Content-Type: text/x-zim-wiki
Wiki-Format: zim 0.4
Creation-Date: 2020-08-08T00:41:56-03:00

====== Chapter 1 ======
Final version here

The chapter with the pirates

"There, at the storm cloud! I see them!"  
"Ooh, clever girls. Tryin' to give us the ol' slip, huh?"  
Both sets of voices, grinning like hyenas, continue peering through their spyglasses at the distant airship freighter turned pirate ship sinking it's way into that same distant thundercloud, the vessel's engines kicking up into the audible range just as the turbines sink their way into the gray, thundering mass.  
"Don't know why they're bothering," the short, chubby hedgehog shaped figure of the two says, collapsing his spyglass. "We //always// catch up to them."  
"Yeah, //we// do, lil' G," the taller, greener, alien shaped figure of the two replies, collapsing his own spyglass. "But I don't think //they// know which patrol they're dealing with today."  
"Today we remind them?" the little guy grins.  
"Today we remind them," the big guy grins back.  
With nothing more than a little glint of excitement in their eyes as all the communication they needed, the two sprang into action; the short one manning the controls of the airship, while the tall one spun in place, moonwalking with a purpose towards the railing of the bridge.  
"Take us in, Grubber. Fast and furious."  
"Aye aye, commander!"  
Spinning around with a little flourish, both of the tall commander's armoured hands slammed down on the railing like a judge's gavel, the engine of the airship kicking into high gear barely a moment later in perfect, practised sync.  
"All right, ladies!" the commander hollers towards his motley crew down below. "Drop your cocks and grab your socks! Eyes and ears all up here!"  
The entire crew of storm creatures had all snapped to attention the moment his hands had come down, all of them listening intently.  
"We've got ourselves a code 10-54 in progress," he grins, voice practically dripping with malice and excitement.  
The effect of his words were immediate, spreading like bubonic wildfire. Most of the storm creatures began to chuckle. Some of them began rubbing their hands. And at least one of them was making clear his desire to make his prey call him 'daddy', if his pelvic thrusting was anything to go by.  
"Positions, boys. It's showtime."  
With a deep 'hurrah' and a few stomps and claps, the crew assume battle stations, most of them vanishing into the lower decks and dousing the deck lights as they go, just in time for their beloved commander to whirl around from the railing and face towards the rapidly approaching storm cloud.  
Wordlessly, he takes up position next to a smirking Grubber, just in time for them to enter the storm cloud. The cloud, thanks to the enchantments running throughout the airship's hull, was beginning to grow in intensity; the wind kicking up and the light moisture of the cloud precipitating out into rain all around them.  
Luckily for the commander and his loyal crew, he had some extra enchantments of his own installed in his vessel to keep most of that rain away from the deck of his ship.  
It made this aspect of hunting down sky pirates a //much// more awesome and morale boosting part of the day.  
No sooner did the airship get swallowed up by the rapidly worsening, now thundering storm cloud than he pulled out his spyglass once again, scanning for his quarry.  
"See them yet, boss?" Grubber calls out.  
There. The ship's deck lights. Tough to pick out amidst all the flashes of lightning, but to the commander's trained eyes, it may as well have been a giant neon sign reading '//please arrest us//'.  
"Two o'clock. Kick the speed up a notch, steer us a bit more to the left. Get ready to broadside."  
"You got it!"  
Spyglass quickly stowed, the commander takes the little speakerphone Grubber offers without a word, already knowing the drill.  
"Alright, ladies. Get me two port hookshots loaded up on the double. Boarding crew, get your asses in gear. We hit the dance floor in 30."  
He didn't need his spyglass anymore to make out his prey, still unaware of their presence thanks to the cover of the storm and his crew's quick and efficient dousing of the lights beforehand.  
"Three quarters the speed, little guy."  
//20.//  
With that bit of wordless compliance on Grubber's part, the commander got ready for his favourite part.  
"Steady," he continues, speakerphone clutched in his hands and ready to give the signal.  
He'd long since been unable to keep the smile off his face.  
