Author's Notes:

-I'm surprised by the lack of ARMS fanfics out there. Therefore, because of my overactive mind, you guys get a new story.

-The story is told entirely in Mechanica's first person point of view. (Although I might just be stating the obvious here...)

-Unlike some other stories, where I tend to focus a lot on plot line, emotion and character arcs, in addition to that, I'm going to try and be more detailed, but hopefully without making these chapters overly long like I've seen in some of my favorite fanfics. Let me know what you think.

Anyway, let's go and start this story! Rev those engines!

Sometimes I couldn't believe I had made it this far, yet as I walked into the arena to face my opponent, I wanted to believe that I was up for the challenge. I wasn't going to let anything or anyone stop me. My name is Marina. Yamada Marina. Although you might know me better as Mechanica. (Note that in Japan, they address a person by their surname and then their first name. This is called eastern order. I know it's confusing for you readers who are in America.) Anyway moving on... I'm the only ARMS fighter without ARMS, well, unless you count Twintelle's fabulous hair. My whole life I've been teased and mocked for wanting to have ARMS and enter the Grand Prix, both by normal people and by people with the extendable ARMS mutation. But now, all of those haters, all of those naysayers and Debbie-downers were going to eat their words, because as of today, after eight months, I had finished my ultimate creation; The ARMS Mecha Suit 5000! Made from scrapyard metals and a bunch of other stuff most people would call junk, this corn-colored suit was my ticket into the next Semiannual Arms Grand Prix.

I would have entered the last one, but unfortunately, my arm (my real right arm, not the one on my suit) had broken and I was unable to complete my creation. You have no idea how much teasing I received as a result of my personal long-term injury. Okay, perhaps I'm over-exaggerating, but it felt like it took forever for my arm to heal. But I must remind myself that it was only eight weeks. Anyway, personal injury aside, I eventually finished the suit.

I'd try and explain how the suit functions in its entirety, but I fear I might unintentionally fry your brains, so I'll give you the shortened version; It runs on a power cell containing powerful energy that's similar to nuclear power emitted by natural Uranium rods, but not exactly as dangerous. It also doesn't heat up as quickly or easily as Uranium rods do. (Of course there's still a cooling system though. All engines need one otherwise they run the risk of damage, malfunction or worst case scenario, spontaneous combustion.) The power cell also stops emitting energy when the suit is shut off. If the suit were completely active, and never turned off, the cell could keep the suit running for twenty years. (Assuming it didn't overheat, which was almost certain.)

I looked at the calendar. It was June 2nd, 3050. Tryouts for the Grand Prix were in two days, and would last for three, which meant that I had to leave sooner than I would like. Before leaving, I had to test the suit out and make sure everything was working. I left my bedroom (which also doubled as my workshop) and using a remote control, I guided the mecha suit to my training grounds; The Scrapyard. I breathed in, put on my goggles back over my eyes and climbed into the mecha suit. I put the remote control into a special box that could only be opened with my fingerprint, and got myself situated into my suit. I grabbed the shift knob (similar to what you'd see in a car) and thrust them forward, causing my arms to go forward and punch. The targets, which were wooden dummies, were destroyed. I pretended that an ARMS fighter was punching me so I pulled the knobs backwards, shielding myself from an imaginary threat by creating this blue circular disk, which actually had my symbol on there for some reason.

Thrusting both knob handles at once would allow me to grab someone. I grabbed a target, spun it around and tossed it onto the other side of the field. After a minute or two of consistent punching, I felt a quick, strong vibration throughout the suit before it vanished. That means the rush attack was ready! I tested it out by pressing the buttons on the side of the knobs and it worked perfectly. I then tested out the jet pack to hover in midair and to dash. Check and check. Everything was working properly. I got out of the suit and looked at a photo across the room; me, my father and Max Brass. I was five years old at the time, and I was wearing a yellow dress that day. I looked so happy, smiling and holding up my fingers in a peace sign. I wondered if he would remember the photo when I faced him. Or even if I would face him. I was about to find dad and show him, but I didn't have to. He was already there.

My father was once a strong man, but time and a rare non-hereditary disease had taken his toll on him. His once brown hair was now partially grey, he had trouble walking, so he was in a wheelchair most of the time, and he had large circular glasses over his hazel eyes. He wore a lab coat over a black dress shirt with a white collar and black pants. He wore grey socks and shoes caked with oil on them.

"Marina," he began. "I'm so proud of you."

I smiled. "Thank you father. Do you have your things packed?"

He looked sad. "Marina," he began. "as much as I would like to accompany you to the Grand Prix, I can't go with you."

I gasped and looked at him sadly. "Why not?"

He sighed. "Look at me here. I can barely walk, and even if I could, I'm growing old and fragile. My health is deteriorating faster than I could have imagined. You already have your big suit to deal with. Dragging me along would slow you down. If I weren't confined to this wheelchair, I would come with you, but alas, I can not."

