Chapter 13: Trust and Worthy

"You made that too easy…" snorted Razor as he shoved Tracer into a tiny dungeon cell. There were several locking sounds as pins and gears clicked into position. Tracer stood up and turned to look back at the grinning enforcer. "You're lucky the Quintessons want you for the ring…" he grunted. "I'm not the only one who'd enjoy hanging you by your wire-ends over a molten furnace. You can drop the brave hero act, we know who you really are. You're just some vermin that fell through the right cracks. At every turn we enforcers had to be ordered to let you live. Maybe they see something in your long-overdue death worth savouring. Either way, we have you now. No vermin escapes for long… Enjoy these last hours you have."

"Maybe you should enjoy these hours." Tracer taunted. "The only reason I'm still here is because I know something the Quintessons don't! Your masters are scared… they're making a show out of beating it out of me. But you watch, because win or lose, they're going to give the order to spare me again. And I'll come right back here to this cell, stand here by these bars and tell you—my good friend, Razor—how empowering… how satisfying it feels to see your all-powerful, all-knowing Quintessons beg to regain their waning authority… run along now. I will enjoy these hours as I have far more than you think."

The enforcer gripped his hands around the bars, grinning as he slowly splayed them apart. His optics twitched and his digital voice skipped and crackled as he strained—although hardly. He thrust his bulky arm through the gap and snagged Tracer's plating—pulling him into the bars until he was almost wedged in the narrow opening. He got right up to Tracer's face—close enough to see the gaps in his optics. He growled as his other arm clenched and released in anticipation of a final strike.

"I DO NOT FEAR YOU! I've left behind piles of protoforms stronger than you! I'll string your circuits through these bars and break that smirk off your face with my own hands!" He lied as he pulled and Tracer could feel his armour clench around him. But he could see his intimidation wasn't working. Tracer continued to smile.

"Oh-ha! I've got an idea: tell them—agh, you want to face me in the arena! Yeah! You might have to wait your turn though." Tracer pushed aside his mocking laughter, turning a serious optic right back at the enforcer. "And is that contempt I hear in your voice? Yes, you don't like being told to let me live. You think their orders don't matter? Do it then—if you think you got the bearings. Right here, right now… Find out what it's like to overstep your limits!" Tracer dropped his vocals to a whisper. "But if you're above taking orders from the Quintessons, what makes you any better than us?"

The enforcer shoved Tracer back into his cell. He chuckled "Because I'm smart enough to stay on the winning side!" He turned and strolled down through the dungeon halls. Long after the enforcer had left, Tracer paced back and forth in the cell. There was a single guard at the end of the long corridor. It sounded like every cell was empty like his. Any other enforcer might have just done away with him. There's little they enjoy more than punishing those most deserving of it, and there were few laws Tracer hadn't completely broken; stealing a spark, claiming to be part of the resistance—heck, he sent the assembler to find Alpha Trion. If they find him they will have everything they need, and it'll all have been for nothing. Tracer won't live long either way. They'll make an example out of him. The Quintessons will find the secret to longevity, even if they had to pick through his lifeless remains to find it.

A digital voice rang out into his cell and the all the way down the corridor. [-BLIP- TIME TO NEXT ARENA MATCH: SIX CYCLES. WARRIORS, REST AND PREPARE FOR COMBAT.]

'I'm no warrior.' Tracer thought to himself. 'I'm no willing contestant… I'm a prisoner—at the full mercy of the Quintessons. There's no way they'll let me walk away from my first match. I'm only here for their enjoyment; to have everyone watch me die. I can't escape it forever, I should just let them end it all. Why even bother…'

[-BLIP- WARRIORS, YOU WILL MARCH INTO THE ARENA OPPOSITE YOUR OPPONENT. APPROACH THE WHITE CIRCLE IN THE CENTRE OF THE ARENA…]

'Then again… maybe fighting is my only option. It might be following their twisted designs, but if I accept I can't win I'll be killed for sure. Fighting back is my only chance to survive…'

[-BLIP- DO NOT GESTURE TO THE SPECTATORS. MAINTAIN STEADY AND FOCUSED MARCHING PACE. DEVIATIONS WILL RESULT IN IMMEDIATE AND INEXORABLE PENALTIES…]

'I saw how that first match went. It's a contest of pure brutality. There are no tunnels to escape through, no easy feats to avoid the danger, I must destroy if I want to survive.'

