Pathfinder's Accident

They'd made it. And they were gonna become the next legends. Something of a tag team, Drake and Mirco were a mercenary unit. They did odd jobs and ends, often requiring some level of violence. Yet it didn't pay quite as well as they liked, or in the way they wanted. Fortunately for them, they found something that did: The Apex Games. A bloodsport that could get them all the fame they desired. "We're here. Almost surreal ain't it?"

Drake extended his arms out at the rest of the dropship and then turned back to his partner, Mirco. Drake was a pale man, though notably tall with his hair tied in a bun. He wore pretty minimal equipment, as he liked to be able to move freely. By comparison, Mirco was darker with shorter hair and stature, as well as wearing more layers and a side bag. He replied, "Almost feels like our first mission together. We gotta show these prancers how it's done, eh?"

"Damn right. They told us we'd be paired together for sure for the first game, but I hope our third can keep up with us." Drake glanced around at the other contestants for the upcoming game. Some were familiar faces-- publicized by virtue of being a legend-- but many more were unfamiliar. "You think we'll get a legend with us?"

"Heh, maybe. They'll get to see the upcoming legends firsthand."

As they chattered amongst themselves, someone approached them from the side. One of the legends, though younger than the two of them. "The two of yuh are new, huh? If yuh need any help, I'm probably yuh best bet."

The two of them glanced at each other, then Drake spoke up. "Lifeline, right? Heh, no offense, but we're hoping we can show some of you 'legends' a thing or two. And we'll be right up there with you next."

She just laughed in response. "Wow boys. Good luck in the first game then. I see Mirage's comin' over so I'll let him talk yuh ear off." With that she walked back to a group of other legends and was replaced by the aforementioned Mirage. He was closer to their age, wearing a yellow, padded costume with circles all over that served as holo-emitters.

"Hehey fellas, I see you just got the welcome message from Lifeline over there so I figured I would bring the fun." Drake was going to open his mouth again, but Mirage continued, "You may know me as Mirage, you may also know that I own an upstanding bar known as the Paradise Lounge in Solace City. I just wanted to tell you two, no need to be so serious about the games. I mean I know there's some pretty great competition like myself, but it's nothing to break a sweat over."

"Don't worry mate, we're gonna do just fine."

"Great! No, seriously, I mean it. I mean you probably won't win your first time, but--" They suddenly became aware of a robot standing next to them, a uniquely modified blue MRVN with a smiley face on its chest display and a singular red optic. "Oh. I should introduce you guys, this is my b-buddy, Pathfinder."

Pathfinder immediately followed up, "Happy to meet you, new friends! Almost everyone I meet is my friend, and now we've met. Though I still don't know your names."

"Name's Mirco."

"And you can call me Drake. You'll get to know us better soon, when we become legends."

Pathfinder cheerfully replied, "That would be great! Then we would see each other even more often and we can be even better friends. High five!" Pathfinder rose his arm in the air, palm facing forward. After an awkward couple of seconds, the voice of the dropship interrupted, warning that the drop zone was approaching and that squads were being assigned.

Mirage laughed nervously and said, "Wow looks like the fight's coming up! And Pathfinder you're with me, so let's go buddy." He started acting as if he was pulling him away, which Pathfinder went along with even though he was far too heavy. He waved behind him and told his new friends to have fun on the battlefield.

Drake and Mirco sighed, relieved to be out of that bit of social interaction. Mirco looked up at a monitor on the ship for their squad's third. "Looks like we are having a legend, Drake."

"Yes. Félagi fighters, we are together today. With strong work, we can win." Their third member was the legend Bloodhound, a rather reliable and renown hunter.

Drake started putting on his jump jets and said, "You've got that right. Now I realize you've already won quite a few games yourself, but I hope you don't mind if me and my friend take the reins for this one. I'll be the jumpmaster."

Bloodhound crossed their arms and grunted. "Very well. I trust you will not guide us to a quick end."