//10.//  
Many beats pass in silence, save for the sound of the airship's engine, as the commander scans the increasingly visible deck of the enemy ship, waiting for that perfect chance.  
//5.//  
It doesn't take long at all to find what he's looking for.  
//4.//  
That exact moment when one of the crew notices that something's up.  
//3.//  
And just so happens to look his way.  
//2.//  
Perfect.  
//1.//  
"Fire."  
**BLAM**  
Quick as a whip, the first hookshot fires off, burying itself into the side of the enemy ship.  
They barely get to start shouting before the second one follows.  
**BLAM**  
Right away, the massive pulleys hidden within his ship began doing their job, reining in the massive chains now firmly anchored into their prey's starboard side.  
And like the well-trained, well-oiled machines they were, his storm creatures rolled out right in time for the hooked gangplanks to come down, digging into the wood of the enemy ship and allowing them to rush their surprised foes, who hadn't even mobilized above deck yet.  
He wished he could have called it a battle, but it was much more accurate to call it a brutal, merciless slaughter.  
A very bloodless, rope intensive slaughter.  
His troops, in the span of only two minutes, had managed to pin down and subdue the enemy pirates with barely any trouble, tying them all up and lining them out in the pouring rain of their ship.  
//Welp,// he thought to himself, his smirk of pride morphing back into malicious joy, //Can't read them their rights from here, can I?//  
"Let's give 'em the good news, lil' G," he chuckles, patting Grubber's shoulder.  
His happy little hedgehog sidekick takes that cue to put the ship into neutral, lock up the console, hide the key in his shirt, and catch on up to the commander, who had gone ahead and skipped the stairs entirely, vaulting over the railing and dropping into a picture perfect superhero landing.  
A light little //fwumph// accompanied his head rising up, belonging to the umbrella of a storm creature right behind him, who had anticipated just such a manoeuvre and was determined to make his senpai notice him.  
"Flattery will get you nowhere, big guy," the great commandy senpai said as he rose to his feet flyer than McFly, flashing him a winning smile and one hand's worth of finger-pistols. "But don't ever stop trying."  
And with that, he had single-handedly debunked all of hippogriffkind's filthy lies about storm beasts being horrible monsters incapable of showing affection, perfectly cited in APA format by the squeal of pure happiness that this one had just emitted.  
Striding on forward with his happy-dancing rain shield in tow, he linked back up with a very bemused Grubber, and the well protected trio made their way across the gangplank and onto the deck of their foe's freighter.  
Unfortunately, the commander's infectious joy was soured ever so massively when he finally got a good look at exactly what band of degenerates thought it would be a good idea to cause a ruckus on his turf.  
Anthropomorphic parrot people in full pirate cosplay.  
//Furries,// he grimaced internally, //Why did it have to be furries?//  
Offering a brief prayer to the God-Emperor for protection against such heresy, he kept his smile on full blast for his team's sake, already trying to pick out their leader from the crowd.  
He took great, sugary sweet pleasure in seeing the parrots tremble before him as his eyes scanned across them, taking extra care to make sure his gaze lingers //just// long enough for them to break eye contact and decide the lightning flashes were far more interesting to look at.  
Right up until he found the one parrot with the big fancy pirate captain hat.  
It was a really tough call between that one and the crazy-eyed parrot wearing the airman's hat, no doubt brimming with deep state insider knowledge on griffon foal sacrifice cults.  
//Can't I have fun with the crazies, just for once?//  
With his winning smile filling in for his words, he uses one finger to lift up the brim of the captain bird's hat, finding an all-too-familiar white-feathered, raspberry eyed ladybird staring right back at him with the usual defiant glare he'd come to expect from sky pirates.  
//Yep, thought these losers looked familiar. That's Celaeno all right.//  
"Ayyy, Celie!" he chirps, smiling widely. "What's shakin', sugartits?"  
Instantaneously, her little rebellious teenager glare gets traded down for an eye bulging stare of pure shock.  
Though the gasp she gave out was probably for a very different reason.  
"Oh, no," she muttered. "Not //you!//"  
"Or wait, do birds even have tits?" He pulls back a little to scratch his chin, pondering that brief aside into esoteric philosophy. "You //do// have tits, right?"  
