Thanqol

Aristeia! Building a Champion

Machia leaned forwards. Took a deep breath. Blew on your face - the side of your face, the hair, the rush of air where that sword just passed by.

She is seeing the entire hexadrome now, how everyone moves, how everyone positions. The possibilities and limitations of each body. Her mind overlays it onto reality more completely than a VR simulation. She is not arbitrary when she inflicts two sudden pulls on the reins, lighter than the sword blow but still sharp. "When Khan misses she turns in the saddle and fires her contender in a parthian shot," said Machia. "Body shots. More relevant in a different training scenario. Only testing neck and control today."

A series of sharp, stattico impacts, some softer tugs representing body impacts, occasional sharp pulls left and right from head strikes. She doesn't need to say it for you to recognize being drawn into a combo by Li Ting. The sequence has a rookie's predictability, none of Sammy's creative, improvisational flair, but is delivered with such sleek perfection that you could set your watch to it.

More than once you see Machia's hands twitch on the remote. She wants to stand up. Wants to use the strength in her own hands. Wants to lean over the table and wipe the floor with you herself. But she's not allowed to. Because of the experiment. Because of her injury. Her only way out is through you. Your only way out is through her.

Aristeia! Building a Champion

"Do you know why I'm so fixated on this?" said Titanomachia. It was a sign of how absolute her focus was; so fixated on every twitch of your muscles that all the other words inside her spilled out. The rest of her was slouching, one elbow on the table and supporting her chin, the other hand idly tracing the edge of the remote - an inadvertent illusion making her look casual. "Khan. Odds are you'll at least one of Khan or Musashi. Khan doesn't get a lot of focus, but she's a dedicated scorer assassin. You can't outrun a motorbike. You're going to get hit. She favours this," she absently mimicked a horizontal right-handed sword slash. Your eyes can see that despite the sloth of the gesture she has the timing and aim correct to the instant.

The second she completes the slash, her left hand suddenly slams hard on the remote, throwing your head all the way to the side.

"Neck shot. She likes the style of the opening decapitation strike, even if it'd be more effective to hit the legs," continued Machia, keeping that same pressure on your right - this is your suit locked fully into place, tilting your head into an angle. "Right now she's coming around into an akira slide to observe the damage she did and line up her next shot. The next pass she's going to take an arm."

Those magenta eyes held the future inside them. Every variable. Her own long, equine ears twitched, focused.

"Can you hear her coming?"

Aristeia! Becoming a Champion

There is a very specific way that kangaroos murder dogs.

When a kangaroo is pursued by a dog it retreats into the nearest body of water. When the dog comes in after it, the kangaroo grabs the dog's head and holds it down under the water. It's a brutally simple technique. There's no counterplay from the dog. The terrain renders the entire encounter completely linear.

She can accept as many hits as she needs to. Let you hit her blocking wrists, punch her jaw and kidneys, take impact after impact. Your combo carries you forwards as she cedes yet more ground, sending you both deeper into the water. No matter how much damage your opening assault inflicts it's not enough to knock her out - and then you're waist-deep in water and all your speed is gone. There's no grace in wading, no way to sidestep the grapple. And then you're in a grapple with Maxima, who is larger than stronger than you, and the mechanics of leverage play out in the only way they can. Your head goes under.

She doesn't give any sort of lesson. For one, you're underwater and wouldn't hear it, but she's also not that kind of teacher. The sheer inevitability of the situation speaks for itself. You can feel her tap out the ten-count on the back of your head with one finger before she lifts you up and tosses you onto the shore.

A second later, she throws a towel and a heat pack.

The Three Mountains

The look in their eyes. It wasn't greed, or disbelief, or calculation or any of the other emotions you've gotten so used to when arranging business transactions.

It was pity. They were looking at you like you were a pathetic kitten in a cardboard box.

"You're afraid," they said. "All of this and - you don't even have one person you can trust? You need to go all the way back to childhood to find even one -"

They finished the thought internally. You don't think it was flattering. But hey - that's why you're offering her the big bucks, right?

"Fuck, okay. No need for the hard sell, I need the money. So is there, like, a dress code or is it come as you are?"

Aristeia! Building a Champion

The eyes have settled. You are still in the center of this - this arena. That's what it is, you realize in a moment of clarity. Machia did not book a single table, she booked the entire center of the room. The women in their beautiful dresses are not where they are because of their own decisions; they are props. Placed where they are so that they would all have perfect sight lines through to you, surrounding you with a ring of eyes, transforming this cafe into a stage.

A maid comes and sets the coffee in front of you. It shines, a black so depthless it can only be seen in the shadow. From that void, Machia's reflection watches you - a relaxed and thoughtful curiosity.

