Unfortunately, after the first few longhouses were razed to the ground, word eventually got out and the Confederates began to evacuate them. In hindsight, it seemed obvious to the Confederates that their ‘takeover’ had been too easy. Of course, hindsight is twenty-twenty. The Confederates didn’t know what to do. They couldn’t seem to engage the insurgents on their own terms. By the time they managed to smoke a group out, they managed to disappear; their psychics and teleporters made things difficult. Sure, the Confederacy had its own psychics and such at their disposal, but they couldn’t seem to mobilize their troops fast enough. Something about the evacuation strategy of the guerillas was simply more efficient.
It also didn’t help that the Confederates couldn’t afford to divide their troops up by too much. Even when they managed to corner their enemy, most of them got away and the rest took the Sampson Option. Those damn guerillas were screwing everything up for everyone. The damn villagers were uncooperative and torching their little hovels didn’t seem to do much in regards of ruffling the insurgents’ feathers- almost like they didn’t care. The only relief was that the guerillas seemed to leave large groups of troops alone, but the moment anything smaller than a battalion was on its own, it disappeared. Eventually, even the larger units weren’t safe. Out of nowhere, two to four hyper beams would blow swaths through encampments or formations, and then the sources would just be gone. Sticking together in a giant, immobile clump was all the Confederates could do; everyone was jumping at their own shadows.
Charles sat in his office in Terminus. He felt strange. Here he was delegating authority to members of [The Center] and hiring people into government jobs- after scanning any newcomer’s mind with psychics of course- and doing all the things that he thought should run a government smoothly. And yet, he felt this… ominous trepidation. He shook his head. He was just getting paranoid. When things go too well, it’s natural to look for the catch.
Charles was surprised but pleased when Yvette began kneading his shoulders. A groan escaped his throat in a typical, guttural fashion. He just needed to relax a bit. Yeah, that sounded good. “Yvette,” he addressed her, “Let’s go for a walk.”
“Okay Master,” she chirped happily.
Charles didn’t move. Yvette hadn’t stopped her ministrations and her hands were starting to venture across his chest and down… lower. “Perhaps we can postpone that walk by an hour?”
Yvette didn’t answer, but she did give him a reaffirming- ah- squeeze.
Sometime later, Charles was out on a public sidewalk in Terminus. Yvette, Liz, Daniele, and Susana were with him. Chrissie was sunning herself somewhere and didn’t seem interested in coming. The sun shined down and heated the humid air. He looked about and actually saw businesses, bakeries, drycleaners, and the like, had set up shop. It amazed him, actually. There was little room for middle of the rung businesses before. Naranja had been overall poor save for those who ran Terminus. It… was surprising actually, satisfying. Seeing the fruits of his labor come together, not just the war against the Confederacy, was pleasant. It gave him some actual positive reinforcement.
The day dragged on, and he sat on a rusted old bench on the side walk. People strolled purposely down the streets. Automotive transportation was pricey enough that only people like the Molyneux family can afford it. People cast him and his pokégirls odd looks, but seemed generally accepting of his presence. They didn’t know who he was, [The Center] never really bothered fancy meet-and-greets. Their PR was in the form of making sure everything ran smoothly. Sure, it was hard to run an economy especially when what that entailed was trying to convince innumerable people to act in a way that betters the economy, something that usually goes against human instincts.
Whatever they were doing seems to be working better than the former Terminan government was doing. They just did what needed to be done, no complications, not barriers, and certainly nothing to stop them from doing what was best. In the old world, such a style of government was historically frowned on for thirty or so years before Sukebe sent everything tits-up, but this was by no means the old world, and these happenings served [The Center] and most of all himself the best.
Charles smiled to himself and allowed himself to bask in his meager accomplishments. This time-off was helping him. Overworking himself? Odd, he’d never seemed to have had much of a problem with it before. Oh well, thoughts for later.
Mikhail barked orders to some Elves who had failed to look busy. One of his farmhands jogged up to him. The Grandelf was one of the go-betweens for him and his Elf Queen. She tended to be in a constant state of stress and shifted back and forth from one foot to the other constantly. “What’s wrong with the coffee plants?” Mikhail growled out.
