Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

BLADE Barracks

TV tropes and plot holes were the worst—especially when the story was unfinished.

“Luke’s lightsaber was there to keep the door open for another story—for another time!” Al insisted, gesturing with cinematic flair.

“Which never happened, Al!” Lin fired back. “So it’s called a plot hole!”

Meanwhile, Elma sat nearby, quietly sipping her tea with the resigned patience of someone long since accustomed to chaos.

“Go to your room!” Al shot back.

“You’re not my dad, Al! Stop acting like one!” Lin snapped.

She stormed off, Tatsu trailing after her like an emotional support snack-sibling, chattering all the way.

Al watched them go, the sting of Lin’s words sinking deeper than expected. He slumped onto the bench beside Elma, brow furrowed.

“I don’t get it…” Al muttered. “Why does that sting?”

Elma glanced at him. “It’s a debate between two different points of view on the literacy of a well-regarded sci-fi series.”

“No! Not that… the ‘dad’ thing,” Al clarified. “Why did that hurt?”

Her voice softened. “Sometimes words hit harder when they strike something deeper than the argument.”

Al frowned. “Like what?”

“Like when someone you care about brushes off a part of you—even if it’s meant as a joke.”

He looked down, voice low. “I just wanted to be... helpful. Protective. Heh. Guess I really do sound like a dad.”

A quiet moment passed. Then Elma asked gently, “You lost your sister back on Earth…didn’t you?”

Al nodded slowly. “When we lost our motherland. She was just a kid. I couldn't do anything for her. I wasn't there when it counted. I was lucky Nagi found me… but what about her? Maybe... part of me's still trying to make up for that.”

“That’s not a flaw, Al,” Elma said, her voice low and steady. “That’s your heart showing. You care —even if it’s in your own messy, sideways kind of way.”

Al smirked faintly. “Since when did you get this emotionally intelligent?”

Elma raised an eyebrow, voice dry but amused. “It happens. Spend enough time leading lost causes and stubborn subordinates… you either grow some emotional range or start talking to your Skell.”

She paused, then added, more gently, “Maybe it started when I took the Rook under my wing. Watching her step up, lead her own team… she’s not really a ‘Rook’ anymore, is she?”

“Your champ learned a lot from you.” Al nodded, then squinted slightly. “It’s not like she had years. I asked her once, but—she wasn’t one of the elites?”

Elma shook her head. “She never got her memories back.”

“Huh.” Al tilted his head as thought settled in.

Just then, Eclipse strolled in, humming that chill, jazzy night tune New LA always played when things finally calmed down—lazy synths, echoey beats, the kind that made it feel like maybe everything would be okay. She wore a faintly triumphant smile.

“Uh… yeah… uhh… yeah…” Eclipse hummed and rapped. “Another mission down. And yeah, I won the bet with H.B. again. ‘Superior form’ my ass.” She fanned herself with a stack of credits like they were victory confetti.

Al greeted her with a half-smile. “Good to see you still have your priorities straight.”

Eclipse’s smile shifted as she noticed Al’s mood. “What’s with the long face?”

Elma answered calmly. “Al’s wrestling with some unexpected feelings after his little ‘dad joke’ incident.”

“Ooft! A dad joke, huh?” Eclipse teased. “Sounds painful.”

Al rubbed the back of his head. “It’s not the joke. It’s the sting when Lin said it. Didn’t expect that.”

Eclipse’s voice softened. “Sometimes the people closest to us see things differently... and it stings because we want to be accepted fully.”

“Yeah… maybe I’m not as good at this ‘dad’ thing as I thought.”

Eclipse smirked. “You’re a goofball, Al. But you’re our goofball. And that counts for a lot.”

She paused, her smile fading into something more thoughtful as her eyes flicked toward the Barracks doors.

“Let me talk to her.”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and strode out—off to find Lin.

---

Eclipse caught a glimpse of Tatsu chasing after Lin, tears glistening in the younger girl’s eyes. She hurried to catch up just before Lin stepped into the elevator heading down to the hangar.

“Hey, wait up!” Eclipse called, offering her arm. “Lunch is on me—winnings from my bet with H.B.”

Lin glanced at the stack of credits in Eclipse’s hand, eyebrows raised. “You’re awfully generous today. How’d you get all that money?”