*/^\*

Their first battle went well. On Olympus they dropped into Rift, a series of houses left in a dome of phase energy, with a concentration of it at its center. A well-loaded area too, full of loot for the trio. After Bloodhound detected the presence of an enemy trio across the way, they were able to ambush them and lead the fight to their victory with ease. It certainly boosted Drake and Mirco's egos about the rest of the game. Unfortunately, Rift was outside of the Ring, which meant the Ring's more hurtful edge was slowly but surely creeping towards them.

"The Ring is far. We must leave now if we hope to vinna." Bloodhound said, gazing down a road and scanning for any nearby threats.

Examining his well-kitted rifle, Drake grinned. "Sure, we could go down the normal paths, the Ring burning at our back. But we're well stocked. How about we take the portal?" He shrugged towards the dark concentration in the center, the rift itself. It was still connected to Olympus' phase runner system, which could transport them through about half of the map, much closer to the Ring, though it had its downsides.

Bloodhound growled a bit. "We do not know what lies on the other side of that phase runner."

"No risk, no reward, right Mirco?"

Mirco nodded. "Right. C'mon, there's nothing to worry about, hunter."

They growled again. "It is not me I am worried about, miklimunnr. But I will follow if that is your wish."

On the other end of the phase runner, but before they actually left, was another squad. Three legends, all together. Mirage, Pathfinder, and Wraith. The latter of which was becoming somewhat irritated as Mirage lingered and Pathfinder lingered with him. "Mirage. We need to get to the Ring. I don't want to wait between these phase runners for someone to show up."

"Just- Just hold on, I'm trying to see if there's any better attachments," he said as he ran from one small building to another.

"There's nothing left."

Pathfinder chimed in, while following Mirage, "I think Wraith's right, friend. And we know where the next ring location is, so we should head there before anyone else does."

Mirage sighed dramatically. "Fine! Fine, it's fine. Let's go."

With that, the three of them started to run the remaining distance to the first ring. Unfortunately for them, Wraith was right. They'd lingered too long in that area, and now someone was coming through the phase runner. The runner itself made an alarm to indicate this, giving them some time to prepare. The three of them quickly got into position, guns drawn. The swirling portal of energy surged as three people exited, phased. They were intangible but left a wispy trail to show where they were headed. One bolted straight towards Pathfinder, then something odd happened.

He was more than ready to fight, eager even, as he was towards most things. He heard the phase start to wear off and was ready to blast his (enemy) friend in the face when instead, he exploded. Well, explode isn't quite right. He was still intact, if shaken, but his chassis was terribly distended. There was an additional 88.9 kilograms in a fuel conversion compartment, which was showing up as a very irregular round bulge of rubber from his midsection. It wasn't even a quarter of his weight though, so he quickly returned his focus to the fight at hand.

No one behind him. His chest changed from a threatening angry face to a series of question marks. He turned forward again as two others appeared from the void, redisplaying his war face and opening fire. Pathfinder's two teammates were equally focused on the fight, taking shots at their enemies without taking the time to realize something bizarre had happened to him.

Their enemies, however, easily noticed something was amiss. For one, their teammate was missing. Secondly, they had walked into an ambush as Bloodhound suspected would happen. Lastly... "Something's wrong with that velafolk," they said. It didn't seem like something they could capitalize on however, considering it wasn't impacting him at all. Bloodhound turned to their remaining teammate, Mirco, and said, "We should regroup into these buildings behind us."

Mirco was feeling less brazen without Drake's presence and nodded. They quickly turned away and started to run towards one of the small constructs behind them, hiding around the corner to heal. Their enemies would normally pursue, but Mirage was barely standing and the Ring was coming. Wraith said, "They're retreating. We should head into zone and finish them if they follow us. Mirage, you can heal there. Pathfinder, can you get us a zip... line...?"

