CHAPTER 17

The Factory,
Montenegro, Solaris VII,
Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,
February 2, 3075

Isamu never thought he would fight in a prestige arena like The Factory. The name didn't evoke elite competition like Boreal Reach or Ishiyama. The appearance was even more mundane. A tower of rusting metal, The Factory was an abandoned manufacturing plant. Stench of chemicals still lingered in the depth of the arena, even though it had been used as a fighting arena for hundreds of years. Yet it was one of the most popular Class-6 arenas. Just fighting here would elevate his reputation to the elite state.

But Isamu didn't just want to be a one-hit wonder. He wanted to win. And to win, he had to be the last man standing. And since The Factory was the crown jewel of Montenegro District, all mechjocks from Montenegro were considered favorites. And since the Ground Control stable was located at Montenegro, his nemesis Jeremy Stewart was considered favorites. Fans would cheer for him and bettors would bet on him against out-of-state mechjocks like him.

He didn't mind being an underdog. He didn't even care. All he cared was revenge.

"So, Isamu, The Factory gives you cold feet?" Jeremy called from his mech.

"Not colder than my blood when I step on your mech!" Isamu spat.

"You'd better. Your military-grade Marauder, and your military girlfriend, should give you a lot of swagger. Good woman and good mech, man. Can't beat them to kill butterfly in your stomach."

"You know what, Jeremy, you're just jealous," Isamu positioned his mech in the designated place in the arena. "You can't stand anybody better than you because all you have were stolen from the better guy."

"All is fair in love and war," Jeremy sneered. His Apocalypse took place on the other end of the arena, sandwiched by a quad and a decrepit-looking Thumderbolt. "Perhaps I get to steal your mech in this fight."

"I'd like to see you try!" Isamu hissed. "Let's go, Jeremy! Let's finish what we started!"

The horn blared and Isamu turned hard right, only to face a towering Thug with both arms aimed at him. He brought his mech as low as he could, but the twin azure bolts still grazed his upper torso, dangerously close to dismantle his dorsal Gauss rifle. He pulled his mech back up just in time. The Thug's short-range missiles swept the void where the Marauder's body occupied one second before. Half of the missiles tore into the leg armor, but failed to reach the structure.

Isamu rotated left then opened up with his pulse lasers to soften up the Thug's armor. Laser bolts peppered the Thug's right side. Globules of molten armor sprayed at each hit. The sleek, vibrant coat of the Thug became marred with red blotches. The Thug made a steady turn, certain that the inferior heavy mech could do no worse than to chip its flashy paint job, but Isamu punished it for underestimating him. His Gauss slug drilled the Thug right in the waist. The Thug reeled back. Isamu put the Marauder in a steady stance and fired both PPCs. The surge of waste heat washed over him. Only one PPC bolt connected, not far north of the crack from the Gauss strike. No critical hit, but Isamu could see internal structure peeking out from the large hole.

The Thug, acknowledging the threat, rebounded with a one-two shot squarely in the middle. One PPC bolt drilled the Marauder left torso. Isamu felt the strike like it was scourging his own body with a red-hot whip. The waste heat pushed his heat track past half point. His weapon radar burst into static. Armor on the left torso turned solid orange. Isamu knew the Thug would exploit the damaged torso with its crit-seeking SRM6s, so he bent the Marauder's knees and leaned right as far as the structure allowed. A dozen warheads charged the Marauder with lethal intention, but only 2 struck the damaged torso. Isamu's head snapped back as the Marauder jerked. But the armor plating held.

Isamu fought the urge to fire everything he had. The Thug was not the endgame. It was just a mech he had to go past before he got to his ultimate prize. He had to pace himself and not exaust his Gauss slugs – which he only had 7 left – too soon. So he jogged and fired a burst of laser strands at the Thug's damaged waist. More molten armor slagged and dripped, and the internal structure became more exposed. Isamu fired one PPC, but his rushed attack only grazed the Thug's right hip. The particle bolt carved a long swath of divot. Isamu was tempted to fire the second PPC, but he chose to maneuver instead. He put his mech in full speed and swung right, escaping the Thug's line of fire.

