[It's no accident that this arena match is being broadcast. Helen has handed over her Forge so that no one would miss this match.]
[You're welcome.]
[One would think that she'd learn to be a little more careful with her possessions though, considering that their mountain of an opponent wields a large blade bearing a
symbol that's familiar to some. And he holds a second blade in his other hand, a spoil from his Arena victory the night before.]
Bastard! That's Deneve's style!
[Helen's practically vibrating in anticipation for the fight. Priscilla, on the other hand, seems calm and focused, her own blade not yet drawn.]
Helen. Get ready.
[The fight begins, and the Forge focuses on the two Claymores. Priscilla vanishes in a blur and Helen's arms fly forward, stretching several times past what's normal, natural.]
Oi! I'll hold the big lug and you-
[Confusion crosses the former twenty-two's face as her arms suddenly snap back. The angle changes, showing the man already on the Arena floor, disarmed and unconscious. The crowd is silent.]
[A moment later and Priscilla trots back into view, offering Helen's sword out to her cheerfully.]
Here you go. You really should be more careful with it from now on though!
Red = Helen
Blue = Priscilla