by Katie Vack
"You know the rules, Crayton: part-unarmed, victory goes to the winner."
"So you have told me." The mechsuit appeared to crack its neck and knuckles. "I know how this works."
"Good. Thief," Grayson called the boy over, "take my cloak." He shrugged it off and stood in the middle of the road, facing down the metal monster with his feet planted and his arms crossed before his chest. His heart fluttered a little at the difficulty of what he had to do, but he crushed the feeling. He'd gotten up early this morning just so that he could plan this out, and there was no way he'd make a sacrifice like that for a lost cause. The fight was his.
It had been a difficult thing to prepare for, but he had done so nonetheless. While he had no idea as to the specifications of the mechsuit in question, he'd been able to make a few educated guesses based on observation, past experience, and general knowledge. It would be big, and slow, and clumsy, but one solid hit from it, armed or not, and he was a dead man. Considering the kind of heavy artillery he'd seen Crayton carrying it had to be some kind of static support platform, or mobile demolitions unit, but either way it wasn't intended for close quarters. That gave Grayson an advantage straight from the start, but there was still the problem of getting through that armour.
The mech was nearly five metres tall and humanoid, although it was a lot more thickset than any man, with massive limbs thicker around than Grayson's entire body. The majority of its mechanisms were under the cover of its armoured hull, designed to shrug off tank shells, rockets, and Slayer anti-material rifles- those few that were exposed were minor and disabling them would have no real effect. An obvious tactic would be to go straight for the pilot, but in this case he was protected by a half foot of alien alloy, so that was out of the question. For this fight, Grayson had had to get a little creative.
He swept his right leg back and into a ninety degree position, facing his opponent side-on and taking up a boxing guard; more out of habit than because it could do any good. "Your move, tinman." It didn't matter how good the Crayton was, there was no way he could keep up with him at this distance- he'd have a tough enough time simply keeping him in sight.
"Lucky me." Crayton strode forward, sending tremors through the ground, and the last few civilians who had yet to clear out fled in panic. He took a second to let them leave, and then lashed out at his opponent with a straight right.
Greys eyes widened. It was fast. Really fast. Faster than should have been possible for a vehicle of such size. He threw himself to the side and the monumental fist crashed past him, hammering into the ground where he had been standing and tearing a massive gouge out of the road, spraying debris in all directions. Grayson hit the ground in a roll, bringing himself back to his feet, eyes back on target just in time to pick up on Crayton' follow through with his left. He flung himself forwards and the lethal punch whistled by, inches above him.
His mind was whirring. There was no way- absolutely no way- that Crayton should be moving this fast. He was nothing at all like a machine, more like an actual living entity, and a damn good one at that. He'd misjudged the man; badly.
He forced rolled to the side as his opponent attempted to flatten him, and was struck by the spray of erupting debris as the monumental fist came crashing down. He dragged himself back up to his feet- this wasn't working, and he had to think of something fast. He tried to run to the side of his opponent and get behind him. A third punch came towards him and he hurled himself away again, but this time he was just too slow and it glanced him on the shoulder, sending him flying through a shop window. He grunted as he came down hard on a bed of broken glass, cutting through his shirt and shredding the skin on his back.
He leaped out through the window just as the entire front of the shop caved in, Crayton ploughing straight through it and bringing the entire building down. Part of Grayson was concerned about the possible repercussions of such an action, but this was a combat situation: there was no time for any thought other than how to survive the next attack, and how to beat your opponent before he beat you. Grayson brushed the useless wonderings aside and found himself an alternative strategy. There was a weapons store perhaps fifteen metres away, and if he could make it there it might give him a few more options.
He began sprinting towards the shop, focussing on nothing more than the pounding of his feet against the ground, his heart beating like a drum within his chest, his lungs burning as he struggled to gasp out his breath. Ten metres- the earth shook as Crayton strode casually out of the ruins and began charging him down. Five metres- there was a screeching noise, then a whoosh of air as something came flying his way. Working purely on instinct Grayson flung himself to the ground, and a streetlamp flew over him, ripping through the shop like it was paper.
He was straight back up on his feet again, and into the shop, immediately scanning for something of worth. He had mere seconds left before his opponent arrived, but there was so much in here, strewn all around the room. Rifles, grenade launchers, pistols, axes, swords; none of it was any use to him. A shadow blotted out the sunlight as Crayton arrived, but Grayson ignored it. There had to be something here… something he could use… his eyes glinted as he noticed something lying half hidden in a pile of rubble.
Crayton lashed out at the store, and the brick wall gave way before him, but Grayson was already gone and out into the street. He paused for dramatic effect. "Hey, tinman?" Crayton spun on his heel and turned to look at him, grinding the road even more beneath seventy tonnes of war machine. "Let's play a game. A game of catch." He held up his right hand, and there was a black metal orb in it- an orb which seemed to be ticking. He hurled it towards the mech with all his strength.
