"Unknown threats, my foot," Jimmy muttered under his breath, arms crossed. "Come on, Captain, you know as well as I do that those patrols barely do anything. They just stroll around, soak up the sun, and show off their flashy gear. Meanwhile, we're the ones dragging cages, handling furious beasts, and praying we don't end up in the hospital. And yet they're the ones with better pay and better equipment? How does that make sense?"
He stepped forward, his voice more serious now. "Captain, please. Can't you bring this up with Sir Claremont? We're the ones actually doing the work, putting our lives on the line. It's only a matter of time before someone gets seriously hurt, or worse. Have you already forgotten what happened to John last week? He's still in bed after getting bitten by those Billywig bugs. His face swelled up like a balloon!"
The other wizards, clearly frustrated as well, started backing Jimmy up.
"He's right, Captain. Why do the patrol team always get special treatment?"
"If their job's so dangerous, I'll swap with them any day. Let's see how they like dealing with Thunderbirds and chimeras for a change!"
"Captain, if we could get better gear, don't you think it'd make things safer for everyone, including you?" Jimmy called out, cutting through the growing chatter among the group. "Remember that time you calmed down Erumpent? It nearly flung you into a wall."
The team leader's jaw tightened at the reminder. He didn't respond right away, but he couldn't deny that Jimmy had a point. Handling magical creatures wasn't just risky, it was borderline suicidal some days.
He'd taken his fair share of close calls. And while the patrol units strolled around in enchanted gear, these handlers had to deal with raging beasts with nothing more than basic protective robes and luck. Sure, the patrols got assigned to dangerous zones sometimes, but lately, it felt like they were just walking around, sipping tea and looking important.
The murmuring around him was growing louder, and not just in volume, there was a steady rhythm to it now, the kind of righteous energy that came when people felt they were finally being heard. The captain could tell the others were counting on him to speak up.
Maybe they had a point. And if Claremont didn't like it, well… he could always say it was the team's idea.
"Alright…" he finally said, rubbing the back of his neck. "When Sir Claremont arrives tonight, I'll bring it up. But if he gets angry and throws a fit, don't come crying to me later."
"No problem!" Jimmy grinned. "If His Excellency asks, we'll just say it was everyone's opinion. We're all in this together, right?"
"Long live the captain!" one of the wizards shouted, raising an imaginary toast. "Tonight, I'll treat you to a glass of preserved flame whiskey, real East German stuff, can't even buy it these days."
"That's the spirit, Captain! I'm sure Sir Claremont won't get mad over a reasonable suggestion," another added with a reassuring nod.
The moment the captain agreed, the group broke into cheers, clapping him on the back and raising their voices in celebration. Their mood shifted from frustrated to triumphant in an instant. The captain, seeing his team's spirits lifted, straightened his shoulders and gave a small smirk before clapping his hands.
"Alright, alright, enough celebrating. Once we're done here, we've still got to handle that Ukrainian Iron Belly. Don't let your joy turn into regret. I don't want anyone leaving with their eyebrows singed off!"
"No problem, Captain!"
"You can count on us!"
"If anything goes wrong, I'll jump right in!"
The group moved quickly, enthusiasm in their steps now as they got back to work. They chatted cheerfully while prepping the little Thunderbird for transfer, their laughter echoing through the stone corridor.
Surprisingly, the Thunderbird didn't resist. It stayed calm, even cooperative, as they lifted the cage and gently guided it into its holding hut. To the wizards, that was no coincidence, they took it as a sign, proof that their captain had a strong moral compass and that their little rebellion tonight might actually bring some change.
Up above, Shalltear watched everything unfold from the ceiling beams. The No. 39 monitoring spider perched on her forehead was still transmitting, and she had no doubt that Alex and Fang, watching from outside, were seeing the same thing in real time.
"I wonder if Milan Claremont will really show up tonight…" Shalltear mused, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "He seems to visit every day or two. If I tail this captain, maybe I'll finally uncover what's going on behind the scenes."
But for now, that was a side objective. Her main goal was still the Thunderbird. She was focused, alert, and confident that Alex was smart enough not to alert the creature to her presence. She wasn't worried about being attacked, not by it, at least.
As for the wizards below? Well, maybe they should be a little more careful. After all, it was Shalltear who'd stirred up the Ukrainian Iron Belly's bad temper last night. And she hadn't forgotten.
After the team of wizards responsible for escorting the Thunderbirds left and confirmed the area was clear, Shalltear cautiously approached the shed, which was still covered by a heavy weather blanket. As soon as she stepped inside, her vision wavered for a moment.
The shed's interior had been enchanted to resemble the American wilderness, and what should've been a cramped space was now impressively vast, clearly the work of an advanced Scar Stretching Curse. The ceiling had been extended upward to mimic an open sky that stretched hundreds of meters high. Within this massive enclosure, the young Thunderbird, now grown to the size of a lion, lounged comfortably in its den.
Shalltear took a moment to take it all in, then gently pawed at the blanket, trying to find the Thunderbird. Before she could react, a dark blur shot past her vision, and a large head suddenly loomed in front of her.
Its sharp, hawk-like eyes locked onto her own, and Shalltear froze. "Hi…" she managed weakly, startled by how quickly it had noticed her.
The way it looked at her, with that piercing gaze, made her feel like prey being watched by a predator. Even though she was still in her bat form, cold sweat trickled down her back.
She didn't know whether Alex had already made contact with the Thunderbird or if it somehow remembered her from a previous encounter. Part of her feared it might just snap her up as a quick snack.
But despite the tension in the air, the Thunderbird didn't make a move to attack. It seemed to study her instead, and after a few seconds, its gaze softened. In its mind, the little Thunderbird recalled a gentle voice it had heard the night before, one that had spoken to it in clear thoughts, unlike the usual muddled whispers it had sensed these past few days.
That voice had told it to stay calm, to wait, and to be patient. It had explained the situation in a soothing, almost familiar tone.
The Thunderbird remembered that voice saying, 'If you see a bat acting a little strange, don't be afraid. She's a friend. Help her if you can.'