As Cameron's eyes adjusted to the bright light from the interior of Fletcher Kahl's mansion, he was quickly met with a bombardment of contrasting stimuli that overwhelmed and confused his senses. His ears struggled to discern the details in the storm of sounds that echoed throughout the massive, open air entrance. The scents of cigar smoke, and delectable hors d'oeuvres, mixed with unmistakable stench of oil and blood. His ears twitched as they strained to take in to usual clink of glasses, haughty laugher, and backhanded compliments that he was accustomed to from high end galas, but it was muted by the sharp clang of metal striking metal, boost jets primed to full blast, and the roar of a bloodthirsty crowd. He could practically taste the crowd's electricity, and to him, it was almost as appetizing as the food he smelled.

  "What the fuck is going on?" He whispered, as he stepped inside and got a good look at a most peculiar sight.

  The room was a massive, split level style affair. The first floor, the one where the entrance led to, and which Cameron currently found himself standing, reeked of opulence and nobility. White marble floors gleamed with a polished shine, matching those of the walls that surrounded them. On those walls, ornate paintings and artifacts hung in a style that was done with care and consideration, complete with silver filigree that practically begged the eye to look upon it.

  Plush couches and chairs were strewn about, containing the men and women of the upper class as they drank, schmoozed, and fawned over one another. Cameron could feel his face heating up with embarrassment as he looked at the people, dressed to the nines, with the women's dazzling gowns that sparkled with glittering gems, to the men's suits that probably cost as much as his Headsman. For the first time in his life, Cameron really did feel like the backwater bumpkin everyone had labeled him as.

  He could feel Priya's arm tighten around his own, as she whispered through a pearly white smile, "Smile sweetheart, no one's looking at you."

  "How do you know?" He whispered back.

  "Because they're too busy looking at me," She said, pulling him by the arm, ushering him further inside until the second level came into view.

  A marble staircase led down only three steps, until that opulent world from before faded away. Finely crafted stone gave way to a dull, utilitarian metal, making an oval shaped raised platform that wrapped around a pit of sand and dirt situated in the middle. A shimmering purple film of energy ran around the perimeter of the sand, stretching from floor to ceiling, around a hundred feet in height. It ebbed and flowed, shifting ever so slightly as if it were alive, leading Cameron to assume it had to be a barrier of some kind, erected to protect the people in attendance. They were a frenzied crowd, cheering and screaming in their seats, another change from the space he'd first seen on arrival, as chairs and couches from before were gone, replaced by two sets of bleachers on either end.

  It was easy to see why they were so frantic and excited. How could they not be, when right in front of them, separated only by a wall of condensed plasma, two A.R.M.S. units were tearing each other to shreds.

  The units loomed like behemoths as they dashed in and out of each other's range, moving at speeds similar to that of the Headsman, dodging, weaving, and attacking in the blink of an eye despite their gargantuan size.

  "Maybe this is more your speed?" Priya whispered with a giggle.

  Cameron didn't respond, he'd stopped listening as his eyes were trained on the arena, watching as if he was in a trance by the violence on display. One of the mechs, a purple painted Ronin, blitzed their opponent, weaving a tapestry of lightning quick strikes around the enemy, harrying their defenses as it pushed them further and further into a corner. The other unit, a bronzed spear and shield wielder, dashed back, bringing its massive round shield up to protect its cockpit and face as it attempted to mount a counterattack, punching out with its spear in a series of awkward stabs that seemed to hit nothing but air.

  'It's a Spartan,' Aeia's voice rang out in the back of his mind, neutral and even-toned.

  'What?' Cameron thought back, too intrigued by the fight to remember that he wasn't talking to her.

  'The bronze unit is a Spartan.' She repeated, 'One of the few units constructed on earth.'

  'Hmph,' he thought, 'Well it's doing a piss poor job at putting up a fight,'

  'You sure about that?' She said, emotion lacking in her words even as she bantered with him.

  'Yeah?' he thought, 'Are you watching the same-'

  A roar from the stands broke him from his reply, as he focused on the field again, his eyes going wide at the sight. In the scant few moments that he'd lost focus on the fight while speaking to Aeia, the tables had turned. No longer was the Ronin pressing the cornered Spartan. Instead, it dangled helplessly ten feet off the ground, struggling helplessly to remove itself from the large twenty foot spear that was buried in its stomach.

