This was it. The last round of the tournament. Melvin gritted his
teeth and slipped the glove over his hand.
The glove fit snugly. It was lined with motion-sensors, which could
detect the hand's every move. Melvin made a fist, and extended his
index finger and middle finger. He placed the tips
of these two
fingers on the ground.
Through the plexiglass windows above the 10-foot circular arena, he
saw his competitors do the same.
"Hands in position? READY, SET, GO!" Cried the announcer, as five
tiny robots jumped into the ring.
Each robot was about eight inches tall, and humanoid. They were
styled (perhaps immaturely, thought Melvin) in the form of the large
battle-mechs of cartoons such as Gundam or Transformers. As each
competitor's hands ran in place, their robot's legs followed,
propelling the remotely controlled automatons around the arena.
Some robots were outfitted with jump jets or wings, for propelled
flight. One of them soared down towards Melvin's robot, KJ-47.
Melvin waited for the right moment, then flicked his pinkie, and at
the exact same moment, KJ-47 executed a swift uppercut with his
right arm, intercepting the dive-bombing enemy.
Then, another tiny mecha tackled KJ from behind. Melvin twiddled
his fingers desperately, trying in vain to escape from the other
robot's crushing grapple. Noticeable but painless electrical shocks in
his glove told him that if he didn't do something, fast, KJ-47 would
"All right," Melvin muttered to himself grimly, then tapped his ring
finger and thumb together twice. A giant fireball enveloped both KJ-
47 and his attacker as the robot self-destructed. Maybe next time
Melvin would win... as soon as he installed those little machine guns.