LotS/The Story/The Search for the Princess/Hyperia (2)
Hyperia (2)
Ragnar and Wilex are having breakfast when you emerge from your bedroom. Or at least Ragnar’s having breakfast. Wilex seems to be watching him intently, as though wondering how much red meat he can consume before even his cybernetic guts give way. Telemachus and Talia are sat in front of a huge holo-screen, watching one of the matches from yesterday.
“Anything happen last night?” you ask.
“Window,” says Ragnar. That laconic response given, he returns to munching on the pile of bacon before him.
You move to the large window that dominates a wall of the room, and look out into the sunlit park below.
Several men and women wearing police uniforms are milling around down there, most of them standing near to a group of glowing shapes drawn on the grass. Each resembles the outline of a human figure – though some appear to be missing limbs, or in one case a head.
“Didn’t want to wake you up,” Ragnar says. “So I used my axe instead of my gun.”
“One of them was part of a fighter’s crew,” Talia says. “The police identified him from his head.”
“Then they confiscated it for evidence,” Ragnar grunts. “I was going to stick it outside our workshop as a warning to the other bastards.”
“Is Twisted Steel always like this?” you ask.
“Not usually,” Telemachus replies. “But everyone wants to get the Princess.”
You remember seeing him backstage when you were returning from your first match. He was interviewing one of the other fighters.
“I asked some of our leading superstars what they plan to do if they win the lovely Princess Illaria,” he says.
Several faces appear on the screen in succession, each belonging to one of the fighters left in the tournament, and they give their answers to the question. Most are predictably vulgar, and Talia clamps her hands around Telemachus’ ears to avoid corrupting his young mind any more than his spoiled upbringing and your adventures together have already done. The two of them struggle on the couch, as he tries to pull away from her grasp.
You note each face, and each name displayed at the bottom of the screen. At least now you’ll know which ones you should make suffer.
An attractive blonde woman appears on the screen, the text below naming her as ‘Natasha Cybersmash: Twisted Steel Champion’. Her face seems somehow predatory, her cold blue eyes those of a serpent mesmerizing its prey, the redness of her lips bringing to mind the stains around a tigress’ mouth after she’s torn into her prey.
“When I win the tournament,” she says, “I’ll sell that prissy bitch to the Centurians.”
You head to the arena building long before the day’s matches are set to begin, and enter your workshop to find Lu Bu standing to attention, his weapon attachments on his arms. He bows.
You glance down at the large red stains on the floor. Lu Bu follows your gaze.
“There were two different groups of intruders over the course of the night. But the security personnel were kind enough to remove their corpses.”
“Seems like no one wants to play fair around here,” Talia says.
“Apparently not,” you reply. “But if that’s the way they want to do things…”
Playing Dirty (1)
Some of the other crews and fighters are already in their workshops as well, seeing to their battlesuits or making other preparations. They’re beyond your reach for the moment. If you started brawling in a workshop, there’s too much risk that someone would be able to summon security. You don’t want to get booted from the arena, like your assailants were yesterday.
But some workshops are uninhabited at this early hour, and one of those is your target.
“There’s a guard outside the door,” says Telemachus, returning from a reconnaissance mission.
“Man or woman?” you ask.
“Man.”
“Think you could get him out of the way?” you ask, turning to Talia.
“No problem. Guns or breasts?”
“Breasts. Don’t start any gunfights in the corridor.”
Talia nods, and slips out of the room. You and Telemachus wait for a minute or so before following.
Sure enough, the guard is further down the corridor from his post. His attention is on Talia, who gives a musical giggle as you approach. His back is to the section of corridor containing the workshop door he’s supposed to be guarding. It’s almost too easy. But if the team didn’t want their battlesuit tampered with, they shouldn’t have hired such an idiot to guard it.
The two of you creep down the corridor, each making your tread as stealthy as possible. You note with approval that Telemachus is a natural when it comes to sneaking. He barely makes a sound as he moves. You’d thought about bringing Wilex for the technical knowledge which will be required, but the boy is proving much better suited to the task.
