Biobots
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Brawlers
DISPATCH: Suspects gathering at Papermill Warehouse. Large crowd inside. Expect brawlers there for a fight.
OFFICER CHITOM: 10-4. I’m at the Soup Bowl down the street, heading south. En route.
DISPATCH: Caller suggested they arrived in racers.
OFFICER CHITOM: 10-4. If you can get somebody to come up Basset Street, they can help cut off their escape route.
SERGEANT PETERSON: 222, en route.
SERGEANT ROBERTSON: 81, en route.
Earlier that evening, Charles walked into the bioengineering laboratory of the University of Texas, San Antonio. The new 3D printers made it smell of butanol and ozone.
He walked over to a workbench near the printer, set down his BioBuddies™ toy box, and began searching for his design files.
The lab monitor walked by. With a coy smirk, she reached around and grabbed the toy box. “I think you’re in the wrong place, Charles. These belong in the sandbox with the kiddos.”
“Mind your own business,” he chided back.
His peers liked to laugh at his recent obsession with these toys. But Charles knew most of them would have killed to get a job at ToyTech, the BioBuddies parent company. Currently a Wall Street favorite, ToyTech was the first to market a biotech toy approved for mass consumption, and they were dominating.
He found his designs. An intricate 3D model began rotating in front of him. He yelled across the lab, “Hey Amy, you done with the printer?”
“Yeah, just cleaning up now.”
After a moment, Amy walked by, “All clean. Say, what you need it for this evening? I thought you were done.”
“Just need to make a couple of tweaks is all.”
“Is that even legal?” she asked, her eyebrows raising slightly as she looked from his 3D model to his BioBuddies set.
Strictly speaking, the BioBuddies toy was a self-contained system, closed for modification. ToyTech could not risk having live creatures, created from their parts, harming children. However, it was only a matter of weeks before the biotech community hacked it, leading to a proliferation of custom mods, printable via standard tissue printers. Any action ToyTech made to stop the mods only fueled the fire and drove the community deeper into the dark web, where an illegal trade in 3D models raged like an inferno.
This is where Charles played his advantage. The 3D tissue printer at his lab was far more advanced than consumer level printers. While most people could only mod their sets with cheap tricks and flashy facades, someone with access to a lab like this could be quite dangerous.
He sent his design to the printer and smiled at Amy, “Illegal? Only if someone gets hurt.” They watched as an acrid ozone scent leaked from the machine; his design became flesh.
Officer Chitom placed the receiver back into its cradle as he sped down Basset St. His partner asked, “you ever taken a brawler’s fight before?”
“Yep, taken a few. You?”
“No. First time. What should I expect?”
“Blood, lots of blood. Time we get there they’ve usually scattered. But there’s always blood everywhere.”
His partner shifted in his seat. “Blood? I thought this was a robot fight.”
“Nope. These days kids are modding those bio toys to be fighters. Getting good from what I hear. They match a mech against a biobot. Usually the biobots lose. And bleed.” The wheels of the vehicle tapped a rhythm over concrete slabs of a bridge. After an uncomfortable pause he added, “Don’t worry. It’s not real. They’re just toys.”
The warehouse was 102° and rising, magnifying the smell of sweat and cheap alcohol. The frenzied crowds were pressing in, screaming for their fighter as the match raged on. Charles wiped his glasses. His bot had managed to stand up to the mech for seven rounds so far. Four rounds more than any previous fight.
The mech had inflicted terrible damage. Strips of flesh hung off the bot’s right side. The ring was a pool of blood, each fighter slipping as it stepped, splashing spectators in the front row.
Charles boxed the air, shadow fighting along with his bot. The blood didn’t faze him. He had modded his bot with a massive blood supply and surface veins serving no purpose other than to bleed easily. A ruse intended to endear the crowd and confuse the opponent.
Suddenly, the mech slipped in the pool of blood. It was just a few milliseconds of uncontrolled footwork, but it was enough. Charles’ bot saw the opening and dove in. With one swift downward thrust the mech’s left knee was shattered. Far from finishing the fight, the mech rebounded immediately and adjusted. But the tide had turned; Charles bot would win.
The music stopped. The lights blinked. For a brief moment, silence pressed in on the crowd, magnifying the sound of the two fighters splashing in the bloody ring. A boy ran up from the back yelling “brawlers gotta BOUNCE!”
The cops were on their way.
The lights were extinguished. Chaos escalated to pandemonium. Charle’s opponent leaped into the ring. He snatched up his mech. Eyes blazing, he spun around and kicked Charle’s bot across the ring.
OFFICER CHITOM: Racers on Basset, north and sound bound!
SERGEANT PETERSON: I see them! In pursuit of a blue Bolt. At least 8 more headed north of Basset towards Cross Street.
DISPATCHER: Copy that. All available units, please respond to the Papermill Warehouse, Basset and Cross Street.
Charles sped away in his blue Bolt. Damn. I would have won. I would have won! Adrenalin-pumped images flashed through his mind as he anticipated the inevitable and violent rematch. Tonight his mods proved a biobot could win against a mech. He was sure of it. Gripping his steering with white-knuckled fury, he vowed to give the crowd something to cheer for next time.
Red and blue flashed across his face; Sergeant Peterson’s lights reflected in the rearview mirror. Well, Charles thought, this will make for two illegal activities tonight. He turned off his headlights and diverted down a back alley towards the university lab.