"I want you all to understand something very important," I said, pacing like a man ready to scold the gods themselves. "You are not special."
Leo groaned. "Here we go again…"
"No, shut up, Whiner #1," I snapped, pointing at him with the stick I was using as a pointer—and occasionally as a sword. "You're not just not special, you're below average. You'd lose a fight to a sleepy chicken."
Wallace raised a hand. "Technically, chickens are quite fast and aggressive if provoked—"
I threw the stick at him.
He ducked. It hit Felix instead.
He squealed and fell over.
"Case in point!" I barked, gesturing at Felix's twitching body. "This is the result of poor positioning and terrible awareness. Do any of you want to die because you got clocked by a farm animal? Huh?"
"No…" came a chorus of defeated voices.
"Then let's do it again."
They groaned as they got back up.