'Breach'

15-Nov-2030, 2323U

LCDR Percy Jackson, US Navy, Son of Neptune

Legio XII Fulminata (TDY)

Oakland Hills, California, USA

I've been woken up by big-ass bells. I've been woken up by electronic alarms. I've even been woken up by those emergency alert system sounds you only hear in movies, videogames, and in barracks haunted by a jackass who likes fucking with fellow sailors. It was pretty funny seeing the chief petty officer looking confused as hell when Mr. Jackass showed up at morning brief with a black eye. But to Mr. Jackass's credit, he ceased his fuckery after that.

But this... this was absolute torture. It could wake up a son of the god of sleep (what's his name, Hypnosus? Somniferous?). It was bells, electronic alarms, the EAS buzz, gongs, and I'm pretty sure that alarm from Rogue One was in the cacophony too.

This is probably Valdez's doing.

"ALERT, DECUMANIAN GATE!! ALERT, DECUMANIAN GATE!! ALERT, DECUMANIAN GATE!!" a recording of Leo's voice thundered, reverberating throughout the camp. "TO ARMS, DECUMANIAN GATE!! TO ARMS, DECUMANIAN GATE!! TO ARMS, DECUMANIAN GATE!!"

Rattled as a motherfucker, I quickly grabbed my assaulter kit: war belt with sidearm, plate carrier with mags, helmet with NODs, and my 10.5" Noveske, before jamming on some tennis shoes and throwing the door open, stretching out my body the best I could as I jogged out of the Principia (where I was temporarily living in one of its rooms) and made my way outside, where the alarms had only intensified.

"ATTACK, ATTACK, ATTACK!! CALDECOTT TUNNEL, CALDECOTT TUNNEL, CALDECOTT TUNNEL!! ATTACK, ATTACK, ATTACK!! CALDECOTT TUNNEL, CALDECOTT TUNNEL, CALDECOTT TUNNEL!! ALERT—"

As the super loud recording of Leo's voice continued to blast from hidden speakers throughout the camp (how did he even do that?), I heard an explosion. Then another. Then another.

Fuck.

Muscle memory taking over, I began sprinting like hell towards the gate. The camp, which was significantly larger than it had been twenty years ago, took a little time to sprint through. And while I was in minimal kit, it was still some extra weight. But nearly an agonizing minute of running later, the gate was in my sight, and one of the guard towers right next to the gate had exploded, sending shrapnel and men flying. Two legionaries hit the dirt hard, but I could only run past their unconscious, limp forms.

No medicine in a gunfight.

I shimmied up the ladder of another guard tower—one that was further away from the main gate—sweating despite the chilly November night. When I reached the top, I found a team of artillerymen manning a scorpio, shooting downwards Caldecott Tunnel.

"Sir, we got bad guys comin' through the tunnel!" the short tesserarius said—and it was none other than Napoleon, one of my trusted Minions. "They've set up a barricade shielding their position and appear to have some sort of artillery! They own that chokepoint!"

"Do we have men outside the wall?!" I shouted over the noise.

"Two guys!"

"Are there any other potential targets?"

"Two bridges crossing Little Tiber, one north, one south! Third bridge at Temple Hill! Also that dirt road leading to East Oakland! I've sent runners to call the cavalry, but it's a total shitshow here! They'll be breaking through Decumanian Gate real quick!"

"Alright, I'll get your boys inside! You gotta give me some covering fire!"

"You got it!"

"Fuck!" I hissed, ducking to avoid a blazing arrow before moving down the ladder, where I found my first responders: a very sweaty Legionary Narco and five of his fellow Cohort III troopers, in a strange mix of jammies and armor. Narco and two others had their gladii and scuti, while the other three carried a bow, crossbow, and sling.

"You six, with me! We got two wounded outside! We're gonna get 'em and buy time for backup to arrive!"

"SIR, YES SIR!!" the six acknowledged.

"Is there an exit point that doesn't compromise the main gate?"

"Sir, doggie door, sir!" Narco answered. "I know the way, sir!"

"Lead out, Narco!"

"Sir!"

Despite sweating like a pig and looking utterly exhausted after running with his battle gear, Narco led the way, taking us towards the northern gate. We charged past wide-eyed, startled troops as they mustered in jammies with their gear, unsure of what to do.

