Bitstream 013

The holo-screen switched to the arena feed, a massive, sand-swept colosseum under a sky of swirling, artificial nebulae. On one side, Squad Prism stood ready—three figures in matching, iridescent chrome armor, looking like they just walked off a corporate recruitment poster. On the other, a single man: Hiro, the Flame King.

"AND THE BATTLE BEGINS!" Vox's voice boomed through the bunker, rattling the very air as a deafening, bass-heavy horn blared across the arena.

Squad Prism moved as one, a textbook tactical advance. The largest, a brute with a massive tower shield, charged forward, his heavy footfalls kicking up plumes of red sand. The other two fanned out, their pulse rifles whining as they charged up, painting Hiro with targeting lasers.

"SHOOT HIM! RIDDLE THE BASTARD WITH HOLES! SHOW HIM PRISM ISN'T SOME FUCKING JOKE!" the shield-bearer roared, his voice amplified to rally the crowd, which erupted in a frenzy of cheers and jeers.

Hiro just smirked, a sliver of contempt on his skeletal, metallic face. "Initializing Battle Protocol," he whispered to himself, his voice a low, menacing hiss. "Warframe... activated."

"Ooooh, folks, did you hear that?!" Paisley chirped into her microphone, her fiber-optic hair flashing a frantic, excited crimson. "That's the attack protocol from the old AI Rebellion! That shit was outlawed centuries ago! Hiro doesn't give a single, solitary FUCK about the rules!"

Hiro stood perfectly still, an icon of arrogant calm. He raised a single hand. The first pulse bolts screamed across the arena, super-heated slugs of plasma meant to punch through tank armor. Just before they hit him, he moved. He didn't dodge or teleport; he simply wasn't there anymore, leaving behind a shimmering heat haze that distorted the air. He re-materialized directly behind one of the riflemen.

"SURPRISE, MOTHERFUCKER!" Vox screamed, his pixelated face contorting with manic glee.

Hiro's hand, glowing with the dull, orange light of a dying star, plunged into the back of the Prism soldier. It didn't punch through the armor; it melted through it with a sickening, wet sizzle. The soldier's chrome plating glowed cherry-red, then white-hot from the inside out. He let out a choked, gurgling scream as his internal organs, spine, and nervous system were flash-boiled inside his own suit. A gush of dark, super-heated blood sprayed from his mouth grill like a broken faucet. Hiro ripped his hand out, holding the soldier's charred, still-twitching lump of muscle that used to be a heart. He crushed it in his fist, a shower of embers and gore spattering the sand.

"HE RIPPED HIS FUCKING HEART OUT!" Paisley shrieked, her voice hitting a fever pitch. "KALI-MA! KALI-MA! STRAIGHT UP TEMPLE OF DOOM SHIT, FOLKS! SOMEBODY GET THIS MAN A SHRINK, AND GET ME A FUCKING CIGARETTE!"

The second rifleman spun around, his face a mask of horror, and opened fire wildly. Hiro just laughed, a harsh, metallic sound, as his fists ignited in roaring flames. The bullets flew towards him, and he began to throw punches, a blindingly fast barrage of fiery strikes that met each incoming pulse bolt. The air filled with the sharp crack of disintegrating slugs, a cloud of fiery sparks completely swallowing the volley. He walked through his own firestorm, his fists a blur of motion.

He flicked his wrist. A monomolecular chain-whip, wreathed in white-hot plasma, lashed out from a central node in his palm. It wrapped around the soldier's neck. It didn't just cut. It super-heated the metal and flesh, and with a brutal, contemptuous yank, Hiro ripped the man's head and entire spinal column clean out of his torso. The headless body stood for a second, a grotesque fountain spewing a geyser of boiling blood, hydraulic fluid, and vaporized spinal fluid from its neck stump, before collapsing into a twitching heap.

"SPINAL-ECTOMY!" Vox bellowed, slamming his fist on the announcer's desk. "THAT'S A NEW ONE FOR THE GODDAMN BOOKS! CLEAN, EFFICIENT, AND ABSOLUTELY FUCKING DISGUSTING! I LOVE IT!"

The last Prism member, the shield-bearer, roared in blind, animalistic fury and charged, his shield glowing with defensive energy.

Hiro just stood there, that wide, psychotic grin spreading across his face. "I shall cleanse you!" His eyes, once a dull orange, flared into a fiery crimson red as his skull-like face began to burn, the metal glowing hot.

The two titans of the arena charged at each other, the camera panning to a dramatic side angle as they closed the distance.

"I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!" the shield-bearer screamed.

"I SHALL BURN YOUR SINS TO ASH!" Hiro roared back in a manic charge.

The shield-bearer swung his massive shield, its thrusters firing to increase the velocity, creating a sonic clap that sent dust flying. Hiro leaned back, the edge of the shield missing his face by a millimeter. As the dust subsided, Hiro's flaming hand was clamped onto the side of the shield, the chrome melting and dripping like liquid mercury. With a violent whip of his arm, he tore the shield away and tossed it aside.

