Editing Warhammer High (section)

===Practice with Cora===
The rest of the afternoon had passed in haze after the events of the morning and the news that lunch brought. The raven-haired girl looked up into her open gym locker and sighed. She finished tying her sneakers and stood up, adjusting her practice jersey with a few gentle tugs. A quick gaze around the locker room revealed that only a few girls had yet to finish changing, practice would be starting soon. Quickly folding her clothes, she placed them inside and shut the locker door. Cora hurried out the locker room door and jogged out onto the gymnasium floor. Most of the girls had assembled on the far end of the court, while a few were still joking around while they waited. It seemed the cheerleaders were practicing today too, Cora noted, seeing Victoria and the rest in their own training gear stretching near the band section. Cora quietly fell in at the end of the line, no one had yet said anything to her, save for a smile from Freya as she approached.

“Doin’ alright?” the daughter of Russ tempted.

“I’ll be better when we start,” Cora responded, a bit more coldly then she meant. She sighed and then noticed Freya‘s shiner, “Sorry, how did you get that black eye?”

“Eh, I got hit by a Thunder Hawk, I won though-- ANYWAY, Miss Gloomy, you won’t be waiting long, at least,” she said nodding to the top of the nearby bleachers. Had she not known who was there, Cora would of looked. As it was, she simply started stretching.

“LISTEN UP, MAGGOTS,” came the blaring call of the assistant coach, “STRETCH ROUTINE, BEGIN!”

Perhaps not the most subtle of assistant coaches, Kell certainly had the volume to command respect. The old stiff-neck was as unforgiving as he was loud and never seemed to lose any enthusiasm for both faucets of his leadership style. Starkly opposite to Kell was the head coach, who was directly to his left. Since taking over the program, Ursarkar E. Creed had made every state tournament, won numerous championships, and had never failed to make a surprise entrance. As far as Cora could guess, the coach had probably rigged some kind of rappelling gear from the ventilation ducts high above. That, or he had been hiding under an unassuming backpack in the bleachers everyone had failed to see, each was equally likely given the circumstances. Creed cracked his trademark smile as he bit down on a new cigar, unlit for the moment. The two then seated themselves at the top of the bleachers, preferring to watch from the vantage point, Creed always claimed it gave him a tactical edge. For a moment, Cora wondered if the coaches were even aware of her punishment.

Turning to the fore of the gym, Cora noticed Isis had taken her position in front of the team and had begun to call out different stretches for them to copy. Together, the team counted out the familiar motions, they followed the routine to the letter almost everyday with few exceptions. After a short while, the players paired up for more involved stretching. Freya and Cora took turns stretching out the other’s calves and hamstrings. As Freya lied on her back upon the gym floor with one leg raised, Cora pressed it forward gently, noticing that the cheerleaders had started to practice their tumbling. Changing off with Freya, it was Cora’s turn to be stretched. The stretching was feeling very good to Cora, after a rather tense day she felt herself slowly unwinding and the familiarity of the routine was, itself, comforting. The weight on her shoulders seemed to slowly be lifting and she was playing with the idea of just falling asleep there.

A blaring whistle robbed her of any possibility.

“ON THE LINE, MAGGOTS!”

The team stood up and ran to the nearest court line. Another whistle marked the start and each girl immediately began to sprint forward. The cyclic running lasted for about ten minutes when the “last round” whistle blew. Each player redoubled her efforts and tried to make the last run their fastest. Though no slouch, Cora certainly wasn’t the fastest of the team. That title probably went to Angela or Isis, but Roberta was always quick to claim that she was a better distance runner and, if the rumors were true about her toned legs, Freya could run as long as she could stay awake. As the team finished their running for a short breather, the cheerleading squad took the opportunity to run through a new routine, which was rather impressive and completed with only a few minor mistakes. The timing and coordination of all the flips, throws, and jumps was very involved and something Victoria was always very proud to claim as due to her natural ability in the subject. By the look on her face now, however, Victoria seemed quite displeased and berated a few of her squad for their sloppy timing. In truth, Cora could agree with the reasoning, but not with the execution, it just wasn’t the way she would run a squad.


As the break finished, Cora noticed the volleyball nets had finished being erected by a couple of the teams managerial servitors and the girls began to split up into the sections, divided by the more senior and junior players and then further by starters and the rest. The starters would take their places on one side of the net and the others on the opposite, cycling through so the starters always faced relatively fresh opponents. In theory, a starter could be challenged for her spot, but the lineup had been solid since the start of the year, the other girls content to sub in or start when a player was indisposed for a game. Cora had to keep reminding herself not to go to her usually spot, which Freya now took. Furia hadn’t shown, as Cora had expected, honestly, and Petra filled in the open position with Roberta to her left. It certainly wasn’t a weak team without her, Cora calculated, but it wasn’t optimal. Russ was a natural athlete, but she was better up front and Petra was the stronger pairing for Remilia and wasn’t as experienced up close. For all this, it seemed that the coach was at least willing to rubber stamp the lineup, he had hardly even made eye-contact with Cora since practice had begun and she wondered if it was intentional. In the back of her head, she knew what she had to do, even though it would probably do more harm then good.

