(Unofficial): Architect's (Fantastic) Fables.

The Boy who cried Wolf. (The danger of lying).

There once was a village who kept a herd of sheep.
(Scarecrow: Why are you telling me this?)
The sheep were the village's lifeline, their pride and joy, their connection to the outside world - kind of like the Jupiter cannons are to me.
(Scarecrow: Is this one of those silly little fables you've been telling recently? Alchemist warned me about these...
Architect: Come on, sit down and see if I can't change your opinion by the end!)
Unfortunately, the sheep were very, very tasty too, and so wolves often came to eat the sheep! As such, the village employed people to watch over the sheep at all times.
One of those with this role was a boy. He believed strongly he could do the job, and so the village let him have a go. He enjoyed it deeply, playing with the sheep, cleaning their wool and feeding them grass, but over time his enthusiasm waned.
(Scarecrow: Skip to the end.
Architect: WHAT?!
Scarecrow: Skip to the end. I don't care about this, I just what to see what insufferable idea you think counts as a 'moral'.
Architect: But...but...if I do that, you won't get the full experience! I have to tell you the rest of the story so you can understand it!
Scarecrow: Fine, but hurry it up. I don't have all day.)
Eventually, he became bored, watching for wolves that never arrived. His curiosity began to grow, until he couldn't wait any longer. One day, while sat down watching the flock, he couldn't resist the urge to stand up tall, breathe in deeply, and cry out, "WOLF!"
The village responded immediately, grabbing pitchforks, mallets and M4A1's.
(Scarecrow: You did that deliberately, you little -
Architect: Focus in the story!)
But of course, when they arrived at the hilltop, they found the flock, slightly bemused but unharmed, and the boy, rolling around with laughter.
The villagers were furious. "Why would you trigger a false alarm?" They demanded.
The boy found time between his laughs to reply, "I wondered how effective your response would be, and I'm impressed."
But the villagers were having none of it. They dragged him back to the village, and assigned him to clear the stables.
The work was hard and smelled bad, and the horses were far less friendly than the sheep. Weeks past, and the boy appeared to learn his lesson. Begrudgingly, the villagers let him watch the flock again. Once more, he busied himself in the animal's welfare, but he began to think of his prank with great fondness. Still, he kept himself in check, and didn't let his foolish tendancies distract him.
Then one day, the village was awoken to the cry of "WOLF! WOLF!" They armed themselves quickly, barely hesitating to to get dressed, and rushed to the hilltop again, only to find the boy in hysterics.
"There was a wolf," he gasped, "but it escaped before you arrived!"
(Architect: Just like the AR team slipped through your fingers, Scarecrow...
Scarecrow: I will eviscerate you for my own entertainment.
Architect: You'd do that anyway.)
The village did not believe the boy in the slightest. They once more hauled him down to the village, and set him to work in the sewers.
The work was hard and smelly, worse than that in the stables, and the boy grew quiet and resigned. Eventually, after a good bath, they let him out of the sewage works, and back to guard the sheep again, with great reluctance, as the wolves had been prowling ever closer.
One dinner, while everyone was eating, the cry of "WOLF" echoed through the village. They grabbed their knives and rocket launchers - because these were sensible people - and charged the hill. At the top, they found blood trails and torn wool, and not a sheep to be found.
(Scarecrow: Hah! See? Having a rocket launcher doesn't fix everything...why are you smiling?)
The villagers began to lament the loss of the flock, when suddenly the boy appeared from behind the tree. He held their gaze for a minute, and then whistled. At his command, the sheep - confused and startled - shuffled back out into the field.
"The look on your faces!" The boy exclaimed, "That was the best one yet!"
The villagers threw the boy in jail. After only a few weeks he longed to be back with the horses, the sewers, anywhere but there. He grew thin, and mean, and tough. Then, a few weeks later, his cell door was thrown open again.
The villagers let him back out to the sheep, because their numbers were dwindling, and there was no-one else who could look after the flock. He quickly fell back into his old routines, messing with their wool, stroking their heads and staring into their deep, black eyes.
(Scarecrow: Sometimes I'd like to stroke your head. And then I could put it on my mantle piece, next to the heads of those Griffin T-dolls.
Architect: You have issues.)
Then one day, there was a wolf.
(Scarecrow: And the boy cries out, and nobody comes, and all the sheep die. Yes, I get it. All you've done is drag it out until this point-.
Architect: No, I've made changes! Really! Just wait for the end!)
The boy did not see the wolf. He was busy tending to the sheep, when he felt the herd grow startled. Standing straight, he looked around for the threat, but he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary.
THEN, WHILE HIS BACK WAS TURNED, THE WOLF LEAPT ON HIM AND RIPPED OUT HIS SPINE!
(Scarecrow: Oh... Ah. AHAHA! I like this!)
But the sheep, while the boy had been locked up, had grown tired of being protected, and they took out their cannons, and-
(Scarecrow: No.
Architect: What? Why?! I thought you were enjoying this-
Scarecrow: Let me guess. The sheep kill the wolf -
Architect: Exactly!
Scarecrow: - and the moral is that you can sometimes let those under your care defend themselves?
Architect: Spooky. How did you know?
Scarecrow: IS THIS YOU, TRYING TO JUSTIFY LOSING AN ENTIRE COMPANY AT ONCE?!
Architect: Eek!
Scarecrow: DON'T TRY TO PULL THE WOOL OVER MY EYES! I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE UP TO, YOU MISERABLE WASTE OF PARTS. AGENT WILL NOT BE HAPPY!
Architect: No, please don't tell Agent! She'll kill me!
Scarecrow: And why shouldn't I?
Architect: Because...I made cookies?
Scarecrow:...what kind?
Architect: Chocolate?
Scarecrow:... I'll let you off this time.
Scarecrow leaves.
Architect: And the moral of THIS story is always be prepared. Although, I'm not sure how good those cookies are...)

Do you know why they call me Architect? Because every explosion I make is a work of art!

-Architect