Zoids 1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Wager

The short, slender form of a young zoid pilot lay leisurely sprawled across the many large, segmented metallic scales which formed the coelocanthic body of a warshark. The scrappy young man, perhaps eighteen years of age, looked only about 5'8", body stretched out over the husky, scarred metal of his aquatic zoid. His slender frame was adorned with a thin layer of wiry muscle, well defined due to a general lack of bulk. The pilot wore a dull green shirt with thin, faded fabric, its long, striped sleeves rolled up to calloused elbows. He wore odd bronze pants which puffed out slightly at each leg before tightening in an elastic cuff just below the kneecap. The boy's loose pants adhered to a trim waist through the same elastic cling, left free from any belt or tie. Black, fingerless gloves clung to both hands, while a small diving knife was secured about his ankle, sheath attached to a thin leather strap. Slender, pale calves yielded to ratty tennis shoes, obviously worn from a fair amount of use; a sun-bleached grey mottled with the whitish stains of seasalt. The man's eyes matched this dull color, though short-cropped hair of a deep violet hue made up for any lack of coloration. Short strands of hair stood—quite literally—in complete chaos, sticking directly up from his skull, though those on the side near his ears were swept back, directed backwards as if blown back by a constant gust of wind. His features had a hardened look about them; high cheekbones and a powerfully angled jaw appearing to have been carved from stone. Sharp grey eyes were intensified by thin violet brows which flared violently at their outer edges. He looked silently up at the bright blue sky, scrutinizing the innocent, puffy white clouds which calmly floated by. The large zoid below him bobbed lazily, swaying in the smooth waves of the blue-green ocean, its great, deep grey bulk like a tiny island amidst sunny and endless expanse of sparkling waves. A bamboo fishing pole was jammed haphazardly into one crevice in the zoid's thick, scaled armor, its line forming a taught, straight path down into the waves. Small, undulating ripples spread out from its point of disappearance, where it abruptly became invisible, submerged beneath the lethargic waves.

An abrupt, metallic thud could be heard echoing ominously in the distance, just over the faint, irritating cries of gulls which floated effortlessly through the air, coasting along turbulent gusts of shoreline wind. Khalsin shook his head, freeing himself from the cottony, warm haze of a sunbathed nap, before promptly turning his dull gaze back towards the beach; vulpine grey eyes scanning the dunes for the source of the commotion. The grey eyes lost their daze and paused a moment, narrowing as flared brows drew downwards in concentration. The next thud came, followed by more in rapid succession, each jarring impact proceeded by mechanical whines and clanks. The pilot sat up suddenly, shirt flapping in the brackish ocean breeze, as faded grey eyes widened in excitement; flitting about the nearby beach with renewed intensity. They soon found a huge, catlike form, almost completely covered in thick armored plates, glossy yellow paint glinting majestically in the sun. It ambled slowly, almost predatorily across a stretch of golden dune, seeming to blend perfectly with its environment, intense, emerald-green eyes betraying its location. The thin, graceful tail of the zoid twitched softly as it moved. Khalsin scratched the back of his neck momentarily, the violet-haired boy cocking his head, before his face lit up with a triumphant, eager grin, thin lips shifting as his odd, soft voice emerged in an excited whisper. "…Saber Tiger." He promptly stood up, squinting through the powerful sunlight to watch the zoid move, one gloved hand raised above his brow to shield from the intense light of the sun. People—pilots especially—were often bustling about this particular beach, and seeing a zoid was not exactly a rare occurrence. A battle, however, was something for which he yearned. Khalsin grinned a little, still watching the zoid, before grabbing his fishing pole, vigorously pumping his arm as he reeled in the line, unsurprised to find nothing at its end; not even the bait. He scampered in an awkward fashion across the top of the great warshark, pole in hand, eagerly twisting a round handle at its top until a soft clank was heard.  
He quickly yanked open the square hatch, diving feet-first inside the cockpit of the zoid, sliding almost instantly into a large, tattered chair. A makeshift headrest, presumably acting as an odd replacement to the original, supported the boy's spikey-haired skull with what looked like a sloppily cut piece of sheet-metal wrapped in a towel. He leaned forward, grabbing a pair of joysticks mounted on a trapezoidal console which was suspended by a contraption of steel bars, various hinges secured about it to allow the console itself to fit its user. He pulled the console back towards him in one rough yank, gripping the two joysticks tightly, his hands already sweating profusely with excitement. "Finally, a battle..." he mumbled, turning the joysticks to the side after jerking them forwards. The large fish Zoid lurched into action, powerful jet motors near it's massive tail suddenly activating and letting out a fierce roar as blue flame burst from a pair of rectangular boosters at the machines rear. The massive segmented tail thrashed violently from side to side as his Zoid moved rapidly through the water in a deep, banked turn, causing a tremendous wake of ivory foam to flare up behind it, an intimidating effect adding to the sheer power already displayed by this rapid movement. Khalsin kept the joysticks pointed slightly forward, allowing the zoid to move at its maximum speed toward the beach, squinting through the two large, orange-tinted trapezoidal windows or "eyes" of the zoid's cockpit. The great zoid ran aground with an abrupt, heavy crunch and a jolting impact that nearly shook its pilot from his chair. Sand exploded outwards in a sharp blast, being sent in a massive, wavelike spray plummeting across the spotless dune. Compressed steam from the hydraulics of the android burst outwards from hatches on its sides, carrying the salted, musty odor of the sea. Khalsin glanced to the side as the Saber Cat continued to advance, the sleek, intimidating zoid moving with fluid grace despite the leviathan size of its metallic parts. It came to a gradual halt, its heavy metal feet planted. Khalsin winced, noticing the sharp, steel claws digging easily into the sand. With a soft, muffled click, a holographic screen suddenly materialized on the upper part of Khalsin's view, projected by a panel of dancing lights secured to the ceiling just behind his head. A smiling face with a long scar down its right eye could be seen, a tan with spiked black hair and a mask of thick graying stubble. Brown eyes stared haughtily at him while a deeper voice sounded. "Well, well, well, there he is! You want to battle, huh?"  
Khalsin nodded firmly, sharp-angled jaw setting firmly; thick chords of muscle visibly tensing beneath prominent cheekbones. After a second of anticipatory silence, the boy's voice gave its eager reply. "Ryke! You're going down." A small smirk spread across the young man's thin, pale lips, as an odd air of cool confidence seemed to smooth his bony features, sweeping away the powerful tension of his restrained will to battle. Dull grey eyes seemed to sparkle with an electric excitement.. "But, let's step this up a little bit... how about a bet..?"  
The man in the saber cat scratched his head a little, his eyes narrowing as he moved his fingers down to scratch the thick stubble at his chin, summoning up a horrid noise much akin to that of nails on sandpaper. He moved his tongue about in his cheek as he considered this, before jerking his head towards the holographic image of the violet-haired adversary before him. "Fine. What's your wager, boy?"  
Khalsin's odd smirk only widened as he tilted his head to the side, wrenching his jaw in thought. He reached upward to flip a small switch, the motors on his warshark heating up as a soft rumbling could be heard from the rear of the great, rusted metallic zoid. "hm... 10,000 credits...? Is that reasonable?"

The older man raised one skeptical brow, his odd, hooked nose seeming to wrinkle in scrutiny. "You can't afford 10,000 credits, you know that."

This statement was met with a frustrated snort, the young pilot running one gloved hand back through his odd violet hair. Each strand sprung stubbornly back to an erect position as his strong fingers passed it over, instantly returning to a default location as a startlingly intense, grayish gaze was locked on the face within the vidscreen. It seemed his bet was already backfiring; simply elongating the already agonizing wait for the battle to ensue. He waved one pale hand dismissive manner, hastily replying as he shook his head incredulously. "You can take the Warshark, then."

Ryke grinned wryly, making a playful face as his deep, rough voice came through the viscreen's speakers. "I'd had to take it from you, but if you insist.." The pilot chuckled gruffly, brushing a bit of his messy, spiked brown hair back from his wrinkled forehead. He rubbed one calloused palm on the grey sleeve on his other arm, giving another distinct nod as he seized the two joysticks on his zoid's control panel. The saber cat tensed suddenly, crouching as the two cannons mounted on its underbelly turned in tandem, both intimidating weapons aimed securely toward their target as it perched on the shoreline. The zoid's claws dug into the sand with a lurching of metal, while the warshark's engines had reached a high-pitched ringing which echoed throughout the area, blowing waves of sand away from it as powerful rocket engines commenced. Khalsin averted his intense stare from the screen, reaching his hand up to another metallic switch. "Enough talk. Lets do this." He promptly switched off the holo screen, jerking forward on the joysticks as the warshark burst into action, surging fourth through the sand with a roar of its enormous engines, blue flame flying backwards on either side of the tail. The zoid moved as if it were still in water, shooting across the thin span of beach which separated the two combatants. Khalsin let out a sharp cry of passionate exhilaration, anticipating the fight to come.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Clash

Khalsin grew silent as an earthshattering crash seemed to split the air, a deafening impact jolting the ground not far from them. A great explosion of sand burst into the air, raining down on both combatants. Ryke's saber tiger lurched, leaning to one side, crouched on its massive hydraulic legs. Khalsin could see its firm claws sinking into the sand to maintain traction as the massive shockwave of sand blew across the two. Running the back of his hand across his brow and squinting through the unblinking vermillion eyes of his warshark, Khalsin watched the thick haze of sand settle gradually, dropping slowly to the ground again as a gaping, ragged crater was left at the site of the explosion. A huge ivory capsule stood majestically in its center, its glossy, cylindrical frame an unsullied white. Khalsin was forced to look away as the sand finally cleared allowing the sun to reflect harshly from the polished white surface of the capsule. At the lower end of the podlike structure it's flawless white metal tapered parabolically inwards, presumably coming to a narrow tip buried deep into the sandy earth. The front half of cylinder parted abruptly, rising upwards on hinges attached to the cylinder's domed top. Steam escaped poured outward in a sudden rush as the capsule cracked open, blowing more sand outwards as the capsule opened itself, both zoid pilots watching in a sort of stupefied silence. With another soft click, the holoscreen presented itself to Khalsin, his opponent's gruff features staring him down with a dark, furrowed brow. "You've got to be kidding me! The Zoids Battle Federation all the way out here? How do they _find_ us!"  
Khalsin sighed, finding himself equally annoyed by the unexpected intrusion. The Zoids Battle Federation proved to be a shadow to all Zoid fights. By his guess, they kept constant watch over the planet from a great armada of space-stations orbiting Zi. This way, they could send down androids to preside over each and every "official" Zoid battle. The majority of pilots, himself included, disliked the rules put down by referees, the seriousness and formality of the situation making judge-attended zoid battles gravely unappealing. He rubbed the back of his neck a little, casting his grey eyes back over to the now completely open capsule which revealed a small, white android starkly contrasting its black interior. The thin, wiry form of the android waved its colored hands; the right a deep blue, the left a bright scarlet. Both resembled some sort of odd flippers, digitless appendages locked to the end of two stiff mechanical arms. The judge's hands shifted jerkily upwards as another soft click echoed in the tense silence of the warshark's cockpit. Khalsin glanced up as another holoscreen materialized before him, the android's strange, cylindrical face gazing silently at him through a dark metallic screen, the closest thing the odd machine had to eyes. Rounded, bladelike metal protrusions moved around where the "jaw" of the android would be. Khalsin smirked, letting his sharp gaze flit toward the vidscreen displaying his adversary's gruff features. "Guess they have nothing else to do..." This prompted a husky, chortling laugh from the big one, who nodded hastily in agreement before Khalsin could see him avert his gaze up to the new holoscreen projection. The android's grating monotone promptly commenced, irritating and synthetic. "The Zoid's Battle Federation now assumes control of this Zoid battle. This battle will be between Khalsin Tarok and Ryke Sanuko, a one-on-one match. If Ryke Sanuko is victorious, Khalsin must forfeit his custom Warshark. If Khalsin Tarok is victorious, Ryke must forfeit 10,000 credits. Initiating rule set 0992. A one-on-one battle with no limit to armament or time."  
The androids arms moved up into the air, as its head turned to both combatants, a deadly silence accompanying an electric tension which thickened the air. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as gusts of sand blew about in the still space between both mechanical combatants, iron beasts of war poised and ready for combat, motorized muscles taut, pilot's fingers stiffly clamped about joysticks. "Ready…" came the crackling voice of the judge, ringing loudly in the hushed atmosphere of both cockpits, before its flagged appendages shot downward in one jerky thrust. ""Fight!" came the heavily anticipated command, the accompanying motion causing the unstable android to sway back and fourth on its single, elliptical foot.

Khalsin's eyes narrowed as acute concentration overtook him, angled lower jaw tightening as grey, lupine gaze searched the battlefield, constantly scanning over the opposing zoid to detect any sudden movements. Anticipating a sudden charge he reached to his side, firmly grasping a metallic lever and jerking it back in one vigorous motion, the roar of his enormous engines intensifying as the warshark barreled across the sandbar towards the intimidating verdant gaze of the saber tiger. The golden machine shot into action immediately, moving with sleek agility as it nimbly shifted its weight, abruptly altering its course and sprinting to one side in a hooked turn, flanking the warshark's headlong charge. The two large cannons on the underbelly of the tiger pivoted towards the mechanized superfish as it rocketed by, letting out a sudden, booming salvo of photon shells, dual cannons alternating fire as each jolted back onto itself with the recoil from each shot.

This cunning counter attack was a move only partially anticipated by the warshark's pilot. The high-temperature, bright green blasts shrieked through the air, slamming into the hull of the charging warshark, but doing little damage due to the heavy plates which reinforced and protected its hulking, coelocanthic form. The warshark wheeled around in another sharp, banked turn, spraying a gargantuan wave of sand out behind it, large, turreted photon cannons locking onto the agile quadruped. Khalsin jammed both thumbs down on faded scarlet buttons topping his controls, feeling their smooth, glossy red forms sink in with a collective click. This prompted the release of his own barrage in retaliation, sand bursting from the ground as the energized shells struck, sending pillars of sand into the air with each rapid impact, the dual cannons, mounted on either side of the zoid's head launching a relentless shower of photon shells back at its opponent.

The nimble tiger dipped and dodged with remarkable speed, its powerful legs pumping while its armored frame evaded the salvo of projectiles, suddenly dashing to one side, the sand behind it bursting as the unremitting rain of shells followed it down the beach, tearing the land behind it to pieces just behind every step. Once the swift tiger had exceeded his range and therefore evaded the assault, Khalsin cursed in a hoarse whisper, jerking both joysticks forward again. He seized the brownish lever to his right, feeling the rough plastic material press into his palm as he yanked it backwards with another vigorous jerk of one wiry wrist. The huge rocket thrusters on the back of the warshark burst into action with a crackling roar, blue fire spewing back around its massive tail as the coelocanthic metal behemoth rocketed across the beach, flying rapidly through the sand and back towards its opponent. The saber tiger skidded to a halt with a skillful maneuver by its pilot, shifting places and launching three more shots toward its charging foe, armored fuselage jerking with each heavy shot. The shots continued with little remorse, attempting to halt the hurtling advance of the young man and his shark. Khalsin shook his head, his eyes flaring intensely as he briskly wrenched the joystick from side to side, making the heavy, thick tail of the shark shift places in unison. Like an enormous iron rudder, the partitioned tails swung from side to side, giving the shark a sharp and swift strafing motion, the subsequent zig-zag path forcing walls of sand to burst up to either side of his jagged path. Each photon attack shrieked past, leaving the charging zoid unharmed.  
The enormous warshark continued its rapid approach, closing in on its helpless opponent. The yellow tiger crouched on its haunches, coiling itself for a sudden pounce as the warshark came into range. Just as this occurred, Khalsin hastily tilted his controls back, boosters pivoting abruptly downwards before moving back into their ready position as the joysticks were jammed forward. The great shark launched into the air from the sudden shift of its boosters, hurtling through space toward the lighter, more agile form of the saber tiger. It's elegant frame tensed abruptly, leaping into the air in one smooth movement, soaring over the black form of the shark in a predatory pounce not far removed from that of its natural counterpart. Khalsin's jaw dropped as the other zoid settled firmly atop his own with a loud, metallic crunch, pinning it to the ground. The large gun turret mounted on its chest tilted to face downwards, both cannons launching photon shells at point blank range into the thickly armored fuselage of his craft. Khalsin cursed, slamming the two joysticks to one side as the whole console jolted with the force of the movement. The great, steel hull of the zoid trembled as enormous heat plunged into it with each great blast, the saber tiger continued its close-range firing as Khalsin looked frantically for a method of escaping his increasingly dire situation. The rocket boosters flared an intense cobalt in vain, pushing with all their might, but they could not dislodge the great cat, dug in with its razor claws. A loud, insistant beeping caught the pilots attention, directing his frantic, smokey gaze downward. A projected screen just below the two vermillion "eyes" of the zoid displayed a picture of the entire craft. One small panel, displaying a 3-dimensional image of the zoid's steel-plated back, began to blink red. "Hull breach imminent. Heavy damage sustained." Blinked at the bottom of the screen repetitively. Khalsin cursed, reaching down to his left and lifting a small, clear door, beneath which, contained in an ominous square of red-and-black stripes, sat a large red button marked "overdrive". The pilot took a shaky breath, before one pale finger jammed firmly down atop the button, letting it sink in with a solid click. A soft whine could be heard above the frantic roaring of the motors, growing louder and louder, as the young pilot watched a small, empty bar began to gradually fill on the side of the monitor screen. After a few moments the bar's slow progress came to a standstill, the whine dying down as it lowered in pitch. Khalsin cursed under his breath, dull grey eyes going wide in terror. "No!"  
He pressed the red button again, looking about hysterically as sweat pinned his deep violet hair to his temples, panting heavily as his hands quivered in panic. He finally grunted after hearing the whining die down again, slamming his fist down on the button with a grunt. "Work, damnit!" he growled, gritting his teeth with desperation. The button illuminated abruptly, blinking sporadically as the rising whine returned. The nearly-empty bar on the monitor before him began to make steady progress, a whitish bar within it slowly advancing as a percentage number beside it continued to scale upward. 30...40...50. It intensified for several seconds before a horrifying rumble rose beneath it, adding a baritone snarl to its earsplitting screech. Khalsin kept his gaze locked on the monitor screen as the throbbing vibration of each harsh blow meeting his zoid's wrecked fuselage began to match the pace of his fluttering heartbeat. 80...90... only seconds remained before the outer shell would be breached, rendering his zoid helpless against the firepower of his ruthless opponent.

The deep rumbling echoed far above the racket of the roaring engines, before in a great rush of the air, it had joined it. The rectangular engines at the zoid's rear, glowing a white-hot blue, suddenly flared red, intense scarlet flame bursting out of their backs and melting the very sand the two zoids rested upon, charring it to a smooth, black stone. The two zoids suddenly shot forward with the enormous force of the thrusters. Khalsin slammed the joysticks forward at this time, as the warshark shot into motion, the immense power of its overdrive thrusters allowing it to jet forward even with the excess weight of its ferocious adversary. Khalsin directed the blazing machine onward, bringing both zoids towards the ocean at an astonishing rate. The warshark trembled uncontrollably, as if unable to maintain its structure before the might of the furious jet engines. The tiger was nearly thrown off by the blast, its cannons ceasing their repetitive fire as its huge, steel claws dug deeply into the overlapping armor of its prey, gripping it tightly to maintain advantage. The head of the tiger-like zoid turned to the water it soared toward as its jaw opened, letting out a ferocious roar of abhorrence. The zoid gracefully leaped off of its prey only instants before the impact into the water, landing firmly on the wet sand and wheeling smoothly about to face its foe. Photon shells impacted the water as Ryke let loose another barrage from the cannons, but it was no use; his target had disappeared beneath the waves in one dramatic burst of water, white foam exploding into the air with the heavy impact. Soon the waves had settled, returning to their usual and dilatory motions, undulating smoothly against the beach.  
Ryke squinted as he gazed out over the water, the zoid standing crouched, ready for any attack. His eyes constantly combed the waves, but he could find no disturbance, no imperfection in the deep, beautiful green of the majestic sea of San Pirea. He could tell Khalsin was contemplating his next attack, using his zoid's aquatic prowess to gain the upper hand, and he had it; for the moment. The young man was biding his time, and Ryke knew full well he would find a way to make this all the more of an advantage. This fellow had proven to be much more of a challenge than he had believed. When would he come? It was unlike Khalsin was not one to keep his opponents waiting. Ryke grinned gleefully, scratching the coarse, graying stubble on his chin, tensed in his square seat, his hands tightly fisted around the dual joysticks of his control panel. This battle had moved from being a boredom killer to real entertainment; a stunning an intense battle far beyond the trite sort of predictability most opponents brought him. The great man started as he sighted bubbles rising quietly to the surface off to his left. He paused, tensing up, feeling that his zoid did the same, crouching on its four strong legs. With a sudden, high pitched hiss, five rocket-propelled torpedos suddenly tore from the waves, soaring directly towards him and closing in swiftly. The panel to his left blinked insistently, a small, glowing diagram of his zoid rotating at right angles in the background. "Approaching projectile- Dist: 27m" flashed blatantly in red, stenciled letters. With each flash the distance number flickered downward; it was already approaching zero.

Ryke's beefy fists jerked the joysticks to the side as the tiger fell into an graceful yet vigorous sprint, dashing quickly across the beach to escape the rockets, though they continued to close in. Panting in exhilaration he jerked backwards on the controls, guiding his felinoid machine onto some large rock formations, gingerly working its way across them as its metal feet let out loud clanks as they scraped and settled upon the great stones. As he leapt onto the next rock, his eyes caught a dark form in the water. Ryke grunted in surprise, but it was far too late to react.

Khalsin grinned at his surprise attack, hearing the rapid blasts of the rockets detonating against a rock formation to his right, the huge shark bursting from the water and soaring towards its opponent. The timing and placement of this attack had been flawless; the projectiles had lured his helpless adversary into a vulnerable position where an ambush would be all but too easy. Though the rockets had not struck home, they had distracted his opponent long enough for him to make his move. His huge zoid, alight with cobalt flame hurtled towards its target, water streaming off its armored frame and sparkling majestically in the sun. Time seemed to slow as the breaching aquatic zoid closed the distance. The broad head of the fishlike zoid slammed into the Saber Tiger's armored shoulder with a deafening crunch, knocking it forcefully off of the rock and onto the sandy ground beneath. A raucous impact tore through the heavyset frame of the large zoid, causing its entire body to thrust forward around the point of contact as it was hurled to the ground. Khalsin's warshark soared over it easily and landed in the sand, spraying it into the air in a spectacular shockwave.

He promptly pressed a trigger button on the left joystick, as a small plate of armor unfolded from the main fuselage of the craft. A small, red dot could be seen in the center of the gap inside the armor, before a ripping hiss seemed to tear through the evening air. The rush of hot steam brought the torpedo from its silo in a rapid burst, letting it spiral awkwardly but swiftly through the air towards its target. The saber tiger instantly rolled to its feet, making a lunge towards the attacking warshark. It was jarred by the brutal impact of the torpedo just as it stood, stumbling back several steps, armored skull shaking to rid itself of the blows initial shock. It reared its head, opening its sharp jaws as a horrifying roar, much akin to that of a raging tiger ripped through the air, a metallic echo and slight, deeper distortion the only thing setting it apart from the horrific rage of a living tiger. Khalsin shuddered at the roar of rage, watching the scarlet explosion fade from the stomach of the creature, leaving a ragged gap where the powerful gun turret had once been. Now, his opponent was a cat without claws. Sparks flecked repeatedly from the gaping hole in the tigers broad chest as a victorious smirk danced lightly across Khalsin's pale, thin lips, smoky grey eyes locked on his opponent.  
The saber tiger bounced slightly on its feet, rearing onto its hind legs as it released another fierce, metallic roar, massive paws swinging powerfully through the air. Khalsin quirked a brow, as he guided the warshark into a slow retreat, its armored form wriggling, fishlike, backward into the sand. The pilot kept his concentrated stare on the felinoid machine before him, his angular jaw wrenching slowly in moderate agitation. The zoid's intimidating claws soon took on a pulsing, yellow glow as a loud, throbbing hum could be heard, growing and fading in intensity. Khalsin's eyes widened, a soft gasp being drawn from parted lips while his jaw dropped open. Melee combat. This he had not expected.

The Saber tiger performed a terrifying lunge, launching itself in a spinning path through the air as it brought one enormous claw down upon its hapless foe. The smoldering claws struck sand with a heavy crunch, prompting another burst of sand which scattered, charred and smoldering like ash, over the pristine beach before it. By now, the warshark was far down the beach, its massive rocket engines roaring as they carried it through a swift escape. The aquatic machine moved into one of it's familiar banked turns, a copyright attack which—given it's pilots nature—always resulted in a headlong kamikaze charge. This was a technique he had perfected and used to great effect in previous battles. As the slow turn was completed, the sprays of sand settling, Khalsin's warshark let out a burst of photon shell fire, the shrieking bolts of light reaching his opponent in seconds. The saber tiger leapt to one side to avoid these, before moving onto its hind legs, its massive paws batting the shells away with their own photon energy, easily deflecting the charged projectiles. Loud, echoing chirps emanated along with a burst of light with the impact of photon energy meeting its glowing duplicate. Khalsin grunted as he heard the scattered chirps, watching flashes of light precede each reflection. Ryke was far more skilled than he had imagined; the concept of deflecting an opponent's attack in such a manner was hard to imagine, much less to execute. He let out a determined cry, jamming one gloved fist down on the overdrive button once again, hearing it click into place; a solid, satisfying sound. The high-pitched whine started, growing louder and louder until it suddenly dropped in pitch, becoming a deafening roar that shook the entire craft, huge rocket engines flaring a deep red, propelling the craft with astounding speed.

Khalsin's battle cry continued as both thumbs pressed downwards on reddish buttons capping both joysticks. The zoid complied instantly in its rapid flight, huge, glowing blades unfolding from it's armored flanks, protruding sharply from its dull metallic bulk, letting out loud, humming hisses as the hot photon blades burned at the oxygen around them. Streams of light trailed each glowing edge, situated like snarling pectoral fins; composed entirely of vicious light. The zoid's roaring rocket engines carried it fourth with deadly speed and power, thundering across the beach and leaving behind a towering wake of swirling sand as it burst through the orange, soft sandbar. The armored tiger could be seen charging as well, sprinting fluidly as its tail undulating smoothly in line with a bending spine, head bobbing as two smoldering jade eyes met those of its charging opponent. The two warriors tensed up at their controls, weapons drawn as their zoids closed the gap with astounding speed. Khalsin gritted his teeth, seeing the metallic claws of the saber cat glow with the same merciless, heated photon energy. The enormous yellow zoid leapt fourth with the spinning fury of a vicious tiger, one paw drawing back, poised for a devastating blow, while it's target approached, skirted by a billowing inferno of scarlet flame, glowing blades closing in on their target.

Both great zoids met and passed one another in an instant, a brutal impact pounding the air in the brief moment in they passed, before both settled on the ground. The shark skidded to a halt, glowing orange eyes flaring brightly as its engines dimmed to reduce velocity, moving in a smooth, banked turn as its huge tail thrashed violently. The saber cat landed gracefully on all fours and skidded to a gradual halt, smoldering claws losing their luminescence. The machine turned quietly, its tail twitching the once again face its opponent, emerald eyes staring without expression, watching, waiting.

A sudden flurry of violent explosions erupted through a previously unseen gash down the warshark's armor-plated hide, while the fishlike zoid went abruptly limp, the furious vermillion glow fading from rectangular "eyes". The massive rocket motors instantly died down, the glowing blade fins at its sides dulling. The armored shark collapsed onto its flank as it's gasping pilot was jarred out of his chair in the cockpit, cursing loudly as his slender frame was heaved against a metallic wall. He scrambled back to his feet, his bony features red with fury, curled into a frustrated grimace, as the familiar face on the holoscreen returned, haughty, stubble-lined grin all the broader. Khalsin growled under his breath, wrenching his jaw before running his fingers through his hair, violet strands stubbornly maintaining their upright position.  
"Looks like I won me a warshark," started Ryke, smiling gleefully as he winked at the screen, gruff voice echoing haughtily throughout the warshark's now silent cockpit. Khalsin sighed dismally, glancing up as the judge-android's panel popped up, projected just above the dual windshields of his now-fallen zoid. The android's oddly-shaped head pivoted to one side, sweeping its eyeless gaze across the surrounding area as its crackly, synthesized voice sounded sharply. "Khalsin's Warshark is unable to battle! Ryke Sanuko is the winner!" The right arm, the blue one, shot upwards in one automatic jerk, the android swaying slightly after the sudden motion, a loud, raucous blast from some synthetic horn echoing across the sandbar. Khalsin bowed his head a little, rubbing his the back of his neck with one still-trembling hand, noticing he'd been sweating profusely. "Good match, man...'s all yours."  
Ryke nodded faintly, before deactivating the vidscreen. Khalsin heaved another heavy sigh, shaking his head as he walked over to the ceiling cockpit which, he thought wryly to himself, had now become the wall, cranking the small bar at its center. The metal squeaked loudly in protest as it was wrenched to the left, doing so with much resistance. After the laborious effort of a few harsh jerks, Khalsin was rewarded with a loud, echoing clunk, before kicking the hatch the rest of the way open with one ratty-shoed foot. He stepped outside onto the soft, sandy ground, shaking his head a little to rid himself of the shock of the impact. He found himself swaying on his feet, almost unable to stand as blood rushed to his head, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. The sound of his heartbeat continued to throb in both ears. It was bewildering yet pleasant to feel the soft sand yield effortlessly below his thin-soled shoes, not as hard or cold as the zoid's cockpit floor. Well, he thought with another wry grin, he wouldn't have to worry about that now. Khalsin blinked, before leaning back into the hatch, seizing his bamboo fishing pole and slinging it over his shoulder. The young man slammed the hatch closed, walking slowly away from the zoid a few paces, glancing over as the tall man approached him. So, it was here he accepted his defeat. Despite his efforts it had come. Despite the skill he had developed from other battles. He had lost. It was final. Khalsin gave the thick, barnacle-ridden armor plating on the warshark's back a gentle pat farewell. It was going to be a long walk home.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Backdraft: Enter Zack Casage

Khalsin sighed, standing firmly on his ratty tennis shoes his grey eyes scanning briefly over the frayed black shoelaces. The bamboo rod of his fishing pole rested lazily over one bony shoulder, held steady by a white-knuckled fist, concealed by the stretched material of a fingerless glove. The bright blue sky was clear of all clouds; it seemed as though a great azure curtain had swept over the heavens. Khalsin drew the thumb of his free hand across the tip of his straight-pointed nose in a habitual motion, recalling how he missed the carefree, smiling nature of the wayward clouds, those which reflected so accurately his own mindset. Drifting into this sentimental digression, Khalsin caught himself immediately, shaking his head for a moment in an effort to revert his attention to the present. He had to keep a straight face, accept his loss head on—now was not the time to be childish. The young pilot leaned his head from side to side to work out the kinks, wincing as tense muscle let loose a chorus of sinewy snaps. His thin, pale lips pressed tightly together as he glanced over the large Saber tiger ahead of him, feeling the bittersweet mixture of hatred and respect spreading a tingling heat across his bony features.

The enormous zoid stood majestically in the bright sun, scarred with scorched streaks of black and a gaping wound on its chest. Sparks still poured from the great crevice, the remains of many semitransparent cables and wires dangling out in a tangled mess. Somehow, Khalsin thought, this managed only to enhance the terrorizing effect of the deadly zoid. It was the pilot inside, however, which he dreaded to meet face to face. Not this time; not after such a defeat.

A door in the side of its muscled torso opened, an equally burly figure heaving itself outward. The soldier-like mercenary dropped down into a crouched position, rising to his full, daunting height as he brushed his calloused hands together to remove the sand. Khalsin made note that his opponent also appeared fatigued, though more likely due to the emotional burden of his winnings. He held a great respect for the man, an old foe of his since his early days as a zoid pilot. Knowing the man as he did, he knew that Ryke would feel shame for what he had won; he was as honorable a soul as he had ever known. The bear of a man wore baggy green camouflage pants and a grey, button-down shirt. Smokey shirttails hung out behind, sloppily-fastened buttons coming to a halt just below a disheveled collar, revealing a narrow expanse of his broad chest; bronze, tan skin glistening with the sweat of the intense battle. His skin was bright red, as if hardened and toughened by the constant sun and rough sand. Ryke brushed his hands briskly on his heavy pants, kicking the sand from scuffed leather military boots. Khalsin looked away, squinting as the heavy sun reflected strongly off of the thick buckles lining up the sides of the combat boots, piercing his eyes like a sharp, white hot needle. He blinked away the stars before scratching the back of his neck and his feet shifted idly in the sand. It already felt awkward, his loss, the shame of such a boisterous wager. The bright sun's rays had most abruptly shifted from a benevolent, comforting warmth to a scathing heat that seemed too much to bear.  
Scratching his head idly, the young man gave an almost obligatory shrug to feign composure and started off to meet his opponent, swaying slightly as he walked, the heavy bamboo fishing pole bobbing up and down in line with his right shoulder. He began to nervously rub at the back of his neck, holding out his other hand as it was promptly engulfed by the beefy paw of his adversary. Ryke shook his hand thoroughly with great vigor and a slight, apprehensive grin, nodding his head in feigned approval. "A great match, boy. You've certainly improved quite a bit. I'm impressed, to say the least."  
Khalsin pursed his lips, averting his eyes momentarily, before returning his free hand to balance the fishing-pole on one shoulder. "I guess I still need more practice. It's all good, I'm…uhh, back to selling fish." He chuckled at this irony, dropping his hand back to his side as he squinted one eye shut to block out the sun, his other eye squinting up at the bear-like figure of his opponent.

Ryke shrugged as well to fill the awkward silence, shifting his feet in the sand for a moment as if to pass more time; the meeting was an uncomfortable one, to say the least. "Hm, yeah. Back to that. Before you know it, lad, you'll be back to zoid fighting, trust me." He nodded inwardly, more to assure himself than Khalsin. "Anyway... Pleasure doing business with you, Khalsin. We'll meet again, yes?" He struggled to sound positive, hopeful, unphased; anything to not let his sympathy through.  
Khalsin forced himself to grin, nodding firmly as his grey eyes met the deeper brown of the larger man, a flicker of their usual, electric intensity barely visible within their smokey irises. "Of course, sure thing... You just wait." The touch of attempted cockiness seemed to fail as he heard his voice crack slightly at the statement; a high note which left the two stewing in the sheer tragedy of the moment.  
Ryke's harsh raptor gaze softened a bit as he patted the younger man's shoulder, clearing his throat to fill the silence, or perhaps in worried preparation for speech. "If you ever need anything, just swing by the mercenary guild and ask, huh?" The labored attempt at making empathy a masculine construct came through quite clearly. Through it all, the big man's eyes read quite clearly: "I'm so sorry."  
Khalsin nodded again; unable to withstand the constant flow of pity for his loss. It was almost worse than the loss itself; like some further acknowledgement which only exacerbated whatever shame or embarrassment came his way. He wanted to be the only one regretting, letting his failure harm the mind of another made it even worse. He swallowed in an effort to dispel the choking sob at the back of his throat, then turned, ambling off across the beach. He watched the ground—rumpled sand, shaped smoothly and exactly to the undulating forms of the waves—heaving another sigh as he sauntered along, though through his rushing thoughts he could still feel the sympathetic gaze of Ryke locked on him. He glanced back a moment, raising a flared, deep violet eyebrow. Ryke grunted gruffly as if to reassert his manliness and feign indifference, quickly averting his gaze over at the new zoid in a frantic attempt to hide his concern. Khalsin could see him do his best to "inspect" the new vehicle, scratching his chin in a show of contrived consideration.  
Khalsin turned back again, relieving the mercenary of his askance gaze, instead continuing his steady gait down the length of the beach. He rolled his shoulders vigorously backward, wincing at the sound of crackling sinew, wiry muscle being relieved of great tension onset by the earlier battle; not to mention the awkward conclusion and conceit of his zoid. Thinking back to minutes before, the heat of embarrassment and regret burned into the back of his mind; Khalsin soon found himself speeding up the pace of his steps. Ryke could be seen behind him walking at an equally hurried pace in the opposite direction, towards the damaged Saber tiger. Both men strived for escape from the shame, that bittersweet rush of emotion that blossomed in the hearts of both combatants after an honorable battle; though neither truly wish it, one must lose, one must fail.

