STEKI project

-8-

Xipe Totec enters, a glimpse places him at the flight deck of a great and ancient aircraft carrier, swaying into apocalyptic oceans. The world is in a nightly null, outlines and darkness make all shapes and texture.

The ex-champion is painted a bright red, everywhere bare, without even a layer of light Gymnete armor. He is wrapped in a second skin, thin a layered piece of impossible technological marvel and condensed into the form of something human, removed of all their innards. Where there is the broad and tall, red-painted brute, with the many piercings of golden, obsidian and silver jewellery, there is also a brown flayed skin latching and flailing around his form.

Over the storm and out into the cosmos, the stars are hushed with the light pollution of hundreds of orbiting satellites and platforms. Through crystal lenses, through the black clouds this oceanic part of the planet is projected into the retinas of billions of people and further still into the emptiness beyond.

The waters rage, surge and slam against the dense hull. The sky is a muteness of all colours, breaking far into the distance to the darkest hues of dawn and above the clouds are black, weaving into eachother, the frequent thunder revealing their draw of vapour.

The arena is thus, a ship of old Earth. A Nimitz class aircraft carrier. An exact replica, recreated from ancient data, the once sailing ship on old Earth's vast seas now stands amidst the raging seas of another planet, brought to as nothing but a symbol. Nuclear power runs through it and small modifications have made the entire ship functioning in an unmanned state. Lights red and pale white, speck across the bridge and the landing deck. Deeper orange hues wash into the rain of open metal hangar doors and elevator doorways that once pulled fighter jets out from the innards of the ship. Rain makes these lights a texture glossy, on either solid or liquid a surface.

Jorj is glimpsed into the island of the carrier. This bulky spot on the ship is the control center, a collection of ancient radars, antennas and what appears as vertical masts that are adorned with a few powerup modules that have not yet manifested. There is only their base there, promising a boon to whom may grab it. The height overlooks the deck, but nobody appears to be there. Perhaps a shadow has moved at the base of the island, but the glass windows of the bridge block Jorj's sight downwards. He pushes the steel railing away. He goes out into the rain and from there he goes into the open steel door that leads to a vertical ladder.

Sliding downwards, the sounds are muted, endless clattering pummels and ironbound cracks resound followed by a careful hush. This rhythm enters Jorj as the under-deck music he walks amidst. Creeping through shadows, listening carefully to any odd step.

This rhythm never breaks. When an open red palm pummels the side of his head and his eardrum ruptures, he is already loose of fingertips without a weapon, wrestling against someone that he cannot see. Only outlines make a silhouette that has two odd shapes at his back. Two elongated shadows. One the familiar shape of a Shock Lanza and the other, a scoped rifle. On the red hand is a vibrating blade, a ceremonial dagger that cuts through chestplate and bone, leaving the other red hand to enter and pull away his still beating heart.

His gold layered brain is glimpsed out, manufactured a body anew and glimpsed back in. Flexed goes, his left first and then his right fist. The next time Jorj respawns he is outside in the rain, at the end of the runway, far away from the island and he begins to sprint the three hundred meters of wet surface.

At the distance a weapon of unordered shape hovers amidst the rain.

The hangar is open, with a white ceiling. Crates and one singular fighter plane exist within it. All untethered objects that showcase their past movements in light scratches on the hangar's floor. The lights are yellow and white, reversed beams that flood the place with light but still leave corners dark and shapeless within.

There are loose bullets rolling across the swaying flatness. Outside the circular window, the sea is tilted and the waves crash into the otherwise enclosed space.

Seawater, odd objects, the F/A-18 fighter jet, they move along to the sprinting of the two old Contestants. Hab and Hippolus have drawn their attention to the two cumbersome fuel tanks hanging underneath the plane's wings. It appears that they are full of fuel.

Together the two push deeper into the hangar, towards a source of light that has been shot to pieces. The darkness there is hiding the ex-champion and the Claimants in their ear, they speak of foregone destruction just as a fifty calibre projectile whizzes past Hab's head. The man loses his left ear to the pressure of the bullet.

As the blood trickles a path deeper to the hangar, the two weave behind the swaying objects.

At intervals without cover, Hippolus uses the alternative fire of his Lanza to shoot the slow moving balls of energy towards Xipe Totec.

