It was a sparring room. Clean, sleek, lined with weapon racks at every corner. The polished metal gleamed under the lights. Willow's awe replaced her panic.
She wandered toward the sword section, reaching out to grasp one of the blades. The cool weight of it made her eyes widen. Her reflection wavered on the blade's surface, and for a second, she almost looked like someone dangerous.
"Awesome," she whispered, a grin tugging at her lips. "Maybe I can train here."
She took a few swings trying to mimic the fighters she'd seen in training videos but the sword had a mind of its own. One swing nearly pulled her off balance, sending her stumbling in a completely ungraceful arc.
"Oh, brilliant," she muttered to herself, face burning with embarrassment. She quickly set the sword back in its rack and moved to the firearms section instead.
A sleek black gun caught her eye. It looked simple enough. She picked it up, loaded it, and aimed experimentally at the target dummy.
