The dueling arena, as Henryk first laid eyes upon it, was a marvel to behold. In his nineteen years of life, he had never imagined he would actually witness such a spectacle. Yet, here he was.
In the undercurrents of it all, he stood, duffel bag still in tow, leaning into the cockpit of his mech. House Mercury, he thought, was being rather generous. Allowing him to fight and showcase his mettle, even sending one of their own to fetch his Warcasket from the hangars.
His hand traced along the console of his mech's cockpit, a tight smile gracing his features as he flicked on the machine. Everything, within this mechanical behemoth... everything in his life just got so much simpler.
Amidst the talk of witches, wars, magic, and destiny, as he gripped the controls with determination, he knew what he had to do. Within the controls of a Warcasket, life was simple, and his objective was clear: defeat Piper and emerge victorious. Better than going on some scavenger hunt to find a piss-poor house to sponsor him. At least these Mercurians knew how to get the blood pumping.
He smirked, but his reverie was interrupted by static breaking in through the side of him.
"Hello?" Henryk queried.
"Hey, this is Henryk, correct?" The voice on the other end inquired, its tone distinct from the others he had heard.
"Hello, my name is Marcus," the figure introduced himself, offering some clarity to the voice. "I am going to be your contractor for this duel."
"Contractor?" Henryk echoed, his brow furrowing. "I've never had a contractor before."
He could almost sense Marcus shrugging through his voice. "At the academy and during missions, you're likely to have a contractor or a handler. My job is to serve as a technical advisor to you."
Henryk fell silent for a moment, mulling over the implications. Did he truly want another voice dictating his moves during this high-stakes battle? After all, this was one of their guys. He wasn't of Mercury just yet. Who's to say this guy wouldn't sabotage him, ensuring Piper's victory?
Yet, Marcus's next words cut through Henryk's train of thought like a knife through butter. "Zephyr wants to make things fair. I don’t really have much experience with being a contractor, but I’ve been a pilot for a good while here."
"So, I am in good hands then," Henryk replied, his tone carrying a hint of reassurance.
Marcus chuckled, a sound that echoed through the digital abyss. "You've got a weird manner about you, but you seem to be alright," he remarked, the rhythmic tapping of keys filling the background. "Got it, do you know the exact specs of your Warcasket for me?"
"Why do you need my specs?" Henryk inquired, a note of suspicion creeping into his voice.
"Because Piper is going to be coming at you with all she's got. You're new, but that's not going to stop her from holding back. Maybe that's a good thing or a bad thing..." Marcus's voice trailed off, his words hanging in the air like a foreboding mist.
Henryk's chuckle reverberated through the cockpit, causing Marcus to momentarily freeze. "Hah, I don’t need someone to pull their punches," Henryk retorted, his confidence palpable.
Marcus paused, his eyes fixed on the glowing screen before him, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "This is going to be a good one," he mused silently, anticipation coursing through his veins.
Meanwhile, Henryk busied himself with the controls, his fingers dancing across buttons and dials as the cockpit blazed to life in an array of deep greens. "I honestly don’t know what sort of parts I have," he admitted, his gaze fixed on the console.
"But that sword..." Marcus interjected, his curiosity piqued.
Henryk shrugged nonchalantly. "I’ve had the thing for years, and I realized from Logan himself that it came from some factory on Neptune," he explained, his tone casual yet tinged with a hint of mystery.
"An evisceration weapon," Marcus muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he peered at the screen before him.
"What are you typing?" Henryk's voice cut through the silence, breaking Marcus from his reverie.
Marcus hesitated for a moment before responding, his fingers still tapping away at the keyboard. "We are able to sync into your Warcasket. I am merely trying to figure out what parts and what we are going to be working with," he explained, his focus unwavering.
As Marcus continued to delve into the intricacies of Henryk's Warcasket, a sudden realization dawned upon him. "Okay, you've got an evisceration weapon, but..." His voice trailed off, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Henryk, where are your ranged weapons? The only thing that I see is on your mech’s right shoulder, and it's a..."
Henryk’s expression darkened as he brought his hand to his face, the frustration evident in his gesture. “A harpoon,” he muttered with a heavy sigh. “Along the frontier, we don’t just use Warcaskets for battle. Sometimes clearing out asteroids or just…”
“Yes, a harpoon,” Marcus interjected, his tone tinged with impatience. “What are you going to do with that against Piper?”
