Chapter 6: Recruiting the Muscle

The underground fighting ring reeked of sweat, blood, and desperation—a cocktail that reminded Kaelen too much of war zones. Beneath the industrial sector's legitimate factories, this pit of human misery operated with the tacit approval of authorities who found it convenient to have a place where society's unwanted could destroy each other for entertainment.

"Target confirmed," Elara's voice crackled through their concealed communicators. "Subject designation 'Titan'—real name Marcus Stone, former Earth Defense Force Colonel. Enhanced strength and durability, dishonorably discharged after the Vance Incident."

Kaelen's jaw tightened at the euphemism. The "Vance Incident" had been a massacre—an entire squad of enhanced soldiers executed by their own command when they refused orders to fire on civilian protesters. Marcus Stone had been the sole survivor, court-martialed and stripped of rank for "insubordination and failure to maintain unit cohesion."

In other words, he'd had a conscience.

The crowd around the fighting pit roared as their quarry entered the makeshift arena. Marcus Stone was a mountain of a man, easily six and a half feet tall with the kind of muscle mass that spoke to supernatural enhancement rather than merely dedicated training. Scars crisscrossed his dark skin like a roadmap of violence, and his eyes held the hollow exhaustion of someone who had lost everything worth fighting for.

His opponent was a cybernetically enhanced fighter known as "Razorclaw"—more machine than man, with blades extending from his forearms and targeting systems glowing red in his modified eye sockets. The crowd's bloodlust was palpable as the two giants circled each other in the reinforced cage.

"Poor bastard," Lyra murmured, her amethyst eyes taking in the crowd's eager faces. "Look at them. They're not here for sport—they're here to watch enhanced individuals tear each other apart."

She was right. The audience wasn't just bloodthirsty—they were therapeutic. These people came here to see "monsters" destroy each other, to feel safe in the knowledge that the enhanced freaks were too busy fighting amongst themselves to threaten normal humans.

The fight began with explosive violence. Razorclaw's cybernetic enhancements gave him speed and precision, but Marcus's supernatural strength made every impact devastating. When the cyborg's blades scraped across Marcus's skin, they left only shallow scratches—his enhanced durability turning potentially fatal strikes into mere annoyances.

"He's holding back," Kaelen observed, his tactical mind analyzing the combat patterns. "Could have ended this three times already."

"Of course he is," came a new voice from behind them. They turned to see a thin man in an expensive suit watching the fight with calculating eyes. "Marcus doesn't fight to win anymore. He fights to survive. There's a difference."

Kaelen's hand moved instinctively toward a concealed weapon, but the stranger raised his hands in a peaceful gesture.

"Viktor Petrov," the man said by way of introduction. "I manage the facility's... special exhibitions. You're here about Marcus, aren't you? Your associate has been asking very specific questions about his contract terms."

In the pit below, Marcus had finally ended the fight with a single devastating punch that sent Razorclaw crashing through the cage's reinforced walls. The crowd erupted in savage cheers, but Marcus himself looked sick as he stared at his opponent's motionless form.

"His contract," Lyra said, shadows beginning to writhe around her feet as her patience wore thin. "Explain."

Petrov's smile never wavered, but sweat beaded on his forehead as he registered the supernatural energies beginning to manifest around them. "Quite simple, really. Marcus owes certain parties a substantial sum—medical bills from his military discharge, legal fees from his court-martial, subsistence costs during his... adjustment period. We graciously offered him employment to work off his debt."

"How much debt?" Kaelen asked, though he suspected the answer would be engineered to be unpayable.

"Currently? Approximately two point seven million credits. Of course, that includes accrued interest, facility fees, medical costs for his opponents, and various administrative charges."

The numbers were obviously fictional—a system designed to keep Marcus fighting indefinitely while generating profit for his handlers. It was slavery with extra steps, legitimized by paperwork and compound interest.

"And if someone were to purchase his contract?" Lyra inquired, her voice carrying dangerous sweetness.

Petrov's calculation was almost visible as he weighed profit against the growing supernatural pressure in the air around them. "For the right parties, with proper credentials and financial backing... three million credits would settle all outstanding obligations."

In the pit, Marcus was being escorted back to what were euphemistically called "fighter quarters" but looked more like prison cells. His movements carried the mechanical precision of someone going through familiar motions, hope long since beaten out of him by circumstance and exploitation.

"We'll need to see him first," Kaelen decided. "Verify his... condition."

Petrov's smile became predatory. "Of course. Though I should mention that Marcus has been somewhat... resistant to previous recruitment attempts. Some of our competitors have tried to acquire his services, only to discover that he can be quite uncooperative when he chooses."

They were led through a maze of corridors that reeked of industrial solvent and human misery. The fighter quarters were indeed cells, barely large enough for a bed and basic sanitation. Marcus sat on his narrow cot, staring at hands that had just potentially killed a man for the entertainment of people who viewed him as a monster.

"Visitors," Petrov announced cheerfully. "Some business associates interested in your future employment opportunities."

Marcus looked up, and Kaelen was struck by the intelligence in his eyes—this wasn't some mindless brute, but a trained military officer who had been reduced to gladiatorial combat by systematic exploitation.

"Let me guess," Marcus said, his voice carrying the gravelly tone of someone who had shouted too many orders on too many battlefields. "Another underground organization looking for muscle. Another group of criminals who think they can buy themselves a pet monster."

