Round 3: Taylor / Hazelton vs. Jung / Waterson

Matty tried to ignore the howl of the storm that seemed nearly deafening to him. His blue eyes focused on the team across from them. They didn't seem too threatening, which wasn't realiable, but would make it harder for him to bring himself to battle. They had made it out two rounds somehow. Only because of Jules. He shot her a nervous smile and said, "Do you think we can make it out of this one too?" She seemed more keen on winning than him.

Now this reminded her of home. Flickering lights, rattling windows, old and dusty and dingy. It was a miracle they had any power at all, but she had to wonder if that was more for the sake of the spectators—you couldn't see the blood and gore very well if it was pitch dark. Poppy flinched away from the constant dripdripdrip of the roof, scrunching up her nose from the cold splash. "Crud..." she moaned into her jacket sleeve, wiping her face. "This place sucks."

She'd made it through one round after they let her skip the first. That was a fluke. If they managed to do it again, that wasn't just another accident. That was divine providence, or something. The last thing she wanted to do right now was fight anybody to the death, but they'd already made it this far, and now she could feel the threat of failure hanging over her, nipping at her heels, forcing her mind into fifth gear.

High alert. She actually had to take this seriously. Ugh.

Just let me winnnnn... Shiznit. If she'd known she would have to put in this much effort...

They'd already come this far, after so many other competitors, actual serious competitors, flopped on their faces. Poppy looked over their next two rivals, the only two things standing between them and, crap, the actual championship round. The boy was a good most of a head taller, but something about the girl was more menacing. Maybe it had to do with the giant spear in her hand.

And this place looked like it was going to collapse on top of all their heads without any of her help. She cracked her knuckles (or tried to crack her knuckles—she just kneaded at her fingers for a good two or three minutes before giving up and letting her hands fall to her side) and let out a low, nasally breath, accepting the storm of hurt that was about to hit her.

Anne-Marie didn't expect to make it this far. Facing Chip and Riley had proven to be quite the challange, but now they were nearing the end and the fights were getting more and more intense - or so she would think. She hadn't fought in the first round, given a freebie alongside with her partner, but she could imagine people who had made it through two rounds didn't want to lose when they were so close.

"Relax. I think. Actually don't." the small girl put a hand on Poppy's shouler, half to comfort her nerves, half to steady herself on the shaking floor. This was far from the serene gardens they fought in before, and her heart sank just looking around. Looming shadows, hanging pieces of the ceiling. The painted lines on the floor, resembling a basketball court, reminded her this was supposed to be a school. Anne traced a finger over her crossbow, repaired since the incident with Riley's knives, to comfrot herself and take her mind off the nightmarish image.

"Let's get this started." He said lowly to Jules. This was the third time he was being forced to fight against people he had to quarrel with. It was getting to be old. Matty had one objective now: to do all that he could to help Jules. She was tough enough for the both of them. Without her, they would not have gotten this far. The girls that stood across from them seemed young and cute, but that did not mean their powers weren't deadly. Matty had learned to not judge anyone by their looks since this whole thing had begun. As soon as the match was called, he rushed forwards without hesitation. Reaching back to grab the quarterstaff now was beginning to feel like second nature. He loved having the smooth wood in his hands. It made him feel capable. How far had he come from the first match where he had simply cowered next to Jules, save for a few moments of bravery, only swinging around the staff.

That was no longer him, at least not in this tournament. He had been beaten, and bloodied, and bruised, and nearly lit on fire in the last round. The desire to not hurt anyone would only hold him back from ending what was about to happen. The harder he fought, the more he meant it, the sooner someone went down and another round would be over. Even if they lost, Matty wanted to throw in all the effort he could for Jules. She deserved that much for putting up with him as a partner. The Summer found himself shouting as he raced towards his first target. His staff swung with more precision than before, aiming for Anne's knees to attempt to knock her down. The next blows went towards the stomach and then the head fairly quickly. Handling the wooden staff only became easier and easier.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins and he threw all of his body into hitting his target. What strength he did have was all thrown into each area he aimed for. Because of the drive, he failed to notice who he was going up against. After a few moments of looking down at her while he stuck, the recognition hit. Matty's stomach dropped. It was the girl from his first day. Oh no... what have I done? He had actually really like her; she had been sweet and helpful on that first day. Conflict swept through him. But, devotion to his partner won out. After the tournament, he hoped none of this would effect their relationship. The sickening feeling still churned in his stomach, but his attacks did not let up as he stared down at her and tried to forget what he was doing.

"Fffffffff—..."

There wasn't any time to think about it at this point, really. She supposed she could stand around weighing on the burden of fighting and killing and the cost of victory and yadda yadda yadda, but as soon as the signal came to start, her whole body screamed to just MOVE. Poppy took off running, sweeping past Matty as he came barreling toward her partner, old chafed sneakers pounding against the creaky floorboards. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. Every step rang like thunder. Halfway toward Jules, splinters shot up around her feet, leaving craters under every shoe print.

