-of-the-mountain style match to determine who ends up on top. The current leader is Hanuman Hammer, captain of the New Delhi superhero league. He’s strong, but some of the new arrivals will put his dominance to the test. The next match begins in half an hour as the world watches.”

An image of the hyper-muscular Indian hero in his monkey-themed costume filled the screen before commercials started. One of the girls muted the television, and the group began debating who they thought would win.

Jordan had deliberately avoided watching most of the matches this week. Every time he saw them, his nerves spiked about what lay ahead.

EB suddenly bounced into the room. “Jordan! Great, Coach said you were done. You look fantastic. You’ve really been hitting the weights this week.”

Jordan, whose terrycloth bathrobe had slipped open enough to show his chest, smiled sheepishly. “Oh, I hadn’t noticed.”

“Don’t try to fool a habitual flirt. You’re beefcake now,” EB grinned.

Jordan blushed as two of the girls glanced over after EB’s announcement. He quickly pulled his robe closed. “Uh, so… who do you think will win this week’s fights?”

“Dunno. My money’s still on Hanuman keeping his spot. He’s one tough contender. But Paradoxia is no slouch either — she can really fight. You saw her match at the Vladivostok arena… wow.”

“I… really haven’t been following the matches that much.”

“Oh, really? You should have watched. It helps to study your opponents. Everyone knows that’s smart.”

“I thought about it,” Jordan admitted. “But every time I watch them fight, I get nervous. They look so strong and professional. Hanuman Hammer especially… he’s incredibly powerful. I don’t know…”

EB hopped up onto Jordan’s legs so they were face to face. “How many heroes have you trained against this week?”

“Ten… or so. But they were just trainees.”

EB grinned. “They were super-powered people ordered by their coach to beat you. And how many did?”

“One.”

“One out of ten. That’s pretty darn good. Remember those wins. When you face real opponents out there, muster that same courage, dig deep, and push harder than you ever have here. You won’t just win , you’ll send a clear message that you’re not going to lose. Got that?”

Jordan nodded firmly. “Yes, coach.”

“Great!” EB hopped down. “We leave tomorrow for the A.W.W. Arena in Atlanta, Georgia. That’s where you’ll fight for your spot at HQ.”

“Why Atlanta?” Jordan asked.

“Simple. My promise was to help you reach your goals. If you don’t win the whole thing, at least you’ll have shown the world what you can do. Atlanta is one of the most heavily viewed arenas, great exposure if you want a future in pro wrestling.”

Jordan frowned. “A moment ago you sounded like you really believed I could win this.”

EB smiled. “I do believe in you. But I’m the Easter Bunny, I know it’s not wise to put all your eggs in one basket. Don’t sweat it. Just do your best and let fate decide. Now go get some food and rest. Tomorrow we’re off to Peach City!”

---

Gar stood with Robert Layton in his office, watching the arena below. Champion after champion challenged Hanuman Hammer, trying to unseat him as the current leader. It was an epic display that kept the audience roaring. Paradoxia came close to victory, but Hanuman Hammer finished her with a decisive strike that left her unconscious.

Seated on a throne made of crushed and reshaped arena seats was the lion-like Avatar of Strength. He

watched the proceedings with intense focus, showing no emotion at the victories or defeats. When the crowd went wild, he remained calmly observant. Once the victor of the round was decided, he waited for the audience to file out, then rose and walked away.

“How many more rounds until he chooses a victor?” Robert asked.

Gar shrugged his winged shoulders. “He doesn’t talk much. I tried asking, but he didn’t answer.”

“I want answers. I love the publicity, but we can’t keep this up forever. I have millions tied up in events coming later this season. I can't keep moving and canceling things, or I will lose big time.” Robert walked with Gar out of the office and through the arena.

In the locker room, they found Hanuman Hammer sitting on a bench, resting after his latest match.

“Hey, Gar. Some fight,” Hanuman said, clasping Gar’s hand in a firm, friendly grip. They knew each other well from BADGE work.

Gar smiled. “You’re doing very well. Two weeks and you’re still on top.”

Hanuman wiped his face with a towel. “How many more fights until he names me the Oracle?”

Just then the Avatar of Strength entered the locker room on his way to the gym where he trained almost constantly.

“Avatar!” Robert called.

The Avatar stopped and looked back. “What is it, human?”

“Don’t you think it’s time you chose a victor? Hanuman Hammer has faced so many opponents.”

The Avatar stormed over with a snarl. Without speaking, he grabbed Hanuman by the shoulders and stared deeply into his eyes. “Do you think you are ready for my power?”

Hanuman met the gaze steadily. “I know I am.”

There was a long, tense pause as the Avatar searched his eyes. Finally he released him. “No. You are not ready. Prove your strength to me.” With that, he turned and left.

Hanuman slammed his towel down in frustration. “What does that cat want from me? How many more people do I have to beat before he admits I’m the strongest here?”

Robert let out a tired sigh. “If I wasn’t making a fortune from the advertising and ticket sales, I’d be furious. But I can’t let this drag on forever. My regular pro-wrestling schedule can’t stay on hold while my arenas are tied up with this.”

Gar offered, “Nova said the Avatar has a month. Two more weeks.”

“And how exactly does Nova plan to get that cat out of my HQ if this isn’t resolved by then?”

Gar smiled. “Nova has a way of doing what most people think is impossible. Maybe it will be decided before then.”

“I hope you’re right,” Robert muttered.

Continue the Story

Heroes, Villains, and Renegades Fiction: Trial of Strength Part 11

 

Nova stood at the center of Operations on the BADGE station. Massive viewscreens filled the walls, each displaying competition matches from around the planet. A central window, four times larger than the others, showed a live feed near Purgatory Penitentiary. He watched the BADGE vehicles driving away.

Robot 10915 announced, “Incoming transmission from Field Agent Kyle Gibson.”

Nova turned. “I’ll take it in the meeting room. Get Chase and Justin up here, now.” He walked up the steps to the conference room at the back of Operations.

Inside, the round table and holoprojector waited. The BADGE call signal floated above the emitter. Moments later, Chase and Justin entered.