[-BLIP- BEFORE THE MATCH YOU WILL SALUTE THE QUINTESSONS. TURN AND FACE THEM. LOOK INTO THEIR EYES. DEVIATIONS WILL RESULT IN IMMEDIATE AND INEXORABLE PENALTIES…]

'The only way is to fully commit to it. Tracer the Destroyer… I wish it could be that simple. I'm hoping to get a lucky break, but in the end it's all about strength, and enforcers, loaders and demolishers have an unfair advantage. If I'm up against any of them I won't stand a chance.'

[-BLIP- DO NOT ENGAGE UNTIL THE QUINTESSONS SIGNAL TO BEGIN COMBAT. ONCE COMBAT HAS STARTED, WARRIORS WILL ENGAGE UNTIL ONLY ONE WARRIOR REMAINS. DEVIATIONS WILL RESULT IN IMMEDIATE AND INEXORABLE PENALTIES…]

'I've seen Lug take on three enforcers at once—and he lost in his first match. Hmm. Lost… I'm making it sound like it's all a simple contest. He was murdered. What if he was injured before the match? What if the outcome of every match is predetermined? They might show up right before I go out to drain my fuel cells, cut my hydraulics, or short out my servos. For them, they'd be ensuring my death, maybe hoping it'll pass for real in the optics of the crowd.'

[-BLIP- WHEN YOUR OPPONENT CAN NO LONGER FIGHT. YOU WILL DESTROY THEIR CORE CHAMBER WITHOUT HESITATION AND SALUTE THE QUINTESSONS FOR YOUR VICTORY. DEVIATIONS WILL RESULT IN IMMEDIATE AND INEXORABLE PENALTIES…]

'But wasn't that their whole idea, to put on a show for all the protoforms? Everyone seems more entertained by an even fight. At any moment advantages shift as warriors take their time to beat each other into crumpled, broken heaps. The thrill of not knowing who'll come out on top is a better crowd pleaser than a simple execution.'

[-BLIP- YOU ARE WARRIORS. STRENGTH WILL PROTECT YOU. AGGRESSION WILL REWARD YOU. HESITATION WILL DESTROY YOU. MERCY WILL DISGRACE YOU.]

'What if I beat my opponent? What if it's another protoform? Someone I—it doesn't matter if I know them… it'll be someone who's like me. They have a spark—one that's just as unique as mine. I don't know if I could do it. I've brought sparks back from the wastelands, stolen one from the Quintessons' own palace all to put into a drone and made an ally… maybe even a friend. They can't be wasted so coldly. But if it came down to him or me, I don't know what I'd do…'

[-BLIP- YOU ARE WARRIORS. YOU ARE ALREADY DEAD. FACE YOUR NEXT DEATH WITH COURAGE AND YOU SHALL BE REMEMBERED SO… Tracer, there's a space. In the wall behind you.]

Tracer froze where he stood. 'What did it just say?' He thought he might have misheard the loudspeaker—he had been tuning it out as best he could. He also waited to see if the guards might come to catch him acting suspicious. 'Is this some kind of trap, or a test?'

Tracer turned slowly. The space was, in fact, a rift in the dungeon wall. It certainly had height, but very little width. Nobody would be making any escapes through a hole that small.

[-BLIP- Reach inside.]

The voice certainly sounded more sincere. It wasn't echoing from anywhere else in the dungeon.

"Why? What's going to happen?" Tracer spoke softly as if whoever it was were standing in the room with him. Keeping it from echoing far down the hallway.

[-BLIP- You're going to need my help.]

Tracer looked around at the speakers in his cell. "Yeah? Who are you?"

[-BLIP- Someone who doesn't want to see you die. Reach into the hole…]

Tracer was trying hard to make sense of this. Whoever it was either knows a secret in every cell, or they knew he'd be in this specific one. They also didn't ask if he'd reached in yet, and as he looked the whole room over he hadn't seen a single camera.

"Can you see me?"

[-BLIP- Yes… Can you see me? I'm waiting here in this hole…]

Tracer stepped gently as if the floor might swallow him up in an instant. He stood at the wall and ran his hand around the rim. He could tell it's the original mineral formation the dungeon was dug into. It wasn't something put there with intent. He reached his hand in. The hole had knobby walls as his hand squeezed deeper in. Something at the back was loose. Contorting his hand, he forked two fingers around and wriggled it out.

Tracer pulled out a tarnished shaft—some broken axle or the butt-end of a pike. "Don't take it personal… but I thought you might have a little more… well, anything really." Tracer chuckled. "This isn't really you, is it?"

[-BLIP- No, there's a camera at the end of the hall, and a microphone in every cell. We're alone for the moment… pay close attention, I want you to imagine this shaft is a heavy blade. Yours will be about double this one's length.]

"Okay… What is this?"

