The rumble of heavy machinery resonated through the Shadow Fox’s body as the biomech rested on its belly by the side of the main road, not far from what amounted to Frederickston’s center of business – a short row of commercial buildings on either side of the road of which one of them was the local Battle Commission branch office.
Scott Ronin rested atop the Shadow Fox’s left front paw, enjoying the morning warmth while basking in the shade of his Zoid. He felt the vibrations that travelled up the biomech’s limb and opened his eyes a fraction to squint at the wheeled traffic trundling past him down the road. Loose sand and dirt were flung into the air by dozens oversized, metal-shod tires of a diameter that made a tall man look small beside them. They were a good fit for the colossal trucks that lumbered by – big rigs built to haul immobile Zoids from a battlefield and thus larger than a Gustav in every way. The long line of behemoths travelled westward through the town, leaving a dirty fog in the air that drifted over Zoids and pedestrians alike under a cloudless, blue-sky morning.
Scott had glimpsed a company logo emblazoned on the side of a truck. It was a Gojulas gripping a chromed dumbbell in its jaws, encircled by a black ring. Although he couldn’t make out the company name through the free-floating dust cloud, he recognized the logo as belonging to a private company frequently contracted by the Zoid Battle Commission to support fringe tournaments much like the one that Frederickston was hosting come Monday morning.
Although he’d never had reason to use their services, Scott had in his short career as a Zoid warrior sent much business their way. He watched the vehicles disappear into the dusty distance, obscured by the thick brown cloud trailing in their wake. Afterwards, he shifted his body into a more upright posture that left him sitting on the Fox’s paw and peering down at pilot-suit. The once dark grey, military style outfit had become murky brown, covered in layers of dirt and sand. He wiped away at it but gave up in mild disgust a few seconds later.
I think it’s time we got it cleaned, he mused, contemplating his disgraceful state, and thinking he should have known better than to sit by the side of the road where he was exposed to the elements. Looking up in dismay, he almost immediately laid eyes on Lidiya standing a few feet away, wearing a bemused expression after undoubtedly witnessing his futile attempt to wipe down his pilot-suit. But before long, she went from puzzled to downright disappointed.
“You really should get it cleaned,” she muttered at him, shaking her head in disapproval. “You’re a Wildcard now. You need to make a good impression.”
Scott blinked and ran through several possible replies, then offered her an ingratiating smile as he said, “Why thanks, Honey. I’ll keep that in mind.”
A dark cloud crossed her face, and Scott pictured thunderbolts in her eyes as she walked up to him. He gradually released his smile, hoping not to betray any of the fear slowly working its way up his back. I think you’re pushing it, Ronin, he warned himself as Lidiya stopped by the Fox’s paw with Scott sitting on it. She wore a jacket over her pilot-suit and reached into the former to retrieve Ronin’s warrior registration data cartridge that she then handed up to him.
“It’s done,” she declared as Scott reached down and accepted the cartridge from her.
Team Wildcards had risen early in the morning, having spent the night inside their Zoids parked within the junkyard warehouse belonging to Folton Drexler. The man had robbed them of another thousand credits as the cost for spending the night inside his premises. That was on top of the thousand credits Scott had already paid to bring the teams Zoids into the hangar and out of the sandstorm. Scott covered the extra charge out of his own pocket, and assured Aaron Rylos that it wasn’t a problem.
To make up for it, Aaron had then offered to pay Deacon Drexler for use of his mobile home’s amenities, such as the kitchen for breakfast, and its bathroom and shower facility. Deacon had somewhat grudgingly accepted the money. Oddly, Scott felt the man had something to say but didn’t feel it was the right time to do so. Deacon had then whipped them up a tidy breakfast of bacon and eggs on toast, with pancakes on the side, and freshly brewed coffee to wash it down. His mobile home’s dining area had seating for four, meaning the Wildcards and Deacon got to share their breakfast together. It had been a while since Scott had eaten a meal with other people. He wouldn’t say it left him feeling nostalgic, but it did remind him of the times he partaken in lunch or dinner with the other Backdraft pilots and mechanics at the Mount Isolena base. Nor could he deny what a difference a shower made to his mood after spending the last few days on the road without one.
All that said, it was Lidiya who’d enjoyed the shower the most. Its positive effect on her mood left her open to suggestion when Aaron craftily gave her the task of registering Ronin for the tournament as a member of Team Wildcards. She expressed only mild reluctance before asking if there was a vehicle she could borrow for the trip into town, not wanting to take her Lightning Saix for another long walk. Fortunately, Deacon had an old compact jeep that he’d refurbished. Aaron offered to pay him for its use, but the tall man had declined, simply asking that Lidiya return it one piece when she was done with her business in town.