Henryk shrugged, a sense of uncertainty lingering in his movements. “I was figuring that I was able to overpower her with my sword and…”
“Henryk, she has missiles and a minigun,” Marcus interrupted, his voice firm. “Don’t get me wrong, that sword is impressive, but you better know how to use it. Your mech is pretty mobile from its lack of weight, so I would advise you to stay on the move.”
Henryk’s grip tightened around the controls, his mind racing with a flurry of thoughts. He needed to regain his focus.
Marcus pressed on. “How much do you know of the arena?” he inquired.
“Not that much, honestly,” Henryk admitted with a hint of uncertainty.
“It was built hundreds of years ago, and there have been many important people who have fought within it,” Marcus explained. “But right now, you are going to be battling against Piper in a one v one. This is merely a scrimmage, and Zephyr does not want to see blood… so, your inner shields are going to protect your cockpit while the main source of your target…”
He trailed off, a sudden realization dawning upon him. “Henryk, I know that old models liked to put Warcasket pilots in the head. Is that…”
“No,” Henryk replied, cutting him off sharply. “Don’t get me wrong, my Rusty is old, but at least I wasn’t that desperate.”
Marcus breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear. Some people forget about that piece of information because the arena needs to ‘know’ where the shields are going to go. Warcaskets now put sensory knick-knacks in where the head should be, and by ‘cleaving’ off the head or by overwhelming damage you win. Now imagine if you were in that head?”
Henryk’s eyes widened at the thought, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “Is that common?” he inquired.
“No, but when it does happen… it’s always messy,” Marcus concluded gravely.
A heavy silence settled between them as Marcus continued to type away on his computer, leaving Henryk to grapple with the harsh realities of the academy. People have actually died here—men and women with his same dream. And he thought he would not only survive but thrive? The pride!
His fingers tightened around the controls, the weight of doubt and uncertainty pressing down on him like an invisible hand. Then, a voice, distant yet familiar, whispered inside him.
"Fly, Henryk, fly high."
The words of his mother reverberated through the expanse of his mind, carrying with them a bittersweet echo of longing. But he pushed the sentiment aside, focusing on the task at hand.
"I am ready, Marcus," Henryk declared, his voice steady despite the turmoil within.
"Oh, just like that," Marcus chuckled, the sound echoing with a hint of amusement. "Well, we don’t have time to fuss over your kit. But I’ll give you a quick rundown of this duel. Don’t expect all the duels to be the same, but this is more… informal."
"Informal?" Henryk questioned, a note of curiosity creeping into his tone. "How is this informal?"
Marcus sighed, a weariness lacing his words. "Usually, there would've been stakes involved. And typically, one-on-one battles are more publicized, but I can imagine people have better things to do than watch some country kid face off against our ace. Heck, that duel between Logan and Piper had spectators from far and wide tuning in to see the outcome."
"...and Piper lost that one," Henryk interjected, his memory flickering back to past events.
Marcus fell silent for a moment, his thoughts lingering on the past. "Piper is very skilled. Honestly, I believe she could've beaten Logan."
"Then why didn’t she?" Henryk pressed, his curiosity piqued.
"Well, funds play a significant role in Warcasket construction. And sourcing parts from other worlds can be expensive and time-consuming," Marcus explained, his voice trailing off as if he had stumbled upon a realization.
"It's no real matter," Marcus dismissed the topic with a wave of his hand. "Listen, Henryk. If you heed my advice, I'll get you into Mercury. But you can't underestimate Piper. It doesn't matter how many years you've been fighting in a Warcasket."
"Skill beats..." Henryk began, but Marcus cut him off.
"Maybe you think like a Martian… ever been told that?" Marcus chuckled, a hint of amusement coloring his tone. But Henryk's eyes widened in response, his gaze locked on Marcus with an intensity that spoke volumes.
"Skill, honor, and such," Marcus sighed, shaking his head in resignation. "Henryk, in these battles with Warcaskets, I've seen skilled Mercurians fall to Neptunians who win simply because of their parents' wealth. Some of those kids end up dead. Don’t be a fool, play it safe, and use everything at your disposal."
Henryk stood tense, his palms slick with sweat, but he refused to let his nerves unravel him like a thread pulled too taut. He needed to be as unyielding as forged steel, unwavering in the face of impending conflict.
"You're right," Henryk's voice cut through the tension, surprising even Marcus. "I may be a hick, a frontiersman," he continued, the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the keyboard punctuating his words like a drumbeat, "but I won't back down before the fight begins. Your money won't save you when the blade of an evisceration weapon is at your throat."
