The surgery went without a hitch. Perhaps a given, but it always brought me some comfort when things went well.

  Clara’s insistence that we gave the oxygen tank a test run was a little more unpalatable. While I was apprehensive about wasting it, she assured me that it gradually replenished by syphoning a small amount of air from my every breath - when needed. Then she essentially attempted to waterboard me a few times, all unsuccessful.

  Even being able to breathe under duress, it wasn’t a pleasant sensation. Something I’d mentally have to accept, even though my body was thankful for the necessary oxygen.

  Before she could think of other ways to torture me, I gave her my thanks and left. Perhaps I should have asked her more about her ploy to get the new V-Force drive, but my mind had been elsewhere with everything going on, and it was only a handful of minutes before I was down in the basement.

  First section I went to was the S-Rank heroes. Amusingly, Roxy had just stuck a blank piece of paper to the wall with ‘Silhouette’ written along the bottom. There were no further notes. Even in her madness, she still had a lick of humor. That said, the S-Rank board was the least populated when it came to both number of figures, as well as the data collected.

  Either she was leaving them to last, knowing that they would probably be the gate keeping her from taking the League down, or she had the information processed mentally. They were both the most publicly known, yet protective heroes in Goldarch.

  It wasn’t like I had been expecting the reason for my brother’s message to appear down here, but it was worth checking, anyway. Maybe he had gotten wind of Clara’s plan and was warning me off. He could have dug up his past and realized that he used to be my enemy.

  Or we could just sit down and share a brew together, as long-lost kin.

  I rolled my eyes at my internal monologue and switched back to the task at hand. With Stacy’s list of Heroism Arena participants in one side of my vision, I looked around to see who I was really up against.

  For now, I skipped looking at Maestro. Had already memorized every letter of the information Roxy had put down. While his powers gave him an advantage over me in some situations, I had the upper hand in others. He was the most well-established and highest Rank of hero going in to the Arena.

  Which meant he had the most to lose.

  Most of the others were C or D-Ranks with minor or unimpressive superpowers. As I wouldn’t be fighting them, I didn’t worry too much about their details. I just had to be a better hero than them. More of a showman, I was sure.

  The one that actually caught my attention was Blue Bulwark from Urban Guardians - the team we had just pushed down to tenth place. A durability hero that looked like a giant beetle. This was clearly a desperate attempt to claw their position back, and was perhaps even riskier a ploy than my attendance.

  If they had a poor showing, the League might shatter their team completely and put together something new to take up that last spot. In an all-out brawl, I probably wouldn’t be able to do much to them without risking killing them. Roxy’s notes actually rated the hero quite highly in terms of damage mitigation… but that was essentially all they had going for them.

  An interesting appearance carried them in the public eye for a while, but once the novelty passed, the rest of the team could only carry them so far.

  The rest of the contestants were below me both in firepower and combat experience. They had been heroes longer and had me beat on the minor acts of good that I had breezed past in a dervish of violence and shotgun shells.

  I sighed and looked around the room. While all of these people were meant to be allies and colleagues, I couldn’t help but believe that some of them were anything but that. Beyond the scope of office politics, some might be working for the World Government, or weren’t opposed to playing dirty to keep me at ground level.

  The downside of notoriety and self permanance. I had long accepted it, but now I had to deal with it.

  Before leaving the basement, I gave one last look at Silhouette’s meagre information board. At first it seemed he had wanted to begrudingly support me from a distance, needling me every so often in the way I imagined a brother would. His request for an audience tonight didn’t sit well with that narrative.

  Nor did his chosen location.

  I had done my research, as I’m sure he knew I would. An abandoned warehouse. Top floor. In an area where no team was patroling tonight at the time requested. It was almost too obvious a trap - so he was either messing with me, or just knew deep down I wouldn’t bail on it despite that knowledge.

  Given that it would be interrupting my schedule and messing with my beauty sleep, he'd better hope to keep me in a good mood.

