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One of the competitors quickly dispatches her opponent. In fact, it happened so swiftly and skillfully, you hardly blinked twice before it commenced and concluded. They shake hands.

The victor pulls her mask off and takes a hearty swig of water. She must’ve been practicing for hours, the way sweat rolls down her face and hair. Something about her screams out for blood.

“Is that the new sub?” she says, her voice sharp and authoritative. She doesn’t even look at you. But you know that she must be talking about you, since there’s only three people here.

“Hey,” the other sabreurs says, removing his mask. You recognize him as one of the people on Nate’s ‘hit list’. Jacob. One of the two people that your roomie successfully got to ‘Y’ status with.

“I’m Jacob,” he says, waving his sabre as a hello. Then he nods to the aggressive girl. “That’s Grace, team captain.” You give a polite wave and cautiously take more steps into the room.

“Holden!” Grace shouts, still not looking at you. She leans against one of the walls and squats, stretching her thigh muscles. It seems like she never stops moving, never stops burning like fire.