The capsule had taken them to a training room of sorts. Miscellaneous equipment was scattered around the area, things like weights and walls for parkour training. It was the kind of setup perfect for a Pilot.
Irish and Rose had decided to get to work and shape up for the next fight. As a Simulacrum, Buck was incapable of building up muscle mass; not to mention that he was already confident enough in his abilities and wouldn't have even if he had the chance.
Instead, he took an opportunity to do something he didn't think they'd be able to do much over the next few weeks.
Relax.
Lying on the ground of the training room, he simply looked at the ceiling and began to envision ways for them to break out. If this was a facility like the voice had stated, then it could be quite large. They'd have to find a way out as well as locate their Titans, if they were still alive.
His link with EV may have been suppressed, but he still held out hope that she was alive, even if he couldn't hear her.
Maybe … just maybe he'd be able to study that arena they were put in for fighting, and see if there were any weak points. Then-
He wasn't able to finish his thought as a small humming noise alerted them to new arrivals at the entrance. Only opening for the capsules that came and went, it slid ajar to reveal three individuals within.
Buck stood up and walked over, intent on familiarizing himself with the new team members as quickly as possible. Rose and Irish noticed as well, and followed suit.
It was two women and a man, all of whom seemed apprehensive about the three strangers coming to greet them.
Deciding to break the ice, he opted to introduce them all. "This is Rose and Irish. Wings of Harmony and MCOR, respectively." He pointed to himself. "I'm Buck, ACES.
The man and one of the women stepped forward, somewhat more comfortable now. "Gray, general SRS."
"O'neill, Hammond."
The other woman behind them did not step forward, and instead looked up at Buck with an expression akin to distrust, her helmet dangling in her grip at her side. She had short hair, as was military standard for all. It was a light brown, much like her eyes. All in all, she was pretty; but quite ordinary.
He tilted his head. "What's your name?"
She still did not give it, but instead narrowed her eyes. "You're a Simulacrum."
He looked down at himself, and then back to her. "Indeed I am. What an astute observation!"
She didn't take well to his sarcasm. "I've heard things about you. That you're all really dead, and that this is just a ghost of your former self. That you're nothing more than machines at your core."
This wasn't an uncommon sentiment around the frontier, which was only just getting used to the idea of mind-uploading. Still, it frustrated him that even in such dire circumstances, she was hesitant to associate herself with him.
"Look," he started, intent on cutting off any more thought on this topic, "maybe I am truly just a ghost, an echo. The truth is, you wouldn't know unless you were a Simulacrum yourself."
He leant in close to her face. "But even if I'm a dead man walking, I'm trying to make sure that you aren't. So help me out, and give me a little more incentive to stick my neck out for you here."
He gestured towards the group of them at large. "Until we all make it out of here, we're a team. Not humans, not Simulacrums, not MCOR or ARES or whatever the hell else there is; a team. Understood?"
Her expression had shifted a little, still holding that same distrustful look but now mixed with begrudging respect. "Understood."
He nodded. "So, name?"
She held out her hand for him to shake, and he accepted. "Vale, MCOR."
After a few seconds, they let go. He gave her a small salute. "Nice to meet you, Vale. Now, maybe we can all start working together on a few strategies to try out in the next match."
…
The capsule they all rode in vibrated softly with the slow pace it took with transporting them throughout the facility to wherever they were going to end up. The glass of it was completely tinted, so they had no way of knowing where they were, or what the facility looked like; but whirrs of machinery and construction gave them a general idea that it was some kind of factory.
The week had gone by rather quickly, almost too quickly. Buck had spent most of it trying to think of new ploys to try, and poring over potential weaknesses they could exploit in their prison.
Unfortunately, he just had no idea what they could do. If they weren't in their designated training/recreational area, then they were in the arena. For all intents and purposes, escape was nigh impossible.
With a lurching jolt, the capsule came to a stop. Slowly, the doors slid apart to reveal a new arena; some kind of winter-scape.
Stepping out of the capsule cautiously, they turned as it closed itself off and was replaced with those same hexagonal panels that lined the interior of the arena.
Buck knelt down to the ground where a thin layer of white powder was strewn about. It was cold, to be sure; but it wasn't snow.
"Some kind of artificial turf," he muttered. "They must be going for authenticity here."
This arena was different from the last; while roughly the same size, it did not have the same natural-looking formations and structure as the previous. Instead, it was one flat expanse with large covers placed intermittently throughout it. In the center, there was a pit where one could take shelter if need be. All in all, it was quite simple.
That same ordnance pod was awaiting their selection of weapons once more. But there was a second one alongside it this time, one with small bracelets that could be wrapped around one's wrist.
"For this match, we have decided to remove the suppression of any abilities linked to your armor. I thought it might be more … fun."
He knew that the voice's motivation was anything but beneficial, however he couldn't help but feel a small bit of excitement within him. Hurriedly, he strapped one on and tested it.
In an instant, he found the world to be in grayscale, wavy and almost liquid-like. With another signal from his mind, he flashed back into reality.
Rose seemed content with he change too, sending a holographic Pilot running towards a wall. "Well, this will come in handy."
