12

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 12]

Micah could feel the bite of cold air freezing his throat despite the thick wrapping of fabric around his mouth; swathed as he was, he both looked and felt like some lumbering, misshapen, hump-backed beast. And he wasn't even exposed to the elements; he and his harem were surveying the maintenance bay just inside the secondary entrance to the research and surveying town that was their impromptu home at the moment. Getting through the actual maintenance hatch after discovering it had been near impossible; the extreme cold had more or less welded it shut. It had taken Ludmilla and Illya phasing through to secure a teleport point to move all of them inside. The cavernous seemed more foreboding than it actually was, illuminated by Micah's ghost-light, Anya's Light Card and Euphemia's holoscreens.

Micah regarded his bundled up harem, amused that they had less trouble acquiring extreme-weather clothing. "I love this place already," he mused.

Ludmilla let out a moisture-cloud laden gust of exasperation. "Please tell me you're joking. Right now, I'm seriously envying all my sisters that actually got fur out of their package." Blonde hair and white-furred ears peaked out behind her coat's hood, flicking in irritation from being covered up.

"I grew up in the sub-tropics. Compared to that, near any place is paradise," Micah replied.

"I'm a little doubtful of that right now," Cornelia muttered, rubbing her gloved hands together to warm them up.

"I'll only start complaining if the power systems don't work," Euphemia murmured.

"Let's find out," Micah murmured by way of reply. "And hope your schematics of the place are accurate."

"Or that we aren't stumbling into a lair of cannibalistic arctic-adapted Dark Elves that will kill all of us pokegirls, sup on the marrows of our bones, and steal you away to idolize you as their sex god," Anya cheerfully offered.

"You know, given my luck with these things, it wouldn't surprise me one bit," Micah replied thoughtfully.

They encountered no cannibalistic Dark Elves as they made their way deeper into the research complex, running into only a few closed doors that were teased open with relative minimum of fuss by Nunnally and Ludmilla. Micah carefully marked their passage via a grease marker, making sure they didn't loose their way despite the fact that all of his girls could teleport.

"Here we are," Euphemia murmured thoughtfully, pulling back her hood and letting her voluminous pile of bright red hair spill out down her shoulders and back as she ran gloved hands across banks of batteries and monitoring equipment. "Let's run a diagnostic on you beauties..."

Several minutes went by as Euphemia teased reluctant electronics to life; once she was finished with her scans, she began discarding batteries from their laid-out arrangement; by the time she was finished, over a third of them had been set aside. Several more minutes had her muttering as she discarded and disconnected various bits of electronics. Finally, she swept back, pressed a button and...

...nothing happened. Only a few lights that had been dead on a display readout snapped to life, burning red in test mode then a positive green.

Euphemia grinned broadly. "Fiat lux!" Looking far too pleased from such a mediocre response, she went on, "Let me activate emergency lighting..." A few more control toggles, and two lights that had been inset in the walls sputtered and then burned with orange, low-level lightening that threw everything into a mix of black, grey, and weak light.

Cornelia stared a moment at the results, then turned back to Euphemia. "I can't contain my excitement," she deadpanned.

Euphemia rolled her eyes. "Would you rather we have to swap out the entire power system for something we'd have to haul down here ourselves?"

Cornelia had to privately admit that the G-splice had a point.

Micah nodded thoughtfully. "Excellent. How long until we have reliable power generation and can restore life support?" He couldn't help but quirk a grin at the last term.

Euphemia giggled. "Once we get ambient heat up above freezing we can haul in a hydrogen still, but we'll have to check the solar panels topside - they're likely frozen over and useless by now. We'll probably want to haul in some freshly charged batteries later -current remaining charge on these will only give us power for about a week or so."

Micah nodded. "We'll put that aside for later. Right now we need to secure the rest of the research station, and make sure no ferals have turned it into a lair of some sort."

-[***]-

"As much as I hate to admit it, I think I need to seriously invest on an all-weather spell just to keep the disrobing to a minimum," Micah groused as Ludmilla helped him get out of his artic-weather clothing.

Ludmilla giggled as his wing proved to be particularly stubborn about being extracted from a cover sheath his harem had devised. "I think you're right. You -could- have just gotten one of us to grab the NurseJoy and drag her down to your little love fortress."

"I wanted to check in on her, the Milktit, and the Damsel." A shrug. "They're in part my responsibility, even if Jericho and Delilah seemed accepting about them staying here."

"I don't think 'accepting' is the right word," Ludmilla smiled. "I just don't think they can say no to you."

Micah rolled his eyes heavenward. "Argh."

"You know how pokegirls work; why are you complaining?" Ludmilla inquired, ears canted in curiosity as her tailed wagged behind her.

"I don't feel comfortable getting the benefits without taking full responsibility," Micah let his wings curl loosely around him. "It comes across too close to abuse to me."

Ludmilla smiled.

"...let's go talk to Ekaterina," Micah noted, finding that smile too embarrassing for him to be the recipient of for too long.

They found her talking with Charlotte, the Milktit; he wasn't sure who had gotten cute, but the Milktit was wearing a maid's outfit, with her breasts literally spilling out of the top; the opening had been pushed down so that her chest was completely exposed. Despite the display, both she and Ekaterina were talking casually as if nothing was amiss.

Talk about divergent cultural values, Micah thought to himself. He had almost gotten used to the casual nudity with Ludmilla - the Dire Wolf preferred to eschew clothing when possible - but sometimes it still threw him for a loop. No matter how appealing the scenery looked like.

Charlotte's smile deepened when Micah arrived, given a curtsy. "Good afternoon, Master."

Micah nodded in reply. "Good afternoon, Charlotte. And you don't need to refer to me as 'Master'. A simple 'sir' will do." He was going to drive the point home with these girls even if it killed him. "And good afternoon, Ekaterina. Do you have a moment so I can discuss something with you?"

The NurseJoy grinned. "Sure."

Micah nodded. "Thank you. I take it you've enjoyed your little vacation?"

"It's wonderful here," Ekaterina had to admit. "Granted, there's a certain something lacking, but..." A grin made it clear what a 'certain something' she was referring too. "I can't complain at all."

Micah smiled. "Good. While you're here, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind doing a favor for me?"

Ekaterina's grin broadened. "Sure, what is it?"

"I want you to teach Francesca," Micah began, referring to the Damsel, "All your healing and support techniques."

Ekaterina's eyes went wide, as she let out a bark of spluttering laughter. Then she realized he was being serious, and stuffed it back down, but couldn't hold back a smile as she replied, "Sure, sure. I'll get right on it when I can."

Micah ignored the sudden spine-tingling snarl that came from behind him as he regarded the NurseJoy with a raised eyebrow. Then he calmly reached over, gripping the back of her neck as he surprised everyone(the NurseJoy most of all) by forcing her to bend over a nearby table, roughly pulling up her skirt, and bringing his hand down on her panty-clad ass in a loud spank that made Ekaterina yelp like a struck puppy. He repeated it four more times, eliciting a similar sound from her throat; once finished, he kept his grip on her neck, holding her in place despite the fact that she could, had she so desired, used her strength to wiggle out of it.

"Now, then," Micah noted, voice calm and level despite the violence he had just inflicted, "Let me explain something. You are not my pokegirl. You are not in my harem. You are, however, a guest allowed to live in this house under Jericho and Delilah's acceptance due to my request. As such, your behavior reflects on me. If I find you've taken a similar attitude with Jericho and Delilah, I will be -very- displeased. Am I understood?" At Ekaterina's dazed nod, Micah went on. "Second of all, you are not my pokegirl and you are not my harem. As such, you have the right of refusal. I expect you to exercise it. Now. Let me ask again. Will you teach Francesca your healing and support techniques?"

Ekaterina swallowed, feeling hideously vulnerable for too many reasons to count, face hotly flushed as she tried to cough out a reply. "She... she's just a Damsel. They're worthless!"

"No," Micah replied calmly, soothingly, like a parent to an errant child. "They are the penultimate submissive. Submissive does not equate to 'weak willed'. Submissive means subordinating your will to a higher authority. If you tell her to learn a method such as healing and support, she will put all of her mental faculties to learning that skill. I am not asking for guaranteed failure; I'm simply asking that you make the honest, full attempt to do so. Now; yes or no?"

Ekaterina regarded him with a mixture of embarrassment, personal shame, and raw lust. "...yes."

"Good." Micah released her instantly, turned, and nodded to the Milktit. "Charlotte. My apologies that you had to see that."

The Milktit smiled, looking at him in a completely new manner. "It's alright. I saw a lot worse under the Limbecs."

"Still, that doesn't make it right." He nodded to them both. "If you'll excuse me, ladies..."

-[***]-

Anya's mouth watered as she eyed the pan filled with frying apple slices soaked in butter and sugar. "I know several pokegirls from my university days who would literally -kill- to be in my place right now."

Micah gave a shrug as he checked on eggs and biscuits, mindful of Illya in chibi form clinging to his back. "What, having a Tamer that can cook?"

The golden-eyed blonde nodded enthusiastically. "Uh-huh. Granted, most pokegirls can't cook. How can you?"

"It never occurred to me that I couldn't," Micah replied, dimming the heat on the eggs so they wouldn't burn. The cafeteria had been renovated into an impromptu dining room, giving the place a homey and cheery atmosphere in contrast to the rest of the abandoned and derelict research complex. "If I wanted to cook something, I did it. If I wanted to learn how to cook something, I did that, too. Easy." And frowned as his stomach literally snarled at him.

Anya giggled. "Hungry?"

"A lot more than I should be. My metabolism as of late has been completely skewed."

Anya's expression went from teasing to serious in less time than it took to blink. "Then eat. A lot. You had a major physiological change to your system, and Euphemia isn't certain if it's stopped completely or not." She gave a pointed look at the Lucarda hanging onto Micah's back like it was the best place in the world. "-And-you're eating for two."

Illya smirked. "My Master always makes a point to take back as much fluid as he gives me."

Anya blinked. "You actually drink it?"

Micah actually blushed faintly. "Is that a problem?"

"No, just... I thought you were just biting down to draw blood, not actually drink it." Despite herself, Anya leaned forward, curious and interested. "How is it?"

Another shrug, purposefully casual. As if they were discussing an odd nervous habit, not something distinctly unnatural. "It's blood. Nothing special about it. The first time was by pure reflex, the second... I'm reasonably certain that it's not a dietary requirement I have all of a sudden. More like enjoying a really nicely cooked rare steak. Perfect on occasion, but..." Another careful shrug. "I haven't exactly turned photophobic, either, so little chance of that."

Anya blinked. "You actually considered you were turning into a vampire of some kind?"

