Gabatrix: Force and Vehemence

Chapter 12: When Slicing and Dicing is Needed

The entry to the arena precinct was majestic in size. The massive blast doors opened up as Bransen walked out. The overhead lights made his green armor shimmer. His talon feet pressed into the soil past the hardened floor of the open door. It was here that Girsha'lar, Nir'vina, and Doctor Abril stopped. They couldn't proceed any further.

"Don't push yourself," Abril told Bransen. "Remember that nothing else matters except your head."

"Remember your weapon," Girsha'lar said. "You choose well. Just remember what I told you in how you use it."

"Focus on the weaknesses," Nir'vina added. "Even the Alara'jal can be taken down in battle."

Bransen turned around as he watched the heavy doors slowly close. He quietly nodded his head. His biomech body responded perfectly to his actions as he waved his hand at them. There was so much that he wanted to say to them, but everything was so different now. He felt a driven purpose. It was something that was telling him that he wanted to win. One more victory, the last victory. It was all that mattered now.

He continued to look at himself. It was as if he possessed another body. His sharp talons flexed as he looked at it. The metal feathers shimmered from the overhead lights. He knew that Girsha'lar was correct. However, all the choices of each biomech came down to his preferences. He never knew the concept of guns, shields, and cannons. He was a cook, first and foremost. If it was one thing that any chef would ever work with was how to properly use a blade.

He reached behind him. His armored hand grabbed onto the hilt. With a simple yank, the giant sword came off his armor as he stopped to look at it. It was amazingly light in design, perfected in war and stealth, and made of the finest composite metals that promise sheer durability and stopping power. The shape of the sword measured near the height of a human. It was similar to a broadsword and a samurai sword mixed into one. The hilt wasn't anything ordinary, either. It was shaped in a way that it offered controls and even a trigger for the pointer finger to rest. A green light emitted as the tip glowed and ran down the center hilt. The blade opened up to reveal a barrel. Inside the hilt was a firing chamber with a limited number of bullets. The Klint didn't just carry a sword. They used gunblades.

Bransen turned to the arena. This was more than just a stage. This was a coliseum. The area was enormous, more extensive than the prior arena stage and the surrounding floor. Dirt and soil lined the entire floor. It was said that vehicular and mech combat could be waged inside of this place, and they weren't lying about it either. The massive circular wall consisted of two layers, one being made of heavy armor plating capable of withstanding light autocannon shells. Another layer was made of transparent alloy so the audience could watch safely behind it. The people that watched were elevated, able to see everything going on beneath them. Among one of the seats was a place for the announcer and the Kop'ak to sit and observe. The roof allowed both artificial and real light to flood into the area. On the other side of Bransen was another closed blast door. The stomping of feet drummed through the entire dirt enclosure.

"Here we are at Precinct 2 on New Atrea," the announcer said. "And here comes Bransen. I tell you, Itrean technology is just amazing, isn't it? One day you're in your body, and the next thing you know it, you're in something else. I've heard of brain transfusions where you can have yourself put into a robot, but the Itreans do this on a regular basis. Bransen will just say no to defeat. He's chosen to use what is called a Klint, a stealth biomech, in order to win against Nata'jaga."

Bransen put his sword back onto his back and slowly walked to the center of the arena floor. Each step that he made felt like he was traversing through some dreamscape. His combat sensors continued to evaluate and highlight imperfections of the environment, showing him unnecessary stats at times. He didn't feel human. He felt like he was transforming. It was both euphoric and terrifying at the same time. However, in each step, he was aware of this. The desire to be back in his human body remained, but he fully understood what the Itreans felt to be inside of these things and why they wouldn't mind having their real bodies back. War was always a nasty concept willing to push people, human or Itrean alike, to put themselves into such death machines.