[November 337th, GPY 2. Safe Zone XII. Lagamal Crater, Ganymede. 64.3°N 115.8°E. 1202. UGT.]

[0.146 g]

[Atmo: O2]

[Pressure: 0.5µ]

[Temp: -107 C]

[Merit: 11]

"In fact." Jordan snickered while sidestepping towards Gelos. Spear held at arm's length, flat in the palms of his hands. "I'll leave it in the hands of my friend here."

Even as he turned back to Zoltan, grinning sadistically under his helmet, a miniature, digital spearhead remained at the edge of Jordan's vision, complete with a readout for distance continually shifting beneath it. He wasn't entirely sure if Gelos would receive the same warnings as he did. If he'd be authorized for use, or what would even happen if he wasn't. If it detonate in his hands, summon some Knight or robot to punish Gelos, Jordan and anyone else who happened to be nearby; or worse, was his guess.

Jordan could only push the morbid assumptions out of his mind and set aside the guilt of dragging Gelos further into his mess. He'd apologize for it later.

"Mmcht." Zoltan sucked his teeth and turned to mount the launch pad with his friends. "Whatever."

After Jordan's first impression, the constructs would forever resemble massive crossbows. Like a railgun, electromagnets quickly accelerated the platform, sending any bags of flesh standing atop them flying to the horizon.

A simple, yet violent acceleration, that ripped them from the safe zone in clusters.

Like a subtle reminder of the chaotic world they were leaping into.

After the initial jolt. A peaceful silence; a tilting perspective, enveloped Jordan. He was untethered from everything. Separated from the entirety of universe, with the exception of energy, for a seemingly endless minute of freefall. Protected from the necrotic hands of the void only by the relatively thin fabrics, metals and fluids comprising his suit.

It was as humbling as it was terrifying. Recognizing that, and by extension, humanity's capacity to achieve such greatness to make such things a reality. Especially once coupled with their tendency for violence.

'What a life.' Jordan chuckled to himself.

Jordan's heart yearned, looking out at and past the four humans doused in coveralls, capped in featureless, eggshell helmets just meters away. Past the everlasting cascade of orbital infrastructure falling over the airless horizon at all inclinations. Through the endless void, to the colored pixels forever spinning around the Sun. Vibrant specks of reds, blues and yellows. All no larger than the countless stars surrounding them. He stared to the inner planets; to Earth. The birthplace of their species. The world where the hundreds of billions who came before struggled for millenia to cultivate their knowledge, and the world, to bring humanity to its current interplanetary status in such a relatively short time.

To explore not only the Powers, but each of those distant pixels on his whims. To learn the cultures, roam the worlds, eat all the food and live until he's considered a native by the natives themselves. Then migrate somewhere else to repeat the process again and again.

That, was Jordan's dream.

Life was hard, however. Despite their steady spread through the void or their technological prowess, humanity remained an ugly species. Full of hate and hubris as much as altruism and benevolence.

Just as certainly as he'd encounter individuals like Gelos or his ever loving family, There were bound to be people such as Zoltan; the Knight even. Those who'd try to walk over him or impede his way forward for whatever reason or cause they saw fit.

Regrettably, it took until after Jordan's first Campaign for him to understand that he was inexperienced. Untrained and undisciplined. That he had yet to develop the knowledge, experience, body and mind to roam the hundreds of thousands of spinning metal shells and the few quadrillion humans currently living in orbit around the Sun's as he wanted.

It was an understanding; a problem, that wound right back to the task of accumulating Merit.

'To conquer myself.' Jordan stared vacantly at the passing ice while he pondered the event from weeks past. Pre-campaigns. Pre-trial. Back to the day he crushed his arms with magnetic crates of produce.

Jordan had been having doubts with himself. He'd been almost convinced that his answer was just an excuse to prevent his father from scolding him properly. In truth, it was just an old quote he read around ten months ago as a child that, for some reason stuck with him.

