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The roar of a crowd, a ceaseless tempest of noise and splendor presented upon a bloodied stage. Exclamations were barely audible beneath a mist of cheers, as if a tune one ought dance to, and dance they did, fighters of the ring. Fists and powers entwined to allow for duels some may have considered dishonorable, for there was only a single rule presented; do not kill your opponent. Illegal in the highest of regards, superpowered freaks ‘beating the shit out of each other’ as Willow had so gleefully expressed, was not an activity condoned or allowed by the government. Yet, here they were, fighters and spectators among sweat, blood, and conflict. A haven for those drawn to such depravity, a fight club. “Come on, you fucking corpse!” A voice rang out, piercing an overlying layer of sound, “I bet money on you!”

Willow’s spindly hand moved atop a dirt stained floor, the boy pushing himself up from its surface with a nigh weightless motion, his movements allowing the Wraith safety of a dodge mere moments before a rock hard fist rammed itself into the ground. Cracks followed the devastating blow, a wide, sharp toothed smirk bridging across Willow’s features where he stood, a taunting motion accompanying such an expression, hand beckoning towards his opponent.

It was a giant of a man, his skin clad in rock and grime, slow movements compensated by immense force follow through with every punch. “Little shit..,” the combatant spat, “I’ll fucking end you.” Indeed the disparity between them was grand, a spindly boy in opposition to a hulk, but the pit knew better. The audience knew better. It was a place where appearances meant nothing, and where strength was proven in the ring.

Weaving past earth shattering fists, Willow’s motions drew a blurry picture, all before a twist and a twirl, his palm finding its mark. Rock shattered, fragments of stone splintering upon the lad’s strike, an attack forcing his opponent to the ground.

No shirts and no shoes, an understanding shared between those attending blood sports. No surprises, no weapons. It was what robbed Willow of the ability to utilize his scythe, but the rule against killing generally kept that part in the clause. “What are you doing?! Finish him off, stop playing around!” An all too familiar tune once more pierced the volume swirling through a ravaging arena, words landing on deaf ears.

'Well, that’s no fun,' Willow mused, a quiet thought trickling past. He had enjoyed this fight, thoroughly appreciating the excitement accompanying the devastation of a rock clad limb shattering bones. Was it not for Willow’s own supernaturally enhanced skin, the boy would have been crushed, but it was fair to state that as he so often did, the Wraith played with his food.

Combat was his life, and evidently his un-life as well. It was what he had been taught since an early age, once driven by duty now replaced by passion. He had lost fights in this pit, he had won them. For Willow it scarcely mattered. Battle retained a sense of sanctity, it was something to revere and pursue. Indeed, he had abandoned the more gruesome aspects taught by a cult of death knights, but discarding such a notion did little in hampering his inner flame. It was simply the product of a more civilized world.

Jolting from the ground, Willow’s opponent moved with speed otherwise unexpected from a man of his girth and size. A punch was launched, nearly connecting with the ghost had the boy’s reflexes not abided by his prowess. It was followed by another, and a third requiring Willow to deflect the strike, the lad’s own attacks meeting a rocky giant in an exchange of blows. Each one blocked, each one parried, both combatants melding into a dance of aggression and adrenaline.

Their waltz found its end upon the Wraith’s next display, a graceful maneuver where like a flowing ghost, the boy slid around his opponent, elbow slamming into a rock-hardened back. Again, like shattering glass, splinters were scattered. A loud crash echoed upon impact with the floor, denoting Willow the victor.

With eyes falling shut, the ghost took a moment to revel in bliss of conflict. He stood victorious and yet, this outcome held no value. It had no purpose, for the journey was its own rewards. Yet, a roaring crowd blanketed the pit in cheers, a sharp-toothed smile stretching across the phantasm’s pale lips. He turned on his heel, met by a clustering mass of people with dollars trading hands. A sight he could register, with signs across those bills passing him by unseen.

“You fucking did it, kid! Here’s your cut.” There was a man considered Willow’s agent, someone who had taken it upon himself to introduce the boy to this underground world of combat. A short, stubby individual many may have considered the face of greed, had there not been creatures present to truly claim that title.

Spindly fingers wrapped their way around a gathering of paper bills, spectral eyes robbing the boy of a most shallow ability; to see how much he was holding. Raising the wad, Willow used it to slap his agent across the face. “H-hey! Come on, kid!”

"How much?" A distinct, present accent could be plucked from the boy’s words, those with knowledge of the surrounding world pinpointing it as Arabic. More specifically, Egyptian.

“I only shortened you once, little guy. Honest!” His name was Osworth, a weasel in every regard. “Swear to God.”

Leaning in, sharp teeth loomed by Osworth’s ear. Despite Willow’s diminutive stature, his agent appeared to have managed an even shorter build. "You may not want to swear to my God, little man," came a smirk. "Nefrah mennak, habibi," Willow finished, his hand finding home upon Osworth’s shoulder, before weightless steps brought him onward.

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The surface world, much like the loudness of an arena, had been engulfed in wondrous chaos. Explosions, a robbery, villains and heroes. Willow did not need to go far before hearing other attendees speak of current events. How magnificent technology was, its ever-reaching presence touching even the wilderness of a forest where the ghost’s pit fighting shenanigans knew home. An abandoned factory just beyond a sea of trees.