"But that means no one will be there to help me! Who will carry my ARMS gloves? Who will emotionally support me if/when people criticize me?"

I repeated what I said to myself in my mind. I was selfish. My father suggested, "What about your friends? Can't they come?"

"Most of them have already left for vacation in some foreign paradise or island country."

He paused for a moment, trying to think of a solution. "What about Veronica?"

"She's busy working two jobs to save up money for college, remember?" I reminded him. "I'm not going to let her dreams of being a doctor be crushed just so that she can aid me with mine."

I sighed. Was I asking for too much?

"Even if I can't be there to see you in person, just remember that I'll be watching them from home and I'm supporting you all the way." He pulled me into his arms and gave me a big hug. "Good luck, my little tinkerer. Now get out there and show em what you're made of!"

"Love ya dad." I kissed him on the cheek.

"You best be going. Your plane leaves in a few hours."

"Love you father. Goodbye."

"Ganbatte kudasai, Marina. Ki wo tsukete." (Good luck, Marina. Take care.)

I grabbed my luggage and I knew I wouldn't be seeing my father, or my home, for a long time. I decided to do one last task before leaving the airport. With my backpack on my back, my suitcase in my mecha bot, I walked the pathway all too familiar to me. After five minutes, I had made it to my destination. I entered through the gate, taking my suit with me and trying not to cause too much damage to this sacred site. I looked through the headstones, eventually finding one that read,

In loving memory of Yamada Miwa

November 30th, 3014- January 20th, 3040

Beloved mother and wife

Rest in peace

I knelled before the grave and put a white chrysanthemum onto her gravestone.

"Hello... Mother. I'm sorry I haven't been able to visit as often as I would like. I've been busy working on ARMS Mecha suit." I paused and nodded to my creation, which knelled in respect at my command. "It's finally done. Mother... If you can, give me your strength, your confidence, and your ability to be graceful under fire. I'm fearful that people will criticize me and fear I'm not a legitimate fighter in the Grand Prix due to my lack of extendable ARMS. If only... you were here... You could come with me, and reassure that haters won't hurt me. But alas, dad's health is getting worse, and he can not travel. I'm getting really worried about him. All of my friends are busy and can't come. I feel so alone..." I cried a little. My tears fell onto her grave. "I love you, mom. I miss you everyday and there's never a day that passes where I don't think of you." I wiped away my tears and looked up towards the sky. On the opposite side of the world, the ARMS Grand Prix was waiting for me. "As much as I'd like to stay here longer, I can not." I got up and down at the grave one last time. "Sayonara... mother."

I left the graveyard, feeling only a little better than when I had walked in. Unfortunately, this visit, as much as it had to be done, it only reminded me how alone I truly was. Then, it started pouring. Thankfully, the suit was waterproof, but the rain did not help lighten my somber mood.


I had gotten to the airport easily thanks to my with jet pack. Despite the bad weather, I was able to fly. It also helped that the pouring rain didn't last for very long. I took my items and entered the airport, looking for the ticket vendor. I saw the desk about a hundred feet away, which had a line with about ten people. As I waited in line, I tried to think of a strategy for fighting against opponents in the ring. I didn't know anything about strategy except for maybe using the ARMS I have and their abilities to their full extent. At the current moment, I didn't have a set of ARMS to call my own. You see, every fighter gets three pairs of randomly selected ARMS by the ARMS League. But first I would have to get there and pass tryouts to actually get them. I knew ARMS had different abilities, like fire, electricity, wind, ice, stun, explosion, blind, and... I think that was all of them. Oh wait, there's also poison, but hardly anyone actually uses it. How to use different abilities to my advantage however? That was the trickier part. Ice and electric arms have similar effect, and so do fire and explosion...

Eventually, after about eight minutes of waiting, I was next in line and the guy ahead of me was very quick.

"Next," the vendor said.

I walked up to the counter. The guy stared at me blankly, most likely because I was soaked from head to toe.

"Wonderful weather we're having." I joked. "One ticket to New York City. It should already be purchased in the name of Yamada Sora."

The clerk looked at me skeptically. "You do not look like an old man. You're like what, fourteen years old?"

"Fifteen actually. I'm his daughter, and I'm going to participate in the ARMS tournament."

He laughed hysterically, much to my annoyance. "You?! You're only a child! And you lack the extendable ARMS the fighters use!"

"That's why I have this suit." I motioned to the Mecha suit. "Need a demonstration?"

"No, but still, you're too young to buy a ticket and too young for the tournament."

"Wrong, sir! There is no age limit. Remember Ribbon Girl? She's only seventeen and yet she made the journey from California to New York City by plane. What's two years younger make in terms of a difference?" I refuted.

He was taken aback. I had him right where I wanted him. "Okay, you win. Here you go. Flight A110 should be arriving in one hour and 30 minutes."

