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 15]
Micah regarded the assembled building where they were holding the weapons taken from the Blue League with a look akin to quiet satisfaction. Blueberry, next to him, was regarding the building with a measure of distaste, the smell and feel of processed metals setting her teeth on edge.
Ludmilla chuckled softly. "Enjoying your new toys?"
"I won't be playing with any of them myself, but I have to admit, I'm rather pleased how painlessly everything was pulled off," Micah replied. Idly curious, he walked up to one of the large industrial chests, toggling the catches and pushing the lid open to peer inside, letting out a soft whistle at what he saw. "My, my. Someone in the Blue League was planning on being a very naughty boy. I'm no firearms expert, but these monsters look like they're Anti-Material Rifles."
One of the Grim Angels that was assisting in cataloging what firearms and ammunitions they had acquired walked over at Micah's commentary. The fact that Micah couldn't balance a teacup on her front cleavage marked her as one of the Sanctuary Goths that had evolved from a FarFuck'D. A brunette with her hair cut short with only a small length in the back, bangs held away from her face with a grey bandanna, she still wore her bodysuit armor, this one a dull-grey/blue coloration. She grunted as she fully pushed back the container lid and picked the massive rifle up out of its molded cushion. Another grunt, as she rasped out in a husky voice, "Looks to be a design variant off the Hungarian Gepard M2."
Ludmilla gave the Grim Angel a sharp look. "You know firearms and their handling methods?"
The Grim Angel nodded silently, setting the rifle back into the container.
Micah glanced curiously at the brunette. "How versed are you in shooting them?"
She regarded him silently with dark blue eyes, her expression cool. She seemed to realize that he was waiting for a response, and grunted. "Enough."
Micah smirked. "Excellent. Ludmilla, you were looking for a Firearms Instructor? You got one."
The brunette simply nodded.
Ludmilla eyed the Grim Angel for a moment, and slowly nodded as well. "Good. I was half worried we'd have to tap your Mini-Top," she said to Micah, her expression making it clear how she felt about that.
Micah chuckled as the Grim Angel, seeing she wasn't needed further, went back to her previous job. "Yes, I imagine having the instructor shoot her students when she got frustrated them would make graduating the class rather difficult."
Ludmilla chuckled, and Blueberry giggled. The Dire Wolf then glanced curiously at Micah. "You're not going to have a set of firearms on hand for your own use?"
"No."
White-furred ears perked forward. "Why not?" She grinned, and silently added, /from all the stories of yours I read, having a firearm for a Tamer to use seemed to be the highest thing one could aspire too./
Micah chuckled softly. "Multiple reasons. I've handled and shot rifles before, but none of my training is current, or, for that matter, military. Second, it would make me even more of a target than I am now. Third, it's obvious. Not that I shouldn't just give up by this point and dress in hot pink with tassels, but... anyways. Fourth, I wouldn't be able to use it against pokegirls effectively." At Ludmilla's curious look, Micah gave her a wing rustling shrug. "I've always had the outlook that the reason firearms did so poorly against pokegirls during Sukebe's war of revenge, aside from a horde of other reasons, is that humans are slower than pokegirls, and have issues firing against other people. Part of military training involves desensitization towards firearm usage, making shooting a weapon at a target unthinking, like a martial art maneuver. You don't consider the moral ramifications, you just do it. And I'm not certain if I want to find out that I'm the kind of person who can put a gun in someone's mouth and pull the trigger." He smiled faintly. "Squeeze the trigger."
Ludmilla was oddly still as she murmured, "You didn't have a problem dealing with your new pet Milktit."
Micah nodded slowly, not looking at anything in particular. Samuel had evolved into a Milktit, of all things, when put into a Loveball. "I know," he murmured softly. And gave a shake of his head. "Granted, I don't exactly regret it, but... anyways." He glanced over at Blueberry. "You wanted to show me the area that you and the rest of the Elves are living at?"
Blueberry nodded. "Yes, Master." Micah and Ludmilla followed the Elf - the camp where the Grim Angels had done their training was primarily based out of several prefabricated structures that the Leagues used to setup Pokecenters in remote areas of Leagues. The Elves had taken an immediate dislike to the buildings and utilized the heavily forested areas surrounding the camp itself to live, instead.
A well-marked path led from the assembled buildings into an area of the forest that seemed to be more heavily thick than most. Following the path eventually let to a minor clearing where a cluster of century-old trees made a perfect miniature colony for the Elves to live. Live wood had been shaped slowly to form rooms inside the trees themselves, root expanding to form walls and entrance ways; he even saw a few trees large enough to have rooms on several levels, and a few branches had been coaxed together to slowly entwine into bridges, of sorts.
Micah ducked down to explore one of the trees curiously - his height compared to the Elves themselves, not to mention his wings, made for a difficult fit. Despite that, he had to admit that the place had a literal living warmth all of its own. Crawling out and letting his wings stretch and shift, Micah commented to Blueberry, "You and your Elves do excellent work."
Blueberry smiled with an artisan's pride. "Thank you, Master. We included living space for the Milktits, as well. We thought it best."
"We don't have to worry about any Elven expansion currently, as I have Fireteams running patrols along the exterior borders of our camp," Ludmilla said.
"We know," Blueberry replied. "To use, they sound like Minotauras in heat, crashing around like that."
Micah glanced curiously at her. "You and your elves have some experience in stealth and patrols?"
"Of course, Master." Blueberry smiled with not a little pride.
"Excellent," Micah said. "Get a collection of your most skilled Elves in that area together so you can start teaching some of the Grim Angels your tricks."
Blueberry blinked, her expression making it clear that she regretted ever opening her mouth. "Master?"
"Teaching will be a good experience for you and yours," Micah smiled.
Ludmilla tried not to laugh, enjoying the sight of seeing Blueberry get cut down. "The only issue we'll have with the firearms will be including them in battlefield training. It's not safe to have Fireteams shooting at one another, after all."
"True, but they still need some experience shooting at live targets," Micah thought aloud, and nodded resolutely, wings shifting around him. "Use paintball guns. It won't be a perfect match, but it'll be good exercise, regardless." He glanced over at Blueberry. "In fact, include the Elves and Milktits in the games, as well. Though we might want to invest in some Everstones for the Milktits."
Ludmilla blinked. "That's... yes, Master, that's perfect."
