[03] Space Battles!

[Kill Town]

Space Battles!

3-on-3 competitve

Summary: The Kill Cluster is a giant space station that’s shaped like a giant ball. There are two opposing teams here: the attackers, who want to shoot a bomb into the space station’s core, and the defenders, who want to…well, defend the station from oncoming core-destroying bombs. The attackers are piloting X-Wings, and the defenders are piloting TIE-fighters.

Hint: If you don’t know what ships you’re fighting in, google “X-Wing” and “TIE-fighter.”

Players:

Attacking:
• Szar
• Victoria
• Ander

Defending:
• Kazuya
• Trafford
• Juno

[Victoria]

Victoria found the saiyan’s company enticing. He had a cold front, but she knew that if he let it down he wouldn’t be so bad. She wanted to see what was beneath this man; he had to have a life and a story that didn’t involve bashing some poor bastards head in. She smiled as Orion explained a fighting technique to her, and shook her head. She wanted to know what his home planet was like, or any of the others he had been to. Earth appeared much smaller to her now, something that she could just leave behind.

“Tell me about your planet,” she asked, grabbing at his hand eagerly.

Orion stalled for a second and looked at her hand. He was about to reply when two portals appeared in front of them as they sat on the bench.

“Looks like our time is up and we’re going in opposite directions.” She stood up and approached the portal in front of her. “If I make it through this,” she turned slightly and looked at him over her shoulder, “I’ll look for you.” She jumped into the swirling gate and left the saiyan behind.

“You’re finally here, what took you so long?” A man ran up to her, he wore a tight white suit and a strange helmet. “Put this on, we’ll be launching our attack soon.” He tossed a pile of white fabric into her arms and gave her a pat on her shoulder as he kept running. Vic looked at the clothing in her arms and frowned.

She exited the washroom and looked down at herself. The uniform was tight, almost too tight for comfort. She tried to adjust the outfit, but it was no use, it made her feel awkward. She walked through the large building; it was open and smelt of oil and machinery. She took note of the strange airplanes, and the many uniformed people running around the hanger. She found a row of helmets and grabbed one, feeling it in her hands before putting it under one arm and walking towards the gathering of men and women wearing orange suits.

“This is it, we have to work together and bomb the shit out of the Kill Cluster, any questions?” A man stood before a stand with a board that had diagrams on it holding a long pointer.

“Yeah, hey,” She stepped through the crowed, “sorry, excuse me.” She pushed through and dragged a strand of hair out of her mouth. “Do I have to wear this?” She motioned to her white get-up, the red stripes along the sides made her feel like a race car. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him expectantly.

“You have a problem with the uniform?” He asked, looking at her in shock. “We’re about to embark on a war with the greatest of evils in the universe and change history, and you’re worried about what you’re wearing?” The people around her whispered and stared at her.

“Well, yes,” she blushed. “Sorry, it’s fine.” She waved her free hand and disappeared into the group of people again, emerging from the other side. She shook out her long pink hair, getting out any tangles and hoping to find some way to keep it up. She didn’t know how she would be able to keep her helmet on comfortably. She fitted the helmet on, but her hair dangled helplessly around her and pinched under the weight of it. “This is useless!” She cried out and clenched her fists. “Whoever designed this outfit should be shot, hell, I’ll do it myself!” She pulled on the helmet but it wouldn’t budge. She looked around helplessly and sighed. She positioned the chin strap properly and gave in to her torment.

“Excuse me,” she asked a passing mechanic, but he kept walking. “Which one is mine…?” she asked into the empty air. “How do they expect me to fly these things?” Victoria wandered back towards the board where the pictures had been drawn. The other pilots were dispersing, they were going to prepare for the big fight, but she didn’t even know what a Kill Cluster was.

“Do you know what a Kill Cluster is?” She asked a man who had come to view the same battle plans.

“Can’t say that I do,” he replied and crossed his arms.

“This is fucked up,” she replied and went to put her hand to her face, but hit the visor over her eyes instead. “Shit, why me?” She whined and grabbed the sides of her helmet clad head.

“Having trouble?” The man asked, eyeing her strange display of behavior.

“I don’t like wearing weird clothing, or having stuff on my head.” She explained, having calmed down.

“Then why did you put it on?” He raised his eyebrows at her.

“I…don’t know, I just did.” She raised her arms helplessly. “Could you…” She looked up at him, her blue eyes sparkling under the dark visor. At least someone is talking to me, I just need this thing off my head so I can breath. She pointed to the helmet on her head and hoped that the man would take her hint. “If you help me, maybe we can decipher what a Kill Cluster is and how we’re supposed to destroy it.” She grinned and waited for her hopeful salvation.

[Ander]

Beep, beep, beep.

“Warning, incoming game. Warning, incoming game,” the pager announced.

Ander sighed, though still kept the smile on his face. “Saved by the bell.”

They both looked at their devices, checking the titles of their respective games.

“Space Battles,” Ander announced.

“Rusted Steel?” Ashe said. “Is that like, Twisted Metal? With the weapons and the insane clown in the ice cream truck? What was his name, like… Sweet Tooth? This should be interesting.”

The thief glanced up as the portals opened. Well, at least he wasn’t being randomly sucked in anymore. He flashed Ashe a confident look and a toothy grin. “Looks like we’re splitting up. Have fun with your, uh, rusty steel.” For good measure, he threw in a final parting comment and a wink. “Catch ya later, cutie.”

Before she could respond, he stepped into his portal in an attempt at a dramatic and suave exit. At least this time, it kind of worked, since if anything embarrassing happened to him on the other side, she couldn’t see it.

Damn, why am I failing so badly at this? I’m not hideous or anything, and I’m pretty sure I said all the right lines.

He emerged into some kind of strange, futuristic locker room that had certainly seen better days. Ander placed both hands on his hips, studying the room, still not quite fully immersed in his environment as his mind lingered on his recent letdown… strike two.

Although he had one more strike left, Ander contemplated the actual value of swinging at the next pitch versus simply stepping away from the plate. After all, he didn’t really even know her, and she represented no other foreseeable goal except as a potential source of information. He could also overlook the additional benefit of having some actual company, despite his slight underrating of the concept. The thief’s train of thought drifted helplessly into wonder, however, if his failure stemmed from bad timing, or a faulty approach. Tentatively, he allowed himself to perform a couple of discreet gestures as inconspicuously as possible to check the status of breath freshness and deodorant functionality. Both passed their respective yet fleeting tests, at least to him anyway. Ander mulled his options over in his head, deciding at almost random, as if his brain represented a shaken magic eight ball, and the answer that floated to the top was: “try again later.”

That was when he noticed that his clothes were no longer his clothes. He twisted and turned his neck to study the strange outfit that had made its way onto his body. He spotted a mirror out of the corner of his eye, and stepped in front of it. A long-sleeved, deep V-cut white shirt with a popped collar hung loosely about his torso, covered in a roguish black vest. He wore dark blue (almost black) jeans and black, already broken in boots. What caught his attention the most, however, was a leather belt that looked a bit like a pilot’s safety buckle hitched along his waist, and more specifically, the pistol holster on his right hip. The thief pulled the weapon free, and spun it experimentally along his index finger, feeling and judging its weight.

“Hello, how are you today?” Ander chuckled at it, before slinging the firearm back into its rightful holster after the fashion of a dueling cowboy. He quirked a brow at the other object hooked up to his belt, which looked like some kind of thin, sci-fi canister. He pressed the button, and in a sharp hum of electric energy, a blue beam shot out, the shaft standing steadily atop the handle. “Whoa!” the nomad cried out in surprise. He swung it around testily, surprised when it cleaved right through one of the lockers. “Ahh, a laser sword, huh? Very cool.” Ander tucked it safely away, stopping to take one last look at himself in the mirror. He cut a pretty impressive figure, if he didn’t say so himself.

Man, I look so cool! he gushed giddily, like a twelve-year-old assuming the role of his favorite hero, although he had no idea to whom the clothes actually belonged. Oh well. Finders, keepers, as they say.

Without further ado, the thief jaunted out of the locker room, and wandered into a very large hangar filled with X-shaped aircrafts. Dozens of men and women in orange jumpsuits with silver and red trimmed helmets hopped into the aerial vehicles. He grabbed a passing pilot by the arm.

“Hey buddy, what’s going on here?” Ander asked in a friendly tone.

“We’re going to blow up the Kill Cluster and free the galaxy from the clutches of the Republic Conglomerate!”

“Oh,” Ander replied, as if it were obvious. “And why are we doing that?”

“Because we’re the Insurgent Coalition, man! Now get into your X-Wing and let’s go!” With that, he darted off.

The thief rooted to the spot, contemplating his position carefully. On the one hand, he had the opportunity to pilot an awesome-looking space ship and go blow something up. On the other, he really had no reason to go blow it up, and there was a chance that something would come along and try to blow him up. Then again, he had resolved to just cut loose and have fun, so he supposed to he could play his part for now. He had no idea if this ‘Insurgent Coalition’ was the good guys or the bad guys, but it didn’t really matter what side anybody picked. Their roles were decided for them, so why worry whether you were right or wrong?

Ander scrutinized the remaining X-Wing crafts, which he rightfully suspected were fighter jets. Then his eyes feasted upon a ridiculously large, gray star cruiser, circular in nature with two prongs in the front, a pilot’s bridge on the right side, and a satellite dish mounted on top. The thief’s blue eyes widened and he pointed at it.

“I want that one,” he said to no one in particular. Somebody noticed and approached him anyway.

“The Century Hawk? No way, that almost got captured by the Conglomerate. We can’t risk losing it again! You have to pilot an X-Wing just like everybody else, hotshot. And don’t leave that stupid Wookie behind!”

‘Wookie?’ Ander mouthed uncertainly as the pilot sped off, but the one thing he did understand was that they weren’t going to let him pilot that shiny big ship. LAME.

He folded his arms over his chest, and went back to trying to figure out which of the sparse remaining X-Wings didn’t look like it would get blown up. He supposed he probably needed to seek out the other players in his event, because if the production of The Wizard of Oz turned out to be any indication, they’d be just as confused as he was. Besides, he needed to know if they were going to be any threat to him. That’s when he heard a voice nearby.

“I… don’t know, I just did. Could you… If you help me, maybe we can decipher what a Kill Cluster is and how we’re supposed to destroy it.”

And the heavens opened up and a chorus of angels sang in answer to his prayers. It was the sound of opportunity falling into his lap. ‘Help me?’ A female voice? Too easy! Ander put on his best smile and turned to face the direction of the voice. A slim, contour-clad female pilot implored a mechanic to assist in the removal of her obviously uncomfortable helmet. The mechanic wasn’t really taking the hint, and Ander quickly slid in to insert himself into the situation like the good little manipulator he was.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Ander said.

“Thanks,” she obliged.

He placed his hands on the helmet, and wiggled it loose until he gently tugged it off, and a cascade of pink hair tumbled out, frizzed and matted from the headgear’s treatment. She smoothed it out so it settled comfortably along her shoulders.

Pink hair. Somebody’s making fun of me… Ander thought.

“Y’all right?” he asked with a grin.

“I’m fine. I just don’t like helmets,” she replied.

He tucked the helmet under one hand and followed the proper protocol for social introductions, sticking his hand out. “I’m Ander, fellow Kill Town participant. It is an absolute pleasure to meet you.”

Without hesitation, she took it firmly, surprising him with the strength of her grip as she shook. “Victoria. Guess we’re going to be stuck together in this one.”

“Looks like it,” Ander shrugged, withdrawing his hand. “You probably don’t know what’s going on either.”

“We have to blow the shit out of something called a “Kill Cluster” apparently,” Victoria answered.

“So I’ve heard. But I’m sure this fine upstanding citizen here can show us the ropes, huh?” the thief grinned, jerking his head towards the momentarily forgotten mechanic. He handed the mechanic the helmet. “Here you go, buddy.” Then he gestured with a grand sweep of his arm towards the X-Wings. “Ladies first.”

[Alexander Trafford]

Have you ever had a dream that was so real that you thought it impossible that it was not? Like one of those half-awake, half-asleep realities where you control the plot as it unfolds – almost as if you were playing as yourself in a first-person video game. Well, what if you never woke up? Or what if you finally did wake up, but your reality was not as you remembered it? What if you kept waking up in new and newer realities? Would you be able to tell which was real, and which was a dream?

These thoughts were kept internal, but they so desperately craved to be given a voice. Trafford had been trapped in two alternate realities in almost as many months; and the time between had been spent reuniting with his dead ex-girlfriend. Nothing seemed any more real than what it proceeded.

He wanted nothing more than to reach across the countertop, wrap his long, bony fingers around the barkeep’s throat and then scream into his plastered, mechanical smile until he was blue in the face and out of breath. Though, such an effort would be fruitless; this simple man could not answer his compounding series of questions. He was not real. Well, he was not real in the sense that Alexander was real. The barkeep was little more than a program – a series of code that existed in the depths of some computer that was operated by some over-manipulative bastard.

The lone, overarching question remained perched atop his mind: what is real?

The stool certainly felt real enough; it was stiff and uncomfortable against his scrawny backside. As he shifted his weight and leaned forward his body became hunched over the wooden countertop in such a way that he came to resemble an old, brooding vulture: his shoulders were rounded and his neck was craned forward. His left hand supported the weight of his extended head (his chin sat atop an opened palm), while its counterpart swirled a glass of warm bourbon.

“What is your name?” A polite yet mechanical voice questioned him. Alex lifted his gaze from his glass and set his stare upon the barkeep. The program, or robot, or . . . whatever he was looked relatively normal, and yet he was undeniably creepy. His eyes were wide-open, and he had not yet blinked, not even once. The glowing, blue orbs that rested on either side of his nose were matched in oddity only by his enormous, gaping smile.

