Chapter 5

Monster Training

Arena, Morning

"Welcome to monster training!"

Those were the words that felt like the final nails in the funeral ship for Hiccup as he watched Gobber open the entrance to the training arena. The other trainees all marched inside ahead of him, their expressions ranging from solemn confidence to anticipatory glee. Hiccup felt compelled to follow them, making no sound as he trudged ahead with a Lance that was too large and unwieldy for his hands. This was the last place he belonged, whereas the rest of the teens couldn't look more at home.

There was Snotlout Jorgenson, loud and obnoxious with an arrogant swagger in his step, a practiced warrior with more than enough muscle for the job. He carried a Hammer, the Brazen Clout, that looked especially heavy, created from an Uragaan's jaw as it was. Yet he had it hoisted over his shoulder like a plank of wood.

Tailing Snotlout on either side were the twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston. Both of them wore identical sadistic smirks as they slouched forward with their own Lances held casually in their dangling arms. Tuff had the Red Prominence, forged from Rathalos scales, while Ruff's was the Blue Prominence of Azure Rathalos origin. They were tall and lanky, yet lean and wiry, and every fiber of their bodies was undoubtedly quivering and ready to fight.

Fishlegs Ingerman waddled after the three of them, the biggest of the lot but also the most nervous. Nothing about his enormous frame, more fat than muscle, suggested he'd be skilled in battle, but he still proceeded forward with excitement dancing in his watery eyes. His Sword and Shield – well, more of a Club and Shield, given that it was made of thick Barroth shells – was clasped in his pudgy hands.

And then, of course, there were Astrid and Snaketail, who needed no further explanation.

"Hey, feeling nervous?" the Hofferson girl asked to the other, nudging her.

"A bit," Snaketail replied with a grin. "But not as much as yesterday."

"I hope I get some serious scars out of this!" Tuff bragged.

"Oh yeah, like a jagged one right across your cheek," Astrid agreed.

"Or through my eye!" Ruff enthused.

"G-Guys?" Fishlegs piped up, timidly. "I r-really don't think we should be getting excited about losing fifty percent of our vision…!"

"Shut up Fishface," Snotlout shut him down.

Hiccup raised his head upwards, examining the arena's ceiling. The arena itself was solid stone and spacious enough for a monster to run around comfortably in – in pursuit of tiny Viking rookies waving pointy things at it, for example. Gulping at that image, Hiccup looked the ceiling over again, fascinated by the interlocking series of wires that joined in the center to form a giant cage. Just outside the mesh, on the arena's edge, sat Arachne and Batwings, who'd wanted to spectate on his first day of training… for some reason.

"Let's get started!" Gobber hollered, closing the exit behind him. Everyone turned around to regard their instructor – and inevitably found their eyes falling onto Hiccup. He must have looked just out of place as he felt, like a sheep in a Velociprey den.

"Oh, great," Tuffnut griped. "Who let him in?"

Hiccup couldn't help but sneak a glance at Astrid, whose expression remained neutral. Somehow, he got the idea that she wasn't that happy to see him.

Blissfully unaware of the tension rising between the trainees, Gobber announced, "Here, ye'll be trainin' ta properly fight against the monsters tha' plague our village. The recruit who does best in monster trainin' will win the honor of killing his first monster in front o' the entire village."

"Hiccup already killed a Gore Magala, so does that disqualify him?" Snotlout asked in mock seriousness. The twins couldn't contain themselves and burst into laughter, and the Jorgenson boy shot a victorious smirk in Hiccup's direction.

That really didn't help, Hiccup thought with a faint flicker of annoyance. It was quickly squashed out of existence by the overwhelming worry that made his limbs feel like lead. At least there was some sympathy in his unwanted audience. Snaketail was glancing between him and Gobber in clear incomprehension of the blacksmith's sanity. Fishlegs looked at him with concern, but in a more "glad I'm not that guy" way, and stuck close to the others.

Gobber gestured for the teens to all line up in front of the far wall. "Don't worry," he whispered to Hiccup, draping an arm over his shoulder. "Yer small an' weak – that'll make ye less of a target! They'll see ye as sick or insane an' go after the more Viking-like teens instead."

Proud of himself for passing on such fine encouragement, Gobber chuckled and, patting Hiccup on the back, pushed the Haddock boy into line next to Fishlegs. Hiccup struggled to keep his Lance balanced on his shoulder, and the much larger Ingerman boy shuffled away.

