Internship Time! (Closed, Sigga)

Much of what the pro-hero said corroborated Sigga’s own observations. The information helped the piscine tactician better plan for her upcoming bout. But would planning be enough?

If she was to keep an eye on Firebrand to better predict his shots throughout the match while simultaneously dodging said shots, committing the layout of the arena would be paramount. Losing the match due to her opponent’s skill was one thing, but losing by accidentally running smack into a pillar, on the other hand, would be, well, mortifying.

Haruka’s reply provided a lot to be considered, though it lacked any particulars on what kind of physical activity could better attune the fish’s body. Not that there was much time to prepare in that regard. She did, however, suggest Sigga not attend the duel empty-handed.

“Oh! Yes, please,” the student chirped excitedly, ready to be led to whatever provisions Flame-On happened to have on hand for it’s budding interns.

Despite the teenager’s exuberance, Sigga’s expectations of what gear would be available to her were kept quite low. She knew well enough not to assume anything too convenient, like a riot shield or bag of caltrops, were just lying in wait for her. But if she could get herself several t-shirts as defensive layers, like Haruka had suggested, or, and this would be an optimal find, an oversized pair of fire-retardant gloves, it might just be enough to help skew the odds a little more her way.

Before heading to the armory, Haruka stopped to make a clarification for the excited fish.

Whenever Sigga encountered a new person she couldn’t help but wonder what their Quirk happened to be or, as in some cases, if they had a Quirk at all. She’d never deign to openly ask someone about theirs, partially due to keeping the details of her own a secret, so it was a pleasant surprise to see Flame-On’s Sidekick pause for a quick explanation of what and why.

Evidently the woman’s previous mention of layers in combat was a tactic used specifically with her Quirk. Sigga certainly couldn’t do any sort of layering with her own. That said, the minor misunderstanding turned out to be a net positive as the thought of using layers of clothing as a defensive buffer against Firebrand’s Quirk might help mitigate some of the danger. At least in theory. But that theory had been temporarily tabled as the teen watched the green-haired agent produce some rubbish for her demonstration.

At first Sigga thought the lady was making a molotov or something. That’s what it looked like anyway. It would hardly be surprising for an agency called Flame-On to have more than one fire-Quirk user on staff. But the plastic bottle didn’t burst into flames like the fish had expected. Instead, something more marvelous happened.

It was difficult to describe. The plastic bottle began to glow green, light piercing from the bottom. The brilliance diffused and refracted through the paper and cloth within like some freshly cracked glowstick before beginning to expand. It reminded the fish of raw pizza dough rising, though with a decidedly botanical twist. “Cacti!” Sigga exclaimed, contributing no new information to the conversation.

As staunch as the fish was in adherence to her personal rules on asking others about their Quirk, her commitment to those rules seemed flexible enough as to contain a clause that allowed her to pry when said Quirk was put on display. Or she just forgot. “C-can you make succulents too?”

It wasn’t an unreasonable conclusion to come to, what with cacti and succulents being in the same clade. Being able to produce aloe vera on demand would be a fantastic bit of hypothetical Quirk utility for such an agency, what with the plant having some topical applications when it came to burns. Though how such a rudimentary balm compared to modern medicine was something the fish was entirely uncertain of. But the plants looked cool in any case.

When the duo arrived at the armory Sigga’s jaw dropped.

She had tempered her expectations when first told where they were going. The youth expected something similar to what one might find back in the UA gym storage room. Indeed, Sigga had never stepped foot in an honest to god armory before so her eyes ballooning to the size of saucers and jaw hanging slack seemed appropriate given the circumstances.

The room was covered wall to wall with just about any type of modern kit a Pro-Hero could ask for. Half the items she didn’t even recognize, and of the half she did half of those she wouldn’t even know what to do with. “By Poseidon...” the fish whispered, still in awe.

Sigga crossed the threshold and into the room, head rotating slowly, eyes drinking in the sight. Were all hero agencies so well equipped?

There was plenty to choose from. Weapons of all sorts; melee, ranged, battery-operated, pyro-chemical. Even some for neutralizing vehicles. Sigga couldn’t help but swallow as she took another step into the room. It kind of felt sacrosanct for her to even be here.

