"Look, look over there. That's him, that's the hero!"

"He really looks like the statues?! Amazing!"

"Cass, get over here. That's him! It's really him."

A girl, no. A woman now. Past the threshold of adulthood here by barely a few years, she set down the heavy earth with a relieved sigh. The strain wearing on her, holding the force of a dugout block, the size of a small room. Wiping her sweat, she tied the bandana holding her various braids together even tighter.

This she could do, used to get by and make the journey. Tilling up chunk after chunk of dirt and rocks. Honest labor, undetected. Dirtying cores of her inner space to displace it. Dig it up and move it away. Telling the fellow migrants and farmers that power had to the earth.

All for this.

Almost there.

"That's him? The man who runs the troops?" she staggers up with a hoe, to where the locals gathered and stared in the passing distance, on their breaks in this afternoon sun.

The older villagers share a lighthearted chuckle. At the passing youths, so spirited each year. Eager to try their chances, their luck at getting accepted in. Not all of them passed through here, let alone help with their harvests. But it was hopeful to see, to possibly graze across another young diamond in the rough. You never knew.

"Yes, that's the man who raises the next line of heroes."

"The one and only."

"Don't be all up in your heads dreaming. He's even crazier than the stories say."

Some oohed, some asked for tales of more, tips, and guides to use on their own.

The woman in braids remained silent, the line to her strong brow remaining stern, focused.

"That's him huh. And the one next to him? With the wine red hair?"

"Oh don't get started on the rest of the family!"

Even more laughter and chatter spilled forth. Both men and women gossip in truth and tales. It was up to each person to figure out what they wanted to believe.

A migrant farmer with his family following patted the young woman on the back. They were simple folks, not asking for more than they could afford. Where there were work and bread they would go. Their young daughter, almost marriageable age, had taken a liking to this single foreign woman, traveling so far on her own two feet.

Poor thing.

Her hands were still soft, nature half subservient as it was unyielding, and her strange hair oiled and silky underneath every braid. The hints of fine embroidery remaining on her clothes, that twisted and worked over their torn holes, were not a common skill.

It wasn't their place to pry. Everyone knew that around these parts. For there were just too many. Whatever the story, there were too many of them from seemingly all corners of the world. Who they were or whatever story they held back home, now but just another wandering hopeful.

"It will be hard to get an audience. Hard to get in but...even harder to speak to any of them." the bearded man comforted her.

"I'll do it. It's all I have to go on. Thank you for helping me this far."

They all look on, whatever their reasons. The young, the old, the heroes, and the homemakers.

With sharp eyes, the young woman looks on. Searching each head, each face just as she does every lead and clue. Unlike the mounds of dirt before, dark, and rich in soil, there is a weight she cannot let go of.

-----------

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The big fat wheels go round and round, round and round, round and round. The brand new waterwheels go round and round, poundy pound pound!~

Good news, another successful waterwheel is spinning away. Another, someone may ask?

Welcome to the rising Ventrella local power systems!

"Can we eat snacks for this?" Amar raises his hand.

"Hmmm, acceptable. Save me some." I answer a minion's request.

When the other one decides to try throwing the kinda peanut-like shells at me, I do not retract the allowance but use my staff to bump him into a collected basin of cold water below. Then take said snack break until Lukas swims himself back out.

Salted and boiled kinda green peanuts are rather plain but simple things are good in their own way. The soft mild sweetness underneath is honestly kinda addicting, even if the soggy shells are annoying on my fingers to pop and crack. More importantly, they're a cheap but high-yielding cover crop. Wait a little longer for them to mature and roast them for some good old bar nuts. Did you know they're actually in the legume family?

"Yeah, your 'peanuts' are beans. Your family really likes beans a lot."

"....."

"Beans are yummy?"

Amar quietly cracks the peanuts for me as a peace offering, lest I try pushing him into the water as well. Wise move minion, you're learning.

"Cold cold cold, Gable says it's not swimming weather yet!" drips the other one, doggy paddling himself out. Oh, that's just adorable.

"You can still feel cold? Really?" Amar cracks another nut.

"You get cold?" I munch, half disbelieving.

"Yeah, I do!"

I still doubt he actually feels cold the way normal people do. Seriously, that kid just runs around in thin layers and bare feet without even a blink. This requires more experimentation.