“Is there an emergency?” Justin asked.

Chase sat down. “I haven’t heard anything from the heroes I recruited.”

Nova activated the signal. Agent Gibson’s face appeared on screen.

“Agent Gibson here. Hello, Agent Chase, Agent Justin.”

Nova got straight to the point. “Report.”

“Yes, sir. We arrived for a standard tag-and-release of a known morphonic felon. Before we could reach him, a talent agent working for Confederate Brawlers met with him and they signed a contract to represent him in the Avatar’s competition.”

Justin asked, “Who?”

“Joseph Jeffries. His street name during his crimes was The Berserker.”

Chase frowned. “I don’t recall any super-villains by either name.”

Nova explained, “Mr. Jeffries was a small-time criminal. He earned Purgatory Penitentiary by using his newly discovered powers just for the thrill of destruction and spreading fear. If he’d been a normal person, he would have faced ordinary charges for property damage and public nuisance. But because he has powers and chose to use them so recklessly, he received the full Purgatory sentence.”

Agent Gibson added, “Our reports show his megalomaniacal tendencies have only grown stronger in prison. Discovering his powers seems to have unlocked a darker side. He was already a thug, but now he’s far worse.”

“Then why release him at all?” Chase asked.

Nova’s tone was measured. “We follow the law. His crimes warranted this length of imprisonment — no more, no less. Preemptively imprisoning people based on what they might do risks violating basic human freedoms. We did have the right to attach a BADGE tracking tether to monitor him… until this agent stepped in.”

Chase said, “Then go find him and tether him.”

Agent Gibson held up several documents. “We were given printouts of rules, laws, and agreements. This talent agent is more like a lawyer. BADGE agreed not to interfere with contestants as long as they commit no crimes during the contest. Since he is officially an entrant, we cannot tether him until it ends. Otherwise it would appear we’re trying to influence the outcome. I’ve read every line — there’s no loophole. He’s free to compete without tracking. All we can do is watch him carefully… from a distance.”

Nova sighed. “I hate bloated legal systems. There is always red tape, loopholes, and people who use the law to get away with wrongdoing.” His words carried the weight of thousands of years of experience.

Chase suggested, “We wait for him to get knocked out and then tag him. Shouldn’t be difficult. The Avatar’s rules say he can’t kill anyone, so Berserker will compete, lose, and then we tether him.”

Nova turned to Gibson. “Tell them what you put in your report about him.”

Gibson replied, “Joseph Jeffries is incredibly strong for his size. His morphonic powers have grown considerably since he discovered them. Worse, he has little regard for who he hurts or how badly. He can take a beating and keep going. Prison staff noted he seems eager to harm others. His restraint is almost nonexistent.”

Nova placed both hands on the table, his face serious. “So far the competitors have been average fighters and a few superheroes. But my worst fear has been realized — a morphonic villain with the potential to win just entered the contest. And because we agreed to stay hands-off, we have very limited ways to stop his climb.”

Justin said, “I’m sure if he wins, the Avatar won’t simply hand over his power. That would give a megalomaniac near-godlike abilities.”

Nova shook his head. “I’m not certain what the Avatar will do. Even the Oracle of Tech has expressed concern that the Avatar of Strength is too single-minded to grasp the dangers of giving his power to just anyone. If Berserker wins, we could have a serious problem.”

“What can we do about it?” Gibson asked from the holo-screen.

Nova replied, “I want you and your team shadowing wherever Berserker competes. Keep as close an eye on him as possible and report to me daily.”

“Will do, sir.”

Nova turned to Chase and Justin. “Tell me you two have found heroes who can stand against someone like Berserker.”

Chase answered, “I only found two willing to join: Queen Anne’s Mace and Chug. Both are strong, but I’m not sure they’re strong enough against Berserker.”

Justin added, “I only got one agreement — Hanuman Hammer. He’s still holding the top spot.”

Nova asked, “Just those?”

“Many heroes were excited at first,” Justin said. “They love showing off at League Wars and the Olympiad. But when they learn the grand prize means permanently becoming the Oracle, their enthusiasm fades fast.”

Chase asked, “Why haven’t you asked EB?”

Nova sighed. “He’s completely focused on Jordan Moore, who is a low-grade contender. I suspect he won’t make it past the first round of his local competition.”

“That’s pretty bleak, sir,” Justin said. “EB has put a lot of effort into training him this week.”

“A week of training is hardly enough,” Nova replied. “Jordan failed to join BADGE several years ago for a reason. I’m not placing much hope in his success.” He noticed the looks on their faces. “I know I should be more supportive, but this is a serious situation. If the competition weren’t open to anyone who wanted to join, I would have found a way to keep Jordan out — for his own sake. But I don’t have the right to stop him.”

Chase stood. “I’ll head out and see if I can find more heroes willing to compete. I still haven’t spoken with the leagues in Northern Africa.”

Justin added, “I’ll go through our registered morphonic individuals who aren’t aligned with any major league or the Rangers and see who might be interested.”

“Find me someone,” Nova said. “I want to know that whoever wins is truly worthy of becoming an Oracle.”

They acknowledged their orders and left to begin the work.

Nova walked back into the main Operations center. The various fight broadcasts continued playing with the sound off. He stopped in front of the largest screen. “10915, give me a camera on the training center.”

The main window switched to the training facility, where students were working on their powers. “Zoom in on the sparring mat in zone three.”

The image focused on a fighting mat where two trainees faced off. One was a woman with flaming hands. The other was the unassuming Jordan Moore. Coach Thrasher and EB watched from the side. The woman attacked with quick martial-arts strikes. Jordan dodged and ducked repeatedly, moving with surprising speed and agility. He never got hit. Finally, he spun and kicked her squarely in the rear, sending her face-down onto the mat.

“Good show,” Nova murmured, a note of genuine surprise in his voice.

Continue the Story

Heroes, Villains, and Renegades Fiction: Trial of Strength Part 10

 Jordan stepped out of the BADGE shuttle into the cavernous shuttlebay on the station. He glanced around, taking in the scale of everything, until EB hopped out at his feet.

“Hey, whatcha smiling for?”

Jordan blinked. “I’m smiling?”

