Margaret savored the taste of her ham and cheese sandwich, relishing the way the flavors melded together, sticking to the roof of her mouth. It was a simple pleasure, one she enjoyed on this bright Sunday afternoon. She found herself seated in the expansive bleachers surrounding the shielded walls of the arena. The sunlight cast a warm glow over the scene, and the sparse crowd hinted at the calm before the storm of the upcoming semester. With a sip of water, she discarded the aluminum foil into the brown sandwich bag, sighing softly.
Beside her, a sudden bang echoed, causing Margaret to startle, nearly dropping her sandwich and water bottle. Quickly donning her headset, she snapped, "Watch where you're hitting, Piper!"
The arena's shields were formidable, capable of repelling almost anything thrown at them. Whether it was training lasers, cartridges, missiles, or even the occasional WarCasket hurled into the walls, they held firm. Piper, clad in a different suit from her old mech lost in the cluster belt, stood in stark contrast. Her upgraded Mercurian Unit, more humanoid in shape, boasted impressive stats, weaponry, and upgrades within a versatile WarCasket 'Medium' template.
Margaret couldn't help but notice the fresh paint job on Piper's mech, adorned with the emblem of House Mercury—a lone red rocket against the backdrop of a dark planet, now encircled by a ring signifying loyalty. The vibrant emerald eyes gleamed with determination, reflecting the fire burning deep within the machine's core. Margaret could feel its energy pulsating, hoping it would ignite something within Piper herself.
A Mercury 'Paladin' 2.5: WarCasket Model—a formidable force on the battlefield, capable of lightning-fast maneuvers and armed with a minigun, a weapon Piper wielded with skill. Piper bit her lip, feeling the rhythmic thump of her own WarCasket as she erupted into laughter at the sensation, even amid the cacophony of gunfire and missile dodging.
Sweat trickled from beneath her helmet, and with a frustrated gesture, she ripped it off, allowing her shoulder-length, orange-brown curls to cascade freely. "Damn you!" she screamed into her microphone. "You're dead, so dead!"
Margaret's eyes narrowed as she observed the opposing mech, its insignia emblazoned proudly on the right shoulder—a Mockingbird of Earth, its wings outstretched, but marred by a chain that disappeared into the metal depths.
Armed with a beam rifle, the opponent charged forward, weaving and dodging as he closed the distance. Meanwhile, Piper soared into the sky, thrusters blazing, raining down gunfire from her minigun. Margaret winced at the close calls, muttering beneath her breath, "Be careful, Piper."
A shuffle of footsteps drew her attention, and she turned to see two figures approaching, clad in the unmistakable orange jumpsuits of Mercury. They exchanged a glance before smirking at her, and despite herself, Margaret felt a smile tug at her lips.
"Hey, Margaret," Lucas Solaris greeted, his mop of untamed blond hair peeking out from beneath his beanie. Marcus Emberly remained silent, his eyes hidden behind his glasses, radiating an aura of quiet intensity. Margaret's heart quickened as she took in his sturdy build and the darkness of his skin, his afro impeccably maintained.
"So, Luke will say hi, but you won't?" she quipped, meeting Marcus's gaze.
"Hi…I guess," Marcus replied with a shrug.
Lucas chuckled, keenly sensing the tension between his friend and Margaret. "We just got back from Academy City, grabbed some burgers," he explained, his gaze drifting toward the ongoing battle. Despite the chaos, the arena's shield technology muted the sounds, creating a surreal atmosphere more akin to a stadium than a battlefield.
"I thought I saw Piper duel someone already today?" Lucas piped up, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.
"Oof," Marcus chimed in. "Does that mean two losses now?"
"In a row," Lucas confirmed, and the boys burst into laughter, the sound echoing across the empty bleachers.
Margaret shot them a reproachful look. "Oh, shut up. Do not tease her."
"Come on," Lucas retorted, his grin widening. "You know I'm just joshing her. Heck, everyone knows how much I love our pilot..."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Margaret waved off, her attention returning to the arena. Piper soared through the air, executing graceful spins as she closed in on the mockingbird of Earth. But the enemy mech, its engines ablaze with green fire, suddenly shot upward.
Piper's smile faltered as she throttled her own mech forward, flames billowing from its engines in pursuit. Higher and higher they climbed until...
"Huh?" Piper exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief.
The mockingbird paused, revealing hidden compartments brimming with missiles. In a split second, they launched toward her.
