Turn 31

--- Maya ---

“Out of curiosity, why are we packing lunch for this thing? I mean isn’t there supposed to be food there?” She wondered as she helped her mamá pack lunches for the entire family.

“Sí, but all of that is greasy overpriced concession stand garbage.” Her mother explained. “It’s much easier to just bring our own food, than pay ten dollars a person for something that’ll give your father heartburn.”

“I guess that makes sense…” She admitted, knowing how tight her parent’s budget already was with five kids.

“Mm-hm,” Her mother agreed, “Besides the last thing we need is Izzy being thrown off her game, because some pendejo thought it’d be a good idea to feed greasy food to a bunch of kids before their sports competition.”

“Yeah, that could definitely be a problem…” She realized. “Though isn’t eating before a bunch of stressful exercises just as likely to mess her up?”

“Which is why she gets a fruit salad made of papayas, watermelons, bananas and other easily digested fruits that should give her plenty of energy without causing digestion cramps.” Her mother explained. “So long as we keep her hydrated and full of electrolytes this should keep her fueled up for her competition and offset anything caused by her competition.”

“Huh…” That was useful information (especially since I’m pretty sure hero work is going to be physically intensive if these last few nights are anything to go off of.)

---

“Okay, I’m going to be honest. I have no idea what this competition is actually for.” She admitted as she, Vi, and Tommy made their way through the tournament hall. “I mean I know Izzy does a bunch of martial arts stuff, but what exactly is this tournament for?” (Because if it’s the fights Izzy and have been doing, I’m fairly certain someone is getting slapped with child endangerment.)

“Um, it’s some kind of mixed martial arts thing, without actually being the kind of fights people see in MMA.” Tommy explained in that way that did nothing to actually explain anything.

“Okay…” She nodded before turning to her elder sister. “Smarter elder sibling, how does this bitch work exactly?”

“First, language there are kids here.” Vi told her gesturing to a nearby family.

(Meh, they’re not our kids.)

(I don’t believe that’s the point…)

“And second, I’m not entirely sure…” Her (not as smart as I thought) elder sibling confessed. “I think it’s some weird mix point system that’s based on different fighting styles but given how I’ve seen Izzy practicing her throws and punches on you I’m not entirely sure how that would work.”

“Wait, you’ve been sparring with Izzy?” Tommy interrupted with a concerned look. “I mean I knew you were running with her, but you’ve been fighting too?”

“Yeah, it’s always fun to watch Maya literally get thrown around by a middle schooler.” Vi admitted a chuckle. “Definitely takes the boredom off when I do my homework in the kitchen.”

“Hey! I was being a supportive older sister!” She argued, pointedly not mentioning the fact that those fights were more for her own benefit than anything else. “Let’s see you two spar with her.”

“Uh, no thanks.” Tommy laughed with a shake of his head. “I’m good where I am.”

“Right, so… putting middle schoolers in MMA. Why did we okay this?” She wondered, just now realizing how much of a morality problem this might be.

“Like I said it’s not actually MMA.” Tommy reminded her as they found their designated seats. “And from what I remember on the old pamphlets, this whole thing has something to do with keeping martial arts alive in a world full of magic and mad science.”

(Humans are creatures of habit. They enjoy tradition, it gives them a sense of stability and comfort in a constantly shifting world.) Her inner reason explained for her in a way she could better understand. (Odds are that with the popularity of the different arts falling to the wayside in favor of magic and other new things, they decided to blend as many of the arts together as possible so as to try and preserve them.)

“I guess that make sense.” She admitted as she thought it over.

(Especially since most people would rather watch two people throw lightning and fireballs back and forth or fight with giant killer robots rather than watch two guys punch and kick each other.) Her inner child chimed in.

(That does sound more fun.) She agreed, wondering if it would be cruel to create a second drone minion just to have it fight the first one to the death.

(Yes, yes it would.) Her inner logic chimed in blandly.

(Doesn’t change the fact that it would be awesome though.)

Eventually her parents found them just as the tournament was beginning after wishing Izzy luck. And despite having little to no idea of how this whole tournament thing worked, she cheered Izzy on all the same as she beat up a bunch of other kids in a method that was significantly softer than anything she’d done to Maya.

(You know, you’ve got to wonder if Izzy enjoyed beating us up more than was healthy…) Her inner passion pointed out as Izzy pushed a kid back rather than putting their arm into a lock that would dislocate their shoulder if they struggled too much.

(That’s… not entirely implausible…) Her inner reason admitted reluctantly.

(I… I don’t know how to feel about this revelation…)

(Just… just remember that we’re better at fighting.) Her inner logic told her in an attempt to soothe her damaged ego.

(Right…)

But regardless of how out of proportion Izzy’s treatment and training was in comparison to her actual fights in this tournament, her little sister continued her way through her fights with a number of victories. Going so far that after several hours of fighting on and off, Izzy was one of the final two contestants in the tournament.

Unfortunately, after several hours of watching middle schoolers beat each other up, Maya’s relatively short attention span was beginning to get antsy.

(Do you think these fights would be more interesting if we gave each kid a pair of punch activated flamethrowers?) Her inner madness wondered.

(It might make a decent avatar impression.) She admitted with an (irresponsible) level of consideration.

(Let’s not do that.) Her inner conscience implored her. (That is illegal and several different kinds of dangerous.)

(But Izzy loved the avatar series, I’m sure she’d love to go Zuko on some punk.)

(Given what we’ve learned she’d probably be closer to Azula…) She pointed out wryly.

(Fair point.)

(And you’re both ignoring me.)

(Yep.)

(Yep.)

(Of course…)

Suddenly everyone around her began to cheer, causing her to look up and notice that Izzy was in fact the last one standing, leading her to jump up and cheer as if she’d actually been paying attention.

---

By the time everyone had made it back to the house after Izzy’s tournament, she was beginning to feel that odd sort of hyper-ness that came about whenever she started to go too long without tinkering. The one that had the whispers out in full force tempting her to grab whatever she could get her hands on and turn it into something else.

This is why the moment she was alone she took out her headset and began making modifications to her mask using a handful of electronics, and her welding tools to tear out some space in her face plate to fit said modifications.

(We might want to consider giving the headset a full-scale rework with how many upgrades we’re putting into it.) Her inner reason pointed out.

“Maybe, but that would make it a bit harder to fit further upgrades in as we need them.” She argued. “Even if it makes the ones we have run easier, it’ll still take more resources to make upgrades fit with a better model than the stuff we’re using now.”

(You mean the stuff held together by duct tape and weird whisper magic?)

“Yeah, that.” She nodded, as she locked the last piece of her filtration system in.

While it wasn’t the greatest filtration system, it would at the very least allow her to breath through most smoke and airborne debris without any trouble for a few minutes at a time. And due to her foresight the system had a scrubber that could clean itself with a few cranks, rather than requiring her to replace the filter every so often. Though said scrubber could cause more damage than it fixed if the air around her wasn’t sufficiently clean enough when she used it.

“That just means we’ll have to clean it outside of the smoke and chaos.” She told herself, as she put the headset on and began flicking through its various states to make sure she didn’t break anything.

(Which is probably the best place to be doing maintenance, all things considered.) Her inner logic agreed.

(Eh, you don’t know what you’re talking about.) Her inner madness scoffed. (Through the fire and the flame is where it’s at!)