“You!” cries Caracal from the stage. “You know you aren’t welcome around here any more!”
Mantis steps down from her seat and walks calmly up to the stage. “You don’t have anything on me, Caracal. I’m within my rights.”
Caracal’s face is a mask of fury as she shoves her arms into one of the platformed suits. “People don’t just change overnight. I know you’re reporting back to Eleanor about us. You should have just stayed in hiding.”
“I am NOT working for that woman!” cries Mantis. “Mamba saw that Roland and I were in danger and she helped us! We were so thankful and honored to be a part of this place. Who do you think we were running from when we came here?”
“You’re lying.” growls Caracal. “It’s too convenient. You two show up, my father disappears a week later. I know the Privateers took him, and I know you helped them.” The suit hums to life around Caracal as her feet slide into place. “I shouldn’t even be entertaining your objection but damn I need to hit something! Get in that suit and let’s get this over with.”
Mantis drops her arms to her side helplessly. “I’m on your side, you know. And if you can’t put me down now you’re going to have a hell of a lot of paperwork to get through if you want to get rid of me.”
Merrick scratches furiously at the back of his head. “What is going on right now?“
The Weevilsmith chuckles. “That’s Warden Eleanor’s daughter. She and her brother Roland are Privateer defectors that ran off and joined Phylla when Mamba was leading.”
Merrick stops scratching his head when he realizes he is still wearing his gauntlets. “She’s the one that saved us when we got kidnapped.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Nobody told me anything about kidnappin’! You’re about to tell me things I don’t wanna know, kid. You just keep that to yourself and watch the fight.” The Weevilsmith inches away from Merrick. He is sweating more than usual.
Caracal roars as her suit comes to life, a dazzling beam of white projects from her out into the middle of the stage. Her body roils and tenses, shifting an enormous blob of light before her. The light solidifies into a sinewy pawed leg, claws bursting from it and disappearing into the dirt. Two tufted ears pull themselves up as the other legs form, the lithe body of a short-faced, wicked-eyed predator. The light dances around the enormous cat for a moment before smoothing into a fur coat.
Across the stage Mantis moves confidently in her suit, striking her arms straight out as light bursts from her metallic core. She brings them quickly together in front of her like a boxer, dancing lightly on the fronts of her feet. Her light, a slightly hazier version of Caracal’s produces a giant mantid roughly the same size as Caracal’s beast. It’s head twists left and right, calculating as it examines its opponent.
Merrick pokes his head up from the ground where he has thrown himself for cover. The Weevilsmith rolls his eyes. “Now how are you going to see the action from down there?”
Merrick blushes. “There are two animals the size of King Kong right in front of me. Of course I’m terrified.”
“The wonders of science, my friend,” chuckles the Weevilsmith. “They only work on each other. Might make your eyesight go bad, but otherwise they’re harmless.”
Merrick rises apprehensively and sits back in his seat. “What happens if Mantis loses?” he asks.
The Weevilsmith’s face falls. “They’ll probably send her back to her mum. If Eleanor is as bad as they say she is, Mantis needs to win this.”
The great Mantis has barely finished forming when Caracal pounces, clawing mercilessly, jaws seeking throat or vitals. The fighters themselves move as though in a physical match, each thrown punch matched by an appropriate impact in the other’s suit. The great beasts move differently, claws and pinchers swinging naturally with the flow of battle. Merrick tries to watch the fighters themselves but the allure of colliding light is far too strong.
The Caracal cat is angrier, stronger. It tears into the great Mantis, dragging and clawing. The Mantis is more precise, a surgeon of war. It grasps at the cat, catching hold of it in midair and squeezing down hard on it’s soft throat and belly. The Caracal twists free, roaring, biting down hard on its opponents shoulder. On the ground Caracal is holding hard to empty air while Mantis flutters against an unseen force pressing her into the ground. She reaches an arm across herself and pulls at the space before her. Above, the Mantis clamps it’s great pincher over the Caracal’s back. Neither lets go. Neither surrenders. The crowd is absolutely still.
Caracal pants from where she stands frozen, arms locked in place by her suit. “You could be the end of us,” she chokes, heavy breath and sweat thickening her voice.
“You know I won’t be,” answers Mantis. She turns her head and the great insect eyes of the Mantis land directly on the crowd. “Hey announcer?” she grunts. “I think you owe me something.”
There is a scrambling sound from the announcer’s booth and the suits begin to power down. Caracal screams and her great cat pulls back a heavy paw to strike before fading against the flat dirt backdrop. Both fighters are ejected from the suits and rest on all fours, gasping for breath as sweat streams from their bodies. Merrick blinks for the first time in a while.
The announcer hesitates for a moment, shrugs, and raises a fist in the air. “Citizens. Please welcome your new Beta Guardian, MANTIS!”
The Weevilsmith tumbles out of his seat and waves his arms in the air. “Great show! Amazing fight! What a rush! Who’s got that Mantis Initiate card?”
Merrick wipes sweat from his forehead and turns to his friends. “That was something else wasn’t-” Merrick stands, putting his face immediately in front of the Weevilsmith’s. His voice is low, menacing. A threat. He grabs the man by his beetle suit and pulls him close.
“Where are Riddle and Friday?”