[-BLIP- I'm going to teach you how to fight. Spread your feet apart. Place one ahead of the other. Bend your knees.]

"What? You call this helping me? Why don't you give me the key to my cell or a real weapon I can use to take out the guard?" No sooner had Tracer said those words did he hear the lock on his cell door open.

[-BLIP- Don't be so quick to pass up the advice I bring for some miracle I can't, Tracer. I can tell you you're eight levels below the surface. Each level can have as many as five enforcers. They are armed, they can lockdown the exits, call for reinforcements, and they won't hesitate to kill you on sight. You can take your chances with them, or stay and fight in the arena one match at a time with my help.]

"I guess I'd be pretty stupid to try and escape. Alright, you win." The lock on the door clicked tight again. Tracer held the shaft out and awkwardly shuffled his feet. His legs wanted to stay rigid and linear. He fought for a moment to hold the pose before flailing the shaft through the air in front of him.

[-BLIP- don't put all your weight into your swing. You'll lose all your balance and leave yourself vulnerable. Just focus on connecting the weapon to the target.]

Tracer took a couple more swings in the air until he felt more in control.

[-BLIP- After each strike, bring your weapon back ready to strike again. Now you'll also have a shield. Just hold your left elbow at a 90 degree bend.]

Tracer focused on his shadow on the wall, pretending it was his opponent. He held his body sideways to it: shield in front, raised shaft out the side.

[-BLIP- Turn more towards your opponent. He'll see your back as an opening and strike it. Hold your weapon low. Point it away from your enemy so he can't tell where it is. From this position you'll be able to change from a horizontal strike to a vertical strike or a thrust with ease. When you deflect an incoming strike, use your footwork to move around your opponent. Staying in the same place is a sure way to lose.]

Tracer swings his weapon, before raising his shield and stepping to the side around his target.

[-BLIP- Your opponent will be an enforcer. Your blade will not be as strong as his, striking his armour will dull or even shatter it. You will have to aim for the gaps at his joints. If you can cut any connections you can disable him until you find a way to terminate him.]

"Why are you helping me? Where did you learn to fight like this?"

[-BLIP- Please focus. We don't have much time to go over the basics. You won't get lucky like you did in the pits against Rubbish…]

"How do you know about that? I never told anybody…"

[-BLIP- I've been keeping a close eye on you for—]

"—Escia, is that you?"

[-BLIP- You need to focus. Your horizontal strikes need more work…]

Beneath the bright stars, the assembler shambled nervously through the streets. He walked past a high door with a noticeable welded plate from recent repairs. He sped up to a run—then stopped as he strained to remember where he was going.

"I can't let any enforcers find me. I'm a fugitive now because, uh… [fizz-click] I did something. What was it again? I put the angle-seamer on the bench... Why? I upgraded myself, I remember… remember: unit Taurus Luna; find… Alpha Trion; stowing sector three. Well that's not too far from here."

"There's something else too… [fizz-click] initiate memory diagnostic: count to ten, replace every multiple of three with a subatomic particle… simple enough. One, two… [fizz-click] he said I'm one of them now… who are they? Three—no, proton! Okay four, five… [fizz-click] Stowing sector three. Unit Taurus Luna. Find Alpha Trion."

"[fizz-click] Who is Alpha Trion?"

"[fizz-click] I… feel scared. Alone. I'm not only in danger but I have something that only I… [fizz-click] Electron! Good. Then seven, eight… [fizz-click] Tracer… I should have known he was trouble. This feels different, I'm… angry. Angry that he just forced me to take this spark and left me to escape without anyone to help me. What did I just say? I have a spark… I'm a protoform. I can't let any enforcers find me. Neutron… ten! Diagnostic complete. Stowing sector… three. Unit Taurus Luna. Find Alpha Trion… that's this way."

The assembler turned back trying to hold onto the thought of Tracer giving him the chance to escape. Perhaps sacrificing himself.

"He may have been destroyed by the enforcers. Okay, assembler, focus! I need to get a handle on these memory skips. The sooner I find refuge, the sooner I can repair myself and I'll figure out the rest from— [fizz-click] No… [fizz-click-fizz] I… [click-zzzz-rrrrrr] Must… [fizz-click] Stowing sector three. Unit Taurus Luna. Find Alpha Trion."

The assembler turned around to see a high door with a noticeable welded plate from recent repairs. "Oh, here it is." He stated with relief.

The assembler entered the storage complex and arrived at the balcony opening to the overwhelming expanse of cubic chambers. He nearly forgot to notice the drone—Delta-M6—waiting at his post on a platform to his side. If he had noticed him sooner, he would have seen the drone frantically disconnecting a recharge cable and closing his chestplate before standing at attention.