Marcus let out a sardonic snort. "I suppose you have a point. In the end, we all meet the same fate."
"Some with more courage than others," Henryk countered.
A faint smile tugged at Marcus's lips as he regarded the young man before him. There was something distinct about Henryk, a stark contrast to the others he had encountered at the academy. Clive, for instance, exuded a predatory aura, his presence suffocating like the jaws of a beast ready to snap shut. But Henryk... Henryk exuded an unexpected calmness, a sense of composure that belied the chaos of the impending duel.
Marcus found himself drawn to Henryk's demeanor, a refreshing departure from the usual recruits. Zephyr and House Mercury didn't need more bodies; they needed individuals with skill and character, and Henryk possessed both in abundance.
With a smirk, Marcus realized he rather liked this one. Perhaps, if Henryk emerged victorious, there could be a chance for a connection beyond the confines of the academy.
Meanwhile, across the arena, Piper prepared herself within her Warcasket, eschewing her casual attire for the practicality of her flightsuit.
"He's adorable, Margaret!" Piper exclaimed, a blush painting her cheeks a rosy hue.
Margaret, as always, stood by as her contractor, overseeing the proceedings from the platforms perched above the arena, ready to guide her pilot through the upcoming duel.
"Uh huh," Margaret murmured, her eyes fixed on the screen displaying the updated model of Piper's Warcasket. It was a sleek, new version, equipped with a minigun and shoulder replacements, a far cry from the scrapped prototype.
"He looked like a prince," Piper remarked, a hint of admiration in her voice. "All broad-shouldered and dark-haired. Sure, he's got a rough way of speaking..."
"Who knows..." Margaret interjected, her attention divided between the screen and her conversation with Piper.
"Do you know anything more about him?" Piper pressed, her curiosity piqued.
"As much as you do," Margaret replied, her tone clipped. "But don't let him distract you. You've got a duel to win, Piper."
Piper rolled her eyes. "What's your problem? This is just a scrimmage to test Henryk."
Margaret mirrored the gesture, her patience waning. But before all of this...
"You want to use him to rattle Piper?" Zephyr's voice floated through the hallway outside his office, where Margaret and he stood, observing Henryk seated within.
"One good win," Margaret asserted. "Piper's faced raiders, pirates, and champions from other houses. Logan shook her, but maybe facing someone like Henryk..."
"Someone like Henryk?" Zephyr echoed, intrigued.
Margaret crossed her arms, a determined glint in her eyes. "He's skilled with his Warcasket, but he's just a country boy. Think about it. He's a mid-tier opponent at best, and Piper just needs to..."
"...work her way back up," Zephyr finished, a smile playing on his lips as he glanced at Henryk. "Who exactly is this Henryk Brown, anyway?" he mused.
"I've heard his name mentioned in the mess hall," Margaret replied. "But I couldn't tell you if it was in a positive or negative light."
Zephyr's eyes widened at the revelation.
"Really?" he murmured. "Well, let's hope it's good things."
Margaret shrugged, a mix of uncertainty and amusement flickering in her eyes. "A bit of both, I suppose. But I've been keeping to myself lately..."
"Hungover," Zephyr interjected, a smirk playing on his lips.
Margaret shook her head, a wry smile forming. "Call it what you will."
Zephyr sighed, his expression growing serious. "Let's hope it's good news. But regardless, I'm not betting our future on Henryk."
"Maybe it's still about Piper and Logan," Zephyr persisted. "People are still talking about her defeat."
"What nonsense," Margaret spat. "That was ages ago. No one cares anymore. It's got to be something else..."
Zephyr brushed off her skepticism. "Whatever. Call Piper. We're settling this before the day's out," he declared, turning away.
"I have a feeling about Henryk," he added quietly. "There's something special about him."
Margaret fell silent, her gaze lingering on Henryk as she followed Zephyr out, the door closing behind them with a soft click. Meanwhile, Lucas lurked nearby, hidden from view, his curiosity piqued by the political maneuvering unfolding before him. As he watched, an epiphany struck him, prompting him to veer in a new direction.
"Lucas?" Marcus's voice broke through his reverie.
From his vantage point, Lucas noticed a growing crowd gathering at the overlook. The balconies, once deserted, were now teeming with spectators eager for the upcoming duel. Lucas couldn't fathom why so many were eager to watch Piper face off against a mere newcomer.