For a moment there, I really thought Deacon was going to offer to drive her to town.
Lidiya frowned as she noticed Scott thoughtfully staring at her. “What? Something on my face?”
Huh? He shook his head inwardly, clearing his thoughts. “Nope. All good.”
“Really?” Lidiya drawled out, not looking convinced. “Anyway, it’s good that we got here when we did. I just managed to get you registered as the 62nd entry.”
Scott nodded as he stored his registration cartridge into a hip pocket of his pilot suit, but then suddenly Lidiya’s words hit home and he stared at her in shock. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”
“About what?”
“About the tournament.”
Lidiya looked briefly annoyed and sighed loudly. “I said, you’re registered as the sixty-second entrant into the tournament.”
Scott had some trouble processing that. “You’re not kidding, are you.”
“No, I’m not,” she retorted. “There are sixty-four entrants into the tournament. Teams and solo competitors.” Lidiya fished out a small booklet from one of her jacket’s other pockets. Without preamble she tossed it onto his dusty lap. “A getting started guide to the tournament rules and regulations.”
Scott picked up the booklet, skimming over its contents. However, he was preoccupied with what Lidiya had just told him. “Are there really sixty-four competitors?”
“Okay, this is getting old,” she complained. “Yes, there are sixty-three other competitors. That’s what I was told by the lady at the counter. In fact, the guys behind me were the last bunch to register. Everybody after them was told better luck next time.”
Scott scratched his head, genuinely puzzled. “But it was restricted to only sixteen entrants a few days ago.”
“Not anymore,” Lidiya said, shaking her head at him. “And you got the prize money wrong.”
Scott frowned. “No, I didn’t.”
“Oh yes, you did,” she answered him, folding her arms under her breasts. Her expression swiftly turned smug. “It’s not fifty thousand anymore.”
Scott reluctantly asked, “Okay…so what is it?”
“It’s two hundred thousand. And that’s just the grand prize. There are prizes paid out to any team or soloist that survives into the quarter-final round or higher. And that’s whether they win or lose.”
“…okay…that’s a Hell of a lot of money….”
Questions tumbled around in Scott’s head. He chose to look away from Lidiya as he sank into thought, and soon found himself staring up and down both sides of the road. When he and Lidiya had arrived at Frederickston about an hour ago, Scott had noticed the unusual amount of Zoids already occupying the ground alongside the dilapidated road. It hadn’t concerned him, except that it meant searching a little farther for a place to set the Shadow Fox down and for Lidiya to park the jeep. However, in light of what the young woman had revealed, he started to understand why this part of town was so crowded.
Scott jumped off the Shadow Fox’s paw and took a few steps toward the road so that he could stare westward in the direction he’d seen the convoy of oversized transports travelling.
So that’s why there were so many of them.
A tournament with sixty-four entrants meant there were going to be a lot of wrecked Zoids. Ergo, the need for a lot of large flatbeds to cart them off the battlefields.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
He turned and walked back to the Fox and a puzzled Lidiya Rylos.
“The final prize was definitely fifty thousand when I checked the tournament listing two—no, three days ago.”
“Well,” she said, folding her arms under her bosom, “it went up.”
Scott had to make a conscious effort to keep his gaze from straying over Lidiya’s ample bosom. The dark jacket she wore over her pilot-suit hung open, and the suit was unzipped nearly down to her navel, revealing what was likely a moss-green tank top beneath it – one that happened to be damp with her sweat because describing the morning as warm was an understatement. And it was going to get hotter as the sun sailed across the sky toward midday.
That reminds me. I’d better check my cool suit is working.
Jumping back onto the previous train of thought, Scott mused aloud, “Two hundred grand is a lot of money on offer from a tournament this far out from the big towns and cities.” He shook his head, having a hard time rationalizing what he’d learnt from Lidiya. “Makes me wonder who the sponsors are and why they’re putting up such a big pool of money.” His gaze roamed over the Zoids he could see up and down the side of the road. “That much money will have drawn some heavy hitters to the tournament.”
Which is going to make it a lot tougher for us to win.
Ronin had entered the tournament as a member of Team Wildcards, but he would effectively be squaring off against competitors on his own. Neither Aaron’s Command Wolf AC, nor Lidiya’s Saix were in any decent condition to fight, and they lacked the funds to get the biomechs fixed.
Well…I knew what I was getting into when I signed up with them.