Playing Dirty (2)
Your timing proves fortunate. Less than fifteen minutes after you return to your workshop, you hear the explosion.
You step out into the corridor, and saunter along to the room you and Telemachus slipped into earlier. Several security officials and a few members of other teams have gathered outside it, filling the air with an excited babble.
Peering between the press of people, you catch sight of a helmet lying on the floor. A single glimpse of the red mess at the neck end confirms that it was tenanted at the time of the explosion. You saunter back to your own workshop to relay the good news.
Your next stratagem requires a little patience. But at last the opportunity arrives. Another fighter, along with a crew member, is heading to the toilets at the end of the corridor. What better place to catch someone with their guard down?
You and Ragnar enter a few moments later, and approach the two men as they stand at the urinals.
Cage Match
When you leave the toilets, one man is lying in the middle of the floor, the wall above the urinals reddened by contact with his head. The other was perhaps less fortunate. Ragnar dealt with him, and he drowned with his head wedged into a toilet. Still, it was no more than he deserved for what he said about the Princess.
Back in the workshop you don your battlesuit, and listen to the sounds of commotion from further down the corridor.
As expected, your door opens a short while later. With fighters dropping like flies, you knew it wouldn’t be long until it was time for you to step into the ring again.
“You’re up next!” the man with the headset says. He seems flustered, but you’d hardly expect him to be thrilled about two fighters being slaughtered on his watch.
You make your way to the arena’s floor, the screams of thousands ringing in your ears as approach the door. Again the terrible rendition of the imperial anthem plays, and the six of you make your way down the aisle.
You glance up at the big screens, and see the pictures of two men. Each one has a large red X flashing on top of them. Ragnar laughs, his bellow audible even over the immense wave of noise from the crowd, as he recognizes the man he drowned. The other one was wearing the battlesuit that exploded.
Fans are crying in the stands, distraught over the news that they’ll never see their heroes fight again. Others are laughing. Some are even holding up pictures of you, and somehow that makes you feel ever so slightly unclean. But you draw solace from the fact that once you have the Princess back, you’ll never set foot on Hyperia again.
A gong sounds as you stand in the ring, an immense crashing noise that reverberates throughout the stadium. It crashes once more, this time giving way to the melodic strains of a zither.
A tall, burly figure appears at the end of the aisle. He drops into a broad squatting stance, and hurls something over his shoulder. He’s too far away for you to see what it is, but you remember him from the holo-vids. He’s a sumo wrestler, throwing salt in the ancient custom of his art.
The man rises out of his squat, and thunders down towards the ring. Each footstep is accompanied by a fresh crash from the gong, as if the ground is shaking under his great bulk. He clambers up onto the ring apron, and steps over the top rope. He’s even bigger than he looked on the vids, towering head and shoulders above you, a juggernaut in his imposing battlesuit.
Something catches your eye, and you glance above your opponent to see long metal rods emerging from the tall corner posts. Each one extends until it meets that projected by its adjacent number, forming a square in the air overhead. A feeling of unease fills you. Then beams of electric energy flash into life on all four sides of the ring, like the bars of a cage. That’s not good…
That’s not good…
The bell rings, and the sumo wrestler charges, moving incredibly fast for someone with that much bulk. He’s on you before you can dodge, absorbing the punch you throw at his face as if it were nothing. You find yourself driven across the ring in his grasp, towards the dancing electricity.
Handicap Match
The sumo wrestler twitches as the electricity surges through his suit, dozens of tiny sparks from fried systems sputtering in the gaps between the metal plates. His limbs and head shudder against the mat as his suit goes haywire, making him look like an immense fish left flopping on the beach.
Talia catches your eye at ringside, and she points skyward. You look up, and see the Princess on the screens. As before, her face is radiant with the thrill of your victory, at the knowledge that you’re reaching out for her, drawing ever closer.