Her mouth hung open for a few moments, trying to process what just came out of his mouth. When she processed just enough of his words for her face to colour red with embarrassment, he continued his verbal blitzkrieg uncontested, cutting off whatever she was about to stammer out.  
"Actually, don't answer that. You're not my type." he shrugs.  
Ignoring the scowl he got in response, he went right back in, making direct eye contact with a smile. "Gotta say though, girl, I'm a little surprised to see you back at this shit again after that whole business with the malachite!"  
"Slavery wasn't really a fulfilling career path," she growled back.  
"//Slavery//? Oh come //on// now, you're gonna hurt the boss's feelings!"  
"Screw him and his feelings." Celaeno levelled some serious stink-eye his way. "And screw you too, Anon."  
"You couldn't afford it, honey." Anonymous shot right back with a little wink and a snap of his fingers.  
As his cadre of storm creatures lose their minds before the imperious might of the human's Supa Hot roast, the parrot captain's eyes narrow in time with the increasingly nasty scowl she's begun developing.  
"Anyways," Anon shrugs, "I //really// don't wanna read off the entire list of crimes you just pulled in chronological order. We're no strangers to this; you know the rules, and so do I."  
"That, and it takes //forever//!" Grubber helpfully adds.  
"It totally does," he replies, pulling back a bit to indulge in the banter. "I mean, she had to have broken at //least// twenty of big daddy Storm King's laws, right?"  
"Twenty five," he helpfully clarifies.  
"//Twenty five!// I mean, come on! Who the hell has the time to go out and memorize all twenty five of those charges when there's ass to kick and bubble gum to chew?"  
"Oh I love bubble gum," Grubber drools.  
"Everyone does, it's weird not to. Isn't that right, fellas?"  
A chorus of agreement rings out across his band of merry men, and he turns right back to his still-restrained quarry after briefly observing his men's agreement.  
"I don't know about you, though. Can you even //have// bubble gum?" he scratches his chin a little bit, pondering his second adventure into the meaning of life. "I mean, I know you've got the whole beak thing going on. That's gotta make it tough, right? Am I just crazy?"  
"No, you're a dick," she deadpans.  
Every storm creature gasps in unison at her words, with some covering their mouths, and at least one of them fainting.  
"//Asshole,//" Anon corrects with a little frown, taking incredible levels of offence to the comment. "If you're gonna be a wiseass, you can at least be accurate."  
"I don't care what you are, //sarge.//" Anon could see Celaeno's body tense up during her mini rant. "I hate you so, //so// much, but you know what the one thing I  //do// like about you is?"  
"//Qu'est que c'est?//" //el commandante// grins, 90% sure of what's coming next.  
"Hearing you cry for your mommy!"  
//Make that 100%.//  
The ropes binding up the crew are cut loose by some pretty sick sleight of beak on that crazy-eyed bird's part. Celaeno jumped back and drew her cutlass in time with the rest of her freed shipmates, and they all sprang out towards the commander, crying war.  
Not a single storm creature moved to stop the sudden move on their beloved commander. Indeed, none of them even seemed that bothered about this at all; most chose to just chuckle instead.  
A detail that, in retrospect, the pirates should have taken a bit more notice of, though Celaeno only held herself back upon seeing the amused, confident smile on his face before her crew converged on him.  
Armed with only his armoured hands and the dread power of CQC, Anon proceeded to quickly and efficiently take down each and every pirate that wanted a piece of him; in a flurry of blows, grabs, dodges, and cheap shots, they were slammed into the ground, sent flying against the ship's masts, and the crazy-eyed one was sent sailing into the sky before coming back down like a sack of potatoes.  
The entire fight was over in seven seconds.  
Anon looked completely unbothered by the events.  
Grubber and the storm creatures were applauding loudly, with at least one of them snapping a picture.  
And Celaeno's jaw was finding purchase on the deck floor.  
"Thank you, thank you very much!" Anon chirped, taking a bow before his crew. "You're a great audience!" He spun around to face Celaeno, dusting his hands off. "Whew, that was fun!"  
