IMIT-8's Story

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Lucy stretched her ankles, rotating them slowly as she prepped herself for the run that would take place. She'd warmed up with some light jogging beforehand but here would separate the good racers and the great ones. Unlike most racers Lucy took pride in her personal fitness more than that of her machine, keeping light as light on her feet as her vehicle did on its wheels. Granted, she didn't train with anyone else around (she disliked the "other people" aspect of the gym) but because Apollo reserved certain areas only for his team she had to make due with what was given. That meant taking on the role of the cocky bitch who allegedly outraced the vehicles of others even if it wasn't true. One could call her speed inhuman sure, but she relied on her rust bucket like everyone else.

After the run she showered and went back to the racer's garage, deciding to tune up her vehicle. She heard whispers of other gladiators: half on the astonishment that she dare showed her arms and half on the upcoming competition. Indeed, she would be against Apollo's best and that meant she needed to live up to the hype that everyone created around the ever mysterious "Lightning Lucy." She hated the cheesy nickname and would have liked sticking with simply "Lucille" but supposed that it didn't roll off the tongue the same way. The fans wanted something recognizable yet enigmatic. That's why some still followed her. They wanted the chance to see her face.

Only one person in the arena had ever seen her face and currently he was ringing for her.

The White Knight.

She arrived in a split second, meeting his gaze with her visor. As usual, he rambled not about the important things but about the team and how important it was for her to be one with the team, trust them, all sorts of bullshit she'd learned in sports. While the words were nothing more than platitudes the concern was not without merit. Lucy knew as well as the others how selfish she could be so the speech acted as extra insurance (not that he needed any).

"You that I am a woman of principle," she replied, expression unreadable, "so long as I'm still handing reparations I have no reason to breed doubt."

She locked her vehicle and entered the gym, turning to her team's leader.

"I could even teach that rookie a thing or two given enough time."

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The White Knight

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"You know that I am a woman of principle, so long as I'm still handing reparations I have no reason to breed doubt."

Kadir rose his eyebrow as he looked over to Lucy with a toothless smile, "Oh? I guess some people never change." Payments, that was how Lucy dealt with things, and Kadir knew it. Too bad, that all winnings go to him first, he was team captain, of course. But if a victor did win on his side, he would give them their reward, and he gets his own separate payment for being leader, but it was a small amount to dwell on, but enough for him to spend fueling his secret drug addiction.

"I could even teach that rookie a thing or two given enough time."

Kadir sighed entering the gym with Lucy, "I just hope I'm not leading her to her death..." Kadir got extremely quiet for a minute, he was reflecting on his past, his mistake with Adelina, something he could never forgive himself for, a memory his mind could never erase. Yes, it was the reason why he concluded to drugs, not that has yet punctured the injection through his neck to numb all attachment to his hippocampus region of his brain, thus he could sleep and spare the nightmares that paints itself vividly in the night. "But now, is not the time to look upon the depressive. Today is a new day, a new movement, and I will put an end to Apollo's bloody-thirsty appetite."

The Colosseum at first was seen as a stadium, a playing field for the sport of dueling. And though Cataclysm did not see it, the White Knight does, the Colosseum, its nothing but a slaughterhouse. The public draws to be no audience for non-lethal battle, reason why such rounds are rare and almost extinct. Duels without the blood and death only now happen once in a life time.

"However, now you could meet my bot battler." Kadir was a friendly man, he had a warm spirit amongst him, however those who are cold-bloodied have more of a disconnection, and even dislike towards the man for so. Kadir is good-natured, some call him hero, though the title for himself, is a hard pill to sallow. A hero doesn't kill his daughter, and though it was not Kadir in the mech that crushed her body, it sure felt that way for him, heart heavy with burdens that he believed he could never break from his spirit. "I have not spoken to him much yet, I was working with the rookie. He's a robot, actually, an IMIT, unit eight."

Kadir walked with Lucy, leading her to a rest room in the gym where he spotted the machine, "Hello Eight," greeted the bot politely. "This is Lighti--" Kadir stopped himself, remembering Lucy's distaste in her cheesy title. "I mean, Lucy. This is Lucy."