"Good," Micah replied. "I'm sure the Milktits will enjoy the challenge, as well." He smiled. "Talk to Euphemia to get the funds you needed setup as well as the equipment ordered."
"Yes, Master."
-[***]-
Micah regarded Anael and Illya with a clinical eye as the Warrior Nun and Lucarda proceeded to work out their aggression in a reasonable and lady-like fashion. To pokegirls, this apparently involved beating the literal tar out of one another.
The combating pokegirls held his gaze only for a brief second, before his attention returned to the scrying spells orbiting him like planets to a star. He glanced at the Grimorum Astra to double-check something, and then quickly resumed watching the flow of energy and patterns as the two high-level regenerators made the impressive attempt to overwhelm their defenses by any means necessary. Clothing long rendered into tatters by their attacks, Micah privately admitted that the sheer brutality of their combat rendered moot any enjoyment he would have otherwise derived watching the near-nude blonde and redhead tussle about in the combat arena.
Esther glanced at him from off to the side, the white-haired Megami-sama apparently looking for something in his manner or expression, only to be annoyed when she couldn't find it. "Enjoying the sights?"
"No," Micah replied without glancing up from his studies.
Esther frowned, and resumed watching the battle, worried that Anael wouldn't be able to handle herself. After a moment or three, she spoke without looking at Micah. "You said you didn't tame Rachel. If so, why was she so apt to help you?"
"I asked her nicely," Micah replied in a distracted tone, only half-paying attention to the Megami-sama and slightly annoyed that she seemed hell-bent to pursue a dialogue while he was busy. "She was well within her right to refuse, and she was apparently impressed that I refused to level-five the lot of you despite what it would benefit me."
Esther shivered faintly at that thought. "Why didn't you?"
Micah bit back a sigh, trusting the Grimorum to collect the information without him constantly paying attention to the scrying spells, and glanced up at the heterochromatic Megami-sama. "You were trying to do something good, ultimately. I can't exactly fault you for that. Simple, dumb luck that me and mine got caught up in the crossfire."
Esther fell silent for a moment, and then murmured softly, "If you recognize that, why won't you take any of us into your harem?"
Micah resisted the urge to grab his horns and scream in frustration. There were times that he was of the firm opinion that if he met Jim Sukkutto on the street, he'd buy the man a bar. And then rifle through his pockets for d-travel technology. Other times, like this one, he would instead have to resist the urge to hit him, -then- rifle through Sukkotto's pockets for d-travel technology. One must have priorities, after all. As general pokegirl physiology and psychology were the only explanation he could find as to why Rachel and Esther both seemed to have this odd track in their brains regarding him having a full-on Celestial in his harem. Even Delilah was beginning to get on the kick, suggesting that it would be safer for him to simply tame Esther and her crew and be done with it.
It was bloody well infuriating.
"I believe I've mentioned that point before," Micah replied, not looking up from the Grimorum Astra. "I'm a selfish son of a bitch who doesn't want to devote his life to helping others." After a moment he added, almost as an afterthought, "Though if that was a request, I suppose I could devote some time to satiating my unholy lusts on all of you. You'd all look cute in ball-gags and maid outfits, and we could all go home happy afterwards."
Esther scowled at him, even as her pale skin flushed slightly. After a moment of ignoring him, she tried again. "What are you going to do with us once you've got what you wanted?"
"Ah," Micah replied. "Now, we're getting somewhere. I was thinking of offering to let all of you evolve into Sanctuary Goths. It would solve a multitude of problems."
Esther glanced skyward, eyes distant, and murmured softly, "Are we really that disgusting to you?"
Micah finally gave up. He glared at Esther with his unnatural blue-on-black eyes, and stated clearly, enunciating every word, "Esther, if I need to remind you, I am not from here. Moreover, I have a number of interesting, quaint notions that would seem a little out of touch for where I came from. Odd, unusual ideas, you could say. One of them is the idea that when I have sex with someone, I have a sort of obligation towards them. The matter isn't permanent, nor is it binding in a "death till us part" manner, but still, I have a measure of responsibility. As such, I do not do this thing casually. Moreover, I am, as I've noted previously, a selfish and greedy son of a bitch. At times, I like to pretend that if any of my harem decided to leave me of their own free will, I'd give them my blessings. But you know what? I'm probably lying to myself, badly. So if I suddenly take it upon myself to have any and you and your Celestial brethren in my bed, then I can promise you that I will -not let any of you get away-. I'm rather horrible that way. Do I make myself clear?"
Somewhere in his diatribe, Micah and Esther had ended up with Esther's back pressed against a wall, Micah's wings spread wide and seemingly trapped her where she was, his tails whipping angrily behind him, Esther staring up at him with a look approaching fear. Micah seemed to realize the position they were in, and stepped back with a jerk, wings rustling as he pulled them flush against his back.
"Sorry," he murmured, giving a shake of his head. He stepped back to where his Grimorum lay, and waved his hand vaguely in her direction. "Becoming an S-Goth would let you and yours have some fun. Find a nice husband. Raise a family. Have tons of children running around en-masse that you likely wouldn't have to worry about Thresholding. Wouldn't that be fun?" He added the last almost sarcastically, and then mentally chided himself for that.
"Regardless," he added, almost as an afterthought, "It's still your choice. You'd be the best person to mention it to your fellow Celestials." Glancing up, he mentally ordered Illya to cease battling. The Lucarda gave him a mental snort in reply, as she physically slammed the Warrior Nun away before teleporting up to Micah's side, uncaring her of current state, which involved little clothing and lots of gore and blood.
Anael glared upward at Micah and Illya both, the Warrior Nun's chest heaving as she looked ready to continue the battle.
"I'll take care of her," Esther murmured softly, teleporting down to talk with Anael.
Micah shook his head slowly, glancing at Illya, whom was making a show of cleaning one hand of blood. The Lucarda grinned toothily at him. "Well, Master?"
"I believe I've got everything," Micah replied, closing the Grimorum and ceasing the scrying spells. And frowned as Euphemia entered, looking a little frazzled around the edges. "Something wrong?"
Euphemia scowled. "It's your pet redhead."
Micah quirked an eyebrow.
Euphemia's dusky skin colored with a blush. "I, I mean your -other-pet redhead."
Micah chuckled softly. "What's wrong with Lina, then?"