However.

"Merit." He mumbled to himself, lost in his thoughts. "Is that why they made such a system."

"Huh!?!" Gelos crackled through the radio.

"N- Ahem." Jordan coughed. "Nothing. Just-"

"-We'll move over there after we land," Zoltan's brass-like voice chimed in to cut Jordan's off. "I don't want anyone falling on us during our duel." He pointed to a bare patch of ice a few dozen meters away from their rapidly approaching landing site.

"Making plans without us, Zoltan?" Jordan snickered after they bounced to a not so gentle landing. "Maybe you'll have me jumped after you lose?" He laughed after trailing behind Zoltan's group.

"If." Zoltan bit back over the radio just after he stomped to a halt to turn and face Jordan. His helmet was featureless and contoured to the egg shape of his head. Mottled, cracked and unfeatured like a stone pulled from the surface itself. "If I lose." He spat. "I'll be in no position to give orders. Whatever happens after, happens."

"True." Jordan shrugged with his hands.

'Can't argue with that logic.'

"Right now, we're dueling." He spat again before leaping away. "That should be your only concern, Astros. "

"Whatever you say, boss man." Jordan grinned.

After wordlessly bouncing clear of Gelos and Zoltan's friends. Jordan relaxed his body and focused on the web of angular protrusions mounted along his suit, then waited for the cold gas thrusters to activate. One by one, conical plumes erupted from the thrusters positioned around his body and quickly dissipated. Pushing Jordan's body in each and every direction before cancelling out and bringing him to a gentle rest on the ice. During their earlier training, it was properly tuned for attitude control and rotation assistance in Ganymede's gravity. But was still untested in terms of braking ability.

And certainly wasn't powerful enough to use a propulsion.

After creeping forward, Zoltan lunged forward with a jab. Jordan ducked, rocking his helmet into the oncoming fist to absorb the impact and inviting the now-familiar bell to toll around his head. Through the echoes in his helmet, Jordan sent out a jab of his own before they recoiled apart. Zoltan swiped hard with an open palm to parry at Jordan's oncoming arm and lunged forward. Swinging wildly towards Jordan's throat.

Jagged needles of pain dug into Jordan's collarbone in an instant, spreading through to his neck and throat before he could feel his body beginning to recoil backwards. He let his body submit against the change in motion. Took a step backwards with his right foot but was forced to fumble backwards onto his hand. Turning his hips clockwise as he fell, Jordan swung his leg around in a roundhouse. With a dull thud, Jordan's knee bounced off the small of Zoltan's back, around his kidneys.

The strike felt pitiful, to Jordan. It certainly wasn't enough to deal damage. But worked in canceling Jordan's rotation considerably. Giving him enough time to tuck his knees into his chest and drill his heels into Zoltan's hips.

'That's it?' Jordan could only laugh to himself despairingly after they rocketed apart from the impact. 'One dropkick. Not even a few seconds in, and we're flying away.'

Throwing his arms up in frustration, Jordan arched his body backwards to trigger his thrusters to pitch upwards. His body flipped backwards until the sky fell and the ice tilted into view from above to rest beneath his belly. Churning silently away.

Jordan clawed and raked at the ice with his arms while kicking and digging with his heels to halt his motion relative to Zoltan. Again and again, he raked and kicked until the ice beneath him bogged to a halt before suddenly lunging in the opposite direction.

Once again stabilized on the ground and within range, Jordan shot out a jab without hesitation. Zoltan reflexively jerked his head backwards while crossing his arms before his face. Two conical clouds sprouted above Jordan's shoulders as he dove towards Zoltan's feet. With a deep thud, Jordan pushed off the ground with his hands to cartwheel his heel into the chin of Zoltan's helmet. Flinging him off the ice.