Khalsin's lupine gaze searched the beach before him; more for a mental distraction than anything else. It was a long, stretching expanse of smooth sand, continuing outwards almost endlessly. Golden dunes of sand seemed to continue in a smooth curve, the cool water constantly at its side. Far in the distance beneath the searing, merciless glower of the sun, Khalsin could spot a tiny black excursion out onto the water. White foam crashed up against the distant form, mixing a bright, unsullied white into the deep, calm green of the sea. The Romeo City pier. The name itself mustered old emotions within him. The joyous daily routine of fishing, the endless hours spent waiting for a catch, the sheer joy of his first tackle. Peering quietly across the vast distance and quickly sweeping these memories aside, he continued to move. Khalsin could just make out the forms of the dozens of fisherman and beachgoers bustling about, surrounded by a constant whirlwind of ravenously hungry seagulls. He knew the sheer annoyance caused by the birds. Thinking back and allowing the almost pesky memories to come flooding back again, Khalsin could recall numerous occasions at which his day's catch—or some of it—had been artfully pilfered from his line by a desperately squawking gull. The creatures were utter nuisances, pesky and irksome at their best; but little could be done about them. As a child, he remembered, he would often throw stones at them, but a gull was far too fast for such a juvenile plan.  
Khalsin jumped in surprise at a sudden noise which drove him instantly from his thoughts. An abrupt crack, a light, airy, yet sickening crunch that sounded just beneath his right foot, muffled by the sand. He carefully hoisted one grey tennis shoe from the sand, peering tentatively down under his foot as it rose, afraid of what might lie beneath, but compelled by uncontrollable curiosity to discover. Khalsin gave a dismissive shrug at the sight of a crushed cockleshell, chuckling breathily at his own foolishness. He continued his steady, rapid clip towards the Romeo pier, beginning to cheer up slightly. Not all was lost, that was more than clear. His memories had served the best of purposes; they had revived his spirit and showed him the life to which he returned. He could start renting an apartment again, now that he couldn't live on the Warshark. That was easily done. Things seemed to fall into place in his mind; he noticed this happened often, and he found it quite interesting. The mind would always go to great lengths to find solutions; but always do so introspectively. Moving back to his thoughts about his new life, Khalsin smiled at the thought of the plush comforts of an apartment; a large improvement over the cold metal floor of a zoid. Besides this, with all the Zoid fighting he had been doing, he hadn't been able to go out fishing, and he greatly missed many of the friends he had made doing this; lonely and salty old men who had spent all their lives on the wharfs. Always friendly, never talkative. It was a comfortable, reliable life, devoid of unpleasant surprises. He would fish, go to market, continue his studies of the martial arts, simple as that. And yet…

Somehow, despite all his efforts to comfort himself, he found this new life empty. It lacked something, he couldn't tell what. Something he longed for, an element he had now found essential for his being. But what was it? There was some intensity that had now been lost; like the bolt of lightning which so often flared up within him. Khalsin shrugged this off, though he continued to pry at the thought in the back of his head. He continued to let his thoughts drift on, carrying off on whatever stray tangent they could find. His feet did the work, his mind could simply wander.  
- - -  
The dank room smelled strongly of cigar smoke in the dim, weak lighting of the luminescent orbs embedded in the low ceiling. The choking scent strangled the nostrils with its thick, hot and oily odor, seeming to penetrate the very skin and leave one feeling grimy and foul. The stocky man at the front stood with an intimidating, hunched stance, a cigar gripped firmly by his burly lips. A strong, rocklike jaw protruded from his sharp, heavy features. The man was like a mountain in every manner, thoroughly muscled, large in size, his eyes piercing and dark. Grey hair—about neck length—was combed backwards in a smooth, wavelike pattern, streaks of a lighter shade mottling any solid color. These pallid striations indicated some age, but the man had obviously aged gracefully, with a stocky, well-built body, broad shoulders and a powerful chest. His deep grey eyebrows were straight and thick, fully accenting the dark and incisive gaze beneath them. Thin lips remained tightly closed around the large cigar as he watched the others around him, his fists set—in an intimidating, apelike posture—on the stainless steel, rectangular table. His broad shoulders, adorned with massive violet epaulets, were hunched slightly to accommodate the positioning of his thick arms, giving his massive frame an even more foreboding appearance. The cigar gave a swift bounce as his lips abruptly shifted, smoldering ash tumbling from the tip of the brown shaft, tumbling slowly to the ground and settling in a tiny pile on the previously spotless metallic table.  
"The council of seven has requested our gathering here today for a reason. That reason is one we have all known in the past, one we know all to well. We are here to search, as we have been for quite a time." The tension in the room was incredible; no audible sounds were emitted, even breathing seemed laboriously quieted. The council of seven was a group of high-end lobbyists, very powerful individuals, headed by one in particular, titled the "count". This prestigious fellowship formed the financial and administrative front of the Backdraft group; true tycoons of organized crime. These leaders were currently displeased with the Backdraft's performance, and all of the attendees knew it. Not so about the search itself, but its location. Alteil could easily predict the questions coming his way, and would dispel the before they could form; save himself a bit of time. "It has come to the attention of Backdraft researchers that an Ultimate X was buried somewhere in this vicinity. Luckily, this time it is located on land, allowing us to reach the site with our airborne fleet. Excavation and construction personnel have already begun the process of setting up the dig site." He found himself imagining the count's surly approval; a fleeting, tight-lipped grin and a promotion barked out in a dry voice. Finally, he would achieve the power he longed for; this was his chance, his one opportunity at garnering the favor of the council and reaping what benefits that might entail. But-now was not the time for such thoughts; the zoid first to be found; and this would be no easy task. Clearing his throat in a pause, Alteil shifted his weight from one leg to the other and let his intimidating stare sweep across the gathered personnel. It was time to choose his words more carefully; this mission was his most important yet.

Before he could speak, another did. The energetic, pre-adolescent voice of a younger boy of 12 rang out as Alteil's sharp gaze was instantly drawn to him. The boy had wide, innocent eyes, equally dark as the huge man across the table, but carrying a more carefree kindness towards their surroundings. His skinny frame wore a kind of odd jumpsuit, reinforced with white, custom-fit pilot armor, fitted in a thick vest over his torso. He leaned back, propping his feet up on the table and tilting his head to one side, his ruffled black hair shifting along with him as his haughty tones echoed through the previously silent conference. "I don't see why we need another Ultimate X. We'd be fine with one, wouldn't we? I mean... why not leave this one for someone else? I could use some better opponents."  
Alteil wrenched his jaw, casting a furious glance to the woman beside the boy, taking that brief moment to examine her, his hated rival. She was beautiful, despite Alteil's general dislike for her. She had long, deep violet blue hair which, thoroughly tamed, hung down straight to her shoulders, uniform length save a few well-trimmed bangs. This motif of verticality was exaggerated by the long, thin and delicate crystal earrings dangling loosely from her earlobes. Her pewter gaze was marked by two light blue stretches of eyeshadow protruding from the outer corners of each eye, adding an exotically intimidating aspect to her cool, calculating stare. She wore a chaste, high-necked pink turtleneck shirt with a blue blazer over it, leaving very little skin exposed. She had an air of pure authority about her. The woman caught Alteil's glower, turning quickly to answer the boy's inquiry. Her rock-hard gaze seemed to grow soft as it focused on her charge.  
"Vega, it is crucial that backdraft has possession of as many Ultimate X as possible. This way, we will be able to achieve our cause with greater ease. The Ultimate X is a crucial tool to this cause, its power is a great expediential factor in conquering the zoid federation and achieving dominance over the global tournaments."  
Vega paused a moment, the sarcastic young boy sticking out his lower lip before raising an eyebrow and throwing his arms in the air, returning his feet to the floor as his high voice filled the room again. "What! Expediential factor? I don't care about any of that, all I want is a good oppo-"  
The woman cut him off, resting one dainty hand on a white-padded shoulder to restrain him, stony gaze still only mildly reproaching, yet gentle as before. "And you and the Berserk Fury will do all you can to help us acquire the Ultimate X, wont you?" She tilted her head to one side calmly, her scarlet lips pressing together in a stern yet motherly and authoritative manner.  
Vega groaned childishly, nodding as he set his hands in his lap. His submission to the woman's orders was clear, but inwardly he had not yet stopped his fussing. The young boy wrenched his underset jaw quietly, staring at the table with his youthful gaze, now soured by his blatant protest to the situation.  
Alteil set his jaw for a moment, before continuing his address to the shady fellowship, sweeping his dark, searing gaze across their ranks. The bear-like man's deep voice was stern and restrained with a sort of high-profile discipline, beneath which lurked menacing power. "Our goal is to keep complete control of the excavation site. We will need a great amount of security to ensure complete protection of the site itself. This is why you two were asked here," he started, nodding his head towards a pair across the table. The first was a man close to his stature, while the one beside him was pale very thin, with slicked back, greasy blue hair. "Doctor Leyon, Major Palta. You two have been assigned to defend the excavation area. I'm putting you in charge of security; the Fuma team and all security squad units will answer to you."  
Dr. Leyon was a heavyset man with a thick, egg-shaped head, surrounded by bushy and unkempt hair. He clearly had a pitifully receding hairline, despite the relative thickness of the furrlike brown all about his skull. Heavy sideburns shot down from infront of reddened ears, framing his sharp, angled jaw. Thick, bushy eyebrows accented his deep-set, widely spaced eyes, dull and bovine, yet carrying a certain intelligent glint discernible deep within their amber stare. He wore a heavy grey trench coat, his broad shoulders spreading its front open widely to reveal a faded blue dress shirt—splotched with old coffee stains—and a tacky red tie dangling helplessly over a massive chest. Leyon gritted his teeth, pursing his thick lips into a concerned scowl and protesting meekly; both elbows splayed out against the metallic table.  
"With all due respect," he began, clearing his throat nervously, not wanting to meet the eyes of the older man who towered menacingly above him. "I... isn't the location of this project a bit dangerous? So close to a heavily populated area. The Romeo city police force, mercenaries, bounty hunters... it will be very difficult to keep the perimeter secure."  
Alteil nodded sagely; here was the question he'd expected and prepared for. He looked up, glancing towards one shadowy corner of the room, his penetrating gaze seeing tearing through the shadows as the corner of his square mouth twitched upwards in a confident smirk. "You're correct, Leyon. It would be a challenging task to maintain complete security in a high-populated area, especially one near the mercenary capitol of Europa. This is why you and Major Palta are being provided with ample supplies for your endeavor.. In addition to our 3 Godos patrol units and twenty automated Demantis squadrons, you will be provided with a Buster Gojulas," his low voice carefully annunciated every word, making sure all was heard and promptly understood; there was no room for mistakes. "And, should a challenge too big for such forces arise, I have for you a sort of... Trump card." The smirk widened to an uncontrollable, almost maniacal grin, as he extended one massive arm toward the shadowy corner of the room.  
"May I introduce to you Lieutenant Casage. He is a new associate of the Backdraft group, and one of our best pilots to date." As the words rang through the ears of the assembly, an intimidating man with a tall and broad-shouldered build emerged from the deep-shadowed recesses of the square conference room. The man's massive, powerful figure emerged into the dim light in a heavy navy blue military coat, covering his entire body from a high, starched and clean cut collar to thick flaps which ended near his ankles. The great military trench coat was buttoned down the far right side of his chest, accompanied by a lone pocket settled conveniently at his side. Large hands, concealed in light brown leather gloves seemed neatly restrained at his sides, hanging from sturdy, muscle-bound arms. The menacing figure had a strong, overhanging brow which seemed to smother thin, grey eyebrows. Above this was a slanted forehead with shock white hair, shaped into ruffled spikes at the front and next fading slowly into smoothly combed grey hair, cut incredibly close to the skull. Despite the color of his hair, the man looked to be middle aged at most. A smoothly featured, tan face showed few signs of wrinkles, but was kept at a constant, demeaning scowl. The man's powerful jaw and snubbed nose gave him the intimidating look of a true soldier, a machine of war with little concern for anything but his orders and himself. His penetrating, deep green gaze flitted quickly about the room, appraising each and every face in the council with a chilling stare, a swift inspection. The man's perceptual awareness was daunting, it seemed as if he knew the thoughts of the others simply from his acute scowl. The rounded collar moved up just below his chin, hiding the bull neck that so obviously matched his enormous frame.  
"Lieutenant Casage is one of the world's leading zoid pilots. He chose to join the backdraft in return for one of Dr. Leyon's Shadow Foxes. Now that this has been most graciously provided, along with the weapon customizations of the zoid, Mr. Casage has promptly made himself one of our top agents." Alteil nodded, his dark eyes meeting those of the intimidating man beside him, before returning to the assembly. "Dr. Leyon, Major Palta, should you be forced into a situation requiring more strength than has been provided, I'm sure Lieutenant Casage would be more than compliant with your requests."  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Khalsin hummed methodically to himself, a wistful grin spreading across thin, pale lips as he finally reached his destination. It was low tide now, late in the afternoon. The sea had long since receded far back from where it was; leaving in its wake a legion of flotsam and rubbish; seashells and tangled masses of glistening seaweed scattered about as far as the eye could see. The ancient wooden pillars of the pier were now exposed from their watery covering, heavily encrusted in muscles and barnacles. Yellowish kelp drooped from the massive banisters like a furry brown mantle, glistening with moisture in the setting sun's red glare. The dockside had become more peaceful than he had seen it three hours ago; the seagulls had desisted from their incessant calling and scattered flights to a more peaceful and lethargic lifestyle. The birds could be seen lined up along the dockhouse, sitting in small groups as if in a squawking vigil to the setting sun. Khalsin's dull grey stare was drawn instantly to the comforting radiance of the sun, a huge, glowing pink orb, its sharp rays staining a once blue sky to a warm lavender. Clouds far in the distance stretched in thin bands across the sky, reflecting the sun's colorful display. Khalsin heaved a sigh of sheer awe, transfixed on the sheer beauty of the skyline, extending in endless majesty before him.

As he continued to walk, he could see a stocky, short man in an apron turning a small sign on the front of the Pier house from "Open" to "Closed", flipping the cardboard square in one effortless twist of a chubby forearm. Khalsin could hear the clattering of dishes inside, a startling racket which seemed to open a new well of recollection in his reminiscent state of mind. Khalsin let out a breathy chuckle as he remembered the occasional "on the house" meal he'd receive there, having been a well-loved regular, the poor beach-urchin with the funny hair and dimpled grin. The pilot stopped before the pier, letting his dull grey eyes scan the rickety building as he continued to indulge his memory, basking in the ramshackle montage of events that was his past.

Without warning, a huge rush of air and a deafening crack preceded the deafening roar of jet-engines overheard. The sheer magnitude of the sound tore him from his thoughts, while a gigantic gust of wind did the same to his feet, ripping plastic umbrellas from tables on the Pier's deck. They scattered, hurtling wildly through the air, many plummeting from the pier to the soft sand with a chorus of muffled thuds. Glancing up in shock, Khalsin used his hand to shield his eyes from the turbulent swirling of the sand. Only 30 feet above the pier a huge Whale King zoomed by at full speed, tremendous rocket engines spraying blue light outwards from the tail. The gargantuan, hovering transport vehicle, soared by with astounding velocity, its tremendous engines riling the sand into furious little vortices, whipping grains against his skin. The leviathan black monstrosity was long and slender, but tall, most akin to the shape of a gigantic, mechanized sperm whale; but easily several times the size. Large fins at its sides served as wings, as the entire jagged length of the monstrous zoid moved along at a thundering, slow pace, as if its enormous bulk were nearly impossible to keep airborne. The protruding tip at the upper part of its trapezoidal nose shone a bright green, apparently to signal its arrival; but to where? Khalsin could barely make out a gigantic, glowing green eye at the machine's head which returned his awestruck stare, before the massive metallic zoid had disappeared. The thunderous roar of the zoid's engines was all that remained, fading slowly beneath the gentle crash of waves and the occasional cry of a wayward gull.  
Khalsin took a hasty glance back toward the ramshackle pier, his heart thumping in his chest from the sheer surprise of the ship's passing. With a soft grunt he clambered laboriously to his feet, looking bewilderedly about for his fishing pole. He found it lying awkwardly on the grey, faded wood of the pier, then snatched it up and hastily returned it to its position across his shoulders. Khalsin looked up at the long streams of steamy condensation left behind by the zoid's engines, examining the faded, cloudy lines with a sort of distant scrutiny, while behind smoky grey-blue eyes his mind spun in a vortex of excitement. Khalsin shifted the bamboo pole from his shoulder, bouncing it idly in one gloved hand, while he shifted his weight from knee to knee, all the while keeping his piercing gaze locked on the sky. Without warning, he broke into a run toward the forest, his legs pumping vigorously as he followed the distant rumble of the whale king's titanic turbothrusters. And it was so; things had become clear that fast. He had realized what it was this new life lacked. Curiosity lead to adventure, it would tear him from his old life. It was now he allowed it to be his guide, to shepherd him into the unknown, the thrilling frontier of possibility known as the planet Zi. Adventure had sat patiently dormant his entire life. He would keep it waiting no longer.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Base in the forest  
  
Gasping for breath as he ran, Khalsin continued his rapid pace, his ragged grey tennis shoes flying beneath him. His arms pumped at his sides with jerky, verticle motion as he ran to the threshold of his physical ability, feeling his violet hair blown rapidly about in the breeze. Sprinting through the thickly vegetated forest path he was forced to juggle his feet rapidly and leap about as the forest thickened around him. The pilot took occasional, fleeting glances up into the sky, blotched and barely visible by the heavy foliage above. His face was always hopeful and excited, though slightly flushed from the rapid travel. With each brief check, he made sure the condensation trail of the Whale king's huge rocket boosters were still in present, tracking its hazy trail. His lungs burned for air as his chest heaved, running himself ragged in vigorous pursuit of his adventure, his quest, his new life. Khalsin winced slightly at the smoldering pain in his chest, before grinning slightly, speeding the rapid pace of his sprinting. It would not escape.  
Working his feet with stunning agility, one pale fist gripped around the heavy shaft of the bamboo fishing pole, Khalsin leapt over dead branches and arched-up roots, avoiding what seemed to him as wooden fingers, grasping and lurching forward to stop his hasty gallop. He found himself performing a sort of high-velocity gallop, leaping from one flat area to the next, swerving skillfully to avoid the litter of obstructions on the path. Though the many wooden hands groped to reach him, to slow him, they would not. Nothing would stop him now. Adventure called to him and would be answered. One hand stayed still as he ran, the other swinging rapidly at his side. The long fishing pole bounced and bobbed along its long, deep yellow length, being carried along with his swift flight. His starving lungs gasped constantly, urgently inhaling the humid, thick air of the Romeo forest, a thickly wooded area infested with trees of every sort imaginable. The cool, almost moist feel of the thick, steamy air felt good on his lungs, something substantial to feed their burning need as he sprinted on. Lush green surrounded him as the forest blurred by, his vision a mess of deep, earthy browns and vividly verdant greens, before the occasional rush of speckled blue emerging from the trees. His horribly blurred vision bounced rapidly as he leapt through the forest, sprinting his fastest as he leaned forward, looking about constantly to keep his bearings. Just over the heavy thudding of his own heartbeat and his labored breaths, Khalsin could hear the furious roar of the Whale king's engines. His quarry grew nearer. Khalsin took a moment to consider this, before smiling; the Whale King was reaching it's destination, and also his. He panted heavily, grunting as a sharp thorned branch caught off his shin, tearing at his skin as sharp pain seared through him, drawing fourth a violent shiver down his spine. The young man hopped a few times, grunting a curse before he shook his head, immediately resuming his speedy pursuit.  
Khalsin's grey eyes widened as he saw the sun grow stronger ahead, as the shade suddenly seemed to drop away, the trees ending. He closed rapidly in on the spot, as the sounds of the great Whale king had become deafening. Khalsin leapt over a large rock, landing firmly in the soft soil, before bracing his feet on landing, surging himself forward with the same great acceleration. He unexpectedly burst out of the forest suddenly, having reached its abrupt edge. The fisherman pumped his feet frantically to stop, skidding to an unsteady halt as his eyes went wide, the harsh sun suddenly bearing down upon him, its scalding rays a nasty surprise after running so long in the dank forest. His grey eyes shifted about for a fraction of a second, spotting the whale king not 70 feet above the huge, grassy clearing, and many people in black suits bustling about. After sliding through the dry earth to a standstill, he promptly cursed and scrambled backwards towards the thick, verdant brush through which he had emerged. Khalsin dove back into the forest, flattening himself instantly on his stomach inside a large, leafy rhododendron.  
Mouth hanging agape, Khalsin took the time to rest. The heavy sprinting had required inhuman effort, completely distracting him from his thoughts. Making an attempt to collect himself, the pilot heaved himself onto his side, his chest still rising and falling with rapid repetition as he gasped for breath. He grimaced painfully, gritting his teeth a moment as burning stitches of pain shot through his side, a pain he had once ignored but now could no longer. Khalsin tried to focus his thoughts as he felt a rush of spinning sensation through his head, even a touch of nausea. He closed his eyes a moment, shaded by the thick, ovular leaves of the spacious yet sheltering shrub. He rested his head against one thick, flaky- barked branch, letting himself catch his breath as he gently ran his fingers through his violet hair.  
Khalsin slowly allowed his eyes to open, letting them focus as he gazed through the space between the leaves of the shrub, finding himself quite securely hidden from view. A wide open, dry field of golden, tall grass expanded out before him, beginning just at the edge of the shrub containing him. He rubbed his eyes a little after watching the blurry dark forms moving about, before finally seeing his vision become sharp. The huge, black bulk of the whale king hovered steadily, unmoving in the air perhaps 50 feet above the area, as the men below paced about, constantly aware, always on guard. Khalsin swallowed slightly, his jaw going slack again as he viewed the large laser rifles gripped firmly by a few of the dark shapes. Only half the field was lit by now, and only so by a dim, vermillion glare cast down by the sun, pink, round, and low on the horizon. He moved onto his stomach again and propped himself up with his elbows, feeling the cool, moist soil touch his skin. He sighed happily, his grey and lupine gaze scanning constantly over the suspicious assembly.  
With a sudden woosh of its engines, the massive dark Whale king began to descend. The great alloy behemoth lowered itself with a steady pace, using powerful thrusters at its belly to keep from plummeting too swiftly to the earth. Large landing ski's began to slowly unfold from the tail and either "flipper" of the great mechanized giant, grayish chrome rectangular surfaces held fast by hydraulic, telescoping cylinders that lead up towards the small hatch from which they emerged. The furious effort of the rocket thrusters caused circular shockwaves to repeatedly spread outwards through the tall grass, as it moved like an outwardly-spreading yellow ocean, the wind rattling the shrub Khalsin hid inside. The fisherman held the back of his wrist over his eyes to protect them from the rapid outburst of sand and debris, as the motors seemed to intensify to steady the landing of the titanic zoid. Its incredible, metallic bulk slowly descended in a careful, sluggish maneuver as the many black figures were forced to lean inwards, straining frantically against the constant, blustery gusts of air blasted away by the rocket thrusters. With a loud, sudden and shuddering thud, the enormous whale king settled majestically on the ground and lengthwise took up the majority of the field.  
Khalsin could see the orange sun reflecting off of the glossy, beautifully polished black paint of the transport, its sharp, flat edges like enormous ebony mirrors. The glowing, trapezoidal tip of the whale's "nose" gradually faded. The great, blunt snout of the whale was lifted slowly, a low, hydraulic whine sounding clearly through the air as two pressure-driven telescopic bars slowly pried open the enormous jaws of the zoid. Sharp, teeth lined its mouth, but forming a smooth, long corridor and ramp from the internal chamber.  
With a great, whirring clank the jaw touched the ground, as several of the personnel who had previously be on land jogged up to the unloading ramp, standing at its base and waving their arms a bit. A mob of more black clothed men jogged quietly out of the mouth of the transport. Khalsin squinted quietly, leaning forward to get a better look, before he noticed the glint of deep grey gunmetal. These were soldiers. A deep, sinking feeling set in Khalsin's stomach, he swallowed quietly as he brought one leg forward, setting his feet in the dirt. He stared transfixed at the shadowy figures moving about in the dim light, as the smoldering sun had finally retreated down below the black horizon, leaving only a fleeting remnant of its previous glory, a dull, pinkish glow off to the west. Khalsin could already see the two glowing green moons of Zi hovering above the area, giving a dim, iridescent light to the whole ordeal. Khalsin braced his hands on his knees, quietly rising to his feet as grey eyes gawked unblinking at the secret arrival of soldiers. Soon after, he could hear soft, metallic, ringing thuds from within, a chorus of these strange clanging noises emanating from the hull of the whale king.  
The fisherman stood both aghast and perplexed at what he saw as a strange and incredibly faint red glow could be seen from the inside of the whale king, the scarlet light shining out to the left, out of the machines enormous gullet; it was more apparent due to his profile side view of the transport. The mysterious clanging seemed to have intensified, both in magnitude and in the amount of the shrill, puttering clanks noises sounding. He leaned forward slightly behind the tall bush, a few soft, deep green leaves brushing against his skin. They felt cool and smooth, a gentle caress of the forest as it so graciously concealed him from the protective eyes of the watchmen. Khalsin wrenched his jaw idly, shifting his feet nervously in the dirt, the smooth, worn soles of his seemingly ancient tennis shoes scraping at the soft earth. The young man watched in awe as he saw a long, smoothly curved and bright green claw suddenly glide from the very opening of the whale's mouth, followed by a long, slender body with four spindly legs, the armor of which was painted a bright, synthetic green. The leg joints, underbelly, and "neck" of the zoid were all a deep black. The machine was light and quite small compared to other zoids, but looked sleek and fast. Four agile, thin legs moved quickly beneath the mantis-like android as it rapidly scuttled down the ramplike jaw of the whale king. Khalsin could now see the source of the eerie crimson radiance, two enormous, bright red and bulbous glowing eyes perched atop the insect's lofty skull, accompanied by two small antennae just above them. Between these great eyes was a large red circle—a signifier of rank, Khalsin thought to himself. The soft clunks of the Demantis' metallic feet quietly softened as the small zoid moved off of the ramp, taking up a space in the open field perhaps 10 feet by 50 feet. A few dark-clothed men rushed about the Demantis, barking inaudible orders at its pilot, before the machine lurched into action again, its claws seeming to bob nervously up and down as it walked toward the edge of the clearing, at constant alert. The same glow once again appeared at the mouth of the shadowy giant, the rapid clunks of Demantis' feet thudding harshly against the heavy floor of the transport. Several demantis could be seen traveling down out of the Whale king's black maw, all moving in perfect unison with one another, at the exact same pace. None of these—Khalsin realized—wore the same red dot. His assumption had been more than accurate. The unsettling jade zoids continued to stream out of the whale king, their numbers increasing by the second as Khalsin's jaw suddenly dropped, the man's eyes going wide. Two, three, four....five, six, seven...ten...twelve... Their rapid pace continued as the small zoids streamed from the Whale king's great cargo bay, the zoids all flocking in perfect formation around the commanding Demantis. Khalsin had long since last count from the redundant, unending flow of the black-and-green insectoids, simply staring in stunned silence as the huge force was released from the astounding capacity of the dark Whale king. The dark-uniformed men on the field ushered the zoids into their formation, as the zoids themselves, despite their pilots, chitterred and hissed in the darkness, only their bewitching crimson gaze could be seen. Before him, in the field, sat in wait a legion of Demantis, an incredible army, easily larger than fifty or sixty zoids, all hissing and clicking in the darkness, though all that could be seen was an ocean of glowing scarlet lights. Whoever was organizing this, he imagined they had to be incomprehensibly rich. This was obviously not the zoid battle federation, he thought, casting a wary glance at the intimidating whale king. Pitch Black. Could anyone have picked a more sinister color? Crime was most obviously afoot when an unpublicated zoid army was being brought into a highly populated area. But what did they want? What had they come for? This he had to discover.  
As the demantis army had finally been fully assembled, the Whale king gradually closed its gargantuan maw. The huge teeth clenched together with a loud, cavernous and rumbling clank, steam shooting from the hydraulic jaw compressors with an ear-piercing hiss, flying out in whitish, straight jets. As the whale king seemed to heave a steamy, gushing sigh of relief having been liberated of its incredible load. The huge engines began to start up again, as a low, guttural whirring slowly sounded from within. As the Demantis group noisily scuttled off down a small dirt road, Khalsin saw the men in black uniforms fan out into the woods. The heavy tramping of boots savagely crushing twigs and earth alike filled his ears as the burly soldiers went upon their scouting duty, moving about with little consideration for the forest itself. The enormous whale king began to slowly lift off, the heavy thrusters suddenly resuming with a deafening rumble, their enormous blue flames bursting fourth as the gargantuan black form moved upwards into the night sky, almost completely invisible except for the creamy green of Zi's two moons and the glowing, neon green nose lantern which gradually re-illuminated during takeoff. Khalsin grunted as the deafening engines spewed glittering cascades of sapphire flame downwards, straining to lift the leviathan bulk of the transport as it rose above the clearing, causing the same waves to propagate swiftly through the tall grass of the field. The thunderous roar of the engines pulsed painfully in his ears as he winced quietly, watching the huge black zoid block out the light of the moons, before enormous engines at the wide, horizontal tail suddenly flared into action. The whale king abruptly accelerated with a raucous blast of smoldering blue air, rumbling off into the night. The shadowy guardians had all disappeared by now, presumably join the massive convoy of Demantis Their barbaric trampling could no longer be heard, instead, the night time air was still and utterly silent.. Khalsin smirked quietly, raising his long bamboo fishing pole to lean casually across his shoulders. Though the danger of following sent a shiver of terror through his form, it also summoned up a tingling rush of sheer, unbridled thrill. This was the adventure within him, the feeling he had sought for so long. Though it lacked the rush of zoid battle, his "explorations" proved more than adequate for the time being. He could hear the soft pattering of the Demantis convoy in the distance. They'd have an uninvited guest.  
Khalsin quietly shifted his right foot to the side, hearing the satisfying, soft crunch of a tiny leaf crushed underfoot. He turned his shoulders into the step, his eyes lingering on the path down which the convoy had traveled. He began to pivot his form to turn and follow the convoy when he heard the loud, distinctive click of a photon rifle being cocked. Though the noise itself was faint, in the midst of the horrifying silence, the tiny sound caused a wave of nausea to flow through him, the bitter shock of terror jolting through his very being. Khalsin turned quietly to meet the gaze of a grinning soldier, dressed in a black jumpsuit, a set of night vision goggles over his eyes. The haunting green glow of the three lenses over the mask seemed to intensify as the cylinders, varying in lengths, began to shift quietly forward and back, adjusting their focus to better view the target. Khalsin's grey eyes were wide, watching the man in black as he kept the photon rifle pinned firmly to his shoulder, its glossy barrel kept on its mark. Its long, glistening length was pointed straight towards him, and with an apprehensive glance downwards he could make out a glowing red bead on his chest. The soldier took several confident steps forward, crouched slightly as he moved through the woods, his tall, black tech boots crunching loudly on a twig beneath him. It was curious, Khalsin thought to himself, that this man could have so effectively snuck up on him. He bit his lip a moment as the realization dawned upon him. The noise from the whale king's engines had drowned out all other sound.  
"Keep your hands where I can see them." Muttered the soldier redundantly, shifting the butt of the rifle upwards slightly to indicate where he his hands should be placed.. Khalsin gradually moved both arms upwards, gripping his fingers tightly around the thick fishing pole behind his back, keeping his wrists loose to look like he was surrendering the weapon. His grey eyes nervously watched the soldiers boots as he continued to step forward, carefully studying his displacement by stealing surreptitious and brief glances towards the metal tech boots, watching the small, glowing bars on the inside of the foot. Five steps away. Four. Three. Two. One!  
Khalsin suddenly brought the great fishing pole around in a swift, brutal arc, its heavy bamboo bulk whistling through the air with astounding speed. As time seemed to slow, Khalsin twisted his body sideways, both adding power and momentum to the blow, but shifting himself out of the rifle's aim. The pole collided with the soldier's skull in a sudden, fluid movement, a loud, resonating crack echoing through the crisp, cool nighttime air. Khalsin completed his sidestep within the smooth movement, carrying through with the unbroken fishing pole as its white-and-red bobber trailed quietly behind it. The soldier let out a muffled, painful grunt, unable to loose a single round before he was knocked unconscious. He crumpled to the ground in an instant, sprawling out over the soft forest floor with a muffled thud.  
Khalsin kneeled beside the man, quickly tearing the night vision goggles from his head. The soldier's arrogant grin had faded, as he now lay, eyes closed, his blonde, messy hair scattered in all directions. A large, red bump had risen on the side of his head, as a small trail of blood trickled slowly down infront of his ear. Khalsin stretched back the elastic, black ribbon on the goggles, wrapping it around his head and fitting them firmly to his skull. He squinted a bit, and in moments the goggles had responded to his vision, showing the forest vividly in a green- and-black color scheme. Trees and bushes, forest creatures and rocks he had not seen before now lay in the open before him, perfectly visible and in great detail. With his newly enhanced vision, the fisherman looked around briefly and chortled delightedly at his swift victory over the heavily armed soldier. He promptly snatched up his fishing pole, shifting it upwards and leaning it easily over his shoulder. Glancing about once again, Khalsin nodded a little bit, quirking a brow. The convoy had left already, there was no time to lose. He would give chase. The pilot promptly began to run through the woods again, this time more slowly as he avoided obstacles detected by the heavy night vision goggles, finding that they bounced heavily unless he slowed to a gradual trot. Khalsin paused for a moment, his head rotating constantly as he searched for the road, looking about quietly in the forest as he could hear the soft whirring of the ever-shifting lenses atop his head. The soft, eerie call of a night owl pierced the humid air, seeming to slice through the thick, wet, sweltering essence of it.  
The long, grayish road appeared as a blazing, hot green stripe through the thickly wooded area, somehow highlighted by the goggles, presumably because patrolling the road was a priority for these sentinels. Now, of course, the goggles were being used to follow the road. A tool of his enemy had become an invaluable one for himself. Amazed at how much easier the goggles made his task, Khalsin quietly stalked through the woods down the path, pursuing the great convoy as it continually marched away. Though he moved at a fair-paced jog, Khalsin was careful to keep his footfalls silent, and to keep a constant eye out for another sentinel guard. His friend back at the clearing wouldn't be conscious for another few hours, he guessed, and even then, without a natural sense for the forest, would be lost until daybreak. By then, Khalsin swaggered to himself, he would be nowhere in sight.  
Finding himself at the chase again, Khalsin snorted in annoyance as he moved through the still woods. Though well lit, the repetitive environment and coloring began to bore him. The convoy had not been sited for nearly a half hour by now, and boredom was already setting in. Khalsin grunted as he leapt over a large rock outcropping, landing lightly on his feet as he continued to run through the woods. He had to continue the chase. The shadowy trees and shrubs, ragged undergrowth and stubborn, upgrown roots continually attempted to snare him. He could not give up. He would catch his quarry.  
Just as this occurred the dirt road began to curve sharply and Khalsin found himself starting for a moment at the sudden irregularity in the glowing green band in his vision. Following the road so illuminated by his goggles, the pilot found himself rapidly approaching a source of much light and movement. Squinting into the goggles and waiting patiently while they adjusted, Khalsin saw through the bouncing compilation of lenses a bustling station. A great, steel gate marked what looked like the only entrance to a heavily fenced-in area of forest. Huge piles of felled trees lay to either side, all still holding their leaves. Khalsin stopped in the woods perhaps twenty yards outside the huge base, narrowing his eyes slightly. He crouched in that same moment, trying to stay out of sight. The fisherman examined the many piled up trees just outside the fence. All still held fresh, perky leaves, indicating that their relative dooms had occurred just recently. Scowling furiously at this abomination of nature, he gazed quietly out at the rest of the base, squinting at the blurry images through the goggles. Nothing was clear but movement and light. Khalsin removed the goggles for a moment, using one hand to pull them back and rest them on his forehead. Though the rubbery contraption nearly slipped down again from the heavy drenching of sweat, Khalsin's grey, lupine gaze could make out the many red, glowing orbs of the Demantis through the heavy chain-link fence, along with a few other dim, whitish lights, all of these unfamiliar.  
The young man quietly approached the fence, moving close to its side but keeping himself in the shadow of a huge sycamore tree near one of the large floodlights off to the right. Its enormous branches crept infront of the lights ever so slightly, giving him the opportune shadowy crevice to lurk into unnoticed, his slender form concealed in a cloak of gloom. Crouched there in the darkness, Khalsin let his eyes take in all there was to be seen of the complex. The base seemed to chafe with the bright, unnatural light cast over it, filled with the same dark commandos he had seen before. A few men in more sophisticated garb, such as officers trenchcoats and heavy black leather boots walked slowly about, overseeing the activities. These men, with their cold, merciless eyes and stern faces gave him the chills. In the center of the large establishment was a great hole, an indentation in the earth itself. Khalsin's flared brows furrowed as he watched a gisac scorpion-type zoid slowly make its way across the dirt clearing towards the hole. Squinting, he could see the tails of several more of the zoids sticking out from the deep fissure, as well as a scintillating white, flickering light flashing from deep within. The sandy brown zoid moved the same way a beach scorpion would, with swift, sudden movements of its eight arched, slender legs, moving upwards then arcing downwards from a flat, slightly rounded body. Two nimble, thin and almost articulate pincers and a moved from its front, the weapons outfitted with excavation lasers, Khalsin guessed. Mesmerized by the graceful zoid, his dull grey gaze quietly watched the bright orange dome cockpit near the front. The zoid's agile legs let out a chorus of loud, mechanical whines as it quietly descended into the gap, disappearing from sight, joining its furiously tunneling brethren. But what was it they dug for? Was there something this important beneath the ground? The entire base seemed centered about this activity, guarding and digging the hole.  
Khalsin's grey eyes scanned across the huge, bustling base again, as the many lightly armed Demantis' seemed to move about on patrol. He could see a line of Godos over at the far right, though all of the huge, dinosoid machines were perfectly still. Tall and slightly awkward in appearance, the patrol units stood completely upright like a tower with legs, powerful arms covered in heavy firearms turned at sharp angles at the elbow, pointing straight forward. Their bodies grew thicker at the legs, forming wide, stable, heavy square feet which sat powerfully on the hard earth. The majority were painted white with their joints being left a dark, sullied chrome.  
A loud, husky voice sounded suddenly as Khalsin jumped in terrified bewilderment, looking off in the direction of the incomprehensibly slurred cry. His eyes widened in confusion as he heard a rush of heavy-footed footsteps rushing towards him through the woods, the same swift thrashing crashing swiftly through the snarled underbrush. Squinting into the darkness, Khalsin could see nothing, but his ears could not be lying to him. Fear trickling like a cold drop of liquid evil down his spine, he quickly lowered the heavy, rubber night vision spectacles over his eyes. Khalsin gasped as he spotted several soldiers rushing through the woods towards him, rifles drawn. The fisherman cursed loudly. He had been found out. He grunted, throwing aside the goggles as he suddenly lifted his bamboo pole and scrambled to his feet. He sprinted quickly into the forest, free of the heavy weight from the goggles, dodging the many large stones and branches as he rushed through the heavily wooded area.  
Khalsin winced in pain as another thorned vine caught viciously off his shin, dragging out an agonized yelp. He could feel a thin film of warm red blood dripping down his pale calf, but had not the time nor the will to do anything about it. The soldier somewhere behind him began barking out frantic orders again, having heard the noise and therefore found his location. The constant trampling behind him constantly spurred him on, an ongoing warning to the dangers of slowing down. Khalsin raised an arm to deflect a low-hanging branch, smacking it aside carelessly as he continued to sprint, once the stealthy hunter, now the fleeing prey. His legs pumped vigorously, but it was a different kind of run. It was no longer the eager gallop of the arrogant pursuer, but the frantic, tactless sprinting of the hunted, the threatened, that which had to escape at all costs. Khalsin took a winding escape route, heading nowhere in particular, simply wanting to elude the men. He felt the air cool considerably as he continued to run, his mind devoid of all things but escape. The fishing pole bobbed at his side as his hand kept an iron grip upon it, fingers powerfully curled around its broad length. His most valuable tool of all would not be lost. He could cling to his pole till the very end. It had saved his life on more occasions than the swift beating hours earlier.  
Khalsin felt his chest already burning with the same furious need for air, his chest heaving as he sucked in the now cool, nighttime air. The constant, irritating buzz of crickets and nighttime insects flew by as he felt himself soaring through the forest, yet the loud, urgent orders and raucous stomping failed to completely elude him. The men were still quite tightly on his tail, nearly impossible to evade. What they protected must have been incredibly important to them.  
Khalsin's head bobbed, his entire body moving with the swift, fluid rhythm of the running, his violet hair being manipulated and blown about as he moved through the air. He loved to run, he loved the feeling of such rapid, furious grace. His legs burned from the frantic effort, as did his lungs, his chest. Pain spiraled up his legs from the constant wear and tear of the day, but he would not falter. The pleasure—not to mention the sheer urgency—of his glorious flight was too much. He gritted his teeth, bending down as he ran and quickly snatching a fist-sized stone in one hand. He twirled around to run backwards, using this motion to hurl the huge rock behind him into the dark abyss of the woods. The huge rock whistled through the air as he rotated gracefully in air, his slender form resuming its previous position, his legs working swiftly, his thin, exposed ankles a pale blurr in the darkness, his puffy bronze pants brushing against each other constantly with each rapid motion, creating a soft sound much akin to the forests crickets in the darkness.  
As he turned, Khalsin found his environment had changed considerably. Hearing a muffled, hollow thud, and a grunt of pain, before another crumpled thud, Khalsin smirked a little. The rock had done its job. He paused, letting his eyes take in what was before him, as his cocky grin faded rapidly, replaced almost instantly by a look of despair. He moved out onto a grassy hill-like vicinity, the many trees having disappeared. He slowed to a trot, seeing the land simply end a few yards ahead of him. His trot slowed to a walk, a deep, horrified sinking feeling being materialized in his gut as he groaned in sheer dismay. The grassy cliff ended at his feet. Leaning over it slightly, he gazed down nearly forty feet to a deep, blue river which ran swiftly through the same grassy fields. He wrenched his jaw slightly, his grey eyes scanning down the snaking length of the river. He found its length serrated with jagged rocks, surrounded in white, frothing bubbles which shot over its black, glistening bulk repetitively.  
The soldiers had continued to advance despite the brief rock-based assault, their crashing footsteps came closer and closer. It was too late to change directions now. He was trapped. Khalsin wrenched his jaw nervously, biting his lip as he leaned his great fishing pole over his shoulders. He panted softly, gasping to regain his breath after the steady sprint. He found himself shifting his dull grey tennis shoes in the dirt, scraping at the grassy earth. He knew what he was going to do. Insane as it was, it was definitely more logical than being caught by such savage sentinels. If what they guarded was as important to them as this, they would most certainly kill him without a hint of regret. Now was not the time for his adventure to end. No one, not even these high-tech guardians of the mystery complex would stop him. His adventure would not be taken from him. He took a glance back, as the haunting emerald stares of the night vision goggles began to emerge from the forest, clearly visible, bouncing from side to side as the soldiers came running after him. They all sounded miserably winded from the run. Khalsin's smirk returned as he raised a flared, deep violet eyebrow, his soft, lilting chuckle sifting through the cool, nighttime air. The promising scent of the cool stream below tempted his nostrils. The soldiers continued their approach, he heard a loud, husky order to stop where he was, as he quietly sprinted two steps forward. Not a chance, he thought. Not a chance in hell.  
He launched himself out over the cliff, grunting sharply as his legs propelled him with great force out into the fresh air of darkness. He pressed his arms to his sides as he fell down towards the river, feeling his violet hair ruffling about in the silent air. The river closed in rapidly, along with his adventure, his destiny, his purpose. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: One Furious Crab  
  
