Rarity

Chapter 8

     "What. The. Hell?" I yelled, ducking behind a wall to avoid another blast from Brigette.

     "You're fine! Slow, but fine!" she replied, lifting her arms and preparing to send another fireball my way.

     I breathed heavily, my back pressed against the wall. At least they hadn't sent me in here in my jeans.I was in a tight black shirt with matching pants. The soft material was plated with something they called "dineel". It was apparently heat/fire resistant, waterproof, and helped to regulate body temperature. It helped you keep from freezing, burning, or overheating. Usually (I chose not to ask). Covering my head and face was some helmet that they thought looked "badass" but I honestly felt like an astronaut in. It was also black and has a small clear visor that covered my eyes. If I hadn't been wearing the suit, I'd probably have been ready to be served up with a side of barbeque sauce by now. Brigette was right about me being slow (Sprints had never been my thing), and I had taken countless hits. On the plus side, the Dineel reflected some type of bluish light and made me feel like some alien warrior. Well, an alien warrior with an astronaut helmet.

     "Can we please stop for today?" I pleaded.

     "Five more minutes! Quitting is for weaklings!" she shouted, hitting the wall next to my head with another flaming ball of death

     "And I am so, so very weak."

     "Oh my god, fiinneee" she huffed, reluctantly lowering her hands.

     I sighed in relief. "Thank god," I said, finally relaxing.

     "Well shit. I was really hoping that you would manifest. I'm not sure why you didn't but that my friend is a question for another time. I'm starved."

     Laughing, I pulled off my helmet, and stray hairs from my ponytail fell into my face.  I held the astronaut-esque helmet against my hip and followed Brigette towards the kitchen, which is where she seemed to spend most of her time. 

     "Ya know, you didn't do half bad for a rookie," she said over her shoulder, smirking.

     "That's nice. Good to know you were impressed by my mediocre running and clumsy dodging."

     "Hmmph. Ok, maybe you weren't the best. On the plus side, your ass doesn't look half bad in that suit," Brigette chuckled.

     "Huh?"

     "Relax, it was a joke. Anyways, you're not my type," she looked at me, once again flashing her signature smirk.

     I smiled back at her, quickly becoming distracted by the smoke coming from the kitchen.

     "-cking shit! Holy crap. oh god. OoooooooOOO GOD! Not what I planned! SHit! Double shit!" We heard coming from somewhere in the center of the grey smoke.

     The two of us exchanged looks and headed through the door, coughing as we made our way to the source.

     "Is that you, Jace?" Brigette asked, now covering her mouth and nose in the crease of her arm.

     "Yea it's me. You can leave! Nothing to see here! Just, um, cleaning the stove."

     "You're a terrible liar. You've never cleaned a thing in your life! Now what did you actually do? Please tell me you weren't trying to build another jetpack."

     "I was trying to make lunch. I don't know what happened." I bumped into Jace's back, making him fall forward. There was a string of curse words followed by the crash of pots and pans.

     "Sorry!" 

     "It's fine, it's fine. Next time watch where you're going."

     "That would be a bit easier if you hadn't made a campfire in the kitchen."

     "Here it is," I heard Brigette mumble, along with what sounded like a latch opening.

     "Ya coulda just opened a window," she commented, looking at Jace as the smoke began to clear.

     "Sorry, didn't think of it... anyways, does anyone want burnt lasagna? I've got a lot of it."