junior storks

“We have to talk,” she said sharply.“I didn’t tell anyone!” I protested. “Promise.“Oh, I know,” she replied. “I would be fired or in jail or both if you had. We both know that shouldn’t have happened and can never happen again. I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me.”“I’m sorry too. But I like you so much!” I said with typical juvenile lameness.

She heard her dad rummage around the kitchen, cutlery clanked together, and the microwave hummed for a minute or so before he collapsed onto the couch with the bowl of leftover lasagne steaming in his hands. Like muscle memory, he quickly switched on the TV and started wolfing down the food like a starving man. Only after demolishing half the bowl of pasta, barely paying attention to the random game show playing softly in the background did he turn to his daughter and notice the look on her face.

Noah piloted his clone, having it dodge the oncoming storm of attacks. He could have easily beheaded them from behind, ending their life with their final moments being fear and confusion, but he wanted to study his opponent. The more skilled they were, the more useful an asset they might be. Common trash could be executed, but it would be a waste to kill a potential ally. This warrior was fast and experienced, blending their rapid and complex movements perfectly. Yet, despite their skill, Noah kept his clone out of their range.