Iggy pulled up out of the debris field, jamming the button assigned to his electromagnetic armor and absorbing a stray beam shot. It was no force shield, but once you got the timing down it was more or less the closest thing. He observed the field; it looked as if the contestants had quickly thinned out, the Mocks reduced to a handful of heavily-damaged units on both sides. He half-listened to the field's radio chatter, picking up a number of scrambled transmissions from some overconfident rube who hated Denmark for some reason. Apparently they had decided to talk trash without first switching off their suit's active defenses. True, that showed they were cautious, but it also defeated the whole point of trash-talk.

He skimmed the arena boundaries, wondering whether it was time to drop an OPTION bit and get to picking off the crippled units when a familiar unit caught his eye. Silver with red highlights, a hooked nose, a pair of what appeared to be pontoons coming off of the sleek primary body. He switched on his mic, able to guess the pilot's callsign well enough.

"Silver Hawk Beta, this is Salamander, do you copy?"
A brief, tense pause, followed by the brief crackle of an opening channel and a girl's voice.
"I read you, Salamander. How long's it been since our last go?"

Lutia Feen. Callsign: Silver Hawk Beta. Youngest member of Team Darius, alongside the equally skilled Sameluck Raida and Riga Practica. World-class pilot. A hell of a woman.

"Half a year at the least. Where's your team?"
"Running sims, I'd guess. I see you finally took Raida up on that offer."
"Man cannot survive on flight sims alone, y'know. Though I wish his recommendation had reached somewhere a little more... you know."
"Gotta start small, flyboy.", a trio of bits dropped from the ship's underbelly and began to orbit it, "Care to tango?"
"I thought you'd never ask."

The pair shot off into the darkness, guns blazing.