The Thug tracked the Marauder as far as its arms could spread then fired a PPC. The screens went haywire from the static charge. The Marauder's left arm crooked under the assault. The 75-ton mech staggered. Isamu pulled his joystick hard, forcing the Marauder to backpedal. The Thug pressed the advantage. Multiple missile blast rocked the Marauder. Shards of armor sprayed into a wide area. The stench of burning composite seeped into the cockpit. Isamu sensed critical damage, and he winced as the damage control screen announced one of his Medium Pulse lasers went offline.

The Marauder was out of position and the Thug had a chance to inflict debilitating damage. The fact that it didn't take the shot told Isamu that the Thug was in some kind of trouble, most likely heat. He pulled his mech up and fired the PPC that he saved up. The bolt scourged the Thug squarely on the left torso. Isamu fired again, this time hitting the opposite torso. The Thug buckled, hunching over as the overwhelming charge put the electronics into stasis. It gave time for Isamu to take a hard lock on the damaged waist, then fired his Gauss rifle. The slug gored the Thug, crushing titanium beam and cracked the reactor casing. Blue plasma spewed from the containment and ignited the stored ammo bins. The explosion wracked the Thug, splitting the 80-ton assault mech into several pieces.

As embers rained down, Isamu scanned the arena and tallied his oppositions. Explosions ravaged the floor. Half of the mechs were either destroyed or critically damaged. He cycled through the remaining mechs until his crosshair landed on Jeremy Stewart, standing cockily near the center of the arena. His Apocalypse were scarred from the three-way battle against the quad and the Thunderbolt, but the damages were merely flesh wounds. The quad and the Thunderbolt were not as lucky. The Thunderbolt was left a charred hulk, slouching on the ground with all limbs cut off save for the left arm. The quad was nowhere to be seen.

Isamu steered his Marauder toward Jeremy's direction, just as Jeremy engaged the circle of death. His lips curled into a sadistic smile upon noticing a deep cut on the Apocalypse's right leg and slight limp in its gait. It might make a difference. But it might not. Jeremy's piloting skill was exemplary. Only time would tell.

"Come on, Periphery boy! Let's settle this!" Isamu growled as he pushed his mech to full speed.


The action on the center stage garnered most of the attention of the spectators. Kayoko, who was naturally bubbly, had been silent since the beginning of the match. Her eyes – barely blinking – were glued to the tri-vid monitors. Noloty, sitting next to her, watched the screens with little interest, and Goltas chose to stand at the back of the room, hiding his disgusted expression with little luck. His Clan upbringing strongly disparaged fighting for money. Keiichi, on the other hand, was in euphoria. He got to sit with Risa and educate the completely-oblivious medic about the fighting system on Solaris VII.

"So… Isamu has been defeated before, but still play? Why does somebody that has been defeated is allowed to fight the player that defeated him?" Risa muttered. "Doesn't it defeat the purpose of the first game in the first place?"

"It is the double elimination system…" Keiichi said, then whispered under his breath, "… honey…" He cleared his throat then continued with his regular voice. "You see, the ones that have been defeated are given a second chance by competing against each other. The winner of these 'losers' can fight with the overall winner of the competition…"

"Second chance like… mulligan?"

"Yes… no… kind of…" Keiichi scratched his head.

"How many chances a player can get?" Risa's big green eyes widened.

"One. Each player can lose 2 times. If he loses the first time, he still has a chance to win the tournament by beating other losers. If he loses again, he is eliminated."

"I know nothing about mech games," Risa pouted. "I don't know the rules, I don't know the system, I don't even know who to root for."

"We are here to support each other," Noloty chimed in. "As much as I hate it, Isamu agrees to join the Ryuken-go. He's sort of one of us." She let out a labored breath, as if the recognition for Isamu drained a lot of energy. "You're here to provide first aid to your brothers in arms, just like what you did to Sho-sa Scarlet."

"Stravag!" Goltas' voice echoed from the back of the room. "Prizefighter scum! You take the honor out of battlemech combat!"

"What's his problem?" Risa leaned toward Noloty.

"He's a Clan expatriate," Keiichi replied before Noloty could say anything. "In Clan culture, fighting for money is hugely despised. The only reason to fight is for the glory of the Clan."

"I need to catch up a lot about Clan culture," Risa said. Her face turned slightly red, "now that I have a Clan teammate."

