You feel the heat radiating from the orange orb in your hand.
Sweat embedded onto your forehead, and splattering your thick hair onto the base of your neck, preventing heat waves from escaping your already hot-head.
You wonder why did you chop your hair to a bob; it was so hard to tie now. Wait! Stop! You have to focus.
You shake your head to throw the pesky thoughs aside, as you urge faster; under an outstretched arm, past the bulldozing bodies and even faking a few directions to muddle the competition.
The competition; huge bulks of tower-power as they stomp across the court, forcing their face at you and greedy fingers grab at the grasped object in your hand.
There, you see it a hole in the defence!
Run, Run Qeel. Run. You've gotta make it.
NO! Blocked! Darn it.
You swerve and at the edge of your eyes, you see her.
She's running and not looking, just running around with her arms wide open. You have only 2-3 seconds to think about it. She can't be that bad. She must've caught something during all those countless trainings. On the other hand.. this was an important mission. It could determine success or failure for what you've all done; for what you've done.
You decide to give it a chance.
So you do it, you thrust the powerful orb into the air; hurling it to her all the while praying she would catch it.
In the split second the object leaves you, you feel a sudden coldness in you as you see her shocked expression and her despair of being trusted with such responsibilities. Overwhelming frustration guts you in the stomach as you see her flailing arms miss the orb as it passes past her outstretched limbs.
and is picked up by the opponent. You don't bother running to salvage the wreck that had happened; the wreck that you had caused.
Time's up.
Game's over.
You lost.
