19

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 19]

Arshavir had at least two feet on the armored Sanctuary Goth; her teeth could strip raw flesh from bone with the same ease she would dig into the rind of fruit. And in terms of firepower, her natural, in-born abilities easily outstripped any S-Goths.

Still. The Crèche Mistress couldn't resist a subtle tickle of apprehension and nervousness as she watched the leader of the quad of Sanctuary Goths survey the assembled line of Tyrannodame pokegirls. Each was a fine specimen in the full bloom of maturity, each one eager, ready, and cowed enough to serve their Mistresses with appropriate fervor, should they be lucky enough to be chosen.

The Sanctuary Goth regarded the line with hard, grey eyes, her short brown hair tied back by a dark, discolored bandanna. She was someone of few words; Arshavir struggled to count exactly how many of them had been given to her, and found they were far too few to have a concrete idea of what the hell was going on. "I hope they'll meet the Mistresses' approval," she hedged to one of the trio that wasn't inspecting the Tyrannodames.

She smiled back at Arshavir, not unkindly, her golden hair tied into an offset ponytail that hung down the front of one shoulder. She was pretty enough to catch the eye, even in Sanctuary, though her outfit was clearly a marshal cut; armor that could only have been summoned, it fit so well, a voluminous cloak that hung off on shoulder, and a blade at her side that was handled so casually it likely spoke of heavy use. Even more odd, despite the covering armor, she sported a figure that was surprisingly healthy. "I'm sure Lillith will find them appropriate."

The Sanctuary Goth in question grunted. "They'll do," she murmured in her husky, low voice. She glanced at the other two Sanctuary Goths. "Get them secured for transport."

"Mistress!?" Arshavir's voice was a high-pitched strangle of words as she watched the other two deploy a compression backpack and start utilizing pokeballs that was cut off as Lillith directed a sharp glare at her.

"Shhh," the blonde Sanctuary Goth at Arshavir's side ran an armored hand soothingly along the Dameosaur's arm, and Arshavir found herself relaxing despite herself. "The pokeballs are for their own protection with what we'll be handling."

"Milly," said Lillith, the name containing a myriad of undertones, among them a flat 'shut up before I make you'.

Arshavir swallowed, recalling Lillith's reply as to who exactly was authorizing this - 'If you have to ask, then you aren't cleared to know.' "Is this concerning... them, Mistress?"

"Them?" Milly' wide blue eyes regarded Arshavir with innocent confusion.

"The Destroyers," Arshavir pitched her voice low so that the few remaining Tyrannodames wouldn't be able to hear her. They were good children, she'd confess, and while she wouldn't hesitate to beat any of them bloody for discipline matters, there was no point in giving them nightmares. "The World-enders."

"You think too much," Lillith grunted.

Arshavir sagged in relief. At least her children's lives were going to be spent for a good cause. "Yes, Mistress." If throwing unblooded Tyrannodames at those... -things- until their stomachs burst were what was necessary to keep Sanctuary safe... well.

She hoped they choked on them.

-[***]-

Ludmilla's only outward reaction to the roiling boil of emotions currently churning about in Micah's brain was to flick her white-furred ears in his direction as they walked along the forest path, escorted by three armed Elves. /You're nervous./

/Hell yes,/ Micah thought back, not glancing the Dire Wolf's way, even as he struggled to get his emotions back in control, for her sake, if nothing else. Anya was on his left, the StarMystic in full battle dress. Micah himself had eschewed armor this time, instead going for a well-dressed military cut to his outfit, similar to what he wore whenever he had tried to escort Jericho home, so long ago.

After all, the two fireteams of Grim Angels trailing behind them had armor enough for all.

/But I'm going to have to suck it up and deal,/ Micah replied back. He didn't have any sensory spells active, but he could sense in some dim fashion that the three Elves that were escorting them through the Elven Preserve were simply just the visible part of their entourage. /I can't be standing over the Grim Angels shoulders all the time, even if they're operating in the middle of enemy territory./ A subtle breath, as his tails flicked behind him. /And we have our own job to do./

Ludmilla couldn't help a small smile. /That we do./

The group as a whole finally arrived at their destination; a copse of trees that formed a type of small, natural amphitheater. Moss cushioned his footfalls as Micah glanced around curiously; likely, it had been carefully crafted as a type of small meeting area for whatever reason the Elf-types would choose.

"Hello, Micah Hakubi." A Grand Elf Micah had never seen before was standing next to two separate chests that looked to be carved from solid wood and gilded with copper bands for decoration. The Grand Elf was wearing a set of round glasses that she calmly adjusted as she regarded the two Fireteams with a neutral expression. "I assure you, you're perfectly safe here. Your personal escort was unnecessary."

Micah chuckled faintly. "My apologies, but you seem to be mistaken. The Fireteams are for your defense, not mine. Someone like me tends to accumulate enemies, and I would be a poor guest if my actions accidentally brought a threat to your doorstep that I was unable to deal with. Plus, I thought the additional firepower would be welcomed in protecting Elf Queen Bevin." Micah smiled. "Who, I notice, is not here. Is there something wrong?"

The Grand Elf visibly paused, clearly deciding what to tell him. "There was a matter involving a Tamer thinking to capture members of the Preserve," she replied calmly. "And Queen Bevin went out to help deal with it herself."

"I see," Micah replied. "I hope she's fortuitous and successful in her endeavor, then."

The Grand Elf paused again, trying to gauge the sincerity in Micah's voice. She then decided to take him at face value. "Thank you. I shall pass along your words and hope, when I see Queen Bevin next. My name is Jezebelle; Queen Bevin has given me authority in this to adjudicate matters." She stepped aside, and gestured to the first chest. "This is the first half of payment; the second half will be delivered upon our finished transaction." She laid her hand on the second one. "And this one contains our sisters. I hope you will treat them well."

/Ladies?/ Micah thought to the two fireteams, each moving to secure a chest. "I will protect them to the full extent of my capabilities," Micah replied aloud. He smiled. "And no doubt, Queen Bevin will exact horror upon me should they be lost."

Jezzebelle had a small smile on her face as she adjusted her glasses. "Likely. Queen Bevin sends her regrets, but understands at this time that a meeting between you and her would be troublesome."

"Then me and mine shall depart. Good day, Jezzebelle." Micah nodded to the Grand Elf, then too their three visible escorts, before Ludmilla teleported him away, the two Fireteams and Anya close behind.