Euphemia sighed. "Could you... just, come on?" She grabbed a hold of his arm, tugging.
Micah smiled. "Fine." Dispelling the Grimorum back into storage, he mentally ordered Illya to get cleaned up and not antagonize the Celestials. Reality shifted, and Micah found himself back at their secret Antarctica base.
"This way," Euphemia tugged him along, while Micah let himself be tugged, mindful of his wings and added height - they made navigating some of the corridors rather tricky. When they arrived at Euphemia's destination, Micah's 'Sanctum Sanctorum', it was pretty clear why Euphemia was so put out - Lina was currently on a minor rampage, seemingly frustrated as she sent books and piles of papers spinning in her impotent fury, fingers clutching into fists.
"Far! Farfuckfarfarfuckfar!"
"Hmmm," Micah leaned up against the door sill, wings shifting so he could do so. "Ah. I was wondering when that was going to kick in."
Euphemia glanced at him, then Lina, then back to him. "Aren't you going to do something?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am," Micah replied. Pushing off the door sill, he walked over. "Lina?"
"Fuck!" Lina spun and glared at him; face flush, hands clenched into fists, red eyes glaring at him.
Micah promptly picked her up, pushing her against a nearby wall, and kissed her. Hard.
"FUMMMPH!"
-[***]-
Cleaning properly when you had wings you couldn't retract was a royal bitch and a half. None of the shower stalls had the space for him to stretch out, and attempting to wash in one of them was akin to sticking a shoe in a dryer and turning it on; you got similar sounds from both exercises.
This explained why the 'master bedroom' was the only room which had an attendant bathroom that was large enough to be slightly modified with a bathtub. That had been a curious endeavor involving both hard work and not a little magic, and the tub itself was far from something you could swim around in, but it made for a serviceable option in a pinch.
Which was where Micah and Lina both ended up once Micah had finished metaphorically knocking some sanity back into the FarFuck'D. Lina, despite her enthusiastic response to the acts involved, seemed to have lost her voice now they were in the bathtub, her pale skin a near tomato red, and not from the hot water. Micah, for his part, didn't seem to care much, being involved as he was with lightly scrubbing her back with soap and water.
"So. Um."
Micah blinked at the words from the petite woman sitting in his lap; he'd half expected Lina, in a display of the feasible insanity FarFuck'Ds could indulge in, to quite possibly forget the event entirely. "Yes?"
"Um. Uh. So." Fingers twirled in front of her, the redhead looking at everything possible but the male pressed up against her from behind. "Wu-why did you pick me as a girlfriend?"
Micah smiled faintly. Ahhh, FarFuck'Ds. "I'm surprised you thought the question warranted asking."
"W-well, all your... harem," she mouthed the word as if it was a struggle to get the concept out, "They're kind of..."
"Healthy?"
"...yeah." Micah couldn't see Lina's face, but he would have guessed it to be as red as the rest of her as she tried to slink down into the water.
Micah chuckled softly. "I'm rather omnivorous. Besides, you've a large number of great qualities yourself."
Lina paused in mid-slunk, hesitatingly glancing over her shoulder at him. "L-like what?"
Micah smirked. "You've got a -great- ass, for one. And awesome legs, for two. And these," he reached around and grabbed her breasts; sized as they were, his hands covered them completely, but that didn't stop him from rubbing and squeezing lightly, "Look incredible."
Lina made a sound in the back of her throat, eyes going wide at the touch, then she let out a squeak like a balloon deflating, leaning back against him.
Micah chuckled softly, not letting go. "So. Besides, you act like an athletic tomboy half the time, which, by the way, is pretty hot. Oh, and you're fucking brilliant when it comes to magic. That's pretty attractive too."
Lina panted softly, looking up at him with a dazed expression that quickly turned cross-eyed as she let out in a strangled tone, "Please tell me that isn't one of your tails."
"It isn't one of my tails."
"Eeep!"
-[***]-
Sexmet eyed Macavity with an expression torn between boredom, distaste, and exasperation. Dimly, an old human saying came to mind -'You can pick your friends, but never your family' - and she had to admit that, given choice otherwise, there were a number of her 'family' she'd gleefully toss out on their rutting ass, and Macavity had a depressing tendency to skirt toward that grouping with near clockwork regularity.
Sexmet leaned back into Bastit's calming touch, thankful for her lover's presence. That Macavity had requested them both be present was curious, though not enough to rouse suspicion. If she didn't know better, she'd think Macavity requested Bastit come along to keep Sexmet from tearing out a strip of flesh from Macavity's hide. That, however, would require some planning and forethought, and as dangerous as Macavity was, Sexmet simply wasn't going to give her that much credit.
Sexmet let out a growling huff, her leather armor creaking from the effort. Worse yet, Macavity had one of her patented 'I've got a secret' grins that made her want to choke the fellow Legendary as a matter of principal. "Is there a purpose to this little get together, or did you just want a pity fuck now that your favorite partner is gone?" she finally let out, getting irritated.
Macavity's expression fell into one of drooping sadness so quickly she had to be faking. The Legendary of Chaos sniffled. "I'm... I'm going through a really difficult time right now, and I thought..."
Behind her, Bastit's expression softened. "Macavity, if you simply needed to talk..."
"Just kidding!" Macavity smile was back in full force. "I'm just waiting for one other person to arrive, and she's just about... now!"
A new arrival teleported in, and Sexmet had to resist a sneer of distaste. This was just getting better and better. "Hild," Sexmet stated neutrally, keeping her voice even.
Hild regarded Sexmet and Bastit for a cool moment, nodding slowly. She wasn't here by free choice alone, and more by the fact that Macavity's missive to be present had found her in one of her private sanctums that she had thought had been impervious to discovery or scrying. While Hild would never state it aloud under threat of death, Macavity was one of the few Legendaries she honestly feared, and not because of any raw power she could bring to bear. When the time came for her to finally rule over everything, Macavity was definitely in the top five of her list of Legendaries to kill. If not in the top two. "Well?" Hild folded her arms under her breasts. "I presume you went to the trouble of getting all of us together for some other reason than giving Jenova a wake."
If the jibe was intended to dig under Macavity's skin, it failed miserably. Instead, her grin just seemed to broaden even wider. "Welllllllll," she drawled out, "I just now learned of something that I thought all three of you might be interested in, and out of a... -sisterly- concern, I figured I could pass it on, free of charge."