Silence presented a serene scene the deeper Willow delved, converse shoes lightly padding across leaf covered dirt. Indeed, Osworth could have spirited the boy back by car across forest roads, but he had declined the drive on several occasions. Though the Spectre enjoyed a chaotic city life, there was little comparing to small, if appreciated bouts of silence, something the woods offered in serene purity. A purity that was halted, pierced, and ended by the sound of hurried footsteps.

They were paused moments after Willow’s spectral gaze met a breathless gait. Though color and shade remained silent, the boy tilted his head, a haunting presence standing between a peculiar duo. Clad in Red and Yellow, one was carrying the other, an escape from disaster left in their wake. “Look man, whatever you are,” a fatigued voice trickled past mighty trees, “we don’t need any trouble,” spoke a soul draped in sanguine crimson.

"Trouble..," the ghost echoed, putting scenarios together, words and stories woven into tapestries. A robbery at the museum, heroes stopping the charge. It was rather close by; that much he knew, for Willow had purviewed the Egyptian section more than once, his deathly orbs taking in the magical nature of its artifacts. Here, a short distance from the battlefield spoken of by curious bystanders reading digital newspapers and watching streams, Willow had come across two escapees. "Ah, you are from the museum," a scrawny finger rose, the boy’s grin ever present. "Did you steal something worthwhile, harami?”

“So, is the rest of the museum secure then? No more troublemakers?”

Danny glanced back in the direction of the museum.
"I suspect... not. He mused aloud.
While the museum security's actions seemed cowardly, it made more sense as he thought about it. Instead of chasing the 6 criminals outside their pay grade, they returned to their posts to watch out for threats they could handle to prevent further disasters from occurring. They probably wouldn't have to worry about anything else.

With those thoughts out of the way, he turned his attention back to the group. It was quite a strange bunch of people; Arthur the strange LARPer and his large wolf friend not being the least among them. They seemed to be down some members, perhaps they went to chase down the escaping criminals. Danny would have liked to follow them but he was feeling quite worn out after the day's work.
"I will be taking my leave." He said, bowing his head a little. "Until next time."
With that, he turned and leapt into the maze-like back streets of Grailham.

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Though tension thickened, a lingering mist growing ever present, Spectre made no attempts at moving, the phantasmal creature remaining where he stood. “If you want to fight..,” came a response, labored and forced, before a burglar dressed in Red multiplied. Heavy breathing accompanied the act, arms rising to initiate battle. A path paved through desperation, one wrapped in an eerie embrace of discomfort.

It was difficult to place the exact nature of what had been found in the woods, a boy neither living, nor dead. Emotion appeared divorced from his being, and yet, a sharp-toothed smile hinted at joy and entertainment. The night certainly hadn’t laid itself out like the brick path of a planned heist. From the moment it started, disaster struck, and from there, a downhill fall.

Spindly fingers gently clicked against a peculiar weapon as the ghostly tool was woven into existence, head tilted as spectral orbs peered ahead. That smile, that horrific expression belonging to campfire stories slowly faded, Spectre’s digits grasping his sinister armament. "One of you possesses a soul," he spoke, the lad’s attention fixing itself on one particular individual amongst the gaggle of foes. A single step was taken, a scythe’s edge slowly sliding across leaves below, "but none of you live."

A chill trickled down the burglar’s spine, a tremble soon following its unwelcome presence. This felt wrong. Everything about this confrontation felt unnatural. Whether the wind was louder, or blackened air grew colder, terror had most certainly reared its ugly face. Frozen to the spot, Red was unable to move. Fatigue had set in, and there was no reality where a battle with something so unnaturally horrific beneath the moonlight would end in victory. Breathing accelerated, teeth clenching; Spectre was coming closer. His steps continued along a slow, deliberate path, one foot in front of the other with a weapon clearly too large for someone so small, and yet, so impossibly graceful in its weightless motions.

The way it was held, the way it was casually extended, the way it was wielded with a single hand, playfully twirled between scrawny fingers; it painted a picture. Closer, closer, Spectre’s advance maintained an almost tauntingly stunted pace, but before long, he reached his mark. A chance to run had been afforded, but with legs unwilling, no attempt had reached the surface.

A surprise it was, then, when a rapidly beating heart, a jackhammer to the ribs eventually noted how the boy had simply passed by, that monstrous grin returning. "I will not fight a half-dead insect. May we find each other when your breathing is slower, and your soulless puppets can move." Willow’s voice was a ghostly addition to any night, its soft, whispering echo denoting it a product of another world. His scythe vanished as it had appeared, a solid shape fading into spectral mist as the boy walked, eventually swallowed by the darkness of a starlit forest.

With knees meeting the dirt below, Red clutched their chest, a tremble ceaselessly echoing through them. The Spectre appeared disinterested, presenting the first gift of luck this night had offered. Ironically enough, such would likely not have been the case, if only Red and Yellow were untouched by previous conflicts.

