The parking garage was an echo chamber of rising panic. Marie's scream was sharp, immediately followed by the terrifying crunch of shattering glass as the thug nearest the driver's side window brought his fist down hard.
Marie recoiled against the seat, instinctively raising her arms to shield her face.
"Penelope!" she gasped. "Don't open the door!"
Penelope's hands shook as she tried to push herself back against the passenger side.
"I'm not!" she cried. "I'm not touching anything!"
Outside the car one of the men laughed cruelly.
"Oh relax," the thug sneered. "We just want to talk."
Silas heard it even over the distant roar of the nascent crowd filtering from the main venue. He looked across the structural concrete at Veritas Alpha, still embodying the imposing figure of Bjorn, and didn't need to speak. The shared understanding, honed by recent life-or-death encounters, flowed between them.
Silas pointed toward the car.
"Four of them," he muttered quickly.
VA's eyes flicked across the garage, instantly mapping angles, exits, and positions.
"Two by the doors," VA replied calmly. "Two covering."
Silas nodded once.
"Got it."
"You take the driver's side! I've got passenger!" Silas yelled, already sprinting, his systems analyzing the threat profiles—low-level AN energy anchors, clearly muscle hired for intimidation, not celestial combat.
As he ran he muttered to himself,
"Hugo better appreciate this."
Veritas Alpha moved with that unnatural, almost graceful speed that betrayed his true nature, covering distance toward the vehicle in impossibly long strides. Silas reached the passenger side first. He launched himself low, a clumsy, furious burst of momentum propelled by adrenaline and the memory of Hugo's worry.
"Hey!" the thug barked, noticing movement too late.
Silas connected squarely with the temple of the thug leaning in toward Marie, delivering a clothesline that dropped the hired heavy instantly.
The man hit the concrete with a dull thud.
Silas barely slowed.
"Stay down," Silas muttered.
Veritas Alpha was faster. The lead thug, having just managed to unlock the passenger door and pulling the other girl's arm, felt a blow that wasn't just heavy—it was informed, precise, aimed at the precise point where the sinews connected to the shoulder socket.
The thug's eyes went wide.
His grip vanished instantly.
The thug crumpled without a sound, a dead weight hitting the concrete floor of the garage.
Only two thugs remained, both suddenly realizing their simple job of aggressive harassment had escalated into a proper confrontation with figures they clearly hadn't been briefed on.
One of them spat.
"What the hell—"
The other raised his fists uncertainly.
"Who the—"
They squared off, one against Silas, the other momentarily hesitant, looking at the fallen leader.
Silas rolled his shoulders.
"Alright," he said. "Let's try this again."
The thug swung wildly.
Silas ducked, barely.
Silas put everything he had into the brawl. He was scrappy, relying on the raw, functional fitness he'd built working construction under Shane, augmented slightly by the clarity of his own newly acquired system.
The thug's fist clipped Silas across the cheek.
Silas grunted.
"Okay," he muttered, shaking it off. "That one counts."
He weathered a swing, gritting his teeth against the sting of a glancing blow, before pushing into the thug's guard.
He grabbed the man's jacket and slammed him into a pillar.
"Construction strength," Silas said through clenched teeth.
Veritas Alpha, however, was economical. He didn't waste energy on a prolonged fight.
He stepped past Silas with calm precision.
The remaining thug noticed him too late.
Veritas Alpha delivered a short, sharp side-kick.
The impact sounded like a baseball bat connecting with a side of beef.
The thug dropped, clutching his ribs and sputtering in pain.
Silas glanced over.
"Remind me not to spar with you."
VA ignored the comment.
"Hugo sent us!" Veritas Alpha boomed, his voice deeper, resonating with the Bjorn persona, aimed directly at Marie and Penelope. "Get out of the car! Now!"
Marie fumbled with the door handle.
"Penelope move!"
