Arcane Shadow (Re-Written)

Spitfire had her Wonderbolts gathered into a guest room, along with Rainbow Dash. She was receiving some very questioning gazes from her subordinates. "A supercell… ma'am, with all due respect, what the buck are you thinking?" Rainbow asked, exasperated at the mere notion.

Spitfire saw that question coming from a mile away, especially from a cadet such as Rainbow. "Let's look at the situation logically," she began, fanning her wings out to halt any further questions regarding her sanity before they could leave anypony else's mouths. "We're up against a bunch of geased ponies, lead by wannabe tin-pot tyrants who are too lazy to get off their plots and do the damn job themselves, effectively passing the buck onto the children who did not ask for this. We're on a planet without a weather patrol—which is going to blindside the military here in the future, unless we get a weather patrol going somehow."

Thunderlane's eyes grew in size as Spitfire continued, "As soon as we can start up a weather patrol here, and train the General's soldiers efficiently enough that they'll be alright to make a patrol of their own, they can learn to watch for hostile weather and act accordingly. While a supercell is questionable, I will admit… thanks to weather patrols on Equestria, they're extremely rare. Basically, we're not only blindsiding an enemy that cannot prepare for such an event, we're helping potential allies prepare for it in turn."

"However, we won't be abusing supercells while we are here—whatever forces on Fantasia that lurk in the dark will take notice, so this is our only chance to make it count," Spitfire finished, closing her wings. "Furthermore, we're taking whatever advantage Redpine had over the Aerie by doing this—as impractical as this is. In fact, that's the beauty of it: the tin-pot lazyplots won't be able to plan for it, in either the short-term or the long-term. Before, we were looking at a battle with a high amount of casualties for a potential ally—this little ploy is gonna flip all of that on its head."

"And you're weirdly confident that the soldiers will complete the weather training regiment before we make our move, ma'am," Soarin noted, regarding Spitfire like one would regard a stopped clock that had inexplicably begun ticking again. "Are you sure Discord's modifications to Redpine's central piece of magitek will hold for long enough for our assault to even be possible, in this specific fashion?"

"Not only do I believe that Discord's modifications will hold, but I believe that thanks to him, the machine will break sooner than normal," Spitfire smoothly answered. "I noticed something about their magitek that probably slipped past everypony else's attention, due to the horrors it once contained before Discord put a stop to that. A fatal flaw… or a whole series of them, in a volcano, if I ever saw such a trainwreck."

"That being…?" Thunderlane prompted, lifting a hoof and spinning it.

"It already looked frail, weak, melting in places," Spitfire elaborated. "Not enough to be an immediate concern for Redpine, but sooner or later… the floors of their little base will collapse onto themselves. In fact, Discord might have accelerated it—thereby, depriving them of their sole defense, outside of their weaponry and numbers. Not only that, but they've been deprived of valuable breeding stock—and with their attention focused on hopeless repairs, they can't replenish their numbers. Once the dominos begin falling over there, it's practically game over for them."

"Which will probably cause the volcano they're hiding in to erupt, and with prejudice. While we might get a massive fire devil, if we aim our supercell at that specific point, and we get an eruption in doing so, we'll probably wind up suffering for that folly ourselves. Which makes it critical that we don't really aim at the volcano itself, but rather… the area at its foot." Spitfire wore a rare, yet vicious smile with a hardened edge to it. "And if the volcano erupts before we can attack, and we time it once the magma has finished boiling over, then we can simply mop up the flock before they can regroup and seek shelter elsewhere. With the soldiers making up the bulk of the supercell, and being gryphons, they can just pick the geased ponies of Redpine off as they're swept up off their wings."

