"I will chop their heads off!!!!!"

Master Cyclonis was drowning in giant mountains of...

Fan-girl mail.

It wasn't the good type, mind you. It wasn't the, "You have awoken the yuri in me, Master. LET'S GO OUT," kind. It wasn't even the, "Your skills turn me on. Sorta," variety.

No, it was the,

"HOW COULD YOU BLOW UP THE DARK ACE OMG I HATE YOU."

The mother of all fan-girly daughters.

THE BIG ONE.

No hyperbole could wrap itself around this opened can of worms.

The Dark Ace was wondering exactly what was going on as he stood in front of his Master's desk. "Look, if you'd just explain--"

"Apparently, in some alternate universe-slash-cartoon world, I... made you explode into a million pieces... or something along those lines..." Cyclonis' face was turning red. Of the beet variety. "Do you realize how many death threats are here? I mean... Not even mother got this many, and she chopped heads off faster than Snipe eats wiener-dogs..."

The Dark Ace mumbled something about "letting his figure go."

"Seriously, why would I blow you up?" Cyclonis ranted. "I... You're a valuable asset!"

The Dark Ace gritted his teeth and tried not to feel too offended. "Master, perhaps you should calm--"

"I WILL NOT CALM DOWN!" She picked a letter up. "NEW MISSION! We're making a portal and we're going to go chop this... Asaph Fipke man's head off!"

"Mas--"

"NOW!"

"Ma--"

"DID YOU NOT HEAR ME?!"

"M--"

"GO OR I REALLY WILL BLOW YOUR HEAD OFF!"

The Dark Ace silently retreated from her office.

"Females these days," he grunted.

OOO

A/N. Oh-ho-ho...