06

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 6]

"It's completely purged?" Micah asked.

Euphemia nodded. "Yes, Master." John Smith's pokedex was in her lap, active, holographic screens orbiting her like a constellation of stars as she navigated through electronic pathways. While possessing similar hacking capabilities as a Video Girl, she lacked the breeds ability to naturally communicate with any electronic network at a distance. Any hacking she employed needed a data terminal to transmit - hence her previous near-constant use of Micah's pokedex.

"Good," Micah replied. Some of the information in said pokedex had been very illuminating - among them the fact that he had been apparently -paid- by Jericho's wife to take him - now her - out of action. The 'why' was the missing part, and prosecuting the matter would be difficult, at best, as the one person who could testify against her was dead via one very pissed off catgirl.

Hoist by my own petard, Micah thought. He hadn't shared the information with Jericho. He might never, depending.

They had spent several days going through the ill-gotten rewards of recovering the Grimorum Astra from John Smith and Micah allowing for a few days of effective downtime while they organized equipment and he thought out his next moves. The two most valuable items were easily the PPHU and a Pokepack, of all thing - the latter much to Micah's irritation, as due to his wings, it meant that Euphemia was the one whom had to carry it. "I won't tell you how to do your job and simply have to put my trust in your skills." He paused at a thought. "How many Video Girls were you aware of that Sanctuary possessed?"

Euphemia looked up. "Actually, Sanctuary has no Video Girls or other similar pokegirls managing their electronic networks."

Micah blinked. "But that's stupid. Why the hell wouldn't they -" He cut off in mid-sentence as the answer came to him. "Fear."

"Fear?" Cornelia glanced skeptically at him, momentarily averting her eyes from watching both Jericho and her Angel, Delilah.

Micah nodded. "Fear. For the same reason they stopped utilizing other pokegirls beyond their artificially created breeds for defense. In the off-chance such a pokegirl ever got in the hands of anyone not belonging to Sanctuary, their entire computer networks and security measures would be blown completely open. Security through obscurity." Which meant that he had a severe tactical advantage - Sanctuary hadn't known about Euphemia's abilities, either. "Once you've accessed the Cache Program, I need you to setup other backdoors into their networks that we can access in case they close this one."

Euphemia nodded. "What then?"

"I want you to utilize the Cache Program to see if you can locate two pokegirl breeds in storage, a Dire Wolf and a StarlightXpress," Micah replied. "I want you to focus upon a Dire Wolf specialized in psychic combat, not mage combat. Also, check the FoxxSea entries - a really enterprising Dire Wolf could have setup a spoofing program to give false returns on their pokeball."

"A -spoofing- program?" Euphemia voice was pure curiosity even as her fingers danced upon keyboards of light and magic.

"It was an idea I came up for a story of mine as a feasible way to keep tamable menace pokegirls hidden in plain sight," Micah replied. "It could be in use here."

"Why a Dire Wolf, Master?" inquired Nunnally.

"Or a StarlightXpress, for that matter," Anya added.

Micah sucked in a breath, let it out slowly as his wings shifted restlessly. "The Dire Wolf is part of the next stage of my plan. I want one for several reasons. One, they're powerful. Two, they're Celestial, and I know how they think, which means I can bargain with one effectively. An Alaka-wham is too variable in personality, too much of a chance that I could find one only to have her betray me for one reason or another." Micah held up a hand. "Yes, I understand how pokegirls think and how their psychology operates. I'm just hedging my bets. As for a StarlightXpress, only a fool fights whenever he can't retreat effectively."

Anya regarded him somberly. "You'd seriously leave this planet entirely if you had too, wouldn't you?"

"Without hesitation or regret," Micah replied. "Even if it meant floating in Pluto's orbit for a year just so you could devise a method of trans-dimensional travel, I'd do it."

Golden eyes glanced away, hesitant. "...even if I can devise such a method, there's no guarantee I'd be able to return you home."

Micah nodded. "I know."

"...you do?"

"I'd still take it, regardless," Micah replied. "Even if it meant just traveling to another pokegirl world where Sanctuary never summoned me and mine, I'd take the chance." Blue-on-black eyes glanced heavenward. "This stopped being about me the moment I took all four of you into my harem. And while I'm selfish, I'm not foolish, either."

No one had a reply to that until Nunnally broke the silence. "You have a plan, Master?"

Micah smiled. "Are you familiar with the phrase, 'Amateurs study battles, Professionals study logistics'?"

"I wasn't until just now, Master."

"I want to utilize the cache program that Sanctuary uses to discover information regarding Sanctuary Goths currently operating in the various Leagues," Micah replied.

Cornelia grinned. "You're going to fight -back-?"

"Fighting doesn't have anything to do with it," Micah added quickly before Nunnally, Anya, or Euphemia could voice their surprise. "The simple fact is that I don't -know- what Sanctuary is doing, or where they're operating in force. If I can metaphorically maneuver behind them, operate in their blind spot and gather information to my advantage, then not only will it enhance my chances of survival, but I'll be in a good position if I find a big enough stick to make Sanctuary back the fuck off."

Anya looked at him oddly. "What's your definition of a 'big enough stick'?"

Micah shrugged. "Orbital strike of various yields and types. A thermonuclear fusion bomb going off in their main capital. Antimatter munitions. Some of the more esoteric toys Sukebe could have left behind. Grey-gooing the continent. Neuroi Swarm. Dropping a Bolo on them. A Class One Critical Effect Weapon. Tossing Dark Falz at them. Zohar Modifier. The Diabolos Corp - "

"Stop, stop, I think I get the picture, stop," Anya held up her hands as if in defeat.

