[b]Martin Chestnut-Feelin' it Coming in the Air-Tuesday Morning[/b]

Even putting the silliness of putting teammates together based on chance alone aside, this entire initiation ceremony seemed to be a lot more of a hazing ritual than any kind of school mandated function. Literally throwing a bunch of teenagers into the middle of hostile territory, teaming them with random total strangers, and then forcing them to fight for their lives didn't just appear irresponsible--it appeared downright ludi--

[i]THIS IS BULLSHIT[/i]

If Martin had had a little more time to think he could have gone farther, but there's not a lot of thinking that goes on when flying through the air hundreds of feet above the ground other than that focused on surviving.

Wind whipping past his face, Martin closed his eyes, mentally searching for the small, hard knot in the depths of his mind, that small slight voice that kept him controlled... And found it, grabbing hold and loosing it. His eyes opened again, his flight through the air seeming to slow even as he triggered his gauntlets into their active form. The metal digits extended over his fingers, whirring tighter, the Dust channels running through them aligning into functioning order.

None too soon. The forest was looming, despite the slowing passage of time. Martin fixated on a single branch, the one he was hurtling toward, extending both arms upward, bracing his Aura against the hits he was about to take. He snagged the limb, joints wrenching and Aura struggling as he shifted his velocity back so he was heading mostly upward, trying to take the force out of his horizontal momentum--and blazed back above the canopy.

[i]Well, that went substantially better than expect--[/i] 

Martin's thoughts were cut off as he reached the apex of his arc and started to fall into the canopy again, this time going almost directly downward. His gauntlets loaded with Dust as he started to near the ground, a clap and a downward push sending a blast of air Dust away and slowing his fall. Two more blasts and his supply was exhausted--but he was only five feet from the ground, a fall he could easily take. He landed, knees bending to take the impact as he fell into a crouch, finally standing and brushing himself off. He'd looked as graceful as a drunk pigeon in the air, arms flailing, and he was entirely out of Dust... But at least he wasn't dead.

A sigh. Now to find a partner.