Khalsin gasped, feeling his stomach rise to his lungs, a sense of absolute terror and delighted thrill pulsing through his every vein. Plummeting rapidly downwards, hearing the night itself whiz by with a blustery roar in his ears, the swiftly growing intensity of the bubbly rumbling of the stream and the raspy chorus of crickets from the surrounding grass. His gaze was centered only ahead he could nor would see nothing else. Khalsin squinted as not to be hurt by the air rushing by. The crisp hint of dryness made it the kind of night one could only see near Romeo city. He clenched his arms to his sides as he fell, trying to stay straight, and found the few seconds between cliff and stream to be an agonizingly slow wait. He seemed unable to reach the river as it dragged him downwards, closing the gap between them with blinding speed while moving faster and faster as the cool night air whistled in his ears. He yearned to finally reach his target, for the horror of the moment to end, as seconds passed like days and his senses closed to everything but the fall, the rushing, blurred images constantly flitting by with ever passing instance. Suddenly, the sickening sensation of freefall transformed into a delightful feeling of escape, of freedom, of flight and weightlessness. Gunshots rang out; deep, hollow and airy thuds as photon bolts were launched from the glossy nozzles of the many rifles; bright yellow projectiles whizzing past him, impacting the stream with loud crackles and followed by a furious hissing fizz from the stream as the smoldering bolts of energy struck it. The soldiers would stop at nothing to halt his escape. The flickering barrage of vicious photon fire continued all through the descent. Khalsin gritted his teeth as a bolt grazed his arm, leaving a long, cauterized wound up near his elbow a flashing sense that his flesh was aflame. It was minor, but the pain was a burning sting that seemed to creep up to his shoulder, making him shiver as he stared forward and tried frantically to distract himself. He longed to reach the stream as he plummeted, to move as fast as the bolts. The soldiers continued to fire, but it was too late.  
With a heavy, painfully jarring impact and an explosive splash, pilot met water. The cool, moonlit water chilled him with a refreshing frigidity, seeming to revitalize him from both the scalding wound and the slick humidity of the forest, an escape from scorching temperatures and the general mugginess of the forest. The heavy impact had knocked the wind from his lungs and Khalsin struggled briefly as he plunged into the water, his legs suddenly curling at an odd angle, the immense force of the collision spinning him in a fluid circle, his arms trailing behind as his body was manipulated by the rushing stream. He strained to correct his skewed sinking path and thrashed furiously with his arms before feeling himself smack heavily against something hard and smooth, something cold and metallic. A deep, hollow, resounding thud echoed through the water, distorted badly, sounding more like the furious bellow of some undersea creature. Khalsin's lungs burned intensely for air, without oxygen his vision had become blurry and slowly darkened by the second. He looked around, as fear crept slowly up his spine, the chilling horror of death by suffocation, of simply being smothered beneath gallon after gallon of water. He flailed desperately, clawing at the cool, fluid water, feeling it slowly tugging him downstream as he kicked his legs with abandon. He wanted only to taste air, only to escape. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to abandon his panic, and instead to think. Khalsin felt with his hands towards the bottom, touching the same cold, metallic surface. He braced his feet against it, nearly being pulled off of them again by the current, and kicked off as hard as he could. He could feel the water rushing by as his eyes burned with the cold water's contact and seared his already ailing vision as he felt himself losing consciousness. His head felt as if it were going to burst, a sharp, stinging pain raging through his temples. The surface was so close, he could see the bright green glow of Zi's two moons, distorted through the waves, their jade light more visible in the water and seeming to reach down at him like welcoming arms. His eyes could make out little more than the pillars of green light seeming to pull him to the surface, benevolent guides in a black abyss of pain and emptiness. He could feel his chest nearly collapsing as his muscles burned, unable to properly function without air.  
Khalsin felt himself suddenly burst up to the surface, suddenly inhaling with a frantic gasp, letting out a deep-throated bellow as the air rushed in, vibrating through his throat and vocal chords. He panted heavily, his lightly muscled arms abruptly seizing one of the jagged stones, clinging to it for dear life, an iron grip to save mortal life. His previously erect, deep violet hair now hung limp and pinned firmly down to his head in a smooth, rounded, dome-like form. Much of this hung near his eyes, dripping heavy cascades of the chilled liquid down his face. Khalsin he quickly raised a hand and in one jerky movement brushed the sopping wet strands from his eyes, before returning his arm around the rock. His grey eyes, now bright pink with irritation, glanced about briefly as he continued to pant, his chest heaving beneath the soaking wet green long sleeved shirt. The sleeves had become unrolled during the ordeal, and now hung, limp and heavy around his wrists. The pilot's teeth chattered quietly even as his jaw hung open, eagerly gulping at the air. The pain in his lungs remained as his legs slowly slid forward, pulled along by the current. He could feel his feet being tugged upon tentatively by the weakened current, the constant motion of the surrounding water. Khalsin glanced up towards the soldiers, as another one let out a cry, pointing towards him with one heavy, black-gloved hand. The many green-lit faces abruptly moved to gaze at him and he could see the three glowing lenses focusing in on his ragged form, clinging helplessly to a riverbed stone.  
The soldiers jogged swiftly as a group into a new formation at the other side of the cliff. They crouched down, pinning their rifles firmly to their shoulders, looking down the barrels as red beads danced about the boulder, his savior and only shelter against the river's torment. The last soldier stood above them, signaling abruptly with one hand as the others promptly opened fire with their rifles. Photon shells shrieked through the air with high pitched, shrill howls, impacting the water around him with the same raging hisses. The water suddenly increased dramatically in temperature, as Khalsin bit his lip anxiously, ducking behind the rock for cover, the pilot clinging to the enormous grey form for dear life. He could feel his grip slowly slipping along its slick form, before lunging forward again to hug it more powerfully, feeling his ribcage almost crushed against its great mass. Khalsin cringed as another wailing shower of photon shells came in a sudden burst, pummeling the rock as bits and pieces scattered off of it, the huge bulk slowly being blown to pieces. He cried out as a ripping pain tore swiftly across the back of his hand, a sharp chunk of rock having soared by and sliced his flesh. The pilot gritted his teeth to withstand the pain of the new wound, squinting his eyes as foamy water continually burst up against his face. He knew he wouldn't last much longer under this barrage. One of them, either he or the boulder, was going to be destroyed. He had to think of a plan of escape. His adventure could not end here, not now.  
Khalsin shivered a little, before his determined smirk quietly spread across his pale, sharp features again. The stone-faced boy shook his head a bit, before suddenly releasing himself from the rock and going limp, letting himself be carried downstream. The soldiers fire abruptly stopped as the blood from his hand and arm spread out into the water. Khalsin let himself float upside down, as the water slowly turned red around him due to the blood trickling from his hand and arm. He let his arms raise up slightly above his shoulders, feeling a sudden tension in his shoulders, yet the sweet, relaxing calm of being carried along the river. The cool water rushed by him, gently ushering him along the brook's curves, a soothing tempo of movement, starkly contrasting the burning effort of clinging to the rock he had endured moments before. He could now rest, despite the unnerving feel of having his head underwater. He shivered, but struggled frantically to keep still. He was dead. He must remember this, he was but a corpse. After floating for some time, he slowly leaned to one side, letting himself roll to the side as if his body had simply done so on its own. Next he paddled strongly with one arm but in a surreptitious motion, letting out a grunt as the smooth, cool water continued to carry him along. He suddenly yanked himself under with this same rolling motion, feeling the familiar sense of the river surrounding him, its fluid, sparkling beauty caressing every inch of his form. Using the one gasp of breath he had obtained just before his descent, Khalsin began to swim forcefully upstream, gritting his teeth with effort as his entire body worked towards his purpose.  
Was this insanity? The question seemed to send a shock through his mind. He thought a moment with his eyes squinted from the burning of the water, feeling his hair float about him as he continued to move back upstream. Khalsin fought to gain ground against the rivers current, and assured himself he would not relent. His muscles worked constantly, pumping with vigor while his legs kicked frantically and arms lead the way, rowing with raw determination as he moved. He continued on for adventure, for the sheer thrill, the feel of it. Experience, new experience, danger, excitement the thick, lightheaded pleasure of it all. A dance with death. His corpse stunt could just have easily had let him escape. Khalsin smirked beneath the waves. Yes, this was insanity. Sweet, sweet insanity, it was the true fire for his passion, the flame that forged his courage, his strength. Khalsin shivered a little as he squinted into the watery void before him, continuing constantly on despite the burning in his lungs. He quickly gave one unified thrust with both his legs and arms, propelling himself towards the surface in one swift burst, quickly gulping a lungful of air before once again disappearing beneath the dark river. The twin moons of Zi slowly guided him with their malachite streams of wavering glow, seeming to pull him along as they did before, his eternal guide, his ally in this cold, wet darkness.  
The smoldering fire of his passion for adventure, his in- extinguishable blaze like an eternal bolt of lightning constantly drew him forward. Squinting into the silent, dark abyss before him, Khalsin found a familiar shape. A dark silhouette, broad and bulky, a shadowy form in the darkness. The boulder he had clung to before now stood strong and seemingly immovable, planted firmly in the mudded riverbed. There it was. The landmark. The key to his plan, his scheme, the factor concerning his actions that would bring new life, new adventure. Khalsin carried out the same lunging motion, thrusting his arms to his sides and his legs together, propelling himself upwards in a rush as bubbles slowly escaped from his nose, running up his cheeks. The tickle of air in water was a charming, light feeling, smoothly sliding up against his skin. He breached above water briefly, feeling the chilling cold of the night air, taking a gaping lungful before arching his back, moving quickly back below the water. In his brief glance above water, he had seen the soldiers quietly waiting. Their devotion to their task was incredible, but not nearly as fanatic or devout as his.  
Khalsin moved back to the very bottom of the river, feeling it with his hands as he squinted. It wasn't clear in the dark, but it seemed to be a very deep, dark red. As he pounded on what was colored in the murky water almost like river clay, he felt the same hard, cool metal beneath his fingertips, a hard and unexpected contact. The impact of his fists on the material caused the same echoing thud, the same submarine bellow from within. He pawed blindly at the smooth surface for any imperfection, still finding none. What was it? Metal? Here? Under a river? It seemed impossible, yet there it was, right before him, a huge expanse of alloy. A few rocks and clumps of dirt lay about atop it, but nonetheless this was clearly a solid sheet of metal. Heavy steel, it felt like, grown crystallized alloy, incredibly tough. The reddish color seemed all the more of an abnormality, such an oddity nearly inexplicable in his mind. What could this mean? Was it some secret base? A roof? A weapons bunker? Khalsin's pale, strong hands drifted about before he felt something soft and round beneath the water. His eyes widened. He moved his hands down the long, thin, cylindrical object. It had heavy notches all down its length, but seemed to stay the same thickness all the way down. A rod of some sort. He almost jumped at the realization. His bamboo pole. He had completely forgotten it during his fall, and now here it lay. Snatching the pole in one hand and firmly grasping it, Khalsin kicked his legs, continuing to hover over the metallic surface, now patting its surface with one hand to closely examine it, but still detecting little more than a smooth, metallic expanse.  
He came across another irregularity, this time it did not feel soft, not wet and slimy like a rock, not granular like the riverbed dirt, but hard and smooth, just as the rest of the reddish metal. As he groped at the object in the darkness, tugging and pushing, he found it would not budge. It was the same red as the rest of the iron riverbed, had the same luster, texture and distinctive shine. As he continued to tug at it, he found it turned ever so slightly, a long, wrenching whine echoing through the water. A hatch handle. Khalsin yanked heavily at the handle, grunting with each motion as his body jerked beneath the waves. The labored, long moans of metal against metal began to sound again as he slowly turned the hatch handle, before he felt a sudden release. With a loud clack, the handle jerked to one side. Another harsh jerk from his tight fists brought fourth a surprising rush of water as the hatch suddenly flew open. Water was sucked into the gaping doorway rapidly, all he could see was a black void below. He felt his body suddenly pulled inside with an irresistibly potent force and found he could do nothing to stop the pull. He rushed through the narrow hatch, barely fitting through as his arm was jerked to one side, the bamboo pole having smacked forcefully against the steel doorway, the recoil carrying up to his shoulder with an aching, heavy pain. He continued to fall in a rush of water, hearing the latch suddenly clank shut behind him with a loud, metallic clang.  
The incredible rush of water that had accompanied him had stopped with the abrupt closing of the door, the sound of the water splattering on the hard floor echoing through the chamber as he entered. Khalsin let out a grunt of shock and surprise, feeling himself slam into a hard metal surface as an aching pain suddenly burst through his chest. The impact itself jarred him horribly as he fell flat on his face, hearing the hollow, high pitched clack of his bamboo pole striking off the floor, skidding across its flawless surface. The water around him had splashed in every direction, then quietly began running down the surface to his right. He could feel the water draining from beneath him, leaving him only with the cool hardness of the floor. Khalsin groaned in pain, rolling onto his back, flopping over onto his shoulders with a soft whimper of pain. Pain had seemed to be his constant companion since the very beginning of this adventure. He had come to experience nearly all its forms, and now it enveloped his body like a furious, red-hot sea washing over him. Khalsin found himself feeling like a washed-up fish, left gasping and choking on the dock, lying in a puddle of water. He let his thoughts drift as he quietly lay, trying to collect his mind. He was clearly inside some sort of building or bunker, but what? Who would hide something like this? He panted heavily, quickly inhaling the musty, dry air of the place. It had the sent of something old, something untouched for hundreds of years. As he slowly opened his grayish, lupine eyes, he found he was in a much smaller place than he had suspected. The area was perhaps ten feet wide, and seven feet long, a small room at best. Though not claustrophobically so, the room seemed cramped; a familiar sort of minisculity and specific shape that brought about a hyped, exhilarated sensation within him. What was it that brought such excitement from inside? As his eyes slowly came into focus, he could see that it's walls were black, yet the floor was the same dark, maroon red as the "riverbed" from before; glistening softly in the dim light of the room. He paused briefly, his eyes locked on the reflecting luminescence on the glossy floor. Light? Here? Under a river? The question dawned on him just as his dull and smoky- colored stare shifted towards the ceiling, revealing six blue, iridescent lights. They were tiny, frosted glass circles embedded in the ceiling, two rows of three running down the room's ten-foot width. The small lights cast a clean, cool, azure radiance throughout the room; this allowed him to conduct a more in-depth study beneath the bluish, hazy glow.  
Sitting up gradually, Khalsin grunted in pain and leaned his arms on one leg, disregarding the soft pain of his bony elbows pressing into his thigh. He panted softly to recover from the rushed swimming and escape of before and letting his gaze take in these new surroundings. Pain shot through his ribcage in a cruel, pulsating ache that simply wouldn't disappear. It made breathing difficult, but air was more important than the constant torment which seemed to follow him. The pain burned along the singed skin of his arm, and stung viciously on the back of his hand. He glanced upwards, hoping the new environment could distract him from his current anguish. At the front of the room was a wide, thin crescent-moon shaped purple window, elongated to take up perhaps four of the ten feet of the sloped wall at the front. The window itself was thin and had a much more smooth, gradual curve than was expected, a dull violet color, contrasting the auburn red of the floor. Narrowing his eyes slightly and letting his vision recover, Khalsin saw the large grey cockpit seat at the front of the room. A ferment of sheer exhilaration and anticipation rumbled up inside him despite the immense pain. He was in a zoid.  
Khalsin briefly pressed his mouth over the deep yet small cut across the back of his hand, feeling his lips touch the torn nylon material of his thin, fingerless black gloves. He sucked the blood away before he stood to his feet, letting out a soft groan of pain. The blood itself tasted watery with a slight, coppery tinge to its flavor. He screwed up his face quietly spat in disgust as he shook his head vigorously, causing the many wet tendrils of his violet hair to flutter against his scalp. The cockpit was more spacious than that of his warshark, quite clearly due to its wide size. Yet, despite this, there was but one seat at the front. Khalsin gave in to the ultimate temptation, quietly walking towards the seat. As he came towards it, setting one pale, bleeding hand upon the ovular headrest, he found his ears had begun to recover. His senses struggled to take in everything the room had to offer, his curiosity overwhelming in its power, motivating him beyond any potency of will. He welcomed the temptation, the eagerness to learn. This was adventure. This was excitement. It pulsed through every inch of his being, and he nourished its every desire.  
Khalsin could hear a soft, mechanical whirr coming from below him, guessing this was whatever provided power for the soft lights on the ceiling. He looked at the futuristic chair, thinly supported by a single square foot and a cylindrical, polished chrome pillar. The chair was made of a grey material akin to leather, but it carried a light, airy scent of plastic. It's slender mass curved upwards as if to perfectly accommodate the human frame, ending in the adjustable headrest which curved inwards to cushion one's skull. The entire seat looked as though it had been crafted from a single, liquid piece of chrome, all of which had now hardened into what looked to his eyes as a piece of art in furniture. Khalsin narrowed his eyes a bit, glancing across a few small panels placed around the chair on its sides. Various buttons and switches lay about on them, as well as small printed writing he couldn't quite make out. He rubbed his eyes again, the pilot glancing to the very front of the room, to the smoothly transitioned wall which simply curved upwards from the floor; this effect gave the room a fluid, wholesome feel. Fastened firmly to its base was a black zoid control console, much akin to that of his warshark. Rather than being a disorganized mess of buttons, wires, and metallic joints, the console was well-polished polished and black, a trapezoidal prism with two hand-formed joysticks protruding from its sides. The console was held up by a jointed branch of metallic joints, also smooth and jet black, gracefully folded up to keep it to he wall. The pilot narrowed his eyes a bit, glancing back about the huge cockpit. It was in a sense featureless excluding the controls and seat. Looking down towards the floor, he saw a small, circular drain, several tiny ridges showing where water had entered. Khalsin quirked a brow. The zoid even had a drain; what did this mean? The most apparent answer would be that it was some sort of aquatic machine. At this rate, he thought giddily to himself, it was not only a zoid, but one of great use to him.  
Khalsin, feeling uplifted despite the multitude of small injuries about his body, quickly rubbed his hands together while his lupine gaze scanned over the cockpit again. He had obviously been more an enthused about this new discovery. He looked back to the pilot's seat, unable to draw his attention from it any longer. The soaked pilot rolled up his sleeves, feeling the cool, smooth contact of his tattered, sopping wet shirt against his skin. Khalsin walked to the console and seized it by two small bar handles sticking out from its sides. He pulled gently on these as with a soft whine the console glided after him, suspended on the strong, jointed bars of onyx metal It moved smoothly through the air, flawlessly supported by the entwined rods. They slowly unfolded from a zig-zag pattern as their joints spread apart, extending to allow the two feet of space between the front of the zoid and the pilot's seat. To be perfectly honest with himself, Khalsin had no idea what type of zoid this was, or even if he looked out of the front. He squinted through the four-foot violet window, his eyes narrowing as he could see the dark water of the river rushing by, a few small, deep-green and sickly looking plants swaying lethargically back and fourth in the current. Khalsin sat down in the chair, as with the soft hum of robotic parts it instantly shifted to fit his frame, the seat, backing, and headrest adjusting to flawlessly accommodate his body. The quiet, slight motions left him sitting comfortably and stably in an upright position. The control console moved on its own, snugly placing itself just above his lap. Tiny brackets on the front of the chair's armrests sunk into a pair of equally sized sockets on the front of the console, letting out a soft and crisp metallic click. With this, Khalsin was firmly secured to the seat. His hands shook with the immense anticipation of exploring the new possibilities of this new and magnificent machine. He could feel an almost convulsive shiver of expectance, excitement for this newfound and major aspect to his adventure.  
Khalsin felt his heart thumping in his chest as it had before. This time, however, it was the adrenaline rush of new strength, new ability, new power. As he clamped his pale, thin fingers firmly around the dark joysticks, feeling their smooth grip ridges sink into his palm, it felt as if a surge of unknown force had jolted through him like a bolt of smoldering electricity. His body jerked as he felt his chest heaving for breath. He grunted suddenly as he felt the zoid lurch, several more of the blue lights suddenly illuminating just above his head. The cool, frosted lights let out a gentle cobalt glow down upon him, lighting the controls for him. The zoid had already awakened, it acted as though he was its pilot. The giddy sensation of sheer exhilaration exploded from within him, growing rapidly. This was his zoid. It had accepted him. Knowing this, Khalsin glanced about a little, feeling almost as though he was being searched and investigated by the zoid to which he did the same. The enormous steel machine seemed to come to life at his very touch. He could hear the enormous, labored groan of the zoid's limbs shifting beneath the earth, straining with great strength as they shifted dirt and stone, the very earth itself beneath the ground. The various, small buttons across the console lit up suddenly, as a few transparent meters and screens quietly materialized to either side of him, floating softly in the air. The projected screens bobbed a little in the air, their translucent forms glowing a soft, deep pine green. They flickered softly as they appeared, as statistics and readings began to scroll across them rapidly. Aat the top of each screen, read the zoid's name in clear, bolded letters. "Emperor Crab." Khalsin's jaw dropped slightly as his grey eyes took them in, before focusing solely upon a wide, elongated screen to his left. It showed, constructed in white bars of light, the blueprints of a large zoid, looking like a gargantuan mechanical crab. The zoid itself had eight thick, armored legs that each ended in sharp toe- tips, coated in huge armor plates with hydraulic movement systems beneath, a row of telescopic cylinders all coming from the wide base of the crab and fanning out towards its joints. This, he could imagine, gave the zoid's legs incomprehensible power. The great machine had a huge, ovular plate of thick crystalline armor forming its top, exponentially curved to perfectly imitate a crab's shell. It had another at the bottom, leaving only a small crack in between, the sole flaw in its seemingly impenetrable defenses. The top layer of the crab's "shell" hung over slightly, and slanted sharply upwards in what looked like a double-spiked, crescent-shaped set of horns, forming a double-crest on its top shell. The horns themselves held resemblance to the decorative blades often found on a samurai's kabuto helmet, but obviously much larger, giving the great, tank-like zoid a regal appearance. The purple, visor-like windshield was visible between the two great plates of armor, sprouting also from between these were two enormous, single-jointed robotic arms, both of which ended in a leviathan crab claw. The arms themselves were constructed almost skeletally of powerful titanium rods, lifelike in their curvature, meeting at a single round joint, before extending again to the great pincers. Each of the claws, according to the screen, contained the zoid's primary weapon systems, excluding its rocket boxes. Held vertically for precise aiming, the crabs were shown by a flickering animation to spread open, as the weapon protruded out between them. The armament of the zoid flickered beside the diagram, listing slowly letter by letter. "100 MM Vulcan Round Cannon (x2), 18-Shot Surface-to- Surface. Rocket caster box (x2), Three-round grenade launcher (x2)."  
The confident pilot quirked a brow in amazement at the sheer capacity of the zoid's armament, before—with great effort—managing to yank his stare away from the statistics. Khalsin shivered again at the feeling of might pulsing through him, the electrifying experience of controlling the new machine. The nylon gloves on his hands creaked and stretched, lightening in color as he made firm, trembling fists around the joysticks of the console. Khalsin glanced forward at the rushing, shadowy water of the river, before firmly thrusting both joysticks forward. The enormous mechanical creature gave a terrifying lurch, shifting powerfully in its subterranean environment, before seeming to lean forward on its legs. The zoid acted as though it was trying to turn itself sideways, leaning forward as its behemoth crab legs struggled to obey his command. Khalsin paused a moment as he heard the strained, loud groan of the leg hydraulics churning at the hard earth. The zoid wouldn't move forwards. He scowled quietly, his grey eyes staring at the dark water beyond the windshield.  
Before long, still immersed in constant thought, Khalsin's eyes widened. He thought back to the beach, his origin, his old and familiar home, the life he had before. The many fishing crabs there didn't move forward either. Crabs moved sideways. He remembered years as a child, watching the crabs burrow into the ground in rivers, digging in sideways, using their bodies as a wedge. With a rapid, swaying motion encompassing their entire bodies, tiny legs wriggling constantly. He remembered how the river crabs would disappear beneath the earth in seconds; there one minute, gone the next. They all moved sideways. The tiny creatures would scuttle about constantly, aware of any and every presence, moving with great speed. Sideways. Lateral movement patterns. Of course. The pilot's confident grin soon returned as he jerked both joysticks to the right, grinning his subdued grin as the zoid suddenly moved with a great jolt of its powerful legs. He could hear the thick, hard earth being churned and mutilated by the incredibly potent legs. The zoid's right side suddenly climbed upwards as it moved, tilting him to one side almost uncomfortably as he could feel its incredible supports pulling it along, the great, pointed, hooklike legs jerking it free from its earthy grave in mighty tugs. Khalsin saw the thick earth being pushed forcefully aside out the window, mud, silt, and water streaming across the purple visor as he squinted to see where he was. Though the swift, lateral movements of the crab seemed unwieldy, he knew he would grow accustomed to them soon. The zoid shook violently as it struggled to free itself from the ground, its gigantic limbs tearing at the earth. It caught again on the ground, surging upwards with immense force. Suddenly, the incomprehensible mess of churning water and earth cleared, as Khalsin could see the fresh, night air before him, out of the visor. The cliff was visible nearby as his incredible android tore itself free from the very earth that had contained it, soil and rocks as well as river water running down off of its sides. A great explosion of earth shot outwards, huge rocks and ground matter scattering in all directions as the subterranean juggernaut broke the surface. The zoid itself, uncontrolled, shook violently a moment to free itself of the massive amounts of sediment. Khalsin found he was still relatively low to the ground, not more than 10 feet, as the crab itself, though quite tanklike and large, was short and low to the ground for quick maneuvering, almost precisely to the scale of its natural counterparts.  
Looking out into the night air, he could once again see the twin green moons floating in the sky like kind, watching eyes smiling down upon him. The new phase of his quest had begun, and the requirements for his adventure had been fulfilled. He now had a zoid, one that was not only his own, but seemed made for him, as if he had found it by the hands of destiny.  
Khalsin's grin faded into a determined, stony look that exaggerated the sharp angles in his features. He growled quietly to himself, setting his jaw as his fingers shifted upwards on the joysticks, sliding smoothly up the grooved, metallic surface. He could see the small platoon of guardian soldiers up on the cliff, though their backs faced the huge, deep red war machine. His index fingers drifted over the trigger buttons. Looking to his left and right, Khalsin could make out the large, jagged forms of the two upright, vertical pincers at the end of the crab's long arms. He slowly tilted the joysticks to the side, using this motion to make the zoid quietly creep in a lateral strafe, moving in line with the troops. They had already turned from the huge, rumbling quake of the zoid's subterranean emergence, but it was far too late for them. The pilot pushed down sharply on both scarlet trigger buttons, hearing the satisfying click of them hitting home.  
The zoid gave no reaction, but with a sudden, jerky movement, the console split in half, as did the large branches of jointed support beams. The two halves of the black console drifted upwards, carrying his arms with them until they were aligned straight out from his shoulders, in a turret- gunning position. His arms were spread apart, yet comfortably so as the console parts rotated on a small axis located just where the support rack met its glossy trapezoidal frame. They turned sideways, the joysticks still gripped tightly in his hands, pointing inwards in the traditional gunner stance.  
Khalsin grinned before looking up towards the soldiers again. A small robotic arm unfolded from the ceiling, settling beside him, as a tiny, projected red screen it held settled just before his left eye. Looking through this eye, he could see a thin, semitransparent red tint to his gaze, as a rectangular, neon-green box locked in around each soldier. Statistics of their relative distance and angle towards the crab flitted across on the bottom of the screen, as their dark figures were highlighted to give a better view. He could see two green X's with small circles surrounding them, which stood perfectly still, in line with the very tips of the crab's claws. These, he thought, were the target indicators. The support bars which had held the console up retracted to the wall, while just seconds before two robotic arms transitioned smoothly up from the back of his chair and attached to the two half-consoles attached to his hands. The consoles looked like two long robotic arms, with joints all parallel to his, completely under his control. Khalsin moved his arms upwards towards his adversaries, still gripping the dual joysticks. As he moved them, he could see the enormous arms of the Emperor Crab moving in tandem, copying their every move.  
At this point, the soldiers had been unleashing a vicious, smoldering salvo of photon fire, raining glowing bolts down upon his zoid. Khalsin chuckled at the futility of it all, as the seemingly impenetrable armor of the crab withstood everything they could dish out. "Select Weapon." Flitted across his left eye, as it animated a small motion of a sideways flick of the wrists. Khalsin chuckled. This zoid even taught him how to pilot it. The fisherman jerked his hands downwards sharply, as he saw the leviathan, deadly pincers of the zoid open, massive, rounded, multi-barrel Vulcan guns sliding smoothly out from the crease and settling there. At the sight of the terrifying weapons, all five troopers set out in a full sprint. Khalsin let out a chuckle, his familiar grin growing wider than ever before. "...The tables have turned, my friends." He muttered, before clasping downwards on the triggers of the crimson trigger buttons. The zoid lurched, shaking violently as its powerful legs worked to steady it, the enormous miniguns suddenly flying into action, spinning incomprehensibly fast as each barrel let out an enormous barrage of bullet projectiles, the flaming tracer rounds shooting into the forest, though obviously not hitting their targets. The zoid's massive arms shook as yellow flame flew out in a six- point-star pattern from the tips of the enormous gattling guns, lighting the earth around him. Khalsin grunted at their escape, jerking the joysticks downwards again before returning them to their default gunner position with a flick of the wrist.  
The claws closed, slanting sideways as the long chains of bullet ammunition swung a bit between small grooves in the crab's armor and their destination in the side of the pincers themselves. Feeds for the vuclan cannons, Khalsin guessed. Khalsin flicked his wrists upwards this time, deciding to see the rest of the zoid's weapons. The claws returned to their vertical alignment and opened again as large, three-barreled weapons appeared, their individual nozzles much larger than those of the Vulcan cannon. Khalsin focused on his viewfinder eye, noticing it was still locked onto the fleeing soldiers. Their distances were rapidly increasing. The words "Trigrenade launcher" flitted through his vision for a moment, before the screen showed lob patterns in the form of green, arcing lines emanating from the crab's claws. He could still see the two aim indicators, two X's swaying quietly with the movements of the zoid's claws, the screen's target reticules. Khalsin let out another growl beneath his breath, lifting his arms, causing both the zoid's great claws and the robotic arms attached to the semiconsoles to shift upwards in the exact same motion. Just as his finger closed in on the trigger button, Khalsin grunted as his great zoid shook, bombarded from behind with ruthless cannon fire, powerful blasts capable of jarring the mighty Emperor crab.  
Cursing softly, Khalsin leaned the joysticks to the sides, twisting them to a small degree due to their gunner set up. As he moved them to the side, the armored legs of the crab scuttled rapidly sideways with it; turning the crab around while the pilot rolled the joysticks around to set this in motion. The heavy laser cannon fire pummeled into the craft, though soon Khalsin found himself grinning with battle-fervor; his opponents suddenly came into view.  
Looking across a long line of godos, Khalsin's eyes widened. The security forces from the hidden base had been dispatched. He pressed firmly down on the triggers of the joysticks, gritting his teeth as he heard the great grenades being fired. "THOOM!" came the instant response of the two tri-grenade launchers, two explosive devices suddenly hurtling through the air from the high-pressurized CO2 cannons. The dark grenades soared in a narrow arc before impacting the side of the approaching line of Godos, one of the huge, tower-like dinosoid androids falling from its tower-like legs, having been blasted apart from the dual-explosive assault. The three barrels rotated and resettled with a solid click, allowing the next loaded barrel to be fired. Khalsin wasted no time in launching the second pair of grenades from the Crab's pincers, the bastion-like armor easily enduring the high-power laser barrage from the dinosoids. Bright orange explosions tore through the line of androids, as Khalsin continued to rapidly hurl a furious barrage of grenades at his opponents. His eyepiece had already locked in on each opponent, mapping out perfect lob trajectories for each shot. The three-barreled grenade launchers rotated swiftly, ice cold liquid CO2 steam rising from their barrels. Each shot was fired the moment it had been set into the barrel, as Khalsin felt the great arms of the crab shake with its attacks. The rapid and explosive attack had leveled a good amount of the godos squadron, spraying metallic parts about as deep, black smoke rose slowly into the sky. Flaming carcasses of the mechanized force lay strewn about, as pilots ejected from their cockpits and ran to the woods. Khalsin's stony gaze shifted slightly to one side, as he could see the sun rising to the east, casting its warm, pink glow through the purpling sky. A white, heavy metal gripper arm hurtled rapidly through the air towards him, hitting off the top of his squat zoid with a heavy clank. Khalsin looked back to his enemies, hearing the loud click of the cocked grenade launchers, ready to fire their rounds. The remaining zoids continued their approach, rapidly casting off heavy laser shells towards him. The tall, white dinosaur-like machines towered over the emperor crab, as the creatures' footsteps came in perfect uniform, the zoids as disciplined and precise as the soldiers which piloted them. Their short yet stable legs moved slowly, each metallic foot impacting the ground with a jarring thud. The large, still arms of the beasts stayed at right angles, bent at the elbows, great metallic limbs bristling with various beam cannons. The leading Godos, piloted by the platoon leader, marked by a red band across the white chest of the great machine, opened fire as the steadied arms of his zoid jerked back abruptly, white beam fire scattering from its cannons and slamming into the thick top armor of the crustacean zoid. All at once, the rest of the platoon opened fire, nearly 9 remaining Godos' letting out a constant salvo of airy thuds as the Emperor crab was showered in laser rounds.  
Khalsin cursed quietly, a lock of his purple hair dangling before his dull grey eyes as he jerked both joysticks to the left, closing his right eye and isolating his vision to his targeting device. Through this one eye he could see a close-up view of the approaching enemies, seeing just through the smoke caused by his previous assault. This smoke had previously impeded his defense, but now the tables had turned. A bright green box locked in on the pack of zoids, as the same jade, iridescent lines glided over them, geometrically fitting the groups as numbers flecked across his vision. Reaching both thumbs to the left of the joysticks, he promptly pressed two blue buttons, as the claws of the pincers closed for a moment, before opening again. The huge tri-grenade launchers that had previously been between the claws were replaced by intimidating, multi-barrelled gatling guns. The emperor crab began to sidestep rapidly as a real crab would while Khalsin shifted the joysticks, keeping his zoid at optimum velocity as it flanked the approaching Godos, using its incredibly strafing abilities to bewilder his enemies. It moved in a circular motion around the group as Khalsin jammed his thumbs down on the two bright red buttons of the joysticks, hearing their familiar, promising click. Massive gatling guns between the claws of both pincers began to spin rapidly, a loud whining could be heard before a fierce roar as the bullets began to fire, the massive chains of ammunition going from the zoid's underbelly to the side of each pincer began to feed into them rapidly, as shells flew at an equal pace from the outside, scattering across the ground as the zoid scuttled. The same six-point-star pattern flashed from between both pincers as yellow fire spewed from the barrels, caused by the immense speed and firing rate of the bullet-round Vulcans. The sudden blaze of huge bullets ripped across the line of Godos, as their thin armor and tall, awkward structures were shredded into shrapnel in seconds, metal flying in all directions as the majority of the zoids fell, their lower portions simply rent from the rest of them. Khalsin gritted his teeth as he swept the devastating fire across the entire group, before releasing the trigger- like mechanisms, the deafening roar of the guns still ringing in his ears. The entire line had fallen, the huge, scarlet form of the crab zoid standing still as the deep purplish-blue visor across its front, seeming like the androids "eye" surveyed the carnage it had caused. The slaughtered corpses of about 16 godos lay strewn about like rag dolls, ripped to shreds and cast uselessly around on the ground. The Emperor crab came to a halt, steam ejecting quickly from the hydraulic pumps beneath its legs. Deep black welts mottled the heavy armor of the zoid due to the massive barrage of cannon fire it had withstood, yet it was still more than intact. Khalsin had nearly escaped now, he prayed that the group would stop here. What was it they wanted so badly here? Was it the zoid? Questions scurried through his head, though one main, overriding purpose seemed to focus his thoughts. Escape with the zoid. His goal, to be a zoid fighter, was still more than part of his actions and decisions. The Emperor crab stalked slowly sideways towards a small, wooded path, moving between clearings in the large and winding woods. This zoid obviously was unique, it had easily outperformed mass-produced zoids as used by his adversaries. Khalsin suspected he had become involved with something he shouldn't have. He had to escape before more zoids were sent in pursuit, he had to fulfill his destiny. The great, ovular form of the red-armored crab zoid continued to move slowly, as Khalsin gazed calmly at the passing trees visible through the dark purple visor. The enormous zoid, constructed entirely out of perfectly crafted and unique metal parts, seemed something of a wonder to Khalsin. It was obviously an expensive custom job, yet it was owned by no one, otherwise it would not have accepted him so easily as its pilot. Khalsin sat and thought while the great crab continued to move in the thickly wooded valley, between the various mountains of the area. The zoid moved with slow, undulating movements as its 8 legs scuttled along the ground, overcoming obstacle after obstacle with perfect unison and organization, supporting the heavy bulk of the tank-like zoid. It's gargantuan claws were drawn inwards near what would be its "mouth", as his controls slowly transformed themselves back into a single console, supported by the foldable beams stretching from the zoids front. Thinking back on the rapid- fire events of the day before, he felt a pang of sorrow for the loss of his Warshark. Though now he clearly had a better zoid than he had, he was not quite so familiar with a land-going fighter. He stopped the huge metallic monstrosity, his eyes drifting over to a small projected map of the nearby area being provided by the zoid itself. A small screen to his right, suspended by a telescopic, warped pole from the ceiling of cockpit, provided an image of the front of the zoid. Khalsin smirked a bit, finding this aspect amusing. Though it did indeed move sideways, this zoid did not neglect the technological advances to accommodate its pilot. Khalsin moved his gaze back to one of the floating screens at his right, eyeing the map, as he saw a small river running through the forest, symbolized by a winding, bluish line. He released the joysticks as the zoid came to a smooth halt. The same hissing came from beneath him as the hydraulic valves released their steam. Khalsin stood from the seat of the cockpit, the console shifting backwards smoothly just as he did so. He walked a few paces towards a hatch at the side of the elliptical room, reaching down and firmly seizing his thick, bamboo fishing pole. Khalsin bounced the large staff smoothly in his hand, smirking softly as he ran his fingers through his hair. He had begun to slowly dry out since the unwanted "swim", as his hair had begun to slowly rise up again. Moving over to a rectangular door at the side of the machine, he gripped a small metal handle and turned it sharply downwards. He raised an eyebrow as the rectangular hatch opened, a small step ladder lowering beneath it. The man quietly descended the steps, glancing about the nearby forest. Khalsin's smoky stare swept around the area as he inhaled the same humid, thick forest smell that had become so familiar to him before. The area was dimly lit by the rising sun, as the sky was a soft pink at the east, a lightening blue at the west. Khalsin rolled his shoulders, feeling sore from the endless combat and stress, heaving a sigh as he watched the river. The river was more of a brook, tiny and shallow, babbling quietly as smooth, glittering water streamed over smooth pebbles. Khalsin watched the tiny pebbles as the water rippled over them, smiling inwardly. The young pilot took a few steps forward, gently dropping his fishing pole to the ground, hearing it quietly fall into the grass. Khalsin moved onto his knees, dipping his palms into the water. He closed his eyes at the cool, liquid feel of the fresh water running by, though it soaked his wet gloves, the feeling was exquisite over the irritation of his hands. They had gone raw from squeezing the immense zoid's controls so tightly. He heard a soft noise a few feet off, his flared, violet eyebrows furrowing. Khalsin set his jaw, just about to rise, before he heard the distinctive click of a pistol's hammer. The cool, smooth contact of metal against his temple sent a shiver down his spine. His body went rigid, every muscle tightening as his eyes flicked open wide, too afraid to move. A figure sat crouched beside him, one arm holding a photon pistol sideways against his head with a firm grip. "Well 'ello there, what have we here...?" 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Woods Encounter  
  
