20

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, 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 20]

Micah let claws rap out a machine-gun like staccato atop the rock surface of the main desk in his Sanctum Sanctorum as he indulged in some grade-A industrial-sized brooding. He felt more than heard someone approach; the flash of pale-skin and bright blonde hair marked it as Ludmilla as she entered.

"Have you found Sexebi?" Micah asked, half-curious.

Ludmilla shook her head firmly. "No. She's not in the main house or the guest house. I had some of the Grim Angels check in-town, but so far, nothing." Green eyes looked curiously at him. "Can you find her?"

"I haven't tried," Micah replied, his tone distant. "I'm a little skittish to do so." Knocking up a Legendary by accident. What a nightmare that would be.

Ludmilla nodded slowly.

The soft patter of feet announced another person descending the stairs; when they arrived at the bottom, they revealed to be Cornelia. The Demon Goddess flicked a disappointed glance at Micah and Ludmilla both, paused, and looked about to turn and leave without another word.

"Get over here," Micah's words cut cleanly across the distance separating them. Cornelia gave him a pathetically grateful look as she walked over. Micah held a wing open, and Cornelia took it, curling up in his lap. Ludmilla took a seat atop the table Micah was at, saying nothing.

Micah broke the silence. "I wish I knew how he pulled that trick off," he mused aloud. "It might help me narrow down exactly what the limitations are."

Ludmilla's eyes narrowed, tail flicking behind her. "How so?"

"Legendary biology was a bit of the 800-pound gorilla that wasn't talked about much," Micah replied. "Assuming a direct correlation between pokegirl and Legendary overall structure - IE, that they were similar, which seems reasonable, as they can still be caught by pokeballs - Sukebe had two options to deal with Legendary reproduction. One, remove the eggs and associated structure entirely, or two, put it under a chemical lockdown."

Ludmilla's ears flicked. "Why would the difference be important?"

"If Kerrik - if -my- - abilities can influence their structure to that degree, it's likely I could manage other things, as well. Having some of the more annoying Legendaries dying of metastasized cancer would be rather neat and tidy way of dealing with them."

Cornelia glared up at him. "How many more Legendaries do you plan on adding to your harem?"

Micah snorted. "None. And before you say -anything else-, I didn't intend to do anything with Sexebi to begin with, either. I doubt you could call her in my harem to begin with, either."

Ludmilla's tone was wry as her ears canted to the side. "I'll mark down the first time she ever tells you 'no', then. We'll see how long it takes."

Micah flicked an annoyed glance at Ludmilla, but went on, "And while a morbid part of me -is- rather curious to see how Moan and Whore-Oh would react to pregnancy, the fact remains is that despite them being some of the -nicer- of the Legendaries, they still have a subtle attitude of 'me take, no apologies' and 'You squishy human, me immortal goddess'. And most of the others are even worse. Besides, if I did knock them all up, I'd only do if the occurrence couldn't be traced back to me. It -would- be a lovely way of getting them all out of my hair for a while." A slow shake of his head. "Putting Legendaries aside, let's focus on more mundane matters." A faint sigh. "What do you think I should do about Rachel?"

"Shove her into stasis?" Cornelia muttered.

"I can't fault her desire to protect you," Ludmilla remarked, her expression wry, "But, combat-wise, she'd easily be the weakest out of all of us. None of her evolutionary options are that stellar, either. If you were a normal tamer, this wouldn't matter much. But as we're fighting against Sanctuary..." She trailed off. "Unless you correct the deficiency yourself." She quirked a smile. "You could evolve her into a MysticAngel."

Micah let out a faint groan. "I'd love to argue against the possibility of that, but the fact is I've already broken those rules with Nunnally."

Cornelia glared up at him, only relenting whenever Micah let his hand run through her short, dark-blue hair slightly. "What's so special about the MysticAngel?"

"They're an element of an artificially created breed line that Clow Reed designed in his efforts to develop a revolutionary new magical system that had no earlier precedent," Micah replied. "He succeeded, after a fashion. The thing being, MysticAngels, due to their lesbian cant and typical low libido, are historically all parthenogenic descendants - no normal interbreeding, so the possibility of their genotypes being present in a human girl undergoing thresholding is low. In addition, they have no earlier evolutionary tier - they either are, or aren't."

Ludmilla and Cornelia were silent. "You seem to know a lot about this," Ludmilla remarked. "And what do you mean about 'no earlier precedent'?"

Micah burst out laughing. "I should know - I redesigned the entire breed from the ground up!" He shook his head slowly. "And that associates to... well, a long-running string of ideas I had about the pokegirl world." When both Ludmilla and Cornelia didn't break their attention, Micah went on. "It was something interesting that I noted in a lot of the original stuff associated with Metroanime - the original timeline that grew from that often had instances of males with powerful sets of blood gifts - Youshou Masaki, Professor Stroak, presumably Clow Reed, as the bastard was crazy enough to, as I said, create an entire new magical breed, so supposedly he was packing some serious magical mojo. But all of this occurs relatively early in the timeline - you don't get any later, notable instances." A shrug. "I had toyed with the idea of a group purposefully, through magical and psychic prognostication, eliminating males that would develop powerful blood gifts." Micah chuckled at their looks of shock. "It would explain a lot."

"Sanctuary?" Ludmilla asked.

Micah shook his head. "Not necessarily. The idea of another independent pokegirl nation that didn't have an author's favorite Mary Sue Pokegirls running around was an idea Metroanime put forth. It just never got much attention. I never really developed the idea as I never had a story concept that I could use to fully explore it. I could only hint at it, in the CardCaptor breed entries." He absently rubbed at a thumb claw, thinking. "No. I still need to think on it. For one, I haven't discovered the mechanism that'll let me apparently evolve pokegirls at my whim. Second, that's her choice to make, not mine."

"On a more tangent matter," Ludmilla went on, deciding that line of discussion was a dead one, "Are you that confident that Sexebi is safe?"

