Mecha Realm

Ishaan’s heart threatened to beat out of his chest. Many things could explain the holoplayer and Bessmer chair deactivating: a power outage, a faulty system, a careless janitor. But someone had been behind Marvin. A dark figure, holding something in their hand, something long and pointed.

It was just his teammate, he told himself. They were trying to spy on our meeting.

But his heart only pounded louder. There were other ways to record a pilots’ debrief without a teammate nearby. Plus, the figure had stepped into the hologram, towards Marvin, when they knew there was still plenty of time left in the meeting. Why risk exposing yourself like that?

And what had they been holding?

Ishaan slowly slid his hand into his sleeve, feeling for the daggerblade attached to his arm. He turned, half facing the door, and cautiously moved to the Bessmer chair.

Sabotage. It had not been heard of in decades. What did anyone hope to gain by killing Marvin? The only ones who would benefit would be… well, Ishaan and his team. But the Sawblades would never stoop to such levels. Some third party must have had a particularly strong grudge against Saberstar.

Just then, the door slid open. Ishaan drew his daggerblade and dropped his knees as a large man rushed in.

It took a moment before Ishaan recognized him. It was Hanson, his bodyguard. He wore a heavy, bulletproof jacket with sharp shoulder pads.

“We have to go!” Hanson shouted, though Ishaan was already beelining to the door.

“What happened?” Ishaan demanded.

“We think Marvin’s been murdered.”

A chill went down Ishaan’s spine. Coming to the conclusion and hearing it from someone else were two completely different beasts.

His bodyguard wrapped an arm around his shoulder and led him through the bright, ivory halls. Bars of light flew by overhead. Ishaan had specified many times before that he didn’t need this level of protection, but for once, he didn’t object. If people could start getting murdered at street fights, nowhere was safe.

Calm down, Ishaan repeated to himself. You’ve seen murder. You’ve seen assisination attempts. This just happens to be in a location you’re not used to.

“Is my team safe?” Ishaan asked as he stumbled to put one foot in front of the other.

“They’ve been evacuated,” Hanson said.

“The killers. How many are there?”

“We don’t know.”

There had to at least be four. Someone had to have simultaneously turned off the power, and they would want to take out Marvin’s team to eliminate any retaliation.

Fingers would be pointed. Many at the Sawblades.

They passed by the team room, door ajar, blacked-out monitors and empty chairs resting like coffins. How had the killer gotten past security? If you didn’t have personal guards like Hanson, the institution provided several for the pilot and their team.

Did that mean the arena personnel were corrupt? That couldn’t be—they were employed by the Hosaka Roundtable itself.

A plant. That was the most likely explanation. Although never heard of, it was not impossible for the most powerful gangs or corporations to sneak someone into the government.

Hanson and Ishaan reached a crossroad in the hallway. One path was a staircase that led up to the stands; another led to the exit, and the third wrapped around the arena, leading to the opposing team’s rooms.

Hanson began pulling Ishaan towards the exit, but Ishaan dug his feet into the ground.

“Their team.”

Hanson looked down, surprised. “They’re probably dead by now.”

“And if they’re not?” Ishaan countered. “This’ll look awfully suspicious, don’t you think?” He gestured down the hall. “Call for backup. Tell them to meet us at Saberstar’s team room.”

Hanson begrudgingly obliged and the two of them headed down the third path. Ishaan ran ahead this time, daggerblade at the ready. He usually wasn’t one to put his life on the line for strangers, but Team Saberstar would have answers.

Hopefully.

There was one last scenario, one that Ishaan didn’t like thinking about: Marvin’s own team could have murdered him. The motives Ishaan could think of for doing so were absurd, but they were motives.

He passed a door that led underneath the arena. Then another door to the electrical room. It was closed. Ishaan stopped there for a second, trying to pry it open, but it wouldn’t budge. Made sense.

He kept running, Hanson at his heels. He forced his breaths to be in line with each step; they might have been presently outnumbered, but he was combat trained, Hanson was one of the best fighters in the megacity, and the reinforcements would arrive soon.

We’re the Sawblades. We’ve dealt with way worse.

Finally, they reached Team Saberstar’s room. The door was closed. Hanson pressed his cybernetic ear against it and made a face.