"I can help you with that," Keiichi didn't let the opportunity go to waste. "Probably we can set up regular meeting? Maybe for some other stuffs too, if you're interested?"

Noloty smiled at the goofy conversation between the two clueless youngsters.


Isamu ducked as a stream of bullets whizzed above his head. Jeremy's RAC5 flashed in furious fashion, spitting bullets over the gap between the Apocalypse and Marauder. Isamu knew how lethal a RAC5 in the hands of somebody that knew how to use it. He kept his Marauder low and crisscrossed his path. Jeremy adjusted his targeting then launhed another salvo, this time straight to the Marauder's midst. Isamu utilized every bit of piloting skill in his arsenal, but the bullets still hammered the Marauder's midsection. Shredded armor flew everywhere, and the cracks and holes inched dangerously closer to the structures.

Jeremy Stewart was good, really good. Not the best Isamu had fought, but pretty close. He knew how to maneuver and take advantage of the terrain, which wasn't surprising since he shared piloting skill with Amber Wang Chung, arguably the best mechwarrior in the medium circuit. His marksmanship was not the greatest of its kind, but the Apocalypse's ultra-modern targeting system augmented his skill. His RAC5 and MML swarmed the opponent with armor-piercing ballistics, setting up for the lethal Plasma Rifle.

A stream of missiles slapped the Marauder's left torso. Isamu regained focus and fired cascaded shots at the Apoclypse. The Apocalypse left shoulder burst into flames. Armor turned into mist. The Apocalypse buckled. Its legs wobbled and twisted as if the body swelled from the PPC blast. It spread its legs for a more stable stance, but Isamu fired his Gauss rifle. The slug found home in the Apocalypse's left thigh. The limb twisted even more, locking the mech in a vulnerable position. Isamu rushed to fire his PPCs, but only clicks echoed. The particle cannons were not ready, and that could save his life. Another double shot would certainly put the Marauder in heat trouble. Instead, he fired his Pulse laser a couple times then slipped behind a wall.

Jeremy slowly crawled back into the game and pursued the Marauder deep into the center field. Isamu grinned sadistically, thinking that Jeremy had walked into his trap. He linked his PPCs and Gauss rifle together and waited until the Apocalypse cleared the wall. But just as he fired his heavy-hitters, the Apocalypse made a sharp right turn. His shots were wasted on concrete wall. Isamu threw a few strands of laser but the Apocalypse shrugged it off. Purple-white plasma spilled from the cannon before superheated gas drilled the Marauder in the left shoulder. Waste heat crept into the cockpit, forcing Isamu to gasp for air. His face felt like wrinkling into crisp bacon. His eyes blurred with tears. He blinked hard to regain vision, and even her tears felt boiling on his cheeks.

Jeremy capitalized on Isamu's staggering and launched a wicked missile salvo straight at the Marauder's midst. Half a dozen warheads clobbered the 75-ton center torso into scrap metal. Twisted internal structures sprawled out of a grotesque gash. Power cables dangled from torn machinery, and coolant pitter-pattered on the hard plaster. Two heat sinks were destroyed, making heat management even more difficult.

Isamu realized his ambition to win this round diminished quickly. Which sucked, since he held a significant advantage against Jeremy. His military-grade Marauder had better armor and better weaponry than Jeremy's Apocalypse. Yet he couldn't use his vantage points, even with the support of a famous DCMS battalion. He had to swallow his pride and accepted the fact that Jeremy was, indeed, the better mechwarrior, and he would never see himself stand in equal ground with the mechwarrior he hated so much. In the end he would just crawl back to the places he called home: Solaris blood pits.

But Isamu still had dignity to finish the match with his head up, even though he got beaten up. Kayoko risked her friendship with her best friend to provide him with this chance. He just couldn't let it go to waste. He gripped his joystick and fired the only weapon that did not produce a lot of heat. The Gauss slug, intended for the Apocalypse, hit a concrete obstacle. The wall crumbled, raising a cloud of debris, forcing Jeremy to take evasive maneuver to dodge the falling structure. It gave Isamu a much-needed break from Jeremy's debilitating volleys.