"Get to Decumanian Gate! Cover the bridges across Lil' Tiber!" I ordered as we ran past the uncertain legionaries. Finally, we arrived at the northern gate, where I saw the "doggie door": one of those man-sized doors inside the much larger door that was the gate. "Open that hatch!"

"Sir, yes sir!" one of the guards replied, unlocking the doggie door and throwing it open. Narco was the first man out, and I came right behind him. As soon as the last man was out, the door was shut and locked. We'd have cover from the artillerymen and guards in the towers, but we were on our own.

"Bro, move back. I'll take front," a bigger shield-bearing legionary said, with the exhausted Narco complying. "Sir, ready to go, sir."

"Alright, lead out. Let's go get our boys," I muttered. The big guy led the way, shield up and sword at the ready, while Narco held rear security. We maneuvered along the northern wall, watching for bad guys. Once we hit the corner, I canted around to get a better look at the battle before me. The enemy appeared to have thrown up a big-ass smokescreen, so we couldn't see them. However, we could see our downed guards, one of whom was unconscious. The other, having crawled towards his brother-in-arms, was bleeding profusely from the head.

"FUCKING HELP!!" he shouted hoarsely, sounding terrified out of his mind.

"Napoleon! Napoleon!" I shouted up towards the northwest corner guard tower. "NAPOLEON!!"

"Jackson! I've got eagle-strikes!" he shouted down over the explosions. "We're low on ammo for the scorpio!"

"Hit 'em with everything you got! Send a team out the north doggie door to us! We need help gettin' 'em inside!"

"Okay, hold on!"

"Nobody fucking move," I ordered, turning towards my team. "We wait for CAS, got it? We wait."

"We can't leave them!" my point-man exclaimed.

"We ain't, big man. But there's no point in creating more casualties. Listen, shields outwards, cover us. We advance to our boys and drag 'em out. On my go. Clear?"

"Clear!" the legionaries responded.

"STAND BY FOR EAGLE-STRIKE!!" Napoleon warned as a section of the western wall caught fire. A bowman in the tower appeared to shoot an arrow into the smoke—I assumed he saw something we didn't—and then all of a sudden, whatever he just shot began lighting up. That arrow, if I was correct, was a fucking firework arrow... maybe even a Roman candle, considering all the purple sparks it was shooting out.

Massive shadowy figures swooped overhead and suddenly, the site of the purple began exploding with what looked like Greek Fire and shrapnel. It was the 12th Legion's own close air support: eagle-strikes, as they called them. Giant eagles swooped in, dropping the bombs right on the enemies' heads and causing a temporary lull in deadly projectiles flying towards us.

"Move, move, move!" I ordered, with the shield-bearing legionaries creating a little wall of protection as we slowly advanced towards the wounded men. I walked alongside my point-man, occasionally canting around him and firing rounds into the general direction of the enemy—initially startling him at first, but he got used to the suppressed gunfire. Eventually, we arrived at the wounded men. The slinger helped the conscious man to his feet while bowman and crossbowman raised the unconscious guard's torso up and began dragging him to safety. I continued to take shots at the unknown enemy as we slowly maneuvered back to the northwest corner, where more legionaries, now in a mini-tortoise formation, took the wounded off our hands and transported them to the inside.

"Great, now what?" Narco asked as we hid behind the wall.

"We can't do much more. It's a ranged battle," the point-man pointed out.

"Now, we light the fuckers up," I replied, reloading my rifle and lowering my NODs. However, not even ten seconds after I did, I could make out some shadowy figures to the north, moving for the northern bridge. "Shit, mobile element to the north. Swordsmen, get inside and help out. Shooters, with me!"

"SIR, YES SIR!!" the group replied. I began running for the northern bridge, with the slinger, bowman, and crossbowman hot on my heels. But our bad guys, who were fast as fuck and turned out to be cynocephali—oddly enough, looking exactly like the dog-headed monsters we saw in Mendocino—had just crossed the bridge when we were a stone's throw from them. They could see us, but we could see them too. And if we could see them, we could hit them.

"Contact front!" I shouted, quickly dropping to my knee and activating my IR laser. As I began shooting, I could just make out my shooters spreading out behind me and engaging the best they could. They didn't have night vision, but they were still giving the monsters something to worry about. I smoked two of the monsters fairly quickly, but the rest were smart, getting back onto the bridge and using its stone structure for cover.

