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

Heroes, Villains, and Renegades Fiction: Trial of Strength Part 5

The lion man glared at Gargoyle. He stood taller than the stone hero, but Gar showed no fear.

“This match is over!” the lion man bellowed.

The crowd roared with delight. This was exactly the kind of theatrics that sold tickets. Another contestant rushed onto the mat and charged straight at the newcomer.

With a heavy roar, the lion man grabbed the attacker, spun, and hurled him over the ropes — nearly into the stands. A bubble of purple magic formed around the man mid-air, gently floating him down to a safe landing.

EB zipped onto the stage. “Hey! No hurting people. This isn’t that kind of fight!”

The lion man roared and lunged for the bunny. EB darted around his feet, easily evading the grab.

Gar stepped in, seizing the lion man’s arm and twisting it behind his back. He wrapped his other arm around the intruder’s chest, holding him firmly. “This is over,” Gar said calmly. “No more fighting.”

To everyone’s surprise, the lion man grabbed Gar’s arm, tumbled forward, and flipped the stone hero over his shoulder, slamming him hard into the mat. He rolled clear and sprang up, claws extended and ready for more.

No new contestants entered. Mustang Pilot huddled in a corner, trying not to look terrified. Gar climbed back to his feet.

“I seek the strongest!” the lion man roared.

Gar stood ready on one side of the ring while EB hovered on the other, purple magic flickering around his paws. “You will come with us and answer questions,” Gar said.

“I WILL DO WHAT I WANT!” The lion man reached for him.

Gar dodged and caught the man’s arm. A glowing magical tether from EB locked onto the other. The streamers were still rambling excitedly, treating the whole thing as an elaborate stunt.

The lion man struggled wildly, dragging both Gar and EB across the mat. They held firm. EB gasped. “Wow, this dude is pure morphon energy. I can sense it. He’s incredibly powerful.”

Gar demanded, “Who are you?”

The lion man finally stopped fighting. He snarled, then turned directly toward the nearest camera. “I AM THE AVATAR OF STRENGTH! I SEEK A WORTHY HUMAN TO BECOME MY ORACLE!”

EB and Gar exchanged shocked glances. Robert Layton hurried onto the stage with two of his largest wrestlers as bodyguards.

“What are you doing?” Robert shouted. “You can’t just take over my match!”

EB warned, “Watch out. This guy is serious and really strong.”

“Let me go, you little furball!” the Avatar roared.

EB yanked on the magical tether, pulling the Avatar slightly off balance. “Watch it, kitty cat. I’m not to be messed with.”

Gar spoke gently. “Calm down, EB. Mister Avatar, please calm down. We’re from BADGE. We can help you if you stop hurting people.”

The Avatar shot EB another snarl, then relaxed. “I will stop fighting. I trust BADGE.”

Gar carefully released his grip. EB let the tether vanish, deliberately letting it unbalance the Avatar so he stumbled. “Oops. Sorry.” He wasn’t sorry.

Robert gestured toward the exit. “Let’s take this backstage. I still have a show to run. This sounds like official business.”

Gar nodded. “Good. I’ll escort the Avatar back to the station.”

“I WILL STAY HERE!” the Avatar demanded.

Robert held out a hand. “Come. We can talk backstage. Please.”

The Avatar thought for a moment, then nodded. “Acceptable.”

Gar followed the Avatar while the crowd booed their departure. EB hopped over to the only other person still on the mat — Mustang Pilot, who looked completely rattled.

“Hey, do I know you?” EB asked.

“Dunno. What the hell was that?” the man replied.

“Long story. Let’s just say he isn’t human. Here, this will help. Good luck.” EB handed him an enchanted chocolate egg.

Gar walked beside the Avatar, watching him closely. Robert led them back down the same hallway they had entered earlier.

“You, man of stone,” the Avatar said. “You fight well.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Gar replied. “I don’t feel pain, so it’s easier for me.”

The Avatar let out a hearty laugh. “Strength isn’t how much pain you can endure. It is the fortitude of the soul! You have great fortitude. It is a sorrow that you cannot be the Oracle.”