Khalsin's jaw dropped as the cold, hard metal dug into his skin. He could hear the faint hum of the photon bolt ready-to-launch within the pistol's dark barrel. Thoughts swirled through his mind too quickly to be registered, his mind numb despite its inner turmoil. He was afraid to move, afraid to breathe. He couldn't bring himself to speak. Khalsin found he could do nothing but stare silently forwards, a look of horrified shock in his eyes. The voice, feminine yet gruff and acerbically sarcastic sounded again. "What's this here? Some kind of new zoid? Looks like something that could pick up a pretty penny on the black market." She wanted the Emperor crab. His only real possession, his pride, the prize earned by all his hard work. She would take from him that for which he had fought and nearly died for several times. Was this the end of his quest, so soon? He let out a groan of despair, overwhelmed by misery as the aches and pains of his previous battle began to sink in again. All he had gone through. For nothing. He was going to lose it all again. The blurry form to his side moved cautiously forward, still crouched. Shifting his eyes in that direction, Khalsin could barely make out the thin form of a woman's arm arched upwards, still holding the pistol laterally. "So here's how its gonna go, little man," she began, as Khalsin could see the glint of a white-toothed grin in the corner of his eye. "You're going to sit here, nice and tight, while I go grab that zoid. Sound good to you?" Khalsin could say nothing, he trembled slightly, biting his lip as his eyebrows furrowed. His gaze hardened from its shock, regaining its stone- like quality. A wash of fury flooded through him, burning into his very soul. The smoldering bolt of lightning had returned. No. He couldn't let this happen. He would stop her. This was his zoid, his quest, his life. No one would take from him, nothing, not anymore. As the woman stood, Khalsin's pale left hand quietly slid across the ground, creeping through the thin, luscious green grass towards the heavy shaft of his fishing pole. He kept his grey eyes in the woman's direction as she slowly began to back away, her arm still maintaining the pistol's aim towards him. Khalsin stared forward a moment as a bead of warm sweat trickled down the side of his forehead, leaving a long, gradual, tickling trail across his skin. He had to take it slow, deliberate his actions first. His fingers tightened around the bamboo shaft as he tensed, leaning his head to the left by a few degrees to let his eyes better assess the woman's distance from him. As his gray eyes surveyed his chances, he quickly saw an opening. A small, nearly unnoticeable fault in her defenses. The woman, dressed in some kind of purple clothing, suddenly looked up at the great crustacean zoid a few yards behind him.  
Khalsin gritted his teeth, moving upwards with a sweeping motion as he found himself rotating rapidly to one side. His abrupt movement brought a gunshot from the photon pistol which was dispatched with an airy thud and whizzed past him, shrieking through the air. Khalsin felt the scalding heat as it [moved past, before continuing his hasty rotation, the huge fishing pole moving around in a radial circle from his arm. He saw it edge towards her with immense momentum, as time once again seemed to slow in those brief fractions of a second. Now that he fully faced her, Khalsin could see the woman he had so promptly attacked.  
She was perhaps an inch or two taller than he, looking a few years older at least. She wore a small plum-colored t-shirt minus the sleeves, ragged stretches of thread where they had once been. To replace these, he supposed, two black nylon sleeves climbed up her arms just above the elbow, branching from two fingerless black gloves on her petite hands. Her legs were covered only by deep black stockings patched by small rectangular plates of metallic armor, and at her waist a pair of purple shorts. Her face was oddly quite calm, her short hair spiked upwards and combed into a curved crest just above the forehead which drooped messy bangs before her eyes. Through these cluttered ebony strands, Khalsin saw a harmonious and somber look in the outlaw's ice blue eyes, her gaze chilling him to the bone even as his bamboo staff inched towards her skull. In the blink of an eye it had happened. The staff carried suddenly through the air with a loud, airy woosh, the expected recoil and harsh clack of the stunning impact completely absent. The woman's slender form ducked casually beneath the pole, standing again and raising her pistol. Khalsin grunted as the rods incredible inertia carried him onwards, stumbling awkwardly before struggling to regain balance. As he did so, he could hear the woman laughing as she once again raised the pistol. "Lets not make any trouble we don't need, buddy," she mumbled, raising one deep black, elegantly curved eyebrow. "It's not good to get yourself into this kind of-"  
She was interrupted as Khalsin's gloved fist rushed at her suddenly, the woman leaning back to let his abrupt punch rush past her. Khalsin grunted as he launched another fierce blow towards her stomach, his fist burning for contact. In moments he found his rage denied again as the bandit knocked aside his thrust with a casual swipe of the hand. She looked as though she was simply swatting a fly. He grunted as he once again found himself using his own lack of balance to launch forward another attack. The woman jerked her head to one side as his tennis-shoed foot rocketed past, once again missing the target. Khalsin lurched in pain as the woman caught him by the leg, reversing his powerful kick in a mere instant. Her strong hands gripped one pale calf just below the elastic cuff of his pants, leaving him to struggle helplessly for a few agonizing seconds. Khalsin cried out again as he was flipped over backwards from a solid thrust of her arms in the upward direction. He could see the world swirl around him suddenly before a sharp, crushing pain burst through his back. Khalsin lay helplessly, facing the sky as the bright forest seemed to rotate constantly. His vision was blurred and unclear as he squinted quietly upwards at the blue sky and sunlight, the sudden flip having wrenched his stomach to a churning nausea. He blinked in bewilderment, squinting his eyes to regain focus. As soon as his vision had finally cleared, he stared up into the miserly grin of the bandit, the woman towering over him as she stood, letting out a lilting chuckle. "Hey kid, I like you, you certainly got a bit of spunk in ya." She drawled through her chuckles, the words carrying a sharp, disciplined annunciation that she seemed to try and hide with more lowbrow language. Khalsin could only stare up at her almost unconciously, groaning in the shock of pain that had run through his ribcage upon landing. His collision with the ground had been a harsh one, as if a wakeup call from his berserk rage. Now that he thought about it, it was clear that he had little chance of defeating the woman, she was far too fast for him. Squinting to focus his gaze, Khalsin looked back to his conqueror, taking in her features once again. The overhanging black bangs, plummeting stiffly from the wavelike bulge of her hair near the front of her head made her frosted stare seem even more intimidating, as if caged by the shadowy strands. He could see that gaze now, staring nonchalantly down at him, the same soft smirk still on the woman's smooth features. Her gaze softened slightly as her thin black brows drew downwards, the woman taking in the various wounds about his body. A concerned frown darkened her previously optimistic expression. "What the hell happened to you, anyway? That's definitely a photon burn on your arm.. as for the rest, I really cant say." She muttered, still scrutinizing his injuries. Khalsin groaned again, his dull eyes moving up to hers a moment as he looked up at the curious woman. He had just attacked her, she planned to rob him, yet she insisted on casual conversation? He went along with this anyhow, heaving a soft, labored sigh as he did so. "I... some soldiers were chasing me. They were armed, and there were too many too fight off. They opened fire at me when I started to run, but it wasn't exactly a simple escape." The woman's amused grin only widened at this as she crossed her arms over her chest, moving the gun's barrel in a swift circle as if to urge him on. "It's against the law for them to fire at people like that, you know." She muttered, her sarcastic tone ringing almost painfully in his ears. Khalsin closed his eyes at the statement before unleashing a furious glare on the woman. "Theft is illegal, too." The woman let out a soft, husky chuckle, before running her fingers back through her hair, the stiff strands shifting to one side from the sudden contact, before springing back into their original position; a show of incredibly resilience. "Hm, you've got guts, kid. I gotta hand it to you, you've definitely got some balls saying that to me." The icy gaze stayed on him, but it seemed to warm a little, as if softening to his stubborn defiance. Her gaze stayed on him as she continued, tilting her head playfully to one side. "So why were they chasing you, anyhow? You took somethin' of theirs?" Khalsin shook his head a little, sighing and submitting to the agonizingly casual dialogue. He rubbed a hand over his brow to ease the painful headache caused by his unexpected flight. "..No, they didn't want me near their establishment, I guess. They had something going on in the woods.. and when I went to look, they came after me." "In the woods?" she mused, the woman licking her scarlet lips a moment as if in thought. "Huh. Sounds like the backdraft to me. No one else would do anything that fishy, no other group has the guts to start something here... What were they doing?" Khalsin squinted up at her as she pressed on, scratching at an irritating itch on the side of his face. He supposed this may have simply been due to his nervousness, the sheer awkward feel of the conversation just after he had tried to hurt her, but he could do nothing about it. "They were digging, I think. When they saw me watching they tried to kill me, but I escaped." The woman shook her head with a sigh, quickly twirling the pistol over one finger and planting it firmly in the holster at her belt. "Damn, kid, are you in trouble. You've got the backdraft on your ass. Not a fun thing, let me tell you." Her blue eyes seemed to fill with concern, the woman kneeling down beside him as she set her hand on his arm a little, her intense gaze averting to his wound. "Jesus. They got you pretty good." She paused again to think, running her lower lip through her teeth before giving a short nod. Khalsin winced as her fingers gingerly touched the burn, his pale hand tightening into a fist. He felt the burning, electric fury within him slowly fading, being snuffed by the woman's odd, gruff kindness. He could feel his dislike for her dissipating by the second. "...the backdraft? Who are they?" She shook her head quietly, moving her incisive azure stare back to his own, giving a heavy scowl. "Only the nastiest bunch of bastards Zi has ever known," Khalsin narrowed his eyes, a confused look in his eyes as he watched her, his youthful grey gaze seeming to desperately pry for more. "but what..." The woman looked off to the side, wrenching her jaw before she looked back to him. "The Backdraft group wants to have complete domination of Zi and all zoid battles. They incredibly rich, they have connections all over the place. They're everywhere. They've got elite zoids, the best pilots, and no remorse..." she trailed off, a look of horror in her eyes. "I could tell who they were when you said they were digging. They've been doing it everywhere." Khalsin was almost shocked to see her like this, suddenly opening herself up to him, showing her fear all of a sudden. He opened his mouth, about to speak, before he swallowed nervously. He eventually succeeded in his struggle to meet her gaze, his eyebrows shifting downwards. "...The Backdraft is after you too, isn't it." She cleared her throat loudly, standing up as she straightened the black sleeves running up her arms, trying to seem distracted. She set her jaw a bit, trying to hide her fright. "...Yeah. You could say that." Khalsin squirmed a little on the ground, raising one leg as his knee bent upwards into the air. He could feel his senses slowly returning after the swift defeat. "What did you do?" he pried, his interest in the bandit being more aroused by the second. She glanced off behind herself into the forest, though Khalsin could not make out what it was she saw. The woman's confident smirk returned as she chuckled confidently. "I... borrowed some things." Khalsin quirked a brow at the response, finding himself grinning as well, before stifling a tentative laugh. He was about to speak, before the woman promptly took over again, reaching down with one arm as her hand opened. She held her hand confidently down towards him, her petite fingers extended in offering. "Come on, lets get you on your feet." Khalsin reached upwards, feeling his gloved hand abruptly enveloped in her strong, warm grip. With a powerful tug he was jerked onto his feet, groaning in bewilderment at the sudden movement, the forest rushing by. Khalsin scoffed to himself at her relative roughness, brushing himself off with a few brisk, sweeping motions of his hands. The woman's intentions were still quite unclear to him, but at this point he was but a prisoner. It was obvious he could not match her in combat, therefore escape from this situation was a trivial pursuit. The rapid flow of thoughts rumbling through his mind were abruptly cut off by her voice, that which seemed to soften even as it progressed. "So we're in the same boat, huh. Against the Backdraft and all." She chuckled at the irony and crossed her arms over her chest. "Its not pretty, having those guys after you, they'll stop at nothing to stop somebody from being a thorn in their side. I've been fighting off the bounty hunters for months." She shook her head again, jerking her head towards the slightly shorter, slender form of the boy before her. "Now that you're on the bounty list, what do you plan to do, kid?" Khalsin smiled inwardly, his grey eyes shifting over to his great zoid, taking in its enormous, red-armored bulk. The leviathan crab sat supported firmly on its eight arched legs, heavy plates of scarlet armor placed between their joints. He continued to study the gargantuan machine as he spoke, his eyes roaming across the mottling of the tree's shadows across its enormous shell. "I plan to be a zoid pilot, I want to enter the worldwide tournament.." This prompted a soft chuckle from the woman, before she scratched her chin a little, sticking out her lower lip and nodding at the prospect. "There's a lot of money in that, I bet, if you can get a good team and actually win a few battles." Khalsin quirked a brow at the odd tone in her voice, his stone eyes lingering on the woman's tanned features a moment as an intriguing thought came to mind. Khalsin split a knowing grin, tilting his head to the side as his short, upright hair shifted in the soft breeze of the forest pass. "You know, we could make a team, couldn't we? I mean, you have a zoid, right?" The woman gave a short and apprehensive nod, her lips parting to speak, though she never had the chance. A loud, high-pitched screech filled the air, the insectoid, eerie cry of an oncoming predator. A demantis burst through the dense foliage of the surrounding forest, sending leaves and branches everywhere. The small zoid moved into the clearing, firing heated laser blasts out from the double cannons fastened to its pincers. The four sharply curved legs worked vigorously as it came at them, bluish lasers tearing through the calm air and impacting the ground around the couple with a steady tempo of deep thuds, the grass being torn to shreds as earth flew in all directions. Khalsin covered his eyes with his forearm as the bandit pushed him by the shoulder towards the Emperor crab. "Run! Go!" came her powerful voice, cutting through the heavy boom of the impacting laser fire and the crashing roar of the many more Demantis working their way through the forest. Khalsin complied without resistance, considering the circumstances, finding himself delighted to carry out a swift and frantic sprint towards his zoid. The bandit drew her pistol quickly, loosing her own—though comparatively miniscule—barrage back at her opponents. The yellow bolts of photon energy rang out with heavy, airy thuds as they were dispatched, shrieking through the air towards the advancing and rapidly growing line of Demantis. The zoids, untouched, continued to advance, their increase in numbers causing a constant augmentation to the sheer amplitude of their bombardment. Khalsin swiftly scaled the many thin and spindly steps of the ladder leading to the cockpit, finding that the heavy laser fire followed him the entire way. He dove into the cockpit of the Emperor crab, hastily slamming the armored door shut and locking it, hearing the groan of metal and the sudden, satisfying clack of the door latch. Moments later and without a single conscious thought, he found himself back in the cockpit seat. Khalsin felt the chaotic power of his rage running through him, making his fingers tremble as they reached to grasp the advancing control console. The fiery bolt of lightning within him had been abruptly rekindled, shocking his entire body with a feeling of furious energy. He could hear the muffled, deep thuds of the many laser rounds impacting the hull of the great zoid, gritting his teeth in anger as the console swiftly locked in place infront of his chair. Looking out the crescent windshield, Khalsin glared into the purple-tinted forest, jerking the joysticks to one side with a smooth motion as he wheeled the crab around to face its opponents. Just as he did so he clamped down one index finger on the trigger button, the console splitting in half with a fluid movement and moving up infront of his chest, both halves turning sideways as the two robotic arms attached to them, the console's supporting frame retracting to the wall. The sightfinder locked infront of his eye just as the turn had completed, the same cages of green light locking in around the fleet of nearly 30 demantis pummeling him with their merciless fire. Laser rounds caught off the deep violet windshield with loud, echoing and high-pitched chirps as he flicked his wrists sharply, the tremendous ruby claws opening to reveal their terrifying bullet-driven vulcans. Within the blink of an eye the Vulcans had commenced their horrifying attack, causing great stars of white flame to burst from their many barrels, the claws and thick arms of the zoid trembling with the enormous kickback of the massive firearms. Khalsin could feel the entire zoid quaking, only its massive, flat bulk and powerful gripper legs keeping it on the ground. The thick chains flew endlessly into the crab's claws as empty shells flew from slots on the opposite sides, the flaming tracer rounds soaring through the air and raining an unforgiving rush of titanium rounds. The line of insectoids suddenly burst into flame as explosions tore through the comparatively feeble defenses of his opponents, hunks of armor and zoid parts flew in all directions, though the opponents continued their unrelenting assault. Khalsin gritted his teeth, holding down the trigger buttons as he slowly moved his arms in a lateral motion, sweeping his blazing punishment across the line of enemy zoids. The smaller security machines were torn to shreds by the fury of the huge guns, but they just kept coming. Khalsin's gray eyes widened as he moved the crab into a slow, sideways strafe, moving into a gradual retreat as his unrelenting fire did its best to keep the massive lines of the zoids at bay. He fired without remorse, simply destroying all that followed, his white-knuckled fists locked in a deathgrip around the black joysticks. The fisherman continued to guide the leviathan claws of his zoid as they loosed the furious fire out across the advancing line of mantid war machines. Khalsin felt himself beginning to sweat with fear, sizzling beads forming across his forehead. His fists grew hot with the shuddering ferocity of the massive miniguns, giving the oncoming legion all he had. Khalsin kept the crab in its awkward, semicircular retreat, all the while gunning down as many as he could. The rapidly skittering mantids continued to advance, holding the charge forward even as they were decimated by the hundreds. The much larger crab was being slowly overwhelmed as the terrifying swarms of green and black instectoids closed the distance, almost completely surrounding him. Khalsin looked out over the great army, seeing nothing but a sea of bulbous, luminescent crimson eyes, swaying back and fourth as the hundreds of zoids advanced. He craned his neck to look at the observation screens around him, the hovering surfaces showed the same on all sides. He was completely surrounded by a shrinking ring of solid Demantis. Khalsin panted heavily, grunting as he continued to fend them off, their overwhelming numbers coming faster than he could take them, the rapid miniguns still flaring their bright white stars as he felt the huge, solid legs of the crab dig into the ground to better stabilize it. He was running out of time. The endless lines of haunting, luminescent blood red eyes continued their advance, climbing over the scores of slaughtered wreckages that had once been their allies. Khalsin gritted his teeth in horror, moving his left hand out to one side, still tightly gripping the joystick. The crab's left claw shifted over as well, its quaking arm continuing to launch its vicious fire over at another advancing squadron of Demantis. The lines closed in rapidly, nothing could be done. Khalsin moved his arms rapidly, cutting off the advance of any Demantis that came too close, gunning them down as fast as he could. He had one hope, one chance of survival. He had to punch through. He had to make an escape. They were coming too fast.  
With a cry of exertion, Khalsin jammed his wrists downward, the joysticks twisting abruptly before jerking with an elastic movement back to their original position. The rapid Vulcan fire abruptly stopped as the claws closed, turning laterally with a loud, metallic clank. Seconds later the claws moved back to their vertical arrangement, opening to reveal the huge tri-barreled grenade launchers. Khalsin's violet brows furrowed in his fury as he suddenly jammed his fingers on the triggers of the controls, suddenly letting out a slower barrage of hurtling lob grenades. Ice cold, bluish steam rose from the three cannons as they constantly rotated with each shot, the liquid CO2 within them hurling the explosives outwards with incredible velocity. Huge, bright orange explosions all occurred in rapid succession as Khalsin attempted to bore a hole in the ever-closing halo of impeding doom. The grenades continued to fly quickly from the barrels, each launch shaking the massive arms of the Emperor crab, each shot deepening the great indentation in the enemy ranks. He worked frantically to forge his sole escape, his chance to survive, like a cornered beast digging its way from a trap.  
Khalsin closed his right eye to look through the heavy, thick smoke which rose high into the air from his sudden attack. He gently leaned the joysticks in its direction, while the crab yanked its legs free from the ground in one great jerk, quickly scuttling towards the gap it had opened. Khalsin's grey eye widened as it peered through the viewfinder, his jaw dropping. Now that he could see through the billowing abyss of churning smoke, he could see a towering, great form slowly approaching. The zoid looked like a much larger version of the Godos, its heavy legs slowly moving in alternating movements as its great jaw opened, the machine letting out a terrifying, mechanized roar. Khalsin felt a sinking horror settle in his stomach, a roiling terror that penetrated him to the very bone. Not only was his escape route abstructed, but it was barred by the intimidating form of a Gojulas.  
The incredible machine stood upright on two thick, powerful legs, it's deep black, glossy armor glimmering in the dim light of past explosions. Its head was huge and rectangular, enormous teeth jutting from its jaws. He creature's broad shoulders held folded buster cannons, intimidating and massive weapons capable of destroying zoids in a single strike. The belly of the enormous saurian android housed a huge box filled with dead-on explosive rockets, each in their own individual minisilo. The sight of the robotic gargantua sent a rush of terror through his already frantic thoughts. He wrenched his jaw furiously, continuing to fire off grenade rounds into the circle of Demantis, fear itself spreading through his mind like a plague. Who was he dealing with? How great was this backdraft? A zoid as prestigious as a Gojulas would cost more than he could ever imagine. Khalsin spun the joysticks around suddenly, the crab responding in an instant as he shot off several grenades towards the huge machine. The grenades exploded harmlessly on the heavy, dark plates of armor covering the dinosoid's exterior. The zoid itself was terrifyingly huge, at least twice as tall as a Godos but with the same general build. It was thickly constructed, its arms powerful and better built than that of its predecessor. The huge explosions from his grenades failed to even slow the machine, as it let out another thundering bellow from deep within its cavernous and mechanized interior. The frightening tyrannosaur continued to close the distance, a dark and luminous form, moving through the smoke as if it was simply part of it. The darkness of the zoid itself sent a shiver down his spine, one that only fueled the leaping flames of desperate helplessness. Two enormous, black cannons began to slowly move downwards on the zoid's shoulders, descending to take aim in his direction. He could hear them loudly clank into place while double-barreled photon guns attached to the muscular arms of the mechanical monster opened fire with loud, blasting thumps which shook the air. The heavy fire bombarded the smaller crab with vigorous, quaking impacts, causing the entire zoid to shake with the incredible blows.  
Casting one horrified glance up at the gargantuan zoid towering over his own, Khalsin gasped in shock and fright as he heard a deep, rumbling whine from the other zoid, its two enormous cannons locked on the trapped Emperor crab, a bright, orange light slowly intensifying deep inside the barrels of the humongous guns. Khalsin frantically shot in all directions, casting explosive lob grenades everywhere he could, blowing back the unstoppable and constant progress of the approaching mantids. Time was running out, it was over. Trapped, trapped like a rat. He had nowhere to go, nowhere to run, all options had been decimated, leaving only the chilling realization that there was no hope. Khalsin jerked one wrist downwards as he bit his lip, his eyes narrowed as he continued to frantically fight to survive. One claw closed as its partner continued its rapid explosive assault. The claw opened again as "Custom Vulcan" flitted briefly in bright green across the viewfinder. Khalsin opened up with a tremendous attack towards the oncoming demantis, the huge Vulcan holding them back to the brink of its power while he pummeled the titanic Gojulas with a barrage of spinning grenades. The enormous zoid was bombarded with a rain of heavy explosive capsules, constant, flaming detonations ripping across its seemingly impenetrable carapace. He fought frantically to hold back his attackers, struggling through sheer determination to stop his approaching doom; to halt the charging of the Gojulas' buster cannons. He felt himself reaching the very brink of his resolve, but continually pushed himself onward, letting his furious rage fuel his strength. Without warning, the earth seemed to shake beneath him, a tremendous shock carrying through the entire bulk of his zoid. A loud, explosive crack could be heard, the sound of an immense cannon firing that caused an earth-shaking crunch that split even the very air he breathed. Khalsin tried to gasp in surprise, but found he could not draw breath. The night lit up in one blinding moment, white light flying in all directions as an incredible explosion seemed to rip through his very soul.  
Khalsin sat in shock and terror, staring only at white light. He couldn't tell if his eyes were closed or open, as all he could see was a constant, unwavering and unsullied abyss. Was he dead? What had happened? The deep sinking feeling within him only intensified as terror crept to his throat, he let out a choked whimper of horror.  
Just as suddenly as it occurred, the tremendous explosion disappeared, the white being replaced by the same rush of colors that had preceded it. The bright red of the many Demantis' glowing orbs, the white blaze of the Emperor crab's Vulcan, the bluish steam rising from the grenade launcher. In seconds his senses returned, one by one. He could hear the rapid, deafening roar of the very end of the explosion, immense fragments of twirling shrapnel flying in all directions, enormous hunks of hardened titanium being blasted into the bright blue, midday sky. Khalsin's jaw dropped in shock as he saw the colossal zoid split in half, the Gojulas' lower body standing as flame and sparks spewed from a ragged edge where once its entire torso had stood. The decimated pair of legs plummeted to the ground with a heavy thud, shaking the ground around him as the space behind them came into view, a wide, open space once occupied by the Gojulas' leviathan frame.  
Khalsin jumped in surprise at the figure of a small, lightweight and agile zoid standing behind the wreckage. The zoid itself was a thin, faded gray in color, sharply contrasting the bright orange and yellow stripes painted along its armored frame. It had powerful, lightweight legs, a slender body and long, segmented, thick tail. The raptor dinosoid looked light on its feet, huge claws attached to hydraulic cylinders on its triangular feet. The tip of a humongous, back-mounted chrome cannon was painted with fiery patterns of vermillion, the huge rectangular weapon steaming gently in the noontime breeze. It was thick at the base, before becoming thicker near the center, and vertically wider for a five-foot segment at its tip. The weapon itself looked awkward and misplaced even on a gun sniper; though he recognized it, he could not remember where he had seen the device before. The dinosoid charged forward with astounding speed and leapt into the air, its long, segmented tail holding its balance as it flew. The velociraptor- like machine landed beside the emperor crab, one smaller Vulcan at its left side swiveling rapidly in a sweeping motion, releasing a humming volley of soaring photon fire, the glowing yellow bolts carving a thick indentation into the crippled ranks of the demantis. A huge fraction of the zoids had been decimated when the Gojulas had fallen, but some still remained. The agile gunsniper beside him continued to pummel them with the rapid fire of its smaller photon Vulcan. The weapons themselves, the small minigun and immense, rectangular cannon were ones he had never seen mounted on a gunsniper, and seemed blatantly misplaced. Misplaced, yes, but still more than effective. The grey zoid, highlighted by sharp stripes of orange and yellow had a deep blue, long cockpit window where the face of the zoid should have been, just infront of a pair of dual crests coming from its saurian skull. The gatling gun moved with much more precision than his own, though it had considerably less power. It moved with swift strokes, casting each salvo with a chorus of airy thuds, so rapid they become one long, drawn out and indescribable sound. Khalsin sat quietly in awe, his own zoid doing the same, its guns finally idle while its pilot stood in shock. With a gentle click a vidscreen popped up before him, the gruff smirk of his companion filling his gaze. The ice blue, chilling stare locked on him as the woman raised an eyebrow, her head tilted to one side. The overhanging ebony bangs still barred one half of her face, hanging over nearly down to her chin. She let out an arrogant chuckle, jerking her chin towards him. "Hey, 're you awake? Lets finish this job and get the hell outta here!" Khalsin blushed a deep red at his own stupidity, quickly snapping out of his trans of shock. He shook his head a moment, jerking his arms towards the oncoming line of Demantis. He reached up with his thumb to the back of the joysticks, pressing a small, elongated ovular button with each finger. With a loud hum, two 18-shot rocket boxes rose upwards from the shell of the zoid, square sections of its thick armor raising to reveal the weapons. The tips of the eighteen rockets could be seen painted bright yellow, set in three near rows of six. Khalsin moved his gaze across the advancing yet tattered line of insectoid killing machines as the same boxes of green light locked in around them. This time they blinked red several times before turning a solid red tone, small red dots appearing in two places on the group. Khalsin shifted his thumbs again and pressed the blue buttons, as a sharp, shrieking hiss filled the air. Two small rockets suddenly launched from their cylindrical pods atop the emperor crab, shooting swiftly through the air and leaving a pair of thin, cloudy white trails behind them. The two struck at the exact points that the red dots were projected upon, while huge blue explosions suddenly tore into their lines. Khalsin pressed the button several more times as more and more rockets followed the first, the small cylindrical explosives moving with great speed in their linear paths, closing in on their designated targets. The demantis were forced to halt as a great amount of them were shattered by the sheer force of the attack, the shrapnel from their violent deaths causing the imminent demise of adjacent comrades. The swift, saurian zoid beside him dashed across their diminishing lines, sprinting with great agility on its powerful legs, moving with fluid, graceful speed as it ran. The minigun atop it pivoted to the side, sweeping its 70mm Vulcan fire across their ranks. Flames erupted as the woman's heavily customized gun sniper seemed to dance among them, moving with incredible fluidity as it gunned them down one by one, a flurry of grey and orange. The many android-driven demantis looked stationary in comparison to the incredible maneuverability of her gun sniper, the agile raptor dodging attacks and countering with skilled, conservatives strokes of its vicious 70mm photon Vulcan. The cannon itself was constantly moving, shooting down any survivors of Khalsin's heavy assault. The demantis were of equal size to the gun sniper, though it's pilot and weapons razed them without a hint of remorse nor restraint. A squad of the insectoid atrocities lunged for the sniper, opening fire with their many double-barreled laser blasters. The sniper itself dodged swiftly as it sprinted among them, firing one shocking blast from the great, silver cannon on its back, the rectangular weapon letting out a solid crack as it launched a smoldering ball of heated photon energy. The enormous projectile streaked across the distance between them in a fraction of a second, leveling a demantis by simply slicing it in two, before exploding its comrade behind it. The Vulcan cannon swept across the remaining foes, cutting them down with a merciless volley glowing yellow light.  
Khalsin wheeled his zoid around suddenly, slamming his right fist downwards as the great crab turned on its curved legs. The right pincer plummeted downwards in the exact same movement, its enormous bulk smashing down onto a straggling demantis, crushing the android as sparks and bright green parts flew in all directions. Khalsin panted softly after the harsh battle, hearing in the distance the rapid, low rushing noise of the vulcan's photon fire. He glanced upwards with his grey eyes, finding himself combing the area in shock o the battle that had just taken place. Around him was a massive battlefield, a warzone, a steaming, charred wasteland where a battle to end all battles had been fought. He panted quietly, a tickling drip of sweat running down his nose, dripping from the very tip onto his lips, where it left a salty taste in his mouth. Khalsin quietly released the joysticks as he surveyed the sheer magnitude of the carnage he had caused. The slaughtered wreckages of thousands of Backdraft remote-pilot Demantis units lay sprawled across the earth, shredded and mottled with bullet holes. Millions of brass bullet shells lay scattered everywhere, enormous piles of the humongous cartridges mottling the landscape. Though low-tech, this form of ammunition had proved to be more than adequate as far as providing self-defense. Khalsin looked up as a loud crunch interrupted his thoughts, watching the final Demantis suddenly collapse as the slightly larger Gun sniper leapt atop it, crushing it to the ground. The zoid seemed to writhe in agony, its legs and claws flailing about as sparks sprayed from them. Khalsin watched the huge chrome cannon move down, firing a single, huge bolt of smoldering yellow energy down into the smaller zoid. The insectoid burst apart with only one shot, fragments of its frail carapace flying everywhere in a shower of metallic shrapnel. Khalsin moved the joysticks downwards, straightening them to a vertical position as they automatically came together before him. The two long, metallic arms slowly retracted behind his seat when the thin support bars extended from the front of the Emperor Crab. He tilted the joysticks to the right as the crab began to walk slowly in that direction, its huge claws closing and retracting inwards. The viewfinder screen over his eye flickered and dissipated, the robotic arm holding it there retracting upwards into the ceiling. The enormous legs of the zoid moved with fluids unison, carrying it in a scuttling movement across the steaming, black- charred ground. The place was riddled with the slaughtered corpses of nearly a thousand demantis, the site of an epic battle, to say the least. Khalsin shook his head at the immense destruction which had once been the peaceful forest outside Romeo city. Looking up, he could heard the familiar click of the vidscreen activating above him. The bandit's cold, merciless eyes bore into his retinas as he bit his lip, feeling pierced by her incisive gaze. The woman's grin softened her features, the same, unphased look she seemed to have carried with her since he first met her. She seemed, if anything, untouchable. The woman brushed her fingers across the stubborn, evenly curved locks of ebony hair dangling before the right side of her face, jerking her chin towards him again in appraisal. "Hey, you alright, kid?" Khalsin nodded quietly, finding himself unable to remove his hands from the joysticks. A burning ache sunk in through his knuckles, throbbing up into his wrists as well. He cleared his throat just after his unconscious and seemingly automatic nod, deciding it was better to speak. "Yeah, I'm alright. Just... just shocked, that's all.." The woman let out a hearty chuckle, her shoulders quaking slightly while she laid her fingers on her forehead, spreading one arm outwards in an all- including gesture. "Welcome to the world of the outlaw, kid. It's not fun having the Backdraft on your tail, let me tell you. These guys ain't gonna give up any time soon. Listen, kid, you did well out there, that's a hell of a zoid you got there. I couldn't bring myself to take it from you, especially with those sons of bitches after you." Khalsin smiled broadly, his erect, violet hair moving along with him as he nodded his head towards her. Before his eyebrows moved downwards slightly, the young man squinting one eye shut as he glanced up at the face in the viscreen."..Hey, I never got your name.." The woman's grin faded slightly, her head tilting to one side as she seemed to look down at her hands, or something else unseen on the vidscreen. "My name is Tolei. Tolei Valentine...how 'bout you?" The fisherman's brow furrowed at the last name. It seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He stroked his chin with one finger, before casting his smoky gaze back up to meet hers. "Khalsin Tarok, ex- fisherman and now... outlaw, I guess." He paused with a chuckle before running the last name through his head again. Valentine. Why was it so familiar? "Is there anyone I would know who also has your last name..?" The woman's grin faded slightly as she seemed to grit her teeth, pretending to be distracted by something out her cockpit window. "..No." she looked off to the side a moment, but Khalsin could still see an inner pain in her stare, something nearly undetectable but still so present. She cleared her throat uncomfortably before quickly brightening and looking up into the vidscreen again, her eyes still filled with some deep, inner turmoil. "Hey, what about that zoid team you were talking about?"  
"Well," he started, deciding not to press any further on a subject that seemed so sensitive. Though it was difficult to get his mind off of her mysterious last name, it was necessary to simply stay on even, comfortable ground for now. "Yeah, I wanted to start a zoids battle team, you know, for the profits and such..."  
Tolei seemed to nod sagely, the older woman seeming greatly interested in the idea. She rubbed one fist with the opposite hand, giving a soft nod to no one in particular. "I like that idea, Khalsin... you seem like a good fighter and I don't think I'm half bad myself... What do you say you and I make this team? It'd be great to join up, I've always loved fraggin' people, and if I get paid for it, well, that's a lot quicker than stealing from them."  
Khalsin smiled thankfully that she had asked for herself, as he had been convinced at this rate he would have to invite her. Accepting this was the much easier part. "Of course," he began, scratching his chin again while looking out over the massive battlefield again. "You did an incredible job back there, I still feel in debt to you for saving my life. You're an incredible pilot." That was an understatement. She was unbelievable. The woman had done in seconds what he found he simply was incapable of doing.  
She tilted her head to the side as she listened to his words, her unshakable grin still dominating her gorgeous features. "You didn't expect me to just leave you there, did you? A bandit's friends are in short supply, buddy. Not something to waste... and besides, I'd love to become a zoid warrior, you know, get some class, maybe work off a few bounty prices."  
Khalsin gave an indifferent shrug, though on the inside he was positively ecstatic. What had began to appear as the end of his adventure had only become a great new step, the formation of his zoid team. The partner that would help to guide his destiny had been presented. An unlikely—yet still incredibly skilled—pilot with which he knew he would fulfill his destiny.  
Khalsin looked into the eyes of his new partner, his triumphant grin breaking through his every restraint. "Great, then...we should be off searching."  
"Searching?" the bandit asked, her features screwing up slightly. "..For what?"  
"Opponents," Khalsin began, rubbing his black gloved hands together, his eyes seeming to brighten with his eager nature. "As a team, we should start fighting, yeah?"  
The woman chuckled, quirking a brow as she leaned back in the seat of her cockpit, the grey and orange gun sniper coming to a halt beside the emperor crab. "Hardly, kid... we've got to register with the federation, first."  
Khalsin's eyes widened as he let out a soft groan, slapping his hand on his forehead. In his immense excitement he had made a complete fool of himself, and the woman knew it. Listening to her entertained chuckle, Khalsin found himself laughing as well, his shoulders quaking a bit as he snickered at his own stupidity. He spoke softly through his own laughter, running his fingers through his hair again. "Register, right.. where do we do this?"  
"I've been meaning to register for a long time, actually. It seems like a much more... profitable business path." She smiled a little, crossing her arms over her chest as she glanced upwards, squinting one eye as she thought. "We'll definitely need a team name," she began, the woman moving the gunsniper's controls forward as it began to walk across the charred battlefield, approaching a wide dirt road in the woods. "And our names, of course, as well as some more data about our zoids... you know, whether their weapons are legal." She waved a hand dismissively as she spoke, the agile gunsniper taking off at a slight trot.  
Khalsin moved the controls in that direction while the enormous crab zoid quickly turned in a circular motion, moving laterally after the raptor. The great, powerful arched legs moved in staggered unison, keeping the crab at a fluid pace. Khalsin's eyes flitted between the screen showing the land before him and the vidscreen. "Speaking of legal.. what was that beam you fired? The force was... breathtaking, to say the least."  
The woman chuckled haughtily, her toothy grin appearing again as she shook her head a little. "Perfectly legal, kid. I got it off of some rich guy's Iron Kong, it was an MkII model I believe... and actually, it wasn't as powerful as it looked." Khalsin cocked his head in confusion, his mouth open a little bit as he watched her. "It was really my aim that did it," she carried on, idly brushing at the strands of hair before her face. "With two fully charged buster cannons, that big thing had quite a bit of power in it already. When I took a shot at the cannon, the whole thing went up." She let out another gleeful chuckle while Khalsin simply stared in awe. Genius. Pure genius. "So really it was that guy's fancy guns that scrapped him... blew his armored ass straight to hell!" This prompted a hearty guffaw from the woman who seemed to roar with laughter, pounding at her controls as if begging for mercy. After a few minutes of this she looked up again, the two zoids slowly moving down the wide path, kicking up dust behind them as they moved. "Mm, anyway," she drawled, wiping a tear from her eye. "What were you thinking we should name our team?"  
Khalsin stroked his chin a little bit, tapping his fingers at the armrests of his cockpit seat. "Hm...maybe the blaze team? The gunner team?"  
The woman cringed a little, shaking her head before looking off to the side in thought. She wrenched her jaw a little. "Nah... those are kinda... they seem overused to me, man." Khalsin could only shrug in compliance, seeing the logic in her statement.  
They continued to quietly bicker at one another as they traveled, the two warriors heading off down the thin forest trail, moving off towards their new future as a zoids team. Khalsin himself found that he paid little attention to their argument, simply gazing into the distance. He cared much more about what was to come than what they were to call themselves. The title, he mused, seemed trivial compared to their skills in battle. Now, he would begin his journey. 


