You can get much further in life with a kind word and a club than a kind word alone.

“You ready?” asked Nat through the com-link.

Dax smiled and flexed his fingers, “Just let me at ‘em.”

Alhannah and Wendell sat next to the gnome programmer at the computer console as they listened to the announcers countdown.

“2…1…” boomed the voice—and the buzzer echoed throughout the arena. The trench exploded with movement. Four of the five S.L.A.G.s sprinted towards the center structure. The fifth, Nosedive, jumped straight into the air—spreading its wings wide as booster jets belched out flame and smoke, propelling it upward.

“Great,” complained Dax, “another flyer.”

“Just ignore him for now,” counseled Nat, “Cryo’s working on cracking the database.” He looked over at Alhannah, “We’ve learned a few things from last time.”

“Doesn’t matter,” grunted Dax, the giant, heavy duty machine mimicking the pumping action of his own legs, like locomotive pistons. “There’s only one pilot I want here…”

Alhannah put on her head mic, “Don’t get cocky, Dax, we’re here to win this—so you can’t pick and choose. Darcy’s also tougher than you might think. Even at close range, he’s dangerous.”

“Noted.” The mic crackled, then, “Besides, it looks like I have another problem to deal with first.”

The fans were cheering at the giant, hot pink S.L.A.G. known as The Girl Next Door, who yanked a huge two-handed axe from a shoulder strap as she sprinted. Using the other arm, she shot four small canisters from a wrist cannon into the air. The projectiles whizzed and tumbled towards Nosedive, as the S.L.A.G. arched overhead.

They exploded in a mini-cluster—sparks spraying over the arena.

“He’s hit!” Wendell pointed at the monitor, “Nosedive is going down!”

Alhannah shook her head, “It takes a lot more than a few concussion canisters to take out Dunkan. His S.L.A.G. is built for impact. Unlike his teammates, Nosedive can’t maintain flight. She wasted her ammo. He’s only using flight to create distance for his rifles.”

Sure enough, as soon as the S.L.A.G. hit the ground, Nosedive’s wings folded and he rolled with a clang. Without stopping, he flipped up to his feet  and sprinted to the far side of the arena. What looked to be a staff, disconnected from its back and flipped forward, over the machine’s shoulder. Wendell gasped. A long barrel rifle. With a click, a thin scope popped up into place over the barrel of the long-range weapon. All in one fluid motion, Nosedive dropped to one knee and fired the gun.

Metal fragments exploded and The Girl Next Door stumbled backwards. The blade of the large, double handed axe shattered like glass, instantly becoming an oversized club. Nosedive quickly fired a second shot, but the female pilot was already dashing for cover. Gripping her broken weapon, she secured a position behind the pillars of the central pergola.

A sub screen on the monitor appeared, with Cryo64’s face grinning. “Nathan, we have access to the arena…and I have instituted a sub matrix program to shield immediate attempts of the other RAT teams to override us.”

Wendell tapped the screen and the little blue face grinned a toothless grin, “How’d he get in there?”

Nat typed furiously, “We learned from Alhannah’s fight that this isn’t just an offensive programming challenge, but a defensive battle as well. Programmers from each RAT team are watching and logging one another’s moves, allowing them to mirror the steps you take—so you have to hide your findings and throw your own land mines in their path. Become an invisible wall and redirect those attempting to wrest control from you in the source code.” A series of miniature screens popped up on one of the monitors and split into columns. Nat tapped one of the lists. “These are the functions available to us within the Trench right now.”

Symbols for pits, moveable walls and floors, netting, smoke screens and other nasty projectiles appeared. Wendell sat upright, scanning the monitors and camera angles. The main camera spun around and zoomed under the pergola until it focused on the far side of the Trench. “Looks like Dax’s in trouble already.”

A blue and grey S.L.A.G., which looked like two cars that had collided and merged into a fighting machine, had intercepted the elf. Slightly taller than Turnpike, Beatdown was covered in hundreds of dents and wielded two short-handled maces, which it swung wildly.

Turnpike was forced to spin on its outer foot, trying to roll around the attacker, but Beatdown reversed its trajectory and pummeled Dax’s S.L.A.G. in the chest.

“ARGH!” The impact jolted Dax to the bones and sent his machine flying backwards, sliding across the ground.

“Roll!” Alhannah yelled into the mic.