After Lukas shakes himself off, like a floofy dumb puppy dog, it's time to continue the inspection and tour. I have to make sure Father built this all on the right track. The tag-along minions are my entourage, after all, someone has to crack and hold my snacks.

Now then, on the advantages of water wheels. It's essentially free energy and force! All you need is the start-up labor cost and the attachments to take advantage of it. While those may seem high at first, they'll soon pay for themselves.

Especially since the current standards and production value is....pretty dismal. It could be a lot worse I admit but again, I have entirely different standards. Perhaps a little...ok a lot too intense for this world.

Human hands can only do so much. Despite all my sister, my exposure to magic, how it's seen as the pinnacle of life, and all that is good, it doesn't touch most of the people. The mass majority of normal humans. Yet this is what people seem to rely on. The miracle that is magic.

A machine or device is an entirely different thing. A sustainable aid to existing human labor.

Long term, a well-built water mill can supply a lot without any needed human labor, except for the needed control and maintenance. It can run without any magic! Really, the world does not absolutely need magic to operate. People can still do things without it.

Case in point with these water wheels. Look how the pound, press, and work all the goods of the hunt and hauls in a processed state. Meat, bones, fibrous material, cloth, the applications are seemingly endless in this world filled with raw material. No need to pull a bull to work or wait for a strong 'hero' to pass by. No wasting time working it yourself when there are fields and other matters to tend to. There's never enough manpower to go around so why not cut that labor and the time needed? So much potential!

The waterwheels soon pay for themselves! Just watch.

"What does that mean?!" raised Lukas, eyes spinning.

"What does what mean?"

"All of that!"

"All of what? Be more specific on what part."

"That!" he gestures loudly to all of me.

How rude.

Thankfully, one of my minions can act as a translator for the other one.

"Water goes round and boom boom," Amar points to the various parts of processing mill mechanisms, with Lukas's bright eyes actually following in comprehension.

"Rosalia and her papa spent lots of gold on all this. It goes boom boom or chop chop and stuff by changing those parts. Everyone can play so they're happy because it doesn't need any magic or for you to even be strong. Rosa's family spent lots because it's a big game and they're the house dealer. Like the troops' adults betting money. Rosa loves winning big gold."

"Ooooooooh Rosa why didn't you just say that earlier!? You talk too much silly stuff! Just say you like money!"

"....my bad." I apologize.

Just how bad is everyone's impression of me?

Let's not expect too much from a 6-year-old, let alone one like Lukas. I got carried away there in excitement. Let's just inspect the wheelhouse and move along.

There were multiple designs to test out to find the best and most productive model for the terrain.

The problem with most basic vertical free water wheels is that they're kinda just placed into a source of running water, letting it run the bottom of the wheel. Honestly really ineffective unless placed in a strong rushing river. This is why it's been so unpopular with the locals around this calm area compared to beast-pulled stone grinders or horizontal wheels. Which is also ineffective compared to modern electrical turbines despite the similar concepts.

We have streams yes but nothing particularly intense, especially as the coastline isn't all that far away. The waterways evening out to marshes or just smoothly running into the ocean.

"What she saying now?"

"Um...whoosh whoosh is pretty bad"

When I turn around, Amar is spinning himself in circles, arms splayed out. It looks so much like a children's game as Lukas starts half spinning along with his head. The tiny boy brakes and points back to the wheel outside, finger following the turning.

"Sideways whoosh whoosh better, see. But still not the best. The water is too weak to push it normally. But that," he points up high above the overshot. At the manmade directed channels and pumps pushing both the advantages of water force and gravity into a backshot wheel and supporting flywheels to turn all the belts and gears at the multiplied power, it's currently producing. "That's the best. I think?"

"Oooooooh! Geez Rosa you're so bad at explaining things."

"...."

Shutting up now. No more unconscious rambling, I swear.

Right, that's the normal problem with just placing a plain wheel or turbine into a flat body of water.

However, a few little modern tweaks really up the efficiency. I'm no 'waterwheel' expert but uh, I guess modern inventions really do stand upon the progress of centuries of progress.

Just a few things that stuck around in my own research or hearing my younger brother ramble on as he worked and customized. A lot of wheelchairs in the market were ridiculously expensive. It was a lot better to buy the parts and play with it himself. After all, those were his legs and way of getting around in the world. He couldn't just accept what people said he should settle for.

He was a bright boy, no matter what life threw at him. Always made me proud. Always.

