Sabledrake Magazine February, 2002
Feature Articles Black Hearts and Broken Dreams
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CTF 2187: Black Hearts and Broken DreamsCopyright © 2002 By Shannon Muir
ABOUT THE GAME: CTF 2187 from Advanced Gaming Enterprises features teams of Battle Bots pitted against each other in Arenas. Two or four sided contests are possible, as well as a yearly Free-For-All contest where a group of Bots fight to see who's "the Best in the Arenas". Some players act as Independents, allowing the GMs to put them with anyone. Others organize themselves into teams, either official (on record with AGE) or unofficial. This story centers around actual Pilot characters in CTF 2187, with moderate basis in game play; mainly it captures the historical and political climate in which the ‘backstory’ of the game is based. These events follow "Storms in the Soul," previously published by Sabledrake Magazine in August 2001. Some material contained within is copyrighted by Advanced Gaming Enterprises and used by permission. I’ve been playing the game for over ten years, but that’s my only association with the company. For more information, write Advanced Gaming Enterprises, or see their website at http://www.ageforfun.com. +++ "Attention to Induction!" yelled the Adjutant. The black-clad squad of pilots snapped to attention as Captain Francine Forsythe, pilot handle Femme Fatale, strode to the front of the formation and turned to face the two prospective inductees to the Sisters of Silicon Squadron. Harking back to the aerial fighters of two centuries ago, every arena pilot had a pilot handle, or "callsign", for combat use and while in uniform. Due to vidscreen limitations, the handles could be no greater than twenty characters. Many people used their real names, but others chose to build more of a persona. Femme's choice of a nom de guerre when she could have used her own name might be perceived as attitude by many, but in reality it had evolved because her family name had been shrouded in scandal that had only recently been cleared. Two of the newest members of the Sisters of Silicon snapped to attention. One of the women was rugged with a ragged haircut, a scarred and hardened face, and a uniform bulging and bagging at the seams. The other was slimmer, trimmer, with a tight-fitting uniform and long hair flowing in the wind. "Cadet Dorian Blackheart, welcome to the Sisters of Silicon," Femme told the fit woman. "You came well recommended by my half-brother, Derrick Deathex, despite getting held back from graduating no thanks to a little Bot joyride. Though I am puzzled why you left your brother's organization, Blackdeath, to fight alongside us. Especially after the delay in being able to join him." "I wanted to serve with my fellow women soldiers, Ma'am," responded Dorian. "Welcome then," Femme replied, moving on to the other woman. Her clearly dyed, fiery red hair proved to be quite the distraction, clearly to her benefit given the scarred shape of her face. "Cadet Alias," Femme addressed the rugged woman. "Welcome to the Sisters of Silicon. I admit your dossier doesn't reveal much about you at all. All I know is that your name is listed as Elise Shannon. What do you feel you can contribute?" "I wanna killa Pilots, turna them Bots into cheese like the Swiss." "I see. You do realize we're not a bunch of bloodthirsty rogues here. We are mercenaries, we do fight for the cameras and to solve world disputes in the Arenas with our Battle Bots. But we're still humans." "Coulda trick me. Also, I a woman. I wanna fight for my rights." "Yes, we do identify together in our common gender. And we open our arms to anyone." "So why all da third degree?" "Cadet Alias, you forget yourself!" Femme snapped at Alias. "Yes, Sir," Alias seethed. "It's Ma'am," Femme responded, exasperated. "We have a very open door policy here, Cadet Alias. I won't turn you out just for back-talking me. You have a raw determination and strength that I believe we can hone here. But you have to be willing to work with us." Alias said nothing in response, just stared forward as if a statue of stone.
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Femme returned to her quarters, where her husband Racubus Sterling -- better known as Rus to his friends -- waited for her. "So how were the new recruits?" Rus asked Femme as she combed her curly light brown hair. Naturally curly hair, a pain to maintain anyway, was compounded by being crunched under a helmet. "There's a new girl, looks like she's trying to make a better life for herself but there's a mouth on that one. I'm guessing she came from Arengas or one of the other way out places. And Dorian's looking good. Not too forthcoming on the whole Blackdeath situation though." "Maybe you should give Derrick a call, get his two cents." Femme ran a hand over Rus' short-shorn, military crew-cut hair. "And give up the time with you?" Rus patted her hand. "Come on, I've been here though your childhood, family scandal, death of your teammates. I'll be here when you get back. Now go call your brother."
