The Big Switch

by dave-d

Kaname visits a medical center with secret facilities, to help research the origin of the Whispers. No good deed goes unpunished. Who will be the hero this time? The answer is not as simple as it might seem.

19. Chapter 19

Let's get ready to rumblllllll-lllll-llll-lll-ll-le….

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ELEMENTARY SCHOOL PLAYGROUND AREA

There are certain questions that have broken brains over the century.

Why are we here? How did something come out of nothing? How could there always have been something?

Stuff like that.

There was another similar question, one that looked to be answered then and there, on the playground of that Elementary school: what happens when an Irresistible Force meets an Immovable Object?

Sweeping in with unbelievable momentum, Lucas II burst through the crown of the trees like a bullet through a bouquet. The motion was so swift and so cleans, that the leaves of the tree didn't rustle a single bit before the wood of the trunk and boughs exploded into small pieces of pulp and bark.

"Al, make sure-" Sousuke had wanted to say: 'Make sure the Lambda Driver is working right,' but didn't have the time. Lucky for him, the A.I. was a step ahead of him. But, all the machine could do was turn the device on and modulate the power input. Sousuke himself was responsible for controlling the power flux, and the form that it took. His unconscious supplied the necessary shape and form.

ZZZZZZ-ZZZZZ-ZZZZ-ZZZ-ZZ-Z-O-O-O-O-O-O-OI-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-N-N-N-N-N-N-N-N-NG!

There was a sound. But, it was a sound that was felt more than it was heard, if that makes sense. The fields of force at the fists of the flying foe had been shaped into giant extended coils… shock absorbers, if you like. Miyamoto Bokuden was flamboyant, but no fool. He was not hoping for a double KO.

Sousuke for his part had resorted to an old favorite. He had formed a dome of force around himself and Arbalest, one that had served him well on a number of occasions. That hadn't been the optimal choice, however. Each point on the surface had equal resistance, which meant a lot of defensive force had been wasted. He only realized that when he was instantaneously shocked, seeing the sparkling fireflies of the clashing fields being pushed towards him. He should have formed something like a Spartan shield! But he had barely had the chance to visualize the enemy, noticing a blur of orange and little more.

In reality, Sousuke's force shield was not a hemisphere this time, but a true sphere. That meant that is extended down through the asphalt and the soil, along with sewer conduits and other man-made constructs. In that very instant of impact, things gave. No, not because soil is soft. In that moment, like the moment when a suicide jumper falling from a bridge strikes the usually 'soft' water, something giving becomes something with no give. There was another factor that came into play in Sousuke favor. Fifteen meters below the two ASes, a double track tunnel of the Keio Line subway lay beneath Arbalest's feet.

WHHHH-HHH-HH-U-UUUUU-UUUU-UUU-UUU-UU-U-MMMM-MMM-MM-MP!

A huge round portion of asphalt shattered and sank at the same moment in time, as the soil and contents beneath it descended fifteen feet down as one. At the center of that forty-foot diameter circle of blacktop… the cracks taking on the shape of a giant spider's web... the ARX-7 was planted in the soil, its feet resting on a bent tangle of subway tracks. Lucas II had rebounded twenty yards off to the side that Sousuke had leaned his machine. He was standing waste deep in the wreckage of the Elementary School's main building.

"I'll be out long before you will, Sagara," Miyamoto said, his voice coming over the speakers inside Arbalest. "It looks like I planted you like a telephone pole. I just need to shake off a roof and a couple of walls." His A.S. began extricating itself from the damaged school building.

"This is what struck us," Al said, having recorded the ghostly image of the enemy's initial strike. "Perhaps, if you could form these on our feet…."

"What?" Sousuke was stunned, literally and figuratively. Damage screens showed minimal injury to all joints in the A.S., and many electrical systems had gone from green to yellow, just one step away from red. Fortunately, the grenade belt had not been damaged, and had not exploded, tearing the ARX-7 in half. "Oh!" He feverishly tried to put a thought into action. Springs! But, springs worked by compressing, and then expanding again. His feet were static. Could he create growing columns of force? Could the Lambda Driver do something like that? He closed his eyes and tried to formulate the forces. If only Kaname had been there, a part of him thought. She had talked him through his first time, popping his Lambda Driver cherry, so to speak. "Wait!" She was there, in a sense. Acknowledging that simple fact had the effect of calming her brain and his mind.

"So, finally we meet Sergeant." Mr. Magnesium said, pushing over a wall that had toppled over onto his AS's legs. "The infamous Sousuke Sagara, hero of Hong Kong… slayer of giants… and all around badass." He chuckled. "Look at you now. I can only wonder what it feels like, to be brought so low so fast. You must be desperate." If his adversary wasn't mentally off of his game because of that initial strike, he would need to be frazzled, and he knew just what subject to tap into. "Speaking of which… after this… I will seek out Miss Kaname Chidori… and that beautiful body of hers…." He let that sink in. "An then I will bring her so low and so fast. I'll make her squeal for more, before I snap her neck. And then, I'll probably take her again!"

Sousuke's vison went red, in part because of his growing efforts to focus his mind, and in part because of rage. That rage was a godsend, crystallizing his unconscious solutions, giving them precedence over his conscious images. He felt the A.S. pushing up slightly. He had managed to create elevating pillars of force; but, he was wedged in too tightly. He kept pushing harder and harder with his thoughts, biting Kaname's lip in the process, sending small trickles of blood flying from it. Even doing all that, the innate Sagara spirit bobbled to the surface.

"You talk big," Sousuke said, 'his' voice unmistakable feminine. "I doubt that you are big. You are a male model, after all. I suspect… as one of my friends says…." He did not mention Kurz Weber by name. "You are all bun, and no hot dog. Right?" Two can play psychological fisticuffs. Especially if they each have their own set of trigger points. "I would never let you touch me. Never!"

"What did you say?" Was the first thing that Miyamoto said, responding first to the insult and its nasty implications. Then, the obvious struck him. He doubted that Sousuke Sagara sounded like a teenage girl, unless he had had his hot dog removed. "Who the hell are you?" He flipped a switch, turning on his view screen. He would be able to see the opponent, if he… she?... turned Arbalest's screen on too and established a link.

"You must have looked hard for me all day," Sousuke said, turning on his viewscreen. He let the A.I. Wi-Fi system search out the enemy's address, before stronger connections followed suit. "But I fooled you… by hiding right under your ugly little nose…." He dialed in the visual connection. He could see Miyamoto's face, so he must be able to see 'his.' Kaname's. "Heep big genius. Him brain so big. Him tricked by black hair dye!" Kaname's laugh filled the helmet speakers of the mercenary model. "It's one thing to be a bad model. It's another to be stupid and bad model." There was a pregnant pause. "Wait! My bad! All male models are bad and stupid. Silly me. A smart model would go looking for a better job! I have a sister named Ayame. She's younger than me and lives in the States. Dumbass!"

"YOU!" Miyamoto recognized Kaname's Chidori's… the erstwhile Ayame Chiroi's… face. "YOU… YOU… YOU… YOU!" The current insults mixed with memories of the earlier ones, and the whole mental morass was swallowed whole by the monster in his head, the psychic creation that had arisen from all of the previous horrors he had faced in his tormented youth. Anger flooding him, he slammed his flat palm hard against a raised button, flipping a back-slung gatling gun over one shoulder, at the same time he had used one of Lucas's hands to swat away a large portion of fractured roof. Instead of continuing to extricate himself and gain an unsurmountable edge, he targeted Arbalest and opened fire.

"Shield holding," Al spoke. "Lambda Driver proficiency at 94 percent and holding." That was just the physical part of things. How long could Sousuke Sagara keep his mental shield up? Like in a fight between boxers, the two opponents would not flail away continuously. They would run out of strength quickly.

Fate does not always swing the same way for all peoples involved. At that moment, just as Sousuke readied another insult, he felt a sharp tremble, and then he was moving upwards. A speeding subway train, sweeping around a long sweeping curve, had run into a wall of soil and rubble, its driver seeing the danger far too late. That impact loosened the confining material briefly, long enough for Sousuke's Hail-Mary attempt to succeed. Scrabbling with the Arbalest's hands upon the broken asphalt, he was able to pull the A.S.'s legs out from their muddy boots. Not a moment too soon! A broken water main had been making the dirt soggy, almost like a quick setting cement.

Sping sping sping sping spingspingsping

A number of rounds from the AK-87 gatling gun passed through the wavering shield, striking glancing blows off of the top of the ARX-7's head. Sparks flew off like glowing grasshoppers. Small fragments of metal jumped along with them. Sousuke threw the machine into a series of barrel rolls, barely keeping ahead of the stream of bullets. Stopping, and holding the A.S. up with both arms extended, he aimed and fired both AM-11 12.7mm chain guns. Or at least, he triggered both weapons. One had been damaged and knocked out of action.

"Not good enough!" Mr. Magnesium had Lucas hefted a large section of wall, cinderblocks falling off of the sides and bottom, blocking the well-placed stream of bullets. Finally having fine control of the Lambda Driver again, he flexed his mental muscle much the way that the Hulk would flex his body's, and sent the remaining rubble flying in all directions. Tamon, in his red panda suit, luckily paying close attention, was barely able to jump to one side and avoid being taken out early in the game. The monk from the temple had wandered over to see what the ruckus was all about. Seeing what he saw, he immediately ran back from whence he came, intent on hiding down in the main building's basement.

"But… wait…. how…." It just struck Miyamoto. The pilot was using the Lambda Driver. The pilot had the face of Kaname Chidori. "I get it! It must still be you, Sagara! You are employing holograms… a latex mask…. voice changers…something…."

"Incorrect," Sousuke replied. "Your intel… Amalagam's intel… is mistaken." He knew this approach made no sense, if someone had a chance to think things through. "I have always been the only pilot. Sergeant Sagara had been my stalking horse. The charade hasn't been that difficult." He fluffed 'his' long lustrous hair, then winced when he tugged on it hard. That showed his opponent there was no mask. "Shit! That hurts!" He knew what to say. "I wasn't wearing a mask in class, when I danced with that Spanish peacock. Or… you know… when we all had you reduced to tears." He made a sniffing sound. "You should be like Derek Zoolander, and decide to be a hermit crab when you retire. Or you could become an abodiginal, or a better eugoogoolizer… you know, someone who speaks at funerals…who gives the eugoogooly."

"You!" Mr. Magnesium shook, every fiber of his body resonating.

"How does it feel… knowing that you were ridiculed by so many girls. That you are going to lose to a girl, now?" Sousuke laughed. "Don't worry. I will write a fine eugoogooly for you. You think that you're too cool for school, but I have a newsflash for you Walter Cronkite… you aren't. Just because you have chiseled abs and stunning features doesn't mean that you can't not die in a freak Arm Slave battle." More movie references.

"Bitch!" The way that Miyamoto said that, it covered every girl or woman who had dismissed him or taken advantage him since the day he was born. His anger became rage and his rage quickly morphed into fury. Unwittingly, Sousuke had made a big mistake, a grave error. Most people who were eneveloied in raw negative emotions would lose their edge, would become weaker in some crucial way. Not Mr. Magnesium. He was one of those men whose fury brought him tighter control , made hjm take things more seriously, while putting forth even greater effort.

"Sir," the voice of Lucas called out. "Your vital signs are showing significant changes. Your blood pressure is rising. Your heart rate is reaching dangerous speed. Your respiratory rate is markedly elevated. Tachypnea of this level will result in harmful alkalosis. If this continues, you will suffer light-headedness, confusion, peripheral and circumoral paresthesias, cramps due to a change in cerebral blood flow and pH. Carpopedal spasm may hinder your ability to control me."

"I'll show you just what a male model can do!" Ignoring the A.I., Miyamoto finally remembered something. The Groupies should be arriving on scene soon. "A model and his entourage!" He told Lucas the A.I. to target the ARX-7 with the Groupies. Aside from useless machine guns, each had an arm cannon that might cause some damage with a perfect shot. But, more importantly, each carried a large explosive inside, making them a busty limpid mine if the opportunity arose.