Small, dull lenses lowered themselves over the frail ocular sensors of the machine as the phased plasma flame ignited from the welder, superheated gas rushing through tubes hidden under the machine's metal skin to shriek out and weld together a tungsten plate and the composite armour beneath.

Eight was busy refurbishing the behemoth that stood parked in the White Knight garage.

He had discovered the old Ion-class war mech in a scrapyard nary two weeks ago; it had been a bullet-riddled, defunct piece of scrap. The last war major enough to involve Ion-classes was over three decades ago, in the United Scandinavian Federation's brief yet horrific skirmish with the Arctic States, and many Ion-classes were decommissioned on those icy battlefields. Eight had gotten his manipulator hands on one of them, and with a bit of funding from sponsors and all the technical knowledge, he had steadily worked at improving it and putting it back in actionable condition.

Now, the Ion-class, which Eight was considering names for, was in just about enough condition to walk, but nowhere near close to combat capable.

Luckily, the NCRS spray was tending to that, and now the little nanobots were very slowly replicating on the molecular scale the first piece of the cockpit and the interior: the control panel.

Eight finished reattaching the metal plate, rising from his crouched position as the automatic welding lenses flipped up again to leave a clear view. He briefly admired his work, the slow and invisible work of the NCRS gel casting a faint blue glow on his face, and he hopped down from his position onto the hangar floor.

It was then that he was suddenly aware of an extra two presences in the room. One was a somewhat nondescript woman (Eight remembered her as the racer of the team; or did he just believe he remembered because it was being said now?) and the other was the "boss."

The White Knight. A commendable figure, surely, but Eight did not concern himself too much with his motives. His objective was parallel to Eight's; he was simply the one Eight was attached to. Nothing more, nothing less.

And while Eight hadn't been overly social yet, it seems the Knight was trying to change this.

"My greetings," Eight offered with a slight wave of his right arm. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Lucy. While our trades of choice may be quite different, what with your, ah... finesseful speed and my usage of maximum force forward, I am looking forward to a good working relationship." Part of the base programming of all the IMIT units was relatability; a robot was far more trustworthy if it spoke like a human, even if there was only cold silicon logic beneath.

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Lucy smiled, malicious satisfaction and smugness-free as she met the White Knight's eyes with her own (although she doubted he could tell).

"Her choice to enter the arena was her own," she replied noting the sudden quiet in his voice, "she's not like Apollo's lapdogs."

She understood the intent behind White Knight's worries but she felt that the White Knight's anger toward Adelina's death was being misplaced. Gladiatorial arenas were made for death matches because that was the only time when humans were truly pushed to their limits. Nothing else kicked in the survival instinct. Racers certainly didn't face the same sort of fear, but the penalty was all the same. The only difference was that they used vehicles to carry out their will rather than their bodies. The same was true for Bot Battlers, although Racers needed to be more cunning with their fight. It wasn't as simple as clashing head to head, they also had to clock in laps, vehicle damage, and time. If they were too slow they could be killed. If they were too concentrated on survival or fighting they would fall behind.

When they arrived at the hanger she raised an eyebrow at the strange device, rather robot, who stood in front of them. From his singular eye (or perhaps it was one big eye with two small ones?) he acted very rigid as if he was trying to read her for a reaction. Certainly she expected something like this from White Knight if only because that was how things usually went with a ragtag group. He must have been a fighting unit of some sort because his plating wasn't fragile plastic like consumer robots or silicone like companion which meant he was either for factory or combat.

"My greetings, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Lucy. While our trades of choice may be quite different, what with your, ah... finesseful speed and my usage of maximum force forward, I am looking forward to a good working relationship."

Lucy raised a brow. So he spoke. She'd heard of robots being modified for basic speech functions but most of the time fighters only spoke with expletives or trash talk. This robot's AI was much more...advanced than she expected even if his diction felt awkward.

"The word you're looking for is alacrity," she answered as she took his hand, "but it's a pleasure to meet you too."

Eight's optics twitched with readjustment. With his initial programming had come detection of speech patterns; this woman was displaying hints of surprise, if deeply buried.

The speech-pattern analysis, along with his other noncombatant functions, had decayed somewhat lately. Even though Dr. Renarke's stripping of Eight's plastic plating and replacement with metal was a physical transformation, it felt like rebirth; a destiny into darkness. Eight was no longer to be a friend to someone of deteriorating mental state, but to be a destroyer of men and machine alike.

