02

Disclaimers still apply.

Major thanks to Kerrik Wolf for proof-reading and offering spelling and grammar abuse corrections for this chapter. All corrections are his, all mistakes are still mine.

[Chapter 2]

Euphemia stirred from where she was curled up on the bed that occupied most of the taming suite in the pokecenter, pushing aside the waterfall of thick red hair to frown up at Micah, whom had propped himself up and was scribbling down on a piece of paper with his PDA as a writing surface. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking," Micah replied, not looking up from his scribbling. "And making a list of pokegirls I'll need to focus on in terms of preference and ideas to test."

"May I see?" She gave a quick once-over of the paper when Micah nodded and frowned as she came across one of the pokegirls in the list. "A CardCaptor? I didn't think you had a Lolita-fetish. And your handwriting is atrocious."

Micah smiled. "Considering all the attention I lavished upon your tits, I'm surprised you think that. And I'm well aware of my handwriting."

Euphy glanced down where her breasts were still a little tender from the attention they had gotten, and smiled. "I can't fault your taste." She looked at him. "But... it's a little weird. I thought stuff like that was illegal... where you came from. Or was I mistaken?"

Micah made a face as if he had just bit into a piece of half-rotten meat. "The physical aspect of such a relationship is something I'm really trying not to consider in full detail."

Euphy canted her head to the side, propping herself up on her elbows. "So why do you want one, if not to tame?"

Micah smiled. "Because of the CardCaptor's higher-tiered evolutions. As I personally revised the entire breed line, it's theoretically possible a StarMystic might be capable of devising a set of magic that could allow for dimensional travel."

Euphy's eyes were a little wide as she regarded him. "You actually created a pokegirl that could utilize dimensional travel magic?"

Micah shook his head. "No, I didn't."

Euphy blinked. "But you just said..."

Micah grinned as he set his writing tools aside. “Whenever I create - or revise, more commonly, a pokegirl - I tend to focus on two things - one, a pokegirl needs to have a special trait, or focus, or ability that isn't replicated by another pokegirl. In other words, they need to be 'unique', or special in some way, otherwise, there's no point in having that pokegirl. Secondly, I word the entry to allow other writers maximum flexibility with very little limits set if they stop and think about it. So if you're asking me, 'Did I give the StarMystic the ability to dimensional travel', no, I did not. But I did not say they -couldn't-, and out of all the magic pokegirls barring the Archmage, they're the only ones I can think of that could feasibly develop such magic."

Silence. "Do you... think they were right? Are you really one of the Creators of this world?" There was a clear emotion Micah could read in her expression that he was surprised to see; fear.

Micah paused momentarily, thinking the matter over. "Personally? No. I don't believe as such. I've seen the Goth's attitude replicated before, and I've always abhorred it. It's very much a 'blame other people for your troubles', as opposed to actually putting in some hard work to fix things yourself." He gave a shrug. "The part that worries me is the clear fact that I do apparently have some unnatural capabilities that I didn't flat-out posses before coming here. Mental defenses, my little 'sight beyond sight' trick. Which hints that something weird occurred, but I think I'll wait a while before I start going 'I am the logos and the omega'."

Euphy nodded slowly, the G-splice seemingly reassured, even as she took the opportunity to cuddle their naked bodies together. She then looked curiously at him. "You seriously want a FarFuck'd in the harem?"

Micah grinned. "Depending, yes. I rather like the breed, for a myriad of reasons. Though given my luck, I'll likely stumble across one whom thinks she's Naruto permanently stuck as female. Granted, as long as she can kick ass and take names, I won't really complain."

"Naruto?"

"21st century cultural reference."

"Oh." She nuzzled his side. "Are you going to turn in that chit for a starter pokegirl?"

"Unlikely. Unless they have an A-bra..." He shook his head. "We'll see. On one hand, I'm a little leery feasibly picking up a teenage girl and throwing her into this kind of life."

"As opposed to suffering under the whimsical mercies of a fickle starting Tamer, or an older, crueler, more callous one...? The risk of dying out in the wilderness is a very real thing for pokegirls that belong to Tamers that actually go out and collect ferals. You shouldn't let that reasoning stop you if you think you need a psychic-type."

"Your logic is... well, I want to argue against it, so give me a minute. The reason I specified an A-bra is that she'd cover one of the holes in my defenses, as I have no way currently to root through someone's brain for information at the moment, which I'll likely need in the future. Second, their capabilities are useful. I already have two of the penultimate magic and fighting types, so a psychic-type should give be a broader range of flexibility." Micah frowned suddenly. "Reminds me. What the loving hell happened with my little impromptu taming show?"

Euphemia gave an easy shrug. "You were the first male some of us had seen in, well, years. Thera strictly forbid using you for taming on pain of death, so what do you think a bunch of bored pokegirls with too much time to think are going to do? Watching you hose down Cornelia and Nunnally with your cock damn well drove most of us into a taming frenzy. It was hot." She blushed.

