Team Reforged: Vegas, Baby
Copyright© 2026 by FozzieBare
Chapter 3: A Meal and a Nap
The next day saw the whole management crew, except Marcus, gather at Mama’s for what was supposed to be a relaxing meal. Marcus had a prior engagement with a prospective client his people had been chasing for months, so the rest of them took a table inside and tried to remember what not working felt like.
Elias stretched and failed to hide how tired he was. “Thanks for making sure I got out, you guys. I really needed this. I’m tired all the time lately.” He looked almost wistfully toward the imaginary office he had left behind. “If I’d known Marcus was going to build a team, I would’ve asked for a couch or an airbed in there. Catnaps. Keep productivity up.”
Unfortunately for Elias, Mama Bianchi chose that exact moment to arrive.
Her eyes narrowed at the bags under his eyes, and the full force of disappointed-Mama attention settled on him. “Bambino. You are exhausted. You are not eating, and probably not sleeping either. You look like you have lost five pounds since I saw you.”
Elias opened his mouth.
“No. You do not order tonight. Mama special. And when you get home, you get a good night’s sleep.”
“Mama, I will rest, I promise. I just have so many things to take care of that...”
Mama ran straight over the defense. “And you will have so many things to take care of when you wake up. But not until then. If I have to, I will make your friends take your things away from you. Mama’s orders. Understood?”
Elias looked around the table for support and found none. Several people suddenly became very interested in the bread basket.
“Yes, Mama. I promise I’ll rest when I get back to the office.”
The glare intensified. “Office?”
Elias realized his mistake too late.
“You do not sleep in an office!”
“My apartment is just down the hall,” Elias said quickly. “It’s convenient. I can get things done without waking anybody up, and if work allows, I can take a quick nap.”
Mama shook her head as if he had just proven her case for her. “That is the problem. Work place and sleep place too close. Then you are always in the wrong one because the other is right there. A short walk, a short drive, something. Home is home. Work is work.”
She threw up her hands. “But who listens to their Mama?”
Elias smiled despite himself. The argument had at least woken him up a little. “I promise. When we get back, I go to my apartment. Not the office. I rest.”
Mama sniffed. “Good. Maybe not hopeless workaholic yet.” Then her expression softened. “And visit more often. Mr. Marcus wondered why the tab was so low. You kids are Mama’s best customers. Better than the important people in suits who say Mama’s cooking is ‘quaint’ and needs ‘modernizing.’”
Her eyes flashed. “Nearly chased one of them out with my ladle. Mama cooks what Mama likes.”
Having delivered judgment on both Elias and culinary modernization, Mama took everyone else’s order, sent Pietro over with bread and olive oil, and disappeared back into her kitchen.
As they quietly took turns soaking the bread in olive oil, they immediately started talking about the new WarMAC League format.
Kevin started everyone off. “That joust thing? Hilarious! I mean, it’s two giant WarMACs with iron lances charging each other. What else do you have to say? Except ‘KLANG, POW, and SMASH,’ which are really good conversations in their own right. I wonder if they leaked that one because it’s the craziest, or if it’s the sanest one!”
Adrian stared. “You think that’s SANE? What’s your vision of crazier then that?”
Before Adrian could reconsider what he just said, and decide he didn’t want Kevin to open that Pandora’s box, all the craziness came bubbling out.
“Well, first there was low-gravity dueling. Imagine if you could jump halfway across the map with one bounce from your jump boosters. Or maybe even zero gravity! You could end up fighting upside down on a theoretical ceiling! Or how about the Tarzan battle, grab hold of a vine and swing at your opponents. Bonus points if you give an actual to-god Tarzan yell while you do it.”
Martin had looked interested in the low gravity fighting idea, and pulled a mini-notebook from a pants pocket, and just jotted down some notes, which others couldn’t read.
Amy laughed. “Oh dear, Kevin, you just gave Martin an idea. Our test budget just went up. How many WarMACs will be sacrificed to the Aztec Gods of testing WarMACs this time? At least Martin doesn’t chant ‘Kali-Ma!’ while he does his tests. The doors aren’t soundproof. I’d hear him if he did.”
Martin shrugged. “Would disrupt concentration. Losing concentration during testing is a bad thing. Besides, not sacrificing them. Learning from them. Like schoolchildren learning from dissecting frogs in biology. Less gore.”