“I got it, kiddo,” Dax answered. Turnpike flipped up over a shoulder and rolled up onto its feet. The fans cheered. Irritated the elf jumped forward and brought his own attack to bear. “Yeah?” he growled, “Try this!”

With a short lunge, Dax swung both weapons in a downward strike to crush Beatdown’s head. But weapons never met their intended target.

Dropping forward, Beatdown rolled forward as Turnpike jumped, vanishing from the S.L.A.G.s view.

Dax’s confused voice crackled over the mic, “Hey! Where’d he go?”

As the roll completed, Beatdown threw its feet forward in a double kick, which landed squarely across Turnpikes chest.

Wendell flinched as the impact rang through the arena. Ouch! The mobile cameras got a perfect side angle of the blow and slowed down the impact for viewers at home. Turnpike’s chest flipped backwards in a tight arc, legs sailing overhead like a windmill until the S.L.A.G. landed roughly onto its face upon the floor.

“UNNNGHH!” Dax grunted. There was a pause…then moaning over the speakers.

“Dax?” prodded Nat, “Are you ok?”

Beatdown was already lunging up into the air for a body slam.

“Roll, Dax,” yelled Nat, “NOW!”

Turnpike rolled clanking across the floor.

Nat snapped, “Now Cryo!”

A panel slid opened in the ground, right where Turnpike had been lying prone. Black liquid bubbled in the pit. Unable to stop itself in midair, Beatdown held its arms out to the side to stop its complete immersion into the trap. The impact splashed the black liquid up over the immediate area, including splotches over Turnpikes arm and chest.

“What is it?” asked Wendell, watching Beatdown struggling to climb out of the pit. Try as it might, the S.L.A.G. couldn’t get the traction needed to pull its short body out.

“Oil,” smirked Nat. Then into the mic, “Bought you some time, Dax—get up!”

A boom thundered inside the arena. Again the cameras went to slow motion as one of Turnpikes hands shattered. The mace fell from its hand and bounded onto the ground.

“I’m hit!” Dax cried aloud. “Sucker just blew my hand clean off!!”

Freaky and the TNT crew ran to the controller desk. Telly leaned in, trying to get a better view of Turnpikes wound.

“But…that’s not right,” he said aloud, “You’ve got reenforced steel. I put it on m-self!”

“Tell that to whoever shot me!” Dax grumbled, sprinting to the pergola for cover.

The fans started chanting overhead, “DARCY! DARCY! DARCY! DARCY!”

Alhannah growled, “One guess.”

Alpha Fighter was pulling another bullet from its writs sheath and fitting it into the long range rifle. Nosedive and The Girl Next Door were engaged in a close combat fistfight and Beatdown was still struggling to get out of the pit.

“No one’s engaging Darcy,” Wendell noticed, “He’s sitting there, taking his time to pick Dax off.”

Alhannah nudged Nat, “Can’t  you do something?”

He nodded. Typing furiously, a portal opened behind Alpha Fighter and a small pyro tube extended. Nat smiled, “Goodnight Darcy.”

But just as the tube fired, Alpha Fighter rolled out of range. The flames shot out, spraying liquid flame across the floor, completely missing the sniper S.L.A.G..

“What?” gasped Nat, “How did he know it…” Turning to Cryo, “Follow the code.”

“Scanning.”

The arena cameras zoomed in to see Alpha Fighter sliding the second bullet into the rifle. Wendell looked across the images. Whatever those bullets are, they’re enough to end this fight. Which means Dax has to stay away from… “Dax,” he yelled, “run to the fighting S.L.A.G.s!”

“What?” crackled the elf’s voice, “Are you nuts?”

“Listen,” Wendell insisted, “This isn’t about destruction of a S.L.A.G.. It’s about lasting longer than the first two casualties.” He looked over at Alhannah. “Right?”

“Yes.”

Wendell smirked, “So let’s see how badly Darcy wants you out of the competition, Dax! Use those other two as your…”

“Shields!” Dax laughed, catching on. “Smart, Wendell.” They could hear the elf taking several short breaths, then, “Here goes everything.”

Pushing off from the cement pillar, Turnpike swung its only weapon at Alpha Fighter, as it bolted towards the brawl at the far end of the arena. The mace glanced off the shoulder plate of the enemy S.L.A.G., nearly knocking the rifle from its hands.

