Sitting at the head of the table, Argus turned around and breathed in the pleasant morning breeze coming from the deep blue sea. He allowed himself a moment to admire the beautiful marvel of Iterna’s terraformation agency while ignoring his hosts. Where once was a sprawling desert, covered in crates and filled with radiation and chemical waste, now proudly stood an actual sea, separating the Iterna Inner Lands from the Outer Reaches, a name given to the newly joined regions on the west.

Small boats, mostly made of wood, filled the waters; the fishermen were coming back from the night’s work, carrying rich catch to sell on the markets. Straining his improved eyes, Argus saw several cruise ships slowly venturing across the waters. Tourists among them marvel at the disparity between two lands; the eastern side of the sea was filled with deep, lush green forests and elegant paved roads, with occasional cities. The western side, belonging to Iterna’s vassal states, looked desolated, with minor green parches and an overabundance of small huts for single families that almost choked the life out of harbors and beaches. In time, the government will overcome the crippling poverty, but for now, both countries funnel their efforts into fighting against a total lack of education among the locals and fixing some of the most cruel traditions.

While one of Rhos’ subsidiaries owned a respectable harbor for producing these ships, Argus, for the life of him, could not get the appeal of spending a vacation locked in a confined ship, no matter how comfortable. What few days off he could get from his primary job he always spent venturing into other countries, learning new languages, and looking for opportunities. Alas, ever since he became a dad once more, he had to stomp down on any enjoyment and focus on being the best possible parent for his little girl.

Still, credits were credits, and if people wanted to spend their vacations this way, who was Argus to argue? His company only gladly provided security and ships for these pleasant trips, for a modest pay, of course. Looking at the night sky and noticing the reflections of stars dancing amidst the waters, Argus decided to bring Leone here one day. When the place would be far safer and cleaner, of course.

Breaking away from observing the sea, Argus smiled at the members of the board. Men and women in strict business suits or gorgeous dresses that cost more than this entire tavern. They contacted him this evening, asking for an immediate meeting anywhere outside of Iterna, and Argus gladly obliged, taking the opportunity to visit this country for the first time in his life.

As his flying vehicle carried him over the sea, Argus found himself disappointed. The city, if one could call it that, was made of bunches of shacks closely built together, with factories owned by Barjonis sticking out like enormous thumbs on the city’s outskirts. The mayor clearly embezzled quite a lot of funds, building himself a whole pleasure district, complete with a rich mansion south of the city. To his knowledge, the police force was almost nonexistent; in their place served a powerful gang that knocked down anyone who violated the order. Argus spied several traders being beaten in the open, no doubt for the crime of being late to pay protection money.

Prior to Iterna’s arrival, the locals struggled because of countless slave raids. Their abnormals were not strong enough to unite the region under a single leader, and the land itself bore grievous scars from the times of the Extinction, forcing people to abandon any ideas of tilling the land and live by hunting the local fauna. It was the ocean and its rich waters that united the local tribes into a single, unstable country and made them swear fealty to Iterna in exchange for food. Following the treatment, most of the population migrated closer to the sea.

This gave Argus the idea. Barjonis only cared about getting cheap minerals and a workforce. He didn’t blame them for this; their factories provided free healthcare and good pay, immediately making anyone working in them an elite of the local society. Yet why look so shallow? In the future, the locals will join Iterna, so Rho Corporation started construction of agricultural holdings, capable of producing both meat and vegetables for the growing population.

The people living here had gorgeous-looking black skin and were of average build. Most of the underclasses—street traders, beggars, fishermen, and so on—showed signs of malnourishment and looked frightened, quickly getting out of the way of the provincial army or local gangs. Abnormals, surprisingly, were rare, and almost all of them worked for thugs. The school, which Iterna funded, was the largest structure in the city, aside from factories and temples.

All in all, a typical development country, bouncing back from the cruelty and starvation of the hard times

The tavern that they had chosen for their meetings was located near the beach and had a solid paved road leading to it, along with a small parking lot before the building itself. Fabien Toussaint, an overly thin man in his early sixties and the owner of eleven percent of Rho Corporation’s shares, hired a local gang to watch over the vehicles and joined Argus first, looking with disgust at the overcrowded tavern and booking the entire terrace with an open view of the sea. Scantily dressed women welcomed them, leading both men to their seats and offering their bodies in exchange for credits. Curious, Argus spoke with them a bit, badly mangling words without his translator.

