Mirror: Chapter 15

"Are you ready for some motorball?!" the announcer screamed.

The crowd responded with enthusiastic cheering and stomping. Alita could hear the din through the thick flooring.

"Big crowd tonight," she said, noncommittally.

"You're popular," Adem returned the tone as he methodically checked his armor.

"Can you check my armor, too?"

He glanced at her for an extended moment before gliding over, "Okay. Turn around."

When his hands brushed her hair out of the way, she swallowed. Starting at her shoulder pads, he worked his way down, piece by piece. The gentleness was unexpected.

It's not a massage, she kept reminding herself with a burning face. Hands splayed over her lower back--any lower and he'll--and then her hips--

"Okay! Good enough!" she chirped, "Your turn!"

"I'm not done yet."

She grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to turn around, then took a breath to steady herself before starting.

Cybernetics replaced every inch of him, except his brain. The replacement body matched his original physical characteristics, as close as possible.

But, was he this tall? I have to stretch to get my hands on his shoulders. I should say something.

Say something!

"How did you come up with the idea of the counterweight?"

What a dumb question, I should have stayed quiet.

"By studying you, and your Panzer Kunst."

"I don't follow."

As her hands found their way to his waist, his back stiffened in response.

Ha! Two can play this game.

"Your combat art relies on rotational inertia, building it up and releasing it. It wasn't something I could imitate, so I improvised, installing a superdense metal connected to an ultra-tension spring. The spring stored up energy as I moved, and the weight focused it when I decided to release it."

"So you put a punch inside your punch? That's smart."

"It was desperate," Adem muttered, "One misalignment would have resulted in self-destruction."

"Good thing you copied my precision, too."

He chuckled, "That's not all I stole from you."

"What else did you get from those drawings?"

I'm almost at your hips now, aren't you going to chicken out?

"Ah," Adem said, ruefully, "The ink was nonmagnetic."

Alita tilted her head in confusion then realization washed over her. He couldn't see what was on the paper with an EM-locator. That was the real reason he didn't leave the all-metal motorball arena because he could only detect metal.

"But, you redrew them? Blind?"

"Tried to."

Her fingers stilled.

"You can see again now," she said, her voice a hushed whisper, "So if you want to draw me, it's okay."

He nodded.

"Just not all Panzer Kunst, deal?"

"Deal."

"Racers!" the announcer's voice drifted through the walls, "This is your twenty-minute warning!"

Both grabbed their helmets and made their way up the entry-ramp, shoulder-to-shoulder. The entry-ramp connected to the main hall and the main hall led into the track. Every locker had a ramp, and teams started to march in.

Adem and Alita felt like coiled watchsprings, ready to snap to life with a single click.

"Look, these two are scared stiff!"

This guy looks like a giant moleman, with the round head, short legs, and long claws. Seriously, what do motorball racers have against the human appearance?

"Dude, shut up. That's Alita," someone whispered to him.

"So?" Moleman shrugged, "This isn't solo-racing. It's a whole different world, princess."

Neither of them took Moleman's bait, and they quietly lined up with the other contesting teams.

You need to be quiet, before I shut you up.

More gossip filled the hall, while the announcer called out the teams.

"If she's the battle angel, then who's the schmuck? I've never seen him before."

"Don't know. Probably some sucker she roped into it so she could promote to advanced. Poor sap, he's going to get focused so hard."

"Think he's her boyfriend?"

"Let's find out," Moleman said, then called out, "Damn baby! That's one fine ass! How many credits did you spend on a body like that? A man could crash, staring at that thing!"

Adem, c'mon, I know you're reserved and all, but at least pretend to get angry--uh oh--no, don't get that angry!

His jaw clenched, and she could hear it audibly grit. Adem turned his head, everyone's attention settled on how loud his cybernetics whirred.

When he locked eyes with Moleman, the banter died.

The helmet in Adem's hand split in half with a click, designed to hinge on the crown, with a seam running vertically over the ears. The front part he held to his face like a mask, then latched the back in place.

Removing his hand revealed a mirrored faceplate.

Okay, that's cool.

"Shit, that's racer twelve," someone hissed, "Nice knowing you buddy."

"In pole position number three, team Battle Angel. Racers: Alita, the battle angel herself, and racer number twelve!"

"We need a racer name for you," Alita lamented, as they put their feet on their starting marker.

"I like it. It makes me sound all business."

Alita sneered at Adem's voice changer, "That makes you sound weird, I don't like it."

As the other teams lined up, there was obvious mismanagement of space. Pole position three put team Battle Angel in the center of the line-up. The other teams had shifted away from them as far as the rules would allow.

Adem looked back at Moleman.

Red!

"I was pranking," Moleman stuttered, "No hard feelings?"

Yellow!

"Not in a second, no."

Green!

Alita rocketed forward, snatching up the uncontested motorball.

"What's going on?" she turned.

The other racers were staring at Adem and Moleman, none of them had left their marks.

Her teammate had spun one-hundred-eighty-degrees and went right at Moleman. None of his team interfered, unwilling to incur his wrath.

In this fight Adem had three advantages that Moleman did not: extensive motorball experience, cybersurgery training, and a quality body picked out by both a talented surgeon and an elite Kunstler. That translated into no wasted movements, striking exactly where to get the most damage, and delivering great destructive power.

It wasn't a fight, it was a brutal dismembering.

Before Alita realized how berserk Adem was, he had pulverized Moleman's limbs and was stomping his stomach into sheet metal. Pieces scattered everywhere.

"Adem! Stop!"

His foot froze over Moleman's whimpering chest, Alita's call had stayed the execution.

When he cruised up to Alita, the other racer's parted. He turned around, waiting.

No one moved.

"The judges are making a mercy-ruling! Due to their overwhelming power and the reluctance of the other racers, a default victory is awarded to team Battle Angel!"