Eclipse smirked, a bit evasive. “Please. Vandham promoting H.B. to commander? Yeah, right. Not a chance, even with his so-called ‘Superior form.’”

Lin’s curiosity was piqued. “Why’s that?”

Eclipse shrugged, voice low and confident. “Because I don’t think Vandham will be running the ship by then. Elma will be in charge. The real question is if she’ll let him take over as BLADE Commander.”

Lin nodded slowly, considering. “Wow… you might have a point there.”

Eclipse slung an arm around Lin’s shoulder, and the two headed off toward the Commercial District—Tatsu in tow.

---

Commercial District

Eclipse noticed Lin hadn’t touched her food, and there was a rare softness in her voice as she asked, “You want to talk about it?”

Lin blinked. “Huh?”

Then she looked at Eclipse—and for a moment, she didn’t just see a teammate. She saw someone who got it. Someone who knew what it felt like to be taken in when the world fell apart. Someone who understood what it meant to find safety—not just in a city, but in people.

“…I didn’t mean it,” Lin muttered, eyes dropping to her plate.

Eclipse didn’t push. She just nodded, letting the silence stretch—gentle, open—making it okay to keep going.

“I was mad,” Lin continued. “Not even at him. Just... everything. The lightsaber argument was dumb, but then he pulled that ‘go to your room’ line and I—” she sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I snapped.”

Tatsu, ever the quiet shadow today, looked up at her. “Linly is angry because Linly is hurting.”

Eclipse leaned back in her seat. “Tatsu’s not wrong.”

Lin gave a weak laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Psychic potato.”

There was a pause. Then she whispered, “You remember how I mentioned my parents when we were trying to get that Skell flight module up and running?”

Eclipse just nodded, patiently waiting for Lin to continue.

“They died before we even left Earth,” Lin said quietly. “An accident in the hangar—during a test run on the early flight module. They never got to see Mira. I boarded the White Whale alone… but I kept their dream with me.

“I was assigned to Elma’s team when I got onto the White Whale.

“I was nervous—partly because I was boarding alone, but mostly because, well… Elma kind of had that ‘resting-Colonel-face’ thing going on. Super intimidating. But under all that cool professionalism? Total heart of gold. 

“She still took me under her wing when she had some time off. In fact, she allowed me to oversee some of the work she did for the Skelleton Crew.”

“Heh,” Eclipse responded. “Like ‘take your kid to work day,’ kind of thing?”

“Hehe, when you put it like that… yeah, it kind of was.”

Eclipse nodded, then quietly asked, “And when Al started acting kind of like a dad…?”

“I didn’t want it,” Lin said quickly. “Or I thought I didn’t. It felt like he was stepping into something he couldn’t really understand. But when I yelled at him, it felt like I was pushing away the last person who—” She stopped. “I dunno. Maybe it’s easier to yell than to admit I miss having that.”

Eclipse looked at her, steady and warm. “Missing something doesn’t make you weak, Lin. It makes you human.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Eclipse added, voice playful but kind, “Besides, if he’s trying to be a dad, you’d better believe he’s the ‘awkward-but-earnest sitcom variety.’ Bad jokes and all.”

Eclipse chuckled softly. “Yeah… total dumbass goofball.” Her smile turned fond. “But we can still learn a lot from him, y’know? Resilience. Determination. Finding the little things to be grateful for—and to love. Taking the good with the bad. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Then she shifted into her best ‘Al’ impersonation: “So ya see, Lin — that’s what makes you part of my big, fat, happy family!”

Lin cracked a genuine smile. “Yeah… he kinda is, huh?”

Tatsu beamed. “Then Linly is rebellious teenage daughter trope!”

Lin laughed for real that time. “Okay, okay! Enough tropes.”

Eclipse grinned. “You ready to go home?”

Lin nodded. “Yeah… I think I owe someone an apology.”

---

BLADE Barracks

The steady hum of the barracks felt distant—like a heartbeat muffled beneath the weight in Lin’s chest. She hovered at the edge of the hall, breath caught somewhere between fear and hope, before stepping forward—eyes wide, searching, vulnerable.

“I’m so sorry I said that! I didn’t mean it!”

Before Al could speak, she closed the gap in a heartbeat, flinging herself into his arms as her voice cracked into sobs.

