Part One: Return

Three months after the collapse of the factory, life for the members of the STN-J had returned to normal. Even Robin and Amon continued on despite, what for all appearances, had seemed a brave stand against Solomon and Zaizan in his Factory office. Apparently both had merely been caught up in the moment. Even Zaizan himself had returned to the STN-J, albeit no longer as administrator, somehow miraculously (and still mysteriously unexplained) evading death from Robin’s flame. He had even attempted to be nicer to Amon and the rest of the team. After all, he had said those rather mean things about witches.

This particular day found the team in the conference room being briefed about the previous hunt. Looking around at her teammates as Amon was droning in the background, Karasuma secretly wondered what the hell was wrong with everyone. No one seemed the least bit disturbed to return to witch-hunting. Not even Robin, she who had been so adamant that what Solomon was doing to witches was wrong. Karasuma sighed and closed her eyes. Oh well. That’s a teenage girl with rollercoaster emotions for you.

After Amon finished briefing the team, Kosaka cleared his throat. "Michael has just learned that we will be receiving another craft user."

Caught up within their own thoughts and problems, no one really said anything, a few mumbling some sort of acknowledgment. Staring at the STN-J members incredulously, Kosaka put his hands on his hips.

"What’s wrong with all of you today? Aren’t any of you the least bit curious about this new hunter?"

"Maybe they’re just tired from last night’s hunt, sir?" Hattori meekly put in from behind.

"Well, that’s no excuse!" Kosaka roared.

"Fine," Doujima piped up grudgingly. "What’s he like?"

"Well, for starters, it’s a she, not a he," Michael broke in.

"Oh really?" she replied disinterestedly.

"Yeah," Michael paused. "Actually, it’s kind of strange."

"What is it, Michael?" Amon broke in, momentarily distracted from his brooding which drifted between his rebellious thoughts of Robin and wondering if he needed to have his car waxed again. Black cars must always be shiny.

"Well, it seems as it this hunter is exactly Robin’s age, grew up in a nearby convent in Italy, and, get this – she’s a water craft-user."

"Hmm, that is kind of strange," Sakaki noted seriously – then returned to his Game Boy. "Alright! I just made it to level twel – ah man. Nooo…."

"When will he be arriving?" Amon broke in again, wondering all the while if he should have bought a white car instead, contrast and all.

"She will be arriving in exactly a week. Jeez, don’t you guys even listen to a word I say?"

Michael looked around the conference room at the group’s preoccupied faces.

"Whatever."

Part Two: New Hunter

Exactly one week later, the group was yet again situated in the conference room being briefed this time by a slightly more attentive Amon on the hunt the night before.

"Anything else?" Amon finished.

"I was wondering something," Karasuma spoke up. Amon nodded his head towards her.

"We all know where orbo come from, right?" she began. Everyone wordlessly nodded.

"It comes from witches," Robin helpfully pointed out.

"That’s right, Robin. Orbo is developed from witches we hunt here at the STN-J."

"So what’s wrong, Karasuma?" Amon spoke up, all the while thinking how good it was he had chosen black for his beloved car. It was looking so nice and shiny since he’d had it waxed two days ago.

"So why are we still using it? And why the hell has Robin started wearing Orbo?"

"I think it goes nicely with my dress," Robin piped up, looking down at herself.

"But it’s supposed to diminish you powers!" Karasuma began exasperated. "Why doesn’t it have that effect on you?"

"I’m special." Robin then returned to playing Sakaki’s Game Boy. "Ooh, level thirteen! I never knew I was so good at video games." Sakaki grumbled nearby in his seat.

"We continue to use orbo because we need to," Amon cut in, pulling his eyes from Robin, distractedly wondering why she held some Lolita-like power over him.

"But why?"

"We just do," Amon replied tersely, beginning to sound annoyed.

"But that’s not good enough. We all know how awful it is."

Amon sighed and closed his eyes, momentarily giving up on trying to insufficiently explain just why they were still using the wretched stuff. Fortunately for Amon, a telephone call came sending Hattori scrambling.

"Sir," he called into the room, "the girl’s here."

"Fine, send her up," Kosaka returned in his usual grumpy-for-no-real-good-reason way. "Now, I want everyone to treat her nicely – not like how you all treated Robin when she first arrived." He went on to mutter how perfectly awful they had treated her, after all she was so young, and an orphan, and on, and on.

Not that anyone noticed. Michael was busy hacking away at the NSA web site, muttering to himself about how he was so underappreciated. Doujima was wondering is she could get off work early to get to a shopping sale in time – three pairs of panties for the price of one. Karasuma was still grumpy that she couldn’t figure out why her teammates had been so unaffected by what they’d seen at the factory. My God, they had all almost died that night. Sakaki was glaring at Robin wondering why she was so much better at Tetris than he; not that she noticed, so engrossed was she in the game. Amon, this time, was waffling between thoughts of Robin and Touko. Hmm, which one: the woman that was closer to his age, attractive (and rather good in bed) or the little innocent and pretty Lolita sitting across from him. Hmm, tough choice indeed. Behind them, a pretty young girl confidently strode into the conference room.

