The staff leads me from the arena through a different exit than I entered, a wider hallway with fancy-looking walls instead of the basic concrete crap I'm used to. My body hurts in that good way after a fight, muscles already starting to recover faster than any normal human's would.

  "Victor's quarters," says the attendant, pointing to a door that slides open to reveal a room that makes my crappy independent cell look like a fucking closet.

  Holy shit. The "quarters" is actually a suite, main living room with real furniture, separate bedroom with an actual mattress instead of that thin piece of garbage I've been sleeping on, and a bathroom with what looks like unlimited water. The walls have adjustable lighting instead of those harsh fluorescents that give everyone headaches, and I can even control the temperature.

  "Standard victor's accommodation for forty-eight hours following arena triumph," explains the attendant, tapping a wall panel that shows my fight stats and upcoming schedule. "Enhanced food delivered based on your needs, priority access to the good training rooms, and you can communicate with approved contacts."

  The wall panel displays some pretty impressive numbers from my fight:

  Combat Duration: 3:42

  Strike Efficiency: 94.3%

  Evasion Success Rate: 87.6%

  Force Application Optimization: 91.8%

  Overall Performance Rating: Exceptional

  "Sponsor representatives may request meetings during your consideration period," continues the attendant, pointing to a comm panel by the door. "You don't have to accept, but it's recommended if you want better opportunities. First scheduled request: Crystalline Consortium, 7pm today."

  So they're already lining up to pitch their deals barely hours after the fight. The Consortium still wants me even though I told them no before. Guess they like my combat skills enough to forget about the rejection.

  "More information available through the room system," the attendant finishes, heading for the door. "Recovery supplements coming in thirty minutes. Your next fight will be scheduled based on how quickly you heal rather than the standard rotation."

  The door slides shut behind him, leaving me alone in luxury I haven't experienced since before the aliens nabbed me. The quiet feels weird after the constant mechanical noise I'm used to, the environmental systems here just hum softly instead of that industrial drone from the independent blocks.

  I check out the place cautiously, still not trusting this sudden comfort after months of deliberately shitty conditions. The bathroom has actual water pressure and temperature controls, unheard of in independent allocation. The bed has real padding instead of that thin joke they call a mattress. Even the air feels different, cleaner somehow, not that recycled crap we normally breathe.

  The wall screen lights up as I get near it, showing more info about my perks:

  Food: Actual meals based on what I want

  Training: Reserved facilities with the good equipment

  Communication: Approved contact list including handlers, potential sponsors, and selected independent assets

  Recreation: Entertainment options including media, recovery services, and limited environment simulation

  The screen also shows a notification: "Communication request: Null Asset N-4186. Accept or decline?"

  Desta's already found a way to contact me through official channels, smart use of our psychological support story to establish communication legitimately. I hit accept immediately, curious how she managed to get comm access given her Null classification.

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  The screen switches to video, showing Desta in what looks like some kind of comm booth rather than personal quarters. Her face is as blank as ever, but something in her eyes tells me this isn't just a casual check-in.

  "Victory acknowledgment," she says formally, keeping to the script for the monitors. "Psychological stability framework continuation recommended following combat stress exposure."

  Translation: we need to talk about what your arena win means beyond the obvious.

  "Thanks," I respond, matching her formal tone while getting the subtext. "This place is pretty good for recovery."

  Her eyes flick briefly to something offscreen before coming back. "System access limitations prevent comprehensive support without direct proximity. Recommend authorized visitation under established psychological framework parameters."

  She's telling me she can't safely say what she needs to through monitored channels, needs to see me in person to share info without being overheard.

  "A visit sounds good given the circumstances," I agree, understanding what she's really saying. "The room system should let me request that through the normal channels."

  Desta nods slightly, seeing I understand. "Will submit appropriate documentation through system channels. Expected processing time approximately two hours given current facility authorization priorities."

  We keep talking about the fight and recovery recommendations, maintaining the appearance of legitimate psychological support while establishing when we can actually talk freely.

  After the call ends, I turn my attention to the room's perks, particularly the promised food that should arrive soon. Fighting takes a lot out of you, even with enhanced abilities. The arena victory might have unexpected benefits beyond just status, actual quality food instead of that paste crap means better physical recovery.

  The wall screen chimes again: "Sponsor information packages available for review before scheduled meetings. Access or decline?"

  I hit access, figuring knowing what they're offering gives me an advantage regardless of whether I take any deals. The screen shows detailed profiles of the two interested sponsors:

  Crystalline Consortium: Focus on structural enhancement optimization, particularly crystalline integration with existing biological systems. Offers specialized training in molecular reinforcement techniques and access to proprietary enhancement compounds for independent application without classification modification.

  Bastion Directive: Specializes in defensive capability development, particularly impact resistance and force distribution architectures. Provides advanced training in combat sustainability protocols and resource allocation for environmental adaptation enhancements.

  Bastion Directive? I don’t know who they are, but it looks like my improved physical resistance has piqued their interest.

  A chime at the door announces the arrival of my promised food. The door slides open to reveal not the expected attendant but Nova, those light patterns flowing across her skin as she wheels in a cart loaded with covered dishes.

  "Congratulations on the arena win," she says, her patterns shifting to warmer colors as she arranges the food containers on a side table. "Pretty impressive performance for someone supposedly plateaued in development."

  Why is she here? Last time I saw her was before my independence. She made it pretty clear back then that we were over. Is she trying to recruit me again?

  "Seems like overkill to send special delivery for standard victory food," I say, watching her carefully while trying to keep my face neutral.

  Nova's patterns pulse briefly with what might be amusement. "Arena winners get special treatment. Performance metrics like yours attract particular interest from certain sectors." She takes the covers off the food containers, revealing actual prepared meals instead of nutrition paste: meat, vegetables, complex carbs arranged to look good and probably taste even better.

  "I'm sure the sponsors are falling all over themselves already," she continues, her light patterns getting more intense. "Crystalline Consortium especially, they hate losing promising assets to independence. Arena success gives them a chance to recruit you without going through more troublesome programs."

  She certainly knows a lot. Did she learn all this from her sponsors?

  "You seem to know more than you should," I say, helping myself to the food while we talk.

  Wow! This tastes absolutely amazing! After weeks of bland paste, my tongue is exploding from the actual flavor and texture of the food.

  Nova's patterns form complex sequences as she moves toward the seating area. "Let's just say victory opens doors that were closed before. Including early news about important facility changes." She gestures for me to join her once I've loaded up my plate. "Information you might find useful given your recent victory."

  I sit across from her, balancing my hunger against suspicion about her convenient timing. "And you're sharing this out of the goodness of your heart rather than trying to recruit me for your faction?"

  Her light patterns shift to a configuration I haven't seen before, something calculating but also maybe genuinely concerned. "Mutual interest. Trust me, you’ll want to hear what I have to say."

  "I'm listening," I say, continuing to eat while staying cautious. The amazing food alone makes it worth hearing her out, even if she has ulterior motives beyond simple information sharing.