Chapter 5: Scrimmage

Adrian had reached out to a couple of his prior WarMAC building customers who had an in with a professional WarMAC League team and managed to arrange for a scrimmage with a team that had finished mid-table the prior season. Reactor Critical was one of those teams that was always just behind the chasing pack for the playoffs. They were never a bad team, but they were also never really a great team.

He explained his thought process to Amy.

“I’m not expecting to win this. If I’m honest, I’m just hoping to score some points. The three of us are each running one of the group battles. Elias and I are in the 4v4s, you’re in the 6v6 round as captain, and then we get the full team as it stands in the Mass Battle. We’re going to make mistakes. Some of them will be bad mistakes. And it’s not just going to be the pilots. We’ve done recreational Guild-based versions of what we’re about to do. This will be full speed. Against people whose paychecks depend on their ability to succeed in these situations, I thought about finding a couple semi-pro teams, but I’d rather reach too high and find out how close we can get. Besides, the semi-pro teams have a pretty solid grapevine, and I’d rather keep them in the dark about our capabilities for as long as possible.”

Amy nodded. She looked over the assembled members of the team. Some were still virtual because they had to arrange to move closer to Reforged’s HQ, and they had to draft a couple pilots from the guild because they didn’t have enough people to run a full team under League Rules otherwise. She grimaced a bit as she judged what she saw. “They’re jumpy, Adrian. They’re afraid of a bad performance. They’re new to the team, and they’re afraid of failing, of being told that signing them was a mistake. I hope you know what you’re doing. A bad defeat could break their spirit before we have a chance to even build it.”

Adrian sighed. “We have to try, and know that we will probably have to be gentle in the debrief, even if things are rough. But they have to start somewhere, and truth be told, if we went against a lesser team and had those issues, that would be a lot more dangerous to morale. Here, Reactor Critical is bringing a mix of their first-teamers, their reserves who don’t get enough reps in the League and could use the training in battle, and a couple promising youngsters. They’re SUPPOSED to beat us. But we can see exactly where we are, and be realistic that we’re not a WarMAC League team yet. We’re barely a semi-pro team yet. We’ve existed for what, five minutes?”

The first round was the Duel Round. It was a series of one-on-one duels that involved a “winner-stays-on” format. The moment one WarMAC was deemed destroyed, the game allowed the next WarMAC from that team to exit the reserve zone. Each team had five pilots, and the winning team scored one point for each pilot they had standing at the round’s conclusion.

Adrian had thought about leading off but decided to put himself in the final position, usually called the “anchor” role, so he could make notes on everyone else’s performance before he had to lock in and compete himself. He thought that it would be a bit harder to concentrate if he was first in, and then had to concentrate on everyone else while trying to run through the fight he might have just lost in his head.

While the format was new for this season, having replaced standard 1v1 duels, teams usually ran one of two strategies. They either put their best duelists in the leadoff positions, hoping to score multiple kills with their first pilot and force the other team to play from behind. Others saved their best pilot for the anchor position. They were the last chance to turn the round around, and even if the comeback failed, every opposing pilot the anchor removed reduced the points surrendered.

The battlefield was rather standard. There were scattered patches of trees here and there, providing some room for maneuvering, but there was no true place to hide for more than a few seconds.

Keiji had led off, and he moved around the battlefield quite comfortably. He stayed at the furthest range where he had a reasonable chance of hitting his opponent and tried to break contact whenever the exchange looked unfavorable to him. It almost turned into a ritualized dance, where the two pilots would maneuver into range, fire a couple weapons, and then immediately dance back out of range to set up the next exchange. Most 1v1 duels only took a couple minutes, because once a pilot had an advantage, it was a simple matter of pressing it, and there was always the possibility of what old-time fighter pilots called the “Golden BB,” a lucky shot that would change a duel’s outcome in a second.

Adrian kept a close eye on the damage readouts that the game provided for viewers to judge how a battle was going. Five minutes into the battle, finally, the Reactor Critical WarMAC was showing its first hints of red in the armor wireframe diagram. Keiji’s was a dark orange, which emphasized that the trades of damage had not been one-sided at all. But he did have a noticeable, if small, advantage. Adrian leaned forward to see how Keiji would react to this situation. While Keiji had estimates of the damage his opponent was suffering, the spectator readouts showed the exact state of the battle. A pilot had to rely on both his electronics and his innate sense to determine the enemy’s true armor status.