Micah glanced heavenward. "Oi."

Euphemia giggled, then motioned for his PDA. "Here. Let me see that."

Micah quirked an eyebrow, but did as she asked. Several holographic screens popped into existence alongside a holographic keyboard as Euphemia began typing rapidly as information flitted across the screens. Micah observed all this silently albeit curiously. Scrolling information on the screens abruptly stopped as the G-spliced nodded. "The local Anchorage Pokegirl Ranch has several A-bras on hand as starter pokegirls."

"Are they all domestic?"

"Yes. Most of them are recent threshold cases. Why?"

"I prefer the domestic look as opposed to their 'natural' coloration."

Euphemia glanced at him with a serious expression. "You can't always afford to be picky, you know."

Micah gazed back at her levelly. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I can be." He grinned. "We also need to go over what you're capable of."

Euphemia let the screens flicker out of existence as she looked faintly uncertain. "Don't you already know?"

"I know that your G-splice group is effectively a mish-mash of enough pokegirl genetics to make an eclectic Francestine look positively mundane. In fact, expressing direct combat capability should be fairly rare, hence my question."

Euphemia sighed. "You're... correct. My primary strength lies in information magics and capabilities, such as computer hacking."

"And...?"

"And engineering, and research, and development." She smiled weakly. "I am a genius, after all."

Micah smiled. "What combat capabilities do you have?"

"Energy blade, teleport, magical shielding. I can fly, but not very well. And healing." She sighed. "Strength wise I'm barely above an Ingenue."

Micah stroked out Euphemia's long, thick red hair. "Don't worry. This is all something that can be improved upon, with time."

Euphemia's expression as she leaned into his caress was torn between enjoying the sensation in full or bringing another topic up. Duty won. "Master, with your permission, I'd like to hack into place some electronic watch-dogs for your online files to see if they catch anyone paying undue attention to your accounts."

Micah paused in his caress. "I thought you said that the S-Goths would likely think I was dead?"

Euphy nodded, her expression hesitant. "Yes, sir. But there are other groups that would want to have you in their pocket that wouldn't believe you dead if the S-Goths said as such."

Micah closed his eyes. "Such as?"

"Some of the Megamis. The various Leagues." Pause. "Some of the Legendaries."

"Son of a bitch," Micah whispered.

"They might believe the S-Goths would be trying to feed them disinformation if they leaked information that stated you dead. If anything, it would make them look harder."

Micah bit back several curses even as he pinched the bridge of his nose,feeling his gut clench in worry. With effort, he worked to relax. "Alright. Yes, you're correct. Do whatever you think necessary to protect me and my harem."

Euphemia looked rather relieved. "Yes, sir."

-[***]-

Micah stood in downtown Anchorage and double-checked the address,nodding in satisfaction that this office was the correct one. There was no indication of a business being present beyond a sign on a door that quietly announced that the local office for Salvagers LLC was located on the second floor, with contact information below that. Micah grinned, entered the building, and made his way up the narrow flight of stairs, knocking on the door at the top and entering whenever he received an acknowledgement.

A single man worked quietly at a single desk in the narrow and long office. He didn't look bored, but neither did he look as if Micah was the best thing he'd see that day. "Good morning. Can I help you?"

"Yes." Micah tried not to grin too much. "Can I see your current pricing for United State minted pre-Sukebe quarters?"

He suddenly had the man's attention.

One of the more interesting facets of the Pokegirl world was the recovery of pre-Sukebe artifacts and information. One of the problems was what to do with the artifacts in question - most Tamers didn't have the knowledge or wherewithal to really deal with them, no matter how valuable they might be to the right person.

Salvagers LLC was one of the larger companies that dealt with the problem, effectively acting as a front for Tamers wishing to sell such artifacts. Books, artwork, weapons, furniture, in one interesting case an entire car - it didn't matter. Salvagers LLC dealt with them all.

Coins included.

From Micah's point of view, the five US quarters he had were just pocket change - from the perspective of a local, they were over three hundred years old, in startlingly good condition, and rather rare, all considered.

Hence, valuable.

Micah had his brain stuffed with research before making this little trip, aided by Euphemia. He had, in his mind, the advantage - this was a luxury for him, the money he could feasibly get from this, and wasn't necessarily vital. While the man - Robert Ledgefor - would effectively get a pricing cut from the sell of these coins as the person who brokered the deal. Salvagers LLC also got a cut, which is where they made their profit.

They finally hashed out a deal. Micah would get a pre-emptive payment of 100,000 SLC for each coin. Salvagers LLC would then be able to auction the coins at their leisure, with a stipulation that they couldn't go below the set book price of the coins on that specific day. This was a risk for Micah, if the market price fell below that, he would effectively 'loose money'. There also wasn't a time limit on the auction - all together, it gave Salvagers LLC all the advantages and none of the weaknesses, which Micah took upon himself - which had been exactly Micah's goal, mostly to make it easier for Salvagers LLC to swallow the payment advance.