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Femme talked via commscreen with her older brother, Derrick Deathex, about five years older than herself and with flowing raven hair. More precisely, one of her older brothers. Derrick's twin brother Mirk never had been able to accept his younger half-sister and split from the family completely following the revelation. ""I'm glad Dorian seems to be fitting in," Derrick said. "Me, I'm still honing my resume. There's a lot of choices out there." "Honing your resume? Weren't you going to stick with Damian Blackheart and the Blackdeath organization after you were so taken by his father?" "Look, I'm not going to pull one over on you," Derrick replied, his sleek-boned jawline hardening, accenting the "S"-shaped scar on his left cheek. "You've had a lot of that in your life already. Blackdeath's slowly falling apart. Damian's having a lot of personality clashes with some fellow here, I've never met him, Ignatius something-or-other. There's no grounds to eject the fellow, so he can't. They just have wildly different opinions on how things ought to go. And given the Arenas laws on official mercenary companies, they won't allow them to disband unless all members agree, and I know this fellow won't give. I think it's just a matter of time before Damian and his longtime buddy Richard Shadowhand just pack up and leave Blackdeath in control of the other guy. I'm not sure if I'll exit then, or beat them to the punch." "But where would you go?" Femme asked, worried. "You're ex-Bloodguard, one of the most notorious, nastiest teams in the Arenas. Not many people will open their doors." "I was hoping you could convince H.A.L. to put in a good word for me with the folks who run WASP, the Washington State Pilots Association. I can trace an ancestor back to that long-forgotten place through my father's line, though it's a bit of a stretch." Femme struggled to stifle herself and bit her upper lip, but ultimately proved unsuccessful as she doubled over in laughter. "What's so funny?" Derrick asked. "Um, you're asking the person you and your teammates nearly killed when she was part of WASP to help you join that team? She'll find that most amusing." "You think she'll say no," he said flatly. "I don't know, but I'm curious enough to see her reaction that I'll do it."
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"I'll let you two have some private time," Rus said as he headed out the door, passing Femme and H.A.L., who came over later to chat at Femme's invitation. H.A.L. was what everyone affectionately called the tomboyish Helen Annie Lynne Mayne; mainly the nickname had evolved because handles in the Arenas were limited to twenty characters, but also, Helen's name didn't seem to suit someone who preferred repairing Bots in her spare time. "Didn't mean to chase you out, love," Femme told him. "That's all right. Got to restock supplies. Catch you soon." Rus gave a friendly mock salute to the women as he left the apartment. "Rus is so silly," H.A.L. said, shaking her head, her closely-cut reddish-brown hair staying close to her face. "And to think you nearly split up our friendship because he proposed to me!" "That was another lifetime ago. Rus and I are both so stubborn we'd never have made a match. He was just the only guy I really knew back then." "Back then? You mean you're seeing someone?" H.A.L. shook her head. "Change of subject. What's the latest word on our sisters in arms?" "Everyone's doing well. I.M.'s even thinking of launching a Sisters-sponsored class at Bot Med," Femme told H.A.L. "What about? I.M.'s older than any of us, I'm sure anyone would benefit from what she could teach," H.A.L. replied about another monogrammed teammate, Inez Marguerite Shirley Wright, better known as I.M. Shirley Wright. "Her proposal is for Attribute Improvement Strategies 101. I mean, we earn all these Pilot points in the Arenas to take electronic courses in how to improve our abilities or apply for rank increases. When do we know it's better to choose Luck over Precision, or bumping up a rank over self-improvement?" "Wow. I never thought about that--" The door buzzer cut off H.A.L.'s response. Femme reached over and turned on the outside monitor comscreen and saw Derrick standing outside. "You're a little early, big brother." "Still haven't gotten used to being called big brother, but you think you could let me in anyway? Getting kind of cold out here?" "If it's OK with Helen." Femme turned and saw H.A.L. nodding her head. "OK, then. Enter." She pressed another button and the entry doors slid back. Derrick Deathex stepped into the main room. "Good evening ladies. How are you this fine evening?" "Doing good," H.A.L. said. Femme nodded in agreement. "So, have you worked it all out yet?" Derrick asked. H.A.L. looked at Derrick, puzzled. "I wasn't aware anything was wrong." "Boy, aren't you over-eager. I haven't even asked her yet." Femme looked over at H.A.L., whose puzzled expression bore into Femme. "I wanted to set this up with you correctly, but now that any chance of that is blown," Femme said, glancing back at Derrick with a frown, "I'll be short and sweet. Derrick wants to join WASP, and was hoping you could recommend him." "I've got the lineage papers to prove my father had a distant relative from Washington State, honest." H.A.L. slowly