The maid sets a cake in front of her too. A dark chocolate base, almost as rich as your coffee, but crowned with cream and set with alternating oranges and lemons. She doesn't touch it. "We're playing by the same rules, you know?" she said. "I don't get my treat unless I earn it either. But I'm not testing my performance at this table, I'm testing my performance back when I had you tied down and was working on you. Past Machia is fighting for your victory so future Machia gets to have this lovely cake."

She set the remote on the table. Flexed her fingers, settled them into place. You could almost feel those fingers settle into place on your reins.

"But present Machia is your enemy," she said brightly. Her hands rolled over the device. Those hands, so much stronger than the electric tug of her reins. "Can you beat her?"

Aristeia! Building a Champion

"Please use your name?" said Titanomachia. She didn't absorb it as a request, she took it as training data. "Oh, I see. That must be irritating you, huh? Working this hard, climbing all this way, qualifying for the regionals - even if barely - and people still don't acknowledge you?" She looked up, at you, biting a knuckle thoughtfully, watching the movement of your eyes even as she opened the door to the cafe for you.

Inside is beautiful. Gold and silver wire, flooding natural lights, flowers and cakes cascading together like rainbows. The women here shine with intricate jewelry patterns and radiant dresses. Maids await in every corner, eyes both downcast and alert, moving quickly to answer desires before they arise. There is already a table laid out for you two, set with cursive handwriting on marbled paper - Titanomachia and Pet.

She slams you down into the table. She'd let you become so used to the idea of her controlling you with the remote, moving your neck, that you've lost track of the basic fact that she is incredibly strong. She twists your arm behind you with one hand and takes your reins and pulls your head back, pinning you down amidst the silverware. She holds your face up against the paper. Every eye is on you.

"You have not earned that pride," she said, placing her knee firmly on your back. "You are weak. You are the weakest person in the tournament. Every player only knows you only insofar as they are hoping that you do not wind up on their team. All the beautiful ladies and diligent handmaidens in this cafe can hide their weakness behind the conventions of polite society. They can call on people to protect them if they are threatened. But you?"

She pushed her weight down harder on your spine. She leaned down to your ear and bit it.

"You are going into the ring," said Titanomachia. "Everyone will see you. Everyone will see you lose. Everyone will see stronger bodies grip," she gripped your neck. "and tear," she tore open the first few buttons of your blouse, revealing your neck. "and break you." She pulled your hair, standing and pulling you back to your feet with her. Her arms wrapped around your waist and suddenly the force was gone. She was holding you gently from behind, head nestling into your back.

"You are going to be humiliated worse than anything you can imagine, and all of these elegant ladies will laugh about it with their handmaidens. None of them are bothering to learn your name because they do not think they will have to remember it for longer than this stolen season, this accident of placement, this tournament you got into because of my mistake. That makes you my shadow, one that is already passing."

The grip tightened. Possessive.

"And I can't stand that," said Machia. "If you are my shadow then I would have you blot out the sun and stars. I will make of you a nightmare that my fall unleashed. I would have everyone speak your name with respect."

She released you. Straightened the silverwear, piece by piece.

"You are not a lady like these ladies. You are an animal, to be used for entertainment in the arena. Animals earn people's respect because they are beautiful and strong. Every child learns to sing of tigers and horses because they are too powerful to ignore. Let go of your illusions. Respect will follow."

She pulled out the chair for you.

"Now, sit."

The Three Mountains

"You know how it is," said Paradisia. "You get picked up by a mega, suddenly everything's an infohazard and they're sending impersonation droids after you before you've signed the paperwork."

They were only half joking. They both knew the kind of work that went into an impersonator android, and knew that the windows of opportunity involved and sums of money at play meant that targeting VIPs between job offer and entrance interview was an entire business model.

In person you could see details you hadn't gotten over the holo. You could see, above all, that Paradisia had become cautious. They'd given up the jaguar-morph form but kept the Polygon combat implants, so well concealed that only their age made them visible to your eye at all. On the inside of her overcoat were dazzlejam patterns - fractal nightmare QR codes that could disrupt video surveillance. The jacket could be flipped inside out quickly and repeatedly, which combined with whatever was in that backpack meant that she could move through an area invisibly. And, just as importantly, she was eating peanut butter protein bars - that meant that all of her implanted gear was being run off personal biochemistry, meaning she was not vulnerable to EMP shocks. This was someone who understood the weak points of the systems that surrounded her.

"So what's the op?" she asked. She was figuring this was high-class merc work, the kind you didn't get to say no to.

Aristeia! Becoming a Champion

You were right about one thing: this was not the stadium.

Maxima steps back. Steps over the fence. Steps back some more, the flawless confidence of someone who had needed only one glance to memorize the terrain layout behind her. She keeps her hands up in a guard stance and just gives up ground, gives up ground, gives up ground. With no scoring zone to force her into position, with no rules to commit her to any sort of attack, with no wall anywhere behind her there was no limit to how much ground she could give. Any attack was impossible if she could just backstep, which she did as she started going down into the stormwater channel, balancing on the sharp edge of the sleek stormwater channel like a mountain goat.

