Giggling mischievously behind a tree, Thirteen had just launched a rock at his father, British Empire, using his makeshift slingshot. He had been doing this every five minutes, and each time he saw his father’s irritation, he couldn’t help but stifle his laughter to avoid getting caught.

Thirteen reached for another pebble on the ground near his feet, ready to take aim again. But when he peeked around the tree, he was startled to find no one there.

“Huh? Where did—” Before he could finish his thought, he was suddenly lifted by the collar of his shirt. “Stop shooting me, you little—!” British Empire exclaimed, holding Thirteen up in the air.

Thirteen gasped and squirmed, desperately trying to escape his father’s grip. “Nooo, THAT WASN'T ME!!!” he protested, though it was clear he was guilty of his antics.