Much like the Ion, he was reborn for a different purpose.

Phoenix. Phoenix, Eight decided, would be the Ion unit's new name.

He snapped back to reality.

"I suppose we shall have to borrow supplies at times," Eight said to Lucille, injecting small hints of humorous intonation into his voice. "You are in the nearby hangar, yes?"

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At that point Palmer came back in with another comment defending himself, but it didn't stop Damian from catching Phoenix's comment about bot battles. Not everyone respected bot battles or the races due to the fact that they were performed by machine, but he strongly disagreed. How was it different than two brutes beating each other with stones? They all had the same goal, but simply different objectives. If they knew how much his body needed to train and endure, to actually use his augments in combat they might be more understanding but likely still pricks. Bot battling didn't consist of lowly button mashers. They suited up for the sake of pushing beyond human limits.

"Brave you may be, but you don't seem to know anything about my craft nor my circumstances," he sighed as his third arm reached to help him rub a temple, "but we aren't here to talk about me. We're here because we're all part of the same team."

"Bitching and tossing around insults isn't going to get you any friends and despite what you may think, trying to put us down doesn't make you any better. You step into the arena alone. Its all you and nothing to do with us. Heck, its better to have people on your side."

No matter what Phoenix wasn't up to talking, even if to pretend that she enjoyed the company of others and he wasn't going to make her talk. Palmer, at least, agreed with him about having a good team environment. His expression remained unchanged, but he retracted his arm.

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At this robot had a sense of humor. She hadn't expected him to be human in his speech but the creativity (so to speak) in forming new words meant that he had some form of adaptability. He would do well on the battlefield, even if his opponent was human on the inside.

"Always am," she answered, "we don't have a fancy hanger here like Apollo's crew but I've managed pretty well. I even retooled my old motorbike to the racer cycle I have now."

She picked up a wrench before turning to The White Knight.

"So where are the others?" she asked, "are two gladiators still training or wee you planning on having only me and the robot meet?"

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The White Knight

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"Y-yeah... Sure... I will keep that in mind."

"Maybe it will make sense to you one day," Kadir responded. "But for now, I'm going to get some ice-cream. Wish you best of luck, well actually I don't believe in luck. Um, but I know you are going to make me proud."

The day of the match arrived Kadir was in an elevator with Lelah, he was going to walk her there to the room before the actually arena, his face was clearly wounded with the attacked he ordered for himself. Kadir had a point, in order to show her the brutalities of fighting in cold blood, he used himself as the target. But there was lie Kadir also had did it to punish himself, he felt like he deserved it, however he was not willing to let Lelah know that ugly truth.

When Kadir and Lelah arrived to the room, Kadir, put a hand on her shoulder, "You're going to do great out there." He had hoped, but it was not only hope, he believed, he trusted Lelah, and knew that he trained her as well as he could, for Kadir would never wish failure for her, because that would result in her death. Kadir has no idea what he would do then if he was responsible for Lelah's death. "See you on flipside, Lelah." Kadir then had to leave and be escorted out to a reserved section in audience with his team the same was for Apollo's team, well, they had nicer seats a VIP box.

Kadir was sitting next to Eight and Lucy, but he didn't say anything, not for a while because he was nervous and it was extremely obvious of that. But he figured if he would say something then maybe he could lighten up his mood, "So... You guys excited to see Lelah win?" He tried his best to speak optimistically, but the truth was that the sooner the actually match started, the sooner he feared for Lelah's life.

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As Beatrix was panicking she heard Rook say, "Why wouldn't we be here? What kind of people would we be if we just left you there. We're teammates after all." Teammates that was hard for Beatrix to process, especially against a hospitable bed with the potential of being crippled. If she was healthy, in her natural habitat, Beatrix would automatically disagree, but she wasn't. Instead, it seemed when Ericka had broken Beatrix's spine, so did the walls that surrounded her closed mind had been shattered. She turned her head from looking down at her legs, to Rook. "T-teammates?" she questioned the word, as if she had no definition to the word, it seemed unrecognizable to her, but above that confusing, also. Beatrix also did not understand what he meant by we, that word is plural, was he talking about him and Damian, or him and the rest of the team, because Beatrix could not find either answer believable.