"Oh, shit!" Marcus exclaimed, instinctively stepping back and grabbing his bag. Even Margaret was stunned. "It's a medium chassis, how the heck is he able to..."
But Margaret's attention shifted to the enemy's arsenal. A unique energy pistol and a missile launcher adorned his mech, showcasing its deadly capabilities beneath its sturdy exterior.
Piper dodged and weaved, evading the barrage of missiles. "Woah," Marcus murmured, pointing with a smirk. Margaret's heart fluttered at the sight, and she allowed herself a faint smile. "She's actually dodging it."
"Five, six—oh, good job, Pipes!" Lucas cheered, but his praise was short-lived as Piper's mech took a direct hit to the shoulder, followed by several more. Margaret winced with each impact.
"Ten-thousand dollar thrusters, hundreds of thousands on that chassis, and now that missile system along her back is spent and going to be junk," Margaret observed grimly, her eyes fixed on the dueling center as it blipped. Time seemed to freeze as the mechs were enveloped in an invisible electrical field, gradually descending to the ground over the next five minutes. As the duel ended, the trio made their way toward the gate, the weight of defeat heavy in the air.
"Woah, it's really not been Piper's week," remarked Lukas, his tone tinged with a hint of disbelief.
"Lukas, shut up, man," Marcus snapped, his frustration palpable.
"It's true," Margaret surprisingly agreed, her voice heavy with resignation. The arena was slowly returning to normalcy, the crackling electrical currents fading as the defeated mechs lay scattered on the floor, Piper's once-proud suit now reduced to little more than scrap metal.
Margaret's hands moved to cover her face. "This report is going to be a nightmare to write," she muttered.
Marcus scoffed at her remark. "Yeah, right," he retorted.
"What do you mean?" Margaret inquired, her curiosity piqued.
"A report, that's all she's going to get out of this," Marcus explained, his tone bitter. He gestured toward himself. "If it was me or Lucas and we lost two to three duels in a row, Zephyr would've either traded us for someone else or simply booted us."
"Bro, don't say that," Lucas interjected, attempting to diffuse the tension.
However, Margaret couldn't help but acknowledge the truth in Marcus's words. "He's not entirely wrong," she reluctantly admitted, her mind already racing with thoughts of the financial repercussions of their defeat.
"We're going to have to get new parts to swap out," she announced, her voice heavy with resignation.
"Whose account?" Marcus demanded, his tone accusatory.
Lucas sighed. "...we can always switch parts out of WarCaskets," he suggested, trying to find a solution amidst the disappointment.
"Good," Marcus replied curtly, his earlier joviality replaced by a somber seriousness. "So, after class tomorrow and when everyone heads over to the guild for missions and networking, we'll cannibalize your own parts, for our ace."
Lukas attempted to protest. "Hey, I wasn't..." but he trailed off with a heavy groan, realizing the futility of his argument.
Lukas turned to Margaret, his expression grave. "How bad is this?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.
Margaret let out a heavy sigh, her voice laden with frustration. "The last duel with Logan changed her. You have to remember that all the first years saw that, and she…Zephyr blames her for our lack of new recruits."
Marcus snorted derisively. "How the hell is that her fault?" He sneered. "The only reason why she had to get involved was because she had to clean up Clive's mess. If Simon only stayed here and…"
Margaret cut in, her tone matter-of-fact. "Piper allowed for him to transfer to House Neptune. It was a fair and good trade. Clive got drunk with his cronies and attacked his girlfriend, that was wrong…"
"I don't understand why Zephyr protects him," Lucas interjected, his voice tinged with frustration.
His gaze darted between Marcus and Margaret, who remained silent, their thoughts unspoken.
"Come on, guys," Lucas urged, his irritation palpable. "I go on missions all the time with our guys, but we don’t leave behind a mess like Clive does."
Still, they remained silent, their expressions inscrutable. Lucas sneered as he pressed on.
But it was Marcus who broke the silence. "A man like Clive has his uses, and I imagine that someone like Zephyr doesn’t mind having him around."
Lucas continued, his tone growing more ominous. "Someone like that," he paused, wrapping his arms around himself as if warding off a chill. "Someone like that…they are going to do something, and they are going to take it too far. Heck, this interaction with Simon’s girlfriend already speaks volumes."
There was a moment of silence as they walked, each lost in their own thoughts. Then, it was Margaret who spoke up tentatively.