Time seemed to slow down before his eyes as he watched the EMP grenade carve a path through the air. It was the one thing he had with the power to take down a machine like that, but now he'd done it. He'd won. Not what he'd originally planned, but it had worked. He began to exhale in a sigh of relief. But then Crayton snapped into action, tearing Grayson's hope to shreds.
Whip-like, he flicked out with the back of his hand and smashed the grenade into a thousand harmless pieces, raining down lightly upon the street like a billion broken dreams. The entire street was shrouded in an expectant silence, holding its breath for what might happen next. Everything was still, save for the cloud of smoke and dust drifting gradually away on the slight breeze.
Grayson began to tremble. This had been it, his grand plan, his one chance to crush his fear into the ground once and for all, but Crayton had dashed that hope into the ground with not a thought. Grayson hated that; hated him. It made him angry. Very, very, angry. "You…" he could barely get the words past his grated teeth, "you…"
Crayton interpreted it as fear, turning his back on him and beginning to walk away. "Bad luck, boy. You lost. You are not on our level, and you should not be on our team."
"You just… just…"
Crayton stopped. "What?"
Grayson was shaking with barely controlled rage. It was unforgivable. He'd gotten up early for this, and yet Crayton had the nerve to spit on that sacrifice. Unforgivable. "New plan," he screamed, incandescent, "I kick your ass!" He threw off his weariness and charged straight at the behemoth.
"Oh?" Crayton turned back to face his incoming opponent. "This is new." He kicked at the road, sending a shower of debris flying towards Grayson, but the lumin ran heedlessly through it, ignoring the pain from the equivalent of running straight into a brick wall. He was angry now. And that meant he finally had a real weapon.
He could feel the shadows flowing around him, being dragged screaming towards him, but he fought them off. He wasn't so mad that he had lost all reason, and he had no intentions of letting the others know what he was. He held the dark at bay, keeping his feelings just under control. Crayton threw another punch at him but this time he made no attempts to dodge, simply jumping atop it as it scored a gash through the ground where he had been standing. He keeled there for a second, locking eyes with the green glowing v
isor of his opponent, balancing himself with his right hand. His left arm wasn't working anymore, not since he had been struck, but that didn't matter- it was no longer necessary.
At last he stopped fighting the darkness, feeling the electricity throbbing through the artificial veins just beneath the thick metal hide, and unleashing all of his fury upon it. Invisible to all, the shadows flowed down through the palm of his hand, into the hull, sucking the power from the colossal arm.
Every hair on his body stood on end and his muscles froze in place, paralysed by the intense current flowing through him. His jaw clenched, biting hard into his tongue, and the metallic taste of blood flooded through his mouth. He cut off the shadows, standing up once more. He felt incredible, as though he could carve his way through a mountain. His injuries, his fatigue, his fear and hatred, all of it faded to grey, replaced by a sense of absolute power. Realising something was wrong, Crayton tried to shake him off, only to find that he had lost control of his arm. Grayson grinned viciously. "Game over."
He sprinted straight up the immobile limb, aiming directly for his opponents 'head'. Crayton tried to swing at him with his other arm but Grayson simply vaulted straight over it and kept on running. The electricity was searing through him, and every step he took was one more step pouring all his energy into containing it, fighting against it as it tried to free itself from his restraints. He threw his body over Crayton's shoulder, grabbing him by the collar and swinging himself round to hang from his back. His eyes lit up as they alighted upon the main battery unit, just between the mechsuits shoulder blades. He lifted himself up, placing his foot against it. Then he kicked off from it, launching himself away while releasing the hold he had on the electricity coursing through him.
There was a crash like a clap of thunder and a blinding flash, and Grayson found himself catapulted away from the stricken mechsuit. He went with the momentum, turning it into a backwards somersault and landing in a keeling position, facing away from his opponent, right arm once again catching and supporting him. Crayton, all power cut off to prevent an overload, tumbled slowly towards the ground, starting another pseudo-earthquake and sending up yet more choking dust.
Grayson straightened, getting slowly to his feet, suddenly tired beyond exhaustion. "Well, I guess that was," he chuckled weakly to himself, "a shock." Then he too fell to the ground and was claimed by unconsciousness.
* * *
"Does it hurt?" Sora didn't sound particularly concerned for his wellbeing, but then Grayson figured that was because she wasn't. The only reason she was fixing his wounds now was because as a Silvan she was best qualified for that kind of thing, but she hadn't been happy about being delegated the 'team nurse'.
