Round 2: Morgan Laiten vs. Preston Andrews

When Morgan appeared in the simulation, she began to look around, studying the station they were in. Very different than the snow covered forest from before. Graffiti covered the walls, the tile floor was littered and cracked, but she felt comfortable here than in the cold.

Having learned her lesson the first time, Morgan had made sure to have a back up plan. Two knives hidden at her ankles, and she clutched brass knuckles in her hand. They appeared to be glowing faintly red in the florescent lights of the station. But then again, that could just be a trick of the eyes.

On the bright side, she thought idly as she waiting for the fight to begin, nothing could be worse than a literal 40 foot dragon. Right?

Another pretty girl, another pretty face. He was going to come out of this tournament feeling like a wife-beater.

It was cold down here, it stank, and the complete emptiness gave off a somewhat creepy vibe to him. This place looked like it was supposed to have people rushing through around the clock, but instead it was just him and this girl. He eyed the metal over her hands, making a small note over them. If he could help it, she wouldn't so much as touch him. Preston smiled, spinning around his glaive dully in his hands, one end resting on the pavement.

"Not much for talking, are you?" The young man mused with a small smile. "What a shame." He felt like he'd seen her before somewhere, but he couldn't place a finger on it.

Morgan looked up as he spoke to her, surprised. She smirked, but said nothing, preferring to keep the silence going. She wished she could prevent her cheeks from heating up, but knew she couldn't do much for that. Once the battle began, however, she completely forgot about blushing over awkward conversation. That glaive would be a bitch to deal with, and if she could help it, she'd get that out of the way. Her advantage would be in a fight without weapons.

She raced forward under the pretense of having the first hit, moving in close enough to focus her energy on heating the glaive in his hand up, hoping to make it too hot to hold.

Preston let out a small laugh, running a few fingers through his hair and admiring the way her cheeks began to burn a bright red, the same shade as her hair it seemed. He thought for a time that maybe there was a chance for a bit of chit-chat after all. The last girl he had faced in a match striked him as the dark and silent type too, but he'd been wrong about that. He was just being hopeful. As soon as the signal went off, sounding the beginning of the fight, the chick's entire demeanor changed.

It had almost caught him off guard how quickly she had taken off, sprinting towards him and seemingly making a reach for his weapon. He took a few steps back reflexively, pulling his glaive back along with him. And yet, despite the distance between them, he could feel the cool metal in his hands turning warm, uncomfortable so - even for him. His blue-green eyes stared the girl down. Was this her doing?

No matter. He tossed the glaive away from him towards the wall and, with a few well timed shocks, magnetized the steel to his own hand - just enough so his fingers barely grazed the surface. And shit, since she was now this close to him, he swung it back towards the girl with the intent to hit her from the side with the blunt length of his glaive.

When he tossed the glaive to the side, Morgan smiled triumphantly. She hadn't actually expected to pull that off. Sure, it had taken years, but lately Morgan had begun to gain a small grasp of control on her power. While she still couldn't prevent herself from burning people, she could now will things around her to heat up as well. She still thought it would be better if she had power, but maybe with this progress, she could eventually control herself. At least, that was the goal.

When he tossed the hot glaive to the side, she moved in, aiming a punch at his jaw. Being this close to him, it made her even more vulnerable when he somehow brought the glaive back to his hand and swung it into her. She let out a gasp and tumbled to the floor, wind momentarily knocked from her. Shit. How did he manage that? Was she ever going to get a break?

Knowing that on the ground she was just asking for an attack, she kicked her leg out, linking her foot behind Preston's ankle and pulling forward, hoping to bring him down to her level.

It fucking worked, but it didn't work as well has he would have liked. He tried to duck out out of the way as soon as he saw his fist flying towards her, but he wasn't quick enough, not was he fast enough to puff out his cheeks and detour the metal sheathing her knuckles. Preston let out a groan, taking a step back and grabbing his jaw. The Autumn wasn't down and out yet, but he might've admitted that it left him light headed for a moment - and that hurt like a bitch.

Whilst he tried to get a grip of himself, Morgan had shot her leg out, hooking around his ankle and sending him flying to the floor. Precariously, he let his arm stay out, balancing this weapon on the tips of finger - lest it fall with him and he end up with a nasty stab. Wouldn't that be a shitty way to go? Stabbed by his own blade. "You bitch," Preston laughed, a strange contrast with the scowl on his face. He wouldn't stay still for long and give her the time of day to do as she'd liked.

With a flick of his wrist, he sent his glaive flying towards her, stabbing into her or the earth - whatever it met with first. He, meanwhile, rolled the other way - scrambling to get back up onto his feet.

Morgan's scowl matched his own, but as he fell to the ground she couldn't help but smirk. Morgan seemed to have a talent for making things difficult for people. Still, the smile was quickly wiped off her face as the glaive came rushing towards her. Her eyes widened and she rolled to the side, quickly stumbling to her feet, standing as Preston stood. She look at the glaive, where it pierced through the floor, cracking the tile where she just was. Looking up, she smirked again. "You asshole."

With his weapon out of the way (for now), Morgan felt slightly more comfortable in attacking head on. She wasn't 100% sure of his power yet, only the fact that he somehow could handle a weapon without actually touching it. Her best bet was telekinesis, but she didn't want to assume or underestimate. Now that they were standing, she moved forward quickly, aiming another hit at his face, this time with her opposite hand. She felt flames begin to lick away at her fist and arm, casting a red light over both of their faces. That way, even if he dodged her hit, she figured the flames would at least catch him enough to hurt like a bitch.

In the sweet world of his mind where everything went right, she would been impaled there on the spot, the simulation would have ended, and he would have been home in time to start supper. Instead she'd rolled away from him the same. Although it was a miss, it had bought him some time.