Amy shook her head. “Never did that, too icky for me.”
Martin continued as if Amy hadn’t spoken. “But improved jump boosters? That would be interesting. Must research current distances, engine feed rates, etcetera. Could be interesting. Could be failure. Need to find out. Thanks Kevin. Your insanity has purpose. Very unusual.”
Kevin looked insulted. “My insanity always has purpose. You wound me”
Martin smiled. A rarity for him. He looked rather “mad scientist-y” at the moment: “Insanity and purpose generally are antonyms. Insanity attempts to distort Purpose. Purpose attempts to focus Insanity. Like Yin and yang. Peanut butter and jelly. Kevin and funniness.”
Kevin’s voice rose in mock anger, and took on the mannerism of a member of a famous comedy trio from the black and white film guys. “Oh, wise guy, eh? Why I outta...”
Adrian interrupted. “Kevin, if we’re going to start throwing creampies and or poke people in the eyes, we’re going to get kicked out. We don’t want that.”
Kevin sighed. “Ok Boss. But I won’t forget this Martin.”
Adrian sighed, having successfully headed off both a food fight and a Three Stooges routine. “Back to the actual problem. When they announced the Joust, my first thought was giant flying ostriches.”
Everyone stared at him.
Amy was the first to recover. “Why would a joust happen on giant flying ostriches?”
“Old game. Before your time. Before MY time, actually. Not important.” Adrian waved it away. “What matters is that Kelto isn’t telling anyone which Champion’s Challenge they’ll get ahead of time. That means we have to plan for ridiculous situations before we know which ridiculous situation matters.”
He picked up a piece of bread and used it like a pointer. “Take the Joust. What if one of our best machines replaces both hands with lower-arm weapon mounts? Great combat design right up until Kelto hands us a lance.”
Elias nodded. “So the roster has the same problem.”
“Exactly. Everybody hears twelve-versus-twelve and thinks twelve pilots.” Adrian shook his head. “Twelve is the mathematical minimum, not a sane roster. Three-round appearance limit means anyone in the Duel Round needs another round off if we want them available for the Mass Battle. Fourteen to sixteen is workable. Eighteen to twenty is probably the sweet spot once you factor in illness, fatigue, people being unavailable, and actual competition for places.”
Elias grimaced. “Which means open tryouts, late in the offseason, when most of the obvious elite pilots already have teams.”
“True.” Adrian smiled. “But be honest. How many perfectly normal elite pilots could survive us?”
Amy gave him a look.
“Not insulting you,” Adrian said quickly. “You may actually be the most normal one here, even if Furiosa fights like we should’ve named it Vlad Dracul.”
Kevin considered that. “I feel I should object on behalf of abnormal people everywhere.”
“You are Exhibit A.”
That got a laugh before Adrian continued. “We’re probably looking for the people other teams passed on because they’re a little offbeat. Fine. We need good-weird, or at least neutral-weird. Not toxic-weird. The weird has to work FOR us, or at minimum be something we can live with.”
He glanced at Kevin. “Speaking of good-weird, are you sure you don’t want to be considered as a starter?”
Kevin shook his head before Adrian finished. “No offense, but I escaped the trading floor. I do not want to meet its second cousin, the semi-pro circuit, and its rich uncle, the League.”
He tapped the table. “If you absolutely need me, I’ll do it. But I prefer my digestive system without a stress ulcer. I’m better for the Guild, morale, and being serious when it actually matters. If you need my room for a full-time pilot, I can live nearby.”
“Absolutely NOT.” Amy’s answer came fast enough to make Kevin blink. “We can find space nearby for extra people. You keep us on our toes, and don’t you dare decide that means the work you do for the Guild isn’t noticed.”
Adrian nodded. “Also not the culture I want. Nobody’s place here should depend on their ability to earn a starting slot.”
He let that sit for a second before adding, “The three rules still apply. Have fun. Do your best. Then circle back to rule one whenever you can. Team Reforged is going to eat most of our attention while we build it, but Guild Reforged is still the heart of the whole thing.”
Kevin grinned. “Extended family, huh? Can I borrow your ride? I want to take someone on a date in the AX-1. I promise I’ll return it with a full tank.”
Adrian pointed at him. “First of all, you cannot use the AX-1 WarMaster as a date vehicle. And...”
He stopped.
“Why am I answering that seriously?”
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