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Pokemon is a copyright of Nintendo. Pokègirls and Pokèwomen come from the Pokewomon Forum at http://disc.server.com/Indices/169881.html. "Wild Horses and Pokègirls" is the creation of Metroanime. C&C, MSTs are welcome E-mail:
. . . The cabin was away from the town they had spotted from the air. It was old, graying wood, dilapidated and the roof leaked.
. . . It may provide some shelter from this storm. And after flying through the storm, I think both of us have been beaten up enough for one day, he thought as he carried the sodden kit and their packs onto the porch. He knocked, then louder, then barged in.
. . . "The outside is soaking, and a driving rain. In here it looks like the roof at least deflects the rain to specific places," he told the kit, who hung from his arm, limp and exhausted from her efforts, and the noise and winds of the storm. "So it's only damp in here. And it smells, but let's see if we can find someplace dry in here."
. . . Most of the furniture was gone, save for a rusted metal table bolted to the floor, and what he wanted to see. Bed, just a set of springs in a metal frame. It's been used before, he thought as he noted the bed had been placed in the only really dry spot close to the central hearth. He set the kit on the springs, and began unpacking the sleeping bag and ground cover. At least these stayed dry, he thought, as he took one 360 look around the central room, No mattress, better that than a mattress that's been here a hundred years. All the furniture's gone into the hearth, and most of the inside doors.
. . . Events of the last few hours closed in on him and he sank to the floor. Who am I kidding? Despite the kit's help, I'm just delaying the inevitable. I never enjoyed camping, and by now, I've got to have half the League after me. For various reasons. Death or slavery, now I know how the Pokègirls must feel. Except I can't take comfort in the hope for a kind Master. I want to go HOME! 'L.A.'s fine, but it ain't home, New York's home but it ain't mine no more.' Why didn't I make this place a paradise, or at least some little part of it?
. . . "Because paradise is always an illusion or a fraud. And the price is always too high."
. . . "Are you all right Master?" Isaik asked sleepily from her spot curled up on the bed.
. . . "No, just feeling sorry for myself," he told her, "Get some sleep, you've more than earned it." He froze and looked around.
. . . "Something?" she asked.
. . . "A . . . change, I guess. Nothing I can put my finger on." He shook off the feeling of being watched. "Get some rest, while I see about making this place at least livable."
. . . "Can I at least warm things up in here?" Underground asked. She unfolded herself lithely from where Isaik had been curled up on the bed. "Kid was just worn out," she said as she approached him. She wasn't happy that he didn't even react to her touch. "So is my Master." She knelt behind him and carefully wrapped her limbs around him and smiled shyly, then pressed against him so she could whisper in his ear, "It wasn't your fault. Even I was shocked that a Jenny would do something like that."
. . . He leaned against her, wrapped his arms around her backward, and held her tight. He shivered.
. . . From the cold, or the toxic mix of rage and helplessness, Underground thought, The kid and I can do something about that. I can help the first right now.
. . . "You need to rest, just like the kit," she said as she guided him back to the bed, "Let me warm things up in here . . . not like that you dirty ole' man." She grinned and enjoyed his answering smile.
. . . "There's nothing to burn that wouldn't bring the place down on our heads," he told her.
. . . "I don't need fuel, just a focus." She knelt before the hearth, not incidently showing a lot of toned leg, and how her dress clung to her apple-cheeked butt. She molded the wet ash in the hearth into a log-shape, in motions entirely indicative of another action.
. . . She hid her frown. He's too far gone to even be embarrassed, she thought. She set the log of packed ashes on the grate. She gestured, drawing sigils in the air and driving the damp ash from her hands, causing the bits to cling to the log. The bit glowed yellow as they flew through the air, dimming to a dull red as they attached themselves. Slowly, the entire log began to glow dull red, brightening to cherry red, and finally, orange.
. . . She walked back to the bed as steam rose from the ashes in the hearth, and the floor around the hearth. He'd laid out a sleeping bag and the few blankets they had. "If you even suggest sleeping separately, I'll knock you unconscious."
. . . He smiled, lightening the burden on her heart. He removed his muddy boots. "Can you get rid of the dirt and damp?" he asked as he gestured at his clothes, "I'm afraid we'll need all the insulation to start with."
. . . She smiled and gestured, the rain, sweat and dirt from their clothes and bodies fell to the floor. "Just be ready for me to strip down as this place warms up." She stretched provocatively.
. . . He shook his head as he climbed into the sleeping bag. A moment later, Isaik wormed her way inside. "She wants you to know, 'we need a bigger sleeping bag.'" Isaik yawned. "I'm too tired to argue."
. . . "When we can get one," he sleepily replied. Soon the warmth and mugginess of the air, and the warmth of the body pressed tightly against him, sent him into a fitful sleep.
. . . Isaik changed to Underground, and wrapped herself tightly around him. She listened to him sleep. I know the damn nightmares will start again. Why was it only that cow and cat who could let him sleep without being tortured?
. . . "It's all right. It's just a dream," she soothed as the weeks-dead torturers, who'd abducted him from his world, continued their remorseless attacks on her Master's peace and sanity.
. . . I can imagine the torture our Washu-worshiping cops are going through.
. . . Admiral Macmillian and ArchChancellor Isoroku Running Star rarely attend meetings together, Kay thought as she stared at the wall and tried to squeeze every bit of 'at attention' out of the 'at ease' stance, Having only the pair of them at our debriefing leaves no doubt that the outhouse has hit the turbine, and it will all collect in one place, our resumes. The long walk through the ballroom-sized hall to the massive table the two men sat behind made their two officers' status in this 'friendly hearing' abundantly clear.
. . . " 'Secure traveler. Make him comfortable, acclimate him to the realities and the dangers of this world. Take all actions within reason and the law to guarantee safe arrival at Nuevo Tenochtitlan University'," the Admiral said, his smooth baritone only rubbed sandpaper and salt on their wounds. "I would think that allowing him to keep the three Pokègirls he'd managed to catch, by himself or with the aid of the Pokèkit, would be directly in line with these instructions. Arranging full - legal - custody would not seem to violate either the spirit or letter of these instructions." The man paused, and gave a grandfatherly smile. "Or have I somehow misinterpreted the orders I helped draft?"
. . . "No, sir," Eriko said, her back straight, not looking directly at either man. Her sweat already drenched her uniform.
. . . "Then perhaps you can explain why an otherwise rational man, would fear for his life, or the life of the Pokèkit with him, so much that jumping out of a high-flying aircraft, and freefalling into a raging thunderstorm, would seem the more attractive option. That was not a request, and a yes or no is not a sufficient answer."
. . . "We had an alert on the creatures in Doctor Clay's lab," Erika said.
. . . "Which by your own account included no sentient Pokègirls," the ArchChancellor pointed out, as he lounged on a floating cushion behind the immense wood and stone table.
. . . "That is correct, sir," Erika said.
. . . "So after listening to him rant and rave about his distrust, and perhaps even hatred of Washu, you didn't call for alternate transportation. You didn't make attempts to legalize his possession of all three of those girls. You made no attempt to work your way further into his confidence. In fact, your actions resulted in him shutting you out - before - this became a disaster. Is that correct?"
. . . "Yes, sir," Erika and Eriko said together.
. . . "Considering that even a Skarmory was nearly battered unconscious by the wind shear of that storm. It is highly probable that our most likely agent to recover the others and forestall the Sanctuary Goths' plot, has been either killed or so poisoned in his dealings with respected League representatives that any level of control we might have hoped for has gone the way of Los Angeles. Is that a reasonable assessment?"
. . . "Yes, sir," both Pokègirls said.
. . . A colonel of the SLIS entered and handed the Admiral a note, then stepped back to await a response. The Admiral scanned the paper, then handed the paper to the ArchChancellor, who glanced at it, and released it to let it float back to the colonel.
. . . "Proceed," the ArchChancellor said, and the Admiral nodded. The colonel turned and left, never glancing at the two officers.
. . . "I would suggest that both of you report to medical for a full checkout: physical, psychic, mystic and psychological. And I hope for your sake, they find something. A pair of drunken Bunnygirl kits could have handled this better. Both of you have extensive experience chaperoning demanding, temperamental VIPs. It was one of the reasons you were picked. It is disturbing that your training and experience so completely deserted you both during this mission," the ArchChancellor said.
. . . "Dismissed," the Admiral added as he stood and walked out the nearest exit, never returning the salute both officers held. The ArchChancellor serenely floated after him.
. . . The two Pokègirls waited, holding their salutes, until the door closed. Then they turned smartly, and marched straight down the long room toward the exit. Only when the door wardens had closed the massive portals behind then, did they relax.
. . . " 'Boom.' I think we just heard the lid on the coffin of our careers," Erika said.
. . . "They weren't angry," Eriko suggested quietly.
. . . "Besides, getting a Level 5 right now sounds like a good idea. Better than your last idea," the Nurse Joy pointed out.
. . . "You discovered he was hiding those two girls!" the Officer Jenny replied, "You didn't lift a finger to deal with it."
. . . "Our main failure was forgetting our chain of command. Which incidently means all we went through was a verbal reprimand."
. . . "Terrifying as it was."
. . . "Terrifying as it was," Erika agreed.
. . . "So, a Level 5? Maybe it won't be so bad. We can get transported to some out of the way place, and live out our lives in blissful ignorance," Eriko suggested.
. . . "Sounds like a plan."
. . . "Sounds like a bad plan," came the old, strong voice from behind them.
. . . Both girls stopped and spun around, and immediately saluted. In the background, Washu, her hair white, her expression one of abject misery and defeat, and her furtive glance at the two officers containing only terror, trudged away down the corridor.
. . . The old Witch stepped aside to let them watch Washu's defeated retreat from her interview. They held their silence, and their salutes, until Granny finally returned them. "It seems you still haven't learned your lesson. Running away and giving up, letting other people do your thinking for you. That was your real failure. I expect a plan from you two how to recover the situation, with your own resources too. Have fun. And by the way, your minds were stored, so a Level 5, just means you'll have to go through the same interview again. Only I'll be asking the questions," the most famous Sage of the Sunshine League told them darkly, "And getting the answers." The old Witch walked away.
. . . "Why do I think if we threw ourselves out a window, we'd suddenly discover we could fly?" Eriko asked.
. . . "Or that we could survive a lot more damage than we thought we could?" Erika agreed.
. . . Underground had been aware of the sounds, especially after Isaik had heard them too. She placed a tranquilizing spell on her Master, and slithered out of the cocoon of sleeping bags and blankets.
. . . Even with the heat and humidity, the cocoon is still lots warmer. Probably all the drafts through the floor, she thought as she floated across the room, This floor would probably match those 'mockingbird floors' in Edo, she thought as she lifted the heavy handgun from the baggage. How did he do this? she thought as she remembered from Isaik how to release the safety, and cock the weapon, Makes a better threat than a gesture from an unknown breed. A Pokègirl's gun could be an antitank weapon, especially this cannon.
. . . She heard the house groan from the winds of the storm, but one groan was always preceded or followed by a sliding sound. Flesh against wood, she thought as she floated into the one bedroom, the scars on the floorboard showed where the bed had been dragged from, Wonder why they didn't rip loose that closet door and burn it. Oh no! It's the door the monster is behind. Good, one dead monster, she thought as she floated next to the door, so she could fling it open. She waited, silent, unmoving, barely breathing, for the faint slithering sound. If it's a Widow or a Mantis in there, he'd probably wake up, despite the spell. Creepy how he can feel the world around him. I bet I should add the Megami to the list of people to avoid. Their 'COSMIC CONSCIOUSNESS', or their omniscient morality license, would probably clash with what he knew, and they'd have to kill him. 'To preserve the feeling' of the poor saps who deserve to be forced to grown up, she thought as she waited, So whatever this is, it's probably safe.
. . . She yanked the door open and shoved the pistol into the denizen's face. Said face was at waist level, while the rest of the closet seemed packed with writhing, silver intestines.
. . . "Quick intelligence test: if you move, I shoot you." She snapped off the safety. "If all that will do is give you a migraine, as the bullet rattles around your empty head, go ahead and nod or shake your head to answer me. If you want to keep your brain as an internal organ, use your voice to answer," she told the girl who's crossed her eyes focused on the pistol touching just under her nose.
. . . "Understood," the girl said. The slight movement of the coils had stopped.
. . . She even keeps her eyes locked on the gun, Underground thought, Maybe she is intelligent.
. . . "Good, you may move your eyes and blink, but anything else and I'll gouge out those pretty eyes. Name."
. . . "Karen."
. . . "Family name, and if none, say 'none'."
. . . "None, they threw me out."
. . . Lovely, now she's going to cry, and I'm either a push over or a villain, Underground thought as the girl's face screwed up with emotion.
. . . "Come out of there, let me see all of you," Underground told her, gesturing with the gun to the open space of the room, and stepping out of range if there was a surprise.
. . . "So you hid out here waiting to go Feral, so you could eat your neighbors with a clean conscience. I like the way you think."
. . . Oh look, a rainbow! Underground thought as the girl burst into tears, her quiet sobs shook her entire body.
. . . "I'm just hiding," the girl managed.