  I climbed the stairs and closed the basement. Locked it. I’d have to get a nap in now, and then sleep after my patrol, if I had any hope of maintaining any sort of order to be awake at the same time as everyone else.

  Clara was keen to fill my head with the data syphoned from the last however many Heroism Arenas, and had put on a feigned pout when I told her my itinerary for the day post-surgery. As a compromise, I assured her I would be reading it before I drifted off, and during any lulls in my patrol.

  While looking longingly at the sunny day outside, I went upstairs to the bathroom and washed off. Retired to the bedroom and closed the curtains to enact a faux darkness. Once under the covers, I looked up at the ceiling and brought up some of the data in my STAR.

  Out of the variety of ‘games’ the Arena put us all through, four of the contests were near guaranteed.

  Rescuing civilians from a disaster. Stopping an escaping criminal vehicle. Fighting a monster. Saving hostages from a minor villain.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The other events weren’t guaranteed, but those four seemed to be recurring in all but one Arena as they were what the public loved seeing the most. After all, this was a reality show in some way, so ratings and views counted just as much as anything.

  Any other game was a toss-up. There had been a few stealth missions over the years. Scenarios where the hero had to escape dangerous situations. Of course, there was also the rare duel. Only occuring twice in the history Clara had scraped, but I liked those odds. If the League had any sense, they’d make it happen just because it would be good television.

  I wouldn’t find out until arriving at the location, naturally. Each one of the Natural Disasters had offered me training and advice sessions over their believed strengths or experiences. My calendar had never been so full, and I felt… calm about it.

  There was still the slimmest fragment of my psyche that told me I could just put a Sanguine stake through Maestro at the Arena, and that would count as a win in my heart.

  Thankfully, that part of me didn’t have much of a say in such matters. There was still plenty of room in me for wanton violence, but that urge was controlled by my brain now - and I thought I was in control. We had been making this hero thing work, and I enjoyed that.

  Both Roxy and I had been seeking freedom to escape the confines of Goldarch or the World Government… but things under the Directors here wasn’t bad by any stretch of the word. Running patrols and jumping through the League’s hoops was rather droll, but I needed that plain existence as a palette cleanser for all the intense violence and constant murder.

  We had both grown as people, and hadn’t even reached our peaks yet.

  That said, I wanted closure on Boss and the whole super-soldier bullshit. While I had probably escaped the scouring gaze of the World Government with all the modifications and new identity, living in Goldarch was also putting me under the microscope. Only a matter of time before I was found out.

  Perhaps that had been the plan all along. Boss had been orchestrating things behind the scenes for years, turning me into a strong weapon of war that was capable of change. Was it all to get revenge on the Gov who had screwed him over? His ‘sons’? From the moment he saved my life, he had slid me toward the inevitable.

  Revenge against the one who slaughtered the squad.

  The image of that figure standing above me as I lay dying emerged into my mind as I closed my eyes. Still no clearer than it had ever been. Just muddied shapes as my life had eked away.

  With a deep sigh, I relaxed and fell asleep.

  An uncomfortable rest that had me feeling groggy as soon as the alarm woke me up. I hated existence and needed a fresh canister. It was dark out now, and Roxy would be home from her patrol soon.

  I grunted and left the comfort of the bed. Washed my face off again to try to get some life back in my eyes. Walked my way to the warehouse to get ready. Clara was working, as usual, the occasional flash of blue light appearing at the workshop windows causing me to wince as I made my way across the garden.

  As did the message coming through the STAR.

  //Roxy: Clara has me on hobgoblin duty.

  //Roxy: So I won’t be home for a few more hours.

  //Roxy: Sorry, babe x

  //Dubs: No problem. I’m leaving soon to go meet up with Silhouette.

  //Roxy: Business or pleasure?

  //Dubs: Probably.

  I closed it down and ignored her annoyed response. Going to the hobgoblins meant working on my arm more, so I couldn’t be mad at her for it. Would have been nice to see her before I left, but perhaps that was just the terrible sleep making me grouchy.