That boy ...is going to be fine. Even in a world without me. He's stubborn like that.

They will all be fine.

I bite down and move on, refusing to be shaken. There are things to do, inspections to see. A lot of people won't be all that fine if Rosalia's memories are to be believed. Famine and need, there are never enough hands to go around in the labor shortages. Unruly mercenaries and disillusioned adventurers dreaming to strike it big.

Everyone hoping for a miracle to bless their lives. Like a magic spell. One-touch from the great hero or his blessed granddaughter and their ails all solved. All hollow hopes. The world falls like loose earth over a sinkhole when it fails to deliver.

People are pathetic.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

As many good individuals there are out there, there's an infinite more amount of mediocre trash. Not all recyclable.

Not everyone is willing to take the real steps to better themselves and their lives. Not everyone is sincere or can afford to be.

So many people came to these lands to seek their fortunes and yet there were never enough hands to go around with the work. How funny. As if they're all too good. As if it was all my fault when things don't go their way.

When the lands failed to produce enough. Or when diseases spread. OR their adventures laid to waste Instead of blaming themselves, it's easier to point their fingers at something darker at play.

Perhaps a witch? Perhaps a cursed child?

Someone who shouldn't have been born in the first place.

"Whoa, Rosa where are you going so fast!? Is there anything fun over there?" minion number one quickly follows behind, occasionally sticking his head in places they don't belong.

"Hmmm, maybe she saw money? If someone throws it, she runs much faster." hops minion number two, still nibbling on a bag of nuts.

"Oh yeeeeeaaaaah. She's like a grown-up that way, kookoo over money."

"Um, I don't know if that's a grownup thing?"

"Uh-huh it is! All of them do it. They grab for money like fishies when we throw food. Like it's even yummier than meat! It's super dumb and funny!"

"Oh. Ok. Grown-ups do that."

"Yeah! So silly. They chase money and they lie lots! WHOA-!"

I turn around just in time to watch Lukas trip and fall from a conveyer belt that the boys were recklessly climbing up. Instead of the proper rails. Really quite an avoidable incident. Back into the water, he goes. Today is just not his day.

Somehow though Lukas falls conveniently down through the wrought gaps of one of the flywheels, landing center of the rotating wheel. The speedy momentum of the turning wheel forces the child to keep moving lest he fumble and fall.

It's a human hamster wheel! How amusing.

"Oops. It's slippery?" mutters Amar, still munching while balancing himself down to the rails.

"Heeeeeeey! How do you stop this thing!!!" screams the human hamster from down below. Round and round he goes. When he'll stop, no one knows.

"You can't. The wheels are all attached and the system keeps going." I yell down.

"Then how do I get off!?!!"

"Swim."

"Try jumping?"

"You're all bad at ideas!!!"

I take a seat, dangling my short little legs, and a salty handful of offered peanuts. Because at this point I just might as well. At least until Lukas figures out how to get back up without icing it. He really should not. We're in public and Gable's going to have more than homework for him if he does it again so recklessly.

This is also just a nice vantage point of the wheelhouse, up high with a view of part of the village and some surrounding fields. Most of the sections brown and upturned in preparation for spring planting if not already pressed and sowed. Loads of people from the villagers, migrant workers, and even the occasional bored troop member down there working the land. The running water trickles down into their irrigated streams in a lazy way. The breeze blowing lightly, trees and flowers blooming back to life.

How distracting.

This entire world is one big distraction. From the seemingly simple idyllic landscapes to the kiddy minions that really came from out of nowhere. This life is confusing, but there's really no one right way to go about it.

This really wasn't what I meant all those times I cried that I needed a vacation.

From up here, I can see my father and grampa quite easily. A head of dark red stood out like a poppy flower in fields of brown and greens, making him easy to spot if grampa's profile and presence weren't so recognizable himself. They're being nerds down there, figuring out how to improve the wheelhouse with more cranks and pulleys. Where to dig another irrigation system, or how it even works.

It's like the road work project all over again. Stuff that makes my head spin or knock out in a nap. Grampa's unexpected and innovative engineering expertise combined with Father's drafts, plans, and logistics. They're a really odd pair that work well together on things like this.

Well, the Ventrella menfolk have to be good for something I suppose. Bothering with all the little things that all work into something big.

It's better than waiting around for a miracle to happen.

Better than being a good-for-nothing sort of man.

"Did you want to go back?"

