Eira Winters | Antarctica
As Mr. Hayes went through the task at hand, Eira was only half listening, instead admiring her costume, the white bodysuit that stretched over her legs but cut off at her shoulders, only to make way for her signature gloves of the same colour. Black boots, specially made so that the soles would not slip on her ice. Best of all, the coat that covered it all, deep blue running into a paler shade, fabric littered with stars and snowflakes. Not only was it gorgeous, but also contributed to her keeping herself at an acceptable temperature. Maybe not by too much, but in a fight, a few minutes are all one needs to turn the tides.
The timer began, and Eira did not hesitate. She shot off, working through her thoughts just as fast. Twenty minutes didn't seem like long, but in a situation where everything has to be done well and twice as fast, it would definitely drag on. With a quirk like hers, time was everything. If she spent too long too cold, she'd be screwed. If she held back too much, she'd be screwed. For Eira, it was about balance. She knew her limits better than anyone else, and as long as she didn't go over them, this would be a piece of cake. But that was enough, as she had encountered her first incident, a robbery of a small shop.
The robber waved around a gun while the impromptu shopkeeper cowered behind the till. The designs of the dummies were a little jarring. It didn't faze her though, and she approached the robber, activating her quirk. A small radius that she would not harm the shopkeeper, and so the enemy would not realise she was there until it was too late. It whirled around to lock eyes with Eira, and she punched it. Twice, as a matter of fact, her fists empowered by the cold, and she noted the frost rapidly forming from her quirk. There were two outcomes: it was overwhelmed by the frost or it met its end through her relentless attacks. Eira would always come out on top – she would never have it any other way.
Whichever it was, it had to come quick. She bolstered her quirk, feeling the chill strengthen around her already frigid self, and took great pleasure in her opponent's reaction. It fumbled with his gun, but the metal burnt him from the cold and it dropped it in his panic. A couple well-placed hits and he dropped, unconscious. She rushed off, not giving the shopkeeper time to say anything. She had things to do.
Though she had deactivated her quirk, Eira wasn't getting any warmer. The chill blossomed over her body, but she gritted her teeth and kept moving. It wasn't particularly bad, but she was acutely aware of what would happen if she strained herself too much. She weighed up the situation (good: finished fight quickly, bad: cold), gazing up at the clock.
Seventeen minutes and forty nine seconds.
Barely audible over the chaos, Eira heard a scream from above her. She turned slightly, only to see a building, a blazing column of fire.
“New objective,” she muttered, only feeling the empty warmth for a second as she activated her quirk and stepped inside. Her cold aura washed over the interior, fighting the hot beat of the flames licking at the walls, but no one seemed to be there. The first floor was empty too, as was the second.
“Where the fuck are you?” Eira called out, words harsh on her tongue. Immediately after, she hacked and coughed, having inhaled a dose of smoke. She'd forgotten about that. Though the heat was lost on her, everything else was not. She had to get a move on.
A voice shrieked back, strained, from the floor below. She cursed herself for missing it, and she raced downwards. She still couldn't see anyone, vision obscured by the copious amounts of smoke flooding her vision.
“Keep shouting! Don't stop until I get you out the damn building!” Eira screamed again. The reply was faint, a pitiful wail, but at least it was close. She moved towards it, slowly yet urgently, only stopping when her hands felt soft skin. An arm, perhaps? Yes, she felt a hand, but it was so small. Of course they'd put kids in this - or at least, they functioned the same way.
She hissed to herself, crouching down to pull the robot child out. It sniffled, occasionally coughing, but complied.
”Come on. Let's go, kid,” she grunted, tugging gently on its arm.
“Hurts,” it mumbled in reply, coughing lightly. “Legs.”
”Of course it does. Alright, hold on tight,” she sighed, picking it up. She, too, was coughing, but she made the effort to hold it breath when the smoke passed over them. He wasn't very heavy, but at this point it was getting difficult to breathe or see. Thank god she could combat the heat, otherwise she might've dropped dead right there. Eira ran through the flames, feeling small bits of debris bounce off her back, and she cradled the robot closer, shielding it.
When she finally emerged from the building, she had an unharmed child and a newfound respect for firefighters. She set it down, and it instantly detached himself from her.
“You're cold,” it mumbled, coughing violently, but after that it seemed fine. “'m cold.”
“Shut up. Where are your parents,” Eira replied, scowling down at it. This simulation was a little too realistic for her liking. It pointed over at a crashed car a few meters down the road. Another robot, still moving, seemed to be struggling to get out.
”You have to be kidding me,” she groaned, but her legs betrayed her as she approached the trapped dummy. After all, the clock was still ticking, and there was still disaster to avert. Maybe she'd even get a show of her classmates' quirks while she was at it. Behind her, the now empty building crashed down. It seemed that she had been just in time.
Yankee
stone
Cyadical
Izurich