  In the warehouse, I suited up. Usual city gear, aimed toward debilitating or stunning criminals. Given the meeting I was shortly due to arrive at, my selectloader had some more… effective ammunition. Sanguine stake included.

  It wasn’t just for my brother, however. If he truly wanted me dead, he could ambush me any time that I wasn’t at home. With the League of Villains festering in the shadows, I didn’t doubt that my impromptu path-crossing with Red Dust wasn’t going to be a one-off.

  Egotistical, maybe. Goldarch had plenty of A or S-Rank heroes to the point where I didn’t have to be the one always getting his hand dirty. I broke a few molds on becoming Gunquake, but that mean didn’t I was the solution to every problem.

  Damn, I really hoped I’d get to beat up some criminals tonight.

  Fully dressed, I then made sure I had spare stims and canisters on my person. The Meteor always had a handful, but I wanted the extra precaution tonight. After adjusting my grapple gauntlet, I gave one last forlorn look at our home. Then it was time to move.

  Into my vehicle and then I was off to the city. We had gotten a few complaints about the Meteor being a little too impractical for driving around the streets. A number of people had called us menaces. Too noisy and inconsiderate about space. The League had relayed these messages to us, but had made no attempt to dissuade us from using the vehicle. I had no intention of stopping, but was looking forward to using it out in the wastes where it would excel.

  The meeting with Silhouette was closer to the east side of the city, which was a pain given that my patrol was more southern than usual. I forgot which of the teams were in charge of the northeast quadrant of Goldarch, but hopefully I didn’t step on any toes.

  More fool me for constantly getting into trouble. I should be more thankful that my life was slowing down slightly. There were things I could sit around and enjoy without the threat of something bad happening to me as a constant presence. Like my bed - I’d really like to get more sleep.

  Between my internal grumblings and constant flickering between the targets I needed to knock down in the coming week, the travel across the city didn’t take too long. The roads were nearly empty as I rolled the Meteor through a district filled with offices and workshops. Then I was there.

  I parked up outside the planned meeting place. A dark building of five floors, the windows reflecting the nearby streetlight, but otherwise pitch black. From the looks of it, it had been completed some time ago, but never bought and furnished. The yard surrounding it still had stacks of construction materials that were cheaper to leave behind rather than recover.

  After leaving the vehicle, I rolled out my shoulders and surveyed the area. Looked relatively dead, as we were long past working hours. This sort of location was my bread and butter, by my subconscious was trying to dig around for anything out of place. A reason to be more alert than I was currently.

  Rather than use my grapple to get to the top of the building, I treated myself with the scenic route. A short walk around the side of the building and I found the fire exit in the form of an external metal staircase - a door on each floor. With a sigh, I ascended.

  Part of me was already tiring of the need to patrol. My job tomorrow would be to twist the League into giving me some actual missions. It wasn’t likely I’d get anything dangerous with the Heroism Arena coming up, but walking around in peace and getting trolled by old homeless men wasn’t how I envisioned my skillset being used.

  I made it to the top floor with no issue, aside from maybe slightly regretting not just using my grapple. The door grunted as it shifted, opening up with a little force applied to it. There was a chill to the air as the room beyond was long, with no separations built in the space. Just pillars of concrete.

  Rather than use my flashlight, I switched on nightvision in my goggles.

  Unsurprisingly, there was nothing waiting for me in the shadows. Not anything I could currently see, anyway. My chamber wasn’t loaded, but I was prepared to switch something in should the need arise.

  I let the door close behind me, and I walked slowly over to the wide windows near the front of the building. Even with how near-silent my footsteps were on a good day, there was a slight echo in this vacant space.

  Just before I made it halfway to the front of the building, I paused in place.

  [Good evening, brother.]

  The space beside me shimmered as Silhouette faded into view.

  His yellow eye flickered briefly as he pulled back the hammer of the pistol pressed against the side of my head.

  “Evening, brother,” he responded. “It might not be a good one.”