Against Tobias alone, three of them were getting hits in but ultimately losing the fight despite their numbers advantage. The kid couldn't fight properly but he could take a hit, and he could sure as hell give one. Against the girl, three of them were no match for her. Now a third had shown up, who from what they had seen, could probably have taken all six of them alone. The remaining two blue-garbed men looked at their three foes, looked at each other, and then bolted.

Tobias cast a glance at Fiadh. "Whether you take that or the museum does makes no difference to me. They stole it first, from whatever country it came from. Plus, it's probably safer in your hands." He turned his attention to Flauros, eyes flaring defiantly. "Let him go. You don't need to hurt him any more than he's already been." Tobias knew that if they fought, he'd lose very quickly, but he banked on the fact that the prospect of a fight wasn't worth it to this stranger. Plus, if they would fight Tobias just so they could kill a prisoner at their mercy, they needed to be fought and stopped anyway. Tobias came here to save lives, and to help people. And that's what he was going to do.

@Lurking Shadow@Silverstein

]Inside the Museum

"Well, at least I can say I contributed, teehee..."

"I'd say you did plenty," Miria said with a gesture toward the unconscious pink team. "Unless those guys weren't also your doing."

There was a pause while Mr. Raptor introduced himself. Not the most original name, bit not like Miria was really one to talk, there. He didn't really stick around long, but did leave the crate he'd secured behind, and got a "you can count on me!" to see him off. She took a seat on the crate to continue the conversation.

"I thought magical girls were just a thing on children's television shows. I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised with everything else going on in this town." And there go the comments Maple's probably already had far too often. "And you use magic." So she was mistaken. Magic...was probably worse. Another variable to worry about, certainly. And just something that made Earth curiouser and curiouser.

"I suppose I shouldn't pry too much into how your magic works, but I am curious. It's not like magic is something one just sees every day. I guess you're another of the heroes running around Grailham, then?"

Interaction with: @Lurking Shadow@Silver Carrot

"As you wish.." Flauros returned to his usual decorum after hearing the young boy plead his case. He loosens his grip and drops the seemingly unconscious blue guy to the ground.

"For the record, I would never kill without a reason; that would simply be barbaric. Without these scums, I would cease to exist in this world.. their sense of dread and their ability to do vile things, It simply sustains me.. This is why I absolutely love this city." Flauros said with a wicked grin, briefly looking down at the indisposed man clad in blue at his feet with his cold yellow gaze. A subtle hint of what kind of creature or fiend he is.

"As for you, my little troublemaker, it seems you DID get what you want. though I expected it would be a little more bloody and more dismembering. Nevertheless, as long as you're satisfied then I too as well." Flauros said turning his attention to the draconic young girl who is now in the possession of that crate.

"although, you should tread lightly with that greedy trait of yours. you'll never know what kind of oddities you'll attract with it." He smirked, crossing his arms.

"It appears we're done here. it's getting late and I do hate publicity. I don't do the whole hero shindig so would you mind cleaning up the mess?"

"My card" Flauros offered his business card to the two, showing his name and his cafe's address written on it.

Arthur’s eyes went wide as he could hardly believe what he was hearing. In all his days, never had another man shown such compassion or worry for Arthur’s well being before. The only other person who had ever shown this level of compassion towards him was his mother. Merlin most certainly had never shown him any. It left him speechless to say the least. Sensing the man’s earnestness and hearing that commanding tone stripped him of what little fight he had left in himself. All he could do was nod in agreement. At least he had offered to bring his new friend along with him. Turning to face the oversized canid, he offered a warm smile and nodded in its direction, questioning whether or not it wished to follow. He could only hope it would, as he had few to call his friend, as it were.

For its part, the wolf gave a simple nod before following James to his motorcycle, that confounded metal horse, and began doing stretches next to it, as if getting ready for a run. Its verbal silence coupled with its clear understanding of Arthur was a bit eerie. Come to think of it, it hasn’t made a single sound since it first arrived, has it? There was that time it growled at James, but looking back, maybe that was just Arthur’s imagination?

Before Arthur could dwell too deeply on this, James waved him over, straddling the motorcycle and gesturing to the sidecar. ”Hop in.”

James seemed friendly enough, but Arthur couldn’t help but feel awkward as he gingerly stepped into the bizarre facsimile of equine life. It had three wheels, unlike any carriage Arthur has ever seen, yet if this was how James conducted his travel, surely it was safe, right?

James grinned at Arthur as he stepped into the sidecar. It was obviously his first time riding in one. First timers were always fun. Pointing inside the sidecar, he gestured towards the spare helmet lying on the ground inside. ”Put that on kiddo, safety first and all that.” Taking his phone out of his pocket, he quickly sent a text to the pizza place down the street from his apartment before glancing back at the wolf. Starting the engine, his Harley roared to life. ”I’ll try to go slow, so that you can keep up.”

Although it appeared to be paying attention, if the wolf understood James, it didn’t seem to react. On the other hand, Arthur was immediately panicked, eye’s going wide at the sound of the engine. “Holy Mother of Christ!” Exclaimed Arthur as he leapt from the side car. “That be no normal beast! Of that I am assured!”