"I'm here to collect Taurus Luna." stated the assembler.

"All Protoforms scheduled for recharge have been properly stowed." recited the drone. "Units are only to discontinue recharge cycles at predetermined intervals for efficient retrieval."

"Well… I am an assembler, uh… and Taurus Luna requires urgent maintenance." He paused trying to gauge the drone's reaction. "There is a fatal flaw in the unit's [fizz-click] orbital stabilizers… wait, no. That's not right… what I meant to say was there's a risk of contamination for any robotic forms that have [fizz-click] reinforced windshields." The assembler clenched his vocals from saying any more.

"Windshields?" Queried Delta-M6—who couldn't help but sound skeptical. "Do many robots even have… windshields?"

The assembler quickly explained himself, "Certainly enough to warrant such impromptu measures! Time is of the essence, fellow drone. [fizz-click]… "

Delta-M6 hummed with suspicion. He knew something wasn't right with this assembler. But his common sense beckoned him to play dumb and get this over with. Still he couldn't keep subtle cues in his optics from showing through. Fortunately the assembler was himself occupied trying not to look anxious waiting to meet up with his contact. Delta-M6 put the platform into gear as the assembler braced himself.

The platform arrived and Delta-M6 gave the commands for the armature to withdraw the sleeping protoform. He entered the sequence to free her from storage-mode as she regained consciousness. She unfolded into a kneeling pose and stared at the very awkward assembler looking intently back at her.

"Taurus Luna?" he asked.

"Yeah… assembler? What time is it? Is something wrong?" She looked herself over as the assembler knelt down.

"You are fine. I'm… sorry to have to wake you like this."

"Well you should be! For a click there I thought I was dying or something and—hold on. You just said you're sorry…" TL leaned in to whisper "… and I if I didn't know any better I'd swear you actually meant it." The operator started the platform back toward the entrance.

"Yes… I [fizz-click] polarized the inter—argh! [fizz-click] I seem to have… acquired a spark. And I was told specifically to find you."

"Okay, first off: stand up… you have to try to act 'normal' around drones. They'll act all like everything is okay, but they'll report anything suspicious and then we'll have a really bad day—er, night, whatever—ahead of us. Let's keep it simple until we're alone. Who told you to come looking for me?"

"I don't remember—[fizz-click] well which is it? Is it a bubbling sound or a gurgling sound? [fizz-click] You're supposed to take me somewhere… or we have to find someone…"

"Find someone? I don't know anyone worth finding. The only protoform who ever stood out was Tracer… is that who you need to find?"

"That name sounds familiar… [fizz-click] Oh, yes!"

"Keep it down! Why are you just… blurting random things out? You got your wires crossed or something?"

"My memory banks are [fizz-click] damaged. What were we just talking about?"

"You said we're looking for Tracer."

"Yes [fizz-click] NO! I'm not looking for Tracer, Tracer sent me [fizz-click] unit Taurus Luna, find [fizz-click] Alpha Trion!"

"Shhh! Don't let the drone hear you say that name! Why would he tell you to find me? I don't know anything about… that protoform. I have no idea where to start."

The platform was coming to a stop at the entrance. TL tried to lead the assembler away, but he stood in place as he stressed to concentrate.

"I know Tracer must have had some reason. Was there someone or someplace you two talked about? [fizz-click] Xortravency: noun—is defined as the quality of being xortravent. Wasn't that helpful? [fizz-click] The resistance! I have something important to give them!"

"I told you—we… Ugh!" TL turned around and charged at Delta-M6. The platform operator was startled and braced his arms against her. She pushed up and rolled him over the rails. He grabbed onto TL's arm as his legs hung over a foggy, chasmic drop.

"What in the pits is your defect?" shouted the platform operator .

"Nothing personal, drone. I just can't let you report what you heard back to the Quintessons!"

"I'm not a drone, I'm a protoform. Pull me up!"

"You stand here everyday like a drone, Delta-M6 is it? A drone's name…" TL was holding back the operator's legs from getting between the rails.

"I'm in disguise! My real name's Chiron. Assembler, if anyone knows that name it should be you. Just PLEASE, pull me up!"

"Uh, I… I can't remember."

"Check your journal, PLEASE!"

TL looked the assembler over. "I don't see his journal… I think his brain is supposed to keep track of his own memories—but I think it's broken or something."

The operator shouted again. "Argh! What do I have to do? Do I have to show my spark? DON'T DROP ME!" He reached down and opened his chest plate to reveal a glowing orb. "There, see? Now pull me up!"