"Now then!" Gobber spoke to the lineup. "Behind these doors are just a few of the many species ye'll learn ta fight!"

He pointed with his hook to a series of doors along the wall, each of which gave an ominous shudder. The doors were all locked shut by means of a thick log holding them in place, further reinforced with bands of solid iron. Hiccup thought he heard Fishlegs shuffling beside him, but was distracted by the muffled, fearsome growls coming from within each cage. Hiccup gulped, and had to assure himself that the doors were more than capable of keeping their contents in.

With a vicious grin, Gobber went down the list of monsters. "The Yian Garuga."

"Speed: 8, Armor: 16…" Fishlegs began to mutter.

"The Diablos," the blacksmith went on.

"Stealth: plus 11 while underground…" Fishlegs recited.

"The Tigrex."

"Lung capacity: 10."

"The Qurupeco."

"Vocal range: 12."

"The Teostra."

"Firepower: 15!"

"The Remobra…"

"Attack: 8, Venom: 12!"

"WOULDJA STOP THAT?!" Gobber bellowed, shutting Fishlegs up. Then, more calmly, he rested his beefy arm atop the final door's lever. "And… the Gravios."

"… Jaw strength: 8," the Ingerman boy bent down to whisper in Hiccup's ear, unable to contain himself.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Snotlout exclaimed, jumping forward with sudden urgency. "Aren't you gonna teach us first?!"

Tension spread amongst the trainees like a winter wind. Gobber was shifting his arm, his fist now firmly clamped around the lever that controlled the Gravios' cage. Fear spiced the air. They all knew what was about to happen, and their hands reached for their weapons. Gobber watched their reactions with a knowing grin under his braided moustache and a twinkle in his eye that did not bode well.

I want to go home, Hiccup thought in despair.

"I believe in learnin' on the job," the blacksmith smirked.

He yanked the lever.

The log was lifted by a retracting chain, and the cage doors exploded open as the Gravios exited at a full-tilt run. Hiccup obeyed his fight-or-flight instinct and scrambled out of the way, dragging his weapon along with him. He whipped around as soon as he was clear, and saw the Gravios in its terrifying glory for the first time. A bone-white flying wyvern the size of ten Gronckles, it was covered from head to toe in armor and mace-like spikes made of stone. It reared its head up and spread its wings, unleashing a low rumble of a roar that sounded like a mountain splitting in half.

"Today's lesson is aboot survival!" Gobber shouted over the chaos he'd unleashed. "If ye get blasted…"

The Gravios trotted at full speed toward the Thorston twins and smashed into the wall when they dodged in the nick of time. Undeterred, it got up and continued its rampage in a different direction.

"…ye're dead!" Gobber added. "Now, what's the most important thing ye need?"

"A doctor?" Hiccup took the opportunity to snark. In his mind, though, he was panicking. This is insane! Why did I ever want to kill monsters?!

"Plus 5 Speed?" Fishlegs guessed.

"A shield!" Astrid shouted.

"Correct!" Gobber dictated. "All o' ye with shields as part o' yer weapons, get 'em ready! Astrid and Snotlout, go!"

The only two teens without defense darted toward a rack of shields on one side of the arena. Hiccup, Snaketail, Fishlegs, and the twins raised their shield arms in unison, taking on defensive stances as the Gravios glowered down at them. Hiccup was shaking in his boots, unable to move his feet. His brain was split down the middle, one part going oh gods we're all gonna die and the other part demanding why on Midgard he wasn't running for his life.

"Yer most important piece o' equipment is yer shield!" Gobber lectured. "If ye hafta make a choice between droppin' yer weapon or yer shield, keep the shield!"

The Gravios stampeded forward, and Hiccup swore he felt his heart stop. He dove to the side in a mad dash for safety, and the rest of the "shield" group scattered in the monster's wake as well.

All of a sudden, Hiccup heard angry voices break out somewhere nearby. He picked himself off the floor and saw that Ruff and Tuff had put down their Lances and were now shoving against each other with their oppositely colored shields. Based on their shouted comments, Hiccup figured they'd collided when they dodged.

