Team Reforged: Vegas, Baby
Copyright© 2026 by FozzieBare
Chapter 13: One Last Match
If Reforged had marched out on stage before their impromptu primal scream therapy, the crowd would have automatically started assuming that they were in for another one-sided stomp against a team that had gone past the point of diminishing returns when it came to mental strain.
Instead, Reforged looked relaxed. Tired, still, but relaxed.
With it being the last match of the evening, only the diehards in the crowd were left. The vendors and Artist Alley had closed hours ago. Two teams would come back tomorrow. Two more would have fought the entire day only to fall at the last obstacle between them and Finals Day.
The Warriors followed them. Adrian tried to count them. He got close to twenty members in total, but then his mind started asking whether he had already counted some people twice, and he gave up on the bad idea.
They had a bigger squad. They had rotated their pilots in the round before. They were probably favorites.
But that was fine by Reforged.
The clock wouldn’t strike midnight before the match was over. Maybe Cinderella didn’t have to dash home before her carriage turned into a pumpkin.
Alright. Here we go. Let’s see if we can get some points on the board.
The MC had the remaining fans give the teams one last cheer before the Duel Round teams filed into the booth.
Adrian grabbed his controls and took a few deep breaths.
He looked over at Amy.
She gave him a thumbs up.
The map selector screen started spinning.
Don’t give us anything too fancy. Give us something we can fight on.
The map selector slowed, flickered once, and stopped.
“City of Tomorrow.”
There was a beat, and then the rest of the title appeared.
“Yesterday.”
Adrian stared at the screen.
That was Kelto’s poetic way of saying: ruined urban hellscape.
The preview image showed a ruined urban hellscape: rusted cars, dark storefronts, and a cracked overpass that looked one bad vibration away from deciding it had been vertical long enough.
Adrian closed his eyes for half a second.
No. An urban map? Seriously?
Kelto, at this time of night, you want us playing cat and mouse in a dead city where the scenery might fall on somebody?
It’s like you have a direct line to my thoughts and decided, “Nope. Not going to happen this time.”
I wonder if BiggxBee is watching this and having flashbacks.
Focus, Adrian.
That’s easy for ME to say.
The loading screen disappeared.
City of Tomorrow, Yesterday appeared around them.
Once, the map had represented somebody’s idea of the perfect future. Broad streets. Elevated highways. Tall glass buildings. Automated transit stations. Parks built into the roofs of apartment towers.
Something had gone horribly wrong with that future. That was how it had received the name. It was literally yesterday’s “City of Tomorrow.”
The streets were clogged with rusting cars. Windows had been blown out of most of the buildings. Entire sections of pavement had buckled. One of the elevated highways sagged toward the street, several of its supports cracked badly enough that Adrian wondered what idiot city inspector had signed off on letting several dozen tons of WarMACs fight underneath it.
Oh, right. Nobody.
I’m more exhausted than I thought if I’m imagining virtual inspectors for a World of WarMAChines map.
The fact that the map was virtual didn’t mean a piece of falling concrete would hurt any less when it landed on an unsuspecting WarMAC.
He double-checked the Reforged Duel Round roster on his screen.
Amy.
Adrian.
Reuben.
Trevor.
Henry.
He had forgotten to check the other side’s roster before walking into the booth.
He had enough information in his head already.
Amy’s Furiosa stood at the front of Reforged’s protected spawn area. Adrian and the other three reserve WarMACs waited behind her, partially screened by a ruined bridge until their barriers dropped.
On the other side of the map, the first Warriors WarMAC stood ready. Four compatriots waited behind it in their own protected spawn positions. The battle lines had been drawn.
Outside the booths, the commentators had already noticed something else.
“There’s the Reforged Duel roster, and ThunderRoad is back in it. But look at the machine listed next to his name.”
“That is not his usual WarMaster.”
“No, it isn’t. ThunderRoad has registered the Parthian for this round.”
“Which makes sense. WarMaster’s current configuration is built around those upgraded missile launchers we’ve been seeing all afternoon. Great support platform. Not what you want when somebody gets inside missile range and starts punching you in the face.”