. . . "If you Threshold, you'll eventually require Taming, or you go Feral. Those are your two choices." Underground ignored the snake-girl's tears and considered her body instead.
. . . Not as busty as he seems to like, but a smart, quiet girl might be a nice change. If the kit's any indication, he likes cuddling, and snake types - if they like men - like to cuddle with warmer people, she thought, Silver, silver, silver, what breed, what breed? Idiot, go get the Pokèdex, no, she'll run away. I guess I can live with the mystery. Okay, she's cried long enough.
. . . "I wanted to be a good girl, not one of those Pokègirls," Karen said with contempt, then began weeping again, "Now I am one!"
. . . Underground couldn't keep the disappointment from her face. Great, a human supremacist who gets turned into what she hated. Oh boo hoo. I love poetic irony, but only when its aftermath can't snivel all over me. Sorry, as a 'good' girl, you're still selling it, it's just you can demand a higher price by acting like you don't want it. But that's not your life anymore, Underground thought.
. . . "The only alternative is find someone willing to put you through regular Taming Cycles, rather than Tame you himself."
. . . "Ha," the girl said mirthlessly, "You're a Pokègirl, you know you didn't have a choice. It's what you are, it's what you have to be," she shouted at Underground and approached. Then she remembered the pistol. "But I don't want to be that. I can do without it. Without anyone."
. . . "And be Pokèbait to the first Tamer who catches your Feral butt," Underground replied calmly, "If you think descending into madness and mindlessness is fun, you've got another think coming."
. . . "I didn't do anything wrong. I just hid here. So my father couldn't find me . . . and give me to his friends."
. . . More like sell you, Underground thought, Nice guy. Sounds like Bastion. If so, we're deeper in it than I thought.
. . . She put the pistol away. "My Master might be willing to use Taming Cycles."
. . . Whoever heard of a Pokègirl who's part of the Cult of the Maidenhead? As if most 'normal' girls don't get popped before their honeymoon night. I know of girls who were still virgins, and lost theirs simply because they tore during hard work.
. . . "You can either stay here and freeze, or cuddle up around him. Your choice, your responsibility. If we are around Bastion, and I think we are, if you chose wrong, that may be the last choice you get for the rest of your life."
. . . Underground left the girl there and returned to cuddle with her Master.
. . . "I don't know what you're so angry about," the white-haired Not Near Human girl said breezily, "I think she did a good job."
. . . "I'm not angry, I'm irritated," the mustachioed figure behind her said. The two winged Pokègirls flanking the figure on either side rested their heads on the figure's shoulders and were blissfully content beyond words, or under the influence of chemicals illegal since before the Revenge War.
. . . "It's the 'happy, skippy' aspects of this that grate," the figure glanced back and noted the girls, Pokègirls, and some men with little pink hearts in their eyes, who all sighed when they thought the figure had looked at them. Eyes front and a shiver later, the figure continued, "I don't mind getting them back, or having their memories restored of all but their deaths. I don't mind the new identity proper. I'm actually quite grateful. It's the idea of 'Truly Prepared For This World' that bugs me. Looking at someone else's face in the mirror when I shave . . . "
. . . "It's you when you were younger," the point Pokè said as they walked out of town, and into the forests shrouding the place. "You didn't have to shave as often and you have the stamina to do the job. You're more rangy, with a heaping helping of Bishonen. I bet you weren't the girl magnet you are now back then."
. . . "You'd win that bet," the sandy blonde said and smiled, perfect white teeth practically 'tinged' in the afternoon sun. For the group that followed little sighs could be heard. "It's changing me into a Pokègirl that bothers me, even if I won't go Feral and I don't read as one."
. . . "I don't know. A flat-chested Dildo Queen/Sanctuary Goth cross seems perfect to me."
. . . The figure growled at the laughing Eidolon, but kept her anger to herself.
. . . Morning came, sunlight streaming in the facing windows confirmed that. He felt the far warmer sensations.
. . . Okay, the two of us can fit in here, he thought as noted the hands down his pants were larger than Isaik's, And it is warmer. More than the fire . . . or that Underground alone could provide. More than the blankets and sleeping bag could hold. Thoughts drifted as he awakened slowly. And just what am I bothering to wake up to? Food? Not really . . . He felt the thick, heavy coils shifting around him in response to his movement.
. . . Underground had her hands out of his pants and covering his mouth, while her legs trapped his. "Don't scream, don't react," she whispered quickly, "You'll notice I caught a Pokègirl last night. She's not a Feral, and she isn't eager to be Tamed, so she'll need a periodic trip to a Pokècenter. And she needs a Taming Cycle soon," Underground whispered, "Now if you still feel like screaming, at least you know what you're screaming about." She carefully removed her hands from his mouth.
. . . "I assume you're afraid of what those coils will do to me." He waited for her to nod. "Then how did you capture her without smashing the place, or waking me up?"
. . . "Stick a gun in their face and their hearts and minds will follow?" Underground offered, and grinned, then stopped when he wasn't amused, "I told her the alternatives, and that she'd probably go the way she was afraid to, if she stayed here. She's better off coming with us than if she goes Feral and is captured. This is Bastion, which is not well-known for Pokègirl rights. I also used some magic to make sure all of us could be inside the sleeping bag. It happened to get rid of the moth-eaten, filthy blankets she'd been using as bedding."
. . . "Why didn't I sense her earlier?" he asked.
. . . "Probably she wasn't important to the story earlier. If we'd found her, she would have broken past us, run out into the woods and never been a plot point."
. . . "The way you can analyze my abilities like that, really gives me pause," he said, "Or you're making fun of me."
. . . "We could try making love, not war," Underground said and snuggled against him, her hands returning to where they'd been, "Oh, she's 'saving herself for marriage', so sending her through a Taming machine is probably the best way to keep her Tamed."
. . . "Okay, someone else is playing with me. I almost expect Kay and Eko to burst through the door at the head of a brass band."
. . . "If we're this close to Bastion, they probably mugged the musicians. Last musician who survived this place was a strolling mariachi, and only because he blew up half the town."
. . . "I think I saw that movie."
. . . "I don't like this," Karen said, as she glanced back at the elaborate and brightly colored patterns that replaced her solid silver skin.
. . . "No one knows you as you appear now. The purple with the pink and orange pattern clearly makes you different from the Viepra you'd been before," Isaik told her, "And you only have to be out long enough to point us to the Pokècenter."
. . . "Why aren't we sneaking in?" Karen asked as she looked at every bush as if it held enemies.
. . . "Sneaking raises suspicions. Normal people walk straight into town," their Master told the girl, "So you walk in like everyone else, and no one looks at you twice."
. . . "There is another way," Isaik pointed out, "Besides, if you really are a Threshold girl, then anyone can catch you. So it's an old - er - grizzled warrior . . . ah, and they aren't as likely to challenge him as - "
. . . "Oh ho! I challenge you for the fine . . . er . . . snake Pokègirl you have!"
. . . Her Master glared at her. Isaik could only shrug. "Why do morons get the free teleport?" Her Master sighed. "Orange League rules okay?" he asked tiredly.
. . . "Sure old man! Seadamar I choose - OOOFF!" The boy folded around the fist in the gut, placed there by their Master.
. . . The materialized GunValkyrie stood and stared at her fallen Tamer.
. . . "When he can breathe again, tell him 'Orange League rules means the Tamer participates in the battle," their Master told the girl, "You wouldn't happen to know where the Pokècenter is?"
. . . "Oh, right over that ridge," the stunned GunValkyrie said, then stepped up to their Master, "Was this a salvage battle, and he lost, right?"
. . . "I'm sorry, the terms were never discussed," their Master said, then sighed again, "Look, there's a SLUT recruiter, Tyrone MacGonigal in town. If you can't get to him, tell Lyn, his Battle Angel, or Babs his Megami-sama that the one who steered him to Julie is calling in a favor. Repeat it back to me."
. . . She did, looking totally confused and worshipful all the time. "You know Lyn and Babs?"
. . . "I can honestly say, they wouldn't be who they are today without me," their Master said. He tensed at the hug, and watched as the girl collected her fallen Tamer and raced away.
. . . "How do you know them?" Karen asked, finally showing some interest in her Master.
. . . "There are things it's safer you don't know," their Master said, and returned Karen to her Pokèball. "I think I may just drop her off. I don't think she's going to fit in with our lifestyle."
. . . "What, running away and hiding? Seems like she's got that down pat," Isaik said. She smirked as her Master sighed again, and started walking towards the Pokècenter.
. . . "I can't believe you're just gonna walk in there, and try to brazen your way past the Nurse Joy," Isaik said, and nearly ran into her Master, "What?"
. . . "Something's very wrong," he said, and stared at the Pokècenter's front doors, "This isn't right."
. . . Isaik cast a scrying spell. As she looked into the pane, she saw what her Master had sensed. "Trauma Team, three in the front lobby. They're robbing the place."
. . . "Crap!" her Master cursed as he focused on one small boy, "We have to get him out of there, even if we have to nuke the place to do it."
. . . "That old guy is about your size," Isaik said, changed to Underground, and handed her Master his pistol, "How about we change places."
. . . "Don't they have some kind of protection?"
. . . "None that I can see," Underground said as the two oriented themselves.
. . . Her Master took a shooting stance and raise the pistol, then ordered, "Go!"
. . . The first Trauma Team creep near the door couldn't get his gun up before his head exploded. Underground hit the flaming woman with a spell that covered her head-to-toe with ice as her Master pivoted and fired on the second human. The bullet slammed the woman against the wall, but she recovered. The armor-clad cat woman jumped out of the adjacent hallway and clawed the Trauma Team woman open from throat to crotch, before leaping and landing on Master.
. . . "Across the street safe with Tyrone!" her Master shouted before he'd even hit the ground. Once he had hit the ground, "Across the street with Tyrone!" Master pointed where they'd just come from. The burly, armored catwoman leapt through the door without opening or unlocking them. Underground's Master climbed to his feet and jumped over the counter. "Taming machine, Taming machine, Taming machine. Ah, with printed instructions and everything." He slotted Karen's ball in and hit the start.
. . . "I think a Level 3 is a bit harsh," Underground said, causing her Master to check the settings.
. . . "It's a Level 2," he growled back, "And considering her opinions about Pokègirls, a Level 3 isn't harsh." They quickly checked the other hostages, but left them tied up, blindfolded and gagged. The Trauma Team member was dead.
. . . The machine spit out the Pokèball. Her Master collected it. "Let's get out of here." As they sprinted away, Underground discharged the spell that released the bonds of the captives.
. . . "We could have gotten a reward," Underground said, then looked back, "We've got people following us."
. . . "Go," he said and took her hand.
. . . They vanished from the streets of Bastion.
. . . "I only wanted to thank you!" the Battle Panthress shouted at the departed pair. "I'm not that scary, am I?" she asked the Battle Angel who stood next to her, "I was careful not to hurt him. He even knew what I was after."
. . . "Leave that mystery for another time," Lyn told her, "Let's go see what they were doing."
. . . "Antoinette, you see the specific patterns on each of these bullets?" the small man said excitedly, jumping up and down on the stool set before the microscope. Both the Bardess and the huge Francinestein approached him nervously. He looked at them. "Oh, you two worrywarts, I bolted the stools into those track so they couldn't fall down. Look. Look!" he chided, then leaned aside, "Those patterns are as distinctive as a fingerprint." He laughed eagerly as the two Pokègirls looked through the microscope. "We have him, he was at the shooting of those Team Trauma men in Bastion. Voltaire, over by the map." He extended his hands, and the Francinestein picked him up and set him beside the large map of the Sunshine League. "There, Bastion, almost an ironic juxtaposition. He can't help himself, or event transpire . . . no. We have to keep our heads clear. It's likely, it is not guaranteed. Now is the most delicate time." His hands moved through odd patterns as he paced atop the chest of drawers. Clear indication of the speed of the thoughts within and the tremendous nervous energy of the man. "We have to reel him in, without him breaking the line, or injuring himself. Neither alternative would be worth it."
. . . "I'll go," Voltaire announced.
. . . The man calmed down. His manic expression softened. "Thank you, Voltaire, but I'm afraid he's been burned once too often. He's afraid of the fire."
. . . The huge Pokègirl nodded, understanding completely.
. . . "Why not simply contact him?" Antoinette asked.
. . . "Remember my encounter with that hateful woman?" he asked sharply, then relaxed as he accepted her gentle caress, "He will be like that for sometime. Even after our little surprise."
. . . "You'll do it Miguelito, I know you will," the Bardess cooed.
. . . "Oh yes, but without him seeing it, until we can close in? That's the key. He mustn't excite himself before he knows. If he tries to escape, he may very well hurt himself."
. . . "We can't allow that," the Bardess said.
. . . "No, we certainly cannot." The small man laughed, joined by the other two.
. . . This town seems to be straight out of central casting for a 30's or 40's Western. He walked ahead of Underground and Karen. Some of the locals glanced at him, but saw he wasn't a typical Tamer, and went back to their own concerns. Let's here it for being old and invisible, he thought as he walked. A few of the other transients looked more closely at him, and the girls, sizing them up as predator, or prey.
