The roar of the crowd shook the Scrapyard, dust and sparks raining from the rusted rafters. Engines howled, metal screamed, and blood hit the sand below. From her throne of welded scrap and twisted steel, the Junker Queen leaned forward, her grin wide and feral.

She raised her drink high, the light catching the spikes of her armor as two mechs collided in a shower of debris.

“That’s it! Tear ’im apart!”

The arena erupted with chants as she laughed, the sound carrying above the chaos like a war drum.

She lounged back, propping a boot on the armrest of her throne, watching one fighter drag another across the dirt.

“Now that’s entertainment,” she muttered, smirking.