got up and approached Derrick, her left fist clenched and words flying from her lips. "Honest. Honest. Do you know how strange that word sounds coming from one of the Bloodguard. And to think, you almost made sure we'd never had this conversation by practically killing me." "That was a long time ago. You ejected. Does this come from your embarrassment of breaking your first Arena's 'I refuse to eject' stance? You're not the first. And for your information, I am EX-Bloodguard." "Femme made the Sisters a reality when everyone said it wasn't possible. I had to survive to be part of it. And the Deathex family had a history of being rogues and thieves even before the Bloodguard," H.A.L. pointed out. "Why should I recommend you when I can't even be sure of trusting you." "I'm Francine's brother. I saved her life. She's your friend. Can't that be enough?" H.A.L. reluctantly relaxed. "It's enough, barely. I will ask one thing in return." "Name it." "Team up with us in our next Arena. You, me, and Fran get on a team. Prove to me I wasn't wrong in making this choice. WASP and the Sisters have a strong alliance through me. I'm sure they'd approve." "If that's what it takes, then I'm yours." Derrick reached out to shake H.A.L.'s hand. She didn't take it. "After we're victorious, then we'll shake on it."
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Derrick and H.A.L. shook hands while standing on the winners' podiums at the awards ceremony following their victory in Arena 196. Alongside them stood a combination of faces from WASP and the Sisters of Silicon, who frequently allied together. Though H.A.L.'s change of teams built an unofficial bridge between them, their regular alliances grew out of contracts and politics. Newer faces among the Sisters who had been part of the battle included T.C. Gumacku and Buffy Skarrbut, the latter being an ex-con who originally came to the Sisters as a mechanic. Originally destined to repair Bots after contests and licensed to drive them with a Mechanic's credentials, Buffy quickly proved her worth and became a Sister of note. Overall the Sisters didn't have the strongest win record, so almost any PR was good... and a win the best type of all. "I told you we'd shake on it when we won," H.A.L. chided Derrick. Standing out in front of their team, with a special Individual Victory medal around her neck, Femme Fatale waved to the media, her fellow Sister pilots not currently in Arenas, friends from team WASP and other allies. Most importantly her husband Rus, as well as her late father's friend David Blaze and his wife Wyndi, joined in the celebration. Femme had so many mediocre Arenas, but something just clicked between her and her Reaver Bot this time around. Femme couldn't explain it. Perhaps it wasn't the electronics, or a stroke of luck, Femme pondered. With her father's scandal cleared, discovering a brother, a happy marriage, and being surrounded by great friends and teammates... maybe what made her a winner was that her own personal happiness buoyed her. As Femme stepped down from the winners' circle, Dorian Blackheart raced up to congratulate her. "You did an awesome job." "I'm glad to see you're doing all right," Femme replied in a more somber tone. "I'm so sorry to hear about your father. I can't thank him enough for helping to clear my own father's name." "He thought so much of Frank Forsythe, and I know he was so glad to have met you and help you. And thanks for your thoughts. I hope you understand that I don't want to go out into the Arenas for a while." "Whenever you're ready, I'm ready to team up with you." Femme looked over Dorian's shoulder and saw Cadet Alias in the back of the crowd, slouched and sullen, not celebrating with the other Sisters around her. "Dorian, would it be OK if I asked you to try talking to Alias? She looks so bad over there, but I doubt she'll open up to me. You joined about the same time, maybe she'll talk to you." Dorian nodded and went on her way, while Femme approached Rus, Ambassador-Major General David Blaze and his wife Wyndi. Wyndi remarked, "I'm so glad that you got your Team Management Certification and that your team worked out. You're doing so well." "A lot of that's thanks to your pep talk, Mrs. Blaze," Femme told her. "That and your husband believing in me. I hope my marriage is as long and prosperous as yours has been with David." "Have I ever apologized for being so gruff, Francine?" David asked. "I just didn't want to see you get hurt. Not after your life was so devastated by what happened to Frank. I just wanted to protect you." "I know, and I thank you for your concern," she told them. "I wish I'd gotten to know both of you better when I was growing up." "Your father would be so proud, Francine," David said. "I think they both would. But I assume you meant my adoptive father, Frank Forsythe." "Have they found Ryker Lorne?" interjected Rus, referring to Femme's megalomaniac biological father. "Did he really survive that explosion after we saved Fran from the armory?" "Apparently so. We found no forensic evidence at the site relating to him. Only for Victor Cartwright, his accomplice." Femme gulped nervously. "We're keeping an eye out for him, Francine. You have my promise, if Ryker Lorne is alive, he will regret the day he comes near you again. Go forward with your life."