In this country, the females were not allowed to own property or learn. This led to the school being assaulted and nearly burned to the ground after the teachers made mixed groups of students and started teaching kids about tolerance. Iterna refused to cowl to any troubles and sent in problemsolvers to guard the school, beating back all three attempts to burn it down and keeping teaching everyone willing to learn.

The women laughed a bit about Argus’ accent before revealing to him that the owner was quite a nice guy. He let their kids stay, took no payment for providing them with rooms, and even paid them in full. Ignoring the bored-looking Fabien, Argus tried to learn all he could about local customs. Soon after, Mehret Luwan, owner of eight percent of the shares and a strikingly beautiful gray-haired woman, dressed in a gown of a silver color, and the other members joined them. One patron demanded she strip down and whore herself for him, but a snap of her elegant fingers summoned a couple of thugs. They quickly dragged the drunken man away, and soon after, the three Iternians heard a gunshot, only smiling to each other pleasantly at the sound. Different culture and values, after all.

“For prosperity!” Argus saluted the board members with a glass of cola.

Fabien ordered an entire feast to be delivered from one of the most prestigious restaurants in this city to accommodate the brutish nature of this place. Argus laughed at all the offers of delicious wine and ingeniously prepared seafood. He had that in abundance back home, so now he fully pushed for some experimentation, gulping down eel soup, finishing apple pie after apple pie, and drinking both soda and beer while Fabius frowned disapprovingly.

The CEO ignored the looks, concentrating on the food. Seafood was too salt for his taste, but the well-made cooking and just-right amount of spices more than made up for it. Bear tasted like piss, no two ways about it. Soda felt good, but then again, it came from Iternian factories; this was par for the course. Freshly made bread of apple pies melted on his lips, feeling so gentle and tasty that Argus sent his compliments to the chief and sent for a whole loaf of this bread, prepared in the same way, but this time without apples. Turns out, the tavern had no chief, just the tavern owner’s son and a few other youths who prepared this bread in special clay tubes.

Each of the guests on the terrace wore a ‘maskirovka’ device next to their ear, a special mechanism that changed the sound coming out of their mouth into an unrecognizable blurb, allowing only them to hear their words fully. To the tourists and locals sitting beneath the terrace, this looked like a gathering of madmen.

The CEOs of the two other dominant companies ruled unopposed. But after Maximillian became a traitor and the Rho family became decimated, the government forced Argus to make changes in his company; otherwise, he would have lost it all. It took him years of careful maneuvering, bribes, lies, and charity to restore the image of his company and get fifty-one percent of all its shares, restoring the right to have one last word in any and all discussions.

And now, it seemed, he was about to be dethroned. Why else would they call him out of Iterna? For a moment, he thought about the possibility of assassination… But Mehret and Fabius were too professional to dirty themselves in something like that.

“With the recent purchase of new mines in the Ravaged Lands, the cost of Bloom went through the roof.” Acting innocently, Argus sent a chart of projected growth to the members, basking in their smiles. Bloom, a subsidiary they used in the Ravaged Lands, truly started kicking in some profit. A contract for rebuilding part of Belaz. Access to the rich mines, now freed of all pests.

“Good,” Fabius smiled thinly and took a sip of wine, looking at the cheap furniture with disapproval. “Time to cash in.”

“Beg your pardon?” Argus asked.

“You heard the man, Argus.” Mehret saluted him with a glass of whiskey. “Doubtlessly, your men are keeping tabs on the offers. Bloom grew too big too quickly; buyers are already lined up to purchase the ownership of the company.”

“And why would we sell it?” Argus put the glass back on the table, still smiling. “Let us be real…”

“Yes, Argus, let’s do it,” Fabius calmly said. “I know your arguments, and I agree with your initial assessment. The place will become a developed city and, in time, a full-grown one. If we can hold on to it, the profits will be impressive. And here is the deal. If.” Fabius locked eyes with Argus. “Staying there means war between us and the Cartel and all the dangers of the Ravaged Lands. Frankly speaking, it’s not worth the bother. Sell now and let us come back if and when the place becomes more stable.”

“I am well aware of the risk, Fabius. However, there is no reason to back down before some mere criminals. Fabius, we have done it before!” Argus spread his arms. “We hire a few mercenary groups, let them work their magic, and forget about all our problems.” They looked at him. Dispassionately and calmly, having already made their decision before arriving here. No usual argument will sway them. Argus sighed. “I am thanking you all for voicing your worries, yet as the company’s owner, I decided we would continue to pursue our noble endeavors in the Ravaged Lands.”

