[color=lightgray][right][sub]Sometime between 6AM - 7AM

Introducing and featuring students: 
[color=873260]Phoebe Masterson[/color], [color=lightblue]Brenna Lancaster[/color] 
Light mentions of: [color=326400]Damon Day[/color] 
Includes teachers: [color=864300]Bishop Hardy[/color], [color=6b5abb]Rebecca Morgan[/color],  
[color=00748b]Eliana Lovelace[/color], and [color=b3ad94]Perseus “Perry” Creeden[/color]
 [/sub][/right] 
[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220916/d610a61c95abc6cee26f8c78619beb6f.png[/img]
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[img]https://i.imgur.com/i1VxrgF.png[/img]
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[sup][@LovelyComplex] & [@smarty0114][/sup][/center]
[indent][indent]On one side of the Arena, a CrossFit class was being held. Damon was showing a demonstration of a tire flip. Start off strong, make sure as you underhand grip, that your hands are placed on the treads. And lastly, power. Power is key. Drive up through your hips. Don’t use your back. This is a compound movement, a total-body workout. Build those muscles and get some cardio in too. When he watched the smaller people follow his lead, he nodded and moved to another group that looked exceedingly more fit. Walking past them, he went to the arch, gesturing for the few to follow him. He led them to a group of large boulders. They were regulars so they didn’t need a lesson and went straight to using their muscles to push the giant rocks. 

Instructor Bishop Hardy leaned on the coliseum bench, beside his coworkers, Rebecca Morgan, Perseus “Perry” Creeden, and a restless member of the Academy, who wasn’t part of the Department of Discipline & Management, Eliana Crowne, Lovelace, or whatever the fuck. He sipped earl grey tea out of a paper cup. This was the start of his morning, supervising the CrossFit class. As for the rest of them, well, it was becoming a weird tradition for the gym teachers to sit here and drink their tea, coffee, and coffee spiked with booze (looking at you Perry). Eliana was a surprising addition this morning, but nevertheless welcomed by the Crestview staff members. 

[color=864300]“Can’t stand this whole goddamn agenda you’s got going on,”[/color] Hardy glanced over at Eliana who was sitting two people away from him, [color=864300]“By you’s I mean your fucking family and all them special lineage motherfuckers. If people knew half the shit we knew. Fucking diabolical. Supes over here giving people false hope, and you’s over here enabling that mentality, making powerless pricks depend on the broken system. Don’t say you’s don’t think it’s broken either, Crowne. I see it. In your eyes. You know.” [/color]

[color=b3ad94]“It really is too early for this, Bishop. Like goddamn. I don’t come here to talk about philosophy or conspiracy or shitty people. I come here to drink coffee and wake the fuck up. Oh Becs, I love that top, who are you wearing?”[/color] The Crisis Manager and teacher of all things Crisis and Disaster related, took a sip of his coffee only to grimace and mumble, [color=b3ad94]“Not enough whiskey.” [/color]

[color=6b5abb]“Oh, this?”[/color] Rebecca Morgan looked down at her top, a flowing, black, silk blouse. [color=6b5abb]“It’s a gift from the hero days. Donatella was a big Aurora fan,”[/color] she said, sipping from her own coffee.

With her arms crossed, she listened to the two Crestview teachers in silence, while watching two girls on the other side of the arena, sparring. Eliana didn’t sleep the following night. She couldn’t stop playing back the night Crestview College burned to the ground. How unsettling it all was and felt. This wouldn’t be the first time something in Crystal Peak went down in flames and unfortunately for her, she was part of that fire too. Was this simply PTSD or was it something more? [color=00748b]“I wouldn’t say I’m enabling anything, Instructor—”[/color] 

[color=864300]“Bishop. None of that title shit.”[/color]

[color=00748b]“—Bishop. I can only speak for myself. All I can do is prepare these kids for the world they’re getting thrown into, to the best of my capabilities. No one, not even you, can dismantle years of history.”[/color] 

[color=6b5abb]“She has her points, Bishop,”[/color] Rebecca said, eyes still trained on the students below them. “We can’t raise the next generation to be a bunch of anarchists like you. Where would we be then?” She smiled and turned to Eliana. [color=6b5abb]“I take it Illuria is settling in well?”[/color]