“The whole way up here. You’ve had this goofy smile on your face since the shuttle landed.”

Jordan followed EB toward the exit into the station. “I guess I’m just happy. I know I’m not going to be accepted as a superhero like I wanted, but I thought I’d never see a shuttle again, fly in space, or be on this amazing station. And here I am. It’s like a dream.”

“Well, it’s all real. And yeah, it’s totally cool. This place is fancy and nice — like something out of a wicked sci-fi movie. Just, less drooling aliens and more boring lectures. Fortunately, you aren’t here for hero classes. Just physical training.”

They walked through the station. The shuttle docking hallway opened into the central mess area. Student heroes and instructors chatted over meals.

Ladybug, one of the instructors, approached them. She wore a red-and-black polka-dotted outfit and carried a tablet. “EB, is your cadet here yet?”

EB gestured proudly to Jordan. “He’s right here.”

Jordan gave a nervous little wave. “Hi, I’m Jordan.”

“Jordan Moore. Right. Hero Wear is ready for you, and Coach Thrasher has two hours this afternoon to start your special training.”

“Thanks,” EB replied.

Jordan asked, “What’s Hero Wear?”

“Costume department, of course,” Ladybug said, already walking away.

“Costume?” Jordan looked down at EB.

“Sure. I got clearance for a real supersuit. Don’t worry — it’ll be designed like a wrestler’s outfit, not some boring uniform.”

Jordan’s goofy smile returned. “A supersuit of my own.”

“Yup.” EB’s tall ears twitched. “What’s that?” He hopped away.

Jordan followed closely, not wanting to lose sight of his benefactor. They left the main mess hall for a small lounge area normally used for quiet study. Today, however, a large viewscreen dominated one wall, and a crowd of students was gathered, watching the fighting competition intently.

“What is going on in here?” EB asked.

One of the students replied, “Nova said it was okay. We all want to keep up with the contest. Look! He’s down!” The room erupted in cheers.

On the screen, two fighters battled in an arena to a roaring audience. A massively muscular man lay on the mat, clutching his head, while the victor stood over him, blood trickling down his face. A referee checked both, then declared the winner. The downed man was carried off as a new contender jumped the ropes.

The announcer’s voice boomed, “Dancing Dan defeated Mark Ali in five minutes. Now Greg Thomas joins the ring. Greg comes from a UFC legacy family with many victories. Let’s see how he does against A.W.W.’s Dancing Dan.”

The bell rang. Both men circled each other. While Dancing Dan was bloody and drenched in sweat, his glare remained deadly. Greg lunged, but Dan dodged, grabbed his arm, swung him into the ropes, and drove him to the mat with his knees.

EB hopped up and down. “Go Dan!” He glanced at Jordan’s frightened expression. “Sorry, force of habit. I followed Dancing Dan all last season. Trust me — you can take him.”

Jordan looked bewildered. “Are you sure? I mean, look at that guy. He’s a mountain of muscle with eyes.”

“You know what they say — the bigger they are… Anyway, we can’t keep the costume department waiting, and no one should make Coach Thrasher wait. Move, move, move!” EB hurried him along.

---

The sun was setting on the western coast of Australia, casting long shadows over the imposing Purgatory Penitentiary. The high-security prison for meta-humans housed some of the most dangerous villains captured by BADGE or the various leagues. Releases were rare — most inmates faced lifetime sentences.

A squad of BADGE vehicles waited outside the gates, ready to tag and register the man finishing his sentence.

A muscular man with reddish hair, an unshaven face, and a fierce glare looked down from a window. He wore the standard orange prison jumpsuit with his inmate number emblazoned on it.

The heavy metal door slammed open. The warden entered with two security guards and a man in a black suit. Another guard carried a plastic crate marked with the same number.

“Mr. Jeffries, the paperwork is complete. Your belongings are here.”

Joseph Jeffries ripped open the crate. Inside was the outfit he had been wearing when arrested. With little regard for modesty, he stripped off the jumpsuit and began dressing.

“You… don’t have to… whatever,” the warden muttered, clearly used to far stranger sights.

The suited man stepped forward. “Are you ready to sign?”

While pulling on a strange leather kilt that accentuated his muscular, oddly Nordic build, Joseph said, “I looked it over. Just one question. BADGE is waiting outside to tag me like a wild animal. You said you’d handle that.”

“Trust me, I have. Sign this, work with us, and the loophole will tighten around their necks. They won’t be able to track you until the contest is over. When that happens, you’ll have everything you need.”

Joseph bellowed, “WHERE’S MY SWORD?”

The warden didn’t flinch. “It is now permanent property of the state. We’re not arming you the moment you walk out. And consider your actions carefully. Violence put you in here, and it can put you right back.”

“I don’t need any more lectures from you.” Joseph snatched a pen from the warden’s pocket. “Give me the contract.”

Ken, the agent, unrolled the legal document across the metal table. Joseph signed it with a flourish: Joseph Jeffries the Berserker. Ken smiled with a wicked gleam. “You will not be sorry.”

The warden and guards escorted Joseph and Ken through the maze of gates and checkpoints to the front of the prison.

“I don’t want to see you back here,” the warden said before retreating inside.

The BADGE team was already approaching. Suddenly a helicopter roared overhead and landed dangerously close, staggering the agents and blocking their path. Joseph and Ken climbed aboard. The helicopter lifted off immediately.

“That felt good,” Joseph said, watching the scrambling BADGE vehicles below.

“They’ll try to argue we broke the rules,” Ken replied, “but I have them bound by legalities they can’t ignore.”

“That’s almost as fun as punching them in the face.”

“You’ll get to do plenty of that for us,” Ken said. “You’re about to become the most famous fighter in the world.”

After several connecting flights and thirteen hours in the air, they arrived at the private airstrip for Confederate Brawlers headquarters. Ken led The Berserker straight to Theodor Zeus’s office. The CEO waited behind his desk.

“Ah, my champion. That is certainly an… interesting outfit you have.”

The Berserker stood tall in his revealing, imposing attire, a snarl on his face. “Who are you?”