Jordan quickly twisted to put his feet his feet below him, thrusters firing around his head and body to keep him pinned to the ground while Zoltan's knees quickly darted overhead. Kicking wildly, he managed to land the toe of his boot straight into Jordan's throat before he drifted out of reach. A painful, wet cough rasped through Jordan's helmet as he stretched to his limit to grasp Zoltan's ankle. With a wet crunch, Jordan's manufactured fingers secured their mark and he tugged. Pulled to yank Zoltan down towards the ice.

Being tossed upwards from throwing Zoltan downwards brought Jordan back to the peaceful, chaotic feeling of universal detachment. He watched from a few meters above the surface as Zoltan silently slammed into the hard ice. His body undulated and splayed before bouncing back to a slow rise towards Jordan. Squirming in place and pushing his mask down on the crown as if the seals were threatening to give.

The soft vibrations of his thrusters tickled Jordan's back as he leaned forward, pitched down while pulling his arm back. Floating just above an approaching Zoltan and rotating violently towards him, Jordan drove his fist into Zoltan's body with all his strength.

Even while suspended, the subtle reverberations of cracked bones and crushed organs traveled through Jordan's arms in an instant. As if time dilated in that moment to accentuate each component of damage applied to Zoltan's body from the impact, just before it contoured around Jordan's fist and blew back into the ice in the next instant.

'Even a single slap could crack bone.'

As they once again drifted apart, Zoltan back into the ice and Jordan further into the sky, he remembered Zoltan's words from their first encounter.

He fairly assumed the Ganymedean had brittle bones and lacked the stone skin needed to back up his attitude. All bark, no bite; as some would say. In which case, such statement would be true. Regardless, Jordan was curious as to just how much damage his arms could actually deal once the Clan's Press Boxing techniques were applied. And so, approached his opponent with a newly awaked zeal.

Clutching his belly, Zoltan scrambled back to his feet and put up his guard before creeping towards Jordan once more. Now within range, Jordan used his thrusters to give him a hard push forward as he stepped in for a jab. Zoltan's body tensed in response. Once again, he strengthened his guard in front of the face of his helm. Jordan threw more of his mass behind his punch and readied his left just before the bone cracked beneath the right. Zoltan's arms broke apart with the second. Which was subsequently followed by a third piece that was aimed at a downward angle and held all of Jordan's mass behind it.

The contact send a sharp bang resonating up Jordan's arm. Like a gong struck with an iron rod, the wave of stimuli; crushing bone and smashed flesh, shot from his hand to his shoulder. The transfer of energy was enough to send Zoltan meteoring into the ice yet again, then back into the sky with a flotilla of ice shards and pebbles accompanying him.

Jordan himself was sent hurtling backwards. Spinning with his arms flailed out helplessly before him. Despite the thrusters firing away, it took Jordan more time than he was comfortable with to stabilize himself on the ice again. Despite his own flailings and thrusters bringing him to a halt, Zoltan had yet to recover from his damage. He rolled about suspended above the ice, clutching his body with one hand while the other palmed the face of his helmet. As if to still the ringing.

Jordan had his own fair share of experience within the echo chamber, but he wasn't one to sympathise with a hot headed stranger like Zoltan. After casually approaching, he reached out to his thrashing arm to clench it in his grip until the still ridgid bone within collapsed and crunched to powder. Then swung his leg over Zoltan's body to stand above him. Tapping at his earpiece as he studied his conditions.

"Tap out, or flatline," Jordan said coldly through the radio.

Jordan estimated Zoltan had more than a few ribs broken and internal bleeding. Which would only compound if he didn't tap or slay Jordan. Somehow.

Even if left to his own devices, his situation would worsen over time. In microgravity, the blood from his organs would pool on-site instead of draining out of his body, or anywhere for that matter. Adrenaline and rage would prolong his fatigue and pain for only so long before his body was forced to flatline and the recovery drones were called.

And Jordan had no intentions of waiting that long. This was a duel, not a battle of attrition.