"She lost against Logan and had to be saved by some hick, and now these losses…Atticus," Margaret hesitated, "I honestly believe that she's just rattled. The loss from Logan, maybe she just needs a good win to shake her from her slump."
Marcus sighed heavily. "Maybe," he conceded. "But, Zephyr…if she keeps on going on like this, Margaret, you're not naïve. We have hardly enough money to house our own guys, he'll strip her of being our ace, and he'll just hand it over to someone else."
Lucas sneered bitterly. "Maybe, Clive…knowing how much Zephyr loves him." He snapped his fingers, the anger draining from him. "Yeah, she really was our ace," he acknowledged, turning towards the mech corpse. "I couldn’t imagine in a million years this happening. She’s a damn headhunter. Marcus, remember that time with Aria Stardust."
Marcus snapped his fingers, a sly grin playing on his lips. “I remember that time. She shot through both her legs at the same time.”
Margaret rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at her lips as she reminisced about the past. “Yeah, those were the times, but Piper is just in a little rut right now.” Marcus responded with an eye roll of his own.
“When is that going to end?” Lukas inquired, a sense of concern in his voice.
“We don’t got that many mechs to be expunging like this, Margaret,” Marcus replied curtly, cutting to the core of the matter. “Whose was this one pulled out of storage?”
Margaret narrowed her eyes, a hint of defensiveness in her gaze. “Don’t say that.”
Lukas, sensing an underlying tension, glanced between them. “What’s going on?” he questioned, realizing there was something more beneath the surface, a silent standoff.
“A rotten rumor,” Margaret dismissed with a scoff.
But Marcus, unyielding, sneered. “Really, so you don’t think it’s impossible for Zephyr to have resorted to this,” he turned to Lucas, sharing the unsettling revelation. “There has been talk of Zephyr taking WarCaskets off of Mercurian dead.”
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Lukas's eyes widened, taking a step back. “Woah,” he muttered, shaking his head and turning towards Margaret. “Woah, Woah, Woah…” he repeated, his disbelief evident. “You can’t be doing that.”
Margaret, arms wrapped around herself, shot a defiant glare at the pair. “It’s a rotten rumor, that’s like desecrating someone’s gravesite. I can understand taking parts and weapons, but Zephyr…he’s just stressed out.”
“Stressed out?” Marcus repeated, rolling his eyes. The door began to open, gates winding, and Marcus took the lead. “He’s as sly as a rat,” he declared firmly.
The three walked toward Piper’s ruined mech, the setting sun casting long shadows.
"Why does she keep pushing herself like this?" Lucas queried, his voice tinged with concern.
Marcus shrugged, his gaze flicking toward Margaret before he spoke. "Piper has always had a penchant for fighting," he remarked, pausing for effect. "She once told me there's honor in battling from a WarCasket."
Lucas erupted into laughter, incredulous. "Really?" he exclaimed. "I'd expect that from some feudal Martian warrior, not Piper. She's the last person I'd imagine to have such warrior honor."
“Thought she was smarter than that to.” Stated Marcus, not paying attention to the look Margaret was shooting at him.
Margaret shrugged, offering her perspective. "She grew up in a town on a relatively safe world, had a decent education," she explained. Their conversation halted abruptly as the cockpit was pried open, Piper emerging, breathless and sweaty, her hands trembling as she sought balance.
"But you know what being a Core-Worlder means," Piper asserted, her tone determined. "You can become an elite, even a king in some places. Graduating to a house here can change your life, and the lives of those around you."
"So Piper's chasing that dream," Lucas concluded.
"Family," Margaret murmured softly.
"Family," Marcus echoed, his voice tender. "Many people here are chasing that dream. Have you noticed the number of students leaving the house, the stress they're under? That's what they're after."
Lucas shrugged nonchalantly. "It'll separate the weak from the strong," he remarked to Marcus, a smirk playing on his lips. "Mercury's already got too many freeloaders. Let them go; maybe we'll get something better in return."
Margaret rolled her eyes. "They need to tough it out and finish their years here," she insisted.
"Damn it, Margaret," Marcus interjected. "This place is tough. You know that. This school isn't like any other."
"But you're still here," Margaret countered.
"Yeah, and..." Marcus trailed off, his tone heavy.
