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Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

No worries here, mate. Happy to just move forward.

To Become a Knight! ~ A Chivalric (Mis)Adventure

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Nathaniel's eyes very quickly scanned over his opponent, the peasant who managed to get by on dirty tricks. Nathaniel held his sword aloft, in front of his face, broad side facing his opponent. He gave a bow in this position, pressing his forehead along the broad-side of the training sword. He had everything to prove, and yet this match had been decided already. Nathaniel waited for his opponent's bow to meet his own, rising as his opponent rose. Nathaniel's motion of readiness was a stark contrast to Julian's: Nate simply lifted his other hand to meet the grip of his sword, and turned the blade outward to face his opponent. Julian's stance was shoddy, jerkily moving about their sword arm as if they were unfamiliar with the weapon's balance. This duel had already been decided.

It was no surprise Nathaniel's eyes drifted to another one of the battles, between two nobles Nathaniel had conversed moments ago. The more empathetic one seemed to go on a quick offensive, but the display was almost difficult to watch. It was like a tide crashing into a cliff, an avalanche of attacks that were expertly parried, blocked, or sidestepped. The opponent was impressive, the kind of person Nathaniel could only have wished to duel, to show off their own talents. But instead, Nathaniel was stuck with someone untrained. His eyes turned back to Julian, and they were filled with the intensity of an individual with a singular purpose: win.

"You are a mockery to this training ceremony. Let's be done with this."

Nathaniel lowered his stance, rolling back onto the balls of his feet for a moment. His body rocked back for a moment, before he leaned himself forward and took off into a quick sprint towards Julian. His sword remained held over his shoulder and behind his back, allowing his upper body to rotate slightly in between steps to keep himself balanced. He closed the gap with Julian quickly, training sword lifted high in the air as Nathaniel was just entering striking distance. Nathaniel's movements were swift, and his grip and aim true.

Weak grip, stance unbalanced... Two strikes to disarm, and the match is over. This is easy... maybe too easy.

But the die had been cast. As an unsettling feeling creeped up the back of Nathaniel's spine, he had already made his opening move. He didn't anticipate this had been a trap.

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

"With all due respect, you know very little about the situation so maybe just focus on your football throwing and let the grown-ups have a discourse," she said to Rory. "As for you," she addressed Iñigo, "I came over here offering help and you didn't even acknowledge me, let alone how rude you treated Banjo, who also only offered help. A simple 'no we have it' would have sufficed, but as you clearly didn't even know about the lever I'll wait for a 'thank you Banjo' instead. We're supposed to be a team and bonding and stuff and I'll be the first to admit I cringed at that aspect, but at least I am trying. Banjo was trying too, and you essentially spat in his face."

Calliope took a beat to calm down before she went on, acknowledging Rory now, "Sorry, Rory, about my grown-up comment. You meant well."

”You meant what you said.” Rory turned his gaze to Calliope for a moment, unable to mask the sadness in his eyes, before just turning away from everyone and walking out of the clearing for a moment. He could feel the emotion welling up in the chest and clawing at his throat. First sadness, then self-loathing. He was an adult now, there was no excuse for getting this worked up just because he was talked down to. Looked down on. Again. Just like it always happened. Because he was stupid. _{He was an idiot, and a burden. No one wanted him there, they had been very clear. He was a bad judge of character, he was a child. A big dumb child. Maybe now was just the best time to walk away…}

It took a second for Rory to realize his phone was vibrating in his pocket as he had lowered himself down into a crouch behind a tree, his hands clenched so tight the fingernails had drawn a bit of blood in his palms. He quickly brushed them against his shorts, before reaching into his pocket to grab his phone. A small series of texts were the only notifications.

>You made me a promise, Rory.<

>You’re not a quitter.<

Rory shook his head in disbelief, sliding the phone back in his pocket. He cleared his throat with a cough, rubbed his eyes to make sure there were no tears, and waltzed back into camp. William always knew what to say at just the right time. It was hard to tell if it was him being empathetic, or just making the most of his hype gene. Quite frankly, Rory didn’t care. He was right, like always. It was too early to give up now.

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_{Location: Camp Blackjack, Southern Plateau - P.R.C.U. Campus}

The Homecoming Trials #1.90 : Is this Kumbayah?

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_{Interaction(s): Team Blackjack}

Previously: Introduction to Conflict Management

"So, what are everyone's thoughts on this team swap? I'll be the first to admit I had considered that possibility back at the campus. Now, I don't know. Hard to say if I think this team will flop or not on day 1. We didn't get off on the right foot, so maybe we can try to fix that now? I'm Calliope. My power is ice manipulation." She opened the floor to others.

Rory took a seat around the fire, opting for a spot away from Calliope as he happily munched on a fire grilled beef. As soon as the conversation turned to a discussion of abilities, Rory quickly scrambled to grab the pencil from his wristband. He flipped open the pad, and scrambled to write down Calliope’s power, as described. Calliope - Ice Manipulation. Bully.

"Everyone wants the chance to make a good first impression. There's an appeal to the swap in that alone. But it's not a simple reset," Cass paused.

"The adage of 'the grass is green where you water it' applies. We can stay on Blackjack, make the best of our situation and enjoy our time at Pacific Royal."

The smoke of the fire suddenly blew in his face causing Cass to cough before continuing.

"Or we give up on Blackjack and move to Eclipse or Firebird, either continuing with the same attitude or making the best of a new situation. There's no wrong answer and there's no right answer. It's Schrödinger's cat, whether it's alive or dead is dependent on your outlook." He had been talking too long, it was probably the most any of them had heard him speak.

Cass sheepishly rubbed the back of his head before holding a palm out. The familial sparks emitted from his hand before swirling together to become a small, glowing orb.

"According to Professor Roth and Dr. Lehrer, they call it volatile force manipulation." Cass mused before tossing it skyward, the orb exploding into fireworks.

"I'm not great at controlling it as I'm sure most of you have seen."

Rory paused, moving his head to eat the skewer being held in his left hand. He eyed up Cassander, who had spoken up. He was surprisingly well spoken, for someone who Rory hadn’t really heard say anything at all until now. He didn’t quite know what an adage was, or who Shrodinger was… but the gist was clear enough. And he was right. As much as deep down, Rory wanted to jump ship and hope for the best… there was no guarantee. If the teaching advisor was any indication, Team Eclipse wasn’t going to be any better. But as soon as Cass showed off his powers, Rory quickly wrote down his notes. It took him a second, as Rory’s teammate hadn’t said his name… but Rory matched the picture. Cassander - Volatile Force Manipulation = Fireworks.