Sousuke had his first unimpeded view of the opposing machine. It was clearly a Venom-derivative… yet another suped up version of the venerable Codarl series. The shape was unique, with something about the sweeping curved arms seeming a bit off. There were wing-like structures beneath the arms. There was a large box on the back, flanked by huge metal cylinders. And, very noticeable, there were two curved structures at the forehead, each ending in a sphere. They looked like some kind of bug's antennae.

The two Arm Slaves made a sudden run at one another, running in zig zap paths, closing the distance in a short period of time. Each fired as they looked to get inside of the other's shielding, while their respective Lambda Drivers were idling. Each zigging when they should have zagged, they closed to a point that projectile weapons were no longer effective, and should have brought forth their Anti-tank daggers. Crashing through the remnants of the school, and then pushing one another backwards into adjoining previously intact buildings, they looked like immense gladiators, wrestling at the center of sum vast arena.

"It's like Godzilla versus Mothra," Kantaro Mori said, crouched down behind a garden wall, the green of his costume blending nicely with some overgrown foliage. Lucas did indeed have the shape of a giant moth, given the winglets and the antenna-like structures. "No… not Godzilla… Mechagodzilla." Arbalest clearly had the shape of a huge mechanical.

The two pilots cursed at one another, alternating powerful forearm smashes, punches, and jabs. Each time one reached for a dagger or tried to bring a gun around, the other struck the hand away. Both bided the time to when he could rush backwards, and clear enough room to work, like a three-point shooter in NBA basketball.

Miyamoto was feeling alive. He was punching and kicking Kaname Chidori by having Lucas beat and batter Arbalest. It wasn't strategic, it was cathartic. That didn't mean he had left tactics behind. In a moment, he would change the slugfest into a ballet of death and destruction, where he would hold the edge. And, he would break out one of his special weapons.

That blasted girl wouldn't stand a chance.

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IN THE LABORATORY

"Wow!"

Popcorn fell from the slack jaws of Dr Necessiter, as he watched the news feed from a helicopter flying about the ruins of an Elementary School whose name he had missed.

"It's just like Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots," Dr Hfuhruhurr claimed, chomping down on popcorn swimming in artificial butter, making his words barely discernible. He was referring to the classic two-player action toy and game designed by Marvin Glass and Associates, which was first manufactured by the Marx toy company in 1964. It features two dueling robot boxers, the Red Rocker and the Blue Bomber, mechanically manipulated by the players. The game is won when one player knocks the head up off of the opponent.

"That's right!" One engineer said. He had played the Game Boy Advance video game, which had introduced more robots. He had always hated one of them, 'The Orange Oppressor,' and had usually favored 'Silver Stretcher,' when he didn't choose 'Yellow Yahoo,' 'Purple Pyro', or 'Brown Bully' just for something different.

"Knock his block off, Souske!" That was Anne, shocking Kaname and everyone else within hearing range. No, she had never played with the original game or with the Nintendo version. But, she was a big Pixar fan.

Al McWhiggin, the main antagonist in 'Toy Story 2', has a Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots toy playset in his office at Al's Toy Barn, where Slinky Dog asks them if they have seen his friend Sheriff Woody, to which Blue Bomber politely says he hasn't, before defeating Red Rocker. In a deleted scene, Buzz Lightyear threw Zurg's ray gun battery to the Rock 'em Sock 'Em Robots who proceeded to beat up his archenemy. In The Incredibles, the Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots appeared in Mr. Incredible's room. Anne had also seen them in a movie she was lukewarm about, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, where they were shown during the Oompa Loompas' musical number about Mike Teavee.

"Fucking kill the bastard for fuck's sake!" That brash statement came in an angelic voice of a short and petite technician, whose face would make a cherub jealous.

Everyone shouted out encouragement for Sousuke, or something nasty and negative about his opponent. Everybody but Kaname.

"Oh Sousuke." Kaname hugged 'herself' tightly, eyes glued to the television screen. The view was so much more vivid than in Khanka, where she had viewed things in person, but from a greater distance. "Please win."

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HEART OF THE WRECKAGE

"Is that the best you can do, girlie?!" Miyamoto shouted. "A slap fight!" The two had exchanged staggering blows to the head. Each had fired head mounted weaponry until the ammo belts were empty, neither striking telling hits.

Sousuke remained silent, intent on his efforts to cause some degree of surface imperfection, as a target for his own weaponry, or for that of the hidden mascots. With continual striking, something had to give, something had to be shaken loose. But, from whose machine? There was indeed a method to his madness, even though he knew that this kind of fight was nonsensical in the long run, unless one fighter could cause his opponent's drive system to overheat or malfunction, or could transmit enough shock energy into the pilot's cockpit, rendering them unconscious or unable to move quickly enough. Truth to tell, his ears were ringing… he had a throbbing headache… and he felt his hands and forearms growing a tad numb.

He then stunned the other pilot, striking in such unbridled ferocity. He had been holding Arblaest's hand as if it had been holding a halisen. He imagined the the force equivalent of that paper fan for the briefest of moments, and then had then gone all Chidori on the enemy.

"And, don't forget this," Mr. Magnesium continued, stunned, and feeling a tightness in his neck, and feeling beads of sweat rolling down his forehead and stinging his eyes. Blinking at the stinging irritation, he said "All of this destruction is your fault. All of these buildings. All of people's whose lives will be put on hold, because you destroyed their place of work… or study… or worship…." In their deadly imbroglio they had also stepped on a church, and knocked down a wall of a separate small shrine. "But that's not the worst of it. When I defeat you… and I will defeat you here… I will go back to the high school and kill everyone I see. Everyone in the school, and in the surrounding neighborhoods. All because you… as Ayamae… pushed me too far."

"-" Sousuke opened 'his' mouth too reply, but had better discipline than that. Just the same, the accusation struck true. As hardened as he was, the victim of a life few people might have survived, he was not as easily struck by emotional blows. But, that one truly stung. He had done what he had done. There was no changing that. And, at the time, it had seemed a reasonible thing to do, if not something clever or tactically sound. But, he had followed that mantra many times since coming to Jindai, and the results were often something different than he intended. But, Miyamoto had made a miscalculation, too. Sousuke was more worried about preventing future death and destruction than he was about feeling guilt from the damage he had wrought so far.

He reached out with both of Arbalest's hands, grasping the hands of Lucas, intending to throw him prone upon the ground, an easy target. As both machines struggled to a deadlock, another player entered the fray.

Stepping out from behind a large oak tree, Yoshinobu Saitou raised the Javelin launcher to Black Banchou's cephalopod shoulder… sighted a smudged area at the back of the orange A.S.'s neck… pulled the trigger… and watched as the missile flew on its way. He dropped the launcher, and wisely stepped back into concealment. Yes! The smoky trail was not blotted out by an explosion against that large barely visible shield that occasional surrounded the target. The shield was down! This would do good damage! Squid Power!

One of Lucas's hands pulled free and swatted the incoming missile the way a man might swat a gnat, an act that took superhuman awareness and timing.

"How?" Sousuke asked himself.

Mr. Magnesium knew the answer of course, having shown little concern for the missile. The antenna-like structures on Lucas's head served multiple purposes. The two of them together, when intact and functioning to their fullest extent, worked better than any radar system ever could. They could instantly pinpoint any moving object within range, tracking trajectory and providing precise temporal calculations. When the situation called for it, the input would give the A.S. a seemingly supernatural ability to judge any projectiles fired at it from a given distance and beyond. Coupled with the A.I.'s sentience, it could also locate targets immediately, and guide fire a mere moment later. Those functions were aided by the circling four-rotor drones, and by a 360 degrees series of cameras embedded in the surface of the sleek orange craft.

The Gatling gun on the rear of Lucas, folded back up, ran along a metal arch that served as a track, and deployed on the other side at a new angle.

Brrrrrrrrrr-rrrrrrrrrr-rrrrrrrrt-rrrrrrrr-rrrrrr-rrrrr-rrrr-rrr-rr-rtttttt-ttttt-tttt-ttt-tt-t

Heavy projectiles steaked across the unrecognizable school grounds and surround. The large oak tree split lengthwise down its entire length, an instant before the trunk was cut apart into two opposing jagged edges. Not as sturdy as the tree, the mascot suit and its operator were dismembered and decapitated in a spray of blood and torn thread.

"Fuck me!" Tamon Suzuki said, thinking that no amount of money was worth this. What could he do? If he stepped out of cover, would that big fucking orange bastard make a red splotch out of him, too? Should he hide? Should he run? Should he make a suicide charge, hoping the pilot's attention would be elsewhere, now? As it turned out, he had a worse problem.

"Incoming," Kantaro Mori called out. "Metal… fast as fuck…." There was an incredulous pause. "And wearing nighties and school girl outfits!" He felt drops of sweat drop from his armpit, standing uneasy in his Giant Pig suit.

"Lucas," Mr. Magnesium said. "You have autonomy, and can switch it to any girl at any time." In conjunction with heat sensors, he had a rough plot on one view screen that pinpointed the hiding mascots, along with every living being within two city blocks, should he choose to widen the field and put more computing power in that direction. "I prefer to focus on Arbalest. I don't want some bit player to ruin my big debut!"

"Gloomy!" That name echoed across the city, as an amplified voice rang forth from the ARX-7's external speakers. "Everyone! Stop the Alastors!" He had misidentified the Groupies in the most exact manner, but guessed well enough what they must be, just the same. The use of the name 'Alastor' would have been confusing, had the mascot drivers been in any situation that allowed time for confusion. Bad things were coming, coming fast and furious… leaping, running, and swinging through trees. The name didn't matter. Not one single iota.

"This is impossible!" Soemu Tomioka fired his RPG, the jolt upon firing sending his large metal neck bell ringing. The warhead was not guided. This was like trying to hit a bullet with another bullet, standing on a rocking horse in the middle of a downpour! This would require the dumbest of dumb luck! He watched in abject awe and horror, as a pigtailed robot wearing a feather boa did a sideways twist around the incoming missile, and even managed to tap a fin with one finger, as if it had a mischievous side. The missile went tumbling and struck an undamaged building next to the school. A few seconds later, the Groupie opened fire with a head-mounted mini-gun and perforated the Giant Fashionable Cat suit and its occupant over every square inch of fabric and flesh.

"Not me!" Tamon threw away his weapon and began running away from the battle.

Sousuke charged Arblaest at Lucas abruptly, dagger in hand. Al had made a conjecture: perhaps those antenna had something to do with the enemy machine's ability to avoid gun shots. He had already run the OTO Melata 'Boxer' 57mm scattershot down to a half load. If he sliced one or both off, that might make this a more conventional encounter for him.

"Olé." Feeling flippant, Miyamoto held one arm out in a way that caused the winglet to flutter like a bull-fighter's cape, nimbly dancing away as Sousuke ran past. Gatling gun being used to send fire towards dodging mascots, he managed to slice a gash in Arbalest's side with a dagger as it stepped past Lucas. "Toro! Toro!" He bowed to the returning ARX-7, and would have tipped his hat to the crowed, if he hah had a hat, and if there was a crowd. He knew he shouldn't waste a moment of vigilance or energy, playing games; but, he couldn't help himself. It was the entertainer in him. Those aspects had been flash-welded to his soul.

"Bullshit!" Sousuke swore himself, no pun intended. He was seeing red, just the same. Taking careful aim, he discharged the contents of his wrist mounted thermobaric weapon. A number of projectiles flew in a tight swarm, all but two missing. Those two struck the two winglets, immediately setting them ablaze, even though the materials were not very flammable. "I hope that fucks something up!" Smoke. Sheer heat. Concussive force. He hoped something might blur a sensor or cause a joint to cease up. No such luck. The orange A.S. was soon wing-free and fire-free when the A.I. detonated the explosive bolts that attached wings to craft.

"Mother!" Tamon shouted. "Whoever you might have been." He was running in sheer panic, almost tripping over his floppy feet. "Help your poor boy now!" Two Groupies had taken up chase. One was firing the minigun, while the other had flipped its metal fist down, exposing a recoilless rifle.

