It happened during Trench Wars Final Match Season 4

Two million screaming fans packed the new megastadium. So many bodies, the place shook like an over-caffeinated thunderbug. Vendors were weaving through the press of bodies selling steaming gear-oil stew, glowworms on sticks, and questionable snacks that smelled like pickled lightning.

I had terrific seats, though,…three rows up from the railing, close enough that when the spiraling pyres ignited along the arena edges, the heat crisped my eyebrows.

That’s when I first saw him.

Billo Stumbleshanks.

Read the full story of THE LEGEND OF BILLO STUMBLESHANKS here…(you won’t regret it)

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The camp exploded into chaos.

Centurions in full armor ripped down tents, kicked over water containers, smashing a week’s worth of drinking supply. Women were yanked by the hair and dragged toward the transport. Kids who were too quick to grab got shot with tasers…falling to the ground twitching like fish out of water.

The soldiers laughed.

Some of the younger men tried to fight back, but most didn’t last more than a few seconds. Still, it bought others time to run, most heading deeper toward the furnace where the heat was unbearable and the terrain too chaotic for the Centurions to risk.

A young mother sprinted past me, child in arms, with a Centurion closing in. As he rounded the corner, I jumped out and swung a metal pipe into his chest. Something crunched, followed by the hiss of air. He hit the ground flat on his back, wheezing.

I grabbed his taser—a long rod that looked like a cattle prod—and jammed the end under his helmet.

ZZZZZZAP!

He twitched violently, helmet rattling.

Mirrored visor, I thought. Perfect.

I stared at the details of his uniform…and concentrated.

The raid was over almost as quickly as it had started. The Centurions rounded up their catch—six children, ten bound and gagged adults—and loaded them into the transport. The rest had either hidden well enough or escaped.

The roll call started.

“Tad?”

“Here.”

“Rey?”

“Here.”

“Ewart?”

“Sir.”

“Azzo?”

“Present.”

“Leith?”

Silence.

“Where’s Leith?” the officer demanded.

The pudgy driver snorted. “How the TGII should I know? You all look the same in those outfits. Besides, I just drive this boat.” He stomped off to the cab.

The officer cursed and keyed his mic. “Leith, where the blast are you? Rey, take two men and—”

“There he is, sir,” Rey cut in, pointing.

I jogged up with the taser in hand.

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It was time to make the pilots pay.

The arena had been rebuilt and rearranged for tier two. Instead of a completely open floor, the Trench now looked like an obstacle course.

Cement blocks and pillars lay on the ground or leaned against each other without rhyme or reason. Obstacles varied from five to ten feet in height…which made some big enough to throw, while others were large enough to hide behind. To make it more interesting, the center of the arena was a platform…rising into the air, four steps high, with a small fortress on top. Where a pergola once stood, a cement building with raised walls and a solid roof looked down over the arena.

A perfect place for a sniper to perch and wait it out while knocking off the competition.

His head felt fuzzy. Heavy, both from drink and too much thinking. Dax knew I was all alone, and he'd promised that would never happen again.

“I’ve let him down again because I was playing this stupid game!”

The anger fueled his muscles and kept him focused. Well, focused enough to cause problems for the other pilots, anyway. He sneered as his bloodshot eyes stared at the screen. He had two targets…and both of them were going down: Betty 4.0 and Hook.

A.K.A. Dead meat and…deader meat.

Yeah, he liked that.

Bringing his knees up, Dax bent forward, causing Turnpike to crouch low as it scrambled between the blocks and pillars. The smoke from Betty’s rockets created a haze in the area, so Dax kept to the thicker streams of smoke to mask some of his movements.

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Maybe I was looking at this all wrong. If these folks weren't here by accident, then someone had to know they existed.

But why?

Why would anyone want to cast someone off just because they disagreed on political or social issues? That was…stupid.

I thought for a moment, and an idea started to take shape.

“If you could get out of here, guys," I said, "where would you go?”

Otger scratched his head, but Dayl’s face lit up instantly.

“Easy,” he said. “I’d get my butt off-island. Get to the free zones.”

“Free zones?” I asked, careful not to reveal too much. Better to stick close to the truth. “I’ve never heard of a free zone.”

The engineer leaned back in his rickety, handmade recliner of pipes and cloth, lacing his fingers behind his neck. Two small children ran past, squealing and waving a frayed rope with a tattered imitation of a kite attached to it.