Blinking at the sudden reaction from the kid, James calmly patted the side of his bike. ”Of course she's not a beast. Harley here is a lady. You don't have anything to be worried about, though, I've been riding her going on almost twelve years now. It's perfectly safe.”

If it were possible, Arthur’s eyes would have grown even wider at the man called Medic’s words. “You mean to say that you have bewitched a woman and turned her into this metal monstrosity!?”

”Eh? What? No! Of course not, if I could do that I wouldn't waste it on innocent women. I simply meant that she is a refined piece of machinery and has been in my family long enough to deserve more than to be called an it.”

Huffing a small laugh, James shook his head. ”Jeeze, kid, haven't you ever heard a man talk about his vehicle before?”

“Nay! In fact, this be the first time I hath ever laid eyes on such a...” Arthur paused for a moment recalling what had just been said about respecting his ‘vehicle’, before choosing his words more carefully “...That is to say, I am new to this land, and your customs are strange to me. As is your... vehicle. No offense was meant, my good sir.”

Under his breath, James couldn’t help but comment to himself, ”wow, he’s really committed to this.” Shaking his head, James said louder, his voice amused, ”no offense taken. You feel up for trying her out?”

Looking between this metal horror show horse and its rider, Arthur was truly at a loss. He was certain it was safe, after all this man had supposedly ridden it for years. But he still had that nagging feeling in the back of his head that he shouldn’t trust it. Offering up a coy smile, Arthur yet again slipped into the side car. Making sure to fasten the helmet to his head, he gripped onto the side of the car saying. “I think this will be fun. I hope.”

”You might want to buckle up, first.”

Turning to face his new compatriot, he wore a confused look on his face. “My clothes hath no buckles.” He even gestured at his clothes, or lack thereof.

”...”

Stunned into silence, James simply reached over and put the seatbelt on over Arthur for him. He opened his mouth to say something afterward, but couldn’t find the words and decided to simply start driving instead.

With the logistics of getting Arthur into a modern vehicle out of the way, the three began the trip back to James’ apartment. On the way, the large wolf seemed to have no trouble keeping up with James’ motorcycle, freely passing it at times before coming to a demure stop at red lights or upcoming turns. James got the message and began speeding up a bit, which in turn caused the wolf to speed up. It didn’t show any signs of tiring, so the cycle continued until the two groups ended up having a full-blown race. At some point a speed limit law was probably broken and Arthur let out a scream. A concerned hero even flew down to check what was going on, since a large wolf following a motorcycle through town at high speeds while emanating screams has a way of turning heads, but as soon as Arkin and James heard Arthur scream, they slowed down and came to a stop, conveniently coming to a red light, with the wolf sitting calmly next to the motorcycle and its occupants. Since evidently there were no ongoing issues demanding his attention, the hero simply had to shrug and move on.

Arthur, never having experienced such speeds before, had no recourse but to hold on for dear life. “By the grace of all that is holy, please stop! I would like to ride the wolf! Tis much safer than this!” James and the wolf both looked to him and back at each other before tacitly agreeing to slow down.

”Are you sure you don’t want to ride in the sidecar? It should be more secure, what with the seat belt.”

“Yes.” Arthur responded immediately, almost before James even finished asking.

They made the quick transfer before the light had turned green, Arkin leaning down for Arthur wordlessly. Although there was no saddle, and the rest of the ride wasn’t quite as smooth, at least he didn’t have to deal with the fiery growls of that infernal contraption.

Rather than going back to James’ apartment immediately, they first came to a stop outside of a pizza place. Despite, or perhaps because of the distractingly large wolf looming outside of the restaurant, James was in and out pretty quick, putting five large boxes of pizza in the sidecar before starting the bike up again and turning the corner. It was a mercifully short drive from there, and James soon came to a stop in front of an old red-brick apartment complex.

Dismounting his bike, he took off his helmet, running a hand through his hair. Turning to Arthur and the wolf, he gave them both a smile and gestured to the building. ”Well, here we are. Mi casa es su casa. I'm James by the way.”

Arkin thought he should give him a proper response, but still didn’t feel like playing charades, so, for the first time all night, he finally made a small sound. ”Arf.”

“Well said. You both already know my identity; Arthur Pendragon, one true king of the holy land of Britannia. Protector of the weak and downtrodden. ‘Tis a pleasure to finally be acquainted by name.”

”Yeah… Welcome, Arthur and… Arf.”

Taking the pizzas out of the sidecar, he gestured at them to follow him as he opened the - thankfully knobless - double front door, leading them up the stairs to the fifth floor. They passed his neighbor, Mrs. Kowalski on the way up, but while she raised an eyebrow at the giant wolf, she simply winked at James and went back inside her apartment where nine cats could be seen. (Screw their super's no pets rule. The guy is a jerk.) Arkin loves cats, and was tempted to barge in to pet them with his freakishly big dog paws, abusing his status as a wild animal with allegedly no self-control, but they seemed to shrink away at the sight of him. No! Don’t go, kitties! Please!

The door shut on what could have been, and may never be. The door to her apartment, that is. Infinite sorrow befell Arkin at that moment as the weight of direct social rejection pressed upon him for the first time. But, as the saying goes, when one door shuts, another door opens.

