After ten more days to rest and prepare himself for the upcoming season, Montresor received the call to let him know that his very first match of his fourth year had been scheduled for two days from now. Normally, the masked pilot wouldn't have considered this early battle very important or even worth making any extra preparations over. That was, until the bland registration worker on the other end of the line told him who he was being put up against. As the name was spoken, the young man shivered and thought back on something for a couple seconds before asking for the location of the match and hanging up.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>Forty-eight and some hours later, the Terror Grand arrived in the designated combat zone and glided over to the assigned starting position. The chosen environment was a favorite of both many of the pilots and of the crowd, as it carried more atmosphere and beauty than most; on one side, an endless desert sea of sand dunes and windy ridges, on the other, an actual sea of deep blue water, with the two meeting at the middle to form a glittering beach that continually crashed with gentle waves. It was night, and an artificially created aurora shown brightly beneath the stars and provided a calming green light over the battlefield.<br/><br/>Opposite Montresor, the predetermined opponent was already in position and waiting. Not surprising, since he had probably been waiting for this match for three years. His Mobile Weapon, the Ballista 10 (http://www.mahq.net/mecha/gundam/unicorn-ova/rgm-89s.jpg), was more fully armed than it had been when Montresor had last seen it. This time, he and the TG would be facing it in a standard, one-on-one pure duel, no doubt a match orchestrated by someone higher up to amuse themselves. That, or the other pilot had paid someone off to get placed against Monty, which was just as likely. Looking back, maybe he had earned this by acting too rash.<br/><br/><em>The young pilot was nervous and sweating almost profusely inside of his cockpit, a fact that grew steadily more irritating as the damned mask he was told to wear prevented him from wiping any of it away. It was too late to turn back now, having already arrived at his first preliminary match ever, the first and last chance a Mech Battling Federation newcomer like him would ever get. The setting was a tropical rainforest, and the game just happened to be Fragile Package, a fairly new pair-based objective match that allowed for less skilled or experienced pilots to play with, as well as against, elites. <br/><br/>The Carrier, the job usually designated to the less skilled of the pair, would have to carry and protect a large carbon sphere with a fiberglass frame and sensor at the core. If the frame was destroyed, the team lost. The other pilot was given the job of Protector. The Protector's job was far more strenuous, as they had to both protect the battle-handicapped Carrier and try to destroy the other team's package the same time. Needless to say, the newbie Montresor was given the job of Carrier, though he wasn't nearly as upset about the assignment as his designated teammate was.<br/><br/>Tanner Morgen, pilot of the increasingly popular Ballista 10 mech, particularly well-known for his complete lack of team skills. The man was an asshole, but he had the promise to become a champion someday, so he remained popular and earned more media exposure every season. As high up in the ranks as he was, he wasn't pleased at all to be playing Protector to some greenhorn with a stupid mask, even if it was just for a preliminary match. "Listen you little creep," he hissed over the SATCOM, "I'm not here to help you get anywhere in this league, so just go hide somewhere and let the real man handle this.</em><br/><br/>"You ready to face me for real, you smug piece of shit?" Tanner hissed over the NETCOM, the improved Ballista 10 shifting the sand around as it bent its knees slightly in anticipation of the fight.<br/><br/>"It's been three years, Tanner," Montresor answered without much interest in his voice. "I've been getting better and wiping the floor with 'elites' like you all over the place, and you've just gone and painted your mech a prettier shade of green. This is going to be a joke."<br/><br/>The countdown from the announcers interrupted them. Three, two, one, the fight began.