"What...?!" she stammered out, her sword trembling in her grasp. "How did you--?!"  
"But," Anon interrupted with a raised finger, looking the pirate captain dead in the eyes, "You made three mistakes."  
He took slow, steady steps towards her, his smile still present but noticeably more malicious than it was before.  
"First, my mom's dead." Anon took that moment to crack his knuckles. "So thanks for the reminder, you asshole."  
Celaeno began taking several steps back as he continued his intimidating slow walk towards her, weighing her options to either flee or fight.  
"Second, you came light. Only a dozen pirates for me? Fucking insulting."  
Celaeno, bless her heart, chose to fight. She mustered up enough bravery to rush Anon, going for an overhead swing.  
**CLANG**  
Not that it mattered for her, since he had effortlessly caught the blade between his palms, causing the pirate to immediately freeze up in shock.  
"But the //worst// mistake you made?"  
Celaeno was the next to experience the full power of the basics of CQC, expertly flipping her through the air. The second her back hit the floor, his boot came down and kept her there as he took her sword, slid the blade beneath his arm, snapped the blade off, and let both halves of the weapon clatter to the floor.  
"It's //Commander// Anonymous to you, sweetpea."
"But //you// can call him daddy!" Grubber adds as he flips on over to his side, striking into the air with some kung fu kicks before settling into a pose next to him. "Oh yeah, get dunked on!"  
"Attaboy, lil' G," Anon smirks, never once breaking eye contact with the now very frightened pirate captain. "It's just such a crying shame that my //widdle// girl got herself in with this band of delinquents again."  
He leans forward with another of his trademarked evil grins, prodding her on the beak with a finger.  
"I guess daddy's gonna have to teach her and her friends a lesson."  

###### Hours later...

"Now, let it never be said that I'm not a merciful cat, see?" Anon called out towards the little hot-air balloon dinghy, full of a very shaken, very tied up, and very naked crew of former parrot pirates, soon to be productive members of society.  
"You're a monster!" one of the parrots calls back.  
"No, I'm an asshole. Learn the difference, it could save your life!"  
"Please wait!" Celaeno pleads from behind him. "You don't have to do this!"  
"Absolutely spot-on there, Watsonette!" Anon cheers with a clap of his hands, nodding to the two storm creatures beside him to let go of the ropes keeping the dinghy from falling away from his ship. "//I// don't have to do a damn thing here! //You// get all the fun!"  
"What the hay are you talking about--?!"  
"So here's the deal, galpal," Anon cuts her off with a massive, evil grin, sliding an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in towards him, gesturing with his free hand towards the little game he'd gone ahead and set up.  
The little dinghy crammed full of panicking parrots was currently sinking it's way down right towards the heart of the beautiful, scummy gem of the desert that was Klugetown, the figuratively and literally slimy residents in the highrise suites already eyeing up their potential next catch with their spyglasses and making calls to their 'collectors' on the ground.  
"See, you've gone and got me all conflicted, Celie-chan. On one hand, you pissed all over the mighty generous career path the King went and hooked you up with. On the other, I've got a serious soft spot for the little guy. And trust me, that's not your ambiguously existing bird tits talking here! So I've kinda decided that, well, I'm not gonna decide at all!"  
He brushes some lingering dust off of Celaeno's Storm King uniform, then holds a fan of thirteen work passes out in front of her.  
"You can keep your jobs, you and all of your buddies there! But //only// with all of your buddies there. Package deals and all that. Now, see your ship over there?" he gestures to their beat-up pirate freighter tethered to Anon's ship, that had since been converted into a fully branded, unarmed Storm King issue freighter. "You can keep it, on me! And all you've gotta do is get the ol' girl started up, swoop on down, pick up your crew, and //voila!// You're a productive member of society again, baby!"  
It was at this point that she had realized the ship, with only one storm creature lying on the deck and catching some rays, hadn't been started up.  
If her white feathers were capable of turning whiter, they were sure trying their hardest to do just that.  
"Wait. Wait, //wait!// You're not serious--?!"  