She had to prove the numbers wrong, the team was far weaker without her, more so than Isis had considered.

The whistle sounded and the scrimmage began. The starters always had the disadvantage and Cora caught the ball passed to her, it was her serve. With a quick wink from Farah and a nod from Venus, she knew she had a solid team of her own, but this was going to take a lot of effort on her part. She quickly glanced over the starters for her first target, settling on the most obvious. Petra was a fine player, but she was the interloper in this sense and was missing her knee pads for some reason. The plan formed in Cora’s head and she immediately put it to action. She tossed the volleyball high and stepped forward jumping to meet it before it had begun to come down. With a hammer blow she sent it rocketing downward over the net and outward toward the line. Petra anticipated, but hesitated, certain it would go wide. The ball slammed the ground a hairs width from the line.

Ace.

A few of the starters traded looks and Petra seemed to realize her mistake. Freya was visibly stirred, her instincts unsure how Petra had let that one go. The ball was returned to Cora and she readied herself. Another leaping hit and the ball, again, soared in Petra’s direction. To her credit, she didn’t hesitate twice, but instead dropped to her knees, a move she would regret, and hit the ball into the net. Petra rubbed her knees as she stood up and Freya fumed, she was showing very little patience for her replacement. As if on cue, Cora watched Freya take a few steps forward, attempting to shore up the deficiency in her eyes. Such was according to plan. The stare on Cora’s face was as cold as Valhallan ice when she lined up and it was directed straight at Petra, who, despite the setbacks, seemed only more determined than ever. Their eyes locked for a moment and Cora repeated the motions again. The ball shot forward, Petra dropped, and Russ moved to back her up, realizing the trap too late. Freya knew the ball would over shoot her and Remilia hadn’t yet noticed her being so far out of position. With trained precision, Freya spun on a dime and dove to keep the ball in play. She reached out, but was mere inches short and the ball bounced off of the court. Petra regained herself and shot a look at Cora, Freya was now visibly miffed. Cora considered another shot, but decided against it, it was better to let Freya stew and keep Petra on her toes. Reverting to a more docile attack stance, the next volley was less hostile, lasting several bouts until Isis finished with a fantastic spike on a perfect set from Angela.

A few points traded back and forth later, Cora had perfected her next plan. Freya was set to serve and Cora knew what was coming. A thunderous blow that could shatter bones sent the sphere hurtling toward the spot between her eyes. Reacting fluidly she deflected the shot high and motioned to Venus, who knew her part. With a set the match of any other person on the team, Venus left the ball hovering lazily near the net. Angela moved to block and Cora charged the net. Angela was, perhaps, the most gifted of any of the girls in terms of sports prowess, Cora would need a bit of luck to pull this off. As it was, she knew Angela was prone to go with her gut instincts more often than she ought and preferred up-front confrontation, Cora was not going to allow this. As Cora jumped to spike, Angela leapt to block, perfectly in the way of the ball’s path. At the last moment Cora did the unexpected, she tapped the ball with her hand upwards, just above Angela’s natural reach. The angelic visage turned to one of agony as he stretched her fingers, only managing to graze the ball on the way past. Isis was sent reeling and only barely managed keep the ball from the ground, but sending it back over the net. A strong hit from Farah followed by another set from Venus and Cora again charged. The starters were off balance, but braced for the impact. Cora spiked the ball and caught Remilia on her off foot, a rare mistake for the defensive star, but one Cora couldn’t pass up. The ball hit the ground. Another point.

Substitutions were called and Cora jogged off the court. A couple of the starters seemed relieved to see her go, a few more than just a bit angry, and one simply stared. Compared to her victory conditions, things were going well enough, she supposed. She toned down her assault but kept the pressure on every time she was called in, scoring a few more points and earning several sour looks. However, her main goal was still left to be achieved.

Isis hadn’t become the team captain by accident. Her abilities were enhanced by natural gifts and trained to a keen edge. Where Cora could count on her finesse, Angela her raw talent, or Freya her athleticism, Isis was a blend of each and, though she wasn’t entirely certain, Cora would not have been surprised if she exceeded each of them. Simply watching Isis play was a learning experience, like watching a sword master dismantle an opponents defenses or an artisan crafting a masterpiece. Her shape, her very movement was beautiful, but not in a classical sense. Certainly, Cora thought, it was the same beauty one might see in a fine blade or bolter, elegant, yet rigid. Beautiful, but deadly. She had yet to be truly bested on the court, her instincts were rarely wrong and she had enough natural ability to cover any mistakes with ease. Thinking very long and hard, Cora locked in to studying her, nearly missing her call to re-enter the game.