“Almost there,” Nat panted, “almost there…DIVE!”

Turnpike lunged, sliding across the ground, behind the pink S.L.A.G.—just as a shot echoed throughout the arena. Fragments of pink spray painted metal exploded. The Girl Next Door’s arm fell from the shoulder socket and clanged onto the ground. Dax laughed through the com-link as his machine rolled up to its feet and quickly crouched behind Nosedive. “I don’t think they even noticed I got behind them!” he laughed again.

Stunned but not down, The Girl Next Door raised a forearm and launched four canisters arching across the arena at Alpha Fighter. The canisters exploded, knocking the S.L.A.G. back against the far wall.

“I think you just started a whole new fight,” Alhannah cheered.

Dax crawled backwards as Nosedive dropped to a knee and fired back. The bullet tore through the kneecap of Darcy’s S.L.A.G.. The giant fell forward into a prone position. Without hesitation, Darcy reloaded. The pink machine, however, sprinted towards the prone S.L.A.G..

“What’s she doing?” Wendell asked, confused, “She’s got two enemies right behind her!”

“Yeah, but that’s not what she sees,” pointed Alhannah, “Look at Beatdown. It looks like he’s out of the game, but in reality, he’s stuck—not disqualified. I think she’s trying to take out Darcy before she falls herself.”

Another shot fired.

The Girl Next Door collapsed to the arena floor without a head.

Alpha Fighter was struggling to reload as Nosedive took aim.

Dax’s voice crackled, “Can’t wait this out, kids. I got a chance to do something, so…”

“Dax, no…” started Nat, but it was too late.

Rising to his feet, Turnpike slipped an arm around Nosedive’s head with its good hand and stomped down as hard as it could, crushing his opponents leg motor on the bent knee. Turning at his waist, Turnpike used the torque to wrench the head free.

Nosedive collapsed to the floor, defeated.

“Ahhh,” chuckled Dax, “that felt good.”

****

“That’s kind of cheap,” Wendell chided, “letting Beatdown into the next round without having to engage in battle like everyone else.”

“Oh,” grumbled Dax, “so he shoulda been hiding behind the pilots getting shot at, right?”

“Uhhhhh.”

Alhannah rested her hand on the doorknob. “Beatdown did fight, Wendell, but the rules say you have to disable the S.L.A.G. to disqualify it.” She looked over at Dax, who was licking his thumbs and stroking his eyebrow hairs back. “You ready?”

He beamed his yellow teeth, “Let the fame begin.”

Reporters flooded into the press room and crowded into the closest seats. Wendell and Dax sat behind the long table with Freak and the crew standing behind them. Shamas had taken his position as a handsome statue between the reporters and the table itself, standing slightly off to the side—but close enough to reach out and choke someone. Nat on the other hand, decided he didn’t want to be exposed to the media more than he had to. The G.R.R., he reminded them all, was his first and foremost responsibility, duty and focus.

Alhannah was about to close the door, but she met resistance. A dainty hand with painted blue nails pushed back gently.

“Don’t forget us,” said  Rishima Geebler smugly. “You want to get real news coverage, I’m sure.”

Alhannah smirked back, “That’s why we invited them.”

Cameras flashed and microphones were planted on the table in front of Dax, each with its own station logo, while tape recorders and notepads appeared from seemingly nowhere. Wendell gulped, man there are a lot of them. He could feel the sweat starting to bead along his forehead. The smiley gulped silently after him. It’s eyes blinked and looked out over the reporters in trepidation.

Wendell leaned over to Dax and whispered, “You sure you want me to do this?”

Dax nudged him, “Absolutely. ‘Hannah’s right—you need to be exposed to the media. They need to know your face, so start taking charge. As the team leader, they’ll have to listen to you now.” He nudged him again.

Clearing his throat loudly, the chatting and clamor in the room died down to silence. All eyes turned to Wendell and several flashes went off. “Thank you all from coming.” He frowned and blinked hard, “I mean for coming…today.” He nodded to himself, “I’m Wendell Dipmier, leader of Steel and Stone.”

Fingers scribbled the words quickly over paper, bodies leaned in with their recorders. A slight murmur could be heard through the group.

He’s the captain?

What about Alhannah? I thought she was the one in control?

What makes this kid so special that he’s taken over leadership of the Banshee?

What ain’t they tellin’ us?

I don’t know, but we better find out!