"Good morning!" an awfully familiar voice rang out cheerily. Everyone in the room, save Robin, turned, froze, and stared at the girl in the doorway. The oddly familiar-looking girl started to look a little uncomfortable and began fidgeting under the collective stare of disbelief from the STN-J. From the back, Robin let out a wail.

"Oh, I was so close to level twenty-two!"

"Whaaat? There’s a level twenty-two?" Sakaki cried angrily, the new hunter momentarily forgotten.

As Robin was glaring at the Game Boy still pouting, Doujima gave her a nudge. "Hey Robin – do you…happen to have a…sister or something, by chance?"

"Not that I’m aware of – " Robin suddenly broke off, an amusing look of shock and confusion spreading on her pretty young face as she finally noticed the new hunter.

The girl still standing at the door bore a rather uncanny, if not, shall we say, identical appearance to Robin, right down to her handlebar hairstyle and gothic black dress.

"Hello everyone! I’m Bushtit. Bushtit Sena!"

Part Three: Two Birds

"Hello everyone! I’m Bushtit. Bushtit Sena!"

"Whaaat?" Doujima asked incredulously and rather rudely. "Someone named you after a small brownish bird primarily found along the Pacific coast of North America?"

"Jeez Doujima, how did you just happen to know all that?" Sakaki asked from behind.

Looking indignant, the Robin-clone put her hands on her hips. "I was not named after a bird. Everyone just assumes that and we all know what assuming does."

"Well, she certainly doesn’t act like Robin," Michael muttered under his breath. Doujima nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, Amon was staring in disbelief back and forth between the two girls. Now there’s two Lolitas I have to keep my hands off of. Why does this always happen to me? Goddamn it!

"If you’re not named after a bird, then what is it?" Karasuma broke in.

Clearing her throat, Robin spoke up. "Well, you know how I was named after Robin Goodfellow, king of the witches? I think that means she’s named after the legendary Bushtit Jones, the ancient Inuit Prince of the Narwhals."

"Wait," Karasuma began confused. "An ancient Inuit named Bushtit Jones? And what do narwhals have to do with witches? For that matter, do the Inuit even have prin – oh, never mind," she conceded, sitting back grumpily.

"Yes Robin, that is exactly the origin of my name. And, as you have probably guessed, I am your twin sister Bushtit."

"Funny," Michael began. "I would have pegged you for a Raven."

"Well, we don’t have another desk for you just yet, uh, Miss Sena," Kosaka began apologetically.

"Just call me Bushtit."

"Uh, right." Kosaka continued. "So, you’ll have to share a desk and terminal with Robin. She hardly uses it anyway. Now, since you’re new to hunting, you’ll be paired with Amon and Robin." Kosaka ignored the look of panic rising in Amon’s eyes and went on. "They’ll show you how witch hunting is done here in Japan," he finished proudly.

"With orbo?" Bushtit inquired.

"Yes, that’s right, with orbo. Would you like to wear an orbo pendant during the hunts?"

"Yes, that’ll be fine," she answered, to which Karasuma angrily rolled her eyes, wondering once again what the hell was wrong with everyone.

Once Kosaka left the new threesome, Bushtit sidled up to Amon, smiling slyly. "I’m sure you’ll be able to teach me everything I need to know."

Amon abruptly stepped back, his face unusually agitated, wondering why the gods hated him so much. Meanwhile, Robin wore a look of indignant horror at her newfound twin sister’s actions. Amon was hers and no long-lost identical twin sister was going to take him away. Although, she frowned, if Amon did fall for, uh, Bushtit, then didn’t that mean he had had feelings for her at some point. Confused, Robin slunk off to get another cup of coffee, her fifth so far for the day.

Father Juliano definitely has some explaining to do.

"Ugh. How can you drink that crap?" Bushtit inquired with a crinkled nose as Robin returned with a cup of her beloved beverage.

"You don’t like coffee?" Robin squeaked incredulously. "But you grew up in Italy too, didn’t you?"

"Robin drinks at least two full pots of coffee a day," Amon added, unsure of what to say. He already had a difficult time communicating with Robin properly; he didn’t need a double dose of awkwardness.

"Are there any witches that need to be hunted?" Bushtit asked, itching to go out and do some serious witch butt-kicking.

"Yes, we’ll go pick the witch up tonight," Amon replied.

"Why don’t we go now?"

"We always try to hunt witches at night," Robin inserted. When greeted with a confused look, she continued. "We look more, uh, more distinguished at night."

"Oh, I see. You mean you look cooler at night," to which Robin just turned away embarrassed.

Later that same evening, Amon and the reunited twins were staking out a warehouse that just so coincidentally happened to be where the witch wandered. Amon tried to push out the thought in his head which reminded him that he was now alone with a couple of willing underage twins – both who seemed to be waging a silent battle over him, he noted disturbingly. Re-checking the data streaming in from his communicator, he rehearsed the plan for the hunt in his head. Turning, he began.

