[h2]The Race Begins[/h2]

Ignorant of all that transpired in the halls and outdoors of Beacon Academy, the clocks ticked steadily onward.  For some, they went about their business far too slowly.  Each moment was another reminder of things lost, or of things never found, and these thoughts weighed down on their souls like shackles.  Others did not acknowledge the passage of time at all, so involved were they in reunion, cooperation, or some similarly smile-bringing activity.  At length, the clocks' ceaseless march brought their faces to display 9:40 AM, and the dutiful PA system throughout the campus came alive in a sputter of static.  The speakers did not play in the dorm rooms out of respect for those who would be loathe to appreciate any kind of attempt to pull them into the school's holiday events.

“Attention, ladies and gentlemen!  Competition #1 will begin in five minutes!  If you are participating, make your way to the starting line at Beacon's Outdoor Activity Center and get ready to race!”

The voice that delivered the announcement was hard to place.  Only a few would be able to identify it.  At the OAC, a young man stood up from the stooping position he'd occupied to speak into the receiver of the broadcast device, an anticipatory smile on his face.  At his full height, he ascended farther still by virtue of his massive blonde pompadour—a towering pillar of stylishness.  With the race soon to start, he reached next to the portable PA receiver to grab a large, professional camera from the tabletop.  As he hoisted it into his shoulder, he used his free hand to grab a clip-on microphone preset for only the speakers in the Activity Center and attached it to the lapel of his white suit.  He glanced around at the people already present and, figuring that it would make a good introduction shot, shifted his camera into position and pressed 'record'.  “Good mornin', people of Vale!  Flax Fulvous here at Beacon Academy's first-ever School Holiday, and we are t-minus four minutes to the beginnin' of the first big show: the grand obstacle course!”  He swept over the first stretch of the course, taking in its various parts.  “Stuffed fit to burst with all sorts of mechanical platforms, tricks, traps, and other goodies, it's ready and waiting to put the dexterity of Beacon's most limber blokes 'n birds to the test!”  Flax then panned over the loose crowd of people already present, both near the bleachers and the food tables.  “And 'ere we have a sneak preview of some of the competitors, wrappin' up a bangin' breakfast and headed over to the startin' line.  Who'll be runnin' the course?  Who'll come out on top?  Who knows?  But rest assured I'll be here to cam every moment of it!  See ya in a mo'!”

With a beep, the camera was off, and Flax breathed a sigh of relief.  He had managed to get the intro done in one take, by some miracle.  One would think that being lauded for his coverage of the destruction of a rampaging Ogdoad, and getting a promotion as a result, would directly correlate to greater skill, but Flax did not yet feel as if he'd filled those shoes.  This morning would be as much a trial for him as it would be for the race-runners, for while they tested their limits in a no-holds-barred sprint for the finish line, he would have to keep up and keep his camera focused, all while providing commentary and not ruining his goofily professional image.  Though a little nervous, Flax was mostly excited.  It wasn't an opportunity many got in their lifetimes, so he was going to use it to the fullest, without worrying too much about putting on airs.  After all, who could fault him for being himself?

Three minutes later, the competitors lined the checkers on the ground that demarcated the race's elevated starting platform.  Professor Goodwitch was in attendance, a disinterested look on her face as she stood by the sidelines with her signature riding crop in her hands.  The open layout of the track provided the students the chance to look ahead and see what was in their immediate future.  A straightaway lay right in from of them, giving them the chance to pick up speed.  Then the ground dropped away, becoming a sizable pit that signaled a long jump.  At the bottom of the pit was a pool of water, deep enough to break the falls of anyone who shorted the jump, and crouching on a disk suspended above the pool by a pipe was none other than Flax Fulvous the cameraman.  To his left and right were two pairs of ropes that could conceivably be used to propel an especially long jumper even farther, and give a sizeable advantage.  On the other side of the pit stood a sloped incline that, while not hard to land on, would dramatically cut the speed of any who didn't approach it right.  A climbing wall rose just beyond it, which the people who landed on the slope would have to fully ascend, but on which those who swung by rope would have a chance of attaching themselves more than halfway up.  What came after was hard to make out at this distance, but some horizontal metal bars could be made out by a keen eye.

Goodwitch looked up from her watch.  In her clear voice she shouted, “Listen up!  No jostling!  No use of weapons!  You may use your semblance only once!  Understood....?  Racers, on your marks!  Set!”

She cracked her riding crop, its sound splitting the air.  “Go!”