“What?” Ishaan asked.

“They’re still inside.”

“Are they stupid?” Ishaan muttered. “Is it locked?”

Hanson pressed the side buttons, then tried pulling the handle. The door didn’t budge.

“Where are their guards?” Ishaan wondered aloud. He looked down the hall. Marvin’s piloting room was close, and so was at least one of the killers.

“Are you sure it’s them?” Ishaan asked Hanson.

“I hear four,” Hanson replied.

Four… When the teams had introduced themselves earlier, Ishaan had counted three others besides Marvin: the engineer, the programmer, and the outsourcer. Who was the fourth? Had Marvin escaped?

“How long till backup arrives?” Ishaan asked.

Hanson pulled up a hologram on his watch. “They’re heading down the stairs.”

Ishaan nodded. There was no chance Team Saberstar would answer if two Sawblades, especially the pilot of the mech they’d just beat, knocked on their door. Ishaan, Hanson, and the reinforcements would have to hold this position until the police arrived.

But could they afford to wait that long? Who was the fourth person in that room?

“Hanson, what exactly are they doing?” Ishaan asked.

“I’m not that precise,” the bodyguard answered.

“What’s the mood in there?”

Hanson leaned against the door again and his ear clicked several times.

“Calm. They’re breathing normally.”

What? That implied that not only were they not being held hostage, they didn’t even know what had happened to their pilot. Unless, of course, they’d committed the deed.

“Wait,” Hanson said, leaning closer. “One of them is- no, two-”

Just then, the bodyguard’s watch buzzed and a hologram popped up. The reinforcements were going back up the stairs.

Ishaan’s mouth fell open as a message was passed along.

“The Manhunters are outside,” Hanson read. “Get up here now.”

No no no. Ishaan nearly ordered the reinforcements to return, to ignore the Manhunters and whatever petty reason they were here.

But then he realized with a start that the reason was anything but petty. The timing was too convenient. This was a diversion.

Ishaan felt his stomach twist at the depravity of the Manhunters’ crime. Their mech team had never been good, and yet they thought they deserved more than better teams because of who they were. And then, when an eighteen-year-old had come along and sliced open their robot within thirty seconds…

Ishaan willed himself to remain calm. There was nothing they could do against the Manhunters. That behemoth of a gang could slaughter the Sawblades right here and now on the grounds of “business.”

In any case, it seemed like their mystery had been solved, for better or worse. The good news was, they weren’t in any immediate danger. The bad news: the Manhunters would get away with this for a while. Hosaka would find out eventually, but not before Mecha Realm.

Why sabotage Saberstar now? The Manhunters weren’t going to qualify anyway.

“Let’s go, Hanson,” Ishaan said grimly. They could always ask Jacques and his gang later.

The bodyguard didn’t reply. Didn’t move a muscle. Ishaan frowned and looked up, seeing a distraught expression etched on the large man’s face.

“Hanson?”

“Something’s wrong…” Hanson whispered. He lifted a hand to his ear.

“What happened?” Ishaan asked.

Hanson gave no response. His hand hovered just shy of his cybernetic ear, as if waiting to plunge itself into his head. Something about it unnerved Ishaan. Hanson was not an emotionless man, and Ishaan had even seen him look scared at times. But this was different. A sense of dread permeated the fear in Hanson’s eyes, as if he’d seen how his life would end.

“Hanson, snap out of it!” Ishaan ordered, though the quiver in his voice betrayed his authority.

The bodyguard widened his eyes and opened his mouth as if to scream. There was a pop and a shower of sparks erupted from his ear.

He collapsed to the ground.

Ishaan stared at Hanson’s corpse for a minute. The bodyguard had been standing upright… Why was he on the floor? Why was blood pouring out of his head?

Ishaan didn’t even register the reality of it before he was running.

-----

One week after the incident

Eleanor Hall rose from the Bessmer chair and smoothed out her gray T-shirt. Through the transparent wall, Immortal Ignition stood amidst the corpses of a dozen training bots. It had been so easy to kill them. A swing of her arm, a simple spin, a single kick, and pieces went flying like blood splattering.

Some of the training dummies wielded two sabers on each arm, and those had been especially satisfying to kill.