"Moving!" I warned, quickly swapping in a fresh mag and standing, running behind my guys to get into a position in which I could aim right down the bridge. I kept shooting, compromising between speed and stability as I kept flinging lead (er, godly metal) at the bridge and keeping the dog-men's heads down. By the time I was in an optimal position, I'd already expended all 30+1 rounds. But it was a 15-yard shot, and switching to my pistol was faster than reloading.

One Glock 19 mag dump—which killed five—plus a stone, bolt, and arrow from my shooters, the entire dog-man team was EKIA. I moved to cover to reload my pistol and rifle while my shooters moved up, weapons at the ready. Once I was all loaded up, I brought my rifle up and scanned the area. The bridge was secure, but the enemy hadn't sent any more bad guys this way. Looking south, it appeared that the cavalry was finally going to work, with pegasus-borne archers circling overhead and shooting arrows down at the enemy force entrenched within Caldecott Tunnel.

"Sick, now what, sir?" the slinger asked.

"I've got an idea," I said, realizing that there were still two radios attached to my plate carrier. Unclipping one and unplugging it from my PTT, I ensured the frequency was the same as that of the radio still on me before tossing it to the bowman. "Get this back to Napoleon. He's chief watchman, so he'll be coordinating this shit. I'm gonna cross over and make sure these SOBs don't."

"Sir, yes sir!" the bowman affirmed, beginning the sprint back to the fortified camp. He dashed right past a 30-man team of legionaries (I think they were Cohort VII) jogging our way, who appeared to be tasked with securing the bridge.

"You guys, hold this bridge. We're gonna give these bastards a proper Roman welcome!"

"Sir, yes sir!" the group responded.

"On me!" I ordered, taking point and moving across the bridge before turning left and advancing towards Caldecott Tunnel, the slinger and crossbowman right behind me. We moved methodically, watching out for any traps or hidden bad guys, but we faced no problems. Finally, when we were around 50 yards from the entrance, Napoleon's voice crackled over the radio.

"Evocatus, this is Terrerarius. Are you there?" he called.

"Roger! Be advised, three-man team is fifty yards north of the tunnel entrance! Watch your fires!" I replied.

"Understood. We're getting heavy artillery ready to go. Enemy appears to be utilizing heavy weapons and armor."

As if on cue, something spit a hail of arrows out of the tunnel, with the fiery projectiles scattering into the camp. And then, another hail of arrows. The hwachas had returned.

"Tesserarius, enemy has hwachas. Recommend tortoise formation," I called.

"Got it, Evocatus."

"You two, hold here. Anything comes out, waste it."

"Sir, where are you going?" the slinger asked.

"Downstream," I replied simply before I jumped into the Little Tiber and began slowly walking, the waters reenergizing me and heightening my focus.

Time to be a frogman.

Rather than make me stumble and slip, the waters were actually somewhat helpful in assisting my otherwise slow crouch-walking. My hydrokinesis wasn't what it used to be, but the water still energized me more than some blue espresso jelly beans. And before long, I had a pretty decent angle into the cave, with the riverbank serving as decent enough cover... perfect for a little turkey shoot.

"Tesserarius, I'm in the river. Watch your fire."

"... I'm not even gonna ask, Evocatus. Happy hunting."

Smirking, I began my attack, crouching for maximum cover and opening fire into the group of unsuspecting monsters—all who were wearing the same black armor as the monsters in Mendocino... just like that team of cynocephali.

Seriously, what the fuck is going on here?

But there was no time to think. Now, I was effectively shooting ducks at the carnival—or a long-range whack-a-mole, if that's your thing—popping monsters that poked their heads and bodies out from behind their makeshift barricade. When my rifle ran dry, a cynocephalus jumped the barricade, dual knives in hand, rushing me like a greyhound-turned-attack dog. If I were out of the water, I'm not sure if I would've been able to react quickly enough. But along with energy and strength, the water also helped out my reflexes, so I quickly drew my pistol and smoked the dog-man in six shots.

"Bad dog," I tutted as I quickly dropped into the river and holstered my pistol, using the bank for cover from the hwachas and enemy bowmen. Pulling a frag grenade from one of the pouches on the MOLLE under my left armpit, I let my rifle hang and pulled the pin. When the fire lightened up enough, I threw the frag into the tunnel and ducked back down, quickly reloading my rifle and waiting for the boom.