Eclipse stood quietly in the doorway, a soft, bittersweet smile touching her lips. Elma stood beside her—arms crossed, gaze steady but kind.

“Hey, it’s okay, Lin,” Al murmured, his voice low and steady, wrapping around her like a blanket. Not as a hero. Not even as a guardian. Just… someone who gave a damn.

And watching them—Lin trembling, Al unflinching, Elma calm and silent beside her—it struck Eclipse like a warm, quiet wave.

That somewhere in the ruins of everything they’d lost, they had built this.

A family.

Not perfect. Not whole. But real.

Something to hold onto.

Something worth protecting.

Eclipse turned slightly, her voice breaking the hush between them. “Hey… Elma?”

Her usual sarcasm was softened, like she was holding something delicate in her hands.

“Thank you,” she said again—gentler this time. Truer.

Elma looked over, curious. “Hm? What for?”

Eclipse exhaled. “For everything. Since Starfall Basin. You found me—lost, amnesiac, barely human. You didn’t just take me in… you taught me. Helped me find my footing. Showed me how to live again. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have made it this far. I wouldn’t have met everyone here in Mira. Built a team. A home. Found where I belong.”

She reached out, pulling Elma into a hug.

And there was more she wanted to say—more she didn’t quite know how to voice. That somewhere along the way, commands became guidance… and guidance became care. That Elma felt more like a mother than a leader.

Elma, briefly surprised, returned the hug with quiet strength. “…I really am proud of you,” she said.

And for a moment, Eclipse let herself believe it.

Her gaze drifted back to Al and Lin—still wrapped in a quiet, trembling hug.

“Huh… so there is a sweet paternal side to him after all,” she quipped, the smirk returning to her voice.

Elma gave a noncommittal hum. “Hmm.”

Eclipse grinned sideways at her. “Maybe one day, you could really give that to him.”

Elma blinked. “What?”

Eclipse snapped upright. “Nothing!”

Elma turned away, but not before Eclipse caught it—a flicker of pink across her cheeks, paired with a brief, almost shy smile that softened her usual stoic expression before it vanished.

Eclipse let the grin bloom wider as she strolled out of the barracks, hands in her pockets, victorious in the smallest of ways.

“Just imagine…” she murmured under her breath. “A half-Samaarian gremlin with Elma’s brains and Al’s chaotic energy. Oh God. Help us all.”

---

Armory Alley, Administrative District

“Hey, Neil…” Eclipse called out, sidling up to the Qlurian cosmo-archeologist with a tone that sounded casual—too casual. The gleam in her eyes, however, gave her away. “Got a minute for a little thought experiment?”

Neilnail looked up from her console, calm as ever. “Oh? What is it, Eclipse?”

Eclipse tilted her head, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Just… curious. Purely academic. Totally not because I think they’d make adorable babies or anything.”

The Qlurian blinked once. Then, with the slow lift of a perfectly sculpted brow, replied, “Hmm. Curious indeed.”

Leaning in conspiratorially, Eclipse lowered her voice. “So—hypothetically—how biologically compatible are Samaarian descendants with humans? Like… say, Elma and Al.”

There was a beat of silence as Neilnail set her comm device aside with deliberate care. “You are inquiring,” she said, her tone all clinical precision, “about the potential for interspecies progeny between a Modern Samaarian and a human. Using Elma and Alois Bernholt as reference models.”

Eclipse let out a snort, quickly clapping a hand over her mouth. “Hehe… Am I that obvious?”

“Staggeringly.” Neilnail tapped a few commands into her console. “Thankfully, you’re far from the first member of this team to indulge in odd romantic speculation.

“Qlurians are the product of cloning and artificial wombs. We have no precedent for natural hybridization. However…”

A holographic double helix appeared—blue and gold, rotating slowly. She smiled mischievously. “From a cosmo-archaeogenetic standpoint… I’d rate the probability as non-negligible. Worthy of further study.”

Eclipse leaned forward, practically buzzing with anticipation. “So you’re saying…there’s a chance?”

The corner of Neilnail's lips twitched with the hint of amusement. “With enough wine and sufficiently poor judgment,” she said smoothly, “many things are biologically possible.”

Eclipse burst out laughing, clapping her hands together with uncontained glee. “Ooooh. That’s a dangerously optimistic take, Neil.”