“Hmmm,” Alexander smirked and tilted his gaze back towards his drink. If this was not reality, than he was not necessarily himself, right?

“I’m, uh, George Jetson.”

“No you are not.” The robot retorted immediately, and that damned peculiar smile never left his face. He literally talked while simultaneously maintaining the most open-toothed grin that Trafford had ever seen. It was unnerving.

“Why yes, I am.” The young psychokinetic insisted.

“No you are not.”

“What, you don’t believe me?”

“No I do not.”

Trafford paused for a moment and looked over the barkeep one more time, just to be sure that it was not actually a real person. Staring back at him was the same gaping smile as before; an otherworldly grin plastered across the face of a motionless, perfectly-postured body. Nope, he thought to himself, there was no way this mother fucker was real.

“Why?” He continued the exchange after a short pause.

“George Jetson is not real. You are real.”

“Am I now?” Alexander responded through a chuckle. He lifted his chin from his palm and leaned back into an erect position, his interest piqued. After a moment he decided to bypass the stool altogether, sliding from the four-legged seat and into a standing position as he emptied his glass of bourbon. Trafford rubbed his eyes and withdrew a single cigarette; all the while he continued to slowly shake his head and chuckle.

“I’ll leave you with this thought,” he continued as a swirling mass of purple and pink energy opened behind him, “Right now, here, at this bar, who is more real, you, me or George Jetson?”

Ace Trafford chuckled for a moment and then stepped towards the portal, looking back over his shoulder at the peculiar barkeep before being sucked into god-only-knows-where.

What is real? The thought kept coming back to him, but, he figured, there was no point in trying to discern what was reality and what was not as long as he was stuck here – this would have to serve as some sort of ‘reality.’

At that moment, as his body was broken down into nothingness only to be rebuilt in an alternate location, one of the few things that he actually remembered from private school leapt to the forefront of his thoughts. It was a quote, he recalled, a quote from Edgar Allen Poe:

“All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream.”