"We're not criminals," Lyra said softly, her illusions ensuring privacy from any surveillance systems. "We're something else entirely."

For the first time, Marcus showed genuine interest. His enhanced senses were obviously picking up the supernatural energies that clung to them—the scent of ozone and brimstone from Kaelen, the subtle reality distortions around Lyra.

"You're enhanced," he said, not quite a question.

"Among other things," Kaelen confirmed. "The question is whether you're interested in doing something meaningful with your abilities, or if you prefer beating cyborgs to death for the amusement of people who consider you subhuman."

Marcus was quiet for a long moment, studying them with the tactical assessment of a professional soldier. "Who are you?"

"We're the people who've been watching Dr. Marsh's experiments," Lyra said, her words hitting Marcus like physical blows. "We know about the research facilities, the systematic harvesting of enhanced individuals, the government conspiracy to turn people like us into lab rats."

The change in Marcus was immediate and dramatic. His enhanced physiology responded to emotional stress, muscles swelling visibly as his power levels spiked. The cell's reinforced walls groaned under the pressure of his involuntary energy discharge.

"Marsh is dead," he said flatly. "Died during the war's final offensive."

"We met her three days ago," Kaelen replied. "At Councilman Vance's estate, discussing her latest projects involving neural tissue extraction from enhanced subjects."

The revelation broke something fundamental in Marcus's control. The cell walls began to crack as his power output exceeded the facility's containment specifications. In the distance, alarms began sounding as sensors detected energy readings that shouldn't have been possible from their "pacified" fighter.

"She's alive," Marcus whispered, his voice carrying a weight of horror that spoke to personal experience with Dr. Marsh's procedures. "She's still... experimenting."

"Among other things," Lyra confirmed gently. "The question is what you plan to do about it."

Petrov returned with security guards, but found their prisoner consultation had taken an unexpected turn. The cell's reinforcement had failed completely, leaving Marcus standing in a pile of twisted metal and concrete dust. But instead of attempting escape, he was listening intently to his visitors with the focus of a soldier receiving mission briefings.

"Gentlemen," Petrov said nervously, "I'm afraid visiting hours are—"

His words were cut off as Kaelen manifested a blade that materialized at the manager's throat, the weapon's crimson energy casting hellish shadows on the corridor walls.

"We're purchasing his contract," Kaelen said conversationally. "Three million credits, as discussed. Consider this a hostile takeover."

The transaction was completed with electronic efficiency, credits transferring from Shadowbound Guild accounts while Petrov's security team found themselves trapped in illusions that made the corridor seem to stretch into infinity. By the time they realized what was happening, Marcus was already walking out as a free man.

"Just like that?" he asked as they navigated the facility's exit tunnels. "No strings attached, no hidden obligations?"

"One string," Lyra admitted. "We're building something. An organization for people like us—enhanced individuals who refuse to be victims or lab subjects. We could use someone with your experience and capabilities."

"What kind of organization?"

"The kind that fights back," Kaelen said simply. "The kind that makes Dr. Marsh and her associates wish they had stayed dead."

They emerged into the industrial sector's perpetual twilight, the underground fighting ring's entrance already sealed behind them by Elara's technical interventions. Marcus breathed deeply, tasting freedom for the first time in months.

"I need to know," he said, turning to face them fully. "The people you're fighting—the ones running these experiments, exploiting enhanced individuals—are you planning to expose them or eliminate them?"

The question hung in the air with the weight of moral judgment. Marcus had been a soldier, an officer who understood the difference between justice and vengeance. His answer would determine whether he could work with them long-term.

"Both," Lyra said finally. "Exposure where possible, elimination when necessary. The system is too corrupt for half-measures."

Marcus considered this, his enhanced senses studying them for signs of deception or instability. Whatever he found seemed to satisfy him, because his stance shifted from wary assessment to professional readiness.

"Shadowbound Guild," he said, having obviously done his research during their brief negotiation. "Underground organization, high-end contracts, rumored to have made Captain Vale's Purifiers run screaming about Drazah infestations."

"Guilty as charged," Kaelen confirmed.

"When do we start?"

The question was exactly what Kaelen had hoped to hear. Marcus Stone wasn't just muscle—he was a trained military leader with experience managing enhanced individuals in combat situations. More importantly, he had personal motivation to see their enemies destroyed.

"Immediately," Lyra said, her smile carrying genuine warmth for the first time in days. "Welcome to the Shadowbound Guild, Colonel Stone."

As they walked through the industrial sector's maze of factories and processing plants, Marcus asked the question that had been weighing on all their minds.

"This conspiracy—how deep does it go? How many enhanced individuals are we talking about saving?"

Elara's voice crackled through their communicators with the answer none of them wanted to hear: "Based on the files we recovered from Vance's estate, there are currently seventeen active research facilities processing enhanced subjects. Conservative estimate puts the victim count at over three thousand individuals."

The number hit them like a physical blow. Three thousand people being systematically tortured and harvested, their abilities stolen and their lives reduced to medical data points.

"Then we have work to do," Marcus said grimly, his enhanced physiology already adapting to the prospect of large-scale combat operations.

As they returned to the Shadowbound bunker through dimensional fold technology, Kaelen felt the weight of command settling more heavily on his shoulders. They were no longer just survivors or mercenaries—they were becoming something that the surface world would struggle to categorize.

They were becoming an army.

And Dr. Marsh's experiments were about to become very, very expensive mistakes.