She leaned in again, eyes gleaming. “Then I’ll just keep asking,” Eclipse said with mock menace. “What about hair color? Could a half-Samaarian baby have Al’s messy silver mop with Elma’s lavender streaks? Or would they have glowy eyes from birth like Elma’s? Neil, I swear I will make a Punnett square—”

“Would you like me to help you write a research paper on it?” Neilnail asked calmly. “Peer-reviewed, of course.”

Eclipse straightened immediately, her voice shifting into the most academically serious tone imaginable.

“...Yes.”

---

Two weeks later, BLADE Barracks

Elma was reviewing mission reports when she noticed a file titled:

“Cross-Species Hybridization Potential: A Hypothetical Case Study of Bernholt and Elma.”

Curious, she clicked it.

Title page. Diagrams. Annotated footnotes. 

A genetics section titled “Sarcasm as a Dominant Trait.”

She stared.

She scrolled.

Behind her, Al walked in holding two coffees. “Hey, Princess. Did Eclipse leave those recon notes on—whoa, wait, is that…?”

Elma silently tilted the screen toward him. 

He froze mid-step. “...Is that my name in the title?”

Silence.

He stepped closer. “That’s a Punnett square. Why is there a Punnett square?!” He squinted harder. “ Are those glowy eye gene ratios?! ”

Elma scrolled. Slowly. Mercilessly.

Al leaned in, voice rising in disbelief. “ ‘Dominant behavioral traits: sarcasm, brashness, reckless loyalty, and poor choice of running gags’?! Why does it say that?!”

“I believe that’s your contribution,” Elma said, sipping her coffee.

“That’s my laugh in a pie chart! ” he yelped. “I’m being genetically profiled by a fanfiction thesis!”

She clicked deeper. “Ah. Notes on projected Skell affinity by parental genotype. Honestly? Not inaccurate.”

“Stop validating it!”

“I’m simply acknowledging the rigor.”

“Stop that too!”

He flailed slightly. “Okay. I… I can explain—”

Elma didn’t even blink. “So. According to this, our theoretical child would have your aim and my patience.” She saved a copy into her comm device, flashing him a slow, almost seductive look. “For later…”

Al’s soul visibly left his body.

He turned bright red. “I—I—!”

From the hallway, a panicked voice rang out. 

“Abort! Abort! Abort! They found it! Plan B—hide the charts!”

Eclipse zipped past the door, arms full of glowing datapads, eyes wide with urgency. 

Behind her, Lin doubled over with laughter, nearly tripping as she gave chase. “Wait—there are charts? Actual charts ?! Oh my God, I need to see this!”

“MEH MEH MEH! Tatsu wants to see!” Tatsu shrieked, joining the pursuit.  

Elma watched them disappear, then finally chuckled—quiet, warm, almost fond.

She murmured, “...Half-Samaarian gremlin with your energy. That’s a terrifying thought.”

Al groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Totally fine. Not mortifying at all…”

Right before Eclipse could escape the BLADE Barracks, Lin’s voice rang out—gleeful and scandalized. “Eclipse, did you model Skell piloting temperament based on mood swings?!”  

From somewhere down the hall came the frantic, breathless reply. “DON’T LOOK AT PAGE SIX!!”

---

BLADE HQ

Secretary Nagi was sipping his tea as he reviewed the day’s BLADE reports. One in particular caught his eye:

TO: Kentaro Nagi (Secretary of Defense, NLA)
FROM: Eclipse Rook (Team Elma, BLADE Curators Division)
SUBJECT: Critical Review Requested – Cross-Species Hybridization Potential Between Operatives Bernholt and Elma

He scrolled, frowning thoughtfully.

“Hmm. Fascinating…” Nagi murmured. “I did say they’d make a formidable team.”

His eyes paused on a footnote referencing the initial introduction of Elma to Al.

A small, knowing smile tugged at his lips. “So that’s how they’re crediting me—the matchmaker.”

Further down, an acknowledgment caught his attention: a quiet note of gratitude for his steady presence. The calm support offered to Al during turbulent transitions. The quiet strength that helped Elma adjust to a world so far from home.

Nagi’s expression softened. “Sometimes the best leadership happens off the battlefield.”

 He tapped a brief message into his comm device:

TO: BLADE Command
SUBJECT: Potential Offspring of Key Operatives – Strategic Analysis Proposal

He smiled serenely. 