The shield-bearer jumped back, a confident smirk on his face. "You're fast, Flame King. But you're not the only plague-machine in this arena!" He slammed his fists together with a thunderous clash. "Initializing Rogue AI Augmentation! BATTLEFRAME: FROSTBITE, ACTIVATED!"

A wave of intense cold washed over the arena. The shield-bearer's arms were suddenly encased in a thick layer of diamond-hard, prismatic ice, forming jagged, razor-sharp claws on his fists and forearms.

"VOXXY-BABY, DO YOU SEE WHAT I'M SEEING?!" Paisley shouted. "THAT'S ROGUE AI TECH! THAT'S ILLEGAL AS SEVEN KINDS OF SIN!"

Vox's pixelated face was a rictus of pure joy. "EXACTLY, P! AND THAT'S WHAT MAKES THE CITADEL GAMES SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL! NOTHING IS ILLEGAL IN THE ARENA!"

The King of Flames versus the Prism of Ice. They charged again. They both lunged into the air, the camera spinning in a slow-motion 360-degree shot around them. Hiro, with his fist of roaring fire; his opponent, with his palm of absolute frost.

They clashed. A deafening HISSSSSSS of flash-vaporized matter erupted at the point of impact. The icy palm extinguished Hiro's flame, and the claws closed around Hiro's fist, it flash-froze in a split second. He clenched, and Hiro's entire arm shattered into a cloud of frozen, metallic dust.

The impact sent both flying. The Prism contestant landed on his feet, sliding to a halt. Hiro was thrown like a ragdoll, bouncing hard off the sand before crashing into the arena wall, cracking the reinforced concrete.

He sat there in a slump, his head hung low, his remaining flame extinguished. A low, raspy laugh began to emanate from him as he raised his head. "What do they call you?"

The Prism contestant began to walk towards him, his fists steaming with frost. "They call me Negative Zero."

Hiro threw his head back against the crushed wall. "I'll remember that when I carve it on your gravestone." His smirk was gone, replaced by a look of pure, homicidal focus. "That's if I can find enough of your ashes to fill a fucking thimble."

An explosion rocked the arena, a blast of pure, concussive heat erupting from where Hiro was slumped. The flames melted the nearest cameras.

"SEND IN THE DRONES! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!" Vox screamed.

As the new camera feeds adjusted, a figure emerged from the smoke and flames. It was Hiro. His skull-like head was now adorned with a crown of pure, ethereal blue flames. His eyes glowed with a shimmering blue halo. His missing arm had been replaced by a roaring vortex of cerulean plasma. His body armor glowed white-hot as he walked slowly into view.

He stopped and began to recite what sounded like a prayer, his voice a low, terrifying chant. "For the sins you have committed..."

Negative Zero charged, encasing his entire body in a thick shell of ice, his head becoming a jagged helm of frost as he ran.

"...for the sins of those you let fall on this battlefield..."

Zero roared, his glacial claws ready to rip Hiro apart.

"...and for the sins you will commit in your next life..."

Zero was on him, swinging his clawed arm at Hiro's face.

"...you have been judged. And now, it is time for you to take up your crown of sin."

Hiro blocked the arm effortlessly, swatting it away like a fly. Then, with an explosive grin, he began throwing punches. They weren't fast, but each one hit with the force of a meteor. The impact on Zero's chest caused the ice and armor on his back to explode outwards in violent, bloody shards.

The crowd went silent. All that could be heard was the sickening, wet crunch of Hiro's fists breaking bone and shattering chrome. Zero staggered, his defense crumbling, his body a mangled mess of flesh, ice, and broken machinery. He dropped to his knees, blood pouring from his mouth. "I… surrender…" he begged.

Hiro stopped and looked up at the announcer's pod.

"OH, SHIT!" Paisley yelped. "VIEWERS! CAST YOUR FUCKING VOTE! NOW!"

In an instant, Vox stood up, all cameras on him. He raised a fist, thumb sideways. He smiled, and with a glorious flourish, turned his thumb down. "DEATH!"

Hiro's grin was so wide the metal of his face began to crack. He approached Zero, removed the crown of blue flames from his own head, and slammed it onto Zero's. Zero began to scream, shaking uncontrollably as the ethereal fire crawled into his eye sockets and down his throat, boiling his brain from the inside. His eyeballs popped like over-ripe fruit. His scream was boiled away in his own throat. He was turned from a screaming man into a blackened, vaguely humanoid statue, which then crumbled into a pile of ash and molten chrome.

Hiro stood in the center of the arena. He looked up at the camera and gave a small, bored wave.

Vox, still standing, spoke with feigned solemnity. "A moment of silence for our fallen contestants…"

The crowd was quiet for three seconds.

"FUCK THAT!" Vox roared, laughing hysterically. "WHO LET THIS MAN COOK?!"

Paisley began banging her fists on the desk. "LET HIM COOK! LET HIM COOK!"

The entire crowd erupted, chanting as one. "LET HIM COOK! LET HIM COOK!" Hiro raised a glorious, flaming blue fist to the camera, and the Citadel went absolutely insane.

In the bunker, the room was silent. Cyn took a long drag from a synth-cigarette. "See?" she said, blowing a smoke ring. "Fire-Works."