Micah paused a moment. "Yes," he nodded thoughtfully. "I am."

"Then we have other things to concern ourselves with," Ludmilla declared.

Micah chuckled faintly. "You're absolutely right."

-[***]-

"I almost feel like I should be cackling right now," Wendi noted, the Sanctuary Goth in her Chibi-form as she knelt in front of the open chest that contained the brood of Tyrannodames Micah's forces had secured.

Micah chuckled faintly. "I'm glad you're pleased." He glanced curiously over at Milly, the blonde Grim Angel standing at ease, having volunteered to carry the collection of pokeballs to Wendi's island. Milly had been among the depressingly large group of Damsel-evolved Sanctuary Goths that he had to name. Nunnally stood over by a window, casually scanning the approach to Wendi's research lab.

"Are you sure you don't want any?" Wendi eyed the collection of twenty one Tyrannodames. "I'm sure we could spare a few." Wendi knew they could spare a few - much to her irritation, a few of her templated Sanctuary Goth number had so far refused to start collecting harems, like she had.

"I think I'll resist the urge to borrow trouble," Micah replied, leaning against a table. "Beyond that, how goes the conspiracy?"

Wendi made a face. "Slowly?" She closed the chest before walking over to plop herself down in a chair, letting her legs kick free. "Trying to pick out Sanctuary Goths that might be amenable to our cause is dicier than I thought. Than any of us thought."

"Have you thought about purchasing templated pokegirls from ranches to evolve?" Micah replied. "It might be easier in the long run than risking the chance of introducing a possible traitor in your midst."

Wendi grimaced. "Yeah, but how could we trust them?"

"You're giving them freedom," Micah pointed out. "That's a pretty powerful incentive." Something occurred to him. "Did you grow up in Sanctuary, or...?"

"I grew up there," Wendi's expression was wry. "It was... Well. My mother taught me the magical arts herself, which is how I know so much about it." A sigh. "I guess I don't know much about how others... how it's like for others."

Micah's wing absently brushed against the table, and he carefully pulled it back. "If you don't mind me asking, how did you get started in all of this?"

A slow breath. "I guess... growing up, being a Chibi template, once I got past puberty, a lot of older Sanctuary Goths didn't really treat me any better than they did... pokegirls." Wendi's lips curled into a wry, albeit bitter smile. "A broken heart is a great incentive to make you think." A sigh. "Sparing the sordid details, once I started learning of certain discussions a few groups were having, it wasn't that big of a stretch to start thinking about how wrong everything was, and steps to correct it."

Micah chuckled softly. "Suddenly, a lot of things start making sense."

It was Wendi's turn, now, to look interested. "Did someone ever break your heart?"

Micah smiled faintly. "That's private, I think, so you'll excuse me if I decline to answer that." Nunnally glanced sharply over, and even Milly look interested.

"...did you hate her?" Wendi asked, kicking her feet slowly.

"I didn't let myself," Micah replied. "But I could have. Very, very easily. I never forgave her, though. And I'd never, ever take her back."

"...okay." Wendi shook herself, hair flying. "You're still not going to tame any of the Tyrannodames, are you?"

"No," Micah replied. "That's a poor leash, at best, and you know it. Treat them with love and affection, and it'll be much better than any kind of brutality you could use to bind them to you."

Wendi was silent for a while. She glanced over at Milly. "Do -you- want one?"

Milly laughed, the sound deep and rich. "I don't think that would be best," she glanced curiously over at Micah, who simply shrugged in surprise at the offer. Milly went on, "Given how we're fighting, we haven't really made accommodations yet for the idea of us Grim Angels having harems of our own. I'm not even sure if we can."

"Can't really stop you if you wanted to," Micah replied thoughtfully aloud. Well, that was one gaping hole of a possibility he hadn't considered.

Milly brightened. "Really? I'll be sure to tell everyone." She smiled. "I'm pretty happy right now, but I think some of my Sisters wouldn't mind some... company."

"Ludmilla's going to kill me," Micah muttered under his breath.

Nunnally smiled. "She won't. She might verbally claw you a bit, but I'm sure the added responsibility will thrill her."

Micah ran a hand through his blond hair, rubbing absently. "Wait until I hash out something with Ludmilla first, if you please. I'll likely want to setup a three-to-five year service time with an elective opt-out of a Sanctuary Goth evolution once the period is up."

Milly smiled faintly. "Yes, sir."

Wendi had a wistful expression on her face, listening to the byplay; she caught herself and shook it off. "Well. Thank you again, Micah." A hesitant pause. "Would all of you like to stay for lunch?"

Micah chuckled faintly. "I'd love too, but right now is not the best time." He moved away from the table. "I've got seven impossible things to do today, and I haven't figured out the 'reverse time' trick yet."

Wendi stuck her tongue out at him, a purely childish gesture. "Suit yourself." Another pause. "You know you're welcome on the island, anytime you want to be."

"I didn't, actually," Micah replied, Wendi's offer getting none of the regular 'hair on the back of his neck' sensations most propositions from pokegirls gave him nowadays. He was beginning to suspect all was not right with Wendi and her little conspiracy - not entirely. But more than that, he had a feeling the templated Sanctuary Goth was just feeling -lonely-. "But I'll keep it in mind for future reference," he went on, smiling honestly in return.

"Okay," Wendi hopped off the seat. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a nice Tyrannodame to tame."

Micah gave a parting wave before Nunnally teleported him away, Milly following soon after.

"Seven impossible things?" Milly asked, now that they were back in his demesne proper.

Micah chuckled faintly. "Only if I pull them off."

"Mmm." Milly stood momentarily on her tip-toes to kiss Micah on his cheek, earning a blink of surprise. The Grim Angel smiled and waved, turning on her heels to walk toward the small town she and the rest of her number had setup.

"Seven impossible things?" Nunnally repeated. The Arkhangelsk was delta-bonded to him - but she lacked the skill Ludmilla had that let her gleefully tromp around in his brain, picking at and hording memories like a miser with gold.