The clock on the wall revealed that this would probably be the last volley and Cora’s last chance to complete her mission. The last obstacle would be the greatest she knew. Despite playing solidly for the entire scrimmage, Isis showed no sign of wear, only a light perspiration from her extortions could be seen on her face. She swayed as a predatory animal might before assaulting its prey and her movements were as crisp as ever. Ideas swirling in her head, Cora tried to find an approach that could possibly work. Knowing she didn’t have enough hours in a day to wear Isis out or even enough room to order a lance strike safely, her options were rapidly deteriorating. This was turning out to be more of a mental exercise than a physical one, she chuckled to herself, it was enthralling. After a long day of uncontrolled experiences, this duel of wills was a blessing in disguise. She took her spot, still focused on Isis, as Freya stepped forward to serve. The berserker champion of the team was no more tired than she was when the game began and the serve rocketed toward Cora with all the force of the first. Her mind raced and her body reacted batting the ball into high arch. Venus adjusted her footing and squared off for a set. Venus nodded to Farah who immediately prepared to charge. To Cora’s surprise, Isis reacted. The team captain came forward to the net, abandoning her position to block the inevitable spike and finish the scrimmage on her own note. The iron-fisted spike of Farah was among the most brutally powerful of the team and the captain was allowing no chance for it’s success.

It was then Cora found her answer and, as much as she hated it, she knew it would work.

Bounding off her back foot she charged forward toward the net. As Farah jumped, she was followed shortly by Isis, and, by less than a blink, Cora. The great plan depended on two factors: One, she was faster than Farah, and Two, Isis held Cora’s devotion to the team in high regard. On the first, Cora was almost positive, the second wasn’t as clear, other factors were at play and it was too late to properly guess their effect. The last moments of the scrimmage was a do-or-die scenario, not optimal, but acceptable.

Even as the iron hand of Farah was beginning to descend, Isis knew where the ball was going to go. She knew because she had seen it play out in her mind over and over. Farah was strong, but crude in her form. Perhaps she wouldn’t go as far as to call it simple, but it was predictable. Her hands together and as flat as she could make them, Isis was in the perfect position to block. There were no surprises left, nothing that could change the outcome. All was to her will and soon it would be finished, in her favor. Cora’s little vendetta would fizzle and the captaincy secure an unquestioned. She smiled, it was just the way as it was intended to be.

While thoughts of victory filled Isis’ head, Cora focused only on the ball. The time to strike had come. With a precise impact, Cora knocked Farah aside, the iron hand still descending for the ball. With a lightning fast strike, Cora contacted the ball and gave it forward motion. It was directly beside Isis’ head when the team captain realized she had been out-maneuvered. Never, not in a thousand years, would she have guessed Cora to go to such lengths just to prove her wrong. She watched as Farah’s hand came down hard on Cora’s back and the two fell awkwardly, crashing to the ground. Managing to turn her head from the scene, she saw the impossible. The volleyball impacted the ground exactly where Isis had been standing not five seconds before and bounced away, the other starters as astounded as her. Her own landing was awkward and she stumbled, trying to catch herself, taking another incredulous look to the other side of the net.

Cora hadn’t seen the result, she even missed the look on Isis’ face. The daze of Farah’s hit was still smarting and she tried to help Farah up after regaining her feet. Perhaps the most confused of all, Farah accepted the help and then begrudgingly took her hand away when she began to realize what had happened, so hurt by the act that tears had started to form in her eyes in anger. Cora searched for an apology to say, but was cut short by the end of practice whistle. The team seemed hardly to notice, until they began to walk to the locker in ones and twos. Farah turned and left in anger as Venus chased after her, sparing a look at Cora that seemed to ask “Why?” Isis seemed in a daze and slowly walked to the other side of the gym, sparing not a word to anyone. Roberta was the first to speak to Cora.

“What are you trying to pull?! Do you think you’re special or something?!”

“I just wanted,” Cora started, “to sho-”

“Shut up! Are you a moron or something!? Isis went out of her way for you! Bile wanted you off the team and she stuck her neck out for you! She stopped him from just kicking you off the team outright! She cared enough about you to risk our entire season!”

“’I didn’t know that! She never told me-”

“Do you really think she would!? After all the crap your dad’s went through, after all the fights you two have had, do you think you really would have believed her? On top of all that, you disrespect her and the teams decision and nearly hurt a teammate to do what? To prove you’re good at volleyball? Newsflash, moron: We knew that! Had I been the captain, I would have used you until they removed you from sports entirely, but you know what? Isis should have done the same damn thing for all the crap you pulled today!”

Cora was stunned, she didn’t know how to respond. As Roberta stormed off, Cora was left speechless.