Gar was about to ask what he meant when they stepped into the arena manager’s office. Two men were already waiting. Theodor Zeus stepped forward, a shorter man in a suit behind him. Zeus had a cigar clenched in his teeth.

“My, my. Son, you're quite the act,” Zeus boomed. “You stopped the show again. I like that boldness. Guts — that’s what you’ve got. I’m Theodor Zeus, owner of Confederate Brawlers, and I want to make you a star.”

“Zeus, this isn’t the time…” Robert tried to push him aside.

Zeus refused to budge. “You said I could be here, and I followed your orders. Our friend showed up, so now I get my shot.”

Robert sighed. “The situation isn’t what you think. We need to talk.”

Zeus jabbed a finger into Robert’s chest. “Oh, I get it. Now that you see he might be worth money, you want to snatch him first. This is my chance to get a star and make some real cash.”

The Avatar grabbed Zeus’s hand and yanked him close to his snarling feline face. “I AM NOT FOR SALE!”

Zeus flinched for only a moment before recovering his swagger. “I’m not trying to buy you, son. I’m trying to make you rich — and I’ll take my cut, of course. I can make you famous, the star of your own arena. What do you say?”

“I am not your son!” The Avatar threw Zeus backward. The shorter man caught him before he hit the ground.

“Don’t throw me around!” Zeus brushed himself off and straightened his bolo tie.

The man in the suit stepped forward. He was short, with dark hair and a shadowy look in his eyes. “I apologize for my boss’s brashness. I’m a talent agent, Ken Mal. We would like to sign you.”

“I do not understand,” the Avatar said.

Robert explained, “He wants to make you part of his show.”

EB suddenly appeared, hopping onto the desk. “Wow, Zeus the Moose! Best wrestler in the local leagues back in the 80s. Cool. What are you doing here?”

“Gettin’ some new talent.”

Suddenly, Director Nova and a holographic projection of the Oracle of Tech appeared in the room. Dr. Hermes sat on his tech throne while Nova stood beside him.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Dr. Hermes said. “This is only a hologram. We are not actually here.”

The Avatar folded his arms and muttered, “Oracle of Tech.”

Dr. Hermes nodded politely. “Avatar of Physical—”

“STRENGTH!” the Avatar corrected loudly.

Nova blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You humans call my power ‘physical.’ That is foolish! I represent Strength! Power! Fortitude! I am the Avatar of Strength!”

“Tell us how you really feel,” EB joked. Almost no one laughed — especially not the growling Avatar.

Robert spoke diplomatically. “We have a situation. This Avatar of Strength has now interrupted my event twice, and he says he is seeking someone.”

Nova asked, “Who are you seeking?”

“An Oracle,” Dr. Hermes answered.

The Avatar nodded. “It is time I find one to accept my power and bond with my essence.”

Nova pressed, “How do you plan to find this person?”

The Avatar smiled, showing sharp teeth. “A contest of strength. One worthy of my power must prove their strength to me. These contests of strength here have drawn my attention. I want to have one to find the worthy.”

Nova started to speak, but Zeus jumped in loudly. “Sounds like you need a venue for this contest of yours, and I just happen to have a world-class arena ready. Sign with us and we’ll manage everything—”

“I WILL MANAGE MY OWN CONTEST, PUNY HUMAN!” the Avatar roared.

The agent with Zeus spoke smoothly. “I’m sure you can manage. But we have some excellent specimens for you to choose from. Why not come with us?”

Robert added, “I have an arena and plenty of strong fighters who might be interested.”

Nova tried to intervene. “This is a delicate situation. You don’t understand the full scope. This isn’t just a pro-wrestling match. Oracles are—”

The Avatar walked straight through the hologram and slammed the door open so hard the glass shattered.

EB pointed at a television in the corner that was still broadcasting the live event. “Hey, the official wrestling show has started… and there’s Mr. Cat.”

Robert groaned. “What is he doing? My sponsors are going to kill me if he keeps messing up the broadcasts.” Zeus only chuckled.

