Training

“We do need to train…” Doctor Benjamin Maddox Beaux begins on the first day everyone is dining together in their new headquarters, “I've seen, repeatedly, that power alone doesn't win fights. Coordination and tactics are also needed to keep from getting in each other's way.” He is currently skipping the ‘uniform’, instead wearing a custom-tailored gray business suit designed to minimize his more feminine assets, with his hair wrapped up in a bun under a matching hat.

“Pfft,” Fantasia waves dismissively, “Come on, we have some top tier power here, and we've all been in the field by now. We can handle ourselves.”

“Hmm… tell you what,” Dr. Bimbo grins, “how about I call in a small favor from the local base, and get a dozen Marines out here with wax rounds in their rifles. We then stage a mock fight, pretending those wax bullets are some high tech concoction that's actually dangerous to us. We arm ourselves up similarly with harmless markers, and use that to run a fake fight against the Marines… and see which group has the last person left unmarked.”

“Hah!” Ms. Blackheart laughs, “Sure. Let's find out what a bunch of mundane marines can actually do. I mean, seriously…” she rolls her eyes.

“Great,” the doctor smiles, "I'll place the call in the morning….”

—

Three days later, Benjamin is smiling despite the orange wax on his helmet as the quartet walks back into the building. The good witch's dress needs cleaning from the same wax, and Werhure is picking bits of it out of her fur, but Iron Fox is seemingly clean.

“Hey, Irene,” the doctor suppresses a giggle, “Mind if I ask Sampson a question?”

Fantasia groans as Ms. Fox separates from her suit, shrugging.

“How many of those wax rounds did you end up eating, Sampson?” Dr. Beaux is grinning from ear to ear.

“Four hundred sixty-seven yummy treats,” the robotic voice answers with a child-like energy. “Can we play again?”

“You made your point,” the woman dressed in what used to be black glares at the doctor. “What do you suggest?”

“Training,” Benjamin still suppresses the giggles, knowing how girly they'd sound coming from him, “Flying is a game changer on the field, but when you fly in predictable patterns and stop to aim your shots, you're little more than target practice for a professional. You, personally, need to learn how to zig zag well and fire while moving… or maybe just land behind cover sometimes and shoot people from there.”

“And me?” The wolf woman signs.

“Cover, and maybe figure out a ranged weapon of your own.” Dr. Beaux shrugs, “You're a big target, and you currently need to get close to do anything, but charging the enemy in a straight line is reckless. You should be picking out cover, zipping quickly to it, and approaching your target that way… or, as I said, figuring out how you can deal with people when you can't close the distance, then fighting from behind barriers.”

“And, like, what do we need?” Irene speaks up.

Dr. Bimbo purses his lips, “Okay, so… I would say you needed the same basic training as Fantasia…” the man kneels down to look Sampson right where his eyes should be in his harbor seal like form, “...but I get the impression that Sampson here maybe already knows all of this, could have painted the entire marine contingent in an eyeblink had he really wanted, and was just hungry.”

The “seal” just looks away.

“That's what I thought.” Benjamin stands back up, shaking his head, “So yeah, Irene, when you're running things, same as the good witch; Sampson just needs to learn to fight seriously when he's in charge.”

“But how do I aim and move at the same time?” Irene furrows her brow.

“Practice,” Benjamin shrugs, “Sampson doesn't seem to care about how many shots he lets off, so basically what we need to do is set you and Fantasia up with some kind of alert for when you stop moving, and have you both practice shooting at things while not setting that off until you're hitting things reliably that way, then make it harder, and do the same thing until that's easy for you both.”

The wolf woman slowly points a claw at the doctor.

Fantasia picks up on the meaning first, “And what do YOU need?” She smiles, “‘Physician, heal thyself’.”

“Yeah, you lost too!” Irene accuses.

Dr. Beaux finally lets a chortle through, “I did. Of course, I'm more a healer than a fighter… but yes. Eric, the opposing commander, is going to be sending his after action report my way. I plan to follow the suggestions from a professional, as it's been ages since I spent time on an actual battlefield.” He pauses as Irene raises an eyebrow, “...and yes, I'll give all of you copies.”

—

The follow-up scenarios of months later goes a bit better….