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"They really did it, then," Femme inquired of Dorian as they set up for the Arena simulator. "Yeah. Damian and Richard went in with a new group called The Line. It distracts Damian from Dad's death. I think he's happier now." "Even without the team he founded? If I had to give up the Sisters of Silicon, that would break my heart." "Don't let Racubus hear you say that!" Femme tried to stifle a laugh. "Just get in the simulator and let's see how your reflexes are these days, OK?" she issued half-seriously. Dorian got in her simulator cockpit and waited for the computer to issue a scenario. "Scenario Twelve activated," announced the synthesized cockpit voice. All the displays lit up with various information readouts, and an information monitor provided a brief scenario set-up. Femme, monitoring the exercise, read the same information that Dorian saw in her cockpit. SCENARIO TWELVE: You are in a 90-Ton Titan. Your Heat is a Critical 160, amount of engines remaining is 18. Many sections of your armor have been destroyed, and your damage rating is Heavy. No one else is able to come help you fend off this single enemy Bot. Your goal is survival. Good luck! Oh yeah, mused Femme. The infamous Scenario Twelve. The one that Rus initially failed when trying to get into the Bot Training Academy. I can't wait to see how Dorian handles this. She checked her readouts to see what information the computer provided Dorian. Her simulated Titan stood on open ground, confronted by a single Enemy Bot two sectors ahead -- a two-fisted Mauler with Light Damage and Low Heat. On the scanner, there was a Lake three sectors to the left, a useful place to cool down overheated Bots. Femme watched with anticipation to see Dorian's next move. She could do as Rus did when he failed, go straight fist-to-fist with the Mauler, or try to cool down in the Lake. To Femme's relief, Dorian had the sense to choose to try and go for the Lake. Unfortunately, not only did the Mauler get to go first due to its lesser damage, Dorian's Titan fell as it tried to move forward. Within a step the Mauler was right on top of her Bot, Battle Fist flying because the computer anticipated Dorian's run towards the Lake and pursued, setting itself to follow and target a specific Bot. Even though her override let Dorian stand up the next phase and proceed toward the Lake for the remaining three phases, the Mauler stayed right behind, striking her Right Rear Torso. With no armor to protect them, the engines blew as explosions ripped through the Titan's chassis. Dorian didn't dare fight back as weapon heat threatened to drive the heat of her Bot even higher, which could result in injury and death to herself. Nine engines or less were required to Eject from the arena, and with eighteen remaining, ejecting proved to not be an option. The Mauler struck again and again with success. On the fifth phase, the Mauler's strike proved fatal as the Titan exploded! Femme's readout display changed to "Pilot Deceased. Simulation Concluded." A distraught Dorian stepped out of the cockpit. "Aargh!" Dorian screamed, stamping her foot into the tiled floor of the simulator room. "You're not being fair to yourself," Femme noted sympathetically. "Falling down was a fluke. That's not your fault." "Still, I suck. I so suck! The Sisters deserve better." "Maybe you're getting rusty from not getting in the Arenas. Sometimes getting out in the thick of things is the best you can do for yourself. Come out with me this next Arena." "Thanks, Femme, but I can't join you right now. Things are just getting to me so much. Dad, Damian really letting Team Blackdeath go, all of it." "I understand. It's hard losing a father. When you're ready, please come join us. I look forward to it."