However, he wasn't the only being that had noticed the twins' sibling rivalry flare up. With eyes widening in horror, the Haddock boy watched the Gravios turn its malevolent gaze upon the twins. Orange light shone from its mouth with a loud hissing sound, and a blast of molten lava surged out in a great, glowing spray of death.

Ruff and Tuff certainly would have been immolated on the spot if they hadn't seen the incoming danger at the last minute. They ducked behind their shields and the lava blast struck the heatproof surface instead of their vulnerable bodies. However, they couldn't negate its force, which pushed them all the way into the opposite wall.

"Tuffnut! Ruffnut! Ye're oot!" Gobber announced to the dazed twins. To those still standing, he went on, "Yer shields are good fer another thing – noise! Make lots o' it ta throw off a monster's aim!"

All around Hiccup, the remaining trainees, now joined by Astrid and Snotlout wearing small shields on their arms, began to strike their shields with the flats of their weapons. Hiccup emulated them as well as he was able to with his heavy Lance, joining the chorus of thuds and clangs echoing through the arena. The Gravios shook its head and growled, agitated by the din. It began to stalk around the group, and they clustered together, moving as one to remain on the defensive.

"Now," Gobber kept up the lecture, "every monster has a limited amoont of shots. How many do ye think a Gravios has?"

"Five?" Snotlout guessed.

"No, seven!" Fishlegs claimed, raising his shield arm. He didn't see the Gravios tilt its head toward him, at last having a target to lock onto.

"Correct, seven! That's one for each o' ye!" Gobber praised.

Hiccup saw the Gravios' mouth glow and heard the hiss of another lava blast, and he and the others scattered in different directions. He ended up by the forgotten shield rack and ducked behind it, raising his shield to block the "entrance" to his hiding place. A roar, followed by a girlish scream, told him that the Gravios had scored a hit with its second attack.

"Fishlegs, oot... Hiccup, get in there!" Gobber demanded, noticing his apprentice crouched in hiding.

Upon hearing the angry cry, Hiccup shuffled back into the open, shield arm first – only for another lava blast to splash against the wall right next to him. The rush of heat against his face was so strong and painful that Hiccup obeyed his instincts and went right back to cowering in the corner. He squeezed his eyes shut and kept a white-knuckled grip on his shield, praying that the training be over soon.

Then came another lava blast, this one striking the shield rack and rattling it with enough force to scare Hiccup back out of hiding. He scrambled back into the open before the lava could drip upon him, just in time to see the Gravios going after Astrid and Snotlout. The former kept a cool head and dodged the next lava blast when it came, while the distracted latter didn't see it coming. He ended up running away unscathed, albeit minus a shield and sporting a nasty burn from a stray lava droplet.

"Snotlout, ye're done!" Gobber's voice rang out.

Hiccup felt his heart give an ecstatic throb when Astrid's series of rolls brought her right up beside him. For just a moment, his incredible fear from being locked in the arena with an angry Gravios gave way to an overpowering rush of excitement. This was the closest he'd ever been to her! He had to say something cool, something that made him seem confident even in the face of imminent death.

"S-So I guess it's just you and me, huh?" Hiccup asked her, somehow managing to keep his voice from trembling.

Astrid's eyes – oh, those eyes! – widened at something, and she replied with a short "Nope, just you!" before darting away.

Without Astrid to distract him, Hiccup felt the panic return when he heard the hiss of the Gravios' breath slice the air. He was already running by the time it fired, but it struck the ground close by with enough impact to make him stumble. His Lance dropped from his hand and his shield slipped off his arm, landing on its round edge to roll away like the wheel on a wheelbarrow. Terrified out of his wits, Hiccup chased after the runaway shield, all while the Gravios' footsteps shook the ground just behind him.

"One shot left!" Gobber shouted. He sounded far away, and Hiccup barely acknowledged his voice at all. The shield… refused… to… get within… reach!

And then he was face-to-face with the arena wall. Frantic, he whipped around and saw, eyes widening in horror, that the Gravios had him cornered. Its immense body and broad wings took up his entire line of sight, blocking all escape with a wall of stone, flesh, and fury. It bristled with rage as it glowered down at him, having put up with the trainees and their constant scurrying for too long.

"HICCUP!"

The Gravios opened its mouth one last time, orange light building up within. Hiccup cringed back, wrapping his arms around his head and bending down, waiting for the painful, burning end to come…

"HIIIIIII-YAH!"