[color=00748b]“As much as she can for her first week. Please do challenge her differently than the rest of her year.”[/color] Eliana uncrossed her arms and reached for her phone in her purse, having felt a vibration by her foot. [color=00748b]“With her exercise intolerance and insomnia, I do worry she’s going to pass out one of these days.”[/color] Grabbing her phone, she saw the notification of her uncle’s email to the student body. Quickly peering over it, the Dean's letter was rewarded with an eye roll. Placing her phone back into her purse, she returned her attention to Rebecca, [color=00748b]“My biggest concern with her is her outbursts when she feels cornered. Her heart can’t handle that.”[/color]

[color=864300]“Fucking Christ,”[/color] Bishop listened to Eliana explain her daughter’s conditions and took another swig of his tea. [color=864300]“Lots of issues on that one if she ever gonna’ break into the industry.” [/color] 

After downing his coffee, finishing it with ease, Perry clicked his tongue and dramatically proclaimed, [color=b3ad94]“Speaking of issues!”[/color] The trauma man, the grief counselor, the one that has a degree in emergency and disaster management, the sponge for all things fucking tragic, Perry gestured to the two girls sparring. Phoebe Masterson and Brenna Lancaster. [color=b3ad94]“Those two seem to be keeping their head above water. The fire really did paint them out to be the bad guys. Sad. They’re smart girls.”[/color]    

[color=6b5abb]“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about them too much, Perry,”[/color] Rebecca said, smiling as Brenna and Phoebe traded blows. [color=6b5abb]“Those two have never had an issue when it came to keeping up with the class, and I imagine they’ve grown used to some nasty looks.”[/color] Rebecca felt an attachment to all her students, but Brenna and Phoebe held a special place in her book. They reminded her quite a bit of herself at that age; strong willed and independent, with more than a few chips on either shoulder.  [color=6b5abb]“They have work to do, but I’m confident in both of their abilities, especially Phoebe’s. Who knows, if things continue as planned, this year’s graduating class could be the strongest in years.”[/color] Becca took another sip of her coffee. [color=6b5abb]“Although, since when has anything in our lives proceeded as planned?”[/color]

If you’re fighting for your life, there are no rules. Brenna Lancaster was a master at that but when facing Phoebe, her endurance could not compete no matter how many low blows she tried to attempt. [color=873260]“Come on, don’t half ass,”[/color] Phoebe pulled back with her bo staff, rotating it around her hands and then swiftly spinning it, passing it from one hand to the other behind her back. 

While this wasn’t Brenna’s preferred method of fighting, nor her first rodeo with her friend, Phoebe knew it would help the Ice Queen’s body overall. It wasn’t about who finished the obstacle course first. No, it was to see who could finish the combo first and with the staff, it was devastatingly quick in the right hands. Incredibly mobile, switching from high/low to low/high in a few simple motions, and when the sparring really got going, you could hear it whizzing in the air. 

Still, it wasn’t about the fight. Brenna was too offensive at times. This was about defensive fighting, especially when you were at harm’s way, which Brenna wasn’t usually. Not really. She had the safety net of distance usually at her side. The best form of attack was defense. If there ever came a time when their powers suddenly disappeared, would Brenna be able to protect herself? That’s what Phoebe Masterson cared about. 

To Phoebe, if you can master a stick, you can master other weapons easily, it simply depends on the amount of endurance you’ve built over time to wield it. Sure more archaic weapons and not guns, but relying heavily on the growing technology of the world would limit your potential. One should still learn how to use a gun, but if you didn’t have one and were left with just yourself, what would you do? How would you survey your environment? Could you take down the stronger opponent? 

At least through this training, she could teach Brenna to use all her force, again and again and again, and drive past resistance when her arms wanted to fall off. Any idiot can swing a staff, but a trained warrior struck with intention and never wasted a step. Phoebe didn’t expect Brenna to become a staff wielder when her friend alone was a weapon herself, what she did expect was for Brenna to build up her technical aptitude so her ice complimented her. Powers were just that. An accessory to who you were. Martial arts was all about balance. 

Poor footwork, bad stances, weak base.

Brenna was better than that. She was a queen, who fought alone, just like her, and they needed [i]no one[/i] to make the world shake. As quick as Brenna charged at her, she was back on the floor with a quick leg swipe, while forcing her friend back with the bo. [color=873260]“Okay, no more stick,”[/color] Phoebe threw it to the side and offered her hand to Brenna, looking at her with a smirk on her face. 