-[***]-

Micah blinked his eyes muzzily, trying to fathom exactly how long he'd been staring at the constellation of magical energies that floated in front of him. Far too long. Which meant that he was getting distracted whilst testing out magical application theories in ways that were potentially deadly.

Which meant it was time to take a break before he accidentally blew his leg off, or something.

Micah let out a sub-audible growl as he dispelled the energies in front of him and slammed the Grimorum Astra closed, the heavy tome hitting the solid rock desk he was working at with a loud 'THUD' that was positively seismic. He reached up, rubbing at his face before running his hands through short hair past his horns.

He remained that way for an unknown period of time, until stone doors parted and Ludmilla entered his Sanctum. She didn't say anything until she got close, and settled down on the floor next to him, snuggling under a wing. "You don't look focused."

"Mmm?" Reality clicked back into focus. "Ah." Today was the day that they were planning on securing the island in the Forest League. "No. No, I'm not. I've been distracted."

"By what?" Ludmilla leaned her face against his knee. Almost unthinking, Micah let his hand tangle up in her long, blond hair, reaching to rub at the back of her white-furred ears and earning a deep-seated groan of pleasure from the Dire Wolf.

"Killing Faris Knight."

The groan of pleasure cut off, as green eyes glanced up at him. "Do you regret it?"

"No," Micah replied, and Ludmilla let herself slowly relax. "He was a powerful magic user and I couldn't allow him the chance to harm either me or you and Illya." He trailed off into silence. "I feel a little sad, I think, for having to do it, but regret? No. Not really."

White-furred ears flicked. "So what's bothering you?"

"It was just so... -easy-," Micah slowly let out. "You think killing someone should be hard, some type of agonized, painful choice, but... I didn't even need to squeeze a trigger. I just made a decision, and snuffed him out. Like a bug." His one free hand slowly gripped into a tight fist. "With about all the care and concern I'd give one, too."

Ludmilla crawled up off the floor into his lap, wrapping her arms tight about his waist. "I'm sorry," she said, resting her head against his shoulder. "I don't think that's something I can understand very easily."

Micah chuckled faintly. "Probably not." He shook his head carefully, always mindful of how his horns could hurt when one of his ladies was close by. "It's just something I need to get used too. Like my entire philosophy has been knocked askew. He's not the first blood on my hands, not really, but it was the first time I did the deed."

"Do you want to cancel the operation?"

"No." Micah stood, Ludmilla in his arms, and set the Dire Wolf down gently as she climbed out of them. "I need to focus on something beside myself, and worrying about other people is likely the best thing for me right now."

Ludmilla smiled faintly. "I wouldn't mind if you focused completely on -me-, but I've already assembled the Fireteam Leaders for a tactical review." She offered a pale hand to Micah. "Have you been practicing your teleportation skills when I'm not present?"

"No." Micah gripped the offered hand.

"Good." The world shifted as the cool, salty breeze smacked him in the face even as his wings prickled from the hot sun now beating down on them. Squinting his eyes, Micah headed over to where a large, pavilion-style open air tent had been setup, Ludmilla following behind him over hot sand. Inside was cooler by grace of the shade, where a collection of armored Grim Angels stood around a large table where a topographical map of the island Micah and his merry conglomerate of pokegirls had laid claim too.

"Good afternoon, ladies," Micah smiled faintly at the assembled Sanctuary Goths, even as a part of his brain wanted to scurry off gibbering in fear at the notion that he, and he alone, was the last in the chain of authority these women perceived. The buck, as they say, stopped with him.

He ruthlessly squashed that notion and carried off. "That you're standing here likely means you've been briefed by Ludmilla, which makes my commentary not only amateurish at best, but superfluous at worst." Micah smiled, receiving a few grins and a number of giggles in reply.

"To re-iterate," Micah went on, "The purpose of this exercise is to purge this island of the major group of ferals. This is not a capture exercise. Capturing is a luxury. Kill, if in doubt. We have identified the major geographical topography of the island, so we have a rudimentary idea of how the sweep will follow. That said, I will not be there with you. All of you are the ladies on the ground. If you feel the need to withdraw, withdraw. If you feel the need to attack, attack. You have the skills, knowledge, and power that makes you, combined with the ladies under your, one of the deadliest forces on this planet. When this day closes, I fully expect to be proven right." Micah glanced at Ludmilla. "Ludmilla, you have operational command of the Grim Angels as of this time. Commence the exercise."

"You heard him," Ludmilla barked in a loud tone. "Move to your assigned positions!" Several Grim Angels sketched salutes in Micah's direction before running from the tent to join the other three of their Fireteams.

"You do that well," Anya murmured softly as she slipped up beside him, wearing her battle dress in preparation for any combat she, Nunnally, Cornelia, and Illya would be seeing, should any one group of pokegirls be flushed toward the impromptu command center. Lina was there as well, mostly to help provide cover fire rather than direct combat.

"Thank you," Micah commented back, voice just as soft. "You sound surprised, though."

"It takes some skill in managing a group of pokegirls you aren't taming without sounding like a..." Anya paused, trying to find the right word.

"Arrogant prick?" Micah replied with a smile as he watched Ludmilla conferring with a few Grim Angels.

Anya giggled softly. "Yeah. In Academia, I saw a lot of that." She shivered faintly, recalling some bad memories. She shrugged them off as Micah slid an arm around her middle, hugging her close. After a moment, she looked up at him and murmured quietly, mindful of people nearby, "Do you honestly think the Grim Angels will be effective against all of Sanctuary? Two hundred combat-trained pokegirls, against an entire nation?"

Micah paused, taking the question seriously even as he glanced off at the islands interior. After a while, he finally spoke back up. "How much are you aware of pre-Sukebe history?"

"Very little," Anya replied. "It's not something that a lot of people favor talking about. History study got treated as badly as the sciences did after... well, everything."

"Go figure," Micah replied, tone a bitter mutter, then shook his head slowly. "When the American Civil War split the country, it divided it into two separate sides. 20 million people versus 4 million, with one side in command of over 90% of its industry, munitions, and near enough all of its naval power. Among other things." He glanced down at Anya. "In such a situation, which side do you think would win?"

Anya blinked. "The stronger, clearly. It wouldn't even be a fight."

"And yet, the side with 4 million and a meager scant of industry to supply their war managed to fight off the side with 22 million for near 5 years," Micah replied. "They were outnumbered in every battle they went into and they still managed to win victories that were regarded as masterpieces, studied for over a hundred and fifty years after. The lesson? Firepower is only a part of the equation to winning a battle. Manpower, as well. What wins a fight is the -will- and -determination- to see it done." He snorted. "And not make stupid mistakes."