Micah snorted. "I half wish I was, if I could pick the breed. Some of them have powerful capabilities that would be horrendously useful by this point. Besides, what was I supposed to think? I don't have a clue -what- I am, realistically. Mentally, I'm still human, more or less. Biologically..." He waved a wing claw. "Hello."

"Is it really that bad?" Anya murmured softly, reaching out to stroke the leather-soft edge of one wing.

Micah resisted the urge to shiver at the contact. "I didn't say -bad-. But it's an unknown. I dislike unknowns on principal."

A soft click of toe-claws announced the Dire Wolf's presence, Ludmilla dressing in nothing but a thick blanket thrown over herself to get her some warmth; even in the living areas, there was a chill. Smiling, she reached out to gobble up a piece of raw bacon, only to receive an automatic hand-slap from Micah. Rubbing her hand thoughtfully, ears flicking back, she murmured, "Have you given some thought to having me crawl through your brain?"

Anya frowned. "I understood that you do that already."

"Ludmilla's referring to a deep-scan," Micah replied, managing breakfast without looking over at the two of them. "Far more intensive and invasive than what the Dire Wolf does whenever she trawls through the horrifying muck that's my brain."

Ludmilla nodded, ears perked forward. "It's feasible that you have something akin to the Kami and Sidhe, with capabilities locked away without your foreknowledge."

Micah blinked. "You're seriously reading all those stories I gave you?"

Ludmilla nodded.

"How are they?" This, from Anya, the StarMystic looking morbidly curious.

Ludmilla gave her a thin smile in reply. "Some of them are well written." The smile fell. "And, to be honest? Some of them are terrifying." Green eyes refocused on Micah with a full attention no human could manage to pull off. "My point still stands."

Micah looked as if he had drunk sour milk. "You..." A sigh, as he stirred gravy, turned over bacon, and double-checked the biscuits. Another minute or so. He gestured to Anya to go start prepping tea and juice, and went on, "I can't say it's unfeasible, given Toymaker's... habits. Assuming my unusual changes are from his quarter, he would have taken a number of disparate sources to re-engineer an entirely new species from the ground up." He rolled his eyes. "And, again, if I somehow caused this... well. Who's to say what the loving hell I did? We'll make the attempt after we've acquired what I want from this League."

"Don't worry, my Master," Illya murmured at his neck, "Rest assured, your power will be terrifying."

"Speaking of which," this, from Euphemia, the G-Splice rubbing at her hair with a towel as she padded in on sock-clad feet. "You're finally going to start planning what our next heist is?"

"After breakfast," Micah replied, lifting up the huge pan filled with scrambled eggs and moving to set it on the table. "Ludmilla, go get Cornelia and Nunnally."

Once the prepared breakfast had been appropriately butchered and sacrificed to their ravenous tummies (barring Illya, who spent the entire meal mostly nibble on Micah's neck, literally), Cornelia leaned forward, the DemonGoddess' smile far too cheerful. "So, Master. Have you decided what we'll be doing to the poor Scarlet League? Making a city disappear in a magical firestorm? Liquefying the supporting ice and scavenging our ill-gotten gains from the frozen corpse of our target? Dropping a mountain on them? What?"

"I kind of like the mountain-dropping idea," Euphemia murmured thoughtfully.

"A bit simpler than that," Micah noted, sipping espresso. "We're going to ask them nicely."

Silence, with similar expressions of surprise on his harem's faces.

Micah smiled. "I want access to the special research library archive of Alexandria's Magical College," he went on. "Scarlet League is renowned for its magical research. It's the only edge they have, realistically, compared to all the other Leagues. And the library archive is known for having research theories and possible examples of teleportation magics and magical d-travel."

Illya bored down on him with her ruby gaze, intense despite her child-like appearance. "You are thinking of running, my Master."

Micah shook his head, wings lightly curled around him. "That's one of my research issues at the moment, yes. Realistically, it would be more akin to a tactical withdraw. They summoned me once. They could feasibly do so again." Micah rolled his eyes heavenward. "Of course, I would question their sanity if they tried to re-summon an individual whom demonstrated capabilities of magical d-travel, but... anyways. Despite everything, it's still a -college-, and that gives us an opening."

Anya was smiling, knowing where Micah was going with this.

Cornelia rolled her one good eye. "For those of us whose idea of education is 'See Growlie Run', could you fill us in what's so special about a college?"

"Simple," Micah replied. "This isn't some military R&D branch. It's a college. What do tenured college professors do, beyond teaching classes? Research. To do research, they need access to information. A lot of information, which they don't likely have the time available to go through themselves. So they delegate."

"To pokegirl assistants," Anya replied. "Like I was."

"So, we don't bother going through the power structure," Micah stated. "We're simply going to ask the pokegirls working there very nicely if we could get access to the archives to copy stuff down. It's not as if we're asking them to help us steal anything. Where could the harm be?" His fangs showed as he grinned. "The only problem is," he went on, "That this isn't a smash and grab. Second, we'll be relying on Anya mostly to navigate the social structure of the Library. So, this will take a while. If anything, that's a bonus. I have a number of things I need to take care of as is, so the pause will allow me to manage some of them."

Nunnally looked at Micah curiously. "What are they?"

"I'll wait a few more days," Micah replied, "Before elaborating. I've one test running already; I want to see the results before I commit to the next stage."

Ludmilla's eyes narrowed. "One of your research issues."

Micah sipped at his mug. "Excuse me?"

"You said 'one' of your research issues. Implies plural. What else are you trying to find out?"

Micah let a long strand of blonde hair from Illya's soft mass get entangled in his hand, rubbing at it thoughtfully. "I want to see if they have any working theories on setting up extreme long-distance teleportation gates."

Anya blinked. "How extreme?"

"At least eight light minutes in distance."

Cornelia frowned. "What's so special about eight light minutes?"

"It's roughly the distance from the Earth to the Sun," Micah replied, grinning faintly at their shocked expressions. "If feasible, I'd like to learn how to pull off a Harry Keogh. Well, here, I suppose you could argue I should say 'Pull off a Kerrik Wolf', but..." A wing-rustling shrug.

"...what's a Harry Keogh?" Ludmilla asked, not liking the expressions of horror from Anya and Euphemia both.

"Eschewing a long story, Harry Keogh was an individual whom could create teleportation gates. At one point in his life, he found it necessary to deal with a large invading vampiric army. So, he created a teleportation gate with one end above said army and the other end in the photosphere of the sun. Cue one crisped army."

Silence. Illya was leering in delight.

"Needless to say, it was very effective," Micah replied with innocent aplomb.

"You would seriously do that to Sanctuary, wouldn't you?" Nunnally murmured softly. "Annihilate them. Become a monster, like Sukebe."

"Where I'm standing, being a monster looks pretty good right about now," Micah replied, ignoring the groaning and squirming Lucarda in his lap. "It's an option. We'll see what's feasible first before I go Ender Wiggin on Sanctuary's ass."

-[***]-

Micah enjoyed the smell of salt on the warm air that wafted through the large windows of Wendi's research building. He was almost beginning to regret not taking up her offer to live here; Then again, would he seriously want to be around a group of Sanctuary-born S-Goths 24/7? He also had to tangently appreciate the way Wendi filled out her sundress in her adult form; he wondered why she didn't assume it most of the time.

"Is there some aspect of the transmutation ceremony you failed to mention to me?" Dark eyes regarded him with a measure of anger that Micah found rather surprising; from their honesty, if nothing else.

"Nothing whatsoever," he replied calmly, playing the adult in this matter. If she was going to blow up, he certainly wasn't going to bait her. "Why are you asking?"

Uncertainty flickered across the S-Goth's face. "I haven't been able to cast the spell properly." She took a deep breath, let it out in a huff. "It doesn't work, or the vial explodes, or... you can picture it."

"I can indeed," Micah commented thoughtfully.

Euphemia ran a hand through her thick red hair. "That doesn't make much sense, though. It can't be a male restriction; I cast the spell myself and got the same results." Wendi blinked at this announcement. Euphemia, oblivious, went on, "So if pokegirls can cast the spell, then..." She blinked. "Crosstalk."

Micah blinked, then let out an audible groan. "You can't be serious."

Wendi looked between the two of them. "What? What!?"

"The spell operates as an effective information transfer and over-write," Euphemia replied. "And it only really works with S-Goths due to how Ebony Stone works. It's not like we can just create Armsmistress Venom or something silly like that; you'd have to isolate the Armsmistress information, and you're talking thousands upon thousands of man-hours, and... uh, right. Ebony Stones." Her dusky skin flushed slightly. "Likely, because you're an S-Goth, it's creating a resonance between you and the information. That resonance likely produces a corruption, and..." She spread her hands, miming an explosion.

"So the only people who can really create more S-Goths are everyone -but- S-Goths," Micah murmured softly. "Lovely."

Wendi sighed. "I suppose it makes my earlier choice much easier, then."

Micah quirked an eyebrow. "What choice?"

A casual shrug, even as she grinned slightly. "I'm going to become a Tamer." She giggled. "If someone with a dick can manage to pull it off, how hard can it be?"

Micah, wisely, declined to comment on that matter, and simply said, "Good luck. If you want, I have a few Limbec pokegirls I scavenged, if you'd like to take one or two."

"I think I wouldn't mind taking a look at that list, if you please."

"Wendi, where the loving hell," came a voice from the door of the room that quickly cut off when the individual saw who was present. Celosia, the charred S-Goth, grinned as she saw Micah, garbed in her customary half-nude state as she stepped fully inside. "Well, hello. I didn't know you were entertaining guests."

"I had some questions I needed to ask them, that's all," Wendi replied, folding her arms across her chest.

"Can I ask some questions while he's here as well, then?" Celosia asked, walking up to Micah. "Are they really as soft as they look?" Without hesitation, she reached out and ran her hands along the skin of his wings.

Micah found himself snarling down the length of his arm, gripping Celosia's throat hard enough to grind cartilage together as he pressed her up against a wall. For a moment, he couldn't think properly, brain working to catch up with what his eyes were actually seeing, not quite understanding the half-terrified S-Goth whom he was near to choking.

He tried to speak, couldn't get words past his throat, worked to clear it, and on the third attempt emitted his words in a soft rumble. "Now, perhaps I didn't make myself clear enough," he whispered in that deep tone. "You are not my woman, and you do not belong to my harem. Given my experience with your kind, you'll have to excuse me if I don't want you to -fucking well touch me-. Understand?"

Celosia weakly nodded.

"Good," Micah snarled, and let go, letting Celosia slump down to her feet. Her hands involuntarily went up to her throat in an aborted attempt to protect it, stumbled away from him, and ran out of the building.

