The following story is based on the series WHR owned by Sunrise and Bandai.

"Are there any witches that need to be hunted?" Bushtit asked, itching to go out and do some serious witch butt-kicking.

"Yes, we'll go pick the witch up tonight," Amon replied.

"Why don't we go now?"

"We always try to hunt witches at night," Robin inserted. When greeted with a confused look, she continued. "We look more, uh, more distinguished at night."

"Oh, I see. You mean you look cooler at night," to which Robin just turned away embarrassed.

Later that same evening, Amon and the reunited twins were staking out a warehouse that just so coincidentally happened to be where the witch wandered. Amon tried to push out the thought in his head which reminded him that he was now alone with a couple of willing underage twins – both who seemed to be waging a silent battle over him, he noted disturbingly. Re-checking the data streaming in from his communicator, he rehearsed the plan for the hunt in his head. Turning, he began.

"Robin, I want you to go around the back and wait. Now –"

"Uh, I'm Bushtit."

Looking surprised for once, Amon stammered. "Oh, uh…well, I want you, uh Bushtit, to come with me while –"

Robin suddenly sat upright in her seat. "Hey, why does she get to go with you?"

"Because she's new and has little field experience."

Robin folded her arms grumpily across her chest and looked out the rear car window, pouting. In the ensuing rather uncomfortable silence, a sudden and rather loud tinny rendition of "She'll be Coming around the Mountain" rang out, startling the threesome.

"What the hell –" Amon began looking around.

Robin sheepishly answered the communicator, mumbled here and there, then hung up quickly. "That was Michael. He says he's ready to go."

"What was that?" Amon demanded.

Looking even more embarrassed, Robin began to explain. "Uh, well you see, you know I'm not very good with technology…" she paused. Amon motioned with his hand for her to continue. "Michael just gave me this new communicator and I can't figure out how to change it…"

Leaning over, Amon plucked the communicator from Robin's hand and flipped through the ringtones, settling for one resembling an actual telephone noise. Handing the object back, he was disturbed to notice the worshipping look in her eyes.

"Thank you," Robin whispered breathlessly.

"It was nothing," Amon replied, looking away quickly. He had only fixed her ringtone, Christ. "Are you both ready?"

Pausing at the entrance of the warehouse, Amon looked back at Bushtit, jerking his head towards the door. Instead of the acknowledgment he expected, the Robin-clone merely looked back at him confused. Frowning, Amon tried another head jerk. Still more confusion.

Leaning over to the girl he whispered to her. "Follow my lead."

Understanding quickly spread across Bushtit's face. "Oh, I understand," she happily replied, a little too loudly.

"Shh!" Amon clapped a gloved hand over the clone's mouth. He again noted disturbingly how happy Bushtit was to make physical contact – gloved or otherwise. Quickly Amon dropped his hand and resumed his position by the door. What was wrong with these girls?

Quietly Amon opened the door and entered the warehouse, Bushtit closely behind – a little too close for Amon's liking. The two quickly made their way to the rear of the building where they suspected the witch.

"Oh, there he is!" Bushtit cried out suddenly, pointing towards a stack of boxes.

Letting out a noise of disbelief and frustration, Amon tried to shoot off a few rounds at the witch, unfortunately missing the target completely. "Use you water-craft!" he yelled towards the Robin-clone. Seriously, Bushtit nodded at him, instantly conjuring the element of water within her. Two rows of water flew neatly from the girl's direction and out past the witch.

"I missed," Bushtit moaned.

Amon was getting ready to vacate the area immediately and drown himself in whiskey at Harry's. She's just like Robin was initially, the voice in his head lamented.

Sensing his chance for freedom, the witch hurled past them and out of the warehouse into the path of the waiting Robin. Relief flooded through Amon as he watched Robin take aim of the witch through her glasses. At the moment before she released the fire within, however, Robin caught sight of her clone clinging to Amon's arm out of the corner of her eye, causing her to narrowly miss the target.

"Goddamn it!" Amon uncharacteristically let out, shocking both girls and the witch they were hunting. Trying to salvage what was left of the hunt, Amon jerked away from Bushtit, running to corner the witch.

"Bushtit, head to that tree and use your craft to –"

"I'm Bushtit."

"Fine, just one of you go. You," this time a point to the other girl, "go over there," a point in the other direction, "and make sure he doesn't get away."

"Right."

At this point, even the witch looked confused. Turning, he apparently deemed Bushtit to be the weaker link and tried to run past her. This time Bushtit managed to knock the witch off his feet with her water-craft, giving Amon enough time to fire off a couple direct hits from the orbo gun.

Walking back to where the girls stood, Amon icily glared at Robin. Not coping too well – it had been one heck of a day – she returned the glare, startling him. Obliviously, Bushtit walked up to the veteran hunters.

"Wow, we did good, yes?" she asked happily. "Hey, can we go get some authentic Japanese sushi and sake now? I'm starving!"

Amon and Robin stared back incredulously.

"So ended the threesome's first day together," the old woman concluded, looking down into five bright little faces.

"Wow, Grandma, what happened then?" a little boy in front of the others asked, eagerly awaiting more.

"Ah, that is for another day," the woman replied mysteriously.

"But Grandma," started a slightly older girl, "why did the STN-J continue to use orbo?"

"Yeah," piped up another girl beside the first, "and why did Amon and Robin go back to hunting witches and not fight Solomon?"

The old woman said nothing, still smiling down at her grandchildren.

"But Grandma," said another boy, "how did Amon and Robin escape from the factory? How did Robin have a twin sister? And why did Zaizan survive, only to be used at the beginning of the story?"

The grandmother sighed, "Sadly, I do not think any of those questions will be answered, for this is a story – and not a good one at that."

The boy who had spoken first, looked perplexed, then hesitant as he looked up.

"Grandma? What's a narwhal?"

Author's Notes

I am stopping here because I can easily see myself writing a whole saga on this parody and I would rather spend my time doing something a little more serious. Although, I do admit I have been thinking of other ways to torment Amon and Robin. So I guess we shall see.