Member
FallenTrinityBlair Van Zant
You would think a girl missing an arm would be ready for a worst-case scenario. You would think a girl that had a building come down on her could take anything life could throw at her.
Well space travel was a sucker punch.
Blair Van Zant, normally able to take anything, had a newfound hatred of rockets in her life thanks to the one she was on, hurling towards an orbital station in the Earth's upper atmosphere. She was in this predicament because, like the rest of the riders on this death trap, she was a black sheep among society, a Metahuman. Internal thoughts aside, her stomach was turning in every direction under the pressure of breaking through an atmosphere. Her biggest fear right now was vomiting- not because everyone would be staring at her, she got that enough thanks to the cybernetic arm that currently had the seat belt in a death grip. It was the struggle of disinfecting a gas mask, including the pair of filters on the sides. The station came into view, and got closer, and closer, an-
The reverse thrusters hit hard, catching her off guard and forcing her to lurch forward, barely holding onto her breakfast at that moment. The rocket slid into the station seamlessly, though the details were lost in her nausea. All she cared about at this point was finding the nearest trash can, and the sound of the airlock opening. Lucky for her, that came as she felt the motion in the cabin stop completely, and she immediately set to getting out of her seat. For a long moment, her shaking hands fumbled with the buckle on her chest, desperately trying to free her. The heartburn hit, the classic early warning to find something to throw up in now, and she thankfully got out of the contraption in time... only to try to stand up and immediately fall over onto her side. Yeah, she was that freshman.
"Hey, you alright there?" A smallish boy with messy, brown hair and glasses rushed over to the fallen Blair, getting down on one knee and propping her up. "I'm Travis, second year. And don't worry, happens to the best of the newcomers." He smiled brightly, coming across as the kind of guy to help anyone with anything.
Truly, she was shocked, and not electrically for once. This place was a stark contrast from Terra Firma, alright. "Well Travis, I'm Blair... ugh, shit... get me to a trash can, please? Or a bathroom? As long as I can be sick in it..." She was helped up and her arm was put on the smaller kid's shoulder, practically limping to the door. On the way, they passed a pair of African women that were conversing with a... frog lady? More preoccupied with a gut reminiscent of Chernobyl right now, she passed it off as some weird mutation caused by Meta genes. This was reinforced by the tiger-esque behemoth she somehow missed when she first got up. For a moment the pair paused, just at the door to the Promise proper. "Erm... Travis, unless you wanna have vomit on you... c'mon..." She choked back her stomach's first attempt to betray her, though time was certainly limited.
"Sorry, but it's a custom for newcomers to take their first steps on the station unassisted."
"This is some kind of cruel joke, isn't it?" The boy shook his head, giving her a pitied look. "Fuck... fine, let me go." She freed her right arm from Travis' shoulders and took a deep breath, putting her left foot forward to step onto the massive station first, as if to spite every ship captain she had ever read about. One step down, one to go. The right foot came next, shakily coming off the shuttle and onto the station, coming down to support the punk's weight fully. She started a slow move forward, stumbling and picking up the pace when her Holy Grail came into view; a trash can. She almost broke into a jog to get to her goal, using the wall to her left as a support. The second she was there the gas mask came off, falling to the ground beside her to reveal the heavy scarring across her mouth and cheeks, which immediately went into the trash can. From there, the contents of her stomach were released back into the world, painting the black bag within a sickly combination of green and red. Her head remained in the can for a few minutes to be safe, the aftershock of projectile vomiting slowly fading away from her system. She stood up, hands firmly on the edges of the barrel to steady herself while she took some ragged breaths, coughing every couple of seconds. "Ugh... who thought that was a good idea again..?" Giving one final cough, she bend over and picked up her mask, reapplying it and tightening the straps on the sides. Her appearance restored to normal and her equilibrium more or less back to what it was, it was time to explore the station. With a quick wave to Travis, who stayed back to help others off the shuttle, she was gone into the crowd.
Eager to see what the station had to offer now that her nausea had passed, Blair's first sight was a massive orange poster, partially written in Latin with rewards listed below, and a promise of trial by combat. She looked around and milled her way into the crowd, taking up some of the open space beside a much taller man. She read through the whole thing, giving time for someone that was apparently made of orange gel to come in and explain the reason behind such a tournament. When he finished, her gravelly voice cut in quickly. "I'm up for a challenge like this. But I wanna know, for Quinta, how's an ultimate winner decided?" Her left arm came under her chest to support her right arm, which rested under her mask in wait, her eyes trying to figure out exactly what she was talking to. She had a name at least, Archie. "I'm Blair Van Zant. Sparky if you feel casual." Beneath the mask, she gave the entity a friendly smile, the only hint of this being the edges of her face raising slightly.
