Title: Spitfire

Rating: T for language

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of St. Trinian's but do have exclusive rights to the original character.

Notes: This idea struck me a while back. I've been imagining what the Sopranos would be like as they got older. I've never done a new character insertion before. Let me know your thoughts.


Camilla Fritton, Headmistress and ruler of a kingdom far more unruly than anything Elizabeth Windsor had to worry about, walked peacefully amidst chaos. Throngs of schoolgirls swarmed in every direction on this, the first day of yet another new term. The sensation of compressed air alerted her instincts and Miss Fritton ducked just as a rocket was launched over her head. I might be getting to old for this. Little scamps. She contained her smile as she spotted the culprit. Apparently a few of the Fourth Form girls had managed to ransack a fireworks warehouse over the summer.

The Second Years had set up a catapult system to jettison luggage into the dorm via a broken window. It wasn't broken before today. Results, at the moment, were mixed as another suitcase exploded and hailed down brightly colored polyester. The Flammable to whom it belonged was having an excellent fit. They were all in good form this year. Camilla noticed one of the new Tottys getting a little overly involved with her boyfriend on his bonnet.

"No indecent exposure before 11, Georgiana!" she chided, snapping the girl's bright purple thong hard enough to leave a line on her bum. The snogging couple promptly rolled off the car with matching yelps.

She spotted a terrified Geoffrey Thwaites standing in the entryway, flattened as tight as possible against a pillar. The first time he'd been on school grounds for opening day he was chased with paintball and pepper ball guns until he fell into the pond. They then fished him out, stripped him to his briefs and forced him to run barefoot through the stinging nettles to retrieve his clothing. For the last six years he hadn't so much as peeked out of Camilla's residence. Today he'd had no choice, duty compelled him to be present. He'd equipped himself accordingly, dressed in a Kevlar vest and wearing the helmet from one of the 12th century suits of armor. He lifted the visor to peek out at the mayhem, checking to see if he'd been noticed.

Several of the Geeks were already readying a massive electromagnet for the helmet. Camilla decided she'd best intervene before they ripped her fiancée's head off. She was just marching towards them when the noise of incredibly loud music announced that the day's most expected arrival had just breached the village perimeter. The first lookout to spot the barreling cloud of dust always received a week without curfew as reward. Fritton turned to watch as the swirl of earthen chaos approached like a sandstorm of fury, bringing with it the sound of sirens, alarms and the rhythmic thump of chopper blades.

Two black ninjas burst through the perimeter gates and barreled up the drive. They didn't cut their acceleration for a moment, even when they both launched grenades into the derelict car on the football pitch, blasting the last of its frame to pieces. They drove straight into the mass of cars, luggage and students that had all stopped to stand still and watch the entrance; splitting in two different directions they tore a wide swathe of destruction around the rabble. They opened their throttles at the last moment before hitting two parked taxis, jumping the boots and leaping directly into the air, sailing over the mass of students that had huddled into a tight knot. The bikes landed in a clearing, skidding to a spinning halt with a cloud of burnt rubber.

The riders leaped from their bikes, tearing off their helmets and rushing together to check their watches.

"Thirty-seven minutes! New record!" Tania and Tara slapped a happy high-five. Camilla waved a hand in front of herself to clear the dust and smoke as she approached the Twins.

"Congratulations. Fastest time to the school?" she inquired. She noted that the police cars had all halted at the property edge, knowing better than to penetrate the sacrosanct grounds of St. Trinian's. They'd never make it past the traps anyway.

"No, Miss. Longest they've chased us!" Tania smiled as Tara waved and blew a kiss at the helicopter still hovering overhead. The pilot was obviously at a loss as to procedure now he'd lost his ground support. He circled the grounds a few more times before a catapulted suitcase nearly hit his tail blade. Realizing that St. Trinian's was hazardous airspace the chopper retreated, a choice that would be wholeheartedly supported by law enforcement for miles around since they sure as hell weren't going to offer backup.

"Well, there'll be inquiries tomorrow I'm sure. Fresh paint and new numbers on the bikes, shall we?" Fritton nodded.

"Yes, Miss." the two blondes had never stopped synchronizing, not even once in their six years at the school. Tara snapped her fingers, summoning the garage crew to wheel the ninjas away for modification. Camilla observed the twin sisters fondly. She'd watched them grow up and felt no small pride in knowing she'd contributed to their exquisitely diabolical minds.

After the delightfully theatrical entrance the girls all resumed their activities, predominantly fighting and making bets on the fights. It would've been unusual for anyone to notice the unremarkable taxi that rolled in and let out a quiet, redheaded girl without any ceremony. Camilla noticed only because she saw Geoffrey straighten up and take a step forward. Ah, so that must the one. Fritton walked towards the child who was currently struggling to pull her suitcase from the boot. The taxi driver got out and shoved her away with a small oath before ripping the suitcase out and flinging it at her hard enough that she fell over. None of the cabs ever wanted to come into St. Trinian's and they left as quickly as possible.