Banjo spoke up. "Uhh... My names Banjo." He turned to look at Rory. "I uhh... know the official school documentation says 'Andrew Olyphant'. That's not my name. Only name I've ever known is Banjo. But they needed two names on the paperwork, and, well... yeah."

Oh, this is just going swimmingly, dickhead. Sack up. Before you put these jokers to asleep.

"Anyway... I've kind of always viewed my powers as 'something I can do' more than 'who I am', so maybe we can all bounce around and throw in something about ourselves as we go. Y'know, something a bit more substantial than 'I like Pez'. There's twelve of us here, maybe someone else here'll have it in common and we might actually see each other as people or somethin', or whatever."

"So, yeah. I'm Banjo, and I metaboli--" He turned and looked at Rory and Trevor and considered his audience. "I uhh-- eat sunlight and warmth, and my body takes it and makes me stronger, faster, helps me think a bit clearer, basically all 'round a bit better." He turned and looked at Sparky McGee, never flinching for a moment, staring at him in the face - straight down the barrel. "--And I've never known my parents. I grew up in orphanages and care facilities and bounced around schools for the vast majority of my life. In fact, I bounced around so much, I'm not exactly sure WHERE in Australia I'm from, or... I guess... my parents were from, because I've been pretty much all over. Or whatever. So who's got next?"

Well... let's see how that goes down.

Rory, almost immediately after Banjo spoke up, crossed out “Andrew” on his note card and replaced it with “Banjo.” He remained blissfully unaware of the subtext behind the correction. Banjo seemed to be in better spirits, or at least a bit more cooperative. The fun fact suggestion was a great idea, in Rory’s opinion. He listened intently, and scribbled down a few brief notes. Banjo - Eats sunlight. Stronger / Faster. Rory paused in his notes, looking up at Banjo. The thought of being able to think clearer, without all the distractions and urges muddling his brain, filled him with a sharp pain of jealousy. But as he focused in, he felt it wash away. The first heartbreaking story kept Rory distracted for a moment. He didn’t have any words of comfort to offer. He had just lost his parents… it was a different kind of pain than never knowing them. He finished out his notes briefly. Thinks better.

Waiting for Haleigh to take her spot around the campfire and looking if Banjo was done with his introduction, she took one last bite out of her steak before speaking up.

”Well, guess it’s my turn. I’m Katja, but you can call me Kat if you want.” giving an apathetic shrug at the idea. ”My ability is density manipulation which means I can alter my own body mass and toughness. Basically I can turn myself into a human wrecking ball. Or punching bag, so if anyone needs a sparring partner who you want to try your abilities on, I’m your meisie” She punctuated that statement with a humorless chuckle before looking at Banjo.

Rory quickly wrote down his notes on Katja. Katja - Density Manipulation = Wrecking ball or punching bag. He wasn’t quite sure what that meant… or how he would feel with a teammate turning into construction equipment in the middle of practice. Though he wouldn’t mind volunteering to be her sparring partner.

”Guess I’ll follow your example and explain a bit more about myself. As most of you have probably picked up on by my accent, I’m not from this side of the Atlantic, not originally anyway.” Katja paused for a moment as she looked up to the sky and took a deep breath before continuing. ”I was born and raised in Bloemfontein. Now, that name might not say a whole lot to most of you, but a little over a decade ago there was a large anti-hype massacre over there. The munnies got to my parents and well…” She bit down hard on her lips, casting her eyes down for a few seconds before looking back at the people around the campfire with an awkwardly forced smile on her lips. ”I’m sorry for ruining the mood, just felt like the best moment to open up.”

”Anyway...” she took a shaky deep breath to regain her composure, hiding away her pain back into that deep corner before looking at Banjo with that same forced smile on her face. ”You euhm, going to finish that?” Katja said, pointing her thumb to the untouched plate belonging to the Aussie.

Rory’s heart dropped. He wasn’t the smartest bulb in the store, but even he could piece together what Katja was trying to say. His parents had always mentioned the things happening abroad, and the hate people showed towards Hypes. Rory had experienced a bit first-hand, but learned from a young age to keep that hidden. But he knew he had no idea what Katja had experienced. No one deserved that. Rory’s dad has always said it was better H.I.T. stopped Hype criminals before others burnt all Hypes at the stake as witches. Katja knew what that meant more than he did.

“Bloody, ‘ell,” Trace grumbled. “I’m Trace Whitlock. They and them for the lot of you that didn’t get the memo. I’m from Sutton London. My dad is British Military, my mum is dead, and I was scouted for a professional football league before all this happened. And by football—RORY—I mean your fuckin’ soccer. Except better and with less bullshit.” They shrugged. “As much as my power goes. It’s easier to show you."

They pulled the back of their shirt up, which caused the front to ride up as well. Their torso was finely muscled, though far from the definition of Katja’s, and as pale as the rest of them. Their deep blue veins were obvious underneath. At first, it would be hard to tell what was happening in the light of the campfire, but it became apparent that a long limb started to form underneath the back of their shirt. At the end was a hand with fingers. The arm extended longer than a normal one should, lengthening out six feet in front of them. It was as pale as their flesh but didn’t seem to be made of skin. It looked to be denser and made of marble. While it bent in the middle, as if it had an elbow, there was nothing natural about it. The hand splayed its fingers and dove into the fire. It picked up some smoldering coals and held them there as if just holding a handful of rocks. It crushed them into a cloud of fine dust—easily—before dropping them back into the pit. The arm then crumbled away, landing on the ground like chalk before bubbling up as if someone doused it in vinegar before disappearing entirely. “That’s it. And I can produce six of those things.” They could do more with it, but they didn’t care to elaborate. Surprises might be fun in the future. Not to mention, they were already braced for whatever shit Banjo was about to spew.

Rory quickly scribbled down a couple notes for Trace. Trace - *They Them* - Pro Foot Soccer player. He didn’t quite understand why Trace didn’t just call it Soccer… but I guess the British changed the name when they started playing the sport. Rory looked up to see Trace starting to pull up their shirt, and instinctively averted his gaze to the fire between them all. Of course, the fire was bright and started to hurt his vision, so he blinked rapidly a few times and looked back towards Trace… only to see the long limb reaching into the fire he was just staring at. His mind kind of went blank, having to take a moment to reboot and comprehend what he had just seen. He eventually just scribbled down Grow 6 creepy arms.

