Chapter 1: Wager

The short, slender form of a young zoid pilot lay leisurely sprawled across the many large, segmented metallic scales which formed the coelocanthic body of a warshark. The scrappy young man, perhaps eighteen years of age, looked only about 5'8", body stretched out over the husky, scarred metal of his aquatic zoid. His slender frame was adorned with a thin layer of wiry muscle, well defined due to a general lack of bulk. The pilot wore a dull green shirt with thin, faded fabric, its long, striped sleeves rolled up to calloused elbows. He wore odd bronze pants which puffed out slightly at each leg before tightening in an elastic cuff just below the kneecap. The boy's loose pants adhered to a trim waist through the same elastic cling, left free from any belt or tie. Black, fingerless gloves clung to both hands, while a small diving knife was secured about his ankle, sheath attached to a thin leather strap. Slender, pale calves yielded to ratty tennis shoes, obviously worn from a fair amount of use; a sun-bleached grey mottled with the whitish stains of seasalt. The man's eyes matched this dull color, though short-cropped hair of a deep violet hue made up for any lack of coloration. Short strands of hair stood—quite literally—in complete chaos, sticking directly up from his skull, though those on the side near his ears were swept back, directed backwards as if blown back by a constant gust of wind. His features had a hardened look about them; high cheekbones and a powerfully angled jaw appearing to have been carved from stone. Sharp grey eyes were intensified by thin violet brows which flared violently at their outer edges. He looked silently up at the bright blue sky, scrutinizing the innocent, puffy white clouds which calmly floated by. The large zoid below him bobbed lazily, swaying in the smooth waves of the blue-green ocean, its great, deep grey bulk like a tiny island amidst sunny and endless expanse of sparkling waves. A bamboo fishing pole was jammed haphazardly into one crevice in the zoid's thick, scaled armor, its line forming a taught, straight path down into the waves. Small, undulating ripples spread out from its point of disappearance, where it abruptly became invisible, submerged beneath the lethargic waves.