"Frag out," I muttered out of reflex right before the explosion, after which I got back up and kept shooting. Once again, it was another duck hunt, but this time after running dry, there was no hanging around.

"Evocatus, there's an eagle-strike incoming, thirty seconds! Get outta there, now!" Napoleon called on the radio.

"Shit!" I cursed, realizing that time was running out, so I took refuge in audacity: dropping low, I chucked my last frag and flashbang in rapid succession. Upon hearing both explosions, I propelled myself out of the Little Tiber and ran for the main gate. "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—"

"Five seconds!" Napoleon warned over the radio.

I jumped into one of the craters at the base of the wall and flattened myself against the ground, bracing for impact. To his work, the eagle-strike came, and the ground rattled with all the bombs the eagles dropped on the monsters' heads. Maybe a dozen explosions later, I could hear the cavalry and guard getting back into the fight, launching arrows, bolts, stones, and other projectiles with their bows, crossbows, slings, and artillery pieces.

"Oh no, you don't," I scoffed, moving to a kneeling position and laying down fire at the enemy, whose makeshift barricade had buckled. Now, it was just a matter of smoking the final enemy foot-mobiles. And before I had even expended another mag, I could hear leaders shouting for a ceasefire. The enemy was gone.

... at least, in that location.

"Evocatus, I'm getting reports of enemy infiltrators in the dirt road, but there aren't enough men there!" Napoleon called.

"Fucking hell, get me a ride there, now!" I ordered, likely prompting him to call up the equites. But as it turned out, our airborne cavalry weren't needed, for a very certain someone had arrived.

You rang, Boss?

"You sonuvabitch!" I laughed as my pegasus landed, looking sleek and ready for action.

I saw those fools comin' up the not-so-well-hidden road. Ready to get crackin' whenever you are!

"Rock and roll, brother-man—er, horse!" I replied as I mounted up, and into the sky we went. While Blackjack handled the flight, I hailed Napoleon again. "Tesserarius, let me know if you've got any more targets. And get cavalry rolling and start eagle-dropping troopers where they're needed! We gotta move fast!"

"Loud and clear, Evocatus!" Napoleon replied.

Boss, I think I see 'em. Uniform black kit, shadowy creepy tactics... somethin's fishy here, Boss.

"You ain't kiddin, Blackjack. Well, steady it out. Time to go full helo-sniper."

I don't know what that means, but you got it!

My faithful pegasus leveled his wings before beginning a nice, steady orbit above the AO. Thanks to NODs and my IR laser, it was pretty easy to track the tangos moving up the admittedly badly hidden road running from East Oakland to the valley. Now, hitting them? That was another problem. And keep in mind: I never went to sniper school. Hell, I wouldn't even trust myself as designated marksman. Every time I've been on a sniper team, I've been the JTAC, security, or both. Never the shooter, and definitely not the spotter.

Dad was a sniper though... he'd love this shit. He likes horseback riding and shooting. Doing it at the same time, plus the horse is airborne? He'd be high on dopamine, bless his heart.

I will say, however, my rounds never went anywhere near any friendlies roaming the hills, just the bad guys. That was something... I guess. Still, the enemy assault team was slowly whittled down as dropped with (with low accuracy) from overhead. But it took heat off the ground team, giving the dozen legionaries time to dig in and establish a hardline.

Boss, eagles inbound. Each one's carryin' a guy.

Sure enough, the eagle-drops began, with a total of twelve legionaries dropping in to reinforce the ground team, and a five-man detachment of cavalrymen had also arrived to patrol the skies.

"Sir, reporting for duty, sir!" one of the cavalrymen shouted as he flew in on his mount.

"Kill 'em all!" I replied before going back to shooting the nimble monster force, who were now scattered throughout the hills, their assault practically nonexistent now. But the cavalrymen got to work, using bows, arrows, and even their spears to shoot and gut the monsters from above. And before long, even with Blackjack getting up higher, we couldn't see any more monsters roaming the Oakland Hills.

"Anything, boys?" I shouted as I reloaded while the lull lasted.

"Sir, no sir!"

"Sir, no sir!"

"Sir, nothing sir!"

"Sir, negatory sir!"

"Sir, no sir!"

"Fucking A. Lock down the hills and keep it going," I ordered before hailing Napoleon. "All targets in the hills destroyed."

