Henry stopped in his tracks, wheezing. "Silvio, can I—"

"Nuh uh," a voice from above scolded. "How are teachers addressed when they're instructing you?"

"...sensei, can I take a breather? I think I heard two of my vertebrae snap together."

"Nonsense, boy! Will the CIA, the FBI and the United States Air Force give you a 'breather?' This is why we're training, to whip you and your vertebrae into shape! We can breathe when we're dead!"

The ankylosaur panted, not even bothering trying to wrap his head around that one. "I just think... there are better ways to... to do this. We have the bike."

"And they have portable EMP weapons. The bike'll be fried before you even rev it up. The only way we're getting past those patrols is if we run like the wind!"

Henry adjusted the burden on his shoulders. "You mean if I run like the wind."

"What can I say?" the pangolin scoffed. "You should have showed up 40 years ago. I was faster than the naked eye back then. Now get back to the starting line. Remember, tomorrow we're practicing under live fire."

"...wait, what?!"

---

40 years ago Silvio made it past the guards by spin-dashing. He's wisely not planning on attempting that again.

I wouldn't worry about Henry, though. He'll spend tomorrow trying to help his sensei remember where he stashed the weapons and ammo, and after a few hours of puttering around to no avail they'll give up and go get tacos.

Hanna-Barbera-style art by  inklop!