"Hi everyone! My name's Trevor and I'm a H.E.A.T. program volunteer. My ability is..." He trailed off as he racked his brain for a good explanation. "It's easier to show than tell."

He reached down and placed his hand flat on the ground. In the next instant the skin of his arm started to disappear. Not into thin air and disappearing, it moved into the ground under his hand. But moving was also not quite the right word. His flesh was disappearing and reappearing in the dirt in a rough outline of his hand, then his wrist, and the better part of his forearm that filled in over a few seconds. At the same time, a mixture of dirt, rocks, and grass replaced the limb now half buried in the ground. He flexed his new fingers a few times as small bits of dirt fell back to the ground before taking a firm hold of his original arm and giving a firm tug to free it from the dirt. The arm dangled limply in his grasp as he gave it a good shake to dislodge any dirt stuck to it. He didn't seem to mind as drops of blood welled up near the lump of bone sticking out the top, but he was careful to hold it hand side down.

"I can move other stuff around too. It doesn't have to be part of me either. More importantly I'm with Calliope, cool name by the way. We should stick together."
By pure chance he happened to glance at Trace with all those arms behind her and gears turned in his head. Trevor looked down at his own disembodied hand and had to suppress a chuckle before he even started. This would be perfect, he just knew it. A joke would make her feel better after he spat with Banjo. Even at a distance it was obvious he was struggling not to laugh at his own joke as he tilted the severed limb in her direction.

"You seem like you got things handled but just ask and I'll be happy to lend you a hand."

Rory was very quiet as he watched Trevor use his power. If he was honest, he didn’t quite understand what he had just seen. I guess Trevor could replace his hand with dirt and rocks. It was a bit strange, and a bit gross. Rory didn’t even want to think about using that power. But he did agree with Trevor on sticking together. Most everyone seemed to be a bit more amicable. And Rory did give an audible laugh at Trevor’s joke. It was very clever, if not a bit gross. He quickly scribbled down a note on Trevor. Trevor - Rock Hand, DO NOT BORROW.

“Makenna, She began her introduction, shining smile at the ready as it came her turn. “Full merit scholarship Yale undergrad, treasurer of the Yale Daily News, and recipient of the Goldfarb Community Service award.” She paused for a moment, wanting so much it could have ended there. “Not that’s what any of you really wanted to hear about me.” She continued, still smiling as she folded her hands together, looking over the group.

“Four delta esoteric expulsive; vocal projection and mimicry. I can sound like whatever or whoever you want,” Her head tilted as she innocently lifted her eyes to the darkening sky above. “Or just a real screamer if it’s called for.”

With a final flash of white teeth, she looked expectantly to her left to continue the chain.

Rory felt a little awkward and embarrassed as Makenna spoke. She seemed bright and chipper, but Makenna’s little resume was incredibly impressive. She was clearly very smart, and Rory knew he was not going to be able to keep up with her. It would only be a matter of time before she would think of him as an idiot like Calliope. He jotted down his notes. Makenna - Smart - Voice Projection and Mimicry - Sound like anyone or Scream. Looking at Makenna’s entry, he wasn’t entirely sure what use that would be in training.

"I suppose I should probably explain some things. Hi, the name's Haleigh, though obviously some of you already know that. I'm from Vancouver—it's not that far from here, actually. About a day's worth of driving by car. Anyway, my dad is a Mountie. You know, the guys in red, one of the stereotypes when one thinks of Canada. Mom, well..."

Haleigh paused momentarily, before deciding to skip over that point. It was a topic she wasn't willing to go into.

"The Cascades were his stomping grounds, so he frequently brought me on his trips. To hike. Camp. Just anything to do with the outdoors. I guess he rubbed off on me in the end since I became an outdoors blogger and spent time out there solo before... well, the incident. I don't like to talk about it, personally. It's difficult to when one day you're... 'normal', and then the next you've buried yourself alive and become the reason people could've died back home. When your neighbors decide you needed to die over something out of your control."

She looked down at her legs, before taking a deep breath. They needed to know.

"Some of you are probably wondering about the wheelchair, I figure. Honestly, I hate it. I would much rather prefer to walk. But I can't. Not without people getting hurt. It's something that's been hanging over my head ever since I developed this stupid ability. I could sink this island with a stroll. Destroy the school with a jog."

Haleigh grimaced, clearly fighting back her emotions.

"I don't want to be the reason why more people get hurt, so I guess that's why I'm here. Tad's helped me with this inhibitor thing of his, but..."

Rory nodded as Haleigh spoke. It was nice to see a fellow Canadian on the team… though, quite frankly, he part of him was a little scared. The way Haleigh spoke about her powers, the more it sounded like a curse. He couldn’t imagine not being able to run around without destroying everything. He gave a sympathetic nod in her direction as he spoke, not writing anything down until she had finished speaking. Haleigh - Outdoor Blogger - Sinks things by walking, DO NOT USE.

Banjo spoke up next, and Rory took the opportunity to devour what was left of his skewer before it went fully cold. His impression of Banjo kept changing: he was hard to pin down or understand. But he was kind and compassionate. While Banjo was speaking to Haleigh, the talk of “being scared of what you’re capable of” resonated hard with Rory. Rory’s father was harsh and strict with him once he learned what Rory’s power was. The number of times he heard some variation of “you can never let your guard down and use it like an idiot” was so high that it outnumbered the times he had said “I love you.” That thought weighed Rory down for a moment.

Noticing the brief silence, Rory looked up to see a few eyes gaze in his direction. He hadn’t spoken up yet, and was only now slightly embarrassed about the playbook. He quickly slammed it closed, his leg shaking nervously as he took a breath. He looked up towards Trevor for some semblance of reassurance, before speaking to the group at large. ”Banjo’s right. Not all of us can control what we do. They let us work on that here, safely.” He turned his gaze to Haleigh, trying to offer a bit of a soft smile. His mother had always mentioned how useful her time at P.R.C.U. was in controlling her powers. Maybe it would help Haleigh too.