Robert grinned. Micah grinned back at him. "Now," Robert went on, "Let me call some people up so I can get the transfer and the contract notarized and witnesses on-hand."

'I love it when a plan comes together,' Micah thought, and nodded. "Certainly." He stood when, several minutes later, two other individuals entered the office. What surprised him was that he recognized the second of the two, and shook both OfficerJenny's hands before they had a chance to protest. "Good morning, Officers."

The first blinked in confusion while the second looked rather surprised. "Good morning, sir," the first replied.

"Good, you´re both here," Robert had been turned away as he prepared the paperwork, so had missed the minor byplay. "Let's get these papers signed."

Micah quickly re-read over the contract, checked over a few wordings with Robert and nodded in satisfaction as everything seemed to say what he wanted it to say. After a number of signatures and copies made, Micah handed over all five coins with Robert promising that the money would be transferred to his account by that afternoon. Micah thanked him, shook his hand, and escorted the two OfficerJennys out of his office.

"Thank you both, by the way," Micah noted when they exited the stairwell.

"Just doing our job, sir," the first replied.

Micah grinned at the second. "Just in case I meet up with you again,your name is...?"

The OfficerJenny blushed. "Erin, sir."

"Pamela," the first filled in without prompting.

"Pleased to meet you both. Now, if you'll excuse me..." Micah waved in parted and made his way back to the pokecenter, having left Euphemia and Cornelia both in his suite, having taken Nunnally along in her pokeball - mostly for protection and to be circumspect.

He paused at the door. Pokecenters lacked in soundproofing, and he could hear the clear-signs of discussion and lesbian sex taking place in his room. He frowned thoughtfully as he followed the timber of voices, picking out Euphemia's, and something clicked.

The G-splice sounded terrified.

Scowling, Micah quietly opened the door to be confronted with the sight of Euphemia spread-eagled on the bed, Cornelia knelt down between her legs and furiously working, Euphemia's expression one of sweat-slicked and panting fear.

He didn't really think, moving over, roughly gripping Cornelia's blue hair and viciously yanking her head back. The demon-goddess' fluid soak expression went from startlement to anger to pale fear in quick order as she realized just who it was that had stopped her. "Master,I-"

"Shut up. I don't want to hear it." Micah pointed at one of the suite's walls. "Go stand over there." He pointed at Euphemia. "You, stay on the bed." Micah released Nunnally and told the Armsmistress to please be quiet and give him a moment, and she calmly nodded.

The room had a small table and chair that was mostly an after-thought. He sat down at it, taking out his PDA and working quietly with some of the programs, ignoring the two pokegirls as he used the time to wrestle with his thoughts and how he was going to manage this.

When he could put it off no longer, he turned in his seat and was gratified both had done as he had ordered, Cornelia standing against the wall, looking terrified and Euphemia curled up on the bed, looking as if she was about to cry. Micah focused his attention on the Demon-Goddess. "Why?"

Cornelia fidgeted.

"I believe I asked a question."

"Master, I just... I just wanted to..."

"Wanted to -what-?"

"I just... wanted..." her voice fell into a mumble.

"Speak up," Micah replied in a sharp tone.

"She hurt me! She's just like the rest of them, all of them, from the island! I hate them! I just wanted to get back at them for what they did to me!" Cornelia blurted out, her voice rising in fervor and pitch as she ranted.

"I see," Micah replied, his voice flat and neutral. "Cornelia," he went on as he pointed at Euphemia, "What is she?"

"Master?" Cornelia replied fearfully.

"Euphemia is a pokegirl in my harem," Micah elaborated calmly. "She is under my protection, my authority, my jurisdiction. I decide what happens to her. -No one else-. Did I give you permission to have a revenge fuck?" Cornelia winced. "Did I?"

"N-no-"

"No. I did not. Yet you did so anyways. You did not come to me, you did not ask my permission, you did not even THINK that I might have an issue with this. Am I correct?"

"No!"

"No?" Micah looked surprised. "'No'? I'm not correct? That's odd, I would have thought my logic rather firm. Please, if you think I made a mistake in my thought process, feel free to elaborate."

Cornelia didn't answer beyond sobbing, her face screwed up in an expression of agony. "Master..."

Micah stood, pushing the chair away from the small table. "Come over here, bend over, and grip the table."

Cornelia only hesitated for a brief second before she timidly walked over and did as he ordered, still sobbing.

"Do you know why you're being punished?" Micah said.

Cornelia gave a frantic shake of her head.

"You made a mistake, and you made an assumption, and you thought to take your aggression out by abusing another pokegirl in my harem." Micah laid a hand on the small of Cornelia's back, tracing down past the Demon-goddess key-slot to grip the curve of her ass. "Twenty. Count them off. If you miscount, I'll start over."