"What do you--" And as Beatrix was going to ask him what he meant, she was interrupted with the door opening. First came in the doctor with his tablet in his hands and his googles pressed above his eyes. But then came in none other than Bentley Baldwin, the man's face looked harrowing, the visage of a nightmare. Beatrix always believed her mother married the man for his money, for there was not an ounce of charm in his face. But it was not only his face that gave him the appearance of creature so sinister, it was the way he carried himself. For as he would click his heeled leathery shoes he when walking carried a cane, and it was not used just for walking. He was an immensely tall man, slender also, like a walking skeleton, Beatrix has considered that she could beat him if he was on his own, but Bentley never went without his top of the class fighter bots.

"Gentlemen...," Bentley spoke with an eerie tone, one Beatrix was so familiar with, anyone would be, he had such a distinct voice. "Please, you must excuse us, me and Beatrix need a little chat." From then Damian and Rook was kicked out from the room, Beatrix left to endure her step-father. As soon as the two men left Bentley clicked his tongue signally for one his bots to execute his commands. The robot put two firm grasps onto Beatrix's shoulder, jerking her out of the bed and hoisting her up, lifted off the ground, bounded body to face Bentley.

"Funny you had friends, what did you somehow pay them to accompany you, believing that with their presence you could avoid mine? Or are they making you think they actually care about you? Because if that's the case, I'll sign you with some mental health therapy, and don't worry, I can be the one operating the sessions." Bentley turned away from Beatrix. "But do you know what I find not quite as hilarious, you know, it doesn't quite tickle my funny bone. Maybe the humor's just not my cup of tea or maybe--" And right at that moment Bentley whipped around with the metal ball against his cane rammed against Beatrix's jaw, busting a tooth out, she coughed with blood sinking out. "You're making me look like the clown! I will not be seen as the fool! And whether you like it or not, you represent everything I have invested in. And I will not let you throw it all away!" Bentley would continue to lose himself in striking Beatrix against the face if the scars and sores would not remain afterwards. He knew he should have not struck her to the lip already, would not want to let the public know what he does to her, no Bentley wanted to be seen differently than from the slavers, though he practically was one himself.

"And you know Beatrix another thing that pisses me off. Do you know how unique it is for you, a blind woman, to never bear cybernetics for any injury or disability. But now with your crippled legs, I have no choice but to fix that. Soon enough Lily will take your spot, perhaps she will not prove to be quite the bloody dunce as you are."

Beatrix has been quiet the entire time, fearing anymore pain and torment to come, but with mention Lily, Beatrix had to speak, "B-But that's not the deal," she said with worry. "As long as I fight, and she doesn't have to."

"Oh, that was the plan, but guess what-- plan's changed," Bentley responded. "Her training starts tomorrow, because if you die, I need another gladiator to be cushion so I don't fall into bankruptcy. Speaking of your death, some might find it a miracle that the Godhand didn't kill you, but in reality, she screwed you harder than any other opponent faced. You know why?" Bentley started to walk off, but paused. And before he said anything the doctor wrapped a muzzle around her mouth to muffle the screams to come. "Because of this." And with that the bot holding Beatrix elevated her body so that the broken bones in the spine would align and finally the robot snapped it back in place with Beatrix feeling it all, and as soon as that happened the bot dropped her.

Beatrix screamed madly, crying with the electrifying pain stitched to her spine, and it was at these moments that Beatrix twisted into bitterness of despair.

[POST HORRIBLY BROKEN, IGNORE]

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The short conversation that transpired nearly tugged the humanity out of Damian, nearly. She revealed to him and Rook that she couldn't feel her legs anymore which reminded him of his own plight but he wouldn't show it. They were still on Apollo's territory which meant that every interaction, whether it was on or off the arena, was a battle. It was a pity that she'd been so reckless. She was already at a disadvantage due to her blindness; her inability to use her legs would only make things worse. He had a feeling that she would refuse any sort of cybernetic armaments due to her own pride, but Apollo wouldn't be so principled.

"Why wouldn't we be here? What kind of people would we be if we just left you there. We're teammates after all."