"Of course, that doesn't mean I couldn't utilize mundane means to hamper Sanctuary, either," Micah noted. "If I could access to satellite surveillance, teleportation points, and memory access, I doubt they'd enjoy dealing with mass brush fires, either."

"Plans of mass destruction aside, Master," Euphemia broke in. "It's going to take me a while to go through the database. I may be good, but I can't pull off miracles."

Micah flashed the redhead a fang-edged grin. "I have perfect faith in your abilities, Euphemia. Regardless, I don't expect us to bring down Sanctuary overnight." Pause. "Maybe in a week..."

"Master!"

Micah laughed softly.

"Can we talk?" asked Jericho, the catgirl having stalked up to their impromptu war council.

"Sure." Micah resettled so he was facing Jericho. "What about?"

"Who the hell -are- you people?" Jericho demanded.

Micah quirked a grin - not a reassuring sight for most, given his appearance. "Why would you be asking that question?"

"Because half of what you and your harem are talking about is confusing as hell and the other half isn't that reassuring," Jericho took a deep breath. "Please don't tell me you're one of the Teams."

Micah laughed softly. "No." He considered a moment. "I could tell you, but there are two problems. One, the information I possess is dangerous, and knowing it, you share that danger. The second issue is that extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence, and I have no immediate evidence to back up my claims beyond my word and the word of my harem."

"How dangerous is dangerous?" Jericho eyed him warily.

"Some of the Leagues may very well kill to find out what I know."

Jericho blinked. "No one has that kind of information."

Micah shrugged. "Well, then. I don't need to tell you."

Jericho frowned.

Micah grinned. "You've trusted me thus far. I suppose you'll merely have to trust me a little more."

- [***] -

Micah regarded the sloping hill with outward calm and inner distaste mixed with a heady dollop of fear. Beyond it lay the sandy beach mixed with rocks and the waters of the lake - plenty of free space, for what he was about to do.

Beyond that, he had his entire harem with him - Nunnally covering from above, Anya on down-range, Cornelia and Euphemia ready to move into action should he require it. Their presence was both a blessing and a curse. With them present, it was unlikely he'd be seriously injured during this little test. But then, he wasn't exactly eager to have his screw-ups be a public display.

You're stalling, Micah thought to himself. Quit it.

Decision made, Micah unlimbered his wings, giving no warning to either of his 'watchers', taking off at a full-out run, ignoring the hammer-beat of his heart and the sickening rise of dread in his stomach as he mentally braced himself as he neared the slight ridge drop, spread his wings and -

- falling, falling, falling, FALLING!

Micah finally squelched the protest from the visceral mammalian portion of his brain that flatly stated good two-legged mammals should be on the ground and not soaring through the air under their own power, tapping into that darker, newer portion of his brain that said this was not only right and proper, but his god-given due. Eventually, he wrestled both instinct and sensation into something manageable, absently recalling the first time he went skiing and the feel of gradually testing out things in a demented sort of 'Oh, what does this do, and this, and that?'

Despite the fear, Micah couldn't help but grin as he cleared the beach and soared above open water, gaining altitude. Now, then, let's practice -turning-...

He wasn't quite certain which it was - experience or the gradual trick of listening to what his wings -told- him to do and following through with it, or a mixture of both - but his first test flight gradually became less of a 'high-strung terror ride' and more an exultant display of sheer fun, even if he kept it to simple turns and altitude gain. The worst part came whenever Nunnally flew beneath him, and he had to stifle a surge of 'PREY!' that almost made him go into a dive, claws out, intent to do -what- he couldn't fathom.

I need to figure out a way to flesh out and cudgel all these damn instincts of mine before I do something -really- stupid, Micah silently groused to himself, giving a shake of his horned-head to brush hair out of his eyes. The last thing I need to do is think I can take on a goddamn Panthress just because kitty does something that twigs in my brain as 'food on the bitchy claw'.

He let out a breath, even as he banked toward the hill, suddenly tired. Right. Time to get back on the ground and rest for a bit.

...

Come to think, how had he planned to land, exactly?

... Shit.

Micah grit his teeth, carefully edging ground-ward and until he judged close enough to risk it, pulling his wings up to force a sharp deceleration and stall, coming down at a run and pulling himself to a halt before he ran straight into the water, waves lapping at his boots and making his feet curl away from the chill.

A second later, and his harem had caught up with him with various noises of congratulations.

Micah smiled back. "Thank you."

"How do your wings feel?" Euphemia asked.

Micah winced as the sensation finally clicked. "Sore. Makes sense, as this was a first for them." Absently working them to keep the muscles from stiffening up, he began walking back up the hill. "Come on. You can heal them up when we get back to the top, and then we're going to do this all over again."

-[***]-

Micah carried three packages as he walked up to Jericho and Delilah. His approach was noticed almost instantly, and Micah couldn't help but crease a smile of amusement at the distrust displayed. Not that he could blame them, really.

Hopefully, what he was carrying would help to ameliorate some of that distrust.

Jericho coughed once he got within speaking distance. "Do you need something?"

Micah gave a shake of his head. "No. Instead, I have something for the two of you." He offered each pokegirl a respective thick, heavy-duty envelop that was typically utilized to insure delicate papers would not get mussed up in mail transit. He waited until they had begun to open said packages before he elaborated, "Your paperwork recognizing both of you as Free Pokegirls. I had Euphemia nicely expedite the paperwork. Congratulations, neither of you are legally capable of being captured or salvaged, though I would suggest having an anti-pokeball chip installed as soon feasible."