Phoebe was right. Brenna was better than that.

Brenna flashed a grin at one of the few people she called friend. [color=lightblue]“If you say so,”[/color] she said in between breaths, before gripping Phoebe’s hand with her right and yanking her towards the ground, while her left wrapped around Phoebe’s shoulder and shoved her towards the concrete, trading places with the older girl. Suddenly, the tables had turned, and Brenna was now straddling Phoebe’s back. [color=lightblue]“I do prefer it this way,”[/color] Brenna taunted.

The ice queen leapt up, stepping back in preparation for Phoebe’s own assault.  Her arms burned and her legs screamed, but her face wore a smirk that she rarely graced others with. Good humor was hardly her strong suit. Nevertheless, this fight had her thrilled. It wasn’t that Brenna lived to train, but she did live to win, and right now, victory felt close enough to taste. 

While Brenna was aiming to defeat her opponent, Phoebe wanted to overcome herself and all her limitations. One of her limitations was going too easy on her best friend. Like the element she learned to master, Phoebe became an accelerating burning inferno (metaphorically speaking) and quickly advanced toward Brenna. She lept in the air and went in for a full force kick and by seconds, Brenna dodged it and that’s when the fun began. 

With whirling circular blocks, quickness, and aggressive strikes from both her fists and legs, Phoebe showed no mercy toward her friend, which she knew she’d return the favor. And Brenna did, matching her energy and getting plenty of hits in return. Phoebe preferred this type of fighting, without powers. It brought out the best or worst in people. She liked to size her challenger up with how their body handled its environment. How their mind dealt with constant pressure hitting them. Over and over again. And how the person tried to overtake her. 

Truth be told, she was best with her takedown defense, grappling and apprehending, and the greatest thing about martial arts was it taught you humility [i]fast[/i]. But this wasn’t about winning, this was about tiring Brenna out. To see who would be the last one standing in the end. So, Phoebe would hold off on her strong suit, keeping herself in motion. 

Deadly serious, the Queen of Ashes showed her friend why combat fighting was not something to help her win, it was part of who she was. The very breath she breathed. Without her gifted eye, all Phoebe would have was herself and that is why the scale would be unbalanced between them and have a higher chance tipping in Phoebe’s favor. This was more than just a training session for her. This was her life. 

Brenna Lancaster was not one to give up. Even as she and Phoebe traded blows, she kept coming back for more, desperate to prove herself. To Phoebe, to the teachers watching, to the whole fucking gym. Brenna wanted everyone here to remember exactly who she was. 

As the two continued sparring, Professor Morgan and her colleagues kept their vantage point, watchful eyes looking down on the various matchups. She leaned over to Eliana, smirking ever so slightly. [color=6b5abb]“One thing you all should know about Crestview kids: they don’t go down easy,”[/color] Rebecca said, a touch of pride in her tone. 

And they didn’t. Five minutes turned into ten which eventually turned into twenty. They were drawing a crowd, even getting Damon to stop and watch. The dedication in these girls was admirable. If only more students were like this. Then again, a hero also needed to know their limits, which it seemed neither girls did. Or if they did, they were stubbornly trying to surpass them. 

As lovely as their fighting was to watch, it was almost approaching seven which meant soon kids would start trickling in for the early morning gym class. [color=864300]“Okay. They had their fun, now it’s time for them to get out of my arena,”[/color] Bishop was quick to stand up, ready to restrain them apart, knowing how stubborn they could be.

Instead, Eliana stopped him by raising her hand and smiled, [color=00748b]“I can take care of it.”[/color] Rising up from the bench, she turned to the Crestview team and concluded, [color=00748b]“Thank you. This was fun, and it’s amazing to see your students at work. I hope they like me!”[/color]

[color=b3ad94]“Oh Ellie, you’re one of the more bearable Academy teachers. I’m sure you’ll do just fine in the popularity contest. You might not get catcalled like your sister, but you care and that’s all these students need. Someone that cares,”[/color] Perry waved at the science professor, simultaneously bringing his drink to his lips. After a few more exchange words between teachers, Eliana was making her way to the arena, to the girls that were sparring. 