“I don’t think they teach about it in schools anymore, so I’m not surprised,” Dayl said. He watched the kite rise higher as the kids ran toward the furnace vent. “They’re the little islands surrounding Pävärios. Colonized when our people discovered this cluster of islands. The biggest one became Clockworks. But there are smaller groups who decided to moderate their advancements. Not so much dominating nature as working with it.”

His smile grew wider, and I could only imagine what he was picturing.

“So you’d go there?” I asked.

Dayl nodded vigorously. “Definitely! Live free and among people who actually wanted me? Who wouldn’t want to go there? I could share my talents and not have to pay a fee every time I stepped outside my front door…”

“Or so you hope,” Otger cut in sourly. “You don’t actually know if those places even exist…because we can’t get off the island to be sure. For all you know, you’d make the journey there and find a barren rock to starve on.” He shook his head. “No, I’ll deal with what I’ve got here. I just want a way to exist in Clockworks. Live my own life.”

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I groaned.

Well, I tried to. It came out more as a croak. Even that hurt. My throat felt like someone had shoved a sock down it and set the sock on fire.

The air smelled of grease, old cheese, and burning rubber.

Trash.

I was lying in the trash.

Again.

Figures.

My eyes fluttered open just in time to see two figures looming over me. One looked like he’d lost a fight with a rusty rake, and the other had a leg that bent weird when he moved.

“Sorry, Mal,” the rakish-looking one muttered. “That was unkind of me.”

Mal—the other one—kneeled beside me. “It’s I who should apologize. Someone’s been cruel to this boy, for whatever reason. I’ll not add to his suffering.” He looked at the other guy and gave him a wink. “Besides, no one falls this far and lives. Has to be a good sign, right?”

Don’t start, I wanted to say.

Instead, I threw up a mouthful of goo and choked on it.

Mal reached out gently, brushing away something sharp from my face. I flinched. He didn’t pull back.

“Easy now. You’re safe. Just don’t move—looks like you bounced off every sharp object in the pile on the way down.”

I tried to sit up.

Bad idea.

My spine lit up like a Christmas tree. “Ughnn… where…?”

“The furnace bay,” Mal answered grimly. “And we’ve got maybe three minutes before this chamber turns into a big ol’ death oven.”

Wonderful.

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I felt a sharp jab in my side.

“Guhh!” I wheezed, as the air rushed out of my lungs.

Someone big…and fast…had me by the arms, locking them tight behind my back.

“What the—? Hey!” I struggled, trying to twist free, but another figure shoved something cold and round against my neck. It pulsed, sending my muscles into full-body spaghetti mode.

Everything blurred.

I kicked out, managing to connect with someone’s shin.

That earned me a punch in the gut. Stars exploded behind my eyes.

I dropped to my knees, gasping, but whoever they were, didn’t let go. Arms wrapped under mine and lifted me like I weighed nothing.

“Wrong pilot, freak show,” someone whispered harshly in my ear.

I tried to channel magic, but my hands were pinned, and my mind was spinning. I couldn’t find the focus. Couldn't even remember the words. Everything tasted like metal and ash.

The crowd surged around us—cheering now as the monitors showed Beatdown flying through the air. No one noticed a couple of shadows dragging me toward a loading dock.

I twisted…even bit a hand…though my face was jello, so I'm not sure it was very hard.

That got me another punch, this time in the jaw.

Tha-thump-thump.

Tha-thump-thump.

Tha-thump-thump.

The warm healing factor of Ithari started pulsing through my body. It helped me see a bit more clearly, but whatever was in the shot still had my strength.

I blinked a few times to focus as I was dragged through a doorway, down a hall, then another door….and another. Each opening released the sound of machinery.

Huge.

The kind that made the 'KA-CHUNK…KA-CHUNK' sounds, in between the grinding and whining gears.

We approached what looked like a kind of maintenance shed. It had red warning signs taped to each door. Powerful gloved hands yanked the metal doors open.

…revealing a massive garbage chute.

“No, no, no, I breathed… "No, hey…HEY, STOP—”

The last thing I saw was a goggled face and a fist hooking toward my head.

Everything went dark.

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“Säko,” I whispered.

Blue light spread across my palms, thin threads weaving through the air like glowing silk. The sensation tickled. The hair on my arms stood at attention. I caught a faint scent: metal…like old batteries or the air after lightning.

“Good,” Chuck said, beaming. “Now, to move it outward, say the word…”

“Virtä.”