"I'll tell you if I succeed," Micah replied. "Allow me some dignity to at least fail in private, if you please?"

Nunnally gave a cant of her head, acknowledging that fact, then stepped up and aggressively gave him a full-body kiss, arms wrapped tight around his neck.

"For luck," Nunnally explained to Micah's somewhat boggled expression, before pivoting and making her own way to the house.

Micah absently ran a thumb across his lips, an errant notion of curiosity flitting through his brain - how much of that was woman, and how much of that was pokegirl - before he discarded it. Several minutes later saw him enter his Sanctum Sanctorum, settling down in the full body chair at the main desk, close his eyes, and turn his focus inward, like Ludmilla had showed him. Reality shifted in exchange for that vast, featureless vista - featureless except for that plain of hexagonal symbols that pulsed with energy, like a heartbeat. Nodding to himself, Micah got to work.

Several subjective hours later, Micah was scowling, running through a list of mental options of how to respond to this stonewall. The once-featureless plain was now littered with pillars of varying heights, ideograms gleaming like so many decorations. For a moment Micah fancied the entire thing was akin to a Christmas tree farm, festooned with decorations right where they grew.

Nothing. Which made no sense, really. After all, the first time he'd slopped around in the depths of his mind, Toymaker had popped out of the woodwork and decided he needed an upgrade. You'd think poking around amid all of this would lead to -something-.

Micah let that thought trail off, derailed by another one coming in with all the subtly of a sledgehammer on fragile spun glass. Glanced out at the plain - infinite, from his psychosomatic perspective - and gestured impatiently, the motion causing all the ideograms to blink out and pillars to close up tight, sinking back down in smooth, silent motions.

Micah pushed himself up, wings spread, gaining altitude so he could finally -look- at things from an entirely different perspective. Horizontal to the plain, now, it didn't look so much like ground to walk on...

...but a wall, instead.

Hesitation. What, exactly, did he honestly know about his abilities, and what lurked inside his brain? For all he knew, he could be playing with very dangerous fire, indeed.

Micah swallowed. No. This wasn't something he could turn away from and really live with himself. His harem - all the woman under his responsibility were more than eager to give their lives in battle, if necessary. And he'd be far less of a man if he didn't try to give similar in return.

Fingers flexed easily, rolling slightly as he concentrated. If this was a wall, or a gate, then...

The wall seemed to pulse, massive hexagons made out of small ones now standing out more cleanly from the way energy now seemed to distribute. A pause, a shift, and then a massive, bone-deep rumble as they began to lift and pivot and slide out of the way, revealing beneath them...

Darkness. Utter darkness.

Micah swallowed. "Well. Let's see how deep the rabbit hole goes." And flew straight down into it.

Discontinuity.

He wasn't moving forward, anymore, lacking that sensation of movement. Which meant he was currently stuck inside a fathomless abyss, without even so much as a hint of where the hell he was...

"Oh, I think you know where you are."

Micah pivoted sharply, coming face to face with a doppelganger of himself - not as he was now, but before all this. No wings. No disturbing, unnatural eyes. Human.

Micah glared at his doppelganger with disgust for a few seconds, then muttered, "Wonderful. Get a couple more of you in here, and we could have a little party." At least it wasn't Toymaker. Again.

His doppelganger burst out laughing. "Don't you remember? You wrote about this place. 'When God set all of Everything in motion, where do you think he stood?'" He - it - spread its arms wide. "Well?"

"I'm slightly skeptical about there being a pathway to Angelus Errare inside my brain," Micah replied in a wry tone. Not to mention... well. If this really was -that place-, then the longer he stayed, the more problems would develop, of the potentially world-ending kind. "And I'm talking to myself. And I'm talking -back-. Not typically the signs of a healthy mind."

The doppelganger chuckled softly. "Maybe you're right. What is it that Toymaker said? 'Perhaps I'm not real at all. Maybe I'm just the one thing you need most of all... an excuse.' Well." He raised a hand, normal flesh deforming into something disturbingly liquid and claw-like. "I suppose that's what I am, as well." And punched deadly-sharp talons straight for his face.

Micah tried to move. Should have moved. Sheer instinct combined with training should have done -something-. It was as if his body, imaginary as it was, couldn't respond, a puppet sans all its strings.

The last thing he saw was gleaming tips before they punched into his eye sockets.

Reality came back, hard, fast, like a baseball bat to the head. Micah couldn't appreciate it as he fell from his chair, slamming down to the stone floor on all fours as he tried either to not scream or throw up, made all the more worse by the sensation of a torrent of power seeming to vomit up from the back of his brain. And the pain, so much pain, and to top it all off, he should be able to see, why couldn't he -see-, dammit!

And then he -could- see, but that was even worse - the pain didn't go away. If anything, it intensified further. None of which made any sense - pain of this level should have tripped specific cutoff levels of his Eternal Aegis spell, the pattern of energies interrupting nerve feedback so that his body wouldn't be overwhelmed by whatever damage he'd suffer that the spell could repair that a brain would normally regard as catastrophic and shut down in sheer self-preservation.

And then...

Nothing.

No pain - if anything, he was shaking from the sheer flood of endorphins and adrenaline that was coursing through his blood, forcing back the urge to vomit through sheer grit and will as he tried to pick himself up off the floor.

The door to his Sanctum didn't so much get shove open as disintegrate from the duel force application of two pokegirls with horrendous strength. Ludmilla and Nunnally were neck-and-neck running through the remains of the door, skidding to a halt whenever he arrived in his side, handling him as if he was suddenly made of fine china. "Micah?" "Master!?"

"Ow." Micah winced his eyes shut as he clung to one of them - he wasn't sure which one. "Give me a minute." Stumbling to his feet, Micah tested his eyes again, blinking several times. Otsana and Illya had both arrived, and a few seconds after that had Anya, Cornelia, Lina, and Euphemia all barge their way in behind.