Varhas is unable to communicate with the two Claimants. The storm rages behind the real and the circuitry, the wires and the space between the automation of the massive aircraft carrier, it is all hostile to their team. The networks are screaming back at every attempt to reveal the opponents armaments to the other two.

The moment that Jorj has crossed half of the deck, it is revealed that they are too late to reveal a trap.

The deck caves in to only an uneven depression and then the blue void explodes into a radiance of azure, specked by flame and rain-drowned smog. The deck has a massive hole now that leads directly into the hangar and Varhas understands exactly what has happened.

Under the guise of delayed communication, the concealment of his weaponry, Xipe Totec baited a blue Lanza sphere to be fired. While the orb had barely left the barrel of the Lanza, he used his own Shock Lanza to hit it before it floated far away from the source. The following implosion tore flesh, fuel, steel itself into the localised void and the ship has now a wounded shape.

Jorj holds a quick glance over.

The flames underneath expand at the free flow of kerosene. Two streaks of blood become washed by a mixture of rain, saltwater and fuel. His two teammates have been obliterated. Two wide streaks, form a right angle at the center of a still smouldering hole.

He does not hear the opponent sprint, but his shadow contrasts with the powering flames.

Xipe Totec runs across. His speed is great and there is but mere moment to aim against him.

Jorj fires his weapon over the running form. The light traces along a green beam of energy. What protects the ex-champion, leaving him unharmed, is the second skin tightly wrapped around him. Interwoven within it, is a supercharged fibre plex of shielding, allowing Xipe Totec to run outside of Jorj's line of sight.

Jorj lets the green beam weapon out of his hands. He knows it is useless against such protection.

Going down is death. Staying up here is that also. Jorj takes a step back and glances at the dark outline of the island to his left. The powerups have not spawned yet and Varhas reminds him of a plan that is half manifesting as they go. The other half, is laid to the judgement of the other four.

With a score of three to zero, there are only seven more deaths to go for defeat. The timer is also on the King's side, with fifty more minutes to go.

Hab is lucky with his next spawn. Under the moving waterline, he spawns on the Third deck. Renewed of youth, he understands a strategy that should be easily communicated to the other four.

A moment as the underground silence, therein manifests this coordination. Away from wires, away from digital stimuli, or even the memories of strategies, so does lucky a happening occur, that it is known to Hab and Zanuvia.

They had to bring him out into the open.

Down here is but the brutal option of self sacrifice and so Hab is running now, in the tight steel corridors, clutching and turning steel wheels to open new pathways around. In that rush, the sound of foot against metal reflects in the tight space. Pipes and machines make up the innards of the ship and the twisting stairs bring Hab up a level, then down, then up again. The rails come and go and eventually Hab finds a hovering weapon.

The flak cannon is not enough however. The bulky instrument that hammers fragmentation mortar shells is lifted by Hab and when he fires it the pellets ricochet off the steel hull. Even so, any damage to the ship can cascade to greater problems and Hab is hoping with the guidance of his Claimant, that it might cause the engine, loose ammunition, or the pressurized steam to explode, or perhaps disable any pumps that draw water out.

It does not take the ex-champion long to find the source of noise. With careful holes into the decks, he is able to cut through the ship with his Lanza, falling downwards while keeping the outer hull intact.

The flak cannon has a red interface on black background. The analog numbers display zero and one.

Silence resounds on cooling down fragments and venting pressure of pipes. Xipe Totec follows silent to this lack of sound and when part of him is exposed, Hab fires the flak cannon from the hip. The fragments explode only a few centimeters away from the shape. A glow dissipates and the damage is spread around the second skin. Energy, burnt flesh and the artefact of the ex-champion make the man invincible only a moment. A shot echoes and Hab is turned to an open wound plastered across metal veins and empty hallways.

Hippolus moves. His hand grabs the missile launcher at the third deck, two levels above the engine room. The sound of a flak cannon underfoot, masks him only for a moment and he turns to sprinting the labyrinths in the belly of the ship. With one hand he launches salvo after salvo closer to the hull.

The concentrated pressure shatters the thick steel. Single missiles, or a pair, the chemical composition of these rockets is shattering in ability. Shockwaves send air in twisting shapes, atmosphere compressed to razors and armor piercing uneven shapes that makes the ocean bore through and geyser ahead of the Contestant.

