Not another training day, just an errand run. I came back an hour later dragging a container on a hover-sled behind the Saix. By the time Sue and Rax were awake I had already finished welding and painting.

"Trey, you awake already? Geez, you must have gotten up at like. . Eh. . Noon or so . . . what did you do to my zoid?"

Her Snipe Master had some new qualities. Mostly due to the fact the rifle/tail is now completely black, longer, and even jointed at places instead of ramrod straight.

". . . laser capabilities, no ammo. Close range targeting motion, long range distance increase, and an upgraded targeting program under the hood."

"What, a one shot knockout isn't enough for ya?"

". . . it can kill a fly now."

". . . sounds fine."

Rax butted in, wondering if I did anything to his new zoid.

". . . There's a second cup holder?"

"Sweet. . ."

Rax is easy to please.

"Can we try it out?"

In minutes we were in a canyon connected to the bay in our zoids.Sue tinkering with her aiming program and twitching the newly flexible gun tail around, me working out blade formations, and Rax watching the fish jump out of the canyon river into the bay from his Liger cockpit.

"Anything to shoot at?"

Sue scanned the horizon, the snipe rotating perfectly on both its feet.

"Trey, check out northeast nine degrees."

I looked into the Saix's radar and caught a power signature. I zoomed in on it with the visual view and saw what looked like a purple dinosaur jumping up and down.

"Max's nephew is still down here?"

"That's him? The moron in the freakin' nice zoid?"

I nodded.

". . . Shoot to kill."

She spun on a dime and her tail straightened perfectly at the speck on the horizon. I heard a warning from my console, high energy shot incoming. She shot out the little energy blast without a sound, like it had a silencer. I kept looking at the visual of the kid jumping up and down like he just discovered the jump button. I watched it suddenly flip back and land on its side, automatically getting back up due to its hover jets. It spun around as if looking for a guy with a BB gun.

"You see that?"

Sue was in her rotated cockpit, looking at it from down the line of the massive rifle.

"Yep . . . twenty creds says I can get him to fall into that river."

All of a sudden the rifle started inclining till it was pointed up like an old cannon. Something popped up and I saw a poof of dust on the zoomed in scope.

"What the heck was that?"

The snipe tilted back down to snipinglevel.

"Land mine."

I watched the scope.

"He's going around in circles looking for who shot him . . . and. . . Boom. Splash. I'll pay ya later. That thing can float right?"

"Yeah, the jets should get it back to dry ground."

"Those factory-made junkers have safety programs up to the wazoo."

"Yeah, speaking of add-ons, I really love the extras this thing has."

"So what other gimmicks you use?"

With that her zoid took on the appearance of the rock and sky, a primitive cloaking device. I could see it of course, but it may save you a few hits. Then she re-appeared and dispelled a large cloud of smoke that went away in a few minutes. Then a small pink shield. And I'm guessing she had boosters tossed in. And she still wanted a Geno saurer? Why? Oh yeah, speed, power, firepower, the whole electric claw thing.

"Hm, nice. It'll come in handy to trash more losers until we move up a class?"

"Class B?"

"There is no Class B, not enough mid-level guys. Class A or bust."

"So we just keep walloping guys until they say we're at Class S?"

"Yeah. About five more battles before we get considered to stay or move up. That's the system. We may luck out and get out of C pretty quick."

"Would it be possible for just one of us to take out a team of losers?"

"Sure, I guess."

"How about we just talk it over when the battle starts and the best match goes to work, the other two relax?"

A very good idea actually. Then Rax popped up on the com.

"Guys, I just got six emails from a bunch of girls!"

". . . How come Rax gets the entire female fan base?"

"They dig skinny guys with bandanas?"

"Did they do the polls on us yet?"

"Yeah, Rax is getting the older female crowd, you're getting the tech buffs, and I'm drawing in teenage girl viewers."

". . . eh. . ."

"Don't even try it. . ."

Battle number 2, the Team With No Name. I'm serious, that's their name. Cannon Tortoise, Cannon Tortoise, and Cannon Tortoise with a big gun. We launched out the Whale King, got next to each other, and fired up a link.

"Okay, they're just sitting out there; they'll go for a ground-snipe."

Sue had a decent scope on the snipe to pick up on that. I cracked my neck and grabbed the steering controls.

"I'll handle it, cheap shot their guns, and keep Rax out of the way."

"Good luck."

I peeled out on the sand directly left of where the Cannons were, quickly getting to 200 an hour and circling around them, their guns rotating weakly to try and catch up. I start leaning into the curve when a sniper shot hits the large gun on the third tortoise, perfect opportunity to flip out my blades and side swipe all three. Two go down, the big one stays up by one leg, I spin on a dime and go for a slower-than usual side slash, hitting the brakes and sliding a few hundred feet after its console freezes. I have the cat look over its shoulder at the toppled turtles; they aren't too beat up, just knocked out. At least we're not being too hard on these guys.

"And the winner is, Team Reckless!!Bzzzzzzzzz!"

Ten minutes. Only a half hour of battles more before we're out of this class. We crawl back into the Whale after waving to some hovering cameras and chatting with the losing team for a bit. Nice guys, just not really into zoids. It was pretty odd feeling the thing hover off into the sky; it took a while for us to adjust to high altitude. I checked out all the zoids, no damage. Check the news program; we get a thirty second blip, woohoo. The laser sniper paid off, it was more accurate because it doesn't wave in the air like solid ammo. She actually severed the energy routing to that one cannon turtle, it was that accurate. We were still doing these rinky dink desert arenas.

"Okay, we got another match in a week, Trey. You're not spending it in the Whale."

"Gotcha."

"Or the Hanger."

". . .okay."

"Or the Molga."

"I hate you."

