Author's Preface
Eve led the team toward the arena floor. The Russians were already there. Six of them towered over the entire team. Even Chris had to look up to meet their eyes.
Darrien leaned toward Blue. "These guys definitely ate all their Wheaties as kids."
"Well, folks, Team USA Columbus is on the stage and ready to go."
"I'm afraid being ready may not be enough here, Michael."
"If the Americans somehow pull this off, and I want to be clear, I'm not predicting that, the resource allocation alone would make insulting the Russian motherland well worth it."
"Indeed. It looks as if both teams are set. The crowd has gone quiet with anticipation."
Bob's voice dropped slightly. "Get your popcorn ready, folks. Ranked two Russia versus the dark horse from Columbus. It starts now."
On the arena floor, both teams shook hands and moved to their sides. The crowd noise kept climbing as the barrier formed overhead.
Eve looked at the team. "Keep calm. Treat this like a dungeon we've done a thousand times."
Titus raised his hand. "FIGHT!"
The Russians moved first. Same wedge formation they'd used against the Koreans. Five massive bodies accelerated together while their marksman dropped into position behind them and started firing.
Darrien opened his mouth. "Unless you can curve them, these arrows ain't sh..."
An arrow suddenly twisted midair and slammed directly into his shoulder. The Russian marksman smiled.
"Son of a bitch!" Darrien yelled.
Chris stepped in front of him. "Pay attention."
Cynthia conjured a metal wall as the Russians closed the distance. Eve wrapped vines around it immediately to reinforce it. The Russians hit it at full force and staggered. They looked up just in time to see dozens of ice lances hanging above them. They came crashing down like spears from the heavens. Cynthia released the wall at the exact same moment. Chris rushed forward and activated his taunt.
Nothing. The Russians didn't even flinch. Darrien moved in fast, his daggers finding gaps in their formation, then stopping. The blades skipped off their armor like they'd hit stone.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
Darrien turned slightly, finally realizing his attacks weren't doing anything. He started to fall back and reassess, then suddenly stopped moving entirely. Not by choice. Boris had snatched him by the throat. Boris had crossed the distance without Darrien noticing. He picked him up, looked at him once, squeezed, and threw him out of the arena. A flash of light appeared outside the barrier as Darrien's bracelet activated. He reappeared on the bench outside.
"The first casualty goes to the Americans, Bob."
"It's not looking good for Columbus, Michael. The Russians have the upper hand across the board."
"Let's see if the Americans have anything up their sleeve to deal with this, because right now, they need something."
"Reset!" Eve's voice cut through the noise.
The team pulled back. Samantha was already moving, wind gathering around her hands, fire feeding into it, the tornado building tight and fast the way Arthur had drilled into her. The Russian berserker watched it form. Then leaped. He cleared Chris completely, came down through the center of the tornado without slowing, and was past Samantha before anyone could call out a warning. She saw the blade for half a second. Then she was sitting next to Darrien on the bench outside the barrier, stunned.
Darrien looked at her. "Well, the motherland strikes again."
Cynthia glanced back toward the stands. Samantha and Darrien sat on the bench watching. Behind them, Terrance stood with his arms crossed. He caught her eye and mouthed something. Cynthia turned back to the arena and smiled. She picked up her bag and threw it on the ground. Fifteen hundred pounds of steel came pouring out. The Russians fell back. Even Eve and the team took a step away from it as metal fragments flew in every direction, filling the space, the noise drowning out the crowd. Then Cynthia went still. The pieces slowed. Bent. Welded together midair, joint by joint, panel by panel, moving with the precision of something that knew exactly what it was becoming. The crowd had gone completely quiet by the time the last piece locked into place. A shape stood in the center of the arena.
"Bob...What the hell is that?"
"I'm not sure, Michael. But it appears Columbus had more surprises than just the question marks."
"Well, folks, Team Columbus has constructed what I can only describe as a miniature Gundam."
Darrien stood up from the bench and started laughing.
Samantha stood beside him. "Kick the shit out of the motherland, Cynthia!"
Darrien snapped his head toward her. She was already looking at him. She raised her hand. He stared at her for a full second. Then slapped it.
In the arena, the Russians rushed. The marksman fired, but his arrows bounced off the plating without leaving marks. The four tanks hit the machine from different angles, slowing it down without stopping it. Cynthia stood twenty feet back, still, arms loose at her sides, her eyes tracking every movement as the machine responded. The berserker changed his approach. He climbed, scaling the machine's side faster than anyone expected, and reached its shoulders. He wound up to swing at the head. A turret formed where there hadn't been one a second ago. It fired, sending the berserker flying into the marksman. The marksman flew out of the arena while the berserker barely managed to hold on. Boris barked something in Russian. The remaining tanks converged on one leg simultaneously. They lifted. The machine tilted. Then the leg tore free, and they launched it directly at Eve and the team. Chris got in front of it and took most of the impact. The force still scattered everyone. Cynthia had no cover. She went flying out of the arena. Her bracelet activated before she hit the barrier. The machine collapsed the moment she left the arena floor, fifteen hundred pounds of steel dropping all at once.
"Bob, Columbus just lost their third member."
"The machine is down, Michael. Without its operator, it fell apart immediately."
"But Russia has lost their marksman, and that berserker took a hell of a hit. This fight just got very interesting."
Chris, Eve and Blue stood facing four tanks and an injured berserker.
Eve combined Cindyr and Virelen. Massive balls of molten earth formed and launched toward the tanks simultaneously. As they left her hands, she glanced at Blue and nodded once. He knew. The Russians braced for impact. Blue was already moving toward the berserker. His qi flared. One motion. Clean. The berserker was sent flying out of the arena. His bracelet activated, and he disappeared in a flash of light. Blue looked back. The Russians had split. Three were going straight for Eve. Nomi and Chris were holding them, but barely. The fourth stayed back.
Boris. Blue turned toward him.
Boris laughed. "Silly tiny American. Give up. This is what you get for insulting Russia."
Blue laughed back. He let Boris come. Used his weight. Redirected the momentum, kicked his leg out, and threw him. Then Blue took off toward Chris and Eve without looking back. Blue was almost there when something closed around him from behind.
Boris. Both massive arms locked around Blue's chest. A bear hug that had nowhere to go but tighter. He hurled Blue across the arena. Blue drove his jian into the floor mid-slide. The blade caught, and he came to a stop inches from the edge. He stood. Boris was already across the arena. He slammed into Eve at full speed and launched her into the barrier.
"EVE!"
Chris turned just in time to see her bracelet activate. She was gone. The four tanks converged on Chris immediately. They took him to the ground, pinned him, and started working. Not enough to trigger the bracelet. Just enough to hurt. Methodical. Patient. Blue stood at the edge of the arena watching.
Chris's voice came from under the pile. "FUCKING DO IT!"
Boris looked at Blue across the arena. He picked Chris up by the collar and threw him.
"Yes." He was smiling. "Tiny American. Do it."
His teammates laughed behind him. Chris hit the floor near Blue and didn't get up immediately. Blue reached down and pulled him to his feet. Chris steadied himself. He looked at Blue for a moment, then put a hand on his shoulder.
"Show them."
He stepped off the arena floor. His bracelet activated.
Blue turned around. He was alone.
"Blue is alone on the arena floor, Bob."
"Yes, Michael. One American against Boris and three Russian tanks."
"...I don't know what to say."
"Seems this match is all but over, folks. Russia will remain ranked sec..."
"I would hold that thought, Bob."