Champions, Craftsmen, Campaigns and Catastrophes
Copyright© 2026 by FozzieBare
Chapter 5: Actions. Reactions.
<ThunderRoad> So. Are you going to press? Double or Nothing?
<BiggxBee> SYSTEM MESSAGE: (deleted profanity by ProfanityCatcher)
<ThunderRoad> While I understand your point of view, that doesn’t answer my question.
For nearly ninety seconds, BiggxBee said nothing. He seemed torn between smashing his keyboard and logging off in sheer frustration. The spectator chat was scrolling wildly, all laughing at BiggxBee. All the torment, the anger he had caused others had now been returned to him three-fold. But more was already being planned.
Within minutes, creators were already editing the footage. One version added cartoon sound effects to every impact. Another froze the moment Bigg realized the ground had disappeared beneath him. A third treated the entire tumble like the opening of a sitcom. The variations would multiply for days. A symphony of humiliation, all because a braggart had mistaken a craftsman for an easy mark, and a competitor had taught him the price of that mistake.
All ending with those two splotches of Hellspawn gel merrily burning away on the Solar Flare’s back and backside.
But back in the Arena’s players-only chat, there was only silence. Finally, one side broke the strained silence.
<ThunderRoad> If you’re not going to accept, just leave. It’s late, and I want to get some sleep.
Another 15 seconds passed and finally, there was a terse reply.
<BigxBee> I need to get some stuff. Give me five minutes, then you’ll have my answer
<ThunderRoad> Ok, but don’t log out of your account. I’ll assume you don’t want to continue. After all, a million credits is a lot of money. I’d sleep just fine with that in my account. Pensions aren’t what they used to be, after all.
Silence settled over the chat once more. In Adrian’s mind, a five-minute clock began counting down.
His Pro Chat Window was flashing wildly with notifications. He decided to see what was going on. Five minutes. Long enough to answer whatever Mac and the others wanted before BiggxBee returned.
<WarMac General> @AyyEmm @AyyEmm @AyyEmm answer me damnit!
<AyyEmm> You don’t have to ping me so many times, Mac. It’s not like I’m going anywhere. well unless he doesn’t come back. I think he will though.
<WarMac General>: Damn, it was like you never left.
<AyyEmm>: I told you I never stopped playing
<WarMac General>: The old ThunderRoad wouldn’t have let him touch the WarMaster though.
<AyyEmm>: Eh. The ending made him look worse than he really is. His mechanics aren’t terrible. What he lacks is tactical judgment. From the moment the fight started, I had him reacting instead of deciding. Mechanically? He might even be a decent Universe at War pilot. Give him a good shot-caller, and make sure he actually listened to them, and he’d probably hold his own.
<WarMac General>: So in other words, if he wasn’t who he was, he would be ok.
<AyEmm>: I’m not sure that’s even grammatically correct, but basically yes.
<BloodandThunder>: Damn, I share part of a nick with a former champ?
<AyyEmm>: I think there’s several more formers in the title.
<BloodandThunder>: And still piloting an AX-1, too ... wait ... that’s not...
<WarMac General>: Yes, kid, that’s the same one.
<BloodandThunder>: It’s gotta be worth a fortune.
<AyyEmm>: Dunno. Never wanted to sell it.
<BloodandThunder>: Why? No offense, but to folks who collect that kinda thing, having THAT AX-1 has to be worth tens of millions of credits, far more than you could make even playing Universe at War.
<AyyEmm>: Think of it this way. I could make a ton of credits with it, yes ... then what? What would I do with those credits?
<BloodAndThunder>: I get that, but isn’t it just lines of code on Kelto’s servers?
<AyyEmm>: Yes. And no.
<BloodAndThunder>: I don’t understand. How can it be both?