James' place - while not big - was nice and cozy with wooden floors and warm brick walls. A tiny kitchen took up the space to the left of the door while the main area contained a decently sized couch, a desk, and a chair with his laptop on it. There was a small television mounted on the wall, opposite the couch, with a coffee table in between. A couple of bookcases lined the walls, filled to the brim with several books, almost all fictional.

Arthur was amazed, to say the least. Never before had he seen a place so neat and tidy. The combination of wood and brick, somehow leaving no traces of dirt. It was almost as if he had stepped into the home of royalty. “Dare I say it, this is magical.”

James gave Arthur a warm smile and a friendly pat on the shoulder as he ushered the two inside. ”Thanks kiddo, I like it too. Feel free to make yourselves at home. Kitchen is over there, if you want a midnight snack later. That’s the couch where you’ll be sleeping, and over here is the bathroom.”

Next to the kitchen, a hallway led off towards two doors. The one on the left led to James’ bedroom, and the other opened up to a bathroom - which was where James ledArthur to after putting the pizzas down on the kitchen counter. ”This is a shower. I recommend you… take… one…”

James was about to demand Arthur to take a real shower, when Arkin casually wandered in and sat down in the tub. He stared the other two straight in the eyes as he lifted one paw and turned on the water. Struggling to keep a straight face, James simply nodded in concession. ”Alright, you first then. You two got this?”

“Well, my friend here seems to know the ins and outs of your magic fountain.”

”I'll leave you in his capable paws then. Feel free to help yourself to anything in there. I'll put some clean clothes outside the door for you.” James exits the bathroom, leaving Arkin alone with Arthur.

This wasn’t part of the plan, Arkin thought. He just wanted a hot shower, immediately, for the first time in a long while, and now Arthur was expected to strip down and get in with him. As for Arthur’s thoughts, they were muddled for other reasons. He was just staring at the canid in stunned silence. Not only had the wolf figured out how to use this magical ‘shower’ but he was also locked in a room with what he could only assume was a magical font of never ending water. Taking a step away from the tub Arthur felt a wave of panic hit him. He did not like tubs, bad memories from a time better left forgotten. But seeing how comfortable his companion was, at least outwardly, and given the lack of other people present, he could at least try to clean up.

Kicking off one of his boots he began speaking to the wolf, moreso to himself to calm his nerves. “You know, I hath told myself long ago I would never set foot in a tub again…” As his other boot slipped off he picked them up and slid them in front of the door as a safety warning. “...If you’ve ever been in a brothel, you’ll know bathing is a mainstay.” Dipping his thumbs into his waistband he nervously ran them back and forth against the hem “In fact the worst part of the brothels in my opinion is cleaning the tubs and filling them after every patron.” With a huff, he finally pulled his pants down and off, tossing them atop his boots as he stepped toward the fountain. “But worse than that was dealing with the drunk and belligerent. They could be truly violent when they wanted” Arthur stopped himself just at the cusp of the porcelain tub, feeling a pang of anxiety wash over him as he stared at the falling water. “But you’re not going to drown me, will you boy?” Knowing he could not respond, Arthur let out a nervous chuckle before stepping into the now crowded tub, tensing instantly as he felt the water crash down over him. Tis ok, you are just fine. Tis nothing to fear.

He can never know. It was one thing to be mistaken as an animal and take a shower with a hot, naked muscular dude, but it was another thing entirely for him to intrude on something so personal as a recounting of a past traumatic event. Or, perhaps events? Arkin wasn’t sure what brothel he was talking about. He didn’t even know that there were establishments in this part of the U.S. that could be called ‘brothels’, but evidently he grew up in one, was almost drowned, and was potentially abused in other ways that Arkin frankly does not want to try to imagine.

All he felt he could do, for the moment, was nuzzle into Arthur’s neck from behind, a nonverbal confirmation that he is not going to be drowned today, not by Arkin and not by anyone else for that matter.

…Okay, wow, he really does smell.

Sobered by the weight of serious childhood trauma, Arkin ignores the full view he has of Arthur’s distracting assets as he reaches for some soap. Thankfully, James stocks body wash instead of just powder soap, so he isn’t forced to bite into a bar of it as he tries to hand Arthur it before going for the shampoo. Arthur did his best to wash himself thoroughly, but between his discomfort under the water, and his confusion at how much the English language had changed, he was left completely befuddled. He was certain he could have scrubbed a few places a bit longer but he had had enough fun with water for the night.

“I dare say boy. The people of your time hath completely changed the English we speak. I’m not sure if I even understand some of these words.” Staring at the back of what was called ‘shampoo’, Arthur found himself seated on the floor as he air-dried. “For example. What doth this word mean?” He even points at the bottle while glancing back at his new friend, as if it could articulate the words to explain.

Sodium lauryl sulfate. Even if talking was on the agenda, that one’s a bit of a mouthful. ”Arf.”

“I know, right!?”

After getting over his confusion Arthur let out a deep sigh as he stood. Reaching for a towel for himself, he noted that his friend was still wet. Without thinking he began to gently wipe down the wolf, making sure to get him as dry as possible, but alas, there was only so much towel, and so much more wolf. “I’m sorry boy, but that is the best I can manage.”