How appropriate it was.

~~~*~~~

“Pilots, make ready!” The commanding voice barely rose above the screeching alarms that shocked Alex into his new reality. As he peeled himself from the floor he eyed a line of men and women, who were all roughly the same size as he, dashing towards and then standing upon a single white line. They were all wearing the same black uniforms that were adorned with foreign symbols. He did not want to be the one to tell them, but they looked damn ridiculous. An entirely black outfit complimented by oversized gloves and boots of the same color, had they no sense of style or showmanship? And was that, no it couldn’t be . . . or could it? Trafford peered closer and confirmed that it was indeed a large metallic box that was strapped to the middle of their chests. The container was fitted with a series of buttons and switches, and from the its top came two thick, long tubes that connected to an equally ridiculous, and massive, helmet.

“Put your damned helmet on and get into line coffin jockey!” Another man, presumably a soldier, adorned in grey military attire that was similar to the commander’s shouted from behind Trafford and nudged his boot against the ‘coffin jockey’s’ lower back.

“What?” Alex muttered through a pain-induced groan, but only as his body bucked forward from the impact did he realize the significance of his new reality.

“Oh . . .” he whispered in revelation.

Ironically enough, he was adorned in the same ridiculously hideous uniform that he had just criticized. He even had the damned headpiece; it had been resting beside him the whole time.

Slowly, he pulled himself up from the ground and, after snatching his helmet, slowly moved forward and took his place on the white line. He thought he saw one, or maybe two, of the other pilots steal a glance in his direction as he pulled the helmet over his long, disheveled hair. Perhaps he would, once again, have a partner in whatever ridiculous situation this new reality bestowed upon him.

“. . . and their attack is imminent. I repeat: we are at a Stage One Alert. Prepare for battle.”

The words ‘attack’ ‘alert’ and ‘battle’ caught his attention and brought him back into focus. He shook his head for a moment in an attempt to grasp what he had just heard, but only succeeded in loosening his already far-too-large helmet.

“Whoa, wait . . . what?” Trafford questioned and was immediately taken aback by the sound of his voice. It was a combination of a digitalized computer voice and a slow wheezing. Regardless, this damned helmet was not kind to the possibility of conversation – although, if they were indeed heading for a battle, he doubted he would be conversing very much with anyone.

“Get to your ship pilot!” The same soldier who had kicked him earlier silenced Alex’s question with a loud, overbearing command. He pressed his hand against the small of Trafford’s back and shoved him towards an available vessel.

Trafford stumbled forward a bit further than he had anticipated, partially due to being pulled forward by his massive helmet, but eventually he caught his balance.

“Holy shit,” Trafford whispered, “I get to fly one of those?”

Alex continued to move towards his assigned ship, but his strut was quite slow; the young ‘pilot’ was far too busy staring at the machine that he seemed destined to control. In front of him stood a small, yet dangerous-looking fighter jet that was quite simple in its construction: it was a spherical pilot’s cabin, just large enough to fit one man, which was attached to two planar, almost-reflective wings that sat vertically on either side of the ship’s central orb.

And the best part, Trafford quickly noticed, it had fairly large cannons.

As a child he had always dreamed of being a pilot. His mother had told him that such hopes were foolish, and his father had told him that he would not be allowed to stray from ‘their plan.’ He had always wondered what ‘their plan’ for him was, because they certainly never revealed it and he had run away after they ‘volunteered’ him for the Omni Corporation’s energy experiments. Regardless of their wishes, Trafford had spent years secretly storing away his lunch money and his allowance and had slowly accrued a reasonably impressive collection of air force magazines, and posters, and books about everything from airplane models to fighter jets utilized in modern combat to biographies of pilots. One day, his father found his collection and burnt all of it.

“This is going to be a fuckin’ riot,” Alex muttered through a wide smile. This was his chance to live his childhood dream.

[Juno]

As much as Juno hoped to speak for a while with Sophia, their conversation was cut short.

“Not a chance,” Sophia said, glancing up at him with the slightest hint of a smile on her face. Not seconds later, however, Juno’s PAGER device was beeping madly, and he was fumbling through his coat, attempting to pull it out to read whatever the heck Gamer wanted him to read—and as sure as he knew it would be, the message that had just been sent to him read “Round 3 Events Begin Now!” in the subject line. The priestess gained a curious glow in her eye. For the first time since he’d seen her here, she moved closer to him, looking over his shoulder at the PAGER.

“What is it?” she asked, squinting. Juno clicked the open button, watching as the little electronic envelope slowly unfolded itself rather melodramatically. Sophia sighed, obviously impatient—this crazy teenager was messing with the wrong girl on the wrong day. Juno placed a hand on her shoulder.

“You have no idea, Juno,” she replied.

“Don’t I?” he asked.

Sophia paused, and met his eyes, remembering Rosemary’s Game suddenly. She gulped, obviously some of her anger subsided by the memory. “…sorry, Juno.”

“No big deal,” Juno smirked, “I’m over it, remember?” Sophia smiled, but soon frowned as her eyes fell once again to the PAGER.

A few more seconds passed, and Gamer’s newest message was finally finished unfurling. “Well, well, well,” it read, “You guys have been busy. Finally decided to start playing my game, hm? Well, I won’t spoil anything for you—but, if you’ll kindly open the attachment connected here, you can head to your next event. Have fun, ladies and gentlemen. I’ll be watching. –Gamer.” Juno looked at Sophia and she glanced back at him. She nodded anxiously; she was gesturing for him to open the attachment, and the hybrid quickly took the dainty stylist and pressed on the paperclip icon.

Abruptly, two emerald-green portals sprung to life as if from nowhere. The two watched as their transportation vehicles spun into being, white letters slowly spinning out of them to spell the names of the events they were participating in. The hybrid secretly hoped that they were in the same game this time around, but he had no such luck, as Sophia’s portal was soon labeled “Desire for Velocity!” and Juno’s “Space Battles!”. They glanced at one another.

“That guy’s crazy,” Sophia noted.

“Really?” Juno laughed, “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Good luck, Juno,” Sophia smiled. It seemed that, at least a little bit, he had calmed the storm. He shuddered to think the regression her mood would go through if she shared the event with Kaden.

“See you on the other side, babe.”

“Juno!”

“Right. Sorry.”

~+~

“What the hell is with all the big, epic battles?”

“That’s what war is, man,” the uniformed soldier leaning against the lockers shrugged, and Juno looked up at him with a heavy sigh. “I mean, I’m sorry we can’t skip through the meadows more often—” he continued with a sarcastic tone, and the hybrid quickly tired of him. The soldier had informed him of the situation, and now, he had little use for him. Standing, the half-blooded Saiyan brushed past him, digging in his locker for a set of boots to compliment the black pilot’s uniform he’d already donned.

The smartass soldier obviously had no idea what Juno meant when he was talking about big, epic battles. First, he’d been tossed onto a pirate ship, thrust into a massive conflict with the Queen’s Navy. And second, he had discovered that he was one of five select warriors who could potentially defeat the evil dragon that held a relatively peaceful land in its grip. And now, he’d been thrown here, in the middle of space, to quell a rebellion.

Apparently, he was a pilot in the Republic Conglomerate, and he was tasked with piloting a TIE-fighter into the thick of battle to defend their massive space station that positioned them to destroy the rebellion and take almost complete control of the galaxy, with the core worlds in the iron grip they had worked for eighteen years to form. Their adversaries, the Insurgents’ Coalition, were about to launch an attack on the space station—the Kill Cluster—that threatened to completely wipe out the planet their hidden base was stationed upon, perhaps killing many innocent indigenous people along the way.

This rebellion was starting to sound a lot more righteous, but Juno didn’t argue with what side Gamer had placed him on. He was here to breeze through these events and get out unscathed, not be petty and try to save innocents. That was Kaden’s job.

He pulled on the rubber boots, and then Velcro’d his vest together, and placed his helmet over his head. “So,” the hybrid said, turning reluctantly to the guy he currently shared the locker room with, “Where are we supposed to go?” Juno noticed that his voiced sounded distinctly more mechanized from within the helmet; that was actually kind of cool. Perhaps one of the only cool things Gamer had done (besides giving him a sword… twice).

“Heh,” the guy muttered, “You really don’t know what’s going on, do you?”

“Nope,” Juno smirked.

“Well then, let’s hurry up and get you to the hangar so you can help us win and get back to your frickin’ circus or whatever you said it was.” The guy gestured toward the door, and the hybrid didn’t argue, following him out. It was a short walk before they got to the armory room, where his companion grabbed a blaster rifle and tossed it to Juno before getting his own. The hybrid smirked; this might come in handy if he got in a tight spot with the Conglomeration. He didn’t think that Gamer would make it so easy as to kill a couple of rebel ships.

…unless, of course, the rebel ships were piloted by other Kill Town contestants.

Damn, he cursed inwardly, I hadn’t thought of that possibility. Surely he wasn’t the only carnival-goer that had been placed into this event—what about the others? Could they be on his side? Were they fighting the good fight, trying to destroy this space station? Or was it a mixture of the two, like the Naval Battle had been? Juno suddenly felt a slight chill crawl up his spine as he got leagues more anxious. When you were battling with or against real people, this game got a lot more complicated, he had noticed.

He was comforted in knowing that Sophia was not in this game. He would neither be shooting at her nor worried about protecting her as opposed to the space station; not that she needed protecting, of course. It would just be an inevitable distraction that he, as a good friend, would have to indulge, and it probably wouldn’t have helped his own health.

The armory, as it happened, wasn’t too far from the hangar, and when Juno and company entered, he noticed a line of soldiers already being yelled at by a commander. His friend quickly hid his face, and Juno did the same, not very inclined to being yelled at by a drill sergeant right now. He did, however, risk a glance down at the group of soldiers. One of them was stumbling into the line, helmet still off, and a familiar mane of orange hair lying matted on his head.

Ace? Juno noted, remembering the man’s name. Quickly rushing down the stairs, Juno kept an eye on which pilot Trafford was as the psychokinetic pushed on his helmet. “Hey, uh, what was your name?” he called after his friend, and the guy turned around. Juno smirked—his companion still held his helmet under his arm. He was going to see if this old trick still worked. Before the guy could even open his mouth to respond, Juno lunged forth, pushing him behind a spaceship and pressing his hand to his forehead, launching a Block into his mind. The soldier’s knees crumpled beneath him, and he fell to the metal floor, unconscious. The hybrid grabbed his keys—he hadn’t actually found any of his own in the locker—and headed toward the line of black-suited soldiers, specifically the one he remembered to be Alex.

“I get to fly one of those?” Alex muttered, and his fellow pilots laughed at his ignorance of the whole situation. They’d obviously been in these ships many times before. Juno looked at the number on his keys—it was right next to Alex’s assigned ship. Something was definitely fishy.

Juno examined the spaceship; it was large, with a spherical orb in the center, which had arms extending to the two vertical “wings.” The hybrid observed others taking off, they looked to have very stable flight, but weren’t able to turn all that well. No three-hundred-and-sixty spin moves, he supposed. Ah, well. He glanced over to where Alex was, walked up, and tapped him on the shoulder just after he’d finished getting a sentence out—he’d been muttering to himself. The hybrid chuckled as he jumped a few feet at the surprise.

“Ace, it’s me,” Juno muttered, taking off the helmet.

“Juno?” the psycho-kinetic replied, growing much less tense quickly.

“Yeah, I’m on your side in this—what the hell?” Ace turned to what Juno was staring at, just outside the hangar. The ships had almost disappeared from view, and now the stars even had grown darker as the space outside the station’s hangar had turned almost completely black, save for two lines of random cerulean letters floating in the nothingness. Juno and Alex squinted to read what they said.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…

[Victoria]

She stared at his hand, and followed with her eyes to take in the massive ships they were to control. She looked back at the man’s face, and smiled lightly. How handsome, why does he get such a nice outfit and I’m stuck with this? She looked away from his face and licked her lips. “Time for a crash course, I guess.” She started towards their vehicles and looked them over. “I read the diagrams quickly, the Kill Cluster is massive.”

“Could you understand what our plan might be?” He asked and placed her helmet on the nearby rack.

“Well, thanks to my good memory, from what I could see we’ve got to get inside and bomb the thing. I have a feeling the artillery we have won’t be enough to take it down from the outside. An object like that, whatever it is, will have defenses and probably guys just like us.” She looked at her new companion grimly.

“And girls,” he smirked at her, making her shake her head.

“Either way, we have a long battle ahead of us. I think we’ll have to assess the situation once we get there, maybe find a way in.” She explained and began circling the X-Wing that she would be piloting.

Beep, bloop.

Something hit her in the shin and she cried out. Victoria hopped on one foot and swore as the strange object nearly ran her over. “What the hell is this thing?” She asked, looking about for anyone who might know. It beeped at her again, and made a weird whirring noise. It shifted back on its motorized feet and looked up at her, if it could. She stared back at the scope that was encased in its dome-like head and it made another noise. “Sorry, I don’t speak robot.”

“I think it wants to join you.” Ander leaned on the X-wing and crossed his arms casually. “That would be my guess, anyway.”

“Well I don’t need a robot joining me, that’s ridiculous.” She placed a foot on the side of the spaceship and hoisted herself up and into the seat. She stared at the lights and buttons carefully. A strange noise assaulted her ears and she looked around frantically, despite her protests the robot had been lifted up and placed into the top of her craft, apparently it belonged there. She leaned out of the cockpit and down at Ander. “Hop into an X-Wing and I’ll explain the plan, I have to figure out how to fly this thing.” She shifted back into her seat and buckled in.

She gripped the handles with her hands, feeling the cool metal and leather against her palms. “Do I…” she whispered and moved one of her hands towards a large red button. She nearly jumped as a shrill beep came from above. “Oh, do you know how to fly this thing?” It chirped at her and rotated its head slightly.

“This one,” she would point towards a button and await a response. The robot would reply with a distinctive noise and she would choose another. However, he did not reply as she pointed to a switch. She flicked it, and as the silence resumed, she assumed she had done the right thing. The ship came to life, the cockpit lit up and a small screen showed various numbers and images on it. “Alright, I’ll have to figure this out on the fly.” She surmised and slammed the top of the cockpit closed. She grabbed a set of headphones and slid them onto her head; it cut out the noise of the engine and would allow her to communicate to the other members of her team. She felt the handles again, and began to feel out the controls of her new vehicle. A sense of thrill made her smile, despite the possible death she would face, she knew that death was not as bad as she had thought.

“Victoira, are you there?” She heard a voice over the communication line. She fiddled with a knob that cleared out any static and made his voice crisp. “Is this thing working?”

“I’m here, you sound great!” She replied and began the departure of her X-Wing. The hanger’s doors were now open and other pilots were taking off. She watched them move along the cement and then take to flight, she could do it, it looked easy.

“I’ll follow you,” Ander responded and she looked down at the monitor, it displayed her comrade in his own X-Wing. She grinned and moved the space ship forward so that she could take to the sky.

“Let’s see what this thing can do!” She exclaimed and pushed the handles forward; the ship moved quickly across the hanger and approached the daylight of the world outside. Her heart raced, and the adrenaline made her think purely on instinct. She hit the open air and pulled back on the controls, the ship sailed into the air and turned to one side. She fought against the force and righted her ship, nearly doing a loop in the process. “Wooooo!” she cried out in ecstasy from the exhilaration. “What a rush!” she laughed and shot forth towards the void of space. She maneuvered into a loop-de-loop, grinning like an idiot, but loving every second. She watched the sky part and the expanse of space open up for her, and the looming empire sat like a sore thumb against the beautiful view.