Ah yes, that was right. They were teammates so Palmer (rookie that he was) felt it necessary to stick around. Damian wanted to open his mouth to say something else, but the arrival of Bently Baldwin meant he needed to quiet. Much as Damian cringed at the sight of the man, Baldwin's sphere of influence outweighed his own so defiance would only get him killed. He decided instead to slip out of the room and go back to his personal garage where he would work for the rest of the day.

Some time later he entered the gym, his limbs refreshed and ready for some training.

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The training that she performed for the next few hours was nothing compared to what Lelah Piaget went through, or at least that's what she assumed going into the elevator. It was clear that neither woman enjoyed the presence of the other, but they both enjoyed winning. She honestly wasn't sure what Lelah's deal was (presumably "the stars" or something equally stupid) but Lucy knew that she wasn't the most socially adept.

Her agent booked her for three online interviews and a television spot, but she cancelled two of the voice calls and only barely dressed for the live interview. It was meant to hype up the match and "unravel" some of the mystery behind the enigmatic "Lightning Lucy", but with her mixture of curt replies and interviewer's lack of experience dead air filled the stage. At best she attempted to expand on her feelings regarding her opponents but they decided to cut the show short.

Fine by me. It's more time to train.

On the day of the match, she stood silent and emotionless with only her boomerang to keep her company. While the Knight's team stood beside her she didn't feel much in the way of camaraderie so she merely gave a shrug when Kadir attempted conversation.

"I've got five hundred dollars riding on our team since I know we'll win," she smirked.

What she left out was that she also had five hundred on Lelah losing the first match.

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The White Knight

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"I've got five hundred dollars riding on our team since I know we'll win," he heard Lucy say to which Kadir responded, “Yeah, I’ve laid my bets down also, one thousand on Lelah.” It was go big or go home for Kadir, well and also because he needed something to pay for his drugs. Luckily that has been kept a secret so far. However he has always feared the first person to discover his dark secret with Lucy, he believes she has associated with the smuggling business.

But even if she did find out Kadir hoped that she would never tell anyone or worse making money off of it by selling the secret. Though it sad to say that Kadir did not entirely trust her, because he knew there was one thing that Lucy loved and it was money.

However right now, he was not extremely worried about his drug use being discovered, but rather that Lelah will win the match, and though Kadir did not know Lelah’s opponent, he knew enough to say that the kid was on Apollo’s team. Thus her defeat would result in death, and that was one thing Kadir did not believe he had the mental ability to bear again.

Kadir turned to his robotic teammate, “What about you Eight, how do you think Lelah is going to do? What do you estimate?”

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It was an earlier morning when Beatrix rode out on her wheelchair, which was quite degrading for her. A wheelchair, she felt like some kind of handicap, a weakling to be even harsher. But the reason why she went out at such an earlier hour, was so that no one would spot her looking so pathetically. But she was still going to force herself to fight, hoping that she could proof to Bentley that she was able to still duel, and perhaps he would back off of Lily.

Beatrix arrived to the gym, luckily no one was there. Well, not until she heard footsteps to where she scrambled as far as she could to the back of the gym into a room used for yoga exercises and stretching practices. By the sound of the footsteps she could tell it was someone with cybernetics, and she already knew it had to be because Rook was competing in his match, and he was the only one with no augmentations. But by listening even more she could tell it was Ericka, how could she forget the sound of her due to the encounter the day before?

But as far as Beatrix knew, she was going to stay far away from Ericka as possible. It would be a lie if Beatrix said she did not have any thread of fear from Ericka. But some fear was good, it kept her from doing something stupid again. Beatrix figured she needed to start practicing to walk. She felt like toddler learning its first step, but she was a grown woman, so it felt even more embarrassing. Beatrix stepped out from her wheelchair with one foot, and then the other. She tried her best keeping her balance, but it felt so unnatural to her. She was doing okay until she heard another enter the gym from a distance to where she collapsed in surprised.

It was another with cybernetics, thus she assumed it was Damian. Beatrix then discovered that neither of them went to watch Rook fight, so much for team. But Beatrix did not hate Rook, so that was a good thing, but she did even find a delight in him, which was quite rare. However it was because he cared about her though she insulted him matters before. So if she was well, Beatrix would have gone to watch. But now, she could not even carry herself off from the ground, she struggled to pull herself up, but could not. If only she could stand.