Rory placed his hands on his knees, willing his leg to stop shaking for a moment. It wasn’t very cooperative, sort of vibrating slightly still despite Rory’s efforts. He looked over to Calliope for a moment, his gaze turning cold for a moment as he did, before looking towards the others and letting his smile return. ”My name is Rory Tyler… My parents went here years ago. I live… lived in Ottawa. I’ve got a brother and a sister, they’re both twins here in the Collegiate program. I guess my fun fact is that I was a pretty good wrestler in high school…” Rory felt a little nervous at this point. He knew he was stalling from having to explain what his power was. He just flashed a smile, trying to make a good impression for those that didn’t already think less of him.

Rory flipped open the playbook and turned it to the last page, which was just a cut-out note in his Aunt’s handwriting with the name of his power. He read the note, and nodded. ”My power is Power Mimicry. I can borrow a power from someone I’m near for a short time… it’s why I’ve been writing notes down in this.” Rory held up his wrist, showing off the wristband and pocket playbook. ”I… I don’t really use it, honestly. Any time I do, I get really sick after.” Rory kept his nervous smile up, looking around to the others. ”So yeah… that’s me. Who’s next?”

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Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

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_{Location: Camp Blackjack, Southern Plateau - P.R.C.U. Campus}

The Homecoming Trials #1.57 : Introduction to Conflict Management

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_{Interaction(s): Trace @psych0pomp, Banjo @Hound55}

Previously: Glad I Had a Second Ball

“What the hell? Who the hell is that? And we’re all okay with them taking her?”

Trace’s outburst settled on Rory as he had set his bag down next to Trevor’s tent. He looked over in the direction of Inigo and Haleigh, who were being approached by Calliope and Banjo. Certainly offering a helping hand, now that Banjo had destroyed one of the four footballs tucked inside the military-style duffle Rory had packed. He knew it was smart to come prepared for something like that. Will was always the one who thought ahead like that. But unlike Will, Rory couldn’t quite get that bad taste out of his mouth. Trace was rude, certainly, but seemed to show genuine concern and confusion. If they were all going to get along, who better than Rory to try and smooth things over.

Rory gave a polite nod to Trevor, holding up a single finger to indicate he needed a moment. He took a quick jog over towards Trace and Katja, his eyes nervously darting between the two. Knots twisted in Rory’s stomach at the thought of getting yet another tongue lashing for just existing from the angry enby vampire… but maybe this would help smooth things over. Hell, maybe Aunt Lily was right: everyone was probably just as nervous about all this as he was. Clarification certainly couldn’t hurt, right? Rory didn’t even hesitate by the time he got within a few feet of Trace and Katja, interjecting himself into their conversation headlong. ”That’s Inigo.” Rory paused a moment, realizing he hadn’t actually thought about what he was going to say… and pausing just made it even weirder. Rory just quickly continued, speaking about as fast as he could. ”With Haleigh. I think they got here a little late, missed the opening ceremony. Seems like a good person. So I wasn’t concerned with them trying to bunk with Haleigh. I wasn’t trying to ignore you or anything, you just-”

"Oh, and 'Tourist'? Fuck off. Sure I've been here five bloody minutes, but if you've been in this country any longer than me, I'd be bloody stunned." Rory turned his head quickly to see Banjo storming away from Inigo after pointing and yelling. This was getting quite out of hand. Rory’s entire train of thought came to a screeching halt. Someone needed to rein things back in.

Rory turned back to Trace and Katja, giving them an awkward smile and wave before just quickly jogging after Banjo. He called out, ”Hey, Bro!” In that instant, Rory panicked. He looked down at his wristband playbook, opening it for a moment as his mind grew too loud. There was too much happening to remember what that guy’s name was. He recognized the picture by the cocky grin, and quickly scanned the first name listed. Andrew… Andrew. Andy. Got it. Without so much as waiting for an acknowledgement, Rory continued, ”Look man, we need to be trying to get along here. If you need to walk things off, walk it off… but you can’t be talking to people that way, Andy. We’re a team, like it or not… so let’s just try to get along.” Rory pushed to jog a little faster to finish closing the gap, and accentuated his point by reaching out to grab Banjo’s shoulder in an effort to stop him for a moment and come to a sense of understanding.

This couldn’t possibly go wrong. Maybe Dr. Lehrer was right… maybe this team did need Rory.

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Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

Rory's foot tapped against the ground softly, the wooden chair he was in creaking incessantly with the constant motion. His eyes failed to meet the good doctor in front of him, as Jonas sat with a small smile plastered on his lips and watched. Rory stared at everything else he could. He knew what was sitting in front of Dr. Lehrer was perhaps one of the most disappointing transcripts he'd seen in a while. Rory wasn't disruptive enough or dumb enough to be kicked from schools, or fail out of being able to compete on various sports teams. But PRCU wasn't exactly known for its football team, and Rory wasn't going to be able to use his extracurricular physical performances as a selling point here. After what felt like seconds, but could have been minutes, Rory's eyes finally met those of Dr. Jonas Lehrer.

"I am sorry for your loss, Mr. Tyler. I know you've heard that a lot in the past year, but I feel it is still important that it be said." Jonas both forearms on his desk, clasping his hands together as he leaned in. The shaking in Rory's leg stopped for a moment as his focus fell entirely to Dr. Lehrer. "You know, I interviewed the two of them when they were accepted here. They were dedicated to their life's works, as I am. I had a tremendous respect for them both, and I do not believe English has a word that could encompass the tragedy of what has been lost with them gone."

Rory's eyes diverted from Dr. Lehrer, turning to a small clock on the wall. The leg shaking began again as Rory stifled the various thoughts and feelings that welled in his chest and threatened to crawl up his throat and out of his lips. "Uhh... yeah... Yes, I mean. Thank you, sir."

Jonas turned his gaze down to the file in front of him, skimming through some of the papers. He stopped after only a few seconds, looking back up to Rory. "What do you want?"

Rory nodded, smiling politely and centering himself before answering confidentiality. "I want to become an agent of HIT, just like my father, sir. I really want to ser-"

"No no... I see you have enlisted in the HEAT program right here. I can tell what your plans are. I'm asking what you want, Mr. Tyler. What is your goal? What motivates you?"

The shaking stopped for a moment, before intensifying. Rory felt like he had been suckerpunched in the gut. He wasn't sure how to vocalize it... or even understand why he was here, truly. I don't know wasn't going to be satisfactory. Rory scrambled for a moment, before blurting out. "Family." Dr. Lehrer smiled softly, clearly a little amused. Rory looked over to the clock on the wall, a strange wave of confidence washing over him as he continued. "I want to stay close to the remaining family I have... My grades aren't as good as theirs, I know that. But I'm willing to give everything to keep 'em safe."