  "And just like that, The Bronze Bastion, Karlova Baast has skewered her opponent!" A voice, deep and gravelly in tone, though energetic in delivery, boomed out color commentary over an intercom system hidden from view, "By the stars, how can contender, Luther Prinz hope to recover?!"

  Bookies stood on step stools, shouting out odds and taking bets as patrons flocked down from the stands, forming a circle around them. Cameron merely stood there, motionless, still trying to grasp what he'd just seen.

  "Wha... I don't..." He stammered aloud.

  'She wasn't aiming at her opponent Cam,' Aeia said, a hint of satisfaction seeping into her tone, 'She was aiming for where opponent was going to be.'

  "Son of a bitch..." He said, watching as the Ronin, who was apparently piloted by Luther Prinz, writhed and bucked, trying to free himself from Karlova's spear.

  "I take it I was right?" Priya said, her voice sounding like it was inches from his ear, causing Cameron to jump and turn to her.

  "Huh?" He said, causing her to give a snorting chuckle in return as she shook her head.

  "Nothing, nothing," She said, "I've just been talking to you for the last two minutes, and I'm pretty sure you didn't notice."

  Cameron blanched, "Heh... Sorry about that," he said, scratching the back of his head, "I uh... I like mechs...a lot. Though, I only ever saw them in action on the battlefield or in the projection system. Nothing like... this!" He said, gesturing around, "What is this place?"

  She smirked, "From what I know, it's like that projection system you guys use for practice.... Just a lot more advanced. I'm not really all to read into the details about it, but quite a few people in both the upper and lower spires have their own. So many, that a little... fighting circuit has formed. Invite only, of course."

  Cameron's eyes widened with his smile, "A fighting circuit?"

  She nodded, "Yes sir. It's only for the upper ranks though, since they have the experience and equipment to put on a good enough show I guess. But... It's certainly a decent alternative to going to war all the time, eh?"

  Cameron felt like his eyes may pop from his head, they'd gotten so big, "That's still so... fucking cool!"

  "You and every other investment banker seem to think so," She said, nodding with her chin over to a group of men in various states of dress throwing money at a bookie.

  He cringed as he followed her gaze, taking a good look before turning back to her, "I don't think I'm that bad."

  She shrugged, smirking as she did so, "I wouldn't sell yourself so short. If I come back here and see you in nothing but your underwear, asking for some silver, I wouldn't say I'd be surprised."

  "When you come back?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, "Where are you going?"

  "I gotta go take care of some... lady troubles," She said, whispering the last two words as she looked around, embarrassed.

  "Oh..." Cameron said, nodding his head, "Okay, well, do you want me to escort you or something?"

  She smiled warmly, shaking her head, as she patted his cheek, "Aww, such a gentleman. I'll be okay though, don't worry. I'm a big girl."

  "Well then, what do I-"

  "You just stay here and enjoy the show." She said, taking a step back and walking past him, trailing her manicure nails along his back as she did so, "I'll be back before you know it."

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Cameron shivered with chills as he turned to watch her leave. She must have known he was looking at her, as she waved her hand over her shoulder, speaking up in a sing-song voice.

  "Have fun!"

  Cameron smiled, shaking his head before turning his attention back to the arena, just as the commentator's voice rang out once more.

  "Luther is free and just activated his Combat Protocol: Moonlight Barrage! We have a fight on our hands folks!"

  ***

  Priya waited until the door to the ballroom had fully closed behind her, before she started to run. The clacking of her heels echoed throughout the empty halls as she took turn after turn, arriving at a set of stairs going up into the darkness of the second floor. With a gulp, she grabbed the railing, trying to steady her heart rate as best she could, before quickly ascending, only stopping when she reached the top, where a stark white door marked PRODUCTION greeted her. She exhaled slowly, running over in her mind for what felt like the hundredth time what she was going to say to him. Satisfied, she gripped the knob, and turned, throwing the door open as she burst inside to see Fletcher Kahl standing before a large screen, his back to her, watching the fight she had just left moments before.