Micah could feel the burn of embarrassment on his face as he reached up and rubbed at his mouth angrily. "Wendi, I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," Wendi replied, looking all the world as if scrambling up onto one of her work desks had been her plan all along as she slid back down on the floor. "Celosia is a pushy bitch, and someone needed to push back."

"Mmm," he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly, eyes closed. He could almost-feel Euphemia inching closer to him, like he was a wild animal she was trying not to startle. He simply opened a wing and let it curl around the red-headed G-Splice. "So the next time she tries that, I have permission to use my claws on her?"

"Feel free."

Unexpected soft hands wrapped themselves around his waist; Micah tried to flinch away, only to find his attempt to flee arrested by both superior strength and soft white wings encapsulating him in a trap. Nunnally glared at Wendi from behind Micah, regarding the S-Goth with a flat, neutral expression. "Is there anything else?"

"Uh, no," Wendi replied, not having seen the Arkangelsk in her full manifested form before.

"Good," Nunnally replied, nodded to Euphemia, and teleported away with Micah.

Micah stumbled away once the teleport was finished, finding them both in the 'master bedroom' back in Antarctica. Ignoring Nunnally, he let himself collapse on the bed, letting his body shake as it worked to get the adrenaline out of his system.

Soft fingers entangled themselves in his blonde hair. Micah didn't look up as Nunnally moved close enough that he could feel her body heat. "What's wrong?"

Micah swallowed, not saying anything at first has he worked to kludge his brain back into proper operation. "...I was going to kill her."

"You don't know that."

"Yes," Micah replied softly. "I do. I've gotten angry before, but this... it's something different. I can't think, I can't speak, everything seems to simply blow away and the entire world turns into 'can I eat it, or will it eat me?' And I act on it. Without hesitation, or remorse." He stared at his hands, letting claws flex free, then sheath back. "I'm changing into something different. I can't ignore that."

Firm hands massaged his scalp. "You aren't going to strike at us, my Master."

Micah peered up at Nunnally, lips quirking into a humored smile. "I know that I can't hurt any of you, but you and I both know I don't have to physically hurt you to strike a harming blow."

Nunnally smiled in return. "Have you once gotten angry at me? At any of your harem?"

Micah frowned absently. "...no. Not that I can recall."

"Then you will master this. You've mastered your wings, your magics, and your blade. If you have to work hard at not clawing every stranger that raises your anger, then Ludmilla and I both will make sure you have a distraction when you need it."

Micah actually blushed faintly, even as he leaned more fully against Nunnally. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, my Master."

-[***]-

Anya scowled at Ludmilla. "If you keep eating that bacon, we won't have any for breakfast."

The Dire Wolf grinned, showing off her canines as she wolfed down the slice of raw meat. "Is it my fault the rest of you can't digest food as it's meant to be eaten?"

Anya snorted. "Just because some of us like to have a little blood every so often, doesn't mean I want my food raw all the time."

Ludmilla blinked, ears perked forward as she focused completely on the StarMystic. "-You-? You've been drinking his blood?"

Anya blinked, and blushed faintly. "So what if I have? It was only a little."

"I'd like to know who suggested it," Ludmilla ground out, trying not to snarl at her harem-mate. "Euphemia and I both are worried enough as-is without having to wonder if one of us is going to wake up having found that he's done something... permanent."

Anya paled faintly. "No," she whispered. "He wouldn't do that. Not to us."

Ludmilla's ears flicked back. "We don't know that. And it's something I -have- to consider. So who suggested it?"

"...I did," Anya murmured, looking embarrassed. "It.. it feels nice, and he doesn't mind returning the favor, a little."

Ludmilla forced her ears back up, trying not to growl. "Noted," she replied. "I won't..." Her head whipped around, blonde hair flying. "Blood."

"What? I -said-..."

"No. Blood. I smell it. -His- blood."

"Good sense of smell," Micah noted, walking into the kitchen, holding his left arm at the elbow, dripping blood from the jagged shard of metal that was embedded clean through his forearm.

Anya and Ludmilla regarded him with a heavy measure of startled shock before swarming over him in frantic worry. "What happened?" Ludmilla demanded, taking a hold of his arm like it was fragile porcelain.

Micah shrugged, wings rustling, deliberately casual. "I was studying the armor spell. I was curious about a few things and was managing some experimentation, and, well... I goofed."

Ludmilla and Anya both shared a near identical thought; 'Oh gods, we can't leave him alone again. Ever.'

"So, if you don't mind giving a firm yank and healing this up...?" Micah queried.

Ludmilla blinked at him. "I need to be careful. I don't want to injure you any further."

"Last I checked, your healing could fix my arm if it got lopped off," Micah replied. "So I don't think you need to worry much."

"Master!"

Micah glanced heavenward. "Illya."

The Lucarda phased up from below, darkness pooling beneath her as the Chibi-pokegirl glanced laconically at her Tamer. "Master?"

"Yank this damn shard of metal out of my arm, if you please."

Illya shrugged, the underage-seeming girl taking a firm grip of his wrist and the metal shard, pulling it free in one sharp jerk. Micah bit back the scream in his throat, the sound that emerged somehow sounding worse as Ludmilla frantically staunched the blood flow and began pouring healing energies into the wound.

"I am going to fucking well murder you, you flat-chested bitch," Ludmilla snarled, growling deep in her throat at the Lucarda even as she healed Micah up.

Illya shrugged, seemingly not concerned as she greedily licked up the blood dripping from the piece of metal. "You ignorant whore. What would you have me do? Disobey my master? Pathetic."

"Enough," Micah stated flatly, making a sharp gesture as the Dire Wolf and Lucarda both looked willing to have at it then and there. "As Illya noted, Ludmilla, I gave her a direct order. And despite your assumptions, I am not made of fine china, and you're sure as hell not my mother."

Anya, off to the side, abruptly had her angry expression dissolve into one of amusement at that comment as she broke down giggling. She found herself under the scrutiny of three different stares. "What?" Micah prompted curiously.

Anya tried to stifle her laughter. "Sorry, sorry, but you and Ludmilla, and then I remembered you and Illya..."

Micah blinked several times.

Ludmilla paused momentarily, then abruptly turned to Micah and assumed a posture that was disturbingly matronly. "Now, Micah, you shouldn't hide behind your younger sister like that."

Illya immediately picked up on the matter, latching onto his uninjured arm like a hungry leech. "That's right, big brother! If mommy is angry at you, it doesn't matter if you've been fucking her behind my back or not!"

Ludmilla nodded firmly. "That's right. I don't care if you've been fucking me, you should still respect your mother, young man."

Anya had given up any attempt trying to hide her laughter as Micah just stared in horror at all three of them, giving serious consideration to never opening his mouth again. Ever. He made the attempt to try and say something in reply only to fail in the effort. It took two more tries before he finally managed, "Anya! It's been a week. Have you managed anything at Alexandria?"

Anya wiped away tears from her eyes, her face red from all her laughter as her expression sobered. "I think we might want to discuss it after breakfast."

Roughly an hour and a half later, Anya was staring as Micah spooned up a bowl full of what looked to her as white, grainy pudding. "What -is- that?"

Micah didn't pause as he added several slices of butter then a few scoops of jam into the bowl, stirring the mix. "It's grits."

"Is it... edible?"

Micah shrugged, spooning the mixed contents onto his plates next to his eggs, letting the runny yolk mix between the two as he shoveled up a fork-full and swallowed it without hesitation. "I would have to say... yes." At his entire harem's stunned looks, Micah slowly shook his horned head and commented, "It's a culture thing. Granted, the culture that I grew up in doesn't exist now due to the geographic region having been wiped out, but..."

Cornelia lightly poked at the mass with a spoon. "I think it's congealing."

"It does," Micah scooped up another forkful, snagging a biscuit to chew with it. "You could make Frisbees of the stuff if you let it set long enough. But enough of my wasted youth. It's not like I'm making the rest of you eat it along side me." He glanced over at Anya. "You had something regarding Alexandria?"

Anya nodded slowly, sipping her tea. The StarMystic had spent the last week ferreting out the quiet lines of social power amid Alexandria's Magical College, specifically concerning its Library Archives. Her former experience at the University of British Columbia gave her a definite edge in that regard. "I think I've found someone who can help us. It's funny; she's not even a pokegirl. She's this quiet little mouse of a girl who's working to get her Master's Dissertation and working as an entry level professor at the College." Anya shook her head slowly. "I've never seen anything like it. She's basically the darling of all the pokegirls at the college, and she'll even tame a number of them, but she lacks any sort of competitive drive or dominating streak."

"So," Micah sipped his glass of water. "What's the catch?"

Anya bit her lip and looked away. "Unfortunately, it's a really big catch."

Micah's eyebrows went up. "How so?"

"It's her younger sister," Anya went on softly. "She's currently undergoing threshold." She glanced up at Micah, and something haunted was in her eyes, a sickening fear of 'that could have been me' that most pokegirls had nightmares about. "And her parents are intending to euthanize her once she's finished thresholding."

Micah blinked, considering that. "What kind of pokegirl is she thresholding into?"

"A Gunnm."

Micah calmly facepalmed. "Ah," he stated. "Well. That would explain a lot."

"That's the price she wants for access to the library's archives," Anya went on. "Someone to save her sister."

"Mmm." Micah rubbed at his chin thoughtfully, then resumed eating his meal.

His harem shared a look, confused by his behavior. Ludmilla cleared her throat. "Well?"

"I'm thinking," Micah replied in a chiding, gentle tone. Finishing up his grits and eggs, he thoughtfully took a bite out of his biscuit, leaning back.

"I could mentally coerce her," Ludmilla noted, "Force her assistance."

Illya shrugged slim shoulders. "We could just infect her with S-Goth venom and have my master her fuck her into compliance."

"No," Micah looked amused at the suggestions. "I don't think so. I'm not going to strong-arm her; it wouldn't be honest."

"You don't seem to care about being 'honest' when dealing with Sanctuary," Cornelia pointed out dryly.

"They've kidnapped me, attempted to mentally rape me, and made it clear their plans involve forced enslavement or worse," Micah noted. "I am at war with them. They've made their decision already. This woman, however, has done none of this." He considered for a moment, and nodded. "Nothing to it. I think I'm going to go talk with this person. What's her name?"

"Jennifer," Anya replied. "Jennifer Langley."

-[***]-

Micah couldn't help the small measure of nervousness in his brain as her and Anya walked down the narrow, stone-tiled hallway marked at regular intervals by closed doors, each one labeled with a room number. Not the prospect of the meeting that worried him, no. But cities in this new world of his hadn't treated him very kindly, and he couldn't help but keep the feeling in his gut that the other shoe was about to drop, even if no one really knew that he was here.

