GamerThot Anon Part 3


                                            >Be Anon, asleep and cuddling in bed with Flutters.

                                            >You wake up to her lovingly nuzzling your face.

                                            >You smile at her gentle ministrations and nuzzle her right back, pulling her closer and taking great care not to squish her sensitive wings.

                                            >Sharing a hug, you bask in each other's warmth for a while.

                                            >Fluttershy lets out a cute little yawn and you help her get out of bed after a quick peck on her cheek.

                                            >Lazy mornings are best mornings.

                                            >You jump out of bed, feeling like you can bench-press a mountain or two.


                                            >You've met Fluttershy in truly bizarre circumstances involving a bent spork, daring escape of severely spooked boa constrictor, faulty magic fireworks doused in creosote and a whole load of gym equipment.

                                            >You were just lifting your worries and stress away in one of these prissy stallion gyms where all the good equipment had a thick layer of dust, when that conundrum happened.


                                            >That fateful evening Flutters mistook you for some sort of rare animal caught in midst of chaos she caused indirectly.

                                            >Can't blame her, at that point you probably wouldn't recognize yourself either under all that debris and power-lifting plates and racks, reeking of railroad.

                                            >She flung weight plates away that were easily twice her own weight, while cooing comforting things, trying to calm down what she was thought a hurt animal stuck beneath pile of metal.

                                            >Needless to say you were bit puzzled by that predicament. Once you were sure nothing was broken you pushed through metallic menagerie and stood tall and proud, towering over yellow mare half-covered in creosote.

                                            >After realizing that the one she was calling a 'poor dear sweetheart' and other names you would call a pet was actually a stallion, she did the only thing she could do.

                                            >She had a panic attack.

                                            >And sad, distressed, crying poners are your ultimate Achilles heel.

                                            >Sight of shuddering and whimpering tiny figure on the floor awakened something primal in you.

                                            >You descended on her and scooped her up, holding her tightly against your chest.

                                            >You told her that it's going to be alright, that you hold no grudge and a pretty pony like her deserves better than be this sad.

                                            >You administered nuzzles, headpats and bellyrubs without any plan, rhyme or reason, going purely with the feeling of your gut.

                                            >Her whimpers subsided and a tiny bit of hope started glimmering in her huge, teary eyes.

                                            >"Won't you l-laugh and c-chase me away for showing we-weakness?"

                                            >You balked at the question.

                                            "Why would I do that? What kind of heartless bastard you take me for?"

                                            >You planted affirmative kiss right on her snoozle. You had no idea why you did that but it felt like right thing to do.

                                            >She viciously blushed up a storm while trying to cover her face with hooves.

                                            "Come on, let's get that creosote out of your mane..."


                                            >Ever since that you started seeing each other.

                                            >Having a mare genuinely care for you instead of trying to get into your pants was almost a surreal experience...

                                            >...But it felt nice not having to keep your guard permanently up.

                                            >It felt even nicer to return that care to Fluttershy, encourage her in her endeavors and cuddle the stress right out of her tiny yellow body.

                                            >Though, you learned not to pick her up in public anymore since it was highly embarrassing for her.

                                            >In privacy of your apartment, however, upsies were dispensed at a whim...

                                            >Alluring smell of cooking food brings you out of daydream and into your kitchen to lend her a hand and a hug.

                                            >You may be a terrible cook, but you sure do know your way around a knife. These veggies never stood a chance.

                                            >With two of you, breakfast is cooked in no time.


                                            >You both dig into the freshly-made balanced breakfast. It's such a luck that your marefriend can really cook!

                                            >Other mares wouldn't touch cookwares with ten foot pole.

                                            >That's the main thing about Flutters - she's not like other mares. She's shy, quiet and possibly the most unmarely mare there is, which is why she catches flak all the time.

                                            >And other mares can say that cooking is 'emaresculating' and 'for colts only' all they want - Fluttershy's cooking is to die for!

                                            >And you will not cease to remind her of this fact.

                                            >Not in these terms though, don't want to spook the feathers off the timid widdle pegasus.

                                            >And you should know - you've been taken to a fair share of increasingly expensive restaurants by high-class "gentle-mares" attempting to woo you while you still were finding your feet in this city.

                                            >Not a single one of these pretentiously bland barf-o-toriums can even hope to compare to finger-licking goodness that is Fluttershy's cooking.