Micah's hand fell on her ass with a sharp crack and Cornelia's desperate gasp of "One!" He didn't think much about the punishment - he wasn't boiling-hot angry, but it was clear he needed to discipline the matter before it got out of hand. In a way, the entire matter was laughable - or a stark demonstration of just how a pokegirl's psyche operated. Cornelia had enough strength that she could over-power him easily, if she choose to, never mind the slew of attacks she could bring to bear. Realistically, he likely wasn't even really hurting her - but she was reacting as if he taking a barbed whip to her back as his final blow landed and she gasped out, the final count, tears leaking from her eye as she sobbed pitifully. "Twenty!"

"Good," Micah stated, keeping his hand upon the inflamed skin of her rear. He looked over at Euphemia, whom was looking at him with wide-eyes, the worst of her crying over with. "In case I was not clear, I don't expect to see you going behind my back to get revenge against Cornelia, either. The punishment is over and done with. Don't make the mistake that just because I'm being nice means you can go around behind my back and abuse the freedom I'm giving you. If -any- of you have issue with the other, then you come to me. That goes for you as well, Nunnally."

The Armsmistress gave a firm nod.

"Good." Micah walked over and crawled over on the bed, propping himself back up against the wall, letting Euphemia curl up against his side. "Cornelia, come and lay over here," Micah said, patting his open side.

The Demon-Goddess jerked in surprise, standing gingerly, and carefully made her way over to lie next to him, curling up. "Master, I'm-"

"Don't," Micah replied, cutting her off as he stroked out her hair. "The punishment is over and done with. If you have time to say you're sorry, then think about how you can make sure not to make a mistake again."

Cornelia nodded meekly. "Yes, Master."

Micah gestured, and Nunnally curled up with them, pillowing her head on his lap as Micah worked on reassuring Cornelia and Euphemia both. Gradually, the Demon-Goddess relaxed enough to the point that she fell asleep, her mouth slightly open as she breathed softly. Soon after, she began to drool. Euphemia followed soon after. Micah kept himself occupied mentally toggling through plans, lists, and things that he'd need to do.

His PDA let out a merry chime, and Nunnally picked herself up to retrieve it from the desk for him. Micah thanked her, looked curiously at his email, and smiled. "Good. We have a modicum of funds, now. Let's go shopping."

-[***]-

"Master?"

Micah flicked a glance upward from observing the caribou carcass that glistened wetly in the high sun. Euphy's invisibility spell, according to the G-splice, muted sound and smell alongside rendering them undetectable to most sensory means.

Should have. Keyword, 'should'. And 'most'.

So Micah quickly stifled a quick urge to tell the G-spliced to be quiet and instead murmured, "Yes?"

"Do you have any shame?"

"I don't think so, no."

"Just checking." Behind him, Cornelia smiled faintly, the Demon-Goddess still in her typical state of nudity. While all three of them had clothing scavenging from the local equivalent of Goodwill, she had flatly refused to wear it when the prospect of battling was about to occur on account on not wanting to get it ripped up.

Micah went back to quietly observing the field - more a marshland, really, on account of melted permafrost during the summer months giving the earth a muddy, gooey consistency that you'd be quick to sink into if you didn't know what to expect. Nunnally had the metaphorical short-straw - as the Armsmistress couldn't teleport, she needed to be out in the field, which meant effective camouflage - in this case, dirt, grass, and mud. She hadn't complained, much to his surprise, but he was a little worried about her being out of his sight without any means of communication.

They had been waiting for an hour - patiently and not-so-patiently in turn. Micah had never hunted before, but knew the theory - it typically involved patience and the ability to withstand boredom in massive quantities. Not something he was accustomed too, but he effectively had to suck it up and deal with it, whether he wished it or no.

It was another thirty minutes before he caught movement edging from the forest, a trio of three cat-like pokegirls that his brain habitually informed him were Pumara, much to his irritation. He could think of much better metaphysical capabilities than to have a pokedex stuffed in his brain.

Micah followed them as they boldly strode up to the carcass, nodding thoughtfully at the lack of fear evident in their postures. He held a hand up to Cornelia, signaling her to wait.

Movement caught his attention as another group of pokegirls broke from the other side of the impromptu marshland. This group was not only larger, but more colorful as well, bright reds and oranges evident in their dog-like fur. Micah caught sight of the lead pokegirl - a Denmother.

He watched thoughtfully as the two groups had a spirited discussion over the tempting meal that ended when the lead Pumara took a swipe at the Denmother that gouged bloody furrows in her fur. The Denmother responded with claw-rending lunge that sunk her teeth into the Pumara's belly, ripping and tearing as the two churned up mud and dirt. That was signal enough for the rest of the pack to join in, the other two Pumara retreating quickly as the dog-types fell upon the gutted pokegirl.