. . . He growled at one who got too close, the frightened man moved off quickly. The man's moth-eaten Tigress hid her laughter as she followed her Master. He walked as if he owned the place and had no time for them. Both the girls had to strain to keep up. He passed the town's Pokècenter. It's free, but I don't have the licenses, he thought as he continued on.
. . . The hotel had seen better days. The neon sign hung dark, while the paint seemed more like camouflage than advertising.
. . . He walked in, pulled the 'Handiman Wented' sign from the window and approached the desk clerk. "Three hots and a cot," he said as he set the sign before the bored clerk. "You supply the parts and the tools."
. . . "Do I look like a charity," the man asked, leafing through the SLUT fan magazine.
. . . Yeah, I'm the 'mystery man' who saved the new heroine's kid, could you give me a free room in this disease-ridden fleabag for a few days? he thought.
. . . "You look like you're standing in a building that won't survive a healthy sneeze, let alone an inspection. You want work, I can do it. I think my price is reasonable."
. . . The man put aside the magazine and looked him over. "Why not stay at the Center?"
. . . "Do I look like a pimply-faced kid out to change the world? The Center's for Tamers, not workers."
. . . "Damn fridge is going out," the man said, swatted at a fly. He checked the flyswatter before he continued, "Ya get it runnin', we have a deal. How long you stayin'?"
. . . "A couple of days."
. . . "Put the sign back." The clerk peeled himself out of the plastic chair. "I'll show you the tools, and you can get to work.
. . . "You need to replace the motor. This is only temporary," he said as he drove the screws that held the rear plate on the back.
. . . "Okay, you're hired. The lights on the third floor flash on and off. Pick one of the rooms up there. It's yours."
. . . "Any of them occupied?"
. . . "No, not with it being haunted and all." The man walked away laughing.
. . . Underground waited until the man had left. "Master, this place is a dump."
. . . "Yes?" he asked as they headed up the stairs.
. . . The elevator was probably ancient in my day, he thought.
. . . "Why are we headed north? Wouldn't heading south make more sense?" Karen asked.
. . . "Maybe, but we run out of dry land headed south a lot quicker than heading north," he replied and he flipped on the switches.
. . . The lights flickered as he turned them on.
. . . "GHOSTS!" the Viepra squealed and grabbed her Master.
. . . He put his arms around both girls and waited, glancing at his watch occasionally. "Not ghosts. Three circuits, all with intermittent shorts. Look at the light over us, and the one three down in the sconce - the wall hung light. They blink at the same rate. But the second and fifth blink at a different rate. And there's the third." He shut the lights off. He flipped on one switch, and one set of lights glowed steadily. "Interesting."
. . . "If this map is accurate," Underground said, "the big collections of rooms are all around the elevator."
. . . "They're called suites," their Master said, "And I agree with you."
. . . Underground changed to Isaik. "Great, living in luxury, in this fleabag."
. . . "Have you seen this man?" The two cops put a picture of an older man in front of the desk clerk. "There's a reward for informati0on about him."
. . . "How much?"
. . . "5000 creds."
. . . The man stared at the pair. One reluctantly pulled a 5000 SLC note and put it on the counter. It vanished. "Upstairs, he's somewhere on the third floor, fighting ghosts."
. . . "Thank you," one of the officers managed, as the other dashed up the stair.
. . . "Good luck," he said, and returned to his paper.
. . . "There's no reward," Kay told Eko.
. . . "You want to find him or not?" Eko countered, "I'm not looking forward to another ass-chewing from the boss. Besides, 'fighting ghosts' sounds like him."
. . . "Do we just start knocking down doors until we find him?"
. . . "Let's try knocking first," Eko suggested.
. . . Neither officer saw the eyes watching them from the ventilator grill, not the long tail that pulled the backpacks and baggage out of the room they'd been in, and into the vent.
. . . "What do we do?" Isaik asked.
. . . "We wait. We have food, water and we can sleep. They're on a deadline," her Master told her.
. . . "What if one sleeps, and the other stays awake?" Karen asked.
. . . "We put her to sleep when she seems to have drowsed off," he replied, "I guess we aren't getting the food, just a place to sleep."
. . . "Good enough. I do think our friendly manager deserves a piece of someone's mind," Isaik said.
. . . "Agreed," her Master said.
. . . "What do we do now?" Eko asked as she trudged back to the stairway.
. . . "We knocked on, then opened every door. We found evidence someone was here, but not exactly where," Kay said, her head resting on the banister.
. . . "We leave," Eko said as she glanced upwards, "They can't have gotten too far. The friendly manager must have tipped them off while we were coming up here."
. . . "I think our mystical friend had wards set up," Kay said, "I wish we could get more troops." The pair descended the stairs.
. . . "As if we're going to fall for that!" Isaik said, "But we could make our escape."
. . . "Maybe, or maybe that's . . . what's that noise?"
. . . Karen looked around. "I don't hear anything."
. . . "Like a machine, but musical," their Master said as he turned his head this way and that to localize the sound. "I know I've heard it . . . before. No, it's not possible," he whispered as the building faded around them.
. . . "He's not hurt?"
. . . "No."
. . . "The doctor says he'll be fine. We still need to operate."
. . . Operate!?
. . . "The device is still inside and the infections has . . . "
. . . Operate!? Operate!? Someone tell me about the operation!
. . . "Doctor! He's awake!" a voice, pleasant, female, shouted.
. . . Some commotion, then a warm wet cloth rubs each eye.
. . . "You aren't blind. We have the nights on low," a baritone, the timbre pricks at distant memories, "You're strapped down. As much for your sake, as for ours. Your nightmares are particularly intense, both physically and psychologically."
. . . "Sorry."
. . . "Don't be, sir, they've given me new hope that I can accomplish my overreaching goal." Then the male voice broke down in giggles. "Sorry. Should we raise the lighting a bit?"
. . . "I always keep mine on the ceiling for that very reason."
. . . The laughter returned. "Ah, awake in a strange place and already laying about with your rapier wits." The man laughed. "You are going to be amusing having a round the house."
. . . "Yes, I'd like the light level raised. I can't see."
. . . The face was handsome and expressive, patrician with some gray at the temples. The arms and torso seemed oddly short. The rest of the room was a blur.
. . . "Loveless?" he asked.
. . . "Lovelace?" the small man repeated. Then he smiled, and laughed. "It seems a name more in tune with this world's naming conventions I'll grant you." The small man controlled his laughter. "My family name is Carmen, I shall enjoy your guesses about my Christian name too much to spoil it." He laughed, real joy, and after a few moments showed real concern. "Are you all right?"
. . . "The straps," he said to Carmen.
. . . "Yes, of course," Carmen said indulgently, "I'm afraid you're as weak as a - kitten." He laughed a great deal about that. "I beg your pardon, I'm laughing at punch lines and you haven't even heard the joke. In your condition, I'll loosen the straps, but I'll only undo one arm. Later, I'll send along some soup. Voltaire is a positive wizard in the kitchen. I don't know what Antoinette and I would do without her."
. . . "Thank you, doctor," a gravelly contralto voice said.
. . . He cranes his neck and squinted to make out the figure.
. . . "Ah. I do apologize. I'd quite forgotten."
. . . Someone slipped his glasses on, and the rest of the world came into focus.
. . . Carmen, clearly a dwarf, a human with shortened arms, legs and torso, bent over him, his face lined with concern and brimming with intense curiosity. The elegant woman in the nurse's outfit, the extremely tall Pokègirl, and the woman who looked like a Golden Elf, save that she was truly 'big-boned', having the widest shoulders of anyone in the room, and hips as wide as the girl who stood easily two heads taller.
. . . "Allow me to introduce - "
. . . "Kitten, Voltaire, Antoinette, and Dr. Miguelito Lo - Carmen."
. . . Carmen laughed, true mirth like a delighted child. "Yes. I should have known that you'd know who we are. My doctorate is in medicine, and I have a full surgical license. I also have masters in chemistry and applied magic. Since you're probably bursting with questions, I'll provide as many answers as I can, without you having to ask them. You still need your rest." He tapped his chin and looked thoughtful. "What would you ask first? Ah, you're strapped down because you needed not to move after the operations. And, your nightmares were particularly disturbing." Carmen frowned. "Poor Voltaire came in to see what was going on, was so dismayed you'd ripped your stitches, that she didn't dodge your flailing arm. She was quite embarrassed that a sleeping human knocked her across the room." The man chuckled. "She got over it, but you do have to be restrained until you've completely recovered." He thought again. "No, consider letting me guess payment in full for your rather extensive medical treatments, ah, the operations. We had to repair your damaged colon, magic is good, but sometimes surgery is necessary. Your colon was burst recently, by your captors, I'd guess. We also flushed you out, to remove all the . . . well, material that leaked into your peritoneum. We also found a tracking device that they'd planted inside you." The man frowned. "Going to all the trouble and danger to you of implanting such a piece of delicate electronics, then subjecting you to heavy electric shocks. What were they thinking? Were they thinking?"
. . . "I think not," he said, "Or they knew I wouldn't be their Judas Goat, so it wasn't necessary."
. . . "Yes, they seem a little too eager to dispose of what isn't necessary. I despise clutter as much as the next man, but some things should be kept for their own value."
. . . "Of course."
. . . "What's next, I can guess so many, but what would - of course, your girls are safe."
. . . The others all giggled, until a stern glare from Carmen silenced them. "I must apologize. We have a little surprise for you," he said sternly, then turned to the others, "Which I will not have spoiled!" he told them darkly. He was all smiles when he turned back. "They are relaxing on the grounds, and looking after your surprise." He smiled. "There, I've nearly given it away. You sir, are a bad influence. I know that even now you're planning some grand escape attempt. I also notice you've had your arm unstrapped quite a while and you haven't even tried to raise your arm. So I strongly suggest that rather than patiently wait for us to leave, so you can free yourself, and fall on your face, raise your arm please."
. . . He pulled his arm free and nearly passed out from the effort of simply holding it aloft. It crashed down on his chest and felt as heavy as a steel beam as it lay across his chest.
. . . Antoinette joined Miguelito and the two of them set it beside it to ease his breathing. The pair refastened the straps, but only loosely.
. . . "Now I hope that curbs your appetite for heroics, at least until you've had some food and real sleep," Miguelito scolded, then grinned, "I know it won't, but at least I've provided the wise course. I'll send Karen in with some of the soup I promise. Now don't tempt her and ask what your surprise is. I told her I wouldn't give it to you if she talked." He laughed. "Of course Kitten or Voltaire would instead, but she doesn't know that. When Karen is done, I'll have her relieve Isaik or Underworld, and let you see that she's all right too."
. . . "What do you want from me?" he asked.
. . . Miguelito looked stunned. "You mean I haven't ranted and raved about it, frightening the children and curdling the cream?" He glared at Antoinette and Kitten, neither of whom could keep a straight face, despite their best efforts.
. . . "Doctor forgot," Voltaire said helpfully. Carmen's frown was hilarious.
. . . Carmen shrugged. "Turnabout is fair play. I tried to be you, now it's your turn."
. . . "You want revenge. I know that much," he said, "For a stolen invention."
. . . "Stolen credit for an invention, but otherwise quite correct. The rest can wait." Carmen leaned close. "It will give that whirring mind of yours something else to focus on, while you're recuperating." He laughed a little as Voltaire lifted him from the chair and the group left the room.
. . . That laugh is beginning to bug me. Just like . . . Washu. Okay. So Washu - stole something, the credit for something. Now he wants revenge. And I'm to be the instrument of that revenge. Much as I hate her, I won't be anyone's cat's paw, he thought, tested the bonds, and the room spun around him.
. . . "Don't do that," he told himself.
. . . The doctor looked away from the one-way mirror. "And well-earned too," he muttered, "You see, while he denies it, a man of action, though he doesn't want to be." He looked at the Alaka-Wham who'd been sitting inside when they'd all arrive. "I think we've found who has been transmitting your nightmares."
. . . "If I had any doubts," the Pokèwoman said, "I think we need to get him healthy. Or some other psychics he's disturbed are going to track him down and stop the dreams in a less pleasant way."
. . . "Agreed, doctor, agreed."
. . . "It would be easier if we just told him," Kitten said.
. . . "Agreed," Voltaire said.
. . . Miguelito sighed. "I know it seems cruel. But he needs a massive eucatastrophe. Then he can truly begin the healing process on the parts we can't touch. Right now he's certain we're the villains from his memories." He clapped his hands. "Let him catch the truth, and we'll have him. I think he'll be quite surprised by what I want from him." The doctor laughed. "Or maybe he won't. That's the fun, the unexpected. Pitting my mind against his, trying to put myself in his place."
. . . "Doctor, you haven't had half the bad things happen to you that he has," the Alaka-Wham told him.
. . . "Thank you, Doctor, I knew I could count on you for support," he replied, "We still need to guide him on the track we need him to travel. Without seeming to, and without him seeing it until he's already taken up the cause himself. That's why the S-Goths failed, they played right into his perceptions of them, we must initially let him seem to be correct about his preconceptions, then . . ." He laughed delightedly.
