A right knee drove hard into the gut.
The opponent tried to stabilize, boots scraping against the mat—but a quick jab sequence caught them high and fast, head snapping back, balance gone. Before they could even drop their guard, a flying kick slammed into their chest and sent them crashing into the ring ropes.
“That’s enough, Red Gale!”
“Yeah, damn,” someone muttered from the sidelines. “He’s had enough.”
Savannah barely heard them.
“What’d he do to you?!” another voice shouted.
“Oi!” She barked. “If you’re not up next, then shut the hell up.”
“What?!”
“You heard me. Line it up!”
No one laughed this time.
One by one, they stepped into the ring.
And one by one, Savannah dismantled them.
The next agent rushed too aggressively—she sidestepped, clipped his leg, and drove an elbow into his shoulder hard enough to spin him. Another tried to grapple; she broke the hold, slammed a palm into his sternum, and followed with a heel kick that dropped him flat. Someone else lasted longer—thirty seconds, maybe—but even he folded after a brutal combination that left him coughing on the mat.
Thirty minutes passed like that.
Sweat soaked her clothes. Knuckles stung. Muscles burned.
And still, she couldn’t stop.
Because every strike echoed something else.
Bullseye’s voice in the hallway.
Orders. Upper branch agendas.
You don’t get to talk like that.
Don’t mistake followin’ orders for not carin’.
Savannah drove a punch into another agent’s guard and felt the impact rattle up her arm.
How long did you know?
A while.
She pivoted, kicked, watched someone go down.
Another challenger stepped in, jaw set, trying to prove something. Savannah met him head-on, aggression sharp, controlled—but fueled.
Because this ain’t our call.
She knocked him flat with a sweep and didn’t even look at him afterward.
By the time the last agent staggered back, refusing to meet her eyes, the room had gone quiet. No cheers. No jeers. Just the heavy sound of her breathing and the dull thud of bodies being helped off the mat.
Fists clenched, chest rising and falling.
She wasn’t angry at them.
She was angry because none of this fixed anything.
Howard was alive.
The people she trusted were keeping secrets for reasons she wasn’t allowed to question.
And worse of all—Zoey was awake.
Not only awake. They were planning—
“My, my, baby girl,” a familiar voice drawled. “What’s got you so riled up?”
Savannah rolled her eyes before she even turned. When she did, the sight was exactly what she expected.
Short white hair. Golden-brown eyes that always looked amused, even when they shouldn’t. She wore a combat suit similar to Savannah’s, but with the sleeves cut short to show off the ink running along her arms—symbols, names, old unit marks layered over each other like a timeline.
“Didn’t know you came back, Tila,” Savannah said dryly.
Tila grinned. “Why you acting like that? C’mon—where’s my hug?”
Savannah pointed toward the center of the ring.
“You want physical affection,” she said flatly, “come in here.”
Tila blinked. “Really?”
“You’ll do better than these losers.”
That grin widened.
Tila vaulted the ropes in one smooth motion and landed lightly on the mat. She already had gloves tucked behind her back, slipping them on as she rolled her shoulders loose. Savannah smiled despite herself.
Good. She needed this.
In the combat ring. No powers. Just bodies and skill.
Tila was slightly taller, with longer reach. The others had shared that advantage, too—but none of them were anywhere near her level. She settled into her guard, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, finding her rhythm. Tila mirrored her, but instead of bouncing, she shuffled.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Tila exploded forward, closing the gap.
Savannah barely had time to brace before a sharp low kick snapped into her thigh. She checked it on instinct and fired back with a counter jab, glove skimming Tila’s cheek. Tila didn’t flinch—she pivoted, answered with a hook that Savannah rolled under, then brought her knee up hard.
Savannah caught it on her forearm and shoved her back.
They reset for half a second.
Then it was noise and motion.