You look back down, as you see the dark mass moving in the corner of your vision. The sumo wrestler is struggling to his feet – the lights of his damaged suit flickering, reminding you of a dying man’s shallow breaths. His suit’s actuators must be fried, and yet he’s moving the metal around his limbs by raw muscle power.
He totters for a second as he stands, looking for a moment as if he’ll collapse once more. But he manages to keep his balance, and stares down at you through the faint red glow of his vision slit.
You slip into a combat stance, ready for the behemoth to hurl himself at you. But he doesn’t attack. Instead he bows to you. Then he turns, looks up at the monitor, and bows as if to the Princess.
The electric bars disappear from around ring, and the metal rods that generated them retract into the corner posts once more. The sumo wrestler’s crew members help him out of the ring, all of them working together to bear some of his immense weight, and together they walk down the aisle.
You’re about to jump over the ropes, to join your companions at ringside, when a hush falls over the arena.
“Not so fast!” comes a voice, from the stadium’s speakers.
You look up at the screens, and see the face of Vince Vortex – as red and wide-eyed as before.
“It seems we’ve had a few unfortunate accidents today…”
The pictures of the two men you killed appear on the screens again, each with the flashing red X to indicate their elimination from both the tournament and the mortal realm. Then they’re compressed, shoved over to the left of the screens, as another picture moves in from the right to take up that third of each image. This one shows a woman you’ve never seen before. A fresh red X appears, flashing over her face in harmony with the others.
You look to your companions, and they respond with gestures of confusion. No, doesn’t look like any of you killed this one. Must have been someone else.
The three pictures disappear, replaced by Vortex’s face, with its manic grin.
“That means we now have an odd number of competitors in this tournament!” he says, his eyes growing so wide as he reaches the last word that you expect his eyeballs to simply pop out from the sockets. “So, what do we do?”
There’s an incomprehensible roar from the crowd. But it evaporates the moment Vortex continues.
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do! We’ll have a handicap match! The Princess’ champion against not one, but two opponents! If they win, they get to battle each other to see who advances to the final round!”
Vortex’s grin grows even wider, splitting his entire face from side to side.
“Welcome to Twisted Steel!”
His image disappears, and the screens show a close-up of the entranceway. There’s a cacophony of sound, a mutated abomination of music. A man and woman wearing black and red battlesuits emerge into a flashing spotlight.
Their suits are color-coordinated… Has Vortex been planning something like this from the start? But you force that thought from your mind as they run down the aisle, and slide into the ring. It doesn’t matter. Either way, you have to beat them.
“Oh… One more thing!” says Vortex, flashing back onto the screens. “This match… is a weapons match!”
The crowd screams in delight.
A weapons match? The Twisted Steel information package said that weapons matches would be announced in advance, and that you’d be disqualified if you brought a weapon to a regular match. You’re unarmed, and so are your opponents. Then you see that they’re looking upward, and you feel a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.
Two hover drones, like the ones that contain the arena’s cameras, descend from the darkness. One has a huge, orange-bladed axe hanging from a cord beneath it. The other has a pair of nunchuks dangling there. Both of them swoop down towards your opponents, until they’re low enough for the man to grab the axe and the woman the nunchuks.
You look to your companions, and see that Talia and Lu Bu are missing. Telemachus and Wilex are pointing, gesturing – and you understand. They’ve gone to get your sword. Ragnar holds up his axe, and shrugs his shoulders as though in confusion. You shake your head. If you use a weapon made from unauthorized parts, you’ll be disqualified.
The Princess flickers into being on the screens high above your opponents, and you see the fear in her eyes as the bell rings and your enemies advance, brandishing their weapons.
You have to avoid them, until your friends bring your sword…
Natasha Cybersmash
You dive aside as the axe chops at you, breaking into a roll that sends shudders of pain through your body from a dozen places. You complete the motion and rise to your feet, but your body whines in protest.