An abrupt, metallic thud could be heard echoing ominously in the distance, just over the faint, irritating cries of gulls which floated effortlessly through the air, coasting along turbulent gusts of shoreline wind. Khalsin shook his head, freeing himself from the cottony, warm haze of a sunbathed nap, before promptly turning his dull gaze back towards the beach; vulpine grey eyes scanning the dunes for the source of the commotion. The grey eyes lost their daze and paused a moment, narrowing as flared brows drew downwards in concentration. The next thud came, followed by more in rapid succession, each jarring impact proceeded by mechanical whines and clanks. The pilot sat up suddenly, shirt flapping in the brackish ocean breeze, as faded grey eyes widened in excitement; flitting about the nearby beach with renewed intensity. They soon found a huge, catlike form, almost completely covered in thick armored plates, glossy yellow paint glinting majestically in the sun. It ambled slowly, almost predatorily across a stretch of golden dune, seeming to blend perfectly with its environment, intense, emerald-green eyes betraying its location. The thin, graceful tail of the zoid twitched softly as it moved. Khalsin scratched the back of his neck momentarily, the violet-haired boy cocking his head, before his face lit up with a triumphant, eager grin, thin lips shifting as his odd, soft voice emerged in an excited whisper. "…Saber Tiger." He promptly stood up, squinting through the powerful sunlight to watch the zoid move, one gloved hand raised above his brow to shield from the intense light of the sun. People—pilots especially—were often bustling about this particular beach, and seeing a zoid was not exactly a rare occurrence. A battle, however, was something for which he yearned. Khalsin grinned a little, still watching the zoid, before grabbing his fishing pole, vigorously pumping his arm as he reeled in the line, unsurprised to find nothing at its end; not even the bait. He scampered in an awkward fashion across the top of the great warshark, pole in hand, eagerly twisting a round handle at its top until a soft clank was heard.
He quickly yanked open the square hatch, diving feet-first inside the cockpit of the zoid, sliding almost instantly into a large, tattered chair. A makeshift headrest, presumably acting as an odd replacement to the original, supported the boy's spikey-haired skull with what looked like a sloppily cut piece of sheet-metal wrapped in a towel. He leaned forward, grabbing a pair of joysticks mounted on a trapezoidal console which was suspended by a contraption of steel bars, various hinges secured about it to allow the console itself to fit its user. He pulled the console back towards him in one rough yank, gripping the two joysticks tightly, his hands already sweating profusely with excitement. "Finally, a battle..." he mumbled, turning the joysticks to the side after jerking them forwards. The large fish Zoid lurched into action, powerful jet motors near it's massive tail suddenly activating and letting out a fierce roar as blue flame burst from a pair of rectangular boosters at the machines rear. The massive segmented tail thrashed violently from side to side as his Zoid moved rapidly through the water in a deep, banked turn, causing a tremendous wake of ivory foam to flare up behind it, an intimidating effect adding to the sheer power already displayed by this rapid movement. Khalsin kept the joysticks pointed slightly forward, allowing the zoid to move at its maximum speed toward the beach, squinting through the two large, orange-tinted trapezoidal windows or "eyes" of the zoid's cockpit. The great zoid ran aground with an abrupt, heavy crunch and a jolting impact that nearly shook its pilot from his chair. Sand exploded outwards in a sharp blast, being sent in a massive, wavelike spray plummeting across the spotless dune. Compressed steam from the hydraulics of the android burst outwards from hatches on its sides, carrying the salted, musty odor of the sea. Khalsin glanced to the side as the Saber Cat continued to advance, the sleek, intimidating zoid moving with fluid grace despite the leviathan size of its metallic parts. It came to a gradual halt, its heavy metal feet planted. Khalsin winced, noticing the sharp, steel claws digging easily into the sand. With a soft, muffled click, a holographic screen suddenly materialized on the upper part of Khalsin's view, projected by a panel of dancing lights secured to the ceiling just behind his head. A smiling face with a long scar down its right eye could be seen, a tan with spiked black hair and a mask of thick graying stubble. Brown eyes stared haughtily at him while a deeper voice sounded. "Well, well, well, there he is! You want to battle, huh?"
Khalsin nodded firmly, sharp-angled jaw setting firmly; thick chords of muscle visibly tensing beneath prominent cheekbones. After a second of anticipatory silence, the boy's voice gave its eager reply. "Ryke! You're going down." A small smirk spread across the young man's thin, pale lips, as an odd air of cool confidence seemed to smooth his bony features, sweeping away the powerful tension of his restrained will to battle. Dull grey eyes seemed to sparkle with an electric excitement.. "But, let's step this up a little bit... how about a bet..?"
The man in the saber cat scratched his head a little, his eyes narrowing as he moved his fingers down to scratch the thick stubble at his chin, summoning up a horrid noise much akin to that of nails on sandpaper. He moved his tongue about in his cheek as he considered this, before jerking his head towards the holographic image of the violet-haired adversary before him. "Fine. What's your wager, boy?"
Khalsin's odd smirk only widened as he tilted his head to the side, wrenching his jaw in thought. He reached upward to flip a small switch, the motors on his warshark heating up as a soft rumbling could be heard from the rear of the great, rusted metallic zoid. "hm... 10,000 credits...? Is that reasonable?"

The older man raised one skeptical brow, his odd, hooked nose seeming to wrinkle in scrutiny. "You can't afford 10,000 credits, you know that."

This statement was met with a frustrated snort, the young pilot running one gloved hand back through his odd violet hair. Each strand sprung stubbornly back to an erect position as his strong fingers passed it over, instantly returning to a default location as a startlingly intense, grayish gaze was locked on the face within the vidscreen. It seemed his bet was already backfiring; simply elongating the already agonizing wait for the battle to ensue. He waved one pale hand dismissive manner, hastily replying as he shook his head incredulously. "You can take the Warshark, then."

Ryke grinned wryly, making a playful face as his deep, rough voice came through the viscreen's speakers. "I'd had to take it from you, but if you insist.." The pilot chuckled gruffly, brushing a bit of his messy, spiked brown hair back from his wrinkled forehead. He rubbed one calloused palm on the grey sleeve on his other arm, giving another distinct nod as he seized the two joysticks on his zoid's control panel. The saber cat tensed suddenly, crouching as the two cannons mounted on its underbelly turned in tandem, both intimidating weapons aimed securely toward their target as it perched on the shoreline. The zoid's claws dug into the sand with a lurching of metal, while the warshark's engines had reached a high-pitched ringing which echoed throughout the area, blowing waves of sand away from it as powerful rocket engines commenced. Khalsin averted his intense stare from the screen, reaching his hand up to another metallic switch. "Enough talk. Lets do this." He promptly switched off the holo screen, jerking forward on the joysticks as the warshark burst into action, surging fourth through the sand with a roar of its enormous engines, blue flame flying backwards on either side of the tail. The zoid moved as if it were still in water, shooting across the thin span of beach which separated the two combatants. Khalsin let out a sharp cry of passionate exhilaration, anticipating the fight to come.