"Robin, I want you to go around the back and wait. Now –"

"Uh, I’m Bushtit."

Looking surprised for once, Amon stammered. "Oh, uh…well, I want you, uh Bushtit, to come with me while –"

Robin suddenly sat upright in her seat. "Hey, why does she get to go with you?"

"Because she’s new and has little field experience."

Robin folded her arms grumpily across her chest and looked out the rear car window, pouting. In the ensuing rather uncomfortable silence, a sudden and rather loud tinny rendition of "She’ll Be Coming Around the Mountain" rang out, startling the threesome.

"What the hell –" Amon began looking around.

Robin sheepishly answered the communicator, mumbled here and there, then hung up quickly. "That was Michael. He says he’s ready to go."

"What was that?" Amon demanded.

Looking even more embarrassed, Robin began to explain. "Uh, well you see, you know I’m not very good with technology…" she paused. Amon motioned with his hand for her to continue. "Michael just gave me this new communicator and I can’t figure out how to change it…"

Leaning over, Amon plucked the communicator from Robin’s hand and flipped through the ringtones, settling for one resembling an actual telephone noise. Handing the object back, he was disturbed to notice the worshipping look in her eyes.

"Thank you," Robin whispered breathlessly.

"It was nothing," Amon replied, looking away quickly. He had only fixed her ringtone, Christ. "Are you both ready?"

Pausing at the entrance of the warehouse, Amon looked back at Bushtit, jerking his head towards the door. Instead of the acknowledgment he expected, the Robin-clone merely looked back at him confused. Frowning, Amon tried another head jerk. Still more confusion.

Leaning over to the girl he whispered, "Follow my lead."

Understanding quickly spread across Bushtit’s face. "Oh, I understand," she happily replied, a little too loudly.

"Shh!" Amon clapped a gloved hand over the clone’s mouth. He again noted disturbingly how happy Bushtit was to make physical contact – gloved or otherwise. Quickly Amon dropped his hand and resumed his position by the door. What was wrong with these girls?

Quietly Amon opened the door and entered the warehouse, Bushtit closely behind – a little too close for Amon’s liking. The two quickly made their way to the rear of the building where they suspected the witch.

"Oh, there he is!" Bushtit cried out suddenly, pointing towards a stack of boxes.

Letting out a noise of disbelief and frustration, Amon tried to shoot off a few rounds at the witch, unfortunately missing the target completely. "Use you water-craft!" he yelled towards the Robin-clone. Seriously, Bushtit nodded at him, instantly conjuring the element of water within her. Two rows of water flew neatly from the girl’s direction and out past the witch.

"I missed," Bushtit moaned.

Amon was getting ready to vacate the area immediately and drown himself in whiskey at Harry’s. She’s just like Robin was initially, the voice in his head lamented.

Sensing his chance for freedom, the witch hurled past them and out of the warehouse into the path of the waiting Robin. Relief flooded through Amon as he watched Robin take aim of the witch through her glasses. At the moment before she released the fire within, however, Robin caught sight of her clone clinging to Amon’s arm out of the corner of her eye, causing her to narrowly miss the target.

"Goddamn it!" Amon uncharacteristically let out, shocking both girls and the witch they were hunting. Trying to salvage what was left of the hunt, Amon jerked away from Bushtit, running to corner the witch.

"Bushtit, head to that tree and use your craft to –"

"I’m Bushtit."

"Fine, just one of you go. You," this time a point to the other girl, "go over there," a point in the other direction, "and make sure he doesn’t get away."

"Right."

At this point, even the witch looked confused. Turning, he apparently deemed Bushtit to be the weaker link and tried to run past her. This time Bushtit managed to knock the witch off his feet with her water-craft, giving Amon enough time to fire off a couple direct hits from the orbo gun.

Walking back to where the girls stood, Amon icily glared at Robin. Not coping too well – it had been one heck of a day – she returned the glare, startling him. Obliviously, Bushtit walked up to the veteran hunters.

"Wow, we did good, yes?" she asked happily. "Hey, can we go get some authentic Japanese sake and sushi now? I’m starving!"

Amon and Robin stared back incredulously.

"So ended the threesome’s first day together," the old woman concluded, looking down into five bright little faces.

"Wow, Grandma, what happened then?" a little boy in front of the others asked, eagerly awaiting more.

"Ah, that is for another day," the woman replied mysteriously.

"But Grandma," started a slightly older girl, "why did the STN-J continue to use orbo?"

"Yeah," piped up another girl beside the first, "and why did Amon and Robin go back to hunting witches and not fight Solomon?"

The old woman said nothing, still smiling down at her grandchildren.

"But Grandma," said another boy, "how did Amon and Robin escape from the factory? How did Robin have a twin sister? And why did Zaizan survive, only to be used at the beginning of the story?"

The grandmother sighed, "Sadly, I do not think any of those questions will be answered, for this is a story – and not a good one at that."

The boy who had spoken first, looked perplexed, then hesitant as he looked up.

"Grandma? What’s a narwhal?"