	7. Chapter 7

oChapter 7

"Fight!" came the monotone rasp of the white android, its two spindly white arms clapping together suddenly while it's divine ivory carapace sparkled in the bright sun. The capsule itself was a small yet pristine imperfection in the vast, red desert marking the two-on-two battle of the Flueggel team vs. the Seraph team. Time seemed to freeze still as the action began, the four combatants each its own aura of frantic motion. The sun, slung high in the dry, light blue sky, had long since banished all clouds and rained its merciless rays unopposed down upon the dark rocks and vermillion dunes below.

Leon Toros charged forward in his scarlet blade liger, the heavyset feline zoid moving with swift, deadly speed as enormous yellow blades unfolded from its sides, snapping firmly into place with a stiff, metallic clank. The enormous electro-particle sabers stuck out at sharp right angles, stiffly sticking outwards. The broad, square head of the android reared as it loosed its fearsome warcry, a metallic, echoing call that seemed to rumble through him as he gazed through the orange cockpit window. The intimidating, scimitar-like blades of glowing yellow laser energy flared powerfully, leaving long, ribbon-like trails of golden light behind them, bouncing up and down to follow the creature's galloping path. Jet engines unfolded from its deep red armor, perched conveniently along the armored zoid's hind quarters. The engines ignited suddenly and greatly intensified the zoid's horrifying roar, adding a fiery, smoldering rush to the robotic howl of the machine. Blue flame rushed from the jets as the great zoid hurled itself swiftly across the desert, easily scaling the distance towards its foes. The man gritted his teeth as he bounded suddenly across the area, closing in on the two targets at hand.

Leon gripped the small, dual joysticks before him as he eyed the enemy zoids, a large, white stormsworder and a small, lightweight stealth viper painted a dull, sandy brown. He brushed a bit of his flat-top brown hair from his eyes before quickly returning his sweaty palm to the joystick. This battle had already become more than an intensity, even before the first contact of blade to blade. As he approached, the long, snakelike zoid reared its hooded head and promptly slammed itself downwards. The entire length of the smaller android suddenly disappeared in a rush of sand as it burrowed beneath the earth, easily escaping his attack. As the interesting zoid disappeared, Leon noticed a the soft gleam of laser blades attached to the head of the snake, something he had never seen before.

Leon shook his head to rid himself of this brief bafflement, moving his eyes swiftly back to his other adversary. The storm sworder's enormous jets had spewed out a torrential blast of yellow light, easily lifting the sleek, sharply-pointed flying zoid into the air. It soared swiftly in a long, banked turn, while the red liger moved at an equal pace beneath it. Leon set his jaw, his deep brown eyes in focus on the desert beneath him. He moved the huge liger in a smooth turn as it's powerful legs moved fluidly beneath it, carrying it with flawless grace. His opponents clearly were not surface fighters. One above, one below. This would be interesting.

The small, lithe form of a seemingly unarmed gunsniper leapt swiftly up a series of tall rocks at the far end of the projected arena, the agile, raptor-like zoid easily scaling a tall crest of rock and standing firmly atop it. The zoid quickly turned away from the battle as if to shun the violence involved, its tail rising up to face the involved combatants. A young woman with auburn hair and soft indigo eyes gritted her teeth, a ferocious look of both deadly ability and cool, calm collectedness shifting across her beautiful features. She seemed oddly determined even as she appeared to flee the battle itself. A fierce melee had already begun to unfold back at in the fray, but she seemed almost indifferent, casting the occasional and very brief glance in their direction.

A vidscreen popped up beside her, showing her partner Leon with a determined look on his square face. The man seemed to be out of breath, as if pushing himself mentally and physically. "I'm going to need some help here, Naomi," he began, grunting as he vigorously jerked at the joysticks before him. "This one's too fast for me."

A cool grin spread across her features as she nodded slightly, pressing a few buttons at her side, her fingers moving with swift and inconspicuous movements, obviously done a thousand times before. "Not a problem Leon, I've got your back." With a loud, heavy crunch, the enormous, sharp claws of the gun sniper sunk into place. The woman set the joysticks of her sniper in place, before quickly jabbing a red button on the underside of her chair. She bit one lip slightly as her seat slowly unfolded to a lying position, the woman turning over onto her stomach. She grunted a bit at the awkward position, shifting herself forward towards a smaller control console. She moved her arms to a pair of gunning joysticks located a bit before her face, gazing through a binocular viewfinder. The screen within it shone a soft green glow over her eyes, though the woman ignored it completely, gazing out at the chaotic fray below. The white target reticule before her shifted quietly as she moved the joysticks and heard the soft crackling crumble of the claws sinking deeper into rock; stabilizing her zoid.

The assassin herself narrowed her eyes as she scanned the area through her telescopic lens, looking through the long tail of the smaller gun sniper. Her teammate Leon could be seen jetting about with incredible agility, rushing about on his bright red liger and frantically dodging a flurry of Vulcan fire from the Stormsworder. The two seemed to be quarrelling without any sign of success on either side, Leon's ferocious lunges and the Stormsworder's pummeling strafes being mutually avoided. Naomi shook her head in amazement, watching the white streak that was her opponent. The zoid itself moved with such incredible speed and precision it seemed no one could track it. Naomi smirked gently as the stormsworder descended for another strafing run. No one, that is. But her.

"I'm getting hell down here!" came the deep voice of her teammate, the vidscreen seeming to flare in its visual intensity near her forehead, as if frantically trying to call her attention. She looked up at the square face and jaw of the young man, finding herself briefly studying him in his struggle like an insect in a jar. So far below her, beneath her godly throne. She pitied him. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead and he seemed to be panting heavily, his broad arms working constantly at the joysticks. Naomi's soft, calm voice came quietly as she nodded, narrowing her eyes to maintain a constant concentration on the Pterodactyl zoid. "Almost got it...just hang in there..." she muttered, shifting her fingers toward the trigger buttons on her joysticks. The sheer urgency of the situation brought out both a frantic need for release and a terrified apprehension and quaking fear of failure. She tensed at her opponents next move, concentrating her very being into the barrel of her gun, releasing her soul into the one shot, that single strike.

The stormsworder swooped downwards like an airborne predator and let out another fierce salvo of Vulcan cannon fire. As it flew over the scarlet feline, Naomi could see the sand lift up in tall pillars from the barrage, a single-file line of the columns flying upwards in a steady trail towards the fleeing blade liger. She could hear a grunt from the vidscreen as the Liger suddenly leapt to one side, dodging the furious bombardment. She muttered reassuring words to the man as he moved, more for herself than for his sake, constantly watching the swooping predator constantly dive-bombing her partner.

The stormsworder pulled into another long, banked turn, as smoldering scarlet rune markings seemed to glow along its nose and the fronts of its wings. The bright red eyes of the graceful aerial zoid gleamed as it flipped over and began a horrifying nose-dive towards its target. Naomi started as long, curved yellow blades suddenly extended from its slender wings, letting out a roar as their glowing electrical particle energy ripped and tore at the hot air they burned through. The stormsworder itself became a glowing vermillion ball of light as it moved with incredible speed, its shape nearly indistinguishable from the scintillating aura it gave off. Naomi watched in awe, before catching herself, lowering her head as she gazed into the scope before her, letting a confident smirk wash away her fears. This stunning feat of airborne acrobatics would be its last.

Naomi felt a rush of elation as the familiar, soft beep of the reticule locking on and turning a bright green. It followed the stormsworder as it crashed rapidly downwards, keeping a constant hold on its location. It was over now, the sniper had done her job, this opponent was no more. She could almost feel the bullet smoldering in the barrel, screaming for release to soar through the sky, to accomplish its task with ruthless perfection.

This battle was theirs. Time slowed down but seemed not to matter, the bright red form of the Blade Liger seemed to creep across the desert floor, its head lethargically rising and falling with each long, drawn-out stride and the rapid descent of her opponent becoming a gradual, sluggish sinking. It was hers. The magnetic shell had only to leave the barrel. She squeezed the trigger as the ripping roar of a single, expertise shot was fired, seeming to tear itself from the zoid as it's long, segmented tail of red armored plates and a slender black barrel contracted upon itself. The kickback of the heavy shot was sweet and welcome, only reassuring that she had done her job. She had released her power, her strength, her fury and passion into the barrel and let it fly. Her shot had fired; that single, flawless action of unstoppable perfection. The stormsworder was no more. The match was hers.

"Strike Lance!" rang a deeper voice from a vidscreen which had spontaneously appeared at her left, completely interrupting her thoughts. The glowing sphere of pride, power and skill seemed abruptly torn down by those two words, shattering the world around her. The woman's eyes widened in sheer terror as a grim realization seemed to grope at her skull, burying deeply in her mind; it slowly became an unshakeable feeling of nausea. Naomi gasped suddenly as a furious quake tore through the lighter body of her zoid, the raptor letting out a terrified cry at the ferocious blow, its head being jerked to one side. The stealth viper. She had forgotten about it.

The slender brown head of the mechanical serpent surged forward with incomprehensible speed, moving like a snake performing a shockingly swift bite. Guided by a wide, cobra-like hood, and spearheaded by a pair of huge, bright-blue laser blades. The blue aura around the metallic weapons left an eerie glow behind as the vicious strike tore through the powerful leg of the small dinosoid in a single, fluid impact. The gun sniper nearly flipped over as it was struck with the immense force of the blow, its leg being torn off with a loud, ripping crunch of metal being totally eviscerated. Parts and sparks flew in all directions as the more bulky upper body of the machine flopped uselessly over on its side, writhing frantically on the hard rock surface. It's powerful leg flew sideways, skidding across the rock with an unbearable grating sound before plummeting down into the sand.

The snake recoiled from the blow, its flat, slender head raising again to gaze out at the battlefield, its glowing orange visor turning towards the desert as its long, brown form lay coiled atop the huge rock formation. The segmented, armored length of the snake seemed relatively lightweight, completely lacking any firearms and the customary supply section usually found within most stealth vipers. Instead, each brownish, jointed segment was of equal size, all connected by small assimilations of black wires and joints.

Naomi let out a frightened curse, panting heavily as her whole body seemed to ache and tingle, her hands trembling at her sides. The sheer shock from the completely unexpected strike had terrified her beyond belief. The woman cursed again, more loudly this time, slamming her fist down on the seat she lay upon, wishing the feathery sick feeling in her stomach would fade. Naomi lifted her chin after a moment and glanced up at the vidscreen. A round face gazed back at her with a glaring and infuriating grin, the eyes hidden by a smooth gray visor. The cycloptic blue lens of the visor seemed to leer at her quietly, though the man said nothing. He jerked his chin towards her in a haughty greeting, before glancing off to the side out his cockpit window, the bill of a dirtied white baseball cap poking out along the back of his neck. The man chuckled again as he glanced up at her, shaking his head yet remaining silent.

Naomi grit her teeth, groaning as she looked up at the flashing vidscreen before her, depicting the words "System Failure" repetitively in a flashing pattern. She sighed in frustration, pounding her fist again at the controls. "Damnit!" she exclaimed, moving her purple eyes quickly to Leon. Hundreds of regrets now clouded her mind, a multitude of "I should have" and "Why didn't I". The glaring statements seemed to overwhelm her, and all she could do was look on helplessly at her partner's struggle. He was still luckily fighting, though she could see nothing out her cockpit window but the yellowish rock her zoid lay upon. "..Leon, I'm out," she said quietly, a defeated tone in her voice, not even hearing the soft, breathy curse from her teammate.

The woman panted softly with the sheer excitement of the previous events, still finding herself in shock. That was the first time she had been ambushed effectively, the factor of defeat was much more than a surprise. A harsh blow to the ego, to say the least. Her only hope now was that Leon could find victory. The Flueggel team had not yet been defeated in the Class "A" league of the zoid battle federation. They couldn't let it happen, it was simply impossible. It was all up to Leon now, she thought wistfully, finding herself almost meditatively watching him through the vidscreen.

Leon panted heavily as his zoid was exerted to its full potential, moving swiftly across the desert, dodging large rock outcroppings as they flew by. Having barely survived the last lunge, he knew he had to prepare for the next attack, and in this way found his only chance. The enormous liger moved swiftly up a small series of steplike platforms of the heavy rock, using the many miniature plateaus as a bounding method of ascension. The loud, howling roar of his airborne adversary intensified exponentially as his fearsome saurian opponent closed the distance with blinding speed. Leon could feel the heat of his own zoid's efforts as it drove itself up the columns of stone, continually struggling towards ascension. He could hear the rapid hum of the particle blades as they came at him, the air screaming as it was torched within their blazing inferno.

The armored form of the enormous lion leapt up to the very top of the series of steps, still running at its top speed as blue rocket engines flared behind it. The enormous feline form seemed to tremble as it was continually forced upwards by the struggling boosters, its muscular bulk surging with each catlike, leaping stride.

Leon maintained a powerful grip on the pair of joysticks at the control console, pushing his Liger to its very limits. He could feel the massive red predator trembling with effort as it moved, experiencing its every strain and exertion as if it was a part of him. He promptly jerked the joysticks forward, letting out a battle cry and hunching his shoulders. Leon's eyes smoldered with yearning for battle as blue plates of armor on his chest and shoulders shifted place. His blade liger crouched slightly, gathering its energy before launching off from the cliff. The enormous metallic feline's bright colors shone majestically as it hurled itself from the last step, soaring through the air while its great blades streaked toward its incoming opponent. Contact was imminent. It was coming. Fast.

The smoothly curved sabres left long trails of light behind the flying beast, soaring gracefully on deadly wings of smoldering luminescence. The enormous leaping zoid moved with incredible speed, nearing the quicksilver streak of the Stormsworder. The two great machines passed one another with a loud rush of energy, a harsh, powerful impact quaking through both combatants. The bulky, armored Liger landed firmly on its feet with smooth, catlike grace, before quickly wheeling around to face its opponent. The Stormsworder shifted into a sharp turn, moving completely vertical as its majestic wings rose quietly into the air.

Leon's jaw hung slack both in astonishment and the desperate need for air. He glanced upwards, catching a sharp glint in the midday sky. A pair of sharp, glowing particle blades suddenly spun downwards through the air, the undulating roar of their spinning flight pounding in his ears. The sound ended with a loud slicing sound marking their landing. Both sunk sharply into the sand, jutting out of it in an X pattern, moments later shedding their bright glow and fading to their original soft grey.

Leon gritted his teeth in determination, watching the glow fade from the two severed weapons. His liger still felt firm and tough, as though it had barely been damaged by the sudden impact. It had occurred too fast to be comprehensible, to quickly for the passing of thought. He could remember nothing but the tremendous shock that had run through its thick hide on impact. The square-jawed man shook his head to rid himself of the feeling of nausea moving through him, his brow furrowing to concentrate on the battle at hand. This was not yet over. One last blade, one last chance. Now both had been limited to a single sword. A duel, of sorts. Defeat was not an option.

Leon jerked the joysticks forward, letting out another deep-throated bellow of intense desire for battle, watching his opponent approach. It was all or nothing. The final showdown, the ultimatum of this battle was about to occur. Leon invested all his power into one last charge, concentrating on nothing but the battle.

The zoid didn't respond. With a soft click, the joysticks moved forward, though his zoid didn't budge. Empty silence filled the air, more deafening than the roar of fury he had expected from the Liger. Having been so used to the Liger's smooth movements, its flawless and effortless cooperation with his commands, it felt as if part of him had been broken. The lack of movement seemed almost as though his arm or leg simply wouldn't respond.

The quiet, hushed and ironically light-hearted ringing tone of the "system paralysis" warning rang softly in his head, as if coming from another world. He couldn't believe it, couldn't bring himself to understand or comprehend what had just occurred. Leon found himself staring forward, wide-eyed, swirling in a torrent of agonizing confusion. Defeat? Loss? How? It couldn't be. As if in a dream, Leon watched his adversary slow to a moderate speed and quietly soar overhead again. Nothing seemed real, not even the hurried rise-and-fall of his chest as he gasped for breath, the cold sweat forming on his forehead. The judge's vidscreen abruptly appeared before him, the white form of the android seeming to leer at him through eyes that weren't there. Its loud voice suddenly broke his thoughts, bringing in the cold, hard reality like a wall of concrete as he soared down towards it. Well, he thought numbly to himself, at least it broke his fall.

"The battle is over! The battle is over!" came its droning, artificial speech, so dry and devoid of any form of vernacular or accent that it became almost like a synthetic language of it's own. The crackly, monotone drawl had once been an optimistic sound to his ears, an upbeat congratulations on his next victory, but on this day it was the grim omen of his loss. The change was both astounding and deeply unsettling. "Leon Toros' Blade Liger and Naomi Flueggel's Gun Sniper are unable to battle! The winner is... the Seraph team!"

Pytch quietly rolled his head on his shoulders as a chorus loud fleshy pops emanated from his neck. The familiar voice of the judge brought yet another victory. Pytch chuckled to himself, exhaling as he did so. All too easy. The sniper had been far too involved in her own self-assured perfection to see him coming, and "boom!" down she went. Simple. Easy. They were all this way.

He let out a soft groan, yawning almost lethargically as he moved the stealth viper downwards from the high rocky peak it had climbed. The long serpentine zoid moved with fluid motions as it seemed to flow over all obstacles, its slender form gliding through the sand as if it simply swum over the land, its undulating movements carrying it swiftly forwards. The broad hood of the stealth viper was adorned with two bright green triangular markings, though their origin and purpose could not quite be discerned.

The elongated machine glided smoothly over to the starting point of the match, moving across gaping craters and dips in the sand caused by the huge Blade Liger's many jumps and skidding maneuvers to escape its opponent's gunfire. Pytch laughed a little to himself, taking a quick glance over at his partner's Stormsworder, The Silver Fury. The Blade liger had never stood a chance.

The smoothly shifting snake moved with soft surging motions, its long body leaving an endless zig-zag trail in the soft sand. Its movements seemed almost hypnotic in their effortless fluidity, both silent and quick. Pytch glanced upwards, his eyes, though concealed by the blue-tinted visor, locking onto a small viscreen to his right. He continually glanced back and fourth from the vidscreen and the cockpit window, his voice coming softly. "Schala," he started, watching the slender face of the red haired woman who glanced up at him. The shocking power visible within those eyes still haunted him, though they had been partners for years now. Before he could say another word, the woman's incisive gaze had already read him through.

"You're going for a slither again, aren't you?" the woman said, squinting her eyes at him a moment before letting a brief grin alight her bony features, one so characteristic of her friendly, understanding nature it drew the same smile on his own lips..

"...Well, yeah..." Pytch found himself muttering, the man scratching his chin in an almost nervous manner as he glanced up toward her again, a confident, almost arrogant look beginning to crystallize in his dark pupils. "I figured I'd go on patrol, you know... check things out." Pytch took a moment to remember the discussion he had had with the Liger's pilot before the match, the spark it had set off deep within him. "Before the battle Leon mentioned some pretty fishy stuff was going on down in San Pirea. I want to check it out. If there's a single Backdraft involved, I want him."

"Go where your heart tells you, that's what I always say," the woman responded, her shy smile being tentatively carried along her thin lips. She shook her head to rid herself of her old maxims and epithets, a smooth rusty-colored ponytail flipping over one shoulder. She restrained herself enough to quickly revert back to the previous subject, inwardly admonishing herself for trailing off. "I'll take care of the winnings and Federation official stuff, and then I've got a night shift a the Pier. See you tomorrow...And Pytch?" Schala seemed to shift her weight a bit, the shy woman casting her gaze back up to his as she chewed her lower lip.

Pytch looked up from the rectangular windshield again, raising both eyebrows and lifting his chin, his overconfident stare nowhere close to disappearing. "Yup?"

"...Be careful, they're dangerous." Her voice seemed hush and tense, though this had little effect on the untouchable overconfidence of her partner.

Pytch found himself laughing out loud, open-mouthed and bouncing-shouldered. Did he laugh so loud to convince her, or to convince himself? He could tell neither. The man ran his thumb across his chin a moment, before grinning up at her. "Of course! I've been hunting those bastards for months now. Needn't worry. I'm a-"

Her soft voice cut him off, this time edged with sarcasm. Green eyes rolled in their sockets to show her disdain for his ridiculousness. "A warrior worth a thousand, I know, I know..." she mumbled, shaking her head. The man's arrogance was infallible, though his kind nature did occasionally shine through. The woman seemed to bounce a bit as the Stormsworder touched ground, and reached up to a small switch. With a quiet click and movement of her finger, the vidscreen disappeared.

Pytch gave a haughty chuckle, nodding firmly before shifting the white cap atop his head to better fit his head. Brown hair stuck awkwardly out from it's sides and back, as if the dirtied cap was struggling to contain it, a long bushy tangle rising up beneath the brim at the back of his neck. Shifting the dual joysticks of his control panel sharply to the left, he felt the awkward slithering motion of his zoid change abruptly, moving itself into a seemingly unguided turn. Pytch forced his joysticks forwards in a sharp motion, his powerful arms slamming them downwards with one fluid movement.

The cockpit jarred suddenly before slamming down into the sand, a rush of yellow abruptly flushing out all other color. The sand seemed to churn and flow about on its own, flowing around the tangerine visor of the StoneHammer as it tunneled its way deeper and deeper under ground. Pytch sighed a bit, leaning back in the cockpit as he smirked to himself. This had been a quick and decisive victory. Perfect. Just the way he wanted it. He crossed one leg over the other, heaving his heavy tech boots settling against one another, their cyan-tinted LED patterns giving off a gentle glow about his feet. The fight had gone better than planned, another A-rank team defeated. Now, he thought, for an adventure.

Dr. Layon squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, the huge man looking meek and mouse-like as he was furiously scolded, his bovine gaze moving downwards to the jet black, polished table before him. His beefy fingers quietly shifted places over in over on the faultless surface, as if attempting to feign interest. Alteil repeatedly read off a long series of statistics and losses acquired during the "escape." The scientist's dark eyes had softened considerably, averting in a submissive manner to avoid the raptor gaze of the Backdraft commander. Alteil's heavy jaw continued to repetitively shift as he spoke, scolding tones rushing from between his thin lips like a harsh torrent of scathing contempt. His head bobbed as his neck-length, gelled-back hair moved obediently in unison, absorbing what little light was dimly emitted from the luminescent orbs embedded in the dark ceiling.

"One heavily armed Buster Gojulas unit, Seven-hundred-and-fifty automated Demantis security drones, an assault squad of Ten Godos...completely destroyed!" bellowed the much larger man, Alteil slamming one haevy fist down onto the table. The two collided with a fleshy thud which failed to echo and instead died, stifled in the revolting humidity of the meeting room. He blew a heavy gust of bluish smoke form his nostrils, which flared violently like that a raging bull. "Preposterous! Impossible!" came the furious blades of his reproach, the man's face almost turning red with fury. The man ran his fingers through his deep grey hair, streaked with long ribbons of wavy white staying stiffly gelled backwards before fanning out awkwardly at the back of his head. He read the report through again, scanning over it with his dark gaze before looking back to Layon. "..This is a disgrace to the backdraft. One of our most important missions to date, and your insolence has managed to interfere so much that not only was there an intruder, but this intruder managed to escape with the Ultimate X!"

Layon cleared his throat nervously, feeling the chilling, unified gaze of the entire group watching him. The catlike, incisive stare of Miss Sarah, the overbearing and condescending daggers emanating from the eyes of major Palta; even through his strange, W-shaped mask which overcropped both cheeks. Despite the barrage of angry looks constantly coming his way, Layon found one gaze bothered him more than most. Ignoring the rapid speech of the Commander, her looked to the dark corner of the room. A cold, chilling stare emanated from that shadowy crevice, the broad-shouldered form of the previously introduced Mr. Casage.

The man's features were amplified considerably in the dim lighting, making his sharply hooked nose and slanted face all the more threatening, eyes shadowed by a prominent brow ridge. A powerful chin still failed to crop over the heavy, stiff and erect collar rising up full circle around his neck and up to his lips. The heavy trenchcoat attached covered his entire body, save his hands occupying a pair of heavy grey gloves. The man's chilling, silver-eyed gaze watched him, unblinking and unwavering, a steady look haunting in its intent. Layon found himself squirming again in the heavy chair, looking back up to Alteil to try and distract himself from the man's fierce hatred.

"It is still imperative that the Backdraft acquires the Ultimate X. Having sought council with the Elders already, I have found they wish us to pursue it."

Layon perked up slightly, the domelike head of the man rising on his shoulders as he puffed out his chest, his tacky red tie shifting a bit upon the purple dress shirt at his breast. He would do anything to shed the contempt of his superiors. "Sir, if you give me another chance, I could most definitely acquire the Ultimate X for you. It would be an honor to redeem myself and present the Backdraft with the ultimate prize."

Alteil's gaze grew even colder as he took a long drag from the heavy cigar between his thin lips. The tip of the cigar flared a violent red before dulling again. Alteil's stare stayed on him, a furious glare piercing the other large man to the very bone. Layon lowered his eyes again, utterly devastated by the power in his stare. "No such thing will happen, Layon. We both know an Ultimate X is lightly armed when it is first found, and would not have the power to break through the Armor of the Gojulas you were asked to pilot. Yet," he continued, taking a moment to heave a bit of an angered sigh, exhaling another great cloud of thick, sour-smelling smoke. "You managed to have the Gojulas completely destroyed."

Layon shook his head, the short hair seemingly plastered to his scalp failing to move, its brown tone seeming more of a dull black in the dank room. "No, that's not true, Sir.. I was hit from behind, and luckily I managed to eject just in time."

Alteil scowled at him, his mouth drawn low on his angled jaw. "And I wish you hadn't had the time, Doctor." He scoffed over his words, before double taking back to the pleading man, letting his eyes take in his bovine features. The smoldering cigar in his lips bounced gradually as he spoke more intensely. "..What? You say you were hit from behind?"

Layon bobbed his head quickly, still averting his gaze and wringing his meaty hands nervously at his chest. "I believe it was a Gun sniper, sir, from what I saw.. it was using what looked like a Shadowfox Vulcan... and the MKII cannon from a modified Iron k-"

He was cut off abruptly by Alteil's commanding bellow, ringing loudly through the small, black room. "So you're saying this intruder had an accomplice?"

"Yes sir," muttered Layon, scratching his chin slightly in order to feign any possible morsel of relaxation.

"...Then it is more than a priority that both the intruder and accomplice are destroyed, yet the Ultimate X must be safely acquired. Dr. Layon, until further notice you are suspended to the Whale king, you may not leave." Alteil nodded calmly to himself, before turning his head to one side, speaking backwards over his shoulder. It was time to call out a more potent method. He needed that Ultimate X. He needed it now. The council itself breathed down his neck, he had little time. "Commander Casage," he began, his stoney features hardening all the more.

The tall man stalked out from the shadows, the footfalls of his heavy boots striking the ground mercilessly as he moved. He stood upright and gigantic, his daunting form dwarfing even the seated Commander. He watched the man for another word, not quite responding.

"I will assign you to the task of regaining the Ultimate X, Mr. Casage. You will kill the accomplice and if need be, kill the intruder. Is that understood?"

The silent man nodded quietly, snapping one thickly muscled arm upwards in a firm military salute. His hand rose with astounding speed, flat and fingers extended, saluting the council before he promptly turned on his heel. The intimidating soldier quickly moved out of a small door to his left, walking at a surprising clip for his size.

Casage wrenched his jaw quietly as he walked, his sharp, dark gaze tracking down the endless, repetitive length of the hall. Greyish-blue lights cast a soft glow over the dark walls, moving by constantly as he walked, the orbs flashing opalescent light over his heavily coated form as he moved. His arms swung quietly at his sides as he thought, holding his chin high. That Layon was a scum. A weakling, a deluded fool who deserved nothing but death. Had he the authority, he would have had the man disposed of at the first sign of his insufficiency. Doctors... what good is a man who can think, but cannot fight?

He, Zackary Casage. He could think. He could fight. He was a professional. None could come close to matching his skill at the job. Casage twitched his fingers in his gloves as neared the hangar bay, continuing along at his steady pace. He yearned for the hunt, the chase. His prey was slowly eluding him, slipping away with very step. It didn't matter, he thought quietly. His catch was inevitable. There was no escaping Casage and his Dark fox. He was death, and his target was marked. The intruder was as good as dead, the Ultimate X in Alteil's hands.

The man's powerful black eyes quickly shifted towards the corpulent form of a leisurely guard relaxing in a swiveling chair before the security gate's controls. The obese man started suddenly at the sheer, horrifying potency in those dark orbs. He let out a mouselike squeal of panic, doing his best to cover it with a manly cough as he leaned forward in his chair, the black button-down shirt shifting as it stretched laboriously over his bulbous stomach. Casage came to a slow halt at the gate, staring quietly at the thin, almost invisible seam between the two heavy, stainless steel doors. The pig before the controls was not worth his concern or his contempt. He was nothing.

The Security guard frantically flipped a few switches on the wide console before placing one pudgy finger on a reddish button and pressing it several times. His urgency continued for the gate to open, the man rapidly assaulting the button with a full-armed strike as the doors began to part. He could wait no longer for this horrifying figure to disappear, to return to the soft sinecure he loved so dearly.