Somehow you’ve managed to avoid taking a solid hit from the axe, but the nunchucks have done their harm. Your suit’s dented and cracked, the responses of the actuators slow and sluggish where systems have been damaged.
“Sword!”
The cry is piercing, cutting through the roars of the crowd. It couldn’t have been made by a human throat. You hazard a glance to the left, and see Lu Bu and Talia. She’s holding your weapon.
Your adversaries see them too. When you twitch, as if about to dart to that side of the ring, they rush over there to cut you off. But Talia knows what you intend. A second later the sword flies through the air, arcing above their heads, the blade flashing in the arena’s lights as it spins end over end.
When your hand closes around the handle, the cheers of the crowd are deafening.
The woman reacts first. She leaps at you, swinging her nunchucks, trying to bring you down before you can bring the weapon to bear. But she’s not quick enough. The sword flashes, and takes her in the throat. She falls to the mat, blood spurting from the crack in her armor.
The axe cleaves at your head, and you move into a side-step. But your leg is stuck, and in that frozen moment, as your gaze is fixed upon the orange blade, you realize that the dying woman has wrapped her arms around the limb.
Your sword comes up just in time, and there’s a flash of sparks as the blade breaks beneath the heavy axe head, the end whirling away through the air. The man howls in triumph. His blow is thwarted, but your weapon is ruined. He has the advantage.
The howl ends along with his life, as you grab the shaft of his axe, and jab the broken fragment of blade at the end of your sword hilt through his eye. The lens of his helmet gives way with a crunch, and the metal pierces the soft tissues beneath – all the way to the brain.
The hilt is stuck, embedded in his skull, and you let it fall along with his corpse – a souvenir of his final match.
On the screens the Princess cheers. There’s no sound from the transmission, but that generated by your aural implant is like the music of the spheres.
Then she’s gone, and Vince Vortex’s deranged grin is back.
“Congratulations!” he booms, filling the sudden silence of the crowd. “A hell of a fight! But it seems you’re not the only one who’s been fighting. One of our remaining three contestants was found dead backstage…”
The image of a workshop – your workshop – appears on the screen. A woman in a pink battlesuit is sprawled on the ground, a gaping hole in the middle of her chest.
“Now how could that have happened?” Vortex asks, his eyes glaring with inhuman intensity.
You turn to Talia and Lu Bu. She makes an apologetic shrug of her shoulders, and mouths the word ‘sorry’.
“Well, that means we only have two competitors left in this tournament: Natasha Cybersmash and the Princess’ champion! So why don’t we let them settle it right now?”
The crowd bellows their approval, as a series of power chords sound over the stadium’s speakers. You look to the entrance, and see a woman in green armor striding down the aisle, a long metal whip dangling from her hand.
“And it will be a weapons match!”
Attendants crawl into the ring, and start dragging your late opponents away. One of them reaches down for the dropped axe, and you shove him aside – sending him tumbling through the ropes.
You snatch up the weapon as Natasha Cybersmash jumps onto the ring apron, and vaults over the ropes – her metal whip lashing through the air and slashing against the canvas.
Just one more match…
Axe and whip lie forgotten across the ring, entangled and discarded in the middle of a struggle at such close quarters that they proved a hindrance rather than an advantage. Now the two of you grapple, knees, elbows, clawing hands, and sweeping legs forming your arsenals.
She manages to pull free from your grasp, and takes a step – almost a skip – backwards. Then she shoots in low, the space created only to set up her takedown. Her arms reach for your legs, to take them out from under you.
But you’re not going to fall for that. Not with her watching, her fate intertwined with yours.
You sprawl, your legs spreading as you widen your base to thwart her tackle. Your arms hook under hers, and your fingers meet in a clasp on her back. You stomp against the mat, forcing yourself upright, dragging her along with you as she thrashes to break free. Then you leap into the air – your legs swinging upwards like a pendulum – and drive her head into the canvas.
