Champions of Battle: The Very Best – Opportunity #10

Brisa Gan hung in the air about a centimeter and a half away from Catlin and a half centimeter off the ground.  She was a little less than five centimeters tall.  Her skin was fairly well kept, sky blue with large red patches.  She wore the nearly formal attired of a news reporter but looked somewhat out of place in them; she was way too young.

Faint hints of black flame escaped from Catlin’s red in black eyes as she stared at the very scared young lady.  Brisa had no intention of being this close to them, especially like this.  She was completely at a loss.  Realizing this, Catlin’s demeanor changed from the angry killer to a falsely sympathetic inquisitor.

A faint smile crossed her lips.  She noticed Brisa’s bowtie was not correctly tied.  Maybe it went out of place during the unexpected, split-second trip.  Either that or she didn’t know how to tie one.

Catlin spoke slowly and calmly as she started.  “So, Brisa Gan from the Champion’s Chronicle,” her voice was distorted.  It sounded darker almost beast-like, a side effect of her Unholy Talent use.  She reached out correcting Brisa’s tie, “What do you hope to accomplish by spying on us.”  Catlin’s hands, still aflame, left scorch marks on the fabric.

Brisa tried to think of some way to correct her situation but nothing was coming to mind.  Held within Catlin’s motion grip, she couldn’t move… anything.  Every member of her body seemed to be trapped in steel.  She was forced to stare back into those burning red in black eyes or seem like an obvious liar.  “I…I was doing a report on the shuttle port.”  She tried to sound as confident as she could.  “There was an attack here the other day.”

“That’s not what this says,” Liana spoke happily as she read from Brisa’s handheld.  Though she had let go of it in her surprise, it had hung in the air a millimeter away from her hand until Liana grabbed it.  “You have been keeping close tabs on us since last night.”

Brisa knew she was busted, “Sorry,” Brisa’s voice went up an octave.  The flames from Catlin’s hands seeped deep into her chest.  She must not like being lied to.  “We were interested in where Jaquan was going.”  The flames started to hurt more.

“Why,” Catlin looked up at her as she asked calmly.  She had finished correcting the bowtie.  It looked perfect apart from the scorched fabric.

The flames left Catlin’s hands.  Instead, an intense chill came upon her.   Catlin’s hands, now covered in frost, froze the bowtie in place.  Now Brisa’s chest was almost freezing, but she continued, “He’s scheduled to fight Orien Chuan in a month but decides to leave instead of training.  We were curious.”  Even after Catlin’s hands left the bowtie, the chill stung into her chest.  It penetrated much deeper than the heat it had replaced.

“What I do and where I go is my business,” Jaquan countered.  He walked between her and Catlin making sure she saw what he was saying, “I don’t need no reporter commenting on everything I do.”  He was utterly disgusted.  He worked hard for a living, endured pain both in training and in the arenas.  After all he did, this kid wanted to take his life and use it to get a story.  “Get lost,” he added waving her off.

Catlin released her grip and Brisa fell to the ground, strait on her butt.  Neely’s empowerment aura fell as well.  Liana gave Brisa’s handheld back and they started walking away from her one by one.  Brisa had only just been giving this assignment.  Even with her limited knowledge on reporting, she knew that she was not getting any more information from them.

Neely was the last to leave.  He stood there with her and spoke as her helped her up, “If I was you, I wouldn’t follow us.”  He was a stark contrast to Catlin; peaceful, calming, and sincere.  This made his words stick even more.  “You should write about safer places.”  Brisa agreed, and he walked off to join his group.

She was left alone at the shuttle port holding her handheld in complete defeat.  There was no chance she was going to get any of them to talk to her again.  That was a short assignment.

#1Opportunity #9 – Opportunity #11

Sons of Sword: Tales of Glory – Lost and Found #6

Metcalf and Isabeau walked quietly to the preparation area, a separate room above and behind the seating area of the shooting range.  Often the challengers created quite a bit of noise while preparing for their matches.  Armor would bump.  Ammunition would fall.  The challengers would talk.  Behind the soundproof wall, they could do what they needed without disturbing the observers.

