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*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Today could not have gone worse.
It starts out with Sidra punching me in the face, then stabbing me in the thigh, then cutting my forehead open. When I begin to fight back—like actually fight back with my magic and everything, I find that I have severely underestimated her.
She can fly, apparently—didn't know that! Her reflexes are way better than mine. She can manipulate light and shoot it at me.
While dodging rays of light, I wonder what she is where she's from. While ducking under the blade of her sword that takes a swing at my face, I wonder why she's not the Grandmaster's Grand Champion. Then I wonder how deadly the Grand Champion is if they're even better than this lady. They've got to be a monster.
I dodge another of her strikes and roll across the dirt. If I could get the high ground on her, I could jump onto her shoulders and use Natasha's Thighs of Death chokehold.
Her elegant, long sword takes a swipe at my side. I throw up a shield of green magic to deflect it, then thrust my hands out in front of me, hitting her with a wave of magic. It sends her flying through the air, then skittering across the ground. Sadly, it's my first triumphant hit I've dealt on her.
I make a mistake by glancing up at Loki in the VIP lounge. His expression looks neutral to most, but I've become very good at reading him lately. His frown tells me he doesn't like how much I'm showing off, especially since the last two fights I've fought, I've won. I'm going to have to lose this one.
But the only reason I'm showing off is because I'm trying to stay alive. The second I give up or go easy on her, she's going to attack me. The moment I get distracted, she'll get me. Like right now.
The hilt of Sidra's sword hits me in the head and I black out.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
"You've clearly never had formal training."
I open my eyes to find Loki sitting in the chair across from me. I'm in my room, lying across the couch. the tops of my arms are compressed with wraps, covering where she burned me with light. I lift my hand to my forehead, feeling of the stitches near my hairline. The cut feels a lot smaller than I thought it had been. On the other side of my head is an ice pack, pressed against the tender spot Sidra hit me with the hilt of her sword. In my thigh are more stitches, holding together the skin of the slit in my leg. My entire body aches like I'd been thrown around the arena.
"I was trained by Captain America and the best ex-Russian assassin/spy in the world," I say defensively.