She’s motionless, out cold or dead. The difference is of no consequence. You rise to your feet, and lift your arms in triumph. The match – the tournament – is over.
You look up at the screens, but they’re blank. There’s a twinge of disappointment that you can’t meet her gaze in that moment of victory.
Your companions rush into the ring, and surround you. Talia leans in close, to be heard over the apocalyptic din of the fans.
“Had to kill her! Wouldn’t let us get your sword!”
You nod. It doesn’t matter now.
Darkness fills the arena, the lights swallowed in an instant. The crowd gives a soft howl of anticipation.
A spotlight shines at the entrance to the backstage area, a single bright pool of light in the void. The door slides away, and she steps into the light. Illaria. Your Princess.
It takes you a moment to register the others. At first your gaze, your mind, are filled with her and her alone. But then you see the person standing next to her, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a manic expression on his face. Behind the two of them are four of the Twisted Steel security personnel, clutching laser rifles.
Part of you wants to leap over the ropes, to run to her. But you keep yourself in check. Now isn’t the time to screw things up with a moment of rashness. Wait for him to hand her over…
They come down the aisle, the spotlight following them. When they reach the ring it disappears, and the stadium’s lights return – driving away the darkness, bathing everything with glorious light.
The four guards enter the ring first, three of them forming a line between your side of the ring and that nearer the aisle. The other one moves to sit on the bottom rope – lowering it for the Princess and Vince Vortex as he leads her up the small staircase, onto the apron. The two of them duck between the ropes, Vortex with a swagger, the Princess with all the grace of the imperial court.
“What a tournament!” says Vortex, and his voice comes from stadium’s sound system. It occurs to you that he’s not carrying a microphone. He has one built into his throat. “We saw a fighter…”
He strides across the ring, past the guards, and clasps you by the shoulder.
“…a fighter walk through the fires of hell!”
There’s a burst of applause from the crowd, and you’re almost certain that Vortex’s enormous grin grows wider as it increases in volume.
“We saw a champion risk everything for the most beautiful jewel in the universe!” He turns to Illaria, whose expression bears a warring mixture of anger and relief. “The Princess of the Sian Empire!”
Vortex gives a sign, and at last the guards part – allowing her past. She darts across the ring, and then she’s in your midst, her arms around your neck, Talia’s neck – drawing the two of you and the others into one great embrace.
“To the victor the spoils!” bellows Vortex.
The Princess’ face flushes in anger, and you read her thoughts as if they were your own. The dishonor, the insult… A member of the imperial family taken as a slave, made a prize in a madman’s game.
“One moment,” you whisper.
You pull away from the others, and stride towards Vince Vortex. His guards move, their hands twitching on their weapons. But he waves them back. You come to a stop right in front of him, so close that his wide eyes and absurd smile seem to dominate your entire field of vision.
You sense the movement of your companions as they take up their positions behind you, awaiting your lead. Again silence descends on the crowd.
Vortex gives a deep, powerful laugh.
“Before you do anything rash, let me remind you of rules of Twisted Steel! If a fighter or one of their teammates performs an act of violence against a referee or promoter, all that fighter’s victories are considered null and void. All prizes forfeit.”
He laughs again as he sees the hesitation on your face.
“That’s right – all prizes forfeit. If you or any of your friends attack me, the Princess becomes the property of Twisted Steel!”
You turn to your companions.
“Ragnar…”
“Yes?” He comes towards you.
“You’re fired.”
“Heh.”
The sight of the grin vanishing from Vince Vortex’s face might be the most amusing thing you’ve ever seen. But if so, a close second place would be the sight of Ragnar’s axe cleaving his skull in half.
“A dead man can’t reward you for your bravery, can he?” you say to the guards, who seem trapped in indecision, their weapons half raised.
They look to each other in silent conference. Then they nod, and move out of your way.
The Princess comes to your side, along with the rest of your companions. Then you walk down the aisle, to the cheers of the crowd.