Lidiya stepped closer to him and cleared her throat loud enough to draw his attention. “Ronin, I don’t think that will be the case. This region—and I’m talking about anywhere within three hundred kilometers of Frederickston—is mostly travelled by C-class teams. Maybe there are a few B-class teams lurking around, but almost everyone around here is C-class.”
Scott turned and faced her. “You’re right. And B-class teams don’t face off against C-class teams….” His voice trailed off as he realized an obvious danger, then hurriedly searched the handbook Lidiya had handed him earlier while trying not to look frantic.
I think we’re in trouble.
“Ronin,” she said, “I know what you’re looking for.”
“And what would that be?”
“The tournament allows for A, B, and C-class teams to jointly participate.”
Scott slowly closed the handbook. “Yeah, I figured as much.”
“But that shouldn’t be a problem,” Lidiya went on to say.
“And how do you figure that?”
“Because the lady at the counter said the new prize money was announced two days ago, so the only competitors who could register in time and in person were those within a couple of days travel from here. The only heavy hitters will be the few B-class teams that happened to be passing through. They’re the ones you’re going to have to worry about because in all my time here I’ve never come across an A-class team…not unless they got lost in a sandstorm and ended up here by mistake.” Lidiya paused for a breath. “That reminds me. Your personal ranking is B-class. How do you feel about joining a C-class team?”
Ronin smiled easily at her. “If it bothered me, I wouldn’t have sought you out.”
She studied him in silence for a short while, followed by a faint nod, maybe even relaxed a little. But in moments, she’d grown hesitant and anxious. “Ronin, about the money you—”
A loud shout from a deep, baritone voice boomed into the air from across the road, cutting her off.
“SCOTT RONIN—I’LL BE DAMNED!”
It sounded like it was amplified by a loudspeaker. The net effect was that Scott jumped back from Lidiya, his heart beating hard and fast as he searched for the owner of that thundering voice. It didn’t take him long to spot a bear of man bounding in his direction from the opposite side of the road, and Scott’s stomach sank as he recognized who it was.
Oh, no. Why is he here?
Lidiya was struggling to find her voice as she hid behind Scott, thus she ended up talking really fast when she said, “Dear gods, tell me he’s a friend of yours.”
“He’s a mercenary. A loner, just like me.”
Even as he spoke the words, Scott realized they weren’t entirely true, and he briefly worried over how she might interpret them. However, his attention was dominated by the gargantuan man who’d crossed the street post haste and now stood a couple of feet away from Scott. He was nigh on seven feet tall, with thickly muscular arms and legs, and a barrel-chested torso that stretched the fabric of his Zoid pilot-suit to the limit. A thick mop of unruly blonde hair bordered a sun beaten face that grinned from ear-to-ear, revealing his pearly white teeth.
For his part, Scott was somewhat miffed to notice the man’s suit was significantly cleaner than his own.
That settles it. We’re definitely getting our suit cleaned.
The oversized mercenary lowered his voice, but there was no doubt it would still carry far. “Scott Ronin, as I live and breathe. What the Devil brings you to these parts?”
Scott cleared his throat by swallowing twice. “The life of a lone warrior often leads to seldom travelled ways.”
“Hah,” the man laughed. “Not that mystical mumbo jumbo again.”
Scott managed a casual shrug, then he heard Lidiya’s polite cough from behind him. Remembering his manners, he half-turned to introduce her. “Lidiya,” he said, “I’d like you to meet an old acquaintance of mine”. He gestured at the man towering before him. “This is Bron Kurdo. Mercenary warrior extraordinaire.”
Bron half stepped around Scott and leaned over to shake Lidiya’s hand. Scott watched in mild amusement as she tentatively offered it to him, perhaps wondering if she’d get it back in the same condition. Bron didn’t reveal if he was aware of her discomfit, but he tenderly enveloped her fingers with his own and planted a soft kiss on the back of her hand.
“Charmed,” he murmured, a deep basso resonating from the depths of his chest.
Scott felt his amusement drain into dark waters as he watched Bron lay the charm on Lidiya. He caught the twitch of her eyebrows as she considered the enormous mercenary before her with clear interest. Bron gently released her hand, smiled, and smoothly retreated a step. He then stood arms akimbo, facing Scott with a broad, open smile that the ex-Backdraft pilot was in no mood to match, though he nonetheless salvaged a smile for Bron.
What the Hell is Kurdo doing here?
Scott desperately tried to hide his mounting unease. “And what brings you to these parts. I thought you’d be sticking closer to where the big money was to be found.”
Please, please don’t be in the tournament—PLEASE don’t be in the tournament!
When Bron sighed it sounded like it came from a furnace bellow. “I’m here for the tournament.”
