Chapter 42

War Chest

They agreed on one thing first: accommodations and privacy before anything else.

A nearby hotel offered suites free of charge, courtesy of their new status and cards. Four rooms in total, paired with adjoining doors. Alexander and Augustus took one set. Talia and Annie the other. None of them expected to stay longer than a few days.

They gathered in Alexander’s suite. The open floor plan and high ceilings gave it space to breathe, thick carpet muting their steps. A bottle of something expensive sat untouched on the side table. The room was meant for relaxation, but none of them looked at ease.

Before they began, Alexander swept the space for surveillance. He hadn’t expected to find anything, but caution came first.

“So,” Annie said, stretched across the couch, arms folded. “What’s next?”

Talia broke the silence. “Healer first.”

“Fence,” Augustus countered. “We’re sitting on a pile of loot. We need to move it, then we can afford anything else.”

Alexander nodded slowly. “Credits first,” he agreed. “Once we have them, two priorities. Pay Augustus back for everything he’s already put into our gear—”

Augustus protested, but Alexander waved him down.

“No, Auggy. It’s only right. We all appreciate what you’ve done, but I think I speak for everyone on this.”

Talia and Annie both nodded.

Alexander went on. “After that, I propose that fifty to seventy-five percent goes into an operational fund for Grimnir. The rest we split for personal needs.”

He waited, checking for disagreement. None came.

“That leads me to the next thing we need to discuss,” he said, drifting toward the window wall overlooking the plaza below. From this height, the crowds were no more than dots crawling across the tiles.

Perspective is an unforgiving truth.

He sighed. “She was right about me. The Queen of Hearts.”

Augustus tilted his head. “About what?”

“The ambition. It’s been burning in me since I saw what superhumans were really capable of. What we’re up against. I can’t stop thinking about what it would take to reach that level.” His gaze lifted beyond the habitat rings to where Earth floated against the stars. “Getting stronger is only the beginning. The cost is what keeps me awake. What I could lose chasing it. What I might gain if I reach it. If we reach it.”

“Still…” His voice softened. “I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t try.”

He turned from the window, meeting their eyes in turn. “What do you want? Long-term or short. Doesn’t matter. I know what I want. I figured it out back at the Supermax, when Annie and I saw those superhumans flying overhead.”

A steady breath. “I want power. Enough to stand among giants like that. And I want to make things right. Starting with Santiago Systems.”

Annie gave a low whistle. “Not starting small, huh?”

“Small won’t change anything,” Alexander said.

Her grin widened. “Alright, my turn. I still want to find my sister. Thought I’d have to put it off, but with money, maybe I can afford people who know how to find someone who doesn’t want to be found.” Her voice dipped for a moment, then rallied. “And I want to get stronger. Beat up villains. Throw down with heroes.” She looked straight at Alexander. “And if you’re going to the top, so am I. I’ll be right there with you.”

Augustus had gone quiet. When he spoke, his usual cheer was gone. “I don’t have a grand plan. Not anymore. I had dreams once, but these days? Maybe I’ll track down some old friends. But you lot are my family now. If you’re going to war, I’ll be riding shotgun.”

Nobody laughed at the witty phrase.

Talia sat cross-legged in a low chair, hands folded. She had been silent until now, watching with that calm, sharp gaze of hers.

“I’ve always been a perfectionist,” she said at last. “School, work. But I didn’t feel truly alive until I started hunting monsters. Until I became what they feared. I want the worst people to pay, no matter what it takes. But I don’t want to do it alone anymore.”

Her eyes locked on Alexander’s. “Santiago Systems? Absolutely. Then whoever comes after them. We don’t stop until the world stops letting people like Flashpoint get away with murder.”

Silence fell again, heavy with shared resolve.

Alexander nodded once. “Then it’s settled. Grimnir is going to war.”

Annie raised her fist. “But first we get paid. Money, money, moneeey…”

“What do you mean you’ll only give us twenty percent?!” Annie growled.

Alexander said nothing. He sat in the corner of the viewing room, floral-scented tea cupped in both hands. The space was built for transactions like this: sound-dampened walls and no windows. A recessed table of polished steel took up the far side, fitted with scales and a variety of scanners. All of them were active.

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The haul was laid out in neat categories. Fifty gold bars stacked high. Jewelry on velvet trays. Crates for raw and cut gemstones. Sculptures and other artwork sealed in protective casing.

The man across from them had introduced himself as the Curator. Lean and sharp-featured, dressed in a black suit with no markings. He adjusted magnification lenses over one eye, examining a ruby with mild disdain.

“It isn’t personal,” he said. “You’re moving bulk, fast. That drives down your bargaining position.”

“You’re joking,” Annie shot back. “That’s forty million in gold alone. And the rest is priceless.”

“It isn’t priceless. It’s very definitively priced. That’s the point. I will have to cover the costs, not you. I’ll melt and remold, scrub serials, reappraise gems, launder the history on the art. The Queen vouched for you, so I’m not worried about this being some sort of sting. The heat’s another matter. At this volume, I won’t see profit for six months. Maybe longer.” His smile was thin. “And you’re not shopping around. No one else here can give you untraceable sticks in that amount. So yes. Twenty.”

Annie bristled. “Try at least half.”