"Lucas," Marcus repeated, drawing his attention back. "We've got our own duel to prepare for, and..."
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"Margaret and Zephyr are playing Henryk," Lucas announced, his voice cutting through the stillness like a knife.
Marcus blinked, absorbing the revelation. "What?"
"Listen," Lucas pressed on, his tone urgent. "I overheard them scheming. They're banking on Piper crushing Henryk to boost her own standing."
Marcus rubbed the back of his neck, grappling with the implications. On one hand, he grasped the strategy behind it. A decisive victory might shake Piper out of her slump. But Henryk? He seemed like a decent guy caught in the crossfire of their power games.
As preparations dragged on, the sun climbed higher, casting the arena in a hazy orange glow. Time was running short. If Henryk didn't secure a house before sundown, he'd be...
"They're exploiting him," Marcus concluded bitterly, his gaze sweeping over the mismatched group surrounding Henryk. "Piper's already got the upper hand with her weaponry."
Lucas nodded, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Maybe we should throw a wrench in Zephyr's plans."
Marcus's lips curled into a smirk. "Exactly. If Zephyr won't play fair, why should we?"
He flipped on his radio. "Henryk, you there?"
"Yeah," came the reply.
Turning to Lucas, Marcus outlined his plan as the stands filled with spectators, each section a riot of house colors punctuated by the occasional flash of gray.
"That's the kid from the party," Arthur observed bluntly, stuffing popcorn into his mouth. Beside him sat Axel, while Edward occupied the other side. Arthur's cheers drowned out the murmur of the crowd.
"This is a different kind of skirmish," Ed mused, his voice cutting through the chatter.
Axel shrugged, nonchalant. Arthur jumped in, his eyes distant as he reminisced. "Back in my hometown, Warcasket showdowns were rare treats. Only the highborn could afford the spectacle."
"Talking about Mars?" Ed interjected, his tone curious.
Arthur shook his head, a shadow crossing his features. "No, I remember fragments... After Mars crumbled, I wound up on Tyyian II, a patchwork of feudal domains."
"A realm of brutes," Axel scoffed, earning a reproachful glance from Ed. Arthur chuckled, unperturbed. He popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth, his gaze scanning the crowd.
"Strange to think... we could've been the savages," Arthur mused, his voice barely above a whisper. "Ever wonder what life would've been if Mars stood?"
The question hung heavy in the air, each man lost in his own thoughts. Arthur gestured at them, a hint of melancholy in his eyes. "My father, my brother, my grandfather... all knights. I inherited my brother's spurs."
Axel raised an eyebrow. "You inherited your brother's spurs?" he quizzed. "Usually, it passes from father to..."
"Nothing left of my father to inherit," Arthur cut in sharply, the bitterness evident in his tone. Ed shot him a knowing glance, a silent acknowledgment passing between them before Arthur averted his gaze.
As the holographic map flickered to life, Arthur marveled at the display. "Amazing, isn't it? The wonders of technology woven into our world," he exclaimed, his eyes alight with wonder.
Axel grinned proudly. "Impressed? In Venus, duels are our pride. We strive for perfection in our craft, honing our skills..."
"Lot of 'we's in there," Arthur noted dryly.
Ed fixed Axel with a penetrating stare, a silent accusation in his eyes. Axel sighed, a hint of remorse in his voice. "My knightly lineage traces back to Venus... The Red Templars. After Mars's fall, I joined my brethren..."
"Cowards," Arthur muttered under his breath.
"Easy, now," Ed cautioned, his tone soothing.
Axel's gaze bore into Arthur's, a simmering tension between them.
"Should've stayed in the fray... joined Venus, now they've got their own Martian hunt squads," Arthur jeered, his voice cutting through the air. "And what would you know, Red Templar, if those cursed spikes could speak? A yellow-bellied coward on the Martian sands."
Before Axel could respond, the familiar strains of the imperial theme flooded the arena, drowning out their exchange. The massive screens flickered to life, casting Henryk and Piper's images for all to see. The holographic map shimmered into existence, anticipation crackling in the air.
Then, the whirring began, emanating from around Henryk's mech. Logan, from House Neptune, had entered the fray, his voice laced with amusement at the sight before him. "Looks like he's still being pieced together by the maintenance crew," he remarked, his tone dripping with mockery.
As the screens went dark, leaving only their voices echoing in the chamber, shock rippled through the members of House Mercury.
