"You alright?" Gelos amiably called across the radio after a short pause.

Jordan's mouth moved on its own in reply. "Are you, in the head?"

"Huh?"

"Forget it." Jordan grunted as he wrenched his spear free. Draping it lazily over his shoulder, he took one last look at the four corpses scattered across the ground before hopping back towards the Safe Zone. "Let's go."

He couldn't see it directly. Judging from his tone however, Gelos seemed as cheeky as he always was. As if the fact that brutalizing two people to death flew entirely over his head. By the signs, Jordan assumed it wasn't the first time he'd killed someone.

And if so, he had an outstanding poker face.

"We're almost there." Gelos rotated about to face Jordan after reaching the apex of his stride. "Just a few hundred points to go, and we're there." His face practically beamed through his voice.

"Right." Jordan gagged through the pestilent bug lodged in his throat.

His stomach, despite its superiority to its biological counterpart, still queased and toiled under his flesh. Putting immense pressure on the rest of his belly that caused his body to feel as if it were turning end over end repeatedly. A sensation that quickly evolved into an intolerable nauseousness that plagued the mind just as much as the body. All but forcing him to reconcile with the dark truth.

He'd killed two people by his own hands. And assisted Gelos in killing another.

All for the sake of pride on Zoltan's part. Merit on Jordan's.

'Can I even vomit anymore?' Jordan snorted wryly to himself.

To make matters worse, Jordan's true target had yet to even reveal themselves. After being notified that he did indeed hold ownership of the spear, Jordan imagined the knight would come hurtling in a full speed at any time. Ready to challenge him in earnest after catching the first glimpse of him.

Much to Jordan's suspicions however, no such thing occurred. He and Gelos unceremoniously bounced to a halt within the border of the safe zone. Radiating a mix of triumph and discontent through body language and posture alone.

"There's gotta be some way to find them." Gelos sighed, noticing Jordan studying the spear in hand intently. The fear of the unknown was eating at him. Gelos could tell.

"There is, actually." Jordan mentally slapped himself on the brain as his corneas lit up with digital light. Cursing himself for still not remembering the full capabilities of his eyes.

Considering how much as his heads up display, notifications and awards plagued his vision, it amazed Jordan how the quasi-central piece of his technobiology was virtually dismissed from his mind as a side thought, the moment after they were shoved into his skull.

Island Streaming Service was a channel Jordan and his brothers frequently watched, at the behest of his parents and elder siblings, as children. It was a catalogue, of sorts. A digital library containing feeds of every engagement and every campaign that the endless array of camera drones orbiting and lining the surfaces of the Galilean moons managed to capture in the Powers' short history.

As time progressed, the channel evolved into more of a matchmaking service, instead of its primary intention of bringing fame and merit to those who thrived on Campaign. Birthing a new ranking system outside of Merit. Based on the view count of an individual's matches and their campaign successes.

Naturally, that grew to influence Merit as well. With the view count acting as percentage multiplier for the feats streamed across the Solar System. Which in turn brought more citizens to the Powers, and more Galilean's to the airless moons. All zealously eager to make a name for themselves.

Thus feeding more meat into the machine.

The registry appeared in Jordan's line of sight as a cascade of banners filled with names and their associated pictures that silently traced across the ice in tune with Jordan's movements.

Jordan narrowed his search those campaigning on Ganymede, then further filtered the search to include only those of Saturnian origin. After a short pause, Jordan found exactly ten of the knights currently scattered across the surface of Ganymede.

After studying each individual closely, Jordan only found two who had the same maned beast etched onto their chestplate as the Knight from before had. The others had different animals. A horse and some type of bird of prey, among those he knew. The others were large and absurd by design. One ridiculously large with a trunk like face, and another long-mouthed, furry animal with large eyes and pointed ears.

'Are those... some type of class?' Jordan wondered to himself as he studied the etched beasts. 'Or something symbolizing those they serve?'