The sudden question has me choking on a peanut, something that makes Amar pat my back uselessly. Like that does anything.

"Did you want to go back down to Cap' and your papa?" he asks, "You were staring again."

"Bleh, ack no. No no no. I was just thinking about how weird they are." I cough out.

Ah yes yes yes, of course, that's what he means. Silly me for inhaling peanuts so fast I choke.

"Oh. Are they really weird?"

"Of course they are. I promise you, there's really no other wackos like them around. Just look at them. I can't believe grampa's actually a nerd too. Makes sense, crazy people sometimes get famous like that."

"I don't know that word either...but ok."

"Which one? Nerd? It means someone who can't follow social rules because they're too obsessed about learning something or making stuff. Like those two down there." I wave down to where the men of my family are discussing and tinkering with some craftsmen.

From somewhere more directly below Lukas is still screaming, somewhat out of breath.

"Can I stop running now!!!"

I throw my peanut shells down at the kid. If he trips and dives into the water finally, well that's not exactly my fault. Oh look there he goes. Now, who will I throw peanut shells at?

"And he's gone."

"We should go help him."

I throw them at Amar's head in response to that. He sounds oh so nice as if he wasn't probably responsible for Lukas slipping in the first place. The little liar. I will let it go for Lukas also essentially called me a greedy money grabber.

"No....let him drown first."

"There's nothing bad down underwater right? No claws or shredding things that spin lots? Or qanats and tunnels to fall in?" he hangs from his knees, looking upside down.

"What? Claws? Why in the world would there be tunnels down there? It's a basin pool."

"I don't know. It's water?"

"Right it's water from the river streams. So where do underwater tunnels come in?"

"I don't know. Ok then. No tunnels."

Does he mean like the tunnels underneath my house? Hmm, that could be it.

Grampa is a little obsessed with digging and digging training. Says it's good at working all parts of the body as well as building mental strength. Honestly, I just think he likes making people suffer for his building foundations. Maybe he can get a sewer grid built off the pure 'digging training' he forces the unlucky troop members through.

It's free labor?

"Rosa."

He takes away the snacks right out of my hands, getting my attention as he puts them away in my bag impudently. Then throws his shoes in? What? Warning bells of danger going off in my head as he gives me an apologetic smile.

"Take a big breath and pinch your nose. Try not to scream."

"What-"

"You can't kill me wheelies!!!"

Out of nowhere I feel the world shake and lift us up from our dangling seats. The pull and give of a familiar launching motion. It can't be but it feels like Lukas, it sounds like Lukas-

"Hi, Lukas. Rosa, you really should hold your nose now." Amar warns, time seemingly slowing down just as Lukas throws the both of us over.

Then it's nothing but open air.

Well shit.

I manage to gasp and hold my breath on the way down, the sound of another's cannonball splashing registers for a split second before I violently break through the surface myself.

A horrible shock of cold, almost painful pops of white air bubbles all around me. My slightly stinging eyes see the world in a fishbowl blue. The basin is lined and bounded with large slabs of river stones to resemble just that.

Before I could get my bearings, a light force tugs and pulls me a certain way. Those white bubbles still blurring my vision as the panic over the lack of air shocks me just as much as the chilly water. I see micro bubbles clinging and popping to a small body of warm skin and dark hair floating around. When Amar kicks back, pulling me along, it's with a strong force and conveniently bare little toes. Between the rushing white of the waterwheels running up above and the purposeful movement of steady swimming, I slowly feel myself calm down. After all, I have great practice holding my breath after three years of surviving my own mother.

Wow, what training.

A nymphish little boy tugs, turning back to me to point out a shadowy blue tunnel in the far corner. Mischievously smiling even with his cheeks puffed fat under the water.

Well, what do you know, a dark watery tunnel? Great. It's also an awful idea to go towards that and not just say straight back up?!

But the kid either does not see my frantic head shakes as he turns away or he just doesn't care enough, propelling us to swim along to that edge and through the modest-sized hole. Such a great idea. If I wasn't conserving oxygen I would be screaming.

When Amar forcibly pushes me over and up, back to the surface world, I almost do. After filling my poor little lungs of course. Ahhh that was messed up. It really isn't swimming weather at all. Worst minions ever.

"What the h-" I splash pathetically up.

"Ssssshhh. Want to hear something funny?"