Grabbing the clothes James had left outside, he quickly dressed himself before collecting his soiled clothes from in front of the door. “Come along boy, I smell something delicious awaiting us.” With that, he led the way, his thoughts wandering back to how he had just bathed with a wolf. Merlin would be proud.

While they were busy, James moved the coffee table to the side and turned the couch into a bed, piling almost all of his spare blankets on it for extra comfort. There were enough blankets there that if the two of them didn't want to cuddle, they could build a little bed on the ground for the wolf, which James was starting to think wasn’t a transformed superhero.

He had also taken the pizza out of the boxes - three meat lover’s for the wolf as well as one chicken and pineapple and one pepperoni for the two humans.

With Arthur out of the bathroom, Arkin had time to quickly transform the rest of the water off of him while in the tub. He was a civilized human and he was above shaking it off like a dog, dammit. Plus, this was way more effective. When he rejoined Arthur in the kitchen, James was already passing him a slice and biting in to one of his own. Also, a welcome surprise, apparently three whole pizzas topped with extra schmeat had been set aside just for him.

Arthur, having dug straight into the pineapple and pepperoni pizza, could not conceal his face full of childlike delight and wonder as he experienced a decadence unlike anything he has ever tasted before.

Arkin was hesitant at first. He could eat seemingly anything in his caterpillar and moth forms, but he wasn’t sure if the same applied to his wolf form. Nonetheless, he dug in, because some cooked venison earlier in the day was not enough to sate his hunger, and he’d be mad to turn down some pizza. Besides, it wasn’t worth it to squirrel the pizzas away just to eat them in another form. His insectoid forms have a rather warped and muted sense of taste, and god, he missed pizza. Although it doesn’t quite taste the same, it was a much-needed dose of normalcy for him. Something he’s missed dearly, something he worries he may never fully reclaim. Tears might have escaped his eyes if wolves were capable of crying, but instead the lack thereof just served as a reminder of how much he’s changed. He doesn’t want to reveal himself to the other two anyway, at least not right after that shower, but luckily he has another coping mechanism readily available: three whole pizzas worth of comfort food and a ravenous wolven stomach to put it in.

Somehow Arkin manages to finish them all before either human is able to finish their own. Tired after the long day and full of pizza, he stalks over to the bed-couch, flopping down onto one side of it, making sure to leave room for Arthur, then passes out relatively quickly.

James simply watched, amused, as the giant wolf made himself at home on the couch. As it appeared to drift off to sleep before his eyes, he turned back towards the blonde. ”Okay, so, once you’re done eating, I expect you to follow your friend’s example and get some rest. My room is right over there, if you need anything. Don’t worry about cleaning up, alright? I’ll get everything sorted out in the morning.” With that, James stood up and retrieved some clean clothes from his room before cleaning himself up as well. Taking the chance while in the bathroom to inspect the injuries. They were looking good. His chest still hurt - removing the duct-tape he had stuck on it previously did not help - but none of the injuries were bleeding anymore. Finishing up in the bathroom, he reentered the main area seeing both Arthur and Arkin cuddled up together. Only intruding long enough to put any leftover pizza in the fridge and to turn the light off, he retreated to his room quietly - careful not to disturb them.

---

The Museum Caper failed, the Sinister Six disgraced. It was a simple task. Go in, steal certain artifacts, then leave. It was supposed to be easy, in and out, 15-minute adventure. But the multicolored knuckleheads fucked it up. The plan was for each member to find something to steal and split off in different directions to distract from Mr. Blue stealing the actual prize for their employer.

Heroes showed up as expected, but it seems the stupid six did not provide a good enough of a distraction as Mr. Blue was easily tracked. He thought he was fine at first, some stupid runt of a kid tried to stop him. No problem he thought, should be taken care of in 30 seconds or less. But then some giant reptilian showed up, kind of pissed about the whole thievery thing. Then some demon. Well, he was lucky to escape and be able to walk after getting hurled like that. Mr. Blue was unsure what happened to the others, maybe captured, maybe killed, maybe decided to just skip town. Mr. Blue was sure he would be the only one willing and responsible enough to report his failure, I mean that has to count for something right? Even among villains? Hopefully?

Mr Blue eventually arrived to the secret base, cleverly disguised as Volcano Insurance Co. Though it would be a pretty obvious front as who really needs Volcano insurance really? Lava Lord has been inactive long before this fake company was set up. As Mr. Blue descended deep underground into a secret underground facility where a shadowy cabal awaited his report.

There, Mr. Blue was met by a figure shrouded in darkness, standing at a position of honor behind other shadowy figures. The head figure stepped forward, revealing a bald-headed elderly Chinese man with a Fu Manchu. Combined with his sinister smile, it could only be the Fiendish Dr. Wu, admittedly looking pretty spry for his age.

“Mr. Blue…” Fiendish Dr. Wu began to speak, a hint of displeasure snuck past his otherwise neutral tone. “…Where is the artifact?”