Her guide was quick to point out that even some of the basic gear required training, and Sigga was likely to concur. Looking at the throwing disks, she could already picture the mayhem they could cause in her hands. The fish could barely throw a frisbee straight. Give her something only a little more dangerous and she’d be liable to send herself and any onlookers to the hospital in short order.

A feeling of lightheadedness washed across her as she continued surveying the room. Oh. Right. Breathe, she reminded herself. “That’s… There is... ” Her words trailed off.

“I… I’m open to suggestions if you have any.” Sigga remarked, slowly making her way around the room to visually inspect every gadget. As tempting as it was to just take everything that wasn’t nailed down, in her case that would do more harm than good. The teen could barely do a pushup, so lugging around extra equipment wasn’t exactly high up on her list of viable tactics.

Before listening to any ideas Haruka might have, Sigga did have one that might be worth considering. “You mentioned that Firebrand’s Quirk, uh, it…” She trailed off again before completing the sentence, instead turning to ask the woman something tangentially related. “Are there any sort of… masks? Some self-contained breathing apparatus?” Sigga had an idea of sorts, but she wasn’t certain how viable it was without that certain something. “Something light?” she added, making note that she wasn’t looking for the kind of mask firefighters used on account of it requiring the operator to lug around a tank of oxygen with them.

Something that could filter smoke for a few minutes would be sufficient for the strategy she was planning on sharing with Haruka.

She wasn’t fast. She wasn’t strong. She had the stamina of a fish with palsy. And her experience with using her Quirk in combat was moot. But at least she hadn’t been prideful enough to shy away from getting some help.

To say Haruka had been invaluable would have been somewhat of an understatement. Sure Sigga had come up with a plan of sorts for tomorrow’s showdown, but it was the botanical cytomancer that provided the intel and equipment that would make this plan possible. No way would she have been able to reconnoiter half the information on Firebrand on her own. Even with the help of the internet.

Now that she had a mask, the final piece of equipment she’d need, Sigga took a moment to outline the entirety of tomorrow’s strategy to Flame On’s green-haired Sidekick.

Firebrand’s weakness was the primary actionable intel. The plan was to make liberal use of the armory’s smoke grenades to help lower the oxygen level in his blood, thereby muting some of his Quirk’s potency.

The grenades weren’t flawless, though. At best they’d give Sigga a minute, minute-and-a-half, of cover and perhaps some Quirk abrogation. But there were some improvements she could make.

With those weights strapped to him reducing his movement, the obvious defense against Sigga’s grenades would be for Firebrand to utilize his Force Blast to send the smoke emitters hurtling away. With some know-how the girl had gleaned from history class, and some supplies purloined from UA’s art room, she could make some modifications to said grenades. If Haruka could let her into the building early tomorrow morning, Sigga would be able to make the adjustments to the smoke grenades before the match and, hopefully, without Firebrand learning the full extent of the intern’s preparations.

There wasn’t really much more to the plan than that. Fill the room with smoke, then close the distance. She wouldn’t fumble for his bow this time, either. The moment she managed to make skin-to-skin contact, a brief application of her Quirk to the man would buy her enough time to put the Pro Hero in a hold.

Probably…

Hopefully.

The danger of the plan hadn’t escaped Sigga’s notice. The mask had a filter, but didn’t come with its own oxygen supply. Or, at least, the intern had no intention of lugging one around with it. Oxygen tanks were heavy. Dangerous too. Which was why Sigga asked Haruka if during the match she and possibly some of her cohorts could be on standby with oxygen and fans to clear the smoke, just in case anyone started asphyxiating.

Sigga didn’t want to have an audience to the bout, but she didn’t want to end up in newspaper headlines for the wrong reasons again either. Whatever tomorrow might bring, at least the day was finite. All the stress and pressure would eventually come to a close.

---

There wasn’t any light out when Sigga woke up in her dorm room the next morning. Aristotle might have once said, “It is well to be up before daybreak, for such habits contribute to health, wealth, and wisdom,” but for the fish, it was more of a matter of course.

The morning air had a frigid piquant to it.

It was crisp. It was cold. It was why she kept her window open all night. Nothing charged her batteries as well as a good night’s sleep in cool air, and a return to consciousness before the rest of the dorm.