“Theodor Zeus — your new boss, and the reason you aren’t currently being tracked by BADGE.”

The Berserker smiled. “Thanks.”

Ken and two assistants brought in items. One was a Nordic Viking helmet with large antlers attached. “We recreated the one you lost when they arrested you.”

The Berserker donned it with satisfaction. “Perfect fit.”

The second assistant presented a cloth-covered sword. The broad blade had a ruby embedded in the long hilt. “This is a special gift — an improvement on the weapon they confiscated. It’s believed to be an ancient blade once belonging to Loki himself.”

The Berserker’s eyes lit up. He lifted the sword, and the ruby flashed. A strange darkness flickered across his eyes. “This feels… strong. I feel invincible.”

Continue the Story

Heroes, Villains, and Renegades Fiction: Trial of Strength Part 9

 

A computer tablet propped nearby played the news while Jordan Moore ran a cloth back and forth across the window pane. The INN anchor’s voice carried clearly in the quiet air.

“The first week of contests has concluded, and twenty-five champions are headed for A.W.W. Headquarters to face the reigning champion. Fifteen of those contenders come from the pro-wrestling circuits. It is now well known that the ultimate winner will become the next Oracle of Strength, ending any other career they might have. Fans of these wrestling stars are torn — saddened to lose their favorites, yet excited to see them rise to a new level of power. Our analysts believe most, if not all, of the pro-wrestlers will fail against the superheroes also competing…”

Jordan tapped the screen, switching to a replay from the Smash Stars arena in Florida. Two women battled to the roar of the crowd. One wore flashy pro-wrestling gear; the other fought in a judo uniform.

“Madam Masher just dodged five consecutive attacks from Sally Fairfield. Sally is the women’s world champion in judo. And… that one connected! Sally is reeling… no, she counters with a swift kick. Whoa — clean hit! Masher is down… yes, she’s out! Sally Fairfield advances to the next round!” The crowd roared as a referee helped the defeated wrestler to her feet.

“HEY, JORDAN!”

Jordan startled, nearly dropping his squeegee. He was five stories up, yet the voice sounded right behind him. “Who—?”

A white bunny landed on the platform beside him, nearly knocking over half his equipment. Jordan scrambled to catch a sloshing bucket before it spilled down his leg. “What the heck?”

EB smiled brightly. “Oops, sorry! Here.” He clapped his paws, and the water instantly evaporated from Jordan’s clothes. “All better.”

Jordan set the bucket down carefully. “What are you doing here?”

EB beamed. “I have the best news for you! Nova asked us to find strong contenders for the contest — people with real power who can compete. We also want nice guys, not villains or meanies.”

“And?”

“I picked you!” EB struck a dramatic “ta-dah!” pose.

Jordan frowned. “I’m not in the mood for jokes. I’ve been up here since six this morning.”

“No joke,” EB insisted. “I think you could be a real contender. If you win, you get the best job in the world. If you lose, at least you get on television for everyone to see. Win-win!”

Jordan shook his head. “But I can’t win. I’ll get pummeled by real superheroes. I was trying for the pro-wrestling gig, not ultimate fighting.”

“Oh, come on. Let me try. I have a plan. I’ll take you up to the station and get you training with Coach Thrasher…”

“Thrasher?” Jordan gulped.

EB barely noticed his fear. “Yeah, nice guy, great coach, amazing at shouting. He agreed to give you a crash course in super-powered combat and let you work out in the BADGE gym. A solid week of prep, then we send you to one of the contests. I’m sure you’ll do great with that help and finally get your shot at A.W.W. HQ.”

Flashes of glory ran through Jordan’s mind. Even if he failed, the training alone would be incredible. Still, he felt unworthy. He glanced up at the many windows still waiting to be cleaned. “I… don’t know.”

EB grabbed the bucket and rag and zipped up and down the side of the building in a white blur, cleaning every pane in seconds. He landed back on the platform with a proud grin. “There, all done! Now, are you coming with me or not?”

Jordan realized how serious EB was. “Just tell me one thing.”

“What?”

“Why me? There have to be better, stronger superheroes you could ask.”

“Chase and Justin are contacting other heroes. But you lost your big chance because of all this, and that made me sad for you. Plus, I think there’s more to you than you realize. I’ve been around a looooong time — I know people. There’s a lot more to you than there is to you… wait, that came out wrong. You get what I’m trying to say?”

Jordan managed a small smile. “You honestly believe in me?”

“Yes. No matter what happens, you can only learn and grow from this. So, what do you say?” EB stuck out his paw.

Jordan looked around, "I won't get paid if I don't finish my job. We have five buildings to clean."

EB grabbed Jordan's cell phone and waved a paw over it. It rang and the voice of someone came through. "Jordan? What's going on? Are you finished?"

EB said, "Mr. Jordan quits. Get someone else to finish the windows. Have a nice day." He hung up.

Jordan said, "Uh, that still means I don't get a paycheck."

"I'll make sure you have money. I'm worth half a trillion dollars and I hardly need money at all. See, paycheck included. You ready?"

Jordan took the small paw in a firm handshake. “Make me a champion.”

“Right! Off we go.” With no warning, the two vanished in a flash of light.

---

Theodor Zeus hurled a computer tablet across his office, smashing it against the wall. His face was flushed red, fists clenched, as he bellowed at the three nervous people seated across from his desk.

“Why have all our champions lost?”

“I’m just the market analyst,” a trembling woman replied. “And I should remind you we’ve never made this much money on advertising in the history of Confederate Brawlers.”

Zeus snarled, “Money isn’t the immediate point. I want that Oracle under my roof as my mascot. I want to be the home of the Oracle of Strength. I will own wrestling with that kind of power in my corner. Do you understand?”

They all nodded quickly.

A man with his own tablet checked a list. “We still have a few of our best wrestlers willing to try. They compete in next week’s rounds.”

“They’re second-string losers who barely cut it as fake wrestlers,” Zeus growled. “They’ll get their butts handed to them just like the rest. I want a real champion!”

The door opened and the seedy-looking agent walked in, wearing a serpentine smile. “Sorry to interrupt, but I couldn’t help hearing the roaring from the parking lot.”