The silence was only barely broken by Coach Creed.

Who was right behind Cora.

The old coach leaned forward and whispered so only she heard, “Do you think you accomplished anything?”

“I don’t know,“ she said. Cora felt tears coming on. The dawning realization that she had made a terrible mistake all the more clear.

“I’ve commanded many armies, coached many teams, mentored many people. Sometimes, the ends justify the means, but rarely does it make the fallout any easier.”

The young girl swallowed hard, almost not realizing the coach was already gone.

“How the crap does he do that?” Freya asked, ducking under the net and approaching Cora.

“I’m sorry…” was all Cora could managed as she looked down at the floor, her tears starting streak her cheeks and falling to the ground.

“Ah, no big deal,” Freya beamed.

“Why aren’t you mad at me?” Cora asked, unbelieving.

“I know you were right about this whole thing sucking. I think it sucks too and, personally, Isis having her feelings hurt doesn’t bug me that much. Farah’s a tough girl, her pride is the only thing that’s hurt, just give her a Baneblade or a Land Raider to play around with and she’ll probably forget the whole thing happened. As for Miss Perfect, she’s just upset the ball hit her in the face, that was funny.”

“You’re wrong, I was wrong…very wrong…” Cora started to cry.

“Come on,” Freya comforted her, placing her arms around Cora, “it’ll be fine.”

Cora embraced Freya and squeezed tightly. Despite her over-simplification of everything, Freya was being truly empathetic and it was very comforting to Cora. She spent another good minute crying before she could compose herself.

“That’s better!” Freya smiled, “I know what you need, how about a good 40k run to relax a bit?”

“Maybe not that far…hey!” was all Cora could manage before Freya started dragging her around the court.

The two ran together for sometime, long after everyone else had left, Cora was sure. To her surprise, it was strangely relaxing, it at least let her mind focus on other things. She felt very at ease around Freya, she was happy to have her close by. It was similar to the way she felt with Kiara or Morticia, but neither of them practiced or played sports with her. Freya had shown her true kindness and friendship in her own special way and Cora was glad to count her as a friend. Cora realized it was getting to be late and she would need to go. Freya was showing no desire to stop and she felt a little bad ducking out before 20k were finished, but she needed a break. She leaned in close to Freya.

“Thank you.”

She split off as Freya continued making laps and jogged for the locker room. She entered to see that locker room was as deserted as she expected, her bag and locker untouched, thankfully. The sound of running water came from the showers, but she expected it had just been left on from the rest. She quietly undressed, removing her practice gear down to her undergarments. It had been a good workout, but a shower was very much in order she giggled to herself. She removed her bra and slipped off her panties, placing them into her gym bag. She was about to grab her hygiene products when she heard the running water abruptly stop. Cora instinctively turned and looked toward the showers. She watched as the door slowly opened and Isis stepped out staring numbly ahead. Cora was instantly struck by her appearance. It wasn’t the first time she had seen one of her teammates naked, but it was usually short and fused with an air of humor or embarrassment. As it was, Isis had little to be embarrassed about. Her still wet body was amazingly perfect, her smooth skin, tan skin unblemished, the well toned legs and arms connected by her thin, flat stomach and shapely breasts and full hips. She seemed to lose herself for a moment before realizing Isis was looking at her and her own pale, exposed body. She felt herself turning red and she reached for her towel on the bench, quickly covering herself. Isis made no comment and began to dry herself, seemingly content to not say a word to Cora.

Her embarrassment was replaced by sadness and Cora felt the urge to say something, anything to her, even if just to try. She searched for words but, again, found herself lacking. Her eyes fell to the floor and she felt like crying again. When she looked up, Isis was in front of her, garbed in only her towel.

“You surprised me,” Isis spoke, not coldly or cynically, but sounding genuinely hurt.

Cora’s mouth trembled, “I’m sorry…I didn’t kno- I didn’t think…”

“I suppose we’re both to blame though, aren’t we? I backed you into a corner and you lashed out in defense. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing, I just didn’t expect you to do the same.” Isis reached out a placed a soft hand below Cora’s chin, slowly lifting her head to meet her eyes, “There’s a tough girl behind the tears after all.”

Cora felt ashamed and a lone tear slowly drew down her cheek. Isis gently wiped it away and moved a lock of Cora’s hair from her face to behind her ear, gently stroking her head.

“If you’re really sorry,” Isis began, “Study hard. Get help, if you have to. Stop Bile from meddling in things that aren’t his business. If you can do that, I can have you on my team again, we can be a team again.”

Cora felt excited as Isis drew her in and the two embraced. They released each other and Isis began to change as Cora walked to the shower, neither saying another word. By the time she had finished, Cora saw that Isis was long gone. She quickly changed and voxed a short message to Kiara and Morticia.

She needed to unwind from the day’s events and she needed her most trusted friends to do so.