Breakfast was simple. Cooked oats with some dried fruit tossed in. But Sigga’s focus was on the preparations for today’s match more so than on her breakfast. Heck, you could have substituted her oatmeal with a pile of dirt and she wouldn’t have noticed. A few minutes later she grabbed her gear and was out the door.

---

Once again Sigga got that feeling that she tread on hallowed ground, somewhere sacrosanct where someone with her past ought not be. The agency was deserted in the wee hours of the morning, save for herself and Haruka.

The two made their way to the armory, and Sigga got to work while the Side-Kick observed.

It… wasn’t particularly pretty, the modifications the youth was performing on the grenades. But a grimy paintbrush, some cut-up water bottles, and twisted wire later the job was done. By the time most other Flame On employees arrived at the building, Sigga was geared up and ready to go.

---

The contrast in their outfits was stark. Bureizu Yajiri, or Firebrand as the intern’s mind respectfully referred to him, on one side of the arena wearing his professionally engineering Pro Hero suit. And opposite him, standing at nine inches shorter, Sigrid Tendō, clad in her slightly worn neoprene bodysuit, several torn or cut up t-shirts, a home-made bandolier sporting what looked like five batons, a compact respirator over her mouth, some cheap tinted swimming goggles over her eyes, and sneakers on her feet. Oh yes, the contrast was very stark.

Sigga looked more like a vigilante than a hero, her outfit being as mismatched as it was. Heck, she might even pass for a novice Villain. She had before. But appearances weren’t that important here. Not like in the televised matches at the UA Sports Festival that Sigga had conveniently missed with her tardy enrollment at the academy. All that mattered was what worked and what didn’t. And the fish was going to find out exactly that.

The intern’s amber eyes gazed cautiously across the concrete arena, their amber glow hidden behind her goggle’s tint, ready for the bell to chime and the match to begin.

There was a calmness to the bald girl’s demeanor today. At least outwardly so. Inside her chest her heart was pounding against her ribs like usual. But her mind, that was cool as a cucumber. More or less. Just having a plan and knowing exactly what she was up against helped relax some of her nerves.

Her feet lurched forward the moment the chime sounded across the arena. Unlike last time, her pace was measured. A slow walk matching her opponent’s for a time. But while Firebrand was heading straight towards her, Sigga’s path ran perpendicular to his. It was like the beginnings of a spiral that would eventually see the two of them collide.

You could make out a glint of amber through her tinted goggles, her head turned and eyes trained on the archer at all times. When the distance between them closed enough; when she was almost certain she was about to enter his range, Sigga bolted.

The walk had turned into a dead sprint.

Just as she was about to reach the closest pillar, Sigga grabbed one of the handles sticking out from her bandolier.

As she pulled it from it’s sheath, a cap popped off the end revealing the hidden smoke grenade within. Only, it didn’t look quite the same as when the girl removed it from the armory. Some sticky black resin was now covering most of the grenade’s outer casing, and a handle protruded from its base.

The cap that had previously covered the sticky grenade was actually a cut up water bottle, it’s inside covered in some sort of lubricant that had kept the grenade’s residue from sticking to it. It’s purpose had likely been to keep the tackey grenade from adhering to her bandolier.

Without slowing down Sigga spun and hurled the grenade, sans pin, in the direction of the pink-haired man.

The modified device arched through the air in a controlled tumble. Meanwhile, expecting a barrage of arrows to have been fired, the fish dove behind the closest pillar for cover.

ShhTHUCK!

The grenade impacted with a sickly slap, adhering to the floor it landed on before both sides of the cylinder began emitting great plumes of smoke.

Her throw didn’t get the grenade nearly close enough to Firebrand, but that hadn’t been the goal. First she needed to close the distance between them and the first grenade would give her some much needed cover. Provided a stray arrow didn’t skewer her first.

Simply recognizing the sound of arrows whizzing by for what they were didn’t help any in calming her nerves like she thought it would. It was easier to keep one’s anxiety in check by simply understanding a situation, but when it came to having deadly projectiles fly in one’s direction… well…

Sigga couldn’t imagine having lived during the Sengoku period. When Japan was in a near-constant state of civil war, whizzing arrows were probably a common occurrence. Definitely more so for an ancient samurai than for a modern-day schoolgirl. Heroics classes notwithstanding of course.