As she watched them go at it, she took in every motion they made, every breath they took, and every wince of pain they showed from getting hit by their comrade. For most teachers, this would be hard to keep up with but for Eliana she could see this playing out and even knew how it ended, if no one cut in. She knew who would win, and how they would. Her perception, her adaptive mind, and her ability to sync her actions in time with other’s made her one of the harder Crownes to take down. Reality was, rarely was Eliana surprised and when she was, they were usually out of her control and out of the hands of time. Not even the Timekeeper could keep track of everything because some things simply ignored time. Man alone measures time. Man alone chimes the hour. And because of that, it’s men that fear their own internal clock, running out. 

[color=00748b]“Excuse me,”[/color] Eliana cleared her voice, trying to get Phoebe and Brenna’s attention. After another minute, she realized neither girl was paying attention to their surroundings. They had been fighting for so long that they no longer were fighting as well as they could, because even heroes tire out. Stepping into the line of fire, knowing exactly where the two girls would hit, Eliana crossed her arms and waited for their blows to go into her, or to see if they were smart enough to pull back. 

Phoebe was the first one to notice the teacher and stopped her fist from going straight into Eliana’s face. Phoebe was surprised with how nonchalant and unexpressive the science teacher was, as if she knew neither would get a blow in even if they tried. 

Whether or not Brenna could’ve stopped herself is something only Brenna will ever know. Her fist continued on its course, a jab meant for the stomach though it found only air. As quickly as Eliana had appeared, she had dodged Brenna’s attack, effortlessly throwing the girl off balance. Brenna, unprepared for the lack of connection, stumbled forward, just barely managing to keep her feet under her. Breathing heavy, Brenna straightened herself and brushed off her clothes, quickly reverting from a warrior to a queen. 

[color=lightblue]“Where I’m from, Professor Lovelace, you don’t interrupt a fight unless you intend to join,”[/color] Brenna said, coyly toeing the line between playful and churlish.

[color=00748b]“That’s cute,”[/color] Eliana politely smiled at the Ice Queen, who was as unoriginal as they came, committing to the stereotype. [color=00748b]“Where I work, students can fight in the presence of a teacher and seeing how it’s almost,”[/color] She glanced at her wrist watch then back at Brenna, [color=00748b]“Quarter after seven, your instructors will be going about their day, as should you. You’re more than welcome to sign up for another session. But for now, it’s time to go.”[/color] With her hands clasped together, Mrs. Lovelace surveyed both girls, waiting expectantly.

[color=873260]“Yes ma’am. Sorry… we got carried away,”[/color] Phoebe answered first, in hopes that Brenna did not sass out their Physics teacher. Knowing her friend, Brenna always wanted to have the last word. Sometimes, she caused more problems than not. 

[color=00748b]“No need to apologize! I have nothing against that. If anything it shows your dedication. But I’m just doing my job and Bishop needs his arena.” [/color]

[color=lightblue]“We’ll get out of your hair then,”[/color] Brenna said. Phoebe’s answer had called her to heel. Whatever indignation she might feel towards her professor, she shoved it aside for the moment, and played the part of the prim and proper girl that so many expected her to be. 

The two girls stepped out of the ring, Brenna following Phoebe’s lead as they headed for the showers. [color=lightblue]“I don’t think I like her that much,”[/color] Brenna muttered to Phoebe. This couldn’t have been much of a surprise. There were very few people Brenna did like, and very few of them were people with any authority over her.

[color=873260]“Well you don’t need to like her, but you do need to pass her class,”[/color] Phoebe teased before hooking her sore and sweaty arm around Bre’s. [color=873260]“I’m proud of you. For a second, I thought you were going to spank me, but then I was like nah, the only person you’ll spank is your boytoy.” [/color]

Brenna smiled and shrugged. [color=lightblue]“Sometime’s he needs it.”[/color][/indent][/indent]
[hr][hr][right][sub]Nearing noon…[/sub][/right]
[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220916/25f261576c3267cfb616221db696c47b.png[/img][/center]
[indent][indent]The girls followed up their showers with breakfast and books. One week at Crystal Peak had already earned them more assignments than free time. They had holed up inside the cafe, coffee and pastries scattered around textbooks and notes. Admittedly, they would’ve been further along in their work, but Brenna had spent the last thirty minutes ranting about her boytoy. 

