"Cam? Cam?!" Aeia said, the volume in her cries just barely below that of a shout, "Cam! Cam, say something! Anything!"

  "I-I'm... I'm H-Here," Cameron strained to speak, gritting his teeth so hard they squeaked as he grinded them together. He gripped the phyisilight rods tightly, his whole body trembling with chills despite the temperature of the cockpit. He couldn't move, couldn't think, and could barely form a sentence. All of his attention and energy was focused on the shadow-clad monstrosity fifty yards in front of him, looking upon it in sheer terror as tendrils of void-colored smoke coiled around it's form, starting from it's torso and draping down towards it's arms.

  And then, with a flash almost like a camera shutter that made his head hurt, Cameron watched as the shadowy figure blinked out of existence, replace instead by Arno Kane's Boxer. Cameron blinked rapidly, trying to clear the mental fog. It wasn't a monster standing in front of him, but a man. It wasn't a being of pure darkness but one of light, it's snow white paint chipped and scratched, exposing the interior frame. And it wasn't tendrils of inky shadows surrounding his arms and body, but the jagged arcs of black lightning. Black lighting which was coming right for him.

  "Wh-Wha? What's going on" He said groggily, not trusting his own eyes.

  "Cam MOVE!" Aeia screamed.

  But it was too late.

  Black bolts of electricity lashed out, wrapping around Cameron's body, holding him in place. He felt his feet slide across the sand, as a powerful tug shifted him against his will. The force was momentary however, as rather than pulling Cameron to Arno, the boxer instead used the Headsman like a counterweight, combining that with his boosters to slingshot himself across the arena and land fist first in the face of Cameron's mech.

  An ear-shattering bang rang out from the point of impact, blasting Cameron with a wave of sonic force. He wailed in pain as his bones vibrated and his eardrums ruptured, leaving him in a daze of agony as his hearing was reduced to nothing but a muted ringing, muffled further by trails of hot, thick blood that trailed out of them. His suffering wasn't over yet however, as Arno proceeded to send a flurry of powerful haymakers rocketing into the Headsman's face and torso, boost jets flaring on his Boxer's wrists and elbows to not just increase their speed to a near machine gun-like cadence, but also to strike with just as much force

  One punch became two, two became four, four became twelve, as the Gamma class pilot pummeled Cameron like a ragdoll, carrying from edge to edge of the arena in a flurry of blows that seemed unending. It went on for what felt like an eternity of punishment and pain, as anytime that Cameron had stumbled slight out of range from Arno's onslaught, the tethers of lightning were pulled taut and he was yanked back once more into his mechanical hell.

  'Cam!' Aeia scream inside of his mind, her outward voice long absent thanks to his injury, 'What are you doing?! Stop being a victim and fight back!'

  "I'm...Trying!" He growled. As Arno dashed in to deliver another salvo, Cameron, switched the grip on his blade, holding it in reverse as he brought it up, attempting to block his opponents fist and get a counter offensive started. That was the plan anyway. In actuality, Arno's fist collided with the Headsman's sword with such force that it sent Cameron flying through the air, only to be yanked back to the Boxer who sent a devastating cross into the center of the Headsman. The metal shell buckled and dented, bashing Cameron in the face, shattering his nose as he was sent crashing into the far off barrier in a crumpled heap.

  Cameron, just laid there, groaning with pain that transcended the mere physical realm. Everything ached; His body, his mind, and more importantly, his soul. The moment he most needed the strength, skill, and will that had once came so easy to him, had vanished, replaced by fear, shame, and the ever present reminder that he wasn't as good as he thought he was. He chuckled derisively as he stared at the ceiling through a cracked spiderweb of cracks and fissures, the result of Arno's handiwork on the Headsman's face.

  'Maybe this is a human thing,' Aeia said inside his mind, a weary annoyance beginning to bleed through her usual tone of optimism or worry, 'But i just can't seem to find the humor in having another mental snap following by, and pardon my language, but I want to make sure I get the vernacular correct... The shit beat out of you."

  "Because if I'm not laughing then I'll be crying," He said aloud, trying to catch his breath, "I can't last two minutes in a fight without ending up like a blubbering baby."

  Cameron sighed, wincing as he climbed to his knees, the Headsman making it's protest know as it sparks shot off the joints and divots where his boost jets were. Light found it's way through a series of punctured welds, and as he slowly clambered to his feet, it was a chore for him to remain steady, as his compromised chassis struggled to hold the weight of the Headsman's torso. Across the arena, Arno Kane stood, no longer in his usual boxer stance. Instead, his arms were by his side, still clad in their bindings of black lightning, staring back at Cameron, waiting for him to make a move.

  "Alright..." Cameron said, sighing defeatedly, "Let's get this over with, I suppose."

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  'You're just going to let him finish you off?' Aeia scoffed, sounding offended.

  'I mean... What else am I going to do?' He thought back, 'It's not like I can put up a fight. Even if I wanted to, I'm just going to end up freezing like I did last time. Better to accept an ass whooping than to tease the crowd.'

