My Two Dads

"BE-4R coming online. Commencing final checks."

"Just like you practiced, son."

"Hydraulics operational."

"Easy on the throttle."

"Weapon systems armed."

"You've come so far. I've never been more proud of you."

"Combat matrix is live."

"Stay focused."

My dad died when I was 14, but not before I told him there were only two things I loved in the world, watching him compete in the Underdome, and Kyler, my next door neighbor. To the former, he said that one day I would compete, too. To the latter, he only said, "I hope he likes giant robots."

"It's time for the main event, Mech-Heads!"

"All systems are a go."

My dad's name was Stewart. He piloted a decommissioned Soviet assault platform, designation BE-4R, during the early years of the Battle Mech Underdome. He was the best. He didn't always win, but he always gave as good as he got, which made him a crowd favorite.

"Trust your instincts out there. Don't let the nerves get to you."

Six years ago, our family fell on hard times so my dad accepted a match against, TRAN-5I5T3R, the only Chinese anti-infantry platform still in operation. The spread was 20 to 1 against him. The last thing my dad said to me before hopping into the cockpit was, "Happy Pride Month, son."

"Tonight, your favorite infiltration platform and reigning champion, DR4G-5T3R, will defend her title!"

My mom and I watched from the stands with our fingers crossed. Dad held his own for 3 rounds. 69 seconds into the 4th, TRAN-5I5T3R suffered a malfunction in its core processor and the pilot lost control. It was later discovered that the unit had been reprogrammed for combat within the Underdome, but the Chinese system it ran on was proprietary and prone to rejecting the new performance protocols if they weren't reinstalled every couple of weeks. As it turned out, surrounding an anti-infantry platform with thousands of what it considered 'infantry' was a bad idea.

"But her challenger is no ordinary opponent!"

Dad used BE-4R's grappling servos to pin TRAN-5I5T3R to the ground, but immobilizing it only triggered its self-destruct sequence, a protocol which had apparently never been deactivated in the first place. Dad saved a lot of lives that day. They erected a statue of him and his mech outside the Underdome in remembrance of his sacrifice.

"BE-4R, beginning approach."

3 years later, my mom remarried. His name was also Stewart, but we called him Stew. At first I was incensed that mom could just replace dad like that, but now that I'm older, I know that life is harder alone. I don't blame her at all. Stew was an insurance salesmen and didn't know a thing about battling mechs, but I still followed the sport and he supported me in that. I later told him there were only two things I loved in life, battling mechs, like my dad, and Flavio, the Brazillian foreign exchange student at my high school. For my 18th birthday, Stew said he had a surprise for me. He drove me to a junk yard in up-state Montana where he had purchased the skeletal frame of another BE-4R assault platform. That was the first time I hugged my second dad.

"He is none other than the son of Stewart McNair, the Savior of the Underdome!"

We spent the next two years finding parts on eBay and prefabbing our own home brews. It was like restoring a 1950's Cadillac, only way more bad ass. After a lot of testing and dozens of setbacks, our new BE-4R assault platform was up and running, with me as its pilot. We celebrated that evening. I drank my first Stella Artois by bonfire. It was then that Stew told me I needed to follow in my dad's footsteps. That night, I discovered my destiny.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great honor to present to you, in his unprecedented debut match, piloting the first Assault Platform Designation BE-4R seen in the Underdome in 6 years, Anderson McNair!"

"Targeting systems engaged. Locked on."

"Battle Mechs, are you ready?"

"This is where you belong, son."

"This one's for you, dad."

"Fight!"