"Assuming they can actually fix their magitek, which… is going to be next to impossible, because I saw that nopony there has their cutie marks except for the bozos leading the place—and they had sharp pointy weapons adorning their flanks—they will then focus all of their attention onto the military here, and probably lob another suicide charge in this direction. And any repairs they can make are going to be substandard at best—band-aid solutions for bleeding stumps. And if it does hold off the eruption of the volcano, then the military here can just hyperfocus their ION Cannon, whatever that is, onto Redpine's little base of operations to force the eruption anyway."

"On top of that little issue, I noticed another glaring problem: they're growing their food in a Faust-damned volcano. How the sulfur and carbon dioxide haven't strangled their crops yet, I can only guess—but whatever is doing so might be part of Redpine's central magitek. Take that away, and the gasses and heat are gonna strangle their one source of food, making them starve even if their little house of cards doesn't collapse the rest of the way. And if they resort to grazing, well… the volcano's gonna starve them either way in the end." Spitfire shook her head. "Seriously… a volcano. Whose bright idea was it to grow plants in there?"

Spitfire sighed and continued, "And not to mention, all the medical problems that are going to hit them, as soon as their magitek ceases working, and assuming they keep hunkering down in their hidey-hole afterwards. First will come the brain damage—and then, the potential collapsing of their lungs. And if they manage to survive that, osteoporosis—making an already-unskilled force so fragile that one touch from a child, a mere child, could break whole limbs with enough pressure."

"And assuming they've kept a genetic bottleneck, that's another thing we should address—the enemy force itself. I've noticed that many of them… share eerily similar characteristics, which seems superficial to the untrained eye." Spitfire lifted a hoof to wave it about at some point past the furthest wall. "But I'm speaking about facial features, eye shapes, things like that—things that make ponies identifiable. In fact, I would very charitably call the entire force inbred, on a mere hunch, because a lot of those features they seem to share with their male leader… perhaps they share too many features."

"And assuming they've not replenished their former breeding stock with new blood, or did so infrequently enough to not matter in the grand scheme of things, that's going to make problems apparent—all we gotta do to solve that mystery is take a few feathers and tissue samples from our sole survivor, run them through the magitek here, and let it spit out definitive results before taking whatever's left of the rest of the attacking force to do likewise." Spitfire shook her head, and lowered her hoof to regard her Wonderbolts sullenly. "Which, again, is not going to work in their favor."

"Lastly, they only bothered to stock up on weapons… metal weapons which, while potentially enchanted, are going to get red-hot once the central hunk of equipment kicks the bucket. That, by itself, is going to crack the hooves of whoever picks them up. In addition, they didn't have anything for a prolonged conflict otherwise—thereby making their base of operations their very own catacombs in the end." Spitfire closed her eyes briefly, and sighed sadly. "They seem intimidating on the surface… but really, they're nothing but automatons forced into whatever pre-assigned roles their great and glorious leaders made for them. In the end… they have nothing, will be left with nothing, and won't even have a legacy to commemorate. I can already see it now: their fall will go down in Fantasian history, and if not by the Aerie's hoof, then through the hoof of their own folly."

The eyes of the gathered Wonderbolts collectively widened, and they traded glances as the full brunt of their leader's words gobsmacked them upside their heads. "... so what you're saying is, they're bucked no matter what they do?" Thunderlane asked, comprehension dawning.

Their leader nodded resolutely. "Which, in turn, makes it vital that we pay attention to Redpine every day, with that fancy-schmancy map the military here has gotten a hold of," Spitfire finished, her smile widening. "Therefore, we will take three hours of each day, at morning, noon, and night, while rotating on map duty—while the rest of us train the soldiers, to get them up to speed. That way, in case Redpine collapses before we can even get there, we'll be able to improvise."

"However, the cutie marked leaders of Redpine, we shouldn't underestimate; they're capable of geases and fighting, and once the chips are down, they're going to throw absolutely everything they can at the military, and by extension, us. I don't know how long they spent in that volcano, and how stupid inhaling its gasses made them, let alone how rusty or sharpened their fighting talents are or if they've already got medical maladies…" Spitfire inhaled through her nose and regarded her band of troops evenly. "But they're cutie marked alicorns, probably older than the rest of us and the majority of the Aerie combined. And regardless of whether or not they've been slacking, they're still immensely powerful, and every precaution should be taken in addressing that, when that confrontation comes."