You’re winning. Do you know that? Do you believe that? And what do you do with that information?

The next exchange saw the enemy pilot break off more quickly, and Keiji pressed a little harder. Just an extra second or so to get another laser shot away.

Good ... wait. Keiji, remember where you are on the map ... He’s kiting you a bit. That enemy is thinking, “I may not win, but you’re going down right after me.”

These later exchanges were leaving a trail. The other pilot had read the situation correctly and had changed how they were fighting. They had realized that Keiji might win, so their goal was still to do as much damage as possible. However, they had added a second goal to their actions. They wanted to pull Keiji as close as possible to Reactor Critical’s spawn zone and make sure there was no resupply/repair pylon to help put Keiji back in at least tolerable shape. Normally, the way to deal with that was to break off, force another disengagement, and make it clear that you were going to stay as far away as possible. Other pilots would press hard, accepting a possible unfavorable outcome to finish the fight quickly and give themselves as much time to run away as possible.

Adrian made a note. Keiji had tried to press more, but not enough to force a quick end to the fight. He had unknowingly tried to split the difference between the two strategies, and would end up having the worst of both worlds. He would still win the fight, but take somewhat more damage and be a bit closer to the enemy spawn zone than he would have preferred.

Winning the duel is good. Making sure we win the ROUND is better. Try to maximize the benefit you’re giving to the next pilot in line.

It took two more exchanges, but the Reactor Critical pilot went down. Reforged cheered, and Keiji relaxed for two seconds, then stiffened back up when he realized that this was not a duel where you could take a deep breath after winning. The next Reactor Critical pilot was coming down on him with bad intentions.

Adrian nodded. Keiji didn’t panic and tried to break contact, but by the time he realized what he was supposed to do, it was already too late. It took an exchange or two, and Keiji went down. Because Keiji hadn’t dragged his opponent back closer to the center, the Reactor Critical pilot was able to visit a repair pylon and fully repair all the armor damage they had taken. They even had time to turn and face their new opponent before Reforged’s second pilot came charging all the way across the map to meet them.

Adrian made one last series of notes on Keiji’s performance.

You don’t need to tell him to break contact sooner next time. He’ll already have figured out that Duel Rounds need to be handled differently than 1v1s in the Arena. Instead, reinforce that he just took down a pro League pilot. Even if you score it a draw because they were able to repair after taking you down, that’s an accomplishment. Well done.

He then focused on Pete “Tex” Kenson, a new signing they had just confirmed the day before the scrimmage. Pete had lived in Amarillo, Texas, before moving out west, and he still dressed the part. When he was outside, he generally wore a genuine cowboy hat, a work shirt, and blue jeans. When they had mentioned the oddity of wearing a cowboy hat in the hot West Coast sunshine, he remarked that it was even better out here, because it kept his neck and face from getting sunburned. While he might still have been called a redneck, that didn’t mean he had to have a red neck.

Adrian started a fresh section of notes for this second battle.

Looking at him, he’s tight. Not loose at all. I can see him gripping the controls with white knuckles. He’s not familiar with this kind of pressure, and he’s hesitating because he thinks he has to make pro moves because he’s getting paid. He’s thinking, not acting. That doesn’t mean you can’t think, you just need to be doing SOMETHING while you think.

This fight was more one-sided than Keiji’s duel with the original Reactor Critical pilot. Not a rout. Tex was a good enough pilot to avoid being shut out, but he was not the one controlling the pace and tempo of the fight. He was almost fighting himself, trying to make perfect maneuvers, failing, and then trying to correct them and usually ending up in a worse position. He once even turned too far in an attempt to break contact. That was dangerous against any good Arena pilot. Against a professional pilot, it was nearly terminal. The full volley from the enemy basically disintegrated four-fifths of Tex’s rear armor. Tex nearly made it worse when he overcorrected the overcorrection, but managed to get hold of himself long enough to use a stand of trees to break contact and breathe.

C’mon Tex. It’s ok. You made a mistake. Don’t compound it. The mistake happened, you can’t undo it, just move on. Deep breath. Put it out of your mind.

