Twin lances of black lighting arced out from the Boxer’s fists, twisting and coiling like deadly serpents in an untraceable pattern. Cameron raised his blade, waiting for the right moment to parry and begin his counter offensive, but, to his surprise, the ending destination wasn’t meant for him. Instead, the coiling pair of electric tethers parted, splitting around either side of him before burying themselves in the ground, their unbearable heat quickly turning the sand into melted glass. Arno pulled the tether taut, using the meager stack of boosters he had to rocket himself into the air as he catapulted himself towards Cameron, pulling back a fist as if to take the Headsman’s helm clean off.
Cameron had different plans however, waiting until Arno had reached the apex of his leap before springing into action. He charged forward, using the force of any and all boosters at his disposal to rocket underneath the falling Boxer. As soon as he’d passed Arno’s shadow, Cameron switched direction, digging his clawed hand into the floor to act as a pivot point, letting him turn on a dime and get in a prime position slightly behind the now falling Boxer.
Cameron gripped the handle off his blade with both hands, leaping forward and swinging up, cutting a massive channel up the armored Boxer’s back, starting from the waist and ending just below the neck. He felt the resistance of the plated armor fold and give way as he forced his blade to carve its way through, shearing off chunks of painted metal and dense chunks of wiring, to the point that as he carved his way through, Cameron could see the bronze skin of Arno Kane through the open shell, his bronzed skin slick and shiny with a sheen of blood and sweat.
Cameron charged forward, watching Arno stumble as he hit the ground, whirling around just in time to see one of the Headsman’s clawed hands shoot outward, gripping his Boxer’s skull. Despite his lack of glee, Cameron still felt a smile make its way across his face, as he drove forward, bowling the Boxer towards the ground, dragging his helm through the sand as he hauled back with his sword. Like a mighty predator, he could smell blood in the air, and was going to capitalize on his opponent's mistake to the most extreme degree. His blade reached the height of it’s apex, ready to fall like the divine wrath of an ancient god, until…
BANG
A sound similar to that of a cannon being fired rang out through the arena, as flashes of searing hot pain and chilling cold wracked Cameron’s body. He gasped out, the air in his lungs leaving, and refusing to be refilled. His body shook and twitched, as his hand grasping the blade went limp, dropping the weapon as it clattered to the sand with a dull thud. Cameron turned his head, watching the sword fall, then looked down seeing the unmistakable sight of a fist punched deep inside of his cockpit, breaking through the damaged shell like it was tissue paper, and turning Cameron’s midsection into nothing but a mass of jellied entrails.
“Wh- Ho-” He gasped, his vision slowly blurring before it faded into darkness, leaving him alone with only Arno’s parting words to keep him company.
“Looks like I was just a bit faster this time ‘round… Good fight kid.”
***
Cameron awoke with a gasp, sitting up in the coffin-like projection system, his hands involuntarily going down to his stomach, clutching it tight as if to ensure his insides were still, well, inside. To his relief, he was unharmed, his body whole, if a little damp from a could sweat, like a bad dream.
"Oh, thank the stars..." He said quietly, closing his eyes, waiting patiently as lucidity returned to him. With that lucidity, came the memories of his fight with Arno. With those memories, came the last one he had, with Arno's fist inside of his belly after Cameron had gotten too excited about finishing the fight, practically blinding himself to any concept or notion that the much more experienced Gamma could manage a counter attack in his staggered state. With that memory, the feeling of relief was quickly washed away, replaced instead by the potent combination of frustration, and anger.
He tilted his head back and opened his mouth, expressing his dissatisfaction in the only way he knew how.
"GOD FUCKING DAMMNIT!"
***
Fletcher Kahl sat at his desk in contemplative silence, his gaze glued to the giant screen hanging on the wall in front of him as he replayed that last few minutes of the Scouting Scrap. For once, he wished he had any type of facial features to contort in confusion and consternation. Over and over, the same three-minute clip played on repeat, as he paused at different timestamps, looking off to his side desk where he'd been monitoring Cam Ket's vital signs, before letting the clip play out once again. All the while Priya Patel sat behind, watching him work in an awkward silence.
"Interesting..." He said, typing something into a datapad set inside of his desk, before rewinding the clip once again.
"Erm... Sir?" Priya said, clearing her throat, "The fighters should be awake now, if you would like to..."
"Hmm?" Fletcher said, looking over his shoulder for the briefest of moments, as if he'd forgotten the woman's presence. Then he nodded, turning back to his work, as he waved her off dismissively, "Right... Money's in your account. Get home safe. I'll see Ket out myself."
"But we-" She started to say, but Fletcher interrupted her, his body rigid and voice like ice.
"I said... I'll see him out myself." He repeated, whirling to face her, causing her to dry gulp.
"Y-Yes Sir," She said, nodding rapidly as she got to her feet, quickly making her way to the door.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
"Priya," He called, and she froze, her hand hovering just inches away from the doorknob, "Keep you datapad close. I still have use for you in regards to him, and you have appearances to keep up with."
"Understood Sir," She said, "Have a good night."
He didn't respond, too engrossed in his notes to bother with a proper farewell. Something happened during the fight that he couldn't wrap his brain around, and as his eyes scanned over the EEG report of Cam's brainwaves, his confusion only doubled.
Two separate wavelengths were detected. Two consciousness were being recorded. This wasn't unusual, at least not to Fletcher. AI's were like that when they connected to their pilots. What wasn't normal, was what the scans showed around halfway through the bout. It was clear to see that Cam was feeling strong emotions of... something, while the other wave was holding steady. Then, around the time the Headsman was laying there, reeling from Arno's barrage, the AI went silent, nearly disappearing off of the tracker. Even more peculiar, Cam's brainwaves were also reduced, and not just to the point of a neutral state. It was nearly unreadable as well, as if he'd suddenly gone braindead, which clearly wasn't the case.