AyyEmm: Think of it this way. Sure, it’s only lines of code on a computer server. But it’s also years of work. It’s years of literal sweat, of victories and defeats. I can point to the lower shoulder actuator and say “This was barely hanging on when I won in the quarter-finals on the Lava Park map...” Or I know that the left leg is about 0.6% out of balance with the right when it has to make s sharp turn. Never could figure out why. It’s not JUST lines of code. Not 0’s and 1’s. It’s history. MY history. MY victories. And yes, my defeats. To sell it now would be to make it all into a bunch of credits. Then I’d have to start over with a new favorite WarMac or quit the game. It wouldn’t be the same.
<BloodAndThunder>: Yeah, I guess. Let me ask something else. Then why did everyone else fail with them?
<AyyEmm>: Because they all asked the wrong question.
<WarMac General>: Which was?
<AyyEmm>: “What is the Warmaster good at?” That’s the wrong question. The Warmaster isn’t good at anything.
<AyyEmm>: The real question is, “What does this battle need?” The WarMaster can become almost anything. That’s why I love it. Everyone else tried to force it into a role. I let the battlefield decide what I needed from it for that battle. Know the battle, know the need, know what you bring.
<WarMac General>: So, what are you doing after you embarrass our wayward Bee a second time?
<AyyEmm>: Go to bed. To quote a noted humorist, “It gets late early these days”
<WarMac General>: That’s not what I was asking.
<AyyEmm>: Then what? Am I going to go Universe at War? Am I going to try going pro ... AGAIN...
<WarMac General>: Bluntly, yes. You know there’s a place for you...
<AyyEmm>: A place?
<WarMac General>: You know what I mean.
<AyyEmm>: Let’s put it this way, Mac.If I joined a guild now, what do you think would happen? Not to mention a team?
<WarMac General>: You’d be a big part of whatever you do...
<AyyEmm>: Would I?
<WarMac General>: Yes, you’re a good enough pilot even after that bullshit ban and you moping away.
<AyyEmm>: I wasn’t moping
<WarMac General>: What were you doing?
<AyyEmm>: Living. You should try it sometime. But in all seriousness, If I joined a guild or a team, do you think any guild leader or team captain wouldn’t feel their position threatened? Imagine this in large script across every WarMAC online fansite: “Adrian Mercer’s back ... How will ThunderRoad change the game THIS time?”
<WarMac General>: Not all of them, I know that Ulysses would be glad to have you. I’d speak for you...
<AyyEmm>: And what would happen with Ulysses when the disaffected folks think “Hey, we got THUNDER FREAKING ROAD on our guild roster? Why are we not doing what he says? I’d either have to be a yes man, or everyone will think I’m bucking to eliminate the guild leader and take over. No thanks. Tom’s a good enough guy, he doesn’t need that kind of trouble in his life.
<WarMac> General: That ... ok ... when did you become an expert on how guild drama works?
<AyyEmm>: I got a crash course when they kicked me out of the pro scene and no guild would touch me because I was radioactive. I even had one leader tell me shortly after the ban that he was afraid Kelto would single them out if I signed up with them.
<WarMac General>: That’s Bullshit. Besides it was years ago, everyone there’s moved on.
<AyyEmm>: That’s my point. EVERYONE’S MOVED ON. And until earlier tonight I thought I had moved on too.
<WarMac General>: So what now?
<AyyEmm>: When he comes back with whatever his surprise is, I beat it. Then I go to sleep two million credits richer. I told you I’m tired.
<WarMac General>: And then?
<AyyEmm>: ... Talk to me about then when it becomes now.
<WarMac General>: I still think it’s bullshit.
<AyyEmm>: Life generally is.
<WarMac General>: Alright. One last thing.
<AyyEmm>: What is it now?
<WarMac General>: I saw you add something before the fight started, but the readouts said “non-deployed”, because you never used it, all you used was your laser and your missiles. Which means you have something planned if ... no when ... he presses and you fight again. It’s driving me nuts. What did you add?
<AyyEmm>: You’ll see it when I use it. Or if he doesn’t come back.
<WarMac General>: I hate surprises.