Dr. Lehrer nodded, folding up the folder in front of him and sliding out a single sheet of paper filled with names and pictures. Across the top of the paper was a simple title: Team 21: Blackjack. "I appreciate that dedication... and ask that you extend that to your new team while you are here."

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_{Location: Camp Blackjack, Southern Plateau - P.R.C.U. Campus}

The Homecoming Trials #1.47 : Glad I Had a Second Ball

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_{Interaction(s): Trevor @Jarl Coolgruuf}

Previously: A Bad Hand

In moments, the campsite was alive with energy… and distractions. Rory followed Trevor as he began setting up a tent, trying to get a good handle for how to set one up to begin with. He kept eyeing the others as they were setting up their tents, raising an eyebrow at the realization of just how lavish they were: they were a far cry from the small things he used to set up in his backyard as a kid. Trevor was entrenched in figuring out how to work the tent, so Rory’s eyes drifted to the rest of his teammates. The group was pairing themselves up rather quickly. Rory wasn’t that big on putting himself out there. So, he figured he’d warm up the social muscles… and there was no better way than with a quick game of catch. He fetched a football out from his backpack, throwing it up in the air to sort of accentuate his point about spending some time as a group... and keep his hands occupied. He looked between those who hadn't yet partnered up. Of those remaining, Trevor seemed like the best option, as he seemed like the only one who could even stand to be around Rory. Though, there was always…

”Heya broer! You euhm, got a tentmate yet?”

Rory’s eyes were locked on the tall woman, back turned towards him as she had approached Cassander. His heart sunk slightly, a small whirlpool of undeserved jealousy knotting his stomach before washing away. Rory understood, Cass had a pretty look about him… the brooding was less appealing, though. Not that Rory had much room to complain on that front. Regardless, he was so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed the ball sail back down and bounce in the direction of Banjo and Calliope. He didn’t even realize what he had been doing until a small change in light quickly got his attention. Banjo’s transformation was terrifying. Rory took a half-step back as his teammate was surrounded by a shining aura of energy. Quite frankly, Rory couldn’t piece together by any stretch of the imagination what that could possibly mean. Luckily, Banjo demonstrated an application, at least, by launching Rory’s football into the stratosphere.

“Oye, you two.” They then pointed to the wheelchair bound girl. “One of you needs to go ovah and team up with her. The other one can stay behind and be my partnah. I don’t care which one it is, just leave your shared braincell with the one that’s stayin’ with me. Okay?”

Rory’s blood ran cold instinctively as Trace spoke, a byproduct of his conditioning at this point. Everyone seemed to have a critique about what he was doing and how he was doing it. At least Trace was obvious about it, even if he could barely understand what they were saying. He wasn’t quite sure how he and Trevor were sharing some sort of mind prison, but it had to be some kind of saying from overseas. Unless Rory was in the mind prison now… and if he was, how would he even know he was in it? That was the plot from that one movie with the John Wick guy, Rory was pretty sure. Stop it, Rory. Focus. Rory’s eyes turned back to Trace, and it took him a second to comprehend their request. As soon as he opened his mouth to respond, looking towards Haleigh, a football plopped down to the ground from on high. Rory slowly walked over towards the football, that was covered with fastly melting ice. There was a permanent dent in one end, and a tear in the seam. It was still somewhat functional, but clearly damaged. Another thing to fix and replace, as if Rory wasn’t capable enough to damage his own items on his own.

He leaned over and picked up his football, sighing as he messed with the fraying seems and dent. He looked up to see Katja walking away from Cass, a small bit of dejection noticeable there. But before Rory could act, Inigo and Katja had made their moves. Inigo extended an offer to Haleigh, and Katja chose Trace. They had practically made the decision for Rory at this point... and Trevor had set up his own tent. Rory awkwardly shoved the broken football into his duffel bag, his hand grazing against something fuzzy in the bag. He reached in and pulled out a small playbook wristband he had used back in high school. He looked around at the others gathered and flipped up the first set of cards. Within each plastic sleeve were the small campus ID photos of his teammates, along with their names. Next to the pictures were several small lines for Rory to write notes with a small pencil stored in a small velcro pouch. The whole setup was Will’s idea from ages ago, an easy way to study Spanish terms while going for a morning jog. Maybe, just maybe, this could help him keep everyone’s powers straight.

With the future playbook strapped to his wrist, Rory sauntered over towards Trevor and admired the fancy tent. They were nicer accommodations than he was expecting. "You mind if I crash with you? Looks like everyone else has paired up." Rory plopped the duffel bag on the ground next to Trevor’s tent, unzipping it briefly to pull out a second football. ”Name’s Rory… You’re Trevor, right? Wanna toss this around and get to know what everyone can do?”

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Fear and Loathing in Gotham City: a One-Shot Crime Adventure

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

Rory seemed nice. And the fact he didn't instantly act like he was talking to a convict was a good enough sign for Iñigo. It meant that details of their sudden arrival hadn't spread to the team yet. But perhaps their teammate was doing an excellent job of hiding the fact. Regardless of his intentions, his presence was quite endearing, and it would've been rude for them to leave him hanging. Something engraved by their mother at a young age and constantly brought up whenever their little brother was being a little shit at... no. Don't think about them now—not while someone's here. Iñigo shook their teammate's hand and got up from the planter. Their smile was genuine despite still bearing a headache from the inhibitor earlier (it usually lasted twelve hours in the best case).

"Sure, it isn't like I have nothing better to do. The name's Iñigo, by the way." Iñigo smirked at Rory before beginning the lengthy walk back to the dorms. They felt delighted to be walking around without being surrounded by a ten-foot barbed wire fence, having hostile guards beside them every day, or wearing that awful inhibitor. It was fucking liberating. But the awkward silence between their fellow teammate was going to kill that feeling. So to preserve it for as long as humanly possible, Iñigo decided to kick-start a conversation by throwing a seemingly harmless question at Rory (in truth, it was their clever way of learning about the others rather than going in blind and playing catch-up at the trials). "So... what are the others like? I am quite curious about our crew of misfits."

