Not the space itself, still the same gray concrete walls, recycled air tasting of metal and fear, the distant rumble of the crowd filtering through layers of steel. But the people in it had changed. Or maybe Beatrix had changed enough to notice.
Kivi was running diagnostics on her systems, fingers dancing across the tablet while her hair cycled through focused purple. Rain stood at one wall display he had assembled, combat footage of Malatesta playing on loop while he muttered tactical observations to himself. Bodhi sat on a bench near the door, prosthetic hand resting on his knee, watching them all with that careful assessment he never quite turned off.
They'd done this six times now. Developed rhythms. Patterns. Things that felt almost like belonging.
"Malatesta's tall," Rain said, freezing the footage. The chrome-plated fighter stood easily two meters, augmented limbs gleaming under arena lights. "Reach advantage of at least thirty centimeters. He'll use that, keep you at distance where his network can feed him counters."
"Remember. When Malatesta steps into that arena," Bodhi said, "he's not pulling from just his combat experience. He's pulling from every Minos fighter who's ever used Love. Every technique they've learned, every pattern they've recognized, every counter they've developed, he can access it all."
Kivi stood abruptly. Her hair had gone dark blue.
"Kivi..." Beatrix started. This fight was too personal for her.
"I’m fine," Kivi said, looking at her directly. "But you need to be ready. For Malatesta. For Ariadne… you can’t hesitate..."
She didn't finish.
Bodhi shut down the neural display. Pulled up a different image. A woman, beautiful, ethereal, chrome enhancements making her look more like art than human.
"Ariadne," he said. "If things go bad, if you feel the network trying to integrate you, this is who you'll see. Who you'll hear."
The woman's face was serene. Loving. Welcoming.
“Damn. I kinda liked some of her songs.” Rain said.
"She'll talk to you," Bodhi continued. "Tell you it's okay. Tell you to surrender. Tell you the network loves you and wants to welcome you home. And she'll mean it, or at least, she'll believe she means it. Because Ariadne the network. The core consciousness that everything else connects to."
"She'll be in my head?" Beatrix asked.
"If you're infected, yes. Not immediately. But as Love integrates, you'll start hearing her. Feeling her presence." Bodhi's expression was haunted. "I've talked to people who got out. Purged the drugware. They all say the same thing: the worst part wasn't losing themselves. It was how much they to. How much Ariadne made them feel like they were finally home."
Beatrix stared at the image. At that perfect, loving face.
Wondered what it would feel like to have that voice in her head. Telling her she mattered. She belonged. She was loved.
Wondered if she'd be strong enough to resist.
"One more thing," Bodhi said, and his voice had changed. Gone softer. "I knew a guy who got out. Took him six months to purge it. Know what he said? 'Worst part wasn't losing myself. It was how much I wanted to.'"
He looked at each of them in turn. Rain. Kivi. Beatrix.
"You three," he said. "You're not just a support team. You're her anchor. When Ariadne's voice starts whispering about how good it feels to surrender, you be louder. You remind her who she is. What she's fighting for."
Rain stepped forward. "We'll be monitoring through comms. If we see infection markers…"
"You fight it," Kivi finished. "However you have to."
Virgil said into Beatrix's thoughts.
"Yes," Beatrix subvocalized. "If I start advocating for Love. If my thought patterns change significantly. Remind me of this moment. Remind me I didn't want this."
Bodhi stood, rolling his shoulders. "Eleven hours until the fight. We should rest. Hydrate. Run final system checks."
"Yeah," Beatrix said distantly. Still looking at Ariadne's face.
The image vanished as Bodhi shut down the display.
"Get some sleep, kid. Tomorrow you fight the worst thing you can fight."
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"What's that?"
"Something that offers you everything you've ever wanted."
Kivi hugged her then. Quick. Fierce. "Don't you dare let them take you."
"I won't."
Beatrix sat in her spot, staring at where Ariadne's face had been.
Virgil observed.
"No. Let me feel this."
"Because tomorrow I might not be able to feel anything real. Might not know which thoughts are mine and which are the network's." She closed her eyes. "Tonight I want to be sure what fear feels like. What determination feels like. What being alone feels like."
"For now," she whispered. "But if Malatesta infects me, I lose them. Lose myself. Become part of something that loves me while consuming me."
She sat in silence for another hour.
Trying to memorize what being herself felt like.
Just in case.
Eleven hours became eight. Eight became four. Four became now.
"Well," Bodhi said. "Team huddle."
They all stopped.
"What?" Rain asked.
"Real teams do this." Bodhi moved to the center of the room. Extended his hand, palm down. "Hands in. Each person says a goal. Doesn't matter if it's serious or stupid. Just something that's yours."
Rain looked skeptical. But he moved forward, placed his hand on top of Bodhi's prosthetic. "Fine. My goal: don't let B fry her neural tissue."
