Chapter 155

The Ten of Spades

Alexander came downstairs wearing a midnight blue three-piece suit, jacket unbuttoned in his preferred casual no-tie style. A backpack hung over his shoulder, stuffed full with a couple of changes of clothes, his armor, and his leather jacket. Augustus had gotten the duster repaired on The Nexus after the cultivator fight. It was good as new, except for the memories.

He found Augustus on the sofa in the common area, sipping coffee and scrolling through something on his tablet. The older man glanced over his shoulder as Alexander approached.

“Quick question,” Alexander said.

Augustus turned. “Go ahead.”

“How big can you make your portals?”

Augustus considered that for a moment, his eyes tracking upward as he thought. “I’ve managed thirty feet across with little trouble. Never really pushed beyond that, though. Why?”

“Can you make them flush with the ground? Instead of floating?”

“You mean have the bottom edge sit at ground level?” Augustus frowned. “Sure, I can make them whatever shape I want, including squares. It just takes more concentration. Circles feel more natural, probably because of the wand motion. Why? Do you need help with something?”

Alexander shook his head. “Not right now. Let me think on it.”

He started toward the door, then paused with his hand on the frame. “I’ll be back in a few days max.”

Augustus twisted around on the sofa, coffee mug halfway to his lips. “Where are you going?”

“Carmen found a great lawyer for us. She’s in New York.” Alexander pulled the door open. “I need to figure out how to hire her.”

Augustus’s frown deepened. “Are you sure you don’t want backup? New York is home to the biggest guild in the US. Their leader is Tier 3.”

Alexander turned back and grinned. “I’m not going to fight anyone. I’ll take a door to the city and grab a hotel room. Lay low. Do a bit of stalking and recruiting. Then pick up a bike or two on my way back. Maybe a few other essentials.” He paused. “What’s your favorite color?”

Augustus blinked at the non sequitur. “Purple… why?”

“Annie?”

“Probably red.”

Alexander muttered under his breath. “That won’t do. Can’t have two reds.”

“What are you talking about?”

Alexander waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back with gifts.”

He stepped through the doorway and let it swing shut behind him, cutting Augustus off mid-sentence. Something about being careful and serious superheroes.

Outside, Droney had gathered the others. Nine drones total hovered in a loose formation above the courtyard, their surfaces reflecting the morning sunlight. Alexander looked up at them and frowned.

He had thirteen fully operational drones in total. The rest were damaged, waiting in his workshop for repairs he hadn’t had time to complete. He could bring more, but too many would make it harder to be sneaky. And he wasn’t planning on fighting anyone.

Just being careful.

He’d considered pulling some units from the island’s holo drone network to supplement the group, but those weren’t specced for combat. Mostly useless if things went wrong.

Droney beeped. The formation tightened, then spread out again in a weaving pattern as they followed Alexander toward the doorway at one corner of their terrace.

He pulled it open and stepped through.

The transition was instantaneous. One moment he stood under the Mediterranean sun, the next he emerged into the controlled climate of the station. The drones followed, maintaining their formation as they spread out above him.

Alexander made his way out into the wide, open plaza of what he’d come to think of as the main floor of Astra Omnia. It was the largest of the levels, at least, and had the Queen’s office, the primary hub of their teleportation network, a massive park, and the greatest selection of restaurants, diners, clothing stores, and everything else the tourists loved.

Thinking about it, he was pretty sure the store provided to Augustus’s father was tucked away somewhere nearby, too.

Alexander made his way partway across the plaza, then paused and looked back at the section he’d just come from. Once the negotiations with the Queen were formalized and signed, Grimnir would officially own the network of hallways and buildings surrounding the private doorway he’d arrived through. Considerable real estate, situated practically next door to the Queen’s administrative hub and right off the plaza itself.

They’d need to tear most of the existing structures down to build something that met his requirements.

Perhaps one continuous structure wrapping around the entire perimeter. Floor-to-ceiling walls with a single fortified entrance as the only way in from the outside. The internal space could remain open, maybe even with their own park. At the very center, a heavily reinforced hub containing the doorways connecting to the island and any other bases they established.

The main structure would function as fortification first, hotel second. A place for future Grimnir members to live. It required amenities: pools, entertainment spaces, gyms, maybe even a small shopping area. Layers of defense throughout. Security checkpoints at the entrance, sealable bulkheads, enchanted walls, reinforced windows.

The location mattered strategically. Astra Omnia was the second most popular station in Sol, neutral territory where villains and heroes could operate openly. A permanent presence here gave Grimnir access to the broader community. And if he were being particularly discerning, visibility and legitimacy. All things that would matter more as time passed, both because of whatever calamity was approaching, and the likely inevitable opening of Sol to galactic interests.

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Meanwhile, the island was private and had plenty of space, but presented unique challenges. He’d explored much of it during the months spent training his flight.

Their new home was approximately 1,200 acres of hilly, mountainous terrain with an irregular coastline and multiple coves. Remote enough to avoid attention. The problem was operational reach.

Located roughly 145 miles west of Athens, they weren’t ideally positioned for direct expansion. Perhaps it would be less of an issue when Augustus reached Tier 3 and could conjure portals across greater distances. Until then, relying on the Royals to establish doorways at strategically located bases around the world was the best method for operational flexibility.

Which was precisely why maintaining a powerful presence here on Astra Omnia mattered so much. One of the reasons, at least.

He smiled at the thought, then turned back and kept walking.

People moved around him in the usual Astra Omnia chaos.

Families with children. Supervillains in costume and armor.

And superheroes.

Three of them stood on one of the viewing platforms, their costumes marking them as clearly as neon signs. All three had devices out. Cameras. Recording equipment. One held what looked like a scanner of some kind.