“We don’t know sir, we’re still examining the problem,” the pokégirl chattered quickly.
“Fine,” Mikhail spat, his stress and irritation getting the better of him, “just try to figure this all out soon. That coffee is important.” Coffee was a miracle drug. It was the solution to a surprising variety of medical problems and it could allow the sleep deprived to function like normal human beings, perfect for soldiers. Sure, the other farming groups, especially the two other Elf Queens, were also growing coffee but any reduction in production for such a desired crop would be detrimental to him and [The Center].
Mikhail rubbed his temples as he turned to head to his home/office. He had always wanted to be a self-sufficient farmer, not relying on anyone else, but this was much more demanding than he could have ever imagined. Granted, this was not exactly a little claim in the middle of nowhere. As he turned, his vision was suddenly filled with a massive figure. Reflex kicked in and he was suddenly a good seven meters back via his handy little gift.
“Charles!” he greeted through grit teeth, “Don’t do that, man, I got enough to worry about without having to avoid getting stepped on by giants.”
Charles chuckled and waved the younger man over. In the years since they had met, they had stayed in touch. [The Center] had grown to be a large organization and the two had very different interests and places in the group, yet the two still valued their friendship. “How goes it all?” Charles asked.
“Busy,” Mikhail grunted, “Too much to do and no time to do it in.”
“Sounds like someone needs a break,” Charles said, smiling at the thought sharing what had turned this into such a nice day for him.
“Tell me how to put more hours in the day, and we’ll talk of breaks,” Mikhail snorted.
Yep, definitely overworking himself. “Tell me, Mikhail,” Charles’s smile widened, “what exactly is your day-to-day job description?”
Mikhail frowned. “I do quite a lot, Charles. I don’t know what you-“
“I’m not questioning your work ethic, I want you to tell me what you do.”
The younger man paused to collect his thoughts. “Well, I organize the schedules and plan the calendar, check progress, make projections, whip the laborers into shape…”
Charles started snickering. “Good god, Mik! I regret not asking you this sooner. You need to learn to delegate.”
Mikhail rolled his eyes. “I can’t trust this to-“
“Mikhail, listen to experience here. I’ll see if I can send you a couple Ladyiens, but you need to get others to do this for you. If I don’t get those Ladyiens to you, still get others to do the dirty work. Hell, the Elves know what they’re doing. Some have been doing this all their lives and were quite literally born for this. You need someone for each of the jobs you mentioned and whatever else you do. As the head of this place, your job is to make sure everyone else does their job.”
Mikhail opened his mouth to retort, but didn’t really know what to say. On one hand, that sounded much easier. On the other, it couldn’t be that easy. “And how exactly do you propose I make this transition?” He gave in. Charles was yet to lead him astray, and Mikhail was intrigued by the idea of less work for the same payout.
“I’ll walk you through it,” Charles decided, “It won’t take long to set up, but you’ll need to reeducate yourself and get rid of those urges to do everything yourself.”
Mikhail shrugged. “Fine. Can we do this tomorrow? I still have things to do today that cannot wait.”
Charles frowned. “I think I see a more important thing you need to do tomorrow first,” he said noticing something off.
“Wha?”
“Liz, take a look her mind and show Mikhail what you see,” Charles ordered his Espea. Mikhail opened his mouth to protest but was cutoff as he was suddenly flooded with information. His voice caught in his throught and an odd wheeze came out instead. “You see what I mean?” Charles asked him. Mikhail nodded dumbly. Liz had noticed that his Elf Queen was acting odd and took a peak into her head and alerted Charles of the abnormality.
Mikhail stared off at his pokégirl. He had been so busy that he hadn’t noticed her stress or the loneliness and neglect that she had been feeling for a long while… too long. He looked up at Charles, his friend. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“After the day is out, I suggest you hoist her off her feet and show her that she’s appreciated with a nice, long rest with her. Take tomorrow off to be with her and your other ‘girls. Let that Grandelf of yours and your other middlemen handle things for the day. One day won’t hurt you. It’s not right for her to suffer in this depression and it can pose a physical danger to others and your operation as well.” Mixing morals with pragmatism always seemed to drive the impact home better in Charles’s mind. If Mikhail had any brains between his ears, he’d corner that ‘girl and trap her in the bedroom with him. Charles was feeling better and better about this day.