The sound of it rolled off my tongue like I’d been born knowing it.

In my palms, threads of electricity flickered to life. Soft blue arcs danced and crackled. No pain. Just a low, steady hum vibrating through my arms. It felt like I was holding lightning that…I know this sounds strange, but…as if it liked me.

I laughed under my breath.

You’re doing it, Wendell. You’re actually becoming a mägo.

“Perfect!” Chuck cheered, eyes glowing as bright as the magic between my fingers. “Now, once it feels like the energy’s a part of you, you can amplify it.”

“Using Teho, right?”

The moment the word left my mouth—CRACK—the bolt jumped. A fat arc of energy lunged toward my chin, and I flinched back, yelping.

“Whoa!”

Chuck raised an eyebrow. “Careful now. Elements have instincts. Electricity wants to be embraced. Fire is hungry. Wind? It wants to run. One slip in focus, and you’ll light yourself…or someone else…on fire.”

“Right, right—sorry.” I cleared my throat, cheeks burning. “Läkätä.”

The light faded. My hands pulsed with lingering energy, like the last ripple in a pond. I could still feel it on my skin, itching to escape.

“So how would you focus electrical energy?” I asked. “Same way as light?”

Chuck shook his head. “No. Mäjäkä pulls light to a center, but electricity—lightning—it doesn’t like to be contained. It needs direction, not control. You give it a destination and set it free.”

“So… not mäjäkä.”

“No. You use sälämä.”

I rubbed my palms together, still buzzing from the last spell. My inner geek was having a field day. Magic + electricity = awesome.

“Sälämä,” I whispered.

Mistake.

Sparks exploded between my fingers like bottle rockets. Two bolts shot off in opposite directions—one igniting a stack of books, the other knocking Chuck’s hat clean off his head.

But the main bolt?

It zig-zagged straight across the room and smacked into Höbin’s metal cot.

SHRAK!

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We finished dinner in silence.

One by one, everyone drifted away to their rooms… until only Chuck, Deloris, and I were left.

I hadn’t touched the kitchen table.

Couldn’t bring myself to. Just sat on the floor with my back to the others, pretending to eat off the coffee table while I stewed in shame.

I made a deal with the devil.

At the first sign of trouble…when I’m supposed to be some kind of hero…I folded. I gave in to the threat. Just like that.

I didn’t fight; I surrendered.

"That you did," whispered Doubt.

Go away.

"Hey. I get it, buddy. What were you supposed to do? For all your faults, you're actually a decent guy, Wendell. You care. That's not a weakness, even when others use that against you."

Seriously. Go away.

"Alright."

The food tasted like rubber. My stomach was a mess. I shoved the plate away and sank back into the couch, suddenly wishing I could run.

Not hide. Run.

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“The President is asking for the assistance of Steel & Stone…” He peered over his glasses at us, “...unofficially, of course.”

He flipped through a couple more pages, humming to himself. “To keep the peace and soothe growing tensions among the factory workers—until you are able to change sponsors officially.”

Dax frowned. “Change sponsors?”

“To come and work for the government,” Ian said, practically giddy. “If you win, of course.” He skimmed a few more lines, then passed the packet over his shoulder to a nearby suit. “In the meantime, we just need you to use your influence over the people. Calm them down. Let them know the government is their friend. Their savior. Their thinking’s already been done, you see. It’s just a matter of reminding them.”

“Mahan’s pink panties, his teeth are huge,” Chuck muttered beside me. He laughed and slapped my knee. “Am I the only one here staring at this boy’s face?” Before anyone could stop him, Chuck reached over and actually tapped Ian’s front teeth.

Just—tap tap.

The albino flinched so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.

“I didn’t know you could breed gophers with gnomes…”

There was a beat of silence, and then a stifled snort from one of the guards.

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“Quick, hide!” Alhannah hissed.

My head whipped around frantically. There wasn’t anywhere obvious to go. “Where?” I squeaked.

Dax grabbed the handle of a small metal door and yanked it open. It swung open with a rusty groan, releasing a pungent odor that immediately made me gag.

“It smells!” I complained, recoiling and covering my mouth and nose.

Dax grabbed a fistful of my jumpsuit and roughly shoved me inside. “It smells fine! Now shut up and hurry!”

My eyes instantly watered from the sour mold stench overwhelming me. I gagged again. Coming from a guy who eats rotten fish, I thought, disgusted.

