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Psychobox Robots - A Grand Eye Tale
CHAPTER THREE - THE HIGH PRIESTESS

CHAPTER THREE - THE HIGH PRIESTESS

Battery and Coil woke up at the same time in an empty, darkened arena. Their hands were bound and their psychic power was drained to zero. Standing in front of them, arms crossed and rage stricken across her metallic face, was Fuse. Instead of her plastic poncho, she wore a full suit of dark grey body armour. Standing next to her was a tall, skinny robot with a single, bug eye.

‘You gonna feed us to your cyclops there?’ asked Battery.

Fuse ignored him. ‘You two were gonna walk in, Amp was gonna give you a test of courage, you’d pass it and end up here as competitors, win the tournament and gain a spot in our super-secret club of Psychobox-escapers, but no. You couldn’t, could you? You were just too impatient. Amp’s audio tubes got messed up a while back and now any sound more than a whisper messes with his head. And you just shouted straight at him from a metre away. He hasn’t calmed down yet. It’s been twelve hours.’

‘Not my problem,’ Battery replied.

Fuse nodded to the tall robot and he kicked Battery in the chest, knocking the stout robot over. Battery coughed out an oily laugh.

‘What, you’re just gonna beat me up until you think I’m sorry enough?’

The tall robot looked at Fuse questioningly. Fuse shook her head. ‘Normally we hire mannequin soldiers for the initial stages of the tournament before moving onto fights between participants. This time we’ll just use you two. If you beat all the participants we’ll think about letting you into our club.’

Battery grinned. ‘How many fighters we talkin’?’

‘Six-hundred and eighty-two.’

Battery’s grin widened.

FIGHT ONE-

‘Robots and androids!’ cried the announcer, ‘It’s time again for the fifty-third annual Super-Secret Pyschobox-Escaping Club Induction Tournament Deluxe!’

‘Fifty-third?’ Battery asked, incredulous. ‘How many bots does this club have?’

It was now a week after Battery and Coil’s first encounter with Fuse. After excessive mechanical check-ups and liability waivers, the pair were finally about to face their first opponent. They had been put in grey, papery jumpsuits and given a moderate dosage of psychic power. No doubt their opponents would have more. As the announcer continued pumping up the incoming fight, the tall, one-eyed robot (that Battery had come to know as Alkali) ducked into the combatant’s chamber where Battery and Coil stood. Previously the room had only been used for mindless mannequin fighters, so there were no seats or charging stations. Alkali pointed at the door to the arena and gave a stern look. They were on.

‘Ready, Coil?’ asked Battery, slapping his friend on the back.

Coil, who hadn’t spoken in a week, shook his head.

Battery grimaced and turned to the thick steel door that stood between them and combat. Battery wasn’t actually sure whether it was a fight to the death or not. He hoped the judge would stop him if it wasn’t. Actually, he didn’t hope that. Battery wanted to deck some nerds. The door shifted open with an unsettling rumble and the cries of the crowd filled the combatant’s chamber. Already in the metal-floored arena was their opponent. He was a tiny, but disproportionately muscular bot, with a single, giant spike of hair. The hair spike was taller than he was. The little bot snarled as Battery and Coil walked into the arena. The little bot’s eyes were purple flames of fury.

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‘Looks like we got a weird one first up,’ Battery whispered to Coil. Coil seemed too terrified to hear him.

The announcer’s voice boomed across the industrial, open-air stadium.

‘AND HERE… WE… GO!’

The little robot charged. Battery charged. Coil ran. The crowd roared. Just before colliding with the little bot, Battery propelled himself into the air, grabbing onto the bot’s hair spike instead. He tore it from the bot’s scalp with a single, psychically-charged yank. It came out as a single, solid piece. Battery had guessed it wasn’t naturally grown robot hair, mostly due to the fact that robots couldn’t grow hair. The little robot erupted into a rabid, biting animal, enraged by his sudden balding. He jumped into the air, hovering with his psychic power. Battery did the same, wielding the robot’s hair like a spear. The little bot was frothing at the mouth. Battery didn’t know it was possible to be so angry.

‘Come get it!’ he taunted.

The little bot rocketed forward, orbs of psychic energy forming in his hands. He zipped to the right of Battery, tossing one of the orbs at him, then circled around, tossing the other at Battery’s left. Battery dropped out of the air, dodging them both, then threw the hair like a harpoon at its former bearer. The little bot dodged it easily. Battery followed up with a beam attack, almost hitting the suspended booth where the announcer was. He unleashed several more psychic lasers from his palms, but the bot dodged each one easily. Taking advantage of Battery’s drained energy reserves, the bot exploded forth with the intent of a head-on collision. Battery spread his arms wide, welcoming his opponent. The little bot slammed into his chest, driving Battery back into the arena wall. Just as planned. Before the bot could get away, Battery wrapped his heavy arms around him and squeezed. The bot screeched in pain. Battery continued his hug of death. The little bot struggled, the screws holding his frame together bursting. With a final, searing whine, the little bot popped. Shards of metal and tubing flew everywhere, and not a square centimetre of the arena was left without a splotch of oil. Battery dropped the twisted carcass of the little robot and laughed. He stood, dripping in oil, booed by a crowd of hundreds, and he laughed. He laughed harder than he ever had before. Eventually the booing died down, only to be replaced with awkward silence as Battery giggled like a schoolbot.

‘Let’s… go to the judge,’ the announcer eventually said.

A booming voice replaced the announcer’s. Battery couldn’t tell where it was coming from.

‘Combatant Battery is the winner.’

It was Fuse. She was the tournament’s judge. Battery laughed even harder.

‘Damn right I am!’ he shouted, ‘Finally giving me some recognition!’

Coil, huddled at the opposite side of the arena, watched Battery. Watched his manic laughter and the robot corpse at his feet. Coil watched the bot he had considered his friend, and Coil felt something he hadn’t felt before. Coil looked to his right and the saw the mangled spike of plastic that had been the little bot’s hair. Coil picked it and up and carried it to Battery.

‘Give that here!’ Battery said to Coil, his voice friendly and playful. ‘I wanna hang it up on my wall after I win this tournament!’

Coil looked at Battery, but all he saw was a mannequin warrior drenched in the oil of his enemy. With a single thrust, Coil stabbed Battery with the little bot’s hair.

Battery’s smile dropped. He coughed. The crowd was silent.

‘With… with the hair?’ Battery said, ‘Really, Coil?’

Coil nodded solemnly as Battery’s battery died.

Silence.

‘WOW, WHAT A FIGHT!’ screamed the announcer. The crowd erupted into cheers.

Then Coil realized he had resigned himself to the worst fate possible. He was going into the next round.