  "Mr. Khal!" She said animatedly, still trying to catch her breath, "I'm so sorry I'm late, I was just-"

  He snapped his fingers, metallic finger clapping onto a robotic palm in a way that resembled a gunshot, silencing her instantly.

  "Sit down Priya," He said, not looking back at her.

  She gulped with a squeak, doing as she was told, as she walked past a myriad of additional screens and controls before finding a seat on a simple wooden stool. She watched him in silence, as he analyzed the fight playing out on the screen. One of the mechs, a samurai or something, had just done their special attack, or protocol, or ability or whatever they called it, and was now shooting waves of bright white light directly at the spear mech, slicing her shield in half as if it were paper, before he dashed in, faster than she could blink and slid his blade in like a hot knife through butter, bisecting the unit at the waist.

  Fletcher leaned forward, adjusting a microphone before speaking into it, false excitement and grandeur layered heavily in his voice.

  "Just like that, Ladies and Gentleman, the Queen of Carnage has been dethroned! Thanks to Luther's quick activation of his Combat Protocol, I think we may have just witnessed the biggest upset of the evening! After an astounding twenty-three fights, I'm sure that Karlova Baast will leave here hoping for another shot at the title, while your new Champion Luther Prinz will walk out two million silver richer! Wow! What a fight! Be sure to congratulate both fighters if you see them. Also, don't forget to tip our astounding staff for catering to such a momentous event, and be sure to stick around! Our monthly 'Scouting Scrap' will begin shortly!"

  Priya could see on the screen the cheers of the crowd, as Fletcher pulled away from the microphone, before turning to look at her. Instead of the soulless black eyes that normally met hers through the other side of a holo-projection, Priya was instead greeted by a sleek metal face of a proxy, devoid of any facial features save for two black horizontal lines where that, if she had to guess symbolized his eyes, and a similar line over where his mouth supposed to be, widened just enough that she could see what looked to be the mesh like holes of a speaker box set into it.

  "How is he?" He asked, his voice once again devoid of all emotion. It wasn't cold, malicious, or condescending, like any of the other pilots or diplomats of Fletcher's caliber that she'd spoken to in the past. It just felt... non-existent. Dreamlike in a way that made her feel like he was talking to her like she wasn't worth him showing how he really felt about anything. Comparing this to the whispered barbs of jealous wives, or lewd advances of men old enough to be her grandfather, this felt ten times worse.

  She cleared her throat, "He seems happy and content, like you asked him to be. Though I can't tell if that's from the fight or the ride over here."

  "We shall hope for the former, rather than the latter," He said.

  "I can tell you that he was certainly enamored by the arena," She said, offering a soft smile, "How did he refer to it? Oh yeah... it was quote unquote 'So fucking cool'"

  Fletcher gave a curt nod, "I'll take that. Let's try to keep it that way then. The money is already wired into your account, and you've been paid through the rest of the night. Even so, I'll take him off your hands here shortly. From there, feel free to do whatever you want, stay or go, it doesn't matter to me."

  "Mr. Kahl..." She asked, her voice a mere whisper of how she regularly spoke to people, "Can I ask what you're planning to do with him?"

  "Simple," The proxy said with a shrug, "He's going to fight."

  Her eyes widened, "When?"

  "Tonight."

  "B-But," She stammered, "H-He's an Alpha Class."

  "I'm aware."

  "All those other fighters in there are Gamma class right?"

  "Gamma, or above. Yes."

  She blinked, once, then twice, shaking her head in confusion, "Look... I'm not well versed in the A.R.M.S. culture. I know just enough acronyms or buzz words to not sound stupid when talking to a client. But... just how much stronger is a Gamma class compared to an Alpha?"

  The robotic proxy stood silent for a moment, crossing its arms, likely mimicking Fletcher's movements. After a pause of contemplation, he began to explain.

  "Where do you come from again, Priya?"

  She blinked, taken off guard by the question, "Um... New Oxford. But I don't -"

  "Did they have A.R.M.S. units there?"

  "Uh... They did, if I remember. A few of the EarthGov bases had some type of mech, but... they didn't look like the ones out there. They were boxy and didn't have a head."