"I don't think so." Said TL.

"WHAT?"

"You're trying to trick us. It won't work. Maybe the Quintessons have something that looks like a spark, but it isn't really a spark y'know?"

The operator screamed hysterically. "There's nothing that looks ANYTHING like a spark!"

"Oh, really?"

The assembler spoke up. "[fizz-click] Actually he is right about that."

"Oh…" TL paused, surprisingly ready to help the operator back up. "Alright. Hang on." She pulled up the operator who immediately collapsed to the ground in relief. "Now, can we trust you not to—"

"JUST GIVE ME A MOMENT!" He yelled back. "For the last few weeks my two biggest fears have been having my cover blown, and falling over this rail. You two just had to come in here and give me a double-dose of wrecking-my-life! Yeah… I might be able to help you find Alpha Trion. Guess if I can look forward to more of you trouble-starters coming in here, pushing me over the rails in full view of that camera—I guess I can't keep the charade up for much longer can I?" The operator looked across the gap to a fixed surveillance camera aimed right at them. "I certainly won't have a job after all this."

"You know where he is?" asked TL.

"No. Tracer came asking about him too, after calling me out to back him up against an enforcer. Can you believe that? What am I saying—here you guys are basically doing the same thing: making me blurt out my big secret! Of course I didn't help him, I had to act like a drone if I wanted to stay alive! Do you know how hard it is to not act scared, or bored… or lonely? So you want my help? Fine…" Chiron gestured for them to step back on the platform. "Hang on tight…" He threw the switch, and the platform sped straight down. He periodically fiddled with the controls, changing course almost randomly without warning.

"What are you, trying to shake us off? Do you even know where you're going?"

"The Quintessons have cameras all over. I know how to bypass most of them, but I'll be honest there will always be a few I can't avoid. We don't want them to know which way we went." Chiron zipped all over until TL and the assembler were too disoriented to stand. Finally coming to a stop directly across from a full wall of folded up robots.

"I thought you said you didn't know where to find Alpha Trion?" Asked TL.

"That's right." Answered Chiron "But if you ask me where I'd go if I were on the run, I'd come right here."

Chiron activated the mechanical armature. Reaching and pulling out a neatly cubical drone. "This is what's left of the real Delta-M6." he stated as the armature set the lump of cold metal on the platform. Chiron typed a sequence into the keypad. TL saw what he was doing, she'd seen the same sequence every day before being put into storage herself. She ran over and shoved him off the console.

"He tricked us! He was going to put us both in storage and report us to the Quintessons!"

The assembler stared shocked at the operator.

Chiron gave a heavy sigh. "You really have to learn to trust your fellow protoforms. The activation code isn't targeting you. It isn't targeting any of us. " and he pressed the last key.

[PENG-DA-BO-BEEB-YOM] The three looked ahead to watch the back panel of the empty storage chamber slide away. TL saw the faint telltale etching of a switchgrave.

"After you. Here, let me help you up." Chiron helped the other two crawl through the tiny space. "One last thing… he stepped over to the controls again. "We still have to cover our tracks. Get ready to catch…" He kicked the lever and dove toward the tiny opening. The platform dropped beneath him. Chiron's hands brushed the assembler's fingertips and he tumbled down.

"Idiot!" shouted TL. The assembler watched as Chiron flailed and managed to grab hold of one of the sleeping robots. His hand was grasped around the shaft of an arm or leg. He had just enough room to get his fingers around.

"I'm alright." He called out as he cautiously scaled the wall to reach the secret passage. He crawled through and closed the back wall behind them.

Lodex Gamma stood waiting in the Quitnessons viewing box of the Colosseum. The Quintessons arrived, followed by a shiny new drone with a single, large optic in place of a head. The Quintessons stood in the centre of the room and waited for Gamma to report to them.

"Your honours…" addressed Gamma.

"What is our attendance?" asked Greed, before Inquiry commented "Today will be a day not soon forgotten by the workers."

"Sixteen thousand."

"Excellent." replied Faith. "Have our contestants been properly… hmm… equipped, Gamma?"

"I oversaw the preparations myself."

Pride spoke up. "And what of Kaetor, has he reached our mysterious traveller?"

"I am expecting he'll be within visual range in the next few cycles."

Malice stared at Gamma. "Notify us the moment he is."

"Even if it interrupts this match?" gamma asked. "Who will oversee the remaining events in your absence?"

Pride slid into position and gestured to the new drone. "Allow us to introduce Lockshot. He has been programmed with every rule of the Colosseum. He will speak for us and dispense penalties should we have to leave." Malice took control and added "He is armed with our lethal and precise long-range ray-blaster that links directly to his hyper-sensitive optic."