“And that is an unusual Parthian. Much more energy-heavy than the configurations we normally see.”
“Mercer wants something predictable. Something that can fight at short and medium range without worrying about ammunition.”
“As it turned out, this map is perfect for that kind of WarMAC.”
“We’ll have to find out from the officials if that means we won’t see the iconic WarMaster in the later rounds.”
“Just seeing that has to make the Warriors wonder if there’s something special about that Parthian.”
Adrian, of course, couldn’t hear any of that.
He could hear Amy.
“Okay. Let’s get this started.”
The countdown disappeared.
Outside, the crowd started roaring. One more match.
Amy started moving.
Adrian kept an eye on Amy’s screen more out of habit than for any useful information he could not already get from his own display.
It looked like both sides were heading straight down the middle thoroughfare. No cat and mouse. Just two WarMACs saying, “Here I am. Come get me.”
Thank God.
The first pilot tried to use the buildings that made up small streets near a city park to force Amy into a series of short sightline engagements.
Pop out.
Fire.
Disappear.
Relocate.
Do it again.
It might have worked against somebody willing to cooperate.
Amy wasn’t.
Adrian heard Amy murmur to herself more than anything.
“No. We’re not playing peek-a-boo.”
She crashed Furiosa through the remains of a storefront rather than follow the street around the block.
Glass, concrete and ancient furniture exploded outward.
The Warriors pilot had been waiting for her to come around the corner.
Instead Furiosa came through the wall thirty meters to his left.
Adrian’s tired brain imagined Furiosa going “OH, YEAH!” as it broke through the wall. The enemy pilot froze for a second.
Amy’s tri-band laser fired.
All three beams struck the enemy WarMAC across the torso.
Armor vaporized.
The Warriors pilot turned and fired back, but Amy was already charging.
The ruined city suddenly became much less useful as cover when your opponent refused to respect the concept of doors, walls, or property rights.
The two WarMACs exchanged fire between abandoned cars.
One vehicle vanished beneath Furiosa’s foot.
Another got kicked sideways and slammed into the enemy WarMAC’s ankle.
Not enough to damage it.
Enough to throw off its balance.
If I didn’t know any better, it’s like two mecha-kaiju rampaging toward Tokyo.
Amy fired again.
The enemy pilot backed into an intersection, trying to create distance.
Wrong decision. Backing up against Amy usually meant that she was just going to pursue you harder. In a 1v1 duel, unless you had something more than what this map offered, backing up was just giving up the initiative to an aggressive pilot.
The street opened up.
So did Amy’s firing lane.
Furiosa’s particle cannon struck center mass.
The Warriors WarMAC staggered.
Amy followed with the tri-band laser.
The enemy machine collapsed between two rusted vehicles.
Outside the booths, on the digital screens visible to the crowd, the first Warriors pilot photo darkened to gray. A message flashed across the board.
WARRIOR ELIMINATED
The remaining crowd made enough noise to remind everyone that, yes, there were still nearly a thousand lunatics willing to stay this late.
Adrian breathed out.
One.
Good.
Give us more. Or at least give us the plus-value.
The second Warriors pilot came charging out of their spawn zone and made their way directly toward Furiosa.
They had apparently watched the first duel.
They did not give Amy a straight line.
The WarMAC immediately vanished behind an apartment building.
Amy slowed.
Adrian could practically feel how much she hated doing that.
“Don’t chase,” she muttered to herself.
The enemy appeared at the far end of another street.
Fired.
Disappeared.
Amy returned fire a fraction too late.
Amy cursed softly, as the shot smashed through the corner of a building instead.
Dust billowed into the street. Some rubble crashed off the building, landing on the virtual concrete with audible crunching sounds.
The Warriors pilot appeared somewhere else.
Another shot.
This one struck Furiosa across the shoulder.
Amy turned.
“Fine. You want to do this?”
Adrian watched her move toward the center of the map.
Not chasing.
Inviting.
The Warriors pilot fired from beside one of the elevated highway’s support pillars.
Amy returned fire.
The enemy ducked back.