"Understood," Napoleon replied. "We've got men in Caldecott Tunnel now, sweeping for enemy stragglers and booby traps. Tenth Cohort's secured New Rome and the wounded are being treated. All bridges are secured, Temple Hill is secured, and while camp is damaged, it's nothing that can't be fixed. We're all clear."

"Roger. Evocatus out."

Hey, Boss?

"What's up, Blackjack?"

Someone checked the aqueduct, right?

"Aqueduct?"

Ya know, the thing that transports water over a long-ass distance? New Rome's got one.

"I... actually forgot that existed."

I mean, I once heard a fella say, "you control the water, you control everything." So if that water ain't secured...

"Fuck," I agreed, realizing the implications. I steered us towards New Rome while calling for Napoleon. "Tesserarius, we are not clear. Say again, not clear. Aqueduct is not yet secure. Request cavalry and infantry to check it out."

"Repeat what you just said," Napoleon replied, sounding a little confused. "The aqueduct?"

"Affirmative. We don't know if the aqueduct or the water have been tampered with. They gotta check for everything: poison, demo charges, any sort of sabotage."

"Understood, I'm sending air and ground teams your way."

"Get 'em goi—"

"NOW YOU SEE HERE, MR. RULE FLOUTER!!" a loud, pompous voice boomed, startling me and Blackjack. And exploding into existence was none other than the God of Homeland Security himself.

"Lord TSA, this is not the time!" I groaned.

"Name-calling does not exempt you from the rules! No weapons past the Pomeranian Line, even if it's airborne! Do you recall the last time a weapon hovered above New Rome, Mr. Ignoramus?"

LISTEN HERE, YOU SENILE OLD FART OF A DEMENTED SHITBAG!! YOU DO NOT CALL THE BOSS AN "IGNO-SAURUS!!" APOLOGIZE, YOU CUNT-FACED SHRIVELED PUMPKIN SEED!!

"What did your pegasus just say?" Terminus seethed.

"He said you can stick your gun-free zone sign up your ass," I lied, too tired to deal with the bullshit. I veered Blackjack away from the spluttering bust, skirting around the Pomeranian Line to reach the aqueduct as fast as possible. And sure enough, atop the aqueduct and not far from Terminus's border were two ugly motherfuckers.

Boss, I'm pretty sure those are some teenage mutant ninja telekhines.

"They're still gettin' smoked," I replied, raising my rifle and locking onto the first tango, pulling the trigger until he exploded into dust. The second dropped a bottle off the side, which fell to the ground, and jumped into the water. Harnessing my limited hydrokinetic abilities, I tried to keep the SOB in place. I felt a churning in my gut and my spine just flared up with pain—because fuck, that was difficult—but the monster couldn't swim away, and that was all I needed to put some 5.56 in him and end the threat.

Damn, Boss. You good.

"I'm fine," I panted, surprisingly tired from that little moment of hydrokinesis. But I still had a job to do, so I hailed Napoleon on the radio. "Tesserarius, tangos were on the aqueduct. They're dead, but advise you test the water for poison now. And where's my backup?"

"Okay, we got our toxicologist and medics inbound," Napoleon replied. "Ninth Cohort's en route in vehicles. They'll check the ground. Eagles with more legionaries are also coming. Pegasi should be reaching you soon."

"Roger that. Evocatus out."

An eight-man team of cavalrymen arrived aboard their mounts, and we got to work in checking the whole aqueduct over for any more monsters or booby-traps. Most of the equites legionis was patrolling the hills from above, while ground forces were spread throughout the valley. But after nearly an hour of checking, the aqueduct was clear. Moreover, the toxicologist from the field hospital group confirmed that the telekhines failed to poison the water supply—and the recovered poison bottle (which did not break, despite falling a lot) contained ricin... which according to the nerds, is poisonous as fuck.

Holy shit balls... that just happened.

Anyways, I reconvened with the legion's leadership just outside of the Principia, with Blackjack touching down right next to the bleary-eyed commanders, who were all in a mixture of random clothes and armor. Kahale, hilariously enough, had what looked like hula girls and pineapples on his jammies, but the hilarity was balanced out by the fact that he was covered in blood and golden dust and had a new scar on his left cheek.

"You got into the thick of it, Kahale?" I asked, gesturing towards his dirty appearance.

"Infiltrators on the southern bridge," he grunted with a shrug. "All I had was my gladius and scutum, then I lost my scutum, so I drew my pugio with my left hand."