Both of them stared at him.

Micah smiled, and went on, "In addition, I have something for Delilah." He handed the Angel the final package he carried. "I suppose a day like this could be analogous to a birthday, so I thought a gift rather fitting. It's a shield stone," he grinned at Delilah's shocked gaze. His coins had finally been sold, so he had enough money to splurge, if only a little bit. "It'll allow you to evolve to an Archangel, should you choose too."

"Wait a minute!" Jericho protested, tail sticking straight out. "I don't... what if I don't want her to evolve!?"

"Technically, it's not your decision to make," Micah pointed out calmly. He turned to the Angel. "Delilah, your loyalty and honor to Jericho is extremely commendable, and I am very envious of her."

Delilah blushed at the praise.

"But," Micah elaborated, "It's something to keep in mind that you are now your own woman, and there are some choices only you can make. Legally, you don't have to listen to Jericho for anything, though I doubt such a thing will happen. But this is still your choice." He clapped his hands together, grinning. "I'll leave you two to discuss it."

Micah returned to his portion of the camp, wrapping his wings around him, only to be greeted by a slightly irate Cornelia, the dark-blue haired Demon-Goddess having an expression that could only be described as pure jealousy.

"Why are you even bothering with that Angel?" Cornelia scowled, arms folded under her breasts.

Micah regarded the sight for a bit too long before shaking his head. "Right. Trying to rack up brownie points."

Cornelia blinked. "Brownie points?"

"I can't make the assumption that this world is just going to conform to all my expectations," Micah pointed out. "Whenever I wrote them, I typically had the Megami and Celestial breeds come across as nice, honestly trying to help and working against near insurmountable odds to try and do some good in a world that didn't really lend itself to doing good." He rolled his neck in a close approximation to a shrug. "However, the general overall take on the Megami breed and their group habits had them typically be a bit more..." He paused to search for a good word. "Vociferous. If I have a group of Megami freak out from my outward appearance, I'd prefer to have one Celestial willing to defend me as need be."

Cornelia let out a disgusted snort. "I'd prefer to find out if Angel wings taste good with bbq sauce before giving them even a slight chance of harming you, but we'll try your way first."

Micah tried not to laugh too much, even as he opened up his own wings to give Cornelia a chance to snuggle up against him; a chance that she gladly took. "Mmmmm. Angel wings dipped in bbq sauce. Delicious."

Cornelia grinned back. "I know."

Euphemia leapt from the large tent they slept in, giggling as she hugged her personal pokedex to her chest and dancing around. "I'm a ~genius~ I'm a genius yes I am yes I am!"

Both Micah and Cornelia watched the display before Micah dared to try and ask, "I take it you're happy...?"

Euphemia giggled. "Yup! I've found you a Dire Wolf, Master!"

"I'm going to venture a guess and say this wasn't as simple as sorting them all in alphabetical order?"

Euphemia rolled her eyes. "Of course not." The redhead grinned. "Your spoofing program was brilliant, by the way. There was no Dire Wolf officially registered in the Cache Program, of course. I had to construct a sorting algorithm that would do a sampling of a pokeballs software to detect any anomalies, such as a hacked firmware. Once I did that..." Euphemia giggled and hopped in place. "I'm a genius!"

Micah absently wrapped his wings around Cornelia as he leveled a curious gaze at Euphemia. "What did you do with her?"

"I already purged the record of transfer from the program and moved the pokegirl into John Smith's ownership," Euphemia explained. "As a safety measure. Then I can transfer her to your account, and you'll be capable of accessing her at your leisure!"

"Huh," Micah nodded thoughtfully. "Make the transfer." A thought occurred to him. "Wait, you had to construct a program to make the search? You didn't find her among the Cache Program's FoxxSea listings?"

"Uh, no," Euphemia admitted. "Those were the first I checked manually. Honestly, I thought it was kind of a lost cause, but I created the program to see if I could stumble across any unusual pokegirls that we could use."

Micah blinked. "What pokegirl -was- she listed as?"

"Catgirl."

Micah opened his mouth to say something, paused, a look of confusion crossing his face. "Wait. -Catgirl-? What the hell?"

"I triple-checked, Master," Euphemia gave a helpless shrug of her shoulders. "Once I toggled the spoofing program to an inactive state, she showed up on the scan as a Dire Wolf."

Micah gave a snort. "Now I have to meet her, if only to clear up this little mystery."

"Uh, is Cornelia okay?"

Cornelia glanced up from where she had lain her head on Micah's shoulder, a blush spread across her cheeks. "I'm fine. He's just been squeezing my ass for the past five minutes while you two were talking."

"I may be developing some bad habits," Micah commented thoughtfully.

"If you -stop-, then we can discuss 'bad habits', Master."

Micah just grinned.

-[***]-

Micah absently rocked the pokeball containing their current mystery -a Dire Wolf that had somehow masqueraded as a Catgirl? How did -that-happen? - back and forth with one extended foreclaw as he considered the issue coaxing her to his side would present.

It was a day later, the sun bright and clear overhead, a perfect day for flying - and he -knew- that, somehow, the feel of wind rustling against the skin of his wings translated into 'yes, good weather, sky!'

At least she wasn't feral - he could tell that much from the scan. But it wasn't as if he could simply cudgel her over the back of the head with biologics. With a Dire Wolf involved, that was a shaky road, at best. His primary worry was whether her loyalties lay with her previous owner - who had effectively abandoned her, but then again, pokegirl biology was an utter bitch, and this was a -Dire Wolf-, of all things. So. How to approach matters?