Suddenly, Zoltan's body jerked. His head slid lower, between Jordan's feet like he were pulling himself between them for a hasty escape. Before Jordan could react, a dull pain bloomed along the center of Jordan's spine.

'Did-' Jordan frowned as he turned. Rolled his eyes as he saw Zoltan's boot falling to the ice. "Very well." He shrugged.

Jordan slowly eased himself on top of Zoltan. Cradled his ribs with his legs and kept his knees pinning on his biceps. In truth, the mount wasn't necessarily an advantageous position in the Luna-like gravity of Ganymede. It was however, perfect for Jordan's demonstration. And would allow him to finish this match relatively quickly.

Holding his arms out before his face, as if to present them, Jordan focused on his fists until the tiny, digital windows glitched to life above the individual knuckles to display their status. Then deployed them all at once.

With a bang that echoed through Jordan's body, steel rods five centimeters long blasted from the base of each of Jordan's knuckles before quickly retracting back into his hands. Despite his anticipation, the combined recoil was hard enough to blow Jordan's fists back behind his shoulder with threats to pull the metal from the socket. And almost pulling Jordan from the mount.

It was significantly more so than he remembered while training in New Bran. It felt like two magnums firing off from his hands.

Considering this, he was fairly certainly the impact would do more than send them flinging apart if they were standing. His arms could take it, but if his bod; his shoulders, ribs or spine could, was another question. He didn't know the limits of his flesh. Worse, he was unsure of the consequences of pushing past them.

Jordan attempted to hide the shudder rolling down his body as he tightened his mount, wrapping his legs tighter around Zoltan's torso while he released the man's arm from his left hand to grasp the fabric of his suit. Jordan reared back and punched straight down onto Zoltan's heart. The latter's body caved under Jordan's legs from the impact. Visibly undulating from his core to the end of the his appendages as he slammed into the ice. Then again a fraction of a second later once the pistons erupted from Jordan's knuckles to dig between his ribs with a thunderous bang that only the two could hear or feel.

In Jordan's mind, the sequence was like punching a shockwave just as it blew past him. His fist smashed through Zoltan's flesh. Then was immediately impacted by something just as strong. Blown away with enough force to pummel the flesh beneath them and send Jordan's arm rearing skyward. Screaming at the sockets.

Over and over, Jordan continued pummeling the section of bruised flesh and pulverized bone covering Zoltan's heart. He'd rear back, target the heart and drill as much mass as he could into it before fighting against the forceful recoil of the pistons firing away with devastating force.

It was comical, in Jordan's mind. Him exaggeratingly flailing his arms high to rear down on an opponent clenched in his legs. It had to look hilarious from Gelos' perspective. But it had to be devastating to Zoltan and his friends.

By the third blow, they were still clenched together, rotating wildy. Zoltan's body slumped and flailing unenergetically. Spasming against the thunderous impact of Jordan's blows while their combined thrusters fought desperately to kill their rotation.

Jordan pulled his hips away to outstretch their combined mass. Slowing their rotation further to the point their thrusters completed their Jobs. Now around four meters above the ground, positioned underneath Zoltan, Jordan released his legs as he wound back for what had to be the final blow. Pulling hard on Zoltan's vest, Jordan drilled his fist straight into Zelos sternum. A shattering, crumbling stimuli rang through Jordan's arm on the first impact. Like a glass dome losing structural integrity, the feeling multiplied, exploded as the pistons under Jordan's knuckles slammed into their target. Rocketing Zoltan skyward, towards the distant sun and sending Jordan hurtling towards the ground.

[Duel Champion: +20 Points.]

[Zoltan Burns Slayed: +200 Points.]

[Merit: 231]

With a weary sigh, Jordan stared at the toiling sky and Zoltan's soaring body with a sickening relief.

'What am I sighing relief for." He snorted contemptuously as he reread the award. 'Slayed. I just killed someone. Why? He may have been a dick, but that in itself isn't a death sentence. Not in the Powers, at least. For what? Merit? For experience?'