On the screen, the Avatar of Strength ripped a microphone from the announcer’s hand and stepped in front of the camera.

“I, THE AVATAR OF STRENGTH, WILL GRANT ONE WORTHY HUMAN ALL MY POWER AND KNOWLEDGE IF THEY CAN PROVE THEIR STRENGTH TO ME. COME TO THIS ARENA AND FIGHT. SHOW ME YOUR SKILL. PROVE YOURSELF, AND YOU WILL BECOME MY ORACLE! ONLY THE STRONGEST!”

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Heroes, Villains, and Renegades Fiction: Trial of Strength Part 4

 

Gar and EB walked down the hallway toward the arena. The roar of the crowd grew louder with every step. Several other amateur wrestlers waited just inside the entrance, wearing a mix of homemade costumes and more professional-looking gear. Many looked nervous, shifting from foot to foot. This was the audition of the year — a real chance for regular people to catch the eye of the biggest pro-wrestling organization in the world.

“Wow!” One man in the back spotted Gar. His reaction drew every eye in the group, and a wave of timid fear spread through the competitors.

Gar paused, EB bouncing at his side. “What is a Regal Fight again?”

“Royal Rumble,” EB corrected cheerfully.

“Oh, right. What is that?”

“It’s a free-for-all. People get added to the ring one by one. If you get thrown out, you’re done. Last one standing wins. Simple, straightforward, and really fun to watch.”

Gar frowned. “I throw people out of the ring? Wouldn’t that hurt them?”

EB facepalmed. “It’s wrestling. People are going to get hurt. But it’s all a show.”

“I still don’t get it.”

Before EB could explain further, a woman in tight wrestling gear strode through the group. She had a fierce expression and clapped her gloved hands for attention. “Alright, everyone! Welcome to the most important match of your lives. This is the A.W.W. Amateur Royal Rumble. I’m Firey Vixen, and don’t worry — I’m not fighting you tonight.”

EB practically drooled. “You can throw me whenever you like.”

“Oh, how cute. A bunny.” Vixen smiled at him before continuing. “Rules are simple. This is pro-wrestling. Pull your punches. Don’t seriously injure anyone. Make it look good. Make it look painful. If you get knocked down, sell it like it’s the worst hit of your life. Get thrown out? Keep the act going. Winning or losing this match doesn’t automatically get you a contract. We’re watching how well you perform as a wrestler — good losers can be just as entertaining as winners. But if you obviously try to hurt someone, you’re out. Got it?”

The group murmured agreement.

Vixen turned to Gar. “Layton told me about you. First time, huh? Good luck. Remember — no real harm, but sell it.”

“I’ll do my best,” Gar replied.

She pulled a card from her outfit. “What’s your stage name?”

“My stage name?”

EB jumped in. “Every wrestler needs one! Something that sounds powerful and says what you’re all about.”

“My name is Gargoyle.”

EB shook his head. “No, no, no! That’s your real name. We need something better. How about Dragon… no, Dragon Von Fire was two years ago. Or The Rock, since you’re made of stone? Wait, that’s dumb. No one would call themselves that. What about…”

Loud music and flashing lights erupted from the stage area, cutting EB off.

Vixen shrugged. “Looks like you’re going as Gargoyle. It’s mysterious and cool. Now move. You—” she pointed at EB, “—take a seat in the stands. No coaches in the arena.”

Dramatic music thundered as fog machines filled the hallway. Gar followed the other contestants, feeling awkward as they waved their arms and struck theatrical poses. A stage hand suddenly grabbed him and shoved him forward. “Go!”

A booming voice echoed through the arena. “And for the first time ever, we have a member of BADGE! You’ve seen him save the world. You’ve seen him fight monsters ten stories tall. Now he’ll see if he can survive the Royal Rumble… GARGOYLE!”

Lights flashed. Fog billowed. The crowd erupted as Gar stepped into view. He raised his arms, extended his wings, and turned slowly. The cheers grew even louder. Gar felt something warm bloom in his chest. He liked this.