Anya blinked curiously. "You were a history major?"

Micah laughed softly. "No. I just liked it a lot. Knowledge is power."

Anya hugged him tightly and murmured, "I knew there was a reason I wanted you the father of my children."

Micah stifled the unseemly urge to 'eep' by way of reply and just hugged her tightly back. After a moment or two, he chuckled faintly. "We shouldn't be indulging. Cornelia's glaring at me already."

Anya kissed his chin. "She'll have to get in line before you can knock her up."

Micah momentarily got lost imagining the majority of his harem pregnant, and only reluctantly shook it off.

Anya laughed. "You -do- like that!" Her expression slipped, and she murmured, "I was... worried you didn't... like that."

"I think pregnant women are rather sexy," Micah replied, "So no worries in that direction. As for the children part, well, I honestly never expected to reproduce, so the idea of having offspring running around... I'll deal." He lightly pinched her bottom. "No pregnancies until we're finished with Sanctuary. And we should stop talking right now - Nunnally's glaring at me in disapproval."

/You should focus on the battle going on currently,/ Nunnally's mental tone was chiding. /Rather than discussing who you'll knock up first./

Micah smiled faintly. At a curious glance from Anya, he just shook his head. "Nunnally is playing a taskmistress. Still, she's correct - let's not get distracted and see if Ludmilla'll need any help corralling this island's feral population."

-[***]-

"So." Micah laid his hands flat on the large wooden surface of the round table that was the centerpiece of one of the upstairs library in his new home. He glanced where Ludmilla and Nunnally were seated, the only other two present. "What was the causalities list for the operation?"

"Twenty," Ludmilla replied, looking composed and serious. "Only three of those were near fatalities. Thankfully, having each Grim Angel equipped with their own pokeball allowed for quick triage and recovery." She smiled faintly. "Excellent idea, by the way."

"Thank you," Micah replied modestly. "But it's still not good enough." He rubbed at his face, absently trailing claws over where he knew a facial marking would be in a thoughtful manner. "I think I may need to talk to Euphemia. See if she can rig up a sort of trigger sheath for a pokeball that'll toggle automatically whenever the pokegirl is seriously injured." He frowned as he followed that thought. "It would make recovery messy if the pokegirl was running solo, though. Unless someone enchanted the shell of the pokeball so it could be recovered via a teleportation fetish..." He trailed off, considering the time and effort it would take to do such a thing.

Ludmilla blinked. Glanced at Nunnally, who shared a mingled look of confusion with pride. Glanced back at Micah. "How do you come up with these things?" She smiled ruefully. "You're making Sukebe look like an amateur."

"Nah," Micah replied, shelving that line of thought for later. It was a pity he couldn't contract out, given how swamped his harem was getting with the various tasks they had on hand. "He pretty much did what he wanted too. Mind, the later complications were a bitch, but hey, nothing is ever perfect."

"Complications?" This, from Nunnally.

"Thresholding."

Nunnally blinked golden eyes in surprise. "You mean he didn't... Sukebe didn't plan on that?"

"No, he didn't," Ludmilla said, suppressing a full-body shiver. At Nunnally's confused expression, the Dire Wolf went on. "Micah had all of... the originals. The stories that told about this world. One of them involved Sukebe himself, talking about that." The idea that Sukebe was still around and active, in a subtle way, that he had basically lied to his entire army about the purpose of his war... Ludmilla stifled an urge to both whimper and crawl into Micah's lap.

Micah smiled faintly. "People always forget about those," he mused aloud. "I never knew why." A leathery shrug. "Sukebe basically left an encrypted confession for people to find. Guilt, I suppose. Which is understandable. Granted, I might be a bit -too- understanding... hell, if I had been in Sukebe's position, my response would have been a touch more violent and final."

Micah had Nunnally and Ludmilla's full attention. "Which would have been...?" Ludmilla dared to ask.

"Orbital bombardment. Or a nanonic swarm, if I was feeling messy." Another shrug. "People always tend to gloss over Sukebe himself... the guy was a hopeless, naive optimist that wanted to make the world a better place. He privately devised a method of interdimensional travel using primitive technologies before he was thirty. The word for that, I believe, is 'fucking brilliant'. And the thing about brilliant people is, life tends to be utter hell until about thirty. If you're lucky. I'm no genius, but if you had come to me at around twenty-one or so and asked me if I wanted a harem of gorgeous and nubile sex slaves, my response wouldn't have been to recoil in disgust. My reply would have been 'Where do I sign up?'" Micah gave a snort. "That was probably the first close personal, positive interaction Sukebe had in his life. Having them killed while you were helpless do to anything? Oh yeah. I would have been -bitter-."

"I think I need to read these stories," Nunnally replied in a faint, thoughtful tone. Gold eyes regarded Micah. "It seems off, however. If Sukebe is still active and present, why haven't you tried to find him?"

"Because," Micah replied, "Sukebe seems to have gotten his shit together. Hild, Sexebi, Moan, all pokegirls you'd expect to be knowledgeable of his whereabouts, don't. This hints that trying to locate him might be troublesome in the extreme. The guy has access to some rather extreme hypertech, and I can think of, oh, a horrendous number of ways he'd be able to hide without anyone knowing about him. And if you add magic, it only gets -worse-." He lightly rapped a knuckle on the table. "Still, getting off topic. We'll label the deployment as successful enough that we can tentatively move to the next stage."

"Speaking of another successful deployment, when do you want to hand-off the Tyrannodames?" Ludmilla asked.

"Give it another day or two," Micah replied. "I don't want it to appear too easy..." He trailed off, frowning, when the PDA at his side trilled an incoming message warning. Activating the screen, Micah frowned.

"What is it?" Nunnally asked.

"Incoming call to the VIP line in Antarctica," Micah replied. "An unknown number." He reached up, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Argh."

Ludmilla smiled faintly. "Are you going to check it?"

"Might as well. Maybe Typhonna heard some good stuff about me, decided to give a social call." He rolled his eyes as he stood at the unlikely-hood of that occurring. "It'll give me some practice with portals, too," he went on, raising an arm to his side, fingers splayed, to actuate that water-like portal of blackness. Once it had gotten to the right size, Micah stepped through, while Ludmilla and Nunnally followed via more normal teleportation means.