Well. Nothing else, asking politely always worked wonders.

"Let's get ready," Micah decided, and organized his harem - Anya and Euphemia at his side, the StarMystic ready to defend with the Shield Card, Nunnally and Cornelia covering with joined arcs of fire, yet remaining at a distance so as to not obviously crowding the soon-to-be released pokegirl in. A satisfied nod, a final thoughtful clawed tap on the exterior of the pokeball, and Micah toggled the decompression release.

There had been a sliver of doubt in Micah's brain - perhaps the scan was wrong, perhaps Euphemia's program was somehow off - but no, the moment he caught sight of her, his brain confirmed it. Dire Wolf.

She wore her nudity like a Greek statue, abashed nor ashamed in the way she moved, her hair long, thick, and bright gold in color, eyes a startling green that shone against skin that was an unnatural pale, milky-white. Her figure was full and healthy, hips wide, breasts heavy on a slightly shorter frame, areole large and a pale pink, nipples pronounced. A large, bushy yet smooth tail absently wagged behind her briefly as she tensed, corded muscles standing out briefly as they flexed beneath smooth skin. White-furred ears flicked atop her head, taking in the sounds around her.

Micah blinked, and thought, Holy shit.

The Dire Wolf caught sight of Micah, her eyes going wide. "Holy shit!" And blushed, clearly embarrassed at the slip up as her hands flew to her mouth.

Micah coughed out a laugh and glanced at Euphemia. "I'm not -that-scary, am I?"

Euphemia smiled back. "Only if you don't know otherwise."

The Dire Wolf flicked several quick glances around, trying to parse the situation. What was going on? Not a taming room, so he wasn't expecting her to immediately lay down and spread her legs. Not Indigo, either. Did Aiden loose her in a salvage battle? That -idiot-. "I apologize, sir," the Dire Wolf replied. "You just startled me." From the Demon-Goddess and - Sorceress? - they didn't trust her, either. Good.

Micah smiled faintly. "That's alright. I suppose I don't have that much of a normal appearance." He wrapped his wings around him, glancing curiously at her ears - no mistaking that structure, though others whom weren't familiar with cats probably couldn't tell the difference. He then flicked a glance at her chest. Right, he thought. If I had those in front of me and she said 'Catgirl', I might very well believe her. "Can I ask your name?"

He tail flicked uneasily behind her. "Ludmilla."

Micah blinked. "Like the Russian sniper?"

Ludmilla nodded. "Yes, I read about her from several of the Alaka-whams before I was deca-" And immediately shut up whenever she realized what she was saying, hoping he didn't catch her gaffe. His appearance must have screwed her up worse than she thought.

"And you liked the name," Micah replied. "Fitting." The mental association of 'Russian' and 'Dire Wolf' jogged loose a thought, and Micah blinked as he realized the overall association of this Dire Wolf's appearance - she looked like a human-form arctic wolf. Sukebe must have included multiple phenotype wolf-expressions in the Dire Wolf, and they just rarely got a chance to show up due to the breed's rarity.

Not entirely human-form, Micah quietly amended. There was something in her overall facial structure that just seemed to scream 'wolf!' to him.

Ludmilla let out a breath. Dealing with a new Tamer until she could get back to her old one was always tricky, and this one threw her off by the odd way he was treating her. "Excuse me, sir, but did you win me in a salvage battle from my Master, Aiden?"

"Not quite," Micah replied calmly. "It's a bit more complicated than that." He smiled, and swept his wings back, gesturing with one hand, claws extended. "Would you like some tea or coffee while I explain?"

More comfortably situated around a small campfire, coffee and tea passed out in equal measures - to all of his harem, Ludmilla couldn't help but note - Micah explained to her of Sanctuary, the Cache Program, and what he was planning to do - but not the why of it, or the specifics of Sanctuary being after him. Not yet.

Ludmilla set her coffee aside, looking briefly as if all her world had been cut out beneath her, ears folded back against her skull briefly before she took a deep breath. "I have to know." Green eyes glanced at Micah, judging, weighing, making a decision. "I have to know if Aiden betrayed me and let his ownership lapse while I was in storage. Legally, I have no right to ask this. But please, I won't - can't -rest knowing I could have failed my Master."

Micah sipped his own coffee, set it aside, and raised a finger. "I will, if you make me a promise."

Muscles tense, ears perked forward as Ludmilla regarded him with a still gaze, prepared to fight her way out bloody if necessary. "What is the promise?"

"That is if Aiden does not take you back - that he did, indeed, let his ownership lapse while you were in storage - that you return to join my harem and assist me in battling against Sanctuary." Micah smiled. "It would also be polite to let me know somehow if this was all simply a mistake on Aiden's part, so I don't get my hopes up."

Slowly, Ludmilla nodded. "I won't betray your trust."

Micah nodded, and stood, wings mantling along his shoulders. "Then I suppose all I can say is 'good luck'."

Ludmilla stood, nodded solemnly, and disappeared in a teleport.

Micah had picked his mug up and took another sip of the fire-brewed coffee before Cornelia finally burst out with a yell of "You IDIOT!"

Micah gave the Demon-Goddess a lazy, half-lidded glance over the rim of his mug. "Mmm?"

"Why did you even think to let her go!?" she blurted.

"It was necessary," Micah replied. "She's a Dire Wolf. She has to -know-. No hesitation, no regrets, no second chances. Granted, the only Dire Wolf I know of in terms of harem and tamer interaction -had-no Tamer before her first one. But it's also a catch 22. Had she simply thrown away her previous life without a second of consideration? I never would have been able to trust her. Now? Now, if she returns, I know she'll go through the fires of hell itself for me, if necessary."

