IC:

As Lorelei walked away, the boy who had, though he was uncertain how, become her favorite target watched with a raised eyebrow and a slight red tinge to his face. Shaking his head at the conduct, he focused his attention on the headmaster, who was beginning to speak.

While Arrun was explaining the watches, Alistair was instead running through the functions available initially. Rather meager, but he doubted that would last long. Those who enjoyed tinkering, himself included, would start maximizing their potential when they had time. Instead of integrating it, he simply attached it around his wrist, studying the map intently, keeping one ear on the headmaster's briefing. Partner up, WATCHes would synchronize, retrieve data from Grimm territory, find the pair with the matching data core. Simple enough. The briefing was fairly normal, which in and of itself was a little odd. He'd heard from other people that the first exam was traditionally quite insane.

Not that he was disappointed for long. The instant the metal shield slammed shut in front of Arrun, Alistair understood what was about to happen.

[i]No. No, that's not it. That would be insa-[/i]

The sound of sliding metal and the heart-stopping drop that immediately followed put an end to that thought very, very quickly. His eyes snapped to the window, taking note of [i]exactly[/i] how high up they were. By his estimate... Well. He could say for sure that they were above the cloud layer, and that meant [i]very high indeed[/i]. With an acceleration due to gravity of nine point eight meters per second squared, he didn't need to do the math to know that hitting the ground from this height, aura or no, would be very bad indeed. Which meant that, logically, there was some kind of mechanism to allow them to reach the ground with reasonable safety. He just needed to find it.

This analysis was completed in a few seconds, the same amount of time that it took for most of the others to start panicking. Most of them rushed to the door or windows, trying to force their way out. However, a certain Oliver Koontz had already made a hole in the ceiling. Far more convenient than fighting to get out the other ways. Between a jump and the decompression that accompanied the sudden breaching of a sealed environment, he pulled himself out of the hole, clinging to ridges on the top of the metal room to prevent from flying off. By this point, about thirty seconds had been wasted. They'd breached the cloud layer, dropping at incredible speeds. The wind whipping about him, he pulled himself to the edge of the falling deathtrap to peer over the edge. There were handles attached to the exterior, and a lever beside them... The panels seemed to exist separate of the main whole, as well... Launchpads.

...

Oh [i]hell[/i], that's what they were supposed to do?

Grimacing, Alistair steeled himself to do what he needed to do... And slipped over the edge, catching hold of the handles, and crouching sideways against the launchpad. The wind slammed against him like a wall, now that he was presenting a wider target for the wind resistance, and threatened to dislodge him. His eyes were narrowed against the wind, but he still took a few moments to survey his surroundings. He couldn't control the angle of his launch, but he could at least make sure he knew where he was going. A moment later, he triggered the mechanism.

The feeling of the launch was difficult to describe; It was a bit like he would think that being launched from artillery would feel like. He was, in essence, turned into a living projectile, the panel sending him shooting off horizontally, before gravity caught him again and turned it into a downward angled descent. During none of this, however, was the speed of his fall reduced; If anything, the launch increased it. Straining to keep his eyes open, he took note of his estimated landing point. By his estimate, he would hit a relatively open portion of land to the west of the forest, a short ways north of the lake. Good. Obstacles would have made his already tricky landing nearly impossible. As he flew, a half-grin plastered itself onto his face, born of adrenaline and the sheer thrill of the fall. Despite himself, it was almost fun. He did not have long to enjoy it, however. The ground was rapidly rushing up to meet him, and by his rough guess, he'd hit in twenty to forty seconds. Enough time to ensure his safe landing. 

The first thing he did, naturally, was consciously call on his aura; He'd need it in order to land without severe injury. The initial flicker of color was the none-too-encouraging indicator that it had sputtered to life, one confirmed by a glance at his W.A.T.C.H. The ground was much closer now. Eyes narrowing in concentration, he triggered the booster in the right elbow of his coat, the blast whipping him around so he faced the sky, back to the ground. That was the easy part. He locked eyes on the nearby trees, using them to gauge his distance from the ground; He needed to time this precisely. He watched them get larger and larger, as the ground loomed, unseen, behind him. Too late and he'd hit the ground at full force, too soon and he wouldn't slow his descent enough. He waited, and waited, until he was by his estimation about seven to ten meters above the ground before triggering the boosters built into the small of his back.

The clash of forces was almost painful, the sudden counteracting force slashing the speed at which he fell in an instant, pushing painfully against his back as gravity and applied force warred between themselves. The "almost" would be removed in seconds, however, as he slammed into the ground with all of the remaining force behind his descent. The impact was sudden, but it didn't stop there; The energy behind his fall was enough to throw him a few yards across the ground, rolling and bouncing painfully before finally grinding to a halt. Every fiber of his being hurt, every bone ached, every nerve registered its complaint loudly and clearly. The same could not be said for the world at large, however, which was fuzzy and spinning. Groaning, he forced himself into a sitting position.

[i]Well, I'm in one piece. Let's see, I can move my arms, I can move my legs, I can move my ankles, wrists are fine, head's still on my shoulders...[/i] The self assessment went on for a moment longer until, satisfied that he was fine, Alistair stood. Unsteadily at first, he pushed to his feet, shaking his head and surveying his surroundings. He'd landed more or less where he expected, though he was a bit more northeast than he had estimated. The woods were just behind him, and a glance at the sky told him that that was where most of his peers had landed, or else they'd overshot it a bit. Satisfied, he turned his attention once more to his own status; Weapons intact, bones intact, no concussion... A few growing bruises, but that was it. Could have been much, much worse.

[i]That headmaster is psychotic.[/i] He commented silently to himself, though he had to admit that it was certainly the most exhilarating start to a test he'd ever had. Drawing Hell and Heaven, they both unfolded into their active forms with a satisfying swing and click. 

[i]Time to find a partner.[/i] He thought, plunging into the undergrowth. [i]Then move to the data caches.[/i]

[i]Hopefully Christopher's crew doesn't make an appearance.[/i]