Hild snorted. The idea of Macavity learning anything of real importance was ludicrous. "And?"
Macavity giggled, which was never a good sign. "Oh, nothing of any -real- importance. I'm sure all of you have heard about a Creator allying with Sanctuary by now."
Silence. Sexmet stared at her in shock as her brain struggled to interpret those words in the proper fashion. Tangentially, a calm part of her brain noted that her expression right now likely mirrored that of Hild's. Then hatred surged forward, and she snarled. "-WHAT-!?"
"Which one is it?" Hild demanded sharply, only a hint of fear leaking through her expression.
Macavity put a finger to her lips. "Oh, which one was it, they all look the same... His name was something... Mikey? Michael? Mikaya? Mitch Hachoo? Oh, I know! Micah Hakubi!" She bounced in place gleefully. "He was fucking well -covered- in Sanctuary Goths when I found him, and you know the only place where you can get those! Home-made, born and bred, just like Daddy Sukebe could have made, only he didn't, cause, well, he was nuts." She broke down laughing.
"Then we're going to discover is these so called 'gods' can bleed just like everyone else," Sexmet growled out, teeth exposed.
"No, you're not."
Macavity's tail went 'poing!' at the unknown and unexpected voice carried into their little meeting; the Legendary of Chaos whipped around in surprise as Shiva stepped into the clearing.
"Going over to Sanctuary's side?" Hild mused aloud, even as she regarded Shiva as to where best to aim an attack. "Shiva. I never would have thought."
The robin-egg blue-skinned Legendary let out a peal of laughter even as Macavity nervously fidgeted where she stood. "Hardly. I find myself in the unique position of feeling I owe someone a debt. It's not a feeling I enjoy. So I want to fulfill that debt as soon as possible." Shiva's grin broadened to match Macavity's earlier one, frost rime forming on her face as her abilities caught the moisture in the air and flash-froze it. "Macavity failed to mention that her supposed allied-Creator isn't allied with Sanctuary at all. He's instead discovered how to evolve pokegirls to Sanctuary Goths without the use of an Ebony Stone. So either Macavity was mistaken in her estimate, or was purposefully lying." An expansive shrug, as she glanced curiously at Macavity. "Which is it?"
"Oh, shit," Macavity whispered.
The full realization of what nearly just happened hit Sexmet, and only the calming hand on her shoulder kept her from leaping to attack her sister Legendary. "-MACAVITY-!"
Macavity teleported away.
Sexmet let a full, feline scream of rage of frustration echo from her throat, then swiveled to regard Shiva with pin-point intensity. "Regardless, I can hardly agree to someone creating more of -them-, allies with Sanctuary or no."
"You will not harm him," Shiva stated in a cool tone. "Or kill him. Any of you."
Hild snorted, her tone filled with dismissive loathing. "Or you'll what?"
"I will kill you."
Sexmet, Bastit, and Hild all regarded Shiva, humor wiped clean from their expressions.
Shiva smirked. "Oh, yes. I went there. Since the centuries have damaged your memory, let me remind you who I am." Something, like the riding pressure just before a storm hit seemed to reverberate in the air. "I am -Shiva-. I am -Ice-. I am not two sex dolls that made it lucky or a pathetic bitch that hides behind others. I was crafted in the image of the -first- Legendaries. The -Titans-." All humor fled from Shiva's face; in its stead, was something cold, hard, and terrifying. "-Never- forget that."
"You're claiming him," Hild voiced in a hollow tone, filled with hatred.
As if a switch was thrown, Shiva smiled. "Of course not. You weren't paying attention. I said 'don't kill him'. You can do anything else you wish. Beg him to do favors for you, inundate him with Sphinxes and Hilds, or join his harem personally if you like. I've found I've rarely had problems convincing a man when I have his cock in my mouth. Well... -you-, might," Shiva added, almost as an afterthought, as she glanced at Hild.
"She's not claiming him," a new voice added. "I am." And with a rustle of diaphanous wings, Sexebi stepped into the clearing.
Sexmet and Bastit both blinked in equal shock, whilst Hild looked as if she was regretting getting out of bed this week.
Shiva grinned. "I forgot to mention who I hitched a ride with."
Hild rolled her eyes. "And, so, what? If we mess with your precious, personal bastard, you'll cry on my high heels?"
"No," Sexebi replied, the diminutive legendary letting her wings flap lightly. "I will kill you."
All four of the Legendaries stared at Sexebi. Bastit coughed weakly. "Sexebi..."
"I can't run away any longer," Sexebi whispered, as if half to herself, then focused on Hild. "We've never fought, or even liked one another, but as Shiva demonstrated earlier, let me remind you who -I-am." Sexebi didn't move, but all four of them had the sudden sensation that she was filling the clearing. "I am the hand gripping your throat when you lay helpless in your incubation tube. I am the whisper of death down your back that knows when you will -die-."
"I am immortal," Hild whispered, lips curled back into a snarl, but the denial felt weak even to her ears.
"I knOw YOu." Something seemed to crack; Sexebi was no longer talking, but instead, her voice came from all around her. Hild shook her head suddenly in spastic denial, the petite legendary suddenly painful to look at. "YoUR pASt. YOuR FuTURe." Those were not eyes staring at all four of them, but instead, a multi-faceted point of observation that glared down at them all as if they were no less than a mote.
And then it was gone, as if it had never happened.
"-Never- forget that," Sexebi finished.
Hild made a small sound deep in her throat, and teleported away.
Bastit swallowed. "Okay," she managed to work out, and glanced warily at Sexebi. "Why are you -really- helping him?"
Sexebi blinked innocently at Bastit(a trick that was easy for her). She focused a moment, and her voice took on a manner heavy with prophecy. "When Sukebe returns with his legion of one hundred million to cleanse this planet of his mistakes, only he shall be the one to stand against him and win."
Shiva, Sexmet, and Bastit stared at Sexebi in horror.
Sexebi held her pose for a moment longer, then broke down giggling, her wings flapping lightly. "Just kidding."
Sexmet let out a growl, threw her hands up in the air, and teleported away. Bastit gave Sexebi a rueful smile, and followed.
Shiva shook her head slowly. "I don't think we've gone at it like that since the Revenge War." She glanced at Sexebi curiously. "Okay, so why are you -really- helping him?"