Lucas doubled over with laughter as Marcus answered the call, Zephyr's enraged voice blasting through the radio. "What in the hell were you thinking?" he bellowed.
Marcus let out a resigned sigh. "We found out about your little scheme with Henryk, and Margaret's not innocent in it either. So, we leveled the playing field."
Henryk's mech remained the same—a rugged, rusted relic—but now bristled with new weaponry. A two-shot grenade cannon adorned his right shoulder, replacing the old harpoon. On the left, a stack of six missiles stood ready for launch. In his left hand gleamed the Neptunian chainsaw sword, while his right gripped a standard-issue mech assault rifle, its magazine extended with a modified upgrade.
Piper's mech mirrored Henryk's design—bipedal and midweight. However, hers was a deadly fusion of weaponry. An assault rifle in her left hand, a menacing minigun in her right, with a missile launcher and an orbiting sentry gun perched on her shoulders.
The duel kicked off. Piper, her smile sly, taunted, "Any parting words, Henryk?" His response was a matching grin. Guns loaded, Piper surged forward, the two mechs colliding in a spectacle of flying sparks and clashing metal that held the onlookers in rapt attention.
Jose, representing the purple of House Mercury, watched the chaotic ballet unfold. The arena, a dilapidated city, bathed in the fiery thrusters' glow—Piper's vivid blue contrasting with Henryk's dark orange charcoal.
Henryk's assault rifle spat a cascade of bullets in orange and red lines, captivating the audience. Dodging Piper's incoming missiles, he cried out, "Damn it!"
"Center yourself, Henryk!" Marcus's voice echoed. Evading another rocket, Henryk maneuvered skillfully, whirling around corners and unleashing a barrage. Piper, in hot pursuit, intercepted his grenades with precision.
Quick and nimble, Henryk gained momentum, swooping down in a blazing arc. A powerful kick sent Piper's mech hurtling toward the ground. Henryk, rising, launched a salvo of six missiles aimed at her, prompting a gasp from the mesmerized crowd.
"Look at him go," Arthur murmured. The clash ensued, sparks flying as the mechs collided in a spectacular dance. Piper skillfully evaded another missile onslaught.
"Nice try, country boy," Piper taunted with a smile, her comms buzzing with the imminent threat of missiles. She thrust upwards, deftly avoiding the rockets as her minigun tore through the incoming stream, a dance of destruction and defiance.
Ed was taken aback. "Strange," he pondered.
Axel turned to him. "Is there something amiss, President?"
Ed shrugged. "When Henryk and I went to save Sirine, he wasn't decked out in all this hardware."
"Probably got lucky and scavenged it off someone," Axel replied nonchalantly.
Arthur shook his head as he chimed in. "Can't be," he declared, eyeing the new Mercurian parts adorning Henryk's mech. "Those are Mercurian parts."
"Mercurian?" Axel scoffed. "Maybe they want to keep things fair."
As Ed processed this revelation, so did the others. Some pointed and shouted in confusion. House Mercury, finding their place in the bleachers, expressed a mix of curiosity and concern. Why did this country boy possess their much-needed mech gear?
Piper soared into the air, bullets whizzing around Henryk. Sweat dripped down his face. "Come on… come on," he muttered repeatedly, a mantra to steady himself as he throttled hard, Piper in pursuit.
Piper erupted into laughter. "So, this is what it's like to fight you, Henryk?"
"Maybe," Henryk replied, attempting a strained smile. Initially in control, Piper was swiftly wearing him down.
Henryk landed his mech amid the ruins of a destroyed street, bullets and rockets tracking through the night sky. He powered his thrusters, dodging and dipping.
Whirling around, he released another full payload. "Christ, Henryk!" Marcus screamed over the comms. "Stop firing your missiles; you've got one last layer left… use your grenade launcher!"
The payload created an original smoke screen, Piper's mech struggling to track Henryk. Everyone strained to see through the smoke.
"Did he just disappear?" Stella's voice rose from the crowd. Having witnessed Henryk's capabilities, she recognized this as true combat. There was nothing but smoke.
Piper's breath came in heavy gasps, sweat lining her brow, and droplets obscuring the viewport of her helmet. She flicked the helmet off, trying to manually scan her surroundings.
"Piper, get your helmet back on," snapped Margaret, but Piper sensed the girl's lack of full attention.
"Seriously, Piper... you've been..."