[color=lightblue]“It’s just like, what the fuck is ‘im busy’ supposed to mean? He’s busy? I’m fucking busy. You’re fucking busy. He’s just infuriating,”[/color] Brenna said, shaking her head as she began packing up her things. Regardless of how she might be expressing herself, it was obvious to most that she would be over this bump in the road sooner rather than later. Sometimes, the ice queen just liked to storm about.  [color=lightblue]“Fuck him though, let’s go play nice with the silver spooners. I want to beat Cashmore at her own game.”[/color]

Phoebe sometimes wondered why Brenna wasted her energy on Blackwell. While Abe was brilliant, probably too much for his own good, he wasn’t the best when it came to romantic emotions and communication, let alone transferring his attention on anyone else that wasn’t himself, and his work. Then again, Pheebs didn’t know him like Brenna did. Maybe somewhere deep down, he cared for her friend as a lover. Why else would Bre date him? Unless he was good in another department but ew, Phoebe didn’t need to vomit right now. 

[color=873260]“You like what you have with Athena?”[/color] Phoebe closed up her books, one being a leather journal for personal use. In this journal she had her thoughts and scribbles on the occult, with a section dedicated to her analysis on a couple of students that piqued her interest. When all her things were gathered, she turned her head sensing a familiar presence. A white raven. As she left the table behind, she lifted her wrist up for Milky “MK” Way to land on her. When MK settled herself, Pheebs gestured with her head for the bird to climb up her arm and rest on her shoulder. 

[color=lightblue]“She’s a challenge, at least. She’s smarter than the rest of ‘em. Don’t know how smart it is to trust a telepath though,”[/color] Brenna said, moving her face with a practiced and perfected coolness. Brenna would’ve been lying if she said Athena didn’t intrigue her, but there were no lies between her and Phoebe.

With a simple conversation through their eyes, Phoebe mentally asked for MK to hold her thoughts, likely the latest gossip of Crystal Peak, before bringing her attention back to Bre and earnestly admitting, [color=873260]“I feel like you’re going to find your place here before me.”[/color] Douglas and Brenna got the soft version of Phoebe, they earned it. If there was one person that always had her bitchmode on, it was Brenna, she was the Ice Queen after all. With Phoebe, she only needed to activate her raging inferno when she was protecting something she believed in or those she loved. Those she felt responsible for. Other than that? People simply didn’t like approaching her in the halls. People didn’t trust her easily. 

Maybe she was unapproachable, or maybe she gave off an energy that was foreboding. Dangerous. Maybe she was feared because people thought they’d get burned. Regardless of what it was, Pheebs knew this transition wouldn’t be easy. It took her most of her underclassmen years to get people to trust her at Crestview. Now it felt like she was back at square one, trying to regain trust, all because a rumor painted her to be the bad guy. 

To be honest, for someone who usually carried herself with confidence, determination, and strength, Phoebe’s tone showed her buried anxiety. Would she be able to keep it together? Or would she be ripped apart at the seams? Even strong people needed support from time to time. After having sat in a conference room, with people she barely knew deciding her fate, and a science professor protecting her honor  — the same science teacher that came in between her and Bre from sparring  — Phoebe wondered if this was even worth it. Would she have enough energy to finish this school year? Was all this pain, suffering, and endless struggle going to amount to anything? 

Her life was full of hardships and she wanted to keep going, she desperately needed to, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t tired. In addition to her exhaustion, the constant migraines, the sudden wash of negative energy, like depression but not really, and the endless thoughts from her hyperactive brain did not help. Phoebe knew where the moments of immense negativity came from, and it wasn’t from her, it was from the thing resting in her eye. She also knew at this point, her intelligence came with a price of never being satisfied, which meant she would compromise sleep if it meant she’d discover something new. 

Her need to [i]know[/i] surpassed every logical thought in her brain that told her to take care of herself. She hated it and yet she couldn’t stop. This was how she’s always been. This is how she’s survived this long. Still, Phoebe Masterson hoped her mind was playing games with her and that this new year wouldn’t be that stressful. That this year would actually be fun. She hoped, for once, she could catch a break or at least have something to look forward to. Instead, she played her role, as a leading figure at Crestview College, and continued to aim for the stars. That’s all she could do while so many people looked down on her. Aim for the stars. She had no other choice than to go high. If she didn’t, what would the board do to all these kids they did not believe in?  What would the world do if she didn’t break this generational problem of people being treated less than because a piece of paper, or their family’s history deemed them unfit? What would happen if she didn’t fight? 

Nothing. 

Nothing would happen. 

And that’s where the problem lies. That’s what she hated the most. That’s why she has to fight. [/indent][/indent][/color]