Sexebi's laughing smile fell, as the Mistress of Time looked morosely at a point two feet in front of her. "Because... because he's going to save my life. I hope." Then she blushed faintly and glanced shyly at Shiva. "And... he said some really nice things about me. Is that so weird?"
Shiva laughed. "You talk to me about weird? Maybe you've got the best reason out of all of us." She reached over, lightly ruffling Sexebi's hair, and then teleported away.
-[***]-
Micah gritted his teeth as Francesca worked to heal him. Before coming to this world, he would admit that, while he'd suffered a number of injuries, broken bones were not among them. The pokegirl world seemed fit to demonstrate to him this sensation with depressing regularity. Never mind compound fractures. Dimly, he imagined how his younger brother would have reacted to bone sticking out of flesh and chuckled faintly.
The dark-haired Grim Angel blinked at Micah curiously. "Master?" Micah had quietly given up trying to get the Grim Angels to refer to him as something else, Francesca especially. It would have helped keeping the defining line between his harem and out of it, but correcting that many pokegirls was a pain in the ass.
Micah shook his head, mindful of Francesca being close enough he could feasibly hurt her with his horns if he jerked the wrong way. "Just thinking about the dichotomy of my childhood. I was the bookish one, yet I can't recall all the times I had accidents while playing outside that resulted in me bleeding. My younger brother played on his high school football team, yet would faint and vomit at the sight of his own blood." Micah smirked. "I'm easily amused."
Francesca giggled. "You never mention your family."
A wing-rustle of a shrug. "Not much to say. He was family. He could be a bit of a royal ass at times, with a fragile ego if you pushed back, but it wasn't like we shared bosom secrets with one another."
Francesca blinked. "What about your parents?"
"My mother basically raised me, and my father... eh." Micah gave another careful shrug. "There isn't much to say, and ruminating over the matter won't fix anything."
Francesca had finished healing him, but hadn't let go of his arm, instead leaning into him in a manner that pressed her breasts in a pleasantly distracting way against his side. "Do you miss them?"
Micah glanced downward, not really seeing much of any as he considered that. "Maybe. A little." He took a deep breath, sighed. "I think the one thing I regret is not getting to say good bye. I can't go back, but if I could just have that, maybe I could be content." He fell back into silence, not really thinking, then made a fist, grimacing as muscles pulled tight along his arm, working the soreness out. "Much better. Thank you. If I keep up with the combat training, I'm going to have to learn some healing spells before too long."
Francesca leaned in, and kissed him on the cheek. "All better, Master." She leaned back, her smile deepening. "And you should leave healing to the professionals for now. It's what you had Ekaterina make sure I was best in." She regarded him for a moment longer, and murmured, "Do you really need to practice combat with your harem?"
Micah grinned. "Yes. And no, I don't plan on wrestling Legendaries to the ground with my dick." He chuckled deeply at the mental image that conjured up as he stood. "Moreover, I need to desensitize myself to actual combat where I could get hurt, not just training. It'll help me not freeze the first time whenever things really go south." He glanced up at a mental summons. "Thank you for healing me, Francesca. Please excuse me whilst I go see what my Dire Wolf needs me for." Giving a parting wave to the dark-haired and busty Grim Angel, he made the walk back to the training area where his harem was supposed to be conducting mock battles, only to find them taking a break.
Micah was more curious than angry as he directed a glance at Ludmilla. /What's wrong? I thought I said it would be fine if you went back to standard training while I go take care of my arm./
The Dire Wolf's answering smile was wry. /I was planning too, but Cornelia was having a minor nervous break down over the small accident./ Micah had discovered that trying to block Cornelia's keystaff with his arm was not the wisest course of actions. /I thought it best to give everyone a break, and you'd best go make sure your Demon Goddess is okay./
Micah glanced over where Cornelia was trying both not to show how much she'd be crying and look at him, and nodded. Then froze, as his PDA at his hip went off, announcing an incoming message.
Micah frowned, taking a quick look at it, going momentarily cross-eyed as he read the message, then sighed as he muttered, "I can't bloody well believe this."
Ludmilla frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing immediately cataclysmic, but it has the potential to be either useful or catastrophic, depending on my luck," Micah replied, as he promptly handed the PDA off to Ludmilla for her to read as he went to go comfort Cornelia.
Ludmilla nodded, reading over the message, and blinked, eyebrows rising in surprise. "Huh. Why the hell would she be trying to get in contact with you?"
"Likely for the obvious reasons," Micah replied over his shoulder as the rest of the harem crowded around the PDA to get a look at the message.
Several hours later found Micah back in his hidden lair in Antarctica. Specifically, in the same room his harem had done up to allow communication with both Cologne and Yukii. He stood, eying the chair that was ready for him to sit in, considering either acquiring a stiff drink or getting someone to make tea, then tossed the notion off as irresponsible. Activating his clothing spell and retooling his garb into a loose-cut suit and tie ensemble, which he promptly tugged loose and unbuttoned the first and second button, he settled down and mentally ordered Euphemia to open up the connection.
Several minutes later, a face finally appeared on the large communication screen. Micah regarded the pokegirl for a moment, before nodding in acknowledgement. "Elf Queen Bevin."
The Elf Queen that ruled the Elven Preserve in the Blue League nodded back cordially. "Good evening, Micah Hakubi." She resettled gracefully in what appeared to be a wooden throne constructed from an actual living tree. "I trust you are doing well?"
Micah smiled faintly, his tails, unseen, whipping lazily through the air. "Well enough, thank you. I trust this isn't a social call?"
"Sadly, no. It has come to my attention in my recent correspondence with the other Preserves that you might lack knowledge of the Elven Preserve in the Blue League. As such, you'll excuse my forwardness in being the first to open up a dialogue with you. I had the thought that a relationship between you and I might be... mutually beneficial?"
Micah nodded thoughtfully. Well, he had several personal opinions on how this conversation might have gone; that things would remain polite and cordial was actually pretty far down on his list. "My apologies for not contacting you beforehand, then. In truth, my reason for doing so can be laid out with a very simple fact; I, Elf Queen Bevin, am The Man Who Knows."
There was a slight tightening around Bevin's eyes, and something deep within Micah perked up and snarled in glee as it recognized what that emotion was; fear. "And what do you know, dear sir?"