"What do you think?" Grayson snapped back at her, but he was too tired to do much more. He sat in front of her as she rubbed the last of her poultice into the wounds on his back. They were all grouped together around a little campfire in the forest a few miles south of their ambush point, and were more or less just relaxed and killing time. Seth had torn off some branches for them and Thief had doused them in petrol. His motorbike was sitting a little way back, along with Crayton's larger mechsuit.
"I wouldn't know. I'm not you." She seemed to rub it in harder and he gritted his teeth as some of his cuts reopened. "There. Done."
"Thank the gods," he sighed.
"Now for your arm."
"What?" He asked, alarmed, and there was a snigger from across the fire. He turned to look at Thief. "You think that's funny? How about I cut you a bit and then you can feel just how tender this healthcare is?"
"I'll pass," he waved the question lazily off, "I can take you word for it."
"Good for you." He turned over his shoulder to look back at Sora. "What's wrong with my arm?"
"You have a dislocated shoulder. I need to relocate it."
"And will that hurt?"
"I don't know. Are you a boy, or are you a man?" She grasped his left arm and began to raise it horizontally, keeping it straight. "Tell me if it hurts."
"Yes. Agh, yes."
She kept lifting it. "Sorry, what was that?"
"It hurts! It damn well hurts!"
Ever so slowly, she continued raising his arm. "You're going to have to speak up if you want me to hear you."
"I said," he yelled, "that it bloody hurts!"
"Oh," she sounded mildly put out, "I guess you want me to stop then." She stopped lifting his arm and held it there, nearly horizontal to his body, in an excruciating position.
"Yes! No! Yes!" He tried to twist away from it but she was already there, kneeling hard on his back, grinding against the bloody wounds against his back.
"Please, make up your mind."
"Just… just… just get it over with already!"
"Oh, okay then." She twisted it further, and with a popping noise it crunched back into its socket. "You should have just told me."
All of a sudden the agony faded to a throbbing pain and he slumped forward, gasping for breath and covered in sweat. "You did that on purpose."
"Did what?" She stood up and walked past the fire to sit opposite him on a rotting log, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
"That hurt a lot more than it should have done."
"It hurt?" She did a good job of looking innocent. "You should have spoken up. I could have given you some painkillers."
He froze. "You could have what?"
"I could just have gotten some painkillers for you."
"I…" he thought about starting another fight, but realised he was still too tired. "I hate you. You're insane."
"Oh, really?" There was a spark in her eyes, a warning sign not to take it any further. Luckily, Karolus chose this moment to step in.
"Are we done?"
"I guess." Grayson reflexively tried to shrug, and winced in pain.
"Sora, what kind of state will he be in tomorrow?"
"Good enough to do his job."
"Good. Starting a fight like that the day before a mission has to be one of the stupidest things I've ever seen. And," he added as an afterthought, "I've grown up around thick-headed aetherials. Crayton-"
"Zackineruchrisse," the man corrected, but Karolus ignored him.
"what kind of state is your suit in?"
"There was some kind of freak electrical overload; a one in a million chance. There is no real damage, although I am interested in what caused the problem."
"So you can fight?"
"Of course."
"Good. Then we can get on with what we were trying to do before you two," he took a second to glare at Grayson and Crayton, "decided to tear up half the city and likely make us all into wanted criminals. And involve innocent bystanders. And risk damaging yourselves so that you can't fight tomorrow. Before you two got it into your heads that that would be a good idea, we were going to arrange pairs for the duration.
"You," he pointed at Thief, "you're with me. We both use swords and handguns, so that should work well. Crayton and-
"Zackine-"
"Crayton and Seth will be together. You both use heavy weapons, so you'll be playing our ranged support."
"Understood."
"Wait," Grayson cut in, "doesn't that mean that…?"
"You're with Sora."
He hung his head in his hands. "Please, kill me now."
"Why," Sora said sweetly, "that isn't very friendly. What have I ever done to deserve that kind of response?"
"How about the fact that you're a complete psychopath that takes pleasure in causing your own teammates pain?"
"I'm a psychopath?" That hint of steel was back in her voice. "Would you like to walk over here and tell me that?"
"Enough, already." Karolus sounded more tired than angry. "Do you want to spend the next few months tearing at each other's throats? Couldn't you at least try to get on?" Neither of them chose to answer him.
The six of them simply sat there in the calming quiet of the evening, broken only by the crackling of the fire, the chirping of insect
s, and the sound of Seth trying to chew on a rock. Grayson was worried, though. Much as he did his best to make it seem like a joke, he was deadly serious when it came to Sora. He didn't want to be with her: he wanted to be as far away from her as he could possibly be. She was just dangerous, and far too volatile. He lay back with his head in his hands, preparing himself for the day tomorrow as the last remnants of sunlight fled the sky, but Thief chose that moment to speak up.
"We should introduce ourselves."
"What?" Grayson opened his eyes, confused.
"Introduce ourselves. We never really did it."
