HERA

“This is far enough. No one’s following, so take the usual route home. You two know what to do from there,” Hera said once they had successfully fled the scene.

“But Hera, what if that man comes back?” Berto asked.

She laughed at the thought. “He won't come back, Berto. They never do. Not with the thrashing you guys inflicted.”

“To be fair, you did a lot of work too,” Igel said.

Thanks for the credit. “People are smart, they know when they’re outmatched.”

Igel didn’t seem too relieved. “Yeah, but is he outmatched? I mean, look at Berto’s arm.” He pointed to the scratch on Berto’s body. It was a thin sliver of a scar, yet it seemed to trouble Berto gravely.

“That’s just the price we pay since Berto doesn’t have the full Natural Padding set,” Hera said. “Okay, this one might have been a little challenging, but so what? The stronger they are, the better the sigmas available to steal.”

“Did you look at them yet? What exactly did he have?” Igel asked.

She opened her Pocket Inventory and pulled them out. When she Read them, her heart dropped.

“All that for Rapid Farmer and the awful variant of Claws?” she cursed.

“Are you kidding me! In the end, he screwed us!” Igel said.

“I change my mind, I’m going back to kill him," she said. The trio refused to take lives, but tonight may be the exception. "Seriously, in regards to sigma, can he do anything right!”

Berto stopped her in the midst of her accumulating rage. “It’s not worth it, Hera. At least none of us died.”

“I have sold these more times than I can remember,” Hera seethed. “We need medical supplies for you two, not to mention other necessities and Lion’s cut. No one on this planet would buy cheap sigmas from us with so many legal alternatives. In conclusion, we have a net loss from tonight. Great.”

“Ah, I don’t know about that. There’s gotta be somebody out there willing to buy.”

“I think the only fool in Aspic who might have recently experienced one of the worst nights in his life.”

Igel glanced in the direction of their skirmish. “He had a nice sword over there. Maybe we can take that as a tax. Expand our operation.

Hera sighed. “There’s no point. He was resilient, that’s for sure. If he hasn’t already woken by now, I’d rather not risk doing so if we return.”

“I’m not afraid of him! Oww!” Berto said as a jolt of pain went through his arm.

“At least he can’t track us. Let’s hope to never see him again.”

Hera smiled. “That I can support. Although if I do see him, I might not be able to control myself. Hold me back so I don't break our pact.”

"Noted, ma'am."

They parted ways with Berto and Igel taking the instructed paths home. Unfortunately, the thrill of the hunt had vanished for Hera, so she resumed a slow, steady pace to her shared abode. She couldn’t fathom what a scam the night had been.

In her mind, she could still envision that stranger’s face, grinning as if he had the last laugh. How obnoxiously irritant.

At the foot of her front step, she heard a breeze of movement rush behind her. Frantic, Hera turned around but saw nothing out of place. Nobody should be out at this hour.

Her heart raced. It was moments like now when she wished her Mind sigma portfolio wasn’t so weak. Neural Fighter was her limit. If it failed to take the stranger down…well, she was just glad it worked.

Hera opened the door to her home and snuck up the steps. The ground floor, and technically the whole house, was roomed by an old woman Hera hardly interacted with most days, but Hera leased the upstairs. Their agreement was little more than a nod and a shared meal every once and a while, coupled with distasteful small talk. It was small, dank, and quiet, and perfect for sigma smuggling if your neighbors stayed quiet about it.

Mrs. Olgue might have been sleeping, although Hera had not seen her in a few days. She must be an early riser now.

Hera removed all the uncomfortable streetwear she donned from sunrise to sunset. She examined herself through the semi-cracked mirror and parted the locks of hair in front of her right eye. A second later and they shrouded her face again.

She wanted to cut it, but last time she found it hard to stare at herself without a reminder of the servant girl in the Kapitaal. Seeing a healthy eye in place of the one that was bruised continuously should have been therapeutic, yet it did nothing but send her back to days of vulnerability.

Every time she used Neural Flash on a target, Hera wondered what they saw in their memories. She shivered to imagine what would happen if someone used it on her.

Once again, Hera pulled out the two sigmas, Rapid Farmer and Claws, and analyzed them. Modifications were growing in popularity, and there was always the occasional civilian who wandered into the black market for a lower price than what legitimate vendors offered. Selling them had little value for a distributor of her stature, but nostalgia loved to linger.

The machine of her mind and body entered full alert when she heard the door open downstairs. Mrs. Olgue never stayed out–or even stayed awake–this late. Whoever opened it did so with immense force.