Mikhail seemed rather distracted for the remainder of the time Charles was there, so he soon bid his friend farewell and decided to finally get on with his day. He felt rather ambivalent about this turn of events. The most important thing was, however, that he remedy the problem that generated his Elf Queen’s depression. He wanted to drop what he was doing and do it now… but it could wait a couple hours until the day was over and he had enough time to do it properly.
Preparations had to be made before the day was over back in Terminus with Charles, but that was a seemingly distant thing in light of all this progress. It seemed like a good day to him. The Confederate forces on Basshead were actually wasting the time and resources to finish building that silly little wall of theirs. Charles almost didn’t have the heart to show them how useless their wall was in impeding them. The confederates knew by now that [The Center] was using teleport capable pokégirls to handle the deployment of troops. What exactly did the Confederates have in mind? Did they honestly think it would keep [The Center] from doing whatever they wanted?
Charles fiddled with the propositions on his desk. He always encouraged people with good ideas to leave things in a suggestion box. It was a staple of his work style. Besides, why work by yourself when you can borrow the ideas of everyone else? Some of them looked interesting while others were plainly infeasible. He-
Just then a pokégirl burst through his office door. Charles was on his feet in an instant and his five pokégirls were in front of him in a flash. “Wait!” she pleaded. Okay, she was domestic. What was going on?
“What are you doing here?” Charles barked at her. The odd pokégirl was one of those anamorphic varieties and seemed to have this perpetual, manic look on her face. It was unsettling and he didn’t know what to make of it.
Seconds later a panting human male jogged up beside her. “Sir,” he managed to get out between his breaths, “She’s mine.”
Charles was less worried and much more annoyed now. “What’s going on?” he demanded harshly. He hadn’t taken kindly to being startled like that.
“Sir,” she began, “I’m a Kaftara and-“
“She’s a psychic sir,” her owner interrupted, earning him an extremely irritated look from his pokégirl.
“Get. On. With. It,” Charles bit out.
“I’m a precog, sir,” the pokégirl interjected
The human took that as an opportunity to pipe up: “We’ve been chasing after you across the island all day-“
“Fuck! Just spit it our already!” Charles roared, “Tell me what’s so fucking important, or so help me-“
“I see disasters and crises, sir! Something bad’s going to happen!” she finally said it.
Charles didn’t know much about pokégirl precognition, but he wasn’t about to ignore it. “Where?” he asked; ‘what’ would probably get more gibbering from her.
“The cargo!” she said.
“What cargo?” This pokégirl was giving Charles a migraine.
“The ship! The Confederacy sent a ship with pokéballs and other tech on it.” She was nervously shifting from one foot to the other and wringing her hands together.
Charles sighed and deflated. It was just that. “It’s alright,” he waved her off “We’ve already intercepted it. The Confederacy isn’t getting any reinforcements or anything.”
“WHAT?!” she shrieked. She almost ran up to Charles, but the menacing appearance of the pokégirls standing guard in front of him gave him pause. “ Where’s the cargo?!” she pleaded.
“It’s being unloaded around Tropic and the portions of Basshead we still actively control. Some of the pokéballs actually had pokégirls in them, and breaking them in will help our ranks…. What?”
He was distracted by the manic pokégirl who was currently pulling at hear ears in her distress. “It’s too late,” she whined pitifully, “It’s too late.”
Charles’s eyes widened. What was wrong with the cargo… it was just pokéballs and ‘girls… right? “What’s happening?” he asked.
She smiled at him sadly the best she could with her animalistic features. “We’re all going to die.”
Elsewhere, a crate was popped open. “Ah fuck,” a man said as he watched pokéballs get spilled all over the floor. This was going to take forever to clean up. He was ordered to get these out and around Basshead as soon as possible. The others had already been distributed around Naranja for use. The pokégirls within the ones that had been filled needed to be integrated into their forces as soon as possible. Sighing, he turned to his Data Dog and prepared to get his job finished finally.