The tunnel, probably a sort of waterway, lead us somewhere back into the mill. The wheels still rushing outside like a fountain waterfall. Up above where Amar points, I can see through the railing gaps up to where we were sitting previously.

I see, so this is how Lukas snuck up to attack earlier! But where did that brat go now?

"Come on." brat number two leads, tugging me along again.

Ah cold cold cold, it was actually warmer in the water than open air! But alas I'm dragged out not into warm sunshine or a toasty fire, but a literal hole in the wall, or whatever this is. I don't have to worry about dripping water because the entire floor is flooded to my knees!

"Ah sorry. You're really just small."

I kick water at the smart-alec before he finally lifts and plops me up on a dry wooden crate. There we go. As I quickly rummage my bag for some dry towels, a wailing scream of death and defeat sounds out from the railings, descending to the stairs. It is not just the sound of Lukas that has me pressed against the wall, cowering under the towel.

Never mind my earlier complaints, Amar. This is a great hiding spot. Super safe.

"You poor little darling thing! There there now, let's get you into a hot bath."

Mother descends those steps like an out-of-place spring goddess, blessing this common space with a bright graceful smile. The shivering pale child in her arms nestled safely in her ample bosom, softly bouncing with each step.

Oh good, I'm glad he can breathe in that position. Even gladder that she can't see me from here!

The indigo and vegetable mixed chrome dyes pale rather than a costlier rich on her dress but flutters refreshingly this season. She looks as calm and peaceful as the madonna. After a careful winter indoors her skin is much closer to a high fashion porcelain pale that all well-to-do ladies strive for, yet it still can't diminish her golden complexion and warm undertones.

Ah, what a waste.

In another world, many people would dump literal fortunes to get her natural Mediterranean glow or even a sailor's dark tan. Often even spraying it on, at risk of looking like an Oompa Loompa.

Fashion and beauty standards are really fascinating concepts.

In the far future, will Lilyanne still retain her sickly pale parlor as she did in the original's memories? It's pretty hard to do so with our parents' warm undertones. Extremely unhealthy now that I look back on it.

Health first!

Looking at Mother now, dressed lightly with a bounce to her step, as if she had glided out of a beloved painting, reminds me a little too much of that Lilyanne.

She looks better though, a lot stronger. Full of more color and life than I can recall for either mother or daughter. Brown tresses dripping honey under accessories of gold, lips, and cheeks blushing peach pink.

Any bystander bows in respect, at the very least with their necks bare in offering to her passing. A few brave or perhaps scrupulous souls peek up as she passes despite their humble appearances. Some part of me itches to reach into my bag for a practice staff, well versed in the art of smacking.

"Buttercup, there really is no need for that." a strange bearded man steps right behind.

As he follows my mother, those smackable bystanders seem to suddenly fall down flat, as if pressed by a sudden force of intense gravity. I hear a few cracks of their knees even from here. Weird suddenly bowing men aside, his appearance though was so commonly plain that it's forgettable, looking to me like a generic blur at this distance.

His low silken voice, however, was unmistakable.

"Oh of course I do Gabbey! You have that miffed look in your beautiful eyes."

"...it's not swimming weather."

Gable! Oh, he's in disguise. How disappointing to hide such gorgeousness. But he must have his reasons for staying low on the radar. What a powerful illusion he's cast, to hide so much beauty into this easily forgettable one.

It makes one wonder how many other disguises he has. You'll never know when he's around! Never. After all, grampa always had trouble chasing after him before in the strange long-term game of hide and seek. I hope Gable always wins.

Obviously, he purposely revealed himself to Mother today. Maybe to pick up Lukas? That's the only way. Yes.

"Oh, I knew it. Oh, you mustn't punish the little one over just that. It feels like a lifetime ago but don't think I don't remember what that was like back then. Oh just look at him. He's suffering so much with the shivers!"

"It....really does. I don't know what you're talking about when I've always spoiled you... but none of that. The boy will be fine Maria dear. His constitution is...favorable. Now if you would just, hand him over..."

"There there now, oh my what a healthy child you are! It's almost like carrying both of my girls before they could runoff."

"Maria?"

"I'll save you from Gabbey. Oh yes, I know how grumpy he gets sometimes, here's my trick. Trap him in a room with papa and all will be better in about half a day. Oh, you're just so squishy!"