“It’s funny that you spoke of the mercenaries.” Mehret sent news about the captured mercenary group in the Desolation to his terminal.

“There were some…” Fabius tapped on his chin. “Worried news about a mercenary group… evicting someone from the mines in the Ravaged Lands. And then this. Argus, you are acting too bold.” His voice turned to ice. “We must stop while we are ahead. Building up in the Ravaged Lands will endanger our employees.”

“I agree.” Mehret nodded. “Argus, the graphs do not lie. If we go against the Cartel in the open, we’ll lose money. Sure, potentially, in the distant future, we may recoup our losses. But the future is always subject to change.”

“So you would have us run with our tails between our legs, am I right, Mehret?”

“You had no right sending in the mercenaries without consulting with us. From our point of view, you betrayed our trust first. Either fall in line, or the police will receive some interesting information about a strange transfer of your funds.”

Argus only chuckled at this and raised his glass, looking at the green soda within. So here it is. Should anyone record their talk in Iterna, Argus could’ve sued his partners for blackmail. But here, in this city? No such luck, for Iterna’s laws were very much specific. They came here as tourists. The talks started only after excessive drinking. As far as anyone is concerned, this is just drunken boasting.

He always wanted to applaud the members. Well played indeed; he well deserved a snap against the nose for doing such a botched job of covering his expenses. He will get better in the future, but right now it’s time to dot the “I” and remind his partners that he also has teeth.

“You know, in my youth, I always liked junk food. Burgers, soda, chips, and so on.” His smile widened at the memory of his youth. “My grandfather and mother always scold me for this, claiming that I’ll go fat.”

“Argus, we are speaking about serious things here, not about your childhood,” Fabius said bluntly.

“Now that I have grown up, I still gorge on them excessively, and my body is changed by the biotechnology, ensuring my fitness and good health.” He looked at them, allowing a hint of his rage to appear in his eyes. “Dear friends. Have I caused any losses to the company or, by extension, to you? No. This will be no different. And if you as much as dare to threaten me ever again… Well, I might just have to inform the police about your sister’s addiction to adolescents, Fabius.”

“She is in the mental clinic and will never leave it until they fix her.” The man’s fingers broke into the table, shattering the wood. “I already dealt with it…”

“Discreetly and despite the laws,” Argus finished for him, matching his look with his own. “I salute you for the right decision; trust me, I know how it feels when a member of your family goes astray, but what will the public think? And you, Mehret. You seem to be on board with revealing my finances; shall we speak of yours? Specifically, about how you donated Blaguna Nokto to, and I quote, build orphanages. Without consulting us, I dare say, and in spite of all my warnings about the mad devil. Shall I remind you what she built with this money? Or how about…”

“We get your meaning, Argus,” she told him, matching his tone, and stood up to leave.

Slamming his palm onto the table, Argus caught her attention. Running one hand over his hair, Argus forced himself to calm down. He shook them. Now it is time to get them back on board. Whether or not he likes it, they are all in this together.

“Stop playing into a wounded pride, please. You all schemed behind my back and spied on me, aiming to knock me down a peg. But that is okay,” he said, allowing warmth to come into his tone. “I am sorry for my rudeness, and I appreciate the worry about the company and the well-being of all employers, but please understand my position. Just like you, I too care for both the company and its wealth. I plan to live forever to see humanity reach the stars and see them littered with Rho Corporation’s offices. I want to see stars up close and fly across the orbits of gas giants. And to achieve these modest goals, I need wealth. I do not plan to cut any of you from the company; we work well enough together. Nor do I have any plans to endanger our people. My ancestors would’ve never built the orbital elevator by standing still. We always should move, growing tall and wide…”

“Argus, get down!” Mehret shouted, changing in face.

He jumped face-down, more out of reflex, and heard barking sounds behind him and piercing sounds above him, as well as the sound of glass breaking and wood cracking. The other members of the board followed him, and Argus threw the heavy table to the side, preferring some cover to none at all. His hands grabbed a few kitchen knives when he saw how Mehret leaned on the wall, looking with shock at a wound just below her right breast. A small crimson ring started growing, wetting her gown. A moment later, two more torn wounds appeared, one on her shoulder and another in her belly. Still, she didn’t leap for safety, whimpering weakly and beginning to cry.