"I'm hungry," Micah murmured thoughtfully as he watched blood and mud fly, earning a disbelieving stare from Euphy and Cornelia. Micah smiled, and gestured. "Go."

Cornelia fast-teleported to directly above the eating group of ferals and just as quickly teleporting out, leaving only a cylinder with an odd apparatus duck-taped to it's side to fall and clatter to land below. From their magically created blind, Euphy depressed the trigger her home-made radio detonator. Micah and Euphy both stared at the item when nothing happened, then both jumped with a loud delayed 'POP' signaled a cloud of poison being vomited forth to cover everything within a 20 foot radius with the status-effecting liquid.

The effect was both loud and dramatic, the air filled with keening screams as pokegirls flopped and wailed and shook in reaction to the sudden onslaught of pain. Micah waited a moment before gesturing again, and Cornelia teleported back above the disorganized back and began raining down sleeting missiles of magical energy, a sharp 'BOOM!' announcing Nunnally using mach breaker to get skyward and shake off her camouflaged muck and add her blade to the assault.

A minute later and a number of thrown pokeballs, it was all over.

-[***]-

"Yes, sir," Micah stated into the hard-wired telephone.

This far into the 'outskirts' of the Capital League, things had a tendency to be less... civilized and structured; compared to, say, the more urban Blue League. Hence, why Micah was allowed to keep his pokegirls out, despite staying in a regular hotel as opposed to a pokecenter. Micah was thankful for the precedence - pokecenters were actually in short supply, in the Alaska region.

"Yes, sir," Micah repeated politely, the rest of the dialogue muffled from his harem, even as he scribbled on a piece of paper. "Thank you, sir," Micah went on. "We'll be arriving tomorrow. Thank you." The conversation apparently ended, as Micah set the telephone onto it's handset and rubbed at his neck. "Done, and done."

Cornelia looked curious. "Did he confirm what breed-type she was?"

Micah shook his head. "No. They're guessing she's a magic-type due to her human-like appearance and the family's lineage of magic-types."

Euphemia kicked her feet up as she lay on her front on the bed, the red-headed G-splice only wearing a thin, clinging shirt of stretchy material and white panties. "Couldn't they just scan her and check?"

Micah smiled. "They don't have a pokedex on hand to do so."

Euphemia's jaw dropped. "You're -kidding.-"

Micah shook his head. He'd been rather surprised to find that the Pokegirl World had the equivalent of Craigslist for Tamers on hand - a collection of loosely grouped requests and jobs that varied as much as sharing teleportation points between pokegirls to taming-share requests to even the occasional 'free pokegirl, must get rid of now'.

The ad they had answered had been one of those, a family whose daughter had thresholded. In the Alaska region, a number of small towns were of the type that the only way to get to them was by boat or air, and the majority of them didn't even have pokecenters. Why would they? Pokecenters were for traveling Tamers, and if Tamers never traveled to the town...

"It's a lumber company town," Micah explained. "No pokecenter, hell, they barely use pokeballs. Near as I can tell, they wouldn't even have guessed she underwent threshold had she not had a bad case of dependency syndrome and a stuttering case of speech problems."

"So you don't know if she's a CardCaptor or not," Nunnally pointed out quietly.

Micah smiled. "The chance isn't zero. Even then, she can be sold to a ranch, making her a relatively simple way of gaining easy cash."

Silence.

Micah's smile slipped as he let out a gust of a sigh, as if what he just uttered finally dawned on him. "Damn."

"You didn't seem to care one way or another about all the ferals we captured," Cornelia pointed out softly.

Micah ran both hands through his hair. "Yes, but I can at least sell that to myself with the idea that I'm feasibly helping them, giving them a better life than before. Here, I'm taking a girl away from everything she's ever known and tossing her away casually for money."

Euphemia crawled over to him, offering a warm and soft presence as she pressed up against his back and wrapped her arms around his middle. "It would still be done regardless," she murmured softly. "Whether you were there or not. Just because you're helping her doesn't make her thresholding your fault or responsibility."

Micah sighed. "Yes. You're correct. And, logically, I can't save everyone, but no matter how much I sugar-coat it, it's still a bitter pill to swallow. And maybe that's the way it should be, that something like this can't be easy no matter how many times it occurs." He shook his head. "Hmph. Ruminating over it isn't going to help anyone. Let's get some sleep."

Euphemia looked curiously at him. "Just 'sleep'?"

"Well, I'm hoping sleep will occur some time tonight and during the next early morning, but that's not the only thing I'm planning on, no."

"Oh, good."

-[***]-

"You don't need to be with me while I make my flight to the town, Master," Cornelia pointed out quietly. Micah was adjusting to being carried in the arms of someone whom most certainly did -not- look like they had the strength necessary to manage such a feat, never mind the leverage.

