Felicity had been practically paralyzed with fear when she heard her name. Sitting among the masses in the Commissary that morning, she'd stayed seated, frozen to her chair as the Troubleshooter on stage read out the mission guidelines.
She knows she's been lucky. Most people didn't get four entire days before their first mission, but somehow, she'd just hoped that maybe it was because there weren't any missions suitable for her skills. But given that today was going to be about combat testing, that theory no longer held.
So she takes a breath, closes her eyes and gives herself three seconds to be afraid. Then she promises herself she'll be brave again.
One. Two. Three.
When Felicity's eyes open again, there's only determination.
In fact, she stays brave, even dauntless despite how clueless she was, all the way until mid-way through the simulation. All she knows how to do is shoot a gun — or a blaster, in this case. So she shoots, with terrible posture, with her eyes closed, and with a signal to Natasha that she was probably a danger to herself in this scenario. And that's when the second droid is coming at her and its torso spontaneously bursts into flames.
Felicity takes a step back and feels the cold, glossy texture of the tiled wall push up against her hand. No where left to run. She was convinced that this is going end in certain death — okay maybe just in certain injury — when Natasha swings hard, and the robot's head is torn off its shoulders.
She blinks, in shock as her eyes dart from the broken head to Natasha, then back and forth again.
"Uh. Yes. Thank you," she says, one hand clutching her chest and the other bracing against the wall. "That sounds like an incredibly useful skill to have." She swallows. "In this situation."
Morning Mission
She knows she's been lucky. Most people didn't get four entire days before their first mission, but somehow, she'd just hoped that maybe it was because there weren't any missions suitable for her skills. But given that today was going to be about combat testing, that theory no longer held.
So she takes a breath, closes her eyes and gives herself three seconds to be afraid. Then she promises herself she'll be brave again.
One.
Two.
Three.
When Felicity's eyes open again, there's only determination.
In fact, she stays brave, even dauntless despite how clueless she was, all the way until mid-way through the simulation. All she knows how to do is shoot a gun — or a blaster, in this case. So she shoots, with terrible posture, with her eyes closed, and with a signal to Natasha that she was probably a danger to herself in this scenario. And that's when the second droid is coming at her and its torso spontaneously bursts into flames.
Felicity takes a step back and feels the cold, glossy texture of the tiled wall push up against her hand. No where left to run. She was convinced that this is going end in certain death — okay maybe just in certain injury — when Natasha swings hard, and the robot's head is torn off its shoulders.
She blinks, in shock as her eyes dart from the broken head to Natasha, then back and forth again.
"Uh. Yes. Thank you," she says, one hand clutching her chest and the other bracing against the wall. "That sounds like an incredibly useful skill to have." She swallows. "In this situation."