Micah paused just as he was about to toggle the connection through, checking over what exactly he was wearing, then mentally shrugged. Whoever the hell was calling would just have to settle with him in casual and be done with it. He toggled the connection through, waiting for the screen to come up with a live video feed of the caller. When it finally went through, his first impulse was to stare. His second was to pick something up and throw it at the screen.

Two nude pokegirls stared back at Micah, one cast in varying shades of light grey that edged toward a purple cast; the second an angel-like pokegirl done colored in various shades of gold. He knew them both, of course; but what the loving hell were they doing calling him up? For that matter, how the hell had they gotten this number in the first place?

It took several seconds for Micah to finally get his mouth to operate in a fashion that wouldn't end up with him making several sarcastic remarks. "Hello, Moan, Whore-Oh. I think it's fair to say that the two of you were definitely near the end of my list of expected callers." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ludmilla and Nunnally enter, both stuttering to a halt in shock.

Moan blinked. "Who's the last, then?"

"Typhonna." Or Hild. Details, details...

"What have you done with Sexebi!?" Whore-oh said, leaning in close. The tone she was trying for was 'demanding', but it instead came out worried and weak.

Micah blinked. "Sexebi? Last I checked, she was... what, still in bed, reading. I suppose her position could have changed since the last I saw her. Why?"

Moan's eyes narrowed at him. Her tail absently wafted into view of the video camera, lightly bumping Whore-oh's side, causing the winged Legendary to shift slightly. For a moment, Micah flashed back to Bert and Ernie from Sesame Street, and he imagined it took a good year off his lifespan to keep from bursting out laughing. "Would you know anything concerning Hild's whereabouts, by any chance?" asked Moan.

"That is a -marvelous- question," Micah replied.

Silence.

"Well?" Whore-oh prompted him.

"That I'm not going to answer," Micah stated. Off to the side, Ludmilla bit back a choking cough even as Nunnally calmly put her head in her hands. "I'm sorry, I thought that was obvious." He settled into his seat, letting his wings spread lightly behind him as he did so. "Now, I'm going to go off on one -very- large assumption that you'd like to talk with Sexebi? If so, give me a moment, and I'll go get her."

"No need," Moan replied. "It's best if we come to you." Before Micah could say anything else, Moan teleported in, her diminutive, nude frame hovering a good foot above the ground. Over the video feed, Whore-oh let out a sound of dismay that quickly went live when she teleported in behind Moan. "Mou," the golden Legendary said. "You could have took me along."

Moan smiled faintly.

/Get out of here,/ Micah hadn't moved from his seat, deliberately not looking over at Ludmilla or Nunnally.

/But,/ Ludmilla began.

/No,/ Micah cut her off sharply. /I don't want you exposed to Whore-oh. Move Nunnally back to deployment, get Anya down here and ready to execute Code Dios, and get Sexebi here. Right now. I've trusted Sexebi for this long. Now I -really- need to trust her. MOVE./ Code Dios was the code-label for one of the plans Micah had put together that could, in theory, take down a Legendary.

He just never thought he'd have to put theory into practice...

"The problem with this," Micah carefully stood up from his seat as Ludmilla and Nunnally both teleported away, "Is that Sexebi isn't -here-." Much to his amusement, he towered over both Legendaries. For the first time, he was actually thankful for his added height.

Whore-oh smiled, and opened her arms to Micah, her own feathered wings spread out behind her. "It's alright," she said, voice soft and pleasant. "Don't you want to help us? I'm sure we could help in turn."

"No." Whatever magical aura affect Whore-oh was demonstrating, Micah seemed to be, thankfully, immune to its effects. Though he could certainly perceive it; it was rather pretty, in an abstract manner.

Whore-oh paused, hesitating. "No?"

"No." Micah smiled, now enjoying this.

"No?" Whore-oh repeated, her tone gaining an element of annoyance. "What do you mean, 'no'? No one ever says 'no'!"

"First time for everything," Micah replied in a bland tone. After the initial spurt of annoyance and terror, this little tête-à-tête was quickly becoming rather... well, not terrifying.

Whore-oh pouted, hands to her hips as she glared at him. Moan, rather than annoyed, just looked amused, floating where she was. "I'm not used to being treated this way, Micah!" Whore-oh exclaimed.

"And... this is a concern of me, why, exactly?" Micah smiled as he leaned against the table next to him.

"Uh," Whore-oh blinked, apparently at a loss for words.

"You seem very unconcerned about potentially insulting two Legendaries," Moan spoke.

Micah gave a shrug. "Why should I be? What are you going to do, torture me? Been there, done that. Kill me? That, too. So, I can either treat you as human beings or as a weapon. Pick one."

Whore-oh visibly fidgeted. "I am not a weapon."

"Then you're a human being, and just because you're older than most and can pull a metaphorical rabbit out of your hat doesn't entitle you to free blowjobs and candy from everyone," Micah replied in a gentle, correcting tone.

"Neither of us are human, Micah," Moan chided softly.

"Pfft," Micah scoffed. "You're close enough for government work. The fact that pokegirls can interbreed with humans? That means you belong to the same species. Ask a biologist. You may be Homo Sapiens Chimera as opposed to Homo Sapiens Sapiens, but hell, wouldn't be the first time two branches of that particular tree got some loving going on."

Moan actually giggled while Whore-oh just looked confused.

"Eeep," Sexebi let out when she walked in, clearly startled.

"SEXEBI!" Whore-oh ran over, scooping up Sexebi in a tight hug that caused the green-skinned pokegirl to emit another squeak. "I was so worried about you!" Whore-oh went on. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

Sexebi teleported out of Whore-oh's grasp, appearing behind Micah. She floated up til she was able to see over Micah's wings, peering at Whore-oh and Moan in leery confusion. "What are you both doing here?" Sexebi finally got out. "-How- did you get here? -Why- are you here?"

"Why didn't you tell me you got a new pet?" Whore-oh replied, ignoring Sexebi's questions. "I thought I was your friend!"

"Pet?" Sexebi blushed, glancing at Micah. "I don't have a... it's not like that!"

"Then what is it like, then?" Moan asked, tail wafting behind her sinuously as she tucked her legs and hugged them, still hovering in mid-air. "Sexebi. Given everything, I think we all should have concerns about what Authors are capable of." She glanced an aside at Micah and his unnatural features. "We've been lead to believe that... well. Is he or is he not controlling you?"

Wow, Micah thought to himself. Immortals really do have the tactical sense of a retarded turnip.

