Chapter 8 #2
It hits me. I saw the arena the other day, but now I’m going to fight. I’m here. Hundreds of people watch from the spectator stands, and millions of people will watch this fight in a few days when it airs. Watching me. Fighting Jacob.
I gulp down my impending panic and focus on moving the robot’s dolly forward.
“This rookie team, captained by Joel Jaxon of Jaxon Electronics, is here to tape over the competition and be the only thing you watch,” the announcer, Dex, tells the crowd.
“Driven by Mari Williams, a skilled driver in the beetleweight, featherweight, and hobbyweight combat robotics circuits; she’s known for her risky moves, but will that translate to the big leagues? ”
A wave of nausea hits me as the comment lands. I need this to go well.
“And in the blue corner, faster than a lightning strike, it’s reigning champion Kilowatt!” says the other announcer, Mark.
Jacob and his team enter to cheers so loud my ears hurt. He’s all smiles and waves. His team wears matching T-shirts, but they’re simple, with TEAM KILOWATT on the front and rows and rows of sponsors on the back. Every single person on the team, one of the largest here, looks overjoyed.
“Mari and Jacob are both from the Twin Cities, Minneapolis and Saint Paul, and have been fighting each other for years! Wild business to see two teams from the same place here in the championships. We’ve only had that once before,” Dex notes.
“That’s right, Dex. My sources tell me these two have a history of explosive matches in the ring. Rumors say they even have a highly contested regional fight that went all the way to the governing board.”
“Ooooh,” Mark says in a way I know is accompanied by a dramatic brow wag, even though I can’t see it. “Juicy.”
My whole body lights up with heated shame and anger. No, no, they do not need to bring that up. It’s over. It’s decided. It’s bad enough that people at home still bring it up. I don’t need the whole fucking world bringing it up too. I’m going to be sick.
Dex continues. “They’re evenly tied at home. Who do you think will come out ahead here, Mark?”
“Now, now. You know we can’t pick favorites, but let’s just say there’s a reason Kilowatt is a three-time champion.”
I’m both surprised and relieved they don’t mention his other two championship wins under other teams.
While our teams get our robots into the ring, I stare at the pink corner where I’ll be starting in a minute.
No matter what happens, I get $10,000 as long as we make it through the qualifiers.
I’m here. I’m at Circuit Smack. That alone is my dream.
I’m achieving my dream, and I’m going to help my family.
And there’s still a chance we could advance.
This is one fight. Just a single fight. There are three more in the qualifiers.
I don’t have to even win all of them; I only need enough points to advance.
A fluttering silence suffuses the arena as Jacob and I move our bots to opposite corners.
I try to will my body into holding itself steady as I focus on the bot, but even as I drive across the arena, I’m tilting on my feet.
Standing in a body that has trouble holding itself together is like standing on a bus doing a sharp turn.
You have to focus on keeping yourself upright, actively, all the time, not just for a few seconds.
When my attention is solely on something else, that becomes infinitely harder.
I plant my feet wider and pray that I can keep focus without falling on my ass.
A robotic voice counts down as laser lights bounce dramatically over the arena. “THREE ... TWO ... ONE ... FIGHT.”
Kilowatt shoots out of the blue corner faster than my multitasking brain can comprehend and rams Zeta hard, knocking us back into the side of the arena.
People are yelling around me as I power up the weapon and gun it forward.
I rock forward with the bot, nearly stumbling before a hand on my shoulder steadies me.
Outside of the arena, three minutes is nothing. I barely notice it passing. In the arena, each second is like an hour. A million tiny decisions and calculations need to be made in that second, and it repeats up to 180 times until the clock runs out or until someone gets knocked out.
I give chase to the other robot. While he’s much faster, I might be able to head him off on a turn and take out one of his wheels.
Jacob, ever one for redundancies, can still drive while missing several, but that doesn’t mean it won’t slow him down.
If I can slow him down, maybe we’ll have a chance.
I know we’ve lost our chance when Kilowatt swings around us.
I beg our turn radius to be magically smaller than it was this morning, but alas, it is not.
A hit from his weapon sends us flying into the air, and I can see the deep gouge across Zeta’s body.
We’ve barely made it back to the ground when Kilowatt hits us again, ripping open the robot further.
Acrid smoke wafts out of the ragged canyon where our back panel used to be.
“Battery fire,” someone behind me murmurs as the crowd erupts with gasps and cheers.
Shrapnel must have punctured our battery.
The glow of flames leaks through the hole and the wheel wells.
Dramatic fires are always fun for the audience, but day-ruining for us.
Especially when we don’t have many extra sets of batteries.
While most bots can keep running for a little while, a battery fire is terminal.
“TAP OUT!” a robotic voice announces as lights flash around us. Joel is glowering with his hand on the giant tap-out button as crews in fire masks enter with extinguishers to gather the corpse of our bot.
“Kilowatt takes the win in a short and spicy battle!” the announcer blares.
I barely got to drive. All I did was run.
So much for “risky moves” and “skilled driving.” I was trying not to die in the first thirty seconds.
I made it an entire minute and seven seconds, less than half of a full battle.
And against Jacob, of all people. I sag against the side of the box until our robot is retrieved.
We line up to shake hands with the other team.
Jacob waits for me at the end of the row.
We might as well be in an empty room for the way his focus settles on me when he shakes my hand.
His own hand is warm, so big and comforting wrapped around mine, even if it’s purely business-like.
I can’t believe there was a time when I welcomed his touch.
It’s traitorous to want it again. He doesn’t smile at me.
Only studies me like he’s looking at an error report.
I slip my hand from his and slink away, tail between my legs.
“What the fuck was that driving, Maris!” Joel yells the second we’re off the arena floor. “You were so slow!”
“The motors aren't strong enough,” Sonny says beside me.
“She told you she needs a stool to focus,” Fatimah chimes in. It must have been her hand on my shoulder.
“Kilowatt is the fastest bot around,” Chris interjects. “It’s not Mari’s fault.”
My cheeks burn with frustration. “It’s the first fight. It happens. And they’re all right.”
“Oh, come on, Marni,” Travis rolls his eyes.
“It’s Mari,” Fatimah, Sonny, and Chris say in unison.
Travis sneers. “She’s a sore loser. Isn’t that what that contested fight was all about? You lost, and you couldn’t handle it.”
I blanch. Sonny’s eyebrows raise. Chris’s head tilts in confusion. The sympathy in Fatimah’s eyes makes me want to jump in front of a moving robot.
Exhaustion and consequences be damned, I’m going to punch Travis. “You know what, you little—”
“Enough!” Joel yells. “Get my robot fixed. We have another fight in two days. And if we don’t fix the horizontal weapon, we won’t even get to fight in that. Mari, I can find another driver if you can’t do better.”
This is all going great. I sigh, the wind taken out of my sails. “Alright, let’s get to work.”