"Though I'd start making that pick-up real soon if I were you," he ends with the kind of evil grin one can only obtain through years of experience, "Talented sailors are just so darned hard to find, what with the... //competitive// job market down in Klugetown these days."  
He released his hold on the trembling captain at this point, giving her shoulder a couple of friendly pats while his evil grin morphs into a big, goofy one.  
"So! How 'bout it, cap'n?"  
She didn't need any further prompting, snatching the passes from his hand and tearing off across the gangplank like a bat out of hell, desperately scrambling around to try and get the ship started by herself.  
The one storm creature still on board offers no help at all, instead just casually walking back aboard Anonymous's warship, offering a few crisp fistbumps to his waiting buddies as they raise the gangplanks back up and untie all of the ropes keeping the unfortunate captain's ship tethered to his.  
"Oh, just so we're clear," Anon hollers down to the slowly falling airship, "I don't wanna have this conversation again, ya hear?"  
He doesn't wait for a response, instead opting to turn around, grab a pair of folded reclining seats nearby, and take them on up to the bridge for some prime-time viewing.  
Everyone aboard had already prepared for this little spectacle, popcorn being passed around and consumed in liberal amounts, with Grubber bounding towards Anon with two extra large bags in his arms while Anon went right ahead and got the reclining seats laid out for the show.  
Truly, such philanthropy on his part deserved to be seen through.  
"Y'know," Anon remarks, laid back and snacking away with his little partner in crime, "Have I ever mentioned how much I love my job?"  

###### Hours later...

With a satisfying, resounding *clunk,* Commander Anon's airship nestles into it's spot in the docking tower, the gangplanks all coming down moments later with a crew of very happy storm creatures bouncing off for some well earned rest.  
"Don't get too drunk without me, ladies!" Anon calls out to them as they leave, earning himself a chorus of cheers and laughter for his trouble.  
Like a true captain, he lets his troops disembark before he and his trusty sidekick head out themselves, letting the maintenance crew work their magic for the next adventure they go on.  
"So where to first, boss?"  
"To deliver the good news, of course."  
"Aww, come on! There's a sponge cake with my name on it over at the mess tower!"  
"Sorry lil' G, but first things first."  
"Fine," he huffs.  
"Hey, there's a meat pie with *my* name on it at the tower, too. You ain't the only one suffering here!"  
The pair finally make their way to the elevator - more of a circular platform pushed up and down by a massive screw underneath than a traditional elevator - taking that moment to stretch out and pop those joints while waiting for their ride up to finish.  
"Still can't believe that parrot actually pulled it off, though!"  
"Oh, I never doubted her for a second."  
"Yeah, good one."  
"I'm serious."  
"You're serious?"  
"Yeah?"  
"No way, dude."  
"Yes way, dude!"  
"How?"  
"Oh my sweet little minion, you've got a //lot// to learn about the hideous, disgusting powers of goody two-shoes heroes."  
"Heroes? Seriously? The //pirates,// heroes?"  
"Grubber, you would not //believe// how many pirates in this world see themselves as heroes fighting the good fight."  
"But they steal!"  
"Ahh, but only from those who //deserve// getting stolen from!"  
A few more seconds pass before their elevator stops at the right level, and the pair step off and continue on their way towards the tower's connecting bridge.  
"That makes no sense, though!" Grubber continues.  
"You're arguing with the logic of //pirates,// lil' G. Doesn't matter what //we// think, 'cause we're The Man™, man! They're not a part of our System™, dawg!"  
"Pirates are stupid."  
"That's why they're so easy to catch!"  
"Huh. Good point."  
Anon cradles the back of his head as he treks down the connecting bridge, closing his eyes and taking in the relaxing sound of the rain hammering against the glass with a nice, deep breath through his nose.  
"God, I love taking the scenic route," Anon remarks.  
"It's the *only* route, Anon," Grubber deadpans.  
"Which means we get the best route, every time!"  
And Storm Island never lacked for rain thanks to it's namesake eternal storm, never ceasing to provide a constant backdrop of torrential rain and constant thunder and lightning.  