Before either Groupie could unleash hell, a pink form flashed past them. One robot's head fell off, neck cut clean through. Its gun fired blindly, raining down a hail of bullets on a glass-covered veranda at a fancy restaurant, miles away. The second robot fell and somersaulted awkwardly akimbo, its arm weapon firing and striking a bus two blocks over. A robotic leg was laying yards away. As it leveraged itself up on its two intact arms, a set of scythe-like claws ran up its back. The internal bomb exploded, causing a chrysanthemum shaped cloud of flying shrapnel and a red ball of flower-shaped fire, but the powered mascot had already sped out of range.

"Galaxy Quest!" Hiroshi said, operating his radio output with his tongue. He hoped that the girl piloting the big white A.S. had seen that movie and would understand his clue. He had caught the attention of Lucas, and therefore the targeting of the remaining Groupies. They were following on his tail in a 'V' shape, like migrating birds. "I'm towing mines." He was also carrying a giant red panda.

There was a scene in that Sci-Fi spoof starring Tim Allen where the reptilian enemy leader Roth'h'ar Sarris was talking down to the hero, Jason Neswmith:

Sarris: Let me remind you, sonny: I am a general. If you are counting on me to blink, then you are making a deadly mistake.

Jason Nesmith: Well, let me tell you something, Sarris! It doesn't take a great actor to recognize a bad one. You're sweating!

Gwen DeMarco: Armor almost gone, Jason!

Sarris: You fool! You fail to realize that with your armor gone, my ship will tear through yours like tissue paper!

Jason Nesmith: And what you fail to realize is my ship is dragging mines!

The spaceship, the Protector, had a large number of space mines in tow, held by the attractive forces inherent in those deadly devices. Those mines struck the alien general's ship, blowing it to kingdom come, while not, unfortunately, killing Sarris.

"OH NO!" Miyamoto had seen that movie once, waiting in the common room at one modelling show. "TURN! TURN!" He was calling out to the heavens and Fate as much as he was speaking to Lucas and the oncoming Groupies. He moved the control levers with such force that he bruised both palms. He was too late.

"Good work!" Sousuke called out. He was impressed by Hiroshi's thinking and actions. He was now like a waiting duck hunter, with one motherfucking big shotgun.

BHAM BHAM BHAM BHAM BHAM BHAM BHAM BHAM BHAM BHAM BHAM

"My girls!" Mr. Magnesium spat in anger, after the look of shock left his face. That had happened so fucking fast! But then again, in a fight like this, it only seemed like an eternity. The total conflict had barely lasted three minutes so far. Two Groupies survived the attack ands veered off at his command, switched to Hunter-Killer mode, searching for living targets.

"Put me the fuck down, fleabag!" Tamon cursed. Gloomy toted him along, before tossing him like a sack of trash. He ended nose down and ass up, just inches away from his discarded RPG30. "Fine!" There was no coincidence in his landing site. He contemplated the weapon.

In moves that shocked and delighted various onlookers, in person or on television, the orange machine made a series of moves under fire that would be difficult for a limber human body. A number of cartwheels were followed by an impossibly high arabesque, that followed by a spry assemble. The flying développé it evolved into, prompted a heavy leg drop that brought Arbalest to its knees. Two large curved blades extended out over the back of Lucas's hands, looking like hook-knifes that might be used to carved up a side of beef or take out an opponent in a no-holds-barred knife fight. He sank a tip of each blade into his rising opponent's shoulders, and pulled it towards Lucas a tight clutch. There was a good reason for that latter move. A panel had flipped open, exposing a long extruding monomolecular cutter on the A.S.'s frontal thorax.

"Push away, Al!" Sousuke felt a jolt of fear course through Kaname's body. He was in no mood to star in a version of the 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre!' He was able to free one hook blade, and reached down to draw his own Cutter.

Sparks flew off of both machines.

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TOKYO METROPOLITAN POLICE HOLDING CELLS

"I preferred the moth-shape," Mr. Ciocio said, held in a straight-jacket in one jail cell. He, like the other detainees, were watching a television set mounted on the wall over the guard's desk. Naturally, he would feel that way. The big orange A.S. now looked more like a man pretending to be a beetle. "C'est la vie."

"Ohhhhh-hhhh-hhh-hh-h!" In a separate cell, Zenji Oonuki , Jindai janitor, almost popped an aneurysm, watching the battle scene. Two giant chainsaws! He had died and gone to Heaven… or maybe Hell with TV privileges. "Cut! You gotta cut! Cutttt-ttt-tt-t!"

"I've got to join up!" In yet another cell, Wakana watched, enraptured. She had stopped drawing a rendition of Kaname Chidori on the padded walls. The stick figure looked odd, seeing that red blood did a poor job of representing blue hair. "I want my phone call!" She would call a recruiter, the other cell occupants surmised. No one was sure whether she would want to join the good guys or the bad guys. Of course, there were no recruiters for Mithril or Amalgam. But that wasn't foremost in her mind at that moment. The fight made her excited, and the excitement made her hungry. She hoped that Tokyo Pizza would deliver to her location.

"Settle down you apes!" The guard threatened to change the channel, to shut up the noisy group of detainees. There was no way in hell that he would do that.

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ERSTWHILE ELEMENTARY SCHOOL GROUNDS

Neither A.S. could create severe damage with their Cutters, but not for lack of effort.

"No," I was wrong," Kantaro said. "That's not Mothra. That's Gigan."

Lucas did bear some resemblance to that evil alien robot, with the hook-knives mimicking the monsters' claws… with the deadly blade in the belly… and with what seemed to look like a single glowing red eye in the center of its forehead from a distance.

"What's next," the mascot harrumphed. "Jet Jaguar?" That giant robot had battled Megalaon, but had also knocked Gigan from the air at one point, before being given a true ass-whoopin by the two monsters together, his fate seemingly sealed before Godzilla showed up to turn the tide in 'Godzilla Vs. Megalon.'

Souske had been in numerous A.S. battles, sometimes in the better machine, and most often the better pilot. His natural instincts and feral cunning had seen him through on many such occasion. Now and again, luck had been the deciding factor, or some foolish mistake by an enemy who should have known better, or who had been pushed past some lesser level of mental or physical endurance. But, he had never found himself in a match like this one before. In part, it might be due to the fact that his normal edge was missing. Hesitation here and there had likely cost him a kill, or at least a deeply wounding blow. On the other hand, there had been times where an unexpected intuitive feeling had moved him just out of harm's way, or had taught him a characteristic of his foe that he might have missed. Was this the Kaname Effect? Was it the result of a man's mind being in a woman's brain?

Miyamoto on the other hand had not been in nearly as many battles. Almost every victory he had came because of a better machine… greater will… or the benefits that he derived as a Whispered, having a stronger and multi-leveled connection with his A.I. Being 'gifted' had also provided him some advanced fighting tactics and strategic ploys, that seemed to be beamed inside his head along with the data and schematics that gave rise to his areas of expertise. Arbalest was cut from a different cloth, and Kaname Chidori was no mean opponent. He was growing more frustrated by the moment, and that frustration kept the fuel of his anger glowing. Would there come a time when his fury would grow too hot? Would his boiling blood steam up in a figurative way, turning into a boiling steam that blurred or blinded his mind's eye?

"When will you learn?!" Mr. Magnesium laughed, as he twisted and avoided shot from the 57mm, after Sousuke had forced his weapon through the Lambda Driver shield before firing, a move that was as natural as breathing for him now. "Let me show you something that I have learned." Ballet again. He was adept at taking those human movements and applying them to piloting, no mean feet when it came to a machine with mechanical muscle fibers and a much different center of gravity. "Échappé," he said. He made an escape with a slipping movement, starting in a closed position… the so-called fifth position… with Lucas's feet, and then sliding both feet out equally into the fourth position. "Penché." That move in his own body takes a lot of strength, flexibility, and many years of practice to become good at. This was the first time he had tried in in an A.S. The lifting leg in that extreme arabesque struck Arbalest hard in the chin." He paid no attention to the pink shadow that darted this way and that throughout the wreckage of the graveyard they had made their way into. "Temps levé." That hop from one foot to the other raised in any position was done solely as a mocking move, as the ARX-7 stumbled backwards, fighting for balance.

"If I can't destroy those targets," Sousuke told himself, referencing those deceptively frail looking antenna, which forever seemed to be just out of his grasp, "I have to find another method." Every gun shot seemed to be dodged with ease. The knifee strikes came much closer, but the orange A.S.'s agility always moved it out of harm's way. That latter was a function of pilot reflexes and machine speed. It may not have anything to do with the apparent heightened perception! "I have to go against training." By that, he meant training he had as a fighter, man against man, flesh body against flesh body. While Clouseau had shown him many close in fighting techniques for Arm Slaves, often to his chagrin, they were arm strikes and pusheds, bits of geometrical or timing magic. "It's an obvious truth. Don't bring a knife to a gun fight."

But, was it? Sure, in street situations and on a battlefield, A knife… or a sword, and axe, a mace, or a pole arm… didn't match up well against a firearm or a bow and arrow. Or any kind of missile weapon for that matter. True, there were rare situations where that wasn't true. For example, a group of British soldiers in Lebanon armed with Belgian FN FALs had matched up with attackers armed with curved swords. As shown in the Lindybeige videos that Sousuke had bought at an arms dealer's flea market in Tripoli, the attackers took advantage of the Brit's unwillingness to mow down civilians, and had gotten inside the length of their gun barrels to chilling effect. And, naturally, there had been case throughout history where men had taken swords or knives out of seclusion to strike unsuspecting and unprepared gunmen; but, that was neither here nor there.

What could he construct with the Lambda Driver, without any practice, and without taking away his shielding when such a shield might mean the difference between life and death? A bayonet? He could har an old instructor snickering in his mind. Bayonet combat, in actuality, had been a bad joke since the time of Theodore Roosevelt! A sword? Point to fact, swords have never really been that good of a weapon, either. They were great when used in melee combat against other swords, or weapons with a similar reach. But a slashing movement would be easy to read and even easier to dodge. If only he could create a bow and arrows! But, something like that was impossible, right?!

A spear.

It would have to be a spear.

He didn't need a fancier polearm, as he was not going to be able to slash his foe with projected force, or be able to hook a leg and trip him. He might be able to puncture something, or pin his enemy to some standing structure. At the vary least, the quick movements and darting strikes would keep the enemy occupied. Well, that was the plan, anyway. The question hung heavy.

Could he create such a weapon?

"Let's do this, Al!" Sousuke poured all of his concentration into it. This was a big gamble; but, it could have a huge payoff. "Thinner!" It was like he was holding a trimmed tree trunk. "Thinner thinner thinner." Now, it was more like a telephone bole with a pointed end. "Too long!" He wanted a spear, not a lance.

"I see what you are doing," Miyamoto cried out. His system was set up so as to be able to map out an opponent's force lines, even when the ghostly outlines were no longer visible. "You're trying to grow a cock. You must want to fuck me up the ass. Such a naughty minx." He chuckled. "Is that the secret of the Universe? Does every little girl really wish she were a man? Is that why they punish us the way they do." His humor turned to distaste. "Or is it just you? Are you truly a boy trapped in a girl's body? A foolish boy who's a bit too light in the loafers?" He stopped his acrobatics, and struck a misogynistic pose in his machine. "Girls don't get to fuck. They are only meant to be fucked." He was angry now. "Let me show you how it's done!" Perhaps this would embarrass a shy virgin, or shame a promiscuous slut.

"Gah!" Tamon said. "A man can't un-see something like that. You sick perverted motherfucker!" As he watched, Lucas extended a sharp pulsing appendage from its midsection. Not long or maneuverable, it was very sharp, conjured down to a molecule or two in thickness at the business end.

"Shit!" Sousuke's efforts with the spear vanished into thin air. He had to retreat fast, not wanting to see what that machine force manhood could do. It was aimed directly between his eyes at that moment. Noting his location, he changed his escape route, an idea coming to mind. He had forgotten about something. He pretended to stumble over the broken graveyard wall, and slid sideways in an unbalanced but deliberate fashion.