"He is not!" Sexebi hugged his neck fiercely from behind, earning a blink of surprise from Micah. "He's been really nice and helping me!"

"Sexebi, aren't we friends?" Whore-oh blurted out, hands wringing in front of her. "Whatever it is you're using him for, couldn't we do better?"

"I'm curious why you'd need his help, myself," Moan replied, now floating upside down.

Sexebi bit her lip, paling as she realized the slip up she had made. "Um." She glanced helplessly at Micah.

"It is, I believe, a private matter," Micah replied calmly.

"But we're friends!" Whore-oh replied vehemently. "Friends tell each other everything!"

That was the last straw that broke Micah's control as he burst out laughing.

Whore-oh frowned, folding her arms together. "What's so funny?"

"Look," Micah finally managed to calm down, wiping a tear away at the corner of his eye, "I don't know what kind of friends you have, but frankly, where I come from, friends not only respect each others privacy but understand that there are things their friends -can't tell them-. And a really good friend understands that."

"And would these secrets have anything to do with Hild?" Moan asked, one eyebrow arched curiously.

Sexebi bit her lip.

"I'm right, aren't I," Moan sighed. "Sexebi, what did you do?"

"I hurt her!" Sexebi yelled from behind Micah. "I told her to stay away and she -ignored- me! All of you do! I'm nice but all of you act like I don't matter at all! You're all so mean and fighting with one another, and she didn't listen! And I... And I..."

Whore-oh visibly paled. "Sexebi, you..."

"She's as good as dead, now," Sexebi replied in a small, small voice, then burst into tears, hugging Micah's neck tightly.

"Oh, no," Moan whispered in horror.

Whore-oh went even paler, then recovered from her startled shock to glare at Micah. "You! You have to be doing this! Get away from her!"

"Go AWAY!" Sexebi screamed, and both Moan and Whore-oh disappeared in a seething distortion of twisted space.

Whoa, Micah thought to himself. Once he recovered his wits, he finally ordered Ludmilla to stand down and coax Sexebi from behind him. Still crying, he picked Sexebi up in his arms and settled down in the nearby chair, wrapping his wings tightly around her.

After several minutes without Sexebi calming down, Micah finally decided that silence wasn't going to get them anywhere. "It's okay to be angry at them, you know."

Startled, Sexebi looked up at him, face a blotchy red from all her crying, her voice muffled from a stuffed-up nose. "Angry?"

"You can know someone for several years," Micah explained. "Consider them a friend. Love them, in the way you love your friends. Trust them. And when the chips fall, suddenly they're nowhere to be found. And beyond the despair, beyond the hurt, is the -anger-. You knew two people for over three hundred years because they were the only people you could really be friends with, but when it came down to treating you with respect and being dependable when you're very life was threatened... If it were me? I would be going -nuclear-."

Sexebi sniffled.

"Even worse," Micah went on, "You'd like to think that they'd trust -you- in return. So that when you finally get fed up of being treated like everyone's runty, sickly stepchild and lash out at people, they'd side with you. Rather than acting like you broke a centuries-held taboo. Put more simply, 'Friends help you move. Real friends help you move a body.'"

Sexebi giggled weakly.

"So," Micah smiled faintly, "Right now you likely want to hit something. And scream for a good bit. And you likely think that feeling this way just makes you -worse-. Well, it doesn't. Something like that is perfectly natural, believe me."

Sexebi looked at him, eye to eye, for a long moment. Then leaned against his chest, all the energy going out of her as she slumped bonelessly against him. Micah smoothed out her hair absently, and several minutes went by with Sexebi saying nothing. Then, "Why haven't you been making me do things?"

Micah glanced down. "Things?"

Sexebi looked up at him, and nodded shyly. "Things." A deep breath. "I've been staying at your home for a while, and... I feel like I'm not giving anything back." A pause. "Do you think I'm cute?"

"I think you're smoking hot," Micah replied honestly. "You've got a petite, gymnastics build that looks really great."

Sexebi flushed red, and this time it wasn't from crying. "Really?"

"Really," Micah nodded. "As for other things... I consider you nominally, a friend. You don't belong to my harem, for one. So I'm not going to abuse your willingness to help out. Second... while it may not look it, I -have- been silently planning on ways to help deal with your... problem. And I don't intend for you to sit out when we take care of it. And you may not like me very much once everything is said and done."

Sexebi blinked. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because," Micah replied gently, "Depending on the tactics I'll employ, it may result in you having to kill a lot of people. Not directly, but your actions will help. And I know how much you hate that. So..." He let that trailed off, and shrugged.

Sexebi stared at him in reply as her brain slowly ground into motion, processing exactly what it was he was implying. Once she did, she hugged him tightly. "It's okay," she whispered. "I don't -like- it, but..." She sniffled, looking ready and willing to break down crying again. "Why can't they just leave me alone?"

"Likely for the same reasons they pulled me over," he murmured reassuringly, hugging Sexebi back. "Thinking like that... well. Give me a year and I might be able to explain it, but I'll never be able to understand it." He hesitated. "I almost hate to ask, but... Where are Moan and Whore-oh right now?"

Sexebi fidgeted, looking embarrassed more than anything. "I just... I didn't even mean to do that." Her expression was stricken. "I was, well... I moved them a week forward, that's all." She took a deep breath. "I... I really should go and talk to them. Later. But I really don't want to see either of them right now."

"Perfectly understandable, I think," Micah replied.

Sexebi blinked. "It is?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Sexebi trailed off. Swallowed. "I really... don't want to be alone right now. Can I take you home for a hidden day with me? Please?"

Yeep, was Micah's first instinctive thought. "Well... Uh..." He blinked, trying to scramble for a proper response. "Oh, yeah. Hell, I'd love too."

"'kay." Sexebi nodded reluctantly. "We need to be standing for this, though."

Micah picked Sexebi up into his arms, standing. "Is this good?"

Sexebi peered curiously out from amid the folds of his leathery, black wings, and nodded. "Yeah." A look of concentration crossed her face, and they were gone.

-[***]-

Post-coital afterglow when both participants have wings was more complex than one would think. Thankfully, Sexebi's bedroom had been built with that in mind, her bed having been outfitted with enough cushions to make a Harem Master take notes on how these things were supposed to be done. So Micah just sucked it up and dealt with the matter, leaning against a set of pillows larger than Sexebi as he cuddled the naked legendary in his lap, one finger lightly trailing that spoke between her own set of wings, earning an occasional jerk and shiver when he crossed over a particularly sensitive spot.