. . . Karen slithered in with the soup tray, and on laying eyes on the man, felt her stomach churn. He's not my Master! she reminded herself, as memories of him playing with or cuddling Isaik and tickle-torturing Underground before Taming her until she screamed, mixed with mere kind words and the most chaste of touches on her, washed over her. And filled her with burning, hate-filled envy. He isn't my Master! she told herself again. As if to reply, she felt bit of her body tighten and warm. Bits she had been indoctrinated to believe were her husband's sole property. I will not allow becoming a Pokègirl to force me to become a perverted slut, she thought, shaking hard enough to rattle the dishes on the tray she carried.
. . . "I won't give in," she hissed, then raised her face and looked into his expression of concern, "God he's beautiful." She wrenched her attention away from what her body desperately wanted to do. "I - " her voice cracked. "I brought something to eat - soup!"
. . . "Thank you, are you all right?" he asked, almost making her throw herself into his bed.
. . . If I had knees, they'd go weak, she thought as she fought to just set the tray on the side table.
. . . "I've been treated well. The doctor even showed me a few diagrams of my skeleton, and how I can move more comfortably. He has been a perfect gentleman, as have you," her voice shook at the last.
. . . Weakling, you don't need him . . . not that way. He is guardian, you guard him, that's all, she thought, and nearly screamed when he put his hand on hers.
. . . "You should talk to Kitten or Voltaire, they may be able to help you," he said. "Uh, unless you brought a straw, what am I supposed to do now?"
. . . She quashed the instinct to curl around him and feed him. I won't do that, she thought fiercely.
. . . "Won't do what?" he asked, "You were muttering, I couldn't make it out clearly."
. . . "I was wondering how to - elevate the bed, so I don't drown you," she said quickly.
. . . "You loosen the straps further, and snip in behind and underneath, using your body as a wedge." He stared at her trembling. "Are you all right?"
. . . She clamped her jaw shut and shook her head. It's a trick, to get me to touch his body, to feel his warm skin on me, to wrap my body around his warmth, to hold him against my naked flesh, to feel him inside me, to . . . she thought frantically.
. . . "Under the mattress," he explained, "We do have a deal. I won't need a seatbelt to keep me sitting up and not failing on my face."
. . . "Oh, of course," she said, feeling relief and terrible disappointment filling her, "That makes perfect sense."
. . . "You might want to check with the doctor," he said, "You seem distracted and skittish."
. . . "Huh? Oh. You see, my life used to be very boring. I liked it. Now it's very exciting. I don't like it."
. . . "I see."
. . . The doctor closed the visor, to give the pair some privacy. He noted the typical 'voyeurism denied' expressions on Voltaire and Antoinette, but was more intrigued by Kitten's misty expression. "I think you should take him breakfast, Kitten."
. . . "Me?" the large woman squeaked, and blushed.
. . . "Yes, that tiger-striped cover up with the bandeau bikini."
. . . "Miguelito," Kitten whispered, "I sometime . . . fall out of that."
. . . "Yes," he continued, "When you fully unstrap him, he'll attack you. So cold cereal and apple slices should - "
. . . "Attack me?" Kitten exclaimed, "It isn't that provocative a costume."
. . . "Oh, Kitten." He laughed. "Not like that. You see, he believes we are the villains who are plotting against him, and the girls in his charge. He will have to escape to rescue them. To escape, he must put down all resistance. Plastic utensils and containers too, I think," he added thoughtfully.
. . . "Then why send me, why go at all?" Kitten asked, "He can free himself."
. . . "Because you know where the girls will be, and he needs to know. That's where he'll go immediately. Also, he can't see in the dark, and he's very tired. So when you wake him just before dawn, it will be the first time he'll have a fighting chance. Besides." He smiled and patted her hand. "You won't hurt him. Kitten, you've been trained. Poor Voltaire is trained to fight other Pokègirls, she might get hurt trying not to hurt him. And Antoinette, she couldn't match a determined human in hand-to-hand. I couldn't take the risk I'd hurt him. Besides, he like you. He won't automatically try to kill you. He'll try to surprise you, to knock you down, maybe just tie you up. Once you've subdued him, you can show him the surprise."
. . . "Can't I just help him escape?" Kitten asked.
. . . "No, no! NO!" He stamped his feet. "Don't you understand?!" he shouted, "He has to follow his heroic impulses. He has to feel he's directing things. Before he's brought down!"
. . . "Actually, doctor," the Alaka-Wham explained as she stood up, "There might be a way." She turned to Kitten. "How much do you like him?"
. . . Kitten blushed furiously. "He's . . . very nice to his Pokègirls."
. . . "Voltaire, you and the doctor need to go to the kitchen. I think you need to get in his head again. You've got the right idea, but I think the presentation needs changing."
. . . "Kitchen?" Voltaire said, her confusion overlaid with eagerness.
. . . There were twenty-five of them this time. Lack of sleep and the amphetamines they'd dosed him with made him loopy. "I love a parade," he said, "Okay, you're the baton twirlers, where's the band and the ephalnats? I love rolled skating ephalnats! Except when I have to walk behind them!"
. . . "We are the elite psionic corps," the harsh-faced leader told him, "You may have turned one poor psychic, but you cannot hope to match the minds of all 25 of us."
. . . "So, the pretty batons are your link tools? Four soldiers to a corporal, five fire teams to a sergeant - shouldn't there be 26 then?"
. . . Someone slapped him. "You will reveal your secrets to us."
. . . "I like liver and spinach, and lima beans don't taste like anything," he told them, "You know, I really think going into my mind, especially the way I feel right now, is a bad idea. Alice in Wonderland starring the Joker, Freddy, and a cast of Hollywood lawyers!" He leaned as close as the bonds allowed to the slapper. "Not a pretty sight. All of human history running loose in my brain, and someone let all the plot bunnies out of their cages. Hippy hoppy, cute little nose wiggle, then they eat just one of you and it's Holy Hand Grandees and Blake's Knights all over the place, and Stevie Wonder wielding a sharpened piano? Dangerous, just dangerous."
. . . "We will commence," their leader intoned.
. . . "She said 'cum' - ence," he giggled, "What did Alexanfder - no, what did Tolkien say about people's reactions to Alexbellzander's new phone? 'One ring to rule them all and one ring to find them!'" He laughed giddily, while the rods glowed and pulsed, the pulses slowly synchronizing. "The Army of Morthern Virgin and Tonica, and the Army of the Pot calling the kettle Tokamak, against sour Sauron's legions. Massa Robert in command, Hancock the Superb on one wing and Ole' Pete the other. Stuart, Custer and Buford show the Rohanerites what real calvary can do!"
. . . He shuddered. "Not good. You shouldn't look there, aw you're making a mess."
. . . Rommel, you magnificent bastard! I read your book!
. . . I'd look at her legs.
. . . Hold the line Callsworth, help's on the way.
. . . Just a mile or so away, is my greatest friend in this world. He wears the blue and I, the gray. And God it hurts me so.
. . . Ranma, do you enjoy breaking tables with your head.
. . . Danger. Spacedoors are closed.
. . . The ruby yacht of Omar Khayyam.
. . . Godzilla dancing, that's just wrong.
. . . It's an 80-year solar cycle, that's why the 1930's dust bowls and the harsh winters of the 1940's, so in 1976 the warming cycle started again.
. . . The Japanese Ground Self-Defense Force marching band playing a concert of Akira Ikufube songs.
. . . Through the hole torn in the hull, and the flickering shield that held in the atmosphere, they saw the core of their might, three of the other seven battleships. Wreathed in smoke and secondary explosions, slowly disintegrating.
. . . Fish missile! You bastard!
. . . We are TOTALLY defensive, she shouted. The locals are safe! The three of the vanguard leapfrogged forward. She watched in amazement as thirty-two second later, their foes all lay slaughtered or crippled.
. . . You have one last chance to surrender. Fuck you. The iron sphere 28 meters in diameter separated from the satellite carrier. Atmospheric friction broke the sphere into four segments along precut lines. The four pieces separated, and struck the ground at reentry speeds. The entire Fifth Armored died at their posts.
. . . Through all of our times, there is one thing that has nourished our souls and elevated our species above our origins, and that is our courage.
. . . She walked up the cable, smiling at how her friends would see the shy Nisei. I'll fix you, she thought of her target.
. . . Betrayer? Not you, and not I. Your cavalry needs time to organize. You wanted to know what a cold man could bring. I'll show you what 500 cold men with rifles can do against 2000 chariots.
. . . Jesus loves me. This I know, for Cthulhu tells me so.
. . . The train accelerated, but ahead, the enemy waited. What are we supposed to shoot at them? the old priest asked. We still have the boxes of the special .45 ammo, and powder charges.
. . . So tell me, what's become of my ship?
. . . The man stood, his eyes flashed a righteous fury as he confronted the flaming eye. "I'll see your 'Ash Nazg Durbatuluk', and raise you a Cthulhu not so bloody Fhtagn!"
. . . Steel rang on steel, almost a dance.
. . . Only one human Captain has ever survived battle with a Minbari fleet. He is behind me, you are in front of me.
. . . What idiot said Allah and Adonai are the same, and why do you simpletons believe a word he said after that?
. . . The stone circle had stood longer than recorded memory, the song he sung was plaintive, but the whispers that answered him were ancient, and hungry. Things that scrabbled at the walls of the universe, and yet they feared the boy who summoned them.
. . . Who are you?! Who am I?
. . . I - am Optimus Prime.
. . . My name is Gladiator.
. . . That is a question, almost as dangerous as the answer.
. . . Allow me to present myself. I am Count Mario Vincenzo Robespierre Manzeppi, adventurer, poet, and lover of all that is corrupt, forbidden, and blasphemous.
. . . Captain Jack Sparrow.
. . . I am the one for whom thou seekest.
. . . The Abyss Will Not Gaze Upon Him.
. . . Bond, James Bond.
. . . I'm your huckleberry.
. . . Watakushi no namae ga anata desu.
. . . James T. Kirk, Captain of the Enterprise.
. . . SQUEAK.
. . . You cannot hide forever.
. . . Mysterious as the Dark Side of the Moon.
. . . Nuts.
. . . Merde.
. . . Come and take them!
. . . Remember the Alamo!
. . . Remember Pearl Harbor!
. . . Go For Broke!
. . . Who Dares Wins!
. . . Any Mission, Any Time, Any Place!
. . . Long - live - the fighters!
. . . Oboe desu!
. . . She took off her boots and knelt, looking out at the stars. Wondering where he found the strength to bow his head, to such a capricious God. The story told by the force assessments was clear, and chilling, even if the reinforcements from the other systems arrived, the Alliance out- numbered them eight to one, which translated into a three to one advantage for the Alliance. "Six hundred starships," she said sadly, letting a tear fall for the brave souls she would be condemning to death in an hour, including herself. "We'll weaken them enough for whoever comes after." The flash threw the entire observation dome in stark relief. She looked at the sight, as the computers struggled to put names to the IFF codes these ships blared into the ether. "The Sixth and Ninth Fleets! The Kamoran and Songen Home Fleets! The Collective's Tenth Horde! Twenty-two hundred ships!" She dashed from the post, forgetting her dignity and boots, to meet the lone approaching shuttle escorted by a shoal of fighters.
. . . Cause even when I dream of you, the sweetest dream would never do.
. . . E1 elimination catalyzed by acid solution.
. . . Le Chatelier's principle is not meant to be applied to psychological or sociological systems.
. . . Was the Turkish defense at Gallipoli due to Longstreet being Grant's minister to Turkey?
. . . 2 + 2 = 2 * 2 = 2 ^ 2
. . . Hydrolysis by preferential attack on the beta-halogen, initially forming a double bond, then by hydrogenation of the sterically hindered carbon.
. . . Firstly, the poet's name is pronounced 'y -ay -ts', not 'yee - ts', it's of Gaelic origin. Second, the poem you're referring to was written by Keats, not Yeats. Third, the text is a poem written by Chesterton, except the second line which comes from Second Samuel, and the fifth which is from Somerset Maugham, and you got your English degree where?
. . . Non-Newtonian fluids in shear as a speed governor.
. . . What is your major again?
. . . The backpack full of books absorbed the blow, and in riposte he swung it hard, catching the football player in the throat.
. . . What was that tinkling sound?
. . . All right you fuckers! I'm going to tinkle now!
. . . The noise and mad flash of images stopped as the man lit the candle, only it's soft glow illuminated the emptiness.
They say there's a place where dreams have all gone.
They never said where but I think I know.
. . . The woman had many faces, flickering one to the other. She wore full armor and carried a battle axe and heavy shield.
It's miles through the night, just over the dawn, on the road that will take me home.
. . . "You should not be here, but it's not too late."
I remembered black skies, the lightning all around me.
. . . "You pass this point, there is no going back."
I remembered each flash as time began to blur,
. . . "There is a darkness you have not known and cannot imagine, your sword will not avail you. Your courage will be a curse. Your certainty, a guillotine."
Like a startling sign that fate had finally found me
. . . "So be it." He blew out the candle.