He handed me the ticket and I left. After getting through airport security and having my bags inspected, there was one other issue that had to be dealt with. I was standing outside the metal detector lines where non-flight passengers couldn't go, speaking to a quartet of airport security guards, two men and two women. The men both had dark brown hair and the same green eyes. It was hard to tell them apart. The two women had different looks; light brown hair and red eyes, and blonde hair and blue eyes.

"How exactly are we supposed to transport it?" one of the two male airport security guards asked, pointing to the suit.

"All of our cargo planes have left." the other man chimed in. "We can't just have her carry it with her in the economy class. It'll take up too much space and could tip the plane."

A woman with brown hair looked at the robotic suit. "How heavy is it?"

"500 kilograms." I answered.

"Eeesh, that's heavy." the blue-eyed woman said. "When is your plane supposed to arrive?"

I responded. "The man at the counter told me that Flight A110 is supposed to arrive in one and a half hours."

The red-eyed woman looked at something on a tablet. "Flight A110. Goes from Hong Kong to Toyko, and then Toyko to New York. Has it's first class and economy class section booked..." She gasped. "Uh oh... We got a problem..."

"Why are you rambling on about that last detail? It's irrelevant to the quandary we're in." the first man said.

"Umm... We got a minor problem here." she responded. "Flight A110 is entirely booked."

"Booked?!" I exclaimed. "Why would he tell me to get on that flight if it's booked?!"

"Calm down, miss."

I realized that the ticket vendor never meant for me to get to New York City. He doubted me and my ability to enter the ARMS Tournament. I felt boiling anger rage in my chest. I tried to keep calm and hide my emotions, but the guards could tell I was angry.

One of them asked, "What's wrong?"

I told them how the ticket vendor purposely deceived me.

"Note to self; Report him to the boss and ask for him to be fired." the blond haired woman noted.

"I've got an idea. There's another plane that's supposed to be arriving in about ten minutes. It has no first class passengers and economy is almost entirely booked. There wouldn't be any room for Marina and her suit in economy class, but she could take the first class economy, leaving plenty room for her suit and making sure no one else in first class sabotages it." the red-eyed woman suggested.

"But that would violate the rules, wouldn't it?" the first man asked.

"Your ticket isn't even first class it?" the second man asked.

I got my ticket and showed it to the airport security officers. I looked at it and saw the words Economy class ticket Tokyo to New York "It isn't."

The guys and girls examined it. The second man suggested, "Well then... We could her suit in the first class department of the other plane, if she will accept it."

"But what about the girl?" the red-eyed woman asked. "Can we legally let her go for first class with an economy ticket?"

"Hmm... This is tricky..." the first man turned to me. "Tell ya what, we'll let you and your suit in first class if you don't tell anyone."

"Alright, I won't tell anyone. Although there's one problem." I turned to them. "How are we going to get the suit on and off of there?"

"We'll find a way." the red-eyed woman said.

After a lot of difficult moving, which caused a ten minute delay in departure time, and using a lot of chains to prevent the suit from flying in case of turbulence, the plane finally took off. Since today's smartphones posed no threat to the communication signal, they were allowed to be used during the flight. I told my dad that I was on the plane and that I would keep him posted on the news of my rise to ARMS stardom. I sighed. I decided not to spend all my time on my phone and set aside it to charge. Not distracted by technology, my thoughts began to torment me. I remembered last year's matches (I watched most, if not, all of them while my arm was healing), and how amazing and impressive the ARMS fighters were. One of the first matches of the Winter Grand Prix was Ribbon Girl vs Twintelle.

The girls were on Ribbon Girl's stage, the Ribbon Ring. Ribbon Girl had two different ARMS, a Sparky on her right and a Popper on her left, while Twintelle went for Chillas on both of her arms. Both Twintelle and Ribbon had won one round, so this third round was for all the marbles. Twintelle, who was low on health and had only ten more seconds to beat Ribbon Girl, charged up her punches and temporarily froze Ribbon Girl in place. The pop star was nearly immobilized for a few seconds and was almost grabbed by the movie star, which would have defeated her, but Ribbon Girl threw a charged punch at her, electrically stunning Twintelle and then she was knocked out by the singer.

"K.O!" the announcer exclaimed.

"The winner is Ribbon Girl!" Biff, the ARMS commenter, declared.

"Ribbonanza!" she exclaimed.

"Aw..." Twintelle said.

I was always a fan of Ribbon Girl. Light on her feet and quick to the punch. She was so amazing. But was I good enough to compete with her, or anyone else for that matter? I didn't know and I also couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealously and envy. All of last year's fighters, from Spring Man to Helix and who knows how many others, had fans, friends, family and/or personal assistants to help them and or watch them in combat. I was the new kid on the block, and I had no one on my side. What if I failed my first and possibly only match? Was I a lamb sending myself to the slaughter?

Come on Marina, don't think like that! This is your dream! You've always wanted this! You should be excited! You should be happy!

But the problem was, I wasn't.