“It looks worse than it did on paper.” She commented and slowed her progress. The battle had already begun; her team mates had taken flight and zoomed in against the enemy forces. Laser beams flew out and explosions ensured. She avoided a collision and watched in awe as the battle waged. She had never seen something so brutal and raw. In all of her life she had merely witnessed blood and carnage. In space the battles were more intense, more tactical. She knew that one lucky shot to her ship and she would be done for, her regeneration would be useless in space.

[Ander]

No longer able to stall, Ander clambered up and hopped into the nearest X-Wing. He pulled the safety harness over his head and clicked it into place… as tight as it would go. Not to the point of cutting off circulation, but just so he felt secure if he, for whatever reason he would have otherwise been jettisoned out of the canopy. The sentiment of proper protection was not dampened by the ever-so-obvious fact that if the canopy integrity were breached, his lungs would probably pop like balloons anyway. He felt a nervous flutter in his knotting stomach, and took a deep, relaxing breath as he inquisitively analyzed the foreign set of controls. They resembled the complexity of an airplane console, to which he resolved it might be fun to steal one someday after he figured them out, never mind the absurdity of the feat.

He found a set of sleek headphones and followed the end of its cord to what ostensibly functioned as a radio system. He experimentally turned it on, fiddling with the dial for the right frequency until he heard the crackle of other Insurgent pilots.

“Victoria, you there?” he called out. “Is this thing working?”

Over the airwaves, her voice rang in loud and clear. “I’m here, you sound great!”

Awesome.

Since his pink-haired companion was obviously the one of the pair who actually knew something about their objective, he felt perfectly fine letting her lead the way. Why make the effort if somebody else could do it for you?

“I’ll follow you,” Ander said.

His searching fingers eventually touched upon another dial, one that seemed to have no function since he had already found the communications device. He hit the button nearby, and his cockpit filled with a steady stream of heavy electric guitar riffs and an old school, synthesized beat. The thief startled for a quick second, but eventually a grin split his elated face.

“Aw yeah,” he nodded. “Here we go.”

At last, the engines revved to life, and he gripped the throttle, feeling the power at his fingertips.

“Let’s ride!”

With that, Victoria blasted off out of the hangar and into the waiting skies, and the nomad followed suit, both of them completely charged up in the pilot seats of their newfound best friends. He heard the girl over the intercom as she completely let loose, pulling a couple of joyous and daredevil maneuvers as they intrepidly trekked into the far reaches of space. He laughed, unable to say he didn’t feel like doing the same. At the very least, they could have this before they set upon their destructive mission.

Eventually, the morbidity of the assignment settled in as they stumbled into a war field of deadly lasers and violently exploding fighter crafts. Ander wondered how it was even possible for such explosions when there was no oxygen in space, hence, no fuel for fire. He shrugged it off as unimportant to keeping a watch out for his own hide.

“Where the hell you two been, I tell you what!” an angry Southern voice rang out over his earphones.

“No need to fear, the cavalry’s here,” Ander responded with a chuckle. “We’ll take it from here.”

“Don’t go pullin’ any stupid stunts, y’hear? Over and out!”

Ander saw a rapidly approaching ship on his horizon, another X-Wing, and banked sharply left to avoid it. The sudden shock reminded him to pay attention and focus on the task at hand. He remembered he still had no idea how to achieve their objective.

“Breaker, breaker, this is Hotshot calling Iron Maiden, do you copy?” Ander asked into his microphone. Victoria’s hesitant voice replied back.

“Um, who’s Hotshot and Iron Maiden?”

“Me, Ander. I’m Hotshot and you’re Iron Maiden,” the thief explained, nose-diving to avoid a pepper of lasers.

“Why’s that?”

“Oh come on, every pilot has to have a cool call-sign. You can’t use your real names, so you think up a codename that makes your enemies jealous!” Ander encouraged with a grin. “If you don’t like yours, you can change it.”

He heard Victoria laugh. “Okay.”

“Quit screwin’ around and get those damn Conglomerate scum! Damn rookies!” A voice like that could only come from a commanding officer that was way overdue for retirement.

“All right, you’re the brains of the operation little missy. What are we doing?” the thief asked, checking his radar screen for any bogeys to figure out if they were bandits or friendly.

“Stay on my wing, and we’ll try to find a breach in the shield. We’ll have to get through the enemies to get at the Kill Cluster,” Victoria instructed firmly. “In the meantime… light ’em up!”

Ander smiled grimly, though his voice retained a humorous tone. “Roger that.”

Fortunately, the fire controls were positioned conveniently on the throttle, and with an initial moment of hesitancy, he locked onto to an enemy aircraft and let loose a barrage of searing laser beams. He hit the target perfectly, and it erupted and disintegrated, its pilot most assuredly dead. The thief set his jaw firmly. He hated the idea of killing. Always had. If there was one thing he was being forced to learn in Kill Town, it was, well… kill or be killed. At the very least, the distance provided some semblance of shelter against the full awareness of the dark deed. He couldn’t hear them, see them, or smell them as they died. For all intents and purposes, he could pretend that the TIE fighters were simply unmanned and remotely controlled, and he wouldn’t have to think about the lives he was taking without mercy. So, he attempted to lighten the situation, more for himself than his considerably expendable Insurgent companions.

“This is Hotshot here,” he announced over the airwaves as he took down another TIE fighter. “It’s a beautiful minus five thousand degrees here in Outer Space, Middle of Nowhere. Weather forecast is clear with a chance of laser showers, so buckle up and break out the umbrellas, boys and girls.” He banked sharply to the right, trailing another one he’d managed to get behind. “Traffic en route to the Kill Cluster is backed up to the Insurgent Base Bridge, so expect a lengthy commute for all you early morning bomb droppers.” Then he noticed somebody on his tail and pulled a loop-de-loop, praying he wouldn’t get airsick as his stomach flip-flopped queasily. Without waiting a beat, he squeezed hard on the trigger and blasted the TIE fighter out of the sky. “Thank you and have a nice day.”

Then Ander felt his X-Wing rocked by the stinging glance of stray enemy fire, at which point a mechanical voice dutifully reported, “Shields at 98 per cent.”

“Well aren’t you informative?” Ander said, somewhat sarcastically.

It was amazing how quickly he had picked up the gist of the aircraft. Death was a great motivator for anyone. Every touch, every movement was a learning experience readily absorbed and applied.

He looked up, and out of the corner of his canopy, saw Victoria doggedly trying to avoid a rather persistent bandit. The dune dweller could simply allow her to get fried. After all, they had just met, and it wasn’t Ander’s ass on the line. Besides, with a fellow competitor eliminated, he could simply achieve a higher score, thus increasing his chances of release from the carnival, if indeed it worked that way. Then he remembered that she knew more about the structure of the Kill Cluster than he did, and if she died, he’d have a much harder time beating this “game” by himself, since they had yet to encounter any other participants. Ander sighed. Chivalry was such a farce anyway. Making up his mind, he shifted speeds, allowing him to sync up his X-Wing behind them, and took care of Victoria’s little problem before sidling up to her and shooting her a grin and a thumb’s up.

“I got your back,” he said over the airwaves. “Let’s get this sucker and go home!”

[Szar]

Szar stepped out of the portal and directly into something that looked like a science-fiction movie. He was in a shuttle bay, with pilots and mechanics frantically scrambling around, making preparations for...something. What that was, Szar wasn't sure, but he assumed that it had to do with space combat. Reaching for his pager, the Icer scrolled through the participant list until he found his name. Clicking it, he quickly scanned the text that it displayed.

Space Battles

Summary: The Kill Cluster is a giant space station that’s shaped like a giant ball. There are two opposing teams here: the attackers, who want to shoot a bomb into the space station’s core, and the defenders, who want to…well, defend the station from oncoming core-destroying bombs. The attackers are piloting X-Wings, and the defenders are piloting TIE-fighters.

Not knowing what an "X-Wing" or a "Tie-Fighter" were supposed to be, or which team he'd been assigned to, the Changeling decided to ask around. His attempts to get the attention of the others around him ended in failure; they were all too busy finishing their preparations. Looking around for some sort of clue, he noticed a group clustered around a holographic projector. The image they were focused on was a large sphere, some sort of station, perhaps? Wandering closer, the Changeling caught the tail-end of the briefing.

"--a crew will disable the barrier shields. With them down, the bombers will make their run into this entry point here." The commanding officer pointed to a small entry way, and the image shifted to a trench that wrapped around the entire craft. "At the end of this trench is the power core. Dropping a bomb in there should disable them. Any questions?"

The pilots gathered shook their head, and Szar briefly noticed a girl with bubblegum hair walking away with a black-haired man. Fellow contestants, perhaps? Before he had the chance to ask them, they'd both entered into what the Icer assumed were X-Wings, and blasted off to join the battle. They likely had no experience flying, and Szar couldn't help but be worried about them. They were his team--no, his wing-mates--and he would keep them safe. After all, he'd been raised by a marginally space-faring people; piloting in zero-gravity was no problem for him. Stepping up to one of the crafts, he moved to climb into it before a voice sounded behind him.

"That's my ship, find your own!"

Turning around, Szar was unimpressed with the ship's owner. He was a short man, with a bulging gut and unkempt hair. He scratched himself before pushing past the Changeling and climbing into the ship's cockpit. Szar noted the name on his helmet as he passed, 'Slippy'.

Looking around the flight bay for a ship to use, he found one, tucked at the furthest corner of the bay. Running to it, he hopped into the cockpit, pulled his helmet into place--an uneasy task when one has horns, and strapped himself in. Quickly running a systems diagnostic, he smiled when everything came back green. Getting a thumb's up from the mechanic fueling his ship, Szar waved to him before pushing the throttle and blasting out of the shuttle bay.

Space stretched out infinitely all around him, and for a moment Szar was literally starstruck. Snapping back into focus, the Changeling looked around for friendly craft. Not seeing anyone, he clicked on his radio.

"This is Iceman, all wings report in."

All at once his radio was alive with chatter.

"Slippy here, Iceman, I'm engaging the enemy now."

"Hotshot, kickin' ass and taking names."

"Uh...Iron Maiden here...I'm moving in to engage."

Laughing inwardly at their ridiculous monikers, Szar saw a foreign craft enter his firing range. Surging forward, the Icer gave chase, his quarry weaving expertly, making it difficult for Iceman to get a bead on it. However, its pilot slipped up after a laser grazed its wings, and Szar waited for the computer to get a lock. It did, blaring in alarm for him to take the shot. He did, a series of lasers blazed towards their target. They struck home, the Tie-Fighter exploding in a flower of fire.

"One down!" Iceman cheered into the radio, "This is nothing!"

"Don't get cocky, Iceman, you have a bogey on your tail." a voice heavy with authority barked. "Do a barrel roll!"

Szar complied instinctively, his X-Wing rolling out of the way gracefully.

"Use the brake!" the CO growled.

Szar pulled back on the throttle, and the Tie-Fighter blasted past him. A few laser blasts later and it too erupted in a ball of flame. He'd just started and already he'd taken down two enemy fighters. His celebration was cut short as a frantic voice blasted over his radio.

"I've been hit! Damn it...I'm going down!" Szar recognized it as Slippy before static washed over the channel. Though he wasn't real, Szar still felt a pang of guilt. Slippy's death only served to remind Szar that there were other people, real people, like himself in this mission. Fearing for their well-being, Szar tried to track their movements with the ship's on-board radar. Two blips showed up, moving toward their target in tandem. That had to be the two he'd seen on the flight deck! Gunning the thrusters Szar set out to meet up with his allies. They had a Kill Cluster to destroy.

[Kazuya]

The illusion of the grape-haired woman faded soon after the departure of Suzaku and Mixie, leaving Kazuya alone in her room once more. She had resigned herself to an evening in her room, snuggling in that big, comfortable bed, lights off, and thinking of days long since passed. Or maybe she could think of Gabriel.

She didn’t know why his face popped up in her head from time to time, or why she could almost hear his voice calling to her, or to curse her, or why he had affected her so, when she had every right to hate him. He’d captured her, locked her in a room, and his words exactly said, a guest was a guest, but a prisoner she was. He had to have discovered she was gone by now, and probably just a wee bit miffed. Maybe it was her own fears of him hunting her down here in this…wherever it was, that made her think so much of him. On one side, he could rescue her, get her out of here and back to the real world, on the other, he’d probably just as soon kill her. An escape was an escape, but it didn’t feel at all fair. Maybe she just liked the opportunity to be chased.

Falling back into the fluffy covers of the mattress, Kazuya closed her eyes and sighed as it enveloped around her body like some sort of tangible cloud. It was warm, alluring, and the linen smelled like sandalwood and sage. She felt herself drifting, drifting…

Beep, beep, beep!

“Jesus tapdancing Christ,” the female groaned loudly, pounding at the covers with her fists. Almost! Damn this game! “Can’t I get any sleep in this thing?!”

She rolled off the bed haphazardly and fished around on the nightstand for the device she was given specifically for the announcements of the games. She hated electronics, and tried to keep it as far away from her as possible, but as she’d discovered twice before, it didn’t stop the programmers from just taking her anyways, a little more forcibly. Pressing the little green button on the device’s face, the text scrolled across the lighted aqua colored display, announcing her next scenario: Space Battles.

“Space Battles?” she questioned. “I don’t even kn-“ Suddenly, a green portal opened before her, and an invisible suction swept her in. The device clinked to the carpet with a dull thud.

+ + + + +

“OOf!” the female huffed out a breath of air as she was dropped onto a hard, textured surface. Her vision was dark, obscured by some heavily tented lens, and when she reached up, she discovered her entire head was encapsulated by something hard and thick. Jumping to her feet, Kazuya immediately padded down the rest of her body, finding she was enrobed in some kind of faux leather sort of uniform. It was just as tight as that outfit from the first scene, perhaps even more revealing. One glance at her reflection from a dark window nearby confirmed her suspicions. It was downright whorish how the black fabric clung to her like a second skin, leaving nothing at all to the imagination. A short, matching black cloak hung down to the top of her buttocks, but didn’t manage to cover her much. Kaz snorted disapprovingly.

“Get your ass to a vehicle, pilot! It’s time to roll!” A masculine voice ordered from behind the female, to which she responded with a venomous glare. She hated being ordered around. He couldn’t see her expression, so it didn’t have the effect she wanted, but the middle finger in his general direction did. “Hey!”

The orange garbed man stalked up to her, his unmasked face scrunched in anger. “We don’t have time for this shit, pilot, get in a TIE fighter and get moving!”

“TIE Fighter?” Kazuya looked around, seeing nothing but strange looking craft in various stages of assembly and operation. “These things?”

“Yeah, these things;” he barked. “Kazuya, is it? Your vehicle is down that way.” He pointed to her left, down the hangar where other vehicles were already fired up and waiting for pilots, who stood around chatting to each other or into strange black devices.

“I don’t even know how to use one of these thing!” Kazuya complained. Just a little piece of her hoped she’d be phased back to her hotel room, but that was unlikely.

“Easily fixed,” the orange man said. Taking out another strange piece of equipment, this one with a little wand affixed to a tubular wire, he jerked her around and jammed the apparatus into the back of her helmet. Across the lens of her helmet, little light blue letters skittered across the surface, confirming the apparatus was properly attached.

“Downloading program sequence.” A feminine, slightly mechanical voice came from within the helmet, but it wasn’t the samurai’s voice. She quirked a brow, slightly confused. Suddenly, her face slackened, eyes grew wide as a surge of information rushed into her brain. It was almost as if she’d sensed demons again, but then again, it was a sensation unlike anything she’s ever experienced before.

Immediately, she felt the knowledge of flight basics, and other things she didn’t have a single clue about before like she’d studied her entire life. Orange Man unjacked her and chuckled. “Gotta love technology. You can learn anything you want in a matter of seconds.”