Robert Layton stood in the center of the ring, mic in hand. “Amateurs, are you ready? Audience, are you ready? Because of our special guest, we’re starting with Gargoyle — the first superhero to ever compete in A.W.W.!”

Explosive applause rolled through the arena. The other contenders lined the ramp, waving him forward. Gar ran through them, beat his wings once, and flew into the ring. The chanting started almost immediately.

“GARGOYLE! GARGOYLE! GARGOYLE!”

“Next, The Dancing Cavalier!” Robert announced.

A tall, muscular man in colorful tights cartwheeled and backflipped into the ring.

“Next, Mustang Pilot!”

A slimmer contender in blue leggings slipped under the ropes and tried to hype up the crowd. 

Mustang Pilot smiled at Gar. “Hey! It’s me—”

“AND!” Robert shouted, “the last starter — Slipshod!”

A massive, bearded mountain of muscle stomped into the ring, pointing aggressively at Gar.

Robert stepped between them. “You all know the rules. No serious harm. Make it a good show. Lastman standing wins. New contenders enter every thirty seconds. We’re live with MasterBlaster on YouTube and TanyaTakedown on Instagram. When you hear the bell — give us everything you’ve got!”

The crowd roared. Robert exited the ring as the two streamers positioned themselves for the best angles.

The bell rang.

The other three exploded into action. The Dancing Cavalier launched himself at Mustang Pilot while Slipshod charged straight at Gar.

Gar, still unsure how this worked, held his arms out and backed up. Slipshod sneered. “So the stone giant is scared of me?”

“Uh, no. I just don’t know how this works.”

“Oh, so you’re an idiot. Perfect — I’ll toss you out first!” Slipshod grabbed Gar’s wing and tried to throw him. Gar didn’t budge. After a moment of futile tugging, Gar casually grabbed the man and slammed him to the mat.

“Don’t worry,” Gar said kindly. “You didn’t hurt me.”

Slipshod scrambled up, furious. “I’m gonna take you down!”

Meanwhile, Mustang Pilot had already thrown the Dancing Cavalier out of the ring. The announcer called it immediately. “And Dancing Cavalier is out!”

Slipshod rammed Gar again, but the stone hero didn’t move an inch. The big man groaned and heaved, trying to shove him. Gar simply reached down, lifted Slipshod like a small box, and casually tossed him over the ropes. The giant landed hard on the padded floor outside.

“Oh! And there goes Slipshod!” one of the streamers cheered.

Gar frowned. Surely this can’t be that easy.

A new contender jumped into the ring and charged him. Gar caught the man’s arm and threw him out as well. “And Galactic Bomb just bombed big time!”

Mustang Pilot approached with a friendly smile. “Wow, you’re good. Hey, do you remember me? I—”

The crowd suddenly screamed. Security scrambled. Something crashed down from above, landing hard between Gar and Mustang Pilot, shoving them both back.

EB appeared on the stage, holding a glowing magical egg like a weapon. “Well, well, well… Mr. Kitty shows up.”

The lion-masked man stood tall in the center of the ring, staring directly into the nearest camera. “This battle has just begun!”

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Heroes, Villains, and Renegades Fiction: Trial of Strength Part 3

 Nova passed through the security checkpoint at the Texas Advanced Computer Center without slowing. The system recognized him instantly and let him through.

Inside, he could see the Oracle of Tech’s influence spreading. Computer systems and cabling crept along the walls, ceiling, and floor like living vines. Dr. Hermes was expanding his network daily.

Nova entered the central chamber. Teams of scientists worked at stations surrounding a throne-like seat woven from technology. Dr. Hermes sat there, cables connected to his head and spine. Despite the alien machinery, he still carried the gentle demeanor of a kind professor.

“Come in, Director Nova,” Dr. Hermes said calmly. “I’ve been expecting you.”

“I see your systems continue to grow,” Nova remarked.

Dr. Hermes nodded, the cords shifting with the movement. “Computing power increases every day. I’ve established satellite systems in Tokyo, London, and Caracas. More will follow.”

“Growing a network of temples to the Oracle of Tech?” Nova asked with a hint of teasing.