With half of its engine blown, the Marauder could only run half the pace when it was healthy. It was a grim predicament against an agile mech like the Apocalypse, but it was not a death sentence. Jeremy was good, but he was beatable. Isamu dug every recollection of matches where Jeremy was beaten, including that infamous 3068 match in this very place against his former teammate Mac Storm. Every single time Jeremy fell against an overwhelming firepower. The antithesis of a boxer was a slugger. And the Marauder was a slugger at its core.

The Apocalypse charged the Marauder's from the right flank. Isamu sacrificed the Marauder's right side, letting the RAC5 shells rip armor like rats devouring bread. The Marauder's flimsy upper arm breached, and the Marauder staggered hard. Coming under 300 meters, the Apocalypse's lasers danced around the Marauder's body. Isamu tightened his grips on the joysticks, keeping his mech on its feet. The Apocalypse's missiles racked the Marauder's torso, and Isamu only have time to twist left. Half of the missiles blasted the left torso, but fortunately for Isamu, the left torso armor was largely unmolested.

The Apocalypse swung toward the Marauder's right flank, hoping to catch the weakened armor of the right torso, but Isamu slammed the brake. The Apocalypse overshot the Marauder, and inadvertently fell into the larger mech's line of fire. Isamu spared no reservation in firing all available weapons at the 70-tonner. Electric discharges blanketed the upper body just as the PPC struck the left torso. The Gauss slug balanced the strikes on the other torso, pulling cracks that dug well beyond critical depth. The Apocalypse immediately spewed smoke, and started limping.


Kayoko almost fell off her seat as Isamu scored a good hit on Jeremy. Her eyes sparkled and her breaths came in short gasps. Her body, contorted in a pseudo-fetal position for most of the match, now bowed forward as if a dozen fresh springs were embedded in her spine. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the edge of her seat. Her lips intermittently switched from pursing to grinning, as if she didn't know if she should be excited or discouraged.

Noloty realized that her best friend was lovesick.

"I just hope that he felt the same way about you," Noloty leaned toward Kayoko. "All the things you did for him, if he dared so much as to make you feel bummed, I'm going to do things I never thought was capable of." She stole a glance at Goltas at the back of the room. "It's so much easier now that I have him."

Kayoko turned toward her, tossing a mock salute. "With all due respect, Commander, your concern is appreciated, yet not needed. I am not a little girl. I can take care of myself."

Noloty just smiled and went back to the tri-vid screen, trying to understand the appeal behind the games. "So how much you bet on him?"

"All of it."

Noloty's face turned sour. "What?"

"All of it. All I have."

Noloty bit her tongue to keep her from blurting out. There were so much things to say. But in the end she didn't say anything. Kayoko made it clear she didn't want her in her love life with the mechjock. Might as well learn how to tolerate his quirks.

"I hope he's worth that much," Noloty grabbed and shook Kayoko's shoulder.

Kayoko turned her eyes from the tri-vid monitors for the first time since the match started, and shot a warm smile at Noloty. "I don't care if I'm broke, dispossessed, or dumped silly. I always have you." She grabbed Noloty's hand. "Thank you, for letting me have this moment, even if none of this work out."

Noloty returned Kayoko's smile. "One thing I guarantee: you are not dispossessed."

Kayoko's stare turned blank. "What are you saying?"

"I'd say we pay attention to the game," Noloty pointed at the screens. "By the looks of it, it won't last much longer, and we don't want to miss the rousing conclussion."


With only 2 Gauss slugs remaining, one PPC and one Medium Pulse laser, blown heat sinks, torn myomers, and shredded armor, Isamu knew the chance of him getting through this round was next to impossible. The duel with Jeremy took a lot of him and the Marauder. The mech probably wouldn't see another battle after this.

But Jeremy wasn't that much better than Isamu. His Apocalypse was barely standing, supported by mere shards of myomer. Its left torso dangled grotesquely by strands of cables. Its prized Plasma Rifle had long gone, and the RAC5 was working on its last rounds of shells. The remaining missile launcher only had one more shot, and the lone laser could only flicker.

"Never thought I would go this far with you, Isamu," Jeremy hailed him as he positioned his Apocalypse for one last defiance. "For all its worth, it is an honor to share the battlefield with you today."