“Yeah…fascinating.”

“Should know how to operate one of these babies like a pro now, hot stuff,” he smiled a crooked toothed smile and padded her ass, shoving her towards her hangar. “Get movin’.”

She wanted to turn around and punch the fucker’s head off his shoulders, but instead, restrained herself. He wasn’t real, so it wouldn’t hurt as much as she wanted it to. Pointless. Snorting disdainfully, the Japanese beauty cantered towards the far end of the hangar, her eyes scanning over the various craft, but something else caught her eye. Her footsteps faltered as she watched in fascination as a young boy, no more than sixteen or seventeen winters, played with some sort of katana made from red light. He wielded it like a warrior who’d spent years honing the craft, twisting it this way and that in his deft, agile fingers.

“You, boy!” Kazuya called out, approaching him. “What is that you’re playing with?”

His young face smiled up at her, a tousle of brown curls fringing his smooth white face. “It’s a light saber.”

“Light saber? How does it work?” Kazuya asked, her curiosity for the device piqued.

He touched a button on the hilt of the weapon, and the red light suddenly disappeared. She gasped, astonished by this magic. “I must have one,” she murmured, her voice soft with desire. “May I have it?”

The brown haired boy nodded, “Yeah, sure, lady. I got about three or four more in the office.”

Kazuya waited patiently as he placed it in her outstretched palms, her hands folding around the metallic hilt once it was settled within its cradle. It was warm, even through the gloves, and she knew she had to fire this baby up. She wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings, and the boy was even further from her mind, so it was no surprise when she pressed the button, and the red light emerged into a good three and a half foot sheath of light, she heard the short, choked off scream and thud as a body hit the floor.

“Crap,” she muttered, realizing she’d accidentally ejected the blade in the boy’s direction, and decapitated him. The wound was less bloody than with a traditional sword, being cauterized by the energy the weapon gave. Efficient, she thought. She pressed the button again, and the light disappeared once more, and she clipped it to her belt.

Not wanting to be blamed for this…accident, Kazuya kicked the body to a nearby dark corner, and left him there. Out of sight, out of mind, she thought as she backed out of the crevice. Eyes scanning around her, she noticed everybody but two others had orange outfits, just like the jackass back there did. She assumed they were a pit crew of sorts, who wouldn’t be piloting anything. The other two wore similar uniforms to hers, both had their helmets off. One had a reddish tinted head of hair, the other, blackish brown. Strange, how familiar it looked.

As she approached, she picked up on bits and pieces of a conversation, until they noticed her staring, to which their voices grew quiet, and the dark haired man turned to face her.

“Juno?” Kazuya asked, stepping closer. “Juno, is that you?”

The younger man quirked a dark brow as he tried to decipher the voice through its mechanical enhancement. “How do you know my name?” he asked, peering down at his breast briefly to check for a nametag, then back at her, although she noticed his eyes drifted to her chest first before coming to her face.

“Jerk,” she huffed, and slid her hands up the side of the helmet, finding the latches that held it securely to her skull. Clicking them open, she slowly removed it, a shower of black, waist length hair falling free from its enclosure. “It’s Kazuya. Remember me?”

[Juno]

“Oh!” said Juno, his memory catching up as fast as Kazuya’s hair could cascade gracefully down her back. He sighed inwardly; she might’ve been hot if not for the rather large age difference. Ah, well, he thought, and turned back to look at the TIE-fighters. “So,” he pondered, “How the hell are we supposed to get up there?”

It was a valid question. Kazuya and Ace followed Juno’s gaze, the team of three quickly meshing after the Japanese woman and the psychokinetic had exchanged introductions, noticing that the orb-shaped cockpit was several meters off the ground, well out of climbing and jumping range. There didn’t seem to be any ladders nearby, either, so the contestants were, for the first time in a while, quite perplexed.

They stood there rather comically for a few seconds, Kazuya looking up at the ship as if it was still very foreign despite the injection of knowledge she’d just received, Alex slightly disappointed he wasn’t already in the thick of the battle (he seemed a bit too eager to pilot one of the ships) and Juno with a contorted face that signaled the overwhelming frustration he felt for this damn competition already. Couldn’t Gamer just make something easy for a change? Why did this all have to be so difficult?

“I don’t think that regular flight’s going to work here, guys,” Juno realized, feeling the slight damper on his ki for the first time. He wondered if Kaden would’ve been able to point that out sooner, thanks to his ‘sight.’

“You can fly?” Trafford said, cocking his head to the side. Kazuya and Juno looked at the boy as if the fact was quite normal, and Ace quickly returned his confused look to the spaceship, attempting as much as possible to act casual. “Uh,” he sputtered, trying to redeem himself, “We could always… climb.”

“Climb the ship?” Kazuya scoffed, “You act as if it’s easy to climb a flat surface, boy.”

And with that, the trio was silent again, peering up at the spaceships in a certain idiotic wonder. Their eyes squinted, they turned their heads like confused puppies, they tried everything, from crossing their arms to raising their eyebrows, but… nothing. They couldn’t figure out a single way to get into the spacecrafts.

Suddenly, a certain familiar heavy breathing entered their ears, and they clutched the sides of their head as the voice from above—that no one besides them seemed to notice—began to mock them.

“Do I have to do everything?” Gamer’s distinctive voice hollered, and the trio looked up to the roof of the hangar for some type of intercom. Gamer’s voice wasn’t coming from any PA system, however; it seemed to be coming from all sides. Kazuya and Alex, at first glance, didn’t seem to think anything of it, but he couldn’t be sure—Juno, however, stored that little observation for later use. He didn’t have time to converse with the two about Gamer’s intrusion into the game, however, before he found himself forcibly teleported inside the cockpit of one of the TIE-fighters, keys still jingling in his hand. “There, you useless… things. Now, get to flying. I want some frickin’ explosions, for God’s sakes.”

“Classic male,” Kazuya’s voice piped in over the radio, “Always looking to do things the hard way… I say we take them out from the inside.”

“And how do we do that, Kazuya?” Juno asked, as the demon-possessed woman’s face popped up on a monitor in front of him. She scowled, silent. “Looks like we’re going to have to do things his way, like it or not.”

“Alright then, let’s get started!” Ace shouted, his face appearing next to Kazuya’s on the monitor. Before either or the team could reply, the orange-haired man had quickly turned his keys into the keyhole and launched out of the hangar, already speeding ahead of his teammates. Juno sighed. He was way too excited about this.

“This is ridiculous,” Kazuya muttered.

“Tell me about it,” Juno scowled, “I still don’t know how exactly to work this. It’s not like anything I’ve driven before.”

“Come on, guys, the water’s warm!” Alex laughed.

Juno glanced at Kazuya on the monitor, and she met his gaze. They rolled their eyes in sync, turned the keys in their ignitions, and pushed forward on what looked to be a control. Their ships began to hover above the metal flooring of the hangar, and within seconds, the pair of ships had—albeit, kind of recklessly—shot out of the Kill Cluster and into deep space. The pair circled around the Kill Cluster’s side, finding themselves in the midst of an epic space battle—X-wings, as Juno supposed they were called, flew around in loose formations, launching orange laser beams at TIE-fighters; the Conglomerate’s vessels countered them with emerald green blazes shot from similar dual cannons.

All of a sudden, as if triggered by some force from nowhere, Juno’s eyes glazed over, not for a look into the future, but for something eerily familiar—he saw flashes of things he knew, whether it be Kaden, or Sage, or Sophia, or Alex and Kazuya—he was standing in the midst of a familiar blue plane, an astral plane he’d visited in Friend or Foe, in the midst of the final ten’s meeting in Olde Town; he felt strange, he felt—

“Juno, get your eyes on the battlefield, man!” Kazuya’s voice called, breaking him from his trance. He shook his head, apologizing briefly and returning his focus to an X-wing that was flanking him. He did a backwards flip, landing behind the ship and firing a series of consecutive shots at it; it exploded in green flame, the pilot’s screams disappearing in the vacuum of space. “Juno, our communications radar is receiving another frequency on this channel, from somewhere nearby,” Kazuya rattled off as if she was an expert technician.

“Do you even know what any of that means?” Juno asked.

“No,” Kazuya replied stoically, met by silence. “Well, aren’t you going to tell me?”

“It means there’s someone else here,” he muttered, and Kazuya scoffed as if that was obvious, “No—someone else playing the game. We’re not the only people here from Kill Town, Kazuya.”

A bit of static buzzed in, and Juno listened intently, noticing that the signal was coming from a pair of X-wings that was slowly closing in on their position. Damn it—they’re on the other team! We’re frigging fighting against our own! The radio began to chirp as the signal finally came in clear, in a female’s voice, “Uh… Iron Maiden here, I’m moving to engage—”

“Be careful, Victoria!” another voice, this one a man’s, and familiar, shouted as he zoomed up behind her and shot at Alex’s craft, which had closed in for a shot. Trafford dodged like an expert pilot—he must’ve played flight simulators or something—and joined his crew.

“Hey, we’re on your side!” Juno called over the comm, and the voices on the other side began expressing confusion which Juno couldn’t make out as they talked at the same time, “Well, not really on your side, but we’re from Kill Town!”

“Whoa. So you mean Gamer is making us fight against real people? Jerk,” Victoria, as the other guy had called her, mused. Juno suddenly had a realization as to who the male’s voice was—Ander, Sage’s friend from the carnival. He quickly made note to prove his total humanness, hoping that they’d realized they weren’t in-game creations.

“You—guy—you’re… you’re Ander, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Ander muttered, “And you’re… oh, God, it starts with a J—”

“Juno!!” the hybrid yelled, bitter. Why did everyone have to have no idea who he was? First Kaden barely recognizes him on a rooftop in a battle for life and death, and now this arrogant jerk didn’t remember his name? He knew that maybe he’d gotten carried away with his tone of voice, but still; he remembered peoples’ names he’d barely met, so why couldn’t they bother themselves to know who this little, meaningless Saiyan kid was? Well, looks like he’d have to make an impression. He dove out of formation, coming up beneath Ander’s ship, and fired a couple of shots at it. Not expecting the attack, Ander barely dodged the green lasers.

“Yo, watch it, buddy!” Ander called, a bit ticked, “I guess this means we’re not making an olive branch.”

“Just playing the game, guys,” Juno laughed, putting a cover on the bitterness, attempting to hide the anger, “And if shooting you guys out of the sky is what it takes to get out of here, then I’m ready to do it!”

“Suit yourself,” Ander smirked, turning straight downward and doing a nosedive toward the Kill Cluster. Juno watched carefully—that must’ve been their objective. Get rid of the space station—it was so obvious.

“Kazuya, Trafford—” the hybrid shouted, “On him, now! Don’t let him get away!!”

[Alexander Trafford]

“On him, now, don’t let him get away!” Juno’s voice blared through the helmet’s built-in headset. The young street-entertainer-turned-pilot was tempted to glance at the control panel’s dual monitor, if just for a moment, so that he could glimpse at the expression on Juno’s face. He imagined it would be priceless – the young, onyx haired boy with a splitting, open-toothed grin plastered across an aggressive, ‘gung-ho’ expression. And beside him there would be Kazuya, who would probably be sneering as she rolled her eyes.

Trafford chuckled as he tilted forward the control wheel (as it had been called in the numerous flight books that he had read, but in this case it was a simple, albeit large, stick) and sent his craft into a full-on nosedive, giving chase to this Ander character.

Ander, who was apparently another ‘real’ participant within this surreal world, was a good distance ahead of him. His foe’s ship was substantially larger with dual wings on each side that created an ‘X.’ He figured that all he needed was one or two well placed shots to force the oppositional pilot to change his flight path, and effectively cause him to abort his short-term assault on the space station.

Despite his casual demeanor and attitude, Alexander very much enjoyed competition and strategic games or circumstances. That’s how he saw situations such as this one; by firing his lasers towards Ander he would force the insurgent fighter to alter his course, which, theoretically, Trafford could predict and then intercept. It was simple. But unlike most strategic games that were controlled by rules and limitations, like chess, real people tended to do the most outrageous, stupid and unpredictable things.

“Let’s get started,” Ace muttered to himself.

“Huh?” Juno’s voice cracked through his headset. Alex silently cursed himself. He had forgotten about the damned helmet – although he didn’t know how, the thing was enormous.

“Nothing, uh, never mind . . .” Trafford stated clearly and then searched his console for some sort of ‘mute’ switch, all the while keeping his eyes on the enemy ship. He was gaining ground, and he could see another Conglomerate fighter in his peripheral.

“Ah, there it is,” he whispered to himself as he jabbed his finger into a red button, silencing himself for the moment.

“Now, let’s get this shit going!” Alex shouted to himself as he slid his right hand up the control stick and placed his index finger on the trigger.

Moving the ship slightly to the right, the young pilot adjusted his vessel so that Ander was directly in his sights. His fellow participant seemed to know what Alex was planning, as he had begun to shake his fighter left and right in an attempt to make himself a more difficult target – either that or he was simply a poor pilot, it did not make much of a difference either way.

“Woo, get some mother fucker!” Trafford shouted as he pulled the trigger. Boy was he getting into this event. He was not positive, but he thought for a moment that he was actually enjoying himself. And he was sober, how quaint.

Two emerald lasers, one from each cannon, erupted from the front of his fighter and were quickly followed by two more. Ander banked left to avoid the incoming attack, and Alex followed with his finger tight on the trigger. With every shot fired he would force the enemy pilot to continue his maneuver, and thus push him further from his objective.

His teeth were clenched and his eyes were wide, it was the same look that can be seen in every young boy when he first grasps the cool, ebony controller of his new Play Station – except this was so much more. This was his childhood dream, combined with the excitement of a video game (which he had never been allowed to play during his youth) and the adrenaline rush of war, all colliding and melding together as one in the midst of the most beautiful and surreal environment that he had ever laid his eyes on: space.

It was a massive, all-encompassing blanket of darkness that stretched for eternity in every which direction. Stars dotted the jet backdrop as if they were spatters of paint against a colorless canvas. Other than those sprinkled bulbs of light there was only black; for as far as the eyes could see and the mind could imagine. It was not intimidating, as one might envision. Sure, at first the vastness of it all was entirely overwhelming, but after a moment, or perhaps a minute, it became quite comforting.

Half of him wanted to remain there, with his mind in ‘la-la land,’ observing the stars; the other half, however, wanted to pursue Ander. He wished that he could simply radio into Juno and Kazuya, tell them to take over the chase, and then ride off to the outskirts of the battle and simply watch. Perhaps he would smoke a cigarette and pretend he was at the movies. That would be quite grand, he imagined. Regardless, he was in no particular rush to leave space – or the cockpit of his fighter.

He sighed and, contrary to his true desires, continued tailing Ander – hoping that the damned pilot would make an error that he could capitalize on before he himself slipped up. Trafford reached for the red button on his control console and pressed it once again. He’d had his fun, now he might as well get back to business.

“Juno,” Trafford said in order to get the boy’s attention. He paused for a moment as he pulled down on the joystick’s trigger. As emerald lasers once again erupted from his own cannons he watched his opponent re-enter his banking maneuver in order to avoid the incoming fire. Once this occurred, he continued, “Cut him off and force him to come back around, I’ll catch him when he does. And, uh . . . shit, I forgot your name . . .”

“It’s Kazuya, boy,” his other partner stated in a stern, probably frustrated tone that shook Alex’s nerves.

“Yeah, right, you should make sure no other participants move in on the space station thing.”

“Oh, should I?” Kazuya retorted, and he could immediately tell that this was going to be bad. “Who made you our ‘fearless leader’?”

Obviously she did not like taking orders from anyone.

“Uh, right . . .” Trafford muttered and then paused, before continuing, “well then, why don’t you just do whatever it is you want to do?”

Alex chuckled awkwardly. Perhaps he should have left his end of the headset on mute.

