Elevator Pitch

Moira sat in her Zoid, leaning awkwardly over the controls, playing with the bobbleheads stuck to her dash. She had been waiting in the wings for her turn to fight for almost two hours, and she was beginning to get restless. The blare of a buzzer somewhere in the rafters of the underground hangar sounded, and on one of the massive screens a number flashed up. Not hers. Moira watched the exchange of Zoids at the lift - the battered, broken one was hauled off by attendants, and the new competitor went up. That’d been the pattern for a while, and since she’d only seen Zoids go up one at a time, Moira could only speculate that there was another hangar like this at the other side of the arena. Seemed something of an awkward operation, but she supposed it could be chalked up to keeping the competition as secret as possible until the fight - the clip reels they had rolling hardly showed anything juicy, after all. 

Moira twanged the bobblehead, and its head broke off with the whine of a stretched spring. She sighed. It was only a matter of time, she supposed, but damn, those had been so expensive! Grabbing the severed head from against the lid of the cockpit, Moira leant back and regarded it quietly. Oh well - the prize money at stake here would pay for it a hundred times over. She’d just have to win, that’s all. Vengeance for bobble-head Zaber Fang. Moira chuckled and tucked the head into a plastic strip of pockets she had hanging from the overhead array. A new spring and some glue and it’d be good as new. Besides, maybe she’d fight a Zaber, and then she could use the headless cat on her dash as inspiration.

A sudden rumble distracted Moira from the affairs of her overpriced junk - distracted everyone in the hangar, it seemed, judging by the movements of the Zoids that Moira saw - the animalistic ones that tucked their tails under their legs and cowered as dust from the ceilings, the ‘soulless’ ones that tilted their heads back to give their pilots a better look at the ceiling, and everything in between. Hmm: that’d been happening a lot recently. Moira had to wonder how long they’d taken to build this place, and where exactly the arena was in relation to the hangars - seemed like whatever was happening on the surface, it was going to end in disaster...

Larayna wasn’t even sure what she was doing here. At least, that was the truth of it in most respects. Her friends had finally convinced her to attend a tournament and somehow, that had involved participating in it. She hadn’t been here long; she’d been signed up late. She sat on the foot of the Command Wolf she called her own. Her long platinum hair fell down her back, meticulously straightened while her white bow sat atop her head. Around her shoulders was a long purple jacket over the top of a simple white top, jeans and a pair of black over knee boots.

She looked at her surroundings with curiosity. This world was so foreign to her and she simply didn’t know where to begin. There were so many zoids of all different shapes and sizes. Some bristled with cannons and blades, others were sleek beasts who looked like they could tear out a metallic throat in a heartbeat. Some of them were like hers. Barely functioning, old, unloved but necessary. Perhaps that was her problem.

She looked over at the nearest human life she could see. Three men in pilot suits, looking ready for anything this tournament would throw at them. She could only just overhear them talking. But they were excited. This wasn’t just a job; they didn’t need any prize money. They were here for the joy of it. One of them had several sponsors on his suit, talking about how he was looking forward to show off his zoid and what it was capable of.

She sighed and leant her head back against the cool metal of the Wolf’s leg. Another person caught her eye, this one appeared to be talking to their zoid. Almost as though it had feelings. They were machines, weren’t they? How could a simple machine have feelings? Some of this made no sense to her. But she did know one thing.

She was wrong.

She’d avoided contact with most people on her way in. She had always believed that pilots were egocentric, overbearing, corporate lap dogs. That was all she had ever seen on reports. Oh, I did it for the love of battle! She had thought that to be an act for the cameras. But on hearing these people talk, she was very wrong. This was raw, grass roots zoid battles. These people were like her. They were people out for the weekend doing their hobby. They were trying to survive. They were enjoying themselves. They were simply human. She smiled at the thought of being wrong about them. It was nice to know. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

There was another rumble and dust fell from the hangar ceiling. Larayna leant forward coughing as she accidentally breathed some in. She had taken it for granted that this was normal. She looked over at the zoids near her. A red bird-like creature, a silver pterosaur and a bipedal zoid she liked the look of. It had two massive saws stowed at its side that looked like brutal weaponry. She saw a pilot in the shadow of the cockpit and tried to get their attention.

Once someone seemed to acknowledge her, she’d inquire with curiosity, “This is the first event I’ve been to. Is this rumbling normal?” She guessed it could be. These were massive machines of metal and ammunition after all.

Moira jumped slightly as she noticed somebody looking at her in a way that suggested that they wanted to talk to her. With the press of a button, the cockpit canopy opened up, and the pilot leaned out.

"I'm not sure - all the events I've been to have been above ground..." She gave something of a half-hearted smile - if she was honest, the rumbling had made her incredibly uneasy, "I guess we'll just have to hope we're done soon."

Yes, a good fight was definitely the thing to clear the air - between the apparent possibility of a cave-in and the usual nervousness of battle, Moira felt like her nerves had been scraped down raw. That said, given her number hadn't yet come up, and didn't seem like it was going to, she supposed she was going to have to come up with something else. Turning briefly away from her competitor, she had the Sapper lower its head, so that she could get out. If she couldn't have mechanised violence, than just stretching her legs would have to do.

Indeed, she hadn't noticed how stiff she'd managed to get. Moira exhaled, and stretched her arms above her head, followed by each of her legs. She felt better, if only slightly. Still, she was grateful for small mercies.

"So your first event, huh? How's that working out for you?"