Isamu leaned back on his chair, pondering what he just heard through busted comset. Jeremy was right. It didn't matter who won the match. It didn't matter if he didn't advance to the finals. What he did there, standing toe-to-toe with Jeremy, fighting until his guns wouldn't fire no more, was a legacy, a classic that would stay in Solaris lore for generations.

"The honor is mine, Jeremy," Isamu smiled. "Now let's finish this."

"Defend yourself!" Jeremy said then fired his missiles. Isamu twisted right, using his PPC-laden left arm as a shield. He cringed as the warheads gutted the Marauder's shoulder, breaching the arm at the shoulder. A sharp curse escaped his lips. He would trade his PPC with his Gauss Rifle if he could, but he had no choice. The Gauss Rifle sat on the Marauder's decrepit torso. If it blew, the mech would explode.

But for whatever reason Jeremy didn't follow up his attack, and that was a sin Isamu wouldn't forgive. He mustered all power remained and shot his Gauss Rifle, center mass. The Apocalypse sidestepped the attack but the slug grazed the RAC5. The ammunition feeder bent outward, rendering the weapon useless. Isamu rained down his Medium Pulse bolts at the crippled Apocalypse. A stray bolt cut off the ammo chain, and live ammunition splattered on the concrete.

Left with just one remaining medium laser, Jeremy attempted to outflank Isamu, hoping that his hobbling Apocalypse still had enough juice to box the Marauder. He held the trigger down, firing the laser as soon as it recycled. The emerald beams stabbed the Marauder's unprotected body, melting internal structures, forcing the once great 75-ton monster to slowly implode.

But Isamu had one last shot. He connected all energy to the remaining myomer bundles, then swiveled left, cutting off the Apocalypse's path. As soon as his crosshair burnt gold, he punched the alpha strike button. His last Gauss slug savaged the Apocalypse's waist and dislodged the hip from the lower torso. The Apocalypse careened slowly and fell onto the ferrocrete floor, then disappeared behind a plume of black smoke.

Isamu let out a massive sigh of relief, but his elation was short lived. The shootout with Jeremy left him with nothing left. A one-armed Ostsol sneaked behind the Marauder and tagged it with a single beam to the left torso. The structure couldn't take it anymore. Three explosions rocked the mech, completely wiping out the left side of the mech. Isamu waited for that great white ligh that would take hin to another lifet, but miraculously it never came. The Marauder, or what was left of it, keeled over and crashed onto the floor. Isamu's body was thrown off the command seat, and if not because of the harness, he would've flown out through the canopy.

There were not many battlemechs left on the arena, and Isamu could care less who survived in the end. The recovery car picked him up and carried him back to the main hangar. The hangar erupted with loud cheer as a Thunderbolt, obviously the last mech standing, hobbled toward its bay, while the recovery car unceremoniously took a long winding path toward the back of the hangar where all losing mechwarriors were dismounted.

As Isamu climbed off the vehicle, Kayoko ran and threw herself at him. He pulled her into tight embrace, and for one second that felt like an eternity, he let go of the worries of a Solaris mechjock. In the platform, Noloty, Keiichi, and Risa observed the two mechwarriors.

"I'm sorry, I wrecked your mech," Isamu said over Kayoko's shoulder.

"We got it as salvage anyway," Noloty replied halfheartedly. "I am impressed with your performance, Isamu-san. You showed me that you have the skill and the heart to be a Draconis Combine front line mechwarrior. I can use a mechwarrior of your standings, but you must understand, if you choose to fight with the Ryuken-go, this is your last Solaris mech fight."

"I will miss the games, but honestly, I have nothing left to prove," Isamu replied coldly.

"The pay is small compared to your earning as a Solaris jock, and you will be subjected to Bushido's harsh physical and mental conditioning, like everybody else in the battalion."

"As long as I'm with Kayoko, I'll be alright," Isamu muttered, undaunted. "But as of now I may be just a liability until you can find another mech that I can pilot."

"Chu-I Keiichi, assess the Marauder," Noloty turned to Keiichi. "Let me know if you can fix it or we'll just have to sell it as scrap."

Keiichi's voice was heavy and full of resentmnent, "Yes, Ma'am!"

Kayoko turned around and looked at Noloty, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I owe you."

Noloty gave her a quick nod and a small smile, then turned around and found her way out of the hangar.