[Victoria]

It wasn’t that she wanted to harm them, because she didn’t. It was all a matter of playing the game and making it through to the end. All Victoria wanted to do was win, if that meant anything. She knew how villains worked; they promised you salvation with their fingers crossed. She could snuff out her competition, shoot down the threats around her, but her conscience always held her back. She cursed her insatiable need for friendship and understanding; it would have been so much easier to have been a loner.

Victoria’s craft swerved and she did a barrel roll before zipping through the battlefield. Ander remained close, following her lead and firing at the nearest threats. She fired off her weapons, shooting down the enemy ships and attempting to get closer to the Kill Cluster. “This is all they got?” She asked with a grin. Her quick reflexes enabled her to get out of unfortunate situations, and her team covered any attacks from behind.

“You’re going down, there’s no way I’m letting you guys win!” a voice crackled over the intercom. It wasn’t Ander; it was one of their would-be rivals. A laser beam nearly clipped her X-Wing and she turned abruptly. Their formation cut, she watched frantically as her companion dodged the coming forces of the opposing team. Victoria couldn’t stop; she had someone on her tail. He shot at her relentlessly, making her zigzag and zoom in various directions.

“Iceman, come in.” She spoke, doing a hard turn and grunting against the pressure of the straps on her chest. “Iceman, Iron maiden needs you!” she called out, gritting her teeth as a hard shot nailed her shields. “My shields are down to 80%.” She directed her ship downwards and quickly did a loop, coming up behind the enemy. Just in the nick of time, Iceman shot between the two ships and nailed the enemy with a barrage of blasts.

“You guys ok? I can’t shake these guys.” Ander’s voice came over the communications. A female voice cut in through the static.

“You’re going down, motherfuckers!” A laugh followed, and Victoria shot towards the warring group.

“What’s going on? Where are you?” She couldn’t locate her team mate; the void of space was filled with many ships shooting at each other. She moved through the dangerous combat zone and watched her scanner for a sign of Ander.

“Argh, starship…battle.” Ander’s voice came in.

“Use your missiles, target their weapons.” She replied and fired off her own lasers, causing an enemy ship to explode.

“No use, they’re too…fast.” He was having a hard time; she could hear it in his voice. “Can’t lock on…ugh, starship battle!”

“Do a loop, cut around and get them from behind, Ander!” She shouted, and looked frantically around for his ship.

He replied, but the communications cut in and out suddenly. “Lololololo!” A voice came through and grated her nerves.

“What the hell?” Victoria fiddled with the knob.

“Ololol!” The annoying interloper continued, as if he were amusing. Victoira’s ship vibrated as a shot shook her ship.

“Someone must have gotten onto our frequency.” Ander’s voice came in; he was calm now and no longer in danger. “Thanks for the tip, I got them.” He zipped past her, did another loop and came up just beside her ship. He fired off an onslaught as a few enemy ships came after them.

“Good, he stopped,” she joined in the attack and flew forth to continue their mission. “This way, looks like there’s an opening.” She turned and took off towards the Kill Cluster. “Iceman, you there?” Victoria asked.

“Just killing some enemy scum, Iron Maiden.” His voice replied.

“We’re pushing forward, north, north east.” She said and made sure Ander was still following her.

“Not if we have something to say about it!” A male replied and shot at Victoria from above. She turned abruptly and nearly hit her team mate. “Forgot we were on the same channel didn’t you?” She pursued her, making her change course away from the Kill Cluster and Ander.

“You’re persistent.” She replied and used defensive maneuvers to get behind him. He did a barrel roll and avoided her attack. “Nice moves, but how about this?” She pushed on the handles and dove down, her enemy chased her. She twirled and dodged his blasts, and started to climb back up and closer to their target. He kept on her tail, attempting to break down her shield and deliver the killing blow. The Kill Cluster loomed before them, closer and closer, she headed straight for it.

“Are you crazy?” The man asked, and kept on chasing her. From what he could tell she was about to crash into the giant sphere.

Victoria’s ship changed course suddenly, going straight up. The man had to correct his own craft, nearly slamming into the wall of the Kill Cluster. He went off in another direction and she used the opportunity to continue along the monstrous long wall and towards what could only be the top.

She halted her ship and watched in utter shock as the black void of space suddenly filled with massive ships. They were circular, very much like the Kill Cluster, but green and ominous. She read her screen for any data but nothing appeared. Her communications began to crackle, and an overbearing voice filled the small cabin.

“We are you Borg, you will be assimilated.” The voice didn’t sound singular, to Victoria it sounded as if many were speaking as one. A chill crept down her spine and she didn’t know what Borg was, but she did know what assimilated meant.

“You want to absorb me, like, eat me? Because I don’t think I’d like that.” She replied. She looked for a way around the massive ships but the only way out would be to go backwards.

“Lower your shields and surrender your ship. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us.” The voice replied, making her shudder visibly. Typically Victoria didn’t get the creeps, but something about the noise dug deep into her and made her skin crawl.

“You wouldn’t want me, I’m not very cultured. I’m not even human!” Victoria laughed nervously and maneuvered her ship around; she didn’t want to mess with the likes of them, not today.

“Resistance is futile!” The Borg replied, and a bright green beam locked onto her X-Wing. Her ship jolted and began to move in reverse, making her panic.

She had to think quickly, especially considering her shields were down to almost 30%. She could tell by the way the beam pulled on her ship that it was a sort of gravity device. Victoria flipped a switch on the dashboard. She suddenly heard a sound, a beep and a bloop that reminded her of the robot seated above her cockpit. Forgot about him. She mused and pushed the button her finger had been hovering over. He must agree with me, I hope. The button released the last of her missiles, and just as she thought, they sailed right up the gravity beam and into the Borg ship. An explosion occurred at the base of the ship, breaking off their hold and allowing Vic to fly downwards toward the Kill Cluster.

“Let’s not do that again,” she said. The ordeal had made her sweat, uncomfortably so. Her robotic companion whirred in reply and she smiled lightly. “Hey, guys, Iron Maiden here. Avoid the top of the Kill Cluster, there’s some baddies up there that will make you shit bricks.” She sent the message over the communication device to warn her comrades.

“Kill Cluster defenses?” A reply came.

“Not sure, they call themselves the Borg. Either this Kill Cluster has some nasty allies, or Gamer got things mixed up. Either way, I suggest we get this over with before those bastards come down here. They want to assimilate us.” She replied, a tinge of urgency in her voice.

“Roger that, Iron Maiden, make the maneuver and drop the bomb.” Ander’s reply came. As she shot down into the battlefield once again she found him shooting down enemy dirt bags. She looked over at him and he shot her a thumb up. “Got the way clear for you and everything, unless those guys on the other side decide to take action.” He looked ahead and swooped in to align behind her to cover her back.

“Iceman, come in,” she spoke and headed towards the Kill Cluster.

“Iceman here, we’re a go?” He replied and crossed their path in a fancy display of tactics. He shot down an enemy ship coming close, and aligned himself next to Victoria’s X-Wing.

“We’re a go, if I don’t make it, you’re up.” She replied and altered her course slightly. Soon it would all be over. Both teams were beginning to thin, but only one side could win.

“Roger dodger, I spotted a weakness in their defenses,” he responded and pushed ahead of her slightly. His ship curved to the west, and she followed suit.

“Lead the way, Iceman, take out the opposition ahead and Hotshot, cover any pursuit.” Victoria ordered and shot a glance over at the shining red button that would release the bomb she still held in her ship. It was their last effort, but she knew better than to count all of her blessings. Given the enemies she had recently run into, and the smart players running the show on the enemy side, things were about to get very interesting.

[Kazuya]

Takes place just before Victoria's post

It may have been the lack of sleep that made her grouchy, or just that she didn’t quite trust the skill and judgments of her team. Bitchiness was her way of getting a point across, because failure right now was not an option. Yeah, there were three others out there from the opposing team firing upon her squad relentlessly, and while she felt something for them, that they were just people put in the same fight or die position as she, she had to look out for number one first and foremost. Chivalry was something that had been thrown out the door long ago. It’s not like they gave a shit about her, anyways.

Her fingers nimbly flew over switches and buttons, activating this mechanism and that as she danced a dance of survival out in the ever expansive battleground she’d been thrust into. Her vehicle, she’d discovered, wasn’t as agile as she preferred. Although it was fast, the maneuverability sucked; Kazuya just wasn’t one with her vehicle, and it was noticeable. Too noticeable.

Her hands gripped the control sticks as she zoomed through the blackness of space and a field of X-wing crafts, little blips coming up on her radar as she approached one that contained another Kill Town contestant. The text above its head read ‘Szar’, someone she hadn’t had the displeasure of meeting yet, until now. As she zoomed in to his radius, she could see a faint outline of a creature just inside, she was positive something wasn’t right with it, but as someone who’d never seen anything except humans, her eyes seen what was there, but her brain refused to make sense of it. He had some features in common: eyes, nose, mouth, but the horns were definitely not right. Nor was the royal purple…thing in the middle of his head. And his skin was very, very pale.

“What the hell are you?” she whispered as she slowed her craft to just a mere hover in front of the other contestant’s vehicle.

“What the hell’s it matter?” Came the snarky voice through the craft’s internal speakers. It wasn’t at all pleased. Kazuya blinked, actually surprised.

“Well, uh, just never seen….somethi-one like you before,” she stammered, blinking nervously. She was within a killshot range, a stupid move, but curiosity, for some reason, got the best of her. And it’d probably get her killed.

“The fuck are you doing out there, Kazuya?” The redheaded boy she’d met at the Hangar’s voice sliced through her momentary train of thought, jolting her in her seat. “Shoot or get outta the way!”

“Oh, right,” Kazuya muttered. She cleared her throat and moved her craft upwards quickly, faster than the x-wing and it’s pilot could follow. Hell, she barely followed it, but that’s besides the point. She was in a bad position, and she had to move quick. “So how we gonna do this, monster?”

“Szar,” he corrected, clearly irritated.

“Ok, Szar,” the female repeated, mirroring his distaste. “I don’t want to kill you as much as you don’t wanna kill me, but we gotta do something.”

“Well,” the creature crackled over the speakers, the feedback from his mic screamed through the tight space, and the woman gritted her teeth. “For a minute there, I thought I was fucked.”

“And what’s changed your mind?” She asked, not masking her cockiness one bit as she whirled her craft around, but paused before blasting the throttle.

“These guys,” he chuckled as her surprised gasp transmitted through his headset, to which his amusement intensified.

Kaz gulped back the lump in her throat as she found herself surrounded by the other two opposing combatants, another male and a female. “Fuck.”

“Run, run, girl,” the other male tightened his hold on his ship’s control, his thumbs twitching over the buttons at the heads of each stick. Somehow, she knew what they were, and how much shit she was in.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Kazuya’s hands were a flurry of movement as they fidgeted with more controls, her craft jerking as it suddenly found herself propelling backwards at a dangerously fast clip, and she was blind to everything behind her.

“Left! Left!” Juno’s voice sang across the speakers, and she jerked the controls left. “No! The other left!”

“Make up my mind, damn it!” Kazuya grouched, thrusting the joysticks to the right.

Juno kept tossing out directions while Alex’s blip approached her ship with an urgency that seemed almost impossible. Her screen lit up with green beams of light, and the trio scattered like roaches in all directions.

“Don’t expect me to save your ass this entire fight,” the redhead snapped.

“Right,” Kazuya heaved a breath she didn’t know she was holding this entire time, relief plain on her face as she followed suit just behind her teammate, her thumbs going to town over the little red buttons on her controls.

“Just watch where you’re firing!” he barked through her speakers. She smiled sheepishly.

[Szar]

Szar and Victoria banked left to avoid a salvo of laser fire. Glancing behind him, Szar noted that Ander was engaged in a dogfight with one of the enemy players, leaving the other two to pursue Victoria and himself.

"We've got company, Iron Maiden." Szar stated calmly into the radio.

"I've noticed!" she grunted, a laser grazing the back wing of her craft. Szar couldn't let them eliminate Victoria. Her ship was carrying the bomb, the only means to win the event. He had to make sure, no matter what, that she made it to her destination. Running a weapons check, the Icer hoped this ship had something he could use. Lasers, a few pulsar missiles--whatever those were--and something called 'The Crab'. Figuring there wasn't anything to lose in using it, Szar flipped the switch to the Crab, and a warning buzzer began to blare in his headset.

"Warning." it said in a computer's monotone, "Crab set to deploy. Launching in five seconds." Szar swerved to avoid laser fire, before he felt something clanging below him. A hatch at the bottom of the ship opened, and a single metallic orb fell out of it. It bobbed in zero gravity before its internal sensory array homed in on one of the Tie-Figters pursuing them, and it rocketed towards them. Szar heard a confused voice shriek over the raido as the orb latched on to the nose of his ship. Eight legs folded out from the sides of the ball, each one digging into the Tie-Fighter. Next, it sent an electrical current through the ship's systems, temporarily disabling them. Juno screamed into the radio frustratedly as he struggled to get his craft moving again. That left only one ship, and Szar knew that he could handle this one on his own.

"Iron Maiden, go on ahead. I'll hold this one here."

She nodded before speeding away. "Be careful, Iceman." she said, "I won't be able to get to the core by myself!"

"Don't worry about it," Szar assured her, "I'll deal with this then catch back up with you."

"I'll hold you to that!" she said, her voice crackling over the radio. She was moving out of contact range, and that meant that she was getting closer. Hopefully, she'd be able to hold her own until Szar could link back up with her. Setting his attention on the remaining Tie-Fighter, he decelerated, coming to a steady stop. He turned in mid-air so that he was facing the advancing player.

"Stop. We'll settle this here, no need to involve Maiden." Szar said into the radio, knowing they were all on the same frequency.

"So you think you can just deal with me then go blow up the Kill Cluster? You think I'm going to let that happen?" a steely voice said commandingly, Szar noted that she sounded a bit uncomfortable. He would play that to his advantage.

"This is your first time in space, right? I'm surprised you know how to pilot so well." Szar began, hoping that his hunches were right.

"Shut up. I don't want to talk to you right now. We're enemies and we shouldn't be talking at all." Kazuya stated coldly, her hand gripping the throttle with white-knuckled hands; there was no way she would admit her inexperience to her enemies.

"Oh come on, you could have shot me out of the sky before and instead you tried to talk to me. Not surprisingly, I can be quite a shock if one's never seen an alien before. That tells me two things. First, you've never been in space before. Secondly, it tells me that you've never piloted a ship before."

Kazuya didn't like being analyzed like this. Not by an foe, or anyone else. "No more talking!" she barked, bringing her lasers to face with Szar's ship. "We settle this now."

Szar grinned, confident that he had gotten to her at least a little bit. Pressing the throttle forward, Szar advanced on Kazuya's ship. She moved to match him, and in seconds their battle began. Szar weaved around surprisingly accurate laser bursts; maybe antagonizing her had been a bad idea? No, he was confident enough as a pilot to know that he could deal with her. Banking left, he loosed a few lasers of his own, and she barely moved to avoid them. She appeared to be effective as long as she was on the offensive, defensively she was weak. Deciding to take the fight to her, Szar thundered towards her craft. She did the same, firing at him as he advanced. He maintained his course, dodging deftly around her attacks. Her firing grew more frenzied as he closed in on her. Finally, when it appeared that he was going to ram her, she broke away, banking hard to the left. Braking sharply, Szar swung his ship around firing a single shot at her. It struck one of her wings, and Szar laughed to himself as he heard her curse over the radio.

"Well, that was fun, but I really have to go." Szar joked to her as he left her, and her damaged ship behind him. Following his radar, he quickly found Victoria. She was being tailed by a trio of ships, and as he got closer his radio picked up their chatter.

