The underground fighting arena was hidden beneath an abandoned meatpacking plant in the Bronx. From the outside, it looked like just another derelict building in a neighborhood full of them. But beneath the rusted exterior and broken windows, a thriving empire of blood sport flourished.
We arrived separately—Butcher's crew in a surveillance van two blocks away, me approaching on foot using my invisibility to scout the perimeter. Through my earpiece, I could hear Frenchie providing real-time updates from hacked security cameras.
"Twelve guards outside, all armed. Probably another twenty inside. The main arena is in the sub-basement, looks like... mon Dieu, there must be two hundred people down there."
Two hundred witnesses. Two hundred people who'd need their memories altered or who'd need to be convinced they saw something other than what actually happened. The scale was daunting, but I'd gotten better at mass hypnosis through practice.
I slipped past the exterior guards invisibly, moving like a ghost through their security checkpoints. Inside, the building's decrepit appearance gave way to reinforced concrete and steel—someone had invested serious money into this operation.
The sounds hit me first. Cheering, screaming, the wet impact of fists on flesh. I descended the stairs toward the arena, still invisible, and emerged into a scene from a nightmare.
The fighting pit was circular, maybe thirty feet across, surrounded by tiered seating packed with spectators. Rich people mostly, I noticed—expensive suits, designer dresses, the kind of casual wealth that could afford illegal entertainment. They were cheering as a massive Supe—Compound King, had to be—pummeled a normal human into a bloody mess.
The human was trying to run, trying to escape, but there was nowhere to go. The Supe caught him, lifted him overhead, and slammed him into the concrete floor with enough force to crack the surface. The crowd roared approval.
I felt my jaw clench so hard my teeth ached. This wasn't a fight. It was an execution for entertainment.
Compound King raised his arms in victory, energy crackling around his body in a golden aura. He was huge—maybe six foot eight, heavily muscled, with the kind of physique that came from enhanced abilities rather than gym work. His costume was gaudy gold and red, designed to look like a king's regalia.
"Who's next?" he bellowed, his voice amplified by speakers. "Who wants to test themselves against a god?"
This was it. Time to move.
I dropped my invisibility and materialized in the center of the arena, right next to Compound King. The crowd gasped, confused by my sudden appearance.
"I'll test myself," I said calmly. "But first, everyone in this room needs to leave."
I released a wave of hypnotic power, broadcasting it to every mind in the arena simultaneously. It was the most ambitious use of my abilities yet—two hundred minds all at once, each one receiving the same compulsion.
"You all need to evacuate immediately. There's a gas leak. Leave now and forget what you saw here tonight."
The effect was immediate and eerie. Two hundred people stood up as one, their eyes glazed, and began filing toward the exits in orderly silence. The guards tried to stop them at first, but I caught their eyes too, adding them to the mass hypnosis.
Within five minutes, the arena was empty except for me and Compound King.
He stared at me, anger and confusion warring on his face. "What the hell did you just do? What are you?"
"I'm the consequence you've been avoiding," I said, transforming into my Mazahs form. Black lightning crackled across my body as my costume materialized. "You've killed forty-three people in this arena for entertainment. That ends tonight."
He laughed, energy shields materializing around his body. "You think you can take me? I'm invincible, you idiot. These shields can stop anything."
"Let's test that theory."
I hit him with everything at once—electrokinesis, energy blasts, enhanced strength. The assault was overwhelming, driving him back across the arena floor. His shields held, but I could see them flickering under the sustained barrage.
He countered with a massive punch wreathed in golden energy. It caught me in the chest and sent me flying into the arena wall hard enough to crack concrete. Pain exploded through my torso, but my enhanced durability kept bones from breaking.
"Not so tough now, are you?" He charged forward, shields blazing.
I turned invisible, dodging his follow-up attack. He swung at empty air, confused, giving me the opening I needed.
I materialized behind him and locked eyes with him before he could turn. I pushed with all my hypnotic power, enhanced by anger and righteous fury.
"Stop. Don't move. Don't fight."
His shields flickered and died as his will crumbled under my mental assault. His body went rigid, locked in place by my hypnotic command.
"You're a monster," I said, walking around to face him. "You've murdered dozens of innocent people for profit and entertainment. You deserve worse than I'm going to give you."
I could see the fear in his frozen eyes. He was aware, conscious, but completely unable to move or speak. A prisoner in his own body.
"Any last words?" I released just enough of the hypnosis to let him speak.
"Please," he gasped. "I have money. I can pay you. Whatever you want—"
"I don't want your money." I raised my hand, black lightning crackling between my fingers. "I want your power. And I want to make sure you never hurt anyone again."
The blast hit him center mass, magical energy overwhelming his systems, stopping his heart. He died quickly, at least. More mercy than he'd shown his victims.
The golden light began streaming from his corpse into my body. This absorption felt different—more intense, more substantial. His powers were considerable, and I could feel them integrating into my system.
Super strength, far beyond what I already possessed. My muscles felt like they could tear through steel. Enhanced durability that made my skin resistant to most conventional weapons. And energy shields—I could feel how to generate them, golden barriers that could absorb and deflect attacks.
Eight powers now. I was becoming a walking arsenal.
I pulled out my phone and called Butcher. "It's done. Send in the cleanup crew. And have Frenchie wipe the security footage. I don't want any trace of this getting back to Vought."
"Copy that. How'd it go?"
I looked at my hands, feeling the new strength thrumming through them. "I'm getting stronger. But so is the body count."
"That's what happens in war, mate. People die. At least you're killing the right people."
Was I though? That was the question that kept me up at night.