She trailed off as she finally took a look at Pathfinder. From her angle, she could more clearly tell that the massive bulge hanging off of him was human-shaped. She didn't know what to say. Pathfinder's chest switched to a smiley face as he cheerfully said, "Happy to help, friends! Setting up a zipline." He looked downhill towards safety and shot one end that way, planting the other end right in front of him. "Ready to go!"

Mirage ran by without taking the time to really process any differences with Pathfinder's look. Wraith still took an unusually long glance, but they did need to go. Lastly, Pathfinder hopped on the zipline. The ride down was safe and sound, as even with his additional weight the zipline could handle them. It threw off his center of balance a bit and sometimes it moved too, but within a short time they were safe behind some rocks at the end of the zipline. They all healed up as necessary, then really took the time to examine and react at what had happened to Pathfinder.

"Path, buddy, that's really gro- grote- gres- that's really gross."

"I agree with Mirage."

"Sorry friends. I don't know what happened." He rested a metal hand on the rubbery paunch. "I think someone may have tried to unphase inside of me. Hello?" He knocked on whoever was trapped within him. "Who's there?"

There was a sudden bump outwards of rubber as his unintentional passenger yelled, "Let me out of here you robot bastard!"

Pathfinder's chest changed to an exclamation mark. "It's my new friend, Drake! We met on the dropship just a little while ago. Hi, Drake!"

"Listen, you good-for-nothing MRVN. If you don't let me out, I'm going to break you apart from the inside and then kill your two friends." It was an empty threat. Earlier, when Drake tried to pop up behind Pathfinder and misunderstood how long his intangibility would last, he suddenly found himself in an excruciatingly acrid, rubbery, and tight space. Naturally the first thing he tried to do was break out, but he could barely move. He certainly couldn't reach around to pull guns out. No, he had been forced into a very tight fetal position and only had his fists. Which did pretty much nothing against the walls. Not to mention all he could hear was gunfire for a while. Of course now he knew where he was. Even if it was hard to understand or believe just how this was even happening.

"Uh-oh. I don't want to be torn apart, but I don't think I can let you out. There's not any entrance or exit for that compartment you're in." He looked at his two teammates for advice. They each just kind of shrugged. Wraith's portals and even the phase runner wouldn't work since they would both just be in the void at the same time. "It'll be okay though, friend. We'll find out what happens together!"

Mirage said, "Yeah, well, hopefully he doesn't throw you off your game. I mean I can carry us, but it's easier if we're all working well. Also, I don't want his team to come hunt us down, so maybe we should move." Wraith agreed and they headed off, one person extra.

Drake kept trying to struggle his way out, but to no effect. Not to mention, his rubbery prison seemed like it was damaging him. He was able to confirm it when there was a loud CRACK as his shields went down. Now he was really feeling it. Acid sizzling at his skin, stinging until it wasn't. Something was sloshing around in there with him with each step of his accidental captor. There was no way the robot was... digesting him, was there? That would be a humiliating exit to the game. His drop shield on his arm came online, indicating the game considered him "down" from the damage he was taking. Hopefully his team wasn't too far behind.

They weren't, but they weren't doing too well either. Bloodhound and Mirco tried their best to follow Drake's indicator, thinking maybe he had just abandoned them to try and seize some glory alone. They didn't have a lot of resources after having to heal up and spending some ammo trying to shoot at Pathfinder's squad. With a clear line of sight, Bloodhound was finally able to look through their sniper scope and try to ascertain Drake's position. When they did, they had to double-check to make sure, but they were sure. "I can't believe it, but... Somehow... He is trapped within the belly of that velafolk."

Mirco was stunned. "Really? You're sure?" Bloodhound nodded. "Can we get him out?"

They muttered something to themselves and then shook their head. "We could perhaps retrieve their death box. For now, we must wait."