The two girls didn't hesitate. They scrambled out, abandoning the relative safety of the vehicle, and bolted toward Silas and the imposing figure of Veritas Alpha.
Silas was still grappling briefly with the last conscious thug, dragging him away from the car.
"Alright buddy," Silas grunted. "Nap time."
He shoved the man to the ground.
"Stand still!" Veritas Alpha commanded the girls, taking a final powerful swing that dropped the last lingering threat.
The garage fell quiet again.
Marie and Penelope stood close together, breathing hard.
As the girls huddled close, Silas quickly introduced himself, wiping a bead of sweat and a smudge of grease from his forehead.
"No problem. I'm Silas. Glad we made it."
He glanced at the imposing figure beside him, knowing introductions were necessary now that the immediate danger had passed.
"By the way, this is Bjorn."
Marie swallowed and nodded quickly.
"O you are Hugo's friend. I'm Marie and this is Penelope. Thank you both for saving us! You were so brave."
Penelope nodded emphatically.
"Yes seriously," she added. "That was terrifying."
Silas rubbed the back of his neck.
Silas managed a self-deprecating smile, acutely aware of the dirt smeared on his work shirt. "No problem."
Veritas Alpha didn't linger for pleasantries. The chaos outside waited patiently.
"We need to move. Get inside the venue, you'll be safe there. Silas, keep them steady."
He gave a curt nod to Silas, already turning towards the exit ramp leading into the main stadium complex.
He needed to alert Olaf. The thugs outside were one thing; the growing mob needed a celestial response.
Silas nodded.
"Got it."
He turned to the girls.
"Alright, stick close."
Marie nodded quickly.
"Yes please."
Penelope asked nervously,
"There aren't more of those guys, right?"
Silas gave a reassuring smile.
"Not where we're going."
Silas, taking charge of the shell-shocked women, guided them toward the security checkpoints, giving quick instructions to Hugo via a text that they were safe.
Hugo's reply came almost instantly.
Good. Thank you.
Silas smiled slightly.
Veritas Alpha, reverting to his focused scouting mode, strode purposefully toward the main administrative and security hub, already thinking through the optics of the situation: how to explain the sudden, dramatic intervention of the head of security to the ticket takers and local police contacts Olaf had pulled in.
⸻
Inside the administrative offices, Olaf was in consultation, his composure radiating the deep, ancient confidence of a god only beginning to stretch his limbs after a long sleep. Freya, impossibly beautiful, radiant even in the backstage lighting, stood beside him, her demeanor shifting between the poised celebrity and a watchful warrior.
"So, you will interview the winning fighters after each main card bout?" Olaf asked, confirming the arrangement.
Jessalyn Ingalls—Freya—nodded.
"Yes. It keeps my profile high, and I get to see the action up close. A small favor for a friend."
Olaf's eyes softened slightly.
"A friend indeed."
"A friend indeed," Olaf murmured, a rare, genuine warmth touching his features. He then looked toward the screen showing the external security feeds, which were currently a study in kinetic chaos.
"Shane will announce his candidacy immediately after his fight."
Jessalyn raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
"If he wins?"
Olaf didn't hesitate.
A smirk appeared.
"Yes."
He leaned back slightly.
"When he wins."
Jessalyn's inner monologue was a whirlwind. Olaf was putting an almost unbelievable amount of faith in this 'Roofer Albright.' Even Veritas Alpha had been impressed enough by the boy to take him on as a crucial proxy.
She remembered the discussion she'd overheard—or rather, sensed—about the Norns taking a strange, subtle interest in Shane.
Her own powerful intuition, the remnant of her foresight, was screaming that something monumental was brewing, the fulcrum of which was this mortal-turned-celestial businessman.
She hadn't even properly engaged Shane yet, but the energy around him was compelling.
As she turned away from Olaf, she spotted Bjorn drawing near, moving with purpose toward the main staging area where Olaf held court.
She paused.
Listening.