At the sound of the cry, and the Gravios' enraged roar, Hiccup dared to look back up. Incredibly, the behemoth was backing away, a figure clinging to its neck like a beetle to a log. Steel flashed as she hit it repeatedly with her Sword and Shield, her brown hair flying all over as the Gravios thrashed.

Snaketail! he realized. Where'd she come from?

While the Grundenson girl's attempt was brave, it was also fruitless. Her steel blade did nothing but bounce off the Gravios' armor plating, and with a mighty swing of its neck, she was sent flying across the arena to land on her back. The Gravios, bristling with rage, bore down on her just as it had on Hiccup. He watched, unable to move, as Snaketail hissed in pain and the wyvern prepared to launch its final attack.

The Gravios' mouth glowed. Snaketail braced herself. Hiccup started to turn away, knowing he wouldn't be able to bear the sight of –

With a burst of speed belying his size, Gobber raced in to intervene, jumping up to catch his hook in the Gravios' jaw and yank it down. The final lava blast spewed out of its mouth, spilling all over the arena floor but never touching Snaketail. Hiccup put his arms down and let out the breath he'd never known he was holding. That was close…

"An' that's… seven…!" Gobber grunted, struggling to keep the Gravios under control. The fact he was wrestling almost evenly with a beast many times his size spoke volumes of his great Viking strength. With a ton of effort, he dragged the thrashing monster over to its cage ("Go back ta bed, ye overgrown boulder!"), shoved it back inside with an enormous heave. Once the cage was locked again, he took a moment to get his breath back, chest heaving and brow dripping.

"Ye'll git another chance, don't ye worry," he muttered to the cage doors.

It was all over. Hiccup felt almost too weak to stand, let alone walk. But somehow, he staggered over to where Snaketail lay and pulled her up. The girl's hair was disheveled and her skin stained with grime, but she wore an ecstatic grin and her eyes were wild.

"You okay?" Hiccup asked her, scanning her Jaggi-skin-clad form for any damage.

"Yeah… just fine," she replied, panting. "The fall hurt… but I'm glad… you weren't incinerated." She flashed her teeth in a winning smile that Hiccup couldn't help but mimic. He was glad she wasn't hurt.

Around them, the other recruits were getting to their feet. Astrid was no worse for wear, and even looked disappointed, while everyone else was groaning and counting their bruises. Ruff and Tuff were too exhausted to bicker anymore. Hiccup felt exhausted, and he hadn't even done anything except run for his life. Above him, he saw Arachne and Batwings clutching the iron bars that blocked them from jumping into the arena, stock-still and radiating anxiety.

Gobber looked over the trainees, slumped over and moaning with pain and fatigue. He snorted to himself, like he was disappointed but accepting that this was as well as they could perform for now.

"Remember," he told them, "a monster will always…"

He turned to Hiccup and leaned in, a deadly serious expression on his face. "Always," he enunciated, "go for the kill."

On that final, ominous note, Gobber left the arena, followed by the trainees. Snaketail gave Hiccup one last look before rushing to join Astrid and the others. Hiccup, however, stayed behind. Something about what Gobber had said was bugging him, nagging at the back of his mind that something wasn't right.

A monster will always… always… go for the kill.

Berk Woods

"So why didn't you?"

Hiccup frowned to himself as he weighed the bola in his hand. The shredded remains of his bola were the only indication that the Gore Magala had ever been there. He squinted through the trees, remembering the black monster vanishing through them after it had abandoned him.

And that was what had him so vexed – the fact he was still alive. He'd been at the Gore Magala's mercy, and it had chosen to flee rather than finish him off. Gobber had delivered that last warning to him with one hundred-percent certainty, and yet here Hiccup was, kneeling amongst evidence to the contrary.

He needed to find that Gore Magala again. Otherwise, he'd never get an answer to this mystery.

Hiccup headed in the same direction he recalled seeing the Gore Magala flying in, keeping his path relatively straight as he pushed past trees and bushes. It wasn't long before he came to a tall, rocky wall that rose from the earth to block his progress. Or, at least, that was what it seemed – Hiccup soon spotted a small crevasse in the wall that created a downward-sloping path further into the woods. He slipped between the rocks, his hand sliding along one wall to steady himself. Along the narrow path he crept, until…

…he emerged in a paradise.

