Everything has a time and a season. Everything…and everyone. When it’s your time to shine—don’t hesitate.

Be so good you make them eat crow.

News reports continued to flood in about the rise in district activity. The full clip from KNOW THE NEWS instantly went viral, forcing stations to correct their initial comments, while others simply blamed it on unreliable sources. Either way, the attention was now on the factory workers beneath the city and the pilots of Steel and Stone.

Alhannah continued to pace the kitchen. Shamas was still missing. There had been no calls, no communication of any kind since he’d left the warehouse days before. They were due for Wendell’s competition soon—so Freak opened up the warehouse shop and the TNT crew did a once over on Gnolaum to make sure all functions were tuned and ready.

In the end, Alhannah was forced to hire outside protection to the arena. It was either that or forfeit the fight.

It’s now or never. You can do this. You’ve practiced, drilled, strategized. Wendell took another breath and held it—adjusting and tugging on the pilot straps across his shoulders. You’re going to do fine. You’re prepared. Exhale. He looked from side to side. The black screens in front of him displayed the other four S.L.A.G.s standing with him in the arena. Each machine was represented as a green wireframe readout. He swallowed again. You’re the Wendellizer…which means you’re the next grand champion! He forced himself to smile, even though saying that felt unbelievably ridiculous.

Lightly running his fingers over the control buttons, Remember what you learned. King’s Jester isn’t here to win, he’s here to cause confusion and chaos—stay away from him. Skyline is the fastest and most ruthless of the flyers, but Hook specializes in taking out air S.L.A.G.s. Hopefully they’ll get in their own spat, which leaves me to deal with Dream Date. He sighed, I get to beat up a girl.

Closing his eyes, he took several breaths in slow, controlled motions.  Once Höbin had shown up, Chuck made some time to spend with Wendell. Some overdue personal time—and the wizard insisted on instructing him in a little basic magic. It was the perfect suggestion. Not only was it something Wendell had wanted—it also helped to get his mind of the Trench competition and feel like he was actually progressing. All he’d had up to that point for support was the hero’s letter, which he kept on him at all times now. Day after day he’d opened and reopened the letter, hoping to find some hidden information like he’d experienced back at Til-Thorin. But all the letter ever contained was the single word.

WIN.

It wasn’t much help…and he was, once again, feeling stuck.

Opening his eyes, Wendell let the air leave his lungs in a soft exhale, just like Chuck had taught him. He whispered, “Välo.”

The cockpit brightened. He still couldn’t discover the light source, but everything illuminated as if someone were turning a dimmer dial in a room…or the sun was slowly rising up over the horizon. A soft, yellow light that felt comforting and warm. This is awesome. Something useful and…. he laughed to himself….awesome. Wendell was excited to learn any form of magic, especially if it actually worked.

“Läkätä,” he whispered and the light immediately vanished as if a switch had been thrown.

The music was rising in the arena. Gnomes were flooding into their seats, the anticipation of combat echoing in their cheers. For a moment Wendell had to fight the anxiety inside his chest. It was always the expectations that got to him. The fear of letting others down continued to torment his every waking moment. No. You’re going to do fine. You’ve practiced. Gnolaum is a powerful S.L.A.G. and it’s going to work. He leaned back into the pilot seat and took another deep breath, allowing the stress to trickle down his limbs and fall off his fingers. He took note of the ticking sound of the arena timer.

“Mäjäkä,” he blurted out suddenly.

“What’s that?” Nat asked.

Nothing happened and Wendell frowned, “Oh, sorry—just talking to myself.” That’s not the right way, he reminded himself. Have to create the light source first, Chuck said.

“Välo,” he said again, softly this time—and the cockpit once again filled with light. That’s it. Create the glow. But what did Chuck say? Focus on a point to turn the magic towards it. Make it a beam…a spotlight. He stared at the status screen in front of him and then whispered, “Mäjäkä!”

All at once, the light throughout the cockpit gathered to one location over his head and projected its brilliant beam of light, like a lighthouse on a hill—directly at the point of the screen Wendell was staring at. The concentrated illumination glared off the polished screen and hit Wendell square in the face, blinding him.

“ARGH!” he shouted, his head flipping back against the pilots chair, banging against cushion and metal bars. He clamped his eyes shut. “Läkätä!” he stammered, almost immediately. The beam vanished. Ow, ow, OW! He blinked tightly over and over again. Spots flickered and a light grey film overshadowed his vision for several moments.

“What are you doing in there?” Alhannah asked.

“Uh, …nothing.”

“Wendell?” she said in a sterner voice.

“I…,” he sighed, “tried something Chuck taught me. It got a bit bright in here all of a sudden.”

Her voice softened, but remained pointed, “No magic. Not now. Not here. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Wendell, you read me?” crackled Freaks voice. The fluffy pit crew captain leaned over the desk mic.