Casage smirked softly as the heavy square doors parted, the large man quietly entering the dauntingly huge hangar. What had been the muffled thuds of his heavy military boots had soon become an echoing strike, careening about the room, saturating it from its broad expanse of floor to a nearly incomprehensibly high ceiling. The room itself was a gigantic pentagonal prism, filled with row after row of powerful zoids; all wearing the deep black official colors of the Backdraft team. Glistening dark magnum paint of heavy weapons set off a faint, glowing reflection from the heavy neon lights on the ceiling. The man continued at his brisk pace, moving out into the center of the wide floor, walking between the two long, seemingly endless rows of battle machines. The Whale King's carrying capacity had not to impress him; in fact, it was positively astounding. A long line of ebony Rev Raptors, followed by a pair of shadowy Zabats. The man shook his head quietly, his gloved hands twitching at his sides as a enormous line of MacCurtis seemed to roll by, the black-and-purple machines standing at the ready for their deployment. The might of the Backdraft was truly displayed in its enormous stockpile of zoids, the sheer bulk which were completely awe-inspiring.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of pacing, completely losing count and interest in the daunting fleet of Zoids, Casage smiled a predatory, deadly grin as he spotted the deep black Shadowfox. The sinister zoid was standing crouched beside a pair of Iron Kong MKII's. The incredible bulk of the mechanical primates towered over the lithe, armored form of the Shadowfox, yet he knew they were more than dwarfed when compared to the power of the smaller machine. The aura of death and immense destructive power seemed to heat the air around the great fox, easily drawing attention from the two much larger Kongs. The Zoid itself looked quite vulpine in nature, sharp edges and spiky points jutting backwards throughout its pitch black armor in an aerodynamic yet aesthetically pleasing pattern. Tall, triangular ears stood from the back of its slender head, sharp teeth in thin, neat and tightly-packed rows lining the zoid's mouth. The ferocious zoid was a high-tech "present" he had received from Backdraft in return for a few people the group had wanted to "speak to". Having worked for the Backdraft for quite a time, this heavily-customized Shadowfox was more than a worthy gift, easily restoring his faith in the group.

Casage grunted as he heaved himself up onto the ebony metallic outcropping of the zoid's streamlined ankle armor, quickly scaling the zoid itself in a few husky jumps. A small, square hatch in the side of the deadly zoid slowly opened with a smooth, soundless motion. The huge man swung himself inside with a surprisingly agile movement for a man of his size, his bulk seeming light as a feather as it disappeared into the side of the horrifying zoid. The assassin moved into the luxurious cockpit seat of the Dark Fox, easily flicking a switch on the front of the Dark Fox's control console, revealing a small blue button. The man looked unnervingly at home in the cockpit, quietly readjusting his gloves before he began. The skill and seriousness he used with his profession was more than apparent. With a brief downward glance he quickly pressed the button, slipping his hands around the dark, gleaming joysticks at the controls.

The zoid roared to life with the contact of his hands, the fox rising from its crouched position as the atrophied parts groaned their displeasure. The sudden motion came with fluidity in its abruptness, the graceful zoid stepping out of the long line of other great machines. The many sharply jutting metal plates of armor shifted beneath the form of the fox as it walked along, its heavy feet impacting the floor repeatedly with weighty thuds. Each smooth shift of the zoid's legs let out a airy, mechanical whine, the sound—though soft—echoing mercilessly through the silent hangar.

Casage set his heavy jaw, causing thick tendons by his cheeks to flex and bulge outwards slightly, further exemplifying the rock-hard sloped shape of his face. The man moved the zoid toward a gigantic, slowly opening black hatch at the rear of the Whale King. The roar of the hover repulsors shuddered through his ears as the bastion struggled to remain airborne with its enormous girth and monumental cargo of zoids. The cargo bay slowly opened in the back of the Whale king, revealing the cool, still night air, sheltered from the sweltering heat of the merciless sun.

The professional gazed through the two diamond-shaped "eyes" of the fox, bright red-tinted windows framed and glowering between a pair of sharp, pointed ears and a slender muzzle. The zoid reached the end of the Whale King's hull, gazing down the open ramp to the dark forest below. Tensing its powerful legs, the zoid lifted its head towards the sky, letting out a fierce, mechanized howl which echoed throughout the gargantuan cargo hold of the Dark Whale, its haunting reverberations sending piercing the foggy night air. The black plates of armor jutted sharply backwards along the zoid's shoulders and back, its needle like tail going straight. The nimble form of the fox suddenly rushed forward, galloping smoothly across the gleaming black ramp as it sunk towards the ground.

Casage's unrelenting gaze watched calmly as the zoid took a sudden leap, jerking slightly in his seat. Bringing his sharp chin downwards slightly, the high, starched collar of his grayish uniform covered his mouth up to his sharp, hooked nose. The Dark Fox abruptly plummeted through the air into the misted abyss below, the trees choked in a thick fog approaching like an ominous wall beneath him. Zi's two moons seemed to glower down over the still night like the dual green eyes of a nighttime predator. The darkness enveloped his zoid as he left the hangar completely, only the soft howling of the wind against the Dark fox could be heard, a lonely, soft whine. The intimidating man failed to even blink at the rapid descent through the air, the seeming helplessness of a plummeting war-machine.

The Dark Fox impacted the soft earth with an astonishingly smooth landing, hopping forwards a few times to rid itself of excess momentum. What was to be a savage and lethal blow to the light zoid had been warped with one expertise maneuver into a stunning feat of acrobatic skill. The zoid began to stalk through the forest, its great clawed paws silent despite their relative bulk. Casage forced the stealthy zoid into a steady sprint forward, watching the many trees fly by as his incredible zoid weaved its way through the forest. The hunt had began, he could taste it. The weak would fall.

The fox moved through the woods as if it was one with the darkness, a ghost amongst the wooden pillars around it, it's glowing red eyes bouncing up and down as it moved. A pair of small missile boxes swayed a bit, firmly attached to the zoid's flanks, a large laser Vulcan at its top swiveling to scan the black oblivion it rushed through.

Casage reached up and dragged a small eyepiece down to rest before his right eye, gazing through the transparent yellow square to make better use of the Fox's night vision sensors. The inky black nothingness he had previously squinted at soon became a green, churning mass of life, of true vision. Through the viewfinder he watched a flock of nightbirds suddenly lift up from the trees, scattering into the forest. The trees themselves were grayish-green monstrosities, forming a complicated and imposing labyrinth in which he played minotaur.

The many trees moved past with great speed as his zoid weaved its way through them, dipping and dodging both to avoid gigantic branches and leviathan trunks. It's armored, powerful legs pumped vigorously as it moved, its feet barely touching the ground for a fraction of a second before kicking off again. Despite the extreme darkness and rough terrain, the incredible zoid moved with rapid precision and agility, almost as though it were simply flying. Casage gazed out upon the foreboding blackness around him, giving a haughty smirk. The darkness was his medium, his world, his universe. He was god. He could not be stopped.

The man's overshadowed eyes suddenly widened as his zoid came abruptly upon a clearing, a spacious, seemingly endless expanse of sand coming so unexpectedly that it made him lose his composure for a moment. The mercenary sat up in his chair, tensing at the controls, the dark fox doing the same. The stealth zoid skidded to a halt, before crouching on its legs, the heavy plates of armor pointing backwards like menacing ebony blades. The heavy Vulcan at its top shifted on its turret, instantly locking onto the form in the darkness. His heavy white eyebrows drew downwards sharply, causing his eyes to narrow into dark slits. Casage quietly pushed viewfinder away, still transfixed on what he saw. He had found his prey.

There before him, nearly 100 yards away, stood a golden sabre tiger. The majestic feline zoid stood calmly upon a tall rocky cliff on the beach, its form reared up as its emerald eyes gazed toward the sky. The great tiger was bathed in soft, cascading beams of greenish moonlight, hauntingly illuminated by the ominous green orbs which hung low in the night sky. A heavy double-barreled gun turret sat barely attached to the seemingly scarred belly of the zoid, a large patch of which was still unarmored, revealing many semitransparent whitish wires. The wires themselves seemed to glow with the moons' elegant jade, looking almost like the newly spilled viscera of the zoid from some gruesome wound. A tall, stocky man with burly arms and a thick black vest could be seen at the side of his Saber Tiger, his heavy camouflage pants tucked messily into combat boots. The man pushed a welder's mask before his eyes, then bent downwards, bright blue light suddenly splashing from the damaged spot on the zoid, sparks flying about into the black oblivion of night.

Casage could no longer hold in his urge, his need. The hunt had begun, and it would await him no longer. The first kill of the night. The fresh start. His eyes narrowed on the man and his zoid, a gaze like fierce daggers seeming to tear through the night towards him. Casage abruptly started his zoid into a dead sprint, the lithe Fox bobbing up and down as it silently surged across the beach towards its prey. It was time.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Fall of the Lightning

Ryke sat back against the small outcropping of cold stone, raising the heavy welder's mask above his forehead to appraise his work. Sharp, hazel eyes swelled with pride at the clean, red-glowing edges of the panel secured to the bottom of the zoid. The wiring was complete. Though messy and disorganized beyond belief, the ratty tangle of incandescent strands sat in a messy bundle, barely contained by the weak steel plating of under-armor he had applied, the fresh-welded, still-glowing edges of the metal gradually fading in the night. He had done it. By golly, he thought to himself, that Khalsin had given him a wallop. The powerful dual-barreled photon cannon stood erect and ready, finally repaired and re-fastened to the fierce tiger's golden fuselage after being forcefully removed in his bout with Khalsin.

Ryke chuckled a little to himself as he glanced up at the stars, letting the soft sound of the waves embrace his ears. The cool breeze emanating from the ocean was a reassuring caress, a salty, familiar scent that always seemed to draw him back to his childhood. The waves were the most comforting sound he had ever heard. Even having encountered it his entire life, he could not bring himself to tire of it; it was always like returning to the welcoming arms of a dear friend. The sea had a soul of its own. He let his mind wander a moment, thinking back to the day he had defeated Khalsin, watching him simply saunter down the beach as if nothing had happened. Was the boy really so unphased? So disciplined? How was he getting along? That same feeling of guilt hung heavy in his chest, causing Ryke to shift his weight on the rock, uneasily clearing his throat. No one was there, he knew, but somehow he just felt so vulnerable, so exposed. A frightened feeling climbed up into his throat, settling there and making him tremble with anxiety.

The gruff man suddenly stood, his chest heaving as he looked around, his mouth hanging open as he nervously scratched the stubble on his chin. Something wasn't right. He couldn't tell what, but something had abruptly become horribly wrong. Ryke stood quietly, his muscled arms at his sides, scowling out at the ocean, his stare searching its many blue swells. His hazel raptor gaze hovered over the waves as he took in their soft undulations, the quiet, soothing rush of water. He combed frantically for any imperfection, his eyes and ears like that of a hawk. Then he heard it.

A thick, heavy yet muffled thud. A rush of sand. Another. They were coming fast, a rapid pummeling of enormous feet on the ground. A galloping stride, so quick and agile. The sand seemed to hiss in protest as it was torn from the earth, being scattered into the soft night wind. Ryke's eyes widened as he wheeled to look down the beach, his jaw dropping as he let out a loud curse. Two diamond-shaped ruby eyes bounced slowly in the darkness, constantly closing in at a steady, rapid pace; the glowing red lanterns carried a malicious and horrifying flame within them, one that seemed to lash out at his soul.

Ryke quickly tore the welder's mask from his head, heaving it hastily aside with a husky grunt. The man scrambled up the short ladder towards the hatch of his zoid, panting heavily as the dark form of the stealth zoid bore down upon him. His combat boots struck the thin rungs heavily as he clambered upwards, swiftly forcing his muscled frame to ascend the ladder. Ryke could hear the mask noisily clang its way down the rocks, before settling in the sand with a quiet, muffled thud.

The man burst through the rectangular hatch in the side of the Saber Tiger, quickly yanking its door shut and heaving a rusted lever downwards to secure it. Ryke felt his fingers trembling in horror as he scrambled towards the cockpit, hearing the loud, unsettling clank of the hatch locking home against the side of his zoid. The sound stopped instantly, its deep, bellowing ring ending with a surprising finality. He was safe now. He was in his world.

Ryke quickly moved into the ragged gray chair, looking out the dual green eyes of his fearsome tiger. Gripping the joysticks and moving them to the side, Ryke quickly persuaded the graceful tiger to leap down onto the beach, rearing around to face its target. The zoid's powerful claws dug into the sand as it tensed, suddenly rearing its head and letting out a fearsome roar that was not unlike the sound of grating metal; a deep, rumbling bellow. It hoisted its upper body in the air, thrashing its heavy paws in fury before settling on the rocks again.

As he turned to face his opponent, Ryke's eyes widened. A Shadowfox. The armored zoid stood coated in pitch-black paint, its jagged plates of spiked armor gleaming in the soft moonlight. A zoid like this was not often encountered. Triangular ears stood atop its head, seeming to draw ones attention down towards the zoid's smoldering red eyes. It was a light zoid, quite small but heavily armed. Squinting into the darkness at the ominous machine, he could barely make out a multi-barreled Vulcan, and a shocknet cannon. These were expensive and rare weapons, if anything banned from some zoid battles. Ryke's heavy russet brow furrowed as it suddenly came to him. The Shadowfox itself was known as a zoid only used by the highest ranks of the Backdraft. So that's what it was.

The burly man tensed at the controls, feeling his zoid's anger at being suddenly ambushed. He hunched his heavy shoulders as they quaked with his heavy breaths, then stared out the eyes of his own zoid into those of his adversary.

The two zoids stood quietly across from one another, glowing red eyes smoldering against the intense jade of the other. Ryke twitched his fingers against the joysticks, feeling their smooth heavy plastic along his skin, the familiar and comforting presence of his zoid. An unsanctioned battle. No vidscreens. No judges. This was for keeps. He began quietly trying to calm himself, to slow his breathing to reach a more effective fighting mindset. Let your opponent strike first. Relax.

The demon eyes continued to stare in the darkness, sending a shiver down his spine. The man grit his teeth, his arms trembling as he tried to face the haunting stare. The hatred, the fierce desire to kill was too apparent in those eyes, such evil, such power. What did this adversary seek? Was it money? His zoid? He could lose none of these. It was not the time to think. It was the time to fight.

Ryke set his jaw as he glared through the two eyes of his Saber Tiger, suddenly lunging forward and shifting the joysticks accordingly. The tiger burned for battle, gnashing its teeth in agitation as it shifted into action, diving towards the Shadowfox and letting out a volley of loud photon bolts in its direction. The dark form shifted in the black abyss, easily twisting its form to evade the heavy shots, the fiery projectiles illuminating the beach as they flew, before promptly being extinguished in the sand. Ryke watched in surprise as the agile, armored fox quickly shifted to the side, a small Vulcan pivoting towards him. The roar of his own bolts shrieked through the silent nighttime air, before being drowned in the sand with a chorus of deep, earthy thuds, a disappointing sound that confirmed the failure of his assault.

The Shadowfox shot off through the night with incredible speed, moving around to flank the tiger as its powerful armored legs pumped beneath it, suddenly letting out a vicious stream of smaller photon shells from its Vulcan. A blazing aura around the many barrels of the gun swept through the onyx oblivion like a skilled paintbrush stroke, painting hot fire though the night. The dark beach suddenly exploded into violent light as the smaller full auto weapon let loose a ruthless bombardment upon its larger foe. The seemingly endless stream of bullets impacted the side of the tiger mercilessly, raking its searing path in a long line down its flank before ending as the fox continued to move. A long, black streak was left in the path of the merciless firing, like a long gash down the mechanical warriors side.

Ryke growled as he wheeled the tiger around again, feeling its thickly built legs pumping beneath it, carrying the sprinting war machine about an agile turn. His opponent had drawn first blood. He growled as a sudden rage seemed to build within him, a furious sprawl of emotional fire that licked and slashed at his insides, tearing for release. He would not resist it.

The golden tiger suddenly broke out into a fearsome charge, the dual blasters on its undersides firing rapidly, their alternating and fearsome strikes each casting forth a glowing bolt at long range across the beach. Every heavy thud signaled a launch; the balls of light like tiny lanterns carrying an aura of blazing luminescence along their path. The Shadowfox continued it's sprinting, an intimidating scarlet gaze bobbing rapidly as it moved, the shots from its pursuer blasting away the earth beneath it. It leapt swiftly up the column of rocks upon which Ryke had previously stood, scaling them with remarkable agility, seeming to float over the hundreds of obstacles.

Ryke cursed aloud and grit his teeth in fury, raising the cannons with a flick of his wrist, opening fire at the rocks above his adversary. His sleek zoid stopped its charge with a skidding halt, standing with its firm supports beneath it, powerful claws sinking into the sand. The fox was fast, yes, but it could not take a direct hit. He would use its weakness. The heavy blasts impacted the rocks above the Shadowfox with an air-splitting crack, blasting them to pieces as huge chunks of fragmented boulder were scattered in the air, coming down like a deadly rain of brimstone. The Shadowfox was suddenly immersed in a furious downfall of heavy boulders, their massive, grayish bulks plummeting down atop it with their crushing weight. Thrown from its climbing position, the fox crumpled onto the ground, the heavy rubble from the precisely-placed photon shots consuming its sharply armored form.

Ryke panted softly, the yellow tiger poised and ready as it watched the huge pile of shattered boulders, a massive mound of smashed stone forming a pyramid around its unfortunate victim. The devastating shower of rock had ended, leaving a great mountain of heavy granite chunks atop its intended target, completely burying it beneath the stone. The skilled pilot shook his head slowly, still panting as his mouth hung open, his messy brown hair shifting slightly in its stiff, tall spikes. Gazing through smoldering emerald eyes of his Saber Tiger, he could barely make out movement beneath the massive rocks. His opponent could not be stopped. It was incredible. This was not yet over.

Ryke's eyes grew wide as his hands tighten on the joysticks, making them creak softly in protest. The raging, triumphant fury was abruptly smothered by chilling fear. Who –was- this pilot? No light zoid could survive a shock like that. How was this possible? It couldn't be...

The man growled as the rocks continued to shift, the paw of the pitch black Shadowfox suddenly bursting upwards through the pile, reaching skyward and clawing at the air, its glistening black armor unscathed. Shifting the controls forward, he let out a loud cry of rage, his deep voice echoing at a deafening tone through the dark cockpit of his zoid. The Saber Tiger responded instantly, its own fury melding with his into a malicious rage, the berserker machine suddenly launching itself towards the pile of rocks. It was time to finish this. "Hyaaaaaahhh!!!" he screamed, slamming one joystick forward, feeling the zoid's immense velocity carry it through a powerful forward leap.

The tiger twisted in the air as it soared forward, immersed in its fearsome rage. Bringing back one paw, its huge steel claws suddenly flared and burst into smoldering luminescence, causing a loud crackling of photon energy to explode through the night. The claw swung downwards in a sharp, deadly arc, leaving behind it golden ribbons of yellow light.

The Shadowfox suddenly burst fourth from the colossal heap of rubble, surrounded by a scintillating hemispherical shield of bright pink semitransparent light, flying through the air and smashing head-on into its attacker. The tiger was struck in the chest by the glowing particle shield, being repulsed instantly and flung through the air, hurtling backwards with a painful recoil. The swift reversal had completely switched the tide of battle, easily ruining its opponent's assault. Ryke grunted as he was slammed forward against his own controls, feeling the wind forced from his lungs in one dramatic, painful breath.

The raging predator was flung forcefully through the air, its powerful paws swinging with hysterical wrath, tearing desperately at the air with vibrantly glowing photon claws. The android landed heavily in the sand, the concussion of the blow launching sand into the air in a gigantic shockwave. The Saber Tiger rolled onto its side and grew still, its claws slowly fading from their previously blinding conflagration of super-heated photon energy.

Ryke panted heavily at the sudden, unexpected blow, glaring out the eyes of his zoid toward the Shadowfox. It landed quietly on its feet, crouching as its crimson stare locked onto its prey. The fox was unharmed. Ryke's fingertips went cold with terror, a sinking feeling of nausea quickly flashing across his abdomen. It couldn't be real. His enemy was invincible. He fought against a demon. A ghost, he thought, a zoid poltergeist. How could anything survive a blow like that? It was horrifying.

The Shadowfox sauntered slowly over towards his zoid, its unblinking, horrifying look fixed on his own. It couldn't end here. Not with so little of a fight. He had to continue. The sharp pain in his temple pounded through his skull, jarring his thoughts and contemplations. He gritted his teeth through the agony, wiping the blood from the side of his head with the back of one hand. The impact of his skull against the control panel had been brutal; but he could easily guess his zoid felt worse. They couldn't give up. Shifting his hands back to the joysticks, Ryke quietly moved them to one side, urging his zoid on.

The heavy titanium alloy structure creaked its displeasure at being moved, loudly groaning with the heavy wail of metal being pushed to its very limit. The Tiger slowly trembled, its powerful legs working to slowly hoist it to its feet, a low, rumbling growl of determination rumbling through the zoid's hull. Ryke nodded his agreement with the zoid, the older man narrowing his eyes as his fingers twitched at the controls. He wouldn't give up. As long as his zoid was willing, so was he. They would battle to the end.

The tiger slowly rose to its feet, its malachite stare intensifying in its wrath. His opponent would make the first move now. Ryke dared his foe to attack, his lips pulled back in an indomitable snarl. He and his zoid had become one. They would be victorious. Nothing else mattered. Ryke paused, watching his adversary with incredible concentration, his face determined as he leaned forward, tensed over the controls.

The legs of the Shadowfox shifted slightly beneath it, the prelude to sudden motion. Its pointed plates of armor smoothly changed position as the fox altered its poise almost imperceptibly. Ryke panted with effort, ignoring the thin stream of blood running down the side of his head. Nothing else mattered. It was he and the ghost.

Time seemed to slow as the Shadowfox tensed, its legs instantly forming what was in fact a blurr of motion, seeming to be little more than a crawling movement across the smooth beach. "Now, Lightning!" he cried out suddenly, his thumbs jamming down in tandem on a pair of bright red buttons attached to the tops of the joysticks. The huge machine lurched forward in a vicious pounce, opening fire with its photon launchers, the blazing guns alternating powerful shots as they let loose at close range, completing the counter-attack. The set of five long bolts speared the air, burning away at all in their path, before striking the empty patch of sand with the same anticlimactic and muffled thuds.

Ryke grunted in surprise as the Shadowfox moved sideways rather than charging, utilizing his "counter-attack" to unexpectedly move around its opponent, a loud, deep-echoing woosh suddenly rushing in Ryke's ears. Pitch black smoke suddenly seemed to unfold from the rear of the fox, billowing out in huge amounts and coating the already dark world in a cold, inky blackness. The man gritted his teeth as he squinted into the smoke, watching the fox move about behind him. The agile zoid performed a perfect lap around his zoid with incredible speed, surrounding it in an aura of thick, greasy smoke, moving with such speed that it forced him to simply sit in awe as it wrapped him in abysmal blackness. The horrible gas blinded him completely, wiping his vision to a dark oblivion. His enemy lurked within. Nowhere to run. It loomed everywhere. He was visible, yet his opponent was not. A helpless, sinking feeling seemed to overrun his gut, as Ryke soon felt himself panting with frantic need for escape. He worked desperately to calm himself, his shoulders shifting with each heavy breath, his raptor gaze constantly scanning the black nothingness around him, the unending world of darkness. He was frozen with fear. He couldn't move. Blind. Blind and helpless.

Ryke let out a pained grunt as the scarlet orbs suddenly appeared in the darkness, moving towards him without warning. Lacking any time to react, Ryke saw a smoldering set of claws lash out in the abyss. The huge tiger recoiled harshly as a glowing strike laser claw flew forward in the darkness, catching powerfully across the heavily armored side of the tiger. The zoid stumbled, its powerful legs quickly scrambling to keep it standing as Ryke looked around as the Shadowfox disappeared again, seeming to fade into the darkness it had created. A ghost. It could not be stopped.

Thunder clapped suddenly in an ear-splitting and harshly crackling boom that seemed to tear the smoggy air in half, a huge gust of ocean wind suddenly carrying across the battlefield. The thick, seemingly impermeable layer of darkness that had been wrapped around him was suddenly peeled away by the wind, floating off and uncovering the battlefield around him. Rain plummeted down everywhere, striking the body of his zoid with what started as a chorus of airy pops, before raising itself to the level of a roar, a pelting and seemingly endless torrent of water streaming down over the beach. Thunder clapped again, a harsh and startling blast of lightning illuminating the area with a startling degree of brightness. In that split second burst of light, Ryke suddenly noticed the shadow of his opponent off to his left. He instantly forced his zoid forward, then jerked its controls towards his adversary, moving his arms with short, rough movements, his eyes wide and unblinking in concentration.

He growled, suddenly wheeling the zoid around as it brought one gargantuan paw in a wide, sweeping arc. The heavy paw impacted the Shadowfox in an overwhelmingly violent and savage blow, the entire lighter frame of the armored stealth zoid contorting in mid air, its legs flying forward as it was unexpectedly met by the brutal maul of its opponent. The Shadowfox was savagely thrown to the ground, recoiling as it hit sandy earth and sent up a terrifying spray of the sparkling white sand and rain into the night air. Ryke took no time to watch his unexpected success, instantly bringing the Saber tiger towards the startled frame of his smaller opponent and taking complete advantage of his surprise attack. One huge paw of the tiger slammed down atop its opponent to pin it in place, the saber tiger parting its steel jaws to let out another terrifying roar, a rumbling blast of intense sound so dreadful in its fury that it sent a shiver down its own pilot's spine.

Ryke jammed his thumbs down on the triggers of his controls, the loud, shocking impact of a series of huge photon shells filling the air, soon being drowned out by the deafening clap of thunder. Ryke glared down at his opponent, continuing to feel the sudden, violent shocks of each smoldering photon bolt as it was fired. Staring through the massive sheets of icy rain as they plummeted, he continued his grim task; blasting away at the Shadowfox mercilessly, his teeth gritted in a furious snarl as he constantly fired directly into its armor, a glowing hot welt developing in the area he concentrated upon and sizzling with searing heat against the rain. The ghost had been caught.

A small, triangular cannon atop the zoid slowly transitioned to face him, a bluish light traveling swiftly down its transparent barrel. It seemed small but precisely placed, rotating smoothly and silently on an armored platform on the Fox's back with a quiet whirr, barely audible aside from the heavy thrumming of the rain whish seemed to accost both zoids. A shock cannon. Ryke gasped in terror the instant he recognized the weapon, shifting his cannons towards it in order to destroy the device, a frantic last effort to escape its fire. It was far too late. Too sudden. The gruff man cried out loudly, his eyes closing while his zoid jolted backwards, a heavy shock burst from the small gun, jolting through the predatory machine's form and knocking it back across the beach. Bluish electricity snarled and spat as the heavy rain continued to fall against it, sparks flecking off of the electrified tiger as it shook itself vigorously in a desperate attempt to be rid of the painful shock. The zoid swung its head in furious circles, roaring in agony as it continued to be electrocuted by the deadly cannon, thrashing in the rain as it shook walls of rain from its metallic pelt, desperately struggling in sheer torment. A long, quivering line of white-hot electricity, smoldering with an azure glow seemed to bind the two zoids together, snarling and crackling against the heavy rainfall; it was almost as if a spear of lightning had been thrust into the saber tiger.

The Shadowfox stood in one fluid movement, its smoldering crimson gaze seeming to flare dangerously in the great haze of the downpour. It quietly watched the struggling Saber tiger in an almost sadistic manner, standing as it allowed it's prey to squirm, taking satisfaction in its agony. The raging tiger itself threw its head about in vehemence and roared as loud as it could, thrashing about in the heavy rain. It's frantic, bellowing fury was matched only by the sheer madness of the ocean, the waves crashing ruthlessly against the many dark, ominous rocks on the shore, white foam frothing at each wave crest and bursting outwards in a startling show of the sea's immense and seemingly limitless strength. The tide rose quickly, the waves being mercilessly pelted by raindrops. Thunder rumbled again in a rolling boom, suddenly exploding into a vicious crack that lit up the sky, jagged ribbons of lightning splitting the looming clouds with shocking intensity.

Ryke grit his teeth as the painful shock ran through him, his hands going stiff around the joysticks as he struggled to maintain his grip on them, his limbs trembling violently at the painful ache of the shock that tormented both he and his zoid. After a few minutes the biting shock began to die down, the bluish, glowing bolts of electricity disappearing from the Saber tiger as it heaved frantically from its efforts, finally standing still, its head hanging low. That single shot had been agonizing, a stunning blow that had nearly wiped away all his resolve for victory. Ryke assured himself it wouldn't do so. The sea, that kindred spirit, had saved him. Its fierce winds, its fury, the thunder, the lightning, the torrential rain, all came to his aid. Now that the smoke had cleared, he found himself staring down the great demon again. Lightning cracked in the sky once more, a rumbling tone that tore through the heavy roar of the sea, easily blotting out all other sound.

The two combatants faced one another, the demon and tiger, their eyes seeming to burn into one-another as their destinies met. The Shadowfox remained unscathed, casually watching its prey as the saber tiger struggled to stand, its determined verdant gaze sizzling with passionate rage. Rain pummeled both fighters, surrounding them in a vicious torrent of water, the churning blue sea seeming to come closer with every moment, its fierce waves tearing at the shore. Clouds shifted and rumbled, throwing spears of searing luminescence through the air, the deafening blasts of thunder shaking the very earth itself.

Ryke started out in a charge towards the fox, watching another thread of lightning flit through the darkened sky, disappearing as quickly as it had materialized. The fox charged as well, as both combatants sailed towards one another, blazing claws burning away at the columns of freezing, wind-blown rain as it plummeted down. Huge, steel paws sent up massive sprays of water and sand with each footfall, carrying their bodies with incredible speed towards their respective targets.

No more games, Ryke thought. It was combat from here on. Both sprinting zoids moved together, closing their shared distance with incredible speed, sleek metallic forms undulating with each powerful gallop. The two leapt into the air as they came in range, the sparkling golden form of the Saber tiger heaving its armored feline frame into the air, drawing back one clawed leg in preparation to strike. The rain fell heavily around both combatants, pelting them with a limitless volley of miniscule droplets that exploded onto their powerful armor, shattering into thousands of tiny orbs.

The millions of raindrops sizzled loudly as they met their destination, impacting the shimmering claws of the tiger as it prepared to strike its opponent, tearing its way through the wet air with a furious roar, protesting the heavy torrent of rain. The ghost moved as well, its intimidating gaze smoldering through the dark night, burning its way straight into Ryke's soul. He grit his teeth in determination, moving the right joystick in a circular jerk forward, putting his entire shoulder into the movement, crying out in rage.

Ryke could feel the zoid shift with him, its movements mimicking his own. One great, flaming claw surged forward in a burst of bright light, the conflagration rapidly soaring towards the dark fox before it, its vicious, glowing claws trembling and screaming with the force of their intended blow.

The massive, heavy woosh of the air, the solid shriek of the photon-heated blades slicing through water and air filled his ears, a sound so shocking, so unexpected that it caused him to abruptly lose his breath, choking on his own surprise. Tears came to Ryke's eyes as the zoid spun rapidly with the force of its own blow, shifting helplessly in the air, at the mercy of its opponent. The loud wail of the Vulcan cannon could be heard off the side, sending a shiver down his spine. The cry of the fierce weapon sounded more like the furious bellow of some rapid, malignant beast, the cry of a hunter as it slew its prey. The sound haunted him to the depths of his mind, the shuddering impact of the hyper-heated salvo of shells jerking the large zoid and sending it back to the ground in a crumpled heap.

Ryke panted heavily as once again he found himself staring at the rain-soaked sand through the eyes of his zoid, hearing nothing more than his own heavy breathing and the harsh, deafening roar of the constant rainfall. The storm was roaring in with incredible speed. The waves crashed and snarled against the shore, sending up huge spouts of white water into the air, as if surging upwards to counter to plummeting rain. Thunder crashed again, sending another split of lightning to crack the dark night sky, piercing it with a scintillating lance of pure white light.

The heavy gallop of the zoid ghost's paws rapidly approached, barely detectable over the roar of the see, the limitless fury of nature's might. His opponent approached for the coup de gras, each rumbling footstep bringing it closer to its goal, to Ryke's doom. Ryke shook his head in despair, biting his lip as he struggled with the controls of his zoid, trying desperately to make it respond, to move, to stand. Had Lightning given up on him so soon? Come on, he thought. Keep going, get up. We cant give in, we cant let this happen. Its impossible, it cant be defeated, its invincible, his own mind protested at the same time.

Ryke gritted this teeth in thought, his heart jumping with the sound of each heavy footfall, panting in horror at what was to come. He had to keep fighting. With a loud, rushing woosh, an enormous wave crashed into the lightning, shoving it sharply to one side, the zoid sliding forward onto the beach, still on its side, before being pulled back slightly as the great wave receded. The ocean seemed to nudge him with its reassuring caresses, its arms constantly reaching out, pushing him forward. "Go," it said, "Go and fight, this is not your time."

The Shadowfox finally reached its opponent, its legs still rapidly shifting beneath it with incredible precision, carrying it along at a terrifying pace. Leaping into the air, the fox's right "arm" drew backwards, glowing powerfully, the many glowing claw blades singing out into the night. The rain cascaded from its serrated armor constantly, surrounding it in an aura of haunting mist as it flew. The claw snarled furiously at the wet air around it, crackling and hissing like a flame consuming a sprinkle of water. Coming downwards in a brutal arc, the smoldering weapon soared down towards its target, delivering the final blow, the finishing touch, the last step in their incredible dance of death.

Ryke's tiger leapt to one side even too fast for the fox to react, seeming to have been jarred harshly by the waves. The armored predator skidded to a halt after three rapid, consecutive jumps, completely freeing itself from the grips of death. A swift retaliatory barrage of photon fire was quickly dispatched from the gun turret of the zoid, clinging tenuously to the machines brawny chest. Activating its particle shield as it plunged to the ground, the Shadowfox shook as it's own incredible strike blew a hole into the sand, the glowing claw quickly fading from view, impacting the earth with its vicious momentum and seeming to eviscerate the very beach below it. The hexagonal bubble flickered into appearance around the zoid's front, the ethereal pink shape smoothly absorbing the photon shots with a series of loud, energetic chirps.

Ryke cursed as it easily dismissed another of his attacks, shifting the zoid forward again in a furious charge. He would not give his opponent the time to think nor prepare. The tiger unexpectedly dashed forward at its opponent, completely offsetting the "tempo" of their battle, seeming to syncopate what rhythm there had been. Rather than leaping into the air for a dramatic slash, Ryke continued the charge right into his opponents vicinity, lowering the joysticks slowly. The tiger let out a feral snarl, lowering its heavy skull as it charged, suddenly slamming head-fist into its light-weight opponent.

The large man grunted sharply as his zoid struck that of his foe with a vicious headbutt, the recoil of the blow nearly knocking him from his seat. Ryke grunted and shrugged his shoulders dramatically, urging the combat vest back to rest more firmly against his chest, his hawklike gaze watching the shadowfox stumble violently and collapse, crashing into the waves.

Jagged armor shifting frantically beneath it, the Dark Fox seemed to stumble from the immense impact, its powerful legs working desperately to keep it on its feet. It settled in a weakened crouch from the unexpected blow, its dark eyes turning to its foe with renewed vengeance. Squinting towards his enemy, Ryke could see the heavy waves of the tempest rising behind it as it faced him, it's relentless glare just below that of the twin moons of Zi, their emerald intensity partially blocked out by stormclouds.

Glaring at that dark form, Ryke started as lightning crashed through the night again, its ruthless intensity jarring his eyesight, quickly providing a view of his opponent in the darkness. In that split-second, he could make out a pair of rectangular boxes slowly lifting from beneath plates of pointed armor, settling into place and pointing towards him. The ghost crouched, its feet sinking deeper into the sand below it, stabilizing itself despite the heavy waves crashing against its hull.

The large man let out a loud curse, suddenly jamming his controls to the left and rolling them forwards, his jaw agape in both fear and urgency. The Lightning instantly responded to his command, its deafening mechanical roar sounding distant and almost silent to him, soft and muffled, as if not quite there. The storm around them raged without any sign of decline, constantly drowning out all sound with its blustery wrath.

Feeling the zoid move beneath him, its burly feline form undulating gracefully with each gallop, sprinting at its top speed towards the same rock outcropping. Ryke squinted past the heap of shattered rock from before, doing his best to lead the golden machine towards an undamaged section of the jutting excursion.

A greenish vidscreen to his left blinked a bright red circle around a small 3D diagram of the Lightning, the words "Missile Lock" repeating over and over, accompanied by a chorus of insistent and demanding beeps. A loud, airy rush suddenly exploded through the night air, a high-pitched scream somehow audible above the crash of the waves, the howl of the wind and rain, the furious bellow of the thunder. "Missile Launch" now appeared in bold, a more frantic and rapid beeping constantly screaming its message at him, as if trying to convince him of what his senses had already proved. A number below the words blinked along with them, rapidly declining by the second, the numbers being rapidly burned away with every breath he took.

Powerful steel claws sliced into the heavy granite, urgently trying to gain traction, the armored cat laboriously struggling its way up the heavy rock cliff, powerful legs clawing and scratching their way towards the top. The tiger pushed off of a small excursion with it's back legs, leaping upwards onto a higher platform of stone, its heavy steel claws digging into the rock, causing it to crumble around the points of contact, stones tumbling down against the zoids armor along with the endless rain, only adding to the massive drumming atop its alloy carapace. Ryke cursed aloud as the missiles continued to close in, urging his zoid to climb faster. Ten meters to the top. The missiles, twenty meters away.

The number scrolled its way down unbelievably fast, their high-pitched, earsplitting scream intensifying with very passing moment. The android was forced to crawl gradually up the massive rock face, struggling for every inch, every slight sign of progression, a tedious test of sheer endurance, absolute strength of will. Nearly at the top, Ryke could feel his own muscles tensing and straining as they forcefully pushed and pulled at the controls, feeling as if he himself pulled the machine up as well. He could feel his own fingers clawing at the stone, his own legs pushing with all their might. Squinting through the heavy pillars of rain constantly soaring downwards, he could see the summit of his climb. Nearly there.