"What happened?" Ludmilla was looking at him in open fear, white-furred ears flat against her skull. "It was like - you weren't even there any more. I couldn't -feel- you, and then you came back in horrible pain."

Micah felt a sliver of fear shiver its way down his spine; suppressed it. "I was making the attempt to access the capability that Kerrik mentioned." He reached up to carefully rub at his eyes, momentarily flashed back to those slick, claw-like digits piercing his eyes, and couldn't suppress the shiver. "The capability to auto-evolve pokegirls."

"Did it work?" This, from Nunnally, her hand an iron grip on his arm to keep him from falling.

"Don't know," Micah replied in a mutter, glancing at Nunnally. "Did..." He trailed off, his attention suddenly riveted by something that wasn't there a moment ago. It was as if Nunnally had slowly faded out, and in her place was a myriad of networked, thread-like clusters that seemed to glow and pulsate with energy. It was so... alive, and vibrant, pulsing gleefully under his attention, as if all he had to do was reach out and twist, there and thusly...

And then he remembered what it was he was supposed to be looking at, and reality came back, hard and unforgiving as Micah stumbled. "Grlk."

"What just happened?" Euphemia managed in a more higher-pitched than normal tone.

"Ah. It happened for you, too?" Micah glanced wearily at Ludmilla, suddenly rather tired.

Ludmilla gave a slow shake of her head, even as her ears were pressed back down tightly against her skull. She was three hundred years old, had been on the outskirts of battles where Legendaries had come out to play, and what just occurred -still- terrified her. "It was like..." She cut off, suddenly unwilling to finish that sentence. "Micah, your eyes were -glowing-."

"Ah," Micah replied. "Good." Pause. "I think." A deep breath. "I'm going to label this a tentative success, though it's clear this ability isn't something I can try out on anyone in the harem."

"Wonderful how we've got a pushy Megami and Angel nearby whom would love to be your personal experiment," Cornelia pointed out with a half-smirk.

"Be nice," Micah chided.

"I haven't killed them and dumped their body in a nearby wood," Cornelia grumped. "I -am- being nice."

Micah couldn't help but smile weakly at that. "Quite. I have a few ideas on how to test this... complications. Not now, however. Right now, I think I'll go render myself comatose for a day or so." He glanced at the doorway to his Sanctum. "Right after I get hauled up a flight of stairs."

-[***]-

Micah tried to ignore a bead of sweat that took more than enough time to trail it's way down the bridge of his nose. It hung at the tip, a teasing, tickling sensation that let him know any day now, that bead of liquid was going to free itself from his skin and splash downward in a drip.

Micah's grip on the massive weight in one hand firmed, muscles tensing as they readied to lift something that, by all rights, he shouldn't even be capable of dragging along on the floor, never mind lifting it clear with one hand alone - only to be stopped by a firm grip on his arm, Nunnally's touch cool compared to his exercise-fevered flesh. "No," Nunnally stated, firm and quiet.

"No?" Micah replied back, as the drop of sweat on his nose finally decided to fall, splashing on the weight itself.

"No," Nunnally replied, stepping back.

"Quite," Micah replied, slowly releasing his grip on the weight and letting his fingers relax, absently thankful that the muscles reaction that made him grip with his hands were not tied to unsheathing his claws. He ran his hand through sodden hair, absently irritated when it came away soaked. By all rights, he shouldn't be sweating - it wasn't as if it was his -muscles- doing all the work. But the strength augmentation spell was linked to his normal physical limits like a type of psychosomatic accelerator to make sure he didn't do anything stupid by accident. Of course, the spell itself was still in the testing phase...

Euphemia stood over to the side, ignoring the byplay as she made the attempt to pay attention to her observation and scanning magics and -not- at Micah. It was a difficult battle, as Micah was 1) wearing only a pair of exercise shorts, 2) gleaming from sweat, and 3) likely putting out enough male pheromones from the physical exertion to make an entire brigade of Megami suddenly find they need to change into a new pair of underwear.

It also didn't help that the display of brute physical strength was, well... Disturbing and scary and thrilling, all at the same time. Normal people didn't just toss around heavy weights like a pokegirl, after all. But there was a deadly serious reason -why- they were undergoing this series of experimentation, so Euphemia bit her lip to near bleeding status, and tried to keep her legs still and straight.

Micah let out a 'rrr'ing grunt as he took in weights and solid blocks of materials where he had punched straight into - impact craters, to measure against the control group Nunnally and Ludmilla had set up. He glanced at Euphemia. "Got everything?"

Euphemia blinked, still half-distract and cursing herself because of it. "Y-yes!"

"Good," Micah replied, rubbing at his knuckles, bodying feeling oddly bouncy and euphoric from the workout, a measure of exhaustion and adrenaline that meant he was just nicely worked up, and not bone-limp wasted. "We'll have to look at scans later." Though he had a feeling he knew what they'd show - he got the feeling that energy flow wasn't quite proper, excess energy being wasted and bled off unnecessarily to do what it was he was doing.

Oh, well. He shouldn't be impatient - nothing ever got done right the first time, after all.

A swipe of his hand wiped his face dry of sweat. "On that note, Euphemia - given your past history, do you know of a reliable source of failed G-splices?"

"I can help with that," a voice called from the door. Anya stepped in, smiling at Micah. "You want them to test your new ability, don't you?"

Micah blinked in return. "Well, yes. How'd you figure that out?"

"It's what I would do, in your position," Anya replied. "The University of Vancouver's biology department actually has a few in storage."

"For experimentation?" Euphemia blinked. "That's illegal."

"Direct experimentation toward the creation of new pokegirl breeds is, technically, illegal, yes," Anya replied. "Sampling and examination of already created breeds, however, is -not-. And storage is cheap." A faint sigh. "But sciences are -always- underfunded at public universities. And the biology department worst than most." A sad look of gold eyes at Micah, as Anya stepped close. "They exist in misery. Death would be a blessing. Death, or whatever help you could offer them."