Searching again through the list and his memory recordings as well, Jordan compared the armor of the two knights in question to his very first competitor. The first was a broad chinned man with a thick, curled moustache that ended in swirls out past the edge of his face. The hair on his head was similarly curled at the very front. Allowing a silky strand of hair to rest between his beady, fiery eyes. He was heavily advertised as a Knight Sergeant by the name of Rashaad El-Azzi. Jordan had little idea of knight hierarchy, let alone anything else regarding them. In most cases however, a sergeant wasn't necessarily considered high up the ladder.

Looking at his past matches however, it was clear to Jordan that Rashaad had more than a decent amount of experience under his belt. The man fought unarmed and wild like a beast of legend. Darting on propulsed boots in seemingly random vectors to deliver clotheslines and deadly kicks to anyone around him.

Fortunately for Jordan, Rashaad wasn't his target. Which only left a grisly looking woman by the name of Quinn Law. She had short, wood-brown hair that ended cleanly at her sharply angled jawline. Her eyes like Jordan's father's, piercing deep green orbs that radiated an intimidating aura to all they fell upon and stared proudly back at Jordan as he studied her profile.

Unlike Rashaad, Quinn Law was brandished as a Field Marshal. Something Jordan had never heard of in any rank structure before, but sounded absurdly high up the chain. After hesitantly looking through her past matches, Jordan's heart nearly fell through his bowels after confirming his worst assumptions.

Like she had with him, Quinn skewered almost every opponent she came up against with her spear. Her matches barely went back a single month, a year's time by Earth's standards. Yet, unlike Rashaad, the Field Marshal held no losses under her belt. Which sent cold shudders rocketing down Jordan's spine in waves.

"And here's our prey." Jordan dispassionately swiped at the splayed information to share his findings with Gelos. "Currently in a safe zone."

"Our prey?" Gelos laughed as he waved his hands in front of him. Presumably dismissing the findings from his own augmented reality.

"Don't tell me, you're scared?" Jordan smirked under his helmet in a shameful attempt to hide his own fear. Despite his efforts, his quivering voice betrayed him of such tactics.

"Hey, the knight challenged you. Not me." Gelos threw up surrender with his hands. "If she's in a safe zone, maybe she'll redeploy soon. May as well wait here."

"Eh." Jordan groaned apprehensively. After spectating Quinn's highlights just after having finished his own, there was nothing more than Jordan wanted than to sit around and do nothing for a few days. "I'm not too fond of having my body atrophy while we wait around." He sighed. "Let's limit our stay to, say... 48 hours?"

"Fine by me." Gelos shrugged with his hands before turning to leap further into the safe zone for a bit of exploration.

500 kilometers long on the north-south axis, and 250 kilometers east-to-west. The safe zone was one of many developed sections around the poles that were seperated from the rough terrain via a wide lane of smoothed ice that served as the primary road for the fleets of rovers and personnel carriers lazing about the place.

Scattered moderately just past the launchpads and thick avenue, sat a wide complex of domes, huts and recessed tunnels where the workers and guests occupying the zone huddled to take refuge or employed themselves. Through the argon glare of their glowing windows, Jordan could see many were filled almost to the brim with Galilean's lounging about or perusing merchandise.

In the center of the compound, nestled in the inner area of a large roundabout, were the landing pads. For ten kilometers in each direction, shuttles, laying flat on their bellies or extended upright, sat next to rows upon rows of the egg-shaped transport pods, neatly arranged within the space and organized from largest to smallest. Some were even tracking smoothly across the surface. Being pulled to one of the many holding areas by a bed of track-footed robots crawling over the ice.

Aterial arms branched off from the roundabout, connecting the center landing zone to the perimeter avenue and dividing the entire zone into four distinct quadrants of matching complexity.