“Loud and clear, little brother.”

Freaks hand went, absentmindedly, to his round belly and he beamed at Alhannah, “I love when he calls me that. Makes me feel like I…” Her stern expression quickly wiped away the moment. “Right. Focus. Wendell—you remember the panic buttons?”

Wendell’s fingers hovered over the two fat, oversized buttons above his primary controls—one red, the other black. “Yup. Red is cut, black is…”

“No. Red is stab, black is cut.”

“Right,” Wendell said softly, I knew that.

“Here we go guys,” Alhannah said over the com-link, “Good luck Wendell.”

The loud speaker in the arena counted down. “5…4…3…”

With a rusted creak, the back door to the hallway swung open. Shamas ran in, panting and closing the door behind him. He looked like he’d not slept in days. Hair was greasy, eyes tired, dark bags under them. His face also displayed several cuts, including a badly split lip.

“RH, where have you been?!” Alhannah scolded him as the buzzer sounded. But her tone lightened up when she took a second look at him. “What happened to you?”

Nat typed furiously, “Cryo, get control of the arena.”

“On it, Nathan,” the blue face on the monitor replied. “Control in 3…2…1…traps online.”

Nibbles rubbed her shoulder against Nathan’s. “Hey, you’re getting good at this,” she winked and gave him an exaggerated grin before popping a lollipop into her mouth.

Nat allowed the hint of a smile to surface, then pulled it back into straight face. “It’s my job,” he said matter of fact. “Lowering the ceiling net. Let’s keep the fly boy on the ground this time.”

Telly leaned over to Tumbler, “Why don’t she look at me that way?”

The old gnome patted the gawky mechanics forearm, “Cause yer ugly, boy, plain an simple.”

“Remember the plan,” Alhannah said coldly, then turned back to Shamas. Her expression held only a hint of concern. “I’m waiting.”

Eyes shifting between the monitors and her stoic expression, he said urgently, “Tell Wendell to stay away from Hook. I’ll explain everything later. Just know Hook is here to make sure Wendell never makes it to another competition.”

Alhannah studied the bodyguards face. He looked more than just warn and unsettled. Fear and anger were battling for control. Someone had gotten to him. Beaten him. But Shamas never lied and never exaggerated. Not that she knew of. She tapped the mic over her ear, “Did you get that Wendell?”

Raising his shield to protect his head from a steel cable whip, he clamored, “Scary guy with the cape and nasty looking farming tool wants my head. Got it. Anything else?”

She raised her eyebrows at the bodyguard and waited.

He shook his head, “No.”

Alhannah spun around and marched back to the control desk, ignoring Shamas. “That’s it Wendell.” Taking a seat next to Nibbles, she slid a keyboard in front of her and brought up Hooks profile to the monitor. “The focus has changed, Nat. Focus the Trench on Hook.”

Fans screamed as the arena became a blur of activity. A giant metal net, which linked to pulleys, lowered from the high ceiling. The net, which looked more like a spider-web, spread over the entire arena, stopping just feet above the pergola.

Skyline ignited its rockets, sending flame and smoke behind it.

Nat chuckled in triumph, “He doesn’t have anywhere to go—what’s he doing?”

Alhannah chuckled, “You are new to this, Wheels. Vaughn is one of the best pilots in the games…especially when it comes to improvisation.”

Drawing duel pistols, Skyline flipped onto its back with a crash. Sparks fanned out as it rumbled along the ground at high speed, barely escaping a giant claw. The chunk of steel, which was moulded into the shape of a boney hand with long nails, sank into the floor of the Trench. Smoke and flames erupted in its wake as Skyline fired rapidly at Hook.

The midnight black S.L.A.G. stood its ground, gripping its scythe and retracting its claw. Wrapped in a giant hood and cape, the machine looked like a metal version of death. Bullets bounced off reinforced armor and fell to the floor unnoticed. With its initial target out of range, red eyes under the hood shifted from the fleeing pilot and locked onto Wendell instead.

“Uh, guys?” Wendell squeaked, his cockpit flooded with red warning lights. Yanking back on the joystick, he fended off another assault of heavy cables lashing out at his head. The weapon clanked against the makeshift shield, unaffected. “Hook’s targeted me and I don’t know where to go—this pink whipping machine has me pinned. I could use some help, Nat!” Shuffling towards the center pillars, Dream Date pursued him, lashing at him with cables ejected from wrist compartments. “I have no idea how to deal with Barbie here…”

“Let’s see if we can isolate Hook,” Nat muttered to himself, his fingers working the keyboard furiously. The grid on the monitor displayed the compartments hidden under the floor plates. He smiled, “Now the structure of the arena makes sense. We can mix and match and do pretty much anything we want—so long as the other hackers are kept at bay.” His smiled shifted to an aggressive grin, “Maybe our creepy friend would like to go for a swim?”