Savannah pressed forward with a tight combo—jab, cross, low kick—forcing Tila to give ground. A clean right slipped through and cracked Tila’s jaw. The crowd sucked in a breath. Savannah followed up, momentum building, rhythm finally clicking into place. Another kick landed. Then a sharp elbow as Tila tried to close.
For a moment, Savannah had her.
Then Tila adapted.
She shifted her stance mid-exchange, timing Savannah’s next jab and slipping inside it. A brutal body shot drove the air out of Savannah’s lungs, followed by a snapping uppercut that rattled her teeth. Savannah staggered back, barely keeping her guard up as a roundhouse slammed into her ribs.
Savannah gritted her teeth and answered anyway—stepping into the pain, driving a hook into Tila’s side. It landed clean. Tila hissed and smiled through it.
They traded again.
Kick for kick. Punch for punch.
Savannah took a glancing blow across the brow and felt warmth trickle down her temple. She wiped it away with her glove and surged forward, landing a solid cross that snapped Tila’s head back. Tila answered immediately with a spinning kick that Savannah barely blocked in time, the impact numbing her arm.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Both of them were breathing hard now.
They collided again in a blur of motion.
Savannah stepped in with a tight flurry—jab, cross, hook—each strike either colliding with Tila’s guard or slicing past her shoulder by inches. Tila answered in kind, slipping blows, returning fire with sharp counters that forced Savannah to keep moving. Feet scuffed the mat. Breath came fast. For a moment, it was nothing but instinct and muscle memory.
Then Tila dropped low.
Her leg swept out, catching Savannah clean and knocking her balance sideways. Savannah stumbled back a step, trying to reset—
Too slow.
Tila rushed in for the takedown.
Savannah braced—
—and then Tila pivoted at the last second and wrapped her arms around Savannah instead.
A hug.
Savannah froze.
“Oi! oi,” Savannah muttered, hands half-raised, completely caught off guard. “What is this?”
Tila laughed softly. “I said I wanted a hug. You wanted to bash my brains in.”
“No, I just—”
Tila leaned in close, her voice dropping near Savannah’s ear. “How about this. We get outta here, go to one of your favorite places to eat. I’ll pay. We talk while you dine like the queen you are.” She pulled back just enough to grin. “Besides, we’ve got way too much to catch up on.”
Savannah exhaled, tension finally bleeding out of her shoulders.
Tila was always Tila.
And despite herself, Savannah couldn’t hide the smirk tugging at her lips.
“…That sounds nice,” she admitted. “I guess.”
“Good,” Tila said brightly, releasing her and slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get cleaned up then, baby girl.”
Since they were officially on standby—and with New York locked down tight—they ended up at Charlie’s Burger House.
They’d ditched their combat gear before heading out. Savannah was back in her familiar green hoodie and black shorts, sleeves pulled down over her hands. Tila, on the other hand, wore a white onesie she hadn’t bothered to zip all the way up, clearly enjoying the attention.
The drive was quiet. No interrogations. No heavy questions. Just the hum of the road and the knowledge that the place was only ten minutes away.
Charlie’s Burger House was exactly what Savannah remembered.
Warm lighting. Red vinyl booths worn smooth from decades of use. The smell of grease, grilled onions, and fresh bread hit the moment they stepped inside. Old sports memorabilia lined the walls—framed jerseys, faded photos, handwritten notes from regulars tacked up near the counter. A jukebox hummed softly in the corner, playing something nostalgic and slightly out of date.
As they slid into a booth, Tila leaned back and gave Savannah a knowing smirk.
“What?” Savannah asked.
“You, baby,” Tila said sweetly.
Savannah rolled her eyes. “Pretty sure the reports told you everything.”
“Maybe,” Tila replied. “Still hurts you didn’t think to come get me.”
“You were on a mission.”
“You told Lucenzo not to contact anyone when you woke up.”
“Fuck that guy.”
Tila laughed. “Cut him some slack.”
Savannah shot her a glare.
“…Or not,” Tila corrected immediately. “Yeah, fuck that guy.”