Piper throttled back into the air. Her bipedal midweight warcasket hovered over the ruined city, her emerald eyes trying to trace where Henryk might have gone. The destroyed skyscrapers, the multi-colored rainbow of the Noble Planets, but no sign of Henryk Brown.
"It's the damn sweat, it's been getting in my eyes," Piper replied. "I'll be fine."
Margaret sneered. "That shield can protect you against nearly everything, Piper, but even in arena-approved duels, it's difficult to get out without a bruise or a scrape or a..."
"You worry too much," Piper retorted. "Now, we've got to refocus. Can you try and scan to find Henryk?"
Margaret nodded, and Piper heard the rhythmic tapping of her keyboard. As an observer, Margaret had certain privileges that a duelist didn't, but strangely...
"He's underneath you, Piper," Margaret stated plainly.
"Huh," Piper replied, drawing her gaze downward. "There isn't anything underneath me except for the road or..."
She started to wind down, keeping her guard up on all angles. Yet, she didn't expect that Margaret's words held the truth of the true struggle.
Henryk emerged from the ruined road, worn rubble breaking apart and snapping like twigs as his warcasket urgently rose. For a moment, all Piper could see was the lone light of his Warcasket, and horror washed over her.
"Hell fury and more!" screamed Henryk. Even against overwhelming odds, he smiled and fought with all he had.
The duel grenade launchers fired two slugs. Both made devastating impacts that echoed and shattered the glass of the ruined complexes. One found its way along Piper's chassis, the impact causing her to slam hard into a splayed mess against the ruins of a fallen building.
The second slam against Piper's mech helmet reverberated through the cockpit, where all the sensory and mechanical 'brain' aspects of a warcasket were held.
Piper's head struck hard against the back of her chair, usually padded and comfortable. But the force of Henryk's attack sent her spiraling, striking her head hard twice involuntarily, like a Piper-themed yo-yo.
"Christ..." Piper stammered and whispered, instinctively tracing along her head and finding a forming bump as...
"Piper!" screamed Margaret.
"W-..." But Piper saw it. She geared herself forward and throttled upwards in an emergency maneuver. However, she could hear the way her machine thumped and pulsated. In red: Right lower leg compromised! It screeched.
Moments before, Henryk had charged at her with thrusters blazing and rockets behind him. The engine of his evisceration weapon was purring, the teeth of the chain humming for blood. She dodged at the last moment, losing her leg in the process...
The blade chewed through the spot with relative ease. Henryk stretched his gaze, throttling himself forward as Piper watched from below.
With widened green eyes, Piper kept rising and rising, going along in a circular motion around the skyscraper. A trail of blue and orange, the onlookers stared in shocked surprise at what was unfolding.
Piper whirled herself around and fired missiles and both weapons. A stream of attacks arose towards Henryk, as the young man employed maneuver after maneuver to hopefully thwart the onslaught.
"He's good," Arthur bluntly spoke.
Axel snorted. "He may have the ace on the run, but he's still some mindless hick... remember what he did at the..."
He was stopped by a glare from Ed. "We do not know who it was," he declared, throwing his gaze back into the fray. He watched as the fight continued, a battle of wills. "I am not going to start deciding the opinions of men and women off of gossip."
Henryk was close again, however, with a stream of bullets... Piper clipped his wings.
The minigun, from far away, was manageable. But by trailing after him with it, and his other perceptions attuned to either the missiles or the assault rifle in her hands, it was just too much for someone to handle.
The left arm took the hit, the minigun chewing up metal and servo as the once powerful Warcasket arm was rendered useless and hung slack. It nicked his fuel reserves, and one of the rockets along his back.
"Your quick, country bumpkin. But the skies and clouds belong to me," replied Piper as she watched him fall back to the Earth, her thrusters still keeping her in the air. Almost like a biblical scene, Henryk plummeted to the dirt. "You're fast, but not fast enough..." she added smugly.
Henryk's Warcasket UI screamed danger image after danger image. He was a mess, sparks arising from where the minigun struck deep and hard. There was loose smoke, and even...
"Henryk, you need to stabilize yourself!" shouted Marcus.
"What do you think I'm doing!" snapped back Henryk.
Henryk flipped switches and turned dials. "I'm going to start purging and hopefully that can even out my landing."
The six-shot missile was purged and flew off his back. Following it, the grenade launcher. Then, the mech assault rifle, and the...
"Purge the sword," spoke Lucas. "You'll be safe from the shield, but a fall like that is going to completely junk your mech!" he added urgently.