And your voice was all I heard that I get what I deserve
. . . He opened his eyes and looked at the carnage. Every one of the focus rods were broken, in some cases, they'd exploded, slicing flesh and even bone with their shards. Some of the psychics had gouged their own eyes out. One had beaten her head on the wall until it killed her, leaving a bloody trail down the wall to her slumped corpse. A trio had stabbed each other with the shards of their rods. One through the heart, another through the eye, and the third had ripped her victim open from crotch to sternum. Two others had torn out each other's throats, with their own teeth. The leader's head was simply gone.
. . . He no longer felt confused, or even tired. He surveyed the dead and dying with a supreme detachment. "There are some things it's better not to know," he said quietly. Then he shouted, "If you get in here you may be able to save some of them. And you simpering poseurs, I'll expect the beating to be particularly savage!"
. . . The doctor shut off the viewer, and nodded to the Alaka-Wham, who gave a weak wave, and settled into the huge overstuffed chair. He looked at the other girls in the room, but focused on Isaik. I always did . . . calm down - around kids, he thought, Adults always irritated me so.
. . . "We can't be completely certain without doing a deep scan, which as you have seen on the screen showing his nightmare, is extremely dangerous. But it appears that his behavior has changed from whatever norm it had back home. He has developed a dis - an emotional numbness. He is aware of pain, but it won't affect him like it does a normal person. The same is true of physical pleasure. So you are better using visual, auditory and even olfactory stimuli. The best explanation we have is Post traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD. It's fairly common in soldiers who have seen combat, but being kidnaped, assaulted, or suffering severe medical problems can also trigger it," he explained carefully in quiet tones, "And he had all three before he was tortured by - them."
. . . "What can we do?" Isaik asked, glancing at the other Pokègirls, especially Karen.
. . . "The most important thing is helping him feel safe."
. . . "Those idiots ruined that," Isaik said bitterly, "His nightmares stopped and . . . once we landed, they started again, maybe worse."
. . . He patted her shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll help. Marilyn is not only a psychic, she's also a trained psychiatrist," he said of the Pokègirl lounging in the overstuffed chair. The pair watched as she scooped out a dollop of butter into a brandy snifter, then poured warm brandy over it. She stirred the mix with her finger, enjoying the fumes, before carefully drinking the whole contents.
. . . "You'd think a liter and a half of brandy would have an effect. That man has a very - astringent - mind. He was afflicted with this condition before he was tortured. It probably helped him bear up, as he was already suffering from dissociation at that time."
. . . "He didn't see the person being tortured as him," he explained to the staring kit.
. . . "What can we do?" Isaik repeated her question.
. . . "Don't press him to suddenly become normal, even if we knew his normal. Also, he seems to be suffering from hypervigilance, so he can over react to situations. He's already shown a great deal of emotional numbness and detachment," the psychiatrist explained, "He needs to recall the events and work through them, but the most important thing is he has to gain a sense of control."
. . . Isaik frowned even more. "He doesn't want control over us."
. . . "Because he feels he can't control his own life," he said quietly, "We can use light therapy, but you have to tolerate his behavior . . . I know, compared to many, he's a saint, but he is still wounded compared to whom he normally is. He needs to process what happened to him, and do it at his own pace."
. . . "The other problem is once he deals with the initial trauma of his arrival, then the mental defenses he's created to deal with his torture, will dissolve."
. . . Miguelito frowned. "Yes, thank you for that news."
. . . "The real problem you'll have to look out for," the psychiatrist continued, "Is he's been mentally imaging a lot of suicidal ideation. He's not planning to kill himself, but if an opportunity to risk his life and safety comes along, he's more likely to take that, then a path which puts one of you in danger." She looked at the small man. "That's the real worry. Some of you might see it as bravery, but in truth it's a way of avoiding the problems he's in now, and he unconsciously realizes that getting killed solves all the issues. Especially if he can take a large number of the enemy with him when he goes."
. . . "More good news," Isaik sighed, "So we have to let him control his life, until he decides to throw it away in a hopeless charge. Doctor - doctors - you must be geniuses to think that's going to be an easy problem to solve."
. . . "We'll help. Hild is a greater genius than anyone gives her credit for," he said appreciatively, "You can play the kid and draw on his protective instincts to draw him away from danger, because it carries you away from it. The other two, he automatically trusted."
. . . "Yeah, walking in on their slagged Pokèballs probably really helped his mental state. Getting them back would solve a tremendous number of problems."
. . . "We can only do what we can do, Isaik," he admitted, "I just thought you and the others should know what you'll be dealing with."
. . . Kitten pushed the cart through the halls. She stopped at the door and looked down at the breakfast of cold cereal, the large melon, and the very large kitchen knife. She untied the side straps of her cover up, making it essentially an abbreviated poncho. She made sure she was still inside her suit, then she opened the locked door. She noted that the curtains had been disturbed since Isaik had left last night. She didn't turn on the lights, depending on the lights of the compound to give her the illumination she needed. She fumbled with the straps, making no noise more important than speed.
. . . When she turned to return to the cart, she felt the knife against her throat. The flat, not the edge, she thought.
. . . "I won't struggle or scream, just be gentle with me," she said carefully. The pause told her what she needed.
. . . "Where are the girls?"
. . . "Will you take me with you?" she asked as he pinned her arms behind her back. He pressed the back of the blade against her throat.
. . . "Where are the girls?" he repeated.
. . . "I'll take you to them," she said, "If you take me with you."
. . . How can I be sure you won't lead me into an ambush? she guessed his thoughts.
. . . "You can tie my hands, and gag me." She waited, only the easing of the pressure against her throat gave her any clue. She took her cue and fell to his feet, hugging his ankles and sobbing. "You don't know what it's like. Everyday, day after day. If you won't take me, then kill me quickly. Please, please, please."
. . . "On your feet." He tugged on her hair to emphasize, but let her pick herself up. "Another noise like that will be your last. Hands behind your back."
. . . She did as ordered, trying not to smile the whole time. The surgical tape was quiet, but strong enough to hold.
. . . "Do I need to gag you, or can you keep quiet?"
. . . "I will just answer your questions," she said carefully, "Your gear is with the girls. They think they're keeping it safe."
. . . "What's Lo - Doctor Carmen's plan?"
. . . "To use you to get revenge on Washu, the most devastating revenge."
. . . "Lead the way, and remember, I still have the knife, and a few other weapons."
. . . "I understand." Kitten walked out of the room, and listened for the others.
. . . She heard neither Voltaire, nor the usual guard patrols, so at the courtyard. Time to take a chance, she thought, If he presses, I'll just give in.
. . . "We wait, for the guard patrols."
. . . "I don't see anyone," he said, the sound of moving cloth told her he was looking around.
. . . "He is a genius," she replied, "You aren't supposed to see them."
. . . "When?"
. . . "A little while." She waited. "What do you like in women?"
. . . "A serious lack of insanity."
. . . She tried not to laugh at that. "Have you bedded Hild? I understand she's quite . . . exotic."
. . . "If I had, I don't remember, those guards have to be past by now."
. . . "This is near the end of their loop, they turn around and come back. They should be out of sight now."
. . . He pushed her forward. "Go."
. . . She walked on at a stately pace. He either trusts me, or knows not to run.
. . . She paused at the door. She yanked at the lock, to alert those inside. "I know the combination. You are going to take me with you?"
. . . "I made no promises," he said, "You could go to the authorities."
. . . "That isn't why I want to go with you," she told him as she unlocked the door and pushed it open.
. . . The lights came up, blinding the pair. "Surprise!"
. . . Kitten took the knife from his hands before he dropped it and hurt himself.
. . . "Kitten, you were brilliant!" Dr. Carmen cried, as he laughed so hard tears ran down his cheeks.
. . . "That's . . . that's impossible," he said as he looked at the occupants, especially the surprise.
. . . "It really is us, Master," Warden said as she took off her party hat and approached, "We are here, and we are yours."
. . . "Mizz you," Maus told him as she wrapped her entire body around him.
. . . "I don't think we'll see them before dinner," Miguelito said as he led Voltaire and Antoinette out of the room, "Kitten, I'm sure you're welcome to stay, but you're seriously over dressed."
. . . The woman smiled, and closed the door on the reunion.
. . . "Cake?" Voltaire asked.
. . . "They'll have it for lunch," Miguelito assured her, "With plenty of milk." He laughed as he blew the party horn and led his team back to the house. Eriko/Eko - Officer Jenny Erika/Kay - Nurse Joy Isaik/Underground - Eidolon Warden - Bust Angel Maus - Heaven Kat Karen - Viepra Dr. Miguelito Carmen Antoinette - Bardess Voltaire - Francinestein Dr. Marilyn - Alaka-Wham Kitten
. . . Warden carefully slid his chair into the long oaken dining table, while Maus put the napkin in his lap. His frown just seemed to encourage them.
. . . "All right Doctor, you had your joke, and I can see you are not Miguelito Loveless, and that's Love - less, not Love -lace. How did you do it?"
. . . "Oh, you disappoint me, sir. Surely you don't think I wouldn't have spies among Washu's crew. I knew she had you, and what she planned," the man said as he tucked the napkin in his shirt collar. "You're smart enough to figure out the rest."
. . . "You teleported them out of their Pokèballs? That's a stretch, even for you."
. . . "Actually I teleported the balls, and sent two replacements in. They'd even scan as occupied by unknowns. And they'd leave a very believable residue."
. . . "You could have told me," the man told Carmen.
. . . "Before or after you jumped out of the zeppelin? I'm a genius, sir, not God."
. . . "Point taken. How did you find us?" he asked.
. . . "Karen was not yet within your protective cloak. You sent her through a Taming Cycle. I - obtained her data. Then I sent a probe in near her, located you, and the rest is obvious."
. . . "Thank you, I'm in your debt. But I won't help you kill Washu."
. . . " 'Kill'?!" Carmen laughed. "You wound me, sir, truly wound me. Besides, it will be far more satisfying to leave her alive. The survival of 'Doctor Clay's' two subject is embarrassing enough. But you, sir, are going to help me with a triumph that will light my name through history." The manic gleam in his eyes cowed all the girls at the table. He realized this, and calmed for a moment. "For that part, I have a reward. Your two friends are payment for my action against Washu. Janus Lovelace. That's sufficiently different from Kevin or Kelvin or Chase or Choice. It's a joke you should enjoy, Janus."
. . . "Why Jay - nis, and not Jah - nus?" Janus asked.
. . . "Call it a quirk. It also lets you have an edge if you wish, correcting someone on the correct pronunciation. It puts them on the defensive." He spread his hands. "And if you do it privately, you endear yourself in not making the embarrassment public."
. . . "Very well, you have a grudge against Washu. You seem so certain that I'll help. The template you were based on wanted half of California, to create a kingdom for children to run and play. Since you've obviously not fallen into his mode of being obsessed with slights and opponents, you're clever enough to sell your inventions and simply buy the land."
. . . "Between Longcock and Honey Pot, yes. You see some flaw to this. The - kingdom - that you spoke of, existed. In lost Los Angeles. I've dived the waters, hired psychics and mages to plumb its secrets, and still I've failed." He pounded the table. "I will have those secrets, sir. I will have them." He stopped and looked around. "Surely I can offer you something to help me. The return of your companions is not sufficient?"
. . . "I'd want your word you wouldn't be the administrator. Chief Designer yes, but a silent partner in day to day operations. Also, are you talking about resurrecting just Disneyland, or are you planning to return Magic Mountain, Knott's Berry Farm and LegoLand for all I know."
. . . The doctor stared at him in amazement. "There were four?!"
. . . "Three big ones, LegoLand came later. It may still exist in Europe."
. . . "Four, four, four of them," the little man said as he looked around and smoothed the table cloth. "You, you wouldn't be teasing me, because of my outburst would you?" he said plaintively, "A little jest at my expense?"
. . . "Doctor, there were three parks. Disneyland in Anaheim, Knott's Berry Farm in Buena Park, and Magic Mountain in Valencia. I never went to LegoLand, but I think it was between San Diego and Orange County."
. . . "It was in Carlsbad," Carmen said distractedly.
. . . Voltaire looked at her Master nervously, but began serving the soup.
. . . The man's laughter broke the tension. "Oh, Janus, that's perfect! We've got source data, but it's so contradictory and confusing! We never knew if there was one, or two, if one was in Florida, and one here, or . . . but you know the answers, don't you!?"
. . . "Disneyworld was in Orlando, Florida, Disneyland was in California, and there were others around the world. Japan, France, maybe other places. My memories are from after the war and plague would have devastated humanity. But the Los Angeles area had three major theme parks that were still in operation. It had a one that had been in operation, but closed. Marineland on the Palos Verdes peninsula."
. . . Miguelito was grinning like a Jokette. "With just that much I can rub her nose in it. But there's so much more." He stared at Janus. "That's what you're going to help me with."
. . . "I'm not sure I want to know how building a themepark will destroy Washu, but Doctor, I'm a good engineer, but I never saw the plans for the place."
. . . "You were there, photogrammetry and computer modeling can take care of the rest. Once I know that something was done, and approximately how, I can duplicate it with techniques available today."
. . . "That would be the work of a lifetime, Doctor."
. . . "Not if we can go directly into your mind."