                                            >Maybe colts were right and there's something special to food being made with love...

                                            >And if any of other mares will ever give her any grief about it within your earshot you won't be hesitant to bring out your rolled-up whapping newspaper.

                                            >Her pancakes are divine!

                                            >Divine, I say!


                                            >Be Fluttershy, blushing at Anon's appraisal of your cooking.

                                            >It's just a skill you've picked up when learning how to care for animals...

                                            >Yes, it's as unmarely as it gets, but poor, hungry little critters need their meals!

                                            >Had you admitted this to any other stallion, you would've been laughed out, or maybe even chased out of the kitchen! But with your Anonymous, it's a whole different story!

                                            >Just listening to his compliments makes you all warm and fuzzy inside.

                                            >O-oh my!

                                            >Mare, he can sure put away entire plates like it's nothing!

                                            >Well, he's very big for a stallion.

                                            >Which means all the more cuddling for you! Yay!

                                            >Despite everything you still can't bring yourself to mare up, fluff your tuft and mark him with your scent.

                                            >He's just so... pure!

                                            >In a few minutes you'll be off to a dusty construction site - checking in with the progress of construction crew.

                                            >After that you'll have entire day to yourselves.

                                            >Having a supportive and cuddly stallion like that sounds like a dream come true.

                                            >Words can't describe the relief you feel when you wake up in the morning and see that he's really there.


                                            >You are Written In Triplicate, a royal advisor, and you're not having a good day.

                                            >Table carved from single piece of pristine white marble whizzes past your head and crashes into a wall, shattering into thousands of pieces.

                                            >You wince and fix your glasses.

                                            "Princess, unfortunately there's nothing we can do..."

                                            >On the opposite end of the room, Princess Luna is fuming with barely-contained rage.

                                            "I know full well how prestigious victory at international event would be for Equestria, even if brought by a colt-"

                                            >You jump as Luna stomps the floor at your comment. Spiderweb of cracks appears in granite under her hoof, hinting that you're on very thin ice here.

                                            >You gulp and continue.

                                            "And yet current rules do not allow a colt to participate. I've checked in with lawyers three times and they say that rules are very clear on the matter..."

                                            >Luna's frown grows. Your explanation sputters out.

                                            >"We are sure this is our Sister's doing! The rusemare she is!"

                                            >Her expression brightens a bit, and she trots towards the exit doors.

                                            >"But perhaps there is another way..."

                                            >You exhale with a relief. Looks like all mares who bet on Luna having your head for this will have to pay up.

                                            >And living, keeping on living is also sweet.


                                            >Thou art Anon once again.

                                            >Once Flutters is gone, you spend rest of the morning secretly toiling away at accounting books.

                                            >And by that you mean wrestling with electronic accounting spreadsheet program you've got going on this crazy magitech computer.

                                            >You already made Excel your bitch during your MMO phase, you can do it again!

                                            >Numbers fill the screen as you check and re-check your calculations.

                                            >One single donation won't make it all right.

                                            >Not even close.

                                            >Fluttershy might be kindest being in the world, but unfortunately the poor dear never had a head for business. She may have had the money to build the clinic but actually running it and staffing it with professional medical specialists clearly escaped her calculations.

                                            >That and her insistence on keeping entire service free of charge made the whole thing clearly unsustainable.

                                            >And you would be happy to help with balancing the accounts, even drumming up a charity initiative to fund this noble endeavor of hers, but...

                                            >She just wouldn't listen.

                                            >This stupid "mare has to do it herself" mindset wouldn't allow her to take any help from you.

                                            >She already was teased and bullied for being "unmarely" her entire life and this was her last outlet for feeling better about herself.

                                            >You just couldn't take it away from her.


                                            >All of this led to you helping her in your own, roundabout and fucked up way.

                                            >To be fair, entire scheme was so outlandish that you both had full plausible deniability and even if word got out, you could always just play "cute colt loves caring about cute animals" card.

                                            >For all Flutters currently knew, you had a voice-acting job with long hours that required absolute quiet during the recording.

                                            >You barely avoided the whole I-should-pay-for-my-colt's-needs debacle by insisting that it was your dream job and you're doing it as a way to channel your creativity.

                                            >Many a bullet was narrowly dodged that day.

                                            >If anything, you made sure to-

                                            >*FWAMP!*

                                            >You jump and grab your hidden battle-ready slipper.

