Chapter 32: The Golden Fraud

Holographic billboards across the towers of District 1 replayed the scene on endless, humiliating loops.

Footage of Gild weeping on his knees in his shattered golden armor dominated every social feed and news broadcast in the metropolis.

By morning, Olympus Corporation’s market valuation had dropped by thirty billion credits, triggering emergency shareholder selloffs across the financial core.

In a small District 9 coffee diner, Toby stared at his datapad screen, laughing so hard he nearly choked on his breakfast sandwich.

"Leo, you have to see this!" Toby wheezed into his phone, wiping tears of amusement from his eyes.

"The underground forums made a remix of Gild’s crying confession with industrial bass beats, and it is already the top trending track in all nine districts!"

"The corporate sponsors are not laughing," Leo answered calmly from the safehouse kitchen, sipping a cup of black tea while checking the morning bounty board.

"Olympus Corporation lost half their quarterly profits in five minutes, and people with that much money do not take public humiliation lightly."

"Let those billionaire executives cry into their pillows," Toby chuckled, leaning back in his booth.

"For the first time in ten years, the dockworkers are walking through the scrap yards with their heads held high because someone actually stood up to the corporate bullies."

"The whole lower sector is celebrating," Toby added with warmth in his tone.

"People are painting purple ghost symbols on the shipping containers and refusing to pay protection taxes to Flint’s remaining collection thugs."

"They finally believe someone is fighting for them without asking for corporate kickbacks," Toby said, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Even the local precinct captains are turning a blind eye to the Ghost’s sightings, pretending their patrol radars are glitching whenever he crosses a district border."

"Stay alert at the warehouse today," Leo instructed gently, feeling a faint ripple of warning through his All-Spark perception channels.

"When corporations panic, they start lashing out at anyone nearby."

Across the river in the penthouse boardroom of the Apex Bio-Tech Citadel, Chairman Marcus Gruber slammed his fountain pen into the conference table.

The twenty board directors around the table flinched in unison, their faces pale as red loss margins flashed across the monitors.

"We gave that pampered idiot fifty million credits of advanced sponsortech," Gruber snarled, his voice trembling with quiet, venomous rage.

"And he exposed our private contract structure to thirty million live viewers in less than two minutes of combat."

"The Hero Association is demanding an official inquiry into our pacification methods, Chairman," a terrified vice president whispered, adjusting his collar.

"And the public approval rating for the Ghost has surged past eighty percent in the lower sectors."

"The Hero Association is full of bureaucratic cowards who only act when their public relations image is threatened," Gruber hissed, his eyes narrowing into slits.

"The Ghost is not a hero, he is an unregistered genetic thief who carries stolen prototype hardware in his chest, and I want him erased before the Association tribunal convenes next week."

"What if the media catches wind of another strike?" the vice president asked with shaking hands.

"There will not be any media coverage for this operation," Gruber replied with icy finality.

"We are using unregistered hunter units with optical cloaks and zero corporate serial numbers."

Gruber tapped a sequence on his encrypted console, authorizing the deployment of four Olympus Mark-V Hunter Droids from the private armory.

"And what about Kestrel?" the vice president asked nervously.

"She stood on the perimeter and refused to engage the vigilante during the broadcast."

"Her hero license is suspended effective immediately," Gruber answered coldly.

"Deploy the hunter droids to District 7 and ensure she does not live long enough to testify at the council hearing."

Five miles away in District 7, Bekka walked down a quiet, rain-slicked commercial alleyway, her gym bag slung over one shoulder.

Her phone chimed with a red notification from the Hero Association registry: [ License Status: Indefinitely Suspended Under Corporate Inquiry ].

She stopped under an amber streetlamp, staring at the screen with a mixture of bitter disgust and vindication.

"Cowards," she muttered under her breath, turning off the phone and pocketing it.

"You suspend me for watching a fraud get exposed, while you let Olympus buy off the disciplinary committee."

She tightened her grip on her strap, feeling the cold rain soak through her jacket as her thoughts turned back to the rail terminal.

She remembered the calm confidence in Leo’s stance and the absolute fearlessness in his posture when he confronted thirty corporate gunners without hesitation.

’He risked everything to protect innocent laborers,’ she thought, ’while the heroes on the billboards only fight when there is a sponsor bonus waiting.’

A sudden drop in ambient sound made her pause mid-stride, her combat instincts flaring with danger.

The hum of distant traffic completely cut out as four cloaked optical signatures detached themselves from the walls surrounding the alley.

Four sleek, matte-black Hunter Droids materialized from optical camouflage, their red sensors locking onto her chest.

"Target identified: Bekka Hayes," the lead droid droned in a synthesized cadence.

"Authorization code: Black-Site Purge. Terminate with extreme prejudice."

The droids raised their high-caliber wrist cannons, arming their kinetic pulse coils with a whine.

Bekka dropped her gym bag instantly, snapping her crimson aero-gauntlets onto her fists as wind ether swirled around her arms.

"You think four corporate toys are enough to take down a Horizon hero?" she shouted defiantly, dropping into a kickboxing stance.

She leaped forward with explosive speed, unleashing an Aero-Velocity axe kick that sent a crescent blade of compressed wind whistling toward the lead machine.

The pressurized gale struck the droid’s chest, staggering the chassis back two steps but failing to breach its alloy armor.

The four droids fired simultaneously, filling the narrow alley with a storm of explosive kinetic slugs.

Bekka pivoted through the air, dodging three incoming rounds with agile reflexes. A grazing kinetic shot clipped her left shoulder, tearing her jacket and sending her crashing onto the wet ground.

"Suppressing target," the rear droid announced, leveling its dual gatling barrels at her chest.

"Initiating termination sequence in three seconds."

Before the droids could step forward to deliver the execution volley, the shadows along the alley floor surged upward like an erupting geyser.

A freezing drop in temperature washed through the alley as a dark figure stepped between Bekka and the firing line.

Leo stood with his blade resting lightly against his hip, his coat snapping in the sudden vortex of dark ether.

Behind the glowing optical lenses of the four droids, the All-Spark generated a fresh mission alert:

[ Heroine Defense Objective Triggered: Protect Bekka Hayes ]

[ Threat Assessment: Olympus Mark-V Hunter Droids x4 (A-Rank Sentry Units) ]

[ Objective: Obliterate The Purge Squad And Secure The Horizon Hero ]

[ Rewards: +15,000 Combat EXP | 200,000 Credits | Bekka Resonance +15% ]

"You are late, ghost boy," Bekka panted from the ground, a fierce smirk breaking across her lips despite the pain in her shoulder.

"I had to finish my tea," he answered quietly, his gaze locking onto the four targeting lasers aimed at his chest.

"And I had to make sure Olympus Corporation sent something worth cutting."

He drew the Phase-Edge blade with a smooth, spatial whisper that chilled the rainy night air.

"Stay behind me, Bekka. These toys belong in the scrap yard."