The Land of the Not So Free. CLiX Solo.

A fist connected with his jaw, and he spat somthing out.

"God, I hope those weren't teeth", he though.

He returned the blow, socking his foe in the stomach. In the backround, loud roars and the clang of metal on metal, and the smell of gunfire filled the air. The man before him feinted to the right, but he saw through the ruse, and swung a left hook, and his opponent moved right into it. Both fighters were bloody, bleeding from lip and nose. There was a bright flash. His opponent had pulled out a switchblade. The knife glinted through the air, and he felt a blinding pain, and then then everything went dark.

The steady chime of a waiting message nudged him out of sleep. CLiX rolled out of bed, his shaggy blond hair sticking up in every direction, and shuffled to the blinking commscreen. He blinked at the screen through sleepy, half squited eyes, and barely managed to lift a hand to the screen. Most commscreen messages were made in person, either prerecorded or live stream, but this was a simple letter composed of text. The letter read as such.

"This message cordially invites one Clarence Alexander of the High Guard, and his combat partner Ihara, the Lightning Saix to the ZBC Unregulated Territories Rookie Training Event. Enclosed in the attached file is a map document, as well as instructions for over-seas Zoid transport..."

The letter went on at lenght describing past events and what an honor it was to be selected. He blinked, opening the file. As the file started loading, he shuffled to the bathroom, nudging the half closed door open with his foot, not even bothering to close it behind him. A ding sounded over the sound of his pee. He finished, sliding his hands under a stream of hot water from the sink and a squirt of soap. He shuffled back to the screen, rubbing his squinty eyes with still-damp hands. A small map instructing him to a harbor, as well as a map leading to where the seminar was to take place. The time caught his eye, his boat was supposed to leave in two hours! Most would have paniced. Shuffling to his bedside, he slid into his previously worn clothes, his plain old saggy black jeans and his baggy black hoody. He withdrew a suitcase, haphazardly tossing in a few odds and ends, toothbrusht, toothpaste, white-t's, deoderant, jeans, things of that nature. Lugging the suitcase downstairs, he tossed a few weak greetings to some fellow pilots on his way to the hangar.

He slid up to the large, irridescent Zoid, and tapped her right front paw with his knuckles twice. Apparently she had been asleep, and seemed quite perturbed with him. He blinked, still half awake, and waited for her low, rumbling growl to cease. He must have nodded off while she was still pissed with him, for another low growl startled him awake, to see that she had lowered herself down so he could climb in. He responded with a sleepy smile and a soft pat.

"Good girl."

He keyed in the coordinates for the dock, and snoozed on the way there, letting Ihara pilot herself to the docks. She rumbled a growl, shaking the cockpit a bit, as they neared the port.
He glanced at the paper he had printed. The instructions from the letter indicated that he was supposed to talk to a man named 'Silk'.

"... Really? A guy named Silk?", he shook his head in disbelief, then thought of what he called himself.

"Probably a nickname... a perverted one..." He snickered.

He gasped when Ihara turned a corner. A huge boat, housing something like 200 Zoids was floating in the harbor. Everything from Lygers to Cannon Forts were on this thing. He slowly piloted his Zoid into line, where he was instructed by a man with a rather large, extravagantly shiny mustache instructed him to exit his cockpit. He stepped up, offering a hand to the man.

"Silk, I presume?"

"Aye.", the man responded, fingering the gleaming facial hair. "That be me." He thumped his chest proudly with his fist.

"Y'be needin' to park yer Zoid in area F18, t'counnerbalance d'heavier Zoids." All the while Silk proceeded to jerk his thumbs in general directions of where to go.

"Y'got dat, sonney?"

"Uh...sure..." CLiX blinked, before sliding back to Ihara. He followed the line of Zoids, before being instructed to his proper resting place. Before long the ship set sail, with a full payload of 500 Zoids onboard. Noting where Ihara was parked, he slid down her armour, and followed a stream of pilots to the ships mess hall. Scents of exotic foods filled his nose as he stepped through the doors. Dishes from all over Zi were being prepared, to accomidate all the different pilots. One free meal for an overnight trip.