So entrapped with his thoughts, Jordan was barely aware of his body lithobraking against the ice and the sharp pain now blooming in his neck and throat. Time seemed to stand still as the now lifeless body of Zoltan steadily cartwheeled to the ground a few meters away.

The likelihood of seeing Zoltan walking around with new implants in a weeks time brough no solace to Jordan. Neither did the fact the knocking out a helmeted opponent dressed in a vac suit was a tall order, even for him. Nor did the assumption that this wasn't Zoltan's first time on campaign, or flatlining even.

Possibly.

He'd beaten someone with his own, manufactured hands until their body ceased to function.

Self defense, challenge or honorary duel. The circumstances didn't matter to Jordan. No matter how he tried to justify it, he just couldn't reconcile with the sickness festering inside his belly.

His saving grace was the glimmer of light shining in his peripherals, Gelos' voice screeching across the radio, and the digital spearhead in his vision. Flickering as its numbers steadily fluctuated.

[10m... 9m... 8m...]

"Jordan, catch!"

Jordan turned at once to the cartwheeling spear and was forced around again from a sudden backhand to the helm. He spun completely about from the impact and scrambled for the spear now drifting overhead while one of Zoltan's followers hopped after him.

To his right, Gelos was seen lifting his feet off the ground, pulling his knees into his chest and drop kicking one of the other two who were aimlessly standing by. Their body caved outwards before they tumbled forward into their partner. Fumbling them both away from each other and their new opponent.

Jordan continued bear crawling, kicking and pushing off with his legs with hopes that his thrusters would keep him from gaining too much altitude. With a last kick, he leaned into a frontflip and arced over the spear. Reaching overhead, Jordan grasped the haft firmly in his grip, softly pushing off the ice in the process to propel himself back into the sky with the spear thrusting repeatedly behind him.

After the first miss, the speartip dented into his opponents coveralls, pushing the unnamed opponent backwards without penetration. Jordan swiped hard to pry the spear free and continued relentlessly thrusting as he finished his flip. Returned his feet to the ground with a few meters between himself and his opponent.

Quickly scanning his surroundings before his opponent got within range, Jordan noticed Gelos off to his right. Fifteen meters away, squaring up with one of his own opponents while the other began to flank him.

Jordan pounced towards his approaching assailant with a hard swipe aimed at the throat. Their thrusters fired at once, assisting them to lunge backwards out of harm's way at the last moment. A clockwise rotation was imparted onto Jordan from the attempt. Still drifting towards the opponent, He tucked the spear in line with his body and grasped it firmly with both hands. Then forcefully thrusted it towards their throat after completing his rotation.

Snapping their neck to the side with the help of their thrusters, they dodged the blade by centimeters. Jordan reeled the spear back without hesitation and thrusted again. They snapped their head forward, as Jordan did to Zoltan, to headbutt the spear. Causing the spear and Jordan's arms to bounce skyward with a soft ring and give Jordan a small push backwards and down onto the ice.

Jordan lowered his stance and concentrated on keeping the thrusters firing. Pinning him to the ground as best they could. He gripped the spear tightly, just below the blade while snapping out his free hand towards his opponents coveralls. The fabric, fluid and thin armor underneath compressed under Jordan's metallic grip as he pulled both of his arms together with all his strength.

The glistening blade plunged into their trachea with a wet crunch. Jordan continued pushing on the spear and pulling on the body as he translated his grip towards the base of the spear. Holding it overhead with the pommel cupped in his hand. With a slight hop off the ground, Jordan thrusted the spear through the Galilean's neck and into ice. Wrenching and twisting the spear violently as his arm fully extended.

[Tobias Pacheco Impaled: +100 points.]

After landing and screwing the spear free from Tobias, Jordan hastily leapt after Gelos.

[Tobias Pacheco Slayed: +200 points.]