Then appeared on the other side of the highway support.
Amy’s laser tore armor from one leg.
The enemy answered with a heavy shot into Furiosa’s torso.
On Amy’s screen, her own armor sections darkened. The Warriors machine looked battered too, its leg visibly scorched, but Furiosa was paying for every exchange.
Amy kept moving.
Adrian didn’t speak. Didn’t want to break Amy’s concentration. But that didn’t keep him from thinking.
Don’t trade.
You don’t need to win this one. Just get as much as you can out of it. You get the kill, it’s a bonus. You have the rest of us behind you, Ames.
He knew she couldn’t hear him.
Amy knew it anyway.
She backed off.
The Warriors pilot saw Furiosa retreating and pressed.
Exactly what Adrian had hoped they would do.
There you go.
Amy disappeared beneath the sagging highway.
The Warriors pilot followed.
Furiosa suddenly spun around.
Her particle cannon fired almost point-blank.
The shot hammered the enemy WarMAC backward.
It slammed shoulder-first into one of the already cracked highway supports.
Something above them moved.
Adrian saw it before either pilot did.
“Oh, hell.”
A chunk of concrete the size of a truck broke loose.
It missed Furiosa.
Mostly.
One edge clipped her across the back and knocked her forward.
The rest crashed onto the road between the two machines.
The impact filled the entire street with dust.
For several seconds, Adrian could see nothing.
Neither could Amy.
“Dammit.”
Weapons fire flashed inside the cloud.
Once.
Twice.
Then Furiosa stumbled out of it.
Half of the armor on one side was gone.
The Warriors WarMAC emerged behind her.
It looked worse.
Its left arm hung uselessly.
One leg was damaged.
The front of its torso was scorched nearly black.
Amy turned and fired.
The Warriors pilot fired at exactly the same time.
Both WarMACs took the hits.
Furiosa remained upright for two seconds.
Then one leg folded.
Amy sighed.
“Sorry, guys.”
Furiosa hit the pavement.
Outside, Amy’s picture darkened on the virtual screen. Four left on both teams.
REFORGED PILOT ELIMINATED
Adrian grabbed his controls tighter.
“No apology needed.”
The glowing barrier holding Adrian in the protected spawn area disappeared.
For the first time in hours, he was not sitting inside his normal WarMaster.
That felt strange.
Not wrong. Just strange.
The controls felt familiar enough. He had practiced in the Parthian.
But it wasn’t the WarMAC he was most comfortable piloting. He had to spare a quarter of a second to confirm his weapons groupings on his heads-up display.
It’s not the WarMaster. Doesn’t have to be. It just has to work. Right tool for the job. Don’t let the feeling of being on stage without it distract you.
Adrian pushed forward.
The damaged Warriors pilot immediately retreated.
No. We are not doing another five minutes of this.
I do not have the mental energy to play silly games. Nor win silly prizes.
The Parthian accelerated.
Not as fast as Furiosa, perhaps, but much faster than the missile-configured WarMaster.
The enemy pilot fired.
Adrian juked.
The shot missed.
His hands felt slow.
Not terribly slow.
Just enough that every movement seemed to happen a fraction of a second after he wanted it to.
Don’t fight that.
Plan earlier. Budget that delay into your actions.
Play it like you’re on a decent but not great connection. You have physical lag, not Internet lag. Same theory.
He fired the Parthian’s main energy weapon.
The Warriors pilot ducked behind a wrecked bus. That didn’t mean it was completely protected. It was one of those huge, multilevel monstrosities that had approximated mass transit before the city’s ruin.
Someone could look at it and say, “Yeah, behind there is safe.”
Adrian knew better.
Thin walls. Relatively flimsy. It wasn’t meant to serve as cover. It was just there to enclose the space where people sat.
Adrian fired through it.
The bus disappeared in a flash of tortured metal.
The shot continued into the enemy WarMAC’s damaged leg.
It buckled.
Adrian followed with the rest of the Parthian’s energy suite.
The enemy tried to return fire.
Too late.
The torso opened.
Fire spewed from the wounds.