Still moderately tired, and filled with pizza and chilli and a variety of other ethnic dishes, he waddled his way back to Ihara. Unable to climb her armor, he contented to curling between two of her claws for sleep. He was awakened in the middle of the night by low growling, cold rain, loud shouts, and a not so stable floor. A storm had unexpectedly popped up during the night. Over the commotion he heard Silk before he spotted him and his still gleaming facial hair.

"Erryone, hunker down y'Zoids! ShadowFox pilots, engage yer ankers!"

He tapped Ihara twice on the foot, signaling to her to lower down. She popped the cockpit open expecting him to climb in. He patted one of her smooth face panels.

"Not tonight, girl. Just hold on as tight as yo---!" He never got to finish. The ship lurched, tossing him against the deck, and slid him into the neon green foot of a ShadowFox. He winced as the anker shot into the deck, the spike shooting merely inches from his head. The ship lurched again, spinning him across the rain slicked metal that served as the deck of the ship, and slammed his head into something hard, and all went black.

He was awakened by a sharp pain in his side. He groaned, the bright light killing his eyes. He recognized the voice of Silk.

"Wake up y'brat. Pleasure cruise is over."

CLiX tried to shit, and found his arms and legs bound. He opened his mouth to speak, but Silk siezed him by his shaggy blond hair, and threw him into a line of prisoners.

"What's going on, Silk?!" he screamed, being swept along. Over the heads of the people, the hairy arm belonging to the man shot up, the middle finger on the hand raised. He looked around, seeing Zoids being carted off, large straps of explosives attached to the cockpits. He spied Ihara.

"IHARA!", the Zoid turned, for a moment, attempting to move out the line. Men with large, Zoid sized cattleprods zapped at her feet, and a dim light flickered on the explosives attached to her head. Before he knew it, she was gone, lost in a maze of horns, barrels and misslepods.

The line of Zoids and pilots went on for what seemed like forever. He caught a glimps of several other ships docked along the coast, and the line of pilots and Zoids became longer. The hot sun beat down on him, and he lost all sense of time. He was buffeted by large, scarred pilots, and dainty, fragile looking female pilots, though his usual intrest in the latter was sapped by the heat. After what seemed like an eternity, the approached a large, blocklike structure: a prison. He felt the heartbreak that every pilot felt at that instant, as the line of Zoids was seperated from the pilots. Mournful howls and pitiful mewls, and rather pissed sounding snorts faded as the lines became farther apart.

He almost groaned in relief as the cool walls surrounded him... up until he was ordered to strip. Though not nearly as horrible as losing sight of Ihara, he felt like another huge part of him was missing as his trademark black hoody and jeans were swapped out for plain gray slacks. He got to keep his t-shirt though... on account of the ones they give out were white anyways.

"Yeah, thanks... I really appreciate keeping my nasty, sweat soaked shirt...", for good measure, he tossed on a rather nasty word on the end. He recieved a shove from behind, and was assigned his cell. He clamored into his cell, tossing his extra pair of gray prison clothes on the top bunk, before climbing up after, and began to snooze. He was startled by a sharp, feminine voice, followed by a harsh tug on his ankle, causing him to tumble off the bunk.

"I get the top."

"No way, I was here first!"

"I'm a lady, so there."

"Wait, wha...?", he sat for a second. These lazy bastards didn't even arrange the cells by sex? He shrugged, turning his gaze to the fiery little redhead before him. "Whatever." Well, he thought, at least I have something pretty to look at. That was the most conversation he had with the girl for awhile, as he lost track of time not long after the event.

The days drug on. Day in, day out. Same old thing. The day was as followed: Wake up, go to get breakfast goop. Return to cell. Do nothing. Go to get lunch goop, return to cell. Free Time, consisted of shower or working out, then dinner goop. CLiX divided his free time to working out when most showered, and showering when most were lifting. Something added a little brightness to his life, he discovered the showers weren't segregated either, though he spent most of his time moping about in his cell.

