MVA1

==Chapter 1 - My Vanity==
===Part 1===
He woke up in complete darkness. Reaching out, he found he could move, but he was in a confined space, which became more evident with the sound of his breathing and how it sounded close. Claustraphobia threatened to set in, but he quickly suppressed it by concentrating on his breathing for a couple seconds. Then he started examining his surroundings.
The surfaces around him were flat, and when he hit or kicked, they rang hollow, like plastic. He felt some contours, like ridging. And, then there were some depressions into which he could push his fingertips. If he worked hard enough some of those depressions widened into gaps. 
Crates. He was inside a pocket, surrounded by storage crates or totes. He had no idea how deep the pile was, but he imagined with enough effort and time, he could free himself. Giving a tentative push, he found ready resistance in most directions except to his right. 
Pushing and wiggling, he heard muted thumping overhead, which then bounced down the right and ended somewhere below him. As he continued to push and work, a few more repeats of the noise. Each time, the work and push became a hair easier.
After many minutes, light suddenly appeared. But, it wasn’t like a crack had opened up to let outside light in. It was if a switch had been turned on and suddenly flooded in through an existing crack. He paused, letting his vision adjust.
“What the ******?” a voice mumbled outside.
Heart elated at hearing a voice, he called out to the stranger outside his prison. Come what may, he was about to be free. He could deal with the consequences later.
“Help!” he finally managed after a few wordless shouts.
“Hello?” the voice outside said, louder concerned.
“Hey! I’m stuck. Can you get me out?” he shouted. The noise of his own voice in the confined space irritated his ears.
“Holy -,” the outside voice muttered, muffled. “I hear you,” it said, clearly, though still muffled by the plastic crate barrier. It was decidedly male, a baritone. “Hang on! We’ll get you out. It’ll take a while.”
===Part 2===
Chapter 1 - continued
Casey sat at a table nearest the pods occupied by Al and the three mercenaries. While a ring of displays hung overhead for all to see, it was rigged to a cinematic AI which changed vantages from cockpit views of the pilots, to views from the cockpit, to sweeping shots of the battlefield. As a mere program, it was very good at what it did, and made a lot of matches quite entertaining. 
However, for those interested in what a particular somebody was doing, each pod had a dedicated monitor right behind it up on the balcony. Thankfully, all four contestants had set up side by side, and Casey was free to watch fixed footage of each showing both the cockpit and over the ’Mech’s shoulder as he pleased.
The simulator library was extensive. It had a dozen different terrain archetypes, which were always randomized. It also happened to have the more popular Solaris Arenas. However, the arena maps in the simulator had a glitch. Most Solaris arenas were only one hundred and twenty meters wide or long, with most having a long side around two hundred meters.
Not these simulators. Somehow, the rendering program extended the length and width of the fields to quadruple the size. The map for the last match had shown what was supposed to be the Boreal Reach arena. Instead of getting a sharp, rock strewn, snow covered shoulder overlooking a deep narrow gash in glacial ice, spectators and competitors were presented with a windswept flowing tundra, broken by sharp bedrock outcrops with a draw leading to a huge glacial crevasse. All twelve contestants fought in a kilometer by half kilometer rectangle.
In spite of the origin for the graphics, the rendering program did a great job of making it look natural. Nothing looked oblong. Even places with natural vegetation didn't get distorted. Instead, more plants were rendered to fill the gaps. Places with large boulders saw more boulders.
The current, randomly selected map was the famous Steiner Stadium. No fancy obstacles were in place for this fight. It was flat and open for nearly half a kilometer in each direction. The digital audience was packed into the now extensive bleachers that ringed the field. The famous blue shield glimmered near the emitters.
Out in the middle, nearly a quarter kilometer apart, was Al and his first opponent. Al piloted a Warhammer. The coloring was tan with brown torso boxes and a few other highlights on the right shoulder launcher and left shoulder flood light. 
The opponent was the Asian lady, in a Jenner. Casey couldn’t help wonder if she didn’t have Combine origins. All four contestants had turned over a data card to the SimTech, Phil, so each of the ’Mechs being run were real. But, the she had also gone with one of the stock color schemes, a tan with white highlighting along the round shoulder/hip sections and along the visor on the domed head out front. If she were combine, she wasn’t showing any pride in the colors of her past.