Scott held onto his composure by the skin of his teeth.
No, no, no! Tell me I didn’t hear that!
Bron then shrugged a shoulder. “It’s the best prize money on offer out of all the tournaments being held within a couple of hundred kilometers of this town.” He leaned toward Scott and made an attempt at sounding confidential. “I heard some company big wigs were flying into town looking to sign up promising Zoid pilots for company sponsorship. I suspect they’re responsible for quadrupling the first prize to two hundred thousand credits.”
Abruptly worried, Scott couldn’t hold onto his fake smile, and it slid right off his face. “What company?”
Bron raised his eyebrows. “Lhoengrin.”
Beside him, Lidiya let out a soft gasp and Scott barely heard her whisper, “…the security company….?”
It’s more than a security company, he thought. Much more.
Bron was considering him carefully. “I take it you’re participating as well.” He glanced at the Shadow Fox. “Can’t see you missing out on an opportunity like this.”
“A man has to make a living,” Scott said by way of explanation.
“Well,” Bron straightened. “Just you remember”—he tapped his chest—“the first prize is mine.”
“If you’re nice to me,” Scott slowly said, “I might go easy on you.”
Bron’s smile darkened, “You always were a ruthless bastard, Ronin.” Then his face brightened, and his cheerful grin returned. “After this why don’t you and I team up like old times? We can help out the C-class and B-class teams looking to move up the ranks. Or we can form our own team. What do you say?”
Scott leaned back and pondered the offer. A month ago, even a week ago, he might have been tempted. Their partnership in the past had been successful, and Bron was anything but an ineffective combatant. The man had been piloting Zoids in the arena for many years, and Scott had learned a great deal from him during their time together. Despite his experience piloting Zoids, Scott had lacked actual combat time. He was a Backdraft test pilot, not a Backdraft competitor in the dark matches. Partnering with Bron had fast tracked his progress on the battlefield and shortened his learning curve by a major margin.
Come to think of it, he ruminated inwardly, I guess I was lucky not to be drafted into the dark matches.
A sudden sharp inhale from Lidiya yanked him back to the present, and cemented the only reply he could give his former mentor. Keeping his eyes locked on Bron, Scott warmly, yet firmly said, “I found myself a team.” He cocked his head at Lidiya beside him. “Team Wildcards.”
Bron blinked rapidly in succession and his face echoed the incredulity he must have felt.
“You?” he intoned in disbelief. “A team player?” He shook his head slowly before adding, “You barely listened to my advice when I took you under my wing.”
Scott didn’t like the direction the conversation had taken and sought to change its tack. “Well,” he replied smoothly, “sometimes all it takes is that special someone to help realize the error in your ways.” He flashed Bron a knowing smile.
The man’s eyes narrowed, then his gaze jumped to Lidiya standing beside Scott. “Well,” he drawled over a long moment, “I guess anything’s possible.” Again, his face brightened as a new idea struck him. “It might even soften you out there. Take some of your edge on the battlefield.” He looked unabashedly pleased at the prospect of a weaker Scott Ronin.
Slender fingers wrapped themselves around Scott’s upper right arm applying vice-like pressure as Lidiya leaned in close to him. He could smell the sweet scent of her perfume as she spoke into his right ear while caressing the nape of his neck. He felt himself break out into goosebumps as delicious shivers ran up and down his spine.
Holy Genobreaker, he thought as Lidiya worked her magic on his lower brain.
“Honey,” she purred, “don’t you remember? You promised me the first prize.”
Slowly, he turned his head to face her, but as he opened his lips to reply, Lidiya leaned forward and followed through with a kiss that left Scott breathless and confused. His world shrank to just him and her until Lidiya ended the kiss, retreating back a step with a curious mixture of surprise and pleasure in her eyes.
All the while, Scott’s heart raced in his chest, the kiss leaving him somewhat faint and boneless. He watched Lidiya flash Bron a wicked smile before she spun around on her booted heels and walked away with a mesmerizing feline grace. He wondered if she was swaying her hips just a little more than usual as she strode up to the open-top jeep that Deacon had loaned her. Lidiya climbed in, started the engine, then waved at Scott with a smile before she drove onto the road and headed east through the town. It was quite the while before he sought to ask, Wait a minute—where is she going?
“Oh, man,” Bron asked with undisguised envy, “how did you ever land her?”
The mercenary’s deep basso voice was a shocking reminder to Scott that Bron had witnessed the entire event. That left him unsure of what to say, and he could only shake his head in response.
“I need a drink,” he eventually declared, “and I’m buying.”