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(the Condor – some time after midnight)
A mysterious figure slinked surreptitiously down the hallway towards its intended destination. Upon reaching the room the figure slipped in and made its way to a large case sitting on the desk beneath the window. A series of muffled snorts froze the figure in its tracks. It looked over at the small, sleeping figure in the middle of the bed, watching it flop around a few times before relaxing again. Sighing with relief as the animal settled back down, it snatched its target from the case, and just as surreptitiously as it had slinked in, it slinked back out.
(Cyclonis' Citadel – the next morning)
The three commanders stood in front of the throne room doors, not sure if they should risk entering. There was music emanating from the room, though not likely the kind she would listen to…if she listened to music at all. With all the weird things that had been happening lately the three of them—though they would never admit it—were just a little scared. Sighing, Dark Ace pushed open the doors and the three of them walked in.
There she was. Their Master. Dancing. And singing. To the music.
"I should've seen this one coming," Dark Ace said.
The three commanders just stood there. And stared. And continued staring at the obviously completely oblivious Master Cyclonis, until Snipe raised an eyebrow and said, "That music sounds familiar…. Hey! I know who those guys are! That's the—"
(meanwhile back on the Condor)
Radarr stood on the bridge with his arms folded across his chest and frowning, his displeasure quite apparent.
"Dude, what's with Radarr?" Finn said.
Aerrow sighed. "His new Jonas Brothers CD is missing."
oh, yes, i went there (my family and friends say i live there)
Yes, my friends, this series is finally over.
Thanks to everyone who's stayed with me through this whole ridiculous thing. And a special thanks to those that have been with me and my insanity since A Little of This, A Little of That. You now know the extent of your own psychosis.
This whole series is dedicated to my good friends Phoenix and Farrel.
May the broken toasters fly like ferret crackers at a Merbian house party!
Until next time,
this is The Flaming Crosby signing off.