"...Can't let you do that, Star Fox."

"Andross has ordered us to take you down!"

"Andross' enemy is my enemy!"

Star Fox? Andross? Gamer really didn't know what he was doing when he put together these events. First Victoria had mentioned something about the Borg, and now this? Even if they didn't fit into the theme of the event, they were still enemy pilots who were threatening his one chance of winning. Locking on to the ship at the back of the pack, he fired off a pair of pulsar missiles. They raced toward their target striking it square in the back. It exploded in a flash of blue, and just before its radio went dead Szar picked up one last transmission from its pilot.

"Uncle Andross, ahhhha!"

Quickly setting his sights on the next bogey, Szar fired a few laser blasts its way. The pilot tried to avoid them, but in the end it failed and he went to join his comrade.

"He's too strong! This can't be happening!"

With only one ship remaining, Szar fired the last of his pulsar missles. Apparently, the remaining enemy had a lick of skill because he managed to barrell roll out of the missles' path. Moving to intercept the last ship, Szar was surprised when Victoria looped around, firing a few expertly-placed shots at her last pursuer. He exploded in dramatic fashion, but not before he said his last words:

"No way, I don't believe it! I...can't...lose!"

With the three foreign enemies out of the way, Szar moved in next to Victoria. "Nice moves. How you holding up?"

"She gave him a thumbs up. "Thanks for the assist, and I'm fine. My shields took a bit of a pounding but I'm okay. You ready to end this?"

Szar--Iceman-- nodded. This was the home stretch, he wasn't about to lose now. Szar only hoped that Hotshot was okay, he hadn't heard from him in a while. He wasn't about to lose anyone on this mission, not when he was so close to the end.

"Hotshot, do you copy? Are you out there, Hotshot?"

[Juno]

Kazuya at his wing, the hybrid kicked his TIE-fighter into high gear. The boosters on the back of the ship burst forth in a cerulean haze, and with a mischievous chuckle and a quick glance to make sure Ander wasn’t still on their tails, Juno raced ahead after Victoria and Szar, who had gained plenty of ground during the quick skirmish they’d had with Ander.

“Kaz, we’ve got to hurry this up—kick on your boost,” the half-Saiyan urged her, but there was radio silence. “Kaz, are you there? Kazuya!”

“Hm?” the samurai-woman muttered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you say my name. Maybe because ‘Kaz’ isn’t my name, fool.” With that little personal disclosure out of the way, the Japanese warrior followed Juno’s first suggestion, launching into high speed pursuit and evening out with her comrade. Ahead, Szar and Victoria were racing toward the energy release hatch, the clearest, easiest outlet to the central core. That was where Victoria would drop the bomb, and that would be what set off the most massive explosion the galaxy had ever witnessed.

Juno and Kazuya weren’t about to let that happen.

The two boosted ships closed in on their competitors, but Szar had other plans in mind. The lizard had finally decided to join up with his group, and now, Juno was surprised to see, proved to be one of their most valuable strategic assets—he’d practically led Kazuya into certain death not moments before, after all. If there was one thing about the changeling that the hybrid was sure of, it was that he shouldn’t be underestimated.

Second later, this hypothesis once again proved true as a single silver orb popped out of the bottom of Szar’s X-wing, and locked onto the hybrid’s ship. It raced full speed at the H-shaped spacecraft, latching onto the central orb of the TIE-fighter which housed its cockpit. “What the hell?” Juno screeched in surprise as the thing grasped onto his windshield.

A surge of electricity flowed into the controls around him, and the hybrid pushed himself into the chair as quickly as possible as the control panel before him fried. Letting loose a string of expletives, Juno pressed buttons and flipped switches, but there was nothing that could stop his ship from plummeting out of the sky now—it spun towards the ground, finally crashing into the surface of the Kill Cluster with a resounding thud, and a large, piercing noise, like that of nails scraping on a chalkboard.

The lights inside the ship were the last thing to flicker out; that left him in relative darkness, except for the ambient light of a nearby white dwarf. He closed his eyes, ensured now that his term in this game was done—he’d lost. He’d been shot down, and with the power out, he was quite sure that eventually, he’d run out of oxygen to breath, and then, he would die a slow, horrible, painful death.

“Damn it,” he muttered, defeated, slamming his fists against the control panel.

“Ouch,” something said. It was a female’s voice, but it was rather even-toned, and almost mechanized, in a way. The hybrid looked around for whatever it may have been—an android assassin, maybe, sent to take him out of his misery? But why had it said ouch after he’d hit the controls? Could it have been… connected to them?

A holographic blue orb appeared in front of him. It had a white grid painted on it, signifying that it was, indeed, a completely pixilated, computer generated image. It did, however, seem to be some sort of… artificial life form, if you could say it had life. It had a neck, as well, connecting it to a small port for holograms.

Juno stared at it for a second before speaking. “…what the hell are you?”

“I believe the proper question would be ‘who,’” the artificial intelligence replied, its ‘mouth’ being a completely vertical entity that opened and closed in a rhythmic fashion while she was speaking, and disappeared completely when she was not speaking. At least, Juno referred to it as a ‘she’—it seemed to be one, from her voice. Perhaps it would’ve been more appropriate to call her an it, but he decided that she was more personal. “I am EDI, and I am an artificial intelligence that has been attached to your ship, the Versailles.”

“That’s… handy,” the hybrid mustered, not being able to think of anything else to say.

“No, it is not,” EDI replied, “I am, unfortunately, without hands.” There was an eerie silence as Juno judged the intelligence of this thing—did it actually think he thought it had hands? EDI quickly clarified: “That was a joke.”

“Nice to know,” Juno scoffed. He sat back in his seat, “Great, so the only thing not fried when that thing hit was an AI with a corny sense of humor. I’m sure this is going to work out well.”

“Your sarcasm is misplaced, Juno,” EDI retorted, “But that is another topic for another day. For now, we must figure out how to get you back up and running. I’m sure it would not be in yours or the Misleading Guy’s best interest to be grounded through such a pathetic use of an EMP. Allow me to work for a moment to get you back online.”

With that, the orb disappeared for a brief second. Juno pondered, quickly, what she’d said. He supposed this Misleading Guy must’ve been Gamer, though it could’ve just been another one of the teenager’s common incorrect references.

It didn’t take long for EDI to reappear. Juno crossed his arms, waiting for her inevitable explanation of the situation to commence, but it appeared that she would prefer to let her work to the talking this time. Smart girl, he supposed, and watched as the control panel lit up once again. He glanced out the window—the scuffs in the vertical ‘wings’ of the TIE-fighter seemed to bind back into the metal, as if it was regenerating itself. I’ve got to learn how to do that, the hybrid thought to himself, and the blue artificial intelligence circled around three-hundred and sixty degrees to observe her work at length. After all the lights had turned on, and everything had re-synced, the seer finally broke the silence.

“Impressive, EDI,” he muttered, “What did you do?”

“I simply connected our broken power source to the backup generators located in the opposite wing,” the AI smiled. “Systems are operational again. You may start flight at any time, Commander Juno.”

“…Commander Juno,” the hybrid muttered, “I like the sound of that, EDI.”

“I am glad, Commander,” the artificial intelligence muttered.

“Call me Juno, EDI,” the semi-Saiyan told her, and he could see the slightest smile slip onto her mechanized, holographic features, though it disappeared within seconds.

Contented, Juno turned the keys in the ignition of the TIE-fighter once again, and pressed on the control stick in front of him. The Versailles, as EDI had referred to it, wrenched itself out of the metallic surface of the Kill Cluster, and with the flip of a switch, the hybrid was back on course, and the signals of Kazuya, Szar, and Victoria were quickly growing closer.

It didn’t take long for the onyx-haired pilot to catch up to the trio. Szar and Kazuya weaved masterfully out of the way of each others’ attacks, shooting almost exactly as they evaded the other’s shots. With Szar noticeably occupied, the hybrid took the opportunity and went low, flying beneath the ships.

“Juno?” he heard Kazuya say over the radio, and quickly, the changeling was alerted to his presence. “Juno, you’re… alive?”

“Well, that sucks,” Szar hissed over the comm, “Victoria, you’ve got the black-haired kid coming at you. Be ready!”

Shoot, Juno said inwardly as he raced up onto Victoria’s tail. The X-wing that housed the pink-haired girl began to bob slightly, as if preparing for him to shoot a volley of lasers in one direction or another. Thankfully, that wasn’t exactly his plan. On his radar he could see the energy release port just ahead—the Insurgents were getting close, and he wasn’t about to let them get there. He dove past Victoria, and the pink-haired vixen glanced over at him with a confused glint in her eye.

“EDI,” he said, “Get ready to save my ass.”

“Saving your ass is my job, Juno,” EDI informed the Conglomeration pilot in a mechanical fashion, before adding an addendum: “That was a joke.”

The port was now within eyesight. He readied the ship, gripping the controls with an increased determination and will to survive. He hoped the artificial intelligence pulled through—he was doing what he was about to do with the intent of living through it, but when you were performing a plan as risky as the one he’d cooked up on his way over here… well, it was never a very sure thing. He had to get back to the carnival though. He kept thinking that, knowing it would happen if he did: he had to go back; he had to go back… He gulped, noticeably fearful about his next move, but approaching it with the sullen confidence he approached situations like this. When he’d been chasing Rosemary, he had approached her with a surefire front, no matter how scared he may have been. There was just one problem with that example—he hadn’t come out of that one and lived to fight another day in Friend or Foe. Alive—yes. Yet not exactly the result he’d been hoping for.

The hatch was just ahead. “See ya around, EDI!” he called excitedly, attempting to counteract the nerves.

As the energy release hatch began to pass below him, he made a sharp move on the control stick, turning his vehicle directly down and jamming it into the hatch. “Ejecting,” EDI said, and Juno vaulted out of his seat and through the windshield, shattered glass flying everywhere as the friction slowed the lodged TIE-fighter to a stop. He fell from above, flying slowly toward the metal walkways surrounding the control core.

“Hooooooooooooooly shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhiii—ngh!”

His expletives were interrupted by a loud thud as he slammed into the catwalks, faceplanting into the metallic surface. He breathed slowly and heavily, pulling himself up off the ground and leaning over the railing, vomiting a little bit into the abyss below the Kill Cluster’s central core. He glanced up briefly—the now completely disabled Versailles had effectively blocked the hatch, which would stop the bomb from going through and getting to the core. And, as far as he knew, that was the only access point.

He smiled as he glanced contentedly toward the central power system, which glowed bright yellow as it sat idly in what could’ve been its final moments. It was one of the most impressive displays he’d ever seen, a miniature metallic tower, with golden rays floating off of it like it was a star.

Juno looked up at the hatch, the rustic form of the Versailles tightly wedged into the space. He smiled victoriously; the trio of Insurgents—Victoria, Ander, and Szar—would have had a tough enough time trying to get a clear enough shot to hit the core anyway, but with the obstruction, they now had the added challenge of having to get two direct hits. As he was well aware from his earlier stunt, this was not an easy task, and accomplishing it while Alex and Kazuya were on their sixes wouldn’t be easy. Was it possible? Yes. Did he think they were skilled enough to do it? It didn’t seem likely, to be sure.

He glanced at the power core stoically, knowing that unless they weren’t able to accomplish their mission, or Gamer decided to pull some stunt to save him, that he would die if the bomb reached the inner caverns of the Kill Cluster. His eyes turned once again toward the space battle above, toward Kazuya and Alex, and he knew that he had done his piece to help the team. Now, it was up to them.

His eyes focused once more on the power core, and he wondered absentmindedly how long it had been since he’d seen the sun.

[Szar]

Szar cursed to himself. He and Victoria had been crusing at a ridiculous pace, with no more enemy signatures in the area, and they were still a ways from their objective. His computer's sensors read that it would take them fifteen minutes to reach the core, and they didn't have that kind of time. There was no knowing how long their flight path would remain clear. And even if there were no enemy ships, it was likely there would be anti-aircraft ordinances on the Cluster's surface. And, despite the skill she'd already shown, Szar wasn't sure Iron Maiden could get through it. Even he would have noticable trouble, and he'd had years of practice. Unless blind luck carried her, it wasn't likely she would make it by herself, assuming something were to happen to Szar. That meant he would have to see her to the core, or at least as close to it as he could. He hadn't heard from Ander since he tried to get a hold of him, so Iceman decided that he was out of the picture indefinitely.

"Damn it," Szar groused, "can't this thing go any faster?!"

Frantically searching for anything that could help him, his eyes stopped on something curious. It was a large red button with a warning label on it. 'Only use in clear air space. Folding the S-Foils disables all weapons systems.' Pondering his options for a second, Szar clicked on his radio.

"Iron Maiden, come in."

"I'm here, Iceman. What's up?" she responded, her tone relaxed. She was obviously enjoying the respite.

"I'm going to try something. If I don't explode, hit the red button to the left of the throttle. The one with the warning label." Szar said, his voice steady despite the implications of his statement.

"What are you talking about?"

Szar clicked his radio off. He needed silence now, to concentrate fully on what was in front of him. Holding his breath, Szar pushed the button. He heard the foils coming together before they clicked into place. For an instant everything was normal, but then his engines began to hum louder than before. The Icer barely had time to check that he was securely fastened before the X-Wing rocketed forward. The numbers of the speedometer blinked away, being replaced with a single word.

"Ludicrous." Szar read aloud. "...How fitting."

Szar put the throttle in a death-grip as he sped along toward the trench, the mission timer ticking down at an incredible rate. He must have covered fifteen minutes of space in five minutes time, and before he knew it the ship's computer was notifying him the core was just ahead. It also said there was some sort of an obstruction in the core. Flipping the toggle switch, Szar was whipped forward as his ship suddenly jerked to a halt. The foils were not out, and his weapons systems were still coming back online when Iceman managed to shake the last of the stars from his eyes.

Remembering the warning from his computer, Szar set the ship's sights on the entry port to the maintenance tunnel. It appeared as there was a Tie-Fighter lodged in the entrance, effectively blocking it off. For a moment he wondered where it had come from before he remembered the ship trying to slink past him when he was engaged with Kazuya. If Ander was still engaged with Trafford, that left only one other person.

"Juno." Szar concluded, both impressed and infuriated with the contestant's actions. How had he even come back, Szar was sure that his crabs had taken Juno out of the game? Maybe Gamer had fixed his ship to make things more interesting? Whatever the case, the fact that his ship was blocking the only entrance to the trench, Szar quickly decided what he needed to do. Flipping up the tap at the tip of the throttle, his finger hovered over the button that activated his laser cannons. It hung there for several seconds, the Icer unable to bring himself to press it. What if Juno was still in his ship? And, even if he had escaped in time, it wasn't likely that he got far. If he was somewhere on the Cluster, the bomb's explosion would definitely kill him. But should Szar even care? Gamer was a much larger threat. If it meant taking him down was it okay to kill anyone that got in his way? Maybe that was what Gamer was looking for to begin with.

Szar still hadn't figured it out when he pushed the button down. He held it there as the cannons fired a torrent of laser bolts at Juno's ship. They pewed toward their target before crashing into its hull. The ship exploded in spectacular fashion--a beautiful flower of fire lit up the blackness of space. Szar offered up a prayer for the boy before he pushed forward, launching into the chasm.