Anya smiled, wearing the anti-capture collar that had allowed her to effectively go among the Alexandria College relatively unmolested. Only a dedicated or possessive tamer would have their pokegirl wearing such a thing. Micah had to admit that the black, thick, padded collar looked good on the blonde-haired StarMystic, to the point that he had to control the urge to drag her off into an unoccupied room, lock the door, and do horrible things to her.

Well, horrible by puritan standards, mayhaps.

"You'll be fine," Anya murmured. "She's quiet and shy. Not going to bite your face off."

"Wasn't concerned about that," Micah murmured in reply, leaning in close so that the hood of his voluminous cloak helped obscure his words from any others that could be listening in. The entire hallway was deserted, but why take chances? "More expecting a Sanctuary kill team to hop out at any point."

"They'll receive a very inhospitable welcome if they do," Anya murmured back, gold eyes somber with a killing intent.

"That, I have no doubt about," Micah replied.

They arrived at the proper door, knocking quietly and receiving an equally quiet permission to enter in turn. They entered, and found a quiet-looking woman with dark brown hair tied up in a bun, her skin a natural dark tone, eyes a chocolate brown. Micah thought her rather cute looking, despite the fact that she obviously didn't invest a large amount of time prettying up her looks, but considering his rather vociferously omnivorous tastes in women, he supposed he might be slightly biased.

Shy or no, she still smiled when she saw Anya, and murmured quietly, "Good morning, Anya." She glanced curiously at Micah, whose appearance was obscured by his cloak and hood. "Who's your friend?"

Micah reached up and threw back the hood. "Her Tamer," Micah noted aloud, enjoying the mild look of shock on Jennifer's face when she caught sight of his appearance. "Good morning, Jennifer. My name is Micah Hakubi."

Jennifer nodded slowly. "Hello. Why are you here?"

"I was told that you had a slight problem with your younger sister that I could perhaps help rectify," Micah replied. A quirk of a smile. "In turn, I and my harem could get access to the research archives."

A flicker of hope crossed Jennifer's face before it fell, her polite expression showing a measure of despair before she could still it. "How do I know you won't just use me and my sister?"

"You mean, make a claim to take her, then simply kill her or sell her once I've gotten what I've needed from you?" At Jennifer's nod, Micah went on, "Realistically, you don't. I am not, however, a normal Tamer. I won't prevent you and your sister from keeping a correspondence once she joins my harem. There's also another element you need to consider."

Jennifer blinked slowly. "What is that?"

"Your younger sister likely has an opinion on the matter, not to mention, her own choice to make. While people typically have a different take on the issue, I don't believe I can keep her in my harem if she doesn't want to be there." A careful shrug. "Why don't we go talk to her whenever you have some free time?"

Jennifer slowly shook her head. "I don't think that would be a wise idea," she murmured. "She... her threshold isn't very pretty."

Micah threw back his cloak, letting one wing work free, earning a gasp from Jennifer. "Do you think I was born with these?" he queried in a calm tone. "Of course not. If nothing else, she and I could compare the amounts of blood and pus we had oozing at embarrassing moments."

Jennifer paled. "I don't-"

"I'll also point out," Micah went on calmly, "That if you excise her from the decision making process entirely, how are you treating her any better than her parents? Both of you have already turned her into an object to be done with as you will, never mind her choice in the matter." He quirked an eyebrow. Smiled. "Maybe she'll hate me utterly at first sight and you won't have to worry about the matter at all."

Now her face went flush from embarrassment and shame. "I..." She took in a deep breath, let it out in a sigh. "Alright."

Micah smiled faintly. "Thank you. This evening?"

Jennifer looked uncertain. "I... yes. I should be able to introduce the two of you before my parents arrive."

"Good. Excellent. Jennifer, thank you for this." Micah grinned. "And I apologize for being a bit of a bastard."

"...you're forgiven?"

"Thank you, again." Micah bowed slightly to her, throwing his cloak back into order. "Anya, why don't we let Jennifer get some work done?"

Once they had left, Jennifer swallowed uneasily and let herself fall back into her chair. Fear and relief seemed fit to war in her stomach, and she wasn't sure which of the two emotions was winning.

-[***]-

Anya and Micah met Jennifer in the evening, once she had finished up her review of her lesson plans for class she was planning to teach next day. They then left the college, catching a railcar that summarily deposited the trio a mile from Jennifer's home. The walk was pleasant enough, considering the temperatures involved, and it wasn't long before the trio had arrived at the brick house Jennifer's family called home.

Jennifer was ushering them inside whenever a middle-age man came from deeper inside the house, a neatly cut beard and a displeased scowl marking his features as he noted that his daughter had brought home a cowled stranger and a pokegirl. "Jennifer, who is this?"

Jennifer froze, looking for all the world like a scared rabbit caught in a hunter's spotlight.

Micah wasn't so limited. "Anya. Dream Card."

The StarMystic gestured, the Card manifesting with a pulse of energies that solidified into it's normal physical form. Another pulse as the magical energies swept outward, catching the man in mid-yell and making him drop like a puppet with his strings cut.

/Ludmilla,/ Micah thought, and the Dire Wolf appeared without hesitation. "Keep him under and prep to wipe his memory."

"Jennifer?" a voice from deeper within the house called; matronly, female, middle-aged. "Is that you?"

Micah gestured to Anya, and the StarMystic was gone, chasing after her new target.

"What do you think you're DOING!?" Jennifer yelped, voice and eyes frantic.

"Making a choice," Micah replied. "Your parents are fine; you even don't get blamed for anything, as they'll remember none of this." Anya walked back in, carrying a matronly woman in her arms like she would a baby; Jennifer's mother, Micah figured. "So!" Micah threw his hood back, rubbing his gloved hands briskly together. "Shall we go talk with your sister?"

Jennifer looked between Ludmilla and Anya. Swallowed. "You could take her," she whispered, looking as if she was about to cry. "Take her right now, couldn't you?"

"I could." Micah shrugged. "I'm not going to, not without her permission."

"She's my little baby sister," Jennifer whispered. "I don't want her to go..."

Micah stepped forward, firmly taking Jennifer's shoulders in his gloved hands, meeting her evenly with his gaze. "We don't get to choose the timing of adulthood and the responsibilities that entails," Micah said, voice even, soothing. "But that doesn't mean we lack in choices. You've been a great big sister, and done everything you can to protect her and make sure she's safe. But you can't do everything. Alright?"

Jennifer wiped her eyes, swallowed, nodded. "Okay," she replied, voice thick. "Through here."

Micah followed along, half shedding his arctic clothing so he was allowed freer movement, Ludmilla falling into step behind, Anya watching over the parents. They arrived at a door; Jennifer lightly rapped on it and called out softly, "Erin?" Micah shifted slightly at the name, earning a curious look from Ludmilla, but otherwise did nothing.

Silence. Jennifer cautiously opened the door, peeking in carefully, throwing it wide open whenever no reply was forthcoming.

Micah and Ludmilla both tried not to stare. The room had been devastated - there was no other term for it. Furniture had been splintered, shelves torn down, walls scattered errantly with craters where someone had punched holes into them. Clothing, mattress, pillows, bedding; all thrashed and shredded by someone throwing the mother of all temper tantrums. Worse, was the blood, splatters of the dried substance scattered in disturbing patterns that looked all the more unnerving for their seeming randomness. Micah caught his nose flaring at the scent that roiled outward from the room like a physical wave, none of it pleasant.

"Erin, sweetie?" Jennifer tried again. "Are you awake?"

A soft hiccup; a mass of fabric curled up in one corner of the room shifted, "...o 'way."

"Erin," Jennifer tried again. "I have someone who would like to meet you."

"NO!" The fabric jerked spastically, and sounds of sobbing could be heard.

Micah cleared his throat, the sound making Jennifer jump in place when all of Erin's hysterics had done nothing to faze her. "Unfortunately," Micah stated, pitching his voice so that it filled the bedroom without being loud, "Prince Charming failed to heed the call. Instead, you got the slavering monster from the abyss that’s come to drag you away and do horrible, perverted things to your nubile body."

Silence.

Slowly, fabric shifted in his direction, pulling back so that someone amid that mass could peer out at him if they choose to.

Micah grinned cheekily, waving fingers at the bundle, claws unsheathed. "Hi!"

"...Jennifer?" There was a definite edge of 'what the loving hell?' in that voice.

Jennifer looked as if she wasn't sure if she should be mortified or simply confused. "He's... a Tamer I met, who wants you in his harem." A stricken look at Micah, that relaxed when he didn't deny her slight bending of the truth. Her voice turned wry. "He was very insistent on meeting you."

A hiccupping sob. "Go away."

"I was told that you were having a bit of a spot with your thresholding," Micah noted aloud. "I figured if, nothing else, we could share embarrassing stories."

Micah couldn't see it, but he had the feeling he was being glared at fiercely enough to leave burnt marks in the wall behind him, if looks could kill. "What do YOU know about what I'm going through?"

Micah finally managed to work a wing free. "There we are. Like I told your sister, do you think I was born with these things? You should have been there when they came out. Blood -everywhere-. Sploosh! Like a water balloon popping. Things wriggling where they shouldn't have been, skin bursting apart... there might even have been some screaming involved."

Silence. Followed by a weak giggle.

Micah grinned, delighted. "There we are. Good to see you can still laugh." Ignoring Jennifer trying to keep him out and Ludmilla looking as if she wanted to haul him out of there, he stepped gingerly past the mess and made his way toward the shivering bundle of fabric. He knelt down in front of it. "I can't image you're having much fun stuck under there."

"...I don't want you to see me. I look like a freak. I'm hideous!"

Micah grinned, showing off fangs. "Well, at least you're in good company. After all, look at me. I'm a veritable freak show."

"...no, you're not." This close, he could almost catch a peek of something looking out from within the blankets.

"Pfft. Are you kidding me? Look at these horns." He lightly rapped a knuckle against the black, ribbed edge of one curved horn. "I could hang ornaments from these things. Festoon them with garlands and ribbons. And, person, I really don't think the ribbon and garland look would do well with me, no matter what my harem says."

Another weak giggle followed. Jennifer, off to the side, was staring at Micah as if she'd never seen him before.

"So," Micah went on. "Assuming you don't mind dealing with my freakish appearance, I think I can survive whatever it is you're having to deal with."

Silence followed long enough that Micah thought she was ignoring him entirely; until the edge of the blanket she was huddled under began to slow peel away, and Erin peaked out from underneath it.

