After putting together what was supposed to be a sort of strategy in the prep room for the battle looming ahead, we walk back through the corridor to get to or pre-decided test chamber. On the way, I notice Ginger and George stood before another door, accompanied by a male instructor, probably one of or future teachers offering to help out either for the good of the college or to get snoop on their future students' fighting abilities. I catch ginger's eye and mouth the words 'good luck' with a nod. She smiles back with an attempted confidence, but I can still see the worry in her eyes, possibly for herself, possibly for her brother, probably for the two of them.
A few steps later, we meet another instructor outside of our designated examination room pointing to a similar monitor besides the door. 'This,' He says with a gruff deep voice, 'Will display your score. You get 10 point per hit, one hundred per basic combo, and 1000 per advanced combo. This is reflective you see as, no matter how many hits you get in real battle, one advanced combo can turn the tides and reverse the outcome.' He glances over my hair and smiles, looking somewhat kind.
I smile in return and continue to the door, which opens as it's censors simltaneosly detect or prescence, and welcomes us to a set of stairs leading down to the stadim like area. This time however, the stadium is in darkness, only slightly illuminated by the glow of these flourescent white steps, meaning the oponent can't see us, and we can't see them. I find a straight stance where my feet are apart and my head is facing forward, trying to pierce the darkness for the enemy. One of my arms is lifted and hovering above the quiver, while the other resides with my bow attached facing onwards with my sightline. In the corner of my eye, an eerie white glow stands behind Emma, who stands with one foot in front of the other, slightly crouched, holding her weapon in her right hand.
'You never told me,' I say while cradling a bottle for comfort, though I'm the one who really needs comfort for the trial to come. 'What?' She says just before ducking for the drinks fountain, where bottles like mine should be filled. 'What's your weapon?'
She looks round to me with a childishly confident grin- cocky in a naive way- difficult to describe. 'It's a plasma whip, modified by yours truly to conduct electricity.'
Her dark hair glints in the light above, still smooth despite her first battle. Feeling slightly jealous, I feel for mine and find quite a few strands slipped for under the bobble, now floating towards the atmosphere. 'Neat,' I say and throw back what I try to make look like a convincing smile. It doesn't work and a squiggly line crawls above my jaw. At this, her expression changes and she walks over, putting her hand on my shoulder. 'Don't worry, we'll do awesome,' She laughs, 'I mean, you've got me, the best fighter there is in this place to help after all! And you're not so bad yourself you know.' This was accompanied by a sly wink and then ushered away by the instructor telling us our prep time was up