All Iternians undergo operations to make them able to survive some light wounds or breathe potentially poisonous air much longer. The government started funding these improvements after Maximillian’s pathetic attempt at genocide. But normal upgrades could hardly help against a ruptured lung.

Luckily for her, Mehret was anything but normal. All members of the board used the medical facilities to turn themselves into perfect athletes with natural immunity to most known poisons. And, most of all, to allow their bodies to endure the most grievous damage. In this day and age, with the cloning technology available in Iterna, only brain matter, for your sense of self, was the only irreplaceable thing. Memories could be transmitted, but ultimately, it would lead to another personality in the long run. Limbs, organs, and even the complete skeleton, all were rendered irrelevant. 

Mehret, like Argus and the others, could perfectly survive with a single lung; it was the pain and shock that was doing her in right now. Argus quickly looked above the table and saw the scumbags who assaulted them—locals from the look of it—standing on a pierce and unloading their rifles at them. Argus saw the attacker taking aim at Mehret. A full burst of automatic fire would do her in if this idiotic degenerate could land at least half of his shots.

Should Mehret die here, it might be easy to get her part of the company back. A thought crawled at the back of Argus’ mind, nagging at him like a parasite. Surely, the government will no longer be involved in how he runs his company, and once his position solidified even better, he…

Argus stood up, blocking the first of the incoming bullets with his forearm, whipped into action by the memories of him being an Elite. A bullet pierced both his white coat and the sleeve of his white shirt, leaving just a scratch mark on his skin. Grimacing from barely hidden rage, Argus threw the knives, spearing both men through their heads to the poles behind them. This was what always set him apart from Maximillian. He and his brother always looked to bend the rules, but unlike his brother, Argus always believed that revenge was a fool’s game. Better to be surrounded by someone than to stand on top alone.

Hearing the barking of gunfire from within the tavern, Argus charged in, uncaring for his own safety. Six thugs came in, firing into the crowd indiscriminately. Argus saw a child, no older than Leone, having his small hand pierced by an automatic fire and left dangling on a strand of flesh. His father dropped to the floor, covering the screaming kid with his body.

The world turned red, and before Argus knew it, he expanded his power, reaching out to both cars outside and the school owned by Iterna. Following his will, the metal shifted, as did Argus’ body. Leaping at the giggling maniacs, he buried the thumbs into the eyes of a nearby man, popping the thug’s head like a balloon and turning to the rest.

Using the man’s body to shield himself, Argus wrestled the rifle from the dead man’s hands, firing above the covering civilians. There is no time to wait for his power; he needs to end this now before more victims can be piled on. He had to slaughter the fools. A burst from his rifle left holes in two attackers, coloring their dirty shirts red, while the rest ducked behind the counter. The rifle gave a click in his hands, and he threw it at the bottles above the counter, jumping over it.

Argus grabbed the closest terrorist by the head, splatting the woman against the wall.

“Please…” she gasped before Argus mercilessly punched a hole through her face. Surprising. It seems this gang had female members, despite the locals superstitions. Oh well, they’re all going to die here.

In his days as an Elite, Argus would’ve been disgusted at his actions. Being abnormal, his speed, strength, and stamina far exceeded those of a normal human. His opponents were just normal humans, high on drugs and adrenaline, with training meant to overcome another street gang but no knowledge of how to act during a battle against an abnormal. He could have taken them alive, and rather easily at that.

He just didn’t want to. His hands found the necks of the two remaining fools, who dropped their weapons and pleaded for mercy in a broken Iternian. Argus ignored their pleas, remembering the wounded kid. Their flesh bulged out between his fingers, tearing and cracking. Both men thrashed madly, going limp only when their necks were snapped by his hands. Leaving the trash to fall, Argus rushed to the wounded kid, hearing gunshots from outside.

The boy was bleeding and badly. Ignoring the terrified father who tried to apply a tourniquet with his belt, Argus reached into a pocket, injecting the kid with an automatic syringe containing short-lived nanomachines. Immediately, the blood around the damaged area coagulated, forming a thick layer of dried-up blood. The kid gasped, trying to reach out and scratch the incessant itch on his damaged arm. Argus took the belt from the shocked father and tied the kid’s arm to his body.