The intern swallowed her heart back down and let out a slow exhale. From the corner of her vision she spotted some familiar shrapnel fly off towards the perimeter of the arena. The tacky smoke grenade she had thrown was all but vaporized, leaving only a pathetic wispy trail clouding one edge of the room.

That would have normally elicited some rude words from her, but this wasn’t an unforeseen circumstance. Yes, the primary objective for modifying those grenades had been to counter Firebrand’s Quirk, but only in part. The hope had been that they’d stick to the floor well enough that the archer wouldn’t be able to blow them away by his Force Blast ability.

Of course, Sigga had hoped it wouldn’t have occurred to the man to simply shoot the grenades like he did. Often the simplest solutions to a problem were overlooked after all. But Firebrand had already demonstrated he wasn’t as lacking in acumen as some of her classmates. And he was an adult; a Pro Hero. That meant more general life experience.

But Sigga had no intention in underestimating the man in the first place. A person didn’t end up as the head of their own agency simply for their good looks. And so, the girl unsheathed a second grenade and executed contingency bravo.

Her arm was already in mid swing as she stepped out from behind the pillar. The grenade arched through the air and the girl vanished back behind the pillar as quickly as she appeared.

ShhTHUCK went the familiar sound of a sticky smoke grenade impacting a solid object. Only this time the grenade wasn’t visible to the archer. An immediate hiss of smoke indicated Sigga’s latest target was one of the pillars located half-way between herself and Firebrand.

With the precise point of impact hidden from view, he’d have to get around the pillar, or destroy it outright, to quench the smoke this time. Simple precision was no longer on the table. Meanwhile, the intern had popped out of the other side of her cover and was already throwing a third grenade at the back of a different pillar, this one much closer to the man.

While having her target pillar in between them offered some cover, the distance between the duelists and the latter of the smoke-emitting pillars meant only a side step in either direction would bring back the line of sight between them. And so, Sigga bolted and lunged behind another concrete column.

What was meant as a way to observe Sigga’s aptitude in a mock combat scenario against a Quirk user was quickly becoming somewhat of a two-sided assessment tool. Much like Firebrand was undoubtedly watching the girl, so too was she watching him.

With multiple pillars emitting smoke onto the arena, Sigga took advantage of the gas to leapfrog from cover to cover. With every concealed bound she’d momentarily drop prone to the floor, the fabric around her navel briefly making contact with the pavement. The hotter-than-air smoke left an opportunistic channel along the floor where she could spot the feet of her opponent before bounding to the next bit of cover.

Perhaps she was being a tad bit overly cautious, what with the smoke properly obscuring her and the pillars now. But with little else on the line other than her pride, she felt comfortable limiting any unnecessary risks. That didn’t mean she was going to draw the match out however.

The fish was nearly at her target, with only the closest pillar still emitting smoke left between them.

A quick peak at floor level identified the familiar footfalls of her prey. With that, Sigga drew the fourth object from her bandoleer.

There was a brief moment of silence for Firebrand to watch as the pillars billowed smoke just ahead of him. Then, something unusual happened. The smoke began to move.

At first one could dismiss the phenomenon as nothing more than the smoke expanding in an attempt to occupy more space. But then the haze started to undulate towards the man.

The billowing, black cloud lurched forward, curving closer and closer to the pink haired archer. Like an impermeable eldritch horror, it pursued the sound of his foot falls at preternatural speed.

Just as the sentient fog was about to envelope the man, it thinned and the spell was broken.

An inverted fiberglass umbrella dropped at the man’s feet, Sigga already sidestepping past him. Her bandolier was empty. The fifth and final item, another modified smoke grenade, was gripped tightly in her hand. Like the others it was caked in sticky residue, an elongated handle protruding from it’s base. And it’s pin had already been removed.

Sigga swung decisively at the Pro Hero, aiming to capitalize on whatever fleeting moment of surprise the smoke and umbrella may have bought her. If she could just tag him with the device, it could buy her some additional tactical footing.

She saw the misstep as it occurred; the enlarged projectile that would hamper her swing’s trajectory in an instant. Instead of trying to dodge or deflect, the fish took a more assertive action. Sigga’s arm followed through with the initial swipe. Along with the rest of her.