"Spread your legs, Miss Chidori!" Miyamoto prepared to lunge. He was within the radius of the ARX-7s habitual field and doubted that the girl could create a force-skin around the machine. He grinned an evil grin, slurring those words in his mind. A foreskin. "We can share a cigarette when I'm done with you." His good cheer evaporated in an instant. He had been led to a certain spot. Lucas stood next to one of the concealed Claymore-like explosives, one which held countless stainless steel ball bearings and caltrop-shaped flechettes.

"It's the fortunes of war," Sousuke said, to himself, not over the com-link. Part of his mind was acting like a concience he rarely had in battle. Killing the enemy and finishing the mission always took first through tenth place on his list of the ten most important things. But now, close to that Nursery, and not a safe distance from a growing ring of first responders and military that were pgathering in increasing numbers just blocks away, he wondered if he should set-off that device. "Now!"

Whhhhh-hhhh-hhh-hh-hzzzzz-zzzz-zzz-zz-z Shing shing shing shing shing shing shing.

Little balls of death flew about the area, shredding trees and shrubs, shattering windows, punching deep holes in bricks and rock, and causing a strange rain of metal over each and every block within a half-mile radius.

"Damn it!" Miyamoto shouted, expecting the worst.

There was no way that Lucas should have been able to dodge that! But, the A.I. was good. Real good. With the Lambda Driver on idle, always working at the lowest level in Mr. Magnesium's mind, the A.I. could prompt responses from its pilot through electrical contacts, thoughts which in turn could be formed into the simplest of shapes. In this case, a simple flat sheet of force. Some projectiles got through and did damage. Most of the projectiles were deflected upward, just missing the A.S. head.

"And damn you, you bitch!" Miyamoto said. Lucas was damaged, but not severely. The time for games was over. He had almost learned a fatal lesson, there. From now on, he would keep a good distance, and he would choose the terrain.

Now that he had exhausted much of his opponent's ammunition… Lucas had been keeping an exact count, and the ammo load of the OTO Melara was well known… Mr. Magnesium was certain that his true tricks would give him an unsurmountable edge.

"Hah hah!" He said in glee. "We'll call this David and Gal-iath!"

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BRIDGE OF TUATHA DA DANAAN

"Sergeant Sagara, do you read me." It was Tessa's voice.

"Affirmative," Sousuke said in Kaname's voice. "Sagara here. I have little opportunity to speak. The combat is fierce and moment to moment."

"Understood, Seragenast," Tessa said, sitting in her command chair, and bound to military etiquette. "Then listen and don't focus on replies."

"Roger that," Sousuke answered, intending that to be his last response in the verbal exchange.

"No doubt, given the nature of battle, we could not launch anyone now and have them reach you in time," Tessa noted. "But, this is to inform you that should the conflict become protracted, no human assets will be forthcoming. The remainder of the SRT personnel have been sent to hotspots in Eastern China and the Phillipines."

Another voice could be heard in the background. It was Commander Mardukas, who sternly said "Launch Standard 7M missiles. Knock those targets out of the sky, gentlemen and lady." It sounded as if the TDD-1 was under fire.

"The cruise missiles that were sent to Tokyo have gone off radar," Tedssa continued. "We have lost all contact with them. Apparently they were shot down by jet-fighter style drones, a number of which have done a bloodhound's work, and traced Arbalest's missle back to us. We were forced to leave the surface, and are attempting to remove the threat before they can be retrieved, or before they are redirected to attack another friendly target."

"There was no time to launch F35s," Commander Mardukas said in the background for Sousuke's edification. "There may be more drones available to the foe. It is possible that some could be configured for ground attack. Keep a sharp eye out, Sergeant."

Sousuke swallowed hard, dodging a series of elaborate attacks. He hoped that the enemy hadn't planned that far in advance. He had the feeling that he would escape by a hair's breadth today, if he escaped at all.

"Good luck, Sousuke," Tessa snuck in, before breaking contact.

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HEART OF THE WRECKAGE

Sousuke felt Kaname's body sweating in ways that his never did.

"If at first you don't succeed, Al," he said.

"Try try again," Al replied. "Am I correct?"

"Affirmative," Sousuke replied. About to order the A.I. to reform and fine tune the force spear, he watched as the orange A.S. twisted its right arm palm outward. The forearm opened up by means of two lengthwise covers, exposing a glowing set of filaments. Those elongated wires swung downward, and began to crackle with energy. At the same time, the right antenna began pulsating with orange and yellow light.

"Giants are not what we think they are," Mr. Magnesium's voice said over the com-link. "The same qualities that appear to give them strength are often the sources of great weakness." He viewed Kaname Chidori as a good close-in fighter, but not so much as a long-range attacker. "My pastor on a little island… a real maestro with a butterfly knife… once told me 'If God's will is in your little stones, they will surely bring down giant Goliaths... but you have to make the throw!"

"You finally admit it!" Sousuke taunted the emotionally labile pilot. "You have little stones. No wonder you chose to be a model!" Those A.S. wires were now glowing brighter, and were surrounded by Lambda Driver force. What was the enemy doing?

"Laugh while you can," Miyamoto- said, biting off his words. "Arbalest is a giant in the minds of many fighters, whomever its pilot might be. I may not be a good Christian, but I love a great Bible story just the same." He pushed a control lever. That action cased a ball of light to form on the glowing antenna. The ball grew much larger and nebulous, then shrank down immediately thereafter, denser and spinning, throwing off glimmering flecks of light. The ball detached, falling downward. In a deft move, the pilot caught the ball in a cradle of force, which now looked to be part of a giant sling.

"MOVE!" Sousuke had the ARX-7 backpedaling as fast as possible. If the weapon did not have some former of homing capacity, the greater the gap between machines, the greater the chance of a miss. "Keep a close watch on that ball of light, pal. Judge the trajectory as if our life depends on it!" He brought up his Lambda Driver shield again, having no idea if it could stop the figurative 'stone.'

A sling is a projectile weapon typically used to throw a blunt projectile such as a stone, clay, or lead 'sling-bullet'. That type of simple device has a small cradle or pouch in the middle of two lengths of cord. The sling stone is placed in the pouch. The middle finger or thumb is placed through a loop on the end of one cord, and a tab at the end of the other cord is placed between the thumb and forefinger. The sling is swung in an arc, and the tab released at a precise moment. This frees the projectile to fly to the target. The sling essentially works by extending the length of a human arm, thus allowing stones to be thrown much farther than they could be by hand.

Slings are inexpensive and easy to build. They have historically been used for hunting game and in combat. Film exists of Spanish Civil War combatants using slings to throw grenades over buildings into enemy positions on the opposite street. Today the sling is of interest as a wilderness survival tool and an improvised weapon.

History buffs will know that the sling is mentioned by Homer and by other Greek authors. Xenophon in his history of the retreat of the Ten Thousand, circa 401 BC, relates that the Greeks suffered severely from the slingers in the army of Artaxerxes II of Persia, while they themselves had neither cavalry nor slingers, and were unable to reach the enemy with their arrows and javelins. This deficiency was later rectified when a company of two hundred Rhodians, who understood the use of leaden sling-bullets, was formed. They were able, says Xenophon, to project their missiles twice as far as the Persian slingers, who used large stones.

The Bible provides a famous slinger account, the battle between David and Goliath from the First Book of Samuel 17:34–36, probably written in the 7th or 6th century BC, describing events having occurred around the 10th century BC. The sling, easily produced, was the weapon of choice for shepherds fending off animals. Due to this, the sling was a commonly used weapon by the Israelite militia. Goliath was a tall, well equipped and experienced warrior. In the Biblical account, the shepherd David convinces Saul to let him fight Goliath on behalf of the Israelites. Unarmored and equipped only with a sling, five smooth rocks, and his staff, David defeated the champion Goliath with a well-aimed shot to the head.

Sousuke felt Kaname's gut clench, as 'he' watched Lucas swing the glowing ball in the giant sling. The spinning and spitting projectile launched out impossible fast, leaving a trail of afterimages in its wake.

"Shield at 80 percent," Al called out. On one view panel, the extent and intensity of the shield was depicted by beadlike small green lights. The upper front part was missing, where the force ball had glanced off. "We had dissolution, not penetration."

"Shift the shielding , fast. Reform the intact shield!" That was more a command to himself than the A.I., since the formation of the barrier came from his imagination and the Lambda Driver's subsequent action. This was the wisest choice for now. The shield would be weaker, but complete. His other choice would be to maintain strength and leave the hole in place, but rotate the blank space to the rear of Arbalest. There was a benefit to maintaining an ongoing thought. Any completely new image could fail, and any failure could prompt another one, if his confidence faltered.

"That worked better than I hoped," Mr. Magnesium crowed. "Let's see what happens when I use a stronger bullet." He repeated the procedure, and Lucas created a smaller but denser ball, one that gave off blinding rays of light, like something from a holy engraving. "Fly!" He faked a release, aiming at the ARX-7s head. Instead, he snapped off a low toss.

"UP!" Sousuke had the A.S. jump. The ball of force passed completely through the front portion of the shielding, and then ricocheted inside, "SHIT!" When the ARX-7's feet hit the ground, he had to do a quick-step, avoiding the ball as it phased out of being. The hole was no longer visible. He realized for the first time, the fact that his shield was spherical now, not hemispherical as it had been in the past. For some reason, he had pictured things differently today. His thinking had been lax. Sloppy. Could he blame that on Kaname? There was no time to think that way. Limiting things to a hemisphere not only maintained the same amount of power, but also doubled the thickness.

"Shield at 65 percent" Al reported.

Sousuke winced. That was a big drop! Was it due to the machine, or him? Or both?

"Let's see," Miyamoto mused, having fun. "What if I do this?" Closing the distance abruptly, threw an even stronger ball of energy, bouncing it purposely off of the ground. It rose up at an attack angle that forced his opponent to crouch low to avoid being struck. Slowly growing weaker as it traveled, the ball still obliterated a gasoline station when it struck ground somehwere out of sight. The resultant explosion shook the houses in an affluent development. Babies cried for miles around. "Hurry!" All the demands in the world would not make another ball form faster than usual.

"What's happening Al?" Sousuke looked at the panel with concern. All of the green lights highlighting the shape of the Lambda Driver field were dark now.

"Lambda Driver shut down," the A.I. replied. "It was automatic, to avoid overload. Restarting now."

"Make it fast, pal!" Sousuke turned and had the A.S. run as quickly as possible, zigging and zagging at different distances. The rear-view monitor was small in size and hence had small resolution. Things were hairy, to say the least.

"Let's try this game," Miyamoto said, releasing the sling ball just above the ground. "Bowling for Dollars." His parents would have had the human Lucas killed three times over before his disappearance, if they had ever known that he had allowed their vestigial son to watch reruns of that inane show. The spinning ball, densest yet, howled as it sped along, skipping along the surface in long arcs, leaving smoking furrows where it touched. It barely missed its target, and began rolling, breaking the dirt and asphalt down into atoms, like a real-life chainsaw-toothed Langolier from a Steven King novella or TV miniseries. Its path led straight to the children's Nursery. "And to improve my chances…."

He directed the Groupies to enter the battle again. He sent them to attach themselves magnetically to Arbalest's legs, to cripple the A.S. with explosions, or at least bring it down to the ground, or to one knee, where it would be less able to dodge the next force bullet.

In the American Civil War, a solid shot cannonball carried with it considerable momentum. There was a famous anecdote, reportedly from Antietam, where an officer saw a cannonball rolling across the ground, and put his foot out to stop it. It took off his leg. The 'Mythbuster's' TV show learned that same principle recently. The crew tried to film the shooting of a homemade cannon at a target containing water-filled barrels at a shooting range. They missed the water-filled barrels. The cannon ball then flew through a concrete wall, seven hundred yards into a suburban neighborhood where it bounced on the sidewalk… through the front door of a house… bounced up the stairs… and then went through and through a bedroom… exiting the stucco wall… crossed a six-lane highway… took several tiles off a roof as it bounced off it… before crashing into the window and dashboard of a mini-van… coming to a rest on the floorboards.