Thresholding had been neither kind nor subtle to her; it was clear she and Jennifer were sisters, even as the nanonics that were infesting her biologics were working to change that. Splotches of pale skin on her face discolored her dusky flesh, one green eye partially corrupted to blood-red. The roots of her hair showed discoloration from dark brunette to night black where fresh new hair was growing in. The skin along her neck and shoulder had been worn apart and burst like frayed paper, showing the cybernetics that had slowly corrupted her frame, blood still oozing slightly from the various sores even as her flesh was changed from organic to synthetic.

"Mmm." Micah had to admit, had he not the experiences he had in this world, he likely would have flinched away. Instead, he reached out, lightly cupping her face with his large hands. "My. You don't seem to have had a good time of things."

Erin lurched forward and buried her face against his chest, sobbing, the physical contact like water to a man dying of thirst. Micah didn't say anything as he rubbed out her mismatched hair, smiling wryly as he felt the hot splash of tears on his chest and the sniffling of mucus, never mind the blood that was running off her neck. Mentally, he tasked the stuff he was wearing as a write-off and simply petted lightly.

"Feel better?" Micah asked once he had judged Erin had calmed down enough to at least realize he was speaking to her. She nodded, blearily, sniffling thickly, her nose rubbed red from abuse. Physically, she looked wore-out, but emotionally, she looked at least slightly better.

"Good," Micah replied. "Because now you need to start consider what decision you're going to make next. I know it sucks, but that's the horrible part about responsibility; you don't get a choice when it's thrust upon on you."

Erin sniffled again, rubbing away tears that had blotched against her mottled, mismatched cheeks. "Decision?"

"About what's going to happen next," Micah replied. "Given your selection of choices."

Erin looked about ready to cry again. "What choices do I even have?"

"Plenty," Micah replied in a prompt tone. "For one, you can come with me, right here and now, and join my harem, like your sister suggested."

"She's not a pokegirl," Jennifer replied, looking somewhat angry. "If you take her now, that's kidnapping."

Micah gave her an odd look that he purposefully stretched out, then refocused his attention on Erin as if nothing had happened. "Second of all, if you want, you can still go with me, and I'll promise to put you in a Ranch in another League that'll treat you properly." Likely the Capital League, he thought. As much as the higher-ups in that place irked him on a personal level, he couldn't argue with what good things they'd done. "Or you could under go a level five conditioning cycle." Now Ludmilla and Jennifer stared at him in horror. Erin, for her part, just looked at him in confusion, as if his words hadn't impacted properly. "Or, you can stay here, and let your parents euthanize you once you legally become a pokegirl. I know it hurts," Micah gripped her shoulders tightly whenever she looked ready to burst out in tears again, careful not to let his claws unsheathe. "Parents are supposed to love and take care of us no matter what. I know. But your sister loves you enough for both of them. But she's not the one that's going to have live with this choice. You're the one who has to make it, and you're the one who's going to have to wake up in the morning and face the results of your decision."

Erin nodded weakly, then an odd thought occurred to her. "Mom... and Dad. Where are they?"

Micah gave a laconic shrug. "Currently comatose in the other room. Putting them to sleep seemed to be the easiest solution all-round."

An expression of shock crossed her face, before she giggled as her brain supplied her with imagery. "Oh..."

"To be completely fair, if you do go with me, you'll likely have to suffer through a good deal of danger, as well," Micah went on, trying to stuff all the facts into the discussion before he got in over his head somehow. "And I don't mean the typical danger most Tamers face. I mean 'face down ravening hordes of slavering Limbecs' level of danger. Only worse."

Erin nodded vaguely, eyes unfocused. She looked at him, and he couldn't interpret the odd look she gave him. "If I tell you to take me out of here, right now," she whispered, and Micah found he couldn't pull away, as she now had a firm grip on his clothing, "What would you do?"

Micah shrugged as well as he was capable of, one wing rustling. "I'd say, 'welcome to my harem'."

"I don't want to die," Erin whispered softly, looking at nothing in particular. Her gaze focused on him. "Master, -get me out of here-."

Micah canted his head to the side. "Okay." He glanced around at the room. "I'll give you time to pack. Your sister can likely help. We have a spare compression backpack that you can use, so bring whatever you like, but you'll have to manage it. All right?" Erin nodded, and Micah excused him and Ludmilla, as Jennifer's expression made it clear that he wanted to be away from whenever that particular sibling-bomb impacted. They were barely down the hallway whenever the yelling started. Micah arched both eye-brows at the volume; shy as Jennifer apparently was at the college, this was still a full-on, no holds barred spat between siblings.

They met Anya half-way back toward the house's foyer, the StarMystic having been drawn by the noises. Micah shook his head as she looked at him for orders; he was quite content to let those two have at it as long as they didn't attempt to kill one another.

"What are you thinking?" Ludmilla wondered aloud, gripping a free arm as Anya settled against his other side.

Micah let out a gust of a sigh. "I'm beginning to question whether I'm having an effect on my surroundings, or whether the information in the pokedex from my world was completely accurate. Or whether this is the mainline pokegirl universe, or not." Micah frowned at that notion, nodded absently.

Anya blinked. "Why would you think that?"

"I had a lot of private notes on the Gunnm breed," Micah winced at a particularly loud yell, though he couldn't make out the words, "For a story of mine, to get inside their brain. Some of it didn't precisely fall in line with typical 'canon' thinking."

"So you have a plan to control her murderous mood-swings?" Ludmilla murmured softly. He couldn't tell from a casual glance of her expression, but he had a feeling she was very close to being angry with him.

Micah smiled faintly. "I know for a fact that a psychic from this universe can draw off and help temper wild emotional swings. As I happen to have a psychic of supreme skill and power in my harem, I thought she'd find such a task a mere trifle." His smile broadened into a grin as Ludmilla's white-furred ears flicked back amongst her blond hair, her milk-pale skin blushing faintly from the praise. "Furthermore, Delta-bonds can do similarly. As I know it's magically feasible to construct a spell that can emulate the effects of a Delta-bond, well... a little study on my part couldn't hurt." A shake of his head, careful with his horns given Anya and Ludmilla's proximity. "And I promised Jennifer that I would take care of her little sister. If the information in the research library gives us what I need, I won't complain."

Ludmilla make a sound in her throat at that. "I thought you said you hated level five conditioning cycles?"

Micah quirked an eyebrow. "I do. Why?"

"Then why did you make the offer to your pet Gunnm to let her level five herself?" Next to him, Anya stared in shock.

Micah shook his head. "I know all of you seem to have the idea in your head that I can tame any unruly pokegirl into compliance using only my dick and a kind word," Micah paused, smiling wryly, as Anya held back giggling. "But," he went on, "It's her choice to make and my displeasure with that choice doesn't enter into the equation. To mangle a quote from a favorite story of mine, if a bunch of people feel the need to walk off a cliff, it their business." He grinned. "Now, if someone's -pushing- them... it might be best if someone dealt with the matter."

Ludmilla's ear's flicked. "How did you come up with that philosophy?"

"Personal experience," Micah replied. "You can't change people's minds just by talking to them and I'm not arrogant enough to think I can."

"MASTER!" The word itself was angry, though the anger clearly wasn't directed at him as the diminutive Gunnm strode into view, having found a cleaner blanket to wrap herself up in. Behind her, Jennifer was clearly angry at both her younger sister and Micah in equal measure. "Can I bring along some of my books, as well?"

Micah quirked an eyebrow at the tone; the confident smugness that she was appealing to a higher power was rather surprising. "Feel free. Keep in mind they're your responsibility, so same rules apply."

Erin nodded. "Good!" She then turned, and shoved her way past her older sister.

"Damn," Anya whispered, and Micah couldn't tell if it was because of Erin's admittedly patchwork Frankenstein appearance, or the sheer attitude she was displaying.

"Quite," Micah replied. "This'll be interesting."

-[***]-

Micah and Erin followed behind Jennifer, Erin looked remarkably improved given that she'd only been staying with Micah's harem for a day. Euphemia had cut off the excess mismatched hair, giving her a short, feathered cap of night-black hair. She was wearing normal clothing with a cloak and hood ensemble thrown on-top to shy away gross attention to her appearance; underneath her clothing, she had been wrapped up in bandages to hide the worst of the change. Micah didn't care; he lightly gripped her hand as they followed Jennifer, with his entire harem following behind the pair.

It was late at night, chronologically, in the Scarlet League. They kept their own hours, due to their unique geographical location. They saw no one as they made their way deeper to Micah's goal; the magical research archives beneath Alexandria's Magical University.

Jennifer guided them through several different hallways, trying not to look at Micah and Erin both. She hated to even think that Erin, her baby sister, had... blossomed overnight just by joining his harem, but there was a clear difference. It hurt, more than she thought it would. On multiple levels; as a family member, and as a woman, and privately mortified because of that.

A final door, and they came into a very large room that was thick with the smell of paper, staggered with rows upon rows of mismatched tomes. Micah couldn't help the grin on his face as the feel of the place; not only did it come with that particular miasma of hushed tones that book-packed libraries possessed, but he could -feel- the power in some of those tomes, where the very material has absorbed some of the magical energies of their creator or user, like water soaking into a sponge.

"Here," Jennifer began. "The archives."

Micah nodded. "Excellent. I'm sure you're tired; why don't you go home and get some rest? We'll be sure to lock up here."

Jennifer looked as if she wanted to argue; glanced at Erin, back to Micah, and nodded slowly. "Alright," she whispered, and saw herself to the door, closing it behind her.

"Finally," Erin muttered, coming up to one tome and picking it up, flipping through it curiously. "I thought she'd never leave."

Micah chuckled softly. "Family is like that."

"Whatever," Erin rolled her eyes in a classic case of teenage superiority, then grinned at Micah. "So what are we looking for, Master?"

"Dimensional travel theory, teleportation gates, and similar."

"Wow." Erin looked rather impressed. "That's pretty high-level magic."

Cornelia rolled her eyes. "What the hell do you know about that?"

The Gunnm scowled impressively at her. "I -was- planning to become a mage before... before. You bi-" Her words cut off as she glanced at Micah, swallowed them back. "So. Yeah." She grinned weakly. "What are you going to name me, Master?

Micah glanced curiously at the Gunnm, letting himself enjoy the feel of the library's archives before he and his harem got to work. "You don't like your current name?"

"Not really." A shrug, meant to be casual, but instead came across as awkward. "Just... not."

"I hadn't given the matter serious thought, given that this is the first you've brought it up," Micah noted aloud, only half-paying attention to the pokegirl. "If nothing else, there's always the title the progenitor of your line possessed."

Erin blinked. "What's that?"