In more ways than one. These wrist-devices were what stopped whatever suppression tactic they were using to keep them all from harnessing their tactical abilities. All he had to do was figure out a way to apply this towards an escape plan … but first he had to survive this match.
He grabbed an Alternator again; he had to admit that he was partial to the weapon. Reaching forward, he pulled out a Spitfire and tossed it back to Vale. She caught the heavy weapon, and looked at him oddly. "What am I supposed to do with this? The recoil will throw my aim off-"
"I don't need you to aim," he replied. "But that pit there … if you can get into it and lay down wide covering fire, the magazine in that thing will be enough to keep them from poking their heads out while we move up."
She looked out at it, and sighed. "The kill-box. Right." He knew she wasn't enthusiastic about the prospect, probably even thought he was trying to get her killed; but it was quite the opposite.
"Rose," he ordered, "I want you watching her carefully. Make sure no one gets the jump on her."
The WOH Pilot nodded, and hefted an R-201. "Not a problem."
Across the arena, another team of six stepped forward. They were ready to start.
From up above, the voice blared out of a speaker; "The Live Fire match will commence in fifteen seconds."
He gestured towards O'neill and Gray. "You two take the left side, you're territory control. Anyone moves up, you put them down."
They nodded, and ran towards their position.
Finally, he looked at Irish. "And you're with me. We're gonna move up and take them down before they know what they're up against."
She grinned. "Roger that."
"Five. Four. Three. Two."
Time to see what secrets this arena held.
"One."
He sprinted immediately to the right, Irish's footsteps following close behind.
Turning, he saw Vale make a mad dash for the pit as bullets missed her by mere inches. Sliding into the pit, she immediately placed the barrel of the spitfire on the lip of it and began to spray wildly.
Someone began taking potshots at her with a G2, but that ended rather quickly once Rose determined where it was coming from and sent a barrage of rounds their way.
One down, five to go.
Leaping onto the right wall, he made his way onto the enemy side of the arena and slid forward with ease on the wet ground. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible, and minimize casualties.
He saw the back leg of one of them poking out from behind a block of cover, and he phase-shifted. He could see the faint outline of the man in the other-world, and he quickly made his way into the same exact spot where the man had been.
After a moment, he shifted back to normal reality and was rewarded with an explosion of blood and armor that plastered all over him and the "snow."
Two down.
One of them who had been hiding from Vale's covering fire a few covers over took notice of his presence, and readied her aim. She was put down a second later by Irish leaping into the air and riddling her with the CAR she carried. The white of the ground was quickly turning red.
Three left.
From off to the left, he could hear bursts of gunfire from both enemies and allies. Gray and O'neill were putting up some decent effort-
He heard a crackle over the comms from one of them, and could only assume that one of them had been hit.
"Vale," he commanded, "cover them!"
The staccato of her Spitfire ceased, only to resume a moment later in the general direction of the left side of the arena.
The machine gun's rounds quickly tore apart the cover that the two opponents had been hiding behind, and they rolled out in order to escape from her onslaught. In their haste, they'd forgotten about the surviving Gray or O'neill, who unloaded on them.
He was about to congratulate whoever it was on the nice shot when he heard a metallic snapping sound, like a line going taut. It was followed up by a pained gasp from Irish, and he turned to see that a grappling hook had torn through her stomach and latched onto the sides of the hole.
Before he could grab her and pull her away, she was yanked back by the cable and towards the last member of the enemy team. The man swung her into the wall where a large crack could be heard as she impacted against it.
Without a moment's hesitation, he shot a single round; a Softball grenade which landed neatly in front of her.
After a moment's pause, the explosive detonated and obliterated Irish into nothing but a human-shaped spray of blood on the wall.
Instantly, the grappling hook swing back out, this time towards Buck. Reacting quickly, he sidestepped it, and grabbed the cable.
The Pilot hadn't been expecting that, and even less for Buck to yank it back and reverse the action on him. Falling on the ground at Buck's feet, he had but a second to look up before the Simulacrum's Alternator tore his head apart.
An alarm sounded, and the battle was over.
"What a satisfying fight, and with few losses. This will make an interesting note in your progress report."
Buck didn't feel satisfied. All he felt was a sort of emptiness that came from watching Irish explode in front of him. The woman had been young, in her prime. She hadn't asked for any of this, none of them had; but she'd been the first one to support him from the start of this waking nightmare, and that didn't fall lightly on him.
He looked away from the blood as the voice continued, "Deposit the devices in the pod you took them from before going back to the capsule. It will know if any are missing from the survivors."
Indeed, a screen showing "4" on it was awaiting them. One by one, each of them came and deposited their bracelet. Buck saw that it was Gray that had survived, meaning that O'neill had bled out or been killed instantly.
Rose dropped off his, leaving one left; Buck. He glanced at the device longingly before placing it in the pod's receptacle and watching the counter go to "0."
As he stepped into the capsule silently, Vale took an unusual interest in him. "You alright?"
He looked at her for a moment before turning away once more without an answer. Not yet, he wasn't; but little did she know that her actions as well as Irish's death had given him all he needed to form a proper plan.
No one else was going to die.