"I say! You could practice a tad more chivalry." Camilla rebuked, helping the child to her feet.

"Whatever." he started to turn away.

"Stay where you are! If she's injured you'll be held fully accountable," the Headmistress turned to the girl, "Are you alright, girlie?"

The girl didn't answer, just stared wide-eyed up at her. Her eyes were almost frighteningly green. Or maybe it was just her not blinking that was worrisome.

"She don't talk! Couldn't figure out where I was bringing her 'til she drew me a bloody map!" he sounded like a man resentfully entrapped.

"I don't blame her for choosing not to communicate! She was undoubtedly saving herself for better company." she snapped, feeling a building revulsion.

"Whatever. I'm supposed to be paid on arrival, she got the brass or not?"

"I'll be paying her fare." Geoffrey stepped forward as quickly as he dared. The driver didn't seem impressed, what with the helmet still obscuring Thwaites' face, but he was all smiles when he saw a wallet produced.

Camilla was just about to try to question the girl again but noticed she'd climbed into the front of the cab. Fritton was not so naïve as to think the girl was leaving a tip. Peering in the driver's window she saw that the redhead was smearing gel from a tin all over the front dash, particularly around the cigarette lighter. When she pulled the lighter out and stuck a finger full of goo inside the charger tube the Headmistress recognized her intent.

Tapping the girl's ankle to summon her out Camilla found her suspicions confirmed by the familiar smell of paraffin on tiny hands. The cabbie positively reeked of cheap cigars. The cab did as well, a solid indication he'd be lighting up for the drive home. She eyed the determined, offended face before her and made a snap decision.

"Wipe off the radio dials or he'll get suspicious." she thrust a kerchief into the girl's hands and positioned herself to block the driver's view of his cab until the sabotage could be complete.

"Bloody madhouse you have here, lady." the driver turned, pocketing his money at the same moment Camilla felt the handkerchief pushed back into her hand from behind.

"Well, I don't imagine you'll be returning anytime soon." she gave him a dangerously friendly smile as she pulled the girl and her luggage away from the cab. She only hoped he waited until he was off the property before engaging in his vulgar tastes. Thwaites pulled his helmet off and squatted down to eye level with the girl under Camilla's hand.

"Hello, Ashlin. I'm Geoffrey, do you remember me?" he waited to see her give a single nod, "Good, this is Headmistress Fritton. Your father asked for me to get you enrolled here and she's been good enough to make all the arrangements. I really think you'll enjoy your time here."

The girl nodded but both adults noticed her eyes were drifting to one side. Following her gaze the former minister spotted a Chav lighting a cigarette. Fritton couldn't help but wonder if the girl had an objection to smokers at large. She seemed a bit young to be on an anti-cancer campaign.

"Indeed you will. I'll have one of our girls show you to the dorm. Julie, would you show Ashlin upstairs?" Camilla called over the Sixth Former who had risen from juvenile witch doctor to head Emo. Her shaved and tattooed head didn't attract the new girl's gaze for even a moment. The sullen teen grabbed Ashlin's bag and nodded for the mute to follow her into the building. No one but the most studious observer would've noticed that, while she was passing the smoking Chav, Ashlin managed to steal the pack of matches right out of her pocket. Miss Fritton smirked, awarding herself a victory for discernment.

"Thank you again, Camilla. I've known her family for years and they're quite beside themselves at this stage." Geoffrey began undoing the catches on his Kevlar vest, watching the redheaded girl disappear up the hall.

"Yes, well, she's certainly the youngest girl we've ever admitted. It's only the difference of one year though. Since she's here more for environment than academics I don't imagine it will do her any harm to sit in with the First Years." Fritton shrugged. Her philosophy for admittance all these years had been quite simple: anyone who could afford to get in and might actually survive. Being thrown in with the youngest students was a trial by fire, the equivalent of being tossed into the deep end of the pool. Whatever happened, this new girl promised to be a novel experience for St. Trinian's.


Ordinarily, when the Sopranos were summoned to the Headmistress' office it was to help with criminal investigations. Mostly crimes they'd committed or orchestrated. The local police were still trying to figure out a way to nail them for the theft of a local statue. It had been copper. The Geeks had needed to make filaments . . .