                                            >Oh it's just mail. You can never get used to these magical letterboxes. Not that you get much mail correspondence anyhow.

                                            >Hold up, it's Royal summons.

                                            >You break fancy seal on the envelope and get to reading.

                                            >"Dearest Anonymous, We invite thee to partake in..."

                                            >Royal 'We', ye olde speak... it has to be Luna!

                                            >Still, she could've invited you through some online platform like a normal per- pony, instead of going FBI on your ass.

                                            >You tear through old-timey words with considerable effort. All you can make out of this is that Luna wants to make some sort of deal and she wants you in the castle NOW.

                                            >Dang, maybe you've pandered too hard last evening...

                                            >And your cuddly happy time with Fluttershy will have to wait, too.

                                            >You jot a quick note for her, immediately forming an elaborate story of half-truths designed to avoid having her worrying out of her mind, and head off to castle grounds.


                                            >Guards eye you suspiciously but the sight of Royal summons papers changes their attitude in an instant.

                                            >You've got to admit, you take special kind of enjoyment in how the mere glimpse of that paper wipes the smug 'what do we have here' look from guardsmares' muzzles.

                                            >It gets a little less exciting as you get deeper in the castle and start seeing more stallion guards. They just nod understandingly and let you through.

                                            >Hold up. Is it just you or the more you head inside, the skimpier the armor on guards gets? Whatever, must be your imagination from lewding it up too hard all the freakin' time.

                                            >Another one of sharp turns in castle's nonsensical layout brings you face-to-muzzle with Princess Luna.

                                            >"Anonymous! We've been looking for you!"

                                            >Wow, she's tall in person, er, pony, almost as tall as you are! If you count horn, that is.

                                            >And photos did not do her mane any justice, it's like a window into the starry sky, except the window is ethereal cloud waving in non-existent wind.

                                            >Oh fuck, stop staring into her screensaver mane! How are you supposed to greet royalty, again?!

                                            >Brain comes up blank, so you default to a small polite bow and "Greetings, Princess."

                                            >Your long hair slips and you spend a bit of time moving these unruly keratin strands in their rightful place. This causes a small smile to appear on Luna's muzzle.

                                            >Well, at least she's not mad. Instead, Luna quickly directs you to appointed meeting room, following slightly behind you and showing you the way with her fancy magic.


                                            >Be Princess Luna, hot and bothered.

                                            >Even with baggy pants you can easily trace contours of that chiseled butt, tempting you, beckoning your touch...

                                            >What a specimen! Wide shoulders, muscular legs and hands; Wait, was that a tiny bit of sock flashing?

                                            >Steel thyself, Luna!

                                            >If you seduce this colt, your sister wins!

                                            >No matter how discreet you're going to be about it - she'll know, and she'll poke fun at you for that for the remainder of millennium!

                                            >She's already been ribbing you mercilessly for actively promoting competitions. The filthy casual!

                                            >But competitive scene indeed does not look good. It's dominated by complacent mares and not even slap from loss at Marelympics did anything for them.

                                            >Needless to say, every promising colt immediately gets stomped. Mare solidarity or something...

                                            >You've been trying to stop this mess being a total clamfest on multiple occasions, but it proved to be a truly colossal task.

                                            >Your sister, however, insinuated that your sole motivation was having more colt flank at your beck and call.

                                            >She's acting as though you're blind - like you don't see how the Royal Guard stationed in palace is all stallions in skimpy armor designed to show off their flanks! Like you don't know about specific regulation against wearing ball-bras while on duty! Like you don't know how often she requests guards to 'assist her' in her royal quarters, after which poor colts emerge bow-legged and shaking...

                                            >And after all that she has the GALL to call you out on missing the old times when royal stallion harem was a thing!

                                            >How hypocritical of thee, sister!

                                            >Thine gaze drifts back to swaying hips in front of you.

                                            >Thou can look but thou can't touch...

                                            >Truly, she enjoys thine suffering!


                                            >Be Anon, and your mental 'rape imminent' alarm is going off constantly.

                                            >You can just feel Luna's gaze being affixed to your buttocks.

                                            >Normally you'd be smug about mares 'mirin your glutes gains, but this situation is a tad sinister.

                                            >You two are in a rather remote part of castle... And you haven't seen any guards for at least a minute of walking at a fast pace...