He stood on the edge of a circular grotto that sunk about sixty feet beneath the forest floor. On one side of the grotto was a titanic tree whose roots grew over the edge and dangled toward the bottom, where an enormous lake flooded half of the grotto floor. The water was crystal clear, enough so that Hiccup could see the lake's bed even from this height. The rest of the ground space was taken up by mossy boulders and a carpet of grass, completing the tranquil image. Sunlight broke through the clouds above to illuminate this secret haven with an idyllic glow.

Okay, Hiccup had to admit that the view was incredible. But it wasn't what he was looking for.

"This was stupid," he sighed, bending down to kneel, dejected, in the dirt.

As he crouched, though, something caught his eye. Scattered beside him on the ledge were several tufts of what looked like fur, pitch black in color. He picked one up with a careful touch, admiring the way the sunlight gave it a purplish tinge as he moved it. Come to think of it, didn't the Gore Magala have fur like this? If so, then that would mean –

"CHAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

The scream came from close by, startling Hiccup into falling on his rear. Several dark shapes whooshed past the crevice, as if driven into the air by the unholy noise. Once they'd passed, Hiccup crawled on his hands and knees back to the edge of the grotto and peered down, his curiosity stronger than his instincts.

Directly below him, all the way down on the grotto floor, was the wicked form of the Gore Magala. Its head was lifted and its wingarms were spread in fury, as though defending itself against something. It opened its jaws with another bloodcurdling scream, to which answered a series of harsh squawks from above. Hiccup glanced up in time to spot a trio of Deadly Nadder dragons diving down on the stranger to their woods with spikes erect and fire blazing.

The Gore Magala seemed to curl up as the dragons' fire rained down around it, then reared its head to launch a blast. It exploded against one Nadder in a burst of black mist, scaring it out of the grotto. With one down, the Gore Magala unfurled its cape to chase down the other two, vaulting into the air with strong wingbeats. The other two Nadders were intimidated enough to flee as well, disappearing over the far cliff edge.

But when Hiccup turned back to the Gore Magala, something was clearly wrong. It was losing altitude, gliding in a clumsy zigzag over the lake before skidding to a halt on the far bank. It tried again, hurling itself up along the sides of the grotto, but it only got about halfway before it seemed to tire and crash-land.

An inspiration struck Hiccup, and his hand dove into his jacket to retrieve his charcoal and notebook. He flipped it open to an empty page and, taking repeated one-second glances at the Gore Magala, sketched out a rough outline of its figure. He took note of how its cape spread out into a set of proper wings when it took flight, the leading edge of the cloak probably supported by a bony phalanx like those of other monsters.

"Why don't you just… fly away?" Hiccup breathed, setting his book down.

He saw the Gore Magala crash again, spitting another mist blast at the ground. If Hiccup didn't know any better, he would've thought that the monster was expressing vehemence, frustrated that it wasn't able to fly. And the reason for that was crystal-clear as Hiccup eyed its wings – while both wingarms were spread, only the right one had a fully unfurled cloak. The one on the left wingarm flopped back and forth as though it were, indeed, just an ordinary cape.

Was it broken when it crashed? Hiccup wondered. He opened his book, correcting his sketch with a useless left wing.

As he watched with new fascination, the Gore Magala tucked its wingarms into a comfortable-looking position atop its back and shoulders. On its right side, its cape trailed along its flank and down its tail, while on its left, it dragged across the ground as though dead. As it stalked to the far side of the lake, Hiccup saw that a trail of black mist was left in its wake, coming off the tail of its cape to linger behind like a snail's slime. Hiccup leaned forward to get a better look…

…and dropped his charcoal in doing so.

Too late, Hiccup made a grab for the writing utensil, but missed with a whispered curse. He watched with building anxiety the charcoal's trajectory down to the bottom of the grotto, where it bounced off a boulder. It clattered as it did so, a sound which crashed deafeningly in Hiccup's ears. He stiffened and dared not move a muscle, his eyes already moving toward the Gore Magala.

With a jolt of fear, Hiccup saw that the monster's snout was tilted upwards, pointed directly at him. The Gore Magala had heard the noise, and, despite not having eyes, seemed to know where he was exactly. It stood statue-like, as though waiting to see what he would do. For several seconds, both sides stared at one another, and the grotto's silence was as though the gods were holding their breath.