Marx once said that history repeats itself, 'the first as tragedy, then as farce.' Today, the repeat was still a tragedy, just the same, though some might see it as farce. A more famous quote from writer and philosopher George Santayana in its original form read: 'Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.' Whether some might think him altruistic, or stupid beyond words, the large green pig struck out with his leg, intending to change the course of the monstrous missile. The leg disappeared, along with half of Kantaro's body.

The attempted sacrifice had been unnecessary. After the ball crashed through a small food truck, and caused an impossibly smooth groove in the adjacent highway, it fizzled out of existence a mere six inches from the Nursery door.

"Sergeant, I am detecting movement." Al plotted two fast moving tracks on the screen. "Lambda Driver function is back, but intermittennt. Shield is still down."

"It must be some of those robots!" Sousuke correctly deduced that they must be carrying explosives, or some kind of miniaturized EMP devices. Either possibility could prove devastating and disastrous at this point in the battle. They were moving much quicker than he and the ARX-7 could. "A little help!" Gloomy bear and Tamon were nowhere in the vicinity. A solution sprang into his mind. He had always been good at innovations of a military sort. "God helps those who help themselves." Neither Christian nor Muslim, he still saw a truth in that claim. He fired the A.S. right-sided wire-gun. Not at either of the targets, but straight out. He then swung it to the side as a whip, at great velocity. It struck one Groupie, and soon thereafter, the next. Both detonated, destroying the wire; but Arbalest had been left unharmed.

"Watch out!" That was Hiroshi, having synched Gloomy's com-link with the ARX-7s.

"Right!" Sousuke's word was to himself, not to Gloomy Bear's pilot. He jumped right. As luck would have it, Mr. Magnesium's shot passed by him, just to the left. The metal plate on that side of Arbalest warped in and out, but maintained integrity. Barely. It seems that even a close call could do damage. That shot had missed by ten feet. "We really need shielding, pal. We can't keep up like this!" He straightened the running A.S., which was listing to the right. If he ran forward, he would be on a busy highway. If he changed directions significantly, he would provide a slow broadside target until he built up running speed again.

As he watched Arbalest pivot, Miyamoto sent another ball down course. Just as he released the projectile, the crumbling wall he put one of Lucas's feet on crumbled into component bricks. He pulled the shot. Another lost opportunity. "Fuck!" He could not keep this up forever. Rivulets of sweat poured down his face. Lambda Driver functioning had begun to fluctuate significantly. He had to move in closer. For what seemed a long time, but was less than a minute in duration, he piloted this way and that, trying to run his quarry down.

Ready to sling another bullet, he slid to a stop in the graveyard, well within view of those who looked down the path between the white-washed walls.

Little did he realize his mistake.

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TEMPLE GROUNDS

Arbalest kept on the move, leaping over walls, unable to avoid trampling grave markers by the dozens.

"I am certain that Mithril will pay to have them rebuilt," Sousuke said, jarred this way and that as he piloted the fleeing A.S. This action got his goat. It made him feel like a poor soldier. It made him feel as if Death must be nipping at his heals. There could well be a marker with his name on it, after his remains were given burial at sea. That is, if anything remained. "I must not think that way."

He thought back to a movie he had seen, one that he had liked a great deal. 'The Naked Prey.' That 1965 adventure film starring Cornel Wilde, who also served as director and producer, was set in the South African veldt, and as such was only loosely based on the experiences of explorer John Colter, who was pursued by Blackfoot warriors through frontier Wyoming in 1809.

Wilde, whose character is never named, played a professional safari guide leading two white men and their troupe on an elephant hunt in African during the colonial era. When the group intrudes on a local tribe's territory, a number of natives accosted them, expecting to be bought off with gifts. Although the guide advises his client to be courteous, the client refuses to offer anything and insults the natives, sending them away empty-handed. Later, the tribe returns en masse, captures the entire party, and puts the captives to death, using various cruel and unusual methods. One man is covered in clay and roasted alive on a spit; another is tarred, feathered, and trussed, then chased and killed by all the women. The man who insulted the tribesmen is trapped in a ring of fire with a poisonous snake.

Wilde's character is spared until the last. He is stripped naked and then an arrow is fired into the air. Wilde's character then runs, and once he passed the arrow he was chased by one tribesman who must reach the arrow before the next tribesman can join in the hunt. His pursuer throws a spear at him and misses, which he uses to kill his pursuer and take his supplies. Wilde's character then flees, and a multi-day chase ensues. One by one, the pursuers fall; either killed by the guide, or taken out of the chase by wild animals. He barely reaches a colonial fort just seconds ahead of his pursuers. As he reaches safety, the man turned and exchanged a salute with pursuer's leader.

"Help can come from unexpected sources," Sousuke told himself. He wondered if the enemy must be suffering instability issues, or was shepherding energy. There hadn't been a shot for some time now. The enemy was moving to shut off escape routes, but not attacking.

"Sergeant," Al said. "Query?"

"Make it quick," Sousuke snapped, feeling a bit churlish. He remembered Al saying that he could multi-task. Then again, he himself was not always at his best when he tried to do more than one thing at a time.

"In Hong Kong, you said that our problem had been fixed." Al stated that more as a latent question, than as a statement of fact.

"Yes." Souuske replied, wondering what the A.I. was mulling in its miraculous metal mind. "And it still is."

"We defeated five enemies in short succession, then." Al remembered. "We face only one this time, but it seems we are on the verge of defeat."

"-" Sousuke opend 'his' mouth to deny that; but, he didn't want to prolong the conversation any longer than necessary.

"Were you overconfident today?" The A.I. asked. "Did we lose a chance at victory, earlier? The overconfidence effect is a well-established bias in which a person's subjective confidence in his or her judgements is reliably greater than the objective accuracy of those judgements, especially when confidence is relatively high. Overconfidence is one example of a miscalibration of subjective probabilities."

"-" Sousuke bit back a reply, almost as if the machine were chiding him, the way a mother might lecture her small child. He took a deep breath and let it out. Al was merely learning again.

"In effect," Al continued. "Humans are often more sure that they are correct than they deserve to be. Overconfidence has been called the most 'pervasive and potentially catastrophic' of all the cognitive biases to which human beings fall victim. It is to blame for many wars… and many defeats."

"Then, if you think humans are falliable," Sousuke said. "What do you think of our situation." Might the A.I. shine a novel light on things? Could it have taken note of enemy trends that might provide a much needed opportunity?

"I think we are getting our asses kicked," Al said.

"Mrpfl." Sousuke had to stiffle a laugh, even though the situation they were in was no laughing matter.

"Sergeant, is your brain broken?" Al was mystified by laughter at a time like that. "Why are you laughing. That was not a joke."

"I will explain later, pal." Sousuke was still grinning. He wondered who had taught the A.I. that phrase. Mao? Weber? Clouseau? Or had he sourced something on the internet? He stopped chuckling. Th ghost of an idea danced about his synapses. Was his brain broken? Well, was it? He had neglected to use some of the traps he had planned for. He was running with a sense of survival in mind, rather than to set up the next attack. He was working to prolong things, when the nature of the Lambda Driver often had him taking calculated risks, to shorten the time of battle as much as possible. Sometimes it felt like he was listening, when he should be speaking, so to speak. He sometimes felt as if he was hearing echoes in a cave. Was that a vestige of the Whispered ability left behind? It almost felt as if there was another female presence in his mind, one that was not Kaname. That wasn't a man's so-called feminine side, was it? If it was, why did his seem to have a bit of a Russian accent? Because he was first raised in a KGB-run school?

"I hope I have not doomed us to failure," Al said. "Overconfidence can be beneficial to individual self-esteem, and can give an individual the will to succeed in their desired goal. As I understand it, just believing in oneself may give one the will to take one's endeavors further than those who do not."

"That is good advice," Sousuke remarked. "Belief, that is. The question is, who am I?" He frowned, eyeing a readout that would show return of Lambda Driver stability. Not yet. No sign of improvement. "Got to move the other way!" He had inadvertently moved Arbalest between tall trees, and had to pull up short and change direction. If a rolling force ball came now, it could wipe him and the trees into nonexistence, like a game of deadly ten pins.

Mr. Magnesium had done a clever job of moving his piece along the chess board. Sousuke had to focus more of his thinking in driving the A.S., rather than leaving things in mental cruise control, as it was. He had given Al some autonomy in route selection, too. Al's external cameras were better at assessing the safety of the ground he ran on; but, Sousuke's mind was better fit for asymmetrical thinking and unpredictability.

"The same qualities that appear to give individuals strength are often the sources of great weakness," Sousuke said. "The opposite is true, as well. Up until now, I have been worried about being in a girl's brain. I've wondered if any of Kaname Chidori remained there, too. I feared that either of those would be a weakness itself, or worse when combined. I worried that those things might be a reason that we would end up defeated. What if I had that backwards?" He tossed his hair, and then wondered why the hell he did that.

"Sergeant?" Al asked.

"Despite what I read in an article in The Atlantic-" That had been one of the magazines he had borrowed from Kaname's apartment. The article had been 'Are Male and Female Brains Biologically Different', by Taylor Lorzenz, and had noted that pop neuroscience has long been fascinated with uncovering secret biological differences between male and female brains, and that the question of whether men and women have innately different brains rarely fails to get people riled up. The author reported that just last year a Google engineer had caused an uproar after publishing a manifesto detailing the various ways women were biologically different from men. But, the author of the article wrote that while some people say men are from Mars and women are from Venus, the brain is a unisex organ. She blamed academia and the media in part for the cycle that leads to the ongoing argument over biological brain differences, because most scholars know that any small statistical difference between men and women will make headlines. Academics, desperate for funding and attention, often focus studies on gender disparities because 'if you go back to data, analyze it for sex, and if you find a difference, then guess what: you have another paper.'

"Dr. Goldberry may indeed be correct." He had also read an article that took the other side of the argument. "Either way, I need to stop fighting my decisions. I need to trust myself!" He needed to trust the Sousuke Sagara he was now, if he could feel like one person again, one that had a single mind with different parts, and not multiple minds fighting for dominance. Could he manage that?

"Incoming!" That was Al. He wrested control from Sousuke and dropped prone to the ground. A flying ball of energy left a long scorch mark on the A.S.'s back.

"Thanks, pal." Sousuke said. "Incoming?" It seemed that the A.I. was beginning to throw some of his own phraseology back at him. He almost wished that it wouldn't, the way that some parents wished that their children never had to grow up.

"Not any longer," the A.I. replied, missing the nature of its pilot's word. It was still a machine, when all was said and done.

"-" Sousuke had a flashback to Al Jr…. that is, to HAL 2000. He didn't want to worry about Al going rogue… now, or some time in the future. He brushed that pesky thought aside. It was irrelevant, now. He couldn't afford to fixate on future concerns.

He focused on a tactical issue. What were some things that a female brain might be different at? Better or worse at? Women had more intricate contemplation of risk-scenario contemplation based on prefrontal control of the amygdala. He could certain benefit from that now. They had a less strong reaction to threatening stimuli, and reacted with less physical aggression due to differences in that same area of the brain. That might be detrimental. There was a higher susceptibility to stress in women; but, that might be societal, and not due to brain differences. He still had his own mind and memory of experiences; but, he did seem to be more anxious than usual. There was supposedly a decreased performance in spatial tasks for women, while they were said to be being better at solving puzzles, and to be better at seeing misdirection. He would welcome that trade-off in the remainder of the battle. Women were less likely to suffer from tunnel-vison when deeply engaged with something, and to be better multi-taskers. They were said to be less impulsive, and to be better at absorbing more sensory input. All those would be pluses. How could he take the best from both genders? "Damn!" He needed a safety device to keep his mind from overheating.

For a moment, lost in thought, he had lost sight of Lucas. He had also come full circle in his course plotting, and was back near the passageway that had led them all to the Elementary School. There it was! The orange A.S.! Staring right down his broadside, with a perfect shot. He tried to back away; but, he lost good sense of his surroundings. He backed Arbalest into a wall of the temple building, causing the frightened monk in the basement to pass out, and not from the three bottles of sacred wine he had just guzzled down. Girl Brain. Boy brain. What did it matter, if it was a dead brain?! Could he pull off a trick maneuver, like a back hand spring, pushing off the roof of the temple.