. . . He shied away. "Doctor - "
. . . "Your nightmares were picked up by practically every telepath and psychic within a hundred miles. Washu's signal machine allowed her to triangulate your position. That's what it was for," Miguelito told him, "You can project your thoughts so a psychic can safely go within. Also, you'd be doing it willingly, and on a specific subject. There are hypnotic techniques - "
. . . "Doctor," Janus warned.
. . . "Self - hypnosis - that will allow you to focus your mind to a greater degree. We can start slow, and build to a walking tour. Once I get the details stored, I can use my computer skills and other techniques to do the actual designing."
. . . "I still think it's too dangerous," Janus replied and shook his head.
. . . "I've done surface scans already," Marilyn said, "While they are, disorienting, you didn't explode my mind. As long as we stay away from what your captives did to you, I believe that I can safely transfer the information."
. . . "Eat, please," Voltaire said as she waited, spoon in hand.
. . . "Of course," Miguelito said, he waved at the others, "Everyone eat, don't let our chatter prevent you from enjoying Voltaire's magnificent work."
. . . The girls dug in happily. Miguelito tasted and enjoyed the soup. "You see, the difference between I, and my evil source, is I had Antoinette." The pair clasped hands and looked into each other's eyes.
. . . The sighs of the other girls, Pokè or not, and the turtledoves flying over tell me a lot, he thought, Janus, I guess I can live with that. How does an amusement park destroy Washu? Is she allergic to rollercoasters?
. . . "You see, I probably would have gone the other route. Except Antoinette convinced me that living well was the best revenge." He gestured to the magnificent house around them, the art and furnishing, the real silver and linens at the table, and the estate visible through the windows.
. . . "What did she steal?" Janus asked.
. . . "We were developing a way to weld Aluminum, Titanium, even Magnesium."
. . . "Inert atmosphere welding," Janus said, "I've heard of it, know the general principles, but that was yours?"
. . . "Of course you know," he said, and giggled, then he turned serious, "I worked on the purely technological method. She published first, on the magical method, and took all the credit for my work as well." He looked at the bent spoon in his hand, and handed it to Voltaire to straighten it. "We were student and teacher. I later learned she has stolen other student's work. In fact, she's made a habit of it."
. . . Curiosity is overwhelming common sense, Janus thought.
. . . "So how is this supposed to get your revenge?"
. . . "Simple, it's the greatest discovery of the century. All the doubts will be answered. That will satisfy the historians, and having the place up and running will satisfy the hard-working families of the League. It will be a dream of mine made real, and make me world famous. No action of hers could match it. All the attempts to blackball me, and her other victims in the scientific community, will fall aside as I resurrect what was lost." The man's mad grin would have frightened a Jokette.
. . . "Ah, the bread course," Janus said, trying to avoid the man's nearly incandescent gaze.
. . . Karen looked at the Pokègirls in the bed, clustered around their sleeping Master. I could be there . . . NO! I don't need to have his hands stroking me, touching me! I . . . I don't have to be like them. I can be my own woman. She looked down and saw what she'd been doing with her hands. I'm turning into one of them! she thought as she covered her hands and cried.
. . . I don't want to stop wanting him. I want . . . She slid to the floor and sobbed.
. . . Kitten watched the snake Pokègirl watching the man. She sighed as she considered how to get his attention. I won't steal him from those girls who make him so happy, she thought, But what do I do? Miguelito has been kind, but his work is his first love, and only Antoinette and Voltaire can compete.
. . . "Am I pretty enough, am I smart enough, will the others accept me?" she wondered aloud.
. . . She shook her head. "Maybe I should ask Miguelito." She chuckled at that.
. . . "What is he seeing?" Miguelito asked Doctor Marilyn.
. . . The Alaka-Wham carefully sketched the image that appeared in her mind. A simple cube took shape on the paper. Miguelito's intense gaze at the image threatened to burn a hole in the paper.
. . . "Yes!" he shouted, breaking the psychic Pokèwoman's concentration. "Do a full scan on her, any anomalies, any damage, anything, report it immediately!" he ordered as he stared with a manic intensity at the crude drawing. "It works."
. . . "We still have to work out the interface with the computer Miguelito," Antoinette soothed.
. . . "Oh, that's child's play. You and Voltaire could do that part. It's the interface with the mind that remains the greatest challenge."
. . . "Doctor Marilyn's brain?" Voltaire asked in confusion. Their Master wasn't listening.
. . . "Soon, soon!" he sang as he danced around the room and laughed.
. . . Janus was walking to the bath house. Moving as if most of his joints were only half working, and the rest had frozen stiff. "That man is trying to kill me as surely as I'm standing here," he muttered as he leaned heavily on the walls. He paused to catch his breath as a particularly painful cramp acted up. "If it's my mind that is working so hard, why does my whole body hurt so much?" He began walking again, trying to ignore the pain. "Face it old man, your sedentary lifestyle is catching up with you."
. . . The hot shower cut most of the sweat and grime off him. The tub's what I want, he thought as he rinsed off, But I wasn't going to go in the water as filthy and putrid as I was.
. . . He checked the swim trunks he was wearing before stepping into the tile rimmed hot tub. I already know how this scene works, he thought as he slowly submerged himself in the hot water, If I were naked, I wouldn't notice the naked girl until there was no safe place to retreat to. As he slowly descended into the hot water, he felt some of the tension and stiffness dissolving. I bet Warden would love the opportunity to just massage all the ache away, but I'd be screaming in pain before she was half-done.
. . . "Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ah."
. . . "Okay, that was the hardest part," he said as she let his chest and arms submerge completely, "I think I'm going to stay here until I'm properly parboiled."
. . . He woke suddenly, arms and legs wrapped around him. "Now you see why the Doctor insists on no one bathing alone," the rich contralto voice told him.
. . . "Kitten?" he managed through the mental fog. Then he noticed two other things. "Why am I naked . . . and why are you?"
. . . "It will be easier to seduce you if neither of us are wearing clothes."
. . . First response, to run like Hell, not possible, he thought, Second response . . . brain's not working too well either.
. . . "I appreciate your directness, Kitten," he managed as a stall, "But you aren't a Pokègirl. You don't have to do this."
. . . She set him on the rim of the bath and stood clear. For all her size, her pirouette was rather dainty. "Am I pretty?"
. . . None of his muscles would support the full retreat called for. "Yes, you're very beautiful."
. . . She sat beside him, so she could face him. "Miguelito is a wonderful man, but his first love is his work. Voltaire and Antoinette have both Recognized him. All I could hope for would be a distant third. I was serious about wanting to go with you."
. . . "Kitten, I - "
. . . She kissed him, pulling him tight against her body with her arms and legs around him. "I didn't ask to be your wife, or your lover. Just a companion. I've noticed that while you know a lot, maybe more than Miguelito, you don't know a lot of the things he doesn't know either. Things I do. Have you wondered about me, how I came to be this way?"
. . . "Yes."
. . . Muscles and soft curves together are a sure sign of a Pokègirl. Female athletes don't have the body fat to make soft curves, he kept to himself.
. . . "I was always big: tall and big boned. At three, people thought I was eight, and a boy. When I was old enough to understand . . . " She began to cry. "People say the most hurtful things."
. . . "I'm sorry."
. . . "So I started eating, but I still had my chores too. So when I was eighteen, I was 6'5" and 300 pounds. And I hated it. I heard about Miguelito, and I knew he could help me." She'd snuggled him into her breasts and was slowly rocking side to side. "He put me on a special diet, and exercises: martial arts, fencing, weights, everything. When he finished, I was down to 217 pounds, and looked like a Herolee/Herochan cross, except . . . he used permanent Bloom and Buttsprout."
. . . She sighed, and all kinds of interesting parts of her rubbed against him.
. . . "He was still kind, still accepting, but I could see that once he'd completed his project, his attention drifted elsewhere. So I went home."
. . . "A prophet is never respected in their own hometown," he said into her sternum.
. . . She held him tight, and laid her head on his. He patted her back and hugged her while she cried.
. . . "It was as if nothing had changed!" she shouted and began sobbing again.
. . . "Kitten, they hadn't changed, only you had," he explained, "They would have been the same people however you looked growing up."
. . . She hugged him tighter, then relaxed when he stopped breathing. Finally she unwound from around him. She smiled shyly. "I know that, now. I'm not looking for you to fall in love with me, or just be my lover. I want to have people who care about me." She kissed his neck, while her finger tips brushed over his arms. "I've seen how you treat your Pokègirls."
. . . "I can be very cruel."
. . . "Not to those you love," she replied as she picked him up and carried him to one of the large pads that surrounded the pools. As she lay down, putting him atop her. "I've also seen you looking at me. If it means - "
. . . He covered her mouth. "You don't have to make the same deal as a Pokègirl. They need it or they go mad, you don't. Karen's right, don't give up that part of yourself for a momentary advantage. It's supposed to mean something special." She nodded, so he continued, "Besides, sometimes I just want to be held. With the Pokègirls there's always the expectation I have to perform. Maybe a 16-year-old kid can spring up at an instant. I can't. I never could. Maybe we will, maybe we won't, but I don't want a Pokègirl-esque relationship with a human woman, no matter how sexy she is."
. . . She smiled at him and held him. He felt the warmth of her body, while the cooler air absorbed the heat radiating off him.
. . . "And if I want . . . it?" She smirked at his shyness.
. . . "That's a decision we should make, not one of us for both."
. . . "Okay. I'll abide by that."
. . . He looked at all the raised eyebrows, smirks and elbowing among the Pokègirls as he and Kitten walked into the house. Her tiger-striped cover up and nothing else, and his just shorts attire gave them ideas, It makes me want to scream, 'Nothing happened!' At least nothing you'd count as something!
. . . Kitten didn't help. "Is it true none of them wanted to do that?"
. . . "They would, but only grudgingly. They always wanted a standard Taming. I guess even Pokègirls have standards."
. . . "But . . . it was fun," Kitten said incredulously, "Why wouldn't they want to do that every time?"
. . . "Different physiology, and different psychology," he replied.
. . . Now the Pokègirls were looking at each other with varying degrees of worry.
. . . "Are you saying, they physically can't?"
. . . "They can, they just don't want to. Lots and lots of regular sex, but that . . . not so much."
. . . "What did you two do?" Underworld blurted out.
. . . "Should we tell them?" he asked.
. . . "While they're standing on an irreplaceable Persian rug? I don't think so," Kitten scolded, "The last thing I want is to have to figure out how to clean it, and then do the job."
. . . "You're right. Like every other biological system, they can't be good at everything." He looked at the stricken Pokègirls. "That doesn't mean we love you any less. We love you all for what you can do," he told them.
. . . The pair left the absolutely stunned collection of Pokègirls muttering nervously among themselves.
. . . The glowing figure materialized in the middle of the camp. "Fear not brief mortals! I have not - OOOPH!"
. . . The grinning Panthress placed one clawed finger under each of the girl's eyes. "Blink wrong trickster Megami, and pretty eyes my breakfast."
. . . "Then she'll tear the rest of you into bit for our stew pot," the male figure told her as he finished adjusting his robe, "What trickery do you offer us? I have long since learned your kind does not serve the powers that sent me here." He extended a hand backward, and a softly-glowing, winged woman smiled and took it. Two more in heavy battle armor immediately flanked the pair. A pair of Tigresses surrounded the fallen Megami, while the rest of the force shook out to search for other threat. The Panthress still knelt on the Megami's chest, and awaited a misstep from the Megami, or an order from her Master to tear her to shreds.
. . . "My kind," the winged woman said, and smiled, leaving the rest of the denunciation hang unspoken. Her allegiance clear by where she stood, and with whom.
. . . "I had orders to tell you to head south with all speed," the Megami said desperately.
. . . "I've heard no all-hands," the man said, and glanced at the two winged-armored warriors. The pair stared off into space for a moment. Then they shook their heads. "What trap are you walking us into?" he asked pleasantly, "And don't think because I eschew my people's usual method, that I've forgotten my training in their employment."
. . . The Megami cringed, nearly setting off the Panthress. "I was to convince you to head south," she said miserably, "That's all I know."
. . . "Liar," the Panthress growled, "One eye lid, then another, and she tells all she knows. Whether she know she know or not."
. . . "Well?" the winged woman asked the Megami.
. . . "Those Who - "
. . . "The Sanctuary Goths," the woman interrupted, "They're flesh and blood, not a monster out of stories."
. . . "They have moved against the very foundations of the world. Someone has to stop them," the Megami pled.
. . . "I think you're off your rocker. This world - "
. . . "Is in grave danger!" the Megami insisted and froze at the Panthress's touch.
. . . "Telling the truth," the Panthress growled with disgust as she stood away from the Megami, "Piss herself. Prissy never do, unless important." The Panthress stalked towards the river.
. . . "Very well. A Megami who'd piss herself to deliver a message, that is beyond my experience," he aside, "We'll head south. Any particular place?"
. . . "North of Bastion. Do you have a clean dress I could borrow?" the miserable Megami asked as she stood. She kept trying to pull her wet, fancy dress from her skin.
. . . "Get out or I'll stain it with your blood," the man smiled and told her.