Finally, the Gore Magala laid down on the spot and rested its head on its paws. Hiccup took that as his cue to turn and run, thanking his lucky stars that he was still alive.

Docks

"Thanks, dragon!" one of the fishermen called to Batwings as the Siren hauled a huge net full of fish off the boat.

"Don't… mention it, Mulch," he gasped in reply, stretching his screaming muscles. "That's everything I caught. Are you okay with taking it to storage?"

"No problem!" the portly Viking exclaimed to his new assistant. "You've done enough fer today. We haven't brought in a haul like this in years, eh Bucket?"

The appropriately-named, bucket-headed Viking wasn't listening, his attention and bewilderment focused on the empty boat. "Did I eat it all already?" he asked. "Did I enjoy it?"

Mulch clucked good-naturedly at his friend, but Batwings didn't stick around long enough to hear. He was already taking to the air with frantic wingbeats, wanting to put the docks behind him as soon as possible. As soon as he'd reached the village proper, though, he landed and released an exhausted breath. His human form wasn't the best for flying, and his wings were aching just as much as the rest of him after several hours of fishing.

Well, not fishing per se, at least not for him. No, Mulch and Bucket had done the fishing – Batwings had been in the water chasing the fish. Even for his dragon form, that had been taxing work. Not for the first time, he admitted to himself that his species had probably adapted to eating humans for a reason.

He passed Gobber's forge on his way through the village, and, upon hearing heavy clanking emanating from inside, decided to say hello. He poked his head in through the entrance and saw Gobber banging away at some twisted lump of burning metal.

"Ah, Batwings!" the blacksmith brightened when he saw he had a visitor, and dunked his finished weapon into a nearby water barrel. "What can I do ye for?"

The Siren shrugged. "Just wanted to let you know I'm finished with fishing duty for today. Mulch and Bucket seemed to appreciate the help."

"Been at it since the lads and lasses' trainin' this mornin', eh?" Gobber asked.

His question gave Batwings a small epiphany. "Hey, is Hiccup around? I wanted to make sure he was doing okay after facing that Gravios."

"Me apprentice ain't in the shop today," Gobber answered, and turned back to the next weapon piled on the table next to him. "He's been off in the woods ever since comin' back from trainin'. Can't say I'm too worried aboot him, nothin' in those woods but pesky wild dragons."

"Oh, uh… that's good," Batwings replied. A brief, awkward silence descended, in which Batwings watched Gobber work for a minute or so. Once the blacksmith completed another weapon, Batwings spoke up with another question – "Is there any reason the village is so quiet today?"

"Probably because Stoick and some o' his crew are off searchin' fer the monsters' nest again," Gobber grunted, straining to heave a massive Switch Axe onto the anvil.

Batwings frowned. "A nest?" he repeated, unable to believe he'd heard that correctly. "Y-You mean… You're saying all the monsters from the other night come from the same place?"

"Aye, that's right," Gobber confirmed over the sound of his work.

After a second without getting a response, he stopped hammering and cast Batwings a curious look. "What's cookin' in that wee dragon brain o' yers, anyway?"

Too caught up in his own thoughts, Batwings didn't answer right away. Memories from his life on Siren Island flashed through his head in rapid succession, his frown deepening with each one. When he surfaced and turned back to Gobber, his eyes were grim.

"On Siren Island," he began, "we had a Rathalos roost on the coastal cliffs. They'd fly out over the ocean to snatch fish and small sea monsters, and never really bothered the Peaceables. And if another monster got anywhere near them, they'd send it running for its life."

"What are ye sayin'?" Gobber inquired.

There was a nest. Monsters didn't congregate amongst other species for any reason. Territorial disputes and inevitable food depletions would cause them to tear each other apart. The cooperative behavior he saw on the night of the raid… it was unnatural.

Batwings felt his blood turn to ice water as he forced himself to speak – "Something… I think something's making them attack Berk."

Gravios is a cool monster. I actually prefer it to most other rock monsters.

In the beginning of "Monsters of Berk", I briefly mentioned that Batwings joined in the training and had weapons of his own. This is no longer the case, what with Stoick's strict rules for him and all. I also think Batwings would be too lazy to learn how to fight like a human, anyway.

Speaking of Batwings, he's starting to suspect some stuff. It looks like he's going to end up becoming a major character in this story if he keeps using his brain. Stop making things more complicated for me, damnit!

Reviews are always welcome!