He was ready for her now, keeping light on his feet as she thrust her fist towards him again. Only this time, her own damn hand had burst into flames. No matter, he weaved out of the way anyways, her fire licking against his skin. It was a passing burn, grazing off him. Shit, was this her gift then?

Lightning was easily ten times hotter than your average flame (it was why he could never use his precious gifts in the kitchen, tragically). So long as she didn't get a firm grip on him, he should have been fine. Probably... But with that logic, chances were his gift wouldn't do much against her as well. There was only one real way to find out.

Preston snapped his fingers, raising his arm up and pulling his weapon out of the tile and back to him, the sleek metal soaring over her shoulder. With his other hand, he stepped forward, pushing her forward with the flat of his hand - electricity surging against her; wherever he may reach first. He was aiming for the titty.

Morgan was really starting to hate that stupid 'come on command' glaive. It was going to be a real pain in her ass. More so, he seemed to be mostly unaffected by the fire still burning at her hand. Really, it was just her luck to face two people in a row her power was practically useless against. Just her fucking luck.

She didn't have time to avoid Preston's hit, and it ended up hitting her in the chest. She felt a strange surge of something, and when she realized what it was, it all pieced together. Electricity, then. Technically just heat on steroids, and while his attack still hurt, it didn't short circuit her heart or anything, like it might have done for someone else. If anything, it just pissed her off, she stumbled back, grabbing his hand with her still burning one, digging her nails into his skin. "Perv." She tugged his arm, pulling him towards her, and then shoved her knee up hard into his groin. Fair is fair, after all.

Preston gritted his teeth as she reached out, grabbing and getting a snag on his arm. The longer she held on, the more it began to slowly eat away his skin, but that wasn't what had him in hissing in pain. Once he realized his suspicions were confirmed, that he couldn't entirely rely on his power, his glaive was back in his hand, ready to strike her down. As she held him there, there wouldn't be much room for her to run away from him. It had seemed like the perfect time to strike.

He had been anticipating another punch, or a strike from the side, but he sure as hell didn't see that kick of hers coming. The young man didn't think anyone would actually resort to that kind of crap. He keeled over, seething through his teeth and feeling suddenly noxious. Pres probably would have preferred another punch to the jaw then. "You fucking bitch!" Lightning surged from him all at once in what was almost an explosion, lashing out at everything in sight.

It came and went in a flash, and he'd decided then and there he wasn't going to care how well they gone along afterwords. Despite the burning pain, he twisted his own caught arm around, getting a firm grip on her himself and pulling his glaive back, still awkwardly crouched over, but it made no matter. With a quick aim, he thrust the large blade of his glaive to her stomach.

Morgan covered her face as electricity hit her dead on, making her hair stand on end. She coughed, trying to step back as Preston caught on to her arm, pulling her forward. In that moment, she realized she probably had made a mistake. She saw the glaive coming towards her, and she did her best to fidget away. Preston was still crouched over and weak, so she was able to pull away, but not before the glaive left a deep gash in her side. She winced as she stumbled back, clutching her side, her own blood painting her hands. 

She studied the cut, the way it ripped the material of her uniform in a thin line leading to the wound on her side. If it had hit where he intended it to, she'd have been bleeding out on the floor right now. Regardless, it was still deep, and though she applied pressure to it, her body was now a ticking timebomb. She knew that glaive was going to cause problems, and she hadn't been wrong. Spitting out blood, she grinned at Preston. "Sorry about that, but all's fair in love and war, right? Hope this doesn't put a damper on our friendship." That was the most she'd said this whole fight. While she spoke, she willed her body to heat up more and more, until flames began to eat away at her uniform, covering her skin until she was consumed by the flames. It was a strange feeling. Her fire was soft against her skin, moving as if it was a part of her. Already, she could feel her energy draining quickly, but this was her last ditch effort to actually do something. She wasn't even sure if it would effect him. She moved forward again, stumbling a bit as she charged forward, tackling him to the ground.

He jerked his glaive back, watching her stumble and grabbing at the her newly opened wound. It wasn't what he was hoping for, but shit, was it ever-so satisfying to see anyways. It was a wonder that she was still standing so cheerily, smiling as she spit out blood to the floor, although he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. His blue-green eyes narrowed as she spoke, flames slowly begin to engulf her entire body, eating away at her clothes. "Friendship? I can't tell if you hate me or you're coming on to me..." Preston mused blandly, holding his glaive by both hands, waiting for her next move.

This chick sure had a thing for the straight forward and uncanny. The entire girl had come rushing at him, throwing her entire weight behind her tackle. Pres, still not completely recovered from her beautiful last hit on him, had went falling back along with her. Her flames began to burn away at him and his clothes, with only his weapon to push back against her to try and keep her at bay. He found it harder and harder to try and breathe in that short time. The Autumn began to kick at her with his knees, currents sparking along the length of his body to try and fight back her fire.

Finally, when he felt like he had her someway at bay, he jabbed the length of glaive over, hitting her up in her neck and jaw and throwing her off of him, albeit ungracefully.

Though the first was still going strong, Morgan's world was beginning to spin from all the energy she put into it. She'd never actually done this before, and was surprised that she'd held out this long. Grinding her teeth as she held Preston down, she reached out and grabbed at his neck, choking him with what little force she had left. Maybe she could end this. Maybe she could kill him before she passed out. It was unlikely, because she already feel herself fading out, but just maybe...

She felt the hit in her jaw, throwing her off of Preston. Ungracefully, her body tumbled to the side. Her fire was dying down, and she laid there on the tile of the station, her eyes closed. If she had just held on a bit longer, she could have won. She knew she could have. Regardless, it was too late, and she drifted off, a ring of ash settling around her body.