“I am sorry,” he said, repeating the word again and again, remembering the massacre that Maximillian unleashed upon the patients on that day.

“Argus.” Fabius touched him, holding the rifle of the attackers in his hands. “We need to get out here. I called Elites, they promised to send someone here in minutes.” The man grimaced, looking back at the wounded Mehret, helped by the others. “The fuckers want war? We’ll give them one.”

So, this is the answer. Argus sighed, easily reading Fabius’ face at the moment of his distraughtness. The buyer wasn’t an Iternian company. The Cartel contacted the board, offering riches in exchange for Rho Corporation keeping their nose out of the Ravaged Lands. And knowing the Cartel, these fools could’ve hired someone to try to off him for daring to eliminate these pests on Iterna’s lands.

Still, this left some questions. How did they contact a gang here so quickly? How could they hope for them to be able to kill him? How did the Cartel track his movements? Maybe one of the rival corporations helped them? No, the assassinations were rare in Iterna… Argus picked up a rifle from the floor, trying his best to change the weapon. Nothing. The metal refused to change shape.

“Take the people, locals included, and lead them to the embassy, Fabius. I’ll… I’ll pay for their recovery out of my pocket.” Argus stood up, walking toward the entrance.

“Where are you going, Argus? We need to…”

“It’s time to conduct justice,” he bluntly responded, coming out of the tavern. The bastards angered him. Worse, they harmed bystanders and at least one kid. He will not let them leave alive tonight.

Sixteen people stood around the cars, either hiding behind them or standing in the open, aiming their weapons at him. The remains of the dead thugs that Fabius had hired to protect the meeting were all over the ground before the tavern. Argus kept walking forward, taking control of the vehicles belonging to Iterna. And made their metal flow like water, shapeshifting it into spears.

This was his power. He could manipulate metal at a distance with ease, creating the most complex items if he remembered how to produce them. Laser rifles, rocket launchers, even cars—all of this was not out of his reach, if only his memories still held the knowledge of every energy cell, every type of generator, and the size of every part involved. And what he could not assemble, he wielded like simple tools.

His power, granted to him by his exposure to glow, had its limits. He could only use a metal that belonged to his side. Argus’ loyalty lay with Iterna, and so he could only manipulate the steel of his own and the board’s members’ vehicles, along with the impressive factory equipment within Iterna’s school. He could not use Barjoni’s equipment due to him subconsciously viewing them as rivals.

But this was fine. The spears pierced the backs and fronts of the thugs, burrowing through their bodies like a host of flesh-eating worms, lifting the screaming people in the air until only a small rain of blood marked the parking lot. He looked around, curious to see how exactly this lot had taken out the ‘guards’ so easily and where exactly were the po…

He saw only a flicker to his left and jumped forward, evading a kick that turned the stone stairway leading to the tavern into a crater. A gunshot followed later, landing at Argus’ shoulder and bouncing off the sub-dermal armor beneath his skin. Finding his footing, Argus fired back, hitting an empty place.

“Abnormal, black hair, control over metal, white clothing. Checks out,” said a voice to his left.

A figure in a green coat rose from the ground. The coat’s collar concealed the man’s lower jaw, leaving only black eyes visible, surrounded by a net of pale scars. The strange man had short brown hair and looked a lot like the locals, with the only exception being that his skin looked like coal. In one hand, he carried a simple pistol.

“I trust you are my supposed killer?” Argus asked the man, pointing the rifle at him. Following his will, the floor in the Iternian school came apart like water, gulping down terminals and factory equipment meant to teach the students. Deep underground, the steel started breaking down, changing into something of use.

Now he only needs some time.

“Changer of the Wrecker Crew,” his would-be killer introduced himself. “Are you the Argus-boy?”

“There were Iternian drivers here.” Argus narrowed his eyes, keeping his aim at the man. “Did you kill them?”

“Why would I? I am a professional.” The man rocketed his neck, showing for a moment the lower side of his jaw, with the flesh missing from his chins. “The lot that they provided me with tied them up before going all feral. You should worry more about yourself, Argus-boy. You fucked around with the serious people, and now you’ll pay the price.”

“Charming.” Argus fired in his face, barely surprised when the man dodged to the side like a quicksilver, closing the gap between them in moments.