Nibbles squealed and pointed at the monitor as the flooring dropped away. Like falling dominos, the panels disappeared in front of the giant reaper, the open pits filled with black oil. One by one, the flooring vanished, forcing the S.L.A.G. to back up to the far wall of the arena. Nat kept typing and reforming the floor until Hook was pinned against the wall. “Only Skyline could jump that distance. Cryo, can we light a match?”

“Lighting match, Nathan.”

Popping from behind the S.L.A.G., a cannon jutted out from the wall. With a PUH-PUH-PUHFWOOH! it spewed liquid flame. Cloak and torso spun in a whirlwind to avoid the arc of fire—which hit the ground and slid across the floor. The oil ignited. Orange flame and rolling black smoke rose up into the air, creating a giant wall. Fans screamed approval and excitement at the sudden change of events. The arc, which completely surrounded Hook, had the machine trapped upon its own island.

Nibbles giggled, “You did it!” Without warning, she kissed Nate on the cheek.

He froze, eyes locked on the keyboard in front of him.

She looked at him shyly, realizing her actions. “Oh…uh…sorry.”

Nat’s ears turned a bright shade of red. He quickly cleared his throat and started typing again, “Let’s see what else we can do.”

Telly nudged Tumbler with his elbow. He shook his head. “I woulda kissed her back.”

The old gnome struck a match off his chin and lit his cigar, “Maybe that’s why she hasn’t kissed ya in the first place.”

Wendell yanked the joystick back again to raise Gnolaum’s shield as Dream Date attacked, trying the wrap the cables around his torso. The bright pink S.L.A.G. with high heels and oversized forearms, marched closer. “Dream Date?” he yelled, spinning to the far side of a pillar as a cable dented a metal floor tile, “Who would ever consider this girl as a dream date?!? She’s a death trap!”

“Well hit her!”Dax screamed into Alhannah’s mic. She pushed his face back.

“No one told me about whips!” Wendell huffed, “It’s like trying to fight an octopus…”

The TNT crew looked at one another in confusion.

“What’s an octopus?” Telly asked Tumbler, but the old gnome just shrugged.

Alhannah clicked through the monitor angles to get a better camera view of Dream Date. “Wendell, stop thinking about the weapon and think about the distance.”

“What?” he frowned, “What do you mean?”

She pushed herself up from the table and started pacing. “I know we haven’t taught you this yet, but each weapon and attack has a distance attached to it. A kick can be negated if you slip inside the radius and get closer to the body. That principle sometimes applies to weapons too. Dream Date is using whips—which cause the most damage at the end of the weapon. You get hurt more the further you are from her.”

Wendell gulped, “So you want me to get closer to this psycho?!?”

“Exactly.”

“I think you’re nuts too.”

“It’ll negate the effectiveness of the whips,” then firmly, “Trust me.”

Wendell checked his scanner. Hook was pinned against the wall with a distance too far to jump. Not without bathing in oil and flame. Skyline had gotten to his feet and was in the middle of a shooting match against Kings Jester. The aerial S.L.A.G. looked like a cowboy, shooting with two oversized pistols, bullets ricocheting about the arena as the smallest S.L.A.G. darted around the perimeter. King Jester’s shoulder cannon kept Skyline at bay, rapid firing at the grounded cowboy. Wendell’s only concern right now was the date from hell.

Right, he braced himself, get closer.

Without warning, three small canisters landed near Gnolaum. One hit the ground and slid to his feet, the other two embedding into a pillar near his chest and head. What the…? His monitor showed small blue, blinking lights flashing faster…quickly changing to red.

This can’t be good!

In a knee-jerk reaction, Wendell yanked the controls to the right and forced the Gnolaum to dive away from the structure. “UNGH!” he grunted as his S.L.A.G. hit the ground with enough force to jar his own bones. The motion knocked Wendell’s head against the bars of his seat and it took a moment before his eyes were able to focus on the controls. Cement and steel became projectiles as the canisters exploded. Pieces sailed over Gnolaum’s prone body harmlessly and pummeled Dream Date in the chest—knocking the machine off balance.

Alhannah growled, “Looks like Kings Jester is starting his fun. Watch yourself.”

Get up! Get up! Get up! Wendell grunted, pushing his S.L.A.G. back to its feet. You’re in the open Wendell, get up! His teeth clenched tight in frustration—this has gone on long enough.

Skyline was still concentrating on Kings Jester, who was almost on its second lap of the arena. Tiny legs sprinted with a loud rhythm of its pistons, as bullets continued to concentrate on the aerial S.L.A.G..

Nat’s voice yelled over the com-link. “Wendell, get a move on—Hooks found a way out of our trap!”