They both cracked up just as a waiter walked over with a notepad, smiling like he’d already decided they were trouble.
“What can I get you two?”
Savannah ordered her usual without even looking at the menu, then—after a second of consideration—added a couple of new sides she hadn’t tried before. Tila, meanwhile, pointed at things almost at random, deliberately choosing everything Savannah didn’t.
The waiter scribbled it all down and walked off.
The moment he was out of earshot, Tila burst out laughing. “Did you see his eyes? Poor guy couldn’t stop staring at my chest if his life depended on it.”
Savannah sighed, resting her chin in her hand. “Why tease men if you’re not interested?”
Tila shrugged easily. “Because it’s my body. And because it’s funny.”
Savannah snorted. “You’re terrible.”
“I know.” Tila grinned. “So when are you gonna dabble in my waters, huh?”
“I prefer men.”
Tila clicked her tongue. “Bitter. Absolutely bitter.” She waved it off a second later, smile returning. “Anyway.”
She didn’t ask about the park. Didn’t prod at the obvious landmine. Instead, she tilted her head. “So. New York.”
Savannah leaned back. “Not much to say. I got to the fight late because of Mason Marwell.”
Tila grimaced. “Of course…. At least Aanya is doing well…”
“Can we… not talk about yesterday?” Savannah asked quietly.
Tila nodded immediately. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine.”
She brightened a moment later. “Africa was great. Rift beasts everywhere—annoying, but not that bad. Monsters are predictable.” She smirked. “Still managed to enjoy the women and sightsee, though.”
Savannah chuckled. “Of course you did.”
It was good—really good—to see her again.
The food arrived then, plates clattering onto the table. The waiter lingered a second too long, eyes once again betraying him. Tila noticed immediately and stretched deliberately, arching just enough to make it obvious.
“Oh—uh—enjoy—” the waiter stammered, nearly dropping a plate as he backed away.
Savannah laughed, shaking her head as he hurried off.
Then the laughter faded.
Her smile softened, her thoughts drifting back to what had pissed her off in the first place—secrets, lies, and people she cared about caught in the middle of things too big to punch her way through.
She picked up her fork anyway.
“Oh, there’s my least favorite face,” Tila said lightly. “What’d I do, baby?”
“You didn’t do anything,” Savannah replied around a mouthful of food, shoving another bite in like it might block the conversation entirely.
Tila squinted at her. “Teasin’ the waiter really got you this hot?”
“No.”
“Well damn,” Tila said, leaning back. “Let a woman know what’s goin’ on with her favorite person.”
Savannah finally looked up and sighed. “You just remind me of—”
“Another bitch?” Tila cut in immediately.
“She’s not a bitch,” Savannah shot back, then paused. “…Well. Not all the time.”
Tila gasped, clutching her chest. “You’re cheatin’ on me, baby?”
“I could never,” Savannah cooed back, deadpan.
“Don’t play with me,” Tila said, narrowing her eyes. “I’m not used to it.”
Savannah chuckled despite herself, then her expression softened. “She’s the new Veythari. From the Red Hollow incident.”
Tila leaned forward, attention sharpening.
“She caused the rebound,” Savannah continued quietly. “And I just found out she’s alive. Awake even.” She hesitated. “But she’s got… complications.”
Tila’s smile faded.
“And they’re talking about labeling her a ghoul,” Savannah said, voice tightening. “Putting her on G-Unit.”
Her hand clenched around her fork.
“Fucking G-Unit!”
The metal bent with a soft, ugly creak.
Tila’s eyes flicked around the diner. She reached across the table and pressed a finger gently to Savannah’s lips.
Savannah stopped herself, breathing out slowly.
“Easy,” Tila murmured. “Not here.”
Savannah nodded, jaw tight, anger still simmering under the surface.
The food sat between them, untouched now.
“Well that’s some shit,” Tila said quietly. “What’s her name?”
“Zoey,” Savannah answered. “She’s my best friend.”
Tila blinked. “Wow.”