The Wrecker Crew. He heard about them—a group of five abnormals who gained some infamy in the east. To his knowledge, they had long since disbanded, and two out of their number, Chort and Huntsman, worked solo for a while, before joining King. And King…

Argus froze, stupefied by the realization. He barely had time to take the incoming hit with the right hand on his left forearm, feeling a surge of pain coming from the damaged area. Changer hit hard. The lower ends of the enemy’s coat flew up from a sudden stop before Argus, and he dodged to the side, evading shots aimed at his eyes that speared through the fabric. Immediately, Argus slammed the butt of his rifle into the man’s throat, bending the metal and sending him back a step.

“Amusing,” Changer chuckled, jumping up to evade three spears of metal aimed at piercing his back.

He ignored the laughter, shaking the pain off his hand. King. Informants reported about King’s involvement with the Cartel. Should Argus die, Augustus was to inherit a large portion of the company, essentially splitting his life’s work. And Augustus was currently in the Desolation, close to the Ravaged Lands, owned by King. And if someone should capture Augustus, they could then force him to use the company for their benefit.

I’ve been had. Argus understood. What are the odds that a former colleague of King’s two top men would appear here all of a sudden, aiming to get Argus’ head for messing up with the Cartel? Yet still, this was all too strange. How could King and the Cartel stage this attack so quickly in another country? Argus chose this place purely at random; there’s no way they could’ve…

Changer came at him in full force, weaving across the living whips of metal with which Argus planned to slice him. Changer’s head now solidly came above the collar of his coat, showing the exposed teeth. Argus frowned, noticing the increased body size of his opponent, and fired again, missing every shot.

The mercenary closed the distance, grabbing Argus’ right wrist with his own left hand and yanking the hand to the side with impressive strength. Immediately, Changer kicked twice, once against Argus’ ribs and another time at the elbow, aiming to break the arm. Argus coughed, letting go of the weapon and feeling the pain in his bones. Following his will, the steel moved toward the mercenary, forcing the man to let go of his arm and step back.

“Weak!” Changer laughed, growing slightly taller. His black skin has visibly become paler, gaining a light purple shade mixed with stripes of blue. He dodged two steel spears and gained distance again. “I thought an Elite’s washout would be tougher than this.”

Argus felt his boots scraping against the ground as he raised his hands before himself, enduring an entire storm of blows. Changer was fast before, but now he turned into a blur, slamming fist after fist across his body. Argus felt his skin swelling, and he saw the fabric of his suit becoming torn apart. Bruises grew in his arms, turning his skin blue. The subdermal armor has started to crack, dissolving instantly before its shards could rupture the skin. And all the while, the mechanical suit created by his will moved underground.

Argus grimaced in pain, feeling his pinky snap in two. Changer stopped striking madly and turned his aggression to the joints, aiming his attacks on his knees, elbows, ribs, and knuckles. Argus dropped his guard, evading a straight punch with the right hand aimed at his face. Grabbing the mercenary by the shoulders, Argus kicked his opponent straight in the belly, feeling more pain in his elbow.

“Predictable.” Changer’s left arm turned into a rainbow blade, and the CEO gasped, feeling how the sharp blade entered his body, slicing through the skin and rupturing his stomach.

Recoiling in pain, he felt beer, soda, and food that he had just eaten leave his stomach, setting his insides on fire. He held one hand against the wound, slowing down a bit and earning another slash against his hand. In a panic, Argus summoned metal before himself, forming a wall to try to slow down the mercenary.

Changer broke through it, his hand the size of Argus’ torso. The metal wall, formed out of seven cars, provided next to no protection against the mercenary’s charge. Changer’s expanding body tore through his clothing, and his skin turned into a multicolored rainbow that shielded him better than any power armor against the steel shards that Argus sent his way. Hurriedly, Argus assembled a small plasma gun in the air using the engine of his own car and fired straight into the approaching monstrosity.

The ball of flame splashed against the strange skin, melting it down to the meat. A pleasurable gurgle left Changer’s lips in response, and the man shook with his entire body.

“Thrilling.” The eyes locked on Argus, and in response to this word, the body grew a bit more.

Pleasure. Shit. Argus smiled nervously. Changer had power that somehow worked in response to a pleasurable sensation. Either the bastard paid to have his brains reworked or he genuinely get off from the pain, but one thing was clear. Argus must find a way to…

Changer flowed forward, his torso extending like a rope, and slithering toward Argus at blinding speed, crashing through the stone parking lot. The gigantic jaws snapped, biting away the weapon, along with the tip of Argus’s shoulder. A massive fist crashed into the CEO, sending him flying five meters through the air, before landing him on the stone ground.