The WarMAC collapsed.
The crowd outside yelled. A second Warriors pilot’s picture went grey.
WARRIOR ELIMINATED
Two.
Now I need one.
The third Warriors pilot entered.
Fresh WarMAC.
Fresh pilot.
Adrian looked at his own damage display.
Almost pristine.
He smiled.
Okay.
Let’s see if I can still do this.
He still felt tired. Rubbery. Disjointed.
But adrenaline was starting to make him believe differently.
It’d mean another mini-crash later. But he had a little time. When he went down, he would have the rest of the Duel Round, both 4v4 fights, and halftime to recover.
Deal with the crash later. Live in the now.
The third pilot came after him aggressively.
That surprised Adrian.
Apparently the Warriors had decided the best way to handle an exhausted former world champion was not to give him time to think.
That was probably correct.
The two WarMACs met in the middle of the city.
Energy fire crossed the street.
Adrian dodged one shot.
The second caught the Parthian along its ribs.
His return fire burned armor from the enemy’s chest.
They separated. Turned. Fired again.
Adrian’s fingers were still trying to process the command from his brain to shift the Parthian’s position slightly when the opponent’s fire crashed into his WarMAC.
Too slow.
The Warriors pilot pressed.
Adrian retreated through the remains of a parking garage.
The enemy followed.
Fine.
Come with me.
He fired at close range.
The enemy twisted aside.
Adrian’s shot missed the WarMAC and struck a support column.
Concrete exploded.
For half a second there was a rumble. If this had been the real thing, both pilots would have looked upward, praying that the whole structure wasn’t about to drop on them.
That would be spectacular.
Also spectacularly fatal for both pilots.
Nothing collapsed.
Good.
I’ve had enough buildings falling on people.
The Warriors pilot fired again.
Adrian saw it coming.
His hand moved.
Not quite fast enough.
The shot clipped his left side.
His damage display flashed yellow.
Damn it!
Too much latency. Not on the connection to his computer. The ping time between his brain and his fingers.
Think ahead. Predict. It’s less efficient, but your CPU is straining for cycles. Find some performance elsewhere.
He stopped trying to react.
Instead, he watched.
There’s something there. Figure it out. He’s human. Find where the human makes a move because it feels like the right move.
The enemy pilot had developed a pattern.
Fire.
Move right.
Repeat.
Not every time. But enough. If he presented an opening, he could get the opponent to try to take advantage and have the counter-move prepared.
Adrian deliberately exposed his left side.
The Warriors pilot took the invitation and fired everything.
Adrian was already moving. The weapon fire passed behind him. It didn’t miss by much. But it missed. That was the important fact.
The enemy tried to move right and pass by Adrian again. Normally, this would put them in Adrian’s blind spot. If Adrian hadn’t predicted where he was going, his system couldn’t traverse in time. But, Adrian had predicted his opponent’s move successfully. His torso was already twisting and kept the enemy in his sights the entire time.
The Warriors pilot had made the right move. But it was also the wrong move in that moment, because he had directly moved into Adrian’s pre-aimed firing line.
The Parthian unloaded.
Energy beams tore through armor.
The Warriors WarMAC staggered.
Adrian pushed forward. The other pilot knew he was in trouble and tried desperately to find safety.
Adrian did not let him.
Another volley. Then another.
Heat warnings started appearing.
One more. Please. Go down. My heat exchangers will just start melting in place if I have to do it again after this.
He fired.
The enemy WarMAC fell.
WARRIOR ELIMINATED
Adrian leaned back slightly.
Three. We got what we needed. Good.
Amy’s voice came over the team channel.
“Two for the old man.”
He almost laughed. He had to swallow the laughter. It still snuck out as a choked sound of amusement.
“Not now, Ames.”
“Just keeping you challenged.”
The fourth Warriors pilot entered.
Adrian took one look at the fresh WarMAC.
Then at his own heat level.
Then at his damage.
This is where the smart thing would be to make them work for it.
The Warriors pilot charged.
Adrian moved to meet them.