On the digital field, the Jenner started running forward. 
In no hurry to close, Hammer opened up with its particle cannons. Both struck the Jenner, which danced side-to-side under the beams. Only one beam actually registered damage.
Casey winced. He glanced over at a small crowd seated around a steel table, distracted by the noise of their surprise. They weren't the only ones surprised by the range of the particle cannons. Most of the local yokels may have heard of some of the latest advancements filtering through the Inner Sphere since the rediscovery of LosTech. Very few of them had ever seen it in action. Except Casey.
"Look at how cool the 'Hammer's running," someone commented. "But it's firing both particle cannons non-stop. How's that possible?"
"I've heard of these new freezers that they've been puttin' into 'Mechs, Terra-ward. I bet that's what it's mountin'." a woman said.
"But, these pods are old! They don't have data for that kind of gear." another man protested.
Turning back to the display, Casey leaned his elbows on the table in front of him, and clasped both dark hands in front of his chin. He smiled, amused by the ignorance of the crowd around him. This kind of tech had been proliferating in the Inner Sphere for more than a decade now. It showed the kind of backwater world Astrokaszy was. 
Moment past, he focused on the duel portrayed in front of him.
Indeed, the Warhammer was able to keep very cool while firing both particle cannons. But, in spite of the crowd's amazement, the fire wasn't very effective. Thirty seconds of continual fire, three shots from each cannon, and the Jenner still had a decent amount of armor across most of its body. To Casey, it was an equal indication of Al's gunnery, as well as the piloting skill of the light pilot.
Still, the Jenner was now in range to fire its own weapons and wasn't wasting time. Watching the battle as a spectator, the next twenty seconds happened too quickly. As a 'Mech pilot, Casey knew that if he were fighting, that time seemed like an eternity. The Jenner had ‘alpha’ed, firing everything it had, once in optimal range. So had the Warhammer, stepping forward to meet its opponent. It was a spectacular light show of burning red lasers, and blue particle beams.
"Why didn't the big one fire its shoulder rockets?" a woman asked from somewhere behind Casey.
"Look at the weapons layout. It doesn't have rockets," her partner replied.
"But...! Then why does the 'Mech have that shoulder box?"
Casey smiled a close-lipped smile, again, at hearing a spectator's confusion. It widened into a grin when he saw the results from the fire exchange. The Jenner was running hot, and so was the Warhammer. The big difference was that the Warhammer didn't have any big holes in its chest, or anywhere else. The Jenner's front armor was compromised and the engine was pouring out waste heat, according to the internal heat indicators on display. During a cinematic shot in Infrared, both 'Mechs glowed. The only indicators. In the digital environment, the armored hides of both ’Mechs simply darkened where the beams hit. 
It was all the Jenner's radiators could do to bleed off what poured out of the engine shielding. With no way to compensate for any other kind of action, the only way the light 'Mech could cool off was to idle down. To her credit, the Jenner pilot went for one more exchange of fire before shutdown alarms blared. Then she had no choice.
One of the pods near Casey’s table stopped. Overhead, in the virtual environment, the Jenner shut down and disappeared. She gave up.
Around him, many of the spectators cursed or booed. They hadn't expected this. Nor wanted it, judging by the ferocity of some of the curses. Some people had lost a good deal of money on this particular exchange. 
It was understandable. Al may have worked his way up to a simulator champion, here at the Crossroads. But, that didn’t mean much considering the general skill level of his opponents, who didn’t get the same amount of simulator time, he did while working as a bouncer after his arrival and display of physical prowess three years back. 
But, these mercenaries were legendary in these parts. There were extensive stories about their dealings with the local nomads and a few sultans. These three people were largely responsible for keeping the pods where they are, in spite of some interesting odds. Most people believed those legends.
From the inside pod display, Casey watched the slender, graceful form remove the bulky neuralhelmet. Her black hair was matted with sweat, and her Asian features were slightly contorted in anger. With hasty motions she popped the hatch.
Casey couldn't help a small chuckle. 