Micah tried to stifle the feral urge to smirk or show his fangs to her; he partially succeeded. "I know of the Wolf Clan. What they are, where they came from, and where they went." He paused, as that slight edge of emotion in her expression bloomed. "I know of Xantha, and how your previous monarch would have used you as a sacrificial doll given the first opportunity. I know of the Harris Clan, and their connections with the Elven Preserve before it was even officially recognized."
After a moment, Micah forced himself to lean back in his chair. "So. These are awkward things to know, Elf Queen Bevin. If I came in great contact with you and yours, these things might become known, and dangerous to me and mine. However, if you acknowledge this, then I think the two of us can have a correspondence, of a sort."
Bevin regarded him for a long moment. Micah stared back, not flinching away from her gaze. Slowly, she nodded. "Yes." Several further moments passed before she said, "I shall be blunt. I wish for the gift of evolving to Sanctuary Goths for a hundred of my subjects. But there are complications."
Micah quirked a blonde eyebrow, not hiding his expression of honest curiosity. "Such as?"
"I do not exist in a vacuum, as you are well aware of. The Blue League is currently undergoing a pogrom of a sort that I am only distantly aware of. However, I do know that this relates to Sanctuary."
Micah froze completely as he considered the implications of this. Slowly, he let out a breath, forcing his wings to shift slightly. "I see."
"You know something?"
Micah smiled deeply. "I know many things." He sobered and went on. "Such activity is likely only due to the Blue League suddenly acquiring a glut of information on Sanctuary itself. Unless Sanctuary has gained a severe division in its upper ranks that I'm not aware of, or..." He let that trail off.
"One of your own."
"That is a possibility, yes."
"Do you know of which one?"
"Not specifically, no, and you'll excuse me if I refrain from speculation."
Bevin nodded slowly. What information he'd already given her -likely, she privately admit, knowingly - was already valuable in and of itself. "Very well. Shall we get down to the dross of the matter?"
Micah smiled. "Lets." Several minutes went by as they exchanged information; whenever Bevin saw the price, her eyes widened slightly before recovering. "I see."
Micah gestured with both hands, spreading them wide. "Both Lady Cologne and Lady Yukii paid the amount in full. I do not, I am sad to say, play favorites." He was well aware of Bevin's situation; the Preserve's neonate status compared to Cologne and Yukii combined with the Wolf Clan taking some of the Preserves resources with them likely made Bevin's coffers shallower than the Elf Queen would have liked. "However, there is something else that you can bring to bear to help mitigate matters."
Bevin arched one eyebrow calmly. "Yes?"
"If we enter into this agreement, I expect you to swear as Elf Queen of the preserve and on the honor of your sovereign subjects that you will not reveal my name, my unique status, and the name of me and mine to either the Wolf or Harris Clan."
Bevin nodded slowly. "That, I believe, seems fair. However, I am not so naive to pretend that I will be able to keep this a secret for long. When they do inevitably inquire about the source, having a title to give them would ameliorate some of their fears."
Micah froze for a moment, then replied, "Desolation. Tell them that is my name." And proceeded to mentally curse himself up, down, and sideways before giving up in a mental huff. At least he didn't tell Bevin to refer to him as 'Spider Jerusalem' - that could have gotten awkward in the long run.
Bevin nodded slowly. "Very well then. I agree."
Micah grinned broadly. "Then I believe, Elf Queen Bevin, that you and I can do business."
-[***]-
Linda McMahon sipped coffee as she silently perused the political state of the Capital League and the rest of the World at-large, Sanctuary included, seated in her private office. She would never say so, not even to Vince, but the overall state of the Leagues gave her the worrying impression of the tide subtly drawing out - right before a tsunami crested on the shoreline. Things were happening, subtle things, and it was anyone's guess what the long-term repercussions would be.
Linda sighed. And, as much as she would be loathe to admit it, those 'subtle things' could likely be laid at the feat of a select group of individuals. Gods or no - she was privately thankful that Kerrik Wolf, whom she'd met in that cluster fuck of a recovery operation in the Blue League, had been completely lacking any wolf ears. But they certainly moved like gods, with footsteps shaking the world itself. A handful of individuals that had shifted centuries of political planning right down to the very core.
And Sanctuary was just as bad, recently. They were actively hiding things from her, now, but for some odd reason Capital League was apparently a no-go zone for the majority of Sanctuary Goths. Her own agents had derived whispers of a number of Sanctuary Goths just... disappearing, all supposedly living in the Capital League - a number, much to Linda's irritation, that was -not- in line with her own private estimates of fellow S-Goths sharing her League! The -reason-for this disappearance was unknown, and had Linda worried. She had harbored a creator in her borders for a good length of time without her knowledge - and he wasn't even linked to the Capital League to begin with. She loathed considering what other Authors might do, much less -him-.
She set such thoughts aside, only to blink as she found her computer system announcing an incoming call. Her eyebrows rose further whenever her system provided information on just who it was calling -Yukii and she did not exactly get along well, though you'd be hard-pressed to tell from their general interactions. The Ice Empress that lead the Ice Maiden Preserve was... well, as cold as ice, to excuse the pun, and not given toward overt displays of emotion. And while Yukii was long-associated with the McMahons themselves, she was distant with Linda... and kept the Ice Maiden Preserve politically independent of Linda's control, much to Linda's annoyance.
Linda McMahon could safely assume that this was -not- a social call.
Linda plastered a genial expression across her face as she toggled 'accept' on the call, and Yukii's neutral expression appeared on her computer screen. "Ice Empress Yukii. What a pleasure. It's been too long since you've visited."
"Archmage Linda McMahon." Was it Linda's imagination, or was there a subtle twist in Yukii's words, turning that greeting into an insult? No, no, pay attention, Linda. "Events have conspired to keep me occupied, I am sad to say." Linda did not react, wondering if those 'events' were factual or simple words to fill the air. "Nevertheless," Yukii went on, with a subtle shift in her seat carved from ice, "Recent occurrences have brought us both to an interesting situation. As we both share a common benefactor, I thought it best that we open up more dialogue than normal, so that we may avoid... future complications."
Linda could not reply, staring at Yukii as she tried to process what the hell the Ice Empress was talking about. "Excuse me? Common benefactor?" She -couldn't- be talking about Sanctuary. Could she? As far as she knew, Sanctuary had left the Ice Preserve near untouched, writing them off as worthless and inconsequential!