The walls around him were quick to close in, and the Icer couldn't help but feel claustrophobic. He had never had a problem with enclosed spaces, but to go from the vastness of space to the small confines of this tunnel was enough to shake him. He clicked on his radio--to get a status report on his wing mates--but he was greeted instead with static. Not surprisingly the trench interfered with radio communications, and Szar clicked it off again. Trying to relax, Iceman had started to doze off when the tunnel finally broke and he came into a massive room. Ahead of him loomed what he assumed was the core--a massive glowing orb with tendrils of electricity darting between its luminescent surface and the exterior walls of the room. He was so taken by its glow that he failed to notice the shadow moving beneath him.

It came up suddenly, a floating head resembling that of a monkey. At either side of it were two floating hands, glowing squares shining on their palms.

"You're going to die, Star Fox!" the monkey-head bellowed. "I, Andross, am going to destroy you!"

So this was the Andross that those pilots had been talking about before. Szar really didn't think that it belonged here, in this event, and that Gamer was an idiot for mixing things up like he had. Regardless of whether it belonged it was still capable of destroying Szar. Something the Icer realized all too clearly when a beam of concentrated energy came out of Andross' glowing eyes. Iceman deftly banked to the left, the blast grazing his right wing, obliterating the cannons at their tips. With half of his armaments taken out of the picture, Szar's chances of victory began to slip away. Sensing victory, the monkey-head balled its right hand into a fist, trying to punch the Changeling out of the sky. It was only thanks to his quick reflexes that Szar avoided the fist, and he quickly seized the opportunity by firing a salvo of lasers at Andross. They struck the floating head in the eye, and it howled in pain.

Blinded by rage, Andross brought his hand back to his face, trying to slap some sense into himself. In his haste, he had left his remaining hand open, the square on its palm clearly exposed. Szar locked on to it and fired, the lasers striking their target. Andross' hand exploded in a flash, and the monkey-head, still reeling from the blasts to its eyes, was lost in a frenzied bellow. Iceman covered his ears from the intense sound waves, all the while holding down the trigger. Line after line of laser fire struck Andross in the face, and Szar noticed that he was being forced back. Continuing the barrage, Szar pushed the monkey-face back until the back of its head was inches from the core.

"I will destroy you!" Andross roared, "I am the mighty Andross, destined to rule all of Corneria!"

Szar checked himself. His helmet was tightly over his head, the HUD displaying that it held enough oxygen to maintain the Icer for several hours. More than enough time. Stealing a page from Juno's playbook, Szar decided to use the ship itself as a means to an end. Activating the auto-pilot, Iceman sent his ship hurtling towards the waiting Andross. At the last moment before the crash Szar hit the eject button. Unfortunately, there was a problem with his canopy, and it stayed in place even while Szar's seat ejected him. His head slammed into the canopy above him, and the last thing Iceman saw before unconsciousness took him was Andross.

[Ander]

God damn, this guy’s good.

Ander dipped and weaved and banked in all manner of evasive maneuvers, yet still the enemy TIE Fighter trailed him with relentless determination. If the thief didn’t know any better, he’d swear that this other guy held the rank of professional. The match-up between the two fell abysmally far from fair, although Ander had managed to hold his own up until this point. He got away from him once, fired on the one pilot who was perhaps worse than he, and managed to clear the way for Victoria. At the very least, the blue-eyed bandit had contributed.

“Hey back there,” Ander called over the shared frequency. “I don’t suppose you’d gimme a break and go have fun with somebody else, would ya?” He banked left as a spray of deadly neon lasers peppered the starry void.

“Not a chance,” came the reply.

Ander then jerked the throttle sharply to the right as the TIE Fighter corrected its line of aim to compensate for his movements, cutting off his escape path. Thus far, only kneejerk reactions had saved his hide, to the tune of “avoid the pretty green lights that cause lethal decompression.”

“Had to ask. Haha, why aren’t you on my team?” the thief chuckled.

“Luck of the draw. Some people have it, some people don’t. Que sera sera.”

The coolness of his tone reminded Ander of his own typical façade, playing the unshakeable guy with all the right moves. The nomad wondered if this kid was the real McCoy, or if he just pretended all the same.

“What’s your name, buddy?” Ander asked.

“Alexander Trafford, but you can call me Ace, ’cause I’m always aces.”

Ander could hear the confident grin in the youth’s voice.

“Ace, huh? Ander. I’ll be seeing you again,” the thief replied.

“Maybe if you’re lucky.”

HA! Bastard, Ander thought with a good-natured chortle. In a last ditch effort, he decelerated and sharply pulled to the right in a move reminiscent of his fateful car accident that lead to his capture and participation in this whole ordeal. He hoped to pull a U-y and blast right past Alex, giving him time to escape while his pursuer consumed precious seconds reversing his own course. His X-Wing “skidded” a bit while the thrusters attempted to maintain a stable axis, but nonetheless, his hasty gamble cashed in just enough chips. Unfortunately, Alexander once again proved his superiority in this arena of combat as he looped backwards with almost precognitive skill. He settled his TIE Fighter right into Ander’s oncoming path, obstructing the course and guaranteeing a very messy collision. However, Alex didn’t plan on getting smashed, indicative by the gentle, deadly hum of his cannons as the tips glowed their sinister green.

Ander’s eyes widened in shock, while Trafford merely grinned and winked as his fingers dropped like a guillotine on the fire controls. The thief lunged forward in a completely erroneous first reaction, uselessly bracing for impact. Fortunately, his hands still held firm grip on the throttle, and his X-Wing dipped steeply into an incline, ducking barely in the nick of time beneath the lethal execution as the lime-colored lasers sailed over his cockpit. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, thanking whatever dumb luck that had saved his life, especially after overlooking the obvious fact that spaceships could move in three dimensions.

The desert dweller scanned his console for anything useful in his somewhat futile escape attempts, finding nothing other than weapons meant for offensive attacks. His probing blue eyes eventually spied a shiny, unlabeled red button that somehow managed to remain overlooked until this point and time. Even as you grow older, you never quite lose that childlike curiosity, the innocent naïveté that always got you into more trouble than it was worth. Ander felt the sensation creeping up on him now, his will weakening against the overwhelming adolescent impulse. Of course, he quite happily relented.

“Ooh, what does this button do?”

His index unrestrainedly jabbed the button, and immediately the force of gravity slammed his body back into the seat, nearly crushing him with awesome force as the canvas of space around him turned into a blinding blur of black and white lights. It was enough to make the special effects team of The Fast and the Furious series jealous. Despite the immense pressure on his lungs, he managed out a scream that quickly turned into a crazy type of laugh, as if he rode on the world’s most extreme rollercoaster. The pure burst of speed from what now identified as his ship’s boosters drove him wild with exhilaration.

“YEEHAW!”

Eventually, the afterburners cooled off, leaving him far away from the galactic hunter Alexander.

“That… was intense…” Ander breathed, speaking to no one in particular. He checked his radar for any signs of his comrades. “Iron Maiden, Iceman, come in, this is Hotshot. You guys there?”

“Iron Maiden here. Nice to have you back on the air. We need to get this bomb dropped, ASAP!”

Ander paused a few moments, expecting a second response and receiving none. “Ice! Hey, Ice!” he called out again. “Hey, where’s Iceman?”

“I don’t know,” Victoria replied uncertainly, and maybe even a little worried. He couldn’t tell. “His signal went off the radar a couple minutes ago. I haven’t heard from him since. On the bright side, one of their guys is gone too, so we’re still even.”

Ander gave a quick shake of his head. One of their teammates went down, but that was the nature of the game. At the very least, it wasn’t him, and in the end, that’s all that mattered to the thief. “I’ll rendezvous with you in a sec for cover. I don’t know if I have a bomb on my ship or not, so it looks like you’re all we’ve got, little lady. Just tell me where to go.”

“Follow the signal on your radar! I’m taking some fire over here, so I’ll hold off until we can sync up!”

“Roger that.”

Suddenly, a wailing cut through the radio airwaves, something that sounded both bestial and melancholy.

Weird, Ander thought, ignoring it.

Instead, he zoomed off towards the Kill Cluster, blasting his way through the enemy bandits. He had to make it towards Victoria so they could finally achieve their objective and end this game, because Victoria was his only hope. He came one last ship, and the ostensibly poor piloting gave away its aviator. The thief smirked, fired off a couple of shots to throw the TIE Fighter off balance.

“Sorry sweetheart, I don’t have time to play with you,” he grinned as he brushed right by, leaving her spacecraft to rock violently in his jet-wash.

As he barreled towards Victoria, their respective radar blips growing closer and closer, the wailing cut into his headphones again, a jarring and rather annoying throaty sound.

“Hey! Who is this?” Ander finally demanded. “You have the wrong number!”

“Who are you talking to, Hotshot?” Victoria asked.

“I don’t know,” Ander replied. The wailing reverberated again, this time perhaps a little angry.

“It’s that damn Wookie! He’s sayin’ you left him behind at the hangar, ya rude ass!” the Southern voice of their commander informed.

As if on cue, an X-Wing with a giant, furry brown creature with a belt slung over its hairy torso popped into view, its fanged mouth opening wide in an angry cry. Ander looked at his radar, and the blip read: ‘Chewbacca.’ He vaguely reminded somebody telling him not to leave the “stupid wookie,” and apparently he’d forgotten in the rush to meet and greet with Victoria.

“Oh,” Ander said, audibly unremorseful. “Oops.”

Chewbacca kept yammering about something.

“Sorry buddy, I don’t know a word you’re saying,” Ander shrugged, still completely unapologetic.

“He’s tellin’ you to use that there Force, damn rookie!”

Ander’s eyebrows furrowed in irritation at the meddlesome officer. “Are you still bothering people? Go away.”

Ignoring the distractions, Hotshot finally caught up with Iron Maiden.

“Miss me?” the thief grinned.

“With baited breath,” Victoria retorted. “There’s a fighter ship obstructing the hatch where we’re supposed to drop the bomb. We need to get it clear before I have a clean shot at it. Cover me while I take it out with missiles.”

“Your wish is my command,” he joked.

Ander broke formation and dove in, taking out swarms of ships left and right while the remaining Insurgents and Conglomerates duked it out in the farther reaches of the battlefield. Much to the thief’s chagrin, even as he cleared out any dangers towards his teammate, he saw a neat line of ground-to-air defense mechanisms slide neatly out of the armored hull of the Kill Cluster. After all, why would they ever want to make it that easy on them?

“Ooh, I’ve got a nasty case of turrets over here,” Ander announced.

“I think they make a cream for that,” Victoria added perfectly.

“Anybody wanna help me fill out a prescription?” the nomad asked comically.

“I still don’t have the hatch cleared. Can you handle it?” she said.

“Oh yeah. More fun for me,” Ander assured. His voice spoke confidence, but his mind betrayed a hint of doubt. There were a lot of turrets. He shook his head and let out a breath, psyching himself up, as if he found himself in a locker room right before a big breakball game. “All right, let’s go, let’s go, A-Team baby!”

His cannons lit up the starry space as he blew off the anti-spaceship weaponry, his face drawn taut with pure concentration as his eyes locked onto the targets and his nimble fingers reacted accordingly. Suddenly, another X-Wing swooped in to assist him, a telltale howl warbling angrily over the communications device. Chewbacca let loose a salvo of laserfire, taking out the turrets with much more accuracy and much more violent rage. Ander couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“New strategy: let the Wookie win!”

Determination still etched tightly along his features, although the thief allowed himself to have a little pleasure in the game, despite the desperate odds and the possible finality of the outcome. As much as he couldn’t understand it, some part of him was wistfully reminded of his days back in Dürren on the Sandstorm team. A little piece he had tried so hard to hide still recalled what it felt like to be part of a team, to watch somebody’s back and have them watch yours, to move in perfect harmony towards a common goal, and the security and deep camaraderie that complemented the feeling. It was like some ghost of his past, cruelly reminding him of things long since gone, and at the same time, mercifully allowing him briefly to have it one more time. As soon as the game ended, so too would this feeling, and Ander would once again shell inside the distrust of anyone but himself, as life had taught him so stringently. These were not his friends, only a means to an end.

About the same time that the Han Solo-wannabe and his faithful wookie companion decimated the Kill Cluster’s last line of defense, Victoria wrecked the obnoxious obstruction of Juno’s TIE Fighter. Ander turned his ship to check her rear, seeing two previously forgotten Kill Town competitors looming in like incensed hornets protecting their queen. They looked like they were a-chargin’ their lasers. Ander set his targeting, but quickly realized he could only possibly get one of them in time, and had to pray that the second one missed. Given the choice, the thief chose Alex’s ship, knowing he was the better shot and subsequently the biggest threat to Iron Maiden. Victoria locked on to the Kill Cluster, Alex and Kazuya locked on to Victoria, and Ander locked on to Alex. It would all come down to one single moment: who fired first. It was the tiebreaker in sudden death overtime, breakball style. This was when it counted the most, when people saw what you were truly made of, when everything was on the line and there were no second chances. Ander closed his eyes, imagining he was back on the breakball field, just hanging out with those he once called his best friends. Minutes passed in the mere span of milliseconds. Then, within the very same second, his eyes snapped back open, shattering the illusion, seeing only the here and now. He shouted with every last force of his lungs into his microphone.

“All you, Iron Maiden, make the winning shot! Score on that bitch!”

[Kill Town]

Juno waited breathlessly in the inner chamber of the Kill Cluster. Szar floated unconsciously in the vast reaches of space, his ship completely broken beyond repair. The other four – Alex, Ander, Kazuya, and Victoria – all poised together in some ridiculous version of a Mexican standoff. It all happened so fast. Victoria dropped the explosive, and it sailed successfully into the hatch past Juno’s attempted blockage. It wasn’t long before the deadly weapon activated its trigger, ticking away as it reached the core of the massive Conglomerate construction.

Juno watched it sail by, eyes widening as his brain comprehended what was unfolding before him: he was going to die. An orange glow blanketed his horizon, a searing heat bursting through the inside of the machine. This was it. Despite all of his hard work and effort, this was definitely it.

Victoria’s short-lived exultation of triumph fizzled as she felt a blast rocket her engines, and her cockpit went crazy with red lights and warning signals. The shield percentage on the console dropped from its already low number, dropping fatally until it finally hit rock bottom on ‘0.’

Alex’s laser cannons scored a direct and incredibly skillful hit on his opponent, but he too needed to reconsider the success of his gambit as a blast from Ander’s X-Wing blew off one of the planar ends of his TIE Fighter, and his onboard computer alerted him to a hull breech before attempting to disperse emergency oxygen.

Ander watched as Victoria’s and Alex’s ships suffered damage that spelled out disaster for them both. He didn’t have time to pity them or gloat at his own survival when he realized that he had missed one of the turrets that now decided to lock onto his fighter craft. He would never make it in time.

Kazuya’s shot, of course, missed, evidenced by her understandably novice piloting skills. Whilst she suffered no immediate danger, the swordswoman still had to contend with the fact that the bomb had been placed, and that couldn’t possibly mean anything good for her team.

Szar wasn’t aware of any of this, still hovering in some unknown location after his heroic sacrifice against the somewhat unrelated enemy of Andross, feared monkey head throughout the galaxy. The changeling had done his part, leaving the rest up to his teammates.

What any of them failed to comprehend, however, was that their ships meandered dangerously within the blast zone of the Kill Cluster, and none of them could get away in time. One team had achieved victory in their objective, but that meant little if the entire playing field was going to get incinerated in a completely unscientific-based explosion. Gamer sighed. What fun was it if everyone committed suicide? He warped the time protocols of the game, slowing down the impending demise of his players.

“You people, expecting miracles. I mean, I am awesome of course, but don’t expect a helping hand every time you screw up. I still need you around for my entertainment,” the nerd explained.

Portals arrived just in time to save everyone, transporting them safely back to the carnival. All, of course, except, Kazuya the samurai, the latest shark in the chummed tank to buckle under such intense competition from many skilled players; she got to go to prison and sing the blues.

1st: Szar, Victoria, Ander - 40 monies each
2nd: Juno and Trafford - 20 monies each.

Kazuya is re-routed to the prison.