Once inside preparation area, they could relax.  Having been there many times, they knew exactly what to do.  The first thing was to select the height of the towers they were to stand on.  Taller towers were safer, of course, but made for harder targeting.  Metcalf selected the tallest tower setting, Isabeau did the same.

Then, they selected the weapons they would use for the challenge.  It was common for a student to have two or more different sets of weapons.  One weapon was never good enough for all situations.  When long distance weapons were used, they needed to be effective for the situation.

It was an easy choice for Metcalf.  Her short bow, Blue, was her primary distance weapon.  Its size was quite deceptive as the draw strength was unnaturally great.  She needed to use her motion energy skills to pull the string far enough to fire.

The Seeds, Metcalf’s collection of seed shaped throwing knives, were more for mid-range fighting.  Rasz and Black were dead weight in this case.  Keeping any of these weapons on her armor would only add unneeded weight.  They were better kept in her gear bag.

Isabeau’s choice in this matter was even easier than Metcalf’s.  She had only one long range weapon.  Her ash colored crossbow, matched her armor perfectly.  Hummer looked like any other crossbow except there was an empty space under the loading area.  The long hole was surrounded by a sliding contraption with two silver circles at the front.

The next matter was to select the students they wanted the training-bots to imitate.  The school kept track of each student’s fighting style and abilities.  The only thing different about the bots was energy abilities.  It was impossible for the bots to use them.  Wanting this to be a short battle, both Metcalf and Isabeau chose the most aggressive students they knew.

Preparations complete, they had a bit of time to wait while they stood in queue.  Metcalf was very curious about how Hummer worked.  Blue was quite basic, but Hummer seemed almost like old and new technology combined.  “I thought crossbows were only good at short ranges.”

Isabeau noticed Metcalf was interested in her weapon.  Taking ideas from another student’s design was natural.  Everyone in the training center wanted an edge, something to help them get to the next level.  “Most are, but this one is special,” she said as she gestured to trade weapons with Metcalf while they waited.  Metcalf agreed.  “Hummer’s draw strength is incredibly strong.  I need this machine to pull the string back.”  She pointed at the sliding contraption Metcalf noticed earlier.

“How did the Founders to approve this?”  Metcalf asked.  Hummer seemed too much like a gun.

It was the Grand Master’s philosophy that Protectors should use their skills in some way in almost every aspect of combat.  Guns and blasters required little to no skill, only steady hands.  Even a slightly trained Commoner can master their use.  Protectors were called in to save Commoners.  Commoners didn’t need the kind of help they could give each other.

“It was Forge Master Sef’s idea.  He said it was alright if I powered it myself.”  She held out her gloved hand.  The glove was covered in rubber everywhere except the top of her index finger and thumb, the two points that would be in contact with the silver buttons on Hummer.  Instead those fingers were tipped with silver.  With a brief amount of focus, she caused quite a very large spark between them.  “Something about a loophole in the rules,” she said smiling.  The spark lasted a half second more, then died.

“Nice,” was her immediate reaction, then she thought about the personal implications.  “Does it hurt?”

“Not really,” Isabeau stopped and corrected herself. “Yes,” she said definitely, “but when you expect the shock, you can brace for it.”  Isabeau took her time inspecting Blue, amazed at its simplicity.  For a short bow, Blue was surprisingly heavy, like really heavy.  She pulled at the string with all her might, almost to the point of looking comical.  Even at the point of breaking a sweat, she simply could not move it more than half a millimeter.  “I think Forge Master Lai designed some special armor for his great, great grand niece using the same type of technology.  Makes her faster and stronger.”

Metcalf thought back to Naoh and how fast she moved and how utterly she defeated her opponent in the three strike drill before, “Yeah.”

“Ok.  Last points of business.”

“Right almost forgot,” she said honestly.  They were having fun and almost immediately became friends.  However, they would not be there at all if they were not wagering Academy Points.  So what was the amount, twenty per target?  That would be recoverable if she lost.  Surely, a hundred points per target would have to be the most anyone would want to bet.  That would be a fantastic start for the day if she won.

“How does a thousand points sound?”

#1Lost and Found #5 – Lost and Found #7