Brilliance and Bitterness
Chapter 3: Nothing To Fear

Scorpion Ridge was a full holo course, not real and solid like the Gauntlet. This certainly made life easier for Cossette's techs. Cossette herself, on the other hand, wasn't certain she liked it. The flexibility of the projections meant there was more variety to the course, but the programming which simulated damage and impacts was spotty at best and could only register physical blows and solid projectiles. It was rather annoying to take a hit from a concussion cannon or fireball and feel nothing.

Ratchet was in the control center, guiding her through, but she'd asked that he not give her the normal reports on enemies. In the field it was fine to have that extra set of eyes watching the opponent, but in the tournament the techs would be limited to keeping the pilot up to date on their own critical systems. Best to get used to it now—though it made the course much more difficult than it was designed to be.

The course lived up to its name, the primary hazard being giant scorpions crawling about and firing laser bolts at any HAR foolish enough to invade their domain. As she tossed balls of electricity about they vanished under her onslaught, but her armor was showing moderate damage from simulated laser hits she could not feel.

That was also dangerous—how did you adjust for attacks when your only sign they were coming was an updating schematic on a heads-up display?

"Ya better be careful, she-demon. One more hit on that upper left arm, it's gonna come off."

"I'd love to see this software simulate that."

"Uh-uh. Ya wouldn't."

She decided not to argue that point and just keep the arm, which would be so much easier for all concerned. Redoubling her efforts, the scorpions didn't stand a chance.

They fall like insects before me.

They're arachnids.

Oh shut up.

She'd lapsed into the habit of talking to herself while jacked in. She was certain quite a few psychiatrists would have something to say about that, but really, why was it so wrong? It helped her focus to go over things in her mind, even such irrelevant things as what sort of animal the holograms represented. Kept her grounded in reality.

Amusing, that holding conversations with herself should help her sanity. But it didn't take much in the way of mental dexterity to keep up with Ratchet, who was occupied with his monitoring duties, so she was left to discuss matters with herself.

Sensors screamed a warning as she neared the end of the canyon. It appeared the course had stopped generating the scorpions—a bit early, which told her she was in for a difficult fight.

Her theory was confirmed as she saw a Katana crouched near the exit, blades crossed as it waited. While she hadn't actually looked at the programming—and probably couldn't make sense of it if she did, her specialty was design, not artificial intelligence—the holographic bots on Scorpion Ridge seemed a bit more competent than those in the Gauntlet. Perhaps it was because it took so much more to reach them in the Gauntlet.

"Engaging," she reported shortly. It would take time for the Katana to get out of that crouch, so she could at least get the first hit in, if she played things correctly.

The tesla coils in Electra's arms hummed slightly as she charged them and released several spheres of lightning. It was a bit dangerous to throw so many at once—the coils themselves were easily able to handle it, but the shielding systems could be overloaded if the voltage was kept too high too long.

She admitted she wouldn't have done it on the Gauntlet, but if she did fry a system here, well, it kept the techs from getting lazy.

All three of the lightning balls scattered over the Katana, which was already rising as she came charging in. There was damage, but it didn't look like anything critical. As the Katana sprinted at her with blades flashing she slowed, spreading the Electra's arms and letting lightning arc between them. Sparks shot forward to deter the Katana's advance.

Except, not so much. The other HAR tore through the field of sparks and slammed into her with a shattering impact.

A soundless impact, which made it a bit surreal, but that was something she could worry about once she picked herself up off the ground. Being immobile with a Katana standing over you was never a good way to keep your HAR in one piece. Its blades crashed down on her while she was rising and she blocked with the Electra's still intact right arm.

Much to the Katana's detriment, it did not choose to just back off and let her stand, instead trying to angle the blades and give decapitation another shot. Artificial intelligence isn't, she reminded herself. A real pilot would know better than to let the Electra, of all bots, inside its defenses. One pointed arm came up and jammed between two of the armor plates over the Katana's chest, and she charged the coil as high as it would go.

The programming didn't seem to account for the spasmodic jerking a HAR undergoing Electra's shock treatment ought to experience, but the damage was clear. When she decided she's stressed the shielding long enough, the Katana staggered back and stood motionless, stunned from the onslaught.

She wasn't about to let it off so easily. The low charge always running through the coils gave Electra's punches a bit of extra power as it was, and the sharp claws on the feet could tear armor almost as well as monofilament. Cossette wasted no time, and the hologram was fading out well before the Katana ought to have recovered from the stun.

She left the course victorious. This time.

"Watch yerself, she-demon. Wasn't an easy run, ya must be achin'."

She shrugged off Ratchet's concern as he helped her off the jack table into her wheelchair. It was true, she'd taken a beating, and were it a real fight rather than holograms she'd be having trouble with phantom pain for days. Perhaps the pilot wasn't really injured by attacks to the HAR, but it certainly felt like it sometimes.

"Everthin' okay?"

"Fine. They were just holograms."

"Yeah, true, but the simulator tech ain't the most gentle." He was hesitant for a moment and did not leave, which told her something else was bothering him. "Boss..."

"Is something wrong, Ratchet?"

"That's what I was gonna ask ya, t'be honest." He frowned, then sat on the table and studied her carefully. "Ya got really beat up out there."

"I know. It's easy to lose track of what's happening on these holographic—"

"Yeah, boss, but ya were doin' better earlier. Ya've seemed kinda distracted this week, an' I'd like to know why. If I can help, y'know?"

His words gave Cossette pause. She'd been having the dreams again, the dreams of Nova... every night it became deeper, more involved, yet the dark figure did not become any clearer. "It's nothing." She could hardly be expected to tell him that it was a dream impairing her scores on this course. Eventually, the nightmare would go away, and she'd be back to form.