A backdrop that went very well with the design of the buildings; a collection of tall, black metal towers, clad with spikes and a particularly spiky top portion which Anon could only describe as being the result of the Storm King channelling whoever the fuck Sauron's tower designer was.  
The lightning flashes really brought out the best in them.  
The big spiderweb of interconnecting bridges between just about all of the adjacent towers were another very nice touch, too; just narrow enough to feel slightly claustrophobic, floored and roofed with the same black metal as the towers, but unlike the towers, had the walls frequently broken up with massive windows, allowing anyone travelling across them a full view of the island.  
A cluster of five towers in the middle of the island, circling the much larger, more ornate tower in the centre, served as 'hubs' for most of the others, with bridges coming off of just about every level that connected both each other and all the other towers in their particular area of service.  
The bridge that Anon and Grubber had nearly finished heading across was one such bridge, and the first of two on their way towards the central tower.  
A pair of guards flashed their commander a little salute as he passed them by, and he and his little partner just continued onto one last elevator ride before the bridge to the Storm King's tower.  
"Man, wish I could hear the rain in my quarters," Anon sighed. "Falling asleep to //that// would be literal perfection."  
"Meh, I like it quiet."  
"To each their own, I guess. Anyways," Anon pulls free a small notebook very eloquently titled 'Testament of the Great Commandy One', "Besides us sending a very thoughtful message to the pirate scum of the world, is there anything else I should add to the boss's news bulletin?"  
"Not really," Grubber shrugs. "I just wanna know when Tempest'll be back."  
"Yeah, not sure where she up and vanished to." Anon summoned forth the most evil of No. 2 pencils from his armour, pressing it's foulest of daemonic graphite against the surface of the defenceless paper and cruelly marring it's surface with stroke after merciless stroke. "I'll have to ask about that."  
"Any guesses?"  
"About where she went?" Anon hummed, permanently scarring into the horrifically abused paper his lavishy detailed stick figure of Tempest pole-dancing in the strategy room, right below his detailed notes on Celaeno's underwear colour. "Probably to scout something out. Don't think the boss would send her to steal another magic trinket solo."  
"Especially not after the //last// time." Grubber shuddered a little, recalling the failed attempt to steal the pearl from the hippogriffs. "She's //still// upset about that, you know."  
"Yeah, so was the King. Though to be //entirely// fair, I don't think anyone expected the fucking pearl to mass recall them out of our grasp."  
"Magic is cheating," Grubber grumbles. "Wish I could just walk it off like you."  
"So do I, champ," he smiles, banishing his instrument of pure evil back into the foul depths of the Warp from whence it came while tucking his up-and-coming manifesto back into his armour for later use and abuse, respectively. "So do I."  
It didn't take long after those words for them to finish crossing over to the central tower, soon standing in front of the very nice set of red velvet drapes with the king's logo on them that served as the entrance to the strategy room.  
And already, he could hear his boss and a certain pony talking inside.  
"She's back?" Grubber asks, stopping with Anon to listen in.  
The words were muffled, but the tone still carried across, clear as day, causing Grubber's expression to fall.  
"Oh, she's angry," he gulps.  
"Guess that's my cue to investigate," Anon hums, patting the squat hedgehog on the head. "Take cover."  
He doesn't need to be told twice, flattening against the wall right next to the entry drapes. Rolling his eyes with a little smirk, Anon shot him a two-finger salute with a little wink before pushing his way through those drapes and into the strategy room proper.  
Sure enough, the Storm King and Tempest Shadow were both there, their discussion halting the second they saw him come in. The former looked //very// happy to see the human; the other, not so much.  
"Commander!" the Storm King cheered, "So good to see you back!"  
"Good to //be// back," he shot back with a wink, spinning in place for a little unnecessary flair. "Though if I'm honest, it's hard to top hunting down pirate scum, y'know what I'm sayin'?"  
"Pirate scum, eh?" he muses, itching his chin. "That wouldn't happen to be Celaeno's band, would it?"  
"The same," he grins. "Don't worry, I made sure their unemployment was //very// short-lived."  