Camilla regarded the Twins over her desk, sipping her tea (with brandy) contemplatively. She was in no hurry. It was far too much fun to watch the identical blondes try not to fidget. Ten to sixteen she'd known them and they still could barely hold still. The arrival of hormones to the school's most deadly demolitions team had proven a harrowing experience. For a few years it had been only through the miracle of prayer and potassium bicarbonate that the school had remained standing. The twins depended on explosives the way other people relied on alcohol. Depressed? Blow something up. Angry? Blow something up. Numb? See above. Eventually the mood swings had leveled off but it was still a chancy thing three days of the month.

The girls had gone through a brief independent identity craze, one dying her hair red and the other jet black in an effort to separate themselves. It had passed quickly: they rediscovered strength in their similarities. For the last two years they'd been firmly settled in their comfortable identities. They had created a style fusing Posh Totty and Emo, an amalgamation of ripped fishnets, short skirts, leather and skin. If Tania was slightly more Totty and Tara just a hint more Emo, it was never enough to cause division. They refused to join the tribes, choosing to remain together and apart from the rest. Despite the differences in their hair (Tania's a wild mane, Tara's severely straight ) and makeup (seductive and scary, relatively) they were still unmistakably twins. THE Twins.

At the moment they were both playing with plastic explosive, molding it into various new shapes and comparing with each other. Tara's headless man lost to Tania's dismembered dog. They were just in the process of uniting the two sculptures, creating a mutant man-dog when Camilla cleared her throat and they both jerked their eyes forward.

"You two have been intrinsic to much of St. Trinian's history in your time here. Being the brilliant and destructive innovators you've always proven to be, it is only fitting you raise the bar in yet another area of academic life. I am only too pleased to tell you that you, my dear Sopranos, shall be Head Girl. Time to show them two heads really are better than one!"

It was a relief really. The identical twins had been ruling the school for years despite lacking the title - much like Kelly Jones had in her time. Now they'd finally started the Lower Sixth Camilla could, in good conscience, grant them the rank they deserved.

The two girls stared at her, then looked at each other. Very few people ever heard the two girls communicate directly. The theory, at this point, was that they used some form of ESP to transmit thoughts directly without the clumsy use of tongues and words. They'd elevated Twin Talk to Twin Telepathy.

"Does this mean we can authorize new purchases for the chop shop? The garage is dying for an auto twirler." Tara went right to business.

"The distillery needs new filter systems as well." Tania chimed in. Heaven help the fool that thought her pretty exterior meant no mind. She'd taken a number of tips from Chelsea Parker and her successors.

"We can discuss that during the next budget meetings. I'll need some time to prepare Bursar." Fritton shook her head; the tiny man had sacrificed his nerves, digestion and hair to the school They'd been in the black ever since the discovery of Queen Lear but that didn't stop him fretting over every penny that went out of the ledger.

"Very good, Miss." Tara nodded and started to rise but a sharp look from the Headmistress planted her back in the chair.

"We have a new student this year that I require your help with. Ashlin Byrne. I don't usually take an interest in individual students," she saw both heads nod agreement, to her chagrin, "But outside influences have requested more attention than usual. Therefore, I make the care and supervision of this new girl your responsibility."

There was another silent exchange between the twins. Fritton wished she had some grounds for preventing them using such forms of communication. Unfortunately, there was no precedent for 'it creeps me out' objections. TnT hesitated only a moment before turning their matching, piercing blue eyes on the Headmistress.

"What's wrong with her then?" they asked in synchrony. Camilla hated when they did that. She pulled out a cigarette and lit it to stall for time. After a minute she blew out a relaxed smoke ring. It circled the twins before vaporizing into air.

She outlined, in careful detail, all that Geoffrey had told her the night before. The fire that had trapped the girl in her bedroom at 7 years old, burning down the entire house but somehow never ravaging the room from which she watched the scorching devastation. The schools she'd been ejected from for blowing up science labs, burning fellow students and - at least once - vaporizing the pool with a localized incendiary device. It seemed if there was anything combustible in the same room as the Irish child a conflagration was inevitable.

"Sounds a perfect fit for St. Trinian's." Tara grinned after she'd heard the full report.

"We should be able to keep her focused on more precise areas of destruction." Tania agreed, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Excellent. I don't doubt the two of you shall do absolute miracles with her behavior."

As if having heard the Headmistress' words a loud crash resounded from overhead. The three all raced to the window in time to watch a bed, on fire, sail through the air after having been launched from the dormitory window. Ashlin jumped off the flaming mattress when it landed, batting the sparks out of her dress. She looked up and saw the three set of eyes staring out the window at her. She raised a hand covered in burns into the air to wave at them all. Her grin of childish happiness was radiant despite the smudges and scorch wounds.

"Make certain she stays safe within our walls. She will undoubtedly be useful in years to come." Camilla remarked, watching as a mass of Second Years dragged the new girl away for medical treatment and orientation.