Ella took a good look at Immortal Ignition. Despite the numerous thrusters protruding from its back and limbs, it was sleek and elegant unlike its competitors that favored strength over agility.

The defending champion. The everlasting flame.

And now she was its official pilot.

It wasn’t like Ella was glad Varyn was in the hospital. She felt very sorry for him—to have a stroke during your second-to-last duel of the season was something she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. Well, most of her worst enemies.

The thing was, Varyn was old. He had been a great mentor and the only semblance of a father Ella had, but they both knew this would happen eventually. That was why he’d begun training Ella in the first place; now, she was more than ready to carry on his legacy at Mecha Realm.

The holoplayer beeped, relaying a message from Luyan, Immortal Ignition’s engineer.

Check the news.

Ella swiped the message aside and turned to the TV that hung above the Bessmer chair.

What could it be this time? she thought drearily. Probably something about Marvin Yao.

It was always something about Marvin Yao; the media was absolutely enamored with him these days. Youngest pilot to ever make Mecha Realm. Highest ever power ranking for a rookie. The next Grayson Wright.

No one seemed to care that a girl only a few months older was piloting one of the most storied mechs of all time.

Ella would show them in a few months. She’d find Saberstar, drill a hole through its chest, and go on to win the battle royale.

She turned on the TV and folded her hands behind her back.

And the first thing she heard was, “In a drastic turn of events, it seems Saberstar will not be competing in Mecha Realm.”

Ella blinked. Was Luyan playing a prank on her?

The reporter continued, “Gammagrade and its pilot, Ishaan Khatri, will be taking its place as the third mech to qualify from Sector 58. Although the team has not made an official statement, many of the other competitors and Team Gammagrade themselves believe that Marvin Yao, Saberstar’s eighteen-year-old pilot, has suffered from brain trauma.”

“It is what happens when you push someone so young so far,” another reporter said. “Poor kid.”

Poor kid.

It was as if the cosmos had heard Ella’s thoughts and done what it saw fit. Except, this wasn’t the way she wanted Saberstar to go out. This was pathetic.

-----

One month after the incident

Sunwoo Park peered over his sister’s shoulder at the monitor screen. Waves of blue, red, and green flowed across, pulsing gently. The brain activity of some two dozen subjects.

Sunwoo appreciated his sister’s efforts to enhance his mech, but it was at a point now where it seemed she was doing it for her own gain. He couldn’t blame her—as the CEO of Ainsel AI, the megacity depended on her to continuously make progress. Her creations were responsible for maintaining electrical grids and managing the Sectors’ economies. The AI models worked wonders, but neither she nor her clients would be satisfied until they lived in a perfect world.

But studying human brain activity for such prolonged periods of time… Sunwoo worried that the company’s next, inevitable step would raise ethical concerns, even with the patients’ consent.

He observed his sister. She had the same stone cold expression she almost always wore. Her tinted glasses were pristine and unusually reflective, and her lab coat was stainless.

“Saeyung,” Sunwoo said at length.

His sister turned, expression unchanged. “Oh, hello.”

Sunwoo didn’t like her nonchalance, regarding him as if he had no reason to be in the lab. “Team Saberstar released a statement. Did you see?”

Saeyung shook her head.

Sunwoo sighed; of course she didn’t. He himself had been late to the news, but he’d rewatched the clip several times. Team Saberstar’s engineer, programmer, and outsourcer standing side by side on the stage, eyes dull and faces blank. They didn’t say much, only that Marvin was recovering from brain trauma and would be out indefinitely. Just like that, one of the brightest candles in the mech-fighting world flickered out.

“Marvin overheated,” Sunwoo said. “Out indefinitely, they said.”

“Oh,” Saeyung murmured. “That’s rough.”

Sunwoo’s expression darkened. “Saeyung.”

Saeyung blinked innocently. “What?”

These were the times when Sunwoo was convinced his sister was a robot. Her utter lack of reaction, or empathy, for that matter, had always been a wall between them. Twenty-seven years, and he felt like he barely knew her.

She knew what he was talking about. She had always been intrigued by Marvin and how resilient his brain was. Said multiple times how she would like to study him given the chance.

“Did you do it?” Sunwoo asked.