“I’m in no mood for jokes, Ken!”

Ken, the agent, replied smoothly, “I’m not here to make you laugh. I’m here to cheer you up.”

Zeus sat back, drumming his fingers on the desk. “You promised me big things, and all I am seeing is failure."

"Don't worry. I have good news that should change your outlook."

"What?” Zeus chewed angrily on the end of his cigar.

“I’ve been doing my research. There’s someone I made contact with who is more than willing to take this challenge on behalf of Confederate Brawlers.”

“Don’t keep us in suspense,” Zeus said angrily.

“Joseph Jeffries. Though he prefers to be called Berserker.”

Zeus sat forward. “Never heard of that wrestler.”

Ken smiled. “That’s because he’s not a wrestler. Mr. Jeffries is a superpowered man with incredible strength who… made some poor choices and ended up serving time in Purgatory Penn.”

One of the women spoke up. “Wait, we can’t use an ex-con. The PR will be—”

“Not now,” Zeus cut her off. “Ken, where is this man?”

“He’s still in Purgatory Penn but gets released in five days. I’ve already spoken with him. He’s eager to take the challenge.”

Zeus shook his head. “BADGE rules say anyone tracked as a villain can’t compete in this…”

“He hasn’t been officially tracked yet,” Ken said with a wicked grin. “They won’t tag him until he walks out and they attach the tracker. The moment he’s free, he signs up for the contest. The rules are vague enough that anyone who signs up can compete. They won’t have time to mark him before he’s already a contender.”

Zeus’s smile returned. “I like this. But are you sure he’s good enough? We’re jumping through a lot of loopholes. This will piss off BADGE. If we fail, it’ll backfire badly.”

“Don’t worry,” Ken assured him. “I’ll make sure he’s exactly what we need. All I need from you is authorization to enter him.” He slid a contract across the desk.

Zeus took it and signed. “As of now, Berserker is a member of Confederate Brawlers. Make sure he makes us look good.”

Ken took the signed contract with a satisfied nod. “He will. I’ll ensure it personally.”

Continue the Story

Heroes, Villains, and Renegades Fiction: Trial of Strength Part 8

 Nova walked into the conference room on the BADGE station. Dr. Henderson, EB, Chase, and Agent Justin were already seated around the table. Without a word, he activated the holo-imager. A screen appeared in the center of the table, showing the International News Network.

“This is Eniola Oluwole of the INN. The top headline across the world today is the challenge issued by the Avatar of Physical — who has since clarified his proper title is the Avatar of Strength. Fight clubs around the planet are packed with competitors preparing for the contests. Both All World Wrestling and Confederate Brawlers have designated their arenas as official venues for local competitions. Winners will advance to the A.W.W. Headquarters arena for the global finals. Experts from BADGE recommend that only those with some level of morphonic ability should compete, yet many ordinary citizens are signing up daily. We now turn to our experts on morphonic powers and combat sports…”

Nova clicked the holo-imager off.

“This is a problem,” he said, “and it is growing bigger by the hour.”

Chase leaned forward. “Is the Avatar truly serious about giving the victor his full power, no matter who wins?”

EB nodded vigorously. “Sounds like it. He was dead serious. We tried to explain why that might be a terrible idea, but I’ve rarely met anyone as thick-headed as that Avatar.”

Dr. Henderson spoke up. “I’ve studied the Avatars since they first appeared, and I’ve had long conversations with Dr. Hermes about both Avatars and Oracles. While Oracles blend human nature and emotion with immense power, Avatars are far simpler. Their personalities and decision-making tend to be very straightforward.”

Nova nodded. “Dr. Hermes has told me the same. Avatars have limited emotions — often only a few, tied to their core nature. The Avatar of Strength is bull-headed, loud, and driven by passion. At least he isn’t fueled by rage or hatred. Still, I fear he will simply choose whoever proves strongest, even if that person is a villain.”

Agent Justin frowned. “That could be disastrous. There are plenty of villainous morphonic individuals who would become catastrophic threats with that kind of power.”

“It could be worse,” Nova added. “If an agent of the Malevolence wins, it would upset the entire balance of morphon power in the universe. We saw the risk when Dr. Fagan was chosen. This time the Avatar seems completely unconcerned about it.”

Justin continued, “I’m worried people don’t fully understand what victory actually means. The Avatar made it sound like he’s simply granting power. It’s much more than that — he will bond with them, creating the new Oracle of Strength. People need to know the facts.”

Nova turned to Dr. Henderson. “Can you write something clear and accessible about what it means to become an Oracle?”

“I can try. It’s a complicated subject.”

“Make it straightforward. I want everyone to understand how life-changing this is. It may discourage casual contestants who have no real chance, and it will make clear to any superheroes that winning would end their current careers. Being an Oracle is glorious, but it comes with a heavy cost. I’ll distribute whatever you write to every fight club, media outlet, and arena involved.”

Dr. Henderson nodded. “I’ll do my best.” He paused. “How exactly is the Avatar running this competition? Will it eventually become one giant tournament?”

“It has already begun,” Nova replied. He reactivated the holo-imager. Robert Layton appeared on screen.

“Hey, everyone.”

EB waved enthusiastically. “Hey, Robert!”

“Good to see you again, little buddy,” Robert said with a grin.

Nova got straight to business. “Give us an update on the Avatar situation.”

Robert nodded. “He’s running this like one giant king-of-the-hill contest. Winners from local contests come here to challenge whoever is currently on top. So far we’ve only had a few contenders, but I hear events are happening live all over the globe. I expect dozens soon. This is turning into a nonstop free-for-all.”

Chase asked, “Are the competitors safe?”

“The Avatar has agreed to keep things non-lethal,” Robert said. “If anyone dies, I told him the whole contest ends immediately and he leaves my arenas forever. I don’t care if I have to call in every local league — I’ll kick that cat out the second someone is killed. So far he seems willing to follow that rule. I’ve got medical teams on standby for the injured.”

Nova gave a small nod. “I’m glad you’re being helpful.”