                                            >You gulp.

                                            >If the legends about alicorn horniness and strength are true, you're risking your pelvis getting ground into dust.

                                            >You would like to maybe preferably avoid that particular fate.

                                            >On that glum note you stop at big double doors, which Luna throws open with her magic for you.

                                            >The room is dominated by a giant mahogany table.

                                            >Enormous panoramic window overlooking some luscious garden fills the room with warm sunlight.

                                            >You notice two ponies - a mare and a stallion, whose business attire allows them to almost blend in with stacks of parchment and other bureaucratic implements on the table.

                                            >"So, Princess, about that loophole..."


                                            >Next half an hour passes in sea of frustrated explanations, interruptions and intense legalese being thrown back and forth between two legal experts and Luna, with you being completely ignored.

                                            >Something about possible loopholes and international laws.

                                            >Meanwhile you're pretty happy that this didn't devolve into foursome.

                                            >You'd be bored but at some point two guards entered and issued you a swanky-looking magitek laptop bearing sticker with Equestrian flag. Must be the rig needed for that deal. Or possibly payment?

                                            >Checking out machine makes for a nice distraction while arguing continues. You still need to read up on how this magic hardware works - you're pretty sure these aren't integrated circuits...

                                            >You can tell that it's quite a bit more powerful than what you use at home, though.

                                            >Sudden silence and feeling of being watched makes you lift your eyes from the screen to three ponies across the table.

                                            >"So, dear Anonymous, We have a proposition for you..."


                                            "But Princess! I'm good at *playing games*, not *teaching ponies*!"

                                            >"Nonsense! All colts are good at nursing and teaching!"

                                            >She suddenly attains the startled look of someone who let something very offensive slip.

                                            >"Unless thou art different."

                                            >Her pained grimace twisted more as she realized that her 'save' only made it worse.

                                            >You don't really care for these remarks, for you are still baffled by the proposed deal.

                                            >Luna wants you to coach ThaumSport sportsmare team. To train them, and, if possible, bring them to your level of play.

                                            >From what you gather, Luna originally wanted you to go and kick ass at Marelympics First Person Spellslinger category, but some dumb legal thing got in the way.

                                            >Apparently colts aren't allowed to compete, and there's not enough pull in the world to pass an international bill that changes that before upcoming games.

                                            >Which is a total shame. Would be a good way to both test your mettle and boost viewerbase.

                                            >But teaching someone to play? Teaching's simply not your forte!

                                            >Come to think of it, you've never taught anyone how to do the things you do...

                                            >This stuff just comes to you naturally!

                                            >And all of this is exacerbated by the fact that you'd be teaching ponies, not, uh, humans.

                                            >You're not sure that you can do this at all.

                                            >In all honesty, you were expecting to get some promotion contract. To be a pretty face and curvy flank for some event.

                                            >You'd also agree to showing off your skills in case that was needed.

                                            >Heck, you'd agree to go and break faces through entirety of Marelympics, FPS, RTS, fighting games - no matter, you'd be pulling all the stops if pay was good enough. As long as it involved games.

                                            >But schooling bunch of rowdy gamer mares? That sounded like hard and thankless job.

                                            >And to do that in about a month? 'Cause that's exactly how much time you got till the Games start...

                                            >Wait a second.

                                            >A time limit, nigh-impossible task, and failure not being an option?..

                                            >You can feel a tidal wave of very familiar feeling rise up.

                                            >Is that a?..

                                            >IS THAT A MOTHERFUCKING CHALLENGE!?

                                            >Phew, relax, re-lax, be calm. Inhale. Exhale. You need to make a responsible decision here.

                                            >It's not the time to get into THAT mindset. Best not to get in over your head here. Inhale. Exhale. Remain calm.

                                            >You blink as Luna pushes contract toward you.

                                            >You take a look at the offered sum and it makes you reconsider.

                                            >It is a VERY charitable sum, even from standpoint of donation-spoiled streaming thot you are.

                                            >You lift your eyes to notice change in Luna's features. She looks... pleading?

                                            >Goddamnit.

                                            "I... I'll see what I can do, Princess."


                                            >You've been presented with a tall stack of dossiers for mares.

                                            >They have a week to confirm participation, so the stack will thin out quite a bit in a week.

                                            >Luna will then hoof-pick participants and you'll have to train them for Marelympic games, which will start in about a month.