Saeyung didn’t offer as much as a twitch of her eyebrow. “If I wanted to kill him, I wouldn’t do it at a street fight.”

“Ainsel AI has enough influence. You could’ve employed the Sawblades.” It had been suspicious that the Sawblades had gone quiet the moment Saberstar stepped out of the tournament.

Saeyung turned to fully face her brother. She tilted her head, and her eyes might have narrowed ever so slightly behind her dark glasses.

“I didn’t do it.”

-----

Three months after the incident

The iron gate to the dead zone was sealed shut. Two Inspectors with their long, black trench coats and sleek metal masks stood on either side. Beyond the gate, alien machinery growled and ancient artifacts hummed. The area around it was littered with scrap metal and all sorts of abandoned items.

Caroline had a good view of the Inspectors from the third story window of the crumbling apartment. She sat at a crude wooden table, across from a hunched-over man wearing a scavenger’s coat. Multiple bandages hid his lower face.

“Shouldn’t we move farther away?” Caroline whispered.

The scavenger shook his head. “They could care less about us.”

Caroline frowned. “But the dead zone-”

“Do you think Hosaka will care if a nobody like me dies out there?” The scavenger chuckled. “I’ve even chatted with the Inspectors a couple times. They’re chill.”

“Oh,” Caroline said. “So, um, do you have the parts?”

The scavenger held up a finger and dug his hand into his brown leather bag. “Just one.”

Caroline frowned. “I’m not paying you all that for one part.”

“You’ll like this one.” The scavenger extracted a large silver sphere from the bag and set it on the table. It fell with a hefty clunk.

A mech head. Caroline assumed it had a Core, too, which made it quite valuable.

But was it worth the price of an entire chassis?

“Recognize the number?” the scavenger asked, turning the head around. Etched into the rear of the skull, right above the power port, was a serial code. All mechs needed such an ID to be able to compete in fights.

Caroline shook her head. She wasn’t that devout of a mech fan.

“It’s Saberstar.”

Saberstar? That was impossible. Even though its pilot was out of commission, it was still registered to compete next season. Why was it mangled like this, left in a dead zone?

“Check the website for yourself,” the scavenger said, seeing the disbelief on Caroline’s face.

And so Caroline did. She opened her tablet, navigated to the Mecha Realm web page, and scrolled through the list of last season’s licensed competitors.

There it was, Saberstar’s ID. It matched the one on the robot head.

It could be a fake.

“That’s not all,” the scavenger continued. He turned the head to the side and pulled out a thin, blue chip. “Implant. Consciousness upload.”

Caroline sat up in alarm. “Let me see.”

She snatched the chip before the scavenger could reply. Consciousness uploads always had a Network ID recorded on the chip to keep track of whose consciousness it was. The ID on this chip was foreign to Caroline, but she suspected her friend Renee would know.

The transaction was enticing. The thought of having Saberstar’s systems at her fingertips… With a good pilot, they’d have a decent shot at making Mecha Realm.

But could she trust the scavenger? She couldn’t spend her money on a whim. Her finances were fine; it was her friends, Renee and Ben, she was worried about. They had a decent amount of money right now, but in due time, that number would nosedive. Renee was already trying to save by not eating lunch, despite Caroline’s protests, and they barely went out anymore.

But that could change if they made Mecha Realm. If they won.

Even if this head wasn’t Saberstar’s, the chip had to signify something. Maybe a new upgrade. If Caroline and her team could exclusively possess such a power…

“Do you have any other parts?” she asked.

“Nope. I found this one and booked it back. Figured it was worth more to you.”

“Can I see your bag?” Caroline hated being this cautious, but she was not in the mood to get scammed.

The scavenger set his sash on the table without protest. Caroline rummaged through. Sure enough, the rest of his items were nothing mech related.

Caroline looked back at the head and the odd, blue chip.

“I’ll take it,” she said.

The scavenger smiled through his eyes. The two of them tapped their tablets together, transferring the money. Then the scavenger stood up and nodded once. “I want to say I look forward to doing business with you again, but I’m badlands-bound tomorrow.”

Caroline nodded back. Scavengers always went back to the badlands, no matter how long they stayed in Megacity 14. She’d caught this one at the perfect time.

I’d better not have wasted my money, she thought.