“Holy fuck!” McVaughn stammered. “Uh, Cheshire you’re out. Melissa’s up. Unless….?”
But the wreckage of Cheshire’s machine was slumped over, smoke billowing from the blasted cracks. It would not be getting up again. Melissa came running out onto the field, screaming all the way, and was shortly joined by Rover, Zak, Patch and Danton Pygamile. After a few minutes, Melissa and the other girls had dragged a body out of the hatch, and while the unconscious woman wasn’t severely bleeding, her body was seriously bruised — especially where the chains had seared into her waist. The small pale girl was beside herself, shaking Cheshire’s limp body in a desperate hope to wake her. Meanwhile Danton examined the armoured remains.
“This will be out of commission. Give me a few days and I can fix it up. McVaughn?” He called out to the box, waving an arm, “you might want to postpone. Get the injured woman to the Infirmary.”
But the voice that responded over the speakers wasn’t the trainer’s — it was Romanoff’s.
“Continue. You have three other intact Vio systems. Bogdan, you may get into one of those. Eosides, drag that wreck off the edge of the arena. It might as well be you who cleans up your own mess.”
Still recovering her breath from the fight, Chione followed the order without complaint. The moment she had landed, her mind had mostly gone blank, when just a moment before she was absolutely fixed on destroying her enemy. Even as she pulled the hunk of metal over, she kept a tab on the scanner, and stole looks through the porthole. Cheshire looked badly hurt, but not dead. Good.
Patch was carrying her away and it appeared Zak was either consoling, or just constraining the girl who desperately wanted to follow her. But by the time Chione returned to the field, Melissa was climbing into a fresh VA1, ready for battle.
“Alright back on schedule,” said McVaughn through the speaker. “On my count.”
Chione’s machine readied its rifle with both hands. One of them was missing a finger, the middle of the usual three. Melissa’s mech was clasping the weapon tight, and it felt like its whole focus was on Chione. Then the comm came alive, but not to convey any message. She just heard some strained, uneven breathing ––punctuated by a single, weak cough.
“One!”
The machine opposite burst into action. Melissa fired one shot, and a second. Both missed, but she lurched forward and Chione caught her mid-lunge; fist grappling mechanical fist.
“You…w dare you,” the small voice barely cut through the surrounding noise, “…onna make you pay!”
Chione yanked Melissa’s arm up, exposing her for a hit. Melissa must have realised the mistake, and her machine jerked — but Chione’s shot scraped through. 1-0.
The second round, Melissa changed tack. She must have got control of herself, because she pulled off her previous tactic: gaining distance, then sniping a shot while Chione tried to close it. They were even now, but only in number of points. She could feel the rage coming from the blank stare of the faceless mech. It was lumbering back to starting position.
Chione reached over and thumbed the comm, saying, “Melissa. You should stand down. You don’t even have any reason to be here.”
“… Kuh.”
That was a good sign. It showed the other girl was listening. Chione enclosed her fingers around her controls, gripping the handles.
“Cheshire’s gone, I got her good. You’re free now, too.”
There was an ear-splitting screech. The comm was frying beside her, and whatever sounds Melissa was making was simply too much for the hardware to handle. Chione sprung into action, driving her VA1 as an incensed Melissa did the same. They lunged right up into each other’s neck. Melissa threw the first punch, Chione veered off to avoid it. She turned. She jammed the barrel right towards the enemy, aiming square. It was hers! She fired.
But everything happened in a flash, and it all went wrong. She turned too much and, adding to her momentum, Melissa’s heavy steel arm made a swatting motion to shove her away. It was enough for Chione’s shot to go from bullseye to off-the-mark in half a second. Melissa got the riposte. She aimed for core — no the porthole, and behind it, Chione herself.
She hit. 3-1.
With the asteroid dust settling around them and McVaughn’s voice drifting through the loudspeaker, Chione heaved for air and looked upon the scene. Just that half-second and her triumph had died in her chest. She lost. To Melissa of all people, she somehow fucking lost. Rover was already half-way down the field while Chione was still just staring and trying to accept what she saw.
When the hatch above her banged, she snapped out of her stupor. She would have a chance to return again, so she dragged herself out of the chains and headed out. There was still one last fight for her.
Whatever had clicked in Melissa’s brain after she saw her beloved ‘mommy’ knocked out, continued on in her last two fights. Rover had no chance, and while Patch gave a struggle and landed a few hits, Melissa sniped her way to victory. With that, Melissa qualified, and finally stepped out of her machine. She was burning with sweat, and fell to her knees, but luckily Rover was there to help her to her feet.
As McVaughn sent Vil down to take Melissa’s place ––meaning that it was the loser Patch who was the one going to fight twice in a row this time–– Chione lay her back against a section of wall and slid down to the ground. She was numb inside. She didn’t know what to feel one way or the other. It was a mistake to let what just happened stay with her though. Vil had just a few matches left. Three girls had already qualified, two were virtually out already, and one had been violently ejected from the competition. That just left Rigoletta and herself.