Adrian frowned then as Tex appeared on the other side of the trees, only to double back to disappear behind them once more.

It’s in his head now. He’s saying “Don’t make a mistake, don’t make a mistake.” And trying to re-litigate what happened in his head when he needs to deal with the situation as it is now.

Tex did his best to stay in the fight. But then he suffered a shot that damaged a knee actuator, and his limping WarMAC was pounced on and quickly finished off. Adrian watched Tex nearly tear off his headphones in disgust.

Need to build him up real quick. It wasn’t good, but it’s fixable. Focus on that.

As Hiroshi came out onto the field, the Reactor Critical pilot was pulling a tactical withdrawal, using a flight of missiles to force Hiroshi to give ground while they broke back toward the center of the map. Adrian slid over to Tex, who was leaning forward, eyes closed, obviously reliving the fight. When Adrian touched his shoulder, Tex looked up with a start.

Adrian indicated Tex’s screen with a jerk of his chin. “It’s ok. Jitters happen.”

“Sorry, Adrian ... I just...”

“Don’t worry. I watched. We’ll deal with it later. We’ll go through it in the debrief.”

He paused for emphasis.

“Just for right now, breathe. Relax. This doesn’t affect the reason we brought you on board. You don’t have to be perfect just because you’re a member of a team now and have a paycheck. Next time, trust your natural talent instead of fighting it.”

He clapped Tex on the shoulder and hurried back to his seat.

By then, Hiroshi had met up with the enemy pilot, who had technically defeated two pilots in a row already. They had defeated a nearly dead Keiji before he could break contact long enough to repair, and then had a fairly easy time of it against Tex. It looked like they would add a third notch to their metaphorical pistol.

Oof. Poor Hiroshi. Asking him to fight this guy was like asking a JV high school starter to play one-on-one against a pro all-star. I wish Kevin had been available today, but there’s not much we can do. Big props to Hiroshi for trying his best.

He thought for a moment, then typed out a text to the Reactor Critical coach.

“I would say that your guy is bullying us, but he’s just doing his job. He’s good.”

Shortly after Hiroshi joined his compatriots in falling to the enemy pilot, Adrian received a response.

“I’ll tell him you said that. That’s Keller, our vice-captain. The joke among the trainees is he’d rather snack on one of them in a duel than eat breakfast.”

Adrian nodded.

That explains a lot. Make sure to mention that to Tex. No wonder he was put under pressure in his duel. The guy considers a trainee in a duel part of a healthy breakfast.

Henry was Reforged’s fourth fighter, and he came out cautiously. He had just seen his team lose three pilots in a row, and he had no intention of continuing the trend if he could help it. Keller was apparently looking forward to taking down yet another Reforged pilot and pressed hard, but Henry controlled his WarMAC with a deft touch that belied his real-life size and bulk. He managed to land a couple of telling shots with his light particle cannon and forced Keller, for once, to break contact and attempt to re-establish favorable terms.

Good! Henry’s just seen two pilots go down quickly and is not letting it affect him mentally. That’s important. It’s how we get back into the round. We may not win it, but we’ll definitely make them work for it. Limit their points. Take the moral victory if possible. It might be the only victory we have today.

This fight went back and forth. Adrian was caught between making notes, keeping up-to-date with the damage assessment on the viewscreen, and getting ready to fight himself.

Come on, take him down for me. I don’t want this guy thinking he can complete the set by taking you and me down too. Taking down their vice-captain would be a hell of an achievement too. But even if you don’t win, every hit counts.

Adrian found himself worried for the first time in quite some time. Not for the round. That was pretty much lost already. But no matter who he fought, whether it was Keller or whoever would be after him, this would be a whole other level of competition. And there was that poisonous thought, saying, “This is where you get exposed as a past-your-time relic. Why did you ever think you could fight pros?”

He took a deep, steadying breath and attacked that poisonous thought pattern just as professionally as he would an enemy WarMAC, admitting its presence but not letting it defeat him.

I’m here because I’m still a great fighter. Everyone I’ve faced admits that. The engine has its share of miles on it, but when it comes time to press the gas pedal, it’s going to be like old times again. And I’m in my WarMaster. The original one. The one I won the title in. Come on, old boy. It’s time to earn our keep once again. Admit it, you missed this.