Chapter Text
The sunlit nursery of the Buchanan residence was normally a place of quiet tranquility, but today it was the epicenter of a full-scale, logic-defying meltdown. Inside her crib, baby Sybille was wailing with such staggering force that her tiny face had turned the deep, alarming color of a beet.
Standing over the crib, looking profoundly out of her depth, was Aquadramon. She had shifted into her Terrestrial Form—which meant she was slightly smaller and temporarily lacked her usual webbed hands—but she was still, unmistakably, a three-foot-tall cyan dragon looming over a baby's mattress.
"Please, small-fleshy-one, cease the auditory distress," Aquadramon said, her tone characteristically blunt. "The mother is resting, and the big-sister is at the ‘War Room’. You must lower your decibels."
Sybille’s response was to draw in a massive breath and cry even harder.
Desperate, the dragon decided to try another tactic. Digging into her abilities, she activated her Active Camouflage. In an instant, her solid cyan scales bled into her surroundings, leaving her entirely translucent. She reasoned that a game of "peek-a-boo" might provide a logical distraction for the infant.
Leaning her shimmering, invisible face close to the crib, she projected her voice. "Peek… a… boooooo."
It was a terrible idea.
From Sybille’s perspective, the dragon hadn't vanished; instead, a terrifying, distortion-effect ghost was now floating directly over her. The baby’s crying cut off instantly. Her eyes went wide, locked in a state of absolute, paralyzed terror.
That sudden spike of pure fright instantly triggered the Empathic Resonance—a lingering side-effect of the serum link she shared with her older sister.
Simultaneously, deep within the base's War Room, Rhonda was mid-air, locked in a high-intensity hard-light training simulation alongside Blaze, her Charmander. Right as she prepared her next move, she suddenly gasped, grabbing her chest. She doubled over as a crushing wave of unexplainable, agonizing panic slammed into her system.
"Blaze! Stop the simulation!" Rhonda choked out, her voice tight with fear. "Something’s wrong! Sybille is… Sybille is scared. Really scared."
Without waiting a second longer, Rhonda initiated a teleport right out of the simulation room.
Back in the nursery, Aquadramon’s active camouflage finally faded, her solid blue form materializing right before the screaming infant. The dragon waved her claws desperately, trying to undo the damage.
"Stop! Fleshy-one, you are triggering the connection!" Aquadramon warned. "Rhonda will—"
She didn't get to finish. Sybille’s sheer distress spiked, violently manifesting as latent telekinesis.
With a violent whoosh, a heavy stack of diapers flew off the changing table, rocketing across the room and slamming hard into the far wall. High above, a decorative mobile of fluffy clouds ripped free from the ceiling, dropping directly onto Aquadramon’s head. To top it off, Sybille's pacifier launched out of the crib like a bullet, whistling past the dragon's ear.
Suddenly, the nursery door burst open with a resounding crash. Rhonda skids into the room, still clad in her combat gear, with Blaze clinging tightly to her shoulder. Her sword was already drawn, catching the sunlight.
"Get away from her!" Rhonda yelled, raising the blade.
Aquadramon didn't move. She just stood there, a mobile of fluffy clouds draped absurdly over her horns, while the projectile pacifier remained firmly embedded in the drywall behind her.
"The small-fleshy-one is efficient at moving objects with its mind," Aquadramon observed deadpan. "I do not think peek-a-boo is an acceptable training protocol."
"You were supposed to watch her, Aquadramon!" Rhonda cried, swiftly sheathing her sword and rushing to the side of the crib. "Not simulate poltergeist activity!"
Rhonda scooped the sobbing baby into her arms, immediately focusing her mind to send a wave of calming, soothing warmth back through their empathic link. On her shoulder, Blaze leaned down, patting Sybille’s tiny foot with a reassuring chirp.
As the baby's tears began to quiet down, Aquadramon adjusted the cloud mobile on her head.
"Monitoring has ceased," the dragon declared formally. "I shall revert to security protocols and camouflage the entire structure until the parents return. This is simpler."