When another missile cracks the hull again, Hippolus shifts some of the settings on the rockets. With the guidance of Claimant technomancy, the next salvo is fired with different chemistry. Compressed metal turns to liquid and that too exits the other side of the hull.

So he runs on portside opening a great line of holes and cracks. When the damage is sufficient, he goes upwards a stair and waits for the ex-champion to appear.

Through iron holes, a stairway and darkness, through a difference of levels, the red man's eyes scour far below for his opponent. A small, peeking advantage and the sniper rifle aims truer than the heavy pull of the rocket launcher. The bullet moves vertically across many decks, it wheezes close to many metal edges and it strikes Hippolus in the elbow, separating upper from lower arm.

With that disarming blow the Contestant is pushed away. The force turns to a spin of unordered agility and then into a sprint for a blind chance at healing pickups. When Hippolus moves, his wife speaks apologies on the unfocused edge that has become this crippling injury. Along with him she suffers in her own ways and when the path leads to a dead end, the other person is already there, waiting on the other end, closing the watertight door behind the Contestant and welding it shut with his green Pike.

In this place the water is already surging in and both Contestant and Claimant, curse the upcoming pain, torrenting its way in.

The score is five to zero.

Without a crew to close flooding compartments, the ship floods fast and it begins to capsize in a rhythmic swing. A to and fro, every repeat a little more crooked than before. The destruction also appears to be spreading by random caches left on the ship of archaic weapons, such as magazines for simple anti aircraft guns, old warheads, and pockets of aircraft fuel.

Where Jorj sees luck, Varhas believes there is reason that their strategy was expected to be so. Hab and Hippolus believe themselves capable of wanton destruction. Their wives see it as a hidden play, to make their strategy work, perhaps they think, this is all spectacle on top of spectacle.

The communications clear in that instant. Varhas adds his own, that all begins now.

Helping hand from beyond and aimed wrath of local a Pantokrator, they merge together in the changes of the arena.

The ship is not capsizing evenly. Any time it levels itself flat to the gravity of the planet, the waves heave it further the other way. The to and fro becomes evident to all.

Hab slides on such a heave. The deck thrashes against his back and naked elbow. The sniper rifle fires from his hip and misses by a small margin.

Xipe Totec dodges and weaves behind a breaking wave. The blanket of ocean falls as invisible a blanket on the silhouette. When the water parts, it is the blue long shot of a Lanza that passes by Hab. When he stumbles behind the base of the island, a small glimpse beams pale light.

Hippolus respawns next to Hab and he signals him to go behind the island where there is a newly spawned rocket launcher.

Both Contestants peek to see if their enemy is still there on the wet deck. The pincer attack around the island is disrupted by a wave. As the ship levels itself a massive crash surges, black, soundless wall that picks both men up away, dragging them against the rough terrain of the deck.

As the two men heave sea out of their bodies, Xipe Totec moves on all fours and lifts his flak cannon when he finds an even footing against the remnants of that great wave.

A short, muted prayer, Claimant and red man press the trigger against the closest target and Hab is blown to bits and pieces that get lost far into the swaying gravity.

Before Hippolus meets the same fate, a Lanza shot breaks from above and the straight beam of energy explodes against the second flayed skin. Light in patterns, roots and nerves become the surface of the ex-champion and the light drags him away from where he is, making him miss the shot against the other Contestant.

The ship reaches the furthest point of its tipping. The deck is a leaning wall now, where Hippolus and Xipe Totec stand with their knees folded against it. As if a great side of a cliff, things fall on them and one such object is the rocket launcher than Hippolus lost from his arms when the wave crashed.

The red man switches his weapon into a shock Lanza and he shoots the object before it reaches the Contestant. At that same line of aim, Jorj stands far above near one of the many radars of the island. Before the red man's Lanza fires again, Hippolus throws himself into him, successfully swaying his aim away. The red man's Lanza shot misses widely, arching over and away breaking only cloud formations and creating a hovering geyser of collapsing rain, falling with unnatural forces.

The vibrating blade cuts Hippolus. The injury is not enough to kill him, but in that quick tackle and grab, his balance is off and he picks up speed as he collapses rapidly downwards and into the raging ocean.