He fixed her with a glare. "Like you said, this is a different kind of school. We're among the best of the best. We rub shoulders with royal heirs, the offspring of democratic leaders and dictators, famous figures like Logan of Neptune. If one of them recognizes our talent, our lives are changed forever," he emphasized, his words hanging in the air.
His gaze narrowed as he turned away, watching as Piper struggled to climb out of her WarCasket, then rushed to support her. His final words drifted back to Margaret. "I've taken lives, Margaret. I never had to do that until I came here," he confessed, his voice heavy with the weight of his revelation. "Giving up is the hardest thing to do."
And with that, silence descended upon them.
Marcus helped Piper down, noting the strain in her breathing. Despite knowing he'd get a punch for saying it, he couldn't ignore the traces of tears on her cheeks.
The other WarCasket pilot emerged from his cockpit, light brownish hair tousled and glasses perched on his features as he observed them from a distance.
"Good game!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with happiness.
"What's wrong with you, bro?" Lukas shouted, his laughter echoing through the air as Atticus stood in shocked surprise. "Dueling etiquette, man, dueling etiquette!" he felt compelled to reiterate.
Atticus looked at them quizzically. "What's wrong?" he inquired.
"She's already dueled twice today!" Lukas bellowed back. "You think you won? You beat an exhausted female pilot, big man. How does it feel to beat a tired and worn-out girl? That's probably how you win all your victories!"
And Lukas's laughter rolled on.
"Man," Atticus replied solemnly as he turned away. "Sick of this shit. I didn't know it was her second duel!" he snapped, storming off toward the garage section beneath the bleachers, into the underground recesses.
"Well, Piper, that makes five," Lukas remarked, turning to Piper as heat radiated from her gaze.
Piper snorted, her anger and annoyance palpable as they began to walk.
Marcus chuckled at Lukas's words. "How are you doing, Piper?" Margaret inquired, though Piper was only shooting daggers at the two boys who had joined them, casting her looks.
"Come on, Pipes, we're just joking," Lukas said.
Marcus continued, a smirk playing on his lips. "A Martian would've respected you enough to grant you a single loss, a Plutonian would've simply shot you dead, but a Neptunian?"
Piper practically seethed within Margaret's grasp. "You bastards, you're the worst!" she shouted, but when they turned back to her, their faces a mix of shock and concern, all the anger melted away into irritation.
"Piper, are you okay?" Lukas asked.
Marcus nodded in agreement. "Yeah, sorry about that," he said.
Piper's breath still came in heavy, a testament to the toll the duel had taken. Margaret sighed, turning her gaze to them. "Piper's going through a rough patch, like I said."
"Maybe, if you win a duel..." Lukas began, but Piper raised her hands to speak. He quickly continued, cutting her off. "Maybe winning another duel is all you need to get back into the flow of things."
Piper stared at him, her expression aimless. Lukas shrugged. "Maybe your confidence is just a bit bruised. You went up against Logan of Neptune."
Marcus turned his gaze toward Piper, a sneer tugging at the corners of his lips. "Piper, I care about you... I care about all of you. I want us to graduate together, to one day work side by side and shape the Mercurian Sector into something magnificent. 'We Hammer The Nails'—those are our words. That's our mission. But pay attention to the 'we' in that sentence. Don't be so fixated on this duel that you lose sight of those around you. We're all in this together," he spoke, his voice carrying a weight of determination.
With those words, Marcus turned away, and the others followed after him, the gravity of his message settling upon them like a heavy fog.
The campus sprawled out before him, a verdant expanse stretching to the horizon. It was a marvel, flanked by the serene countryside on two sides and the bustling metropolis on the others. But none of that mattered now. Henryk was trapped in a world of grey uncertainty, and today marked his final chance.
If he couldn't secure a place in one of the houses by day's end, expulsion awaited him. His jaw clenched with determination. Only two options remained, despite not having explored every possibility. He had seen enough.
As he paced through the throngs of students, he noticed a shift. Where once he swam in a sea of grey, now he navigated a kaleidoscope of colors. His thoughts drifted to the recent party, where Mag had proudly joined Mercury and Jose had conspicuously avoided him. Before, Jose had seemed slippery, but could Henryk really blame him? The realization seemed to flicker in the eyes of those around him. They knew, or at least the house leaders did.
Neptune was out of the question after their treatment of Ty. Venus was tainted by Jace and his deceitful sister. Pluto had already rejected him based on his reputation. Earth House was preoccupied with political discussions, offering little interest in recruitment.