He crouched, reading to jump backwards as high as the ARX-7 could. Just as he watched the orange A.S. point in his direction… the way that babe Ruth would point to an area of stands, letting everyone know where he would hit his next homerun… he heard words that had his heart sinking like a lead balloon.

"There must be a hydraulics leak, Sergeant." That was the A.I., whose voice never changed pitch or cadence. Could a machine worry? Could it feel the approach of the Inevitable? "The left leg still functions, and will allow for bipedal motion when I manage to reroute fluid and trigger internal flaps to isolate the loss; however, propulsive force will remain lacking, either in jumping or kicking."

In other words, he was a sitting duck. He felt the same way he had when he was rescuing Kaname, sitting in an RK-92 Savage, waiting for things to slowly boot up, as an approaching pair of Arm Slaves were shooting into the building. But, Arbalest was not Russian, and he wasn't about to call it a scrap heap. Think! What could he do? He would throw himself to the ground at the last moment, avoiding at least one more strike; but that would put himself in another worse position.

"We need the Lambda Driver, pal." He said that like a request, even though he knew that wouldn't change things one way or another.

"Affirmative," Al replied, sounding a bit like him. "I agree. However, it is being uncooperative."

"Do your best to convince it, Al." Sousuke used one hand to smack Kaname's forehead. He knocked away a cinematic flow of images. He didn't believe in the 'life flashes before your eyes nonsense'. He had no time for reminiscing, or for thoughts about future hopes and dreams, whatever those rare beasts might be. As he watched, the enemy Arm Slave took up a stance he had come to recognize. Any moment now, another ball of light would form.

"Affirmative." *Pause* "Sergeant," Al asked. "Do prayers help?" Before his pilot had opportunity to reply, he followed up with a second query. "If we are defeated here… will the enemy destroy my core?" *pause* "Will I die?"

"I don't know," was all that Sousuke said. It was the true answer to the first question. For the second, he had been about to say you cannot die, because you have never lived. While he was clueless to a fault, he was not that clueless. That answered would seem cruel and insensitive, even if the machine wouldn't take it that way. Either way, things were now in the hands of Providence.

He punched a number into the communications console.

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IN THE LABORATORY

"She's hot!" Dr. Necessiter said, watching the television screen.

"Damn skippy," Dr Hfuhruhur said. "I think I have a boner." Every woman in the room looked like he was the first creature who had crawled out of the primeval ooze. He couldn't help himself. The woman was showing altogether too much leg and cleavage.

"Shhhhh-hhhh-hhh-hh-h!" Every woman in the room, save for Anne and Kaname, shushed the two men. Those two exceptions simply sighed and rolled their eyes.

Again.

"This is Akiyo Takashima, TXN News." The shot switched to that of a flying blue-and-white Bell 206L Long ranger III helicopter, before returning to the profile shot of the tidy and attractive Asian woman, holding a microphone while the copter hovered high above a mind-boggling fight scene. "As we bravely risk our lives to bring you this coverage, the battle rages on." Shed put a hand to one earpiece. A suggestion or some form of direction must be coming in.

"Yes, this reminds me of those famous wildlife shows I watched as a little girl." She had never watched one in her life. "We've all seen them. Lion versus hyenas. Walrus versus polar bear. Crocodile versus anything else. And the most famous of them all…." She paused, until told to speak again. "Mongoose versus cobra!" She spoke the last like it was two words, 'co' and 'bra.'

A quick video took the place of her image. Naturally, it was footage of a mongoose and king cobra facing off against one another. Her image returned.

"They should show her ass," a security guard said, taking a page out of the two doctors' book. "Uphhh!" A pint-sized female medical attendant had kicked him hard between wind and water. She ignored him when he called out 'N-N-N-Nurssse' in a barely audible voice.

"This is a lot like the epic showdown between mammal and reptile," Akiyo said, enunciating her words as if she was harking the opening of a new car dealership, or was doing the commentary for a crazy Japanese TV game show. "Much like an Indian grey mongoose taking on one of the world's most venous snakes… the King Co-bra! Watch the down below, as they circle each other the way those animal enemies do, looking for a weak spot, before the snake strikes in rapid succession at its enemy's face."

"Milk Duds?" Dr. Necessiter held up an open box of candy to Kaname, who sighed and shook her head.

"Jujubees?" Dr. Hfuhruhur followed suit. "Delicious fruit-flavored gummy candies." He shook the box under Anne's nose.

"I'll pass." She said that to be contrary. She really did love gummy candies.

"But the mongoose is too quick," the announcer continued. "It leaps and dances out of the way, before closing in, trying to bite the cobra's head. The two arch nemeses attempt to stare one another down before striking at one another again, to bring their duel to an end."

The image switched to footage of another snake and mammal tussle, while a canned voice took over: "While the cobra had very potent venom, that is unfortunately not enough to stop a hungry mongoose. This is because the mongoose is very agile and has a very thick coat. Moreover, the feisty little animal has a chemical trick up its furry little sleeve. Many species of mongoose possess a specialized acetylcholine receptor that renders them immune to cetaiin snake venoms… including cobras… and King Cobras… which despite the name, are not truly cobras, but a closely relate species. Black mambas, too."

Akiyo returned to describing the actual fight taking place below her.

"So, who's the mongoose?" An old woman wearing chemical-stained overalls asked.

"Well, the one A.S. is orange, like some cobras." Dr. Necessiter stroked his chin.

"And, that Arm Slave had the shape of a cobra's hood, before it blew off those wingie-things."

"Wingie-things." Dr. Necessiter snickered. "Does Furbie Wurbie need to go nappies? Made a boom boom?"

"Do you want to throw down!" An irate Dr Hfuhruhur began shaking a fist at his fellow scientist, who turned around and pantomimed pulling his pants down to moon him.

"So that would make Sousuke the mongoose-" Kaname said. Her spirits rose considerably, thinking that thought. "-And that means he'll probably win, right?"

No one answered. They were too engrossed in the remarkable footage. The battle was give-and-take for a while, but began looking a decidely lopsided.

"The way it shoots those things," an engineer said. "It's almost like it's a spitting cobra." Typically, spitting cobras aim for their adversary's eyes; if their aim is true, immediate pain, swelling and blindness may ensue, which usually deters the predator. "If a mongoose gets venom in the eyes, it might run off; but, I doubt that the poison would do it in."

"It sure looks like those things could do the white A.S. in," a woman said, who had no personal knowledge of Arbalest. "He's lucky he has been quick so far… and cunning." Moments after she said that, Arbalest's movements had led it into a series of gaffs.

"Not every snake a mongoose comes across is a cobra or a mamba," a male technician said, holding his hand out for some Milk Duds. It was too late. Dr. Necessiter was pelting Dr. Hfuhruhur with them, while ducking the Jujubees chucked by his arch nemesis. "Even a group of mongooses… mongeese?" He shrugged. "Even a bunch of the furry guys will stay away from a python."

"Yup!" The sore security guy said. "Life is like a box of chocolates… you never know what you might get." His Forrest Gump voice was beyond atrocious. "You might get a cobra… a king cobra… or a python…."

"Or an anaconda!" The engineer added.

"Or maybe it's not a snake at all," Dr. Necessiter said, his hair full of colorful candies, making him look like a prop from one of the Wonka movies. "Maybe it's a hawk… or a jackal…"

"Or maybe a leopard," Dr. Hfuhruhur contributed. "Or a tiger!"

"Or two tigers!" The two doctors said in unison.

"Thanks, for that." Kaname felt her anxiety starting to crescendo, again.

"Phone!" A communications jockey had to shout to be heard. "Miss Chidori!" When the girl Walked to the console, he handed her the head-set.

It was Sousuke.

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ON THE EDGE OF THE GRAVEYARD

The orange A.S. was triangulating shots, and had not moved its feet during the last three attempts.

While being used in attack-mode, the antennae no longer served as global radar, but rather functioned to precisely pinpoint the forward target. The pilot's attention was fixated on the stricken Arbalest, which was impeded mightily, leaning back against a building. The two facts together almost resulted in an unwanted surprise.

The change in focus for the antennae did not deactivate other sensors. So, when Gloomy Bear rushed into strike, intending to be a distraction and to do some damage while the orange machine's shield was hopefully down, Mr. Magnesium merely waited for the absolute perfect moment, and performed a perfect grand jeté, a long horizontal jump, starting from one leg and landing on the other which usually involves a full leg split in mid-air. The dancer hits the fullest split at the height of the jump, with weight pushed slightly forward, giving a gliding appearance. It was the way that Mitamoto wanted to kick, rather than taking a simpler more gauche movement, like someone trying to kick a field goal or someone else taking a shot at a soccer goal. He smiled as the pink nuisance went flying, high above the ruined ground. A fall from that height should kill the bastard, if the kick itself hadn't.

Returning to a standing position, he caught sight of an even smaller flea. An adorable looking Red Panda… his darling Retsuko… a character that he was familiar with from You Tube… sat crouching with a weapon at his shoulder. But, the mascot didn't fire. Either did he. He would ignore the trash, even though he must be like most other rugged men ,who laughed when they saw him dance. This was his way of saying 'I am better than you. I don't need to destroy you to prove that.' He chuckled. The first part of Retsuko's name means 'rage' or 'fierce'. The second part, 'ko', translates to child. 'Rage-child' or 'fierce-child' seems like the accurate description himself, and not simply the animated heroine.

Thinking of his past, he mimicked the voice of death-metal Retsuko. He stopped short of asking Lucas to serve as a karaoke machine. "Raaa-aa-age. Choke on my raaaa-aa-age. Lightning grant me your vengeance. Lightning grant me your vengeance. Strike them dowww-ww-wn. Strike them dowww-ww-wn." Yes! Ball lightning! His cleverness knew no bounds!

Male ballet dancers get the worst reputation. There is a reason why. Honestly, it comes down to tights and a dance belt. For some reason, that equates to effeminate, which equates to gay. But, if you look at the spectrum of dance, ballet is probably the most manly when it comes to repertory… with the exception of Dresden Semper Opera's version of bluebird, which is just… well… flashy, to be polite.

The roles for men in classical ballet are the following: prince, cavalier, slave, pirate, prince, cavalier, lover, prince… you get the gist. Because of these roles, the vocabulary is limited, as say compared to a jazz dancer. Now, because the way the music was written, and because male variations are these extremely heavy, weighted variations, the steps a male ballet dancer usually performs are well… limiting. While women are known for their pointe shoes and flexibility, male ballet dancers' small repertoire of moves seemed far less impressive to the average eye, and does not earn them some kind of a pass. The female dancers are the queen of the show. The men are not kings of anything. Not unless they are a transcendent talent, like Rudolf Nureyev, Vaslav Nijinsky, or Mikhail Baryshnikov.

There were many misconceptions that someone like Miyamoto faces in his life as a dancer: Male ballet dancers are weak and frail like girls. Male ballet dancers prance around all day, while in actuality they lift weights more than many athletes. All male ballet dancers are gay and boys in ballet just want to be girls. Men in ballet are not athletic, and couldn't do other sports, making them lesser men.

"Assholes," Mr. Magnesium said, speaking out against all who had mocked him, in the past… at least those who he had not already dealt with. On a cruel whim, he walked a few steps and lifted his foot above the Aggretsuko character, who had thrown down his weapon and raised both arms. He brought the foot down, just a foot or so from the man's quaking form. That big strong alpha male type was afraid. He liked that. He threw his head back and laughed a deep long laugh, causing Lucas to evaluate his vital signs again. Turning back to take advantage of his boon… a trapped and seeming powerless foe… and not wanting to be like the idiotic villains in the movies who let their Bonds and the like get away, he repeated some words he had told himself in the past.

Some wounds never go away.

"Miss Chidori," he said. "You play sports. You must look down upon men like me. While track athletes jump hurdles that stand at forty-two inches, ballet dancers are clearing more air while looking relaxed. While American football boasts the manliest sport, they are still basically wearing tights. While wrestlers are wearing less than ballet dancers and are always touching each other, very rarely do two men ever touch in ballet. While soccer players are drilling for foot speed, ballet dancers are drilling for foot speed at a faster pace, and in exact positions. While regular guys are at the gym lifting and taking selfies, male ballet dancers are lifting women for eight hours without straining their necks and making ugly faces and grunting like they are taking a dump. And… while baseball players are coordinating catches…." It sounded like he was going to crown all male dancers with the ultimate crown. "…Male ballet dancers are coordinating catching women."