"You dual-wielding, pirate-ish motherfucker. My man."

"Not bad for someone who's predisposed to be a love expert," Tribune Steele joked, resulting in Tribune Stern elbowing him in the ribs.

"It's fine, Tribune," Kahale yawned. "I honestly stopped caring about the love child shit decades ago."

"Thick muscles, thick skin," I quipped, clapping the camp prefect on the shoulder. "But that aside, I've been talking with Napoleon and other commanders. We're all clear. But that water poisoning was just barely prevented. I wouldn't have gone if it hadn't been for Blackjack here."

"I guess... we owe you both our thanks," Tribune Hernandez said, nodding to me and Blackjack.

Doughnuts will suffice as tribute, buddy-boy.

"He said that you can pay him in doughnuts," I roughly translated with a grin.

"... what?"

"Forget it. Anyways, the fuckers have all been smoked. But we better be setting up a new security plan. And did anybody notice the fact that the same kit from Mendocino was there?"

"Operation Black Squirrel?" Kahale dryly asked. "The monsters with uniform black equipment? Yeah... they were good. One of those dog-men slashed me good before I stabbed him. These guys are more coordinated, smarter. And they had those hwachas, plus one of those mini-catapults and those high-explosive cannonballs they had... also at Mendocino. This shit's stackin' up, and I don't like it."

"Me neither," Legate Reed agreed after digesting our words for a few moments. "Fuck, it's late. Let's focus on securing the valley first, making sure New Rome and Camp Jupiter are both safe. Then, tomorrow... we'll see."

"What about training?" Tribune Chen asked.

"Well... if we do it, we can't train everyone at once. We need to rotate forces properly: training, resting, and guarding."

"Uh, I can help create some assignments, based on our casualty numbers," Tribune Potter offered. "At least there were no fatalities."

"True. Okay, Kayla and Matt will go to New Rome to ensure nothing's terribly fucked. Alex, with me to figure out a new schedule. Nathan, Joey, and Bart, take care of business in Camp Jupiter. Percy and Michael, since you're the golden boys of the night, you figure out some new security mechanisms."

"Got it," we all replied, splitting up to do each of our assignments. Kahale and I went inside the Principia, poring over some maps of Camp Jupiter, New Rome, the valley at large, and overlaid them on a mortal map. We began identifying routes of ingress and wrote down items on a whiteboard in terms of how to beef up security.

"CCTV in the tunnel?"

"Not my wheelhouse, Jackson."

"Valdez, then?"

"Certainly. But he ain't here."

"And modern comms, perhaps? Radios would be awesome."

"Valdez would be needed."

"Okay, so more than a two-man security team for the tunnel. And I can provide the radios."

"Elaborate."

"For the radios, I know a guy—er, god. For manpower, having concentric layers is key. More men in the tunnel means you have runners to more quickly relay messages without compromising security. Plus, you can shout shit down the tunnel, and it's a redundancy layer atop the radios and eventual CCTV."

"... I'll write it down," Kahale finally decided.

"And the aqueduct?" I asked.

"Have someone at the aqueduct for quality testing, more frequent cleaning of the aqueduct, putting eagle, cavalry, and/or foot patrols out there. Hell, even keeping a guard detail at the water source."

"Do we have the manpower and resources?"

"Unless everything else is fucked up, yes."

"Beautiful. Oh, and I have one more recommendation."

"Sure."

"More gunfighters."

"Ballsy, Jackson."

"In this day and age: live by the sword, die by the gun."

"... true enough, but how do you expect us to implement that? We don't all have hookups with Lord Vulcan?"

"That, I don't know. Just spitballin' here, Kahale."

"Hmm."

This is gonna be a long night.

This one was interesting to write. Kind of limited, but nice to see SEAL (or at least gunfighter) Percy again. A nice little respite from training in which Legionary Narco shines... sort of. But a little shine nonetheless, and it probably got some respect from good ol' Percy. Plus, eagle-dropping makes a comeback and eagle-striking makes its debut in WSM! The downside, of course, is that none of these characters get any sleep that night.

Oh, and while Blackjack isn't as bad as Arion, he will absolutely cuss the hell out of those who dare to fuck with the Boss. And I'm assuming that Blackjack has been to Australia or met an Australian pegasus at least once.

Happy early Thanksgiving to all!

Until next time,

- ADF-2