Other options existed, like Jupiter and Uranus, but rumors swirled about their exclusivity. Jupiter's witches only accepted females, while Uranus remained aloof, rarely reaching out beyond their own mutated ranks.
Henryk paused, his gaze fixed on the imposing red-bricked structure of House Mercury. Standing before its massive wooden doors, he noted the absence of guards, a sign that they were winding down for the day. His thoughts drifted to his family, his world, in need of his success here. He couldn't afford to falter now, not after the time that had passed since he last saw them. It felt like ages, though it had only been a week. Returning home empty-handed was not an option.
With a heavy sigh, he pushed open the doors and stepped inside House Mercury.
Meanwhile, Piper lounged on her bed, lost in the solace of her white T-shirt and underwear, music flooding her ears through black headphones. A summons from Zephyr interrupted her tranquility, prompting a frustrated groan. Reluctantly, she pulled on her pants and made her way to his office, sensing trouble brewing.
Sharing a dorm with Margaret, Piper made her way through the familiar space, past their adjoining beds, toward the bathroom they were fortunate to have. Once dressed, she steeled herself, reminding herself to keep her cool and apologize. As she approached Zephyr's door, her pulse quickened.
Opening the door, Piper was met with an unexpected sight. Margaret stood beside Zephyr, a smile playing on her lips. Zephyr himself leaned forward, fingers interlaced, his demeanor unreadable. But it was the third person in the room who caught Piper's attention, his mop of black hair obscuring his face. When he turned to her, she was struck by his piercing dark blue eyes, his presence commanding attention, and drawing her in with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.
A flush of embarrassment tinted Piper's cheeks momentarily, but she swiftly pushed the feeling aside, steeling herself for the situation at hand.
"What's this all about?" she demanded, her voice shaky at first, but gaining strength as she spoke. With hands planted firmly on her hips, she approached with a cautious smile playing on her lips.
Zephyr took the lead, introducing the mysterious figure seated before them. "This is Henryk," he began, glancing over at the young man for confirmation.
"Henryk Brown," Henryk clarified.
Piper's eyes widened in recognition. "Henryk?" she echoed, a sudden realization dawning on her. "It was you!" she exclaimed, the pieces falling into place.
"Yeah," Henryk replied, his words drawn out, his gaze shifting between Piper, Zephyr, and the enigmatic Margaret. "It was you," he added plainly.
A proud smirk graced Piper's lips as she wrapped her arms around herself. "You're the ace of Mercury," Henryk observed.
"...and don't you forget it," Piper retorted with a hearty laugh, her chest swelling with pride as Margaret observed with a sigh.
"Pride doesn't suit you, Piper," Margaret muttered to herself, recognizing the shift in her friend's demeanor.
As the conversation unfolded, Piper realized something she had overlooked during the chaos of recent events: she and Henryk had never met face to face. Now, in his presence, she found it hard to tear her gaze away.
Margaret, catching onto the dynamics at play, resisted the urge to facepalm at the revelation.
Zephyr interjected, drawing their attention back to the matter at hand. "Piper, I've called you down here to discuss something," he announced, his eyes fixed on her. "Henryk Brown believes he has what it takes to be a member of House Mercury."
"I do," Henryk affirmed, his determination evident in his voice.
"As you mentioned, today is the final day for selection," Margaret chimed in, turning her gaze toward Piper. "If Henryk doesn't secure a house by then, he'll..."
"I'll be expelled," Henryk finished, his gaze sweeping across the room, a sense of urgency in his words. "I've already given you all my debriefing."
"...and it's pretty good," Zephyr interjected, his tone carrying a weight of authority. "Henryk Brown, nineteen years of age. You've been piloting WarCaskets since you've been..."
"Eleven," Henryk cut in.
"That's quite young," remarked Margaret.
Henryk shrugged, dismissing the comment. "My father was a pilot, and I followed in his footsteps."
Zephyr pressed on. "...and these aren't merely rescue or salvage missions," he chuckled wryly. "We've got tons of applicants who swear they know how to shoot a gun, but it's just some frontier boy boasting about his grandfather's old rifle."
"Yes, I do know what I'm doing in a WarCasket," Henryk asserted. He nodded toward Zephyr's phone. "If you don't believe me, play the records of the duel between Logan and Piper... better yet, look up on the internet how I saved Logan with my blade."