A subtle shifted of a frosted eyebrow, in what others would be a look of near comical surprise. "My apologies. Given that Micah Hakubi has recently blessed a number of my daughters with the gift of Sanctuary Goth evolution, and given your previous correspondence with him, I had thought that the two of you had been conspiring together. I was apparently mistaken."
Linda was distantly thankful she'd put her mug aside, or else it would have slipped from nerveless fingers. It took several seconds for her to realize that she was staring at Yukii, mouth agape, and closed it with a snap. "What are you talking about!?" Her voice came out near a yelp, and Linda realized she didn't care.
A minute shrug. "Micah Hakubi has apparently devised a method to evolve a pokegirl into a Sanctuary Goth. I am unaware of the particulars, but he spoke of the matter as if it was an inborn ability."
Linda swallowed, suddenly fervently thankful that her private communications were rated with military-grade encryption. "How many, perchance, did he evolve?" She tried to make the inquiry come out casual, but it instead came out taunt and strained. If it was a meager handful, then it was likely he somehow came across a cache of Ebony Stones...
"A hundred, I believe was the agreed upon number," Yukii replied.
She's lying, Linda thought. She has to be.
"If you have further inquires, perhaps you'd direct them to Cologne? She and I shared equal correspondence in this matter," Yukii went on.
She's not lying, Linda thought with dawning horror. Not with Cologne involved.
"Still," Yukii said, "I was apparently mistaken in the source of his capabilities. My apologies, Archmage Linda McMahon. It appears we do not need to open up a further dialogue after all. If you will excuse me?" Without waiting for a prompt, Yukii cut the connection.
Had anyone been in Yukii's private room at that time, they would have thought the smile that creased her face a trick of the light. They would also be surprised to learn that her friend and occasional lover, the Legendary Shiva, would call Yukii overemotional and childish at times - but trumping Linda like this felt oh so -good-.
Linda stared at the blank screen, trying to control her breathing. Calm. Calm. In the long run, this was meaningless. So what if a Creator had someone gained the capability of evolving pokegirls into Sanctuary Goths. That was a good thing, right? So what if he'd apparently bypassed her completely, and went directly to two people she had... issues with, at the best of times?
The door to her office cracked open. Linda glanced up, forcing her expression into a neutral, 'I'm busy with work' one that she habitually wore. Her Ingénue secretary was there, looking oddly... perturbed.
"Ma'am, there's been an odd occurrence in some of the League cities that I thought might need to be brought to your attention," her Ingénue said.
Linda blinked, shoving political issues aside, almost relishing the notion of something mundane. What could it be? Vince being a showman and enacting a plan without telling her? A new rash of team burglaries occurring? "Yes, Beatrice? What is it?"
"There's been these... flyers, being scattered around here and elsewhere, and ma'am, I know you or Vince isn't doing anything like this, and..." Wordlessly, she handed Linda a slightly rumpled flyer, and then not-so-subtly bolted for the door.
Linda, now thoroughly confused, glanced down at the flyer and began to read.
Her piercing shriek of outrage was heard several offices away.
-[***]-
Ludmilla didn't bother knocking as she barreled her way into the master bedroom. "We have a problem - " She blinked and paused. "Where's Gally?"
"Otsana," Micah reminded Ludmilla, not opening his eyes from where he lay, face down on his bed, wings lightly tucked at his side. Tails flicked as his picked his head up from the rather large pillow he needed for sleeping, eyes opening as he pulled a wing away to show that the Gunnm was literally squished underneath him, curled up lightly and looking for all the world to be resting peacefully despite the heavier and larger body that had been holding her down. "What's wrong?"
"We have a trio of tamers approaching the training grounds in Ruby League," Ludmilla replied. "They're not being circumspect. As near as I can tell, they're headed straight for it. I've got three fire teams sharking them currently without being observed."
What remaining lassitude Micah had was gone as he pulled himself up off the bed, activating his clothing spell to retool his appearance into something more presentable outside the bedroom. Otsana rubbed at sleep-filled eyes, pushing aside long strands of black hair as she glanced between Micah and Ludmilla curiously.
Micah glanced at the Gunnm. "We're needed in the Ruby League. Get ready - you're coming as well."
Micah ignored Ludmilla's look as Otsana perked up straight, scrambling from the bed to stand next to him. "Yes, Master!"
Ludmilla gave a shake, then grabbed them both and teleported.
Micah frowned as the world around him shifted, his expression thoughtful as reality re-asserted itself into what he recognized as one of the clearings at the training grounds. Ludmilla caught his expression and immediately thought at him, /You promised you weren't going to try teleporting without me and Euphemia helping you, even if you now have those artifacts./
/I did, didn't I?/ Micah thought back. /You can't blame me for getting distracted, however./ He frowned. /Let's go deal with this problem./
The remainder of Micah's harem was already present, sans Lina. Even Blueberry and Charolette were present. Anya was frowning at him in concern. "What are you planning on doing with them?"
"The three tamers?" Micah asked rhetorically. "I'm still debating." He mentally actuated the FarCast spell, seeking out one of the Grim Angels in particular. /Anouska, what's the composition of the three Tamers?/
There was a pause as the Grim Angel adjusted to the mental contact. /Three Tamers, two male, one female, each with their Alpha deployed. They've made no survey sweeps and they aren't keeping a point and rear watch./
Micah's frown deepened. /How old are they?/
/Master, they look to be near seventeen, eighteen years old. None of them look ready or pitched for a full out battle./
"Tch," Micah spoke aloud, sweeping his gaze across his assembled harem. "Fine. Ludmilla, you have point. Otsana, you're my escort. The rest of you, keep to the rear. We're going out to talk with them."
"This is -not- a good idea," Cornelia stated outright.
"I agree with the Demon Goddess, Master," Illya stated, in her chibi form. "Let me have the field. I'll kill them all and be done with the problem."
Micah smiled faintly. "Hah. No. This is problem just one monumental screw-up by a bunch of amateur tamers out for a lark. But I want to keep them away from this training facility at all possible. So let's go."
Micah didn't both hiding his appearance as they moved out, planning later for Ludmilla to shark these three, and, when they made camp, obscure their memories to fuzz out his inhuman aspects. And a part of him was morbidly curious as to how three relatively normal tamers would take to his appearance. He chuckled wryly when this occurred to him, earning a curious look from Otsana, when it occurred to him that he seriously didn't interact with anyone in this world barring pokegirls.