"Would a recorder not have been appropriate?" asked an obviously jealous Gamma.

"No. It would not." answered Faith. "You have other duties to see to, do you not?"

"At once, my lords." Lodex Gamma bowed and departed the viewing box.

The Quintessons stepped closer to the archway leading out to their balcony. "The crowd certainly has taken a liking to these matches." mused Pride.

"They are waiting in anticipation." concluded Inquiry.

"They are hungry for carnage." hissed Malice.

"They are putty in our hands." chuckled Greed

"Let's not keep the fool-masses waiting, fellow judges." stated Faith, before leading the Quintesson court onto the balcony.

[DWAAAAAAAAN]

The crowd eagerly turned to see the Quintessons ceremoniously raise their arms and tentacles to draw the attention of their subjects.

Faith raised his voice. "The sun rises on this new day! Just as the dawn's light stretches across this world, so too does our rule. Let it be clear that there can be no glory without obedience, no obedience without law, and no law without… consequence. Today you will witness those consequences, for we have apprehended a traitor who sought to incite chaos through our great and perfect city."

Pride continued. "This traitor, however, could not escape our grasp. He was seized the very same night as the crime he committed and when he was found… he fell to the ground and wept like the coward he is. His death should not be mourned; his death should be remembered only as testament than none can escape… judgement!"

The portcullis drew up and Tracer marched toward the centre of the arena. Both his sword and shield were carried in his left hand. He reached the centre ring and stood looking out at the countless protoforms watching him.

Malice slid into position. "Tracer… for your crimes against your fellow protoforms, we will ensure you die a slow death. We have given you the weapons of a true warrior, so that your peers may see you fail entirely by your own stupidity."

Pride again took control as the opposite portcullis lifted. An enforcer marched in. He wasn't the biggest Tracer had ever seen, but he exaggerated his arm swings. Tracer looked over the intricate plates on their exteriors. Pride smiled, "Now, let us welcome our chosen combatant for this match. More than a mere-enforcer, this one has been specialized for breaching barriers. He is able to strike through reinforced plating in a single punch. Victims who don't shatter instantly have been launched at high speeds. We are pleased to present Vapourcleave!"

The crowd cried out in excitement.

"Tracer, Vapourcleave… Salute your masters…"

Tracer watched Vapourcleave turn and face the Quintessons. The enforcer raised his right hand high. Palm open. Tracer drew in the dry air to cool himself. He turned slowly and raised his right hand. Fist clenched. Tracer glared from narrow-slits at the dark mass of looming, grimacing faces. There was a moment of silence as Tracer felt time slow. Tracer felt the cool air passing through every tube, every joint, and every minor component as it coursed throughout his form. Tracer waited for their sinister voice to order the battle to begin, but the silence was instead broken by a thundering tremor from the ground beneath his feet. Tracer did not take his eyes off the Quintessons as walls rose up around him. When they stopped, he could sense their peaks were too high to climb, and yet he could still make out most of the spectators in their seats.

The Quintessons looked down at the two combatants. "Let the match… BEGIN!"

Tracer raised his shield, and from it he unsheathed his blade. It was heavy and fairly long—just as he'd been told. As he looked around he could no longer see the enforcer. The two had been placed in a maze. Tracer started running through passages. He wasn't trying to navigate, rather constantly stay on the move, listening to the distant commotion from the spectators. He could also pick out the faint sound of someone laughing nearby.

"It's just like they said…" said the faint laughing voice. Tracer turned around but there was nobody in sight.

Tracer turned a corner and came to a familiar open space… where he had started. He sprinted to take a different route. The sun was rising over the rim of the Colosseum, against the shadows on the path ahead of him he saw the silhouette of an enforcer leap down from over the walls.

Tracer dove to one side and rolled under his shield as the enforcer landed and drove his fist into the ground where Tracer had been. He could feel the ground shake as the crowd shouted from above. Tracer regained his fighting stance, holding his blade behind him—as he was taught. The enforcer charged as Tracer feinted to one side before dashing to the other. It was to no avail, however, as Vapourcleave still swung one arm back and extended a hidden blade.

The blade clipped Tracer's shield and knocked it clear over a wall. Tracer quickly drew his blade forward and assumed a clumsy fighting stance. He watched the enforcer slowly step toward him, extending a second blade from his other forearm. Vapourcleave forced a hollow laugh as he took his time with every step. Tracer worried he would be backed into a corner as he fixed his optics on his opponent.