"'Gally.'"

"Gally," she considered aloud, tasting the word. "I like it, Master."

Micah glanced sharply at the Gunnm, the diminutive pokegirl having his full attention, now, as he mentally kicked himself. He hadn't seriously expected her to accept the first thing he'd thrown out, never mind that he'd just been idly thinking aloud. Obviously, he needed to be more careful from now on. He nodded slowly. "Gally it is."

The newly-named Gally grinned. "Thank you, Master." She glanced at the seemingly endless row of books. "So, how are we going to find what you need?"

Micah grinned, back on track as he snapped his fingers, the Grimorum Astra appearing by his side. "You're close, but not thinking properly." Euphemia set her compression backpack up on a table that was obviously for research, taking out a slew of items they'd brought along to help, not to mention, food and caffeine for later fortification.

Several hours later, they had what Euphemia estimated was 65% of the research archives copied over, either to the Grimorum Astra, Euphemia's own personal mental cyberscape, or via the use of Anya's Twin and Create cards. Cornelia has assisted utilizing her emulation capabilities to master the Transfer spell Micah and Euphemia favored to copy information over; Ludmilla utilized her psychic prognostication to pick out some of the more worthwhile tomes. Nunnally, Illya, and Erin/Gally played the gophers to ferry books to and from their work area, mark them with white paper slips, and then put them back in order.

Gally nibbled on a sandwich, thankful that she could keep this down as long as she didn't try to gorge herself. "Are we almost done, Master?"

Micah couldn't hold back the fang-exposing yawn, which was proof enough for him that he needed more caffeine. Snagging a thermos, he poured out a mug full of liquid that Euphemia said could be used to strip rust from metal. Of course, she'd said that right before snagging her own mug of the liquid. Sipping the hot brew down, Micah replied, "Almost. We'll keep at it for a few more hours, then clean everything up.

Cornelia sighed, earning a curious look from Micah. The Demon-goddess shrugged. "I was expecting something would blow up, Master."

Micah quirked a grin. "Sorry that everything can't be a life or death, city-leveling struggle. I could let the Mini-top out and for Illya to have some fun, if you like...?"

Cornelia's one good eye widened. "Thank you, but no thank you, Master. Boring is good. Boring is nice."

Illya pouted.

-[***]-

"So," Micah commented to Ekaterina, sipping at the hot tea and trying not to yawn as they discussed things at the Manor in the Capital League. He had gotten far too little sleep last night, and he didn't want to do anything stupid, such as throwing around some of the 'no sleep' spells he'd been researching without preparation. He was seriously considering having a day of downtime for him and his harem. "How is Francesca doing?"

The NurseJoy frowned, glancing at the ceiling, then at the floor, then at her own tea. Anywhere but Micah.

Micah waited patiently, but only for so long. He prompted, "Well?"

Ekaterina pouted. "Can I promise you not to say, 'I told you so'?"

Micah gave a wing-rustling shrug. Ludmilla, behind him, was glaring at the NurseJoy. "I promise, I won't utter those words," Micah replied.

Ekaterina sighed. "Fine. You were right. I managed to teach her pretty much everything I know as far as healing techniques go." She gave him a look, as if this was all somehow his fault. "How?"

Micah gave another shrug. "The submissive paradigm isn't something everyone else grasps intuitively." He smiled faintly. "One of the first rules of etiquette in BDSM is that you don't treat another person's slave as if she's your property. You'd just end up with a very pissed off slave and master. The same, really, applies to pokegirls. Trying to treat a Dark Lady as if she'll follow your orders implicitly 'just cause' will likely result in your taming equipment getting removed. Not my fault other people don't know how to use Damsels effectively."

Ekaterina grumbled.

Micah smiled. "Thank you, for all that you've done." He finished off his tea, then rose. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be taking Francesca with me." Giving a parting nod to the NurseJoy, he tracked the Damsel in question down, pokeballed her, then had Ludmilla teleport them both back to their 'vacation home' in the Scarlet League. He then handed the pokeball to Ludmilla and stated, "Get Francesca abilities vetted, if you please?"

Ludmilla smiled, tail wagging in pleasure. "You don't trust the NurseJoy?"

"If she was lying, I assuming you would have said something?" At Ludmilla's nod, Micah went on, "Still, I'm taking what she said with a grain of salt. Maybe she's just grumpy from not getting a male taming."

Ludmilla nodded, taking the proffered pokeball, and said, "She was telling the truth, much as it annoyed her. The Damsel would qualify as a full-fledged healer by this point."

Micah smiled. "Excellent. Time to move to the next stage of my plan." Fifteen minutes later found him and the Dire Wolf finally tracking down a dirt-smudged Euphemia, the dusky-skinned redhead having gotten a hold of a pair of overalls and busy working on the power systems. She perked up as Micah walked in, and Micah chuckled softly as he snagged a rag and wiped a smudge of grim from the tip of her nose. "Having fun?"

Euphemia grinned wryly. "It's better than dissecting dead bodies, I'll give it that." She set a large wrench aside and parked her shapely bottom upon a stack of equipment. "What's up, Master?"

"You still have access to the cache program, correct?"

Euphemia blinked, and nodded.

"Excellent," Micah replied. "I need you to transfer over all the Damsels in the cache program you can find to your John Smith account." He frowned thoughtfully. "And any FarFuck'D, as well. No one will miss them, so they're perfect for my needs."

Euphemia blinked slowly. "Master," she began, "Last I checked, there's over a hundred Damsels in the cache program. You want all of them?"

"Yes."

"That many pokegirls runs into several problems," Ludmilla noted quietly. "Among them logistics. Feeding them will be an issue."

"Not as many as you think," Euphemia replied, expression distracted as she thought furiously. "We have enough funds for... well, a lot."

Micah nodded. "True. But grab a few Elfs and Milktits from the cache program. We can use them to supplement our food supplies. Put Charolette in charge of them, as well. She'll enjoy the responsibility."

"You want to use the Manor in the Capital League for this?" Ludmilla queried, her tone making it clear she didn't think well of the idea.

"No, use our staging point in the Ruby League," Micah promptly replied. "We'll need to use it for a few more tasks, as well. Get Euphemia to check out some prefab buildings for sale that we can use."

"Master, um," Euphemia's tone was hesitant. "What are you going to -do- with all of them?"

"I'm going to turn them into a Sanctuary Goth Strike Force," Micah replied in a prompt tone. "Why do you think I've been having you prep all those S-Goth Venom packages for me?"

Euphemia's eyes widened at the implications of that. "Over a hundred military trained S-Goths," she whispered. Looked at Micah. "Do you think it will be enough?"

Micah blinked in reply. "'Enough'? Euphemia, -I'm just getting started.-"

-[***]-

Several hours later found Micah holding back a yawn as he regarded Ludmilla with a measure of skepticism. "Given how tired I am," he replied, "Don't you think we might want to hold back digging around in my brain until some other time?"

"Actually," Ludmilla smiled. "This is the perfect time. If you're as tired as you say you are, that means your mental defenses will be more malleable than they would be normally, making my effort easier."

Micah considered this. "Alright." He tried to shake off the lingering trepidation that wouldn't quite go away. He figured the sensation was a sign he was still sane. He glanced over at the other two members of his harem, Anya and Nunnally, whom were prepared to go along on this 'trip'. "Are you sure the two of -you- want to go along with this?"

The StarMystic smiled and settled nearby. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?" Nunnally nodded in agreement, the Arkhangelsk settling next to him.

"That's a very good question," Micah mumbled to himself. The fact that Ludmilla seemed more than happy to rummage around in his brain whenever she felt like it and that Nunnally was delta-bonded to him -and that neither of them had murdered him in his sleep - was just a little bit scary. Comforting, but scary. He -knew- that some of his dreams was leaking through the bonds. He gave a shake of his head, arranging his wings carefully. "Whichever." Something in his expression firmed as he directed his attention to Ludmilla. "Do it."

Ludmilla nodded, breathing deeply(offering an unintentional distraction), before focusing the full measure of her power and three centuries worth of skill to bear on the problem, mentally grabbing hold of Anya, threading a link between all of them before following her own link to Micah down, deep, deep into that dark storm of his mind.

For Micah, it was as if the entire world went black, conscious of nothing else beyond a distant sensation of a soft, drifting fall. Slowly, things resolved, Anya, Ludmilla, and Nunnally coming into focus in a manner that had nothing to do with perceived distances. Without violence, the four of them gradually halted to a stop, coming to rest amid a massive, black expanse.

Micah glanced around in confusion, more curious than anything else. "Where are we?"

Ludmilla was frowning. "I don't understand it. This should be the deeper, inaccessible recesses of your mind."

Micah quirked an eyebrow. "This is what's inside the abyss of -my-brain?" He glanced around, somehow getting the impression of a vast distance, even if he couldn't see anything proper. There were no features here, but their feet gave the impression of standing on something solid, hexagonal-patterned lines of energy radiating outward from where their feet made contact with what was presumably the ground. He couldn't help a brief laugh. "There's a really great joke to be had here, but I'll be damned if I can find it."

The shared perception of the realm glitched, like snow-static running across a damaged television screen. Micah jerked as if he had been shocked, only to find that he couldn't see Anya, Nunnally, or Ludmilla at all any more. Panic gnawed at his gut even as he clamped down on it; he'd be damned if he got terrified just because he stumbled across something inside -his- brain.

"Well, now. This is unexpected. Congratulations, boy, at the efforts your women have given to protect you."

Micah pivoted sharply at the unexpected voice, coming to a shocked halt, jaw slack. He floated there as if gravity was for other people, multi-layered dark robes and cloak obscured any hint of an actual body attached to the face that smiled coldly down at him. His skin was milk-pale, and his features might have been handsome once, or beautiful; now they were worn sharply by time and age, giving him a feral mannerism despite the genial if condescending smile on his lips. Golden eyes, disturbing and intense, glowered at Micah, his thick, voluminous, jagged hair that silvered near his temples was swept back, falling behind him to what Micah knew was near his ankles.

Micah swallowed convulsively. "Toymaker."

That smile deepened. "I see you've been enjoying yourself. Oh, come now, no need to deny it. We're all monsters here!" He swept an arm out, pushing aside those robes and cloak in a grand gesture. "I've given you what you've wanted, surely! Women to enslave, worlds to conquer! You should be thanking me. Although," his voice trailed off, thoughtful, musing, as those golden eyes seemed to fill with delight. "Perhaps you shouldn't. Perhaps we're all mad, here, instead." His expression became a feral grin. "Narcissism is a poor habit to engineer, and you wouldn't want to be thanking yourself. And that's the horrible thing to consider, isn't it? Am I... something else, or am I... you? Just a mirror you hold up, to give yourself the best thing you could have. An... excuse."

"Still," Toymaker mused aloud, "Your women are impressive, are they not? Surprising, the lengths they've gone too..." He loomed closer, and Micah found that he couldn't move, couldn't do anything as Toymaker neared. "And truly, with such an effort, I wouldn't want them to go away empty handed, now, would I?" His other hand came out, and removed a glove from it's opposite. Reaching forward like some obscene spider, those slim digits speared their way inside his skull as if flesh and bone were malleable water, and Micah worked to hold back a scream.

"Let's utilize some of that marvelous power you've been tapping into, shall we?" Toymaker enthused, and the entire world went white.

-[***]-

Ludmilla, Anya, and Nunnally all found themselves unexpectedly thrust back into reality proper the same time that Micah lurched forward, coming to rest on all fours on the floor in front of him. He didn't so much as scream as bellow, the impressive, bass-tone building up low in the bottom of his lungs and forcing it's way out as window-rattling volume from his throat, the sound something no human could properly emulate. Foot and hand claws bit deep into the flooring as bone and muscle forcibly re-arranged themselves into a new configuration.

No one dared breath as Micah filled the room with harsh panting, still crouched on the floor. He glanced tiredly up at Ludmilla, and the Dire Wolf tried to hide her shock; there were two symmetrical claw-like markings on his cheeks, solid black, that started at a point just below his eyes and fell downward toward the back of his jaw.

"Micah?" Anya's voice was oddly high-pitched and strangled.

Micah grimaced, as if something was irking him. Picking himself up off the floor, he reached back to adjust his clothing, and three tails emerged from beneath his clothing, covered in bone the same color as his claws, each one whipping and lashing behind him independent of the other.

Micah glanced behind him. Glanced at his claws; from what Ludmilla could see, they looked to be larger, as well. Glanced tiredly at Ludmilla. "Anything else?"

Ludmilla swallowed. "Your... your face. You have facial markings." She wasn't certain, due to the horns obscuring them partially, but she thought his ears looked different. And now that he was standing, she noticed something else. "You're taller, as well. And... your wings are bigger, slightly."

"Ah." Micah swallowed convulsively, rubbing at his face. Grit his teeth. "Go get Euphemia."

Euphemia had already been heading in Micah's direction when Ludmilla caught up with her - if you define 'heading' as 'a full out run' -being trailed by the rest of his harem, Gally included.

Euphemia and her trailing mob had jarred to a literal halt whenever they caught sight of him. Euphemia recovered first, rushing over to his side and began scanning him, holographic screams sprouting around her like planets to their mother star. "Okay," she noted as he poured over the data, "As much as I'd really like to start yelling at all of you over idiocy, it wouldn't be fair." She glanced at Ludmilla. "After all, it's not like you knew he'd evolve just by rummaging that deeply in his brain."

"It's a bit more complicated than that," Micah noted, gritting his teeth at the odd sensation of the G-splice running a hand along the bony carapace that was one of his tails, resisting the urge to flick it out of her grasp. Cornelia looked to be quietly freaking out over to the side as the Demon-Goddess held back to urge to rush over and hug him tightly. Illya was grinning. "And I'll note that I'm not a pokegirl. The term 'evolve' doesn't really fit."

"Holy crap," Gally whispered, some of her bandages loose from her running. "You weren't kidding, were you?"

"It's the best term I've got at the moment, so it'll have to do." Euphemia paused in her scanning, a small smile as she glanced over at Ludmilla. Her smile grew. "Congratulations. Your 'Demon' has evolved to 'Demon Lord'."

Anya giggled weakly at that, and even Nunnally smiled. Anya's laughter intensified whenever she noted that Ludmilla and Micah both were wearing near identical expressions of being put-upon and mild irritation. Cornelia ignored them all, finally managing to get close enough to grip Micah's hand as Illya chuckled gleefully in the background; Micah squeezes Cornelia's grip gratefully in return.

Euphemia grinned at Micah. "How do you feel?"

"Tired. Wrung out. Like someone's own personal chew toy."

"Not sore?"

Micah frowned. "No." He glanced at his claws, unsheathing them, then letting them slide back. "I think this was slightly different than my first... incident. This might have been unnaturally accelerated."

"Are you going to tell us what happened?" Anya asked, looking as if she wanted to start fighting for space at his side so she could hug him and never let go.

"Toymaker happened. Or I happened. I'm not sure which." Micah sighed. "Anyways. He said that he was going to utilize my power to... well, I guess, this. As a reward."

"Who's Toymaker?" Gally asked.

Ludmilla blinked. "A reward for what?"

Micah quirked a small smile. "A reward for all of you, for everything that you've done to help protect me. And Toymaker is a very long story."

His harem simultaneously blinked.

"How is this a reward for all of us?" Anya queried.

"That's a very good question," Micah noted. "We'll have to see what develops, won't we?"

Ludmilla made a noise in the back of her throat, reached up, running her fingers through his hair as her ears flicked. Frowned. "I don't like this. I can't get to your hair as easily."

Micah raised an eyebrow. "You can fly naturally. It doesn't matter how tall I am." As if a signal had been given, Cornelia snuggled up at his side, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

Ludmilla smiled, tail wagging. "It's the principal of the matter."

Euphemia made a sound, and all of her screens blipped off. "Sleep," she stated. "Rest. I've got some theories, but I want a few days for them to settle before I start throwing them out."

"I'm sure the two of us can debate them in private," Anya murmured. Euphemia looked ready to protest, but the StarMystic gave her a flat look that implied attempts to stonewall would not be met kindly.

"Right," Micah muttered, half to himself. "Sleep. I think I remember how to do that."

-[***]-

Ludmilla tried not to shiver faintly, wondering when her bed partner's movement had resulted in her blanket being pulled away. The Dire Wolf frowned, her golden hair a discordant halo around her face as she peered curiously at her surroundings; the so-called 'Master Bedroom' at the Scarlet League research station, her Master's harem scattered amid the very large bed - an actual Harem Master-sized bed - like bowling pins after a perfect strike.

Her frown deepened, then her eyes widened as she realized the sight was missing one very important thing; no Micah.

Scrabbling carefully from the bed, making sure not to wake anyone up, she checked the obvious place - bathroom was clear - before coming back, only now noticing a small taped message affixed to the bedroom's main door.

'Outside. Be back later. - Micah'

Ludmilla nodded, as if this explained everything. Then the full impact of the message hit - that he was outside in standard Scarlet League weather, which included sub-zero temps on the Fahrenheit scale as a matter of course. She hit the door and broke into a run without thinking, falling on all fours on occasion in mimicry of her fully lupine cousins as she caught his sent and bolted along it's trail, ending up at one of the customary 'airlocks'. She didn't bother opening and closing it - she just phased through and continued following his scent.

She found him standing on a bluff, admiring the desolate sight of ice that surrounded the station, looking for all the world as if the temperature was far more comfortable than it actually was. Flying next to him, she quickly found the reason for that - he was surrounded by a sphere of significantly warmer air, seemingly untouched by the wind. He was also dressed oddly, as well, wearing a single-breasted suit and tie ensemble with a military-cut greatcoat thrown on top of it, the entire outfit seemingly perfectly made to accommodate his wings and newly grown tails.

The Grimorum Astra floated in front of him, holographic screens similar to Euphemia's customary ones floating above it as information flicked errantly across them, the occasional finger-twitch of eye glance from Micah bringing up new screens or dismissing old ones. He gave no indication of Ludmilla's presence beyond opening up his wing to allow the Dire Wolf to snuggle closer; she pushed aside thoughts of yelling at him to do just that, grateful to be out of the extreme cold. This close it was clear that his ears were different; while not obvious, there was a definite elven-like point to the tips, as well. Something in his manner, coupled with his odd dress, made her swallow the yelling she desperately wanted to do. Instead, her voice came out far more tentative than she was trying for as she murmured, "...Micah?"

"Couldn't sleep," Micah noted in a clipped tone. A deep breath, and then he went on in a more normal voice, "And I was thinking too much. I feel like an idiot in retrospect; it's like things that I was having mild issue with before seem to be like child's play, now. The all-weather spell was easy enough. I finally managed to finish the armor spell without even trying hard."

She looked at his attire. "This is it?"

"No, this is a spell I derived from my study of the armor spell," Micah went on. "Actualization of objects and physical mass was simile enough to derive. I don't have to worry about clothing any more. Simple things are feasible. I can't make gold, but that might be more a limitation of my subject of study more than anything. I can't figure out yet if the armor spell is actually accessing the Akashic Record to manage the on-fly construction it does, or actual side-dimensional computation." He shook his head. "I've been trying to write down all these ideas as opposed to trying out some of the more... esoteric spells I have in mind. If I'm going to go flying, despite having wings, I want someone there to catch me." He gave a fang-edged grin at the Dire Wolf.

She hugged him tightly. "You think this is a result of your changes?"

"Well, it's logical to come to that conclusion, don't you think?" He smiled.

"Give me your hand."

Micah complied, the two of them negotiating a grip that didn't have each other's claws digging in tender places. Ludmilla then began applying pull, lightly, as Micah returned the gesture. The Dire Wolf frowned. "You're stronger. Not pokegirl strong, but there's definitely been an improvement that wasn't there yesterday." She took a deep breath, looked ready to start yelling at him - then her face screwed up as she burst out crying, wrapping her arms around his middle and soaking the front of his coat with her tears.

Micah pushed the Grimorum aside, letting his wings wrapped around her as he hugged tightly in reply, careful to avoid her tail as he did so. "Sorry," he murmured, stroking out her hair.

"No, you're not," she sniffled. "What's worse, I want to be so -angry- at you for scaring me like that. But I know you probably needed the private time to sort things around." She looked up at him. "Well? Did you sort everything out? If you need more private time I swear I'm never going to forgive you."

Micah couldn't hold back the chuckle as he smoothed out her blonde hair. "Then I'm sorry what I did made you cry." A pause, as he leaned forward, nuzzling her hair and ears, and went on, "And yes, I did. At first I thought about how I had no control about what I was turning into." He pulled back, meeting Ludmilla's gaze as he cupped her cheek. "Then I realized, once I came to grips with what was happening, that I didn't care. If it takes turning into a complete beast to finish this, then that's a price I'll pay." Behind him, his three tails idly lashed in slow, whip-like patterns.

Ludmilla smiled weakly. "You want to go for another mind-dive, then?"

"Nooooooo, I think I'll put off another trounce around the Lovecraftian depths of my brain for at least another week," Micah went on, grinning faintly. "If Toymaker really is fucking around with me, I don't want to give him any ideas by coming back to the upgrades shop twice in a day."