They started rummaging downstairs and made no effort to be discrete. Hera smirked. Whoever this robber was, they were an amateur who picked the worst target and time to strike. She curled her fingers, feeling the sigma’s power run through her nerves. Time to deliver punishment.

Hera crept to the edge of the stairwell and slowly descended. From the angles she possessed, she could not see the intruder.

As she prepared to take another step, she spotted an oddity at the foot of the stairs. A familiar sheathed sword sat against the front door.

Wait. No…

No, it couldn’t be. He had–

Hera rushed down the stairs and glanced at the far end, where the kitchen was located. A black-haired figure was breaking into their stock of food.

“You seriously followed me for a second bout?” she said aloud.

The tired, weary figure turned his head. Blood dripped from the stranger’s face, Berto’s souvenir, contorting him into a horrid monster of a man. In his mouth was half of an apple, and both hands held other assortments of food.

“How disgusting. Breaking and entering my home to seek your revenge.” Technically it was rented, but that didn’t matter at the moment.

The stranger slowly took the apple out of his mouth and growled like a feral beast. Then he resumed eating it.

“You're even dumber than I imagined,” Hera said. “Not only did you seek a rematch, but all for worthless sigmas as well. You cannot comprehend how pissed I am about that, by the way.”

He ignored her, chomping at the apple. She remembered that he was starving when he met her, but this was still beyond rude. She put her fingers to her temple and hit him with Neural Flash. He flinched, turned and swallowed his next bite.

Whoever he was, his eyes were red with rabid lunacy, and Hera might have been scared if the rest of his body didn’t look like walking roadkill.

His sword was next to her, so his one and only skill set remained out of reach. Good for my case. Nevertheless, the stranger approached without hesitation.

She raised her arms, ready to take him down again. “Want some more bullet holes in your chest? How about some stab wounds? I can make you feel anything.”

His step did not falter.

“Seriously? Are you some kind of masochist?”

Not an error.

“There’s a world of hurt that awaits you. Don’t you remember my sigma?”

The stranger had evidently lost his mind; that was the only explanation for his behavior.

When he was in range, Hera struck. “Fine, here’s a memory jogger!”

She poked him, and he stopped walking, but his expression of contempt didn’t change, and his body didn’t react. Hera’s eyes widened. Wasn’t he hurt?

She poked him again, and again, and again. Repeatedly. Then she started slapping and smacking and punching and kicking until her fighting style appeared like little more than a grown woman’s tantrum. He reacted to none of it.

What the hell!

“Neural Fighter!” she screamed. The sigma was supposed to be Dormant, but maybe it had somehow been deactivated?

Before she threw another punch, he spoke. “Don’t worry, your sigma is working just fine. I feel each and every single one of your blows as intended.”

Unbelievable! If that was true, then why had he not crumpled in pain? Who is this monster? He’s inhuman.

She backed off and considered running away, but somehow he had managed to find where she lived. A part of her dreaded that there might be nowhere to escape to

“What the hell are you!” she demanded to know.

He looked at her with a blank expression and a raised eyebrow, as if the question itself was flawed. “I’m human, just like you.”

“What? No, that not possible. Neural Fighter never fails! Everyone hurts. Everyone!”

“True, but that’s the problem with fighting the nervous system. What was once a weakness will evolve into a strength. Humans are wonderful creatures with the great gift of adaptation.”

Hera couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You…you adapted to Neural Fighter?”

“You did strike me quite a bit. It’s the same with your mind flashes. When I see them coming, they can’t distract me. The unpredictable becomes predictable. Granted, they are forever difficult to avoid.”

Perhaps he was tricking her with talk, so Hera tried to jab him again. To her dismay, the stranger swatted her hand away.

He continued speaking as if she had done nothing. “I admit that when I had no clue what your sigmas were, you had the advantage. I’m sorry to inform you that’s gone now.”

What in the world am I supposed to do?

“You asked your partner if my spirit was broken, and for a very brief moment during my nap, I thought it was. Then I understood that your crew was merely enjoying a dream, the illusion of having power over others. In reality, you aren’t that strong, are you?”

“What then! What are you going to do?” Hera burst out. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it! This conversation is cruel.”

“Kill you? No, I have something else planned.”

Hera’s heart rate spiked as the stranger leaned in closer. “Do you have any spices? I saw a preserved steak just waiting to be eaten, and as you might know, I am very, very hungry.”

Neural Fighter - Dormant, Mind, Offense: Intentional physical attacks from the user will briefly imitate a much more serious injury such as a gunshot or a stab wound. (985).

(A) During registered physical assaults. Force of will. User has a small degree of choice over what exactly a target feels. The upgraded hits do not linger long. Opponents of tougher skin are less likely to be affected.