Two slightly damaged but still incredibly detailed and blinged-out War Suits slowly plodded along a road that had seen a long time since it was last maintained. The surface was pock-marked with potholes and the scars of combat, but those scars were easily several years old at the bare minimum.

Both Suits had their pilots in a rather jubilant mood, laughing and joking as they watched the show happen all around them. Each step brought them closer to their destination, and each second that passed saw more people become victims of their callous disregard for the rules of common sportsmanship.

A large caliber high explosive round zoomed past the front of one of the two Champions, impacting the flank of another nearby War Suit. More shots were fired and exchanged with each other, but the two Champions didn’t feel the slightest ounce of fear or apprehension.

After all, why would they? On all sides the fight going on was between War Suits that had once been allies or at least neutrals to each other, now all of them danced like puppets on strings as the cheating Champions laughed and mocked the people that had, unlike them, played by the rules.

The Champions did not notice that the battle was becoming a bit too dangerous until it was too late. Despite their puppeteered toys being forced to make a show for them while they walked onwards, the battleground that they had chosen for their marionettes had been poorly chosen.

The ruined city that these helpless people were forced to fight each other in was, as stated, a ruined city. With that being said, would it be to anyone’s surprise to know that there were toppled buildings and other such metropolitan objects that, given a good strike with a bit of ordinance, would fall and possibly cause unforeseen damage to anyone caught in the way?

The puppets danced a bit too feverishly, and a few shots went wide due to the efforts of the puppet masters. A shell here, a grenade there, and the shock of a War Suit being rammed or otherwise smashed into a building over there, and the damages began to make the arena a bit unstable.

Rather unwisely, the Champions paid no heed to the growing danger that they were in, ignoring the rumble from around them until after the nearly already toppled building above them was almost dislodged from its moorings. Chunks of masonry, metal, and glass rained down, and while the Champions tried to rush to safety, their lack of care up to that point resulted in both of their War Suits taking a bit more damage.

They had hoped that their Energy Shields would protect them from such minor annoyances, should they arise, but they were reminded of their ill-fated game with the Outworlder Duo just a few days ago when those very same energy shields failed to stop anything due to being permanently broken. As the dust settled, they spat no shortage of curses at both the two kamikaze Outworlders and the ‘idiots’ putting on the play that they had wanted to see.

They checked their list of other people involved in this game, and to their annoyance, two names still remained despite all of what had been sent their way. Axton and Thomas, and their dumb fucking War Suits, had been a thorn in their side for far too long, but while their time in the limelight was now coming to an end, the two Champions were insistent that they would claim victory one final time.

Yes, their contract had been all but terminated due to the interference of lesser people and groups, but they would beat their foes one last time, while making sure that they stayed perfectly safe to boot. No longer would they let the morons up above send animals and whatnot after the pair of assholes. No, the remaining War Suits would be taken over, their pilots killed, and they would all begin to consolidate for one last slugfest.

Of course, the two annoyances would have to fight through no shortage of empty husks with zero regards for their own survivability to reach them, and if they did, then they would be nearly broken. No one could beat that many without also cheating, and so if they did, then they would be able to call them out on their hypocrisy.

They still had a bit to go before they reached the one place that they both believed that the pair of annoying fuckwits would be able to reach without cheating, and they had a decent bit of distance between them and those assholes. Time was on their side, and they had a few dozen soon-to-be controlled War Suits ready to make life hell for those two gnats when they finally arrived.

Those two, Axton and Thomas, would be left broken, beaten, and begging for mercy. They would get none of those things, of course, and they would be toyed with on live tv, shown the galaxy over as the hypocritical morons that they were!

But light was fading fast, and they needed a place to stop and unwind. They parked their War Suits under a decaying overpass and had their allies up above force a War Suit’s cockpit open. The pilot within was grabbed by another controlled War Suit and held down despite the pilot’s screams of anger and their desperate struggling.

The man wailed for a bit before giving up, but that was not going to be ‘fun’ so the men above everyone’s heads called a cyborg ‘puppy’ over to give the man who was held down a slow, but still very bad, case of ‘Death by Mastication’. With a still-bloody snout sniffing the air for more prey, the cyborg animal made its way over to the Champions, who promptly slit the creature’s throat for an extra giggle before setting about using a bit of liquid fuel to see what the creature and its kill smelled like when on fire.

With a bonfire made from two dead bodies in front of them, the pair downed drink after drink and meal after meal, partying like the world was about to end. Hell, once the game was over and they had claimed their last victory, it might as well have been the end of the world for them.

They had no shortage of people who wanted their heads on a silver platter for their antics, and unlike the immortal Outworlders, they died forever when killed. When the people above could not, or perhaps, would not protect them any longer, then it truly meant that the good times were coming to a final, abrupt end.

But they could get one last bit of fun from this place, and they would show that they were the better cheaters by far. Axton and Thomas would not know what hit them until it was far too late. Some would say that a Turtle Strategy was a bad idea, but they knew better than a few naysayers. They had more War Suits at their disposal, and what harm could those two gnats do?

It wasn’t like those two had War Suits tailored for speed and maneuverability, right?