[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/MJO2qSh.png[/img]
[color=8882be][h2]Young Black [s]Freyja[/s] Helios[/h2][/color]
[@Crimmy] [@Write] [@Ayazi] [@NarayanK] [@Silvan Haven] [@Guess Who] [@Ryonara] [@Abillioncats] [@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN] [@Lucius Cypher][/center]

[color=8882be]"Hu-uh."[/color]

Lauren's noise of curiosity came as she used her Scroll as a mirror for how she looked with a pilot's hat on. It looked alright enough, if a little crooked on her head. That was alright; it looked better on her than a train conductor's disguise, even if this didn't come with an obnoxious whistle that she could blow in people's ears to distract them. What does one do if a teenage girl is an obnoxious asshole and blows a whistle in their ear? They scream and curse at the girl. They demand to see a supervisor. They gleefully crow how they'll "wreck" your "job."

It's usually a while before they check their wallets.

Lauren wasn't as good doing service jobs on an airship as she was on a train. She was much better at the flying part - and pilots didn't get a lot of free time to make easy money off of robbing irritated passengers. It was too bad, because there were way more cute girls on airships than there were on trains. Airships were for girls like Stella. Trains were for Stella's great-great-great-grandma Barbara. Rattling on about the alliance with the Atlesian always made the trains run on [i]fucking[/i] time. Longing for the days that a girl on the wait staff wasn't quite so [i]fucking uppity.[/i]

[color=8882be]"[i]Huh huh.[/i]"[/color]

Lauren grinned wolfishly and leaned over the command console, resting her knees in the seat of the pilot's chair and supporting herself with her arms. Picking up the controls again was like stealing a bike; it all came back. 

Beryl Harken had made them a solid target, so Lauren's hands glided along the touchscreen to make the ship glide in turn. It touched down on the sands, closest to the exhausted hydrokinetic Faunus, and Lauren leaned up from the console to dust her hands in satisfaction. She slipped over the side of the chair to walk back along the length of the cockpit, towards the hatch directly behind the entrance. A single pull-up did the job, allowing her to stand directly atop the hull again - though this time after a considerably less stressful arrival - and stare down the length of the beach.

[color=8882be][i]So much for that bonfire, you dumbass marks.[/i][/color]

Why did no one think through spending all their efforts on a blaze five minutes before a monsoon? Or a fucking [i]leaf yurt?[/i]

[color=8882be][i]Holy fucking shit.[/i][/color]

Guess everyone had spent so much time allowing Vacuans to die that nobody had picked up any of their survival tips.

[color=8882be][h1]"ATTENTION ALL CANDY ASSES!"[/h1][/color]

Lauren held up her axe to the darkening skies, her giant berserker grin unfazed by the wind howling through her hair, or the rain whipping against her black tank top.

[color=8882be][h1]"THE PILOT IS DEAD; LONG LIVE THE PILOT! EVERYONE PLEASE BOARD THE SHIP IN AN ORDERLY MANNER! NO CUTTING IN LINE, NO PULLING EACH OTHER'S HAIR! CRISS CROSS, APPLESAUCE, SPOONS IN YOUR [i]FUCKIN'[/i] BOWLS! COME ON, GANG, Y'ALL LEFT ENOUGH BLACK FOLK TO FEND FOR THEMSELVES IN THE JUNGLE, YOU AIN'T GONNA DO ME LIKE THAT! [i]SANGUE![/i] WHERE'S MY SANGUE?"[/h1][/color]

[hr]

Of course, Lauren found her Sangue in short order, and the whole class class - to a student - was in the airship outracing Stella's programmed monsoon. They had survived Survival.

When the simulation ended, it was Lauren Negasi, her new weapon in her hand, who was grinning the widest.

[color=8882be]"What would this school be without me?"[/color]

[color=8882be][h1]FIN[/h1][/color]