“I do not seek worship,” Dr. Hermes replied. “My goal is to make information and technology freely accessible to humanity. No single nation should control it. Though I admit, several world leaders have expressed… concerns about that philosophy.”

“I’ve heard,” Nova said. “I understand the need for security, however.”

“As do I. I do not allow state secrets to flow freely.” Dr. Hermes smiled. “But I doubt you came here to debate information policy.”

“No. I have a situation that requires your insight.”

“I assumed as much. I’ve asked my fellow Oracle to join us.” Dr. Hermes glanced to the side as a plant-like structure bloomed in midair. From within stepped Dr. Fagan, the red-haired Irish woman now bearing angelic wings and a soft green aura. The Oracle of Supernatural.

“It’s good to see you again, Director Nova,” she said with her gentle lilt.

“How goes your exploration of the world?” Nova asked.

“Wonderful. Beautiful. And sometimes heartbreaking. There is still so much to see.”

Dr. Hermes added, “It is good to have company. Though she does tend to drift like dandelion fluff on the wind.”

“A fair observation,” Dr. Fagan replied with a small smile.

Nova turned back to Dr. Hermes. “Why did you ask her to be here?”

“We’ve both been considering The Malevolence,” Dr. Hermes said. “It has been silent since the incident in Ireland. I had hoped it retreated and would remain dormant for some time.”

“But?” Nova prompted.

Dr. Fagan spoke. “While traveling, I began sensing its presence again. Not fully returned… but not entirely gone either.”

Dr. Hermes continued, “We believe The Malevolence has left agents behind. Beings either similar to Avatars, or people it has overtaken. Their purpose remains unclear.”

Nova’s expression darkened. “Do you believe the mysterious wrestler is one of these agents?”

Dr. Fagan frowned. “What wrestler?”

Dr. Hermes raised a hand and projected a holographic image from the recent match — the masked fighter known as Lion Fists.

Dr. Fagan studied it. “Strange. Something about him feels familiar, though I have no memory of any wrestling event.”

Dr. Hermes said, “Every sensor we have, including BADGE’s, detected an enormous surge of morphonic energy around him. His power levels are extraordinary.”

“Do you know who he is?” Nova asked.

Dr. Fagan shook her head. “Not with certainty. But some of the memories from the Avatar that bonded with me… seem to recognize him.”

Dr. Hermes added, “I’ve searched every information network available to me. There is nothing. No records. No history. It’s as if he didn’t exist until that moment.”

Nova paced slowly. “The Oracles and Avatars cannot fully perceive or understand The Malevolence, since it is their opposite. If this man is connected to it, that would explain why you can’t sense him clearly. He could be an agent… or something worse.”

Dr. Hermes nodded. “That is possible.”

Dr. Fagan looked troubled. “I’ve sensed fragments of The Malevolence’s power during my travels — small traces, nothing like its full strength. But I’ve never been able to locate one of its agents directly. They’re like shadows. Elusive.”

Dr. Hermes suddenly stiffened. “Something is happening. Right now. At the A.W.W. arena.” He waved his hand and two shaky video feeds appeared in the air.

Dr. Fagan tilted her head. “A streamer? And perhaps a podcaster?”

A voice came through one of the feeds, excited and breathless: “You are not gonna believe who just showed up at this amateur hour at A.W.W. This is freaking awesome!”

---

Half an hour earlier

Gar stood in front of a mirror in the A.W.W. locker room, wearing a pair of colorful wrestling briefs that stood out sharply against his stone body. EB bounced in front of him, barely able to contain his excitement.

“I don’t know about this,” Gar said.

“Oh, come on! This is so cool! You’re going to fight in the Brawler Arena! Some of the most legendary matches in history happened here!”

“We were only supposed to ask about the stranger and wait for him to show up,” Gar replied.

EB waved a paw dismissively. “You know he’ll show up for this. If he wants to be a pro wrestler, this is the best time to get noticed. Besides, if we’re just going to sit around waiting, we might as well have some fun, right?”

“I don’t call this fun.” Gar sat on the bench, adjusting his wings.