“I’m glad I agreed,” Robert replied. “This show is bringing in money hand over fist. Sponsors are begging for airtime. Live-stream viewership is through the roof. There’s always a fight somewhere, and whenever there’s a big challenge here the numbers explode.”

"I'm glad it seems to be going well for you, financially." Chase said.

Robert asked, "I haven't asked yet, but why is this avatar a lion... man... thing?"

Dr. Henderson said, "When the morphon avatars arrived, they each chose an identity related to their type. He picked the king of the beasts. Probably not the wisest choice, since the feline nature he picked has seemed to impact how he reacts. Choosing an animal wasn't the best decision."

EB said, "Hey, animals aren't always bad choices."

Robert laughed, "Just curious."

“Keep me updated on what’s happening and who’s winning,” Nova said, moving the conversation back to the topic at hand.

“You’ve got me on speed dial.”

Nova ended the call. “So far things are proceeding smoothly. Our objective is to make sure the wrong person doesn’t win — no villains, and certainly no one tied to the Malevolence.”

Chase asked, “How do we do that?”

Nova smiled faintly. “We have files on every superhero and morphonic individual who has ever come through here. I suggest we reach out and recruit willing participants.”

EB’s paw shot into the air and he bounced excitedly in his seat.

Agent Justin raised an eyebrow. “We’re going to put forward our own champions?”

“That’s the idea,” Nova said. “We know the best of the best. There are also a few heroes ready to retire from fieldwork who might be interested in this new path.” He sighed as EB continued waving frantically. “Fine, EB. What is it?”

EB hopped onto his seat. “I’ve got a champ! He really wants to do something special, he’s had some bad luck lately, and we kind of ruined his big chance. He’s morphonic, he’s been here before, you’ve met him — he’s strong, maybe not the strongest, but he could train and—”

“WHO IS IT?” Nova bellowed.

“The Mustang — Jordan Moore!” EB grinned like everyone should instantly recognize the name.

Chase looked puzzled. “That name doesn’t sound familiar. I don’t remember any hero called The Mustang.”

EB explained, “That’s his wrestling name. Well, he picked Mustang Pilot, but I think it would be better as The Mustang. He was in the amateur match right before the Avatar rudely interrupted everything. When he came up here two years ago, he was just Jordan Moore. Nice guy. Kind of sad.”

Nova asked, “Is he even interested in this challenge?”

“He’s strong,” EB insisted. “I think he could do it. He probably won’t try on his own — he’s been pretty depressed since we messed up his shot. But if we told him we believed in him, I think he’d give it everything. Even if he doesn’t win, it would get him on television and maybe help him land a pro-wrestling job.”

“This isn’t about publicity, EB,” Agent Justin said.

Nova held up a hand. “EB, if you want to find Jordan Moore, he’ll be your challenger. Chase, Justin — go through the files and recruit more. I want this contest filled with safe, worthy contenders. Dr. Henderson and I will monitor the top winners and flag any concerns.”

Dr. Henderson scoffed. “I have never found fighting — real or fake — particularly entertaining.”

“Which makes you the perfect choice,” Nova replied. “You won’t get swept up in the spectacle. I need someone who stays logical and critical of potential dangers.”

Agent Justin asked the obvious question. “What happens if the winner is a villain… or worse?”

Nova’s expression hardened. “Then we will do everything in our power to stop the Avatar from choosing them. For now, our focus is making sure honorable people step up. You have your orders. Get to it.”

Continue the Story

Heroes, Villains, and Renegades Fiction: Trial of Strength Part 7

Theodor Zeus stepped into his limousine, where the agent was already waiting across from him. The car was palatial — full minibar, smart television, and enough room for six people to ride in comfort. Zeus slapped the closed partition window and bellowed at the driver to depart.

He sank back into the seat with a heavy sigh. “Now that was something. I went looking for a new star and ended up with a month-long show for some strange creature. What a mess.”

The agent smiled with a serpentine grin. “I’m sure it will make you plenty of money.”

“The money ain’t the only point… though it’s part of it. I need a star — someone who can take the throne away from A.W.W. I thought I had a real contender, but it fell flat. I don’t even know if this will make money. Who knows? I’ve never done anything like this before.” He pulled out another cigar and clipped the end.

The agent leaned forward. “I have a suggestion that might make you happy about this.”

Zeus lit the cigar with a massive lighter. “What would that be?”

“Champions will come from each venue after competing for the chance to reach A.W.W. HQ and prove themselves worthy to the Avatar.”

Zeus puffed out a thick cloud of smoke. “Yup, that’s the gist of it.”

“We need to provide the champion who will win,” the agent continued. “Find our contender, make sure he takes the challenge and comes out on top. Then you won’t just own the competition — you’ll have the person with the power of that Avatar in your back pocket. He’ll already be famous for winning, and then he’ll be famous as the Oracle of Strength.”

Zeus’s smile widened around the cigar. “The Oracle of Strength, the star of Confederate Brawlers. And with that kind of power, we could expand beyond pro-wrestling. Real ultimate fighting — blood and guts matches that A.W.W. would never allow. I love it.”

The agent picked up his phone and scrolled through files. “I have some people in mind who might be a perfect match. We’ll just need to make sure they win enough to reach the finals.”

“Do what you gotta do, boy. I want this.”

“Trust me,” the agent said with a wicked smile. “It will be done.”

---

Gar and EB were still in Robert Layton’s office after the others had left. Robert was already working on plans to repurpose his venues for the next month.

“Are you sure?” Robert asked.

Gar nodded. “I am. It was a confusing time, and I don’t understand it well. I also have a lot of work waiting for me with BADGE.”

Robert shrugged. “Well, if you ever feel like coming back for a match now and then, we can make it happen.”

EB hopped up onto the desk. “I’ll try to convince him. It would be so cool if we returned for some celebrity matches. The Mighty Stone Dragon — working title — returns to the ring for one night only! His trusty manager, EB, at his side. I would love it!”

A woman opened the door, looking exasperated. “That lion guy is wrecking the place.”

“What now?” Robert stood quickly. “Can you two come help? I have no idea how to handle this creature.”

“We can try,” Gar said. He followed with EB bouncing behind him.