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WASP knocked on Femme's door to ask the Sisters of Silicon to ally with them again for another Arena contract, this time in Arena 218. Many of the same people remained part of the Sisters crew, including Buffy Skarrbut, T.C. Gumacku, and H.A.L. Mayne. Derrick ended up with commitments elsewhere, so his spot on the allied team was filled by new Sister Dana Malh. The winds of change blew strongly as the team who emerged so victorious just an Arena earlier took damage left and right. By turn seven, Femme Fatale in particular had taken great damage. Her heat levels high, Hit Points down, Bot battered all over, Femme struggled whether to eject or stay. The Sisters fought so hard for good press, and she'd just received an Individual Victory the Arena before. Now, to eject and possibly look like a coward, might undo all the progress made. In the end, the one thing Femme could not ignore was if she died in the Arena, there would be far more progress undone. Or, perhaps, the Sisters might cease to exist. Femme wasn't prepared to let her dream die. She pressed the Eject button and waited for it to come down to her turn, as her heavier damage meant she'd move toward the end of the turn. Femme relaxed as her ejection seat rumbled beneath her, and the hatch in the top of her Bot's head slid back as the computer audibly counted down. "3... 2... 1..." WHOOSH! Femme felt her chair airborne. She opened her brown eyes to see herself rushing toward the terrain below. And panicked. This wasn't the first time she'd ejected. Femme knew that devices should have deployed to break her fall and catch the wind currents. But something was wrong. She rushed to meet the ground. All went black.
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Femme opened her eyes and tried to focus on the salt-and-pepper haired man looking down at her. The doctor sat down on the edge of her bed. "What happened?" Femme struggled to say. "You had a really nasty landing from your ejection seat not deploying properly. Also hit some nearby terrain the wrong way, in addition to the Head damage your Bot took. We've done some reconstructive surgery, but you'll need some physical therapy to fully heal. If you work with us I'm confident we can work with you." Femme tried to focus on the Doctor's words and his face. Everything still spun so much. "Thanks for the confidence, Doctor... Doctor..." Femme squinted to read his name tag, but couldn't. "Doctor Lawrence Wright." "Wright?" Femme asked, nearly sitting up in bed. Dr. Wright had to gently restrain her. "As in Inez..." "Yes, yes. I.M. Shirley Wright is my ex-wife." Femme settled back into bed. "I wouldn't have expected you anywhere near the Arenas, not after the falling out you had when she became a Pilot." "I've always been involved in the Arenas. I just wanted someone to always be home for our daughter Kristi. But there's no holding Inez back when she sets her mind to something." "She's like a den mother, though she'd hate me saying so. I.M. got into this game before the Sisters even existed. We adore her." Femme took a sharp breath. "Speaking of Sisters--" "Is everyone else all right? Yes," Dr. Wright informed her. "Dana Malh destroyed Author F. Destruction in his Avenger on turn eight after he destroyed your CP. And your friend H.A.L. ejected on turn nine, but she was able to walk out of here. Now, more tale-swapping another time," Dr. Wright chided. "Right now, you need your rest, Femme." "Francine, please," she asked him. "Just Francine."
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Femme waited for Derrick, Rus, and H.A.L. to pick her up upon her release from the hospital. Therapy proved successful enough to allow her certification to return to the Arenas, but Femme knew she'd never be one hundred percent as she'd been. Perhaps I'm meant just to manage and not lead the charge, Femme sighed internally. At least I have my husband, my brother, and my friends. Bored, Femme turned on the vidscreen feed. "Progress continues on the Bot Med Restoration Project," said the announcer. "A fire, for which the cause has not been determined, ravaged a portion of this health and recreation facility named in honor of one going back to the 20th century. The Sisters of Silicon sponsored the building of the facility--" Derrick and H.A.L. entered the room; Femme put the vidscreen on mute. "Why didn't anyone tell me about Bot Med? We should have Sisters donating time and talent to that effort around the clock!" "Rus has been there overseeing it, it's keeping him very busy," H.A.L. told her. "We hardly see him. Notice he's