Whenever the two groups arrived in sight of one another, Micah frowned in slight confusion as he watched the trio jostle one another back and forth - there seemed to be a bit of conversation between the three of them that he was still too far to make out. A glow of his eyes marked the Warchive spell becoming active, as he focused in on the trio. That just brought further confusion, as at least one of them seemed to be rather triumphant about the matter.
What the hell was going on here?
When they got close enough to speak without yelling, the black haired male of the trio spoke up. "Holy shit, they weren't kidding. I thought you weren't supposed to come out till later, though! What about all your minions and sub-bosses?"
"Look," the brown-haired male spoke up, "I told you, that's just PR bullshit. Why the hell would they stick a full gauntlet of Event Tamers out here?"
"You can both say 'I told you so' later," the female, a redhead, spoke up. She set her hands on her hips. "Well? How are we going to do this? And what's the prize for winning? One of your so-called unique pokegirls?"
Micah was flatly convinced that the expression of confusion he wore was likely mirrored by his entire harem. He resisted the urge to reach up and rub at the bridge of his nose, and noted idly that the three's harems - a Charmelons, an Ivywhore, and a Whoretortle weren't saying a damn thing to add to the conversation. "Not to put to fine a point on the matter, but what the hell are the three of you talking about?"
The brown-haired one rolled his eyes. "You're kidding, right? You're supposed to get these things setup and done before you throw out flyers telling people about it."
"Yeah, seriously," the black-haired one stated, pulling out and waving around a large piece of paper. "If you weren't ready to deal with us, then why the hell are these things being scattered around the Capital League?"
"...may I see that, please?" Micah asked, his tone faint as he gestured, claws out, feeling torn between fainting or letting his control slip and clawing this arrogant bastard if he refused his request.
"...yeah, sure." More confused than anything by this point, the guy stepped up to Micah and handed him the flyer to read.
Micah glanced down, eyes narrowed in concentration as he began to quick read before his expression slipped into one of horror, as the flyer read;
HEAR YE, HEAR YE, HEAR YE! The forces of darkness that spoiled the Anchorage Sadie Pokens Day stands ready to swarm the Capital League! Unless YOU can do something about it! Prepare to face the most grueling challenge of your Tamer career as you face off against the Demon Lord and his 666 minions of unknown and unique pokegirls! Vincent and Linda McMahon call out all Capital League tamers to end this threat! Victory, prizes, and special recognition will be yours if you seek out this overlord and finish him, once and for all! CAPITAL LEAGUE NEEDS YOU!
Beneath that, were the specific co-ordinates for the training ground in the Ruby League.
And beneath that, in small sub-script, was a small, hand-drawn smiley face and a victory sign scribbled in, with a small note;
'Event supported by the Legendary Macavity!'
Micah wasn't quite aware whenever his claws ripped into the flyer, nor whenever he began growling, deep in his throat. Fear and white-hot fury mixed in his stomach, churning in a sickening fashion. Distantly, he could feel the mental summons of Ludmilla and Nunnally both, urging control; he ignored them as inconsequential, even as he acknowledged his own desire not to up and kill these three foolish bastards.
No matter just how -nice- it would feel...
Dimly, he became aware that those moving lips actually meant something; focusing, he realized that the black-haired tamer hadn't stop talking.
"-look, I can understand if you're caught off guard, but the three of us would seriously like first crack at the Event," he went on blithely. "Could you tell us WHEN you'll be ready?"
Don't say a thing, Micah thought to himself. Don't say a word. If I do, I might not be able to stop myself...
"Hello? Fucks sake, looks like McMahon didn't think to give us a Boss battle with a Tamer who didn't have stage fright," the brown-haired Tamer stated. "I-" cut his voice off with a strangled, fear-choked sound.
Ah, Micah thought to himself. When did I cast that spell? "Get out," he whispered softly, trying to keep his breathing under control. The three pokegirl Alphas were now staring at him as if confused between a flight or fight response.
"For all the trouble it took to get," the brown-haired Tamer's tirade was cutoff as the female redhead gripped his arm, hard, staring at Micah as if she was seriously considering dropping everything and running away. It had finally percolated in her brain that everything was horribly, horribly wrong - there was no way that this was an officially sanctioned Capital League event, and that blood-cursed freak of a Tamer was staring at the three of them as if ripping their throats out and fucking their corpses was a pleasant way to spend the afternoon.
"Let's go," she got out in a strangled tone. "Let's go, -now-." Physically hauling her companion along, she didn't even give a parting remark as the three Tamers decided discretion was the better part of valor, and came back the way they went at a not-quite run, Alphas trailing behind them in a confused state.
"Micah." Ludmilla was gripping his arm hard enough to grind bones together, trying to get his attention. "Micah. What's wrong?"
Micah didn't trust himself enough to speak as he wordlessly handed the flyer to Ludmilla, only to be rewarded with a vicious snarl that raised the hair on the back of -his- neck.
"Oh, shit," Euphemia whispered, reading over Ludmilla's shoulder.
"-Macavity-!?" Anya blurted in a strangled tone. "A -Legendary-!? How? Why? How did she even find us in the first place?"
"What's going on?" Otsana was looking between Micah and Ludmilla with a confused and lost expression, as both of them seemed to be completely out of it.
"They couldn't have found us," Nunnally pointed out. "Micah's baffle abilities should have blocked whatever scrying abilities Macavity has access too."
"No," Euphemia whispered. "No, it wouldn't have. Because we're -not here all the time-. All they'd have to do is look for a large group of Sanctuary Goths outside the Dark Continent."
"Doesn't matter," Micah managed to get out in a strangled tone. "Ludmilla."
The Dire Wolf's ears were flat against her skull, near invisible amid her blonde hair. "Master."
Focus, Micah thought to himself amid the rage. You can't let this distract you from what needs to be done. "Prep the Grim Angels for evacuation. Split the equipment between the Beta Site in the Blue League and the lair. I want it done twenty minutes ago."
"Yes, Master!"
-[***]-
A/N: The term 'The Man Who Knows' is taken from Warren Ellis' 'Planetary' comics.
Someone's likely going to shoot me for my charachterizations of the Legendaries. Ah, well.