Coming around the corner, wet hair plastered to his forehead, he saw something in his cell, he came closer, and saw a glimmer of red hair, and two massivly large backs. He heard her scream, and saw one guy go to unzip his pants. He snarled and ran, launching into the air as he entered his cell, and struck the unzipped man in the small of the back. His forehead smashed into the wall with a sick clunk. The other man dropped her, and turned to face him. He reached behind him and pulled out a homemade shank. CLiX was too fast for him, though, and danced to the side as the big man lunged with his weapon, and dropped an elbow on him. The man fell to the floor, and CLiX stomped his hand, and kicked the shank out the cell. It clattered as it rolled down the stairs. The big man who had the shank fled the area, and CLiX rolled the unconscious man down the stairs after the shank. Seems the girl fell unconscious after being dropped by the big guy, so he slid her into his bunk, because he lacked the strength to do otherwise. He sat, facing the bars of the cell, wide awake the rest of the night.

He was snoozing the following morning, when he felt a sharp pain in his ankle. The redhead had kicked the living hell out of him.

"Wake up, we're getting breakfast."

Always slow to wake up, he blinked balefully at her. In his subconscious, he noted that she wasn't a natural redhead; her roots were showing. She kicked him again, and he slowly got up, shuffling behind her. After they got their goop and sat, she gawked at him. Not a moment after sitting down, he was sleeping again! She scooped a spoonfull of goop and shot him in the face with it, and it splatted over his right eye. He sleepily opened that eye, peeking out at her from behind a mound of goop.

"Yes?"

"..." she snickered, and rubbed her nose a bit before carrying on. "You know you pretty much knocked out two of the worst people here... right?"

"Point being?" The goop was slowly dripping it's way down his cheek now, though he failed to notice this, as well as the fingers of his right hand resting in his bowl. There was a screech of a table shifting behind him, and a bowl of goop was upturned on his head. It was the big guy from before. As if he could sense the animosity in the air, CLiX's eyes shot open, though only the redhead noticed. His hand shifted to the spoon on his tray. The big man seized CLiX by the collar, and lifted him up, spinning him around on the loose fabric like a yo yo.

"Th'names Tiny...", the big man droned, his voice thick with obvious unintelligence.

Tiny reared back to spit a loogi into CLiX's face. CLiX spun the spoon around, and jabbed the handle end, with enough force to penetrate the skin, into Tiny's arm. Tiny dropped him, and CLiX slid up against the big man's belly, and slammed his fist into it. Then man doubled over. CLiX then ran and climbed onto a table, and leaped of, driving his weight, and the force of gravity, into his elbow, and connected on Tiny's spine.The big man fell, his limbs spasming out of control. Tiny wouldn't be walking for at least a week, until the swelling went down. He glanced at the redhead, and tossed his head.

"Let's go."

For the past couple of days, CLiX had been planning an escape. He didn't know how, or when. The redhead had complained when he scooped the water out of the toilet, but stopped after she understood why. The pipes, empty of water, transmitted sounds. From far below, he could hear the snarls of Zoids and the talk of men, and that awful crackling of the Zoid cattleprods.

When they returned to the cell, the redhead glanced at him.

"You're a reck."

He glanced at her, shaking chunks of what he hoped was dried oats from his hair.

"Figure that out yourself sweetheart?"

"Tamara."

"What?"

"My name is Tamara."

"That's good."

Clix was hovering over the toilet again, attempting to listen to the voices.

"What's yours?"

He shot her a glare, which she returned until he spoke.

"CLiX."

"Oh God, you're as bad as the Silk guy. Guys and their nicknames. I bet you deal with internet porn or something."

"... Silk's name was obviously about his mustache... nothing about silk sheets. You'd have to be a little dense not to have gotten that one. My name has nothing to do with porn."

"You're not going to explain?"

"Not now, anyways."

He stiffened as he heard a pitiful mewl echo up the tubes. "Ihara!" Tamara moved as if to speak, but he waved her silent. The mewl echoed up again. His mind reeled. Oh man, he though, she's alive! Alive, alive, alive!

That night, he rigged the lock on their cell door with a strip of his shirt, to prevent it from locking. Long after the guards got lazy with their patrols, and most were asleep, he got ready to go. He sat up on his bunk, and a pair of dainty feet dropped into his vision.