Apparently I’m done being smart. The right move for the fight? Yes. The move that fits what I can do at this moment? Probably not.
They exchanged fire.
The first volley went poorly for Adrian.
The second went worse. His reflexes were not improving. The adrenaline had not restored them; it had only sped up the thoughts arriving ahead of his exhausted hands. His brain kept issuing the next command based on where it expected the fight to be while his fingers were still beginning the previous one.
His brain knew what the Warriors pilot was going to do. His body kept finding out afterward.
He tried to break line of sight beneath the elevated highway. The Warriors pilot stayed with him. A shot struck the Parthian’s leg.
Warning lights appeared.
Adrian returned fire.
Hit.
Enough? Not enough. The enemy fired again. The Parthian staggered.
Okay. That may be all I’ve got. Just maximize what I have left.
He fired one last volley.
The Warriors pilot took it across the torso.
Then answered. The Parthian went dark.
REFORGED PILOT ELIMINATED
Adrian let go of the controls. For half a second, his hands simply rested there.
Then he exhaled.
“Sorry.”
Amy answered immediately.
“You got two.”
“Yeah.”
“That was the assignment.”
It was.
Wasn’t it?
His brain was yelling at him. Cursing at him. Telling him he had been too slow. He could have avoided several shots.
His body, however, told his brain to sit down, shut up, and not bother it for a little while, at least until all this unwanted adrenaline left town.
He sagged back in his chair. Despite his relative youth, he felt inexplicably like a creaky old man in that moment. His body had frozen up. Pushed to its limits. Maybe a bit beyond.
Reuben entered. The fourth Warriors pilot had taken damage from Adrian, but nowhere near as much as Amy had left on her second opponent.
Reuben did not rush. That was probably the smartest thing anyone on Reforged had done in the last fifteen minutes. They had an advantage, yes. But Reuben’s first job wasn’t to push the advantage. It was to maintain as much of it as he could.
He moved carefully through the ruins.
The Warriors pilot tried to force him into an exchange. Reuben refused.
The crowd had been trained by Amy and Adrian to expect violence.
Instead they got patience.
Thirty seconds. Forty.
The Warriors pilot finally got tired of waiting.
Or perhaps the Warriors pilot decided Reuben was allowing the round to drift toward passivity.
They attacked.
Reuben was ready.
The first exchange went almost perfectly for him. The second did not.
Both WarMACs took damage. They circled through a four-way intersection filled with rusted vehicles.
The Warriors pilot fired.
Reuben ducked behind the remains of a delivery truck.
The shot blew through it.
Reuben returned fire through the hole and landed several shots.
The Warriors machine stumbled. Reuben moved.
Not quickly. Not dramatically. Just enough.
The enemy fired again. Missed.
Reuben’s return shot struck the already-damaged torso.
The fourth Warriors WarMAC dropped.
WARRIOR ELIMINATED
Reuben had done it.
One-on-one.
Clean enough.
Adrian nodded.
“Good job.”
“Thanks.”
The fifth and final Warriors pilot entered.
Reuben was damaged. Not badly, but enough.
The last Warriors pilot apparently had no interest in waiting. They came straight at him. The Warriors were in a deep hole, but the final pilot had clearly decided that, no matter what, Reforged were not getting three points.
Reuben tried to disengage. Couldn’t. The fight lasted less than a minute.
The fresh WarMAC kept pressuring him. It steadily stripped armor from Reuben until one final shot punched through. Reuben sighed as his screen shifted to the third-person view that indicated his WarMAC’s destruction.
REFORGED PILOT ELIMINATED
Trevor sat up a bit straighter in his seat.
“Well.”
Adrian looked at him.
“One.”
Trevor nodded.
“One.”
“If you lose, Henry gets a shot.”
Henry raised one hand.
“I’d rather not.”
That got a tired laugh.
Trevor entered the battle zone.
The final Warriors pilot had some damage from Reuben, but not enough to make this easy.
Trevor, however, had something the other Reforged pilots had increasingly lacked.
Speed.
His WarMAC appeared, and then, just as quickly disappeared.
Not literally.
It just looked that way.