"Excellent, excellent!" The king lit right up, never failing to be impressed by his favourite commander. "I had a feeling they'd try and renege on our little... //agreement.// You'll have to tell me all about it later!"  
"I'd love to. But first things first," he pivots, looking towards the increasingly annoyed looking mare in the audience, "Haven't seen you around lately, Tempest! Where've you been, girl?"  
Now, Anonymous was no stranger to having Tempest give him the cold shoulder as a response to, well, pretty much any attempt he made at trying to initiate a civilized conversation with her, however loose his definition of 'civilized' happened to be at any given moment. This time however, she had stepped her game up from ignoring him to ignoring him with an angry look.  
A look that he had no shame in admitting looked absolutely adorable on her little pony face.  
"I've had her doing some reconnaissance for me," the Storm King answers. "Feeling out who our next conquest will be."  
"I'm a simple guy, boss-man," Anon smiles, leaning back against one of the pillars in the room. "I hear 'conquest,' I want in."  

###### Minutes later...

Grubber had been through a //lot// of nastiness in his time as a terrified-into-being-loyal member of the Storm King's army. He'd witnessed the King throwing traitors off of his airships, shoving defenceless parasprites into glass jars, and of course, being the witness and occasional recipient of one of his many unprompted bouts of yelling and threatening.  
"This is gonna be //awesome,// Tempie!" Anon cheered, dancing around Tempest like he'd just won the lottery. "We can stay up late, hunt down some pirate scum, swap scary stories, and best of all," he stops and kneels to her level, looking her dead in the eye as he whispers: "Have a bitchin' slumber party!"  
"If you don't get out of my face in the next three seconds," Tempest growled through gritted teeth and arcing magic, "I will vaporize every inch of you...!"  
Grubber wasn't entirely certain what was causing a greater strain on his ability to exercise control over his bowels; the oppressively thick aura of pure, horn-besparking hatred that was actively avoiding making contact with the pointed death glare that Tempest was levelling towards Anonymous, or the seemingly oblivious and childlike glee Anonymous took in pressing every single one of her buttons, which, to borrow his own words, he failed to give 'a fleeting fractionated fuck' about.  
"Every inch?" Anon pulled back, scratching his chin in deep thought. "You mean square inch, or cubic inch?"  
"You think you're funny, don't yo--?!"  
"And really, no mention of centimetres? Or litres? C'mon, Tempie, it's the current year! You gotta embrace a little //modernity!//"  
"Do NOT call me--!"  
"Though let's be real here, pluralistic measurement systems are objectively the best. Actually, pluralistic //anything// is pretty good, //especially// when surrounded by massive fuckoff tryhards trying to shake their dicks around about //their// way being the best way, y'know what I'm saying?"  
"**I WILL--!**"  
"German parliament was God's gift to discourse, and I will not have you debate this."  
The moment Grubber saw her horn ignite with lightning, he dropped to the floor and took cover, cowering in abject terror from the loud, violent electric magic aimed towards--  
"Hey, watch where you're pointing that thing!" Anon could be heard chiding.  
Confused, Grubber risked a look towards his friend, wondering why he wasn't screaming in pain.  
What he saw left him surprised, even more confused, and just about as scared as before.  
Anon had gone and pressed two of his fingers against Tempest's horn, the magic from the broken appendage being conducted through his armour like a grounding rod, travelling from his arm, down to his leg, and into the floor of the elevator they had been riding, causing the elevator to stop suddenly with the lights flickering wildly.  
Tempest looked about as surprised as Grubber felt.  
"Y'know girl, you oughta be glad this ain't the 41st Millenium, 'cause unregulated psyker shit like this is a one-way ticket onto the black ships," Anon continues, completely unbothered. "And God fucking help you if the Black Templars are hanging nearby."  
Grubber saw her face morph back into anger right before the lights popped, prompting him to take cover once again.  
"I give up."  
Of all the things he expected Tempest to do, that wasn't one of them.  
But sure enough, the sound of her magic stopped, and the elevator started moving again, eventually coming to a natural stop. Grubber risked looking back up, catching her walking out of the elevator, past a pair of trembling guards.  


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Created Saturday 08 August 2020