  'What if...' She said, after a moment, 'What if you didn't freeze?'

  Cameron paused, confusion flashing across his mind.

  'Explain Aeia.'

  'Well...' She said, 'I have more processing power here, thanks to the advance integration from this system than I did back in the normal projection room. I feel like that fact, coupled with having a direct sync from your mind to the uplink jack which is transmitting a connection from the projection coffin to the actual Headsman I-'

  'Hurry it up, Aeia,' Cameron interrupted, 'He's not gonna wait forever.'

  Aeia sighed, 'Just give me permission to do it, and I'll explain later, how about that?'

  Cameron's jaw was set, his eyes straining to focus on Arno through the Headsman's shattered lenses. He watched the Boxer regard him silently for what felt like hours. Then, Arno took a step. And then another. Then Cameron's vision shifted, flashing back and forth between his current opponent, and the one from the asteroid.

  "Fuck!" He cried, feeling his heart rate pick up once again. He didn't even bother to think back his reply as he practically screamed his answer, "Yes! Do it!"

  'With pleasure.'

  Cameron felt a tremendous mental pressure for the briefest of moments, and then, nothing. He felt… nothing. Fear and shame no longer gripped his heart. The mental and physical pain that had troubled him was nowhere to be found. But strangely, like their negative counterparts, the positive emotions were gone as well. Hope, humor, happiness… These all felt like foreign concepts to him now. Even his vision was altered. Bright hues and sharp contrasts no longer tainted his sight, replaced instead by a muted sepia filter that was out across everywhere he looked, painting Arno’s once white armor into that of a warm cream.

  It was in fact Arno now, much to Cameron’s relief if he’d felt the compulsion to feel such. The horrific shadows were gone, as was the echoing chorus of cackling voices. Now… it was just a man, and his mech.

  “What…did you do?” Cameron asked aloud, his tone calm, and lacking emotion.

  ‘What I had to,’ Aeia said, her voice sounding strained, as if she was preoccupied with some herculean task.

  “Are you okay?” He asked.

  ‘Busy,’ She said, her voice clipped, ‘This takes a lot of processing power to do this, and I need to focus. You’re on your own right now, Cam. But I’ll be here, and I know that you know what to do.’

  “Understood,” He said with a nod, feeling some strange mental numbness that, though he couldn’t be certain, told Cameron that Aeia had retreated into the furthest depths of his mind. His eyes unfocused off Arno for a moment, bringing a visual HUD to the forefront of his vision as he took inventory. From a cursory look, through the litany of system messages, Cameron gleaned a few important facts that would impact this fight.

  Error: Loss or Damage of Four-Dimensional movement boosters detected. Percentage of available boosters remaining; 30 Percent.

  Error: Hull breach detected. Hull integrity: 9 Percent.

  Alert: You have activated a Stratagem; Gray Zone. For further details, please see the Stratagem repository at any Pilot Registry office.

  Cameron nodded to himself, closing out the alerts while making a mental note to discuss the last one with Aeia later, before making his way towards the middle of the arena to face off with Arno for the last time.

  Arno reached the center first, still fresh and relatively unharmed, save for a massive cleave on his Boxer’s hip. He was kind enough to give Cameron time to approach however, and even kinder to turn on his PA system to speak, his voice loud enough to reach and be understood despite Cameron’s damaged ears.

  “And here I figured you’d just lay down and accept your fate,” He said, a heavy accent reminiscent of the Slavic peoples from earth prominent in his intonation.

  “Sorry to disappoint,” Cameron said, drawing his sword once more to hold it at the ready, “I was having a minor issue earlier and didn’t exactly get a chance to show you what I can do.”

  “You’re not disappointing me at all, challenger. I admire the fire you have, as well as your resistance. I just hope it’s not all talk.”

  “Only time will tell, I guess,” Cameron said.

  “Indeed,” Arno said, assuming his bouncing stance once again, “Still, not many would wish to continue after going through that onslaught, so you have my respect. Remind me… What’s your name?”

  “Cam…” He said, “Cam Ket.”

  “Well, Mr. Ket,” Arno said, “I say we give these folks a show. Loser buys the first round. I’m not sure about the capabilities of your… hunter unit, nor your Combat Protocol…. But I’m confident in my Boxer’s ability to overcome it.”

  Cameron chuckled dryly, more for show than out of mirth. In truth, he held no animosity to the man, nor respect at the moment. To Cameron, right now, he was just an obstacle.

  “I can agree to that,” Cameron said, priming all of his remaining boosters to full blast as he dropped low, holding his sword in a reverse grip with his right hand, while leaning forward to place a clawed gauntlet into the sand, digging in deep to find purchase on the floor, “But let’s set the record straight here on a couple of things.”

  “And what things would we need to clarify?” Arno asked.

  “First,” Cameron said, “My preferred drink is a tequila sunrise. And second, it’s not a Hunter. It’s a Headsman.”