  "So they had Squires, not A.R.M.S. units." Fletcher said, matter-of-factly.

  "I guess?"

  "What did you think of them?"

  "I...I don't-"

  "Answer the question Priya. If you want your question to be answered."

  "Um..." She looked down, trying to rack her brain to find an answer. Even without any facial features on the proxy, Priya could still feel those demonic black eyes of his staring into her very soul.

  "B-Big..." She stammered, "Big and powerful. Imposing. Like nothing could ever bring them down."

  "An Alpha-Logos pilot, with sufficient training and cohesion with his co-pilot, can effectively engage five squires at one time and win without sustaining major injury." Fletcher said, "For every new rank and class, the number multiplies. For an Alpha-Sirius, it's seven point five, for an Alpha-Primus, it's twelve. For a Beta-Logos class, that number jumps to fifty, then to eighty-eight at Sirius, and so on."

  Priya's eyes widened as she listened to him explain, her mind drifting back to her childhood as she tried to imagine the behemoths from her homeworld taken out as easy as Fletcher was describing. Did Earth even have that many mechs? Squire's or not?

  "What about a Gamma class?" She asked, looking up at him, "How many can they engage?"

  "At what rank?" Fletcher asked.

  She shrugged, "The lowest I guess? Logos rank."

  "Five thousand." He said as if it were nothing.

  "Five thousand!" She shouted.

  "Keep your voice down," He ordered, "Your ignorant theatrics aren't needed to convey the severity of the threat a Gamma Class poses."

  "I'm sorry," She squeaked, "It's just... I don't understand... You brought me out here just to have him fight against an opponent he can't hope to win against?"

  "I never said that," Fletcher said.

  Her brow shot up in confusion, "B-But I thought-"

  "A Gamma Class can kill squires just as easily as breathing," Fletcher said, cutting her off, "Against a fellow A.R.M.S. pilot, it's a different story."

  "So... You think he's going to win?" She asked.

  "I didn't say that either," He said, shaking his head, "He has the potential to win. He has an A.I. Co-Pilot and a mech that can match quite a few Gammas in speed. Do I expect it? No, I don't."

  "Do you hope for it though?" She asked.

  "I don't hope, Priya," He said with a stoic finality, "He'll either win... or he'll die."

  "Die?!" Her eyes shot open in shock as she loudly exclaimed her astonishment.

  "Stop. Shouting." Fletcher said, emphasizing each word.

  "I...I thought this was just like a projection chamber or something!" She cried in a hushed whisper, "Didn't those two that just fought both live? What do you mean die?"

  "Karlova Baast and Luther Prinz are both Gamma class," He said, his intonation sounding as if he were talking to a child, "Their bodies are used to withstanding the force someone of their own class can put out. While we have safeguards in place to prevent the mental stimulation inflicted in the Arena from having a permanent effect on a pilot's physical person, there is a non zero percent chance that, due to class disparity, a hard enough hit could overload Mr. Ket's brain so much that he'd suffer mental collapse. I hope it doesn't happen, but I'm not ruling it out that it can't."

  "And... You're okay with this?" She asked, her voice getting shakier by the second.

  The proxy nodded, "I am."

  "But... Why?"

  "For reasons I don't need to explain to you, Priya," He said, as emotion entered his voice for the first time; irritation.

  She bowed her head at his words, nodding, "Yes Sir. I understand."

  "Good. Now, leave me. And stand close to him so that I can see you two in the crowd."

  "How do you know he'll agree to fight?"

  "Simple," Fletcher said, "There'll be so much money involved, he'll jump at the chance."

  She swallowed slowly, feeling her mouth go dry, "Do you think he'll go for it?"

  In response, instead of speaking, the Proxy moved. Faster than Priya could see, one moment he was fifteen feet away from her, the next he was mere inches away, causing her to jump and cry out in alarm before a cold metallic hand pressed against her mouth, cutting her off mid wail.

  "Everyone has a price, Priya," Fletcher said, his voice little more than a whisper, "You should know that all too well, don't you?"

  As fear gripped her heart, and a wave of guilt and shame crashed over her like a tidal wave, Priya nodded.