After our little romp with Stroller and the photo-copyrighting business, we packed up and flew back East. I cut away to mid-flight.

". . . and. . .she wants it to be yellow. . ."

I had ordered a Command Wolf from out West, it'd be delivered after a week or so. Or plan, use scrap parts and a decent zoid to create a killing machine that could be operated by a college idiot like Riz.

". . . and this thing is called the Juggernaut or something. . ."

"Urban Assault. . ."

I was diagramming the blueprints on our coffee table. I had called to tell Riz the news, and she had some suggestions for the zoid. Like, a neon yellow and purple paint job. With a hunter green cockpit. And silver highlights. And her name spread out on the sides.

". . . so did you know she was color-blind?"

I sighed and sketched.

"You saw the Molga, it was gorgeous. Maybe Clara did it, or something."

"Yeah, that was a really nice kitchen set."

"Maybe she thinks a feminine, style-deaf zoid would strike fear into a genosaurer?"

Crap, I said the secret word. A half hour lecture on how Genos work.

"And the jets can rotate, all the way around!"

". . . kay. . ."

". . . what were we talking about?"

"Riz and her femni-zoid."

As we discussed possible alternatives Rax was unpacking yet another zoid model. This one was some freaky little voodoo dragon head with horns and guns.

"Sweet! A little voodoo dragon head with guns!"

Neither me nor Rax knew the names these things had.

"Demon's head. . ."

Sue did.

". . . how about we just tell Riz that it would eh. . . clash with our other zoids?"

The intercom buzzed.

"I'm kind of allergic to stupid freakin' ideas. . . just get her a pine tree freshener to shut her up."

And he buzzed out.

". . . is he like rigged in with the radio or is he pressing the button with his paw or something?"

Sue shrugged.

". . . I saw him pick up a stick with his tail and poke a dead thing out in the desert."

". . . dead thing?! Where the heck was I?!"

"You were sleeping in, we went out for a run without you."

So Psy was giving Sue rides?! No wonder people thought they were an item. Wait, where did they find out he could talk? Rax was too stupid, Sue is too silent, I'm pretty sure I don't have multiple personalities, who the heck tipped off the public?

". . . has he been going around without a pilot?"

"I said I wouldn't rat him out if he took back some late rentals."

". . . the video place has a drop-off box for giant robots?"

". . . hopefully. . ."

I tried to change the subject.

"Only a few more fights before we're considered for A-Class. That may double our income, even with a fourth. What if we try some investing?"

Sue didn't even stop to think.

"I'm going to promote a line of tasers, Rax is stashing his income into commercial real estate."

"I'm serious. . ."

"Okay, okay, I'm kind of thinking of plugging this new model of stun-gun."

What? Was I supposed to freak out over Rax not being able to chew gum and walk, yet he's renting out commercial real estate?

" 'Chase', how about we do a magazine article or something?"

Could be worth some subscriptions.

"That one news leader has been doing theories on what color hair you have."

". . . is wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses THAT unusual?"

". . . do you know what baseball is?"

". . . I hate you. . ."

As we were approaching the scorching heat and harsh gravity of our home city I checked my messages to read an alert about our next battle. Hm, Team Megadeath. How intimidating. War Shark, Command Wolf, and Rev Raptor. Maybe I'll just unclip the leash we clip Psy to and sit back and watch. No welcoming party at the Hanger. Except for some fat guy in a trench coat. When we walked off the ramp to stretch a bit he ran up to me, panting.

"Trey, right? The mechanic?"

Oh yeah, Riz and Clara's second uncle.

". . . yeah, the mechanic. . ."

"My Liger needs a new paint job, I want it done by six."

He shoved a key card into my hand.

"And tell your clients here their grease monkey has a job."

Grease Monkey?! This guy thought I was a hired mechanic to the Team?! Rax and Sue had already walked off, just me and fatso now.

"Um. . . Sir? I'm not their mechanic. . ."

He rolled his eyes and tapped his foot impatiently.

"Yeah yeah, it's mechanical service worker now, right?"

". . . I'm the Team Captain."

"Kid, shut up and go fix my zoid."

Have you ever heard of a dead sport called kickboxing?

"Sir. . ."

He seemed a tad ticked.

"Are you going to fix my zoid or should I tell your bosses their slave is a slacker?"