Incredibly, he actually managed to pose while clamped into his pilot's chair.

He should have kept his lips tightly shut, and paid more attention to the entire area of conflict. There were more players in the play than had showed up on his show list.

He would find that out the hard way.

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JUST OUTSIDE THE BATTLEFIELD

Arabiki Fukuoka had heard most of the contents of Psalm 23:4:

The LORD is My Shepherd. He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness for the sake of His name. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.…

Indeed, he felt as if he were standing in the valley of the shadow of death, as he saw the final group of metallic women run up.

They looked shiny and happy, almost; but, his instinct told them that they carried death of the most certain kind. He did fear that evil. He had no shepherd. He had no god to protect him, or to comfort him. For the first time in his life, he felt naked, being bereft of any sort of religion. He closed his eyes, almost as if he could not see the she-devils, they could not see him.

As that last of the Groupies ran past him, he marveled at their grace. It seemed as if they ran on their tiptoes, and still managed to sway in a way no human woman could. They were so swift. So agile. They had flair. They had verve. They had a certain je ne sais quoi. Yet, they were true femme fatale, with the emphasis heavy on the last word.

The man within the alien sausage costume took a deep breath… held it… and then let it out. He watched in awe, as the battle unfolded, content to stay back and be a spectator for now. Like a god in the Egyptian underworld, he weighed altruism and survival on a giant scale. Altruism had seemed great before; now, it hardly moved the needle. The same for recompense and reward. The old chestnut held true:

You can't take it with you.

Just the same, the time came when a small seed of heroism grew into a small sapling… then a tree of fair height… and finally a stately tree full of blossoms. Perhaps he was just opportunistic. Or, it may be that he had been wisely biding his time.

"Balls out!" He told himself. He didn't really know what he could do. He simply felt that he had to do something. At the very least, as the Sausage Sheriff, he had to do something in honor of his Deputy. "I know the basics of how to work this one." He began setting up the Carl Gustaf, first looking behind him, to see how things stood now.

Before the flamboyant superhero-like Arm Slave entry, that boy… Shinji by name, he thought… had been driving him, trying to reach the same site that the other mascots had arrived at before them. As the oversized passenger, he had felt like a sideshow freak, or a costumed cretin on a parade float, waving to the curious or scornful adults along the way, and blowing kisses for the shouting or crying children, streetside. One woman had actually run up to him, asking him to autograph a package of hot dogs.

As the boy towed him down a narrow pathway, he saw the flashing lights of an approaching squad car, the first of many yet to come. In the distance, he heard the harsh honks that heralded the imminent arrival of hook-and-ladder trucks. No doubt there would be at least one ambulance. Who knew what the military might do, or when they would get around to doing it?

"Don't stop, junior sausage," he had called out to his chauffer. "There's full sausage status for you if you get me to that end wall." The path dead-ended, one hundred yards down within a crowded cemetery. He thought he heard the boy yell back that he didn't want that status, but he must have misheard. The wind was gusting, and street was growing noisier by the moment. He needed to ride as far as he could. Running… even walking… would have been very difficult in the suit, even without a single weapon or its ammunition.

"YOU THERE! ON THE TRACTOR! HALT!"

When the police ordered the boy to stop, he jumped off of the tractor, effectively halting himself. He left the tractor in gear, and it happily continued on its way. He tossed something awy from him. The pistol, no doubt. Smart kid.

Just before the wayward machine struck the antique wall, close to a pair of abandoned UTVs, Arabiki felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, no mean feat inside the stuffy sausage suit.

A large orange Arm Slave, which in a blur reminded him of Varan from 'Destroy All Monsters,' streaked into view in more than memorable fashion. It was those 'wing's that brought that association to mind. Varan had a minor role in the movie, because its monster suit had been heavily damaged from age, and had being constantly remodeled and used in the Ultraman series. Because Toho had already spent a huge budget for all of the many other monsters in the film, they used a small stiff prop for Varan rather than construct a new suit.

That monster had also been slated to appear in an early draft of 'Godzilla vs. Gigan' entitled 'The Return of King Ghidorah', as well as the original draft of 'Godzilla, Mothra, and King Ghidorah: Giant Monsters All Out Attack'. In the first film, he was scrapped in favor of Anguirus, and in the later for King Ghidorah.

Did that history bode poorly for the new arrival?

"I'm certainly not drunk," Arabiki told himself. "But maybe I should start drinking." He doubled down on that suggestion, when he saw the first of the Groupies run by, and as he watched as Arbalest and Lucas did battle. "Psychoactive drugs, too. They can't be any weirder than this!" It had been exciting when the mascots had done their 'Kumbaya' moment, and rushed onward to save Tokyo, albeit in a staggered sequence. Now, he was having a difficult time maintaining sphincter tone.

"NO!" That sounded like Shinji shouting. He turned and looked behind him, stepping off of the trailer, and nearly falling on his face. "PLEASE! I HAVE TO!" Hands out from his body, he was being patted down by a male constable, while a female officer was speaking on a field phone. "I JUST HAVE TO SEE THEM!" It sounded as if he were about to burst into tears. Gathering himself up, he resumed speaking in a more sedate manner. "They're just a short distance over there. I can almost touch them." The boy's arm was stretched out, reaching to grasp the distant air in a truly tragic way.

"Keep'em busy, kiddo," Arabiki said softly. He was glad that there were no law enforcement personnel heading his way. Yet. Maybe they felt that a large pork product picking up a recoilless rifle was something above their pay grade. He hoped to be able to do whatever he decided to do, before the boys in green showed up. He doubted that JSDF troops would be in a forgiving mood. "This is like the greatest CGI ever," he claimed, turning back to witness the carnage. He felt foolish, hearing his own words. He was watching the real deal, not a B-movie or a video game. Maybe it was because his mind found it far easier to believe those things, than it did the things he could see beyond the wall and a group of bent and badly broken trees that partially blocked his view.

The Arm Slaves tangled.

Those robotic gals darted and dashed about.

As he lugged the Carl Gustaf and placed it on the stone wall, he ducked down as the two battling gargantua pushed and shoved as they neared his position, flattening the remainder of the fractured oaks. He could see the other mascots as they were firing… running… and dying.

When the swarm of metal balls from the car-sized claymore *zinged* past his ear and knocked the flashing lights out of the nearest police vehicle, he stayed prone on the ground for a while, listening to the shots of a giant shotgun and bee-hive hum of a monstrous multi-barrel weapon. Yes. Why not stay there for a while? It's amazing how comfortable a rough pathway could feel when there was a titanic life and death tug-of-war unfolding, too loud for his liking, and much too close for comfort.

A few more police cruisers rolled in.

A truck of soldiers arrived not long after them.

The military men dismounted, but they carried nothing more than rifles, a First Aid kit, and a banged-up megaphone. They were all just standing there, until an officer began directing their movement with the voice amplifier. But, all they did was take up strategic watching positions, awaiting who knows what to do whatever and whenever. He heard a jet scream past, far overhead. By the glimpse that he got, it was an air superiority fighter… maybe an F-15… and not a ground attack jet. It certainly did not have the characteristic wings of an F4. He wondered, how far away the closest ATGM-armed helicopters might be, or a transport helo carrying anti-tank squads.

"Might as well ask for a dragon from 'Game of Thrones'," he told himself. Hell. He'd personally kiss Drogon on his lizard lips if he showed up. Why stop there? He'd give Gigantor a hand job, or french-kiss Astro Boy and Tobor the Eight Man if they put in an appearance. Of course he would prefer Captain Marvel… the female one. He coughed a couple of times… cleared his throat… and stood up again. "I don't fucking need any daydreams. I'm tougher than that!" It was true. He had been planning to hand in the sausage-suit, and to sign on as the new mascot for a beef jerky manufacturer.

He opened a tough plastic case, shaped like two small artillery shells next to one another. Inside, he found two differently marked munitions, one labeled 'ASM' and the other labeled 'HEAT'. Ex-police, she should have no idea how to use the simpler of two weapon at hand. He had, however, done some weekend training with the JSDF, when he was looking for a new career. He had a rough idea how to use the the Grg m/48 … Granatgevär… grenade rifle' model 1948.' That was the Carl Gustaf Recoilless Rifle, as it was known in Sweden, its country of origin. This modern version… which British troops refer to as the 'Charlie G' and the U.S. military service calls the 'M3 Multi-Role Anti-Armor Anti-Personnel Weapon System' or 'MAAWS'… and some simply call 'The Goose'… allows airburst capability of troops in defilade out to 1,250 meters, weighing twenty some odd pounds empty. It was light weight but very capable.

"I wish the kid was here," he said to himself. The weapon was best used as part of a two-man team. "Let's see if I can get this right." He pushed lever to swing open the conical breech-mounted Venturi recoil damper. He then checked to see that body tube was clear. After a quick debate, he inserted the Anti-Structure Munition, designed especially for destroying buildings and other types of urban constructions. He twisted a ring at end to activate the then twisted one specific ring on the telescopic sight for that type round, after he closed and latched the cone. "Man, I always wanted to do this. But this isn't for fun. This is for all of the marbles." He placed the weapon on one shoulder, pulling the tripod tight against his chest. He squinted through the scope, targeting the part of the orange machine that he imagined the pilot would be seated behind, and adjusted sighting mechanism. He cocked the trigger until it clicked. "Firing firing firing"

He pulled trigger.

W-H-O-M-P

The round fired with a short strong kick, nothing all that frightful, given the size of the munitions. Sheepish, he turned to make sure no one was behind him. The overpressure or blast wave generated by the Gustaf will cause blast and burn related injuries to those behind the gun, and is dangerous to thirty meters… and hazardous to about fifty to seventy-five meters. Repeatedly firing the Gustaf can also cause related shock wave injuries to gunners and those nearby. As a result, during training, gunners are only allowed to fire six rounds a day. Assistant gunners also often move away from the overpressure zone, so that they too can fire six rounds a day.

Vernon Louis 'Lefty' Gomez had been an American professional baseball player. A left-handed pitcher, Gomez played in Major League Baseball between 1930 and 1943 for the New York Yankees and the Washington Senators. Gomez was a five-time World Series champion with the Yankees. He was also known for his colorful personality and humor throughout his career and life. He once famously remarked, 'I'd rather be lucky than good.'

Arabiki should express the same sentiment, if he was honest. His shot did not come close to hitting his mark. But, it did hit the most crucial target he could have chosen, had he been aware of the significance.

The right 'antenna' on Lucas's head had just begun glowing. That meant a force bullet was forming, possibly the one that would disable Arbalest, making the finishing blow simple and inescapable. But, that also meant that the moment of impact was the one instant while that structure was vulnerable.

Slammm-mm-m Chinkkk-kk-k tinkletinkletinlketinkletinklr tink tink

The ASM munition did its job admirably, fracturing its target, leading to an internal explosion as the shaped energy went berserk, imploding before exploding, and sending small pieces of the antenna sliding down the curved body contour, to bounce around the orange A.S.'s feet.

"BANZAI!" Arabiki shouted. He took the recoilless rifle down and swung open the rear latch again. He flicked another lever, extruding the rear portion of the spent casing, allowing him to remove it from the tube. Whistling, he took out the HEAT round from its case, and began the loading procedure again. Drunk on success, he wasn't really thinking clearly.

Like the weapon on the back of the Predator, the Gatling gun on the back of Lucas pivoted and opened fire.

Spingchip spingchip spingchip spingchip spingchipspingspingspingchip

Even without the radar, the A.I.'s targeting ability was primo. Bullets tore huge chips from the wall, even knocking whole broken bricks out of the back side of the structure. Letting the open weapon fall, the Sausage fell himself… by design, not because he was hit. He would lay down and play dead, hoping to the high heavens that he would not soon be dead. Sprawled on the ground, one of his antennae ironically broken off and the other bouncing on its long spring, he swallowed hard, and listened at the wall, the way some people in the American West once listened to train tracks, to see if a train was a'comin'. Nothing yet.

