Disclaimer: I don't own Zoids, nor any other brand names I may slip in.

Overall, Vic Douglas was having a good day.

He'd just come back from his Christmas holiday, and unpacked most of his new stuff in his dorm room. Not many students at the prestigious New Helic Technical College were as happy as he to be back for another semester. NHT had a well-deserved reputation for being a staggeringly difficult school to excel in, and the high numbers of students that flunked out proved this.

Vic was content to simply survive another semester at NHT. He was physics major, and had already had sufficient calculus courses shoved down his throat to ensure he'd be passing line integral feces for months. Now he was going to be getting into the good stuff; the real honest-to-God physics.

Maybe he'd wind up in one of the major corporations like diVossi Industries, or possibly become a lead researcher for the Zoids Battle Commission. Not that he particularly cared about Zoids, but they were the most tightly packaged bundle of techie opportunities to be had at the moment, and Vic could get himself a steady job as a physicist. Things were looking up indeed.

His wonderful day, however, was rather shattered when he checked the course listings and didn't find "VICTOR DOUGLAS" anywhere. Not that he was particularly keen on his name appearing anywhere, for that matter. Vic never liked his first name, it sounded too much like some clichéd villain or something, hence he emphasized "Vic."

Of more pressing concern was why he wasn't listed in any of his courses. He promptly marched up to the Dean's office and waited patiently outside for the old man to get off the phone.

"Come in, Mr…"

"Douglas, sir."

"Yes, come in."

Vic did so, sitting down in a large, sumptuous leather chair that nonetheless managed to make him extremely uncomfortable. "I'm noticing that I'm no longer enrolled in my classes."

"Yes, this is true. Mr. Douglas, I'm sorry to say that you've lost your scholarship."

Vic goggled. "B, uh, wait, what?!" he stammered.

The dean adjusted his glasses.

"Mr. Douglas, mediocrity is not something that New Helic's taxpayers want their money going towards. The criteria for scholarship have been altered to reflect that. Your grade point average is simply not the sort of thing says "excellence." Surely you understand where we come from on this issue."

Vic was shocked nearly speechless. "B, but I'm a physics major. That's the hardest major we have."

The Dean stared back through bleary eyes. "Regardless, by attending New Helic Tech, you are competing against the brightest students on Zi for a full ride. I'm sure someone more capable will appreciate the money invested more than you, Mr. Douglas. If you'll excuse me, I must take a call."

Vic numbly excused himself from the Dean's office and made his way to the food court. He mechanically threw a few pieces of food on his tray, paid and plunked down to eat and think.

Without a full ride scholarship to New Helic, neither he nor any of his family could possibly afford to pay for his tuition. And he needed to pay for three more semesters. No job an unskilled guy like himself could get could pay for two full-time semesters per year, nor was there any real way to get money fast.

Vic looked down and realized he'd eaten all the food on his tray without even realizing what it was in the first place. Oh well. He put his tray away and went to his room to pack up.

On his way down the halls, a flier on a bulletin board caught his eye, and the skinny physics major peered down at it.

"Hmm…Zoid pilots wanted for Class E competition…study by day, battle by night. Earn the big bucks to pay your way through college. Interested pilots apply at your local ZBC office."

Already a plan was beginning to form in Vic's head. He grabbed the flier and headed resolutely back to his room.

Two hours later…

New Helic City was abuzz with late-afternoon traffic. On either side of the massive roadways, Zoids and vehicles alike sped by in the waning commotion of the rush hour. Gustavs hauled giant trailers as smaller Zoids like Sinkers and Molgas sped round the lumbering isopod-types. A skinny 22-year old ex-college student watched them from behind chocolate-brown eyes as he waited at a bus stop.

Now that's what I need, thought Vic, watching a Molga pull away from the sidewalk. It's tough, doesn't look too hard to maintain, and I can drive it around town.

The small, wheeled caterpillar soon joined the flow of traffic, though, and that particular one was lost from sight. Two more followed it; Molgas in New Helic were everywhere you turned. Their rugged design and adaptability, not to mention their low cost, earned them many fans - if not many competitive pilots. Molgas required more than a few aftermarket modifications to really compete in gladiator matches.

The bus arrived, a blue-and-white-painted Gustav pulling a matching trailer. Unlike the squarish freight boxes usually seen, the bus trailer had an observation deck and sides lined with windows. Vic paid his toll and sat down, checking the route as the bus pulled away into traffic.

En route, he heard a few overzealous teenage girls chattering about a real ace pilot, named Bit Cloud. He'd heard the name before, just not paid much attention to Zoid battling.

Apparently, the guy was a big star or something.

The bus reached his stop, and Vic egressed to a part of town he thought he'd never visit: Zoid Strip. A bustling area flooded with pilots and fans of the popular sport, Zoid Strip was home to dealerships and merchandise shops alike all making loads of cash off Zoid battling.

Vic stuffed his hands in his pockets and wandered down the sidewalk, passing a few kids all wearing foam hats shaped like popular Zoids' heads. Farther down, a merchant hawked battery-powered model kits based off the giant machines.

Those'll never catch on, thought Vic, watching a pint-sized plastic Gojulas lumber around roaring and flashing its eyes.

The dealerships weren't any better. Lots of them parked huge, flashy Zoids out front clearly meant for big spenders, like the giant, hulking Dark Horns, or the lean cheetah-like Lightning Saixes.

Vic moved on to a slightly less glitzy section of Zoid Strip, where most of the used Zoid dealerships were. He pulled his credcard out and checked his account balance; a couple thousand was all he had, and he still needed to eat.

"Guess there's no harm in looking," Vic muttered, entering a lot. The sign was ringed with plastic flowers and two cartoon Shield Ligers wearing leis grinning idiotically.

Vic jumped back as an obnoxiously gaudy stag-beetle Zoid zoomed up and landed before him. The man driving it could only have been the used-Zoid dealer, who jumped out wearing a Hawaiian shirt and shorts, even in January.

"Huh-hay, customer," the dealer shrieked. "What can I help you with? No credit? Bad credit? Busted Zoid and need to battle? Here at Loopy Larry's Liger Luau, it's a low-price luau all year long!"

Vic gave the poor guy credit for effort, at least. "Er, you have anything under five thousand?"

Loopy Larry didn't miss a beat. "Sure, we'll let you have that fabulous Gojulas over there for only $3,000 plus financing!"

Vic looked over at an absolutely monstrous Zoid, modeled after Godzilla, towering over nearly everything with monstrous cannons sticking out of it at every angle.

"Really?"

Larry's grin changed to a patronizing smirk, plainly marking Vic's IQ down as only slightly above "tapioca pudding."

"Kid, seriously? Come on, you'll never find a Zoid for under five grand. Git outta here!"

The ex-physics student left in a huff, his mood thoroughly soured. On his way out, he checked the Gojulas' price tag.

"One hundred fifty thousand. I'm never gonna find a Zoid."