Then, on screen, a new opponent appeared. Casey's smile disappeared, and anxiety tightened in his gut at what he saw. It wasn't the Phoenix Hawk that had him worried. It was impressive enough, the custom scheme looking like the humanoid ’Mech was hollow, a doorway to a raging inferno. They psychedelic holographic look forced Casey to do a double take after confirming what he saw on Al’s monitor.
Casey was worried by the fact that the Warhammer hadn't been reset. It was still hot from its last exchange, and the damage still scarred its form. This was a gauntlet. They were sending Al straight from one duel to the next.
According to Darran, any challenger wanting to get hired by this mercenary unit only had to beat one 'Mech. Al had already done that. Still, that didn't ease Casey's mind. In a lot of ways, he had a lot riding on this fight. 
He wanted Al to give a good impression. It was Casey's training that had gotten the kid this far. If he didn't fare well after a fight with a light 'Mech, what did that say of Casey's skills? It didn’t help that he was out in the periphery, looking for work to begin with, and this group was the only one he was told he could trust with his unique background. If Al didn’t impress, then how much harder would Casey have it when his turn came? In spite of Darran’s assurances, were the rules for this entrance exam rock solid?
Casey tried to calm himself. Ignoring the chatter around him, he took a deep breath and focused on the duel to come. Al had handled himself admirably, this far, in spite of the glaring difference in skills. Surely he would be able to beat a second 'Mech. 
Gasps and cries of surprise erupted when Al's hot 'Hammer took off at a speed uncharacteristic for that chassis. Considering his heat monitor was almost a third full, Casey understood the shock. A nervous smile twitched the corners of his mouth.
Then, the Phoenix Hawk brought its own surprise to the game, beyond the custom holographic Gateway to Hell look.
Normally, the Pixie had a matching set of laser and machine gun in each wrist. Instead, this one fired missiles. A pair of SRMs flashed out from each wrist, in addition to the large laser beam from the hand-gun in the right fist. The beam struck harmlessly off the left torso while the Warhammer jinked in its forward rush. 
The missiles, on the other hand, flashed into giant balls of fire which splashed and covered the Warhammer. The burning fluid quickly spread to cover as much of Al’s machine as gravity would allow. The flames burned all over, many little dancing tongues of orange and yellow and white. 
Casey heard Al laugh sadistically before saying, "Thanks for the light!"
Then, Al fired his own weapons, a strange mix of a single particle cannon and some of the lasers.
"What the...! Why the lasers?" someone asked, incredulously. "They're hopelessly out of range!"
Casey smiled. 
In spite of the fire cooking all over Al's ’Mech, it's heat barely fluctuated, staying where it was. The Warhammer was ingeniously designed. It was a testament to the technician team that built the design that it worked as well as it did with Triple Strength Myomer, or that they managed to find the specs to manufacture their own. But, Al had been the one to come up with the general design, which surprised Casey. How did such a young man know that such performance was possible when the technology was still relatively unknown and new?
Could it be from his time on Terra?
The young sim jockey was using the Inferno fire to his advantage, selectively firing certain mixes of lasers and Extended Range PPCs to keep the TSM in its sweet spot. From the reaction on the Pixie pilot’s monitor, the opponent knew it, too.
Then the fight was over. In the seconds it took the crowd to comment, both 'Mechs had closed, the Phoenix Hawk switching to standard SRMs. His mistake. 
The Warhammer closed in a jog, firing all six chest lasers, two ER Mediums and four standard smalls. Coming up on the Pixie's right, Al swung the cannon barrels which made up either lower arm. Like a club wielded by a ball-player, the right arm swung up and wide, flattening the Pixie's head along the way. The follow-up punch from the left arm speared the light 'Mech through the back.
Showy and unnecessary, but since each was a split second apart, it was effective. 
The crowd around Casey was stunned silent. It even took him a moment to register that this round was over. Not even a third of a minute had passed. 
When he did understand, a heartbeat later, elation filled through Casey's chest, making his head light. He slumped back in his chair and openly laughed. Al had passed Casey's test.
People around him were reacting differently. Some muttered appreciation at the final attack. Some booed or complained loudly, not understanding how such an attack was possible. Casey understood. Even a Phoenix Hawk had enough head protection to survive a punch from a Warhammer. No single punch from any seventy ton 'Mech could cause such complete damage the first time. But, Casey also knew that with the right equipment, such an attack was possible from a seventy ton 'Mech.