"Mmm." Micah glanced at Euphemia, then back to Anya. "Think you're up to coordinating with Euphemia to make sure the minor heist goes off smoothly?"

Anya smiled. "We work well together." At Euphemia's raised eyebrow, Anya chuckled. "When we're not yelling at one another over lab protocols."

Euphemia smiled. "Fair enough." She glanced at Micah. "We're going to get them after the party, right?"

Micah grinned. "After the party, definitely."

-[***]-

Jack Kendal ignored the pleasant weight of the naked Officer Jenny current utilizing his chest as a pillow when he woke, none-to-gently pushing her up and off. The Capital League Watcher knew immediately that something was wrong, the overall feel of the area completely at-odds with how it normally should be.

Of course, 'normal' was an odd term to utilize when one was one of those in charge of patrolling one of the more infamous magical contamination zone in the Capital League. He ignored clothing in favor of speed, nodding to his Alpha Demoness as he climbed outside his tent and focused his magic in a spell, lips chanting out the incantation.

Only to resist the urge to curse vehemently. Near as his examination could tell, the Distortion Area -wasn't there anymore-. Which was an impossibility. Some of the most powerful mages in the Capital League and elsewhere had been quietly brought in to somehow either control or negate the area. All had failed.

"What's going on?" The Officer Jenny had finally followed him, regarding her assigned Tamer with a hint of worry.

Jack ignored her, instead focusing on his Demoness. "Get the harem assembled and break camp. We're making an expedition to the interior."

It was a measure of the discipline Jack instilled in his pokegirls that she only hesitated for a brief second before nodding. "Yes, sir."

"Are you insane?" the Officer Jenny blurted.

"I'm not going to be lectured by a world-blind pokegirl on what's safe and what isn't," Jack replied. "If the Distortion Area isn't there anymore then I want ground zero confirmation."

His statement took a minute to sink in. "You're serious?"

"When am I ever not?" Jack replied.

Two hours later, and Jack admitted that it was worse than he thought. Not only was the Distortion Area gone, but the supposed town that had been ground zero for the event was gone, as well.

"We're going to have to contact the McMahon's," his Officer Jenny stated, once they had finished their survey.

"Yes," Jack admitted. "We are." And Department H, as well. Either the distortion area had gone away naturally, or there was some force out there that could control it, somehow. And if that was the case, then Department H would be most interested in gaining such a power.

-[***]-

A Grim Angel absently straightened out the hem of the bikini bottom she was wearing, satisfied with the golf ball on the tee she had finally got set up just so. Straightened, moving into position just -so-, arms straight as she grasped the haft of the golf club, drew back for the swing, and...

Thwack!

The golf ball went sailing in a high arc over the blue-and-white surf of the beach.

Far out past the deep water line, a Boobfin momentarily surfaced amid the frothy white caps. Unfortunately, the golf ball had chosen that moment to make a splash entrance into the water. With the Boonfin's head in the way, the white orb caromed sharply off her skull instead, skipping errantly over the waves before finally sinking down with a soft 'gloomp'.

The Boobfin momentarily went cross-eyed, slightly out of it as she effectively decided that the water was currently -much- safer.

The Grim Angel's partner finished squinting, her chosen bathing suit showing off the trace of tattoos that turned her arms and back into a literal canvas of fine, delicate art. "Nice shot," she congratulated the first.

"Thank you." Nodding modestly, the first began setting up another ball for a shot.

"I'm confused," Ludmilla confessed, nose catching scent of a mouth-watering mix of herbs and spices, wearing a red bikini set that stood out brilliantly against her milk-white skin. -Real- spices, and not some mix of powders meant to burn the tongue off. "Why do you cook potatoes and corn cobs in with the crawfish?"

Micah chuckled. "It's meant to soak up the spices and juices while boiling, like a sponge. So if you've a craving for a burst of everything that made the crawfish taste good, well..."

"So good!" Lina crowed to the sky, one hand raised high clutching a crawfish in it; she then resumed pulling and cracking open the tail to voraciously devour the soft meat therein, tossing the remains aside to go onto the next one, currently enjoying the spell that allowed her biologics to digest anything she damn well pleased.

"Then you get the potatoes and corn to go with your crawfish," Micah finished.

"And you ate this -all the time-?" Anya asked, licking juices from her fingers so she could move onto the bowl of gumbo she had managed to get a hold of.

Micah laughed, tails flicking lazily behind him. "Not all the time. Only when in season. But yeah, I grew up around seafood." Despite his harem being slightly separate from everyone else, there was still the genial patter of conversation making up a soft background noise that was over two hundred Grim Angels celebrating their effective new home - an island in the Forest League, where the Elves would have their colony, and where Micah planned to move the access point to his demesne once he had the time to do so.

Ludmilla had been the one to suggest the celebration. Micah had settled on the overall theme - an honest to god crawfish boil, something that likely hadn't been seen on the planet in over three hundred years. Crawfish, gumbo, fried and raw oysters, roast beef po-boys, boiled shrimp, and jambalaya - the second hardest part had been acquiring the recipes. The hardest had been acquiring all the proper seasonings - in the end, Micah had to bite the metaphorical bullet and ask Sexebi to assist in procurement, something the Legendary had been more than happy to do. Thankfully, all the supplies had been gotten -before- Kerrik's message. And while Micah knew that Sexebi was safe - even if he didn't want to think about -how- he knew - he was a little sad that whatever reason was keeping her away had kept her away from the party itself.

Micah glanced sideways where Cornelia looked like she was having a religious experience trying to devour a roast beef po-boy and not have the juices and gravy end up slathered all along her arms. She was only partly succeeding. "It's good, then?"

Cornelia gave a quick jerk of a nod, tried to swallow the mouthful of food to speak. "It's delicious!"

