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[h2]Physical Education
[color=ed1c24]Red[/color] Team: The Side with Slightly Less Initiative[/h2]
[@Crimson Raven][@Norschtalen][@Abillioncats][@Kaithas][@Plank Sinatra][@Krayzikk][@HereComesTheSnow][@FlitterFaux]
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It was time.

Breaking huddle, the two teams set up positions on the field. Blaine walked up to the midway line with a solemn grace unfitting of his size, one foot in front of the other. Scooping up a red brace, the faunus cinched it tight against his left ankle. The less he gave the opponents to catch onto during marks, the better.

Squaring up behind the line, Blaine felt his nerves clutching at his mind, sinking their claws into his stomach… He closed his eyes, took one deep breath, settling his mind into a smooth corridor of stone, one goal, a start and a finish. There was victory on the opposite side, glory and a good impression and possibly lunch, it had been a while since breakfast… But no, he had to focus on the task at hand! Right now, he had one job, and one job alone: get the ball from one side of the field to the oth-

The whistle gave a shrill blast. Trad was in the air already, his well-defined musculature sending the ball screaming towards Selena. Both teams were already moving, Blaine’s moment of resolution costing him the first heartbeat of action. Swiftly, his eyes rocketed back open, his head swiveling to follow the ball. Others were already moving, Selena was soaring in the sky with the composed grace of a particularly confident dodo from a catapult, Krysanthe was bolting down the pitch for a catch, but Selena was hesitating, eyes flitting around the pitch. The defenders were doing their jobs, just as Blaine knew they would.

Blaine was a simple man, generally quick on his feet, and the rules were exceedingly clear on what happened when someone was tackled. He could jump after her, but he knew that speed was her forte. That being said, if nothing was done, she would pass and the moment would be gone, the ball well on its way towards the dreaded [color=0072bc]Blue Team's[/color] first six points.

Unthinkable.

Thinking quickly, he made his decision. The shoe was worth it.

With the precision of a well-oiled machine, the student lowered his bulk to the ground, lined his foot up,  braced his right foot against the back of his left shoe’s heel, dug his toe into the turf, and felt his aura drain as he activated his semblance.

A loud popping noise signaled his launch, his shoe exploding from a size thirteen to a ten-foot long elevator, the rapid expansion paired with the thrust from his right leg launching him bodily towards his silver-haired opponent in the same trajectory as a graceful, one-winged eagle made of lead and dreams. It wasn't pretty, but it would get the job done. If she came from a catapult, he would enter the field from a cannon, the school-issue footwear falling off like the first stage of a rocket launch, falling back to the earth at its normal size with an anticlimactic [b]thud.[/b]

This was for the Temple of Iron. 

[b]This was for the [color=ed1c24]Red Team![/color][/b]

[h2] This was for [b][i][color=ed1c24]FOOTBALL!!![/color][/i][/b][/h2]