That was a fantastic question, and one Rory was definitely not qualified to answer. Even he realized any interactions he had with the others so far was pretty superficial. And half of the crew didn’t even seem to want to be there to begin with, making it hard to break the ice effectively. "Right, yeah… I mean, we've got some strong personalities. Trace swears all the time, but talks like Shrek. I think they’re pretty mad at me actually, something to do with football… Oh man, a football should work to toss around. It's way more doable than soccer…" Rory turned his gaze to Inigo, his smile fading for a moment. He had gotten distracted… again.

"Uh, right, sorry. You'll probably get a good feel on the shuttle or at camp or whatever. Banjo seemed cool, but everyone was giving him crap. And Trev… err, Trevor, he's cool. I think you'll get along with him. Then… there are Lucille and Cass, both seem a bit lonely or something. Calliope and Mackenna are pretty hot. Haleigh is hot too.. and Katja… Katja is jacked, man. She also seems real considerate and stuff. And I haven't really seen much of Axel." Rory scrunched up his nose as he took a moment to count, visibly mouthing the numbers as he counted up everyone on his fingers. "But yeah, that's pretty much the crew. We've got a big Breakfast Club vibe… except there's more of us, I guess. And there wasn't a real buff lady. And we're not in detention…" Rory let his spiraling checklist of differences trail off and just run in his head for a moment as the two approached the Intake House. Rory shot a small smile at Inigo, giving a quick pat on the shoulder. ”I’ll meet you back out here in a bit, once I finish changing and packing all my stuff.”

---

_{Location: Southern Plateau - P.R.C.U. Campus}

The Homecoming Trials #1.30 : A Bad Hand

---

_{Interaction(s): @Mao Mao, @Jarl Coolgruuf, et al}

Previously: A New Face

Rory dropped his heavy bag to the ground, letting it thud against the pavement as he began stretching his arms. He was sporting an old gold PT sweatshirt, a few iterations out of date at this point, matched with the standard issue running shorts and running shoes. His eyes were hid behind a fresh pair of unbranded sunglasses as he glanced over towards the other students gathered. He listened in as the faculty and student advisors made their introductions. He couldn’t help but feel his chest puff up at the sheer audacity the rival team’s student advisor had to trash talk his team. It did feel a little comforting, though, to be back in a competitive environment.

Of course, he still didn’t know anything about the team he was competing with. The opponents looked somewhat intimidating, and their faculty advisor seemed to have more of a competitive spirit than their own laid back Jim. It was clear that this was all a large contest of sorts, and all Rory could hope for was to get a chance to score points for his own team. Though, in the grand scheme, he wasn’t sure what he could contribute to… well, whatever this competition was. He could hold his own in anything athletic, but there had to be something more to this. Most likely something to do with using powers, and if that was the case… Rory would have to play things smart.

Team 21 was screwed.

---

As soon as Jim had delegated tasks to the group, Rory gave a slight nod. He looked towards his fellow teammates, scratching his chin for a moment. He could always offer to share a tent with Inigo, though someone like Trevor seemed more his wavelength. Though, quite frankly, who he slept next to was hardly his concern for the night. It wasn’t a big deal, all the tents would be for is to get some rest anyways. "Hey, name's Calliope. I don't suppose you would be up to sharing a tent tonight?" Rory raised an eyebrow, but simply shrugged off any suspicion. It wasn’t a big deal to share a tent with someone, after all. As long as whoever he was sleeping near didn’t make too much noise, Rory wouldn’t even mind sharing a tent with Trace.

"Look at this place! Couldn't have picked a better spot myself." Rory felt a little more at ease at the small talk. He looked out at the surroundings… and honestly, he had no idea if this was a good spot for camping. He had spent a number of nights in the summers camped out in the backyard with friends, but that seemed like a much different experience than this. Being out in nature was soothing, and the view wasn’t that bad. Rory readjusted the shoulder on his back, taking a moment to admire the view. ”We’ve got plenty of space to get a game going. I brought a football to toss around, hopefully that doesn’t upset anyone.” Rory’s eyes instinctively shot in the direction of Trace, anticipating another outburst. He pivoted the conversation quickly, looking in the direction of the tent kits. He flashed an awkward smile to the others. ”Right… uhh… guess we should do tents first.” Rory clapped his hands together, taking a cue from his former coaches to call out his next line. "Let's go, Blackjack. Faster we're set up, faster we can hang out."

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Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

Rory dabbed at the sweat gathered in the small of his back with a small hand towel as he slammed the locker door shut. His teammates were busy hooting and hollering, but Rory couldn’t help but feel disconnected from it all. His father had promised to be there, but it looked like his family had skipped out on coming to the biggest dual meet of the year. At least, most of them. Mary, of all the members in his immediate family, had taken the time to come to the match. She was on her phone half the time… but at this point, he couldn’t complain much. But now that everything was over, and he felt his teammates patting him on the back and throwing praise in his direction. Rory had decisively scored points for his high school, and helped them cinch the victory. He just nodded and smiled in response, muttering out a few thank you’s as he shuffled out of the locker room.

The air outside was bitter and cold, and a fresh layer of snow coated the cars still parked in the parking lot. Rory zipped up his overcoat and shoved his towel into a side pocket of his gym bag before slinging the latter over his shoulder. As he began to trudge through the snow, he heard a soft shrill voice call out to him. ”Are you just going to leave me here, freezing, John Cena?”

Rory stopped in his tracks, instantaneous guilt running up his spine. His mind had completely blanked on the simple fact that if she had been to his match, she was going to need a ride home. Especially since no one else showed up. He turned around slowly, giving a faint smile. Mary was a solid foot shorter than him, but the glare in her eyes was menacing. It was undercut only slightly by her shivering, huddled up as much as she could be underneath her blue scarf and bright pink puffer coat. ”Shi-errr… yeah, sorry. I spaced a bit there. Come on, let’s get you in the car.”

Mary quickly began sprinting through the snow towards the old minivan he had been allowed to drive, and Rory had to quicken his pace to keep up. He fumbled with the keys in his pocket before finally managing to press the unlock button, and the two were in the van within seconds with the car running and the heat on full blast. Mary sat huddled up, waiting for the heat to kick in proper. Rory fished an ice scraper from the back seat, and set about clearing off the car to the best of his ability. After a couple minutes, Rory was back in the driver’s seat and sighed in relief as he felt the hot air blowing. Mary was already comfortable in the passengers seat, playing on her phone. As Rory went to shift the car in reverse, Mary had shoved her phone into his face. ”You almost had him there, halfway through your match. You could have ended it a lot quicker.”