“Just in case.”

---
BLADE Barracks 

Al stormed in, clutching his datapad like it might detonate.

"Who. Uploaded. This. "

He slammed it on the table. 

Elma glanced up from her terminal. Lin blinked. 

Eclipse? She sipped her juice box in the corner, suspiciously innocent.

Elma began scrolling the document aloud.

“Cross-Species Hybridization Potential: A Hypothetical Case Study of Bernholt and Elma…”

She paused.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Al exploded. “WHY IS THIS NOW FORMATTED LIKE A PUBLISHED SCIENTIFIC PAPER?!”

Eclipse responded cheerfully, “APA 7th edition, thank you very much.”

Al pressed on, frantic. “There are figures! Gene trees! A Qlurian-reviewed abstract! Neilnail added a summary table in the supplementary figures section!!”

“Table 3 is color-coded,” Elma muttered. “With icons.”

“Wait—” Lin squinted. “Is that a Skell-shaped crib ?”

Al was now full-on hyperventilating. “This is a conspiracy! Nagi knows about this! He flagged it as a ‘strategic contingency!’ There’s a whole email chain—annotated!!”

He scrolled furiously. “H.B. submitted a peer review! ”

Eclipse, deadpan, read aloud: “‘Not enough figures. Needs more chromosomes.’ Five out of ten.”

“YOU GAVE ME A CHROMOSOME COUNT!?!? ”

Tatsu wandered by and chimed in. “Tatsu thinks half-Samaarian littlepon would be very squishy. But strong. Maybe Skell pilot by age five.”

“STOP GIVING THEM IDEAS!! ” Al shouted.

“Too late!” Eclipse smirked. “I’m already planning the cover art.”

Elma silently slid the datapad away from Al before he combusted.

With a dry glance, she said, “Well. If it’s science… I suppose we’d better start collecting samples.”

“ELMA!!”

Eclipse collapses in a fit of delighted wheezing.

Chapter Text

Cross-Species Hybridization Potential: A Hypothetical Case Study of Bernholt and Elma

Eclipse Rook¹, Neilnail², L’cirufe³, et al.
¹Department of Emotional Chaos, BLADE Curators Division, New Los Angeles
²Qlurian Institute of Genomic Mayhem, Biological Mischief Unit, Qlu System
³Wandering Scholar of Mira, Unsupervised Division of Theoretical Parenthood

Abstract

This speculative case study explores the theoretical hybridization potential between a Modern Samaarian female (Elma) and a human male (Bernholt, A.), both descended from divergent lineages of Ancient Samaarian ancestry. Through a multidisciplinary approach incorporating genetics, behavioral phenotyping, and predictive modeling, we examine heritable traits such as sarcasm, dimples, combat reflexes, glowing ocular anomalies, and affinity for large mechanized vehicles. Preliminary data suggest a high probability of high-functioning chaos gremlins with exceptional combat aptitude and emotional repression masked by wit. Future field studies are warranted (pending consent and emotional maturity of involved parties).

Keywords

Modern Samaarian-human hybrid, interspecies inheritance, glowing eyes, sarcasm, dimples, Skell piloting temperament, emotionally repressed lone hero, dry-witted BLADE leader, found family dynamics.

Table of Contents

Introduction: Why Would You Even Study This?

Background: The Ancient Samaarian Genome and Its Discontents

Methods: Caffeine, Speculation, and Punnett Squares

Results: Behavioural Traits and Likelihood of Inheritance

• Sarcasm as a Dominant Trait 
  

• Skell Affinity: Mood Swings and Mechanical Bonding
  

• Projected Eye Glow Intensity and Combat Potential
  

• Nutritional Requirements: Snacks, Snark, and Protein Bars

Discussion: Why This Should Never Be Shown to Bernholt

Conclusion: The Science Was Worth the Chaos

Acknowledgments: Thanks, Nagi. We Blame You.

Supplementary Data: Chromosome Counts & Crib Designs

Selected Figures

• Figure 1. Punnett Squares showing dominant inheritance of sarcasm, tactical aggression, and emotionally unavailable hero complex.
  
  
• Figure 2. Projected ocular bioluminescence (Elma-type) vs. caffeine metabolism rate (Bernholt-type).
  