Alhannah leaned close and whispered, “Don’t worry, we’ll be right here. Just stay quiet!” The door slammed shut, plunging me into darkness. I knelt forward and peeked through the vent slats of the door.

Outside, I heard muffled footsteps, then silence. Alhannah and Dax must have hidden themselves above the pipes lining the ceiling.

“Have ya ever seen a move like that? Gnolaum throwing his shield at the King's Jester…knocking the snot outta it?” said a youthful voice nearby.

Skinny and pitted-faced, a redheaded gnome came into view. He lugged a large black bag over his shoulder.

“Totally,” answered another voice lazily. The second youth, his concession box strapped across his chest, popped something into his mouth. “Then again, Skyline was pretty intense with that rifle shot.” He made a shooting gesture down the hall. “Droppin’ to one knee and blowin’ King Jester’s leg clean off.”

Together they cried, “EPIC!”

The metal door suddenly jerked open, flooding my hiding spot with dim light. I froze, terrified, but neither boy noticed me. The redhead tossed the heavy black bag inside, narrowly missing me, and slammed the door closed again.

“Dude, eww—that stinks—shut it! Let’s go to my mom’s house and watch the replays,” the second voice said, fading down the hallway.

“Yer on, man!”

Once they were gone, I flopped out onto the hallway floor, shaking uncontrollably. I brushed desperately at my hair. “Ew, ew, ewwwww!” I shuddered, feeling filthy. The smiley face on my shirt had turned a sickly shade of green. “That was disgusting!”

It nodded back.

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Alhannah clicked through the camera feeds. “Wendell, stop thinking about the weapon. Think about the distance.”

“What?” I frowned.

I could hear the loud clack of her heavy boots as she started pacing. “Every attack has a distance. Whips are strongest at the ends. You want to minimize damage? Get closer.”

“You want me to run towards the psycho Barbie?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re all insane.”

“It’ll throw off her weapon effectiveness. Trust me.”

I checked my scanner. Hook was still pinned against the wall, isolated by fire and bubbling lava at his feet. Skyline was back up, locked in a gunfight with Kings Jester. The flying cowboy was spinning, shooting with both pistols while the Jester darted along the perimeter, tiny legs pumping like pistons.

I braced myself. “Right. Get closer.”

Then—tink—three canisters landed near my feet. One skidded up to Gnolaum’s toes. The other two thunked into a pillar near my head.

“…what the—?” My monitor lit up…blue blinking lights.

They immediately changed to red.

“That can’t be good!” I gulped.

Jerking the controls hard to the right, Gnolaum dove away just as the canisters exploded.

“UNGH!”

My shoulder jammed into the pilot seat as my S.L.A.G. crashed onto its side. Pain shot through my ribs and my head cracked against a bar. Blinking through the blur, I watched shrapnel and metal whip past the canopy.

Chunks of cement and steel pummeled Dream Date right in the chest, knocking her sideways.

Alhannah growled through the coms, “Looks like Kings Jester’s starting his fun. Watch yourself.”

"Get up!" Doubt shouted, "Come on, Wendell, get up!"

I groaned, grinding my teeth as I forced the Gnolaum back onto its feet. My hands shook from the jolt.

"You're exposed, Wendell! Move!"

I glanced around—Skyline was still exchanging fire with Kings Jester, who was now sprinting into his second lap around the arena. Those tiny legs pumped like a jackrabbit on espresso, while Skyline unloaded rounds to keep him at bay.

Me?

Stuck with the date from hell.

I growled and tightened my grip on the controls. “All right,” I muttered, “let’s see what you’ve got.”

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His research has led to both spectacular breakthroughs and catastrophic failures, earning him a reputation as one of the university’s most eccentric minds. Students flock to his lectures, eager to witness his next risky experiment.

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Music by: C ROCKS, from © Gnome Tone Records, WHRN in Clockworks City.

Dedicated to Craig Werner.
…cause he rocks.

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Music by: GEAR GIRLS, from © Gnome Tone Records, WHRN in Clockworks City.

“Rise of the Gnolaum”

(You don’t see him coming...)
(Til the ground cracks open.)
Power surge, shadow form—
GNOLAUM’s born in the quiet storm.

Last pick, back row, counted out,
Wendell’s name never made 'em shout.
Now the lights go black—and BOOM, he’s here,
Running full torque with zero fear.

Tired of hiding, time to ignite,
Under that suit? A heart that fights.
From street junk to battle gold,
SLAG of legends, raw and bold!