"Will you be capable of carrying me along with you?"

"Yes, but - "

Micah shook his head. "All three of my pokegirls are capable of flight. I need to get used to this. Even if it'll only be used at a point whenever I leap off a bridge with the confidence one of you will catch me." Micah swallowed, stuffing down the ball of nervousness in his gut and tried to ignore just how sweaty his palms were as he made sure he had a comfortable grip on the Demon-Goddess. "Let's go."

Micah made sure he didn't make a sound as they lifted off and accelerated. He then quietly worked on making sure his brain didn't dissolve into quiet, gibbering, bestial terror at the notion that he was several thousand feet in the air, moving along at over a hundred miles an hour, with nothing beneath him but a long drop with a short stop at the end. This was done mostly by quiet mental repetitions and refusing to let his brain consider the matter in full. It slowly worked. Toward the end, he was even looking around curiously, enjoying the view offered both from the height and the glimpse he got down of Cornelia's dress and cleavage.

They landed outside of their destination so as not to panic anyone. Micah took a moment to get his legs back underneath him, letting his heart calm, before pulling his hat from where it had been tied to his coat and setting the felt fedora atop his head, and nodding. "Let's go." He didn't think about it as he took Cornelia's hand and pulled her along with him as they walked into town.

The Demon-Goddess was wearing well-used knee-length hiking books and a tattered but clean gothic petticoat dress, a medical eye patch over her one bad eye. She glanced curiously at Micah and murmured softly as they walked, "Master, why did you pick up that hat?"

Micah gave an easy shrug. "For one," he murmured back as they navigated the town's muddy thoroughfare, earning some looks from people, "It actually fit me. You have no idea how hard it is to find a hat that actually fits me. Second, have you ever worn glasses?"

Cornelia shook her head and admitted that no, she had not.

"A wide-brimmed hat is excellent for keeping rain off of the lenses. If you wear the right kind of coat, you don't even need an umbrella. Second, given how much we've been out in the wild, keeping the sun off my pale face is an excellent idea. I've been sunburned on my face before, and believe me, it's not an experience I want to repeat."

Cornelia grudgingly admitted that he had a point.

Micah politely asked where he could find the Laver house, and was directed to one of the houses built on the edge of the company town. Once they arrived, Micah politely knocked, and was mildly surprised when an older woman answered the door.

"Good evening, ma'am," Micah said as he doffed his fedora. "I'm Micah Hakubi. I called your husband yesterday about your daughter...?"

"My owner," she gently corrected him. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to talk to him whenever he gets off his work shift. That'll be two hours from now. Please, come in and I'll brew some tea while we wait."

Micah smiled. "Thank you." He made a point of wiping off his boots of the mud they had collected before entering, hanging his coat and hat on the hanging rack. She escorted them to a large table in the kitchen and seated them both as she started a fire in an actual, honest to goodness wood-burning stove and settling a kettle to whistle atop one of the burners.

Micah, quite frankly, abhorred small talk. Still, it was the polite thing to do, so he mentally grit his teeth and calmly drew out their host into conversation, inquiring about neutral things such as the nature of her owner's job, the state of the town, the weather, and other safe topics. He didn't even try to bring the notion of her daughter up, or question where the loving hell she was - or, for that matter, what kind of pokegirl she was. He thought it would likely be rude to ask, so he sucked it up and dealt with it.

Roughly three hours later Micah was rewarded by the man he needed to see arriving home. Micah stood as Harry Laver arrived covered in sawdust, sweat, and dirt, stamping his feet in the house's foyer before moving into the kitchen, sitting down heavily at the table and roughly slapping it's top.

"Get me some coffee," he ordered, his voice rough from use. His pokegirl moved to do so as he considered Micah.

"Harry Laver?" Micah went on when he nodded. "Micah Hakubi. We talked yesterday about your daughter - "

"I remember."

"Yes, sir. You agreed to let me have her if I arrived to pick her up. May I ask where she is?"

Silence. "My daughter's not here anymore," he replied softly. "And I wouldn't give her to you even if she was."

Micah blinked, at a loss as to how to reply to that.

"I've had a long day, and I'm tired. Now get out."

Silence. Micah didn't look at the man or his pokegirl as he picked himself up and escorted Cornelia out of the kitchen, recovering his hat and coat from the foyer as she showed himself out.

"Son of a bitch," Micah murmured softly as he walked away from the house.

"He was -lying-," Cornelia snarled, her key-staff summoned and the Demon-Goddess looking as if she was near to turning around and leveling the house they had just departed. "I should have -broken- him for insulting you, Master."

"Why would he lie, though?" Micah commented thoughtfully, head tipped back as he looked skyward. "Why go to all this trouble...?"

"Master."

Micah stopped walking at Cornelia's statement and glanced back down. They gathered a group - five men, each of them made hard from honest work and living, arranged in a loose group around the two of them. Each man had a pokegirl with them, with not a pokeball in sight.