Except he can help you, stupid.

He was still watching her with skepticism and she decided to test the waters. "Well, there has been something on my mind. It's a little strange though, I hadn't realized it was interfering with my fighting..."

"Anythin' I can help with? Ya know, I wanna see ya win this thing, and that ain't gonna happen if yer mind keeps wanderin' while ya fight." He winked. "Bein' the tech fer the leader of Ganymede, now that oughta be good for business."

She allowed herself a grin. "I don't know, maybe you can help with it... I'm sure you hear a lot more techie gossip than I do."

"Ain't much gossip that gets by me. What's on yer mind?"

"Have you heard anything about the Nova Project?"

He fell silent immediately, and she knew the waters were dark and dangerous indeed from the expression on his face. It took a few moments for it to clear. "A bit."

Now Cossette was worried, but also interested. "Nothing you can tell me though?"

"Eh, s'pose it can't hurt. I mean, ever'one knows... see, a buncha techs got pulled from the ranks, ta work on the project, and mostly they ain't ever been seen since. A couple've showed up sayin' they left, though they couldn't talk about it an' they didn', but then not too long after quittin', they all died. All accidents, mind. Nobody notices, cuz the ones who're on the project don't show up on the project in the databases. Just says they're doin' special work. But around the techie sector we know, ya don't take the Nova job. Not if ya can possibly get outta it."

Cossette had the dream again that night. This time, when the dark form emerged from the exploding sun, it was carrying Ratchet's corpse.

The flicker of the candle cast its erratic glow over the dark room. There was some warmth as well, as the small flame was close... he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, slowly, trying to calm himself. He had long since achieved peace with the darkness. The leaping flame was merely an added element. Its warmth and light would reach out to him, flowing through him. It was not hostile. It was not to be feared. It was not...

Jean-Paul shuddered and jerked forward and blew the candle out.

Leaning back against the wall, he was grateful for the darkness. It hid the shame burning in his face. "How bad?" he asked hoarsely.

The light of the stopwatch briefly illuminated Misty's face. "Fifteen seconds."

It seemed like a very long time to have been seated there in the presence of fire, but he knew it was no victory. A single tiny candle, and he'd had his eyes closed half the time. "Not good enough." His voice was low, almost dangerous. "Not nearly good enough..."

She did not answer. He'd not wanted her here at all, she had sort of barged in on him to ask something about his Shadow and upon seeing what he was doing, insisted that she help or he'd burn the place down. It had been very insulting, and she'd been very right. At least with Misty's help the candles got lit instead of the floor.

But she obviously couldn't figure out what he was trying to do. "Sir—"

"Stop calling me that," he scowled, "and light it again."

He could picture her confused expression in his mind, though he could not see it in the darkness. "You have been doing this for an hour. I don't think it is accomplishing anything."

He was silent for a long time. When you fear something, confront it. It had worked, at home, with sensei. But how many times had they gone through this ritual today? And he was no closer to freeing himself from the visceral terror of the dancing flames. "...Maybe you're right." But that was it then. If he could not conquer this fear... he would fail. There was Raven in his Pyros of course... even assuming he could afford to give up one match, he doubted his draws would be lucky enough to keep him out of the Fire Pit. Yes. Failure was inevitable if he could not fight the fear.

She must have sensed the darkening of his mood. "Sir, I think—"

"—Misty, I keep telling you—"

"—Would you listen?" Jean-Paul blinked. He'd never heard Misty raise her voice before, and he listened. "I think I know of a better way to handle this."

He looked to where she was and felt their gazes meet for a moment. Better? A better way. Surely something had to be better than sitting in the dark, frightened by nearby candles. "Go on..."

She flipped on the lights. He was on the floor, in the corner where there was not much of anywhere to run, and somewhere along the line she'd stopped standing and was now sitting on his bed. "Everyone knows you're more comfortable in cooler climates, they have since you sabotaged the climate control at the Tallahassee HQ three years ago."

He could not resist a weak smile. That had been a glorious day—especially as he'd been transferred out of that hellhole as soon as Kreissack got word. Rumor had it some of the pipes had been frozen for weeks. "Very true."

"We can presume that your opponents will take this into account when they win arena draws..."

"Trust me, I've thought of that."

"Of course. More to the point, I'm assuming that your predisposition towards the cold has at least some part in your fear of fire."

A frown crossed his face. She's good. "I'd imagine." No sense explaining how deeply a mere 'predisposition' ran. No sense explaining how the fear was tinged with outright hate and disgust.

"If you were in a cold place, would the fire bother you so much?"

As a response, he gestured to the burnt out candle... then the climate control panel on the wall, which placed the room at barely sixty degrees Fahrenheit.

She understood. "All right, but if you could fight fire with ice..."

"Misty, get to the point."

"The Shadow is based off the Frost's chassis. Shadow's only real special equipment is the shadow projector, which takes up a lot of room, but many spread out elements rather than completely taking up any one area. If we could find one of the minor nitrogen cores off a Frost, I'm certain I could work around the projector and install it."

Jean-Paul was silent. He'd never actually seen a Frost in action—most of them were presently poking around Mercury—but knew that with all three of its nitrogen cores active it could freeze even an erupting volcano. Even if the Shadow could only carry a minor one...

He looked up at her. "Do it."

"I ought to warn you, it will be expensive to acquire the parts."

"I don't care." WAR paid its top people well, and it wasn't as if he actually spent much of it. It meant nothing. "Make it happen."

She nodded. "Very well."