He happened to look over at the trailer. The other weapon was still there. He had no idea what it was, and had no desire to know.

He was done here. One way or another.

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AT THE SIDE OF THE TEMPLE

Sousuke knew that he was in deep shit.

It wasn't actually the first time; but, this time the shit was much deeper than most other times. Not as bad as facing a Codarl in an RK-92. But, maybe not all that much better. It was no fun facing off against an opponent with overpowered weapons. It was also a bit of a headache to face someone with better skill or experience. His fight with Clouseau had helped him learn that lesson yet again. Was Mr. Magnesium better than he was?

"Kurz is not parachuting down to save the day, this time." That remark was made out loud, prompting the A.I. to ask for an explanation. Sousuke gave an abbreviated Cliff Notes version of the events that followed Kurz's saving him from Gauron.

"Was my arrival that day a deus-" Al didn't have time to finish his next query. The person operating communications at the Laboratory answered. Before long, Kaname was on the line.

"Sousuke-" Kaname spoke, a treble in her voice. Sousuke didn't know that she had been watching the lopsided battle. She told him so, before asking why he called.

"There are a number of reasons," Sousuke admitted, keeping a close eye on Lucas. He hoped that rudimentary self correctional components in the ARX-7s injured limb might address the mechanical issues. He needed to pick his brain, feeling that he had forgotten something important. But, he also felt a great need to speak to the owner of 'his' new body.

"First," Sousuke continued after a short moment of silence, his words scribbled on a mental chalk board. "I defeated Gauron in Khanka, despite being new to Arbalest and the presence of the Lambda Driver. I won handily against five foes in Hong Kong, despite earlier being at one of the lowest points in my life."

"Because of me?" Kaname offerered, a soft hopeful tone in 'her' voice.

"I am not superstitious," Sousuke claimed, trying to convince himself more than Kaname. "But… the common factor in each attack… was you…"

"I see," Kaname said, a tough of anger in 'her' voice. "So I am part of an equation, am I?"

"Kaname," you sound irritated, Sousuke observed. "Have you eaten one of the foods that my body disagrees with on occasion?" He listed a handful of such. "Or, have you grown weary with the experiments… or putting up with the two doctors…."

"No, Sousuke-" Kaname began. "I am not irritated. Just disappointed."

"Disappointed?" Sousuke lost focus on his foe. "How are you-" He was interrupted by the A.I.

"Based on the vocal pattern, I would deduce that Miss Chidori is disappointed in you Sergeant." Al's lights blinked on and off in dazzling patterns. "I do not totally understand romance-" It was the machine's turn to be cut off.

"Either does Sergeant Slaughter, there." Kaname harrumphed.

"If things are indeed related to romance," Al added. "I will make a request. If things are now going to evolve to sexual topics, I ask that you exclude me from the loop." All of the panel lights went out temporarily. "After all… I should inform you… I am a virgin."

Neither Sousuke nor Kaname had an immediate reply for that.

*cough* "Second," Sousuke continued, sweating for some unknown reason. "I will mention Hong Kong again. When I left without telling good bye, you were very upset. You travelled to a danger zone because of my actions. I do not want that to happen again. You can speak to me now, this way, while you are safe there."

"Well that's sweet-" Kaname began. Her voice then went very dark. "Wait. Tell me good bye?" She thought back to Khanka, not Hong Kong. "This better not be like that time. You better not be telling me that you are going to go off and die. I don't want that, Sousuke! Not that time, and especially not this time"

"But-" Sousuke couldn't get a word in.

"Is it because of the ring?" Kaname asked. Like Sousuke's, hers was entirely black. "Is it because you might be me forever… you know what I mean… and you don't care to live like that?"

"I-"With that single utterance, Sousuke managed to convey a 'no' answer.

"Then is it because you have run out of ideas, again?" Kaname sounded exasperated and scared at the same time. The memories from that kidnapping episode were still just as fresh as subsequent events. "Is that Sousuke brain thinking 'I have to sacrifice myself to take down the enemy… because no one else can?' That's really arrogant, mister. I bet-"

"That's it!" Sousuke clapped his hands together. "You have helped me remember. The grenades." He had forgotten about his belt of anti-armor grenades. "I could have done that before, when we were in close. If I can grab hold of him again, I can detonate all of the grenades at once." He typed commands on a keyboard and brought up a small spring-loaded lever. He could push it down, having it serve as a dead man's switch. "There is a chance that one or both of us may die. But, regardless, the blast should injure both of us severely. He will not be able to return to the school or the neighborhoods that our classmates and teachers have run to seeking shelter. I cannot let Arbalest be captured, however. Hopefully I would be able to escape, before self-destructing."

"Pardon me," Al said. His monotone could not sound affronted.

"That plan is vetoed, Sousuke." Kaname was practically shouting, now. "Kurz might not be here to clue you in, but everyone else is. Hey. Everybody. Do you think Sousuke should suicide to stop the bad guy?"

"NOOOO-OOO-OO-OOOOO-O!" That voice was the combined voices of the entire laboratory, pretty much.

"Don't say a word!" That voice in the background was clearly Miss Uumellmahaye. "Either of you!" It didn't take a genius to guess who she must be talking to. "Why don't you use your big brains to come up with an idea to help Sousuke?!"

"You see," Kaname said hopefully. "There's always another way!"

"There's a third reason I called," Sousuke said. He flinched. The orange A.S.'s right antenna had a slight glow about it, heralding another shot. Mr. Magnesium must have stabilized his power source and refocused his mental control.

"What was that?" Kaname. In the background, Anne was shouting 'Everybody move back. Way back. Give the girl some privacy, for Pete's sake." The identity of the name 'Pete' in that idiom is unclear.

"I wanted to hear your voice," Sousuke said. "But… I… well…." *cough* I forgot that I would be hearing my voice."

"Oh." Kaname said. "I see." Sousuke didn't have 'her' on visual, so couldn't see how 'she' pursed 'her' lips or fluttered 'her' eyelids.

Slammm-mm-m Chinkkk-kk-k tinkletinkletinlketinkletinklr tink tink

Some type of round struck Lucas, fracturing its target, leading to an internal explosion as the shaped energy went berserk. Imploding before exploding, the appendage shed small pieces, many of which slid down the craft, and some of which decorated its shoulder like dandruff.

"See!" Kaname shouted gleefully. "Didn't I tell you. Now the other guy can't make those ball thingies." She nodded her head, glad that no one commented on her use of 'thingies.' Dr. Hfuhruhur made a sour face. "So… now… promise me you won't use the grenades!"

"I cannot do that," Sousuke said, sadly. But, he wasn't feeling fatalistic anymore. With all of the drama, he had forgotten that he was still wearing a big Easter Bunny suit. That suit gave him an idea.

"But-" Kaname began.

"You have to trust me, Kaname." Sousuke said, flexing the ARX-7's damaged leg.

"We can walk again," Al said. "While we move…." Sousuke had steered the A.S. towards Lucas, and was moving in that direction. "…I have a question. Was miraculous attack on my counterpart a deus ex machina… English 'god from the machine'… in stories at least, a plot device whereby a seemingly unsolvable problem in a story is suddenly and abruptly resolved by an unexpected and seemingly unlikely occurrence, typically so much as to seem contrived. Its function can be to resolve an otherwise irresolvable plot situation, to surprise the audience, to bring the tale to a happy ending, or act as a comedic device. For example, The Martians in H. G. Wells's 'The War of the Worlds' destroyed everything in their path and apparently triumphed over humanity; but, they are suddenly killed by bacteria. In the novel 'Lord of the Flies', a passing navy officer rescues the stranded children."

"Ted 'Theodore' Logan's creation of predestination paradoxes to set up booby traps at the end of 'Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure'," Dr. Necessiter's voice said. Kaname had placed things on speaker phone, in case someone had something clever to offer by way of a plan. "Sometimes, the unlikeliness of the deus ex machina plot device is employed deliberately."

"Indeed." That was Dr. Hfuhruhur. "For example, comic effect is created in a scene in 'Monty Python's Life of Brian' when Brian, who lives in Judea at the time of Christ, is saved from a high fall by a passing alien space ship." He also made it a point to say that black rings did not mean that there was no hope of a reverse transfer. It just meant that the window was very likely closing, and that the probabilities were dropping like a rock.

"The term was coined from the conventions of ancient Greek theater, where actors who were playing gods were brought onto stage using a machine," Anne said. "The machine could be either a crane used to lower actors from above or a riser which brought them up through a trapdoor. The method was used to resolve the conflict and conclude the drama. The device is associated mostly with Greek tragedy, although it also appeared in comedies. It is generally deemed undesirable in writing and often implies a lack of creativity on the part of the author. The reasons for this are that it does damage to the story's internal logic and is often so unlikely that it challenges suspension of disbelief, allowing the author to conclude the story with an unlikely ending."

"But this is not a play or a story," Sousuke added, seeking to quiet the A.I. "The term does not apply to real life."

"Incorrect," Al stated. "Every once in a while, a deus ex machina occurs in real life. In 1274… and also in 1281… for example… the Mongols tried to attack Japan but were defeated by freak typhoons that saved the islands from invasion."

"Well then," Sousuke said, watching for any sign of another unexpected trick from the enemy Arm Slave. "There were other ways for us to avoid the threat. So, the answer is no."

"Oh." Al said. He had accessed some files that school officials had reported to Mithril, not knowing the true nature of the occurrences. Those reports included every strange or untoward action that had taken place at school that day. "That will fit the definition."

"What will?" Sousuke asked, unknowingly putting 'his' neck in a figurative noose.

"If you should happen upon some miracle that allows you to cover up the day's activi-" The machines's voice was instantly placed on 'Mute.'

"What did your buddy say then?" Kaname asked. "I missed that.'

"-" Sousuke was wise enough to keep his mouth shut.

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AT THE EDGE OF THE GRAVEYARD

The tension was so thick, its couldn't be cut with an acetylene torch or a CO2 laser.

"Bloody… fucking… hell…" With each word, Mr. Magnesium kicked the base of the console in front of him. "S-h-i-t!" That last kick would have broken toes, if he wasn't wearing a full pilot suit.

"We have lost function in the starboard antenna," Lucas said.

"No shit, Sherlock," Miyamoto said, his words dripping acid. "And this is an Arm Slave, not a boat!" He counted to ten, and then let out a long breath. If Lucas was a boat, it was not a boat that was going down. No. He had not hit an iceberg, as such. He had merely passed through a brief squall. The sails may be tattered, but he had a perfectly fine engine in a figurative sense. He pushed a button.

"Transformation commencing," Lucas said. "Running calibration check on port… left antenna."

"Good catch," Miyamoto said, mood stabilizing. "Keep an eye out for the asshole who crashed the party." That had been a one-in-a-million shot. He was not going to risk two-in-a-million! But, he refused to take his own attention off of Arbalest. He didn't want to end up like the classic monologuing bad guy. And, there was something he had to keep in mind. Like certain other Whispered… at least some Whispered men… he sometimes had the ability to predict the future. Usually, it was for big events; but, maybe he could find some advantage today.

"So shall it be done," the A.I. said. It put camera images of the alterations on one view screen, and a 3D schematic with a series of changing numbers. Orientation checked out, as did power readings and load tolerances. Automatic aiming was suboptimal, indicating that manual controls would be best.

Panels opened in upper and lower left arm. Those appendages had a long unusual curve, and the cleverly designed doors exposed a continuous and jointed grove, round in cross-section. That surface was covered with glistening material that would bring up mental images of the inside of a Thermos bottle. Green lights bordered the groove. Those huge LEDs lit in quick succession on both sides of the guide.

"This is going to feel like I'm in 'Tron: Legacy','" Miyamoto said, smiling. "In the Sam Flynn versus Rinzler fight." He put his hands behind his head and stretched until he felt his back and neck loosen. "I will be Rinzler, of course."

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So, that's 'The Battle, first installment.' Sorry, but there is a lot more to come. We've switched from Fumoffu to the heavy stuff, after all.