Wendell looked over to see Hook launching its claw and chain from the opposite end of its scythe. It sailed up, into the air, through the metal webbing. The claw whipped around the fiber of the heavy-duty net and held. With a couple tugs, Hook jumped and swung over the flaming pit, landing to the excited screams of fans.

All five S.L.A.G.s were still in the game. Only two have to go down to end the combat. Wendell tried to remember what Alhannah had drilled into him before the fight began. Kings Jester is the least armored, but fast—so I can’t catch him. The bullets don’t look like they’re hurting anyone…but those explosives. Then there was Skyline, who had heavier weaponry, but couldn’t lock onto the smaller machine to score a hit. But he’s more interested in taking out Kings Jester than me.

With a vibrating whistle, a metal cable cut through the air, wrapping securely around Gnolaum’s sword arm.

“Argh!” Wendell tugged back, trying to use his sword to free himself—but the weapon acted more like a mace than an actual sword. The awkward angle bounced each swipe off the taut cable. A second whip jumped out and wrapped around the weapon itself, nullifying its use. Dream Date tugged, stretching out Gnolaum’s arm.

The fans overhead started chanting. “HOOK! HOOK! HOOK!”

The black reaper had used its chain and claw and made it to freedom. However, the long chain was tangled in the net above and had to be abandoned. That meant close combat with the scythe. It’s glowing eyes locked on Gnolaum from under the hood as the S.L.A.G. walked across the battle field, ignoring the other pilots.

“I don’t know what yer waitin for kid,” Dax egged, “HIT somebody!”

“Wendell, get out of there!” Alhannah snapped into the mic.

Skyline sheathed its pistol cannons and drew a rifle from its back. Dropping to one knee, the muzzle followed Kings Jester’s movements. It fired. Though it missed the runner, the steel wall panel exploded into fragments.

It gave Wendell an idea.

Kings Jester didn’t stop moving. The smaller machine was less than a hundred feet and closing fast on Wendell’s own S.L.A.G.. Hook was now sprinting towards him and Gnolaum was caught in a useless tug-o-war with the pink machine from hell.

Dax gave a worried look to Alhannah and then to Nat. “What’s he doing?” Then louder, “What’s he waitin’ for…an invitation?”

Come on Hook. The large green figure on his screen continued to grow as the S.L.A.G. loomed closer, the rolling number under the figure measuring the distance from Gnolaum.

3…2…1.

With a side step, Wendell let up on the tension of the cables, which created a quick slingshot effect with its momentum. Cranking the controls, Gnolaum spun—raising it’s shield arm. The cables wrapped around the S.L.A.G. as the shield released and shot through the air.

“MAHAN’S PINK PANTIES!” Dax shrieked, “Kid—what’re ya doing?!!”

The heavy pressure door collided with Kings Jester as the machine veered to avoid Hook. The shield struck him in the chest and completely knocked the S.L.A.G. to the ground, sending it sliding across the arena floor. With two consecutive shots, Skyline blew a leg and then the head off Kings Jester. The Trench Brother was out of the competition.

That’s one.

Hook jumped forward, swinging downward with the curved blade of it’s scythe. The crowd cried out and bellowed an “OOOOOO!” as the weapon missed its intended target by mere feet. Gnolaum continued to spin, wrapping itself tighter and tighter until the S.L.A.G. was nestled against Dream Date. Just as he’d hoped, the cables did not detach. They were part of the pink machine itself. Throwing Gnolaum’s right elbow back, Wendell slammed his palm down on the red button.

From both elbow joints, four foot spikes jutted out and locked into place. The first spike sank into Dream Date’s lower chest cavity, just below the pilot section. “Spin, baby,” Wendell grunted and pulled back on the joystick.

Sinking towards one knee, Dream Date was pushed off-balance and thrown in front of Hooks dropping blade. The curved weapon tore through the shoulder plate and severed the S.L.A.G.s left arm entirely. It clanked onto the ground.

Wendell continued the motion and hit the black panic button.

Along the outer rim of his forearms, spinning blades severed the cables binding Gnolaum to the pink machine. Yanking the spike free from the falling challenger, Wendell swung back and upward with his sword. The colliding trajectories knocked Dream Dates’ head clean off—sending it like a cannonball into the face of Hook.

The reaper stumbled backwards from the blow but did not fall.

Dax gaped at the monitor. “Did he do it?”

The buzzer sounded the end of the tournament.

Jumping to his feet and throwing his hands into the air, Dax’s chair shot out from behind him. “HE DID IT!”

The crowd went wild.

“LADIES AND GENTLEGNOMES,” boomed the announcer, “RARELY HAVE WE SEEN SUCH A FEAT OF SKILL AND TIMING IN THE GAMES! LET’S GIVE A ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR THE GNOLAUM!”

Every camera in the arena swooped down to get aerial shots of the fans rattling the chain link fences.

Shamas stood behind the cheering RAT team and simply shook his head in awe. “Well I’ll be…”