Micah chuckled faintly. It had taken a week of experimentation between him and his group of Milktits in cooking to get everything just so - and his harem had sampled none of it, to keep the surprise till today. "If you think this is good, you should have had some of the po-boys I've had in my time. There was this small road-side shop setup in the backroads of a rural town I knew of that had bread that would, quite literally, melt in your mouth."

Ludmilla smiled, then chomped down a shrimp whole. "Perhaps we've been going about this the wrong way," she mused while chewing. "Maybe we should open up a restaurant and food Sanctuary into submission."

Micah snickered. "'food them into submission'? I suppose if everyone was fat and happy, we'd have an easier time negotiating with them."

"All of you act like you've never had seafood before," Otsana commented with a small, smug smile. Being from the Scarlet League, where seafood counted for the majority of protein foodstuffs the continent could produce, then was all old hat for her.

"It takes a certain kind of culture to do seafood really well," Micah noted aloud before an argument could start. He chuckled. "My brother once visited a place infamous for their lobsters. He complained about it for a while afterward, claiming they tasted bland." He glanced toward the beach, happy to see that the Grim Angels were having fun. Several groups had taken upon themselves to setup some volleyball nets for beach volleyball, and there was even one group tearing up through surf and sand playing an impromptu game of soccer. Granted, there were other reasons he was slightly distracted by the scene - several Grim Angels thought that bikini bottoms alone were sufficient for beach wear. More disturbingly, not a few of them carried along plushies - copies of the 'gifts' Kerrik had sent along, that Anya had been more than happy to copy whenever one over-exuberant Grim Angel had near begged to be given one.

Micah never thought he could, even if for a moment, envy a plushie, given where some of them were carried.

Ludmilla followed his line of sight and chuckled faintly. "Thinking of adding some to your queue?"

Micah lightly pinched the Dire Wolf's shoulder, not taking his sight off the display. "I'm not dead, you know."

Ludmilla glanced downward, and smiled, tail wagging. "No, not dead at all."

Micah stuck his tongue out at Ludmilla, then glanced over at Euphemia, whom was conferring a few things over with Anya. "You really shouldn't be working during a party, you know."

Euphemia and Anya both had the grace to blush. "Sorry," Euphemia replied. "We were just going over a few details of Vancouver's security system."

"I have every faith in your capabilities," Micah smiled. "And I'm sure you'll be able to get what I need. -After- the party."

-[***]-

"I don't want you in there when we release her," Euphemia stated in a flat tone, arms folded.

Well, Micah thought to himself. This is new. He flicked a glance over at the pokeball that contained the first of the G-Splices he'd be utilizing in his experimentation. "May I ask why?" he inquired calmly, deciding to trust Euphemia and assume that she had a good reason for acting the way she was acting.

"We have no idea what state she will be in," Euphemia counted off on her fingers, "What her powers will be, what she'll be capable of. The reason we picked this one is that she's one of the failure cases that can't survive outside a pokeball without life support, and that means I'm going to be sticking a lot of tubes in her to make sure she doesn't asphyxiate. And we can't do that if we're worried about you."

Micah quirked an eyebrow. "Sensible," he admitted aloud. "Alright. I agree. Which of the harem do you need to assist?"

Euphemia was visibly relieved. "Ludmilla, Illya, Nunnally. Anya for magic support."

"Wise," Micah noted. Cornelia wouldn't be able to utilize her strengths in a confined space, Lina was a magical-research specialist, and Otsana had yet to figure out there were settings between 'sitting still' and 'extreme' when it came to combat. "Let's get this done, shall we?"

A blink. "Now?"

"Yes, now," Micah replied. Before I talk myself out of this, he silently amended. The idea of holding someone's life in the literal palm of his hands didn't exactly fill him with joy and excitement.

"I need some time to get the medical equipment setup," Euphemia said, even as she was moving to do so.

Micah took a moment to regard the setup. A large medical operating table, designed to extreme specifications from some of the few leagues that actually bothered to devote the time to researching ways that would put pokegirls back together, as opposed to simply euthanizing them. Not that good will was the sole source of the development of such things. There were always a large number of people all too willing to devote a horrendous amount of money to caring for their pets that they'd never consider spending on another human being.

Micah cut that maudlin line of thought off, standing out of the way as Euphemia assembled the pieces she'd need - vials and syringes and oxygen tanks. Micah glanced out of the corner of his eye at some of those potentially lethal tools, and was proud of himself that he didn't shiver.

Micah smiled faintly at the curious look Ludmilla gave him, once everyone was gathered, as he was moving out the door. /Where are you going?/

/Listening to some good advice,/ Micah replied back. /Ask Euphemia, if you're curious. And kindly tell me once you've gotten the G-splice secured enough so I can work, if you please?/

Micah settled a little ways away from the building he had constructed inside his domain for this purpose. And tried not to think too much about that term, given all he knew of mythology and the various different worlds he knew of where Gods operated en masse. At least the Devourer still needed a one-for-one correspondence to build its little pocket universe, and couldn't exist in the space contained within, say, a coat closet. But there were times that the full implications of what he could do now, even if it was through tools and artifacts and simple borrowing of other creature's power, and wondered how this would all end. Micah recalled the lore regarding such things as Faire Mounds, and shivered.

And then paused, before discarding that line of thought. He wasn't exactly all that quick to start messing around with the fundamental forces of time and space, no matter how useful such a thing would be.

Well, at least, not whenever the consequences would immediately turn around and bite him on the ass.

Micah visibly shook off that train of thought, settling in to wait patiently as he enjoyed the artificial weather of his personal demesne. It was longer than he expected whenever Ludmilla finally emerged - the pale white Dire Wolf was colored erratically from splashes of blood, none of it her own.

At Micah's curious and concerned glance, Ludmilla shrugged. "There might have been some broken bones involves in subduing her."

"Ah." Micah took a deep breath. "Let's go see if I can pull this off, shall we?"

Ludmilla smiled, leaned in, and licked his cheek. "For luck," she elaborated with a grin at his curious look.