"Just like they said… you lack the courage and skill to commit to a fight. I'll give you a chance to make this fun. I'll put my blades away until you land, hmm… I'll say five hits. How does that sound?" He didn't wait for Tracer to reply before his blades retracted back into his arms.

"Won't that make your masters angry?" Tracer gloated.

"They want me to kill you; but I want to take my time. It needs to be perfect." He then lunged forth and wound up for another strike. Tracer had only a nanoclick to react. The two crashed and bounced off one another as each one tried to land a hit. They both traded glancing blows off one another while Vapour counted out loud. Tracer proved well aware of his surroundings. Vapourcleave wasn't able to line up a hit at full power.

"One." as Tracer's sword deflected an incoming punch. "Two." as Tracer chipped the blade against an armoured ankle. "Three" as Tracer again deflected another incoming strike. But Tracer saw the enforcer had stepped too far—trying to land too powerful a blow—and he took full advantage and slashed at the exposed components between the plates of armour. Electric sparks and compressed mech fluid sprayed out and Tracer quickly drew his weapon back. The enforcer swung his other heavy arm around and Tracer stepped in close and with both hands thrust the sword into a gap of the enforcer's chest plate. Vapourcleave shoved Tracer back and stood tall with one limp arm and Tracer's sword lodged in his chest.

"And that makes five." He said as he pulled the sword out. He stood still to let Tracer see the wound… and the pulsating orb the blade had just barely missed.

"You have... a spark?" Exclaimed Tracer. "How… why?"

Vapourcleave tossed the sword to the ground at Tracer's feet. "It's just like they said… you won't kill me now that you know what I am. I can't possibly lose this fight!"

Tracer picked up his sword, but inside his mind his concentration began to slip. The voice had told him he was facing an enforcer; not another protoform. He was so dumbfounded he didn't realize Vapourcleave was charging at him at full speed.

[KSHUMPF] Tracer was struck by a devastating punch that propelled him through the air and colliding with one of the maze walls.

Vapourcleave laughed as he slowly advanced.

Lodex Gamma sprinted into the Quintessons' viewing box. He let the Quintessons hear him approach.

"Kaetor has reached the alien vessel?" asked Inquiry.

"Yes, your honours."

Faith turned instantly toward the recorder. "Did you tell him to wait for further instructions?"

"Yes."

The Quintessons touched a tentacle to Lockshot's shoulder. "You are now in charge of the Colosseum."

"Thank you, my lords." whispered the drone.

Gamma watched the Quintessons clamber swiftly across the room to the exit. "What will you have me do now, masters?"

Pride glared rather annoyed at the recorder. "Assist Lockshot in any way he needs. Then report to us with the day's results."

Gamma's shoulders sunk. "As you wish… your honours."

Tracer's head rolled around as he oriented himself. He ignored the sword as he wobbled atop uncoordinated feet.

"I completely forgot…" gloated Vaopurcleave "I can use my blades again." He raised his arm and extended the blade. He looked down to his other limp, damaged arm. "I can make do with one."

Tracer blinked his optics as he tried to focus on the approaching enforcer. The impact had briefly scrambled some of his circuitry. He was aware of what was happening, but when he looked at Vapourcleave he couldn't see the loyal enforcer, nor could he see the new protoform he'd become. No. Tracer saw an abomination. Everything that taught him to value life, everything that made him unique could still become a mere instrument in the hands of the Quintessons. 'Is there nothing they will not defile to obtain power? I won't let them win; I can't let them win! I will defy them for as long as my spark burns inside me.'

'…And any spark who serves those monsters must pay for their betrayal!'

The world around him was agony to every one of his senses. Tracer felt his vision blur. When the world came into focus again Tracer felt his spark surge: a warming force like molten metal rising from his core. He now had to dispense his own judgement. He felt every fear and doubt crumble away. His senses heightened. But this didn't come from his training… Tracer had succumbed to rage.

Vapourcleave was within striking distance of his target. He slashed his blade down to watch it miss by a wire's width. Tracer moved out of the way faster than he thought was possible. He swung again and again, feeling fear grip his own spark more and more. Every strike he dealt would only just miss his target. Vapourcleave soon realized Tracer wasn't just barely evading, he was deliberately getting as close to being struck as he could without letting it touch him. With every attack Vapourcleave was revealing every flaw, every weakness he had. He made a final turn, stepped and brought his blade around slicing only into air before Tracer finally struck back.

Vapourcleave felt multiple impacts, unable to tell which order they occurred. He felt a knee buckle, there were multiple strikes on his arm, and several impacts purely to offset his balance. The last strikes he felt were several sequential blows to the head before he lost consciousness and fell to the ground.

