Page 96 of Salvation for the Alien Mercenary

Rettnor's expression twisted with rage. "You think these people care about you? They don't even know who youreallyare!"

"They know exactly who I am," she replied. "I'm Salvation, one of the top-ranked NSAT players in the sector. What they don't know is how you manipulated and abused your position and your staff for years."

His hand shot out, fingers closing around her wrist. "You little bitch?—"

The movement was pure reflex. Jesh's recent combat lessons kicked in, and she twisted her arm free as her other hand formed a fist. She slammed it up and into Rettnor's nose with a satisfying crunch.

Blood streamed down his face as he staggered backward. Spot stuck out a leg, optical sensors flashing with glee as Rettnor tripped and crashed to the floor with an undignified yelp.

A stunned silence fell over the nearby crowd before whispers erupted like wildfire.

Rettnor glared up at her, hand clutching his nose. "Security! Arrest her! She attacked me!"

Four security officers pushed through the gathering spectators, their uniforms bearing the NeuroSyn corporate logo rather than station security.

"What happened here?" the lead officer asked.

"This woman assaulted me without provocation," Rettnor snarled, struggling to his feet and aiming a kick at Spot. The drakeen core skittered sideways out of reach and made a rude noise. "I want her arrested immediately."

The officer glanced at Mira, then at her costume. "Identification, please."

Mira pulled out her player ID card. "Salvation. VIP demonstrator."

The officer's expression changed instantly. "Ms. Salvation. We've been expecting you." He turned to his colleagues. "Escort Ms. Salvation and her party to the VIP area."

"Wait, what?" Rettnor spluttered. "She broke my nose!"

"Sir, please calm down," the officer replied. He ran a scanner over Rettnor's security badge and frowned. "Dr. Rettnor. It says here that your parole conditions specifically prohibit contact with former staff and public disturbances."

The color drained from Rettnor's face. "This is ridiculous?—"

"Your parole officer has been notified," the security officer continued, gesturing to his colleagues. "Please come with us."

As two officers flanked Rettnor, she caught his eye and winked. "You're not worth the effort, Rettnor. Never were."

"You little bitch!" The doctor's face contorted with hatred, but the security team was already dragging him, struggling, away.

Davis stepped to her side, pride evident in his expression. "That was impressive."

"The punch or the verbal takedown?" she asked, flexing her sore knuckles.

"Both." He brushed a strand of hair from her face. "You didn't need me to step in at all."

"No," she agreed, "but I'm glad you were here anyway."

A NeuroSyn representative approached, tablet in hand. "Ms. Salvation? We're ready for you in the VIP demonstration area."

Mira nodded, suddenly aware of the crowd watching them. "Lead the way."

The representative glanced at her group. "Your companions can watch from the VIP section, but only registered players are allowed in the demonstration arena."

"Of course," she replied, taking a deep breath. "I'm ready."

"Good luck," Davis said, pride evident in his voice.

Six weeks ago, she'd been ready to run from him, from the changes he was undergoing. Now, she couldn't imagine being anywhere else… but this moment was hers.

"I don't need luck," she replied with a confident smile. "But thanks for being here."