A silence fell over the room. Margaret's gaze lingered on Henryk, his confidence triggering a faint smile. Zephyr, momentarily taken aback, managed a small, slow smile. Meanwhile, Piper's cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and admiration for Henryk's audacity.
After a pause, Zephyr spoke, his voice measured. "Well, everything across the board looks excellent and well." He turned to Margaret and Piper. "I like him... what do you two think?"
Margaret nodded, offering Henryk a warm smile. "He seems like an alright fella," she said, then added with a hint of concern, "We don't have much space. I hope that doesn't bother you."
Henryk chuckled, his easy demeanor breaking the tension. "All I'm asking is to be let in so I won't be expelled... you can give me a closet for all I care."
Margaret sighed inwardly. Sadly, in Mercury, many would have settled for a closet over the basement.
Zephyr sighed heavily, his expression growing serious. "Well, that's all fine and dandy, but that's not going to cut it..."
The atmosphere turned tense as Henryk fixed his gaze on Zephyr. "Then what is going to cut it?" he demanded.
Zephyr leaned back in his chair, his demeanor grave. "Are you familiar with what's been going on with Mercury?"
Henryk held Zephyr's gaze for a moment, then shifted his eyes to Margaret. This felt different...
"No, I'm from the frontier," he stated firmly. "We're just colony cities."
Zephyr regarded him intently. "You seem skilled. So, how about this," he proposed, turning his attention to Piper. "How are you feeling, Pipes?"
Piper blinked, caught off guard. "Uh... fine."
"Well, that's good," Zephyr mused, stroking his chin. "I was thinking we could do a test. You've got your WarCasket from the video, right?"
Henryk paused, his eyes narrowing. This was talk of battle and WarCaskets, something he was trained for. Something he understood from his father's final moments—a warrior's spirit.
"Yeah, I do," Henryk replied bluntly.
"I'll let you into House Mercury. I'll even give you a nice dorm with another guy. Our numbers are smaller, but if you're able to defeat Piper, you'll obviously be worth it," Zephyr proposed. "I think you'd be a good fit for WarCasket-operated guild piloting missions."
"Hey, if you can beat Pipes," Margaret chimed in, "you'd be good in human engagements too."
"I didn't realize the academy was so heavily fixated on missions," Henryk remarked.
"This is how we test ourselves," Zephyr explained, a smile playing on his lips. "Don't get me wrong. Some people's talents lie elsewhere. I can lead, Margaret can fix a machine, and Piper can pilot... she's killed people before."
Henryk's eyes widened at that revelation. He felt momentarily stunned, his gaze darting around the room. This was true. He'd heard of academies like this before—honor, glory, and creed, everything he wanted. But the risk to life and body...
"Are you willing to risk life and limb in the arena?" Zephyr asked pointedly. "Beat Piper, and you're in. But it's the last day. We'd have to move you in and set you up with your own mech. Someone skilled is going to be moved lower, and there are many who crack under the pressure of the academy. Are you one of these people? I don't know. But the duel will prove it."
Henryk pondered for a moment. There had been times when he'd aided the other men of his colony with his WarCasket, but this was a real WarCasket-on-WarCasket fight. Yet, he sighed, his mind flashing to his weaponry.
How many days had he trained with that blade? How many hours had he spent poring over videos on the internet, and how many more hours had he pored over textbooks? In that WarCasket, encased in his suit... he could fight. He could...
For a moment, his mind's eye whirled with a memory. His mother's gentle touch through his hair as he cried. He towered over her now, but he would always remember holding her hands, her eyes urging him to look up.
"Fly, Henryk, fly high," she had whispered, the first time the men from his colony pressed WarCasket controls into his hands. "Fly high above the clouds... You are your father's son. You're special. And only you can. That is your gift, that is your miracle."
Henryk smirked, rising and turning to Piper as he approached her. He raised his hand towards her, and for a moment, she realized just how small she seemed. His smile gleamed white, and her heart thumped in response.
"I guess you're going to be my opponent," he said.
She eyed his hand, a newfound vigor coursing through her as she reached out and grasped it firmly.
"Let's begin then," declared Zephyr, and with a clap of his hands, the deal was sealed.
Soon, he and his WarCasket would face off against Piper and her mech. If he won, he'd become a member of House Mercury, and technically, a citizen of the planet. It was the first step on his path. But little did he realize then just how challenging it would be to carve out his own way, especially in this game of houses and rats.