Bjorn approached Olaf, his expression betraying none of the chaos he had just quelled in the parking garage.
"Olaf, we might have a problem once the fights start."
Olaf merely nodded.
"I've been thinking the same."
"Once the crowd is inside, these thugs and rioters will have nothing to do but try to force their way into the venue."
Bjorn gestured toward the monitor feeds.
"They're mobilized, organized enough to cause real trouble at the access points. I expect them to try to breach the perimeter one way or another. It will be troublesome."
Olaf agreed somberly.
The coordinated distraction was classic Apex Negativa—never a clean hit, always a messy application of low-level chaos to disrupt the high-level movements.
The two celestials melted away from Freya's vicinity, heading off to warn the others.
⸻
Ben, his adrenaline still slightly elevated from witnessing the external disorder, was inside the venue, filming the transition from total chaos outside to an unsettling, organized calm inside.
Cory was at his elbow, systematically scanning every person passing by using the system access Shane had granted him.
"It's like stepping through a portal," Ben muttered to Cory, tilting his camera away from a group of remarkably calm security guards who had just been reinforced by Olaf's contacts. "Outside is a war zone, inside is a corporate event."
Cory confirmed the observation with a tight nod.
"The patterns match what Olaf's people reported."
He watched the system data scrolling across his display.
"They had low-level anchors placed among the protesters and the street gangs, just enough to incite coordinated action."
He quickly messaged Olaf with coordinates showing the dispersal points of the most organized criminal elements outside the main entrances.
Ben lowered the camera slightly.
"Controlled chaos," he said quietly.
They needed to coordinate the police response with the removal of the crowd obstacles.
Ben spent the next hour capturing the pre-fight atmosphere—the intense focus backstage where Shane and Hugo were running through final tactical checks, the tension in the lockers, the sheer size of the sold-out crowd filling the enormous outdoor amphitheater.
⸻
In the tiered seating near the main stage, Gary and Amanda were decidedly not focused on the pre-fight build-up.
They were seated near the front, surrounded by the people they had worked so hard to connect with.
Near them sat Oscar, the operations manager, and Mike, who was now running the original construction site with surprising efficiency.
Saul sat nearby, looking immensely proud as he watched his first wave of apprentices—young men and women from the outreaches—who were seated in a contingent further down the row.
Silas, Penelope, and Marie were settled nearby, the girls still a touch jumpy but safe.
Saul's wife, Emma, was overseeing a small, secured children's lounge set up in a VIP area close by.
There, Harry (Thor), looking every bit the inquisitive, bright ten-year-old, was watching a low-volume cartoon presentation projected onto a screen, oblivious to the divine drama unfolding around him.
Erin, surprisingly comfortable in her role as auxiliary caregiver, was sitting beside Emma, quietly knitting.
Emma glanced over.
"You're surprisingly good at that."
Erin smiled faintly.
"I don't remember learning."
Emma laughed softly.
"Maybe it's a goddess skill."
Harry looked up briefly.
"What's a goddess?"
Emma froze.
Erin answered smoothly.
"A very old babysitter."
Harry nodded.
"Cool."
Then he went back to his cartoon.
Jessalyn, having found the required attire—a sharp, stylish dress that hinted at power without being overtly aggressive—was now in the broadcast dressing room, finalizing notes for her interviews.
Olaf, having dispatched the security warnings, finally took his perch ringside.
The arena lights dimmed in sequence.
The massive crowd responded with a visceral roar that shook the temporary metal structures.
The accompanying electronic music hit, signaling the start of the first preliminary bout.
Olaf felt the faint stirring of his own powers, the subtle response to the energy of the crowd, the collective focus.
He scanned the venue slowly.
An ancient habit.
Mixed now with system awareness.
Please, he thought.
Let this proceed without a full divine interruption.
⸻
"If you enjoyed Shane's journey, please drop a Power Stone! It helps the Common Sense Party grow!"
I