And now if you wish, imagine a classic right uppercut sweeping into the left side of an obese moron's jaw line, sending him off his feet and straight into the simu-crete.

Yeah, so I hit the guy. And he didn't get up. I just walked off to catch up with my Team, and when we came back from dinner he was gone. That means he's alive at least. A slacker? A grease Monkey? Hired help? I'm the captain of a top-notch team. Geez, it feels weird saying that. Captain. . top. . notch. . . yeah, still weird. A month ago I was getting harassed in that desert refugee town. No life, no future and now I was in a whole other world. Dear Zoid Eve. I had an amazing zoid, a great team, a home, food, friends. I would keep rambling on but I was a bit occupied staring in the mirror. This was the exact moment when my recent life hit me in the face like a golden brick being tossed at a homeless kid.

The next few days I spent out in Psy, mostly wandering. I got back to the Hanger at night but I was in a world of my own. Like I said, like a golden brick. The third day we were on top of a canyon, watching the sun rise like I usually did. As usual I was leaned back in the cockpit, watching the sun rise through the tinted glass.

". . . hey, Chase, you gettin' some déjà vu here?"

I jolted a bit, he hadn't said anything in a while. He'd been staying quiet for some reason.

". . . whaddaya mean?"

". . . this ain't the first time we were in this position."

. . . he meant the first time I took him out in the desert. The night I left the old, battered life behind.

". . . the sunset. . . wait, you remember that?!"

I thought his memory stopped at the lightning strike.

"I don't remember the decades of collecting dust. But you sitting back watching the sunset like it was your first time is something that isn't easy to forget."

". . . what's your point?"

"Why didn't you leave me to get burned like the rest of Max's stuff?"

Actually, I'd never thought about it.

". . . I spent my childhood wanting to pilot you just once. You were like a mute, metal relative or something."

". . . hm. . ."

He seemed to be thinking, don't ask me how I could guess.

"You were a mess when you came to that junk-house after I got fried. I was watching you mourn over that Rev Raptor sunny-side up."

He was right, but what was he getting at?

". . . did you know I was built back in the war, Trey?"

"Yeah, down South. You got sold to Max half-price and he more or less restored every piece of you."

"I spent a decade being shot at, exploded, and then left in the dust for two years until they dug me out. And then Max came around, treated me like a son, and even let me battle again."

". . . go on. . ."

". . . I got to S Class because he saved me. I owed it to him."

I didn't say a word. I was more or less in light shock, once again.

"When I got fried, you might say I met my maker. You ever hear the old legends about the original Zoids?"

". . . Zoid Eve. . .?!"

". . . she says hi."

. . . Zoid Eve. . .the creator of Zoids, the original goddess of the planet before we crashed here from a then ruined Earth. Last I checked she'd been non-existent for a few millennia.

". . . you might say I was a charity case for her. Me and Max retired after a battle that literally tore my limbs off."

What?

"You ever read up on something called a Psycho Genosaurer?"

". . . and how it got vaporized. . ."

"We thought this one in the new ZBC was just a copycat, a salute to the legend. I'll tell you right now, that freak was the real thing. The pilot was some guy who I'm guessing found it in a dig somewhere. He was a bit of a psycho too, to be honest."

". . . and those two tore you and Max up. . ."

"I was beyond repair. . . took weeks to get me back in one in one piece, And years of natural healing to run again."

". . . and all that back in the big war. . ."

"Like I said, Eve more or less spoke to me in person. Made a few deals, used a few loopholes."

". . . what's heaven for zoids like, anyway?"

". . . I remember a really nice waiting room, and her office."

". . .so the magazines were semi-recent?"

"Brand new. . . this is heaven we're talking about."

He more or less explained that somehow, in a weird personification of spirit he talked to Zoid Eve in an office environment. As in an actual office, computers, shelves, pictures of the family. So is his soul a person or what? I didn't have the male parts to ask.

". . . she had this file with your name on the cover."

". . . you can't be serious. . ."

I didn't like where this was going. . .

"Apparently your street-name in the other life is 'Chase'. Your soon to be given nickname?"

". . . according to the media, yeah."

By now the sunrise was over, I was hunched over the panel speaker talking to this eh. . . giant. . . cat. . . person. . . voice.

"Have you ever noticed you've had a bit of good luck finding a team, finding parts, even getting a sponsor?"

"You're not saying. . ."

"Your number one fan happens to be the Goddess of Zi."