EB ran over and tugged on Gar’s arm. “Don’t be such a downer! This is amazing. And you’re going to beat them all!”

“Then what?” Gar asked.

Robert Layton walked in and answered for him. “Then you’ll be offered a contract for at least one appearance, so we can see how the audience responds. You look good, by the way. Like a real wrestler.”

“Uh, thanks.” Gar stood. “We already spoke with your security team.”

“I know,” Robert said, sitting across from him. “I talked to William and Erin. No one had any idea how that guy got into the ring.”

EB chimed in. “Best guess is he’s morphonic and used his powers to slip in. Don’t be too hard on them.”

“There will be some reprimands,” Robert admitted, “but nothing serious. I never expected a morphonic person to just bully their way onto the stage. At least he didn’t hurt anyone or steal anything when he left.”

Gar asked, “Did you give them the sensors?”

Robert nodded. “Everyone on staff now has a small BADGE morphon scanner. We’ll have a better chance of spotting him before he forces his way in again.”

Gar frowned. “Then perhaps we should focus on teaching them how to use the scanners instead of worrying about this wrestling match.”

“Oh, don’t start that!” EB begged, hopping onto the bench. “This is my dream! I can’t go in the ring because I’m too small — stupid rules — but you can! And it’s only for an hour. They might not even record it unless it goes well. But they should record it. I want to see you in action! You’re going to be amazing, I just know it!”

Robert laughed. “You really are quite the talker.”

Gar gave EB a flat look. “You have no idea.”

“Hey! Was that an insult?” EB frowned.

Robert smiled. “Not from me. I like talkers. Maybe I can have you as a guest announcer sometime.”

EB’s eyes went wide and began to water. “REALLY?!”

“Sure. We love celebrity announcers. The Easter Bunny would be perfect for the Spring Bam-and-Slam match.”

A woman’s voice called from the hallway. “Amateur Hour is about to start. Get moving.”

Robert stood. “Be there in a moment, Nancy.” He looked back at Gar. “You in?”

Gar glanced at EB, who looked like he might explode from anticipation. He sighed. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Good. Meet me by the ring in five minutes.”

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Heroes, Villains, and Renegades Fiction: Trial of Strength Part 2

Robert Layton sat at his massive oak desk, the walls of his office lined with posters of legendary A.W.W. events and golden championship belts. Behind him, a full wall of windows overlooked the main arena below. This wasn’t just an office — it was the best seat in the house.

He ended a call with a huff. “It’s always a struggle dealing with some people.”

A light knock came at the door. His assistant poked her head in. “Mr. Layton, Mr. Zeus is here to see you.”

Robert’s expression darkened. “Fine. Let him in.”

Theodor Zeus strode into the room wearing a cowboy suit, spurs, and an oversized hat, an unlit cigar clenched between his teeth and a cocky grin on his face.

“Bob! Good to see you!” he bellowed.

“It’s Robert,” Layton replied coolly, remaining seated. “And you know it.”

Zeus dropped into the chair across from him. “Saw yer show the other night. Woooo! What a match! And that third feller — the lion guy. What an ending!”

“You didn’t fly up here from Austin just to compliment my show,” Robert said, cutting to the point.

Zeus laughed. “Always straight to business. I had my people look into this new boy of yours. You know what I found?”

Robert leaned forward. “That we know as little about him as you do. No name, no history, and he isn’t under contract with us.”

Zeus pointed his cigar at him. “Right on the money! I just want to know if you were holdin’ anything back. You know who he is, don’t you?”

“What do you actually want, Zeus?”

The promoter’s grin widened. “Confederate Brawlers needs new blood. The A.W.W. is eating our lunch every month. I’ve got a new agent who’s real keen on your lion guy. We can make him a star — the biggest on our roster. You’ve got plenty of celebrity wrestlers who won’t like the competition. Let me take him and make him my star.”

Robert considered this. He knew the wrestling world was more Hollywood than sport. Bringing in someone new could easily steal the spotlight from the stars they’d spent years building.