"Buttercup!!? Lukas don't repeat that! "

"Not handing him over! Oh, maybe I should take my own advice? Darling has been so absent in his head lately, boo hoo hoo. And my little ones have been taking up so many nights in the bed, which I do love but oh, it's so hard when darling gets busy and distracted....I hear it's normal to expect that more and more in a marriage."

"...I'm sure that's not the case my blossom. But if he continues to upset you I'll turn him into a-"

"Oh Gabbey, that's why I'm trying what the older ladies advise over tea. They say if I just get a younger man undressed in my arms then all will be solved! Oh, I can't wait. Now let's clean you up now little one!"

There are no peanuts and yet I still choke, Amar still uselessly patting my back till I stop.

Mother...I don't think Lukas, or any child, is what those ladies meant.

But this is not the time to tell her that. Goodbye Lukas. Sacrificed to the great mother, as is his greatest purpose. Use your cuteness to full distracting potential. I believe in you!

"We're not helping him," I warn.

"Uh-huh." nods the remaining minion, agreeing with keeping his life.

"Is the coast clear? Let's get out of here."

"Um, do mean clear of your mama or the funny guards?"

"...Both."

"Okay. Wait a little more, and follow me. Cover your head? Your hair makes it too easy."

"Lies. It does not."

"Uh-huh, it does. Red is really easy to see?"

"It's is not red!"

"They find you from the yelling too." he pats my head over the wet towel.

Shutting up now. Now that I can believe. Oh when oh when will I ever solve the pesky issues of these so-called secret guards? Can I at least get them to come out and make themselves known? I know my father is their current employer but eventually, they'll fall into my hands too. I should be their boss, not their subject!

After a few minutes of necessary drying, changing, and just returning Amar's shoes, it's up the railings and rafters. Mission impossible training! For me at least. This brat is much quieter and hidden than Lukas. An entirely different style, slowly finding gaps and child-sized piping to crawl and hop to eventual freedom.

Or that was the plan.

"We lost."

Amar announces it mid crawl in a vent, with such blankness that it confuses me. He sounds unfazed if not for the slight sigh that follows and an annoyed ruffle of his hair, the water from before turning it espresso dark before it fully dries.

I immediately check my own strands under the towel blanket. Yep, still very much sun-damaged and colored. How disappointing.

"What do you mean we lost? You really think everything is a game, don't you? Did the guards find me anyways?"

"No. "

"Then how?"

"I think they went and tattled? Look down."

Oh. Ohhhh red really is easy to spot. Good thing my hair isn't as awful as Father's. He can't see me in this vent, right?

"Puuuuuumpin! Are you having fun climbing the bars!" waves grampa, catching my shock and attention. I mean sure he's a little bit off to the left but how? It's so close!

"Jump down? "

"Sssssshhhh, no. No, they haven't found us just yet. Besides, look at how dumb they are. "

Playing them from up above is also amusing in its own ways. Sssshhh don't give me away so easily Amar. Huh, why does Father have one of his silly guns out? Where is he aiming that?

"You're right. Bye Rosa. Thanks for the peanuts."

The grate under me makes a creaking sound as it slides, tipping me down like a flipping trash can. It happened so fast I don't get the chance to even scream in surprise.

After all the traumatic throws and drops I've been through in my short life, this distance is practically nothing to me. Still, I was expecting a more painful impact. It's painful right but in an entirely different way.

"Found you!" exclaims grampa at the same time a whooshing gunshot goes off.

I'd like to say he faithfully caught me in his strong arms, like a real hero. But it was more of me bouncing right into his well-trained pectoral muscles. What a landing. When I pat it, I don't know if they're hard or soft. Pat pat pat, very different than Father's. Pat pat pat, how oddly satisfying.

"Chip? You're soaking wet." father grimaces, immediately over me as he pet inspects everything from my hair to my butt. Eeeck, how rude! Wait, can we talk about the gunshot? Seriously?

I really have lost. I'm back alright. Back and trapped. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, aka the menfolk of this unfortunate family. It's awful.

Ack, there's really no need to check over me like that? I'm not one of the specimens up for dissection!

Crazy old man stop laughing and making fun of me! You, nerd, stop fussing and explain the wasted gunshots. Practice? Just go back to doing nerd stuff, the both of you! Don't bother me unless new specimen dissection is involved. Or money! Maybe food, if it's good.

Grampa stop inspecting my hair! No, no it does not match, no! It's not getting worse or redder. Father stop looking like that. Don't look so happy. It's really not!

I refuse! I absolutely refuse!