Chapter 116 Dance.

Chapter 116: 116 Dance.

"Because that’s what heroes do," Golden Boy muttered, though the resentment rolling off him was palpable.

He leaned his head back against the brick wall, staring up at the ceiling. "Do you have any idea how humiliating this is, Miles? Me. The son of Extraordinary. A marquee A-lister. And I’m supposed to shamble out there, pretend to be a braindead zombie, and let three autotuned pop-tarts ’save’ me to boost their engagement metrics."

Fucking Golden Boy!

This was why I hated his guts, he’s an annoying entitled piece of steaming gold-plated shit. And I can’t tell him that because I need him to get out there.

"It’s the job, Golden. The same one you’ve been doing for years now." I said, my patience completely evaporating. "You cash the oversized check, you smile for the cameras, and you go buy another sports car. Now get to your mark."

"I’m not a fucking prop, Miles," he snapped, the drunkenness fading into a sudden, vindictive clarity. His golden skin flared, illuminating the dark backstage corridor. "I’m a leading man. I offered you a partnership. We could have run this city’s PR cycle for a decade. But you rejected me. You treated me like a joke."

"You are a joke," I shot back. "A sloppy, entitled joke. You wanna know why I specifically don’t want to be your arch? Because I’d lose my cool and bash your face in."

Golden Boy’s jaw tightened. A bitter, ugly smirk spread across his face. "Yeah? Well, this joke got a much better offer. Turns out, being your arch-nemesis pays a hell of a lot more when you’re not around to script the fights anymore."

My blood instantly ran cold.

’Just a single life. Is that really such a massive ask? Thirty million will buy an incredible amount of silence.’

Delirium’s encrypted client. The one on the holo-log. This bastard actually took a contract to end my life.

"I really am sorry, Miles," Golden Boy said.

Oh, fuck.

I barely had time to react. My instincts kicked in, a magnetic pulse instantly sliding the heavy iron plates over my chest and driving my armored fist forward to intercept him, but Golden Boy was an old hand at close-quarters combat.

His fist was already moving, glowing with a blinding, superheated aura of kinetic energy.

He didn’t even try to dodge my punch; he just took it on the chin and delivered his own.

The blast of kinetic force hit my chest plate with the impact of a runaway freight train. The metal buckled instantly.

A shockwave of golden-orange energy exploded against my ribs, lifting me completely off my feet and sending me hurtling backward through the air.

I smashed through a stack of wooden crates and hit the far concrete wall. The impact rattled my skull, making my vision swim with black spots.

Fuuuuck! Searing pain lanced through my chest. I definitely had a couple of busted ribs. Son of a bitch.

I barely made out another flare of golden light through the dust. I desperately yanked myself sideways with a magnetic pull just as a second blast of raw kinetic force smashed into the wall where my head had been, cratering the reinforced concrete with a deafening CRACK.

Psyren’s show was still going on and I couldn’t afford to have a second debut of one of my proteges go down the drain.

I shook the stars from my eyes, feeding power to my suit’s thrusters to hover in the air, glaring down at Golden Boy as he stepped out of the shadows.

"You bastard," I growled, coughing as my suit’s medical sensors blared warnings into my HUD. "Why?"

"I told you, I’m not a prop," Golden Boy sneered, rolling his jaw where I’d hit him. A crackling aura of kinetic energy surrounded him, lifting him inches off the floor. "I’m not spending the next five years playing the ’grizzled mentor’ for a bunch of teenage girls until Firefly quietly retires my contract. I’m taking that thirty million, buying my own agency, and doing whatever the hell I want."

"You sold me and Firefly out to a cyborg freak for cash?" I spat. I thought he had slightly more self-respect than being Delirium’s highly-paid errand boy, but keeping him talking had the bonus effect of buying me time to find a weapon.

I pushed my magnetic field past him, locking onto the heavy iron rigging of a pair of massive spare subwoofers stacked near the curtain.

Golden Boy actually scoffed, adjusting his sunglasses. "He’s a creep, sure, but his money clears. I’m sorry it had to be you, Polaris. Really. But it’s just business."

"No, you’re not sorry," I said, tasting copper in my mouth. "But you will be."

I swept my arm forward, violently ripping the subwoofers from their moorings and sending them flying at his back like a pair of one-ton cannonballs.

He caught the motion in his peripheral vision and spun around just in time for the heavy equipment to smash directly into him.

But much to my extreme annoyance, the kinetic impact was instantly absorbed. The sheer kinetic force dispersed across his glowing, golden skin like a ripple in a pond. The speakers shattered into useless scrap, and Golden Boy didn’t even flinch.

Shit. Right. He soaked up kinetic energy. Hitting him with heavy objects just charged him up.

He looked back toward me, a sadistic grin stretching across his face. He drew back his fist, the absorbed energy from the speakers adding to the crackling, volatile aura gathering around his hand. He let it fly.

I dove out of the way, letting the energy blast crater the floor beneath me, melting the concrete into glass.

"I can’t afford to let you walk out of here, Polaris!" Golden Boy yelled over the deafening thud of the Superstars’ concert echoing from the stage. "The bounty requires visual confirmation!"

"Fine," I said, wiping blood from my chin and bracing myself in the air. "Let’s dance, Golden. We’ve got one song left."