As they arrived to the center, hopping high enough to crest even the tallest domes and shuttles, Jordan could only think about the shanty towns from those old Earth movies. Massive communities of sheet metal and plastic tarps that stretched over a mountainside. Only this one had real estate to spare. Between one and two hundred meters of bare ice stretched between each structure.

The roads and subsequent zones around them were repeatedly advertised to as sub-zones for each rank. In a clockwise fashion, the first zone housed E and D-rankers and was closest to the magnetic railways on the north side of the complex that looped around the entirety of the moon. Connecting each safe zone and their patrons to each of the others on this hemisphere. Next to it was the sub-zone reserved for C and B-Rankers, with A-Rankers across the avenue to the south and the vacant S-ranker zone beside that.

Without warning, Gelos landed from one of his strides with a low squat before turning to the signs posted above the roads before sighing heavily towards glowing, lightning blue words reflected onto his visor.

"What's up?" Jordan asked, bouncing to a halt beside him.

"A lot of segregation here." Gelos sighed again. "Any and everything you can think of, dictated by rank."

"Welcome to the Galilean Powers." Jordan snorted, half in disbelief of what he was hearing. 'Didn't you choose to come here?' He thought to himself.

"In a place where anything is warranted," Jordan said instead. "The worst of humanity tends to come out in people when the most privileged and able become surrounded by those at rock bottom. Even if bullying were mitigated; and it is, it'd lead to a disgruntled population if everyone was surrounded by what they couldn't have.

That was how he made sense of it, at least.

"I suppose." Gelos let out a third deflated sigh as he turned to hop into the first quadrant.

In terms of the services they provided, each quadrant seemed to be identical in design. If not quality. The pressurized huts and domes advertised the standards, such as food, drinks and life support supplies for sale from behind their windows. The prices were a little more expensive than what they'd seen in downtown Choece. But the markets, particularly the ones in the larger domes, sold weapons, armor and various types of other equipment at a far cheaper price.

An effect of being so close to the industrial complexes further north, Jordan presumed.

In addition to the surface structures, the road parted to the side once every few hundred meters to lead into the depths of the ice. The cavernous walkways were laser smooth and curved at a gentle angle to reveal an usually modest-sized, subsurface complex underneath. The first they bounced inside housed a cavernous opening with a large, glass floor well over a two hundred meters in radius, and that held shocking sight beneath. Even to Jordan.

A bowl-shaped petri dish was set flush into the ice before them. Spinning quickly; silently, to bring the gravitation and centrifugal forces inside into a synergy that's manageable for human physiology. All throughout, people could be seen spinning along on the interior wall. Lounging on couches, walking to various rooms, drinking cocktails even. With all of their heads poking towards the center as they spun around and around and around. Dizzyingly, from Jordan's perspective.

"That looks… uncomfortable." Gelos chuckled nervously over the radio as he leaned over the glass. Careful to not step on it as if it might break.

"And disorienting." Jordan agreed as they turned about to exit the tunnel entrance.

In principle, it was the same as living in their favored orbital habitats. Albeit on a much, much smaller scale and a slightly deflected orientation. The curved walls; floor, depending on perspective, acted against the inertia of the structure's interior. Overcoming the tendency for whatever's inside to want to continue on in a tangent, a straight line in the direction of the spin. Only to be undeniably impeded by the curvature of the floor, rising up from beneath to greet them. Resulting in a centrifugal force that keeps the residents pinned to the inner surface. Tricking their mind into believing gravity exists when in reality, they're in freefall.

Or on a moon with abysmally low gravity, in this case.

Despite the lure of firm ground under his feet, Jordan was sure the structure in question was too small and thus, spun too fast. Suredly invoking the harsh effects of coriolis forces and vertigo upon anyone who dared stepped inside. Thinking of matching the spin velocity to enable him to step foot in the structure was enough to make Jordan shudder alone. The threat of constant vertigo removed any questions from his mind at once.

In theory, his aural implants could mitigate or even negate the experience entirely. But it was an experience he wouldn't risk living through if he had the chance to avoid it altogether.