He’s the rise, the silent gun,
Lighting up like a dying sun.
Out from nowhere—top spot won,
The Gnolaum—your fear’s begun.
You can laugh, you can doubt,
But he’s the storm you’ll talk about.
Steel meets soul—nowhere to run,
The Gnolaum... has just begun.

Fools call him fluke, call him green,
But his reflex makes the metal scream.
One wrong move, and it’s over quick—
His heart’s in sync with that glowing brick.

He’s the rise, the silent gun,
Lighting up like a dying sun.
Out from nowhere—top spot won,
The Gnolaum—your fear’s begun.
You can laugh, you can doubt,
But he’s the storm you’ll talk about.
Steel meets soul—nowhere to run,
The Gnolaum... has just begun.

(Watch him burn through all your stats—)
(Pilot unknown, but he’s cracked the maps!)
Armor glowing like sacred flame,
One match in... you’ll know his name.

He’s the rise, the silent gun,
Lighting up like a dying sun.
Out from nowhere—top spot won,
The Gnolaum—your fear’s begun.
You can laugh, you can doubt,
But he’s the storm you’ll talk about.
Steel meets soul—nowhere to run,
The Gnolaum... has just begun.

(You don’t see him coming...)
(Til the thunder’s done.)
And by then...
He’s already won.

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Music by: GEAR GIRLS, from © Gnome Tone Records, WHRN in Clockworks City.

“Steel and Stone” (Alhannah’s Anthem)

(Steel and stone...)
(Pulse through chrome...)
Beat drops hard like the clang of war,
Alhannah’s boots hit the metal floor.

Midnight burn through the circuit lanes,
Tracer lights and hydraulic veins.
No rules in the Trench, just torque and fire,
We race with the ghosts and wired desire.

Eyes on the lock, we twist and roll,
Fuel-fed fury and total control.
Crowd screaming loud from the catwalk zones,
We break the silence with drones and tones.

We are Steel and Stone,
Breakin’ bones in the kill-zone.
Flash like sparks in the core fight,
Runnin’ red lines all night.
No fear in the throne,
We ride fast, never alone.
Alhannah leads—locked, fierce, full-blown,
We are Steel... and Stone.

Custom rig, built from scrap and soul,
Battle-worn tech but she’s ice cold.
Dax on the left with a glare and grin,
Wendell’s fingers twitch—“Do we even win?”

We are Steel and Stone,
Breakin’ bones in the kill-zone.
Flash like sparks in the core fight,
Runnin’ red lines all night.
No fear in the throne,
We ride fast, never alone.
Alhannah leads—locked, fierce, full-blown,
We are Steel... and Stone.

(Spin it out—yeah, spin it out!)
Neon veins in the steel-spine route.
(Shut it down—nah, power up!)
We climb 'til the sky erupts.

We are Steel and Stone,
Breakin’ bones in the kill-zone.
Flash like sparks in the core fight,
Runnin’ red lines all night.
No fear in the throne,
We ride fast, never alone.
Alhannah leads—locked, fierce, full-blown,
We are Steel... and Stone.

(Steel and Stone...)
(Pulse through chrome...)
Alhannah’s light in the echo dome—
Runnin’ this race like it's home.

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Let me show you.

Music by: Unknown, from Pixabay.

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Yes, I know I’m a historian. Yes I know I’m an adventurer.

…but I also love to draw things I discover.

Even small, smiley things….and this sucker is NOT small, FYI.
Total weight of a pincer snail is roughly 2.4 POUNDS.

Yeah…AND it bites.

Höbin

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A magical anomaly that comes to life, revealing Wendell’s true feelings at every turn.

…and I’d like to show you some of those expressions.

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Have YOU ever hear da child try and spin tales or convince grownups that it would be better for them to stay up?

Yeah. Ruby is like that.

Ahhhh, the magic of five-year-olds.

NOTE: This is the last SPEED DRAWING until January 8th, 2025! I’m taking the month off to spend with my family, which has been a dream of mine for 25 years.

I love you.

Merry Christmas!

Happy New Year!!

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If you like this video, please let me know…

Leave a comment

Want to help keep me in basic office supplies?

I’m always running out of basic supplies……if you’re willing & able, you can click on my list of what I use and buy a product …..OR…. you can buy me a coffee and I’ll get what I need when I need it. THANKS!

See Jaime's Always Needed List

Buy Jaime a Coffee