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"Indeed I shall, Section 8" Echo's melodic voice promised. "To your survival..." With those final words, her form dissolved, not into shadows, but into a cascading waterfall of shimmering, iridescent code that flowed upwards and vanished. They had been talking to a hyper-realistic, solid-light hologram all along.

As Echo's last data-motes dissipated, Nite and Dei turned to them, their movements in perfect, chilling unison. "Section 8," they spoke, their voices a harmonized blend of male and female synth. "Please allow us to accompany you to your designated squad bunker and workshop."

The doors behind them slid open, revealing the chaotic, noisy expanse of the Scrap Heap. As they began to walk, a figure detached itself from a group huddled around a makeshift charging station and moved towards Ethicca. He was a lanky construct of exposed hydraulics and red-painted chrome, his face a skeletal, robotic mask with glowing orange optics.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" his voice was a raspy, synthesized growl, like grinding gears. "Finally, some warm-blooded meat." In a flash, he grabbed Ethicca, his metallic claws digging into her arm, and pulled her close. "Your flesh… it smells sweet. Decadent. Would smell even better singed a little."

Before anyone could react, Dei vanished. Not a blur, but a complete de-materialization. She re-compiled in a flash of white light directly in front of the aggressor, her white robotic hand already gripping his red metal face. The sound of groaning, stressed metal filled the air as her fingers dug in, crushing the chrome plating like an eggshell. With a brutal, fluid motion that was pure, focused violence, she whipped her arm downwards, slamming his face into the ferrocrete floor. The impact was sickening, a wet, explosive CRUNCH of metal, internal components, and cooling fluid erupting from his head. The ground spiderwebbed and cratered beneath him.

Everyone in the workshop paused their work. They watched, not in shock, but with the detached interest of connoisseurs appreciating a fine, bloody art.

"Threat subdued," Dei announced, her voice a cold, aggressive monotone. She applied more pressure, and a high-pitched electronic scream tore from the robot's vox-box. "Permission to eliminate target, Ethicca-sama. Say the word, and I will tear its worthless spark from its chassis."

Jimmy and Jacqui staggered back. Nite remained perfectly still, a silent, black sentinel.

The battered robot on the floor began to laugh, a crazed, ecstatic sound bubbling up through the leaking coolant. "You've got fire, don't you, little doll?!"

"Dei, stop!" Ethicca pleaded, trying to pull on her shoulder, but it was like trying to move a statue.

"DO IT!" the robot screamed, his voice filled with a delirious excitement as Dei pushed his shattered face deeper into the cratered floor. "CRUSH MY FUCKING PROCESSOR! ERASE ME! DO IT!"

"Stop!" Ethicca commanded again, her voice sharp with authority.

Dei calmly turned her head to Ethicca. "Command accepted. Releasing target. Monitoring for further hostile action." She slowly pried her fingers from his head, the sound of tearing metal and sparking wires filling the air. She stood, turned away, and walked back to stand with Nite, her white hand dripping with blue coolant and shredded wires.

Ethicca cautiously approached the battered robot. Then, as if pulled by invisible strings, he shot to his feet, his shattered faceplate hanging off, revealing the twitching, sparking mess of optics and servos beneath.

"Flame King!" he announced, extending a hand, his head tilted at a psychotic angle. "Solo squad of the Fireflies!"

Ethicca, swallowing her fear, took his hand. "The Vanilla. Squad Section 8."

He shook her hand, then leaned in close and took a long, deep sniff of her skin. "Interesting," he rasped, his wide, psychotic grin never faltering. "Hope to see you in the arena, Vanilla." He let go and walked away. As he passed Cyn, he deliberately bumped her shoulder. "Watch it, or you'll get burned," he giggled.

Cyn just shot a glorious middle finger at his back. She approached Ethicca, looking at the gory, blue-stained crater. "He do this?"

"No," Ethicca replied, still shaken. "Dei did."

Cyn shook her head, impressed. "Wait. So you five are a squad now?"

Ethicca nodded. Cyn's face broke into a genuine, happy smile. "Well, congrats. Sponsor and a squad on day one. Took some of us months. But enough of that. Let's get to your bunker. The first exhibition match is about to start."