The sickening shriek of the missiles rose to a deafening wail, blocking out all other sound, before abruptly disappearing with a roar of light and flames, rock being thrown in all directions. Ryke was jolted in his seat, his eyes closing as his hands gripped the controls for dear life. The earth itself was being blasted away from beneath him, his claws fought to remain a firm hold on what he could not see or feel. The world was light and darkness as one, complete and utter blindness. He felt only fear and determination, the sheer terror of the situation and the will to persevere, to continue through all costs.

As the rubble cleared, the massive shower of rock and stone having already struck against his zoid's shell, denting it ruthlessly and beyond belief, he could barely make out a pair of glowing crimson eyes gazing down at him, the eyes of the smirking predator as it watched its pitiful prey scramble for existence, fighting for dear life. The cliff had been decimated, the Lightning simply dangling from a crippled outcropping, a jagged peak created by the incredible explosion from the rockets. By what he saw in those blood red eyes, he knew the miss was not a mistake. The waves had rose rapidly in moments, now crashing only 20 feet below, lapping against the rocky cliff, pulling insistently at it like wolves around a larger prey, biting at its ankles, forcing the rubble from its surface and carrying it off.

The onyx, threatening frame of the lighter fox remained motionless as Ryke struggled his way onto the cliff's surface, the powerful metallic legs of his zoid whining and trembling with incredible effort. Their hydraulics were strained to the very limit by the merciless climb and the titanium frame released another agonized wail as it withstood stress that transcended belief. The tiger quietly stood as powerful legs struggled beneath it, one of its emerald eyes badly damaged from the flying shrapnel of rock, its broken gaze returning that of its adversary. The tattered zoid took a shaky step forward, its heavy, dual-barreled cannon cocking upwards, locking in tandem on their target.

Ryke panted in both exasperation and agony, one eye partially closed from a great, swollen bluish bruise that had spread just above his eyebrow. The queasy feeling of defeat slowly sunk over him like a thick, dark blanket. It was not for comfort, but to lay him to rest. This black sheet settled not as a barrier, but to separate him from the world he so loved. Ryke stared through the eyes of his battered zoid, his jaw hanging slack as he gasped for air. The enemy before him stood unmarked, flawless and intact. It watched him with its haunting demon eyes, letting him decide his fate. It had only to wait. He had fought to his last breath, to the very extent of his power. Fatigue, agony, and grief washed out all other emotion but a numb acknowledgement of what was to come. The rain continued to hurtle down, the deep thunder and dazzling bursts of lightning still scrambling against one another in the dark sky. The waves had overtaken the stony outcropping, stranding the two combatants with one another. It was over.

The older man shifted his square jaw to one side, quietly scratching at his jaw, the sound of his nails against rough stubble seeming to hang in the heavy, thick air of the moment, a light, scratchy sound as coarse as sandpaper. He would die the warriors death. He had fought with honor. His time had come, the final blow was to be struck. The Lightning seemed to growl softly in agreement, the massacred zoid standing lopsidedly, its right hind leg limp and useless, it's foot lying awkwardly on the ground. The zoid's once spotless yellow armor was now speckled in bullet holes, tattered by huge tears and gashes. The zoid seemed to pant in exhaustion, its huge metallic bulk rising and falling as if struggling constantly to stay standing. Ryke set his jaw, slowly bringing his hand back towards the controls, nodding firmly. "We did well, Lightning," He quietly muttered, his gruff, deep voice filled with a stone-cold resolve. "A warriors death. Could we have asked for more?"

Ryke brought his fingers inwards sharply, relishing the soft, firm click of the cannon's triggers. The airy thud of the photon bolts being fired burst into the night air, the bright projectiles quickly being hurled through the air towards their target. They seemed to slow and smolder in the air, their ephemeral forms churning and fuming as they flew. His raptor gaze could barely catch the Shadowfox as it moved with incredible speed, easily leaping above the shots and soaring through the air, plunging upwards towards the dual sparkling moons with incredible speed. As it reached the apex of its arcing leap, the Shadowfox thrust its heavy, sharp claws downwards, soaring down towards him in a fraction of a second. Staring up with an emotionless expression on his face, Ryke watched as the demon eyes grew closer, their great inferno burning into his own. He stared not at his opponent, but at death, a warriors death.

The shadowfox slammed into the larger Saber Tiger with incredible force, landing atop it as its powerful claws easily shredded the armor from its back. The already struggling legs of the zoid collapsed beneath the immense force, sprawling out to the sides as sparks burst in all directions, fragments of metal being hurled into the raging storm, all splashing into the ocean with a loud chorus of hefty splashes. A strange peace settled over the rocks afterwards, the rain still heavily showering down on the two, as the fox stepped off of its opponent, turning and watching it's slaughtered corpse. The zoid had been reduced to rubble, small flames about its eviscerated fuselage hissing against the heavy rain, as sparks crackled and snarled at the night air. The twin moons of Zi watched calmly over the scene, spreading their eerie verdant glow across the raging shore.

"I've got it!" the bandit cried jubilantly through a mouthful of noodles, holding up one finger. Khalsin looked up over his ramen noodle cup, pausing a moment as his grey eyes searched the woman's delighted face. Quirking one flared purple brow, he jerked his head toward her. "What?"

"The Scrapper team!" she exclaimed, grinning triumphantly before slurping a long pull of steaming noodles between her crimson lips. The woman nibbled the cheap bamboo chopsticks for a moment, her purple eyes glancing upwards before back down to her partner. "See? Because...we break things! We've got all the heavy weapons, so I figured 'hey, why not?'" she chuckled gleefully at this, looking back down into the small Styrofoam cup, jabbing at it quietly with her chopsticks, seeming to have hit an incredibly rebellious noodle.

Khalsin stabbed his own sticks into his cup, lifting his newly freed hand to scratch at the back of his neck. Leaning his head to one side, the young man considered this idea, shifting his hand toward the side of his head and running his fingers through his stubborn violet hair. "I like it," he began, nodding quietly as he licked his lips, his stony features being exaggerated into shadow by the blazing campfire before him. "It makes sense, and it just sounds more... 'us'..., I mean, not necessarily heroic, but threatening nonetheless. Not good or evil, but a third-party effect, a neutral force."

The older woman across the fire from him furrowed her brow, grinning wryly and waving her chopsticks in mock-sophistication. "Well god, Khal, you've certainly got this all figured out, huh?" she jested, chuckling playfully.

Khalsin couldn't help but to laugh as well, quickly tilting his noodle cup and slurping down the still-hot remains of his soup, his nostrils filling with the delicious steamy aroma of spiced chicken. The food was heavenly after a day with nothing to eat, its warmth seeming to heat his insides, providing a cozy sense of security. The salty chicken flavor was more than mouthwatering, easily forcing him to devour his meal before being able to truly enjoy it. The young pilot casually plopped the noodle cup down beside him, leaving the chopsticks inside, before hugging his knees to his chest, staring quietly into the fire.

The soft crackling of the flame was comforting to hear, its gentle snaps and pops like the reassuring words of a loved one. Khalsin idly tugged at the tightened cuff of his bronze pants just below his knee, feeling the smooth material against his skin. Amidst all this rain, he had somehow managed to stay dry. These last few days had been incredible, the sudden acceleration in his life having been nothing close to what he had expected, but nonetheless exciting. He had found an incredible zoid and a partner. His career as a zoid pilot would come with these two. He had found what he had needed in those woods; a strange zoid and an unusual companion. Khalsin chuckled again at this thought, his sharp lupine gaze flitting over to the woman for a moment, watching her down a small can of soda in a few dramatic gulps, ending the theatrical ordeal with a heavy belch. The woman quietly thudded a fist against her chest, clearing her throat idly before placing the can on the ground. The sound of her demanding voice abruptly catching him off-guard.

"Hey, when you're done staring at me, are you gonna finish that grape seltzer?"

Khalsin stammered in shock a moment, quickly looking away from her before moving his eyes back, his face bursting with a sudden flush of red on his cheeks. "I..uhh...n-no, you can have it.." he managed to say, before tossing the can towards her. The woman smirked triumphantly, reaching up with one gloved hand. She opened the can with one hand, the purple metallic plates along the backs of her fingers and palm shifting quietly. The can cracked open with a loud hiss followed by a snap, the abrupt sound making Khalsin jump a little bit. The bandit held up the can towards him a moment and bobbing her head briefly in thanks, before tilting it back to take a long drag from the purple cylinder.

The woman sat with one knee bent and her heavy purple boot on the ground, the other leg laying on its side and folded inwards. Bringing the can from her lips and resting the arm that held it on her knee, Tolei quickly wiped her mouth with the back of her arm. "Well god, you're a bundle of nerves, tonight, huh." She spoke gruffly, jerking her head towards him, the black, swirling overhang of hair at the front of her head bouncing softly.

Khalsin gave a shrug before feigning interest in his sleeves, re-rolling the long grayish fabric back up towards his elbows. "Yeah.. guess its just been a long day.." he muttered in response, feeling sheepish at her previous comment. He could feel her intense blue eyes watching him, so filled with intelligence and incisiveness that a chill ran down his spine. The woman was uncouth and seemingly boorish on the outside, but whenever he looked into her eyes, it was obvious this was but a façade, an attempt at hiding what her mind really held.

"Something wrong, man?" came the voice again, the woman taking another impressive swig from the small canister.

Khalsin shook his head, rubbing his neck a bit as he quietly lay himself down in the dry grass, looking out form beneath the armored underbelly of the Emperor crab. The rain came down in a constant, heavy barrage, colliding with the enormous red crab's domelike shell in a rushing chorus of thousands of hollow thuds. "No... I'm fine, just...been a long day, that's all..." he let himself trail off, yawning widely and stretching his arms out slightly in the grass. Long day indeed; he guessed he hadn't slept for over 32 hours now. Khalsin's eyes watered slightly from the yawn, causing him to close them in sympathy, rolling onto his side. The warmth of the flame continued to gently comfort him, its bright, undulating light still barely visible through his eyelids, dulled to a gentle shifting of sleepy luminescence beneath his eyelids. Khalsin felt himself gradually fading into unconsciousness, the crackling of the flame and the quiet roar of the rain atop his zoid's shell lulling him towards his dreams. More had happened in the last few days than he could possibly remember, his destiny had rushed to rest before his feet in what seemed like moments. Sleep gradually drifted over him, setting his sore muscles to rest, easing his exhausted mind into relaxation.

The harsh thunder and merciless gales of wind from before had stopped hours ago, and now only torrential rain remained, allowing for the two to have had their picnic beneath the emperor crab. The Dusk Sniper sat quietly off to their left, crouched beneath a huge tree. Tolei sighed happily as she finished her soda, licking the rich, grapey taste from her lips before running her fingers through her short black hair, feeling it spring back into its normal position instantly. The bandit heaved a quiet sigh, glancing over at her sleeping partner a moment, letting out a soft "hmph" as a kind smirk poisoned her rock hard façade. Tolei leaned back, stretching out her legs and folding her arms beneath her head. The woman stared quietly up at the massive titanium armor on the stomach of the Emperor crab, quietly allowing her thoughts to drift as she lay there.

A zoid pilot. Exactly what she had wished to become. Was it fate, was it destiny that brought her here, that guided her to this kid? Was it some predetermined law that today she would attempt to rob a scrappy man in his late teens, and end up finding what it was she needed most? He seemed so fresh, so new, as if unprepared for what the backdraft could do. It was as if he didn't understand, yet in his eyes she could see his maturity, the massive comprehension with which he lived. Her new partner intrigued her to no end. A zoid pilot. A zoid team. A zoid fighter. Much had come from this old thief, she thought haughtily to herself. It was time to turn her life around. Tolei slowly shut her ice blue eyes, grinning broadly as she drifted to sleep, her elbows jutting out sharply from behind her skull. The Scrapper team. So there it was.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: A Beginning and An End.

Khalsin fiddled idly with the tip of his bamboo fishing pole, leaning against it partially while his partner continued her redundant discussion with the huge vidscreen before her. The ZBC official had been interrogating her for nearly an hour now, constantly requesting registration codes and passwords, bank accounts and mail addresses. The wealth of information he desired was more than he believed either of them knew even about themselves.

Having listened only partially, Khalsin noticed the quick-thinking woman at his side had fabricated the majority of the information, as some of the questions truly had no answer; or else an answer they didn't want getting out. Yet alas, the infinite hail of inquiries carried on without sign of pause nor break, a remorseless exchange of information; a one sided one, no less. Of course, the pilot thought to himself, he made this seem much worse than it really was.

Boredom was a thing of its own creation, in some strange, ironic manner; and to him it was the greatest of agonies. Combat, it seemed, was all that could occupy his mind. All else seemed trivial, grey, and shaded. When one had truly fought, experienced the fury of battle, one could see nothing else in the same light. When there was not this possibility of death or injury, there was no reality. Khalsin rubbed the back of his neck as he thought; realizing out of the fray he did little but think to himself. The dreamy state of peace outside the "arena" provided room only for self reflection. Boredom became a haunting friend that simply would not leave. It was capable of both manifesting on its own and, even worse, enlarging itself into a miserable emotion. Huffing softly at the prospect, Khalsin shifted his weight to the other side, looking about the area in a desperate attempt to distract himself.

The two pilots stood at a street corner in Romeo city, facing a large booth with the ZBC insignia printed across its back. The screen itself housed a stern frame within it, the head and shoulders of a Commission official, the man's austere features barely shifting during his quick bursts of bland speech, but rather remaining tense and almost robotic. A pair of high cheekbones and a smooth, almost indistinguishable jaw were all that could be discerned of skin below a large, opaque white visor which surrounded the mans head in an almost turban-like fashion. Khalsin found he recognized this style of almost angelic whiteness to be characteristic of the ZBC robotic judges and their capsules as well. The repetitive and insipid tones of white and the man's voice forced him to look elsewhere, seeking some form of entertainment to end his suffering.

Khalsin briefly eyed the surrounding buildings and streets, mottled with zoids and various palm trees, letting his mind wander a moment at the beauty of Romeo city. It was hardly a city at all, in his mind, but a beautiful utopian metropolis; a paradise. Zoid pilots frequented the area, interesting machines were in no shortage. Even now as his partner continued to absorb the dawdling, monotonous droning of the registration official, a pair of scarlet Heldigunner lumbered past, the long, beautiful forms of the unusual zoids undulating with their smooth movements, thick plates of armor shifting with each motion of a stubby leg, clawed feet scraping the metallic pavement as they sauntered along. The lizards themselves slid by uneventfully, huge blaster cannons swaying on their backs, the sound of their thudding metallic feet gradually fading into the distance. Khalsin shook his head suddenly, his spiked hair shifting as he tried to rid himself of his mind's evanescent musings. He was part of the team; it was his job to register as well. Khalsin forced himself to stare forward at the vidscreen before his partner, and at least attempt to take a more active role in the proceedings.

"How long has your team been together as a functioning group of members?" inquired the demanding voice of the official, the man gazing out from behind a white visor suspended by a matching helmet, the rest of his intricate ivory garb awash in the glowing white background behind him.

Khalsin quirked one flared violet brow, jerking his chin forward slightly as he leaned the large bamboo shaft of his pole against his shoulder, smiling a bit and shifting his ratty grey tennis shoes on the dirty cobblestone beneath him. "Just a bit less than a d-" he found himself abruptly cut off by a sudden glare from the taller woman, the thief shaking her head slightly. She cleared her throat, ice cold eyes smoldering against the harsh glow of the angelic and pristinely white holoscreen. "Just a bit less than two months now." The young pilot bit his lip slightly, bouncing the bamboo staff against his shoulder, feeling the gentle contact of the wood as he tried to recover from the woman's stare. He obviously had little place in the discussion, yet was urgent for the time to pass more swiftly at any cost. The sound of the man's voice came again, breaking his frantic thoughts with little trouble.

"Alright, and your team's requested name?" This he could answer.

"The Scrapper Team," Khalsin announced proudly, a slight grin shifting across his stony features and tempting a line of dimples to appear along his cheeks. He could hear a soft grunt of approval from his companion, a nearly inaudible noise that had barely brushed his ear before it had ended, making him almost wonder if he had heard it in the first place.

"Very well," continued the official, a strange air of authority and judgment about him, something straddling the line between arrogance and an austere sense of duty. Either that, Khalsin thought to himself, or a nasal problem. "You'll have to bring your zoids by for a closer inspection… especially the uh….Emperor Crab. That model isn't listed on our database; custom models require a great deal of verification. Anyway. We'll see if you meet proper regulations. You can get your Zoids inspected at the ZBC outpost in San Pireas. Should you pass inspection, welcome to the Zoids Battle Federation League C."

Khalsin felt a rush of excitement flow through him, causing that underlying bolt of ferocity within him to flourish in a burst of energy, his yearning for battle becoming almost unbearable. He gave a soft nod, the passion within him holding his voice back, as if clinging to it with clenched fists of restraint. The pilot could feel his own fists trembling as they clenched around his fishing pole, his excitement at the threshold of uncontrollable. Tolei, luckily, spoke for him, seeing the awkward excitement dancing in his grey eyes.

"Thank you, director." The woman muttered, though her ice cold eyes were concentrated on the male beside her, locked on his slender form. The telescreen quietly clicked off, the white figure being replaced with a deep blue screen, the white emblem of the Zoids Battle Commission emblazoned in its center, the letters "ZBC" separated beneath it by a pair of oversized periods.

Khalsin cleared his throat theatrically for a moment, turning towards his partner and quirking one flared brow, hoisting the bamboo staff to rest casually against his shoulder. "Back to San Pireas then, huh?"

The woman gave a husky laugh, nodding as she exhaled slowly from the tension of talking with the official. She rubbed her forearms briefly, tightening the armored gauntlets around her fingers and groping firmly at he air to tighten them about her fingers. "Can't stand talking to those officials, you're doing that once we get to the station. I'm done with those hardasses…Christ. Don't give you a bit of slack. You owe me one for all the shit I made up right there."

Khalsin's dimpled grin came again at this, the pilot already slowly walking towards his Zoid in an idle fashion, unable to control his eagerness to depart. He turned back towards her a moment while his shoulders shook briefly with a breathy chuckle; grey eyes shifting briefly over to her. He seemed awkwardly tense, as if incredibly eager to get going, though he tried to cover his quiet, almost underlying and addictive urgency with a relaxed and extraneous shrug of the shoulders. "Sure," he said, still backing towards the huge, deep-red zoid behind him, the crustacean juggernaut towering over the few other zoids seated on the pavement. "I'll talk to them next time, but lets concentrate on getting there first, I mean, I've never seen anyone so slow."

Tolei scoffed at the prospect, the thief turning on the heel of her heavy tech boot and patting the blaster strapped around her thigh. "Christ, boy, you'd better watch what you say." She jaunted coyly, a wry grin perking up her black lips, a dark swath of hair overshadowing the right side of her face. "I might just get a little target practice…"

The younger boy started slightly before playfully shaking his heavy staff in her direction, a white-and-red bobber bouncing quietly at its end. "Hey, save it for the battle, hot-shot."

Tolei stifled a chuckle and let out a snort then marched off towards her gun sniper, her chilling gaze bouncing suddenly from her partner's jocular stare to the glowing orange visor of her zoid. The saurian machine stood quietly tensed, its mouth slightly open as it awaited its pilot; its bright orange markings appearing more blatant when drowned in the azure background of a deep blue command wolf at its left. The startling canine zoid stood by with a pair of light photon rifles mounted on its back, its light armor plating well polished and glossy. The two photon cannons pointed forward from a rectangular turret, their barrels hovering just a few feet back from the wolf's tented, angular ears. Shifting her gaze downwards, Tolei could see the Command Wolf's lightweight armor plating covering its nimble legs, still finely polished and painstakingly buffed; obviously a cherished and pampered zoid. Atop one large, cobalt shoulder plate lay a man in a flamboyant trenchcoat of a nearly equal color. The two split, diamond-shaped tails of the cloak trailed down to the back of his knees, contrasting a ragged pair of black pants and a two deep brown leather boots. The periwinkle coat cut off at the shoulders, displaying a pair of metallic, engraved rings coiled firmly around the pilot's biceps and contrasting fair skin. Tolei's gaze idly glided its way towards his face, before the bandit started quietly and looked away, an angry scarlet blush emblazoned across her features as the man's mahogany gaze was locked firmly on hers.

Raising one black-gloved hand, the mercenary jerked his head towards her, a calm and barely detectable grin moving across his thin lips. "Like what you see, cupcake?" His soft, haughty tones rang into the cool coastal breeze of the city with a clear and bombastic annunciation, yet also bore some miniscule idiosyncrasy which tweaked a thread of recognition at the back of her mind. The bandit glanced up at the pilot for a moment, her chilling gaze taking in the man's slender face and shoulder length, sandy brown hair, neatly settled about his neck. "…Hunter?" she muttered, shaking her head slowly in disbelief. "Ah!" came the man's caustic sarcasm in a wave of mock-excitement, delicate eyebrows shifting upwards. "So she does know me." He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head calmly to one side, his dark brown eyes gaining a surreptitious sparkle of curiosity. "So what're you doing around here, Val? What brings you to the fair winds of Romeo city?"

Tolei stuttered a moment at the question, turning almost white with fear as she struggled fabricate an explanation to cover up the darker events which had occurred since their last meeting, nearly five years ago. "Well I'm…" Tolei clawed through her mind for a solution, a rational cause to be in the area. She could feel the answer biting at the tip of her tongue, as cold beads of sweat formed along her browline. It was there, yet somehow she couldn't put her finger on it. Thousandths of a second passed like long, agonizing hours while the events of the last two days rocketed at her like a speeding eighteen wheeler. The woman the rigid fear within her suddenly wiped away with sudden, cool confidence. Wham; she thought. Struck. "I'm just joining up with the ZBC actually…becoming a zoid pilot." She exhaled quietly in relief, realizing for once that she no longer had to lie. Such fabrication had become a reflex, furiously imprinted into her brain by year after year of practiced. Tolei bit her lip at the thought; she had become an seasoned liar. Eyeing her old friend, Tolei tried to tune into his words, still shocked from her brief mental lapse. The abrupt solution was so unexpected it seemed an even greater relief than the prospect of honesty with which it had come.

Brad, previously recumbent atop his zoid sat up in surprise, heavy brows rising up in one fluid movement, his face a picture of feigned shock, hands shifting smoothly to his knees. "Valentine! A zoid pilot! Whatever happened to 'that's not for me'!" Hunter's grin seemed to widen at the prospect of his old friend in such a profession, before recalling his own good fortune and raising his chin towards her a moment. "'ve you got a team? I'm well along in that profession myself. I finally found a team and decided to settle with them.."

Tolei haughtily crossed her arms over her chest, the woman tapping one glistening chrome tech boot at the pavement as she leaned back against one sturdy metallic leg of the Dusk sniper. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Big change, huh? I guess I sort of had a… change of heart, that's all." The woman ran her lower lip through her teeth nervously, resisting the clawing thoughts which brought back that ominous past which loomed above her, seeming to gnash its teeth in anticipation of its every opportunity to haunt her. She quickly strove to answer his second question, trying to force the memories from her mind once again. "Yeah, I've got a team, too. We're a duo for now. Just talked to an official and now we're goin' to get our Zoids registered… I cant believe how much crap we have to go through just to do some fighting." her brow twitched in annoyance at the prospect of all the paperwork to come, the bandit shaking her head softly.

A soft smirk seemed to penetrate the man's solid features, his eyes narrowing. "I know the feeling; I'm up here to grab some reward credits for the Blitz team's latest win, then I'm headed back to the hover cargo." "Blitz team?" mocked the bandit below him, chuckling as an overhanging lock of her dark hair bounced slightly before her eyes. "Didn't know you pansies were playing football." The mercenary slid quickly off the shoulder of his zoid, landing firmly on his feet and shrugging passively. "I didn't make the name; it was the boss's choice. ..Hey, I bet it's a damn lot better than yours.."

Tolei grunted in protest, raising an arm and playfully flexing it, two small plates of purple metallic armor gently clicking together as she winked proudly. "No one beats the Scrapper team. Soon-to-be Class C champs."

Hunter's surreptitious grin came again, the male nodding as he slipped his hands into his pockets, his hushed voice sounding again. "Good luck to you guys, then." He glanced over at the ZBC headquarters behind him, his brown eyes briefly scanning over the huge white complex. He soon looked back towards his compatriot, giving a terse nod. "Listen, I'll catch you later. That prize money's calling my name." Turning on the heel of one tall boot, the mercenary walked off quietly, the pointed tails of his sleeveless blue coat swaying quietly in his wake. The woman smiled and nodded in concordance, her frigid gaze watching him saunter off before moving abruptly upwards. She started as a hulking crimson form immediately blocked the sun from her view, her partner's gargantuan crustacean war machine facing her with its single, boomerang-shaped purple eye, a wide visor though which its pilot surveyed his surroundings.

The bandit scowled at the huge, intimidating machine, quickly climbing one powerful leg of her zoid. She huffed quietly at the sound of a loud, ringing tone from inside the zoid, an alarm alerting her of an incoming hail. The pilot pried open the orange cockpit visor of her zoid, climbing inside and seating herself in a comfortable black chair, feeling a semicircular headrest instantly conform against the back of her skull. The woman's hands slipped easily around the smooth reddish joysticks at either side of her chair, feeling her zoid suddenly roar to life beneath her. The visor shut, as statistics flickered quietly across its transparent orange surface, along with a small square screen depicting the face of an irate Khalsin. The younger man seemed distracted, having lost interest in his previous hail, staring intensely through the broad violet visor of the Emperor crab while he impatiently awaited her response. The interior of the cockpit could barely be seen around him, the soft glow of a few circular, bluish lights casting their soft radiance across the man's pale features. Tolei chuckled a bit, running her fingers through her hair as her zoid began to gradually creep forward, its tail waving from side to side as it awoke from its groggy slumber. The woman quickly looked up to the vidscreen, delighted and eager to break the silence with a frustrated growl.

"I cant stand these bastards. We have to –register! Why can't we just duke it out already? I'm itching to do some scrapping." Tolei folded her arms behind her head as her zoid bounced impatiently on its feet, seeming to share the sentiment. Tolei wrenched her jaw softly, her cold eyes shifting back to the vidscreen as she studied the pilot's features. The man's lupine grey eyes glanced towards her a moment as he shook his head, his strange, spiked hair waggling comically along with the movement. "I know what you mean, its goddamn ridiculous." The pilot squinted one eye a little, before chuckling and looking in her direction again, a wry grin spreading dimples over his sharp features. "We got more action from the backdraft…maybe we should just head back there?"

Tolei forced a smile, nervously glancing down at her controls a moment, her hands fidgeting idly with their reddish joysticks as she cleared her throat. "Heh… y-yeah…" she stuttered, her voice wavering fearfully, before trailing off into an uncomfortable silence. She closed her eyes for a moment, glancing off to the side as the eerie hiatus in speech sank like a dark and foreboding blanket over the two. Khalsin could be seen with an increasing look of concern contaminating his usually stonelike features, the pilot's flared violet eyebrows drawing downwards. "…Hey, what is it with you and the Backdraft? I wouldn't think a bandit to get this upset about a single theft-job. What's the deal? Is there something you're not telling me?"

The woman tried to speak, yet no sound passed her scarlet lips as they strained for speech. She bit her lip and looked down, a long, hooked lock of ebon hair shrouding her features. She finally looked up again; her eyes having melted into soft, teary pools of deep sadness, the woman's lips quivering. "Nothing…I just…don't worry about it. It's a... a long story…" the woman set her jaw quietly, letting her gaze sink to one gloved hand as she struggled to look busy while tightening the armor-plated gauntlet, her fingers groping mercilessly at the air to tighten it's vinyl black skin to a more snug fit. At the same time, she thought, her mind groped for some way out, some scrap of dignity or credibility to hold above herself like a shield. The woman stared into the palm of her hand, her chest rising and falling irregularly as she struggled to contain her tears. Her partner's eyes widened a moment, his right eye twitching nervously as he swallowed at the presence of another awkward pause, bowing his head quietly and deactivating the vidscreen.

The screen dissipated with a soft, whirring click, leaving the woman in silence. She took a deep breath, before returning both her hands to their joysticks, lifting one again for a moment to wipe her eyes. Tolei shook her head softly as she leaned the smooth, metallic controls forward, feeling the electric bounce of her saurian killing machine's nimble steps. The zoid's head, also the cockpit, leaned forward and sunk slightly as the raptor entered a more suitable and natural posture for walking, its clawed feet moving slowly beneath it. Each step was accompanied with a loud, solid thud, the sound of its heavily endowed feet as they struck pavement. The woman's fists tightened around the controls, causing the black material of her gauntlets to creak in abject protest. The waves of intermittent discussion had caused a massive wave of tension to flow over the duo as they prepared to leave the city, considerably bewildering them both. She hated the emotions that had come fourth so soon, she hated what she had done to herself, and what she had done to others. Her past wouldn't leave. How long could she go on like this? She had to move on, to forgive and forget. It was long ago and behind her now.

The woman took a deep, preparatory breath and hailed her partner by flicking a small switch, watching as the vidscreen instantly popped up before her. She could see her companion's gargantuan crab lumbering up ahead, the zoid's heavy claws tucked in near its mouth as it moved in a leisurely, lateral scuttle.. The pilot looked up at her quietly, raising one oddly shaped eyebrow. "Yeah?" came his unnaturally instant and concise reply, his jaw nervously clenched.

She narrowed her eyes after a moment of what she hoped appeared to be thought, turning her head to look at the slender pilot as he nimbly manipulated his controls, the massive zoid eagerly complying with his instructions and scuttling its way down the wide, concrete city street. Looking back to her partner's expectant eyes, the woman's eyebrows drew downwards in question. "Hey, how're we getting back to San Pireas anyhow? I'm not really sure of the way."

"Oh, I take it you aren't from around there. No problem, I've been around the area, and I know a few paths we might be able to take. That aside, we'll just have to wing it with my beach sense, you know, stay level with the shoreline… I'm still not used to going on land."

Tolei quirked at his leisurely reply as she leaned the dual reddish joysticks forward, feeling the lithe form of her raptor move beneath her, its head bobbing alertly as it trotted in tow with its larger compatriot. The woman shrugged, before a playful and idealistic grin played across her darkly shaded lips. "What do you say we do a little beach hopping, then? I'm sure we could go port-to-port and get there pretty fast." she smirked, chuckling at her own brainchild conclusion, her snowflake irises transitioning smoothly to settle on her more ardent companion.

Entering a bustling intersection, Khalsin gave a firm nod as he quickly transitioned the crab to move outwards towards the coast, his hand jerkily yanking the controls to the left. The quick shift in direction triggered an outburst of chaos, as a few oncoming zoids stopped dead in their tracks, skidding to a halt to avoid the irrational movements of the tanklike walker. Khalsin completely ignored the yellow shield liger and its irate pilot as he was repeatedly hailed, his excitement growing by the moment while his zoid plummeted down a smaller sidestreet towards the Romeo City Harbor."…Beautiful, I didn't even consider that. We could make it to San Pireas in a couple of hours, no less. Beach hopping it is, then." The pilot bobbed his head in earnest praise, tilting his head to one side as he watched a projection of the area to his zoid's right side, using this as a windshield to cope with his zoid's unusual movement patterns.

The bandit quickly gave a lighthearted "peace" sign with her fingerless-gloved hand, urging the raptor to quickly slip through the consternation her partner's larger zoid had wrought amongst the other traveling machines, the nimble gun sniper galloping its way through a mess of parked zoids. She chuckled as she increased her velocity to catch up to the scuttling behemoth, shaking her head at the wreckless zeal of her associate. The man's excitement had easily gotten the best of him. The feeling was mutual, she thought to herself. A new life, a new start, was a truly great thing.

Peering vigilantly out through the transparent cockpit window of the zoid, she studied a view of Romeo city through the eyes of her android as it traveled swiftly past. There was a cluster of high buildings, no skyscrapers, yet, though there did appear various houses, shops, hotels, and even a zoid parts shop she had insisted upon visiting before contacting the ZBC official. Not a particularly fruitful expedition, she bluntly recalled, as the store was simply a junk shop of worthless everyday parts. It was variety that she sought, rare weaponry. Tolei gave an inward shudder at the origins of her two more notable weapons, the 30MM Vulcan and the MKII rifle. These glittering prizes paid grim witness to the strife and horror of her old life, bearing testament to what she had once been and done. There was no pride here, only haunting memories.

Tolei forcefully urged the nervous thoughts from her mind, a feeling like shutting a door in the face of an angry pursuer. Her old life was over now. It was time to move on, to start anew, to redefine who she was. The woman swallowed quietly as her surroundings seemed to swirl back in around her, the light scent of the nearby ocean drifting into her nostrils along with the oily yet comforting scent of heavy machinery. The harbor had just come into sight, a small cabana-style building with a long concrete dock stretching outwards into the endless blue abyss of the eastern ocean. Tolei narrowed her eyes slightly as she cleared her throat, gently releasing her pressure on the joysticks and feeling an achy tingling spread up her wrists. The woman wiggled her fingers quietly, suddenly realizing that her hands had been tensed fast in an unconscious effort to restrain her emotions. The woman made a sour face, glancing back out at her new surroundings, seeing the Emperor Crab come to a gradual stop, obviously in awe of the same sight.

A few palm trees surrounded a strange lot for zoids, located directly behind the "Romeo City Pier", a squat building covered in seagull-dung, still obviously frequented by the winged vermin, who swiftly cut through the air with their powerful wings and echoing cries.

The slow, tidy and light footsteps of the raptor began again as it walked smoothly past several other interesting zoids, a gleaming black gordos, a dull yellow pteras, and of course, the strikingly unusual design of her comrade's zoid. Tol ei raised an eyebrow, her penetrating, cold gaze idly studying the enormous craft. She had never before seen such a model, an ingeniously created ground-based gunner; modeled specifically after a crab. The majestic zoid was quiet large and squat, obviously maneuverable and stable, making it ideal for precise gunning, yet speedy in a lateral direction; designed for utter perfection in strafing. The crest at its front cropped upwards like a decorative mark atop a Samurai's kabuto, an intriguing feature on an already mysterious zoid. Where had it come from? She had seen the two of them fight before. They looked as if they were meant for one another, as though they had been together a very long time; fighting, almost, as one. The boy's mysterious origins were interesting, though incredibly distracting, she now noticed, realizing she had been ignoring repeated hails from her partner's vidscreen.

Tolei flipped a small metallic switch off to her left, glancing up at the hovering, projected panel which appeared before her. Khalsin cocked his head a little, running one hand back through his spiked, deep-violet hair. The pilot smiled as a pair of flared brows quirked upwards, his distinctively loud voice sounding. "Right then. This is the harbor. Not a bad place, hm? They've got great home fries there." The young pilot paused awkwardly a moment, his hyperactive zeal instantly overriding any sliver of appreciation he had once had for the area. A light of excitement danced in his smokey, lupine eyes, lighting up his sharp features. "How about we hit the beach? I'm itching for that first match."

Khalsin kept his eye on the projected first-person view of his crab's path before him, nodding without a word. He had become immersed already in desire to depart. The huge crab neatly overran a small banister separating the beach from the zoid lot, its heavily armored, multi-jointed legs carrying its squat form smoothly over any obstacles. The scarlet, armored crab continued without pause, lumbering its way down towards the sandy dunes. The huge, crimson zoid seemed, if anything, at home on these huge, endless waves of white sand, its eight legs maneuvering it cleanly and precisely parallel to the heavy banks of thick beachgrass. His partner's gun sniper followed curiously at his rear, the lightweight machine jogging along behind it, the pair of large firearms mounted on either side of its back bouncing along with its segmented tail, jarred by each springy stride. The reptilian predator seemed uncannily graceful in its movements, its mechanics absolutely identical to that of an actual raptor; each smooth step incredibly natural and balanced, somehow not deterred by the pair of massive guns mounted on its back.

Their heightened pace set, the two started off towards San Pireas, an awkward convoy of strikingly different zoids and pilots. Khalsin set his jaw habitually, a thick band of muscle bulging slightly just behind one high cheekbone, the fisherman glancing off into the distance using the zoid's projected "windshield". He calmly scratched his chin before looking to another hovering, semitransparent panel to his left. Tolei's face turned suddenly towards him, the woman's snowflake eyes expectantly locking on his. Khalsin promptly spoke, his eloquent annunciation ringing out in the dull tones of his voice. "Do you see that little outcropping in the distance?"

Tolei blinked in confusion, squinting with immense concentration on the vermillion-tinted horizon in the distance, trying to discern what her partner had indicated, yet seeing nothing. She shook her head quietly, a hooked lock of ebon hair swinging in tandem, just in front of her right eye. Tolei swept her frosted stare over a few large, rocky bulges in the distance, appearing at her distance as a cluster of tiny black specks. "No… I don't think so.."

Her partner raised one flared brow, looking back as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, swaying quietly in the smooth, curvaceous form of his cockpit seat, moving with the gradual rocking motion of the dunes. He pointed one finger, more for himself than for her, towards a tiny grayish imperfection in the endless sandy shoreline, tilting his head to one side to better judge the distance. His grey eyes narrowed suddenly, while he seemed to wrench his sharp jaw in idle concentration. "Look down past that… sort of cliff formation…you should be able to see the white of the waves crashing against the outcropping."

Tolei paused a moment, before nodding quietly. "Yeah…I see it…" she muttered, before her clenched features burst into an excited grin. The pilot jerked her dual joysticks forward suddenly, causing her raptor burst into a sudden gallop, overtaking the squat emperor crab and moving past it, kicking up a spray of sand with every fleeting saurian footfall. "Alright, lets speed this up! Going this slow that'll take forever!"

"Hey!" cried her partner as his armored behemoth fell abruptly behind, its bulkier form easily outraced. "Slow down!"