. . . The Megami looked at the unsympathetic faces of all the girls who'd been drawn by the commotion. She vanished, leaving the others in the soft glow of their Master's companion.
. . . "You can't possibly trust her," one of the Tigress said.
. . . "No, but I do believe it was unusual enough to warrant a look-see," the man said, then his robe rippled. "Who wants a Taming?"
. . . Every hand shot up, save from the winged women. "Seconds," their leader said as they headed off to look in on their last member.
. . . "All of you at once? A challenge!" Dozens of tentacles burst from beneath robes and raced towards the eager Pokègirls.
. . . "You recognize the name?" Miguelito asked. The light from the computer terminal gave him a skull-like appearance.
. . . Foreshadowing of what could happen, to him, or to me, Janus thought.
. . . "Yes, Kerrik Wolf. They'd told me they killed him. I suspected that they were lying . . . "
. . . "And?" the doctor asked.
. . . "And what? Draw down the fire I face, onto him? I think not. He's struggling for resources, I've got them. I have to assume that anything I do is under the surveillance of not only this League, but others, and the S-Goths. I think it might be better to draw their attention onto me."
. . . The doctor frowned.
. . . "Yes, I know. Survivor guilt and PTSD manifesting as a martyr complex. I've listened to Doctor Marilyn. I don't necessarily agree with her. Besides, I've got a far more powerful Harem than most beginning Tamers. If I can draw them into a trap, then it's straight attritional warfare, with my side having the advantage of position, preparedness and surprise."
. . . "I still don't think throwing your life away, so the others can achieve their goals, is as noble as you do," the doctor said and walked away.
. . . "Maybe not, doctor," Janus said, "But you aren't me. And you are home."
. . . "That's it?!" he exclaimed, making Underworld chuckle, "That's the whole secret!?"
. . . "Of course," the Eidolon said, "That's all magic is."
. . . "But that's . . . obvious, and simple."
. . . "To a man who can decide the fate of cities, command Widows in battle, command the relocation of entire populations, and make a vast army of Huns sing a chorus of I'll Make a Man Out of You."
. . . "I never did that!" he protested, "The rest I'll plead guilty to."
. . . "Most people can't even understand the concept, or reject the idea of such things. To them, it isn't so clear and easy," she reminded her Master, "It also helps to have been taught to use magic by the Mistress of magic herself. Although she is the Mistress, magic really doesn't have a master." She stopped and glanced around nervously. "Sorry."
. . . "Talking to your creator?" he asked, "Expecting lightning bolts to rain down on your head? God doesn't throw lightning bolts anymore."
. . . "Mine does," Underworld said, "If she doesn't show up in person, and kick your ass."
. . . "So, I can do magic? When can I start learning?"
. . . "Deciding to march out throwing fireballs with each hand?" Underworld asked, "If I thought you were going to do that, I wouldn't teach you anything. You can learn magic, but spells are complicated. It's not like you can crank out fireballs."
. . . "Being able to use magic may put me up on most students by a few years, but it won't make me a wizard overnight. But I might be able to surprise someone after a few weeks work."
. . . "Very well. But I'm afraid we should leave the library before we start tossing fireballs."
. . . He looked around, finally focusing on all the ancient manuscripts around him, many printed before his birth. "You're right, outside. There's that stump that Voltaire was attacking a few days ago. If we blow that up, I don't think anyone will mind."
. . . "Mzr crzee," Maus growled as she picked splinters out of his hair.
. . . "All I did was suggest an attack spell," he protested as Warden swabbed the cuts on his face, "I did tell her that one gram equals 21.5 Kilotons."
. . . "Which told her precisely nothing!" Miguelito marched in, absolutely furious. "I prefer a life of gentle contemplation," he said quietly, then screamed at him, "Explosions, especially nuclear explosions are hardly welcome in my backyard, sir."
. . . "It was only a little one," Underground replied as the Alaka-Wham saw to her injuries, "And my shields did vent all the fragments and radiation straight up."
. . . "Do you know what a cannon is?" the small man shouted as he stomped around the room. Then he confronted Janus. "No more explosions, and no more nuclear blasts of any kind!" He turned to face Underground. "No matter how tiny!"
. . . "Don't you want to know how it worked?" Janus asked.
. . . "No!" the man shouted and stormed off.
. . . "I think we really did piss him off," Janus said. He and Underground started laughing. The others just shook their heads.
. . . "Are you sure this is safe?" Janus asked as they stood amid empty theme park. The castle, the monorail and other attractions all indisputable and solid. He looked over Miguelito's group, and his own. "I mean, this is a real projection from my mind and the others actually are here."
. . . "We are here at your invitation, and I suspect as long as none of us wander off, we'll be quite safe," Miguelito assured him. Then he laughed. "Do we buy tickets or just walk in?"
. . . "I left the crowds out so we could see everything," Janus said as they walked in.
. . . "Why is there nothing behind here?" Isaik asked from behind one of the storefronts.
. . . "Because I don't know what's there," Janus replied, "So it isn't there. So . . . the Matterhorn, or Space Mountain? I always wanted to see those without lines!" He ran a few steps, then stopped. The entire crew nearly crashed into him. "No," he said darkly, "There are some things man was not meant to know."
. . . Somehow they found things to pelt him with.
. . . Janus reeled as he got off the teacup ride. "Note to self, Pokègirls are stronger and more nausea-resistant than humans."
. . . Maus immediately keeled over and began retching into the bushes.
. . . "Second note, don't feed cotton candy to cat-types, unless you like pink vomit."
. . . "Third," Voltaire said as she turned him away from Maus, "Don't watch."
. . . "Right you are."
. . . "That was fun!" Miguelito said, grinning from ear to ear and practically dancing a jig, "Let's -"
. . . Antoinette put a hand over his mouth. "I think your enthusiasm armors you from the . . . status troubles of others."
. . . "Of course, my dear. But this place is just so wonderful!" Miguelito said as he whirled around. He stopped, anger showing. "But who would build a place that denies the funner rides to the smaller children."
. . . "You're just mad because you weren't supposed to go on those rides either," Kitten commented as she staggered away from the teacups.
. . . "Well, I'm an adult."
. . . "The safety equipment is designed for a certain size, and little ones don't need to have their wits scared out of them, while older ones might think it was fun." Janus accepted the cup of ice from Warden, and put it against his head. "Better, thank you."
. . . "So, food is out," Doctor Marilyn said, "How about some nice quiet ride?" Then she looked at Miguelito and Voltaire. "Or how about we sit here and let those two spin themselves unconscious?"
. . . "Gd pln," Maus growled as she hopped over the retaining fence and dashed for one teacup. Voltaire, with the doctor under her arm, dashed for another.
. . . "And you call me suicidal," Janus said, "I think we'd better get under some cover."
. . . "How is the story going to go?" Underground asked as she and Warden pulled Janus to his feet.
. . . "Low comedy," he replied.
. . . "Animatronics you say?" Miguelito looked Lincoln straight in the eye, by standing on Voltaire's hands.
. . . "I don't remember exactly how they controlled them. But they had each move programmed. I think they had the moves and sound synchronized on the same tape, so when the sound played, the moves happened. I - think." Janus leaned on Kitten as they all stood there.
. . . "There are modern techniques which would work as well. Amazing," Miguelito said, "The craftsmanship, the detail. Lincoln didn't really sound like this, did he?"
. . . "I never heard a recording of Lincoln. He died before the phonograph appeared. I doubt he had a voice like that, but they needed an actor who could portray the legend, not the man."
. . . "Like George C. Scott as Patton. Patton would have loved to sound like that," Miguelito said, "Yes I've seen that movie." He hadn't taken his eyes off the moving Lincoln figure. "Amazing."
. . . "What next?" Janus asked, then saw the Alaka-Wham approaching him.
. . . "I think we call it a day," she said, and put a hand on his forehead. She nodded to Kitten. "You might be all right, but our tour guide is straining."
. . . "I'm just a little tired."
. . . "You're overexcited, and since we're only safe here as long as you can control everything, pushing is not necessary. We can come back tomorrow and finish our tour. If you overstrain yourself, we won't be able to come back for several days."
. . . "Oh . . . bother!" Miguelito said, and looked on the verge of stomping his feet, until he remembered where he was.
. . . The group appeared back in the doctor's mansion. Janus raised his head and saw Voltaire taking Doctor Marilyn out of the room under Doctor Carmen's direction. When Dr. Carmen wobbled, Antoinette was at his side steadying him.
. . . "I think the doc insisted we leave at the right time," he said.
. . . "Over stimulated is right," Kitten purred as she rolled him on his back and straddled his hips. She rubbed herself on him and grinned. "Someone besides me is overstimulated."
. . . "Kitten, I think you're scaring the others," he said, "You're certainly scaring me."
. . . "You told me that I didn't have to, I decided a few days ago I wanted you, and now I'm going to have you," she told him.
. . . "Uh, with everyone watching?" he asked worriedly.
. . . "That isn't a 'no', and that's all they will stop me," she told him as she pulled her shirt over her head, "You don't want? Or are you just afraid to ask?"
. . . "I'm afraid we aren't thinking clearly."
. . . It already just hurts, if I get any harder, It feels like it'll split open, he thought as he let her carefully unbutton his slacks and peel them back.
. . . "Last chance for a 'no', or jungle girl take gray-haired boy and make him man," Kitten whispered, her skin had gone from her light tan to almost red.
. . . He rolled her over on her back. "In Sunshine League, Master takes Jungle Girl."
. . . This sounds like a bad porno, the thought was burned away by the heat from his crotch, She's tight, this should hurt like Hell. He pressed in slow, afraid of her hymen, for him and her.
. . . About halfway in, she mewled like a kitten and went slack. Her panting jiggered her breasts enticingly.
. . . No snapping pussy, but that's only happened with Pokègirls, he finished the first stroke and sped up.
. . . The Pokègirls walked into the dining room, clustered around their Master and Mistress. Kitten was practically glowing. The Pokègirls all seemed extremely nervous. He was leaning on Kitten, with his arm over her shoulder.
. . . Antoinette arrived in the dining room, looking totally disheveled.
. . . "That's a new look for you," Kitten said smugly.
. . . "Your hair tells exactly what you've been doing. You should check with Miguelito, apparently there's a side effect with the libido and reproductive cycle in humans. You may have ovulated."
. . . "Miguelito said I do that three to five days before my period, and that ended a week ago," Kitten said.
. . . "Never the less, you should -"
. . . Karen grabbed the Bardess's nightdress. Her mad eyes terrified the older Pokègirl. "Fifty-seven times! Fifty-seven! We counted!"
. . . "About half of it, I was faking," Kitten admitted, "He is such a slow starter." She smiled seductively as she waved a clenched fist under his nose. "And if you decide I 'wasn't in my right mind' when we - coupled - I'll fix it so you won't have to worry about Taming anything ever again. Or finding a place to pee. Because a catheter will be provided."
. . . He ignored the threat. "I thought I did rather well, although I did assume it was closer to 2/3d's," he said.
. . . "Is 57 dividable by three?" Antoinette asked.
. . . "Divisible. Since it's three more than 54, which is six times nine, it better be," he replied, "I take it Voltaire and the doctor are indisposed?"
. . . "I strained a leg muscle, they are still . . . indisposed."
. . . Warden brightened. "Warm milk for dinner okay with everyone?"
. . . "Iz crm," Maus purred.
. . . "I'll get the chocolate syrup and ice packs," Antoinette said.
. . . "Fifty-seven divided by three is nineteen," Karen whimpered as she followed them. "You can . . . fake that?"
. . . "Sheltered," Antoinette said.
. . . "Very," Isaik agreed.
. . . For six days, Karen thought, We leapt into the strange amusement parks. And when they can back, the humans acted like horny Ferals more than humans.
. . . Both doctors had demanded a day of rest for the entire crew and everyone was resting, or playing.
. . . Karen watched the man, the same odd and embarrassing tightness gripping her. I watched them . . . and kept catching me fingering myself. I wanted . . . he was kind, but I wanted . . . she thought, her mind racing, yet fixed on a single conclusion, I want him to be my Master. She hung her head as she realized, I've become one of those things. All I want is sex with him. I want him to tell me how my life is going to go. I had dreams and plans of my own, but I'd put them aside if it meant he wouldn't want me. I used to hate that about them: no life but sex and their Master. Now it seems so - right. Having him inside me. Inside my body, inside my mind, yet allowing that, even once, and I would be his property. Not a person traveling with him, as much as he seemed to try to act that way, but a tool. He tried to explain that he was comfortable with our being his possession: something he was wholly responsible for; but not us being property: something he could dispose of as he saw fit.
. . . She stopped her hands as she realized she'd been massaging her breast through her shirt. My nipples almost hurt, but if he touched them, she thought and nearly doubled over as the thought of him touching her, Taming her, owning her, made her both sick and ecstatic.