ShhTHUCK

The sticky grenade slammed into the floor with Sigga still attached to it. A white knuckle could be seen gripping the handle tightly as the hot air of Firebrand’s Force Blast washed over her, point blank. The dark smoke from the incendiary device rippled and tore through the air around the intern.

If not for her mask, Sigga would undoubtedly have swallowed much of what the grenade was spewing. But the tactic succeeded where it mattered. The tacky grenade acted like an anchor, keeping the youth within arms reach, albeit in an aerodynamically splayed crouch.

The instant after the force blast hit, the fish rocketed up like a coiled spring. Her legs extended to their full length, her trajectory poised to have her come up between the man and his bow.

With the grenade left smoking in her wake, Sigga had finally exhausted her set of gear. Mostly. But the grenades and umbrella achieved the most important task of getting her within reach of Flame On’s grandmaster.

She needed to make contact. Needed just a finger to graze against some exposed skin. Even a fraction of a second would be ample time to utilize her Quirk on him. Making said contact would be difficult though. He knew about her Quirk. Knew what it could do to some extent. And he’d be on guard for it. Which was why that wasn’t the focus of the intern’s next step. The bandolier might have been empty now, just a belt haphazardly sewn together from old shirts, but that didn’t mean it was useless.

The bandolier was already in her hand as Sigga bounded off the floor, attempting to tightly lasso Firebrand’s right hand with it and then slide under him, between his legs, pulling his arm along with her. Having the man flip over on his back would be ideal, the perfect position for one of the clinch maneuvers Jun had shown her. But even if the lasso failed to grab hold of the man’s hand he’d still have to contend with the fish pivoting under him as she aimed to grab one of his legs instead. With the smoke grenade still hissing at their feet, keeping him rooted to this spot was paramount.

The fluidity of movement that brought her from a defensive crouch to a throw were naturally improvised, but the technique of using the man’s weight against him had been practiced during Jun’s tutelage. Sigga hadn’t planned to use this particular throw, but with their positioning lining up just right when she closed the gap, the fish instinctively capitalized on the opportunity.

The ease of it’s execution had been unexpected, but not unwelcome. When Sigga had practiced the technique with the blond intern, she hadn’t realized how effective it would be. Jun was lighter and hadn’t worn extra weights during training, and using a move that took advantage of an opponent’s weight, well, it just worked.

For all the meticulous planning she had done, envisioning an actual conclusion to the match was something that hadn’t crossed Sigga’s mind. That is to say, each objective or technique in her mind was to be followed by another one. In no place between her head-fins was there a flow chart that had a YOU WIN node stapled on at the end. It was always, do this thing. If this happens, do this other thing, in a sort of perpetual loop. Or a ball of yarn, more like.

So when the bell chimed, signaling her victory, the youth reacted with stunned silence.

It wasn’t until her eyes drifted back towards her opponent and Firebrand began to speak, that her confounded expression turned wide-eyed.

Almost immediately Sigga’s surprise melted into delight. Her hands, now balled into fists, seemed to vibrate as the fish barely managed to hold back several excited fist-pumps.

The victory itself was great, but Sigga couldn’t recall a teacher or instructor ever saying she did something fantastically, other than when she messed up. It was probably a good thing the goggles and mask she was still wearing helped hide her gleeful blush, as the awkward manner in which she shook Firebrand’s extended hand certainly did little to camouflage her euphoria.

Sigga practically skipped towards the approaching sidekicks when they arrived, beelining for Haruka. She unhooked one strap of her facemask, revealing the broad grin hidden behind it. Most of the tactics Sigga had exploited had been discussed with the botanical cytomancer to some extent. The thing with the umbrella though had been a last-minute addition that even Haruka hadn’t been made privy to.

Of course, the green-haired woman had her own secret relating to the bout. One that competed for the fish’s look of surprise with the aforementioned victory. “You did what?!” the girl belted, trying to keep her voice down to a whisper.

Nobody had ever bet on her before, much less won said bet. It certainly wouldn’t have been an action Sigga would advise another person, in any case. But the bald teenager offered no follow-up query or question as to who had put up money against her winning. The fact that she was getting a cut was simply the icing that went on top of more icing on top of the proverbial cake.