“I can’t hold him off,” Jarek said through gritted teeth. “He’s reloadin’. Don’t give up, Nic, don’t let us lose this! He—”

Scarlet 2’s sentence was cut off by the explosion of a Tyrian rocket that shattered his red proxybot into countless smoldering bits of shrapnel and snapped wires. What was left of Jarek, or at least his avatar, fell smoking to the surface of Planet Nereus, leaving only two players left alive.

Nic marveled at how far tables could turn in less than ten minutes.

“Good game, Nic,” said Severiano, the last Tyrian survivor. His voice was weary. “Nereus will remember... how hard you fought today. So will I. You’ll be remembered as my toughest opponent. The one who almost took away my victory.” Nic could hear a smile in Severiano’s voice, but not a boastful one, not one that delighted in his suffering. It was a tired smile, one that betrayed years of fighting and suffering in Wargames. It was the smile of someone who could finally taste a hard-earned retirement.

For a split second, Nic felt pity. Then the dust in his mind settled and he thought with abrupt clarity. A trick. Won’t work on me. “It’s not over,” Nic spat back. “Not yet!”

Nic’s determination could do nothing to counteract the facts. He was out of rockets, while Severiano still had one, and Nic’s proxybot was already badly splash damaged from an explosion toward which he wandered too close. The Tyrian Squad Leader was also still at 100% health. Nic thought he might as well toss aside his empty Rocket Launcher—maybe a little less weight would make his proxy a little nimbler to evade his impending doom—but he held onto it like some sort of security blanket.

“Nic, it’s okay. Really. I promise. You can relax now. You fought a good game, all right? I’ll even shake your hand if you give me the chance.”

“Counting your eggs before they hatch,” said Nic bitterly. Severiano shrugged, as if to say I tried. “You think you’re so enlightened. So much better than me. You don’t deserve this more than any of the rest of us.”

“You don’t have to return my good sportsmanship, Nic. I can’t control what you do. But I won’t let you drag me down with you. And that’s okay, too.” The double-barrel chamber of his weapon rotated to feed the next projectile into the launch tube. “Now, would you like to just float down to the ground? I don’t have to use this rocket on you. I know how bad they hurt.”

He is smug, Nic decided, but he hides it better than Edith and others do. ‘Drag him down with me.’ What a pretentious... Wait a minute.

“All right then, suit yourself,” Severiano sighed. “Clench your teeth. The impact doesn’t hurt so bad, and you probably won’t bite down on your tongue. Just a tip from me to you.” The purple proxybot pulled the trigger.

While Severiano was still talking, Nic had killed his Jetpack intentionally—just for a moment. It was enough time to avoid the rocket, the smoke trail buzzing over his head, shaking his helmet from the force of it. This maneuver cost him precious Jetpack battery; he would only need a little bit more if everything went according to plan.

“Come on,” he grunted. “Come on... Almost there...” Mindlessly, his focus elsewhere, Nic slapped his empty Rocket Launcher back on its magnetic holster. His Jetpack had less than a minute remaining, and the timer plunged with the excessive energy needed to counteract his sudden freefall.

0:09... 0:08...

But he made it.

Severiano tried to backpedal and escape, but Nic grabbed onto his ankle. Then he grabbed it with his other hand and held on tight. Like his life depended on it.

Maybe it does, he thought.

“That’s actually pretty good,” Severiano chuckled. Again, there wasn’t even a trace of anger in his voice, nor condescension, and barely of surprise. Nic wasn’t sure if years of Wargame experience had worn the man down or if this was just the person he was. “I’ll give you that, Nic. Good move.” His tone said but it won’t save you.

The purple proxy kicked and shook his leg wildly to try to ditch Scarlet 1, who squeezed so hard he thought he might crunch the metal of the ‘bot. With this strategy, Nic hoped to add extra weight to the load on Severiano’s Upgrade Pak, effectively doubling it, which he hoped would roughly halve its remaining battery life.

The only problem was that if he went down, then they went down together—Nic hadn’t planned that far ahead.

He tried not to dwell on his own depleted Jetpack timer.

0:02

“I’m sorry, Nic, but I won’t let you take this away from me,” said the purple Squad Leader. “No hard feelings, okay?” Using the barrel end of his empty Rocket Launcher, Severiano bashed Nic in the face. Once. Twice. Again. And again. The pain felt very real—the attacks would have bloodied his flesh-and-blood face, probably broken his nose, crushed his skull—but he refused to let go so easily.

One powerful clunk of metal-on-metal, an impact that sent a sudden jolt of agony to Nic’s core, loosened his grip momentarily. He could’ve gotten it back...

...if Severiano hadn’t then kicked at precisely the right opening.

“No!” Nic cried out. He lost his hold, tumbling down toward Nereus. No, no, no! No, think of something!

He flipped end over end, knowing that his downfall would spell the end of today’s match and seal Team Tyrian’s victory once and for all. Milliseconds passed like minutes. He caught a glimpse of Severiano and he flared with sudden rage. But then he noticed something.

The purple proxybot was falling as well.

He ran out of juice, too, Nic realized. All I have to do is make sure he hits the ground before me! But how?

With a half-second to think, Nic activated his Jetpack to slow his fall for all of two seconds before his timer officially ran out completely.

Then he got the stupidest idea of his entire life.

So stupid that it just had to work.

With the proxybot’s enhanced movement speed, he pulled out his empty Rocket Launcher and aimed it straight at the ground just in time. The sudden crash shook his whole body, sent lightning bolts of pure hurt through his limbs, and stopped his breath. He froze.

Balancing on the barrel of his Rocket Launcher, he teetered side to side ever so slightly. Then came the crunch of Severiano’s proxybot colliding with the ground. I didn’t touch the ground, Nic thought. I didn’t touch it—my weapon did! This has to count!

Just as he began to lose his balance and tip over backward, his eyes were flooded with the bluish light of the Simnasium. It was all over.

said RTIFIS.

“Yo, what happened?” Jarek asked.

“Did you make it?!” Perri wondered excitedly, bouncing on toes. “Did you? Are we still in this?”

“Let’s just say I may have gotten off on a technicality,” Nic replied, smiling nervously. “Anyway, it’ll be a way better story if we win.”

said RTIFIS.

“YES!” Jarek hollered, and a second later, the cheers in the Simnasium drowned out the usual post-Wargame chatter of RTIFIS. Nic watched for the exact moment when the holographic match scoreboard on the wall updated.

TEAM FREE-FOR-ALL >SCARLET: 2 | TYRIAN: 2 | XANTHIC: 2

“There it is!” Perri exclaimed. “Nic, you did it!”

“We did it,” said Nic. “We owe some thanks to Jarek for keeping us on the winning track!”

Jarek hugged Nic and Maqsud with an arm each. “We’re all knotted up, baby! You know what this means?”

Nic nodded. “Yeah. This last Wargame is winner take all.”

And we’re going to be doing the taking today, thought Nic. We deserve it. We earned it. He thought of his mother. Of Ayrus. Of King of the Hill. He thought of all the scars that 10 million credits could heal.

And I’ll knock down anyone who stands in our way.