The score is seven to zero. Anyone dying beyond this point is without a respawn. The last two glimpses occur inside of the island and Hab is once again besides Hippolus, in a place dry and muted of sound.

Now, the two once old men, are both in the enclosed space of the bridge. Underfoot are consoles, the decks, glass panels of windows. It is so that the entire carrier is almost horizontal and the bridge is as such a hollow and turned pocket. Outside, the deck is vertical and there is no confirmation that the red man has fallen to his death.

There is silence and the bridge now turns to sliding flatness. From the entrance to the bridge, two small missiles are launched into the room. Without propellant, they merely bounce, slipping across the room. When they explode, the windows shatter and Hab jumps across to instead balance on top of a console.

Armed only with Arbiters, the pistols spew bullets towards the entrance where the red man slips through in a quick quadrupedal movement.

He skips past the room, closely passing by the two and exiting from the broken windows, going out into the railed platform.

The two Contestants jump out as well and follow to the second level of the bridge, where they use their low calibre weapons to punch through the windows and enter. An azure sphere slowly creeps near from the depths of this room. As it closes the distance the two Contestants jump out of the room again and the simple expectation of a collapsing Lanza implosion sends them dangerously hanging in the heights of black nothingness.

Ship legs and other loose and closing hands, Hab and Hippolus both make it out of a explosion that never comes. Only one pair of eyes, follows the blue sphere as it floats away.

One that spares no attention quickly glances up and into the arrays, searching for Jorj. Once Xipe Totec finds him, he aims a rocket at him, trying to push him away from that one powerup module that is close to respawning.

Both Hab and Hippolus shoot their Arbiters at the flying rocket. As the bullets strike the flaming mass, the light radiates in the explosion and a thunder strikes near at the same time. The sound is silencing, blinding to the flash's color and by the time Jorj opens his eyes, two things have happened.

The first is that Xipe Topec has foreseen this blinding moment. He has turned away, by his own Claimant's careful divination, closing his eyes and shielding himself from the Pantokrator's thunderous wrath. In this short moment, he holds two weapons to his hips. Open wide a distance from another, the one weapon is a Lanza and the other is a sniper rifle. The blue light obliterates Hab, while the large calibre bullet strikes Hippolus through the stomach and back out of his spine.

The second happening in this short lapse, occurs right as the red man turns around to face Jorj. The respawning module produces a symbol wreathed in purple.

One of the many ways to fight and this one too, a deep, malevolent purple, swirling within itself as a texture and remaining to the shape of an arch initially and then quickly sticking to the texture of Jorj's weapon.

It does not matter than Jorj has lost his footing. The waves are still far away and the way down is long. While the red man stands there in the open outlined by a deep red floodlight, Jorj is falling in the familiar pull of gravity.

And as Jorj returns to that absent-minded aim, there is but that surge of the purple modification prickling into his neurons.

Deep beyond, on the other side, Varhas burns in the decay. The tumulus within the wires, that space suddenly blows into wrath and flame that saps the life right out of the flesh. Ill-green tongues of fire and flaying winds, a god, a Claimant about twenty-five meters ahead, their wills thrash against the flow of information. There is nothing there but pain, hostile intent to miss and completely falter at the apex.

Varhas places utmost trust to Jorj. He exits the place within the wires and directly within his Contestant.

Right in that absence, as the Claimant doubles the silence and he dives deeper into this absent focus, Jorj pulls the trigger of the blue and swirling purple Lanza.

The usual azure is not there. Instead, the long gun kicks savage a thin light of pure red and starlight dead, a color painful, carving to the eye-sockets that witness it. Before Xipe Totec is struck by the beam, both Contestants lose a thin layer of skin to that painful color, becoming flayed 'fore death and deaf at the rupturing.

Where the red man was standing, there is a gaping hole, black an outline and sudden waves and foaming on the background crowned by molten metal. Further in a second, a moment that none other can see except for the lenses in orbit, the seas break too. A hole, boring and going, there is hollow air where there was a wall of ocean and then all comes in as vapour, foam and stormy blackness.

The cold waters envelop Jorj. A great wall of steel comes over and pushes him deeper where the pressure chokes everything out and he lets the burning embrace enter, the salt to pore through his skinless flesh.