"Assuming the volcano's gasses didn't strangle their brain cells…" Thunderlane said, shaking his head. Soarin nodded in agreement with the statement. "In fact, that's probably what lead to their questionable decisions to begin with—with how long they might have spent in that volcano, they only have one brain cell between them all, and it's competing for third place."

Another Wonderbolt, this one a very light gray with a dark blue-striped mane, shook her head. "If this is what the Fantasian alicorns have come to, then it's no wonder nopony wants anything to do with them," she said, sighing heavily. "And hearing about that tree-alicorn was bad enough…"

A fifth Wonderbolt, arctic blue with a snow white mane, sighed. "I agree, High Winds. I get the feeling… this weird feeling… that the alicorns of Fantasia let themselves get this bad. I don't imagine how they did so, but… it's not a pretty picture, come to think of it," she said. "The more I hear about them, the more I'm starting to ask if they're just letting their own heads rattle to hear the sound."

High Winds nodded. "I'm getting that same feeling too, Fleetfoot."

The last Wonderbolt, a pale yellowish mare with a light arctic and striped mane, shook her head and ruffled her wings. "I swear, every detail we hear about this place keeps getting worse and worse," she said tartly, frowning at it all. "As if that school report that Celestia sent us—a bucking school report, of all things!—didn't paint that picture clearly enough." She tossed her forehooves and her wings into the air at that one. "How those foals got a report done on this specific place still boggles my mind."

Spitfire sighed. "Trust me, Misty Fly, reading that report was a trip and a half…" she muttered. "Especially all the notes that were taken." She ruffled her wings. "And even if the Fantasian alicorns had let themselves fall from grace as it were, the ones we're about to tackle are still dangerous. In fact, they're probably more dangerous, because of their bungling stupidity."

"... so, they're likely to take the shortcuts to victory?" Soarin guessed.

"And given that the leaders are geasing ponies, they're the most likely to do so—in turn, overplaying their hooves," Spitfire concluded with a nod. "Now then… all we have to do is run our plan by the General, and we should be good to go. Given that we had to borrow one of his Lieutenants for the task last night, she's probably running it by him now as we speak. If we get the okay, we'll start as soon as possible," she finished, smiling faintly.

"As for Redpine's kids… what're we gonna do?" Thunderlane asked, still frowning. "The fillies are flightless and hornless, and the colts are just as scared out of their minds… surely, they can't stay like that forever…"

Spitfire grinned. "I actually addressed that with Princess Luna last night, in the dreamscape," she answered enigmatically. "She might be working on that for us…" Someone knocked on the door, and the Wonderbolts turned to it. Spitfire said, "It's open!" The door popped open, and Anna and Lance trotted in, with Maria walking between them. "So, didja go over the plan?"

Anna nodded. "And visited the newest patients. The doctors are still getting the full list of nasties they can diagnose," she answered with a sigh. She indicated Maria with a claw. "Also introduced Maria here to her new auntie."

"... new auntie? Doesn't Sarah have that role?" Rainbow asked, raising a brow.

"Well, yeah, but…" Anna bristled a little bit. She glowered an eentsy bit at Rainbow Dash. "Lance's dad couldn't keep it to himself. There's a whole lot of bastards in his family tree, and I'm not talking about the kind you punch in the face."

"... the illegitimate kind?" Soarin asked. Anna nodded.

"Two thousand nieces, nephews, cousins, and half-siblings, to be exact," Lance said, shaking his head. "And then a full-blooded sister, who is an alicorn… that hasn't had her horn and wings severed." Rainbow's jaw dropped, and she stared at Lance with wide eyes. In fact, the rest of the Wonderbolts mimicked the expression, except for Spitfire, who spread a wing and hit her face with it in lieu of a hoof.

