PIT fighters or VR swordsman

A Story by CAM

Summary of the prologue I've yet to write and first rough two pages of what would be a book if I ever bothered to write it all, which I probably won't.

Prologue

There were two types of combatants who went to the academy. Those who wanted to become soldiers, the proud lifeblood of their countries; and those who wanted to become PIT fighters, the top athletes of the world, competing against one another while talking big about the spirit of competition and the mass amounts of pressure on them, while making millions on the side. It should be said that when I started on this journey I didn't care what I became. I just needed the money.

Passive Intelligence Transfer. The final step in creating the “black blood” sporting events and warfare. Taking robotics to the extreme and then some redefined warfare strategy and expendibility; then PIT tech came along and told all previous methods of fighting to leave the room. A new age of technology taking everything to their logical means allowed for a marvelous and aggressive world.

Chapter 1

“Run “Dojo Mark I”, quietly spoke the combatant standing across from me. “EXECUTING DOJO MARK I” spoke back the computer as the cube rooms' walls shifted from pure white to a dismal gray color covered in a black grid pattern. The room's floor, set to roughly the size of a school gymnasium, changed to include black lines designating where each fighter would stand to start the match. The man I stood across from was John, a nice enough fellow, but his Battle VR skills were not good enough to compete with me on a good day, even if he did boast he would one day go off to the academy.

At 10 metres apart, it was almost impossible to tell he was a virtual simulation, the only real tip off was his hair. School grade PIT simulators, or battle phones as we would call them, didn't quite have the processing power to make the static plus gravity work perfectly in tandem, a problem one does not face if they have the luxury to use a real RBC. His short black hair flowed marginally too freely to be lifelikfe.

The A.I. Referee materialized in the middle of the room. “Set parameters for match” it asked. John, with all the keenness a 15-year old skinny boy could muster asked me “Shall we go TTD then?” He paused for a brief moment then continued, “With RBC styled avatars?”. Because it was John this only slightly surprised me, RBC death matches were probably my best fights, not that it mattered. “Fine”, I responded with what I hoped was as much condescension as could be put into one word. If he noticed my abrasive attitude he didn't show it, that jovial smile was still plastered on his face. “Okay then”, he happily continued, “Parameters: Sim RBC avater, End Restriction: To The Death”. “Get ready for battle”, the floating black box designed to use up as little processing space as possible replied. Two black triangles appeared on the floor, each at about a foot in front of me or John, designating where the swords would materialize. Me and John simultaneously lifted are hands upward waiting to catch our sword. The A.I continued “Battle starts in 3.. 2.. 1..”.

The two thin swords appeared out of the “air” with a flash of light. We both quickly grasped them and moved to a ready position. John immediately charged me, lowering the double-sided blade. I turned 90 degrees showing him my side, and waited for his inevitable mid charge attack. He went for an admirable uppercut to my left shoulder, swinging my blade up I made an incredibly showy parry and knocked his blade wide, sending his arm shooting out away from me. He quickly turned his charge into a retreat and backed away before I could cut his neck. I would later regret the showy antics of completely disarming John during his rush attack. I liked John, and while I easily outclassed him in swordsmanship one of the best ways to learn was eagerly facing an opponent much better than yourself. For me however this battle was unnecessary, and at the time I was a little annoyed. After reeling back, John looked back at me, a little stunned by how easily I had knocked his blow away. He came towards me again, but this time a more deliberate in his movements. I stood my ground hoping to end this in the conflict in the next bout of slashes.

The black box still remained in the middle of the dojo. In a point match it would float around and look for where it would perceive hits the same way a real life judge would, but for a death match there was no reason for it to move as it would just monitor life signs, when a person dropped dead the match would end.

He came at me with a lunge I side-stepped and parried away to my left. He jumped backwards from me expecting a return stroke to deal damage, but deflecting lunges are tricky and I knew I hadn't opened up enough space to deliver anything more than a scratch. However, he didn't retreat and returned with a down slashing feint that turned into a sweep at my right thigh that almost had me fooled. I pulled my blade back with time to spare and blocked the sweep bringing my edge up with enough follow through to shallowly cut his left leg. Simulated black blood began seeping out of the new wound. Frustrated, John starting to lose composure, switched to a two-handed over hand swing that if landed would have sliced my strong enhanced robotic body in half like butter. It would also be really slow and I could easily remove his head or stab him in close quarters before he pulled it off. I attempted to move for the kill and my body didn't respond.

My first guess was lag, but that didn't make sense. Sure the school battle phones were crappy, but this was a two person closed system match. It should have taken easily ten times the required processing power to create this much noticeable lag in game.

After a split second, movement came back to me. As my eyes adjusted to the setting I thought I saw movement from somewhere other than the sword coming to cut me in half. Even with only the split second between my first attempt at movement and now it became impossible to return the fatal blow to John and end the match. In fact it became impossible to dodge the sword at all. In that moment I did the only thing I could, I moved my sword into only my right hand and began retreating to the right, away from the ever closer swing. John's swing easily passed through my left arm, removing it from my body, but miraculously missing the rest of me altogether. I became momentarily dizzy as black blood spouted out of the hole where my arm was, but after a few second the cybernetic arteries sealed shut and blood circulation returned to normal.

The reason I thought of myself as better at RBC fights than ones that would use human avatars is that I knew when letting the opponents weapon cut through me was completely unavoidable. That was one of those moments.

John stood away from me with a confused look on his face. Whether it was from my moments hesitation or from managing to land a stupidly made blow on the best sword fighter in class, I don't know. I do know that my sorry one armed state didn't dissuade him from trying to finish me off before I regained my composure. I blocked his first blow and backed away easily enough, but it was clear in that first swing that with two hands he was able to make a lot more force than I would be able to knock out of the way. At the end of that first block I knew I was going to have to force him into another stupid mistake. I continued to step back and block each blow from every angle he threw at me. The constant circular motion around the floor quickly became tiring but I continued on through the monotony. Step, Block, Step, Block, I moved keeping the sharp edge of his blade just out of reach of its target. John's face became more frustrated with each swing, his eyebrows furling; and every time he came at me a little faster and a little more aggressively until finally he messed up just enough for me to end it. He attacked from my left in a wide swing quickly stepping forward to catch me as I moved backward. I began to raise my blade as if to block the incoming strike, and john prepared to move quickly and deliver a heavy blow. Instead of stepping back I stepped towards him with the blade in my right hand poised across my chest. There was just enough time to see his eyes widen as I stepped past his forward charge, cutting through his neck leaving a large gash in its place. Black blood sprayed out of the large cut as his Sim body slouched and fell to the floor. The monotonous A.I. Voice reported, “John valor is declared dead by blood loss, death match winner is Taylen Rigora”.