“Some Dragon bitch took it from me, I tried to keep it secured but she fucking picked me up and tossed me like a doll!” Dr. Blue speedily spoke, trying to lay out his excuse before Fiendish Dr. Wu would punish him for his failure.

“Some dragon bitch? Did I pay you to flee, or to steal Mr. Blue?”

“uh… I’ll give you your money back I swear! And….” But before Mr. Blue could continue, the Fiendish Dr. Wu pulled some crazy martial arts moves with this metal claw attached to a chain and tore a chunk of flesh out of Mr. Blue’s chest.

“Perhaps you do not remember who we are… with you are the most sinister and evil foes from the east!”

“The mean and green Wasabi Warmachine.” At the mention of his name, a muscular figure stepped into the light, letting himself be seen. A man could be seen, with skin of green, in front of him was a large bowl filled entirely with wasabi. As the warrior began to eat it, he underwent a transformation akin to a riastrad, where his flesh twisted and turned and his muscles expanded. From this demonstration, one could surmise that consuming Wasabi turns this man into a killing machine.

“Possessing the speed and power of both man and machine, the Super Sonic Samurai.” A figure revealed himself, dressed like a Samurai from imperial Japan, albeit heavily augmented with robotic body parts. Glowing Red eyes, a jetpack, an exo-suit surgically attached to his body, a laser katana, how much was man and how much was machine?

“The slippery and deadly Shogun of Shadows.” A figure stepped into the light, but it did not reveal much. A shadowy silhouette of an Imperial warlord could be seen, though his form flickered making it hard to discern details. Sometimes, shadowy tendrils formed and expanded from his body before dissolving as quickly as they came.

“The luminous and hazard aura of the Nuclear Ninja” A figure appeared, producing a green glow that made it hard to discern finer details but he probably is dressed like a ninja. Probably.

“and…and, well he is not sinister or evil but we got Greg the intern.” A light illuminated a twenty something male dressed in business casual holding one of those drink carrier things with cups of coffee from StarPesos. He began handing a drink to each of the other named members who thanked him.

“He picks us up coffee and pizza and stuff, which is pretty cool. He might not have martial arts skills or super powers or anything, he might not be Japanese, but he is a valued member of this team. Thanks again Greg.” The other members of the villain group express appreciation to Greg again.

“Finally, you have the brilliant tactician, master of WuShu and Magic, and de facto leader while our master is indisposed…. Me! The Fiendish Dr. Wu!” At the conclusion, Fiendish Dr. Wu does a really good villainous laugh, all the practicing in front of a mirror is paying off for him.

“Now do you see wh…. Oh. Whoops.” Fiendish Dr. Wu was too busy practicing the groups’ introduction that he did not realize Mr. Blue bled to death a few minutes ago.

“Huh…. well, shit. I was going to go have him lure the people that foiled the heist here for a trap but….I guess I’ll have to do it now.”

And so, the following day our heroes will find a convenient letter addressed to them, with very descriptive directions to the secret headquarters of the villains of the month as well as a message tailored to each individually to lure them there. There, they will find a secret sinister complex filled with death traps, named villains who are actually competent, an army of ninja henchmen and of course…Greg the Intern, can’t forget about him. He might not be able to speak Japanese, but he can bring donuts in the morning!

Flauros little adventure of torturing evil-doers and the perverse glee of doing so was over by the daylight.

It's back to the ole' mundane operation as the cafe manager as responsibility kicks in to start the day. Yay fun!

"Spam, spam, bills, yikes.. definitely spam.. huh? my, what do we have here?" Flauros raised a brow and leans back in his chair, curious about this particular letter of a rent advertisement that tickles his fancy. A mysterious letter that was specifically made as if to lure the demon general into a trap.

A conveniently placed ad that just opened around the corner of the shadiest part of the city. It seems to be the perfect location for his cafe expansion franchise with all of its suited specifics, agreeable conditions, and the low rental fee the ad is offering. It's almost too good to be true!

This letter reeks of malice, false promises, and ill intent attempt to scam those who are gullible enough to take the bait. Just like any normal ads. But alas curiosity got the best of him and decided to check what kind of fiend would have the audacity to fake such a note.

---

Flauros rolls out with two of his best demon henchmen and checks the place for himself. These demonic henchmen are the embodiment of strength and speed. One is a towering brute built like a brick and the other a slender being; both wearing business suits, guising themselves as normal humans.

Upon arriving at the designated venue, He saw an insurance company specifically made for volcano victims. A Weird choice for social security services but nothing out of the norm, right?

Within its spacious lobby, Flauros entered the site and can't help but notice the lonesome receptionist sprinting all over the place, preparing last-minute traps by the orders of his bosses. He seems panicked and running on a deadline as he bounces all over the place.

"Hope I'm not interrupting," Flauros clears his throat, hoping to get the intern's attention.

"Stupid kunai dispenser..." Greg muttered.

"Oh I'm sorry you have to see me like this, talk about bad timing huh? one of our deadly traps come to a bust.. I'll be there in a minute," The earnest young intern said, focusing on the task at hand, not even bother looking at Flauros and his two goons.

Being the gentleman that he is, Flauros decided to wait for the young intern to fix his struggles.