"I'm going too."

"No, you're not, you're staying here."

"I'll scream if you don't let me go too."

"Oh for crying out loud."

She hopped down, already dressed, and waited for him. A few moments later, and the padded off into the dark pathways of the prison, slowly making their way down. They managed to follow one lazy guard all the way down, he didn't bother to check if the security doors had closed behind him. He almost gasped as he passed the lit room. All the confiscated stuff was there! He grinned like a fat boy in a candy store, as he dove through the pile of clothes, before yanking out his hoody and black jeans, which were tied together for some odd reason. He shivered in delight as he felt the familiar embrace of his own clothes, and again as he turned to see her. The loose, ugly prison clothes had hidden her figure, and his jaw dropped as she turned around.

Tamara had recovered her gear as well. All leather, and skintight, black and red. The creases of the leather met every curve of her body. She thumped him in the forehead, and he blinked, wiping a bit of drool from his mouth. More comfortable now, the slid back into the dark passageway, and were easily concealed in the shadows. Ahead, he could hear the sounds of Zoids, and the tinkling of chains.

He did gasp when he came into the view. The Zoids were lines along the walls, chained to the floor. Huge, heavy shackles connected to equally huge chains secured each Zoid's limb to the floor, and many were being stripped of their projectile weaponry. He heard a familiar snarl, and a more familiar voice. Silk was talking to Ihara.

"Dun'cha be worren there. Y'll be free soon."

CLiX passed a look to Tamara, before turning back. Tamara had to seize him around the neck before he could lunge out; they just stripped Ihara of her 20mm Laser Repeaters, as well as her Lightning Beam Cannon.

"I'll kill that bastard, I'll kill him I swear."

He twitched within her grasp, and she let him go as soon as Silk vanished around the corner. He ran up to Ihara, but signalled for her to stay quiet. The other Zoids became restless, rattling their chains rather loudly. CLiX tapped Ihara's foot twice, and she sprung open the cockpit. He did a little victory air punch as he slid out of the cockpit. His suitcase was gone, but they didn't get his brass knuckles taped beneath the seat. He smirked as he slid the devices on. He cursed, as he heard the crackling of the prods and the running footsteps of a guard.

"FREEZE!"

"Not on your life."

The guard lunged at him, jabbing the crackling prod. CLiX winced as he turned it aside with his forearm, and brought his brass reinforced fist against the man's temple. He sunk like a rock. He snatched the prod from the guards unconscious grasp and tossed it to Tamara, before sprinting away. He knew the control room couldn't be far.

He heard it before he found the door. There was the unmistakable laughing of an audience on a television show, as well as the glow from tons of monitors. The guard was absence, apparently on a potty break, judging from all the snack food wrappers and empty drink cans. The glowing red button was what he was looking for.

"A bit cliche..."

He slapped his hand down on it, and he heard the cell doors slam open above, and the chains on the Zoids drop. Bright light filtered in, as the large doors in the Zoid "Jail" were opened, CLiX could only imagine that doors all over the human area were opening as well. A large siren went off moments after, as guards swarmed. Enraged Zoids swarmed through the doors, turning instantly on the structure of the building. Those who still had weapons blasted it, while the others clawed and bit at it.

CLiX turned to Tamara. "You stay here."

He turned from her, and slammed the guard door shut, and barred it shut with a chair. He ran outside, though the sunlight didn't last long. The sun was setting, and on top of that, smoke filled the air; the prison was aflame. Over the explosion and the shouting of freed pilots he heard the shouting of Silk growing ever closer.

"DO Y'KNOW WHAT Y'VE DONE?!"

Silk was piloting a huge Liger Zero, painted jet black stomped into his view, Silk at the controls. The Liger had no projectile weapons at all.

"I WAS FREE'N DEESE ZOIDS I WAS."

"I don't see it as that."

"Returnin them t'the wild! Wild creatures dey is."

"I don't know what you may have thought you were doing, but you sepereated these people from their partners, their comrads. You have no right to what you did."