He finally spoke. “I’m not a fan of yours personally. You oversell your matches and pull some shady gimmicks. But you’ve treated your wrestlers well enough. I trust you’d do right by him.”

“HA!” Zeus stood and stuck out his hand. “Sounds like we got a deal!”

Robert didn’t move. “However, I don’t know this guy. He showed up, interrupted my match, and barely said a word when I offered him a contract. I can’t speak for what he wants. My guess is he’ll be back tomorrow for the amateur try-out event. You come with your agent. I’ll have mine ready. We’ll both make our offers and let him choose.”

Zeus slowly nodded, his grin returning. “You’re a good businessman, Bob. Real good. I like the deal. I’ll see you Friday.” He tipped his hat and walked out.

Robert muttered under his breath, “What a blowhard.”

A beep sounded on his desk. He pressed the button. “Yes?”

“Sir, we have an incoming vessel from BADGE requesting clearance to land on the roof.”

“Let them land. I’ll greet them myself.”

---

Gar sat in the back of the shuttle while EB stood on the co-pilot seat, practically vibrating with excitement as he stared out the window.

“Why are you so excited?” Gar asked.

“This is THE headquarters for A.W.W.! Some of the best wrestlers in history started here. I hope I get to meet Stone or Mad Marauder… oh, I hope Shrieka is there.”

“What’s Shrieka?” Gar asked.

EB zipped back to him, eyes sparkling. “Shrieka is only the hottest, sexiest woman wrestler alive! She can body slam with the best of them. I would love to be body slammed by her.” He was practically drooling.

Gar looked down at the tablet Chase had given him. “I still don’t understand what pro-wrestling is.”

“What’s not to understand? They fight and tell the best stories!”

“How can a sport have storylines? Are they actors on a stage?”

“Sorta,” EB said. “Listen, all you need to know is that it isn’t real fighting. It’s mostly faked. It’s a performance, but they do it with so much finesse. It’s gripping and exciting and just the best! Oh— we’re here, we’re here!” He clapped his paws and vanished in a flash.

The shuttle landed moments later. Gar stepped out to find EB already bouncing in front of Robert Layton and his two security guards.

Gar walked over and smiled. “Greetings from BADGE. I apologize — EB wasn’t supposed to teleport ahead.”

EB shook with excitement. “Sorry! I got excited. I’ve been a huge fan for years. I even sponsored some of your events back in the late 90s — Summer Smash 5 and 6!”

Robert raised an eyebrow, though he was clearly amused. “I don’t recall the Easter Bunny on our books.”

“Oh, it was my chocolate companies that sponsored them, but I own them all, so it was me. Here, have some!” EB zipped around Robert and the two guards. In seconds, all three were holding glowing chocolate eggs and wearing stunned expressions.

“EB, stop,” Gar said firmly.

EB rushed back to his side. “Sorry. Just so excited!”

Robert laughed and casually passed his egg to one of his men. “I can see that. Good to know I have a real fan. As you know, I’m Robert Layton, CEO of A.W.W.”

Gar shook his hand. “I’m Gargoyle of BADGE. We don’t want to inconvenience you. We just need to speak with anyone who met the stranger from the match and be here in case he returns.”

Robert nodded. “He hasn’t been seen since that night. But I suspect he’ll show up tomorrow for the amateur show. Hey… you look like you could hold your own in a fight. Want to join the amateur event? Great publicity for BADGE.”

“I don’t—”

EB jumped up and grabbed Gar by the ears, pulling himself up to eye level. “DO IT! We can be a team! Think of it — it would be SOOOOOO COOL!”

Robert chuckled. “Sorry, little buddy. Superpowers aren’t allowed in the matches. But your friend here? He’s got the build for it.”

EB dropped down and flexed his tiny arms. “I’m more than my magic.”

Gar gave a small smile. “Thank you. I’ll… think about it. For now, I’d like to inspect the area and speak with your staff.”

Robert motioned for them to follow. “I figured you would. I’ve already gathered security and the workers. I’m curious how that guy got all the way to the ring without anyone noticing. Trust me — heads will roll over this.”

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