                                            >Apparently Equestria been beaten year after year for the last decade.

                                            >It's especially bad on First Person Spellslinger front - not even a single bronze medal!

                                            >And that's where you come in.

                                            >Now you have an explicit goal.

                                            >Turn these mares into medalists, every single one.

                                            >Commencing plan.

                                            >Step one: Recon.

                                            >You spin to face Luna.

                                            "Are there any good recordings of gameplay from previous games?"

                                            >"We thought you'd ask for that."

                                            >She waves in two royal guards hauling bunch of media storage crystal things.

                                            >They fumble with installing those into your machine until you have to wave them off and do it yourself. That's official: freaking USB orientation problem is universal no matter the dimension!

                                            >Guards just exchange looks. Not to be stereotypical or anything but these stallions don't know their tech at all. If a literal alien is more tech-savvy...

                                            >Finally the playback starts rolling.

                                            >Luna walks over and plops down on her haunches; watching you and the screen intently.

                                            >She doesn't seem to be putting any moves on you so you let yourself relax a little and focus on your newfound challenge.

                                            >You lean a bit to her, pointing out mistakes you see. There's so many, you have to pick most egregious ones.

                                            >Luna listens to your rapid-fire commentary with a genuine interest, only stopping to give some errands to castle servants.

                                            >Something about rearranging personnel and more paperwork.

                                            >It's not until the lunch time that she takes her leave. You use little break to quickly raid kitchen before going catabolic.

                                            >Gotta keep those gains, yo!


                                            >You are Written In Triplicate, still royal advisor, and this is the second time today you're fearing for your life.

                                            >You've been tasked with easing Spitfire into the news that she's going to be replaced as a royal coach for Marelympics FPS sportsmares.

                                            >Spitfire may not be as... intense as Luna, but she's an elite servicemare. It's really hard to read what's going on behind these eyes.

                                            >After you finish your long-winded legalese-laden explanation, she just nods.

                                            >"Understood."

                                            >You internally sigh with relief and leave her office.

                                            >Only to jump, startled by sound of crash and glass breaking emanating from it.

                                            >You better pick up the pace.


                                            >Be Luna. Be elated at the prospect of Equestria finally winning for once.

                                            >It's not like these victories had huge bearings on politics, but prestige is prestige and you get positively tired of every official and their dog rubbing your losses in. But that will change soon, you're sure of it!

                                            >And you additionally will get to enjoy the company of a very exotic colt - a feast for your eyes!

                                            >Wait. Due to this stupid wager you can't feel up that hot colt body, but who says your sister can't take this opportunity?!

                                            >Curses!

                                            >You poke your head in the meeting room just in time to catch Celestia sneakily levitating her seat towards oblivious Anonymous, who's concentrating on the screen.

                                            "Celestia! Day Court awaits thine attendance!"

                                            >She jumps, shrinks under your gaze and then frowns.

                                            >HAHA! Not on our watch, sister!


                                            >Be Anon. Be not quite sure what Celestia sneaking up on you was all about.

                                            >You did however hear that she doesn't quite approve of the whole game competition thing.

                                            >She's probably looking for a reason to proclaim you a fraud, nullify the contract and throw you out of the castle.

                                            >Good fucking luck with that, Princess!

                                            >You may be after the money, but you're not some lazy slacker looking for a way to half-ass your job, that's for sure.

                                            >And with her amping up the pressure you'll make sure you'll perform spotlessly!

                                            >The only thing that bothers you is actual process of teaching...

                                            >Whatever.

                                            >Will worry about that later.

                                            >Jaw-dislocating yawn rocks your body. You're in for at least three more hours of match recordings analysis.


                                            >Finally the last crystal leaves it's weird brass not-USB port and you draw the bottom line.

                                            >Well, your findings are a mixed bag, really.

                                            >On one hand, pretty much all of mares competing for Equestria have good potential. Need serious work on movement and tactic but you can work with that.

                                            >On the other - you're pretty confident that there's at least two opponents that used some sort of cheats. Either that or they have ungodly accurate aim and unbelievable luck...

                                            >Do cheats even exist here?

                                            >You rub your forehead in frustration. This shit is getting more complex by the minute.

                                            >You got your work cut out for you, that's for sure.

                                            >Gotta consult with Luna.

                                            >Just as you leave you run right into none other than Celestia.