"Come on, it'll be fun."

The next day I was sitting in a dark room, in a padded seat with a hundred other people, most of them with snack foods. At least Sue was next to me, eating a food made out of radioactive corn. It was pretty much a huge screen playing a movie you can't get at home yet. It was a good story, nice plot, decent acting, nice effects and camerawork. But it kept cutting away to people. . .eh . . . my first R rated feature. Then we snuck into a movie starting nearby after the first one ended. Then she dragged me through a leather store where I was a replacement for a wheeled bag rack. She had me carry at least ten bags on each limb. Then she helped me move my small duffel bag from the Molga into the Whale King. How difficult. Then we watched a movie screen in our extremely bare, empty living room devoid of furniture. And she used my duffel bag as a chair. Then I helped her decorate and arrange her room.

And did the same the next day. And the next day. The day after that her friends were in town and we did the same thing except with them tagging along. I used to think Clara and Riz gave me an education. But Sue was just so freakin'. . . well, cool? She actually bought me a new hat. And fighter pilot sunglasses to sit on the bill forever. We had another battle, some Liger knock-offs. We just let Rax loose on them, and me and Sue just took shots when they got into medium range. My aim is if anything below average with these blaster things, I'll stick to speed. Another win, a minute on the news, and two weeks of spare time. This time we brought Rax along. What Sue wasn't a part of was the fact I was out in the Saix while she was asleep in the morning. That gave me six hours, that girl was a log with a tranq dart in its neck.

At least six hours a day of running, maneuvers, blaster work, blades, jumps, breaking the sound barrier to freak out people a few miles away. I love that boom sound you get. And I finally added something to the Psycho Saix, a breathing mask. Well, actually it's a portable version used in the military, a clear mouth/nose piece that concentrates oxygen for fighter pilots. I used it so I wouldn't pass out at top speed. And you can talk through it perfectly normally, I love technology. I'd been looking up our reviews on the web; they had sites dedicated to team analysis. Get this; we were half-way decent. Our tactics were an echo of Team Checkmate, go figure. That was what I had in mind when I got the team offer, three or four individual fighters, and one alliance. That was Max's mantra about his old team.

They still had those weird names for Rax and his uncanny style and luck. I was still 'Chase Brand II', so what if I chased people down? Was the II necessary? Max isn't exactly active in the battles anymore, he's happily retired I'm pretty sure. Sue still didn't have any nicknames or trivia. Give it another battle, her mercenary rep will turn up and she'll be in neon just like me and Rax.

The day after the wannabe Liger battle, I rolled out of my blanket (no furniture in the Whale yet) and found a wrapped package jam into my forehead. Huh? Colorfully wrapped boxes? What the heck? My birth date had been floating around in my pilot info, some people had found out I'd be 18 today and left me a few things. No party thankfully, just gifts I felt guilty accepting. Honestly it took a few people by surprise; most people assume early twenties at least. Sue was around 22 or 23 I was guessing. Not sure about Rax.

But back to the packages that jammed me in the eye. Clara sent me a model kit. But get this; you know that three legged liger model I had in my bag from when I was a kid? I used the kit to patch it up so it can sit next to my Sectors awards. It's still gray and a bit rusty, but it has four legs. Riz sent me a gift certificate to get furniture. I love that huge-earring-clad gal. Rax left me a photo montage he had made. Wait, Rax made montages? I always imagined him finger painting. A montage is dozens and dozens of pictures made into one pattern or image. It showed a picture Clara took of me and Riz standing by the saix the day we met, when it was old and limping. It then had some pictures of it when Max was using it. And of course it had the battle and Sectors photos of the Psycho Saix in action. Engraved on the bottom of the frame is a little gold piece of metal reading 'EVOLUTION OR DETERMINATION?' It was the headline used to describe me after the press caught scent of my zoid and my background. How true.

Our sponsor sent me a book program on the history of the ZBC battles. I even got a brown paper box shipped from Max, a fully armed utility knife. He once spent a month explaining to me in the desert when I was twelve; he had never been able to fully describe the high-tech pocket knife. He always said he'd just show me one someday. Sue got me something I'd forgotten to even think of while getting uniforms and even while out shopping with her. New shoes. I'd been wearing those old combat boots since I came out of nowhere, and here was a pair of shoes/boots/trainers that were actually my size. High tech, comfortable, and they didn't make too much noise like my old ones. Maybe that's why she gave me them, so she could sleep while I was darting around in the garage.

I arranged my gifts next to my blanket on the floor of the bare room and walked out to the kitchen. Wait, what's that smell? Dear god. . . Sue was cooking. She wasn't burning or blowing up anything like a sitcom, she was just stirring up some trays of eggs and bacon.

". . . I didn't know trained killers could do housewife stuff. . ."

"I have to provide for myself, that includes cooking."

Hey, she didn't shoot me for a stereotype comment.

"Where's Rax?"

"Sent him out for more food, this kitchen is empty; we have to stock this place up."

"I'm sleeping on a blanket and tile/carpet, no kidding."

"You spend hours detailing big robots, but you don't take care of yourself?"

". . . I'm living out of a duffel bag, sue me."

"How'd you like the gifts?"

"Completely freakin' sweet!"

Then I spent a minute ranting about how great it was. Then I calmed myself down, had to stay aloof and serious.

". . . quiet little guy aren't you?"

We were about the same height, both over six foot, little guy?!

"How about we burn two weeks by getting this place on par with a motel room?"

"Huh?"

". . . Get furniture and stuff."

"My room first!"

I had learned the art of calling it.

Author's Notes

Well, there's going to be a Blitz Team Cameo coming soon. And only two more battles before A Class and things get interesting. Reviews welcome if not mandatory, and thank you for reading.