Training Day. It's a fun Vignette. A steampunk shounen that both you and Bet can enjoy. You’ve been doing a lot of Vignettes together recently. You both enjoy stories, and it's more fun when you tell them together.

You are playing the tough Mentor, preparing heroes-in-training for the real world. The only way you know they can make it out there is if they can make it past you. It's tough love, but it’ll keep them alive, so you have no regrets.

Your two most promising students’ Steam Mechs stand in the rubble of the Lightning Rail station. They’re almost at the finish line. They’ve made it past every other other obstacle. Just another few hundred meters and they’ll pass the test and graduate to being full pilots. They’re so strong, so fiery, so determined.

It’s a shame they’ve come all this way to fail.

You flip on your Mech’s fission boiler, and steam whistles through the pipes around you. Your mech draws a bastard sword from its back, and as its grip locks into place and the superheated mist runs into the radiator on the back of the blade, it begins to glow a dull orange.

Here is your mark. You look up to the balcony above the arena, to where you see Bet standing poised. Posed, even. Wow. You can almost hear the dramatic choir she is surely laying over your entrance. You’re mostly in character, but there's a little part of you that wants to make this impressive for her.

Your Mech takes a step forwards, through the cloud of steam that obscures it. A behemoth of fire and steel emerging to confront the protagonists. As they see you, one of their mechs takes an involuntary step back. That's right. They should be afraid. Today you are not the hero.

You pull down a tube that leads to the megaphone: “I won’t go easy on you. Give it everything you’ve got.”

You will push them to the brink.

A shadow looms across the landscape, consuming every unfortunate inch of the doomed landscape below. Glancing into the sky, your vision is overwhelmed by the vastness of that which lies above you: a pearlescent orb, beautiful in its construction – and yet horrifying in its potential: metallic tendrils emerge from its smooth surface, glittering and glistening in cruel, tarantulic monstrosities that linger and leer, marring their intricate entwinement.

The two of you approach, wordlessly. The time has passed for simple words: now only your actions will prove you worthy of the path you have chosen. Can you truly defend Spindle from itself? Your eyes flicker towards a shrouded Muse – sitting in a seat, chin resting on a fist. Power emanates from them. You can’t quite identify them, but you know who it is. Who it was. Who it always would be that would unleash such terrors on Dream.

“Stand down, Cyrus,” you ask, simply. There is no emotion to your voice. No harsh words. Nothing to indicate your intentions.

The figure barely moves, his head shifting in your direction. There are no words, but everything about the change screams a refusal. A denial. Of power gone too far for too long. A challenge to your very right to object. Sensing your defiance, he stands – walking forwards, out of the gloom of his own creation.

“No, Brink. It is for our own protection. Twilight is my masterpiece; our masterpiece! For the Dream Vanguard. A battlestation beyond all of our wildest dreams: a laser that can wipe out any threat.”

Silence.

“Do you not approve, Brink? Lorem? You hypocrites. You don’t need to say anything. I know that you want to destroy it. Deny Spindle the security it deserves. All because you are jealous – those rank V Tropes have gone to your heads. They are weapons of mass destruction: they should not be allowed in the hands of a single Muse.”

Record scratch.

“Wait, what? You’re seriously accusing us of being a threat? When you’ve got that?” The gravitas of the situation has evaporated. You can feel yourself laughing slightly – Lorem beside you doing the same. Cyrus looks taken aback.

“Well, yes. It’s too much power in the hands of a single Muse.”

You simply point upwards.

“I didn’t use a rank V Trope though! I don’t own Twilight either – I just control it!”

Oh come on, this is too much… You reach into your pocket, and flick through your Cards with your thumb – instinctively knowing the one that you want.

“Too late, Cyrus. Too late.”

You resolve yourself, your steely expression returning. You’ve got him on the back foot.

You stroke your chin, staring at the deck of Trope Cards laid out in front of you. An Enchanting Greenhouse? No, not your style. A Secret Hiding Place could be useful, but you’ll need more than that. A Collapsing Roof - no, definitely not; how did that even get in here? You toss it aside. A Faded Set of Blueprints, now, that will definitely come in handy, and – Ah. What if…? Yes, why not? The more you think about it, the more you become attached to the idea. Best run it past Bet first, though.

Bet comes home from a busy day arbitrating some facet of the new justice system. You hold out the Trope Card to show her.

“Yes? What’s that for?”

“The house.”

Bet laughs, then sees the gleam in you’re eye. “You’re serious?”

“Yes. Why not?”

“I mean, well…actually…”

“Yes…?”

“Actually, I think it’s perfect.”

Later, the two of you stand in front of the plot of land you had picked out together.

“I guess we won’t really be needing the land after all.”

“I’m sure we can think of something. A mail box, maybe? For when we’re…away.”

“Yes, you’re right. And we’ll need somewhere to work on it for a while, too. Until it’s finished.”

You hold the Card out in front of you, each of you holding a corner at the same time. You focus on what you want your house to look like. The Card A Dread Zeppelin dissolves into the air, and you watch as your new home takes form in front of you, casting a shadow across the land.