                                            >She graces you with her trademark motherly smile.

                                            >She's going to grill you for details, isn't she?

                                            >Serious posture: Online

                                            >Poker face: Online

                                            >Professionalism: Online

                                            >All Systems Nominal


                                            >Be Luna.

                                            >Your gut feeling was right - you find Celestia getting ready to pounce exotic stallion again.

                                            >You push by your sister and boom at Anon.

                                            "Anonymous! How did thine efforts fare?"

                                            >The colt perks up at your words and the sour look on Celestia's face says everything.

                                            >HAHA! The clamjam is doubled!

                                            >Retreat into thine casual marecave and jill thine loneliness away!

                                            >As she scampers off with a harrumph, Anonymous takes you aside and quietly tells you his thoughts and his suspicions.

                                            >Latter one comes as surprise, but at the same time, it's not a big one.

                                            >You always had your doubts about big league, but you kept them to yourself.

                                            >Loser accusing winner never looks good, after all, no matter how you put it.

                                            >You escort Anonymous out of castle before you teleport to thine study.

                                            >There's bunch of important letters to write.

                                            >But not before you tend to your... needs.


                                            >Be Anon, power-walking through the city.

                                            >It's almost evening when you finally are back.

                                            >You glanced at the wrist-watch and now you can't help but feel bad.

                                            >Flutters must be worried sick by now. You *did* leave a note, though!

                                            >Oh, and she's long overdue for her mane brushing, too!

                                            >Mares are generally not that great when it comes to looking after themselves, but it's only exacerbated further with the weight resting on Shy's shoulders.

                                            >Opening door into your apartment, you're almost knocked over by a yellow-pink blur.

                                            "Whoa there, 'Shy!"

                                            >She throws herself at you, locking around your neck in a tight hug.

                                            >Your jocular attitude falters a bit when you notice that she's on verge of bursting into tears.

                                            >"I was so worried!"

                                            >Goddamnit, looks like your note wasn't nearly enough.

                                            >"I was worried that some mares are going to t-take advantage of you being alone, or s-something bad happens and I wouldn't be there for you!"

                                            >Oh. *That*...

                                            >You're not sure how you can battle that particular fear of hers, so you just reciprocate her hug and nuzzle her mane for the time being.

                                            "It's okay, 'Shy! I'm fine. And I've got good news!"

                                            >The worry leaves her face, replaced by demure curiosity.

                                            >"Oh?.."

                                            "I've landed a job at the Castle. They need one of my special talents."

                                            >"That's, um- great!"

                                            >Her smile is almost apologetic.

                                            "It feels nice doing things you're good at, you know?"

                                            >She gives you a somewhat unsure nod, but her smile becomes much more genuine.

                                            >You gently put her on the floor, and go change out of your clothes.

                                            >Once you're done, you find your marefriend sitting on the couch.

                                            >Her slouched posture is a clear tell that something is still bothering her.

                                            >Unfortunately, no amount of prodding and prying will cause her to spill the beans.

                                            >You'll just have to wait until she's ready to talk.

                                            >But that doesn't mean you can't help her...

                                            >So you pick her up, put her in your lap and begin slowly stroking her mane.

                                            >You've practically got heroin hands. Shit's irresistible to mares once they get a taste of your scritchies.

                                            >It's possible to overdose on them, too! Too much stimulation knocks ponies right out - little detail that saved your skin from frisky mares a number of times.

                                            >Her breaths slow down and become more deep. Can't have this cutie worrying over nothing.

                                            >Once 'Shy is calm enough, you pick up the mane brush and get to work.


                                            >Be Queen Chrysalis

                                            >Attend to your royal duties.

                                            >That is, sort all of clips from your favorite channel's streams into a very remote and very inconspicuously-named folder.

                                            >Entire grid of previews of varying degrees of salaciousness fills your screen.

                                            >Here's opportune shot of his tightly-packed package. Nice!

                                            >And here's the moment from the stream you missed - him flashing just a tiny bit of striped socks.

                                            >U-unf!~

                                            >Sudden noise of door slamming open makes you jump.

                                            >You spin around, snarling and minimizing current window. Someling will PAY for that intrusion.

                                            >The intruding drone pants heavily and all but collapses on the floor.

                                            >She barely manages to squeeze out a phrase between the pants.

                                            >But what she says alleviates your fury in an instant.

                                            "We found him."