"-If- she returns," Euphemia pointed out.

"She said she would," Micah noted. "Dire Wolves are nothing but... stubborn about their word. If she returns to join, then I'll be happy. If nothing..." He gave a fang-edge grin. "You know what they say, 'try, try again...'"

-[***]-

He couldn't sleep.

Which was annoying. When, by all rights, he -should- be asleep. He'd spent long enough taming Cornelia, and there really was no comparable joy getting to cuddle up to a warm, willing, and caring body after sex. Never mind being tired - he'd found out very early in relationships that whenever he was with a female he could implicitly -trust-, it was like all the stress uncoiled from him. More than once he'd accidentally fell asleep when he hadn't been watching with his harem - embarrassing, as he didn't intend to, annoying, as they didn't wake him -up-.

Sadly, despite the presence of a warm and willing body to rest upon, he was... restless. Worse, he didn't have an outlet for that restlessness - tossing and turning at night was a bit more complicated when you had wings and horns to wrestle with.

So, he finally gave up, putting on pants and boots, eschewing a shirt entirely - he -wanted- that wind - crawling out of the tent and settling himself up against a tree, falling into a meditative stillness as he wrapped his wings around him.

Which made no sense. Why was he so calm and sedate out -here-whenever he had been metaphorically going stir-crazy inside the tent?

He shook his head slowly. No. He was likely reading too much into the matter. It wasn't like this was the first occasion he had trouble falling asleep.

He wasn't certain how long he'd been leaning against that tree whenever Ludmilla stepped out of the darkness and into the light cast by the small fire, the Dire Wolf's tail brushing low against the ground, her ears held back. Without a word, she settled nearby, the two sharing silence with Micah first opting to take a page from Nunnally's book and give Ludmilla the chance to find her own voice and break into the conversation. Gradually, it became clear such a thing wasn't going to happen, Ludmilla next to him in body alone, her brain still dwelling on her previous master.

Micah shook his head slowly. "I imagine even after three hundred years, it's the betrayals that still hit the hardest."

Ludmilla slowly nodded, not thinking, then flicked her ears up and looked at Micah. "You guessed at my age."

"Well, you did slip a few clues."

Ludmilla gusted out a sigh. "Not one of my finer moments." Her gaze sharpened. "Still, they weren't obvious clues. Someone normal shouldn't have picked up on them."

Micah smiled faintly. "Your words were similar to... a description I've read of the process. In addition, a Russian sniper? A -female-Russian sniper? They barely teach history, nowadays. What little they haven't butchered."

Ludmilla smiled faintly. "You aren't one of the male prototypes Sukebe was rumored to have created toward the end of the war, are you?"

Micah almost choked. "Definitely not."

"No? Pity." Ludmilla stretched, her humor slightly improved now that she was talking. "So how do you know of such a thing?"

"It relates to why I'm... having issues with Sanctuary. And why they're after me." Micah carefully elaborated on that, how he had been summoned, how he had the accidental good fortune that allowed for an escape. "In affect, Sanctuary is hoping that I'll be their personal little pet god."

"And are you?"

"Am I what?"

"A god."

"No." Micah frowned absently. "Well. You might be able to argue that if you used the Groundhogs Day definition of 'god', but... anyways. No."

"Groundhogs Day definition?"

Micah smiled. "You never watched the movie?"

"If you know what you say you know, then you should also know that running an entrenched guerrilla war leaves little time for idle entertainment."

"Point." Micah considered. "I'll try and be brief describing the movie so you get a background. The main character gets affectively stuck in this small, backwoods town, and keeps repeating the day over and over again. When he sleeps, or dies, he wakes up with the day reset anew. Initially, he's depressed about this, but then he realizes he can do whatever he wants too, with no repercussions. As a side effect, he also learns a great deal of information about the town, the people therein, as well as a number of skills he wouldn't normally be able to learn." A leathery shrug of shoulders and wings. "Gradually, toward the end of the movie, he attempts to convince his love interest of his state, and makes a curious remark. 'I'm not -the- god. I may be -a- god. Maybe god has just been around long enough that he knows everything.' I'm paraphrasing, of course, as it's been a while, but that line always stuck with me."

Ludmilla smiled. "So, you're saying that you're a god, because you know everything?"

"No, I'm merely making a curious and thoughtful remark. Personally, I find their attitude abhorrent and the notion that I'm some sort of demented Logos and Omega an utter crock, but it doesn't remove the fact that they've tried to capture me before. I wish to convince them otherwise. Or, barring that, leave."

"It's a poor commander who fights in a burning house." Ludmilla nodded. And her expression fell, as her depression surged back to the fore, the memories of what happened earlier still fresh in her mind. "Why? Why couldn't he have just told me? It would have hurt less," she whispered.

Micah considered various feasible replies to that, then tossed them all out and decided to go with the hard truth. "Likely, because you're scary."

Ludmilla's tail lashed angrily behind her as she glared at him. "Scary!?"

Micah smiled. "Old? Powerful? Mayhaps, a little stubborn? Just a -little- aggressive in your viewpoint?"

It was hard to tell in the firelight, but Micah thought he saw Ludmilla color. "I'm... not. I'm not."

Micah gave a languid roll of his neck. "Old, then. And powerful. And because the coward's way is typically the easier way, with pokegirls. Put them in a pokeball and forget about them. Who would care? Most wouldn't."