He hit his boosters to do a quick little rocket-jump for extra horizontal movement and vanished between two buildings before the Warriors pilot could establish a firing line.
The crowd reacted immediately.
The enemy turned.
Trevor appeared at the end of another street.
Fired. Moved. The Warriors pilot returned fire. Nothing but air. Trevor was gone.
Adrian smiled.
Oh. So THAT’S what cat and mouse looks like when you’re not too tired to enjoy it.
Trevor circled while the enemy tried to predict him. Trevor changed direction and slipped into the Warriors pilot’s blind spot. He didn’t have the sheer firepower to take the machine down in one salvo, but he could really make it hurt.
A shot struck the Warriors WarMAC from behind and spun it toward the impact, but too late. Trevor was already gone again.
The Interstellar Warriors pilot finally stopped chasing.
Smart.
They moved into an intersection and waited, risking a passivity warning on the assumption that Trevor would come for them first.
Trevor appeared.
The enemy fired.
Trevor dodged. Barely.
His return shot hit.
The Warriors pilot pushed forward, causing Trevor to retreat while keeping the fight on his terms.
Adrian frowned.
Something about the street looked familiar. Then he realized where Trevor was leading them.
The elevated highway.
The one that had already dropped part of itself onto Amy.
He murmured, “Oh, Trevor.”
Amy started laughing.
Henry called over the headphones. “What?”
“He’s going back to the overpass.”
Henry sounded skeptical. “He wouldn’t.”
Amy, however, enjoyed every second of this.
“He absolutely would.”
Trevor shot underneath it.
Smelling virtual blood, the enemy shot after him.
The damaged structure groaned.
Nothing fell.
Trevor reached the other side.
Turned and fired. He wasn’t demanding a hit. It would be a bonus. He just wanted his opponent to have one too many things to do at one time.
The Warriors pilot returned fire. Then, trying to cut the turn too sharply, they stumbled over a large rebar-reinforced piece of rubble.
One shot missed Trevor completely because of the stumble. Then the WarMAC slammed into the support pillar at the same time its shot smashed into the underside of the highway.
Adrian stared.
“Oh, no.”
A crack spread.
Trevor apparently saw it too. His boosters fired, pushing his WarMAC to the absolute limit as he escaped what was about to happen.
The Warriors pilot looked up.
Too late.
A slab of concrete broke loose.
Not enough to crush the WarMAC outright.
Enough.
It smashed into its shoulder and drove the machine sideways.
One leg buckled and twisted. The enemy WarMAC crashed to the ground with a heavy thud.
Trevor did not waste the gift.
He opened fire.
The Warriors pilot tried to stand.
Another volley struck.
The Warriors WarMAC went still beneath the remains of the City of Tomorrow’s highway system.
There was silence for perhaps half a second.
Then the remaining crowd erupted.
WARRIOR ELIMINATED
DUEL ROUND COMPLETE
Adrian stared at the screen.
Trevor.
Henry.
Two surviving pilots.
Two points.
The scoreboard changed.
REFORGED 2
INTERSTELLAR WARRIORS 0
Adrian finally let himself smile.
This is good. Maybe we can bank some points like last round. Crush them mentally.
Then the fatigue whispered back.
Or at least make them worry.
Amy leaned toward him.
“Two points.”
“Two points.”
“You got what you wanted.”
Adrian looked at the scoreboard. For the moment, Reforged was ahead. That mattered. Maybe more than anything else right now.
He stood up. His legs immediately reminded him that they had not been consulted about this decision.
Fine.
Two points first.
Complaints later.
Adrian nearly stumbled coming down the stairs from the booth to the team seating area. Kevin had a sports drink in hand. Adrian waved it away.
“I’m fighting my own body at this point. Adding more sugars to it would be like throwing water on a grease fire.”
Kevin nodded.
“Right, one cold, refreshing bottle of water coming up. Straight from a pristine Colorado lake. Or a Vegas reservoir. Same thing, really. Now sit down before you fall down.”
Adrian did what he was told. The seat was not anything more than a typical gamer chair. But it was heaven.
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.