  
• Figure 3. Skell Crib™ prototype schematic: fully shielded, flight-capable, comes with nap mode.
  
  
• Table 1. Cross-tabulated gene expression estimates for “Reckless Loyalty” and “Zero Chill in Combat Situations.”

Notable Peer Reviews

• H.B. – “Not enough figures. Needs more chromosomes. 5/10.”
  
  
• Tatsu – “Hybrid littlepon would be squishy but fierce. Recommend inclusion of snack section.”
  
  
• Secretary Nagi – “Strategically compelling. I offer my full support, in theory. Hypothetically.”

Footnotes & Annotations

[1] The term Modern Samaarian refers to genetically direct descendants of the Ancient Samaar race. Subject E (Elma) is considered a high-fidelity representative based on both phenotype and combat rating. Subject A (Bernholt) represents a human lineage with latent Samaarian ancestry—unconfirmed, but probable, given suspicious compatibility with alien tech and an above-average tolerance for existential nonsense.

[2] Subject A repeatedly denies emotional capacity but has, on three separate occasions, shielded teammates from enemy fire with zero regard for his own safety. When confronted, Subject A claimed it was “just reflex.” Subject E reportedly responded with, “Then your reflexes are suspiciously romantic.”

[3] Glowing eyes are considered a recessive trait in hybrids, but with increased expression in high-stress or high-snark environments. Subject A’s potential contribution includes heightened ocular response to sarcasm and moral panic.

[4] Behavioral Trait: Reckless Loyalty: Currently categorized as semi-dominant. Strongly correlated with late-night Skell modifications, “just in case,” and refusal to abandon teammates even when the mission is technically over.

[5] Estimated hybrid temperament profile includes:

• 45% tactical brilliance
• 30% sarcasm
• 20% chaotic good
• 5% naps (forced by maternal figure)
  See Appendix C for Snack Dependency Modeling.

[6] Prototype “Skell Crib” blueprints submitted to BLADE R&D were rejected on grounds of “funding misuse.” Appeals pending. (See attached note: “Infant is not certified for aerial deployment.”)

[7] Subject A’s laugh pattern analyzed via waveform software revealed rhythmic instability indicative of mild panic. Subject E’s deadpan delivery appears to heighten this response. This may be heritable.

[8] Rook’s genetic analysis received accidental approval after being submitted under the project name “Strategic Contingency 12-C: Multi-Operative Lineage Potential.” Nagi has neither confirmed nor denied his complicity.

[9] Neilnail’s contribution involved annotating mitochondrial inheritance charts with color-coded emotion charts and three different doodles of what she called “mini-El-Bernies.” Said figures are included in Supplemental Figure 5, because Rook refused to remove them.

[10] Secretary Nagi’s endorsement was issued via comm message at 0400 hours with the note: “All great families begin somewhere. Preferably not in the Restricted Hangar.”
The pun was reportedly unintentional. Rook insists otherwise.

[11] Final annotation from Subject E (Elma), scribbled in red pen on the printout left in the BLADE Barracks lounge: "Accurate. Terrifying. Do not show to Lin."
It was immediately shown to Koo.

Peer Review Commentary

Reviewer #1: Lin Lee Koo
Affiliation: BLADE Outfitters Division / BLADE Command / Genius Engineering Prodigy / Future Big Sister / Definitely Not Crying

• “Table 3 is both terrifying and impressively formatted. Did you really make a Punnett square for snark levels?”
  

• “WHY does the Skell-shaped crib have a rocket booster option? Who let Tatsu near the blueprints?”

• “The part where Elma’s patience is marked as a ‘recessive miracle trait’ is the most scientifically accurate part of this entire paper.”

Final comment: This paper is deeply unhinged and I’m keeping three printed copies for personal reasons.

Reviewer #2: Hector Birtwhistle (H.B.)
Affiliation: BLADE Pathfinders Division / BLADE Command / Neutral Observer / Confused but Intrigued

• “Initial hypothesis is sound, if emotionally suspect.”
  

• “Data visualization quality is mid-tier. Recommend more chromosomes.”

• “Please define ‘brashness’ using a quantifiable scale. Suggest comparative analysis with alternate subjects, e.g., Irina.”

Final comment: Rating: 5/10. Paper is frivolous but displays strong command of multi-species genetics. Would accept with major revisions—and more chromosomes.

