Breaking Blades
Copyright© 2026 by FozzieBare
Chapter 1: Profane Thoughts
Darren <HeyNon> Keane was not having a good day.
He hadn’t had many of those since that tournament.
Or, as he groused to his followers and <TenMillionBlades> guild members, “That fuckin’ TOURNAMENT.”
They had a perfect plan. They got a lucky break, sure. They found two guilds squabbling over a base, and he waited for the perfect moment and steamrolled both sides when they were at their weakest point.
That was fucking strategy.
Then they just grew and grew. Then they encountered those fuckers at Reforged.
Those goddamned motherfucking FUCKERS.
They looked like a bunch of fucking puppies with their paws in the air, saying the equivalent of, “Please, Mr. TenMillionBlades, don’t hurt us.”
Shoulda fucking rolled over on them when we had a chance.
But no, they provided a useful buffer. They had just enough to make killing those assholes not worth the damage the Blades would take doing it. They had a hotshot former champion slumming it in the minors because he couldn’t hack the big leagues anymore.
So Darren made a deal. He wouldn’t have his team crush them. He’d take them with him to the finals. Even let their ace get in on the final triumphant battle.
Then, of course, Darren would have his boys run them over too.
Nothing personal. It was just their tournament to win. They gave prizes for each base you controlled at the end. Anyone would have done the same thing.
But he had been fucking played.
They all had been fucking PLAYED.
Reforged somehow snuck all their forces onto the map in the final round, and right when he was about to win most of a quarter of a fucking million dollars, they turned the tables on him.
ON HIM.
They took over most of the bases <TenMillionBlades> had held for most of the event. They even told the other beaten forces to go grab what Reforged couldn’t take.
They had stolen from the Blades.
They had stolen money from <HeyNon>.
And he was going to make sure they paid in every available currency.
They wouldn’t be able to fucking log on without people laughing at them.
When he confronted those duplicitous fuckers about stealing his money, they even had the temerity to talk shit to him.
Told Darren, “Don’t double down on stupid.” Like he was a bad boy who should go sit in the fucking corner.
Fuck them. He was going to show them stupid. He was going to shove it right in their stupid fucking faces.
He had rammed through a plan. Not everyone in the Blades had been completely down with it. They liked where they were on the map. Plenty of other arrogant assholes to stomp on. Plenty of chances to show that the Blades were not to be messed with.
He had personally arranged an armistice with the major powers around <TenMillionBlades> territory. It took a good amount of bribes to keep them from pouncing on his empty backline. But he knew they were “honorable” and wouldn’t fuck up a deal. They would let his supply line stretch all the way across the map. Even though it would probably serve them better to break the deal and attack, they had promised not to.
Darren considered that another sign of weakness. They’d get what THEY deserved eventually.
But the armistice would hold long enough for the Blades to go over, piss all over everything Reforged had attempted to build, and return. Show everybody it was a bad move to fuck with <TenMillionBlades>. That was how you really earned respect in Universe at War. You were the biggest swinging dick. Other people didn’t fuck with you. You fucked with them.
At the moment, he was telling everyone they needed to get on the fucking ships now. It would take the better part of a week to get the Blades forces across the Universe at War map to where the Reforged cowards were hiding.
“Fuck getting everything on the supply ships. No one’s stupid enough to come take our shit. The armistice will hold long enough, and we’ll be back here before anyone even thinks about breaking their word. I want this thing going now. Not next week, not tomorrow, not today. NOW.”
He took a brief break from guild chat to hit up the World of WarMachines forums. His team was confident. They were posting every derogatory thing they could think of to throw at Reforged, and Reforged wasn’t even fighting back on the forums.
It was like they KNEW they were going to get their shit stepped on and didn’t even fight back.
He told a couple of folks who were getting a bit too close to the line to back off. No sense in getting forum-banned.
In his head, he was already planning the triumphant speech he’d give when he returned to <TenMillionBlades>’s traditional stomping ground.
It wouldn’t replace a six-figure payout from the tournament, but he’d take payment in Reforged’s tears.
If things were in a barely controlled state of chaos in <TenMillionBlades> territory, the situation from Reforged’s point of view was ... more relaxed.
Not without stress. Even with the best planning possible, <TenMillionBlades> had a LOT. A lot of people. A lot of WarMACs. A lot of anger.
Quantity had a quality all its own.
But that was the thing. They expected Reforged to willingly stand in front of their juggernaut and get run over.
That was never a good strategic plan.
So even while Reforged celebrated with a victory dinner after the End of Summer Showdown, Adrian, Elias, and Amy had put their heads together and started working on their response to the Blades’ aggression.
Currently, Adrian Mercer’s main character, ThunderRoad, was leading a force on a roundabout route through the Universe at War map. It represented a significant part of the guild’s strength, a full battalion of WarMACs, more than fifty in all.
They were on a tour to pick up supplies to bring back home.
And from every indication, the Blades had stripped their home worlds of everything but a token force.
They had called it Phase One.
They had even come up with a twist to Phase One that Kevin, the guild’s resident lunatic and “Pet Chaos Vortex,” approved of.
When they explained what came AFTER Phase One, Kevin had nearly broken a rib laughing.
“Dude, if two of them don’t explode from sheer apoplexy, they’re made of stronger stuff than I thought they were. I’ll do my best to help them there!”
Elias knew Kevin would. He always had a way of providing the exclamation point to Reforged’s triumphs. It was rarely profane. Never over the line. He simply had a talent for finding exactly the right way to make everyone laugh.
Well. Almost everyone.
Sometimes the person standing on the wrong end of the joke failed to appreciate the artistry. Others, usually the ones with a sense of humor, managed a rueful chuckle at their own expense.