After re-emerging onto the surface, Jordan pointed directly across the street. Down a smaller tunnel with a noticeably icy, static floor.

"We can sleep there." He amiably suggested. "I've never slept in low-g before. Have to say, I'm a little excited."

"Sleeping, eating and fighting." Gelos heartily laughed as he leapt across the avenue. "Seems to be all you care about."

Jordan could only laugh in agreement and follow after Gelos to register sleeping pods for themselves. After paying from the outside and receiving their digital keys, they returned topside once more and hopped to the nearest, closest hut to pop off their lids and celebrate their plan having come to fruition.

Gelos pulled off his helmet as soon as the airlock finished cycling and loudly sucked in a lungful of fresh air. "Whoo!" He sighed with relief, turning to Jordan with a face splitting grin. "I get tired of breathing my own breath."

"Maybe you should brush your teeth, then." Jordan stifled a laugh as he stuffed his own helmet into his pack and took in his own lungful of potent air.

The stomach rumbling smell of barkmeat; barbecue as they call it on Earth, toiled under Jordan's snout. Filling him with haste as he and Gelos surveyed the room from the airlock for a place to seat.

The foyer sat on a raised platform that was bordered on either side by gently curving stairs covered in a velvety material. Beyond the entrance, the ground floor expanded into an open area that sprawled out in each direction. Filled with people browsing and perusing cubed stands or glimmering screens advertising various types of product. Liquid oxygen and water canisters, packs of freeze dried meals or nutrient paste. Bulbs of juices, water, ales and spirits and more.

While they were staring, a smug looking Galilean ascended from the steps on the left, grinning wide at the short handled hammers clenched in each of his hands. As the seconds passed, he was subsequently followed by a few others doting various types of gleaming, new equipment. Short swords, axes, gauntlets and even a spear or two.

Gelos engaged his mag-boots and gloves to pull himself to some sort of crouched position on the wall next to the airlock. Like a humanoid lizard, Gelos bear crawled over the walls and ceiling, around patrons and over the inlaid lights towards a wraparound couch in the far upper corner of the building. Once above the table, he released his magnets and drifted slowly to a comfortable rest on the seat. Grinning widely at Jordan as he swiped away at the tables inlaid console.

"You seem as if you're fine." Jordan commented after descending next to Gelos. Albeit less graceful. With a spear longer than he was tall in tow, it went without saying that his movements in such spaces were, awkward. "With slaying people, I mean." Jordan added after situating the weapon beside his seat.

"Well," Gelos said. "If I understand correctly, they're not actually dead. Their hearts may have stopped. But their brains are still wide awake. They'll be walking around Choece in a few days with new implants. Looking for you probably." He chuckled softly before his eyes fell between his feet. Eliciting a long pause from the conversation. "But. It still feels bad. They didn't necessarily do anything to deserve death."

"My thoughts exactly." Jordan attempted a smile. Being somewhat satisfied with the answer, but still dreary from the weight of it all.

"Eh. It's good that we feel bad, if you think about it." Gelos agreed. "For one, it means we haven't gone completely heartless."

"True." Jordan nodded.

"But enough of that." Gelos leaned across the table to pluck two bulbs of liquid from the approaching drone. Then passed one to Jordan with an all too contagious grin on his face. "We didn't just climb out of the negative. We fuckin' leapt mate! Soared on rockets away from rock bottom! Time to celebrate a job well done!"

The delivery drone halted itself abruptly on tiny wisps of compressed gas and bobbed in place midair after having Gelos so rudely snatch the bounty from its tray. It seemed to stare at the Galilean and Martian raising their bulbs high, biting the seals loose and crushing the liquid down their gullets in quick fashion. Before slowly fading under the railings as gravity gingerly tugged it back below.

***

[Saturday, November 338th, GPY 2. Safe Zone XII, Ganymede. 1210. UGT.]