Of course, nothing was ever easy, so a pokéball chose that instant to release its contents. The man spun around and stepped back. The Data Dog was between him and her as they took stock of the situation. The man blinked. It was just a Harleyquin? Sure looked like one from this distance.
The pokégirl looked confused momentarily, but offered the man a secret smile the moment she caught sight of him. She stepped towards him with a sway in her hips, her hands roaming her body in more and more fervent ways as she approached him. She had been several feet away, but by the time she was within conversational distance, she was all but masturbating in front of them.
Now normally, the man thought, Harleyquins weren’t his cup of tea what with that makeup they always seemed to find a way to cover themselves in. But, damn this one had some hot movements and one hell of a figure to match it. He shifted his stance to minimize the discomfort his pants gave his erection.
The Data Dog did not look very happy about her master’s mezmirization and took matters into her own hands. She stepped forward and put her hand out in a halting gesture. “Stop!” she barked. She had been feral born, but as a psychic, she had a bit of a leg up on learning words. The new pokégirl did not cease; instead she vanished in a blink of teleportation and reappeared next to the Data Dog. The psychic-type stood rigidly as the other pokégirl smacked her bottom and began to grope it playfully. Anything else the Data Dog planned on doing flew out the window when the strange pokégirl kissed her.
The man stood in shock as his somewhat conservative Data Dog got molested by the strange pokégirl that appeared. Did… did she just slip her fingers up his ‘girl’s rear? She never let him do that! Then there was a moment when she let his Data Dog go, and his ‘girl collapsed to her knees breathless and giggling. And now she was coming for him! Praise the Gods!
A wide grin spread across his face as the strange pokégirl stepped in front of him. This was going to be so much fun. She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him as well. Odd, his Data Dog was still laughing. What did she think was so funny? Whatever. He groanded as the foreign pokégirl took his tongue into her mouth and sucked on in gently.
And then she bit through it.
He tried to scream, but her hand hit his throat swiftly, successfully stopping any cry before it escaped. His body hit the floor, weak from the sudden shock and the inability to draw breath. She draped herself across his fallen form and pressed a tender finger to his lips in an a macabre, loving fashion. “Shhhh, darling,” she hushed him gently, “I’m sorry I had to do that do you, but we couldn’t have you screaming now, could we?”
All that he could do was gurgle through the blood filling his mouth, making it even harder to breathe through his crushed trachea. She kissed him again and sucked some of the blood out of his mouth, swallowing slowly as if she were trying to make her actions erotic. “We’re going to have so much fun together,” she whispered. Her expression took a one-eighty and a jaw-splitting grin showed off a wide set of yellow teeth to him. She howled her laughter along with the increasing hysterical cackles of his Data Dog. His eyes say his pokégirl. Tears flowed from her eyes and she clawed at her own ears as she laughed. His vision of her was soon obscured by the strange pokégirl on top of him.
In Terminus, things shook like a disturbed beehive. “Get me those men on the radio!” Charles barked. The men in charge of distributing the stolen cargo had been silent for too long. Their psychics seemed to express some sort of blind spot in their ‘vision.’ It was off to hell in a hand basket it seemed.
The blood-soaked pokégirl stared down at her toys. They didn’t last long. Such a shame; they had been fun. Instead, she picked up one of the pokéballs scattered across the ground. She released its context to reveal a towering, black felinoid. Oh! She knew what that was. She picked up another pokéball… and another… and another. She released their contents and looked down interestedly at what they had released. There were a variety of pokégirls, but the one that caught her attention was one that seemed to be gangrenous all over. She looked interestin! The widely grinning faux-Harleyquinn stepped forth and examined the pokégirl like a bug. She poked her in the eye with a little dirk she had on her person.
Teleporting back, the pokégirl noticed that the gangrenous pokégirl released a thick plume of gas when she poked her with the dirk. She looked around and saw that the gas was chocking up the other pokégirls she released. Most interestingly of all, she noticed her little Data Dog was starting to stir once again. Odd… she gave out not to long after the man had. The wild-eyed not-Harleyquinn’s smile deepened and showed far too many teeth. Oh, this would be very fun.
Back in Terminus, Charles and others gathered around were disturbed to hear a cackling interrupt what had been radio silence.