Thunderlane was the first to reel in his bottom teeth. "Sounds like Luna's gonna be a very busy princess come nighttime," he muttered, garnering nods of agreement from the rest of the Wonderbolts. Then he remembered something Rapier had said the previous night, and he turned to Lance to ask, "Wait… that filly said that her big brother had his horn…"

Lance sighed and nodded. "Yes, and if you're wondering, I was acting under a geas—in other words, like a complete fucking putz," he answered bluntly.

Maria turned to Lance. "What's a geas?"

"Illegal magic," Lance answered, turning to his adoptive daughter and patting her on the head with a hoof. He turned to Spitfire. "I'll admit, your plan… might have made me raise my brow when I read it." He sighed. "But then, I considered my birthplace, and how shitty it is… arguably, it's better than anything I could have come up with."

"Lemme guess: the sulfur damaged your brain," Spitfire said, holding out the wing she had hit her own face with.

Lance shook his head. "Amazingly enough, it didn't. Once we got the magitek here up and running, and I got my shit checked, the doctors found no conclusive evidence of brain damage. However, that might have been due to the Illicit Instrumentation and its likely gas-venting," he said, smiling. "Can't say the same for my so-called parents, sadly."

Spitfire grinned. "And… when did they come upon the Illicit Instrumentation, exactly?" she asked.

Lance sighed. "The closest I got to an answer was that they found it a thousand years ago; the base had already been pre-built then, and they just repurposed it," he answered with a shrug.

Spitfire curled her wing to her chin. "A thousand years ago… and were cutie marks present during that time?" she asked.

Lance rolled his eyes. "Pfha, I don't think they were allowed back then, either," he answered. "However, my so-called parents were probably lying off their asses about all sorts of details." He shook his head. "In fact, I'm having one soldier fetch the wraithling now… because she's hiding something."

"And how old is she?" Spitfire asked.

"A thousand and nine years old, based on our magitek estimates," Lance answered. Spitfire whistled. "I take it you heard about the tree-alicorn?" Upon receiving nods from the Wonderbolts, he elaborated, "Well, when I went to confront his happy little ass over matters regarding the state of Greenwood, I brought the wraithling with me. They spoke… like they knew each other." Lance's face hardened. "And she wasted no time giving him the death blow once the opportunity arose, using her broken horn to drain him dry. Something's up, and I want answers."

"Now that I think about it… why would her supposed informant direct her up north, to the frozen wastes?" Anna wondered, frowning as she mulled it over. "It… almost sounds like a cover story."

"Wouldn't be surprised if she had ulterior motives at this rate; I'm amazed she hasn't made any attempts on our lives yet," Lance agreed with a nod. He turned to the open door, as if waiting for something to happen. Not even a second later, a purple flash of light shone before him, revealing Rhinoc and Katie.

Rhinoc looked sheepish, and perhaps a little green in his gills. Katie was groaning, and clutching her stomach with a hoof. "Sorry I took so long, sir… her body threatened a revolt on the latrine…" he muttered apologetically. "I had to take her to the sink and clean everything up…"

Lance nodded. "With her, it's understandable if you're late sometimes," he said. "Just don't send me any radio feed in advance, in case it's this sort of situation." He then turned to Katie. "Did you neglect to use the bathroom for the past week or something?" At her weak nod, he sighed. "Next time, don't let it compact, please… we don't need to be adding more problems onto your autopsy report." The Wonderbolts winced collectively, and might have also gagged a little at the unfortunate mental image they received.

Lance turned back to Rhinoc. "Did you give her some ice afterwards?" At his nod, Lance allowed himself to relax a little. "Okay… that's good. At least she won't be sitting funny tomorrow." He turned to Anna. "Take us all to the office, please. Except for Rhinoc; he might need to hit the sack early." She nodded, lit her horn, grasped everyone but Rhinoc in her magic, and performed another teleport that whisked them away to the office.