Tracer picked up his sword as the enforcer lay stunned on the arena floor. Tracer roared as he charged, gripping the sword with both hands he fixed his optics on his target: the spark chamber in the dead centre of his chest.

"HAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

'And this time I won't miss!' He thrust the blade down, watching as it shattered on impact. As the shards of metal scattered onto the arena floor, Tracer's concentration dispersed with them. his rage receded and he felt burdened by the experience. 'I almost killed him.'

Vapourcleave looked back. He watched Tracer's fanaticism disappear from his optics. He swung back and his blade bit deep into Tracer's shoulder. Tracer collapsed to the ground. His spark felt drained, and he lost the will to fight. He watched Vapourcleave stand tall and hold his blade to Tracer's neck. The awareness of his end cleared his mind of all desires. His experiences consolidated into futile humility. An earlier Tracer might have mocked the idea.

The walls of the maze slowly sank back into the ground. As the mechanical thunder gradually ended, the crowd could be heard cheering and hooting their innumerable voices. It began softly from a few, but it wasn't long before all sides were shouting in unison the same word over and over.

"UN-SPARK, UN-SPARK, UN-SPARK…"

"Everything has happened exactly as they said… Now I'll have to stay this way... Before I end you, tell me… is there no way to ease this pain?"

Tracer looked up with open optics. "What?"

The enforcer's optics quaked as he look down at Tracer. "I have killed hundreds of protoforms and never once did I feel anything. Now… I can see every one of their faces in the moment I… and I can't get them out of my mind! They told me taking your life would bring me satisfaction. But it won't ease the pain, will it? I'll remember your face just like I remember all the others. Is there no way to forget what I am?"

Tracer drew in the arena air. "I wanted to kill you just now… but that doesn't mean I could live with myself tomorrow for having done it. You've… murdered protoforms. But… that was as an enforcer; that was who you were. Maybe… now… you can choose not to kill. But if they're going to kill me no matter what, I hope you at least get a chance to feel what it's like to make a choice."

Lockshot's voice rang through the Colosseum's speakers. "Vapourcleave. Destroy Tracer's spark-chamber."

The enforcer in the arena did not move.

"Vapourcleave! You are ordered to destroy Tracer immediately!"

"It won't be like they said..." Vapourcleave extended his hand down for Tracer to pull himself up. Tracer raised his hand to take it, but before he could grab on an energy bolt pierced through the exact centre of Vapourcleave's chest. Spark dust wafted from the wound, and the enforcer collapsed to the ground.

Tracer pulled himself to his feet and looked up at the vacant balcony where the creators used to be. He threw back his shoulders and forced up as much energy from his spark as he could to amplify his voice "Quintessons, true cowards send others to fight in their place! An enforcer with a spark chose to disobey, whose loyalty will be next?"

Tracer didn't see the Quintessons emerge from their dark chamber. He only heard the amplified voice of a calm drone fill the Colosseum.

"Combatant: Vapourcleave has violated the rules by refusing to kill his opponent. By the rules set by the Immortal Quitnessons, I declare Tracer the match winner!"

Lodex Gamma stepped in and whispered to Lockshot. "The rules also prohibit attempting to rally the audience… The Quintessons would have you punish Tracer as well. Did they not specifically say they wanted him dead?"

"The Quintessons gave me the tournament rules and left me with the final decision of any match in their absence. I have chosen the first violator of the rules to be executed and that does not violate their instructions. One combatant has been eliminated and the match has a victor."

"You may have all the rules pertaining to the Colosseum, but I oversee the rest of this city—if not this entire planet! This display can only result in even more dissension amongst the protoforms. I will surely inform the Quintessons of this major oversight."

"You will do as you will. I will continue to oversee the rest of today's matches."

Tracer continued to stare up, but the Quintessons' balcony remained empty. Nothing emerged from the shadowed chamber. Nothing called down to condemn the single, tiny protoform standing in the arena. No traps poised ready to end him. Commotion stirred amongst the spectators. They were not thrilled, they were not outraged. They just stared down at Tracer.

Silence rose.

The portcullis drew up and an astonished Razor waited for Tracer to exit. 'Nothing?' Tracer thought, 'No comeback, no order to kill me; they're just letting me go?' He stared up at their balcony again: still empty.

Tracer marched toward the portcullis, waiting for the moment the Quintessons would step in and rip his spark clean out of his chest. He entered the cover of the Colosseum substructure as the portcullis closed behind him. He was safe, but why?

'The Quintessons didn't do anything because the Quintessons aren't here. They're gone… What could possibly have been so important they'd just leave before seeing this through? If I am not their biggest priority, what is?'