Reviewer #3: Tatsu (Provisional)
Affiliation: Tatsu Division / Tasty Guide / Not Salad or Potato

• “Littlepon should have big glow eyes and maybe fluffy hair. Preferably with good taste in food.”
  

• “Tatsu suggests chart showing how often hybrid child would eat vegetables (answer: never, because vegetables are dangerous).”

• “Needs more Tatsu.”

Final comment: Tatsu gives eight stars out of seven. Very good science. Needs more Tatsu graphs.

Reviewer #4: Irina Akulov
Affiliation: BLADE Interceptors Division / BLADE Command

• “I’m not reading this whole thing. I skimmed and saw the word ‘Skell-shaped crib’ and I’m filing a motion to disband the authors.”
  

• “Also? You’re all lucky this isn’t a formal tribunal.”

• “The Colonel deserves hazard pay.”

Final comment: This is not science. This is chaos with formatting. Strong formatting, admittedly.

Reviewer #5: Gwin Evans
Affiliation: BLADE Interceptors Division / BLADE Command / Actual Dad Energy

• “I mean, I’ve seen weirder.”
  

• “Page 6 made me laugh so hard I choked on my protein bar.”

• “If they ever did have a kid, though… would that little gremlin outrank me?”

• “Also, why does the projected temperament chart say ‘chaotic benevolence’ in three separate languages?”

Final comment: Please keep me in the loop. For… tactical reasons.

Reviewer #6: Douglas Barrett
Affiliation: BLADE Harriers Division / BLADE Command / Big Brother Energy / Skell Dad

• “Okay, look, I don’t understand most of the science stuff, but you have an entire pie chart titled ‘Projected Levels of Dad Energy.’ That’s comedy gold.”
  

• “Also, I saw my name in the footnotes. I didn’t approve that. But I am flattered.”

• “Strongly recommend the inclusion of a safety section regarding baby-proofing Skells.”

Final comment: 10/10, would help build a rocket-powered high chair.

Reviewer #7: Secretary Kentaro Nagi
Affiliation: New Los Angeles Secretary of Defense / Supreme Commander of Sanity / Definitely Not the Matchmaker (Officially)

• “The scientific merit of this paper is… unconventional. The formatting, however, is exemplary.”
  

• “While I cannot condone the unauthorized use of BLADE resources to model hypothetical hybrid offspring, I am impressed by the gene sequencing accuracy.”

• “The inclusion of a Skell-shaped crib with detachable boosters raises troubling procurement implications.”

• “Footnote 17 cites me as ‘emotional ballast during early human-Modern Samaarian bonding phases.’ I neither confirm nor deny this characterization.”

Final Comment: I will be filing this paper under Contingency Planning – Low Probability, High Impact Scenarios.
For… strategic reasons.

(Addendum: Please ensure future speculative breeding proposals undergo proper ethical review and are not printed on New Los Angeles’ Government letterheads again.)

Reviewer #8: Commander Jack Vandham
Affiliation: New Los Angeles BLADE Commander / Unofficial BLADE Dad / Resident Patriot

• “Now listen, I’ve led a lot of operations with questionable plans—but this might take the cake.”
  

• “You’re telling me our best tactical BLADE leader and our most emotionally compromised lone wolf hero have hypothetical offspring models? Rook, that's not science. That's fanfiction with spreadsheets."

• “That said, I appreciate the defensive specs on that Skell crib. Kid’s gotta be safe, after all.” 

Final Comment: I’m not endorsing this nonsense, but if you need a babysitter with a shotgun, you know where to find me.

Reviewer #9: Director General Maurice Chausson 
Affiliation: New Los Angeles Director General / Bureaucratic Lifeblood of City Hall / Survivor of Eight Budget Hearings

• “I thought this was a resource requisition request. I opened the file expecting a report on fuel consumption.” 
  

• “Instead, I found a glowing-eyed baby, a rocket-powered crib, and a footnote accusing Secretary Nagi of ‘emotional ballast.’ I had to take a walk.” 

• “Also, whoever approved this under the heading ‘Strategic Contingency 12-C’? I’ve started an internal investigation. There will be memos.” 

Final Comment: This document violates at least seven municipal policies, two research ethics codes, and one personal boundary. See me in my office immediately. Bring snacks—I need comfort food.