The lead man in the group absently cracked his knuckles. "You just came from Laver's place, right?"

"That's correct," Micah replied in a calm tone, absently piecing the overall equation together in his brain and finding the result rather lacking in terms of threat. Being tortured and experimented on by Sanctuary Goths put one's life into a completely new perspective - being assaulted by a gang of roughs paled in comparison.

"We heard that you were making some trouble for him."

"And?"

"We're here to make sure that doesn't happen again."

Micah didn't reply, instead toggling the other two pokeballs he had, releasing Euphy and Nunnally.

The Armsmistress calmly surveyed the crowd with her senses, eyes forever closed, her expression neutral. "What are your orders, Master?"

Cornelia let out a nasty chuckle as she sneered at the group. "Yes! Give us an order, Master! We'll regard it as an absolute command!"

Micah let out a snort. "You have your orders." His voice fell into something low and terrible as an unexpected surge of anger threatened to close up his throat. "-Break them.-"

"GET HIM!" the leader bellowed out.

They weren't fast enough as Euphy cast an invisibility spell on the two of them and teleported away as Cornelia and Nunnally went to work. It wasn't anything close to a legal pokegirl battle by anyone's stretch of imagination. Nunnally and Cornelia both had clear orders given by Micah - incapacitate by any means necessary, kill if in doubt.

Removing limbs was to be regarded as a preferable tactic. Being deprived of one's legs tended to make combat much more difficult.

Only three of the girls managed to escape whenever the humans broke and ran, aided by Nunnally and Cornelia not pursuing the matter. Two of the pokegirls remained, an Ice Maiden whom Cornelia had put an energy blade through her middle and a Herochan whom was trying to deal with her legs being cut off at the knees.

Euphy teleported back in, holding onto Micah by simple expedient of floating along aside him as he walked forward. Leaning down slightly at the two fallen combatants, he stated clearly, "I'm going to pokeball the both of you. I have no intention of keeping either of you in my harem, but I promise I'll have both of you completely healed before anything in done with you. Agreed?"

The Ice Maiden calmly nodded, even as sweat beaded on her face, and the sobbing Herochan nodded more frantically.

Micah captured both of them, then took off his glasses and scrubbed at his face, trying not to shudder from post-combat jitters.

Nunnally's head came up. "Master."

They hadn't gathered a crowd, but Micah looked up to see a man striding down the street toward them, fearless of the evidence of combat or the fact that Micah had three combat-ready pokegirls out.

He was similar to the other five they had met, as if cast from a similar mold, made hard from living out in the wilds of the Alaska region, but his overall mannerisms spoke of calm assurance and control. "Son," he began, "I'd have to please ask that you come with me. You're not in trouble, for all the mess you've caused, but I'd like to have a chance to talk with you before you leave."

Micah smiled weakly. "That's a fair and equitable request. All that I ask is that I be allowed to have my pokegirls remain out."

"Done." He nodded. "I'm the foreman of this here company town. Duvall Ren. Let's go talk in my office."

-[***]-

Micah and his harem were escorted to an office and left there for over an hour. Micah didn't begrudge Duvall the wait, as the man looked like he had several things on his mind. He stood whenever the man arrived back, only to get gestured to sit back down as Duvall heavily sat behind his desk.

"You have stirred up a mess of trouble, son, by coming here," Duvall began.

Micah quirked an eyebrow, and simply nodded.

"Still, none of it's your fault, though some people would like to think differently," Duvall went on. "But despite what some think, I'm not an idiot, and I have my job by knowing my work and knowing people." He glanced at Micah, then went on.

"See, a good boss never gets everything what he wants. Managing people is about a compromise, and compromise is just a fancy way of saying that everyone leaves pissed off. Which means that I've had to allow some stuff on occasion that I don't necessarily agree with. You hear me?"

Micah said nothing, and simply nodded.

"So, I'd like to tell you what's going to happen tonight. Tonight, you're going to come and sit and have dinner at my table, as my girl makes the best damn Akutaq in the region, and it's not to be missed. That's what I'll tell people, and that's what I hope you say, as well. No one'll be watching Laver's place, and all I can ask is that you don't hurt the man permanently. He's a good man and a good worker, for his... Anyways. After tonight, I hope you'll excuse me son if I say I hope I never see you again. If you come back, then I'll have to do something that neither of us will enjoy."

It was like lightening in Micah's brain as the epiphany struck him with the realization that, despite Duvall's words and mannerisms, the fact remained that there was nothing he could really do to Micah if he decided to cut loose with his combat pokegirls. That despite the bravado and the kind tone and the fatherly 'I know best' cant of his orders, that the shine in his eyes was one, stark emotion.

Fear.