Lance waited until everyone was settled as soon as they reappeared in the office, before moving to sit behind the desk, whereupon he began rummaging around the drawers to see where the map of Fantasia had gone to this time. Once he located the thing, he plopped it on the desk and unfurled it, activating the crystals that would show off Redpine. He noticed its lack of captives, and Discord's modifications, but opted to not comment on that. He motioned for Katie to get onto the desk with a hoof, if only to squint at the projection.

She didn't spread her wings right away, but did so eventually and flew onto the desk in a somewhat wobbly fashion. "Ow, ow, ow, ow…" she groaned during the brief trip, and would have plopped her butt down if Lance didn't stretch out a wing beneath her gut to steady her.

"And that, children, is why you don't eat entire wasps in multiple sittings," Lance said sagely.

"... have you started moderating her portions?" Spitfire asked.

Lance nodded. "We rotate on that front, but yes. Seeing as we have food thrice daily, we make sure she eats enough, but not too much. We had to start doing this six days ago," he answered. He turned to Katie, then used a hoof to gesture to Redpine's supposedly grand and glorious leaders, having themselves another spat as they gesticulated wildly to the cement-packed cells. "Do you, or do you not, know these particular assholes?" he asked.

Katie got up to the projection to squint at it, Lance's wing keeping her steady the whole way. Then she turned to him, the gears turning in her head and her orbs sparkling with comprehension. "... so, you've finally figured me out… I was wondering when you'd start questioning me," she said, turning her gaze back onto Redpine's leaders to narrow her eyes at them. "Alright, I'll come clean: the ancient alicorns of Fantasia… they fucking stabbed me in the back. There's two of them right there, and Pestilence was also among them, even if I could barely recognize him through the sound of his voice."

"... how did they stab you in the back?" Anna asked, raising her brow.

"Oh, that's a ride and a half: I found them, as well as an Umbrum, having themselves a nice, lovely chat regarding a rampat god of death running around, tearing shit up at the time. I overheard them talking about needing a distraction, in which they did not get very far with planning out. So they see me, and I see them, and my naive ass decided to tell them I wanted to help out."

"So we exchange some banter, base introductions, all that shit, and we get to the part of 'what happened' and 'what now?'" Katie's orb rolling was almost audible from her skull, and her orbs threatened to leave orbit when she did it. "So, without understanding the full ramifications back then, these two wisecrackers here decided to tell me they wanted me to get something from this death god—a fabled spell known as Cocytus." The Wonderbolts gasped upon hearing the name.

"Welp, they give me directions to the death god's lair, and after an eternity of actually trying to find it… I found that it was surprisingly standard at the time. No hidden passageways, no elaborate castles, nothing… but I still snoop around a bit, but the death god catches me. I stab him and drain him of his love, hatred, despair, yadda yadda in a complete panic, and peel away from the scene to discover my ice abilities." Katie's scowl at this could have melted the frozen wastes of Fantasia's north.

"I made it to a wasteland, where the ancient alicorns told me to meet them up at, and I went high and low across it to find not a single damn trace of them around. And then, I get my skeletal ass sealed in the death god, who got chained up in spiked, rune-engraved shackles, and I lose my damn mind for an uncertain period of time until I found myself able to move again. And when I was able to move again, I found myself in a fucking volcanic cave lined with torches on either side." Katie turned to Lance once she had finished her tale, and noticed he had paled. "... what the hell got your goat all of a sudden?" she asked.

