Chapter Five – A Pretty Decentralized Squad
Httoq, The Morning After
Romulus woke up feeling different.
Not weak.
Not drained.
But changed.
And that was worse.
He could still feel Feast, even after she had disappeared into the depths of Httoq. The energy transfer had been seamless, not stolen, not forced—just… inevitable. She had wanted. He had given.
That should have made it easier to accept.
It didn’t.
And that was all he would allow himself to think about it.
The Mind That Can Solve Anything
Lupa already knew what Feast was.
She just didn’t know why she was here.
She had assumed, at first, that Feast’s attachment to Romulus was purely transactional. She consumed energy. He generated it. Simple. Logical.
But that wasn’t entirely true, was it?
Feast could have taken from anyone. Could have left after she had fed. But she hadn’t.
And now, as she watched Feast pacing through the lower tunnels of Httoq, fingers dragging against cold metal walls as if listening for something, Lupa understood.
“You’re not here for Rom,” she said quietly.
Feast stilled. Then turned.
A slow, wicked smile. “Took you long enough.”
Lupa folded her arms. “Why me?”
Feast took a step closer. “Because you see the world in numbers.”
Lupa’s pulse ticked.
Feast tilted her head, eyes gleaming with amusement. “You ever wonder why you don’t just solve problems, Lupa? Why you reconstruct reality itself to fit the right answer?”
Lupa didn’t respond.
Because, of course, she had.
Feast’s voice softened, her smirk fading. “You’re on the edge of something. Something no one else has ever touched. But you’ll never reach it without help.”
A pause.
And then—
Lupa whispered, “It’s a pattern.”
Feast smiled. “Now you’re paying attention.”
Lupa’s hands clenched.
She had felt its presence in the way reality shifted around them, in the way the Federated Network connected minds like unseen threads on a vast loom.
It wasn’t just an equation.
It was the key to something else.
Feast stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You think you and your brothers were born like this by accident?”
Lupa held her breath.
Feast touched the wall beside them, fingertips barely grazing the surface. “Remo moves things. Romulus stabilizes things. You… alter things. But you are all imbalanced.”
Lupa swallowed. “And Hermes?”
Feast smiled. “Hermes is the missing weight on the scale.”
Lupa exhaled, the realization settling into place like a final piece in an impossibly large puzzle.
Feast leaned in, voice low. “He appeared when he was needed. I found Romulus when it was time for him to grow up. But you, Lupa—you were already ready.”
Global Tensions & The No Nation Regime
The world was restless.
No Nation had spent the last decade absorbing territories, erasing borders, and installing algorithmic governance that dictated who lived, who worked, who vanished.
Hit-her’s rule had begun with violence in the open—executions broadcast as warnings, dissidents erased before they could become symbols.
But something was changing.
Cities had started going dark—not out of fear, but out of strategy. Entire populations disconnecting, choosing silence over surveillance.
No Nation called it anomalous unrest.
The rest of the world called it a signal.
And somewhere in the ice, deep beneath Httoq, Lupa had just discovered the key to breaking everything.
Remo & Hermes’s Rock Concert Escape
Remo was not in the mood for games.
Which meant, of course, Hermes was about to push him into one.
“You wanna train your jump?” Hermes asked casually, tossing a pebble in the air.
Remo shot him a look. “I know that tone.”
“What tone?”
“The one where you’re about to get me killed.”
Hermes grinned. “C’mon, Remo. You’re getting better. You only lose control when you’re distracted, right?”
Remo narrowed his eyes. “...What are you suggesting?”
Hermes rocked back on his heels, stuffing his hands into his jacket. “There’s a concert happening right now.”
“No.”
“In São Paulo.”
“No.”
“Massive crowd, loud music—”
“Hermes.”
“—a perfect place to test your landing.”
Remo exhaled through his nose. “Why the hell would I take you to a concert?”
Hermes smirked. “Because it’s the first time I’ve actually asked you for something.”
Remo hesitated.
Damn it.
That was true.
“…Fine,” he muttered. “But if we get caught, you’re explaining it to Lupa.”
Hermes threw an arm around him. “Relax. What’s the worst that could happen?”
São Paulo, Brazil – Heavy Metal & A Confrontation
The roar of a thousand voices swallowed them the moment they landed.
Remo stumbled, swearing, adjusting to the sudden shift in gravity, temperature, noise. A heavy bassline vibrated through the air, shaking the ground beneath their feet.
Hermes grinned. “See? Perfect.”
“Fuck you,” Remo muttered.
Hermes ignored him, already moving toward the bathroom line. “I need to piss. Don’t disappear.”
Remo rolled his eyes but said nothing.
Hermes pulled off his denim jacket, tying it around his waist.
“Hey, asshole.”
Remo turned before Hermes did.
A young man, lean but solid, stood a few feet away, arms crossed. His dark hair was shaved short on the sides, longer on top, and his jaw was set like someone who had already spent too much time following orders.
He looked like a soldier.
Or someone about to become one.
Hermes raised an eyebrow. “Gonna need specifics, man. There are a lot of assholes in this place.”
The guy pointed at his shirt. “What the fuck is this supposed to mean?”
Hermes looked down at himself. IF YOU CAN READ THIS, TALK TO ME. YOU’RE FEDERATED.
He blinked. “Oh. That.”
The guy was still glaring.
“You got a problem with it?” Hermes asked lazily.
The guy hesitated. “I—”
And that was all Hermes needed to know.
“Oh, shit.” He grinned. “You actually read it.”
The guy took a step back. “No, I just—”
“Nah,” Hermes said, already reading the flicker of realization in the man’s face. “You wouldn’t be pissed if you didn’t know exactly what it meant.”
Remo groaned. “Wait. This is why we came here? You already knew?”
Hermes smirked. “Obviously.”
“You’re recruiting without talking to the rest of us?”
“Yes.”
Remo sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “And?”
Hermes clapped the guy on the back.
“Look at us. We’re the Pretty Decentra—” He stopped mid-word, scrunching his nose. “Ugh. That’s too long.”
The guy frowned. “The what?”
Hermes shrugged. “A Pretty Decent Squad, tho.”
He paused, then snorted. “Huh. That’s actually a good name.”
Remo groaned.
“P.D.S. for short,” Hermes continued, ignoring him. “Easy to remember. Sounds official.”
The guy’s fists unclenched slightly, but his shoulders were still tense.
Hermes studied him. “Last show before something big?”
The guy hesitated. Then nodded.
Hermes smiled. “Yeah. I thought so.”
The man didn’t realize it yet.
But he would prove useful.