She led them to a heavy, oily cell door. She wrenched it open, revealing a large, multi-purpose space. One half was a living area: simple chrome chairs, a table, a nutrient paste dispenser, and a netsphere station with a direct, monitored feed to the arena channels.

The other half was a workshop. Ethicca was immediately drawn to it. In one corner stood a bulky, semi-giant mecha suit, the words "LOCO 8" spray-painted on its chest in a chaotic, graffiti style. Next to it, on a mannequin, was her new armor: a white cybernetic power suit with a long coat that split into four tails, its high collar strobing with soft, white LEDs.

The lining was a dark, nebula-like material that seemed to absorb light, and the letters "V8" were stenciled on the chest. The back was bulky, with two katanas—one white, one black—sheathed vertically, and two small thrusters visible beneath them. Holstered at the hips were two massive, hammer-head caliber pistols.

But something else caught her eye. Suspended in chains next to her suit was a brutal-looking exoskeleton. The back section was designed to hug the torso, encasing the head in a terrifying Oni demon mask with two short, red horns. The leg sections, bristling with thrusters, were meant to clip onto a user's legs. And on a table before it lay two heavy, crimson power gauntlets. Scrawled on the knuckles of the right one were the words 'I AM'. On the left, 'DEATH'. Above them, on the Oni mask's forehead, was the Japanese kanji for 'Rage'.

Nite and Dei appeared beside her. "The Sentinel of Lust did not mention this," they spoke in unison. "It is experimental, non-AI human augmentation. We were instructed to present it to Jacqui upon your arrival."

Jimmy's clunky footsteps approached as he supported Jacqui. "Sheeeeeesh! If I knew I could get my hands on tech like this, I'd have signed up for this shithole years ago!" he exclaimed, circling his new mecha.

"Listen up," Ethicca said, her voice firm. "This is it. Our ticket to survival. Jimmy, your new toy. Jacqui, this one's for you. We need to train. We need to be ready."

"Whoa, whoa, relax, rookie," Cyn said, flopping onto the couch. "It takes months to get a match. For now, come on. Let's watch the fireworks." She flicked on a large holo-screen. Vox and Paisley's faces exploded into view.

"GOOOOD WHATEVER-THE-HELL-TIME-IT-IS WHEREVER-THE-HELL-YOU'RE-WATCHING-FROM!" Vox roared. "WELCOME TO THE CITADEL GAMES PRE-SHOW! I'M VOX VOLTAIC, HERE TO BLAST YOUR EARDRUMS WITH HIGH-OCTANE TRUTH, AND THIS GORGEOUS PIECE OF ARTIFICIAL AWESOMENESS IS PAISLEY PULSE!"

The camera panned to Paisley. "Thank you, Voxxy! Welcome, you rich cred-thieves, you low-life gutter-punks, and you Section 8 scumbags watching from whatever rat-hole you just crawled out of!" she chirped, then put her fingers to her pouted lips. "Ehem, pardon my French."

Vox laughed as Ethicca and the others settled onto the couches.

"So, Paisley, what beautiful carnage do we have on the menu today?!"

She clapped her hands in excitement. "Well, the unlucky losers are Squad Prism! A trio of chrome-plated morons who are about to go up against a real, honest-to-gods firecracker!"

"Uh oh!" Vox leaned back, feigning terror. "You don't mean that pyromaniac psycho who literally melted his own squad last season because, and I quote, 'they weren't challenging enough'?! That same crazy bastard?!"

"FUCK YEAH, I DO!" Paisley screamed. "The same bastard who went toe-to-toe with the reigning champ, the Iron Lion, and survived because the damn clock ran out! The Flame of the Damned! The Burner of Worlds! The Cleanser of Sin! The last AI Pyromancer!"

The camera zoomed out to frame both announcers as they screamed in perfect, manic unison.

"THE FIRE KING! HIRO 'FLAME KING' AVAI!" The screen filled with violent, fiery images of his past victories as the digital crowd roared.

Cyn just sat back, relaxed. "I wouldn't want to be Squad Prism right now," she said calmly. "They're going up against the arena's number five. Time for some 'Fire-Works'."