"...are you scared of me?"

Micah gave a half-snort. "No."

Ludmilla's expression creased into a slight pout, her ears flicking back. "Why not?"

"Because you have a modicum of my trust, and you've done nothing to abuse that trust."

She considered that, and smiled, mouth open as her tongue lolled slightly just past her canines. "Point conceded."

She may look slightly human, Micah thought, but all the mannerisms point to wolf. "How involved were you in Sukebe's war? And, for that matter, how much information did you have on his manufacturing superstructure?"

Green eyes rolled heavenward as Ludmilla's features creased to one of disgust, ears folded back. "This is the part that I always hate whenever someone learns of my age. Inevitably, they always ask, or assume, the same thing. No, I don't know of any remaining intact Labs. Do you?"

"Technically, I suppose I could answer 'yes'," Micah smiled. "And I'll note, I'm not a mind reader."

"No, you're not," Ludmilla murmured thoughtfully. "Speaking of which..."

"Do not," Micah noted, "Attempt to go inside my mind, please. I'm not certain how we're going to handle my mental defenses, and I'd rather not hurt you accidentally."

"Mental defenses?"

"Every psychic Sanctuary tried to push into my head, apparently, had a screaming breakdown. Up to this point, I haven't had a psychic on-hand to do any testing."

Ludmilla stood, reaching up to lightly run her claws along Micah's cheek, and nodded, slowly. "That's... new." Green eyes regarded blue-on-black. "Did you feel anything?"

Micah eyed her as if she was some piece to a complicated puzzle. "I'm... not honestly sure." He gave a shake of his head. "Late night with us both unfocused likely isn't the best time to be considering psychic experimentation."

"Late night's are often used for something else, yes," Ludmilla replied, not flirtatious, just factual, as she let her claws trail upon the ribbed curve of his horns, fascinated.

Micah suffered through the inspection briefly before he commented absently, "Does this mean I get to play with your ears any time I care to?"

This close, Micah did see the Dire Wolf color. "If you like." And near let out a yelp as Micah shifted aside wings and promptly reached up to rub at white-furred ears, playing at their softness.

Ludmilla suffered through that only briefly before she had to lean away, ears held back. The touch wasn't unpleasant, just... horribly intimate. "Point conceded."

"Cold?"

"A little."

"Then come here."

Well, this was... unusual. Leathery flesh slid over her naked skin, a blood-warm blanket that wrapped her up in a comforting grip. She leaned against him, feeling her body react naturally to her being unbound and near a warm and willing male presence, yet didn't act upon it, instead enjoying the slow burn of lust.

"Catgirl."

Green eyes looked up at him. "Yes?"

Micah shook his head. "Just marveling how you managed to pass yourself off as a catgirl. Those ears are definitely wolf, no matter how you cut it."

Ludmilla didn't pull away from him, but squirmed so her arms were folded underneath her breasts, looking up at him with an innocent and helpless pout as she pressed her arms together, displaying a stupendous amount of cleavage. "But Master, I'm just a harmless and defenseless Catgirl."

Micah glanced skyward even as he smiled. "Riiight. How many times did that work?"

Ludmilla's innocent expression fell away into a smirk, her ears canted in silent laughter. "I lost count. It's why I eschewed clothing, at first - when you can distract someone with a flick of your tail or leaning over just so, clothing sometimes just gets in the way."

"I have no arguments."

"I didn't think you would."

-[***]-

Ludmilla clung to Micah's arm as she huddled to his side, partially obscured by a cupped wing as they walked along. The Dire Wolf's mannerism came across as one of barely reigned in panic, and Micah was distantly thankful that, even in her distraught state, she seemed to have good control over her terrifying strength. Her claws could easily churn up flesh like it was dough, and he had little desire to experience the wonder of broken bones, no matter how quickly Anya or Euphemia could have fixed it.

'Tamer Dependency' Euphemia had called it. 'A pain in the ass' Cornelia had summed up. Sometimes post-taming, the conglomerate bundle of neurons that made up a pokegirl's brain combined with the flood of hormones fizzing in her blood caused an overall glitch in their personality, reducing them to a state that might as well be feral for all the good they were worth. Overall, it was more a nuisance than anything else. As long as no one tried to pry Ludmilla away from his side, that is.

If they did, they were more than likely going to get bitten.

Realistically, he should have put Ludmilla up in her pokeball for the effect to wear off; logically and emotionally, that was a poor choice. He doubted she'd appreciate getting put back up so soon after gaining a new Master, and it wasn't as if his harem couldn't handle anything that might get thrown their way, barring a Legendary or three.

"There's the gate," Euphemia noted, glancing up from her holographic screens.

Micah nodded in agreement. Getting up closer, they could see the wrought iron gates having been left half-open, rusted from exposure to the elements without care for so many years, supported by two red-brick pillars. "How close are we?"

"Three miles," was the prompt reply from the redhead.

Amazing what a month or two makes, Micah thought to himself, when three miles over cracked and worn pavement wasn't worth remarking about.

Nothing was stupid enough to interfere with their walk, though Micah and his harem both caught sight of a few ferals that made haste upon seeing them. Eventually they reached the edge of the wood line, venturing into the small valley where the Capella house had been built.

Micah called his harem to a halt, standing immobile, one wing wrapped around Ludmilla as he slowly took in the house itself. Built from local stone and pine, the two-story manor house was built in a short H configuration with several out-buildings surrounding it in a compound. It looked relatively intact, even if the surroundings were overgrown due to several years of neglect.