Her boots touched the water. Soon she was ankle deep, then knee deep in the fast-flowing current. It was chill, sharp in the late autumn air, soaking in moments. Maxima's clothes were water resistant, her boots were thick, the jeans an advanced aquatic neofiber, cold water ran across her legs without causing as much as a shiver. Your own gear would not hold up so well.

"Told you," she said calmly, though there was still that killer instinct in her. She was offering you a way out because she was nice, but you could feel the violence scratching for release inside her. "It's a cold day. You don't want this to go any further."

The Three Mountains

The good part of authorizing someone's passion project was that everything was ready to go. Bulk unit purchase contracts deploy immediately, regional sectors are reclassified from safe to contested, contacts cultivated over decades get phone calls telling them that the check just cleared and it's time to go hot. Admiral Scipio has, in fact, been embezzling - but the funds she was misallocating all went towards making sure that this operation would go off as smoothly as possible the moment the funds became available. The gun was aimed and loaded for you already.

A wave of hostilities has been unleashed - but to be clear, this is not a full on corporate war. No headquarters are being bombed, no flagged tankers are being sunk, nothing experimental is being deployed. What's being hit is a vast network of overextended grey zone assets as Lhotse Security empties its arsenals in the secure knowledge that resupply is coming. As you check in over weeks and months you will continue to see a steady beat of low-level signs that things are going well. Your reign begins with a show of force and a successful defensive operation.

*

Paradisia is hanging out at an InfoBar. Bit of a trend, recently - cashed up retired netrunners and street samurai open front bars with overpriced drinks and unfriendly service. They launder money, give connected underworld types a hangout, and represent a sufficient concentration of force that law enforcement doesn't look too closely. This one's all done up in seafoam green and blue tiles, indoor trees and vines, the sound of a mournful trumpet providing backing music. Despite being happy hour on a weeknight there are only four customers present.

Your cybernetic eye identifies some of them immediately. Sitting at the bar, slightly off center in what feels like an almost deliberate show of normality is Unity Samson, Esquire, a public defender who has taken on some high profile cases. She is talking to a - a literal horse? No, a literal unicorn. A quadruped animal unicorn with a rainbow mane and glittery hooves, covered with scars and cuts that have been covered up by colourful children's bandages, wearing a black leather coat with metal studs. Your eye loads the name as Sapphire Wind. Apparently she's involved in some sort of underground deathmatch circuit.

Further along, at a table, Paradisia is playing reijong against a middle-aged man who has been completely data-scrubbed. Nothing on him at all. That's a hard thing to maintain - even if SLAM! *click* sells that service, the moment you buy tech from a rival company they'll open up a corresponding file, so it locks you into their ecosystem for everything. Either way, he is losing hand after hand in businesslike silence, the two of them going through the charade of the game to avoid having their transaction being flagged. Everyone looks at you as you enter. Everyone knows that you mean trouble.

Aristeia! Building a Champion

"As the princess..." said Machia, rolling her fingers around the remote, focused on getting the motion so smooth that your head is pulled in one uninterrupted motion. "... demands~! While you were thinking I was looking through your location history. There's one luxury cake shop in the Lhotse Strand building that you've stopped outside a couple of times and not gone into. Well, I am flush with prize money, and if you can get through the coffee I'll have something to celebrate."

She yawned and stretched as she walked out to the street with you. "You know, someone else might have gotten jealous that thing was sending all that marketing information to someone that isn't me," said Machia. She was in that state again - when she was focused on her work, she talked more honestly and openly than she ever did otherwise. Right now her fixation was entirely on your neck and how it interacted with her remote. She was constantly experimenting with it, how the bridle fought against your muscles and how it changed your balance. She was quickly learning how to pull in longer, slower and smoother motions rather than the sudden jerks. "But that someone would have been ill prepared. I went through some paperwork to classify you as my personal biomedical experiment. Paid some fees. Did all the digital consent signatures with your phone just now. So good news! Now I am now the only person allowed to legally spy on you."

She had changed her approach to the bridle. Now she was trying to use her remote to anticipate the normal movement of your head, to make you look both ways before crossing the street, watching the movement of your eyes and turning your head for you at the same time you would have done so naturally. Sometimes she still pulled you up hard, such as when she decided that she needed to stop you before a traffic light.

"That does mean that legally you require my written permission to go out on your own," she hmmed thoughtfully. She turned your head, gently but firmly, to look at her. Her labcoat had one sleeve black with a line of bright yellow hazard stripes, her eyes were a deep magenta, her hair was a mess. "But I won't be a stickler for that. You can make good decisions on your own, can't you~?"

She nodded for you.