But Henryk shook his head. His alive right mech arm pried the dead mechanical fingers free from the evisceration weapon. He took it in his right hand. And he smirked, the others watching in surprised shock as his left hand was ejected from his body.
"You can purge body parts?" Lucas asked incredulously.
Henryk only snorted. He started to recalibrate his Warcasket, realizing they were going slower and slower through the air. It would be a rough landing, but at least he would still have a mech to fight with.
"If you recall, older Warcaskets had the ability to purge their body parts into the void... I imagined it was all that deep space mining. It's easy to get stuck there."
In Henryk's closing words, his thrusters guided him downwards upright, his legs landing squarely with sparks.
Atticus of Earth House watched ahead from atop the school's music building. He cleaned his glasses and beside him, a burger awaited as he observed the unfolding spectacle.
He looked down, and he knew Clarissa was part of that crowd. His hand traced down to his cheek, red, and he winced from the sting. His fingers rolled into a fist and frantically shook for a moment, but Atticus found his calm.
They all observed as Piper descended upon Henryk. "Henryk, evasive maneuvers!" shouted Marcus.
"You don't think I know that!" Henryk snapped, half tempted to mute them.
"Don't be afraid to rip and rend with that blade of yours, Henryk," Lucas spoke. "I've seen what evisceration weapons are capable of in capable hands. Show us what you're made of, show us why you deserve to be in our house."
Henryk whirled around, slashing with a blast of martial might. The chains ate away at the barrel of Piper’s minigun. Piper’s legs locked to the earth as Henryk was about to charge.
But then...
"No," he could simply say as the missile payload was unleashed at him.
Piper’s box missile launched six heading towards him in an arc. All present watched with bated breath, expecting the inevitable.
Yet, Henryk’s mind flashed, traveling to all those moments. The times he noticed Sirine when the others couldn't, the times he spoke with bated breath as the talk of mutants was drawn up.
"No, I won't lose!" shouted Henryk.
His voice magnified, and even the crowd felt his defiance. Edward watched in silence, amongst the others as Piper could only stare.
Henryk’s eyes blazed an intense light brown. Powerful orange sparks radiated along his body, consuming the exterior of his Warcasket. "Que Fortify!" The arcane spell left his lips in a thunderous command.
His Warcasket was caked in orange volts of lightning, a shield. As the missiles found their mark, the explosions didn't knock Henryk away. Instead, the fires rode along him now.
Piper watched in stunned shock, eyes widened and lips ajar.
Everyone did.
There was a mute silence as the sudden realization came upon them all at once.
"Henryk…" Jace spoke, his purple eyes glaring at the radio in front of him, with his sister by his side and advisors gathered around, listening intently.
Logan sneered, muttering, "That bleep mutant," his eyes fixed on the warcasket. "That disgusting freak…I can’t believe he even touched me." Logan was relieved that the magical oddity didn't taint their house any further.
Piper glanced through the viewport, murmuring, "He is…"
"He’s a wizard," Margaret exclaimed, her voice shocked and echoing. She fidgeted nervously. "I never knew they could utilize their magic through their warcasket."
"I assume it’s like a medium," Piper speculated, a hint of excitement in her tone.
"Never fought against an actual wizard before," she continued, clicking on the main mic.
"You're real interesting!" Piper taunted over the airwaves. "A hick from some backwater world…and you're even a magician this whole time. Who knew!"
Edward reacted with shock, followed by a thunderous laugh that drew the attention of the entire arena. "You really are something, aren’t you, Henryk?"
Yet, Henryk didn’t grant her any grace. He charged forth, thrusters and legs moving, while Piper discarded the remnants of her gun. She drew her mech’s melee weapon, a moderate-sized sword, and they clashed.
However, Henryk activated the teeth of his chainsaw sword, brutally eviscerating Piper's blade and impaling it through the side. Piper struggled to create space, attempting to aim with her free hand, but Henryk quickly kicked her away.
"I-I…will…fly above the clouds!" Henryk shouted.
The arena erupted with screams, excitement, and energy as they charged for a final time. Henryk hurled his weapon at Piper’s mech, the activated teeth clawing through her gun arm.
They screamed in horror as Piper charged with her remaining hand aiming for Henryk’s head. Yet, Henryk raised his hand, his words filling the stage and resonating with all who heard, "Fire…," the magical verse continuing as he exposed his palm, a ball of brilliant orange fire churning within.