She tensed up, power coiling up in her legs, and pressed off, shooting forward at bullet speeds on the last step. Poppy twisted, corkscrewed, limbs flailing like a ragdoll, and at the last second, swiveled her legs around in a wild jumping strike, trying to knock the girl straight in the chest. High velocity loli.

Anne's turn from eyes cautiously watching their opponents to preparing to face Matty. She recognized him as the guy she helped around on his first day. He seemed much more different than the kid she'd first met, a smiling and gentle guy - he wanted to win this badly. The small girl focused on his moves, a look of worry flashing on her eyes as he brought down his quarterstaff towards her knees. The Summer shot back, the sturdy wood knocking against her left knee and shooting up a pang of pain, telling her the boy wasn't fooling around. She'd dealt with Riley, she could deal with him.

She ran, afraid he'd catch up to her from behind, with another one of his blow hitting her back as she spun around to flee, leaving her breathless for a few seconds. Buckling all of her stremght into running, the girl scrambled under the bleachers through a narrow gap. Luckily, she fit with her small frame through the space, hoping Matty would have to go around to get in. Anne-Marie pressed against the wall, dust covering the place around her. She hugged her elbows, her gift shooting a refreshing feeling through her body, solving the numbness of the places the boy had struck before scrambling to grab her crossbow in case he was coming for her.

The sick feeling in his stomach only worsened with the sound of his staff connecting with the younger girl's flesh. As soon as this was over, he planned on apologizing profusely, and even then he already knew the guilt of his current actions would weigh over him for months to come. This was not him. Matty was growing increasingly terrified with the side of him this death match of a tournament was bringing out. He had never seen himself like this. Normally, he was the victim. For as long he could remember, kids had picked on him at school and he would simply take it. Any sort of physical attack had been in self defense. But now, this was far more than self-defense. His guilt in failing his partner and not doing all her could to help her outweighed the horror of what he was watching himself do. Because the knowledge of it being a simulation was not pressed in the back of his mind, everything felt that much easier. Even so, if he could be like this in a simulation, who knows what he was capable in the real world.

Matty stared after her as she ran off and hid under the bleachers. Even though she was smaller, because of his bit of training in running and long legs, they were probably equally fast. His thoughts stopped him from immediate pursuit. He watched as she scrambled to hide away from him. Oh god, how wrong it felt to be the source of one's horror. Swallowing his deeply rooted hesitation, Matty followed after her. Once more, he reminded himself that the sooner one team was down, the sooner this would be over and murdering each other for fun would then wait for the next year. He wanted out. As soon as he realized all this had entailed, he wanted out. But, he fought for Jules now. She was tough; she wanted to win this, at least that was what he thought from what little she had expressed. The girl inspired him to keep on fighting past his boundaries. If she could be that strong, he could only attempt to match even a tiny portion of it. He was fighting for more than himself.

Assessing the bleacher situation, Matty quickly realized his tall and lanky frame would only be slowed. It was an awful idea to pursue her. His hands gripped the staff tighter and he thought about a solution. The longer she was under there, the more likely she was to heal herself. Day one had made sure he knew what her gift did. It hit him then. The boy's dark eyes glanced down at his white knuckles. His hands seemed to hold the key to the power that lay somewhere deep inside him. After the match with Pepper, his fears about it only being a mistake had been dissolved. Even if he had no idea what it meant or what to call it yet, those too large, bony fingers seemed to hold the secret. He fastened the quarterstaff back onto his back. Hands held high, Matty pushed at nothing, aiming for the bleachers where Anne hid. Nothing. He tried again, attempting to throw his whole body into it. Still nothing.

"Shit." Well, that plan didn't work. Matty continued to swear softly to himself as he refocused his mind on his physical weapon. Having no control over his ability only served to work against him right now. His gaze traced the outline of the bleachers and he decided to try running around to the back to get her back in his sight lines. The first thing he noticed was the addition of her crossbow. Matty made sure to keep an eye on that at he rushed towards her with the stick out, swinging again to some of the places he had attempted before. His goal was to dart in and out of how close he was. The closer he was, the more dangerous it would be. If only my so-called powers would lend me a hand right about now... was all he could think as he swung away. Hopefully, Jules was having better luck than him.

It was more sheer luck that she didn't skewer herself on the thing five seconds into the match than any kind of lightning reflexes. Pain slashed up the side of her pants leg, ripping up along the skin from ankle to hip bone as she went careening into Juliette. In her head, she'd imagined some Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon type maneuver. In practice, she might as well have launched herself out of a cannon. Her breath exploded out of her with the impact, tumbling to the ground as she smacked against that flesh wall. Red droplets scattered across the dusty floor, dimly reflecting the flickering lights.