not here with us now." "Has he even been by to visit?" Derrick asked. "Very rarely, and he's always so tired. That explains a lot of it. But why didn't he tell me himself about it? He knows how much Bot Med means to me." "Probably didn't want to worry you," suggested H.A.L. "Maybe," Femme replied, not totally convinced. "But he normally doesn't keep his feelings from me." "It's hard to keep things bottled up you'd rather share," Derrick volunteered. "But sometimes you have to, for the greater good of everyone." "Well spoken, for someone whose family has a history of dealing in espionage and secrets," H.A.L. said. "Sometimes I've wondered if you could be truly honest about anything." Derrick turned on H.A.L., nostrils flaring. "I helped Francine, didn't I? Put my life on the line for her?" "I don't deny that, and I thank you. But you never share anything about yourself. I wonder if anyone ever could pierce that armor of yours, Mr. Deathex?" "Well, why don't you try me, Helen Annie Lynne Mayne?" "OK, then. Lay out a deep, dark secret for us to hear. Do it, you coward!" "I love you," he said. "The fact you love your sister's no secret, chicken!" "I wasn't talking about Francine. I meant you, Helen." H.A.L. clammed up, covered her mouth, her hazel eyes wide. Without another word, she ran from the room. "Way to go," Francine told her brother. "I really wish you'd talked to me before you broke that piece of news. There are very few ways to get on H.A.L.'s good side, and that's not one of them." Derrick put his hands in his pockets sheepishly, and looked down at the floor. Dr. Lawrence Wright entered the room, a digital pad in hand. He handed it to Femme. "You're all set to go, all we need is your digi-signature." Lawrence noted Derrick and his troubled stance while Femme signed off on the release form. "Shouldn't this be a happy day? Your sister's finally going home." "Yes, sir, it should," Derrick responded flatly as Lawrence took the pad back from Femme. "Thank you again, Dr. Wright," Femme said as she slowly lifted herself from the bed. "Hopefully I'll see you again sometime in better conditions." "Hopefully so," Dr. Wright winked and left. "Where to, sister?" asked Derrick. "Let's pay a visit and see how Bot Med's progressing."
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Derrick brought Femme to the almost restored Bot Med complex. "It looks almost better than new," she told him as they stepped into the lobby. Over at the check-in desk, Femme saw fellow Sister Lauraic Vileslayer giving instructions to a young man who had a similar look and grunge feel as Alias. He nodded to Lauraic and quickly ran off as Derrick and Femme approached. "I see we scared off your new love interest," Femme said seriously. "Him, I hope not!" Lauraic responded. "He's my cousin." "I didn't know you had a cousin," Femme replied. "Well, a living one I mean. After Loric and his twin sister Laearic bit the dust." "I'm surmising that's Gorrik Vileslayer," postulated Derrick. "Son of your father's brother Lyvik Vileslayer, quite the family rebel. Refused to name his son with a traditional 'L' name. But wasn't Gorrik in prison?" "Just got paroled for his theft convictions. Doing community service before he can enter Orientation Training. Like me, he's got to go the poor person's route." Lauraic stepped up to Derrick. "I wish you'd come along with your little revelations sooner, so I could have gotten a full ride to the Academy once my ancestor's name was cleared." "It took Francine's life being in danger to make that happen. I'm just glad it did. You're a skilled Pilot and deserved better." "Thank you for noticing, Mr. Deathex. Can I get you a drink at Lazer's? The bar section of Bot Med's functional, but not open to the public yet. But you're with me, so that's all right." Femme pulled a pseudo-cough. "Actually," she said. "We came looking for Rus. Seen him around? I know he's been swamped." Lauraic scratched her head. "Not recently. Maybe we can start by looking at Lazer's. That's where I saw him last. I don't see him that often myself." Femme gave Lauraic a sidelong glance. "Seriously. He was there just a bit ago." "We'll go there ourselves then, but thanks for the offer," Femme replied. "Someone's got to hold the fort out here. After all, they don't know how the fire started yet, do they?" "Speculation is that it was arson, but no one's releasing anything definitive," Lauraic replied. "Thanks again for the help," Derrick commented as he and Femme walked off. Lauraic looked longingly after the ex-Bloodguard pilot who, in revealing his own family's black history, gave her a better life.