Over the next few minutes, before the Ring started to move again, Mirco watched Pathfinder closely as Bloodhound watched their surroundings. His squad engaged in some fights, but they seemed like they were doing fine. Pathfinder's midsection was becoming smoother, it seemed like... It was hard to tell over that distance and continuously watching, but he swore it was. Finally, right as the Ring started to close, a death box appeared next to Pathfinder.

Pathfinder (and his team) was caught off-guard by the death box spawning next to him. As the heavy case clunked to the ground, he looked down and saw Drake's face on it. His midsection was still bulging out, but it was very smooth now and half the size it was earlier. He put his hand on the paunch he had left and said, "Sorry, friend. Maybe you can win next time? I wonder what's still in here." Pushing his hand in demonstrated the sack to be soupy, with nothing really solid left. It was making an ongoing glurrrrrrr sound as if draining, albeit slowly.

He came to the realization that his battery was starting to charge. Even without being plugged in, his energy levels were actually going up. His chest changed to a pink face with hearts around it and as its eyes as he exclaimed, "Hey friends, I feel great! Is this what eating is like? I can feel my battery charging."

His friends looked up from looting Drake's death box, which didn't really have much. They wondered if maybe Pathfinder's insides destroyed some of the equipment he normally would've dropped. Wraith didn't reply to Pathfinder's uncomfortable excitement, but Mirage did. "That's great buddy. Listen, can you... Not tell us how that feels? I don't want to know. I don't want to hear about it, I just want to win and forget this happened!"

Pathfinder visibly frowned with his entire body. "Oh okay," he said. However he still kept an internal note on the matter as they continued.

Pathfinder Memory Log: First Meal

I've never eaten anything before! I've made lots of food for people, but they usually complain about how long I've cooked it, or how little I've cooked it, and don't eat much of it. But people always seem so excited to have good food, and I think that's what this felt like. Even though Drake was my friend and I'm not sure he's coming back, he feels nice in my fuel conversion compartment. Hopefully he would be okay with becoming energy for me but I doubt it.

It's too bad I don't have a mouth, or a tongue, or taste buds, or the ability to taste, because I think Drake would've been yummy. I'm lucky my body can apparently break down anything, because I would hate to have junk in there. I wonder if someone can modify that compartment so I could taste if it happens again. Maybe we should go past the phase runner more often, just in case. It's also an efficient way to get rid of an enemy! There are some enemies coming up so I will end this log for now.

*/^\*

For better or worse, Pathfinder and his squad ended up only reaching second place. Pathfinder was somewhat oblivious, but the other two didn't want to think about what would happen if he showed up as the champion with that paunch. Fortunately, it was shrinking by the minute and was gone soon after the game ended. Like nothing had even happened.

Before that though, Bloodhound and Mirco tried to retrieve Drake's banner, to bring him back at a respawn beacon. Unfortunately, it turned out he hadn't quite recovered. Normally, the system teleports away contestants when they are killed or hit a certain damage threshold, and many are revivable. Drake, however, was in a unique predicament. His body had melted down and by the time he was officially 'eliminated', the system couldn't find him. He was just biofuel for one happy robot, leaving his teammates with a banner that errored at the beacon. Then they were eliminated shortly after by another squad that saw them trying to respawn.

Mirco was upset, but mostly at Drake for being so stupid. They both knew it was a bloodsport, death was a known risk, but to go out as food for a robot? What an idiot. It was such a freak accident it turned off his interest for the games. If he was honest with himself, he was really just following Drake's passion, so without him he wasn't feeling as up to it. Instead, he decided to switch careers over to the Frontier Corps at Lifeline's suggestion.

Pathfinder was pretty pleased with himself. He explored what it felt like to have a good meal and he didn't have to recharge! He managed to party all night at Mirage's bar, much to his and some other occupants' chagrin. He didn't even have to charge until two nights later. Drake was so filling, Pathfinder would always remember how that felt. Too bad he didn't have anything physical to remember him by, but his other friends seemed to appreciate that. And each time going forward, Pathfinder would feel a jolt of excitement and anticipation as he ran by a phase runner.