“Today was a great victory and we’re excited that Turnpike will be advancing to tier two of this seasons Trench Wars. So if any of you have questions for our amazing pilot, Dax…” he paused. I can’t call him his real last name…it’s evolu. They’ll start asking more questions.

Dax noticed the hesitation and stood up. “So what do ya scoundrels wanna know?

Hands shot upward all at once…a sea of curious minds.

Dax pointed, “Yeah, you.”

The female gnome grinned triumph, “Gabby Gates, from the Weekly Setback, Mr. Dax. That was quite a show out there today—and I’d like to know if that worked out the way you’d hoped?”

Dax looked around at his team and opened his eyes wide, “Are you nuts!? I thought I was a gonner out there today! If you didn’t notice, that psychopath pilot Darcy Dunnit was using some high grade equipment that was exploding steel like it was glass. Took my own reinforced hand off with a single shot!” He scratched the scruff on his pink face, “Go as expected? Hah! It couldn’t have gone more wrong. I was expecting a brawl and I think I was lucky to get out with my skin intact.”

Pointing to a fat gnome in the back, the pudgy reporter stood up.

“Yes—Luis Bumberblum, Mr. Dax, from Titan Times. I’ve been watching your team since they announced the Gnolaum. You must know that the Church won’t sit idly by without countering what they feel is a sacrilegious gesture on your part, don’t you? Are you aware that the Priests from the Temple of Nothing are actually rallying for support, to have your team banished from the games?”

Freak leaned forward. “Are they serious?” he whispered, “The Church…wants to ban us from a sports competition?”

Nibbles shrugged, “Maybe they own the copyright on the name Gnolaum?” She snickered, “Now they want to hit you with the hammer of censorship.” They all chuckled.

Dax frowned, “No, I didn’t know we’d offended the Church and that’s sad to hear. That’s not what we intended to do…”

“What did you intend, then?” added the reporter.

Dax looked between Wendell and Alhannah for a moment. “Uhhh…” gathering his thoughts, “Next question.”

The reporters laughed. “Isn’t that just like a pilots?” called out one, “Avoid the question, ‘cause they don’t go the stones to answer!” They all laughed again.

“Watch it,” said Dax bluntly, “I’ll personally smack any reporter who implies that we’re like the other teams.” His tone was so cold and firm, the laughter died down almost immediately. “They’re out to make money, to get famous…you know the story. It’s been the same each and every season of the Trench. Right ‘Hannah?”

“Exactly right.”

“Well we decided we wanted it to be different this season. We ain’t fightin’ to get something, but…” his expression lit up as the idea hit him, “to give something back for a change!”

The room erupted in chatter. Hands shot up.

“What do you mean?” shouted someone from the back, “You’re a pilot—what can you give back?”

Dax stood up on his chair. He looked around at the group and waited until they’d fallen back into silence. “We’re here to give hope.” He looked at his team. They smiled back at him in turn, Freak dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief. “We have less resources and less technology than any other team, but we’re still here, because we have something worth fighting for…and that’s the people. Those who work day and night to keep this city going. They get forgotten…shoved under the rug.” He growled, baring his teeth, “That ain’t right.”

Alhannah leaned forward in her chair and tapped the table with her index finger. “We don’t have a corporate sponsor. We’re backed by the workers of the factories. By the hard working people who keep the water flowing, the heat on and lights glowing bright! The very people the normals ignore!”

The reporters gasped. Alhannah had used the rough slang for describing those considered mindless sheep in society. The term might be spoken in private, even select company, but rarely if ever was that word used in public…and certainly not in front of the media.

Alhannah’s lips curled back to unveil teeth grinding, “You heard me. This city has lost its foundation. It’s morals.” She slammed her fist down on the table and glared out over the crowd and barked, “It’s heart!”

Dax sat back down and laced his fingers together casually as he leaned against the table, “And we aim ta remind Clockworks that the strength of a society is not in its machines, or in its government, its religion or even in its corporations…but in its people.”

One lone reporter stood up among those stunned in the audience. The thin little face wiggled the brown mustache on its upper lip. “You do realize that no matter what your intentions are, as good as you may believe them to be…there can be only one Champion. Sooner or later, you’ll have to fight one another for the title.”

Both Alhannah and Dax kept silent.

Wendell leaned forward and spoke into the mic, “No more questions. Thank you all for coming.”