A piercing scream echoed across the small valley. Micah didn't react, even as Ludmilla let out a small whimper in her throat, grip tightening on his arm and grounding the bones together.

The source of the scream emerged from the doors of the house, a centauroid pokegirl in battered and half-ruined armor, carrying a massive two-handed blade.

"Damehan," Micah muttered half to himself, eyes narrowed as he waited for what the pokegirl would do.

The answer came shortly. Ectoplasmic fire wreathed the pokegirl's disembodied head, giving the entire valley a cold, dark feel despite the bright, clear sun streaming down overhead. Pawing restlessly at stone facade, the Damehan skittered in place before digging in and making a full out-charge toward their group, blade held ready to inflict lethal damage.

"Cornelia," Micah ordered calmly despite that knot of fear and adrenaline churning in his gut, "Take her out. Anya, standby."

Cornelia didn't need a second word, accelerating hard and sending out a spray of power bolts that shotgunned the area around the charging Damehan, bringing her to a sharp halt as her charge faltered in the face of a seemingly far more dangerous and active foe. Cornelia ignored all conventions of normal aerodynamics, her flight capabilities skittering her across low and hard, right angles and sharp turns that left the Damehan the center of an increasing torrent of long-range attacks that the ghost-type pokegirl simply couldn't handle.

Add another pokegirl to the mix, and the battle would have been far different.

A sharp turn, the Damehan moving to defend a feint, and Cornelia teleported behind, a manifested energy blade from the end of her key-halberd cutting out the Damehan's rear legs from underneath her, sending the centauroid pokegirl slamming into the ground with a muscle-bucking scream of rage and pain.

"Alright," was the quiet murmur from Micah. "Anya, move into capture-"

He didn't get a chance to finish before the Damehan struggled painfully into an approximation of upright. With one final blow, the headless pokegirl brought the massive blade down upon her floating head, crushing it in a spray of gore. And braced the pommel of her blade on the ground, a death-lurch impaling her body upon her sword.

"Son of a bitch," Micah whispered softly, Cornelia teleporting to them and floating back down, looking slightly ill at ease given the Damehan's gruesome suicide. He couldn't blame her.

"I guess feral Damehan's don't like being captured," Euphemia whispered softly. "She must have been lairing here, without anyone knowing."

"There is a benefit," Nunnally pointed out, calmly, the blind Armsmistress surveying the surrounding environment with senses that had nothing to do with sight.

"No other pokegirls should be nearby," Micah nodded slowly. "Anya. Cremate the body. Then let's make a slow investigation of our temporary residence, shall we?"

"I love idiots with more money than sense," Cornelia had noted as they cleared the first floor, eyeing high windows that screamed 'entry points', even despite the steel shutters that were mounted on the exterior.

"What makes you say that?" Micah wondered curiously, flanked by Euphemia and Nunnally, kept far back from Anya and Cornelia as they swept each room carefully. The interior was disorganized that spoke of a combination of hurried activity and some years with minor exposure on occasion to the elements, but lacking any of the sickening rot that Micah was familiar with in a building that was clearly near death.

"Ferals, and defending this place?" Anya asked curiously.

"Exactly," Cornelia replied.

"He was a Master Tamer before he retired," Micah noted absently. "I suppose they can get away with stupid things from time to time."

"This place has a -basement-," Micah remarked with something akin to awe whenever they stumbled across it's entrance.

"You've never seen a basement before?" Anya blinked curiously at him.

"Where I come from, you tend to hit water after you've dug a foot down," Micah replied. "Building a basement in such conditions is typically more trouble than it's worth." He eyed the doorway. "We'll clear that last."

"Master?" This, from Euphemia.

"Just a feeling," Micah replied somberly. Ludmilla's growling snarl in the basement's direction just seemed to re-affirm that decision.

"Two leaks," Anya noted once they had finished with the second floor and taken care of the long, open attic.

"Those can be fixed," Micah replied. "Fixing roofs are easy. It's building them in the first place that's difficult."

They finally made it back to the basement door. Euphemia retried several chemical glow sticks from her d-compression backpack and broke them, tossing them down into the darkness. Cornelia glanced at him. "Master..."

"I'll stay up here so you can clear it." Micah glanced down at the Dire Wolf still attached to his arm, and the barely heard growl that rumbled in her throat. "I'm not sure she'd let me go down there in the first place."

Cornelia nodded. And cleared the stairs down into the basement in one jump, Anya following.

Several minutes went by before the pair returned, neither looking very exuberant. Anya calmly closed the basement door before letting out a sigh.

"Someone didn't clean up the bodies afterwards," Cornelia replied dryly. "Several rooms, including two workrooms, and one exterior door leading up. We'll have to get to that last, considering all the old blood."

"Lovely," Micah replied in a wry tone.

Euphemia shook her head slowly, thankful she hadn't been one to go down there. Killing she could do, dissecting dead bodies she could do, but that didn't mean she had to like it. "We need to check the exterior buildings, find which one has all the power generating equipment so I can check them. Then the wiring, and so on."

"Until we've a good idea of the local feral migration and makeup, let's play cautious," Micah noted. "We'll keep to groups of two, but for right now I'll decline to split up. Let's go search the outbuildings."

-[***]-

Micah absently let his claws extend, trailing across the surface of the large, hardwood table that was the focus of the study/library, having been swept clean of the scattered debris that had covered it when they arrived. Capella apparently had some nostalgic ideas regarding what rooms his manor house should possess. Micah wondered how much use it got, originally.