Micah considered the man for a moment longer like a particularly interesting bug under a microscope, and calmly nodded as he stood. "Be seeing you, Duvall," he smiled as put his fedora atop his head and walked his pokegirls out of the man's office.

-[***]-

It was dark whenever they went back to Laver's house, just as Duvall had requested. Micah could see the light and hint of activity that detonated that someone called the place home. He didn't pause as he and his harem walked up, Nunnally taking point with Cornelia floating along and Euphy at his side.

Micah gestured, and the door handle deformed like cold butter in Nunnally's hand as the Armsmistress pushed her way inside as Cornelia teleported in. Micah and Euphy followed at a more sedate pace, his face one of calm neutrality as he pulled his hat off and entered to find Laver struggling futilely in Nunnally's grip with his pokegirl held face-down on the kitchen table by Cornelia, with whispered promises and a flourish of an energy blade giving some credibility to the threat that she wouldn't be pretty anymore if she tried to attack.

"You son of a bitch!" Laver's struggling intensified as he caught sight of Micah. "You pokegirl-fucking son of a diseased whore! I'll have you fucking well arrested for coming back here!"

"No, you won't." Suddenly, Micah felt an overwhelming tide of weariness settle upon him. It was a struggle to shake it off. "Where is your daughter, Laver?"

"She's mine!" he frothed. "You can't fucking well have her! I said as such!"

"I honestly wouldn't care either which way, normally," Micah remarked calmly. "Even had you explained, somehow, politely, whenever I came here, I would have been content to simply walk away. But no. Now, apparently, Duvall is forcing me to remove her."

"I'LL KILL HIM!" Spittle fell from Harry's lips as his eyes became crazed. "Nosey bastard doesn't know when it's a private matter! He doesn't have any right to come in and break up my family!"

Micah shook his head. "Euphy, go find her." The redheaded G-splice drifted off at his order, searching the other rooms in the house. Micah didn't have to wait long until she returned bearing a young-looking girl with shoulder-cut brunette hair. Micah toggled a scan and tried not to let his expression change as his PDA returned with a scan-positive of the Witch breed of pokegirl.

The girl had apparently seen some better days. She looked mentally beaten, eyes hallow even if there wasn't a mark on her flesh. She glanced at Micah, swallowing as she looked nervously at her father, whom was cursing and yelling still. "Are... are you my new Master?"

Micah shook his head. "No. But I will take you away from here. Quite frankly, in this case, it's likely the best offer you can hope for."

She glanced nervously at her father again. "But..."

Micah rolled his eyes in disgust. "Let me put it another way. You don't have a fucking choice in the matter." That said, Micah toggled a pokeball capture, and was gratified to see that she only struggled momentarily before the ball came to rest.

"Knock them both out and let's get the hell out of here," Micah stated. Once that was done, he made sure the door was firmly closed before letting out a faint sigh, slipping on his hat and began walking toward the edge of town.

Euphy glanced at him. "Will you be alright, Master?"

Micah nodded absently. "She'll be fine. I've had to deal with similar situations in the past, sadly, and sometimes telling someone to shut up and do what you told them too is the best option available."

Euphy blinked. "Master, I could care less about the girl. I asked about -you-."

Micah did a double-take. "Oh. Sorry." He pushed up his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, I'm... yeah, I'm fine. I'm just... tired, and disappointed. All that run around, whenever we could have been out catching ferals... Anyways. No. I'm not going to ruminate over it. It's too simple to think that this would have been an in-and-out job and I would have come away smelling of roses and CardCaptor."

Euphemia giggled. And then sobered, as she pointed out softly, "Master, you could always learn magics yourself, if you needed to find a way home."

Micah stumbled in mid-step and almost fell into the mud that passed for a street. "-What-!?"

Euphemia blinked in surprise. "Learn magics. Is that so surprising?"

Micah tangentially wondered if having a discussion like this in the middle of a muddy road at night in a hostile town was the best place for it. He pushed that aside. "Quite frankly? -Yes-! What even made you think such a thing would be possible?"

Euphemia paused, thinking. "It's a general feel I get, coupled with some returns with my scanning spells. I'm not positive, but they seem to hint that you would have great magical potential."

Micah finally remembered to close his mouth. It took him longer than he would have imagined to find his voice again. "Could you teach me?" he questioned softly.

Euphemia winced and looked faintly stricken. "I'm sorry, Master, I-"

Micah held up a hand. "No. Don't apologize. I completely understand," he replied, his voice back to normal. He had seen examples in multiple fields of skill that knowing something and teaching it were completely two different things. With pokegirls in-born capabilities, he imagined it was even worse. "So. That's something else we'll have to consider, as a fall-back option. Unfortunately, all the teaching schools I know of aren't safe for me." He rolled his eyes. "And at least one of them would present problems of it's own, if it was still here." He glanced up at the dark sky. "And this isn't the place for this discussion. Let's go, ladies."

-[***]-