The bandit's gruff laughter echoed through his cockpit as her zoid raced off ahead of him, the fisherman growling as he urged his zoid on, struggling to keep up; its massive, crimson frame gradually lagging behind. The slender frame of the raptor danced gracefully off ahead of him, its powerful legs working vigorously beneath it. Khalsin smirked quietly as the two raced down the beach; finding an interesting contrast between their hurried and enthusiastic venture and his last melancholy stroll down the very same beach. Had so much really changed? The fisherman's grin only widened at this, his smokey grey eyes sparking. Yes, yes they had. He could feel the same ferocious electricity burning within him, that pillar of red lightning, of sheer zealous rage toward success. As he had before, he would heed its call. This was their time.

-

Pytch scowled quietly through the neon titian windshield visor of the Stonehammer as black, thick soil constantly streamed by. A few whitish, mundane lights threw an irritatingly bright and raw light about the cockpit, illuminating the pilot and his controls. The burly man sat nearly recumbent in the ratty brown cockpit seat, its fabric lining badly frayed and ripped in places. The cockpit itself was relatively unkempt, perilously disorganized from the constant and frenetic use of the machine. A pair of tarnished, once silver joysticks accompanied a narrow control module, littered with various switches and buttons of various colors, a few digital indicators flickering intermittently as statistics blinked across them. The small, trapezoidal cockpit was littered with empty cans of Dr. Pepper, the deep burgundy capsules strewn about the place with the frequency and placement of leaves in a forest.

The man took a labored swig from another cinnabar can, grunting softly as he downed its contents in moments. The upper part of the pilot's face was hidden by a gleaming, white visor, the opaque device bereft of features save a wide, horizontal black groove in its center and a blinking green light in its upper right corner. This elongated lens expanded and contracted with the movements of the two whitish slabs of heavy plastic at its top and bottom. A dirty, faded white cap sat backwards upon his skull, a flood of messy brown hair following its tattered brim down the back of a heavyset neck.

Pytch shook his head in boredom as he stared forward at the earth churning and heaving around his zoid, the serpent's rapid tunneling allowing for swift and covert travel during his regular, self-appointed "patrols" of the area. Aimlessly tossing the drained Dr. Pepper over one shoulder, the man straightened a bit in his seat, leaning forward as the seemingly ancient chair creaked its displeasure beneath him. The cockpit was eerily silent under the earth, drowned out by the rushing, dull hum of the soft soil brushing by, and the occasional heavy thuds of a rock or boulder colliding with the fuselage. An odd calm settled over him and his zoid, the same as it always did twenty meters beneath the surface. There was something about the sound of millions of tons of silt rushing by that made the mind wander. This inane roar gave this travel an irritating tediousness, but its speed and lack of rival traffic made it essential. Still, he thought, purging the land of evil had never been quite so boring.

Shifting his head a little, the pilot cast his gaze to a hovering cyan screen, the ghostly display bobbing slowly up and down off to his left, a spectral panel depicting a 3D image of the Stonehammer viper, the serpent rotating slowly to give a full view of its unique structure from all sides. "Stonehammer Viper" flashed quietly at the top of the screen, while scattered statistics flitted rapidly beneath the image in a monotonous, glowing white text.

Suddenly, the muffled roar of thick silt grinding against the zoid's powerful armor disappeared with a soft, airy whoosh. It's peculiar hum was replaced with a peaceful rushing, almost like that of water, a gentle and relaxing sound of a substance near liquid flowing. The pilot glanced upwards in surprise, the dull visor hiding an alarmed and curious gaze. Where once murky soil rushed past, a sea of undulating, stark white sand flowed about the zoid, aridly dry yet fluid in nature.

Pytch dragged the pair of ragged silver joysticks back towards himself, as the burrowing serpent suddenly lurched upwards, the soft groan of its powerful and muscled body straining against the sand resonating through the cockpit. A soft, airy tone sounded from the control panel, as the word "ascending" flickered in stenciled white letters across the cyan display panel. Within moments, the swirling vortex of pallid sand disappeared, bringing on a rushing glare of intense sunlight. The scintillating and sudden brightness of the beach surface blinded the man for a second, as the broad black gap running horizontally through the center of the visor closing to a narrow slit.

The beach spread out before him, slightly tinted by the bright orange shading of the cockpit window, a wide and beautiful expanse of glimmering sand; littered aimlessly with seashells, yet clear of any unsightly flotsam. The two whitish halves of the visor opened and closed gradually with a muffled, mechanical whirr, adjusting to the variant levels of sunlight while the pilot stared in stupefied awe at the nuance of nature's beauty appearing before him. Waves crashed lethargically against the beach, a calm, heavenly scene as compared to the raging storm which had ravaged the area the night before. Pytch busily shifted the controls as the serpent glided smoothly and gracefully down the beach, the elongated android moving like a sidewinder, its undulating movements casting it gradually through the sand in a lateral fashion, its wide, intimidating hood casting a deep black shadow over the space beneath it.

Hazel eyes eagerly scanning the beach, the pilot continued along the massive sand-bars while a small turquoise cross shifted about in his vision, in line with his gaze. The visor, attached to a pair of metallic circuits pressed into his temples, locked its scanning mechanism in sync with his gaze, its crosshairs in perfect concordance with his pupils. Sweeping his stare along the sparkling beaches, the pilot scratched his chin, disturbing some overgrown stubble from a scattered and awkward resting place atop his rounded chin.

Pytch started in both surprise and excitement as he sighted a sudden imperfection in the sand; tall, jagged rocks jutting sharply up at a skewed, diagonal slant. The dark rocks contrasted their white surroundings with an eerie chiaroscuro effect, instantly attracting his attention. The bluish crosshairs locked firmly on the rocks, before suddenly turning a bright red, blinking crisply. Pytch scowled in concern, dark shadows forming around the man's pallid lips. The reticule blinked several times, text slowly appearing near the bottom of his line of sight. "Zoid core signature detected. Zoid Model: Unidentified. Registration #: Unidentified."

Just below this, another line of text appeared. "Heat signature detected." Pytch's eyes widened in terror as he neared the rocks, finding many of them to be badly crumbled, the tall stone monument riddled with scorched holes, as well as several long paths of disturbing grooves dug into them, presumably by claws. The scratch marks were deep and scattered, as if some desperate and gargantuan beast had fled in terror up the side of this rocky giant. The Stonehammer viper gradually slowed to a halt, gliding along the sand as it neared its destination, its pilot more and more horrified as he viewed the shattered, gigantic outcropping.

The pilot's hazel eyes stared in terrified shock as he looked over the battered stone, astonished at the depth and frantic distribution of the many raking scars along its granite bulk. Such fear, such exigency, such frenzied panic was visible there that he could not help but shudder at what must have come to pass. The small target reticule hovered against the rocks as his gaze failed to waver from their horrifying mutilation, the zoid now settled at the base of the formation, its broad hood, decorated with a pair of long, bright green triangles, hovering ominously over a pile of crushed stone beneath it.

The cyan cross in his vision blinked red suddenly, more text flitting across the lower half of his vision, this time blinking several times; the text glowing blatantly. "Unusual Heat signature confirmed. Switch to Infared setting." Pytch scowled as he felt a chill run down his spine, the man's hands going cold. A heat signature? Life. A victim.

He quietly reached one hand up near his temple, twisting a small dial located on the visor just beneath it. The circular indent rotated a single degree, before clicking softly into place.

The man's vision was flushed suddenly with a descending wall of blue, which gradually overlapped the beach. What was once a full color, precise and clear environment had been swathed in sloppy color with few visions, a dim outline surrounding each object as it had been for. A bright rainbow of neon colors indicated heat sources in the area; a color-coded presentation of any heat source in the vicinity. The bewildering display took a moment to focus, its texture considerably more grainy than its previous setting. The white sand had become a green layer of scorched earth, radiating heat showered down from the merciless sun. Glancing down at his hands, orange-and red layered silhouettes of what they really were, glowing quietly as they wrapped around a pair of emerald joysticks, heated slightly from their contact with his body. Pytch looked up the rocks, deep red with the heat gathered from the sun, eyeing an orange shape which lay atop them. The shape lay motionless, oddly distorted and twisted beyond recognition. Was this glowing, blurry object a man? Pytch could feel the hair on the back of his neck slowly rising, a tingling sensation of terror and excitement trickling down his spine, setting off a prickling numbness in his extremities. He had searched for crime, and had found it at its worst.

Pytch rushed suddenly to his feet, wrenching his jaw nervously as he reached to his temple, setting his visor back to its normal setting. The bewildering nuance of heat-signatures and bright colors dissipated instantly, replaced with the more familiar, full color view of the dull, cluttered interior of his zoid. The man's heavy auburn boots kicked aside and crushed the scattered cans of Dr. Pepper as he paced quickly to the rear wall of the cockpit, hastily snatching the glossy black shape of a SPAS-12 shotgun from a small rack on which it had been mounted. Gripping the long weapon by its top in one beefy hand, he punched a small red button near the control console, gruffly yanking back the firearm's extendable stock to snugly press against his shoulder. The dull, smokey gloss of the weapon held a threatening tone as it glinted softly in the dim light of the cockpit, its dual barrels extending downward perhaps three feet towards the ground.

Rising slowly to an upright position, the cockpit windshield emitted a low hum as it cleared its pilots exit. Holding the gun's thick stock firmly against his shoulder with one hand clenched firmly around its handle, Pytch placed one palm on the edge of the cockpit wall, quickly swinging his bulky form over the edge and towards the ground.

With a single, loud thud, the heavy man landed on both feet, his bulky brown boots mercilessly striking the white sand. A heavy pair of deep greenish-blue cargo pants wrinkled messily about the boots, the left pantleg crammed forcefully inside one boot, the other sloppily dangling out as its round brim covered the entirety of a complicated web of laces. The loose pants were riddled with pockets of almost every size imaginable, mounted at seemingly random locations about the man's legs. A black fleece jacket hung open, held asunder by the man's broad shoulders, its collar standing erect at either side of a solid neck. The parted ebon jacket revealed a deep turquoise t-shirt, a stark white shield emblem inscribed across the chest, a pair of familiar inverted green triangles placed inside it. The surrounding jacket's sleeves had been crammed forcefully up past the elbows, bulkily crumpled up to provide space for a pair of massive black leather gloves. These thick, armored gauntlets were studded with tiny metallic disks, glinting sharply in the area's intense sunlight.

With a loud, ominous crack, the heavy black shotgun cocked, its grooved gunstock shifting as it locked a pair of massive shells into place. The man's heavy gloves creaked as they tightened around the gun's solid metal frame, tightly clenched in preparation. Pytch quickly slung the huge rifle up against one shoulder, supporting its great metallic bulk there as he began to quickly scale the rocks, using one free hand to continue his ascent.

The pilot scowled as he stood on a large boulder nearly halfway up the slaughtered rock formation, gently stroking the gauntleted fingers of his free hand down a thick, jagged groove left behind by the same enormous claws, still in awe at what could have caused such destruction; even more at what would cause a pilot to try something so insane. Before its imminent destruction, he could guess the formation had once been nearly vertical…the zoid's climb had clearly been a desperate one; a frenzied scramble for life. The man grunted as he heaved himself up along the rock, thick, round eyebrows furrowing just above a watery hazel stare. The man reached upwards, before his gauntleted hands clasped around a jagged edge on its top, using this hold to hoist his body upwards. He rose jerkily onto the undamaged top of the monstrous rocks, gradually rising to his feet from one knee. Pytch gasped in horror at the slaughtered carcass before him, a black and charred mess of zoid parts, the hulking alloy frame of a grotesquely murdered zoid strewn viciously onto its side. From this massive wreckage, Pytch could barely discern the slaughtered corpse of a Sabre tiger. It's massive metallic frame was eviscerated almost beyond recognition, a grim and horrifying sight.

The great, feline zoid's head faced towards him, its shattered gaze eyeing him with haunting emptiness. One green eye was slightly intact, a large crack traversing its ovular panel. Where the other eye should have been, there was only a great, gaping charred hole, white translucent wiring dangling out in ragged strips. The creature's powerful jaw hung slack at once side, completely detached, the tiger's huge teeth warped and disfigured, bent in various directions due to a harsh impact with the ground. One massive foreleg lay broken in two on the ground, the same wiring scattered from between its severed joints. Twisted metal stuck out from gruesome gaps, from which limb after limb had been brutally torn. A monstrous dual photon cannon leaned awkwardly against the creature's collapsed fuselage, its thick, double barrels bent outwards at sharp angles. The zoid's torso was heavily scarred by deep, fatal claw wounds, which seemed to have torn straight through the predator's sturdy armor. What looked like massive, titanium ribs stood out from the tiger's side, giving it an uncanny similarity in appearance to desert carrion. A few curious seagulls could be seen perched like vultures along the series of thick, ominous ribs, the enormous black arches casting a horrific, clawlike shadow across the ground.

Pytch held the heavy shotgun by its stock, his fingers tightly clenched around it as he stood in awe of the wreckage. Slowly, he began to walk across the plateau of rock, making his way through the charred wreckage. As he approached the tiger's massive torso, the gathering of seagulls screeched hoarsely in protest at the intrusion, but retreated summarily with a few heavy flaps of a wing. The sound of the ocean washed through his ears, silent and distant during the low tide of late afternoon, adding a halcyon tone to this silent grave. The pilot wiped the sweat from his forehead with his forearm, knowing not whether it was from fear or the intensity of the setting sun. The small cyan reticule shifted quietly amongst the wreckage, scanning with astonished horror the destruction that had been wrought. Pytch allowed the torpid rush of the waves to calm his breathing, to wipe away the tingling dread which still clung along his spine. Just as he felt his muscles unraveling, the trembling horror of the moment beginning to fade, he heard a soft, nearly undetectable sound off to his right.

A hoarse, pitiful groan rose from the wreckage of the tiger's fuselage, followed by a series of faint, hoarse coughs. Pytch felt his fingers turn to stone around the SPAS-12, his eyes widening beneath the smooth, white visor. He quickly rushed over to the zoid's fuselage, his heavy boots crushing rubble beneath thick rubber treads. Moving beneath the massive tiger's ribs, he could see the tattered form of a man crumpled up against the long, metallic frame of a robotic spinal column.

The pilot of this wreckage was a bull of a man, a few inches taller than Pytch himself. His muscled form was oddly strewn on the ground like a ragdoll, his legs twisted slightly and sprawled out before him, contained in a pair of dark camouflage pants, stained black and glistening with blood. A powerful upper body was barely covered by a badly torn dress shirt, its color inconceivable due to the immense amount of gore obscuring its remaining scraps. The badly wounded man stared at the armed pilot looming before him, one eye closed tightly due to a massive, swollen purple bruise just above it. His remaining eye, a deep brown in color, watched the emotionless visor with a look of grim determination, the man's bluntly curved nose and heavyset jaw giving a stern look to his features. The man let out a labored, gurgling breath as some blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, his tan skin gaining a slowly paler hue.

Pytch moved quickly to the man in a state of horrified shock, moving almost woodenly as he kneeled down beside him, placing one gauntleted hand on his broad shoulder. "…I guess.. it wouldn't be a reasonable question to ask if you're alright…" came the voice of the younger pilot, a distant tone of revulsion failing to be hidden by the feeble attempt at humor. The wounded man stifled a laugh, before coughing heavily, the raking convulsions causing his entire form to quake, his shoulders rising and falling with each desperate breath. The single brown eye stared straight into the solid, black gap between the visor's halves, its raptor gaze penetrating the device, moving straight to Pytch's astonished hazel stare. His lips moved quietly, the man's jaw working vigorously beneath his skin as blood from his mouth became forcibly entangled in unshaven stubble about his chin. He struggled for words, though only hollow breath emerged. After a few moments, the man's voice broke the strained silence, emerging ragged and soft. "…so.. someone did find me…" he paused to cough heavily, the large man's heavy brow furrowing as he stared into the visor again. "it's good to have some company.. Dying alone can be such a chore… I've been at it for hours now. What's your name, kid…? Who was it that found me here..?"

Pytch swallowed quietly, struggling to hide the grief and sympathy in his voice. "Pytch Secave…"

The man did his best to feign a soft smile, snorting softly in approval. "Huh. An honor to meet you. My name's Ryke…Ryke Sanuko. Pilot of the Lightning." The man's smile widened into a grin, revealing his bloodstained teeth, his head still leaning lopsidedly against one of the Lightning's many titanium vertebrae.

Pytch was aghast at the man's seemingly calm demeanor at a time like this; his wry humor and such casual conversation at a time of imminent death displaying an incredible strength of both character and will. Unable to speak, he simply stood in silent mourning of his companion's approaching demise, a wavering gaze staring in awe through the ivory tech visor locked to his temples. To fill this emotional silence, the middled-aged pilot spoke again, his shoulders shifting slightly as he attempted to change his position, wincing in pain as a result.

Ryke's hoarse voice rang out again, a heavy undertone of rigid determination endowing it, yet the enfeeblement of his condition weighing upon it with a greater influence. "You…you a pilot, Mr. Secave..? Tell me about yourself.."

Pytch swallowed heavily, maintaining his kneeling position as he heaved a quivering sigh, before looking up, daring to meet the man's single auburn eye, confronted with a gaze of undeniable strength. Was this man serious? He seemed to take no thought in his last words, but to take the biggest pleasure from minor chit-chat with a youthful stranger. Pytch set his jaw before he spoke, nodding softly in response. He would honor this man in his death. His voice sounded clearly and concisely, falling with no small welcome upon the ears of a dying man. "I…I pilot a Stealth viper. Part of the ZBC federation. I fight with the Seraph team, League A."

The wounded man gave a hoarse chuckle, smiling at the prospect as he struggled for breath, his iron will forcing him to continue, placing immense effort in his struggle to speak. "A league… yes.. I spent time there when I was younger. Now I s…" he gave a heavy cough, a bead of black blood trickling down the side of his mouth, leaving a glimmering crimson trail amongst thick, brown stubble. "spend most my time as a mercenary…" he took time for a heavy, labored breath, the middle-aged man's head swaying slightly on his broad shoulders. "Three days ago, I was down south… I fought my first official battle in a long time there.. with a fisherman boy who frequented the spot. Always there, he was, from a young age. An orphan, I'd guess..I never really got to know him. Khalsin, that… was his name. Damn good pilot, that boy…" the man's voice trailed off as he was again forced to rest for air, his heavy chest rising and falling with a deep, echoing wheeze. He rose up slightly against his slaughtered zoid's spine, his functioning eye blinking slowly at his companion. "He was about your age… not a very big guy… but by golly he could fight... he wanted to become a zoid pilot in the ZBC federation. My lord, he was intense." The man's speech seemed erratic and slow, wayward at best. His mind was elsewhere, clearly, basking in old memories of the life he had lived. Without pause, he simple continued, though his younger companion listened eagerly. "Won his warshark off him in that fight; ruined me to see him so devastated. I crushed his dreams, you know?" he glanced up at the emotionless visor of the younger pilot, his clefted, jutting chin quivering. "Broke my heart. I had to take it, but I couldn't watch him crash and burn like that…."

Pytch stared at the man in respectful silence, bowing his head slightly as sweat beaded around the thick, elastic band of his filthy white baseball cap. He couldn't bring himself to respond to the man, couldn't find the words to tell him. How could he commit his own thoughts to be the last words heard by so honorable a warrior? Easing his helpless struggle once again, Ryke continued to speak.

"Say, Mr. Secave.. could you do me a favor..?" Pytch nodded quietly, a heavy, painful lump rising in his throat, locking out any sound. "Could you get the kid's warshark back to him…? Its.. its at the San Pireas harbor. T-tell the harbormaster that I sent you, he'll let you at it." Pytch bobbed his head again, his voice managing to squeak past the sadness that strangled his vocal chords. "Yes sir, without a doubt. I'll do it…"

Pytch met the man's gaze for only a moment longer, before looking away, unable to bear the tremendous tragedy of this warrior's passing. Staring at a heavy chunk of metal to the man's side, his original thoughts of shock and curiosity began to creep back into his mind. He spoke again. "Ryke…"

The mercenary gave another throaty cough, his bulky form quaking with its tremendous strain. "Yeah..?" Pytch's round, thick brows drew downward as he forced himself to look at his companions massacred body, taking in the blood, the honor, the strength and sheer will in those eyes. "What.. what happened to you…"

Ryke sighed heavily, his head lolling gradually backwards as he casts his rusted-iron stare towards the blue sky, watching the puffy white clouds drift by in cheerful ignorance. "I knew you'd ask that question, Mr. Secave," he began, swallowing dramatically as his neck undulated convulsively with the movement. "One thing you must learn in life… if you don't learn anything else, is that everyone has a time, and when it comes, it comes…" he paused again for breath, his mouth hanging open as he gulped down the fresh sea breeze, bringing it by the lungful with him to the grave. "A warrior, good or bad, will meet his fate on the battlefield. If he is lucky. I was this fortunate. One must spend his life fighting against the foes that haunt him. You cannot run from evil. You must fight it, win or lose, to the death. My evil caught up with me, I guess you could say…"

The younger pilot found himself enthralled by the man's words, unable to speak as he at his bloodsplattered face, hanging tenuously on the edge of every word as it emerged, his mind savoring every moment that remained of this new acquaintance's life. As the dying warrior continued, he held his breath, afraid to miss a single syllable. "It was a ghost that finally caught me… there's no doubt in my mind. There was no humanity in those eyes…" Pytch blinked quietly, swallowing as a horrified sinking feeling slowly entangled his insides. "Eyes…?" "Yes…" came the man's husky, labored speech, his lips working laboriously to loose each word as it came. "Those red eyes… dead and devoid of any emotion… it was… a killing machine.. nothing less. It came from nowhere, and knew or understood no precious morsel of mercy…all in its path was destroyed. I was here… repairing the lightning from a nasty wallop that boy had dished out during out battle… when it came. It took me by surprise… could only have been a ghost…a demon…pure evil…"

Pytch could feel his heart pounding his chest, his hands icy cold and trembling as they clung to the comforting weight of his shotgun. "But…how.. how did you-" he was abruptly cut off by a shrieking crash, the sound of grating metal and straining hydraulics. The single, auburn eye snapped wide open as it gazed at the sky, the man's voice becoming distant and emotionless, its low tones ringing loud and clear through the peaceful midday air. "It has returned." Trembling, the younger pilot rose to his feet, panting in terror as he cast his gaze over the rock outcropping to the space below. With an exasperated gasp, his eyes met a sight that made his blood run cold.

The Stonehammer Viper lay at the mercy of a larger zoid, a heavily armored Dark Fox perched atop its helpless victim as it heartlessly eviscerated it with glowing, super-heated claws. Pinning the writhing serpent to the sandy earth with its powerful front paws, and in the process searing away at its ebon plates of armor with its claws, the Fox tore harshly at the Viper's throat with its jagged teeth. It's glowing eyes seemed to radiate a shocking level of pure menace and evil, the mechanized monstrosity tearing the zoid to pieces as its metallic fragments sparked and sputtered, oil and hydraulic steam spewing from thick tubes, the snake's obsidian blood oozing out over the once unsullied sand. The hooded head of it's victim was hurled casually aside as the menacing zoid completed its task, having rent most of the helpless zoid to pieces, strewing its black armor across the sand while its mechanical form wriggled in the throes of an agonizing death. Haunted at this site, Pytch could do nothing but stare in horror, watching the deep black zoid as it moved about the struggling, slaughtered form of its victim, seeming to search for its pilot. Red eyes scanned the area, raking its every shadow and crevice, the spiked, jagged armor plating of the canine giving it an even more ominous and threatening appearance.

Pytch started suddenly as the man's powerful voice sounded behind him, its calm, indifferent tones striking all the more fear into his heart. "It'll be looking for you right about now…the ghost.." The young man felt himself turn pale, panting heavily in fear as his heart raced, looking quickly towards the injured man, his eyes wide and terrified, desperate for guidance. "What…what should I do…?"

The elderly man stared quietly up at the ocean sky for a few moments longer, watching another smooth, cottony cloud drift by, before slowly lowering his gaze, a grim, foreboding sternness overtaking his features. His single eye burned into the cycloptic, horizontal lens of his companion's visor as his deep voice sounded in a hush, husky whisper, his bloodstained lips wrapping fully around a single word. "Run."


	10. GlossaryReference Info

Appendix:

I. Zoids.

Name: The Emperor Crab

Zoid Model: Unknown (custom design)

Pilot: Khalsin Tarok

Alignment: Scrapper Team

Registration #: Unknown

Height: 6.7 Meters

Length: 18 Meters

Width: 28 Meters

Weight: 96 Tons

Top speed: 110 Km/H, (Lateral)

Weapons: Trigrenade launcher (Lob or contact detonate), 110 mm Heavy Vulcan Gun, 18-shot Surface-to-surface rockets, Hardened alloy crusher claws.

Special Abilities: Minor Tunneling, High-speed strafe, Underwater travel.

The Emperor crab was an Ultimate X found by a poverty-stricken yet adventurous Zoid pilot by the name of Khalsin Tarok. As chance had it, The Emperor Crab accepted Khalsin as it's pilot, and the two quickly became a formidable team. Though not exactly fast or nimble, the crab moves as its natural counterpart does, and can therefore strafe with a much higher level of efficiency than other gunner zoids. It's claws, mounted on multi-jointed supporter arms, can move with great precision to allow the pincer-mounted firearms to shoot with precise accuracy. When out of ammo or forced into close combat, the behemoth claws serve as a battering, crushing, or tearing weapon to eviscerate the opponent. The zoid's controls are interesting and unique in design. When entering "combat mode", the control console splits into two parts, each of which is attached to a robotic arm extension from the back of their pilot's seat. These mechanical arms are similar in their build to a smaller-scale version of the zoid's arms. As the pilot moves his arms and therefore the controller arms, the crab's support arms move in tandem. This way, the pilot is given much more natural and precise control of crab's claw movement.

Weapons:

Trigrenade launcher: This is the longest range weapon in the armament of the Emperor Crab. Capable of lobbing such explosives distances of up to 300M with its specialized Carbon Dioxide pressurized cannons, the Emperor Crab can rain bouncing grenade fire down upon its opponents. These usually cause immense destruction to unarmored areas, but aren't quite as effective against heavy armor.

110 mm Vulcan Cannon: This cannon, unlike others of its type, fires large bullet rounds rather than Photon, Energy, or Laser based ammunition. This gives the gun an extreme up and an extreme down. First of all, its obvious that these enormous rounds can tear through nearly any armor, even without the armor-piercing addition to their tips or a magnet or gravity-based propulsion system. Besides this, the rounds fire at 80 a second, incredibly fast even for a gattling weapon. However, when one takes into account the dual nature of these guns, that there is one in each claw, it can be said that 160 rounds are fired in a second. The disadvantages of actual bullet ammunition is the possibility of an over-heating of the gun, as well as a finite amount of rounds, which must constantly be fed through a belt going from the hull of the crab to the claw.

18-Shot Surface-to-surface Rockets: Two concealed rocket boxes, hidden beneath the top armor plate of the crab can be presented by lifting small flaps in the armor, and letting the boxes rise out. They can launch a total of two rockets at a time. Though capable of minor seeking, the projectiles must be aimed to an extent. They are not quite as explosive as the lob grenades, but reload incredibly fast, and can move with much more speed. Also, they can be used underwater, unlike the crab's Vulcan cannons. These rockets can be used to attack aircraft, as the crab's pincers can face upwards at a 45 degree angle.

Name: Dusk Sniper

Zoid Model: Gun Sniper (modified)

Pilot: Tolei Valentine

Alignment: Scrapper Team

Registration #: RZ-103918

Height: 7.2 Meters

Length:11.9 Meters

Width: 3.2 Meters

Weight: 25.7 Tons

Top Speed: 200 Km/H

Weapons: 30mm High photon Vulcan cannon, MKII Heavy Rifle, 30mm Wrist-mounted blasters

Special Abilities: Booster-jumping, heavy gripping claws

The Dusk Sniper was a modified Gun sniper purchased by Tolei Valentine upon running away from her family. Stealing a large amount of money from her relatives, Tolei was able to purchase this gun sniper. This gun sniper was used to rob a large hangar of several Backdraft devices, including an MKII heavy rifle from the shoulder of an Iron Kong MKII and a 30mm Vulcan cannon from a Shadowfox. Tolei also attached hydraulic claw modifications allowing her zoid to grip surfaces with much greater power, as well as larger claws capable of inflicting immense gripping damage. Tolei developed very unusual battle techniques using her zoid, as its sole purpose was to assist her in stealing from caravans in order to make a living. The Dusk Sniper was painted the colors of sunset, a dusky grey, bright orange, and yellow. The sniper itself soon became a symbol of terror and rebellion amongst travelers, and many feared Tolei as a bandit. This Dusk sniper usually fires at its opponents from long range using the MKII heavy rifle, inflicting heavy damage while stabilized with its claws. Upon close-hand combat, the Dusk sniper uses the Vulcan cannon to have closer range fire at rapid, full-auto rates. As a coup-de-gras technique, the Dusk sniper can use its supra-par boosters to launch itself at its target and latch on using its modified gripper claws. At this point, the Dusk sniper is nearly unshakeable, and the huge claws on its feet cannot be dislodged and cause constant tearing damage to the surface they attach to. As the sniper attaches to a target, it fires the MKII rifle point blank into its opponent until it has fallen.

Weapons:

30mm Photon Vulcan Cannon: This weapon was pilfered from a Shadowfox, and is used for its effectiveness in both aiming and rapid firepower. The Shadowfox's Vulcan can rotate 360 degrees without stopping, and is capable of firing at 100 rounds a second. The weapon fires photon-based shells, and therefore cannot penetrate thick armor. The majority of unarmored spots can be absolutely decimated by the weapon, and its csheer power is capable of knocking over a smaller zoid with constant fire.

MKII Heavy Imperial Rifle: The MKII rifle was designed for the Imperial officers zoid, the Iron Kong MKII. The MKII heavy imperial rifle was used to incredibly destructive success in combat against the republic. Capable of semi-automatic fire of about 20 shots per minute, the MKII rifle launches heavy, long range and destructive bolts of hyper-heated photon. The blasts are capable of bursting through zoid armor with ease and completely obliterating unarmored opponents. One of the most powerful rifle type weapons in use.

Enhanced Hydraulic Gripper system: The unique custom claws of this zoid are nearly twice the side of those usually used by gun snipers and even rev raptors. These devices, made of a hardened crystalline alloy, can cut through even the heaviest armor and hold stable at any cost. The powerful hydraulic pressurizers attached to them drive an extremely powerful force behind the claws to sink them firmly into the hull of an opposing zoid; locking the Dusk sniper in place to finish off its opponent.

30mm wrist-mounted blasters: Present on all gun-snipers, these blasters are rarely used by Tolei. The double-barreled weapons fire small photon shells from the raptor's short arms, and have little to no recoil. Though they can be aimed precisely and nearly never miss, most pilots completely ignore these weapons for their extreme lack of any real power. Their photon intensity is easily comparable to a powerful pistol. The majority of advanced pilots consider the blasters useless, though a select few have been known to use them.

Name: Stonehammer Viper

Zoid Model: Stealth Viper (modified)

Pilot: Pytch Crosen

Allegiance: Seraph Team, Zoid Battle Commission

Registration #: RZ-578194

Height: 3 Meters

Length: 21.2 Meters

Width: 6.4 Meters (hood) 2.4 Meters (body)

Top speed: 195 Km/H

Weapons: Hardened Alloy fangs, Dual Laser Strike lances, Particle shield

Special Abilities: High speed tunneling

The Stonehammer Viper is a heavily customized Stealth viper piloted by Pytch Crosen. A lightweight and inexpensive zoid, the Stealth viper is not often seen in the ZBC's "A" league, the most prestigious and skilled league of zoid battling. Pytch has mastered the maneuvering and unique battle tactics of the Stonehammer Viper to an incredible degree, such that he is able to use a zoid such as this in a league in which many combatants use the highest weight class and highest weapon class zoids they can possibly find. Stealth vipers are usually used as sniping zoids, using their speed and carrying capacities to tote high class firearms about the battlefield and gun down its opponents. Pytch, however, has removed the viper's firearms as excess weight, and therefore gives the zoid a much higher level of maneuverability and speed. The Stonehammer Viper's main purpose is to quickly dispatch troublesome opponents in a single blow. Using its tunneling ability, it surprises its opponents with a sudden attack; usually that which ends the match. This zoid's unique melee attacks are made possible by a large amount of support modification to the viper's head, and two large, laser-based lance weapons located on either side of its jaw. The zoid attacks by lunging forward and slamming its head into opponents, in so doing burying the lances into them. This devastating attack usually disables or maims the targeted zoid so badly that it is unable to continue fighting. If this fails; then massive damage is dealt. The zoid is painted a drab and uniform brown throughout its exterior, and its visor has been altered to a bright green as opposed to the usual orange. A pair of inverted neon green triangle markings are printed on the back of its "hood".

Hardened Alloy fangs: Standard to all Stealth vipers, the alloy fangs were are the one standard weapon still remaining on this zoid. The designers of the stealth viper intended these fangs solely for show and perhaps as a last line of defense when the viper was forced into melee combat. On the Stonehammer Viper they serve virtually the same purpose, though now they simply deal additional damage to the zoid's "bite"; as now both fangs and lances deal heavy melee damage.

Dual Strike Laser lances: The most notable and unusual of the Stonehammer Viper's weapons; the strike laser lances are about four meters in length and secured firmly just below either side of the snake's jaw. They add roughly two meters to the zoid's length, and are charged with high-power laser energy when activated. Being a laser weapons, these lances glow a soft blue rather than the bright yellow that photon weapons do, and are therefore more covert and difficult to notice. They are also capable of penetrating particle shields.

Particle Shield: One of the most basic and essential defensive devices of all time, the particle shield enjoys frequent use in the hands of this melee fighter. It's projector is located just below the zoids jaw near the center. Capable of projecting a powerful shield of photon particles, the shield creates a hemispherical, translucent-pink bubble constructed of hexagonal panels around the front of the zoid, capable of absorbing and deflecting photon-based and normal ammunition, and other solid objects. Particle shields such as this one are incapable of blocking laser-charged projectiles or objects, or any magnetic or gravity-based projectile.

Name: Lightning

Zoid Model: Saber Tiger (Modified)

Pilot: Ryke Sanuko

Allegiance: Zoid Battle Federation, Khalsin Tarok.

Registration #: EZ-029571

Height: 9.1 Meters

Length: 15.6 Meters

Width: 5.4 Meters

Weight: 78 tons

Top speed: 240 Km/H

Weapons: Hardened Alloy Teeth, Photon Claws, Dual 40mm Photon Cannnons

Special Abilities: Sensory Unit

The Lightning is the legacy craft of a Mercenary by the name of Ryke Sanuko. The Lightning is a long time partner of Ryke's, being his sole and universal companion on mercenary missions. The lightning is a sturdy customized Saber tiger which has been greatly improved by the prowess of its owner, a skilled mechanic and ex-soldier. Already robust armor was reinforced with another layer of titanium in certain places, giving the zoid a much greater tenacity and structural stability not found in others of its class. Many of the zoid's original weapons were removed, including a triple-impact cannon and rocket silo's. The stomach turret's triple impact cannon was replaced with a pair of long-range 40mm Photon cannons capable of shooting its heavier shells great distances. What were once hardened alloy claws have been replaced by strike laser claws on both of the Zoid's front paws, giving it a much stronger destructive power in melee combat. The zoid's appearance was also drastically changed as it was repainted from its original deep red to a bright yellow/gold. The hefty and dependable zoid is perhaps one of the most well-rounded and stable machines in existence; with a good, heavy armor class and dependable weapons. Created for this trustiness, the zoid is the pinnacle of reliability, serving well in all fields of combat. Being so, the Lightning is capable of performing in a variety of combat situations and tactics, and is well rounded in both offensive and defensive maneuvers. This zoid usually best's its opponents with absolutely jaw-dropping endurance and relentless, well-placed attacks. Able to outlast and outsmart its opponents, the Lightning is a formidable opponent.

Hardened Alloy teeth: Also the sole standardized Saber tiger weapon still found on this zoid, the Hardened Alloy teeth were left untouched because of their influence on the structural integrity and appearance of the machine. Grown from a crystal form of titanium, these weapons are a powerful last resort for the zoid and can inflict large amounts of melee damage. These teeth are not often utilized by the majority of Saber tiger pilots, but their use as a back up weapon/decorative measure can clearly be seen.

Dual 40mm Photon Cannons: The sole long-range weapon of the Lightning, these large cannons allow it to hold its own in missile combat. These cannons can launch photon-based ammunition with considerable accuracy over very long distances. Like much else on the zoid, this weapon is simply well rounded; not meant to excel in anything. It's range and firing rate are reasonable, and the projectiles fired can deal light to medium damage, depending on the armor of the target. Mounted on a turret below the zoid, these cannons can rotate 90 degrees to either side, and tilt up or down in a space of roughly 70 degrees.

Photon claws: The melee advantage of most Saber tigers is in fact enhanced by the abilities of the Lightning, as its claws have been upgraded to be charged heavily with photon energy. Being so, the damage they inflict is considerably increased. Using super-heated photon energy rather than laser claws, the zoid can cut through even crystalline armor and have a melting effect on its targets. This can cause increased damage and a larger chance to disrupt circuitry in its opponents. These claws are the primary close-hand defense of the Lightning, capable of inflicting massive damage in quick swiping movements or a leaping attack; the most commonly used by Ryke.

Sensory Unit: While not a weapon, the sensory unit is a device to be noted. This unit is standard to all saber tigers and was left intact for obvious reasons. It is capable of scanning the surrounding area with a much greater degree than the sensors of most zoids; receiving advanced thermal infared readings as well as a 3D radar system. It is useful in the presence of a smokescreen or other vision-impairing environments, as it is capable of creating a real-time and fully-visible map of the surrounding area with incredible speed.


End file.