Rory tilted his head in confusion, leaning his head back and grabbing her phone. Sure enough, there was a small clip of the match. The camera was zoomed in on Rory and his opponent grappling at the shoulders, Rory making a few extended swipes towards the knees. Sure enough, she was right: he was so close to getting a good grab. Rory remembered the match. He had hesitated, and played a bit more defensively. He turned his gaze towards his sister, jaw slightly ajar. ”Yeah… you’re right. I almost-” Rory’s mind was finally playing catch up, and he held the phone out to his little sister. ”Wait, were you filming my match?”

Mary snatched back her phone, and was immediately back into some app typing away. ”Well, yeah. I sent it in the group chat, so Mom or Dad can watch it later.”

---

_{Location: Stadium - P.R.C.U. Campus}

The Homecoming Trials #1.23 : A New Face

---

_{Interaction(s): Inigo Giménez-Pozo @Mao Mao}

Previously: What the Hell is Kumbaya?

Rory tilted his head slightly at Trace's continued outburst. He could tell something had struck a nerve... but was confused with the sudden talk of football. He hadn't been talking about football, and Trace didn't look like the type to have an interest in a full contact sport. Their... confrontational personality seemed suited for a violent sport, and they could probably wipe the floor with Rory if he didn't watch his tongue. But in this circumstance... it seemed like the team was stuck with each other for a while: yet everyone but his boy Trevor wanted to be anywhere other than here. Though even Trevor split off on his own, and Rory took his time to exit the stadium. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his steps lingering as he slowly trickled out of the stadium. He felt a vibration coming from his phone, and pulled it out to give it a quick look. It was a simple text from his sister. >Are you and your team ready for the Trials? Will and I are meeting our team to strategize.< Rory's steps slowed to a stop as he reached the exit of the stadium, looking up to see all the others leaving in different directions across campus. To call them a team felt wrong. He quickly typed back. >I'll manage. Keep an eye on Will, and use your heads.<

He looked out towards the others leaving, before his eyes locked on to a stranger sporting an armband with the signature Blackjack logo. None of his teammates seemed to notice... granted, everyone else seemed to be caught up in their own little worlds. But Rory noticed them. The stranger didn’t seem to be up for introducing themselves to anyone who left, which is natural when most seemed to leave the opening ceremony in a sour mood or in a rush. So, Rory took a deep breath before striding over to Inigo and extending out a hand for a proper handshake. "Hey, my name is Rory, it's nice to meet ya. I see you're with Team 21... I'm heading back to the House to pack some stuff for the Trials. Why don’t ya join me, and we can meet up with the others?"

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Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

Sometimes, the world moves so fast that days feel like a blur.

Rory stood in silence as the crowd dressed in black quickly began to disperse. The rows upon rows of gravestones were some of the only company left as the teenager stared into the darkness of the open grave. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, mindlessly crumbling and ripping at the paper program for the service. By this point, Rory had run out of tears. This wasn't unexpected. There had been months of pain and deterioration leading up to this. By now, he was just empty. There was a shifting sound from the grass behind him, and Rory slowly turned around. Aunt Morse stepped up to her nephew and held him tight. He just stood stiff for a moment before reaching a hand up to pat his aunt softly on the back. She leaned back and kept one hand on his shoulder, looking her nephew in the eyes. "Rory, let's get you home, ok? The twins are already in the car. It's getting late."

Next thing Rory knew, it had been days. He stood in the empty living room of his family home, devoid of the furniture and sophisticated art that always just looked like paint splotches to him. He shuffled his feet as he sulked towards the kitchen, flicking off the light switch. His eyes lingered on the colored scratch marks on the door-frame leading out into the hall. It felt wrong to leave those memories behind, and this place. Next thing Rory knew, though, he was behind the driver’s seat of his mom’s beat up minivan pulling into a parking lot. He stared up at the dull gray slab of concrete they called an apartment building. He took a deep breath, hands gripping the steering wheel tight. The sun had already set in the horizon, and the only lighting left in this parking lot was a solitary humming streetlamp. Rory grabbed the bag of food from his passenger’s seat and got out.

Turns out a medical degree didn’t come with cooking lessons.

The blur began to fade when he was startled by the sound of a thick manilla folder getting slapped onto the kitchen table in front of him. It was late again, a few weeks after the service. He raised an eyebrow, looking up to his beaming aunt who set a cup of coffee down next to him. “I know the last thing you need right now is me to be breathing down your neck about this, but I have to mail the materials tomorrow to get enrolled this late in the game. The question is… what do you want?”

Rory opened up the folder, and slowly exhaled a held breath as he recognized the logos and designs on the pamphlets and brochures at the front of the pile of documents. The logo was the same as a sweatshirt his mother wore all the time, from her alma mater: Pacific Royal Collegiate and University. Rory flipped through some of the papers, until his eyes locked on to the H.E.A.T. brochure. That was the program his father had mentioned. His eyes turned back towards his aunt.

“I… I think I want to give it a shot.”

---

_{Location: Kitchen and Stadium - P.R.C.U. Campus}

The Homecoming Trials #1.11 : What the Hell is Kumbaya?

---

_{Interaction(s): @Jarl Coolgruuf}

Previously: None

“... Down at the body shop, doing something unholy…”

Rory Tyler bobbed his head and tapped his feet as he sang quietly to himself, the sound of his words dulled significantly by the high pressure kitchen faucets running at full blast. He wasn’t at all displeased to be working as a dishwasher, working through stacks of dirty dishes on a line at the scrubbing section. He relished the opportunity to put his strength to good use in some small capacity, facing each bit of hardened egg or cheese with a ferocious determination to make sure the dishes were scrubbed off to be stacked and reorganized. He recognized a couple of his new teammates peeling potatoes in another part of the kitchen when he walked in. Guess it took a lot to feed this many students.

By the end of his shift, Rory’s hands ached. He pulled off the yellow rubber gloves he had been wearing and rested them on the edge of the large sink area, stalking towards the exit. He had already been walking back to his room when he looked down to realize he was still wearing a black rubber apron. He quickly ran back to the kitchen, bursting in and throwing the apron over one of the hooks as he grabbed his blazer. He had changed into the fashionable jacket and was nearly out the door again when he heard a small thud, turning around to see the apron had fallen to the ground. With a small grunt and a few extra seconds spent gingerly returning the apron to its appropriate hook, Rory was back out racing for the intake house to grab his gym bag.