Sexebi glanced up at his grinning face even as she shivered. "What's so funny?"

Micah's grin broadened. "Sorry. Some of the sounds you were making are now indelibly etched in my brain."

Sexebi blushed, pouting. "You're being mean."

"Mean? Are you kidding? They were adorable." Micah chuckled deeply, even as he hugged Sexebi close. "And some of the -best- noises I've -ever- heard."

Sexebi blushed further. She then lightly poked his side. "You were growling."

Micah smiled. "I was not."

"You were. I could hear it." She lightly poked his chest. "In here."

"Slander and tales," Micah grinned, tongue sticking out. Sexebi made a grab for it, earning a laugh in reply as he warningly ran his hands along her sides, drawing an 'Eeeep!' out of her.

Once they had calmed back down, they spent several minutes just enjoying one another's company before a thought occurred to Micah. "You mentioned earlier you wanted to help?"

Sexebi glanced up at him, her blue eyes wide. "Yes?"

A shift of a wing, as he resettled more comfortably. "How much exploration of the various timelines running off of Sukebe's exploration have you done?"

"Some," Sexebi admitted. "A little. Why?"

"I'm not sure if I've mentioned this to you before," Micah went on, "But I do have a fairly... moderate number of enemy Sanctuary Goths that I've captured. And if I start purging the small towns in the Dark Continent, that number will increase." He trailed off a moment, before continuing with his thought. "If I had someplace to put them, someplace relatively safe that I didn't have to worry about a dagger being put in my back... And there are other concerns, as well."

Sexebi looked curious. "What other concerns?"

"There are other authors active," Micah replied. Unless they were all dead except him and Kerrik... no. It would be stupid to assume that, not to mention maudlin and depressing. "Both I and Kerrik independently developed plans to -deal- with Sanctuary. We're both taking rather soft measures, but someone else might decide to end them in a more... -permanent- fashion." Micah gave a faint snort. "Not that hard. I've come up with multiple ways I could... well."

Quiet. And then Sexebi asked, very softly, "Why haven't you?"

Micah smiled weakly. "Because... Well. I have that luxury of caring, I guess. Not wanting to harm innocents, and everyone I care about is as safe as they can be right now." A slow breath. "If you had asked right after, well, coming here, I likely would have sterilized the Dark Continent and not looked back."

Sexebi swallowed. "What happens if... What happens if, we can't stop the summoning ceremony, somehow?"

Micah raised an eyebrow, then hugged the diminutive Legendary gently. "We will."

"But what if we -can't-?" Sexebi replied, voice cracking.

Micah regarded Sexebi somberly for a few long moments. "If we can't? Then I'm de-populating the Dark Continent."

Sexebi stared at him. Micah was about to say something further, when he found it difficult to speak, as Sexebi was trying to give him a tonsil exam with her tongue.

A while later, Sexebi finally managed to drag her thoughts back to the question Micah asked. "I know of a place," she murmured thoughtfully, running a hand through Micah's hair. "It's... sad, but there are no humans or pokegirls. At all."

"Do you know what happened?"

Sexebi nodded. "There, the Chinese got it right. Only worse. The resultant plague they unleashed killed all humans and pokegirls. Even some of the Legendaries."

"Whoof," Micah said. "But still a good place to put a Sanctuary Goth colony, so they have a chance to calm down." A thought occurred to him. "Aren't things like that dangerous, the traveling you do? What if you... well, got stuck in the middle of something like that?"

Sexebi blinked at him, then giggled. "I'm the Mistress of Plants. Not even the Widow Toxin can harm me!" She smiled at him, kicking her feet up, and giggled again.

"Consider the question withdrawn," Micah smiled wryly back.

-[***]-

Micah glanced at the controlled chaos of the upstairs workroom with a pleased smile, though he'd admit to a little worry how quickly Euphemia had taken up the space given to her. Given how hard he was working the G-Splice to act like his metaphorical third hand, if she needed more room to than he had given her...

Well. If nothing else, life had taught him that first times were never perfect. Getting her more space to flex her creative aims would be easy enough.

One leathery wing shifted away where it brushed up against a hardwood table where a scattering of delicate tools was laid out in a chaotic pattern. "So," Micah noted aloud, trying not to fidget. "You had a surprise for me?"

Euphemia grinned triumphantly, hair tied back in a phoenix-tail behind her. Rather than draw things out, she set a box in front of him, the G-splice fairly vibrating from excitement. "Open it!"

Micah did so, carefully. Set inside in paper cushions was an armored gauntlet, made out of gold and chased with jet. On the back was a large red gem, which made Micah wonder where Euphemia had gotten it; it was -far- too large to be a rare gem of any kind, and was cut smooth, with no facets. Micah whistled softly as he gingerly picked it up from its paper cushion. The gold didn't -feel- right, for one, and to his senses the entire thing sang of magic.

"The gem is magically grown quartz," Euphemia's grin was pleased and broad, her dusky skin flush, happy that he liked her gift. "The color is artificial, really, but I know you like red. The entire thing has been enchanted to be fairly indestructible."

Micah nodded slowly, following along while examining the gift more closely, marveling how the entire thing fit together so smoothly. No seams, no weld marks - it was as if the entire thing was one solid construction, yet the armored parts moved fluidly and without hesitation. "Amazing. It looks flawless. It's beautiful." He glanced up, and quirked a grin. "What does it -do-?"

Euphemia laughed, not at all offended. "The gauntlet, when worn, keys into your armor spell! It enhances it, supports it, makes it better! When active, your armor will be able to redirect energy attacks to a certain threshold, including kinetic, but does so by re-distributing the force to the area around you, rather than trying to block it!" Euphemia bounced on the tip of her toes, thrilled that her work was being appreciated, for once. Something that Sanctuary just never seemed to -get-... "It'll even absorb some attacks to fuel its own defenses, though the majority of its power comes from ambient magical energies, which is partly what the Gem is," she reached out to lightly tap it. "Power storage and entrapment. Your own stores are a last resort."

Micah whistled softly again, the sound barely heard as he eyed the item in his hands. If what Euphemia was saying was true... Well. Magical combat was about as terrifying - more so - than normal combat, and sometimes the unthinking backups were the edge enough to keep you alive.

"Even better," Euphemia went on. "I managed to emulate the same function that the Grimorum Astra has. Which means you can summon and dismiss it at-will."