After a morning spent in Void Land, training against shadow opponents and each other, Jordan and Gelos slowly made their way back to the safe zone so that the latter could indulge himself in a fine meal before heading back out to train.

Much to Jordan's surprise, Gelos had actually been fully engaged throughout the session. Working as hard as, or even harder than Jordan himself the entire time.

Even more obvious to Jordan was the fluidity and grace of his movements. As if the Martian somehow held decades of practice within that young body of his. Regretfully, it developed a childlike sense of envy within Jordan that only mounted as the sessions progressed.

Having ended their day without the feelings subsiding, Jordan felt compelled to ask.

"Like you," Gelos said. "I was trained in the fighting arts as a child. But not because of some weird school curriculum. Ahaha." He laughed. "My family trained me all the time down on Mars' surface. Somethin' like every weekend." He trailed off in a silent tangent before suddenly reeling himself back to the conversation. "Ganymede's gravity just took a little adjusting to, is all."

"I see." Jordan nodded. 'Just what kind of life did he live?'

Roughly an hour after departing their new training grounds, they were seated in the same booth as the night prior. The modestly sized, pressurized service station was aptly named Marley's Capsule, and served as the perfect venue to wind down as much as the low gravity would allow them to.

Still, Jordan could barely fight against the displeasure having to venture all the way back to the Safe Zone for a single meal. A meal he didn't even have the pleasure of indulging in.

"Why can't you just eat nutrient paste?" Jordan scoffed after watching him inhale bits of food a crumb at a time.

Literally. Leaving them floating in front of his mouth so that he could suck them out of the air like a vacuum cleaner.

"Why run when you can walk?" Gelos tastelessly muffled through a grin full of cheese and pasta. "Why eat tasteless goo, when you can eat a fresh meal in microgravity?"

Jordan shrugged away any more of his arguments as he summoned the I.S.S. and quickly searched the knights name.

Unsurprisingly, The Field Marshal, Quinn Law was still in Safe Zone VII. With no way to find out when she'd redeploy, Jordan aimlessly flipped through the various campaign zones scattered across the Jovian moon.

Outside the safe zones and industrial complexes at the poles, the entirety of the surface was technically an open campaign zone, open to the general public as free-for-all areas or duel zones. Other, specific zones hosted specialized campaigns, each with their own winning conditions. Essential deadly games. Some familiar, like Domain Keeper, King's Guard and Total War. While many of the others, he had never heard of. Such as Orbital Sniper, Comet Catcher or Crater Racer.

After another half an hour of watching senseless bloodshed and listening to Gelos gorge himself. Jordan found himself anxious; desperate, to at least leave Marley's Capsule and step outside to stretch his legs freely.

Minimizing a video of a random duel occurring near the equator, Jordan decided he'd do just that and rose awkwardly from their couch.

Halfway to standing, he paused from a sudden flash on the digital screen laid flush onto the table. Squinting into focus, he saw a new channel had just opened up on the Island Streaming Service. And the view count was rising exponentially. Thick, bold letters flashed across the screen, identifying the indistinguishable infrastructure shown on screen as Save Zone VII.

Causing Jordan's heart to give a small anticipatory leap in his chest.

At the center, donned in metal plates with a fanged, maned beast roaring fiercely on its centerpiece was the Saturnian Knight. The Field Marshal, Quinn Law. Mounting a launch pad with quick, measured movements before being deployed across the surface.

"So, you're going?" Gelos chuckled over his plate of food. Obviously well aware of the cause of Jordan's sudden excitement.

"Of course!" Jordan snorted in disbelief. Almost offended he'd even asked. "I'm tired of carrying this thing around. What'll you do?"

"Go back to Choece and watch how it all turns out." Gelos rose from the table with a shrug of the hands. Then held out his fist at chest height. "Good luck."

"Thanks." Jordan grinned maniacally and tapped at Gelos' knuckles with his own. "See you on the other side."