Savannah tilted her head. “I can have more than one best friend, right?”
“No,” Tila said immediately. “I’m selfish.”
Savannah snorted. “You literally just slept with hella African women.”
“I did not.”
“You said you did, liar!”
Tila waved her fork. “Back to the topic. What do you plan to do? Maybe Cap can—”
“No.” Savannah cut her off. “I’m not talking to Bullseye right now. Unless it’s orders, I have nothing to say to her.”
Tila hummed, thinking.
“Don’t,” Savannah warned. “Don’t try to fix it. Just let me be mad.”
“I am, baby,” Tila said easily, already back to eating like this wasn’t emotionally devastating news. “I can multitask.”
They talked it through anyway. Quietly. Carefully.
Ways Savannah could help. Ways she couldn’t. The reality that the E.R.O wouldn’t want an unknown variable anywhere near new recruits. That the A.A.A.P would see Zoey not as a person, but as a weapon waiting to be categorized.
Tila leaned back, folding her arms. “I have an idea.”
Savannah narrowed her eyes. “I’m already gonna hate it.”
“Yeah,” Tila admitted. “You really are.”
Before she could say more, both of their devices chimed at the same time.
Savannah and Tila paused, then reached into their pockets, pulling out the slim, phone-like mission units. E.R.O made very sure Savannah brought hers with her.
Tila glanced at her screen, then smirked. “Well. Guess we’re putting a pin in that.”
Savannah smiled despite herself.
“You’re horrible, baby.”
Savannah shrugged as she stood. “More ways to let off steam.” She slipped the device away. “Besides, I think better when I’m doing something.”
And if she was being honest—
Right now, doing something felt a hell of a lot better than sitting still.
———————————————————
MISSION STATEMENT — OPERATION IRON VEIL
Time to Execution: 30 minutes
Authorization: U.S. Army Joint Anomalous Command
Attached Assets: Remaining Veythari Operatives — Units 23, 25, 29
Primary Target: Devil’s Den Forward Base (Urban Safehouse Classification)
———————————————————
OBJECTIVE
Neutralize and secure a confirmed Devil’s Den operational base. Capture or eliminate hostile assets on-site. Recover intelligence, anomalous materials, and personnel of interest. Prevent evacuation or destruction of sensitive data.
———————————————————
SITUATION OVERVIEW
Recent intelligence confirms Devil’s Den maintains an active base embedded within a civilian-adjacent urban structure. The location is lightly fortified but protected by layered misdirection tactics and anomalous countermeasures.
Enemy forces are expected to include:
- Devil’s Den operatives (human and non-human)
- Possible anomalous entities
- Trap-based defenses and delayed-exit contingencies
Civilian presence in the immediate area is assessed as minimal but non-zero.
——————————————————
FRIENDLY FORCES
- U.S. Army Rapid Response Units
Conventional infantry, drone surveillance, suppression teams
- Veythari Units 23 / 25 / 29
Specialized close-quarters engagement, anomaly disruption, high-threat neutralization
———————————————————
TACTICAL PLAN
- Phase One – Isolation
- Establish perimeter containment
- Communications blackout
- Drone reconnaissance and signal triangulation
- Phase Two – Breach
- Simultaneous multi-point entry
- Veythari units lead interior push
- Army units provide external suppression and civilian containment
- Phase Three – Clearance
- Room-by-room sweep
- Priority capture of command-level personnel
- Secure anomalous artifacts and digital intelligence
- Phase Four – Extraction
- Rapid withdrawal
- Controlled demolition if required
- Medical and containment protocols enforced immediately
———————————————————
RULES OF ENGAGEMENT
- Lethal force authorized
- Capture preferred for intelligence assets
- Minimize collateral damage
- No unauthorized pursuit beyond containment perimeter
———————————————————
POST-MISSION
All units will report back immediately for full debriefing, medical evaluation, and anomaly screening.
Failure to comply will be treated as a breach of operational security.