The devices weren’t being aimed at him, but it didn’t matter. He remembered the page Talia had shown him. The photos. The privacy violations. All because he’d made the mistake of occasionally ignoring them.

Alexander’s eyes narrowed. “Paparazzi,” he muttered.

Reaching out with Technopathy, he found the cameras first. Then the scanner. He felt resistance in the latter, a thread of Will wrapped around the device like armor.

Alexander pushed harder. The Will resisted for a moment, then crumpled under the weight of his power.

All three devices responded to his intent. They sparked, smoke curling from their casings as internal components overloaded. The heroes jerked back, one of them dropping his camera with a curse.

Alexander kept walking.

The transport hub entrance loomed ahead, marked by sleek metal archways and holographic signs in a dozen languages. Alexander passed through the automatic doors and into the main concourse.

The space was packed. Long lines of travelers stretched from the service desk all the way back to the entrance, maybe two hundred people waiting their turn. Alexander walked past all of them without slowing, heading straight for the VIP section cordoned off by velvet ropes and a discrete security checkpoint.

The guard nodded and stepped aside as Alexander approached.

The VIP desk sat in a quieter corner, staffed by a single attendant in the station’s standard uniform. The man looked up, and his expression shifted immediately to polite professionalism.

Alexander pulled the black card from his suit pocket and tapped a corner on the counter.

“Good day, Mr. Rooke,” he said, tilting his head. “How can we be of service today?”

“I need to speak to the Doorman.”

The attendant hesitated. “My apologies, sir, but policy—”

“Just tell him the Machine God wants to talk to him.”

The attendant’s mouth closed. He stood frozen for a long moment, clearly torn between protocol and worry over denying him.

Whether that was because he was a black card holder or a supervillain, Alexander wasn’t sure.

“Please wait here, sir,” he said. Then he bobbed his head quickly and stepped through the automatic door behind him, disappearing into the back offices.

Alexander turned and leaned against the counter, watching the crowd in the main concourse.

The line hadn’t moved much. People stood in clusters, some checking their devices, others making conversation. A family with three children struggled to keep them all in one place. The father looked exhausted. The mother kept glancing at her tablet.

Right behind them stood a figure that didn’t belong in the same frame.

A supervillain, judging by the apocalyptic aesthetic. Scavenged leathers stitched together with visible seams. Metal plates bolted to the shoulders and chest. A sword strapped across his back, the grip worn smooth from use. His face was half-covered by a mask, both eyes evaluating the room.

One of them was natural, while the other was a bulging cybernetic implant that glowed an ominous red.

The villain turned slightly, scanning the crowd, and his gaze locked onto Alexander. The cybernetic eye whirred, focusing. Processing. Some kind of automated analysis, probably.

The man’s real eye widened. He slapped a hand over the cybernetic and immediately turned away, keeping his head down as he shuffled forward in line.

Alexander frowned, not understanding the overreaction. It wasn’t as if he was going to destroy the man’s eye just for looking at him.

His gaze drifted back to the crowd. It drew him, the strangeness of it. Families and heroes and villains, all waiting in the same lines. Shopping at the same vendors. Walking the same halls.

It wasn’t anything new to him, of course. He’d been on Astra Omnia dozens of times now. And yet, every time he came here, it still surprised him how normal it all seemed. How easily people with powers and people without just… existed in the same space.

Maybe this was the Royals’ vision of the future. Not just for the station, but for everywhere. Powers becoming so common that they stopped being remarkable. Just another part of life.

The door behind the desk slid open, and the attendant returned. “The boss will see you, sir. I apologize for the inconvenience. I’ve been instructed to contact him directly in the future should you ever need assistance.” He gestured toward the back. “Right through here, please.”

Alexander nodded and followed him through the doorway.

The attendant led him through a maze of hallways. Alexander caught glimpses of concierges through open doorways, some lounging in break rooms, others reviewing tablets. This must be where they all operated from, though he still couldn’t figure out how the Doorman managed his duties given the sheer volume of traffic the station handled.

Alexander spread his senses throughout the building, picking up hundreds of cameras, motion sensors, and every other typical security device that such a high-value operation warranted. He ignored everything else. He didn’t pry deeper, just wanting a sense of scope.

The attendant stopped at a door and gestured toward it with a slight bow. “The Doorman awaits you inside, sir.”

He turned and walked away before Alexander could respond.

The door slid open automatically.

The room was gaudy in a way that screamed wealth without taste. A high-end VR gaming rig dominated one corner, the kind with full haptic feedback and neural interface capability.

A kitchen occupied the back wall.

In another corner was something that could only politely be described as a conversational piece.

It was a solid gold bust of Julius Caesar, surrounded by marble mermaid statues. The mermaids were naked, and for some unfathomable reason their nipples appeared to be diamonds.

He shifted his attention and found a wall covered in framed photographs. The Doorman with various famous people, all signed.

Alexander’s eyes caught on one in particular. The Doorman knelt next to a corgi that looked suspiciously like the one from Barkforce. The signature was a paw print.

His eyebrows twitched involuntarily. He turned toward the center of the room.

A long leather couch faced a coffee table. On it sat several neat lines of white powder.

The Doorman leaned forward and snorted a line, then settled back onto the couch and looked up.

He was dressed like he’d upgraded from street enforcer to management. Tailored Italian leather jacket over a crisp white dress shirt, dark wool slacks, and polished shoes. His hair was slicked back professionally. Two gold rings glinted on his fingers, and an expensive watch caught the light on his wrist. On his left thumb sat a heavy metal ring with a spade symbol containing the number ten.

The Doorman grinned. “Machine God. Good t’ meet yous in person, proper-like.”

He gestured toward a chair positioned on Alexander’s side of the coffee table, then motioned at the lines on the table. “Want a bump? ‘s good stuff.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep