14

Standard Disclaimers apply. Written by Micah Hakubi at feynman dot project AT SPAMOHMYGODHELPUSALL gmail dot com. You can guess the drill regarding contact.

The story is mine, the setting is not. We all give thanks to Metroanime daily for putting up with us messing around his in awesome world. Ahmen.

To quote Kerrik Wolf, "You should not read this work if you are under the age of legal consent wherever you reside. This work may or may not contain any and/or all of the following: death, dismemberment, violent acts, implied sex, explicit sex, violent sex, rape, cannibalism, blasphemy (depending on your religion), BDSM, torture, necrophilia, mimes, and just about anything unwholesome that you could consider."

Feedback welcome. I probably need the syntax abuse.

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

[Chapter 14]

Ludmilla regarded what could only be called a 'war council' with a slightly weary expression. The Dire Wolf wasn't quite certain how much subjective time she had been spending in Dream Time to turn Micah's battalion of Grim Angels into a lethal fighting force, and she suspected that she honestly didn't want to know. Tactics, fighting philosophy, psychic and magic techniques, personnel evaluations; Ludmilla had done it all, albeit with some help. All that was left now was to put their bodies through conditioning and let them get actual experience utilizing their new abilities, which was why this current 'war council' was set up at the training station in the Ruby League, as opposed to their primary lair in Scarlet.

Of course, the only reason Ludmilla was currently here as opposed to overseeing the training of said Grim Angels was because Nunnally was standing in for her; out of the harem, she trusted the level-headed Arkhangelsk to not abuse the position.

"So," Micah noted aloud. He, Ludmilla, Gally, Illya, Charlotte, Francesca, and a frosted blue-haired elf were seated as a large round table that had been setup outside admit the shade of several large trees, turning the small glade into an effective meeting place. Gally was pressed against his side, giggling at odd moments and absently picking at his clothing. The Gunnm had finished thresholding a few days previous and finally been inducted into the harem proper, and she looked all the better for it. Gone were the mismatched patches of skin and the open sores as her body's flesh was converted to a biocybernetic material, gone were any hints of a relation with her older sister. In their place was a petite, efficient, gothic-looking berserker killing machine, albeit one whom looked far more pre-occupied staring at Micah's crotch than going crazy and murdering them all in a fit of rage. Ludmilla wasn't certain if Micah had noticed, but Charlotte and Francesca both were giving the Gunnm covetous looks of horrible envy. Illya was the only pokegirl not seated, playing escort for Micah, the chibi pokegirl almost lost in the voluminous hooded cloak she wore to keep the sunlight away.

"So," Micah repeated, and directed his attention to Ludmilla. "How many of the Grim Angels do you think are ready to be deployed as a security element?"

Ludmilla canted her head to the side, ears flicking. "Ten fireteams."

"And actual combat?"

"Five," Ludmilla replied without pause. Twenty pokegirls was no small number, but paltry in comparison to the total of two hundred Grim Angels she was working on. If pressed, she could field a much larger number than that, but Micah expected no less than perfection from her, and should would not put a fireteam of Grim Angels into the field without being assured that they would perform at a hundred percent.

"Good," Micah noted, absently gripping and squeezing Gally's hand when it became a bit too adventurous. "Get the security element prepped; I want them on hand when we start having to juggle Cologne and Yukii's precious little snowflakes that they've picked."

Ludmilla smiled, the expression rather feral. "Waving the flag?"

"Giving them reassurance of professionalism," Micah replied. "We may not be a professional army yet, but we can at least play the part for a little while."

"Have you actually taken a look at the tattoo's the Grim Angels have?" Ludmilla asked suddenly.

Micah blinked. "I haven't taken the opportunity to examine them in detail, no. Why?"

Francesca stood, unbuttoning her shirt without prompting and letting it fall open, her heavy and large breasts bouncing into view with the motion. Micah was uncertain as to why all the evolved Damsels retained their 'assets' after evolving, giving that the Sanctuary Goth entry he had access too gave their upper range at around a D-cup, but he just chalked the matter up due to the serum utilized. Francesca turned and pulled her long, dark hair away from her back to show off the tattoos that stretched across her upper shoulder and down each arm; Bat-like wings sketched from her spine down each arm, entwined with what could be called thorns at a distance, but Micah had a sinking suspicion that if he got up-close to examine them they'd look more like tails. At the base of her neck was an arrangement of markings that not only gave him the hint of curled, ram-like horns, but a skull-like face complete with fangs.

Micah stared for a good five seconds; then glanced at Ludmilla. "Do they -all- look like that?"

"There's some variation," Ludmilla replied. "But they do seem to carry a theme."

"I think it's a good thing," Francesca stated, pulling her shirt back on but only securing it with a single button between her breasts. "You should be free to mark your property, shouldn't you, Master?"

Micah resisted the urge to rub at his forehead. Realistically, it made no sense. Even if it was somehow due to his magic imprinting on the serum, he had only done a certain amount; Euphemia had been busy doing the rest. Then an errant thought occurred to him, spurred on by Francesca's comment; what if the tattoo had more significance than he had originally thought? Perhaps it was a sort of ritualistic marking of submission to a higher authority, depending on how they evolved and who the person was who gave the word to do it. It was something he'd have to examine in the future.

"Right," Micah stated after a moment. "I'm not going to think about that right now." He glanced over at the frosted-blue haired-elf. "Have you and your elves examined the grounds to your satisfaction?"

The elf, whose name was Blueberry, nodded. The name had been given as a lark by her old tamer, but she found that she rather liked it. "We have. The environment is not the best for year-round planting, but it can be made... serviceable." She brushed a long strand of hair behind one long, slim ear. "However, our efforts would go easier if we had more elves to help. Twenty would be an ideal number, considering all that we'd have to feed."

Micah smiled. "I'll take that under consideration. I don't think we'll be able to accomplish self-sufficiency for a while, but I imagine more elves would help take the stress off you and the rest of our little elven colony." He glanced at Charlotte. "And our Milktits?"

Charlotte grinned. "Ready, willing, and able to serve, Master. We'll strive to try and not have the Elves and Grim Angels lactating all the time."

"Yes, I imagine that would make training awkward," Micah murmured in a dry tone. "Thank you for that." He paused a moment. "I hope you're including my harem in that list?"

Charlotte blinked back innocently. Behind her, he could see the swish-swish of her cow-like tail moving to and fro. "They are?"

"Yes," Micah stated. "They are."

Ludmilla ground out at the corner of her lips, 'They'd damn well better be.'

Charlotte smiled, apparently ignoring the Dire Wolf. "You don't appreciate milk straight from the tap?"

"Yes, actually, but as my harem needs to be ready for combat as opposed to fulfilling my every sexual whim and desire, I'd rather not have them going onto the battlefeild leaking."

The Milktit nodded serenely. "Fair enough, Master."

Micah regarded her for a moment longer, then nodded. "Quite."

"Next thing," Ludmilla commented, brushing away blonde hair from her pale face. "Are you sure you want to pick the Blue League for weapon acquisition?"

"No reason why not," Micah replied.

"Despite your various proclamations of sources of trouble in said league?"

"I'm visiting, not setting up shop in Aberdeen or anything like that," Micah replied. "Our last visit was relatively painless, which means some of my more paranoid suspicions were... probably unfounded. Assuming we don't do anything stupid, we should be relatively safe."

Francesca looked curiously at him. "What were your more paranoid suspicions?"

Micah eyed the Damsel turned Sanctuary Goth for a moment, judging if he should elaborate, then mentally shrugged and decided this piece of information was more or less harmless. "Among other things, the Blue League is host to an old tradition of mage/knights that, until recently, served a powerful supernatural entity, and ruled from a secret fortress that no one knows the location of. If I were they, then I would have likely setup a type of early warning system that would alert me to the movement of magic users into their country." A casual shrug, Micah letting one wing wrap loosely around the Gunnm pressed to his side. "As we didn't get hit by a kill team sent to either get rid of me or recruit me, I'm going to knock that possibility down from the 'likely' to 'unlikely' list."

Ludmilla blinked at Micah. "Could you setup something like that elsewhere?"

"In theory," Micah replied. He smiled faintly. "It would take several months of dedicated effort, mind. It isn't casual, and a system like that, from my understanding, needs pre-existing conditions and/or artifacts to help establish it. Magic is interesting that way. Sadly, I don't know of a location that would be worth the effort to secure to that degree, so it's a bit of a null issue."

Ludmilla nodded slowly. "I see."

"Speaking of which, Master, are you intending to lair in this place permanently?" Blueberry inquired.

"Unfortunately, no," Micah replied. "The Ruby League government doesn't know we're here. Though even if they discover us, it shouldn't become a serious issue, but knowledge would likely get passed along to Sanctuary itself. Which would be... troublesome. Why do you ask?"

Blueberry smiled faintly. "I wanted to know what permanent fortifications we should invest in, if any."

"Nothing that you wouldn't mind leaving behind if push comes to shove. We've had to run before; we may have to do it again. I don't like it, but life rarely gives you want you want."

Blueberry nodded. "Yes, sir."

"I believe we're done here," Micah stated, rising from his seat and being careful to make sure Gally rose along with him. "I'll stop boring you all and let you get back to work. However, Francesca, if you have a moment, I would like to know if you wouldn't mind assisting me in testing a magical spell I've developed."

Francesca noticeably perked up. "Certainly, Master." Waiting until Blueberry and Charlotte had left, the Sanctuary Goth turned her complete focus to Micah. "What spell is it, Master?"

"A telepathy spell," Micah replied, setting Gally to sit on the table so he could pay proper attention to what he was about to do. "With the Grim Angels nearing ready for deployment, I can't rely on Ludmilla completely for mental communication." He grinned faintly at Ludmilla. "No offense."

The blonde-haired Dire Wolf smiled back. "None taken."

"The reason I need your assist is that I engineered a unique component to the spell," Micah elaborated. "Normally it would only work with line of sight, but the additional component allows me mental contact with anyone that I've sampled their blood off, without a limit for distance. As the communication is magical in nature, it should bypass most psychic methods of detection, but with a dedicated and skilled mage, all bets are off."

Francesca smiled. "I'm honored, Master." Obligingly, she drew her curtain of black hair away from a shoulder, baring her neck to him.

Micah laughed softly. "Trust me, I don't need access to a major artery. If you consent to helping me with the spell?"

"Of course."

"Good," Micah noted, taking Francesca's hand in his own. Unsheathing a finger claw, he drew the tip along the back of her hand, drawing blood. Bending down, he licked the droplets up; as he did so, a halo of black ideogramattical symbols erupted into form around his head, shaping a halo of sorts as he commanded his magic to function.

"Invoke protocol," he murmured softly, as his magics pulsed with energy. "Farcast. Seal."

Francesca involuntarily shivered as she felt with her own magical senses something 'lock' into place, like a key sliding home. Micah rose, the halo ceasing to exist as he did so.

"Good," he stated aloud, and then focused his energies to cast the other component of the spell. "Invoke protocol. Actuate, Farcast." The halo once again sprung to life around his head as the energies manifested; he was thankful that he could focus the spell to the degree where the halo didn't manifest, or else it would get very annoying, very quickly. Taking a slow breath, he focused on Francesca, his three tails whipping behind him as his wings absently shifted slightly. /The reason I choose you for the testing phase of the spell is because you're one of the few pokegirls that I haven't sampled the blood of, at least in my harem./

Francesca blinked, and nodded slowly. /Thank you, Master./ She smiled. /Should you ever feel a need to sample my blood further, do not hesitate to do so./

Damsels, Micah thought to himself, being careful not to broadcast that thought. /You can understand me clearly?/ At Francesca's nod, he broke out into a grin. /Superb./ He had tested the spell already with some of his harem, but it was good to know there wasn't another hidden component throwing it's function off. If the spells limitation was something silly as 'only communicate with those I've had sex with', he would have been very annoyed. "Now," he spoke aloud, "Let's start testing distance."

-[***]-

Ludmilla regarded Micah critically. "Are you certain that you didn't have a conscious hand in crafting the appearance of your armor?"

"I'm a writer, and now, I suppose, an amateur mage. I am not a graphics designer or a blacksmith. In other words, no, I did not," Micah replied. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm trying to fathom what your magic was thinking," Ludmilla replied. Micah was garbed from head to toe in flat, dull-matte black armor plates; the only parts of him that was exposed were his wings, horns, tails, and claws. Not even his eyes showed; the faceplate of his head armor was a complete piece of smooth metal, with only a jagged line where the mouth would be giving any hint of features. A split cloak hung at his shoulders, cut to accommodate his wings. "How can you even see in that thing?"

Micah reached up and gestured; a flare of magic, and the faceplate dissolved into black motes of power, revealing his face. His unnatural blue-on-black eyes were lacking in the blue coloration; instead, they glowed softly, an unnatural off-white that had the effect of making his eyes look even more unnatural and freakish. Ludmilla had to privately admit that was quite the accomplishment.

"The Warchive spell," Micah replied. "It grants my sight the ability not to be hindered by obstacles, such as absolute darkness, and my armor's helmet." He smiled thinly. "Among other things." It marked distance and long-range view amplification among them, as well as projectile firing angles. His lips then pulled into a frown, as he sighed. "Unfortunately, I can't seem to get the spell -not- to make my eyes glow, which defeats the entire purpose and means I'll likely only utilize it when wearing my summoned armor."

Ludmilla smiled. "Why would making your eyes glow be a bad thing?"

"It makes them a target in absolute darkness," Micah replied. "I prefer to remain obscured in such a situation."

Nunnally teleported in, her wings hidden so as to keep her more unnatural capabilities from being unnoticed. "Teleportation point secure, Master."

"Excellent," Micah replied. Another gesture, as he summoned the face covering of his armor. "Ludmilla and I will teleport in. Ludmilla, you'll secure a telepathic link with our escort and have them teleport in behind us in formation." He pivoted to regard his escort; 6 Fireteams of Grim Angels arranged in a line formation with their Fireteam leaders at the front. Each was garbed in the same spell that has summoned his own armor, though the styling was different. The spell had provided them with a bodysuit of armor, sans helmet or cloak, but each Grim Angel has a bladed weapon of some type sheathed either at their side or back. No one Grim Angel had a similar weapon; at a curious glance, he saw everything from a katana to paired falchions and daos to one with an actual zweihander. He nodded, as if satisfied. Ludmilla had provided each of them with ROEs earlier; he saw little point in going over things now. Unseen under his armor, he quirked a smile at Ludmilla as he pivoted back, tails wafting sinuously behind him. "Move out."

The scenery blurred. Lady Cologne had proved that she had a brain to survive those three hundred years as Leader of the Joketsuzoku, as she had arranged a joint meeting place they could congregate outside the preserve itself. Both Cologne and Yukii were present, surrounded by an entourage of various pokegirls from their respective preserves. Several of them stared at him in shock as he teleported in with Ludmilla, which only worsened a second later. Micah couldn't hold back the smirk; apparently, his lovely Grim Angels teleporting in formation and dressed as they were made a suitable impact.

Micah held his spot for a moment longer, then stalked forward, heading for Cologne and Yukii both. Nunnally kept herself off to his right, while Ludmilla stayed where she was, remaining in command of the Grim Angels as necessary; it would be up to Micah to effectively press the flesh and deal with the two leaders of the Preserves.

"Lady Cologne," Micah stated when close enough, "Lady Yukii. I trust your day so far, is pleasant?"

Cologne chuckled. "It certainly has its amusements, child." She regarded him with an amused smile, as if he wasn't fooling anyone with his appearance. Considering the look her own Amazon bodyguard was giving him, he'd have to disagree with her.

"The weather is agreeable enough," Yukii stated in a level, even tone, the words ritualistically polite. The Ice Empress undoubtedly disliked any kind of weather above zero degrees Celsius. She gestured, to where several heavy-duty chests were stacked neatly off to the side of the clearing they were in. "Your payment. I believe everything is in order."

"Of course," Micah replied smoothly. "I would expect nothing less." Two Fireteams broke off from their position and headed over to the chests as they began hefting them and teleporting out. Micah wasn't as gauche as double-check and make sure the gold, funds, and even a number of copied books/reports from the Ice Preserves and Joketsuzoku's libraries were inside those chests as they were supposed to be. After all, if Cologne and Yukii reneged on their payments, then Micah would find his army suddenly doubled in size. "And your children?"

Cologne reached over with her staff and lightly rapped the top of one of two chests that were situated much nearer. "I thought it best to make sure they were packed for the journey, so to speak."

"Your consideration is most thoughtful," Micah noted.

"And your ten days is intractable?" Cologne inquired politely.

"My capabilities are not infinite, Lady Cologne," Micah smoothly replied without a hint of amusement in his tone. Neither Yukii nor Cologne knew the exact method he was utilizing to convert the various Amazon and Ice breeds into Sanctuary Goths.

"You do not claim to be a god, then," Yukii stated in her customary level tone.

"Of course not," Micah replied, and couldn't hold back the smile in his voice. "And if I wished to claim such a title, I'd do so through action, not self aggrandizement." He chuckled softly. "Still. I'm sure all of you ladies have far more important things to do than discuss idle matters with a regular tamer." Another Fireteam came up behind him, this one taking away the chests containing over two hundred pokeballs between them. He nodded to both Yukii and Cologne. "And, of course, you know how to contact me." His smile underneath the impassive visage of his armor went unseen. "Be seeing you."

-[***]-

Micah regarded the brilliant desolation that was the expanse of Antarctica surrounding the abandoned research station he and his harem called home. Micah was as far from religious as possible, but that didn't mean he wasn't spiritual, and spiritual was the closest term he could find to describe Antarctica. It had a cleansing, bracing quality to its environs that lead toward introspection. In many ways, it reminded him of the northern region of Arizona, and absently wished that the Sunshine League wasn't on his 'no-go' list, or else he likely would have a nice summer home located there already.

"How long do you think it'll take for you to gain mastery of the transdimensional gate spell?" Ludmilla inquired curiously. She, unlike Micah, was actually dressed for the weather.

Micah shared a glance with Euphemia. The G-splice was utilizing the same spell he was to keep the elements at bay. "I'm not even going to give it an estimated timeline," Micah replied to the blonde Dire Wolf. He gave a snort. "Hell, I could even try to cast it -now-, if I felt particularly suicidal." A wing-rustling shrug as he absently stretched out, the grey woolen sweater he was wearing catching against skin and wing both. "It's not just a matter of being able to cast it; it's a matter of being able to cast it with a degree of control that's actually useful."

Ludmilla's wolf ears flicked. "You're going to have to test the spell, aren't you?"

Micah smiled. "Yup."

Lina hmphed, crossing her arms over her modest chest. The FarFuck'D had picked up both the clothing spell and the weather protection spell with startling speed, and was wearing a tight yellow shirt and equally tight red pants, with a cloak on her shoulders and heavy boots to finish the look off. "Right. No matter how brilliant you think you are, you're going to have to give that spell a few test runs. You'd better pick a place you're not fond off to test it, too."

Ludmilla gave Lina a bland look. "You know much of this, I take."

Lina grinned, showing off a slight hint of fang. "Yup! I'm a genius, after all." Then her jovial expression fell into far more serious. "The first time I attempted to cast the Giga Slave resulted in an entire bay being sterilized of life." She giggled nervously.

Ludmilla regarded the FarFuck'D for a moment, then asked, "If you can recall casting the spells, then why don't they work anymore?"

Lina reached up and scratched her cheek. "Well, reading over Micah's book and all, near as I can tell, most of my spells summoned up power from another source, and not just little ole me. As I can't seem to get in contact with them any longer, the spells don't work. Magic here doesn't really function like I'm used too. Most of your magic relies on your own power or what you can gather from the surroundings."

"Sadly, or thankfully, this world seems to be lacking in sleeping and/or banished demon-godlings to draw power from," Micah noted.

Lina grinned wryly. "I'm still looking. I've heard about this lady named 'Typhonna', but coming up with a spell like that takes time."

Micah smiled wryly. "You've been looking through my notes."

Ludmilla reached up and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. "Master. You did not seriously consider using Typhonna as a magical power source, did you?"

Micah gave a wing-rustling shrug. "If it works, it works. The idea of creating supernatural entities isn't foreign to a number of mythologies, such as the Tulpa, the Tupilak, and some Voodoo Loas. As Typhonna has been regarded as a force of destruction for over three centuries, invoking her as an agent in a spell casting might very well lend enough destructive force to turn a regular high-grade blasting spell into something with a good deal more oomph."

"Sometimes I wonder if this is what Sukebe's harem felt like," Ludmilla murmured absently.

Micah smiled. "Somehow, I doubt that. Now, then. Let's start working on what we originally came here for, shall we?"

"We should have more fliers here," Ludmilla noted.

"I trust you," Micah replied to Ludmilla, earning a blush in reply. Micah grinned, showing fangs, even as he focused on the memorized pattern of energy. The inscription circle flared to life beneath his feet, focusing energy as he slowly lifted from the snow-drifted ice. "And besides," he added, "To quote a particular bastard, sometimes you have to run before you can walk."

He pushed the energy, hard and fast, a horse bolting from the gate as he sent himself arching skyward, ignoring the mental cry of /MASTER!/left in his wake. Micah grinned fit to split his face before stilling his expression into a look of concentration, pushing the flight spell as hard as he could, finding the limits now so he'd know what to break later, the howl of wind a harsh thing as it scraped against the shell of his protective spell.

Once he felt he'd pushed things far enough, he did a lazy flip, wings spreading wide to catch the thin air of the high altitude, and couldn't help another grin. Whatever he had become, whatever he was now, this was something he was meant to do, natural as walking. The flight spell lay quiescent in the back of his brain, simply allowing his wings to carry him along.

Lina glared skyward. Ludmilla had quickly taken off after Micah, Euphemia following soon after with her own spell augmenting her flight capabilities. "Hell with -this-," she murmured. She was Lina Inverse - she'd be damned if she'd be kept out of the fun! Murmuring her own incantation, her cloak flared in the wind of her own flight spell as she paused momentarily, then shot skyward.

/I'll point out that I have -wings-, Ludmilla,/ Micah thought back at the Dire Wolf in response to the long string of complaints she was levering in his direction. /They do tend to take half the danger out of testing flight spells, don't you think?/

Ludmilla grit her teeth in a particularly wolfish snarl. She was beginning to develop the opinion that her current Master was going to end up being the death of her. From a heart attack, if nothing else.

Micah glanced downward, catching sight of Lina flying upward to join them. That sudden, gripping urge in the back of his brain screamed 'Prey!' at him, and for once, he didn't restraint it - he flipped into a dive, winging downward toward Lina at high speed, only to do a barrel-rolling maneuver that arrested him to a near perfect stop before snatching Lina up out of the air and into his arms, eliciting a scream of surprise from the redheaded FarFuck'D and a peal of laughter from Micah.

"I'vvvvvvve gooooot yooooooooou," Micah leered at her once he had gotten his laughter under control, then immediately burst out laughing once more, apparently enjoying himself a good deal.

Lina gripped at his horns in an attempt to hold onto -something-, blushing in anger as she glared at him. "W-what the hell are you doing, you idiot!?"

"Having fun," Micah replied in a cheery tone. "Might as well get it out of my system when I can."

"Well, while you're having fun, why don't you let go of me so I can get back to practicing that flight spell?" Lina griped, looking as if she was torn between squirming out of his grip or staying still so she wouldn't accidentally fall.

"I should?" Micah blinked innocently (a difficult feat) even as one of his tails lashed idly against the wind.

"Yes, you should!" Lina replied.

"Nnnnnnnnnooooo, I don't think I should," Micah replied, dipping to the side into a dive before arresting back into level flight after descending a few hundred feet.

"Awk!" Lina yelped, holding tighter.

"You'll be fine," Micah hadn't stopped grinning. "I have claws. They are very sharp, clingy claws. Besides, this is good experience for me in carrying someone." Following behind the two of them, Ludmilla and Euphemia both were staring in confusion.

"I'm not a training dummy!"

"Oh, just look at the time," Micah noted. "I think it's time for... another barrel roll."

"ACK!"

-[***]-

Micah lightly rapped against the metal door, earning a soft 'Come in' in reply. Squeezing through the doorway, mindful of his added height and wings (whacking them against walls and door edges was, needless to say, rather painful) he found Euphemia busy at work in her private room, a constellation of holographic screens surrounding her.

Micah said nothing until he was directly behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and letting his wings cup the redheaded G-splice. Euphemia sighed gratefully even as she continued working.

"You're so weird, Master," she murmured after a moment, tone absent, clearly focused elsewhere.

Micah cocked an eyebrow. "Mmm? Why so?"

"You knocked," she elaborated after a second or two.

Micah smiled. "I have quirks. Respecting others privacy is one of them. Lead by example, and all that." He took a moment to nuzzle Euphemia's hair, then commented, "How is your work going?"

Euphemia had been quietly at work ever since they had gained a teleportation point in the Blue League. Noting that particular League's apparently disturbingly high salvage aloud to Micah had earned and incredulous look in reply, and later, an aloud thought that they likely had a very heavy black market because of it. That had lead Euphemia to doing some heavy research to see if they could procure some very ill-gotten gains from some very shady persons doing some very illegal activities.

The issue with utilizing Sanctuary Goths in combat was that they were, quite frankly, weak. Access to both magic and psychic techniques could only take them so far. While they excelled at striking hard and fast from the shadows, a pitched battle was troublesome, and was the reason their current Rules of Engagement as constructed by Ludmilla stipulated that a single Fireteam was necessary for a single target. It was pretty clear that something was needed to change that, and the answer was pretty obvious; equip them with firearms.

That, of course, had its own set of problems. Leagues tended to frown upon selling large shipments of firearms to a single owner; you'd think they'd almost have something against someone setting up and equipping their own private militia. That left, naturally, the darker side of things; the various supply lines the Teams, illegal tamers, and simple by the book criminals used to get equipment.

Which was what Euphemia was researching. Not that Micah had any intention of -paying- for such things.

Euphemia nodded slowly, her eyes distant. "I'm 80% done," she murmured softly. "We're in luck; in three weeks there's supposed to be a black market bazaar, hence a number of distributors are moving their stock into easily accessible locations."

"Give Ludmilla a copy of the information so she can begin a preliminary plan of attack," Micah said. "She'll likely want to co-ordinate with you."

Euphemia nodded slowly, then seemed to shake herself out of her reverie. "Alright, Master."

Micah quirked a smile. "Ready to install the artifact?"

Euphemia blinked green eyes, reaching up to rub at them with a fist even as the holographic screens blinked off, one by one. "Oh? Oh. That's right, you did want me to put them in today."

Micah smirked. "Perhaps we should get some coffee, first? Given your distracted manner, I'd really like you to be focused whenever you put that needle in me."

Euphemia's dusky skin blushed from embarrassment.

Once Euphemia had been chemically fortified and everything setup properly, Micah found his patience tested. Not only had his entire harem shown up to see the artifact installed, Lina included, but once everything was ready, Euphemia had simply paused, staring at his bare chest as if she didn't know what to do.

Micah waited for several seconds, thinking that perhaps the G-Splice would snap out of it. He glanced over at the sterile tray, where the piercing needle was laid out neatly alongside the two gold piercing rings, each capped by two cut rubies. He coughed. "Whenever you're ready?"

Euphemia jerked in place, and blushed. "Uh."

Micah quirked an eyebrow. "Nervous, much?"

Euphemia swallowed. "A little?"

"Anya and Illya both spill more blood while feeding than you're about to do sticking me with that damn needle," Micah noted. "So if you don't mind hurrying up a tad...?"

Euphemia blushed even harder, took a deep breath, then picked up the needle and did what she had to do. Micah didn't react beyond a slight grit of his teeth, mildly annoyed at the blood now dripped down more than anything. His harem reacted more vividly, from several visible flinches to Lina swooning lightly, leaving a confused Gally wondering what the heck she was going to do with a slightly out of it FarFuck'D.

Euphemia didn't bother attempting to heal or staunch the flow of blood, and instead swiftly threaded the gold rings through the opened flesh. Once both were in place, Micah let out a pained grunt as the rubies both flared with an inner light, the gold piercings locking into place. What blood that had dribbled down seem to now run in reverse, crawling upward along skin to be hungrily consumed by the active artifact now hooked into his flesh. They pulsed once, and then was finished; all the blood was gone and his flesh now looked like it was several weeks healed.

Micah stood, wings flexing, tails whipping slowly as he reached up and lightly tugged at the ring piercings, then nodded slowly. "Excellent work, as always, Euphemia." He grinned. "We'll have to test the end result, but I can already sense the artifact going active like it's supposed too." Micah quirked an eyebrow when Anya reached out curiously to touch them, and simply killed that matter by re-summoning up his shirt. Ignoring the StarMystic's disappointed look, he rubbed his hands briskly together. "So. Let's get to work."

-[***]-

Micah blearily opened his eyes to darkness. For a moment, he tried to figure out why the loving hell he had woken up, simply enjoying the feel of fabric and mattress against his skin, never mind the warm, soft, inviting sensation of Illya curled up against his side. Several seconds went by until awareness fully penetrated his skull, and he glared at the side table where his pokedex was laying, merrily announcing to all nearby that he had an incoming call.

He wasted several more seconds processing this, trying dumbly to fit this occurrence into his world view, as he couldn't think of anyone that actually had his number. He finally gave up struggling to think, and instead dumbly fumbled for the pokedex, hauling the electronic item over and toggling the receive function, even as he rubbed at his eyes from the screen's sudden brightness. "Hello?"

"...oh! Micah? Good morning?" Micah stopped rubbing at his eyes to find Sam staring back at him from the screen, the Drag King turned Sanctuary Goth looking at him with a confused expression on his/her face.

"I hope it's morning," Micah replied, still only half awake and not really wanting to know what time it was. "Is there something you need?"

"...no. Not really."

Micah waited several more seconds for Sam to elaborate, perhaps hoping that the newly evolved Sanctuary Goth would feel the need to fill in the lack of discussion with something. After a while, he gave up, rubbing at his cheek. "I'm going to assume you called me for some reason or another, as opposed to vicariously discovering what it would be like to wake up next to me one morning."

Sam blinked, then glanced away. "I... I just needed someone to talk too."

"About what, pray tell?" This was not a conversation Micah wanted to have unless he'd already been fortified with a hot shower and several shots of espresso.

Sam glanced every where but at Micah for several moments, then finally got out, "It just... everything just hit me this morning."

"I'm assuming you're not talking about getting run over by a Snorlass."

Sam gave him an odd, vaguely irritated look. "No." Then her earlier expression returned, and she swallowed nervously. "I just... I don't have to be afraid, any more. No sneaking the occasional fuck with a wandering Tamer. No fear that this would be the one time that I'd get caught. Or worse, become bonded. That someone would scan me with a pokedex at the wrong time and -find out-." For a second, the Sanctuary Goth's appearance seemed to be torn between two people; a confident, handsome young man and a distraught woman in need of reassurance.

"And the worst part," Sam went on. "I can't -talk- to anyone about it." She gave a bitter snort. "Not even my harem. At best, they'd just hate me for it. Everyone except you."

"...ah." Micah resisted the urge to further rub sleep out of his eyes. "Have you been practicing your new abilities and attacks yet?"

Sam blinked. "What? I... no, I haven't had the chance."

Micah nodded, as if he'd been expecting that. "You might want too. Teleportation is always a handy trick, no matter how you cut it." He held back a yawn, gritting his teeth until it passed, and the continued. "I know an independent group of Sanctuary Goths that I could introduce you too. They'd likely be willing to help you master your new capabilities." He'd already introduced Wendi and Bernadette and had been pleased to find out that they got along well; pushing other S-Goths evolved by him in that direction would likely reassure that group and distract them from the fact that he had two hundred others he had yet to show them.

"...thank you."

"You're quite welcome," Micah replied. "Now, if you don't mind, may I get some more sleep?"

Sam grinned ruefully. "Sorry. I'll talk too you later, then."

Micah wearily shoved the pokedex back on the side table, only to find that Illya had half-crawled atop of him, resting her head atop his as the Chibi Lucarda murmured, "You should have fucked her, Master, before evolving her. You shouldn't deprive yourself of the chance to taste new flesh when it pleases you."

Micah grunted blearily, eyes closed. "Like I'd want the additional complication."

Illya lightly stroked one of his horns. "She would have made a delicious fucktoy of man-woman meat, Master."

"Illya, shut up and go back to sleep."

"Yes, my Master."

-[***]-

You know, Micah thought absently to himself, It's good enough that other people can't locate me via magical or psychic means. Otherwise, this would all be far, far more difficult.

The thought occurred to him as he walked down the Manor's halls. Despite his persona non grata state in the Capital League, the place was too useful to simply up and throw away, offering a good 'home away from home' for his odd collection of misfit pokegirls he seemed to be accumulating whether he wanted them or no. Case in point with the Megami-sama and her celestial misfits - there was no feasible way in hell that he'd have her around his home in Antarctica, given the potential mishaps such a thing could result in. He wasn't very eager to discover if some of the more militant of the Celestials hovering around this damn world thought him dangerous enough to warrant an angelic strike team. And while Ludmilla was watching Esther very, very carefully, and she hadn't strayed yet, simple knowledge of his home located at the end of the world was something he'd prefer to keep out of other people's heads, unless they were in his harem. So far, the only exception was his FarFuck'D, and it was only a matter of time until that changed.

Euphemia met him as he was headed down into the basement Laboratory where they were planning the research session involving him, Euphemia, Esther, and two other of the Celestials. The redheaded G-Splice took one look at him, stared, mouth gaping, then promptly burst out laughing hard enough she had to lean against a nearby wall.

Micah smiled faintly. He was wearing casual clothing for once, a t-shirt and jeans combo, with the t-shirt magically summoned and cut to fit his wings. The reason for Euphemia's severe reaction was due to the fact that the black t-shirt he wore had the words 'I AM THE BAD GUY' in bold white letters across the front. On the back, between his wings, were the words 'DARK KNIGHT WEAR' with the picture of a classic medieval knight helmet.

That he actually had a shirt like this 'back home' just made the opportunity too much to pass up.

"Too much, you think?" Micah asked, headed canted.

"It's perfect," Euphemia gasped out, still giggling.

Micah smirked. "Fair enough." He nodded in the direction of the basement. "Let's go play mad scientist with our Celestials."

Esther's reaction upon seeing him was to blink in confusion until the words percolated through her brain. Her expression then hardened. "I see," she murmured, then regarded Micah. "Are you ready?"

"In a moment while I prep things," he stated, summoning up the Grimorum Astra to start with, then began casting analysis and scrying spells with Euphemia.

The two other Celestials present were the Warrior Nun, a statuesque redhead whom reminded Micah dimly of the original archetype of the breed, and the Seraph, a dusky skinned blonde who's hair fell down in a long, wavy mass amid her manifested wings, the two named Anael and Michelle respectively. Both regarded him with not a little bit of hostility.

Micah ignored it as he began directing the three of them to effectively cross-bless the other, one at a time. The process was longer than it sounded, as he'd direct each Celestial to effectively build up the energy as slowly as possible, and allow it to disperse in the same manner. The analysis was only so effective, as the blessing didn't 'take' due to all three of them already being Celestials. In theory, for his analysis to be truly effective, he'd need to acquire a non-celestial test-subject for them to 'infect' with celestial energies, and that was something he was loathe doing casually.

Something else also drew his attention during the examination, having nothing to do with the blessing itself. At first he thought it was a trick of his brain, as he could have sworn that all three of them were somehow bigger in the chest area. He attributed it at first to a mix of fanciful imagery combined with his own hormones - and how messed up was that, if that was the case, given how much sex he was getting?

Then Esther accidentally jostled her breasts in a way that drew a small wince of pain from her, and Micah could see a splotch of wetness forming in the clothes where the tip of her breast was. "You're lactating."

Esther blinked at him, frowning, them calmly covered her chest with an arm. "Yes, I am. What does it matter?"

Micah did a quick check of Anael and Michelle, frowning as he did so. "All of you are producing milk. How?" He recalled Charlotte's casual, playful commentary, and scowled. "Did Charlotte do this to you?" A sensible line of thought - the Milktit was the only one of her kind that had access to Esther and her Celestial brethren.

A small sigh from Esther. "So what if she did?"

Micah couldn't hold back the snarl that pulled his lips into an expression of fury; he forcefully stilled it, even as Esther blinked at him in shock. "Then," he replied, voice carefully level, "I shall have to make it clear to her what is tolerated and what is not. I will -not- have my hospitality toyed with like that." A gesture summoned up a blanket that he drew around Esther's shoulders even as Anael and Michelle stared at him in open confusion.

"Second of all," his voice rose, the tone admonishing, "If the three of you are feeling unwell, then you'd damn well best tell me. I sure as hell can't read your minds, and I don't want you getting sick on me."

"Pokegirl's can't get sick," Esther said in reply. "Least of all Celestials."

"I don't believe that," Micah replied. "You can be healthy in body, yet a sickness of the heart can kill you." He gave an irritated shake of his horned head. "Point being, this research session is over. I want all three of you to rest and take care of yourselves. If anything like this should occur in the future then -I will deal with it-. Understand?"

Esther nodded slowly. "Yes." She glanced at Michelle and Anael, and the three of them departed without a word from the Seraph or Warrior-Nun.

Micah let out a slow breath and began purposefully busying himself with the scrying and analysis results so as to calm down before he did anything rash. He gave up whenever Euphemia laid a hand on his arm, the redheaded G-splice looking at him with some worry. "You're angry. Why?"

Micah glanced at her, and kept his tone level. "I'm not keeping Esther and her merry band of Celestials around just to watch them become second class citizens that everyone can fuck with just because they're Celestials." He gritted his teeth momentarily, and then let out a gust of a sigh. "I thought I could trust Charlotte to that degree. Apparently I was wrong."

"...what are you going to do with her?"

"I'm going to talk to her," Micah replied. "And make it clear what I expect from someone whom I put in a position of authority. If that doesn't work, then I'll punish her and find a Milktit I -can- trust." He shook his head slowly. "Don't worry. I'm not going to let my temper get the best of me."

She hugged him tightly. "Good."

-[***]-

Gally regarded the manacled steel chair nervously, then glanced at Micah. "Master," she tried to make the tone pleading, but it came out as a half-scared whine instead.

Micah reached out and rubbed at Gally's hair, enjoying the soft feel of that thick black hair. "Gally, do you trust me?"

The Gunnm blinked at the apparent non sequitur, finding his touch oddly calming. "I do, but..."

Micah grinned. "Then trust me whenever I say that this is necessary." He pulled her close, letting his wings wrap around her in a hug. "If anything, consider this a mark of respect for your abilities. You may not be the strongest out of us all, but you sure as hell are the fastest."

"Realistically, we don't know exactly what's going to come rampaging out of your skull, so to speak," Ludmilla spoke up. "So it's best to be prepared." She smiled faintly. "After all, look at what happened to Micah. You could end up with a set of tentacles, for all we know."

Gally glanced up worriedly at Micah.

Micah smiled right back. "Trust me, you'd look adorable with tentacles."

Gally's dark red eyes momentarily went cross-eyed. "I don't think I really wanted to hear that," she replied in a weak tone.

Micah chuckled. Ludmilla smiled good-naturedly, but her tone was firm as she said, "Get in the chair."

Gally got. It said something about the seriousness of what they were about to attempt was that they were far from alone; Nunnally, Anya, and Illya were also present, ready and willing to suppress Gally should the Gunnm attempt to do something that would do the breed's reputation proud.

According to Micah, the Gunnm breed had a sort of collective memory of their progenitor and origins, though the function of this memory was somewhat hazy. Nevertheless, it was present, and given that Ludmilla was a very powerful and skilled psychic, she theorized it might be possible that rummaging around in the deeper part of Gally's brain would allow more of those memories and skills to come to the fore, giving her an advantage. An advantage which, compared to the rest of the harem, she desperately needed.

Once Gally was properly secure, Anya applied her Dream card to drop the Gunnm into a control coma. Micah regarded the petite cyborg for a second and then focused mentally at Ludmilla, not wanting to voice his concerns. /Are you sure about taking me along on this little trek?/

Ludmilla wuffed softly. /Nervous, Master?/

/Nervous? No,/ Micah replied truthfully. /Concerned about a variable we haven't accounted for developing into something beyond our control? Yes./

/Unless you've secretly developed a Legendary that evolves from a Gunnm,/ she glanced at Micah to check, and received a negative shake of his head in reply, /Then I think we'll be safe./ She smiled faintly. /Besides, I want you and you alone to come along with me specifically because I'm expecting something weird to occur./

Micah gave the blonde Dire Wolf an odd look. /How dangerously genre savvy of you./ A shake of his head. /Fair enough. Let's do this./

Ludmilla linked her mind to his, and then pulled them both deep into Gally's mind.

Lightening. Lightening and fire, steel and darkness. Those were the words that came to Micah's brain as he surveyed what he could see of the Gunnm's mind, a networked constellation of pools of energy that licked and crackled in a living fury.

Micah let his wings curl protectively around him - a psychosomatic reaction at best - as he and Ludmilla floated amid that mass of seething power. Ludmilla ignored the display, drawing upon her centuries of experience before finally nodding to herself, ears perked. "This way."

They drifted deeper amid the constellation, careful not to brush up against any of the pools of lightening or arcing connections. They finally arrived at their destination, floating serenely above - or in front of, depending how you measured relative orientation in a constructed mindscape - a massive grooved orb, inscribed with lines of sharp angles, like circuit patterns. Occasionally a strike of lightening would lick out and smash angrily into the orb's surface, a section of the inscriptions gleaming brilliantly with energy before falling quiet once more.

Ludmilla wuffed softly without thinking, drifting forward toward the sphere to examine the markings. Micah watched, curious more than anything, confident that if Ludmilla was doing anything seriously dangerous, she'd let him know ahead of time.

Ludmilla's observations went on long enough that Micah found his attention drifting; toward the networked assembly of power, the darkness itself. He glanced upward, and frowned, noting two globes of power that orbited one another. The perspective was such it was as if he was observing them from far away. He opened his mouth to ask Ludmilla what exactly they were, only to find his voice cut off as a arc of lightening lanced outward from a nebulous pool, through him, and smashed angrily against the steel orb's surface.

Micah just floated there momentarily, fuzzily coming to grips with the fact that he wasn't hurting, in pain, or smelling of burnt pork. Ludmilla blinked as she observed the inscriptions flaring at the impact sight. "Interesting."

"Okay," Micah replied after a moment, "That was far too close to being struck by lightening for my peace of mind."

Ludmilla glanced upward at him, as she was currently crawling along the surface of the orb. "You've been struck by lightening before?"

"Not directly, but I've been within twenty feet of a lightening strike. Which is as close as I want to get," Micah replied, checking to make sure everything worked.

Ludmilla smiled. Several further minutes passed as she continued her examinations, tail perked upward as she did so. "Master, could you come down here? I think I have an idea, but I need your help."

Micah drifted downward to join her, kneeling down on the surface of the massive orb. Green eyes smiled at him as the Dire Wolf explained, "This is a memory block. It's a very powerful one, at that, though it works oddly." She nodded toward the arcs of lightening. "Occasionally, a memory from within will surface, but access to whatever's contained behind it is impossible unless the block itself is broken."

Micah quirked an eyebrow, his own tails waving behind him. "I take it you want to bring it down."

Ludmilla smiled. "Yes." She took his hands in her own, mindful of each other's claws. "You're bound to Gally via the Alpha Bond. It's tenuous, but it's a link, regardless. That should allow you to channel as much power as you can; in doing so, it'll allow me to utilize that power to open up the mental block."

"I see." Micah regarded the exterior of the orb momentarily, then looked back at Ludmilla. "I take it you've considered what likely mental trauma could result from a forceful breakdown of this block, correct?"

"Yes, I have." One wolf-ear flicked. "Master, she's a Gunnm. Because of that, she's a mental cripple; erratic, berserker. Would you rather have her continuing to live in her present half state, or would you rather have her come to grasp with what she truly is?" Her grip on his tightened. "And no. She doesn't have a choice in this, Master. She's yours, even if it's simply due to a trick of biology. None of your harem truly do; least of all me." Ludmilla swallowed, looking momentarily frightened, then went on. "It's your choice."

Micah looked at Ludmilla, then downward, scowling. "Do it."

Ludmilla bent down and bit at his wrist. Micah grunted as her teeth sank in, drawing out blood, more surprised than anything, as he couldn't feel any pain from the bite. Blood splattered down on the orb, then became a smooth flow. Micah concentrating, feeling the rush of power that the orb now seemed to be drawing from him, the inscriptions now glowing as they tried to eagerly suck up what fluid he offered them.

He considered a moment, then discarded subtlety and laid his clawed hand upon the orb, and with a scowl of concentration, began pouring as much energy as he could muster through the link. Ludmilla's hand joined atop his as he felt her adding to the torrent. Distantly, he could hear the arc-crackle of lightening and fire as the networked constellation above lit up like hellfire. The orb seemed to rumble beneath them, the inscriptions gleaming with power as their joint influence seemed to spread like a ripple. Another sharp jolt beneath them, as the surface they knelt on seemed to buckle upward. A scream of tortured metal, as the orb bucked again, and with a sharp CRACK, everything went white.

Ludmilla and Micah both found themselves blinking, reality reasserting itself. Gally was screaming and sobbing, shaking her head wildly even as she pulled desperately at the bonds holding her down. Teeth gritted in a feral snarl, the Gunnm seemed to focus, and the vent flanges on her arms and shoulders ratcheted open with a sharp 'clack'. With a sound like air being sucked into a turbine, plasma erupted into existence, superheating the steel restraints and tearing it like putty as Gally gave a firm yank, freeing one arm.

Micah, Ludmilla, and Anya all reacted instantly, Micah focusing the binding spell that locked solid rings of energy around the Gunnm's limbs and neck; Ludmilla, telekinetically holding Gally down and forcing her back into the chair; Anya, as she continued to pour more power into the Dream Card in an attempt to push the berserker Gunnm back under.

Disturbingly, it wasn't working. Gally seemed to lack any sort of comprehension behind just who it was trying to stop her, her dark red eyes blank with seething fury, her gusting breath a pumping bellows as she heaved and struggled against the multiple restraints. With another scream, something on her back seemed to change and shift, two oval welts forming as structures beneath her artificial flesh grew and actualized. The exterior of her biological nanonics shifted and changed, throwing off the fallacy of flesh as the welts continued to grow upward. Vents formed, newly formed plates lifted upward, and gleaming lines of energy erupted in a wing-like configuration from Gally's back, and all three of them now had to struggle to keep her not only secure in apparently flimsy seat, but to keep her from lifting off, as well.

Illya now moved, the Lucarda teleporting next to Gally. Gripping the berserker Gunnm's hair, the Lucarda snarled her own fury at Gally as black lightening erupted from the Gunnm's body, sucking into the Lucarda's hand as she utilized her Mega Drain attack. She didn't stop until Gally's struggles were no more than feeble kitten-pats, the wing-like energy structure guttering like a candle going out.

Now silent, the room seemed much larger than it was; only Gally's weeping continued, the Gunnm repeating in a soft voice, "She's not me, she's not me," over and over again.

Micah walked over, mindful of the cooling steel as he hugged the still bound Gunnm to his chest, Gally burying her face in his shirt, as if trying to get as much contact with him as possible.

It was several minutes before Gally could do anything other than cry. She glanced up at Micah, her face a mess of tears, and sniffled. "Master, I don't think I like my name anymore."

Micah brushed away matted hairs from her forehead. "Shhh. I know. We'll find you a better one, okay?"

Gally nodded weakly, and then promptly passed out.

"Okay," Anya said as Micah began removing the restraints that still held Gally down. "What just happened?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say Gally just received a massive shock to her mental system. Say, an entire lifetime's worth of memories?" Micah glanced curiously at Ludmilla, who nodded to affirm his theory. "As a result," Micah went on, picking up the petite Gunnm into his arms, "She regressed into a violent berserker state."

"And the wings?" Nunnally asked, the Arkhangelsk having not moved from her spot during all the commotion.

Micah glanced heavenward. "That, I think, is my fault." He looked down at Gally, and wondered what the heck he'd end up calling her now. Shaking his head, he elaborated, "I had a story idea once involving a Gunnm who Recognized someone, allowing her a startling amount of control compared to normal ones. That included more finite control over her cybernetic systems; that allowed her the development of a flight capability based on the same method that she utilized to control her plasma creation."

Anya jerked in surprise. "You didn't-!?"

Micah blinked, not comprehending, then jerked in shocked surprise. “What? No! No, I didn't Recognize her." He swallowed. Talk about a scary idea. With his luck, he'd likely end up doing so with a Widow, or something equally ludicrous. Like Typhonna. Or Hild. Visibly shivering at the notion, Micah noted aloud, "Hopefully she'll have conscious control of it once we get things settled."

Ludmilla smiled.

Micah quirked an eyebrow.

The Dire Wolf grinned, tail wagging behind her. "Well, Master?"

Micah glanced heavenward, even as he smiled. "Fine, fine. 'You told me so.' Happy?"

"Much." Ludmilla's grin became more feral. "And finding out what she's capable of now will be so much fun."

"Later," Micah replied. "Keep in mind that she's suffered a shock; Keep it light until everything's settled." A shake of his head. "And we'll need to find a new name for her. But for now..." He glanced at the restraint chair, which had been deformed to the point it resembled an abstract sculpture. "We're going to need a new chair."

-[***]-

It was night in the Blue League, well past midnight; in another hour or so it would start edging toward the painfully early morning. They didn't have much time left.

Micah regarded the warehouse district of London through the aegis of his Warchive spell, their target highlighted and zoomed within his private field of vision, lying prone atop a roof across from his target. He wasn't alone; his harem, sans Lina and Gally, were with him, ready to bring the hammer down should the worst occur. The sword point of this mission, the four Fireteams of Grim Angels were also present, though not directly. They had assembled at four other points surrounding the warehouse, equidistant from it, ready to move in to secure it whenever he gave the word.

He hadn't given it yet.

Something was nagging him in the back of his brain, that same element that, so long ago, had warned him of the possible Sanctuary attack at Vancouver University in the Capital League. The sheer urgency he'd felt at that time wasn't present, but it was there, nonetheless. Which hinted there was some loose variable he hadn't accounted for.

He considered calling the mission off. Sensible, albeit safe. But as much as he hated to admit it, that wasn't an option. Combat was chaotic at best, and what better way to see if his Grim Angels really could emerge from the fire unscathed than in a place like this?

He gritted his teeth. What was the phrase? Shit or get off the pot? As much as that sensation was nagging him, if he didn't give a go ahead, he'd have to call the entire matter off anyways. By Euphemia's data, they should be moving the ill-gotten gains from this location in a day or three for sale to some buyers.

Ludmilla lay next to him, the stark-white and blonde colored Dire Wolf dressed in a battle cloak of off-black and grey pattering. He felt more than saw those ears within rotate to affix on something only she could sense, and he felt more than heard a low growl deep in her chest. /Someone's coming./

Ten minutes later, a car rolled up to the warehouse. It disgorged an impressively corpulent man with two other escorts, also men, and a pokegirl his senses identified as a Ka-D-Bra that followed Large and In Charge like a puppy dragged along on a leash.

/Hmmm,/ Micah's mental hum was more thoughtful than irritated. /Keep to standby./ That mental order was sent to Anouska, Danielle, Julie, and Louise, the four Grim Angels in charge of said Fireteams. He received a positive affirmation in reply, and Micah said a quiet thanks to no one in particular that Ludmilla had kept to her promise of instilling trained discipline.

Micah's eyebrows shot up beneath his armor as he watched the car get caught by a blast of flame. He and his harem had the prime spot to watch the gathering of three men and a pokegirl turn into a melee brawl as someone - apparently a Tamer - surged from the building directly across from the warehouse with his harem in tow.

/A fucking Umbrea,/ Ludmilla thought, green eyes narrowed as she watched the battle. /Anti-psychic tactics. I can't believe I fucking missed them./

/You missed them because they were right across the street from our target, and no one should have been that stupid,/ Micah thought back. /Amateurs will be the death of us all, it seems./

/Amateurs with more balls than brains,/ Ludmilla thought back. /They're loosing./

Micah sent back a feeling of affirmation, not moving from his prone position. The two male escorts had released their own harem in response to the attack, turning a one-sided fight of a Tamer with 6 pokegirls into a harem versus two battle. And while the Amateur was good - foolhardy, but good - he wasn't good enough. And he wasn't retreating.

Micah watched as the battle wrapped up. The two escorts had already put their harems back up and now looking to be arguing over how they were going to split their new pokegirls, while Large and In Charge had taken it upon himself to get up close and personal with the attacking Tamer. He couldn't pick out what he was saying, but Micah could guess pretty easily that he was gloating.

/Now?/ Ludmilla thought at him.

/Yes. Now,/ Micah thought back. Chaos, he thought to himself. Sweet, sweet chaos. /Anouska, Louise, take out and secure the two male escorts./ He hesitated only a brief moment. /Danielle, kill the Ka-D-Bra./

-[***]-

"I hate you," Carl was shivering in Samuel's grasp, his leg broken and poking through flesh, yet defiant through the pain. "You fucking monster."

Samuel chuckled softly. "Oh, kid. You have no fucking idea. You should have heard your sister -scream- when I first fucked her. Is that what this is all about? Angry you didn't get first taste? Well, plenty to go around. Still, it was hilarious the look she gave me when she pissed herself while I was choking her to death." He leered. "And you know what? We've got some equipment inside; I think we can arrange for you to go out just like your sister-"

An odd, soft, wet 'thump' made Larrison pause, confused by what made that sound. He glanced sideways only to see his Ka-D-bra's headless body hitting the pavement. He stared dumbly at the sight, not comprehending, only to whip his head around, jowls quivering, to find that his muscle were no longer present. He had a full second to appreciate the sensation of something being terribly, terribly wrong before Nunnally dropped out of the sky, breaking his collarbone and hurtling him away from Carl like Samuel was some ragdoll.

Carl dropped to the pavement, staring at Nunnally with dawning hope that, despite all odds to the contrary, he was being rescued. Gold eyes flicked a pitiless glance at him, and the last thing he saw was her fist making a careful strike to his abdomen, and he blacked out.

Micah dropped to the ground, following Nunnally, with his harem either flying or teleporting down to join him. /Excellent work,/ he stated to Anouska, Louise, and Danielle. /Julie, Louise, Danielle, secure the warehouse and begin cataloging what'll be moved. Anouska, secure the Tamer's pokegirls as well as our bastard's escorts./

"You bleeding, sopping, cunt-struck fuck!" Samuel yelled out as he struggled to get to his feet, clutching his shoulder. "Do you have ANY idea of how fucked you are, you cunt!"

Micah let his face armor dissolve as he stalked up to Samuel, reaching out and gripping his throat, cutting off any further commentary with a sharp squeak. "Not particularly," Micah replied in a laconic tone, eyes aglow, tails whipping slowly behind him as his wings shifted idly. His hand muscles were oddly powerful compared to the rest of his musculature; Euphemia had theorized it was due to his claws being required to go as far as grip into stone, as need be. He couldn't measure up to most pokegirls, but a human would have to work hard to break the grip.

Micah canted his head at Samuel's struggling; almost bored, he let his grip relent to find out what he was trying to push out past smushed lips.

"I'm going to stick you in a loveball and fuck you to death, I swear," Samuel got out once he got his breath back. "I'm going to fuck you to death, you freak fuck. I'm going to make you beg for it-"

Micah blinked curiously, seemingly immune to the diatribe. "You've got access to loveballs?"

"I've got a fucking baker's dozen of 'em!" he yelled out, struggling now to the point that Micah tightened his grip, cutting off airflow one more.

"Oh, that'll make things much easier," Micah replied in a cheery tone. /Danielle, our bastard out here says there's some Loveballs in the warehouse. Find them, if you please? Anouska, go get the escorts and bring them out here. Euphemia, get our Amateur healed up, please?/

Ludmilla gave him a look. /What are you planning to do?/

"I'm a big believer in the golden rule," Micah said aloud, "So I figured I'm going to put our Mister Bastard here in a pokeball and fuck him half to death till he tells me what I want to know."

Samuel immediately began screaming and struggling, only stopping whenever Micah's grip tightened to the point that Samuel's face purpled from lack of oxygen, and his claws sunk into flesh, drawing blood.

His harem stared at him in shock, barring Illya, who threw her head back and cackled delightedly.

A Grim Angel teleported next to Micah, Samuel's eyes bugging out as he caught sight of the unknown pokegirl wearing matte black armor and sword at her back. Two others teleported in as well, carrying Samuel's two muscle escorts, dropping them bonelessly to the pavement. The one nearest to Micah calmly handed him three pokeballs.

Micah grinned broadly. "Thank you." Samuel's struggling became intense enough it looked as he was going to vibrate to pieces as Micah put the loveball to Samuel's forehead and toggled the capture beam. A flash of red, and Samuel was gone, the loveball vibrating angrily before letting out a sharp 'Bleep!' and going still.

Micah then did similar with the two escorts, and tossed those two pokeballs to Ludmilla. "Vacuum their minds for anything important, then level five them and inoculate them with the S-Goth venom. Get Francesca to train them up as support staff."

The Dire Wolf was staring at him, ears flat back against her skull. "What if they evolved into something useful?"

"Unless they got changed into something like, oh, say, an Archmage or StarlightXpress - which, y'know, I'm pretty doubtful about - I don't care."

Cornelia smiled and then nodded in the direction of the only human survivor of the encounter. "What about our stupid amateur over here?"

"Get him healed up, give him the escort's pokeballs as a gift, and put him back in the building he came out of." A leathery shrug, wings shifting. "Also, put the Ka-D-Bra's body with him, to let him know this all wasn't a dream." He glanced at the burned out hulk of a car that had been put out in the process of the battle. "Ladies, we've both a slight mess to clean up and a warehouse to clear, so let's get to work."

-[***]-

The wonderful thing about being Macavity was that her serendipitous lifestyle had the marvelous habit of providing free entertainment whenever she sought to look for it.

Not that she was a free leaf blowing randomly in the wind - where was the fun in that? - but sometimes, she enjoyed the pleasure that came from randomly poking about under a rock she'd stumble across.

Which is why she found herself atop a warehouse in the Blue League, watching with delicious anticipation to what proved to be a delightful battle. Watching other people get right and furious about slights in their life added that certain spice to her own entertainment. And if she decided to play, well... she'd pick her own team when it came to that.

She was just about ready to flip a coin to see if she'd waylay this brave little tamer, all concerned about revenge for his sister, or simply let his life be snuffled out, whenever a pokegirl of a breed she'd never seen before fell from the sky and interrupted her fun!

Her first assumption was that she was a Celestial of some sort, and those were never very fun.

Then she saw -him-, and she found herself grinning broadly in demented glee.

She knew who he was, of course. A bored lark of an afternoon had sent her rifling through Linda McMahon's private files after the entire throw-down in Anchorage in the Capital League, and she simply loved it when she got to rub her scent all over Linda's toys.

An -Author-.

Then her eyes got wide when she saw his escorts. She knew that scent. Knew it without a doubt.

Sanctuary Goths.

More Sanctuary Goths gathered in one place, as a matter of fact, than she'd ever seen outside the Dark Continent. Which, clearly, meant only one thing.

An Author had finally allied with Sanctuary.

Macavity's grin broadened further into something horrible. That prissy redheaded bitch Evangelion had made it clear that Kerrik Wolf was hands off... but she hadn't mentioned a thing about any other Author, now, had she?

Unseen, undetected, the Chaotic Legendary did a prompt backflip and teleported away. Not only were Sexmet and Bastit going to have kittens when they found this out, but, oh my, wouldn't Hild just love to know that one of -those- things had decided to hook up with her hated foe?

Far away, Macavity finally indulged herself and began cackling like a fool loon, imagining the likely fallout to result when she got three Legendaries after one Author, all by his lonesome!

This was going to be -fun-.

-[***]-

A/N: Just to clarify something, I'm utilizing the old entry of the Gunnm, as opposed to the one that currently appears in the pokedex. It's an AU, I can do stuff like that, and I don't exactly favor the current entry as-is.

Yes, I actually have a shirt like that.