Ludmilla giggled faintly, snuggling closer, and murmured in a soft tone, "You're horny."

Micah rolled his blue-on-black eyes heavenward. "You just now noticed? There's more than one reason I crawled out of bed; I've got more energy than I know what to do with."

She smiled up at him, her green eyes almost glowing with lust despite the trace of tears still marking her cheeks. "Why don't we see if we can take care of that?"

Micah let out a soft 'hmph'. "Get us back to your private bedroom, then."

Her smile deepened. "The rest of your harem will be jealous."

Micah actually growled, low in his throat. "Woman, the way I feel right now, I'll simply tie them all immobile and knock them all down, one by one. Get us back to your bedroom, now."

Ludmilla didn't argue further.

-[***]-

"A hundred and fifty three Damsels," Gally whispered in something approaching awe. "That's a lot of pokegirls." She looked oddly at Micah. "How come you're not a Harem Master?"

Micah gave a shrug as Gally assisted him in managing all of the aforementioned Damsels, which involved leading them to their assigned beds and setting them to lie down and ordering them not to move until given explicit orders to do so. They'd cleared out an area of the Research Station just for this; Euphemia had found the prefab buildings they could setup in the Ruby League, but they'd be doing that later when they actually administered the S-Goth Venom shot. Once that occurred, they'd be committed, as it would take seven days for the change to take place. Possibly shorter; Euphemia had noted that their initial test subject hadn't been as much of a human-type as Damsels are.

"Can you honestly see be running around whatever League you please, trying to earn enough badges to compete whatever?" Micah replied, guiding a cute redhead dressed in nothing but tatters that clung haphazardly to her frame. That had been yet another problem - not all the Damsels had been cleaned up, which had involved running them through a cleaning cycle. That annoyance had taken a few hours of juggling, to the point Micah was sorely tempted just to steal one of the larger machines the Pokegirl Centers utilized so he wouldn't have to deal with this later.

Gally shook her head and admitted he had a point.

"Finished," Ludmilla announced, walking in with Nunnally and Cornelia trailing behind him. "You had something you wanted to discuss with us before we do this?"

Micah nodded at Ludmilla. "I did indeed." Deliberately turned away, as if checking over one of the Damsels, stilling his expression. He was severely thankful for his magically enforced perfect memory; it meant he wasn't scrambling for notes regarding the coming speech/pep talk he was about to give his ladies.

Turning, he regarded all three of them with a look that made them stiffen. Off to the side, Gally watched curiously, wondering what he was about to do.

"Just to make sure, let me re-iterate what the three of you are about to do," Micah noted quietly. "Every last one of these Damsels is tasked to become S-Goths. What I want from the three of you is to turn them into one of the most terrifying organized fighting force this world has ever seen. I want them to eat lightening and spit out thunder; I want them to make Sukebe's original forces look like a bunch of fucking pikers," Micah spat out, voice low and intense. "I want these, my Grim Angels, to utterly terrify anyone whom so much hears a rumor of them operating nearby. You are clear to do -anything- and -everything- to see that this occurs."

"Now," Micah went on, "You can only do so much in Dreamtime. I understand this. What this is, is prelude. I want you to stuff as much information of magic attacks, healing techniques, discipline, fighting techniques, as inhumanly feasible. Nunnally, you're in charge of hand to hand and weapon techniques. Cornelia, you will assist in all magical techniques you know of that you can teach them. I am putting you subordinate to Ludmilla for this operation. You will follow her direction in this, as I'm putting my trust in her to juggle all the details. Am I clear?"

He paused to wait for some sign of affirmation. Both Nunnally and Cornelia nodded, Cornelia too stunned to speak, Nunnally looking grimly serious.

Micah turned to Ludmilla. "Ludmilla. Damsels are not psychic-types. Regardless, you can make sure they have the experience necessary to pick things up quick enough whenever they are evolved to S-Goths. In addition, you are in charge of this operation. Nunnally and Cornelia are subordinate to you in this matter, but both will have their goals. Listen to them as necessary. If I discover you've abused your authority in this matter, I will be -very- displeased." Ludmilla swallowed at the sheer amount of flat promise Micah seemed to covey with the word 'displeased'.

"Now, then," Micah continued, voice loosing some of its ominous tone and becoming more normal. He gave each of them a look in turn, catching their gaze. "If any of you have any questions?"

They had none.

"Then prepare to execute the operation once Anya is ready," Micah finished. "Ladies, you will make me proud."

Ludmilla nodded sharply, her entire posture erect. Nunnally nodded, hand on her manifested blade, entire manner serious. Cornelia had gripped her Key-staff, crossing it over her chest. The moment held; then all three of them moved off to where they were supposed to be for this excursion into Dreamtime, with Anya using her Dream card to put the entire assembly of easily suggestible Damsels to sleep.

"Wow," Gally whispered softly, not daring to speak above a whisper.

Micah glanced curiously at the Gunnm, his tails lashing slowly behind him. She looked slightly improved from when he had acquired her; there were less dark splotches on her face, and the one remaining eye was almost completely red. He chuckled softly. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You're... you're gonna expect similar from me, right?" Gally asked, looking hesitant.

Micah shook his head. "Oh, no," he replied, then chuckled at Gally's disappointed expression. "Gally, I'm not expecting you to be as scary as these ladies will turn out to be. I'm expecting you to be -much-, -much- more terrifying whenever things are said and done."

-[***]-

"I wonder why the S-Goth Venom works while they're in their pokeballs?" Micah mused aloud, absently rubbing at his forehead as he considered the minor issue. Between him and Euphemia was a veritable constellation of holoscreens, the Grimorum Astra, and various copies of tomes they had liberated from Alexandria's archives spread out on a large wooden table. Euphemia's voluminous hair had been tied up into a high-set ponytail, keeping it out of her face as she read over the various bits of information.

"Maybe it's due to the magical charge of the venom?" Euphemia replied. "We haven't done an exhaustive examination of it, after all." Euphemia, in a proper scientific experiment and due to reports of Vampire Venom working while pokegirls were outside of stasis yet still in their pokeballs, had taken a sample of five Damsels after their first day of Dreamtime training, administered the Venom, and waited a day to see what happened. Her scans had made it clear; they were changing, despite being kept inside a pokeball. That meant they didn't have to wait for their way station in Ruby to be operational before they could begin the changes.

"Maybe," Micah replied, shaking his head before returning to scanning the tome in front of him. "Mmm."

"Here, look at this," Euphemia stated, pushing over the tome she had been reading so Micah could get a look at it. The information that they had liberated from the Library was truly scary, given some of the theoreticals they discussed. Very few of it was explicitly spelled out in proper spell format, but they now had some theories to work on regarding spell work on everything from teleportations, time manipulations, summonings, and some esoteric attack methods. The list was pretty staggering, and Micah had to admit a measure of pride that he and his harem had pulled it off; more so, as without Euphemia's capabilities, running through all of it would have been an impossibility.

Micah began reading, as directed. Frowned thoughtfully, as he clued in that he was reading a diary entry, of a sort. The expression deepened, then flickered to one of surprise, before Micah groaned in exasperation. "You have got to be kidding me."

Euphemia blinked at Micah. "What's wrong?"

"That was the last place I wanted to visit. Well, not last, but definitely on the bottom of my list..." He frowned, shook his head. "Can you confirm this information?"

"Give me an hour," Euphemia stated firmly. "I won't be certain, but given what's mentioned in the diary, I'll be 85% sure that the tome is located where the entry says it is."

An hour later, Ludmilla entered only to find Micah glaring at a book as if he could change the information therein by sheer force of will alone(And that thought sent a mental shiver through the Dire Wolf -what if he -could-?) with Euphemia looking apologetic yet unrepentant. "Well," the blonde Dire Wolf said. "You both look happy. What's wrong?"

Micah glanced up at the Dire Wolf. Shook his head. "I'll explain in a moment. How are my Grim Angels progressing?" The name, apparently, had stuck. The Damsels had taken to calling themselves that in Dreamtime and the Dire Wolf hadn't disabused them of the title; group cohesion for military groups was a critical element, and she wasn't going to look an accidental gift ponytaur in the mouth.

"They're doing rather well," Ludmilla replied. "I won't be able to make a firm judge until I'm able to get them out in the field once they've finished evolving, but they're accepting the information readily enough, despite lacking the willpower to apply it effectively." She almost mentioned the oddities that were beginning to arise in some of the Damsels, once Euphemia had begun administering the S-Goth package en-masse. They weren't bad per se, but they were already beginning to see changes in their overall personality that didn't really fit in with how Damsels were supposed to react. The Dire Wolf was only thankful that she did the necessary personality shifts in the first Dreamtime session. "So, why are you both looking so vexed?"

Micah blinked. "Vexed?"

Ludmilla smiled. "Vexed."

Micah shook his head. "Vexed. Right." Tapping the book in front of him, he elaborated, "This is a collection of research entries of a mage by the name of Hadwin Vern. Knowledgeable enough by himself, it seems, but the entries don't elaborate any on spells in the areas we're looking for. However, he does make mention of an associate of his, Andrew Harkess." Micah frowned. "Odd name, Harkess... Not that I can say anything. Anyways. Apparently, our boy Andrew had at one point in his possession a tome that went by the name of 'Scripture of the Dark Star'." A wing-rustling shrug. "Why the name, it doesn't say. But, supposedly, this tome of magic was passed down from Sukebe himself."

Ludmilla nodded slowly. "So... we just need to find this scripture, right?"

"Nope!" Micah went on cheerfully. "Because apparently Andrew lost it, though it doesn't mention how, why, or when. But what it -does-say is that Andrew apparently copied several of the spells down from the Scripture into his private tome. Hadwin only got a glimpse of them, but he explicitly states they were written in Andrew's tome, and contained travel magics of great power. Including a few spells the likes of which Andrew had never seen before." Micah's grin wasn't very reassuring. "But wait, it gets better. See, Andrew was a bit of a philanthropist, of a sort. And had collected a very large library, which included his tomes and personal diaries, but also included Pre-Sukebe literature. And, of course, Hadwin discusses what happened when Andrew, everyone's favorite bastard, died. He donated it to the oldest current library in extant in the world." Micah threw up his hands. "And Euphemia just confirmed that the books are still there, including what's labeled are his 'private diaries.'" Micah grinned. "Which means, guess what? We're traveling to one of the places in this world I had planned to stay well away from."

Ludmilla looked slightly confused. "Which Library is it?"

"The British Library, of course." Micah shrugged. "Next stop, the Blue League."

-[***]-