"What are you playing at, Pilot?" He said softly.
He looked up to the far right corner of the screen, and seeing the time displayed, cursed silently, before standing up from his chair, quickly making his way towards the door. He had a winner to pay out, and a loser to console.
***
By the time the door to the war room opened and Fletcher stepped through the threshold, Cameron had already finished his angry tirade. Still, when the proxy started to gave him a round of applause, a feeling of annoyance ran throughout his body.
"Bravo!" Fletcher said, amusement evident in his voice, "Such an impressive showing from one so new to our craft!"
Cameron laughed nervously, humoring the man, "Heh, I uh... I appreciate the kind words."
"Kind?" Fletcher said, static popping from his speakers as he scoffed, "Mr. Ket... I'm not kind. I'm making an observation. To do what you did, at your rank, against a Gamma? It was simply... spectacular. I was a tad worried at the start when you let him get like he did, and it is a shame that the damage you sustained ultimately lead to your unfortunate losing of the match, but still... consider me thoroughly entertained."
Cameron offered a smile that didn't reach his eyes, still mulling over the battle in his mind. Then he blinked, looking over Fletcher's shoulder and then back at the Proxy, confused.
"Where's Priya?" He asked.
"Ah," Fletcher said, "She wished me to relay her deepest apologies, but an emergency client came calling, and she had to go see to their... issue. She asked for your forgiveness and hopes for your understand."
Cameron grimaced, and gave a shrug, looking down at his feet as he nodded, "Well, she asked me to accompany her, not leave with her."
"I'm sure you'll see here again," Fletcher said, putting a metal hand on Cameron's shoulder in a gesture of kindness, "Though, as disappointing as it seems, it's not all bad, dear boy."
"What do you mean?"
Fletcher reached into his pocket, and produced a small, darkly colored device, tossing it towards Cameron, "For you," He said.
Cameron caught it and looked down, studying the small trinket. It was black and made of plastic, with smooth edges, shaped almost like a chicken's egg with a small display in the middle, flashing the number one million.
"What's this?" Cameron asked, looking back up at Fletcher and raising his eyebrow.
"That," Fletcher said, "Is what you could consider a... consolation prize. One million silver. I put it on a credit link, since I don't have your account information. All you need to do is go to your nearest bank and deposit it. They'll know what to do."
Cameron's eyes went wide, his hands going shaky as he nearly dropped the thing. Quickly, he pushed it into his pocket, before looking back at Fletcher, mouth agape in shock.
"I... I don't understand."
Fletcher sighed, putting his arms behind his back and motion for Cameron to follow, before strolling out the door, talking as he lead him back down the maze like hallway.
"I'm aware it seems...odd," He began, "To throw this sort of money around, but, I'll be honest... I'm intrigued by you and your unit. It's design, it's weapon, the way you fight with it. It's as beautiful as it is devastating."
"Not devastating enough," Cameron said, "Or else I would have won."
"Not true," The proxy said, shaking his head, "You would have won if you'd have sustained that attack from Mr. Kane. Though you were initially damaged in his Combat Protocol: Storm Thread, I suspect that your unit is lacking in certain... defensive applications, yes?"
Cameron nodded, "Yeah. It goes fast and hit's hard, but it can't take what it dishes out."
"As I suspected," Fletcher said, "So treat this money as... an investment. I enjoyed what I saw and I would love to see more. But if I added you to the roster with you at the rank you are now, the shareholders would have a fit, declare favoritism and it's just all sorts of headache for me. Instead, I'm giving this to you with the hopes that, should you live long enough to become a Gamma, we can make your entrance to high society in style. Go buy some new toys, get some armor, even if it's just a little. Do whatever it is you feel you need to do, but use it. After that, I don't really care what you use it for. I just hope that, should the time come, you'd repay this generosity with some of your own, and fight for me again."
"So... If I take this..." Cameron said, "It's under the assumption I come fight for you?"
Fletcher shook his head, looking back over his shoulder at him, and spoke in a way that told Cameron if he had the parts to use, that Fletcher would be smirking.
"There is no assumption Mr. Ket. It's an invitation. I can't do anything with you right now, but I have the hope that when the time is right, you'd grace us with another grand performance. Besides, I'm at the point in my career where a million silver doesn't exactly break the bank."
The rest of the walk continued in silence, with Cameron deep in thought as to the Proxy's proposal, and Fletcher content to leave Cameron to his reflections. Only speaking up as the reached crossed the threshold of the now empty ballroom, exiting through the large double doors into the outside world, where a sleek hovercab was waiting, it's driver standing by the back passenger door waiting for them.
"Riponne here will take you home," Fletcher said, motioning to the driver who gave them both a nod. Fletcher nodded back before turning to Cameron, speaking once more, "Here' is where we part ways, I'm afraid Mr. Ket. I truly hope you consider my offer. I hope even more that you live long enough to see it through."
Cameron nodded, looking up at the proxy's featureless face, "I will Mr. Kahl. And thank you."
"Don't thank me, thank Priya for bringing you here." Fletcher said, chuckling softly, "I know I'll be doing just that next time I see her. Now, off you go."
Cameron nodded at the Proxy, before making his way to the cab. His hands had just barely brushed the handle however, when Fletcher called to him once again.
"Oh! Mr. Ket?"
Cameron turned, looking at him, "Something else Mr. Kahl."
"Indeed," the proxy said with a nod, "If I were you, I'd take a look at the Pilot Registry when you get a chance. I'm fairly certain that money won't be the only pleasant surprise you've received this evening."