Kivi's hand joined theirs, hair shifting to determined red. "Find a way to hurt Minos. Even just a little."
They all looked at Beatrix.
She stepped forward. Placed her hand on top of the stack.
"Win," she said simply. "And stay myself."
"On three," Bodhi said. "One. Two. Three…"
"BREAK!" they all shouted together.
Hands separated. Energy crackling between them.
It was stupid. Unnecessary. Completely pointless.
It mattered more than Beatrix could explain.
"Okay," she said, voice rough. "Let's do this."
They moved toward their stations. Beatrix could hear the crowd, sixty thousand voices screaming for blood. For spectacle. For her.
It didn’t take long for her to receive the ping.
Virgil displayed.
"Accepted," Beatrix said.
"I'm in your head," Rain said.
"Just don't move anything," she replied.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Beatrix stood alone at the entrance, waiting for the gates to open.
Virgil reported.
"Yeah," she whispered. "I am."
The gates opened.
The roar of the crowd hit like a physical wave.
Beatrix walked into the light.
Malatesta was already in the arena when she emerged.
Tall. Chrome. Moving with an eerie grace that suggested he wasn't quite controlling his own movements, like he was dancing to music only he could hear.
His eyes had that distant quality. Seeing something beyond the arena.
Virgil warned.
The Arbiter's voice boomed across the arena. "Round of Thirty-Two. Beatrix Aliger, unaffiliated. Versus Malatesta, Minos Clan.”
“Begin!"
Malatesta approached, then smiled. Opened his mouth.
When he spoke, two voices emerged. His own, and underneath it, something feminine. Loving. Layered.
"Hello, Beatrix. Mara sends her love."
Through the comm, Kivi's sharp intake of breath.
Beatrix's hands clenched. Forced herself to stillness.
"Leave her alone," Kivi said through the team channel, voice shaking.
"Mara is more alive than ever." Both voices, perfectly synchronized. "She's part of us now. Connected. Loved. She asks about Kivi sometimes. Wonders why her sister abandoned her."
"Beatrix, don't listen…" Kivi started.
But Malatesta was already moving. Not attacking. Just repositioning. Keeping distance. Reach advantage.
Virgil noted.
Through the comm, Bodhi's voice cut through. Calm. Tactical. "He wants you at a range where the network can predict your attacks. Get inside his guard. Make him fight alone."
"Getting inside his guard means…." Rain started.
"I know," Beatrix said.
Getting close meant contact. Contact meant infection risk.
But staying at range meant fighting the entire Minos network. Every fighter they'd ever had. Every pattern they'd ever cataloged.
She couldn't win that fight.
"I'm going in," she said.
"B, wait…" Rain protested.
She didn't.
Beatrix launched forward, closing the distance in three explosive strides. Malatesta's eyes widened fractionally, the network hadn't expected such immediate aggression.
Good.
She hit him with a combination she'd drilled with Bodhi. High feint, low strike, pivot, body shot. Fast. Relentless.
For five seconds, she was winning.
Then Malatesta adapted.
His counter came perfectly timed, blocking her next strike before she'd fully committed to it. Someone in the network had fought someone with her style. Shared the data. Adjusted.
"He's learning in real-time," Rain's voice crackled through the comm. "Every strike you make is being analyzed by thousands of fighters. You need to be unpredictable…"
"I'm TRYING."
Malatesta spoke again in that dual voice. "You fight well. Mara would be impressed. She's watching through us, you know. Feeling everything we feel."
"Shut up," Beatrix snarled.
She threw an elbow strike, deliberately sloppy. Made it look like fatigue. Malatesta's counter was perfect for the feint, which left him open for her real attack. Knee to his midsection, hard enough to crack chrome plating.
He staggered.
The crowd roared.
But he was still smiling.
"Good," both voices said. "This data will help us understand you better. Help Mara understand her sister's friend."
Beatrix's next combination was pure improvisation. No pattern. No style. Just violence.
It worked for exactly seven seconds.
Then the network adjusted again.
Virgil reported.
"I can see that," Beatrix growled.
She activated Rage Mode.
[RAGE MODE ACTIVE]
[89 seconds remaining]
The world sharpened. Power flooded her system. Every muscle coiled with potential energy screaming for release.
She hit Malatesta like a freight train.
Her fist connected with his jaw, snapped his head back. Follow-up strike to the ribs. Sweep his legs. Elbow drop as he fell.
The network had data on Rage Mode. Knew the pattern. The timing. The tactical applications.
But they didn't have data on Rage Mode. Not Dreadnought-enhanced fury. Not this specific fusion of desperation and power.
Malatesta tried to counter. Too slow. The network's predictions couldn't keep up with her accelerated state.
She was winning.
For a few seconds, she was absolutely winning.
Then everything changed.