"Damn," Micah replied softly in admiration. Cautiously slipped the gauntlet onto his right hand, flexing as he settled it in place. He could -feel- that questing link of an artifact as it acknowledged it was being worn by a user. Micah tied that link to himself, feeling it go warm with energy as the large red gem, now set on the back of his hand, glowed softly.

Euphemia bounced in place. "It's working!" She grinned at him, eyes glowing with delight. "Try it out!"

Micah gripped a fist, summoning up the magic that retooled his outfit into armor fit for battle. He could feel the energies of the gauntlet go active, infecting the material that composed his armor, supporting it, shoring up, as the armored plates and greatcoat manifested into existence. Micah shifted inside the armor thoughtfully, shoulders and wings shrugging as he felt the new armored shell shift comfortably around him. "Wow."

Euphemia giggled in delight. A flare of her own magics, and she now wielded a massive, two-handed war hammer. "Shall we try it out?"

Micah eyed the war hammer. Eyed Euphemia. Sighed faintly. "Why the hell not?"

With a wide swing, the head of the war hammer impacted his armored chest with a loud hammer-and-anvil tone, but more dramatic was the resultant shockwave that slammed back, sending the offending weapon rocking away and skittering tables and random, smaller objects askew in its wake.

"Wow," Micah repeated, his tone more thoughtful as he checked himself over for potential damages. Euphemia picked herself up where she had fallen from swinging badly, stilling grinning. A flex of his wing, as Micah examined it, and something occurred to him. "The armor effect. Does it extend to my wings, as well?"

"Um." Euphemia dismissed the war hammer, fidgeting, now looking embarrassed. "Uh. No. The enchantment is very specific, and only operates as long as your armor is up and functioning."

Micah frowned thoughtfully as he examined the gauntlet and the enchantment supporting it. If it tied into his spell, then... He stretched out a wing, as magic flared and armored end caps manifested around his wing-claws. With a near crackle-snap that he more felt than heard, the magics enhancing his armor slid down to encapsulate his wings with the same effect.

"-Much- better," Micah commented even as Euphemia's jaw dropped in astonishment.

"Never mind," Euphemia squeaked. "I guess it -does- work."

Micah smiled faintly in reply as he let his wings settle back against him. "You tested it extensively?"

Euphemia smiled sheepishly. A flourish, and a similar gauntlet manifested on her left hand, this one with a deep, emerald-green gem. "Yours is the second one I built, Master. I didn't want to give you a defective product."

Micah's smile deepened. "I can't fault that line of thinking."

"Micah!" Sexebi flew in - literally - making a bee-line for Micah's neck that she promptly latched onto from behind, giggling.

"Well, you seem happy," Micah commented to the Legendary latched on to him.

"Amazing what a few hours of taming will do to a pokegirl," Euphemia muttered wryly under her breath, earning a glance from Micah and an innocent smile in reply, as if to say 'What?'

"Kerrik left you a message and presents!" Tugging at his arm as if to drag him bodily from the room, Sexebi went on, "The presents are for you and the harem and I left them in the family room! I want to see them! C'mon!"

"Let's get everyone together, first," Micah replied, as he let Sexebi drag him out of the room, Euphemia giggling as she followed.

"Big box," Micah mused once everyone had gathered in the family room. "What did he send me? A pokegirl outside the ball?" The question was rhetorical, as Micah was currently letting a thumb claw split apart packing tape.

"You trust him that much, Master?" Illya spoke up.

Micah glanced over at Ludmilla. The Dire Wolf shook her head slowly. "Nothing. It's safe."

"There you go." Micah yanked the box open to get at its contents and jarred to a halt when he saw what was inside.

"What is it? What?" Sexebi peered over his shoulder, blinked, and then let out a squeal as she literally dived for one of the items in the box.

"Huh?" Euphemia peeked inside and gasped. "OhmyitsoCUTE!"

Ludmilla laughed indulgently as she plucked one of the dolls from the box as Micah's harem began diving for their own. "It's a plushie."

Micah kept staring.

"This is the stupidest thing I've seen," Cornelia remarked, holding her own plushie rendition of Micah at near arms length.

Lina laughed, the redheaded mage picking one up out of a box, looking thoroughly amused. "Okay, that's not half bad."

"I'll take it!" Otsana made grabbing motions for Cornelia's, only to have the Demon Goddess snatch it away and growl audibly.

"It's anatomically correct, too," Nunnally smiled, having peeked curiously under the hem of the robe.

Ludmilla peeked at her own plushie, and grinned wolfishly. "Well, they obviously didn't use prognostication to get the measurements, as it isn't a foot long, prehensile, or barbed."

Cornelia's grin was... well, demonic. "Maybe we should send it back with a request for alteration."

Micah finally managed to pry his eyes away from the few remaining plushies still in the box to quietly facepalm, letting out an audible groan. "I'm going to kill him," he muttered. "No jury would convict me."

Otsana blinked wide eyes up at Micah. "You don't like it? Do you... you don't want us to have them?

"Not exactly a plushie kind of guy," Micah replied in a wry tone, but held up a hand to forestall any further comments. "-But-, no, if you want one, take one. I'll... deal." He shook his head. "At least I don't have a doll phobia."

"We even have spares," Anya remarked, hugging her chosen plushie tightly.

"You know, I had given thought at one point to pass along all of Kerrik's stories to him, so his harem could have the chance to read them," Micah remarked aloud in a musing tone, "But I eventually decided against it."

Ludmilla glanced at him curiously. "Mmm?"

"I'm -seriously- reconsidering it now," Micah grit out, then shook his head. "Right. Okay. Sexebi, you said Kerrik sent along a video message?"

"We're going to need to get some equipment setup," Euphemia spoke up. "Nunnally, do you mind helping me drag some things over?"

Nunnally nodded, and the two pokegirls departed, carrying their chosen plushies.

Once everything was to the G-splice's satisfaction, Micah curled up on a low-backed sofa to watch, his harem curled up around him with Sexebi climbing up into his lap. Micah reached out and toggled the video on; Kerrik appeared on the large screen, leaning back in a chair as he smiled broadly. "Felicitations, Micah. I was pleased to hear from you and pleased for the gifts. I’m sending something back to you and I hope your harem finds it entertaining." His smile faded. "Unfortunately I have to open this with bad news. Since the last time we spoke, I and my ladies were attacked. Scheherazade, Irena, Montsho and Hathor were all killed in that attack. It wasn’t anything we could have anticipated and we killed the attacker, but still, I failed them. I am sorry to have to tell you this."