"Eeeek..." she hissed under her breath, grabbing at where the blade had grazed her. She'd gotten off lucky, but that didn't make it hurt any less. Poppy didn't waste any time licking her wounds, pushing herself up to her knees, pinching a glass marble between her fingers. She already felt sick...

Anne-Marie watched through the slits that filtered dim light as Matty tried to push the bleachers down unto her. It paralized her for a moment, the tension gripping her and making her breath quicken. She'd made herself an easy target, but luckily her enemy was unable to crush her that easily. As soon as he began trying to get around, the Summer shot outside in the opposite direction, his staff hitting her in the side again and knocking the breath out of her. Dazzled, the girl ran on, eyes wide. Fingers crossed, she spun around on her heel and fired a bolt at the other Summer, not waiting to see it connect before darting off again until she reached Poppy's side.

She hadn't seen the exchange, tension and Matty's shadow obstructing the view, but it was clear her partner wasn't doing alright. The small girl sent a strong kick towards the hand Jules was gripping the knife with, hissing violently. She'd almost completely forgotten of her pursuer by this point, but might've just prevented the premature murder of her partner. "Push yourself upwards!" the preteen ordered Poppy as fast and clear as she could, even thought she was panting and she could feel a nasty bruise forming where Matty hit her, turning her stomach.

This was too close, too personal. She realized, too late, that this would be a whole different ballgame than slapping Chip's pigeons away. Poppy let out something like a choked shriek as the dagger came flashing toward her, reeling back just as Anne came barreling in, growlin' like a frickin' panther or something.

Push up.

Poppy shifted around as Jules went to yank Anne by the arm, pressing the flat of her shoe against the floor, and—lift off. She went springboarding backwards at an unnatural height and squeezed the marble between her fingers. It cracked from the pressure, split down the cat's eye, and fired out in a million itty bitty pieces. Grain-sized chunks of glass went blasting out from her hand, raining hellfire from down above.

Blammo.

He was rushing towards her when the attack came. Thankfully, he noticed it enough for it to miss anything too vital. Unfortunately, it still connected with the skin on his arm. It stung like hell. Being punched up at school was far different from having your skin slashed open. Matty grimaced. He was slowed for a second by the wound, but quickly drove himself forwards to chase after her. He could not lose his target. He needed to do everything he could to make sure they made it out. Matty would not sit by this time and watch them lose. His eyes settled on the trio as they went at it in the middle of the field.

They were on Jules. A sense of duty overwhelmed him as he rushed towards the pair. Poppy was throwing herself back through the air and firing her glass shrapnel by the time that Matty was able to concentrate his powers. He couldn't stop the glass, but he managed to thrust Poppy back a little bit further with force, knocking the girl off balance. All he could do was hope that Jules made it through the glass bullets that were raining down on her.

Oh. Crap.

There wasn't any way to explain it except a sudden force, an unbeatable invisible pressure, shoved her back unnaturally through the air just as she'd started to come back down, like the blast from a hurricane wind. Poppy hit the floor like a sack of bricks, the room spinning around her, vision doubling, but she only had eyes for the limp little bundle of pink and red Jules was flipping over onto the ground. She winced. Less out of pain, more out of the sheer embarrassment.

"Aw, man..."

She was going to lose. She knew that much. It was a niggling, unignorable, cold fact hovering somewhere in the back of her skull. But when she should've just tapped out and called it quits, she stood up on shaking legs, whirling on her heel, flicking a marble out from her sleeve.

P—ching!!

The bullet whistled past Jules as she charged forward and struck the wall in an explosion of dust and splinters. Wind howled through the new opening in the gym facade, flooding the creaking shack with cold air. Thunder boomed, echoing throughout the empty space, loud as a cannon blast.

Blood trickled down the side of her face, streaming down her cheek like raindrops. She could taste the iron on her lips. Poppy ran her fingers through her hair, matted and sticky where she'd hit the ground. All she could think right now was how woozy she was, and how much the gash up her leg stung, and gosh dang it, how if she wasn't going to win, then she at least didn't want to go out like a punk.

The ceiling creaked, bowed, bent, moaning as debris rained down from the roof.

She hadn't missed. She'd gone for the support beam.

With one last ear-splitting CRACK!!, the roof caved in over the three of them.

Occ: oh look. Ripped IS posting. And she still had time prior to your

Panic rose up in Matty's chest as he watched the roof cave in. All he could do was stare with wide eyes as it came down on him. In fear, his hands rose up to try and protect them. Use the force, Luke. Was all he could think as he attempted to save himself and his partner from their impending doom. It would have been funny if he had really any control over his power. But, the humor of the thought was lost in the moment.

Matty concentrated all of his fear and mind on pushing it away. Energy blasted from his hands. Only a bit of the structure and pieces were thrown to the side or delayed. The rest came down. Matty fell back and was pinned under shingles anf roofing beams. His chest felt tight as the weight pressed him to the ground. Every inch of him seemed bruised and he struggled to move. But, he was not knocked out yet.