[Merit: 531]

[Fuel: 50%]

Jordan ignored the awards and warnings as he kicked off the ice again. Gelos' opponents seemed to have reversed their roles. With the one formerly on the flank, doused in yellow coveralls, was engaging with the young Martian while the other in red crept up from behind and beside their ally.

Jordan crouched low and kicked hard off the ice to propel himself forward. Contorting his body as he drifted to seamlessly pass around Gelos, towards the flanker.

Raking at the ice with the butt of the spear while his thrusters fired away to push him back to the ground, Jordan propelled himself faster with each stroke. Once within range of the flanker, Jordan stabbed at the ice in front of him with the butt of the spear. Violently jerking his body to a slow lull above the ice. A bounce, above the surface.

His thrusters steadily fired to rotate his body while he held the spear by the base with a single hand, high overhead, and slammed the blade down onto the shoulder of the red-clad assailant.

Jordan let himself drift slowly back to the surface while his new opponent kicked themselves away, clutching their shoulder. They scrambled desperately to return to their feet, even after Jordan moved within range.

He released the spear from his hand gently, allowing it remain suspended in place, spinning and glistening next to him while he grasped their collar with his left hand and slowly drew his fist high overhead. Then rained a hammerfist down into the crook of their neck in the same spot the spear impacted.

Their body immediately crumpled from the recoil before spasming and clutching at the now destroyed shoulder. Jordan reached down to firmly grasp their collar before followed up with two more strikes to the chin of their helmet. Pivoting their body to a more horizontal orientation with each blow until they were laying flat just a meter above the ice. Where Jordan plucked the still suspended spear from its place and spun it around until the tip hovered above the red-clad's navel.

Where he held it for a split second before thrusting it downwards as hard as he could manage.

They squirmed at the last moment, causing the spear to miss the mark and slide around the fabric covering their belly until it caught a fold in the fabric. Pinching the flesh against the ground underneath. Jordan continued pushing with both hands, driving the spear deeper into the folds of their suit; into the side of their belly, and himself higher into the sky while his thrusters fired madly around him.

As Jordan ascended out of reach of the spear, his gaze trailed from the Galilean squirming under his spear to Gelos. On the drift, crouched under his opponent while he repeatedly drilled uppercuts into their neck and chin. Once they too ceased to flail or defend themselves. Allowing Gelos tp squirm off his prey like a feral beast, stabilize his rotation and pounce towards Jordan. Towards the spear and the still squirming Galilean trapped on the ice.

He halted his momentum with a front kick to the crown of the last opponents head. Then crouched over them in the same fashion as Jordan did to deliver haymakers and hammerfists to the throat until they were slain.

[Assisted Igris Gelos. +50 points.]

[Merit: 581]

Jordan relaxed as his body slowly returned to the surface. Once again let out a weary sigh that signaled the bilious sensations to return in earnest.

Looking around, it was nowhere near as chaotic and scarred as the Knight's territory, or the zones scarred by Gan's Army. If it weren't for the scattered bodies, the occasional patch of rusted ice, stretching, deep gash or small crater spread throughout the land, Jordan would question if their little section of moon had ever seen any action before today.

It was almost rage inducing. To think of the once peaceful world, untouched and unseen for billions of years before suddenly being tainted and tarnished by humans and their need for violence.

'Campaign.' Jordan said to himself as an epiphany of the true nature of the event he'd ignorantly obsessed himself with came to light.

It wasn't a world so detached from society that it'd somehow yield enlightenment, as he'd thought. It was a cage. A gravity prison that housed the malicious, the sadists and the young, blind fools carrying out their self-inflicted sentences to kill or be killed. Until they were responsible enough to be free.

'So then.' Jordan wondered to himself as he turned to an approaching Gelos. 'What does that make us?'

"That ended well." Gelos sighed in obvious satisfaction across the radio. "Two and two!"