He sipped at his after-breakfast mug of caffeine and smiled at Ludmilla, the Dire Wolf flicking her tail in annoyance and agitation, ears flicking back to hide amidst her blonde hair. "Feel better?"

Ludmilla frowned. "I can't die from embarrassment, so I'm sure I'll be fine eventually."

"A first?"

"In three hundred years? It's happened a few times. Depending on the Tamer, it can be an annoyance or sheer hell for me." A brief smile. "Even if I'm of production run one and not zero, I suppose I still had some bugs to be worked out."

Micah nodded absently. "Pythia."

"I'm sorry?"

"Production run zero. If I understand things correctly, her name is Pythia."

Ludmilla settled in a chair, taking care to make sure her tail wasn't in the way. Micah suppressed a flash of lust as he watched her squirm into place. The Dire Wolf shook her head. "It's the casual things you know about that really gets me."

"Having second thoughts about trying to get in my head?"

"Not on your life." Green eyes regarded him, white-furred ears perked forward. "I'm not going to feel safe until I have a mental lock on your brain so I can get a hold of you when I need to."

Micah attempted not to fidget, feeling a sense of... well, not -panic-, that wasn't the right word. Embarrassment might be a better term, mixed with a healthy dollop of surprise. The idea that someone could have that much interest in his well being... was a little new to him.

One thing to read about how focused a Dire Wolf could on regarding their tamer. Another to see it focused on you.

Micah wrapped his wings up around him, absently noting he'd have to see about getting a chair he could actually lean back in. So far, it was stools and backless couches for him. "Alright. How are we going to do this?"

Ludmilla smiled, showing off her fangs. "Carefully."

Micah stuck his tongue out by way of reply.

The next two hours progressed slowly and painfully for both of them. For Ludmilla, it was the very real threat that she could die while attempting this - three hundred years of repeated and well-hone skill in the psychic arts gave her a serious advantage, but her reserves were far from inexhaustible. For Micah, it was similar - the mix of the idea that he could seriously harm Ludmilla while trying to wrestle with an ability he had no concept for was exhausting at best, terrifying at worst. Morever, there was the notion that such a thing may be very well impossible, and they were both doing the equivalent of hitting their heads against a brick wall.

The only saving grace was that Ludmilla and Micah both had -very- thick heads.

Ludmilla leaned back in her seat, reaching up to wipe away sweat from her brow and run a clawed hand through her bright blonde hair, letting it cool. "Do you know that your fangs extend when you get pissed off?"

Micah glanced blankly at Ludmilla, half-annoyed that she'd distracted him as he emitted out gusting puffs of breath, mentally working to cudgel his shielding ability to work the way he wanted it too. "...-what-?"

Ludmilla nodded. "It's true, they do."

Micah gave up and ran both hands around his horns and through his hair, absently tonguing at the fangs in question. "Lovely, albeit useless." He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think. "Okay. Let's try another tactic. The defensive measure seems to be autonomic in nature, which means it's not an active response on my part, which means it's just -there-."

"Trying to get into your brain is like sticking my hand in an ocean," Ludmilla commented. "Only whenever I do, it turns black and oily and angry. Like it's trying to pull me in." She shivered faintly. "Like it's hungry."

Micah scowled thoughtfully, rubbing his thumb absently at the tip of one horn. "Huh." Took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "We'll try it one more time. Then we'll call it for a few hours if this doesn't work."

Ludmilla nodded slowly. Again, she made the telepathic contact, skimming carefully above the mental surface -

- only to gasp audibly as something erupted from beneath the liquid, grabbed, and -yanked-.

She panicked, struggling as the liquid seemed to rise up and engulf her, and for a brief moment, she saw... something...

...and with a mental 'click', his mind fell open to her.

"...oh," Ludmilla softly whispered, opening her eyes. And immediately leapt up from her chair, tail swishing when she caught sight of Micah. "Master? Are you alright?"

Micah let out a soft pant, sweat coursing down the side of his face. "I'm fine." He worked at his mouth, swallowed. "Just... took a bit out of me." He glanced at her. "You have full access?"

The Dire Wolf nodded. "Yes." Her ears flicked, her expression becoming one of puzzlement. "If you like that sort of stuff, why haven't you done any of it with your harem?"

Micah glanced at Ludmilla, frowning. He could -feel- her, in his brain, like the sensation of rain pattering against skin. "Well. This'll be a learning experience. Which stuff?"

"BDSM."

Micah let out a bark of laughter. "Ah. If you're in my brain, you should know the answer already. As for piercings, they can catch and rip in battle. Something none of you should have to worry about."

"Euphemia isn't involved in any front-line activities. You might want to think about making her get some." Ludmilla smiled. "Ah. You liked that."

Blue-on-black eyes regarded the Dire Wolf, causing her to stiffen faintly. "I don't want to learn that you've been pressuring her behind my back."

Ludmilla laid her ears back momentarily, before recovering. "Can I at least ask her?"

"No," Micah replied as he stood, being careful as he stretched his wings, mindful not to hit anything as he did so. Folding his wings back, he went on, "If I want something from any of you, believe me, you won't have to guess. I'll simply tell you. Now, I'm going to go walk this off. Care to join me?"

"You need an escort regardless," Ludmilla smiled. "And it might be good to talk about some things."

"Quite."

-[***]-

Author Notes: Tamer Dependancy is mentioned in Metroanime's origional 'Wild Horse and Pokegirls', and I always wanted to include it as a minor snafu in a story.

For the curious, Micah references Strike Witches, Blame!, Phantasy Star Online, and Xenogears, in order, in the list of threats he'd toss Sanctuary's way.