Chapter Text
It was early evening in Mayet City, and Cleo was looking out of her bedroom window towards PYRAMID's main academic building, tapping her fingers against the windowsill.
If Akila were here, she would definitely ask why Cleo was doing such a thing (that being, actually sitting still! Cleo never did that)—which was why Cleo was glad that Akila wasn't here. She wanted to keep her thoughts on one thing and one thing only.
Or rather, one person.
She checked at her tab's clock app, counting the final seconds until 10 p.m.—
Bing.
Her dorm room doorbell rang.
Right on the nose. Like always.
Cleo grabbed one of the retracted plasma staffs from the weapon pile stashed in a corner of the room, walked over to the door, and pressed the button beside it.
The door slid open, revealing a pink-haired girl, sporting the same weapon, and wearing a competitive smile. Cleo matched it—and she and Callie nodded at each other in unison.
Finally.
It was time.
Midterms were coming.
Cleo and Callie knew this. Everyone in PYRAMID knew this. However, Cleo and Callie were, to their knowledge, the only ones actually hyped for them.
Well, okay, themselves and Khensu, but only because he liked seeing students having zero fun whenever possible. Oh, and Akila, too, but she really really liked the book studying part because she was a weird and massive nerd.
And then also Bri—
you know what let's try this again with a bit more context
Midterms at PYRAMID—a government-backed academic institution for training galactic military peacekeepers—had two halves to them: a written portion, and a combat portion. The written portion was vital to the reconstruction of humanity as a whole: ever since Octavia had ripped and burned the universe's information to hoard for himself, the phrase "knowledge is power" had taken on a bit of a life-or-death bent to it. People like Akila, Brian, Khensu and even Pharaoh Yosira herself—again, the universe's biggest nerds, as far as Cleo was concerned—knew this better than anyone, and Cleo was appreciative that they were willing to take on those mantles.
Because Cleo's strengths, she knew, lay elsewhere.
And that elsewhere was making sure that she got all up in evil's grill, close and personal, right before making sure that evil stayed down when she hit it. In other words: yeah, the combat portion. The fighty bits.
Cleo loved the fighty bits. To way more of a possibly unhealthy extent than even she liked to think about. Sometimes.
Which made her happy when she found out she wasn't the only one.
Cleo stepped into PYRAMID's oversized gymnasium—the same one used for sporting events, where Cleo basked in the roar of cheering spectators as she scored lightball goals.
There were no spectators tonight, however. Bit of a killjoy, but she'd take tonight's alternative any day of the week.
That alternative stood at the other side of the gymnasium—a bit smaller in appearance at the present moment given her distance away, but that wouldn't be for long. Even given that distance, however, Cleo could easily make out Callie, her plasma staff already extended and at the ready.
She watched Callie open her tab, tap holographic icons which projected in front of her...
…and the view changed.
The gymnasium was no more. In its place was an arena, made entirely of stone, surrounded by glistening blue water which crashed in fierce, white-capped waves around the arena's circumference. There was ample space to maneuver, but not so much that one didn't have to worry about their surroundings or position. In addition, Cleo and Callie now stood atop small stone peaks, located at the arena's extreme ends.
Both girls walked down the makeshift stone steps mounted in front of their peaks, towards each other… until they were close enough to meet each other's eyes, upon which they paced in a circle, never breaking their gaze.
And twin gazes of challenge made themselves known once more.
It had taken some time, some misunderstandings, some hard conversations—oh, and one fight-to-the-almost-death, as is customary for the foundation of any healthy relationship—but Cleopatra and Callie had finally found enough common ground to start interacting with each other without things constantly devolving into a fight.
However, funny thing: in the midst of all their fighting, they realized that they both… loved doing it. Just to do it. It didn't matter why, or against who, whether they were alone, against each other, or even against a common opponent. After comparing their Academy combat scores, concluding that the two of them were miles ahead of the rest of the student body and in a class by themselves, then successfully putting that conclusion to the test in a few spars…
...after that, they decided to try making it just a regular thing. And it didn't take long for them to agree that it was the best idea the two of them had ever come up with.