Lance swallowed nervously before deciding to ask, "That… death god you described… did he have horns curving upwards at a sharp angle? Bat-like wings on a mangled body with a tumor-laden large mouth in his stomach? An emaciated upper frame with a barely equine head, as bad off as yours?" At Katie's firm nod, his ears pinned back against his head. "Well… Matt, Natalie and I kinda woke him up, and then went back to actually kill him… we heard something about him feasting on souls or some shit, but…"

Katie's orbs widened at what she heard. "Wait—you three are the reason I got out?" she asked quietly. At Lance's nod, she allowed herself to relax a little. "Holy shit… maybe I really was right to head to the frozen wastes after all…"

"And speaking of, why were you going there to begin with?" Anna asked, frowning as the question left her mouth.

"Well… this is gonna sound weird…" Katie looked at the desk for a moment, and sighed. Anna summoned a cushion from the ether and plonked it behind her, allowing her to sit without sullying the map. Lance retracted his wing once her bony bottom hit the improvised seat, and watched her for a moment. "Basically… I had this weird dream a few weeks before I actually made it up that far north, and in that dream, I stood in the Void."

"In the Void, there was a cloaked figure, with glowing eyes. And it said, 'You are not the only one seeking to deliver retribution upon the ancient alicorns, the ones with whom fate dances with the ill-born. You seek to repay those who let Fantasia's deplorable state have its start; head north, and find those with similar dark desires brewing in your heart.' And then, my late King showed up as a shadow to argue with the figure. A big fight broke out between them, and then I woke up."

"... weirdly specific," Lance remarked.

Katie nodded in agreement. "And trust me, I thought it would be a one-time thing. And no, I didn't have any weird mushrooms to eat, so I ruled that out," she said with a shrug. "But then, next night, as soon as I zonked out—the same damn dream occurred. Only when I was going where the figure wanted me to go did I not have any dreams afterwards, and up until I ran into you whackos, they persisted otherwise. And after enough nights of seeing my late King lose his absolute shit, I heeded the dreams to get them to stop."

"... the night we found you, were you dreaming?" Lance asked, his ears twitching briefly.

Katie nodded. "Yeah, but the cloaked figure didn't say its usual spiel. Instead, it said, 'Your fate, you have met. On those who wronged you, bring forth the sunset. But be wary; ancient shadows dance, and they seek to bring forth ill happenstance,'" she answered.

"... seems like Lady Fate herself is getting antsy, if she's having to resort to bugging the fire out of you to get going," Spitfire remarked, shaking her head. The Fantasians promptly turned to her, wordlessly asking with their gazes, 'Who is this Lady Fate?' "Well… legend has it that Lady Fate was the first alicorn Faust ever created on the sister worlds, who in turn would create cutie marks for the earliest ponies on both worlds. It is unclear what happened to Lady Fate, but… what few details there are suggests that she didn't meet a happy end," she elaborated.

Soarin rubbed the back of his head with a hoof. "One legend I heard told of her being shattered, her essence splitting apart to become a piece of every creature able to get a cutie mark, and persisting in every creature able to obtain a cutie mark thereafter. Legend also has it that when Lady Fate's shards are denied, for an extended period of time, they will conspire to bring forth that recognition to which Lady Fate desires even in her fragmented state," he said with a frown. "And if you deny cutie marks, you deny Lady Fate, and… she gets antsy."

"And legend has it that, if you deny Lady Fate for too long, well…" Thunderlane shuddered. "Let's just say her fragments get… creative in the cutie mark department. Like… cutie marks relating to catastrophe or something." That made Lance even paler than before. "What?" Thunderlane asked, noticing his gallows expression.

"Y-you mean to say… that this alicorn, even shattered, can still control destiny itself?" Lance asked, his voice unusually tight and quiet. At Thunderlane's nod, Lance shuddered. "That means… Lady Fate might have broken the barrier between the worlds."

Thunderlane waved Lance off with a wing. "But she's shattered, and incapable of directing things other than cutie marks in that state, if the legends are true," he said, shaking his head. "There's no way she could've done it." That got nods of agreement from the rest of the Wonderbolts. "And besides, even Lady Fate can't fully direct potential cutie marks—some marks are said to completely throw her out of the loop, and enough to temporarily incapacitate her fragments. She just makes them possible in the first place otherwise." He regarded the General evenly. "And speaking of cutie marks, do you have one?"