There was no denying it, not anymore, Argus decided, looking at the night sky. He hasn’t fought for over fifty years. His skills got rusty, and the magnificent body crafted for him by some of the best doctors simply could not compensate for the foolish choices he made in the fight. Ever since the government kicked him out of the Elites, Argus got so used to dominating in every minor battle that he utterly forgot what it is to fight for your own life. Hearing a chuckle, he groaned with hate.

"I am the CEO of Rho Corporation. The former member of the Elites." The ground beneath him has started shaking in response to the body of steel coming from the underground. "The name’s Argus. Quake in fear or beg for mercy—it’s all the same for me! For stepping up to me, I will see you ruined!"

The ground parted, carrying his body upward, while a wall of steel started closing around him. Argus spread his arms and legs, feeling how servo-muscles wrapped around his body, how control panels appeared beneath his fingers, and how the helmet came down on his head, allowing him to see through the cameras installed on the combat suit. He stood up, locked in the sturdy mechanical combat armor of a tall behemoth made of steel, with round-shaped legs and arms. No head was present. Argus safely looked at his foe through sensors and cameras installed all across the machine. With roaring fury, the plasma generator came to life, and Argus sprinted toward Changer with earth-shaking steps.

They came against each other, two abnormals with different powers. Changer had a bit of a slender build and was slightly shorter. Yet without a hint of fear and with a mad grin on his face, he struck with his right hand, changing it into a thin blade.

Argus caught the blade under the left armpit of his suit, knocking the mercenary with a low kick behind his left ankle, and grabbed the abnormal by the neck, choke-slamming him into the ground. The sheer impact of the collision was great enough to move the stone like water, shifting and cracking the concrete. Argus wasn’t done. He pushed the hand down and ran forward, dragging Changer against the stone surface, leaving a blood trail against the stone.

A tail broke from the ground, wrapping around Argus’ legs and toppling the suit, allowing Changer to mount the mechanical suit, bringing down his bladed arms. Two more arms came from within the rainbow body, shapeshifting into more blades as Changer started hacking against Argus’ suit, leaving deep cuts in the suit. Argus gritted his teeth, grabbing Changer by the head. And unleashed vibrations.

When assembling the suit, he had to cut corners. Argus never knew how to make shield generations; the technology to assemble them was simply too complex for his own mind, leading to a potentially explosive situation. He had no time to create the radar system, purposely cutting corners. But one thing he did add. Miners in the Ravaged Lands would sometimes use a special device that looked like a mix between a steel pancake and a working generator, all connected via wires. Upon activating, the "pancake" would start trembling, sending vibrations through the stone at such a speed that it would shatter it. Argus did just that with the hands of his suit, sending something into Changer’s brain.

Changer twitched, stepping off him, the blood dripping from his nose and mouth. He stumbled toward the pierce, looking like he was about to fall, before his tail struck out, wrapping around the mech’s arm. Argus barely had any time to blink before the blasted mercenary threw him over into the waters filled with floating trash. The former Elite landed less than gracefully, crashing a boat underneath the metal body, and when he stood up, his steel frame received a slash across the legs. A small splash behind him made Argus turn, and he saw the tip of the tail.

Damn it! Argus cursed, falling on one knee as the mercenary floated past him. His skills became too dull. Never before would he be tricked by such a simple prank, but now… He cursed again, feeling the suit tremble under more and more cuts. Changer was floating around him, slashing and hacking like a predator. Closing his eyes for a moment, Argus brought the mech’s arm down, punching in the waters.

The force behind the blow sent an explosion of water upwards, parting the ocean around him for a few brief moments and allowing him to see Changer. Before the mercenary could even understand where the water went, Argus landed an uppercut underneath his jaw, sending him all the way back to the parking lots. He jumped after him, fully intending to finish off the lean body that was rolling against the stone.

Changer stood up, a being no longer resembling a human. Two legs, far thicker than his initial torso, supported a massive four-armed body; each arm ended up with a hooked blade. The tail was coming from the middle of his back, hitting around with anticipation. Argus fired mass-reactive rounds from the oversized cannons installed on the suit’s wrists. Shells, meant to destroy tanks, merely left fist-sized holes in the rainbow body, drawing blood and leading to Changer writhing in pleasurable agony, turning around to mockingly invite more and more pain. But this time, he did not grow bigger or sprout more limbs. This right here was his limit.