"P-Piper…," Margaret roused as she saw the charging round. And they all did.
“Fireball!” Screamed Henryk, and the brilliant churning energy came crashing in a stream of blazing fury towards Piper. Piper was hit head-on upon her cockpit.
She was thrown hard backwards, the weight of the blow carrying her warcasket through a building. The blow was blocked by the shield, but the damage through the building. Piper slammed hard against the console, blood decorating her vision, splattering across her features, and then the world around her grew dark.
Henryk watched with heavy breaths. His Warcasket ceased to a halt, his right knee buckling from the damage, and the splayed, animalistic robot foot came splayed to support. He planted his evisceration weapon into the earth, and as the sun came down…
It was Ed, that Arthur realized, a faint look of realization streaming down across his features. But, he smiled as the lone warcasket was touched upon by the setting sun of victory.
“Holy crap…,” Makena spoke into the phone, Atticus watching with green eyes.
“He did it,” spoke Atticus.
“The mutant did it,” replied Logan, and he and the rest of Neptune glared ahead.
Franklin was around, and Logan would find him for later. He turned to the faces on the screen. Through supreme damage, Henryk proved his superiority. He eyed his features, the olive of his skin, the waviness of his hair, and the deep blue that one could swim in for his eyes…he’d lynch him to a tree like the days of old.
“Henryk, you won…,” spoke Marcus in shocked surprise.
“You’re a damn good handler,” Lucas spoke as he clasped Marcus by the shoulder. “Say what you will about Zephyr, but he rose you up due to your roles as an officer. He knows how to utilize peoples' talents.”
“Maybe,” sighed Marcus. He cracked his neck and yawned.
“Let’s celebrate after this,” spoke Lucas.
He clicked on the microphone. “Henryk, you’re the victor!” he spoke loudly.
Henryk was breathing hard. “Henryk?” Lucas repeated questioningly. “Are you okay, man?”
“I’m fine,” replied Henryk squarely, but he wasn't fine.
He was hunched over his console, stripped out of his jacket, wearing only pants and boots. Yet, blood trickled from his nostrils. “I didn’t know you were a wizard, that was a damn good element of surprise,” Marcus spoke.
“Piper did not see that coming,” Lucas replied squarely, his eyes fixed on the camera.
“You ever had pizza, Henryk?” Lucas asked.
Henryk paused, then shook his head. “Really?” Marcus repeated. “Well, we know a spot…a hard-fought victory deserves a reward for itself.”
“Well, that will come after the crowning,” Lucas said.
“The crowning?” Henryk repeated. His breathing steadied now, blood ceased. Luckily, they hadn’t realized just how much that exhausted him. He was a mutant, some liked him, and others scorned him. He needed to be careful.
“You’ll bear the uniform of your house…and you’ll be finally admitted into an academy student,” Lucas explained.
Henryk steadied his breath and smiled. Finally! Through all the drama, politics, and disappointment during his tenure at the academy. He had finally done it. He was a member of House Mercury!
If he completed a certain number of years of service, his family would be allowed citizenship to leave for the core worlds, and he could gain fame and reputation to grow his colony and original world. He did it, but there was this…
He stretched his gaze towards Piper’s mech, still on the floor, chest to the air. “Piper, you alright?” he questioned.
“He-n…” Pained and gasping for breath, Henryk heard Piper. He geared his mech forward. “Henryk, what are you…”
“It’s Piper!” he shouted, feeling something deep within—a deep pain, the same deep sorrow he felt when he utilized his powers to find Sirine during the cluster belt incident.
He geared his warcasket to a kneel and ejected. He ran towards Piper’s mech, his heart thumping in his chest. Whatever happened was his fault…he didn’t realize the strength of his powers, he didn’t realize that the shields weren’t…
He grasped with gloved hands, wrenching upon the emergency opening as he peered into the cockpit. Piper’s hair lay splayed along the brown cushions of her seat, her body drenched in sweat, the orange setting sun casting a glistening glow upon her pale skin. “H-en…” she gasped and spoke.
“I need help!” Henryk screamed into the crowd, his gaze shifting back towards Piper.
“Y-you're going to be okay!” Henryk reassured Piper from outside the cockpit.
She chuckled anxiously, the shock of it all settling upon her in the moment. She stared up at Henryk through her green eyes, yet the right one held a glass shard the size of a TV remote, piercing her eye and sending blood and eye fluid in liquid tears down her features.