Given Callie's brusque personality—to say nothing of her general reservations towards the concept of "sharing"—it was sometimes hard to get Callie's full perspective on things. But for Cleo's part, she found the temporal native to be a perfect and always available rival who always managed to match her move for move and give her a complete run for her money darn it it was a full time job just staying one step ahead of her and she was actually failing at it more than she'd ever like to admit punching bag whenever she wanted.
It was a match made in galactic paradise. Not just in combat, but in everything. They'd even raced here on dueling hoverscooters, for crying out loud. With no one in the halls, and Khensu asleep in his room and thus none the wiser, Cleo couldn't have been happier.
Until exactly now.
They'd been planning this particular fight for days, after Callie had told Cleo about the gym's newly installed holo-chamber functionality. Built to reduce PYRAMID's need for full-on cross-system field trips to Replicamp, access to that functionality's controls had been handed to Callie, and Callie only, amongst the students.
For reasons, of course. Biased, familial reasons. Which Callie didn't want to go into. But which Cleo already knew.
Tonight wasn't the night for bummers, though. It was the night for going all out. Cleo extended her plasma staff, twirled it over her head, then propped it on the ground with her right hand as she went into ready stance. "You ready?" she asked.
Callie huffed her hair to the side, standing her staff vertically on the ground as well. "Hell yeah. Let's do this."
"I mean, are you reeeeally ready?" Cleo asked, her expression playful. "Because I did prep some new tricks just for tonight, so if you wanna pack it it in now and save yourself the embarrassment, I'll totally understand—"
Callie tightened her grip on her plasma staff. It crackled, visibly and audibly, overriding the low light of the holographic sunset surrounding them with its own reddish-pink sparks, illuminating her features, and making it seem as if she were powered by an inferno behind her. Cleo had to admit, it was a look she liked almost as much as her own.
"Yeah. That's not going to work on me. Not anymore," Callie said.
"Huh." Cleo blinked, her playful expression disappearing in an instant. "Okay."
Clang!
No sooner had Cleo uttered her last syllable than she was in Callie's face. It all happened within the space of a blink, thanks to a honed personal speed that Cleo was always proud of.
But within that same blink, Callie had also reacted—her eyes narrowing as she raised her staff in front of herself to block Cleo's. Electricity sparked between them, as it often did... whenever they fought. Naturally.
"All right, finally learned to get past my psych warfare," Cleo said, her smile wide and toothy as she pushed against Callie's block. "I'm considering being proud of you."
"I mean, winning battles of wits against a totally unarmed person hardly seems like an achievement," Callie said, pushing back with a determined, unwavering glare. "But I'll take all the compliments you wanna give."
"I like making sure I fill my charity quota for the semester." Cleo broke the clash, stepping to the side, then re-advancing on her opponent while repeatedly swinging her staff. "You know, help the poor, the needy, the Callies who can't help themselves!"
Every single swing was blocked, as was custom. Sometimes one would be on the offensive, sometimes it was the other, but the outcome was always the same in the early game—feel the other out, but never give them an inch. No surface was taboo, as close clashes gave way to dodges, and leaps off of any stone surfaces, or even aerially-suspended stalactites, they could find. Innovation mattered as much as persistence, because after this many spars, they really were beginning to learn all of each others' moves, as well as the situations in which they would perform them.
It was around the point where Callie avoided a flying kick from Cleo, and threw a one-handed punch as a follow-up, that Cleo saw her opening. That punch was sloppy—almost a little too much so, but Cleo rushed in anyway, because for her, any chance was a good chance—
It had been a feint. "Sloppy" on purpose.
Damn it.
Powered by momentum, Callie avoided her again, like a matador avoiding a charging bull—and as the two rushed towards each other, the sounds of their plasma stakes crackling at their apex, only one of them had the strength of footing to win the final conflict.
Moments later, Cleo was on the ground, and Callie was standing above—her staff aimed directly and closely at a fatal point on Cleo's body, and her grin now extra-smug.
"Awww, crap baskets," Cleo said, letting herself go limp on the ground as the holo-arena faded.