Lance nodded, and allowed himself to calm down a bit. "Yeah, why?" he asked.

"And who else in all of the Aerie has their cutie marks?" Thunderlane continued.

Lance spread a wing out and began folding primaries as he rattled off names, "Let's see… there's Matt, Natalie, and Anna, then there's Anna's twin sister Sarah, and then Lazarus, who I recruited last week, then there's Matt's maternal family…" Lance trailed off, frowned, and then shook his head. "I'd have to double-check with Matt's dad, seeing as he's here now, but… other than that, I got nothing."

Thunderlane regarded Lance as if he were hanging in the free and easy. "And… does anypony else, of any other Fantasian province you visited, have cutie marks… besides Redpine?" he asked.

Lance shook his head. "Nope, aside from a few mercenaries I ran into whenever I had any adventures on hoof," he answered. "And those mercenaries didn't really have towns to call their own."

"... sounds like Lady Fate grew apoplectic with Fantasia," Spitfire mused, garnering a nod from Lance. "But we're getting side-tracked; do you approve of us training your soldiers for weather-based combat?"

Lance nodded again. "You guys are the weather experts; how could I say no to that?" he reported, starting to smile. "Besides, I know you're just looking out for us—better to have some help than none at all." He ruffled his feathers a bit. "And while you're at it… train me, Natalie, Sarah, and Anna, too. We'd like to know the ins and outs of weather manipulation."

Spitfire grinned, glad that she had been issued something of a challenge. "Excellent. We can begin tomorrow," she answered, garnering nods from her Wonderbolts.

"Why tomorrow?" Lance asked.

Spitfire grinned, and turned to Maria. "Well… I was thinking… your adoptive daughter here could also use that training," she answered, ruffling her wings a bit. "And maybe some flight lessons on top of that. I bet she'd love it."

Maria turned to Spitfire, eyes wide at the prospect. "You can teach me?!" she questioned, wings snapping open as the words left her mouth.

Spitfire nodded. "Yep; and besides, you're around cutie mark age anyway, so… win-win all around," she said, her grin turning cheeky. "And once the lessons conclude, you can help kick the bad ponies' faces in."

Maria began hopping up and down in place. Anna smiled and shook her head. "Welp, now you've gotten her wound up… it's gonna be impossible to make her go to bed now," she said dryly.

"Oh come on, don't kill her mood," Lance said somewhat admonishingly, albeit smiling himself. "We both know we'd be too busy to give her lessons ourselves. But training alongside her? That's a family bonding experience right there."

"Wiseass," Anna replied bluntly.

"Moody teenager," Lance shot back.

"Horny bastard of both variants," Anna retorted, grinning.

"Walking, talking sexual ailment," Lance replied, grinning in turn.

"Perpetual cockblock!" Anna stated, her smile widening.

"Shrieking siren!" Lance replied.

"Cockmongling shitsucker!" Anna fired back.

"Special secret box thief!" Lance retorted. He then turned to Maria and said, "And don't repeat any of that to anyone!"

"Why not?" Maria asked, tilting her head and slanting her brow.

"Because we're a bad influence on you when we get up to things like this," Lance replied. "And if you want us to stop, you can tell us to shut up," he added.

"But how can I tell you to shut up? You won't let me use adult words!" Maria complained, stomping a claw.

"In cases like this, you have my full permission to use those words if we get too rowdy," Lance replied.

"Like you'd give her the chance, General Brassballs," Katie stated, causing everybody in the room to laugh at the remark. Still, it was a laugh that they sorely needed, and one they appreciated all the same, for tomorrow would bring forth a round of training for a grim purpose. At the very least, it helped them mentally prepare for the days ahead of them.