<AyyEmm>: Oh, I think you’ll like this one.
Finally, the arena window pinged, just before the five minutes was up.
<BiggxBee> Alright got the million. This time we’re going to fight on a city map.
<ThunderRoad> I don’t think we agreed to anything but a random map, did we?
<BiggxBee> You didn’t beat me last time, you just got lucky. Accept or I’m going to file a claim to get my credits back, since you’re a chicken.
<ThunderRoad> Well ... someone’s a bit touchy. I’d say Pride goeth before a fall ... but I think your pride fell at the same time your MAC did.
Silence. Adrian whiled away the seconds imagining Bigg grinding his teeth to powder in pure rage. The image was oddly satisfying. Then he decided to be magnanimous. It would keep Bigg off balance.
<ThunderRoad> Fine. A dense city map it is. None of those dastardly hills to trip you up.
A few seconds later, the server acknowledged that Bigg had deposited the second million-credit wager into escrow. The lobby load screen flashed to life.
This time, Adrian didn’t even bother scrolling through his alternative MACs. He knew Bigg had a card up his sleeve. He had no idea what it was ... but trying to guess how Bigg planned to tilt the odds would only give the man psychological breathing room.
The credits hadn’t meant much to Adrian when this absurd grudge match started. Now? He was looking forward to stripping Bigg down to his last copper digit.
He locked in the WarMaster without hesitation. Why change from what was working? On the other side of the lobby, Bigg readied up instantly ... confirming Adrian’s suspicion that this whole setup was a calculated ambush.
The ten-second countdown hit the screen. Adrian took a deep breath, listening to the fan of his high end machine spin up as it prepared to receive the data from the server...
The virtual server began constructing the arena. A part of Adrian’s mind always appreciated the rendering engine’s raw speed, watching towering glass skyscrapers and abandoned civilian vehicles materialize out of digital wireframes in a fraction of a second. But as the concrete jungle locked into place around him, the tactical reality set in.
He couldn’t use the open terrain to lead Bigg around by the nose this time.
The tight, suffocating grid of the city transformed their previous duel into a lethal game of cat-and-mouse. Every blind corner was a potential kill zone. If you rounded an intersection blindly, you walked straight into a full volley. Worse, if your enemy caught your flank in a narrow alley, there was nowhere to dodge. Your only prayer was to sprint for the next block before your armor dissolved into slag.
Like before, he took a few seconds to study the terrain map, searching for choke points where he could set up an ambush before Bigg beat him to it. He marked several promising intersections, but the fundamental problem remained: every sweet spot for a kill zone was equally vulnerable to a counter-ambush from somewhere.
Wait. What? WHAT?
Even pros get caught off guard, and Adrian’s inner tactician ground to a halt as his mind struggled to process the readouts flashing across his tac-screen.
Last time, Bigg had brought a standard Solar Flare.
This wasn’t a Solar Flare.
This was something that looked like it could swallow two Solar Flares for breakfast and ask for seconds.
It was an abominable custom-built death machine. The tac-book’s live threat-assessment pegged its mass at roughly one hundred and thirty tons. Ultra-Weight Class. The category began at one hundred tons. This thing was already thirty tons past the threshold.
Bigg’s new MAC was nearly triple the WarMaster’s total weight.
For about two seconds of real time, an eternity in Adrian’s internal processing, the finely tuned engine that was his tactical mind misfired completely. Instead of generating tactics and attack vectors, it produced something far less useful: the mental equivalent of a screen full of question marks, immediately followed by exclamation points.
It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t fair.
That cynical voice in the back of his head immediately piped up with a bitter reminder: All’s fair in love, war, and apparently World of WarMachines’s arena mode.
The tac-book updated, populating specs based on best-guess telemetry for the sheer density of weapon ports protruding from the behemoth frame.
Emperor-class heavy cannons. Megavolt Particle Projectors. Even a massive, shoulder-mounted Thunderstar Maxi-missile Launcher.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.