---

Rory stood in front of the rock climbing wall, taking a deep breath as he looked up at the intimidating climb. He double checked his harness, and dipped his hands into a small bag of chalk and rubbed his palms together to spread out the chalk. He took a few deep breaths as he tried to parse out the best path up, before just shaking his head and beginning his climb. The beginning was easy, as he steadily got a few feet off the ground without much pause between each step up. But as Rory looked above him for an easy handhold, he found the grips were all spaced farther out. He stretched out one arm, fumbling as he kept stretching farther to clasp one of the grips. His fingers just barely caught on to one, and his muscles ached as he began to shift his weight. He lifted a foot up to latch on to one of the grips, only to feel his foot give way as his shoe failed to gain the right traction. Rory hung for only a second before his outstretched hand’s grip gave way, and his body dropped slightly. His remaining hand grip wasn’t strong enough to keep him upheld, so Rory dropped a couple feet before the harness caught him. Rory looked down to see he was barely hovering off the ground, and sighed as he was lowered down by gym staff the rest of the way. Rory quickly assured them he was fine, and ready to try again.

---

Rory rushed into the stadium nosebleeds, smelling faintly of peach scented soap and his hair clearly still wet, as the assembly was starting. The call to stand for the Canadian national anthem made Rory feel at ease and helped him blend in, despite the stern looks from faculty manning the doors as he entered just as things were starting. He mumbled along with the national anthem softly as he quickly grabbed the nearest sea near the few faces he recognized, each sporting the signature “blackjack” armbands. He tried his best to pay attention to the boring speeches, but quickly grew bored of the presentation. He began tapping his right index and right thumb together, trying to match the cadence of the voices that practically droned in his head. Before long, he was startled to hear everyone beginning to stand up… along with a few interjections:

“.. how many of us WILL you be sacrificing to your gods in this thing for a good harvest this year?”

“Look, everyone, at the cool boy challenging the system. He’s so edgy. No one’s evah thought to do that before! Fuckin’ wanker.”

Rory felt his body immediately tense up, innately feeling the tension begin to boil. Banjo’s outburst didn’t make much sense to him: there were gods at this school? Rory had read some book back in middle school about something kind of like that. It would be cool of his teachers were gods. But he didn’t like the idea of getting sacrificed to one of them. Rory also didn’t recall gods being mentioned in Harry Potter.

“Hey, they may have said it. But we were all thinking it.”

Rory’s brow furrowed. What were they all thinking? Did everyone else know about the gods? Was Rory the only one who hadn’t put together the pieces?

“Hey all! Looks like we’re teammates. I hope we don’t actually have to play cards. I’m much more of a soccer guy myself.”

“Yeah, everyone, let’s all hold hands and sing Kumbaya together.”

Rory smiled slightly at Calliope’s “suggestion,” completely dodging the sarcasm with the expert precision of someone far too excited at the thought of having some actual friends for once. He called out as people began to disperse. ”Calliope is right… maybe some ice breakers would help!” He shot a sincere smile to whatever teammates weren’t rushing away, but couldn’t help but to feel a bit dejected at the shift in mood. Trace was gone, as was Calliope. Cassander had left as well, while Katja and Haleigh seemed to be having a bit of a moment. Rory turned his gaze to Trevor in particular, walking over to his new teammate and slapping a hand on his shoulder. ”Calliope is right, Kumbaya might be a better warm up activity… whatever that is. I’m totally down to play soccer, but I don’t think that would be best for… well… all of us, you know?” Rory tilted his head slightly in the direction of Haleigh and Katja, a warm smile still plastered on his face.

Rory watched as more people were funneling out of the stadium, and quickly patted Trevor one last time on the shoulder in reassurance. ”I’m gonna head back to the intake house and get changed. I’ll meet you there, man.”

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To Become a Knight! ~ A Chivalric (Mis)Adventure

---

A fire crackled in its fireplace nearby, providing a warm orange glow to the overstuffed red couch. A taller man ran his fingers through his own dark hair with one hand, slamming shut a book with his other hand. His eyes were piercing, calculating, not entirely present for a moment. It would not be uncharacteristic to say he was examining the future, trying to predict it. The man's armor creaked as he stood up and set a small book on a side table, making a clear motion to leave.

A young voice broke the otherwise calm moment. "Why can't you stay? Why can't I come with you?"

The figure stopped, letting loose an expectant sigh, and turned back. "I am clearing a path for you to follow. It's not safe for you yet."

The child was indignant, sitting up straight on the couch to confront the man. "My… Lady Lothwren says I was born under a powerful star, and that the stars chose me to be a hero."

The man shook his head slightly, taking a few steps towards the child before kneeling down to get to eye level. "You may possess the gifts of the heroes of old, but no one, not the stars nor the Spirit of Arbert Grayle himself, can choose who you are. If you want to be a hero, you need to choose that path."

"I want to be a hero." The boy looked into the man’s eyes, smiling softly. “Like you.”

The man gave a pained sigh, nodding as he stood back up and fetched a small wooden sword mounted atop the fireplace's mantle. He held it outstretched to the boy, motioning towards a large open space in the parlor. "Then show me your cuts. Let's see where you need to improve."

---

Why think of that now?

Nathaniel turned his gaze towards his fellow nobles and gave a short bow. "I hope to see you both at the entrance ceremony."

Nathaniel moved methodically towards his assigned fighting arena. His eyes scanned towards some of the other contestants he was impressed with. Cyrus Locke was off speaking to a few other skilled commoners, wiping the sweat from his brow. The two locked eyes for a moment, and Cyrus’ sly grin told Nathaniel all he needed to know: Cyrus would only be rooting for him to have a chance to beat him down later. Nate’s eyes turned towards Zenshin Ferros and Donathon, who each made respectable showings. His eyes narrowed as he got into his starting position in the training grounds. He had begun to recognize the name of his opponent. Julian Baker was the least impressive of the commoners to make it this far. Cheap and brutal tricks were the name of Baker’s game, with not a sign of competent swordsmanship in sight.

Nathaniel shifted the grip on his hand and a half training sword, making a few quick practice cuts through the air. The weight was awful on these weapons, but that was somewhat expected. He could compensate for the difference.

After all, he wasn’t about to lose to a common thug.

Right?