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Femme and Derrick stepped into Lazer's, which had actually stood as a little-known Pilot hangout long before Bot Med facility was built around it. It also held a lot of personal history for Femme and Rus. Rus worked here before being able to enter the Academy, and also made his first marriage proposal to her at Lazer's. At the time, Femme said they'd been friends all their lives and had to spend some time apart in the Arenas before committing to a life together. When Rus proposed the second time, Femme's life had been in danger, and she chose to eject and survive to share her life with Rus; however, this choice came with the price of watching her friend Feral Feline die in her prone Bot before she could Eject. Femme and Rus' wedding reception had been held here. She still remembered the fantastic wedding cake in the shape of a Mauler Bot, and how it fit so precariously on the bar. Femme walked over and ran her hand over the bar surface. Then she realized it was a replica of the original. The surface wasn't well worn from tons of pilots sharing their worries with the bartender, but new and treated to look worn. Apparently much care was being taken to maintain Bot Med's tranquility by muting the effects of change. "Don't see any sign of him," Derrick said. But Femme wasn't listening. She wandered further into Lazer's, looking at the pseudo-new furnishings, blending the joy of memories past with the sadness that the exact place those memories happened no longer existed. She neared the door to the kitchen. "You've shown me things about myself I never expected," she heard Rus say. Funny, Femme paused to think. When did Rus ever say that to me? "Being with someone from Arengas opena your mind?" said a crude female voice. At that moment, Femme realized the voices were not in her mind but coming from the galley. Derrick watched puzzled as Femme opened the galley door. Inside, she saw Rus pressed up against the food preparation machine, Alias running a hand through his hair. "Racubus Sterling!" Rus and Alias separated at the sound of Femme's voice as she entered the galley and slammed the door behind her. "Fran, oh geez, oh geez," Rus sputtered. "I was supposed to come pick you up. I lost track of the time." "Well, I can see why," she grumbled at him. Derrick entered the galley. "What in the world?" he said. "It doesn't look like what you think," Rus insisted. "We have been working closely together, but she, I mean--" "So this is why you hardly came to visit! Too busy working on Cadet Alias when you weren't working on the complex." "And you," Femme seethed, turning on Alias. "I should never have let you in the Sisters, never! What was I thinking, taking some lowlife who wouldn't even reveal her true identity? Luckily for you I can't legally kick you out... yet." Femme stormed out of the room, Derrick followed. "Aren't you going to hear him out?" Derrick asked her. "Actions speak louder than words, brother. I think I 'heard' enough."
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Together, Femme, H.A.L. and Dorian faced the challenges of Arena 279. H.A.L. wanted to run away from Derrick and all that entailed. Dorian relished the possibility of fighting under the Sisters flag for the very first time. Femme prayed getting back in the Arenas would give her an outlet to start leaving her pain behind. She'd already made sure to file divorce papers before getting into the Arena, which would be final by the time the contest was over. No one made an effort to talk her out of it, not even H.A.L., who had grown up with both Rus and Femme. Toward the end of Arena 279, Dorian volunteered to take on the CP at close range, and stayed with it even as her Reaver Bot became increasingly battered. "I can do it," Dorian tried to reassure Femme. "One more round and I'm out of here." "You better be. You're cutting it awful close." "See you on the other side, Sister." The teammates finished programming their moves for the turn then set back to let the round play out. Femme watched, holding herself close. She'd lost one teammate in battle before, found her birth mother only to lose her to illness, and more recently lost her husband to another woman; she felt another would make her crumble. Not today. Oh please, not today. The sound from the Mini Missile L-Pack of Cadet Belle Tempest's Wyvern cracked Femme's self-absorption and blew her awareness into full. The rules specified each to take their turn in order, preprogrammed for five phases, no one to interfere in the moves of others. Sure, fully programmable Bots without Pilots probably could do the job, but the media loved the power of putting real lives on the line. Not to mention the celebrity and merchandising opportunities with the icons created in the Arenas. It was a life, a dangerous life, which each of them knew when they signed those papers and walked in the door and pledged to become part of the Arenas. Femme watched, paralyzed, as the missile headed for Dorian's very exposed Left Rear Torso. The missile hit its intended target, and Femme's world was set ablaze as the Reaver exploded into a ball of fire.
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Dorian's memorial service turned out to be one of the hardest things Femme had ever done. It wasn't her first, that had been for Femme's comrade Feral Feline and back then she thought no pain would ever be greater outside of the day she watched her father die on television. This day, not having her childhood friend and man she thought she'd love the rest of her life beside her cut deep. Not to mention the fact that Cadet Alias had the gall to show up at the ceremony; Femme didn't know how Rus had fallen in with a low-life like her. Femme noticed that Alias kept looking at her all through the service. She read such contempt in the tomboyish woman's deep brown eyes, and remained perplexed as to the cause. Femme could not fathom what she might have done except lead the Sisters to the best of her ability. While the events of the last few Arenas might have broken Femme's heart, she refused to let them crush her as a person. This battle may be lost, but the ruling was still out on the war. |
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