Casey prepared to stand, expecting to be called over for his shot at the trio. However, the simulation kept running. Instead, the third opponent took the field while the Phoenix Hawk vanished before hitting the ground. 
The fight wasn’t over. Nor was the damage on Al’s ’Mech reset.
The new opponent was something long lost during the Succession Wars, only to be revived recently. It also outweighed the seventy ton Warhammer by twenty tons. A Highlander BattleMech could easily be one of the forces behind the legends. This one sported a stock olive drab scheme, honoring its Star League origin. Judging from the readout, it was a vintage 732, which carried the rare and powerful Gauss Rifle. A lucky shot to the cockpit on any ’Mech was a game-ender.
The next 'Mech was a real worry, but Casey no longer cared. A damaged heavy 'Mech versus a pristine assault 'Mech, like a Highlander, didn't stand a chance. Even more so, if that Highlander was manned by a veteran with decent gunnery. Casey assumed this one was.
Leaning back, his mind was numb while he took in the match. The questions that raced through his mind didn’t retain his focus. It didn't matter. Al performed to Casey’s expectations. Casey wasn’t willing to speculate at the intentions behind the continued gauntlet. He had to trust in Darran’s words. Al would be hired as soon as this match was over, win or lose. 
Watching idly, Casey could see that the mercenary commander Al now faced was very much a good marksman, putting landing shots with both the legendary gauss rifle and the large, twenty-rocket, missile pack. Al's armor was taking heavy damage all over the place. Al’s skills were good enough that the Warhammer kept its footing while marching forward under the barrage, landing intermittent shots with its own PPCs.
Then the unexpected happened.
The Highlander took an unexpected fall. Casey looked up, taking in the stats from the different displays, trying to understand what just happened. Then he saw the gyro was completely knocked out on the assault ’Mech. The Highlander's armor was hardly damaged, but it was already crippled. Al had, with more uncanny luck than any real skill, found a weak spot in the Highlander's chest plate.
Excited, Casey jumped from his chair, whooping, striking a fist at empty air.
Noticing the mixed looks from sour and condescending faces, he quickly took his seat. A minute passed while, missing an arm, Al worked his Warhammer into a position where the Highlander could never return fire while it was on the ground. It was quickly shot and kicked to pieces.
From across the bar, Casey heard Darran drawl out, “Unbelievable.”
===Part 3===
Chapter 1 - continued
Down in the Pod Pit, Casey held the disk containing ROM Data and specs for his personal GRF-3M Griffin. A relatively new design, it also featured some advanced technologies that the Pod’s general database didn’t have. While handing it off to Phil, he observed the interplay between the mercs and Al after he got out.
The Asian woman and second man were unreadable. But, the leader looked openly happy and amused. He stepped close and slapped Al’s bare arm. 
Each of the Mercs, as well as Al, had changed into shorts and tank tops. Even Casey was less dressed than he had been up in the balcony. The academy-grade pods simulated almost everything about a BattleMech to a T. That included the general heat output of so many computers in close confinement, which required something stronger than strict air-conditioning to keep the pilot cool and comfortable. Everyone in the pit, except Phil, wore coolant vests, which hooked into the appropriate simulator. The AC piped into the pit to help cool the mainframe running the pods was almost a little too cool for comfort.
“That was amazing,” the merc leader said with a laugh. “I haven’t seen anything like that in a long time. Sorry to put you through all that, but I was itching to get in a little sim-time, too. The rule stands, though. You only needed to beat one of us. Wait up for us while we run a match with the other guy.” He pointed to Casey.
Al nodded and turned to leave. 
“It wouldn’t change anything to tell you I taught him everything he knows, would it?” Casey quipped while stepping toward his pod.
When all three mercs looked at him, he smiled. He meant it more as a joke, to help keep things light, and was surprised when the merc leader took him seriously.
“Is that so?”
Al paused, and replied, “More or less.”
“I can vouch for that,” Nimaj’s voice called down from overhead.
The merc leader eyed Nimaj, then studied Casey a moment. 
----
Previous Chapter - Return to Story Index - Next Chapter
1
1