"Son of a bitch," Micah whispered softly, as his harem rippled quietly in reaction.

Kerrik sighed. "I was really looking forward to Ludmilla meeting Scheherazade and learning about the Dread Wolf evolution, too." He nodded to an unseen audience. "That’s right; she became an evolution that never existed outside my notes, just like some of your pokegirls did. I’ll append all the information on the evolution in case Ludmilla is interested in looking it over. I have also evolved Dominique from Dark Elf to Archmage, completely skipping the Enchantress step in the process and I evolved Eve to Megami-sama. While evolving them, we also ended up delta bonded."

"You've -got- to be kidding me," Micah murmured, unable to facepalm due to the way Sexebi was holding onto his arms. The Legendary glanced up at him with a curious, albeit worried expression. Micah shook his head quickly as if to say 'Don't worry about it' and thankfully refocused soon enough that he caught the rest of the message.

Kerrik sipped at the wine. "In addition, I consciously evolved April from Ingénue to Duelist. So not only is what you did not unique to you, there may be a bit more that you can do with it. Can you use it to bless pokegirls to Sanctuary Goth? I don’t know. I used an ebony stone with Irena." He took a gulp of wine. "It’s some heavy stuff and once you pick your jaw up, I’m not yet done."

Micah made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, only keeping from yelling because he hated yelling and Sexebi was in his lap.

"What else has he done," Ludmilla muttered out the side of her mouth. "Ride Typhonna like a bucking bronco?"

Kerrik glanced off to his side; when he saw something, he nodded. "Then there’s the presence of Evangelion or, as we call her, Vanessa, in our home. Vanessa was accidentally involved in the episode where Scheherazade, Dominique and Eve all evolved. We later found out that the incident had resulted in her becoming pregnant. She thinks it’s a parthenogenic pregnancy, but we’re not sure yet."

Sexebi made a strangled 'YEEK!' sound, and then promptly fainted.

Ludmilla quietly hid her face in her hands.

Micah, mouth open in shock, couldn't manage even that. Otsana managed a "What the HELL!" from where she was curled up on the floor. Euphemia stabbed the pause button and looked up worriedly at Micah. "Master?"

Micah gritted his teeth even as he wrestled the comatose Legendary in his lap into a more comfortable position. "I'd say it can't get any worse, but I'm pretty sure Kerrik would find a way." He let out a short, sharp sigh. "Keep going. Let's get this over with."

Euphemia nodded reluctantly, and toggled 'play'.

"I do have access to the Dark Continent," Kerrik went on as the video resumed, "or Africa, and I also have a pass that should get me into the High Council building itself. I have the same idea you did; that is decapitating the command elements of Sanctuary and then fleeing. I think we’re close to a breakthrough on how to do that, but only time will tell for certain. I’m pleased that you’re interested in emigrating to Pokegirl One. I have arranged transport with Magdalene, one of Kerrik’s wives, and since she owes me a favor, she’ll take you there too. I am grateful for the dimensional portal spell, though, and I think it’ll come in useful in the future."

/How much do you know about Magdalene?/ Ludmilla asked silently.

/The name's damningly familiar, but nothing beyond that,/ Micah replied.

/That's not good./

/No, it isn't./

Kerrik spun the goblet between his fingers, watching the wine inside it spin. "Thanks for explaining what you are doing with making more Sanctuary Goths and I can attest from personal experience that the ones who aren’t inculcated into the Sanctuary belief system are normal people instead of world domineering sociopaths. I’m not sure your idea will work, but then we’re authors and if you -believe- it will enough, maybe it will." His smile turned wry. "At least we can hope so. A cure for the feral state would make a lot of things better for everyone here. And if you’ve got one, it’ll really help on Pokegirl One. It may be that we can adapt it to our pokegirls, so that neither they nor their children will go feral."

"Sure, why the hell not," Micah uttered under his breath. "You seem to be racking up the miracles, so I guess it's time for me to catch up!"

Kerrik drained the goblet in the video and chuckled as he looked at it. "You probably think I’m becoming a lush, but the truth is that one of the changes I made internally won’t let me get drunk. I don’t even get a buzz anymore. I never drank to get drunk though, so I won’t miss it. Besides, I’m a mean drunk and once was more than enough to show me that I never want to lose control like that again, especially not now." He chuckled. "Oh, and no, Devon isn’t an asshole anymore. He’s actually grown into a decent person. But we can’t trust him any more than we can trust anyone else on this world. So don’t." He put the goblet down and faced the camera squarely. "I want to wish you the best and if, when we get through this we’ll move to One and start a new life, hopefully one where the most trouble we’ll have is with ferals getting in the trash. I wish you well, Micah, and someday we’ll actually meet. Be well, my friend." On-screen, he reached over and the video ended.

Silence.

"I wonder if Whore-oh would get some sanity knocked into her if you knocked her up," Illya mused, her expression morbidly quizzical.

"That is -not- funny," Anya glared at the Lucarda.

Illya smiled, fangs exposed.

Micah gripped the bridge of his nose, stealing a glance at the Legendary still comatose in his lap, and gave a violent, sharp shake of his head. "Right."

"We shouldn't have to worry about the Legendaries we've already been in contact," Ludmilla said, gripping Micah's arm. "You said so yourself, your plan should be capable of killing most of them."

"I know," Micah replied, tone distant. "That's not the part of the message I'm concerned about, disturbing as it is."

Nunnally gave him a considering look. "What worried you the most?"

Micah met golden eyes with his own, held them. "Nunnally, Kerrik stated he not only caused pokegirls to jump evolutionary tracks at his will, but he also evolved pokegirls into breeds he'd only conceived of in his notes. So tell me. What's stopping me from creating entirely new breeds whole-cloth?"

Nunnally paused. "I... don't know."

"Exactly," Micah murmured softly. "I can do these things that no one else can. I can do the -impossible-. What happens when I start -taking the restraints off-?" Micah cut himself off, took a deep breath.

"Are you going to reply to him now?" Ludmilla asked.

"No," Micah replied promptly. "Right now, the only messages I can think of preface with 'I'm going to strangle the life out of you', and I don't think that'll engender peaceful relations between the two of us." That earned several weak giggles. Carefully working himself free of his harem, he went on. "Right now, I'm going to go put Sexebi to bed and hope she sleeps this off. Then I need some time to think on this."

-[***]-

A/N: 'Older than most and can pull a rabbit out of your hat' is a paraphrased quote from the webcomic 'Wapsi Square'.