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you have for us? You mentioned an idea for how to get Violet’s video out in the public eye?”

Jeff nodded, his hand coming up to stroke across his mustache, which he had grown out into a much bushier and less groomed version of its earlier cut. “Ah, yes, ma’am. Of course. Well, as you know, information has been broadcasted to the public at several stadiums across the city, but none are as popular as Starkrum Stadium. I believe Mr. Croft may even have fought there, at one time?”

“Almost fought there once,” replied Viggo after a moment. “But I worked there as a warden on patrol many times.”

Almost fought there. It was because of me that he hadn’t. Viggo had sacrificed his first-ever big league fight to chase after me, after the Porteque gang had swiped me from his changing room. That truly seemed like a lifetime ago now, even though it’d only been months.

“Well, fighting and all sports events have been cancelled for the foreseeable future,” Jeff said. “Many of the fighters have disappeared, but there is one who has taken on a position of prominence at the arena. His name is Anello Cruz. Have you heard of him?”

Of course we had. Cruz was one of the top fighters in Patrus—the very fighter Viggo had been matched up against on that fateful evening. I also recalled a night before that, when Viggo had taken me to the stadium to watch Cruz square off against another major competitor named Rosen. And had quickly taken him down.

I could tell by the way Viggo was looking at me, his eyes still faraway but somewhere more familiar now, he too was remembering those early days of our relationship. I gave him a smile, and a ghost of one flew across his lips, then vanished. “I’ve heard of him,” he replied to Jeff’s question.

“Wonderful! Because I have become, well, ‘friends’ may be too loose a word to describe it, but we have become… acquaintances. Regardless, I think he likes me well enough.”

“That’s, uh, nice,” said Viggo, looking somewhat taken aback. “But what does that mean for us?”

“Ah, right. My apologies—I ought to curb my rambling. I think Mr. Cruz and myself are on good enough terms that I might be able to impose upon him for a favor. Namely, I think we can use him to get to the control box in the stadium.”

I frowned in confusion. Looking around, I noted similar expressions on the rest of the group’s faces. “I’m sorry, Jeff… the control box?” I asked. “I thought Elena was having people announce the news in the stadium on a microphone. Did that change?”

Jeff tipped his head to one side, his eyes widening, and then his confused look changed to one of mild chagrin. “I’m terribly sorry, ma’am. You’re right, of course. I forgot to mention Elena has gotten the massive screens working, and has now been sending out pre-recorded messages to all the public places they’ve been using to broadcast—mostly other stadiums.” The man’s mustached face grew almost animated, an expression I’d rarely seen from him. “Here’s the most important part. In an attempt, I think, to show me how important his position is, Cruz let slip to me that Matrians have turned Starkrum Stadium into their broadcast center for all of Patrus, since the palace has fallen. Most, if not all of the other broadcasts are streamed directly from this stadium. They send a guarded technician there once or twice a day to upload the video to their feed. According to Cruz, it’s all very specifically tailored to keep unauthorized access out—to broadcast, they need both the technician’s gear and the computer in the broadcasting room.”

I absorbed this, looking around the room, the magnitude of that thought just beginning to build up in my mind. “And Cruz has access to this room?”

“Well, not directly. But he can get into the staff area of the building, which means we can probably find a way to get him to take us close enough.”

Ms. Dale jumped in over me. “What sort of man is Cruz? What would prompt him to aid us? Money, power? Or does he oppose the recent power shift?”

Jeff’s eyes grew shrewd. “Well, to be honest, he is a man who misses his former glory. He’s managed to avoid recruitment into the labor camps by actively assisting the Matrians, but if you catch him late enough at night and lend a friendly ear, it is clear that he’s less than satisfied with the status quo.” Jeff looked around and leaned a little closer to the camera. “I believe he would respond well to some attention.”

“What do we know about the stadium’s current security?” Viggo asked.

“Not much, sir, but given some of the stories Mr. Cruz has told me over supper, security is tight, but not impregnable. He’s talked about several different checkpoints in the stadium, four thus far, but I get the impression there are more.” Jeff took a deep breath and frowned. “I’m sorry I don’t have better information for you. It seems the more I speak, the more hopeless the idea becomes. I just figured you would want to know.”

“No, no. It’s definitely worth thinking about,” said Amber. “I mean, our biggest concern is getting into the city.” She looked around the room, her brows furrowed. “Those checkpoints are the biggest holdup, but if we can get in there and get a hold of that technician, I’m certain we can do something with this.”

“That’s a lot of ‘ifs,’” Viggo muttered, crossing his arms. “We need to decide whether the payoff is worth the risk.”

“Quite right, sir,” said Jeff. “I do not envy your decision at all. Do you have… any further questions for me?”

I looked around the room as people shook their heads one by one. “No, it doesn’t seem like it, Jeff,” I informed him. “Thank you for this. It’s a good start. Please stay safe.”

“I will do that, ma’am, as long as you and everyone there promise

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