Micah smiled faintly, and went in. He lost the smile as soon as he caught sight of the G-Splice. She was strapped down on the operating chair, her breathing a weak and thready thing assisted partially from the oxygen tubes running up her nose. Her features were the disquieting thing; her face look as if it had been half-melted, and one eye was almost completely obscured by the cancerous-like growth that seemed to boil up from beneath flesh.

The rest of her body wasn't much better.

He swept a glance at Euphemia, Illya, Nunnally, and Anya, gratified to see that none of them were injured or apparently worse for wear. Nodding his thanks to them, he subtly grit his teeth and firmly ignored the G-Splice's appearance as he stepped close, looking for some sign of cognizance in half-lidded eyes. He met the G-Splice's gaze. "Can you understand me? Blink once for yes."

Euphemia stirred. "Master, we don't-"

A blink.

Micah shifted his wings in satisfaction. "Good." He regarded the G-splice for a moment. "To explain everything in full would take quiet a while. Somehow, I don't think you'd enjoy the time it would take for the telling. The end result is this; it's possible I can fix your current condition. But it may also result in killing you. I don't know. But since you -can- understand me, I need to at least ask - do you want me to try?"

A blink.

And the die is cast, Micah thought. "Good," he spoke aloud. Hesitating, he regarded the misshapen pokegirl for a moment longer, then raised his hand, fingers splayed, and focused.

His perspective shifted as the rest of reality seemed to fade into the background, inconsequential to what it was he as doing. The G-Splice stood out clearly, and surrounding her, a glowing patchwork of neural-like threads that seemingly glowed with power.

Only her case was different. He could recall how the constellation that surrounded Nunnally looked; in comparison, this one was sickly and degraded, like dead and dying leaves clinging to a malnourished plant. For a second, he was left with a profound feeling of 'What the hell now?' before he found himself moving without any seeming prompt. Hands lifted, fingers flicking like hands across a keyboard as power seemed to draw up from his gestures, those golden constellations shifting or lighting up brightly where they had been weakly pulsing or just simply dead and dark before. It was like riding a bicycle, everything threatening to fall apart if you gave what it was you were doing full consideration, even as some thready awareness in the back of his brain seemed to know exactly what to do, words flitting to the fore of 'This here!' and 'Correct this' and 'Threatened cascade system failure, needs to be altered'.

Even as he worked, the G-Splices appearance altered like a clay sculpture; gone were the wasted and melted features like a wax doll over-exposed to extreme heat. In it's place was something... well, -normal- for a pokegirl, that heart-rending beauty every last one of them seemed to posses without even trying hard.

He didn't pause once everything was corrected and a whole, living, healthy pokegirl literally glowed underneath his fingers. Fixing this flawed G-Splice wasn't his goal - he wanted to create something entirely -new-. It was... it was so -easy-, this capability of his, eager and willing, flowing from his brain like glittering ideas that sparked the imagination and inflamed possibilities. Dimly, he wondered if this was like it was for Megami accessing their communal information network, before discarding the notion. If it was, they'd all be running around with euphoric smiles on their faces.

As quick as he started, Micah halted in his work. He nodded to himself as he glanced over that web-like, glowing pattern that he seemed capable of reading as easily as he would English; the various enhancements he had engineered over her basal structure told him this was exactly what he wanted. A wave of his hand; that pattern seemed to pulse and then set as if he had carved it into stone. Reality snapped back, and Micah smiled at the now-whole nude G-Splice that gasped and twitched weakly amid her restraints like a new-born child.

He glanced over at his present members of his harem, only to find open mouths and wide stares greeting him. "What?" Micah blinked. "How long was I out? What's wrong?"

Ludmilla forced her ears up and swallowed. "You weren't 'out of it' at all. The G-Splice erupted with this golden glow, surrounded by bands of energy, and she -changed.-" The Dire Wolf wasn't sure if she wanted to mention that bone-breaking pressure that accompanied it, as if something massive was directing it's full attention to where Micah was working.

Euphemia checked her patient, pulling out tubes to check her breathing even as she called up scrying spells to check on her condition. "What did you evolve her too?"

Micah stretched, letting toe-claws tick against the floor. He felt... well, good, like he was riding around on a crest of energy. "A Grim Angel."

Euphemia pushed aside red hair to glance at him. "You evolved her into a Sanctuary Goth?"

Micah shook his head. "No, I evolved her into a Grim Angel. Good enough name for the breed, considering what I made it for. A combat upgrade of the Sanctuary Goth breed. Fitting, no?"

"You created an entirely new breed of pokegirls?" Anya's voice was calm, but her eyes were a little too wide to be healthy.

Micah snorted. "Some would argue that it's a right of mine that's far overdue, given the plethora of pokegirls a number of people seemed to adore just to throw out without thinking." He glanced at Euphemia. "Is she alright?"

Euphemia caught herself, and nodded. "Physically, she seems to be alright, everything considered - she needs bed rest and recovery, but compared to before, it's nothing short of-" the redhead cut herself off, thinking better of what she wanted to say. "She's fine."

"Good." Micah glanced down at the G-splice, whom had calmed down considerably, yet still sucked in each gasping breath as if she was afraid he'd take the ability to breath normally away from her. And nodded to himself, making a decision. "Get Esther and Yvonne to take care of her. She needs some rehabilitation, and two Celestials should have just the right amount of touch." And if they didn't...

Ludmilla blinked. "You're planning something."

"I'm planning -several- things," Micah replied, grinning.

A tentative grip latched onto a wing-edge. Micah blinked, glancing down at the newly-evolved G-Splice, who was staring at him with desperate eyes. "Th-," she coughed wetly, throat hoarse, and tried again. "Thaaank hyu."

Micah gently extracted his wing from her grip, and lightly patted her hand. "You're quite welcome."