“Alright,” McVaughn said with a grin, “you’re done for the day Vil. You’re our fourth girl on the team. You can leave now — you too, Rover. Fridge, Rigoletta, get down there. It’s all to play for now.”
When Chione got into the VA1 — the same one with the broken finger — it had two days’ worth of sweat and odour filling the cramped space. But it was starting to feel familiar. She wondered if she might start to miss this thing if she were kicked out now. All the more reason for her to win. So she slotted her sore arms through the chains, clipped the harness around her waist, and lay her callused hands on the controls.
“You know,” Rigoletta’s voice came on the comm, “I might have gotten you wrong, Fridge. I thought by now you’d have cracked. Heh, I thought I’d be the one to crack you.”
Chione said nothing.
“You know why my girls beat you so easily? Vil and Roxie may be young but they’ve come up through the real world. We know how this works. We take what we need, and we take what we want. You can play the tough, ice gal. But ice cracks.”
Chione felt the resistance of the handles as she lightly pressed, though did not yet push them. The urging welled up in her forearms.
“You’re too soft, princess,” Rigoletta declared. “You’re too soft for Asphodel.”
McVaughn gave the sign to start, and Chione shot forward. So did Rigoletta. A trail of dust fell behind them as they crashed in the centre, arm to arm. Both immediately wrangled, trying to get their gun into position. Chione fired first, missed, then Rigoletta shot. The lasers scattered off the ground but neither was hit.
The tussle continued, Chione trying to get a good shot on the core — but Rigoletta was trying to scrape by with an edge hit, forcing her to evade more. If Chione didn’t mark the enemy, Rigoletta could get the single point and reset the round. So she shifted her levers, and made a swipe. Her machine drew in and started battering the enemy’s gun. After a few solid hits, it dislodged from its hand, flying several yards, and hitting the rock with a bloom of dust.
But Rigoletta bounced back. She punched Chione’s gun, and it took just one hit to disarm her — with a missing finger, perhaps the VA1’s grip was loose. Chione glanced at the dropped weapon through the viewport. Then she turned back to the opponent with a snarl. She yanked the handles and thrust the hulking metal beast forward, slugging the other VA1 with a punch just as it was lifting its hands to do the same.
“Woah-ho!” McVaughn exclaimed, though added, “just warning you, you have to get a hit with the rifle to get a point.”
Chione got a second punch in, but the enemy’s arm slow upward sweep finally caught the jab, and allowed her to punch back. When the mechanical fist hit, the entire cage around Chione shuddered, jerking her against the harsh chains searing her skin. Mouth splitting, Chione looked at the Rigoletta-mech with hate — though it was far colder than the utter rage she’d had for Cheshire. Kicking up the thrusters, she rushed into another punch — only for Rigoletta to jump up and beat down her machine with a blow to the back.
She crashed to the ground. Chione’s hair was falling forward as the chains held her back from impaling on the control equipment. She tried to pull up, but quickly found herself being lifted anyway, as Rigoletta’s machine tossed her and sat squat over her, pinning her down.
“Heh heh!” the laugh sputtered over static, “don’t kick up a fuss. I’ve got you now.”
Rigoletta’s machine grabbed Chione’s by the legs and started pulling. The defenceless pilot physically recoiled in sympathy to her defenceless machine. The enemy was bearing its weight down, leering over like some sort of ravenous beast as it pulled its prey’s legs apart. Her skin was splitting. Her insides boiled. But Chione kept herself resolute and maintained eye contact. There had to be something.
There it was — where the extremities interlocked the main body, the plating was poorly integrated, leaving the joints exposed at one angle. And Rigoletta — the big dumb oaf she was — had gone for the wrong set of limbs.
“Grraagh!”
Chione screamed as she grabbed her controls and tugged. Her free hands shot up, jamming straight into the weak points of the other’s arms. Sparks jetted out, followed by smoke. There was a bang as both arms flew off, one losing its grip on Chione’s leg, and the other just spinning around it before dumping onto the ground.
“What the fuck!” Rigoletta shouted
Chione managed her machine to its feet, while Rigoletta’s slumped to its knees, an armless wreck groaning on reserve power. Chione picked up one of the loose weapons still on the ground, walked right up her opponent, and aimed the end of the barrel right on the surface of her porthole. Almost as if using all its strength, the downed machine jerked up slightly to face her. Chione’s ears braced for the comm to spark up again. When it did, it delivered Rigoletta’s scream.
“You little bitch!”
Chione sniffed once, then pressed the button to fire. Even if the damage from the gun was superficial, the force was enough to tip the VA1 back onto the ground. A garbled sound screeched through the comm, so Chione shut it off.