. . . She watched him pulling weeds, shirtless, but wearing a large hat. Why would he want to do mindless work? she wondered as she watched, fascinated by the way he moved. Occasionally he would stop, and jot something down on the pad he kept in his pocket, then he would return to work. She looked around and realized she'd walked almost half the distance toward him, without noticing. She froze. Looking around for a place to hide or to run to, she saw nothing close enough. At least he hasn't noticed me, she thought, Why do I want him on top of me? An out of shape old man? Sticking his thing in me, making me his slave? Happy memories of him and some of the Harem lying on her coils as they slept. Then a lifetime of lectures and hard experiences about what Pokègirls really were smashed in on her.
. . . She raced the short distance between them, but stopped short of tackling him.
. . . "I want a Level 5!" she shouted. She felt the tears running down her cheeks. "I can't live this way! I can't live as one of them!"
. . . The look of horror on his face shocked and relieved her. "I know what Pokègirls are! Filthy, unclean animals! Now I am one! I can't be one anymore!"
. . . "Why - ?"
. . . "I want to be your loyal Pokègirl! But I'm a monster! What man could . . . I'm for sex and fighting," her shouts faded as she fell at his feet, "If you won't, then kill me. I don't want to live like this. If I'm Level 5'd, then I'll never remember when I was human."
. . . "But you'd happily be an inhuman monster, a filthy thing for rutting and fighting? As long as you didn't know any better?" he asked calmly, "You think Warden, Maus and Isaik are just things?"
. . . "They are just Pokègirls, not people! Not like you are Master, or like I was! I was wrong to think I could be human."
. . . "I'm tempted to let you kill yourself," he said darkly, "It would serve you right. If you'd hate people who do what their instincts and need to remain sentient requires, then maybe killing that part of you isn't like killing something that will ever contribute to this world. Maybe then you'd actually be someone I'd want to have around."
. . . "Oh thank you, thank you." She hugged his feet. "I'll be a good Pokègirl for you," she promised.
. . . "I'll talk to Dr. Carmen about getting it done," he said with disgust that couldn't penetrate her aura of happiness.
. . . He walked into the entryway, changed his shoes and stepped into the shower before entering the house proper.
. . . "You okay boss?" Underworld asked as she wandered in, "I thought she was finally going to wise up and get a Taming, what happened? I thought you were going to kill her with your bare hands."
. . . "Since she can't stand being a - Pokègirl, she asked for a Level 5. Considering what she thinks about Pokègirls, it was that or kill her. My instinct is to leave her in that state and make her work through it, to grow up." He sighed and let his shoulders slump. "But I've been kidding myself that she'd realize all her hate and bile was wrong, that needing Taming, that wanting to look after someone's immediate welfare in return for strategic planning . . . " He sighed again.
. . . "She made you angry, so you decided to destroy her?" Underworld asked as she hesitantly approached him, "Or are you going to let her destroy herself?" She reached out, then pulled her hand back. "So do you let her make the decision about her life, and take care of what comes out. Or do take command and force her to live as you wish?"
. . . "Is the death of personality suicide, or murder?" he asked, "Or something else?"
. . . "You aren't doing it to her. You've never Tamed her, she isn't yours, and so you can leave the decision entirely to her."
. . . "Then what, send her away, donate her to some beginning Tamer, put her in storage for how long, or just sell her? I can't do that."
. . . "Let her loose to go Feral? Let her kill herself? Are those better options?" Underworld asked, "Pokègirls may be people, but they aren't humans. A lot of people from other dimensions tend to forget that. We like who we are. Maybe it's unfair that we do, but I'd rather be someone who knows my place, than someone always wandering around trying to find it or make it."
. . . "Thanks, I'll talk to the doctors before I make a decision. I think I know what to do, but - I don't like the idea of doing it."
. . . "Okay, Master," she said and changed to Isaik, "And see I didn't even demand sex."
. . . "Underworld would, and so will you when you're older," he said, "That's also a given."
. . . She laughed as she left.
. . . The computer model was of crude polygons. "It certainly conveys the scope of your vision," Janus said, somewhat listlessly.
. . . "I know I shouldn't pry, but are you all right?" Miguelito asked.
. . . Rather than use humor, the other man sighed and looked away. "I haven't felt right about it, about my place in it. Not just Karen, but the whole world. It was my job to take Ro - the other contributors' visions and meld them. I made the Sunshine League different, but more hopeful and more . . . I could have changed things, argued with them, changed their vision to be more like mine. But the idea where idealism, racism and honest practicality warred against each other appealed to me. I could have made at least part of it a paradise. Caesar's Prank was my idea, I could have made it an - I could have made it different. The others contributed, but I had to make it interesting, and now I watched a gentle, pleasant, helpful girl, excise her memories and who knows how much of her personality, because the world was just a bit too interesting."
. . . "There are other creators," Miguelito said, fearing for his friend.
. . . "There's only one I'm beholden to. I wonder if that's the other lesson of Eden and Golgotha. That people ultimately choose their own fate. It seemed obvious to me, so easy."
. . . "What?" Miguelito asked.
. . . "That God allowed suffering, evil, false religions, and the rest of the dark side of the human condition, to make us into adults. That what He wanted were adults who wanted a relationship with Him, rather than children wanting their booboos kissed, and the world candy-coated and sanitized. Now I've got the situation in microcosm. Powerful fighters, beautiful and sexually desirable women who will challenge me, tease me, but God help anyone who tries to hurt me. Yet they have to have an intimate relationship with me, and I'm the only one who has a problem with that. I want them with me, but it bugs me that they can't just walk away either."
. . . "Pokègirls have left their owners before. That's what Sadie Pokens is for, after all," Miguelito pointed out, for once his voice soft, carefully showing none of the usual intensity he brought to discussions.
. . . "One day a year, and I have a feeling if they talked it over," he said, "They'd fix it so I'd sleep through it. Maybe I did right. Maybe I didn't. I just feel unclean, as if I'm stained, and I'll never get rid of it."
. . . "There are no simple answers. Not when Pokègirls are involved. That's why all the teenagers are expected to go out and get one. At the time when lots of free sex is all they care about. So when they get to be thoughtful, regret-filled old men, and start looking at the existential questions, the Pokègirls and Pokèwomen can remind them they've been with them through ten, fifteen, or twenty Sadie Pokens days, and they've stayed. Because they love us. They can't help that either. A halfway decent Master will be beloved by his girls, or her girls. You can't change that either."
. . . Janus returned his focus to the model. "It is incredible. And put together so quickly."
. . . "The servers can't render the whole thing in full detail, without crashing all the servers that is," Miguelito explained, "But there it is. We broke ground a few days ago. Close enough to The 5 to allow everyone in the League easy access. The hotel, trains to the tow nearest cities. All thanks to you. I know it doesn't balance Karen, but I don't think you'll let anything balance that."
. . . "Point taken, sir. A magical kingdom indeed."
. . . Miguelito pouted. "With me cast as the evil vizier, rather than king."
. . . "You need to step back. You don't take criticism of your work well, and this will be a very sore point for Washu and your critics, until it is immune to harping and snarling."
. . . "I know, it's just . . . this is my dream."
. . . "Keep dreaming, let someone else wake up and run the place. You'll still be in charge, but someone of different temperament to order the paint and paperclips, do the payroll and see to the maintenance schedule. You aren't suited for that."
. . . "Perhaps you are right. So, where to now? Yes, I guessed you'd be leaving for a while."
. . . "A few days walking around. That will also let you compile the data without the children being underfoot, and give Voltaire a break. Cooking for extra people is fine, but I think we're wearing out our welcome."
. . . "As long as it's only a few days. I'll probably have details I'll need to research soon enough."
. . . "Then we should pack up, and get ready to move out," Janus said and left.
. . . Miguelito sighed and looked after his friend. "And maybe learn there are some things even you cannot change."
. . . "Why are we heading out so early?" Kitten asked, and adjusted her pack.
. . . "So we can watch the sun come up," Janus replied, "And we might catch sight of a few nocturnal Pokègirls."
. . . "All in favor of tying Master to a chair facing a window?" Underworld asked and raised her hand. The others agreed, except Maus.
. . . "Ngggt, okègrrs," she reminded them.
. . . "He said 'catch sight of', not catch," Warden pointed out.
. . . Maus shrugged and headed outside.
. . . "Are you going to catch them?" Kitten asked, watching him carefully for his reaction.
. . . "If we do, they're yours. Now that you're out and about, you need guards too."
. . . Kitten shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not sure I could be a Tamer."
. . . "If it gets him more Pokègirls. I'm all for our Master . . . and Mistress, getting more," Warden said, "Master Tames then sets them to guard you."
. . . Kitten nodded. "I guess it could be worse."
. . . The fire cackled as they sat, finishing the last of their Pokèchow. The shadows throw by the small fire gave a macabre atmosphere. The forest noises and lights of the city were far away. The stars seemed to be hiding behind the scattered clouds.
. . . "Typhonna's secret sister," their Master said, "She created all the Titan Legendaries, when ordinary Pokègirls weren't enough to guard her lover's home and treasures."
. . . "Really?" Kitten said, "I never heard that!"
. . . "You mean all the Titan Legendaries were - presents?" Warden asked.
. . . "No, I'm trying to scare you all," he said and grinned.
. . . Underworld growled. "I think you scared Typhonna with that little revelation."
. . . "Wouldn't she know better?" he asked.
. . . "Not necessarily," Underworld said.
. . . "How did you learn so much about Pokègirls and the Leagues, professor?" Kitten asked.
. . . "A Pokèprof? No, that isn't me. I'm just an archivist, I collect data and keep it," he replied, "I suggest we turn in. Just because today was uneventful, doesn't mean tomorrow will be the same."
. . . "I thought we were going to head back," Kitten said.
. . . "Nope, one more day out, then we turn around. Frankly, I needed this to start clearing my head, a couple more days should do it."
. . . "Othrr wayz," Maus growled as she rubbed herself against her Master.
. . . "Problem is, I just think more afterwards," he admitted.
. . . The sound brought her ears around, but Maus played possum, seeming to be asleep on guard. Master needs more girls, and I hear some, the HeavenKat thought. She waited as the pair tried to sneak in. Wearing pots and pans for quiet, she thought, then she let the little one prod her with a foot. Those costumes, they have to be kidding! she thought, but showed no sign of waking, Now I'm behind, and the rest are in front, and even Maser and Kitten are awake.
. . . The two invaders wore nearly matching white unitards. One had a neckline that started at the shoulders in back and started just over her nipples in front, and two gold medallions holding up her red cape. The other had a high collar, one gold medallion and a gold rope holding her cape, while she seemed to be missing most of the upper front of her costume.
. . . "It's too early in the morning for this," he said as he stood beside the entrance to the tent.
. . . Both girls took a fist on hips stance with their shoulders thrown back. Each took a deep breath before calling in unison, "As you can see." They puffed out their already massive chests. "We are the strongest females here, you will surrender to us."
. . . He quietly growled. "Her eyes were blue, not green, and her hair usually was cut at or a little below her jaw line," he yelled at the two of them. Their deflation was comical, and quickly reversed, even expanded upon.
. . . "Who are you? You are male, you cannot resist our combined power," one medallion said, trying to hold the breath in. She inhaled a little more, and then jiggled, her eyes fixed on his crotch.
. . . "Excuse me," he said, "I'm up here. And if you looked, you'd see why I'm immune."
. . . "You're gay?"
. . . "Fools!" he thundered, "My Harem is mightier that you could ever hope to be!"
. . . Kitten stepped out of the tent. "Her armor's off," she whispered as she walked to the pair, her hips swaying, her hands behind her head. "What charming little girls. We should give them some food, so they grow up big and strong." She stepped right up to one medallion, the slightly smaller of the pair. "You can get Bloom powder, so you won't feel so inferior."
. . . "I'm - bigger," she managed, only by holding her breath.
. . . "I am obviously more powerful!" two medallions told Kitten, "The most powerful - "
. . . "Would be me," Warden said as the stepped out, the entire party's breakfast swelling her bosom. She walked toward the larger of the two, who threw her shoulders back nearly to dislocation, and took as deep a breath as she could.
. . . Warden began posing, but to show off the toniness of her arms and legs, always keeping her chest towards them, or in profile.
. . . Two medallions tried to inhale more, one medallion was already turning slightly blue while she struggled not to exhale. Warden continued her posing routine, supremely confident that the gallons of milk made her 'the most powerful.'
. . . "Milk does a body good," Warden said offhandedly.
. . . Two medallions had gone from slightly red, to blue as she tried to suck in more air, throw her shoulders back more, anything to contest Warden.
. . . One medallion fell over in a faint. Isaik caught her in a Pokèball. Two medallions was practically strangling herself to keep from exhaling. Kitten punched her hard in the solar plexus. As the girl lay gasping on the ground, Isaik captured her too.
. . . He scanned the Pokèball. "Farfuck'd," his Pokèdex announced in its chirpy tone.
. . . "No kidding," he replied, "Say, Kitten - "
. . . "No chance!" the woman replied, "Your girl caught them fair and square."
. . . "I hate to interrupt, but if you're all awake, breakfast starts now!" Warden told them as she cradled her breast in arms, "Two pumps, no waiting, take all you can, please."
. . . "When we get to the dregs, tell us," he told her, "I've got a little idea that may make use of those two, and calm them down."
. . . "I like when you think like that," Isaik said happily as she waited for Warden to sit down before she got breakfast.