And if you have a limit, I can finish you up! Argus summoned the destroyed rubble around him closer, patching up the cracks in his armor and preparing for the final showdown.

Changer disappeared, leaving footprints in the ground. The impact of the first blade hitting the steel corpus has sent Argus a step back; the blade pierced the armor and stopped a centimeter away from his nose. Argus had tried to evade the following barrage, but the incoming attacks were simply too fast. Hit after hit was beating him into the ground, sending him knee deep into the stone, causing the internal systems of his suit to scream like a siren and the joints of his armor to whine from overextension. Argus never once stopped his own attack, bleeding Changer and patching up the damaged areas as fast as he could.

Two blades had crashed through the torso’s armor, hooking the damaged plates and throwing them away with contemptuous ease. With glee in his eyes, the mercenary’s eyes found Argus, and he let out a moaning breath when a colossal form came from above, almost shattering his spine.

Artificer slammed his fist into the mercenary’s back, releasing a surge of electricity strong enough to evaporate the thugs’ corpses nearby and fry the thrashing mercenary to the point of losing his conscience. The AI stood up, holding the foe by the head, looking at the stream of smoke, leaving the rainbow lips with each painful breath. Changer’s body shook, becoming smaller and smaller until he returned to his original size.

“Argus,” the Elite said, “I was coming to speak with you when the Iternian citizens reported you got yourself into trouble and requested immediate evacuation. Care to explain what in the world happened here and what you’ve done to our school? And why are there so many dead people here?”

“Artificer, it’s so good to see you!” Argus told him honestly, allowing the armor to fall off him and jumping on the ground, feeling how his body was doing its best to mend the damage. “About the dead. I acted in self-defense,” he lied eagerly. “As for the rest, I haven’t yet figured it out fully, truth be told. But I have some suspicions.

****

Sitting on the ruined stairs of the tavern, Argus sighed, looking at the remains of his car and promising himself that this was the last time he ever traveled anywhere without an escort. Maybe he’ll hire this Changer freak once the government is done with him? The man may be a bastard, but he certainly knows how to pack a punch.

Fabius and the others had already left for Iterna’s safety. Fabius swore to unleash pure hell on the Cartel’s heads, should their involvement be proven. Mehret cursed lightly, waving away all Argus’ worries, and promised her full support in retribution. He half expected her to break down under the weight of fear and pain, yet so far the woman has held herself superbly. She was shaken, sure, but the animosity between them has seemingly gone.

Argus himself was left with more problems. First things first, he bought the tavern, hiring the owner and his family. They'll receive payment to survive while the place is rebuilt up to his standards. Next, he paid for the recovery of all the victims of this attack and set up a monetary payment to the families of the dead locals. Lastly, he ended up promising to rebuild the material he ‘appropriated’ from the school for self-defense. All of this wasn’t cheap, but Argus decided that he owed it to them to do at least this much.

His lawyers already cleared things up with the authorities, and he technically could leave at any moment. Except he owed someone an explanation. Hearing the footsteps, he looked at the approaching Artificer.

"You wanted to talk to me?" Argus asked, not bothering to hide his weariness. Here he was, hoping to live in peace after the incident with the Numbers. As if there weren’t enough people gunning for his head as it is. Oh well, he’ll endure. At least his wounds healed.

"There was an incident with the mercenaries." Artificer came closer and sat nearby. Judging by the marks on his armor, this frame of his wasn’t one of the originals; it was just one of the easier models meant to sleep at the border and only become active if something happened. "See, a group of them have saved the slaves from the mine that I told you about."

"Congrats." Argus shook his shoulders. "Seems like everything worked out for the better."

"Argus," Artificer said calmly, "you were the only person I told about it. And just after I told you about my intentions, the mine ends up being liberated. Tell me, do you hide anything from me?"

"A lot of things. But in this case, my hands are clear, honest," he smiled, lying to Artificer’s face.

No doubt his friend will suspect foul play. Fair enough; he could dig deeper if he wanted to. But without concrete proof, Artificer can’t pin anything on him. The only weak link is Regina’s daughter, and the girl got to the clinic through a neutral charity program without any direct involvement from Argus.

He had few enough true friends left. And Argus will do anything in his power to protect them, both from danger and from themselves.