-[***]-

"How are you feeling?" Ludmilla never really considered a sort of kinship with her animalistic brethren - rarely thought about it, in all her centuries of life - but her close association with Micah and his various thoughts she reveled in tended to bring these things to the fore, and right now she felt like a wolf bitch with a newly whelped cub. The urge to snatch Micah up and hide him away somewhere deep, dark, and -safe- was quite the powerful one.

Micah glanced curiously at Ludmilla as he made casually steps down the stairwell downward his Sanctum. "You should know."

Ludmilla reluctantly nodded. "If you're -that- giddy, then why are we heading toward one of the most secure portions of your little domain?"

"I need time to degauss and think about this development, for one," Micah replied. He glanced curiously at Illya, who had been shadowing him ever since his 'laying of hands' on the G-Splice. The Lucarda smiled sweetly back, even as she hopped two stairs at a time, indulging in playful antics while wearing her chibi-form. "And consider a few things about this new ability of mine."

A flick of white-furred ears. "You're surprised that it actually worked."

"Yup," Micah agreed. "Of course, now that I -do- know that it works, that opens up several problems and questions. Sadly, finding out my limits and testing to destruction will be problematic."

Illya made another hop. "Why ever so, Master?"

"Anyone I run across worth executing will likely be worth more just level-5'd and turned into a Sanctuary Goth. Fertilizer is cheap, warm bodies are not," Micah replied.

"What do you mean -limits-?" Ludmilla's green eyes were sharp as they glanced at him. "I don't think you're referring to how powerful a pokegirl you could create."

Micah quirked a small grin. "For one, what's to stop me from creating new Legendaries?"

Ludmilla jarred to a halt, and even Illya paused.

"Exactly," Micah nodded, before resuming their descent. "There are also a few other things I'm considering, as well, that I may actually get to test out, but they're mostly something for the long term-" Micah cocked his head to the side, and grinned broadly, both from pleasure and relief. "Ah." Micah leapt down the few remaining stairs in a half-glide and pushed open the double door into his Sanctum.

Micah smiled broadly. "Hello, Sexebi."

The diminutive Legendary was curled up in the chair behind his main desk, clutching her favored plushie as she glanced at Micah fearfully, as if she was about to bolt at the nearest sign of... well, anything scary from Micah.

/Take Illya with you while I deal with this,/ Micah sent to Ludmilla.

/But-/

/Trust me,/ Micah replied, not looking back, and immensely gratified whenever he heard the door shut behind him. He made the distance from door to desk, and curled up in front of it, chin at desk height as he pillowed his head on his arms and peered at Sexebi curiously. "Feel better now?"

Sexebi twitched, and sniffled. "I was... I was afraid you'd be mad at me."

Micah shook his head firmly. "It's going to take a bit more than that for me to be angry at you. My guess was that you freaked out a little bit once the full implications of Kerrik's previous message finally hit home, and you needed some time to yourself while you worked through your panic attack. Am I right?"

Sexebi blinked her wide blue eyes at him. "...are you psychic?"

Micah laughed. "I think the term is 'empathic', and it's a skill, not any type of psychic ability." He smiled. "Feel better?"

"A little," Sexebi replied, then glanced shyly at him, before spreading her arms. "Up?"

Micah chuckled, then did as prompted, slipping around the desk to pick Sexebi up and situate her nicely in his lap as he settled down, absently wrapping his wings around her. Sexebi buried her face against his chest with a grateful sigh.

"I missed this," Sexebi murmured quietly, rubbing her cheek against his shirt. "Did you figure out how... how...?"

"Kerrik knocked Evangelion up?" At Sexebi's nod, Micah went on, "No. Not specifically. I have an idea, but..."

"But?"

Micah laughed. "Well, how do you experiment with something like that? Kind of hard to do." He absently flexed the fingers on one hand. "I'm not certain if this new capability of mine is the same one Kerrik utilized to accidentally kick off the next generation of Wolflings, but it could be."

Silence. Delicate hands absently tugged at fabric as Sexebi squirmed more comfortably in his lap. "Authors can do incredible things, can't they?"

"From a certain perspective, I suppose so," Micah replied.

Sexebi nodded slowly. "Could you delta bond me?"

Micah blinked. "What?"

Sexebi looked up at him, expression pleading. "I want you to form a delta bond with me." When Micah didn't immediately reply, Sexebi's expression slowly crumpled into one of abject embarrassment. "If... if you don't -want- too..."

"No, wait, give me a moment," Micah calmly facepalmed as his brain struggled to keep up. "You just said an incredible thing, and I'm trying to properly phrase a reply that doesn't result in me babbling like a fool loon or insulting you accidentally."

Sexebi blinked, head canted to the side, embarrassment forgotten. "Insulting?"

"Um, argh, whoo," Micah took a deep breath to calm down. "Okay. I'm not exactly a staid monolith whom reacts to someone asking to effectively spend a good portion of their life with me with just casual aplomb and a stiff upper lip."

Sexebi giggled.

Micah gave a laugh of his own. If anyone had been around to point out that it was a nervous laugh he would have vehemently denied it. "Right. Exactly. So, um, yeah. I'm a little... no, make that a -lot- surprised that you'd make the offer from your end."

"If you don't want too..."

"I think this is the part where I point out that I would be a -fucking idiot- if I said no, my own nervousness aside," Micah replied. "Bloody hell, you're one of the first girls I've run across that I can discuss Robert Heinlein and Chrono Trigger in the same discussion with."

Sexebi blinked. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Micah said. Another deep breath, wings shifting. "I don't know if this will work. And quite frankly, I'm more than a little scared about accidentally hurting you."

"It's okay." Small hands cupped his face. "I trust you."

And that just makes it worse, Micah thought to himself. He almost considered relocating to Sexebi's home for this experimentation before discarding it - if anything bad happened, being time-displaced was the last thing he'd want. "Alright, then," Micah could feel that tide of power lapping up against his brain as he slowly pulled it to the fore, readying it for actuation. "Let's see if I can pull off the impossible again today."

-[***]-