Alexander sipped his tea. Jasmine, maybe. He glanced at Augustus, who had done the talking at first but stepped back to allow Annie to fume for a bit. He was expecting him to step in any second now.

“Let’s not insult anyone’s intelligence,” Augustus said, adjusting his collar. “You know the bullion’s flawless. You’ve been running scans on the gems, and your face lit up like a kid at Christmas when you saw that bust. Don’t pretend you’re not itching to own it.”

The Curator arched an eyebrow. “I’m itching with risk.”

“Risk?” Augustus leaned in, voice smooth. “How about passing on tens of millions in clean profit because you lowballed the wrong crew? You’re the best on the station, right? Not just a fence. So don’t pretend this is beneath you.”

Alexander set his cup down. “And we’re not as desperate as you think. My people want it moved quickly so we can focus on other matters. But I’d be happy to find your biggest rival and sign an exclusive agreement for all of Grimnir’s future needs, even if it means it pays out over a year.”

He didn’t bother looking at the man.

Talia spoke without looking up from her tablet. “Law enforcement spikes and rising logistics expenses have already raised laundering rates. Long-term projections climb higher every quarter. Sit on this haul, and in three months you’ll clear ninety percent margins.”

Augustus’s smile was thin. “Forty percent on the bullion. Thirty on the rest. That leaves you with thirty-five million in profit by half a year.”

The Curator tapped the table. “And you’ll sign exclusivity for this station?”

“No,” Alexander said, standing. “Maybe next time, if you don’t lowball us again.”

The Curator exhaled, then slid a tablet across the table. Itemized values filled the screen. “I’ll need to split it across seven credit sticks if you want it all untraceable.”

“That’s acceptable,” Augustus said. “I’ve pinged you the amounts we need.”

“Deal,” the Curator said.

Augustus shot Alexander a questioning glance, then signed with a flick of a finger with Alexander’s approval.

Annie slumped back with a huff. “Damn right, deal. I was about to flip the table.”

“You did great,” Augustus said, sliding the tablet back. “He came in low, you went high, I brought it down the middle. That’s teamwork.”

She perked up at that. “R-right, that’s totally what I was going for.”

Alexander watched them finish the exchange. Twenty-six million. Not enough to last forever. But enough to get started.

The clinic was pristine with its white walls, accompanied by potted plants and framed prints. Eucalyptus mixed with the sting of disinfectants. The healer stood ready, Annie already reclining in the exam chair.

“Excellent,” he said as Augustus shook his hand. “I’ve received the transfer. Thank you. If the rest of you will wait out—”

“No,” Alexander, Talia, and Augustus said in perfect sync.

The healer blinked. “I assure you, your friend is in good hands. I’m registered. Licensed for augmentations, superhumans—”

“No,” they said again.

Annie grinned from the chair, arms behind her head enjoying herself.

The healer tried again, his tone even though his posture was turning defensive. “I’ll need to lift her shirt to examine the wound, but the healing will only take minutes. I’ve performed over nine hundred such—”

Alexander stepped closer. Nothing in the room changed, but the weight of his presence settled over the man like a shroud.

“We just met another healer,” he said quietly. “We know exactly what your kind can do. She’s like a sister to us. So let me be clear. No matter the repercussions, if she doesn’t walk out of here alive… neither will you.”

The healer swallowed.

Behind him, Annie let out a whistle. “You’re making me blush.”

Talia moved beside Alexander. “We’ll stay out of your way. But we’ll be watching.”

Augustus gave the man a sympathetic smile. “Nothing personal. Just history.”

The healer inclined his head and turned back to Annie. “Very well. Let’s begin.”

Alexander got his own wounds healed, too. As with Annie’s, some scarring would remain, but it was a comfort to no longer hurt every time he moved… well, anything.

They parted ways not long after.

Annie vanished toward the arenas, already muttering about rotations and weapon policies. Augustus donned his charm and went to network in casinos and cocktail lounges. Talia had accepted requests from the others and then slipped off to the information broker the Queen had recommended, her face unreadable as always.

It was the first time since Grimnir’s founding that they went solo. Alexander disliked it, but he had suggested it regardless. They needed to stretch their legs, to see what the world was like now that they had the credits and status to move as players.

Each carried a personal credit stick with 1.5 million. Augustus held an additional 4.5 million: reimbursement and seed money for the day he chose to rebuild what he’d lost. He hadn’t asked for it and wisely hadn’t argued against it.

Three more sticks held their operational fund. One stayed with Augustus, another with Talia, and the third Alexander kept. Leaving one in Annie’s hands hadn’t seemed… wise. Not for a lack of trust, but because she had a tendency to misplace things and ask questions with her fists. Operational budgets and impulse control weren’t exactly her hot topics.

Now Alexander walked the lower habitat rings alone. The station’s tech spine: a labyrinth of parts vendors, scrap dealers, repair stalls, and booths hawking firmware pulled from alien wrecks.

The air smelled of dust, solder smoke, and overused filtration. Machinery hummed. Drones floated overhead, scanning crates and herding shipments. Cables dangled like roots across the ceiling.

In the shadow of a shuttered stall, Alexander finished composing his message. No subject. No signature. His address was a string of encrypted nonsense.

He read it once more. Then sent it.

Whatever else happened here, the seed was planted.

He tightened the orbits of his drones and stepped back into the throng of people.

He had some shopping to do.

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