They walked into the now-empty arena. The evening’s televised matches were long over, but loud crashing and grunting echoed through the space.

The woman explained as they walked, “He sat in your box seat the whole event, watching quietly. When everyone left, he stayed behind and started rearranging things.”

Robert was about to ask what she meant when they stepped into view. The Avatar was ripping up seats and breaking them apart, using the pieces to build a massive chair in the center of the stadium seating. He tore metal bars free and bent them with his bare fists.

“What is he doing?” Robert lamented.

EB tilted his head. “Looks like he’s making himself a throne to watch the contest from.”

The Avatar bellowed without stopping his work. “That is exactly what I’m doing! Leave. This place is mine!”

Robert stepped forward. “This place is mine. I’m only allowing you to use it.”

The Avatar turned and growled. “I’m done talking. Leave.”

Gar gently took Robert’s arm. “Whatever damage he causes, BADGE will pay to fix it.”

Robert pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is insanity.”

“Don’t worry,” Gar said. “BADGE damage repair teams are fast and excellent. They’ll have this place looking perfect before you know it.”

Robert sighed. “I have sponsors to call. Mr. Gar, you can change in the locker room and head wherever you’re staying tonight. I’ll let you know if the Avatar starts any more spontaneous remodeling.”

Gar and EB walked back through the arena toward the locker room where Gar had changed earlier. He was still wearing the colorful wrestling shorts they had given him.

EB hopped along, chattering excitedly. “You are so lucky. You get to work with some of the biggest wrestling stars for the next month. I bet they’ll stick around since all the venues are shut down for this. Dante Doom might compete. Oh, and Sherri the Shredder — she’s hot and strong. You could compete too, though I don’t know if an Avatar can bond with someone made of stone.”

They entered the locker room. EB kept talking when his eyes caught someone in the far corner.

“Hey, isn’t that the dude who was on the mat with you?” EB hopped over. Mustang Pilot sat on a bench in towel after showering, head down and arms on his knees. “Hey, what are you still doing here? The place is almost empty except for a nutty lion Avatar and us.”

Mustang looked up, his eyes filled with sorrow. “Oh, hey. Sorry, I’ll leave. Didn’t realize it was so late.”

EB jumped onto the bench beside him. “Hey, you look really down. What’s wrong?”

“My big chance just got ruined. I spent the last two months applying and interviewing for this Amateur Hour. It’s not first-come, first-served, you know. And my shot got completely overshadowed by that crazy lion guy.”

“I bet we can convince Robert to give you another chance,” EB said. “This was a strange situation. Who could have guessed a big Avatar would show up and turn everything upside down? Though you wouldn’t have had much chance against my boy, The Stone Dragon — working title. Okay, maybe that’s not very encouraging. Don’t worry, Gar isn’t competing next time either.”

Mustang looked at EB. “Do you even remember me?”

“I kinda do. But I meet a lot of people these days, being a famous superhero and all.”

“We only met once. I spent more time with Gargoyle. That was two years ago. I probably didn’t make much of an impression. Seems to be my lot in life, no matter how hard I try.”

EB frowned. “Two years ago? You met both of us? Wait — were you on the station?”

“Yes.” Mustang looked surprised. “I tried out for the BADGE hero training program. My name is Jordan Moore. I failed the test… and here I am.”

“Oh, right. Jordan. Yeah, I remember now. Strong guy. But… uh… not strong enough.”

Jordan asked, “How do you remember me so well? I was only there for two days.”

“I’ve got a memory like a steel trap… most days. I remember you were a nice guy. A lot of people who come to test are arrogant because they have powers.”

“Thanks. I wish my powers were better. I’m just kinda strong and super agile. That’s it. But people don’t like hiring anyone with morphonic powers. They’re always worried I might be dangerous. I have to answer the same questions over and over: Why aren’t you in a league? Did you attend BADGE? What villains have you fought? Every time I have to explain that I’m not very powerful. This was supposed to be my chance. A.W.W. doesn’t mind mildly powered people as long as we don’t seriously hurt anyone. I could have made a real career here and used my powers for something better than washing windows.”

EB nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, it sucks trying to live a normal life when you have powers. Nova has been pushing the UN to change the laws about how powered people are treated, but they’re all talk and no action.”

Jordan unwrapped his towel and pulled on his leggings again. “Until they do something, I’m stuck with random delivery gigs and mowing lawns.”

“I’ll talk to Nova about pushing the UN harder,” EB promised. “And hey, don’t worry. This contest will be over sooner than you think, and you can try out again.”

Jordan gave a tired smile. “Maybe. They probably already have the next Amateur Night roster lined up. It’ll take another year for me to get another shot. Good seeing you again. Say hi to Gar for me.” He walked out.

Continue the Story

Heroes, Villains, and Renegades Fiction: Trial of Strength Part 6

 Everyone stared at the screen as the Avatar of Strength basked in the thunderous roar of the audience.

His bold announcement had electrified the already rowdy crowd.

Nova asked calmly, “Tell me this broadcast is pay-per-view.”

Robert shook his head. “No. This is network television. The sponsors are going to be furious.”

“That is the least of my worries,” Nova replied. “Dr. Hermes, can you take this down? Remove it from the media?”

The Oracle of Tech’s eyes went white as he accessed the networks. “Yes. I can see the regular broadcast and the streamers. I could remove it entirely.” His eyes returned to normal. “But I won’t.” He looked directly at Nova, anticipating the question. “As I have told you before, the Oracles must not interfere too much. Events should unfold as they will. This is especially true when it comes to other Oracles and Avatars. His actions are his own. The consequences belong to him.”

EB piped up. “They’ll belong to all of us if this blows up. Imagine if some bozo villain wins this thing!”

“I’m more worried about agents of the Malevolence,” Nova said quietly.

Robert crossed his arms. “If you erase it completely, you’ll turn this into an instant legend. It’ll spread like wildfire on social media, and it’ll look like you’re trying to hide something from the public.”

EB nodded vigorously. “He’s right. Social media is a monster. I once released a special dark chocolate with a secret ingredient. Someone leaked that it was morphon-based magic, so I pulled it and stayed quiet. Big mistake. Conspiracy theories went wild. People thought they were turning into mutants. There was this one guy who—” Nova shot him a burning glare. “Yeah… anyway, trying to hide this is probably a bad idea.”

Zeus interrupted with his usual booming voice. “What in the name of Jack Daniels is going on? Who is that guy, and why is everyone acting like the world is ending?”

Robert sighed. “I’d like a little more information myself. That person just claimed my arena as his own, and I’m not thrilled about it.”

Nova raised a hand. “Fine. I’ll give you answers. First — Gar, EB, go bring that idiot back in here. I don’t care if you have to drag him by his tail.”

Gar nodded and left with EB. While they were gone, Nova gave Robert and Zeus a careful summary of the situation, leaving out the deepest details about the Malevolence. Zeus’s grin grew greedier by the minute. Robert looked both intrigued and concerned.

Twenty minutes later, the door burst open. The Avatar of Strength was shoved inside, half-encased in a large pink bubble.

“I WILL TEAR YOU APART, RABBIT! THIS ISN’T A FAIR FIGHT! LET ME GO!” He thrashed against the gooey prison.

EB hopped in behind Gar, looking pleased with himself. “He didn’t want to come back. Said he was tired of talking. I used some of my special Everpop bubble gum. Never loses flavor or elasticity — and in large enough quantities, it can trap an Avatar kitty cat.”

The Avatar ripped a claw through the bubble and tore himself free. “I will not be treated like this! I will fight everyone in this room!”

Dr. Hermes’s voice doubled, echoing with power. “You will stop. You will listen to us.”

The Avatar broke completely free and turned toward the hologram. “I will not listen to you!”

“YES YOU WILL!” Dr. Hermes commanded, his voice deafening for a moment.

The Avatar huffed through clenched teeth, then finally growled, “What do you wish to say?”

Nova stepped forward with a small smile. “You’ve caused quite a stir. Are you truly planning to bond with the winner of this contest you created?”

“I said I will choose the strongest and make them my Oracle. That is all.”

Dr. Hermes spoke carefully. “Strength, you must be aware there are dark agents who desire your power. You must be wise and—”

“ENOUGH!” the Avatar roared. “I will do this as I see fit. Strength for the strongest — that is all that matters!”

EB couldn’t help himself. “Dude, you can’t just hand your power to some jerk who beats everyone up.”

The Avatar turned and growled at the bunny, his face a mask of rumbling fury. Then he straightened. “I am done here.”

“Wait!” Nova called. “If you insist on doing this, move the contest to the League Wars Orbital Arena. It is neutral ground and can handle anyone — normal humans to super-powered beings.”

“I have already chosen where I will conduct my choosing,” the Avatar stated.

Robert stepped forward. “I’m flattered you chose my arena. Why?”

“Location is good. Many people come to see it. And your warriors impress me.”

EB tried to interject. “Uh, you know these guys aren’t really fighting, right? Well, they are fighting, but it’s not a real fight — not fake like CGI or anything, but… oh, I’ll shut up.” The Avatar shot him another snarl, claws extended.

Zeus jumped in with his bull-horn voice. “Son, you’re more than welcome at my place in Texas. It’s bigger and better than this dinky arena. I’ll give you twenty-four-seven coverage.”

“I have selected my place,” the Avatar said, turning to leave.

Robert held up a hand. “Okay. You may use my arena. But do not damage it, and no one dies.”

The Avatar gave a short nod. “I will honor that. Bring me your warriors. Tell the world. I want the best human to become my Oracle.”

Gar raised his hand. “May I speak, Mr. Avatar?”

The Avatar smiled at him. “You, my strong friend, may speak as much as you like. I like you.”

“Oh, uh… that’s nice. Well, it seems you’re letting anyone who wants to compete join, right?”

“That is correct.”

Gar continued, “I’m not the smartest person here, but I understand numbers. There are a lot of people who might want this challenge. If you hold it only here, it could take years. What if you had smaller contests in other places, and the winners came here for the finals? Like the big tournaments heroes compete in on that mountain?”

Nova nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

The Avatar stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I want the best of the best, so this is acceptable. Here is where I will judge the finalists. But they may compete elsewhere first.” He pointed a claw at Robert. “You. Organize this.”

Robert agreed, though cautiously. “I will. But I have a few conditions.”

The Avatar glared. “What conditions?”

“Let me televise it, get sponsors, and advertise. Also, no one dies. I know you want real fights, but I won’t have anyone killed on my mat. Understood?”

The Avatar nodded. “My rules are simple, no death. Death does not mark true strength.” He turned and stepped over EB as he left the room.

Zeus started to protest. “Wait, I can—”

Robert stopped him. “Arguing with that creature is not wise. He put me in charge, so I’ll handle it. But we’ll make this work.”

“What do you mean ‘we’?” Zeus asked, cigar clenched in his teeth.

Robert explained, “I don’t think we can stop this, and my arena has been claimed. So we’ll do what we do best — put on a show. I’ll open my arenas in Dubai, Los Angeles, Atlanta, London, and Tokyo. You have venues all over. We can split the local competitions, send the winners here, sell advertising, get sponsors — whatever it takes to monetize it. I’m not losing money on this.”

Zeus’s grin widened around his cigar. “Bob, old buddy, you’re a good fellow. I like this idea.”

Nova looked relieved. “I’m glad you’re both willing to help.”

Robert shrugged. “I have little choice. Might as well put real effort into it. As long as he keeps his word and no one dies, I’m in.”

Dr. Hermes spoke one last time. “Strength is an Avatar. He does not fully comprehend human emotions or conditions — that is part of why he seeks an Oracle. One thing he currently lacks is any understanding of deception. He will honor his word completely. However, as an Avatar, his emotions are limited. Strength has always been about prowess and physical power. He respects strength above all else.”

“As long as no one dies and we get this over with,” Robert said. He turned to Nova. “What are you and BADGE going to do?”

Nova’s expression was grim. “Make sure the wrong person doesn’t win. Gar, you stay here until further notice. EB, return to the station when you’re finished.”

The hologram flickered and vanished, taking both Dr. Hermes and Nova with it.

Continue the Story