With a few smacks of the wrench trying to fix the machine, it starts whirling rapidly and instantly hurls a knife in the demon general's direction. Luckily, the gargantuan demon blocks it out of instinct, putting its massive body on the line for its master, absorbing it within its chest. Unfazed, The giant just grunted in response to being stabbed by a small knife like it was just your normal Tuesday.

"Yikes, that looks painful I'm sorry" Greg winced at the sight.

"Not to worry.. Uhm.. Greg" Flauros squints his eyes, reading the intern's name tag. "My good fellow over here is prepared for anything and understands the occupational hazard working for me" Flauros continued and steps forward.

"I think we got that out of the way, let's discuss why I'm here. may I ask who send me this obvious death trap of a letter?" He asked.

"Oh, you're one of those guys... Sorry to keep you waiting. My employer said to guide you to your doom. Just take the elevator on your left and somebody will accompany you to your inevitable defeat"

---

Just like the accommodating intern receptionist instructed, Flauros and his two bodyguards descend into the subterranean lair, patiently waiting inside the elevator cube while listening to its mellow music.

The lift suddenly comes to a halt.

The elevator doors open.

The sight of an underground paradise filled with droplets of falling sakura petals coming from a single sakura tree welcomes the demonic advocate.

It appears that this underground base is bigger than it appears.

This must be the garden room.

"Abandon all hope, Despair is imminent, for the shogun of the shadows consumes all. Descendant of the dark side of the sun" engraved on a stone wall lies an ominous warning.Upon this sign lies a small bridge that is connected to a lavish Japanese theme miniature mansion where the Shogun resides.

Despite the pleasant scenery, Flauros' evil eyes can't help but react to his surroundings. Beneath the facade of this artificial paradise. dangers are lurking about in the shadows.

Tobias stared at the business card, lying on his bed. There was no work today as some equipment was in need of repair, so Tobias had the day to think. He came to this city to help people with his gifts, but there were so many professional Heroes, with costumes and manpower, who were more powerful than him. There were villains who were more powerful than him. And there were people who were neither in a strict sense, like those he had seen yesterday, who were more powerful than him. He wanted to protect the little people from the damage of the big fights, and he'd been trying to, but there were so many others here who found out first, and could do more to help. Was he really qualified to be here on this mission? It wasn't as if he had a real home to go back to, or that many close friends he missed. He could just stay here, put more focus on this job, and just try to live a good life...

He picked up the opened letter that had arrived today, that had strangely addressed to him;

"To Tobias,

You won't know who I am, and I don't really know who you are. But I observed your fight with one of the thieves who robbed the Museum yesterday. I want to talk to you in private about your potential. Meet me at the following address."

The rest of the letter was just an address for what the internet stated was a standalone office building in the industrial park, or possibly a warehouse. No business registered, but it wasn't abandoned or derelict. Tobias decided to bite the bullet and call the number on the business card. The mysterious Demon from yesterday might be able to shed some light on what was happening and what he should do. But the number was answered from a woman who stated that the owner was out on business and to try again later. So Tobias decided to head there and check it out. He had no other plans, and his curiosity was burning.

---

Opening the door to the foyer, Tobias saw that it appeared to be an insurance company, but for for volcano victims? This was fishy. That was obviously a front of some kind. The receptionist was an exasperated, out-of-breath, red-faced man in casual business attire. Upon seeing Tobias, he squinted at him, checked a clipboard on his desk, and peered back at Tobias, before his eyes finally lit up.

"Ah, you're the German one! Tobias! Yes, please enter the door on your left."

A door mechanically slid open on Tobias' left, leading to a descending staircase. Tobias opened his mouth, but deciding against questioning it. This was either some Superhero thing or a Supervillain thing. Either way he probably shouldn't stray too far from the beaten path. He nodded his thanks, smiled and waved farewell at Greg as he stuffed his hands into his tracksuit pockets and headed down the stairs.

The room at the bottom was dark, but the lights turned on when entered, and immediately a lot of machines suddenly whirred to life. The door back up shut behind him, and before he could truly register what was going on, his body was moving to dodge kunai that had been fired directly at him. He rolled back to his feet and started running as more machines started firing at him. Supervillains, then. This was a trap. To kill him. Most likely related to those blue men he fought. What had he gotten himself involved with?!

The kunai machines thankfully had long intervals between firing, and they weren't aiming at him as much as firing kunais in random directions while spinning. But there were a lot of machines. He was trying to let his instincts take over. His sharp eyes caught any that might be coming towards him from the front. His hearing picked up the whistle they made from behind him as they sailed through the air. Tobias knew, any ordinary person without his powers would be dead by now, and even he was having a lot of lucky near misses. There was no exit to this room that he had the concentration to spare to locate, but if he stayed here much longer, he'd either get unlucky or get tired. And then he was dead.

That's when he saw it. An air vent, high up on the wall, almost at roof level. He diverted his course to sprint to it, and with a leap, started scurrying up the wall. The adrenaline, superhuman strength, and sheer will to live was making up for the lack of purchase by *making* purchase on the smooth concrete. When he reached the grate, he grabbed it and yanked it down with his full body weight, ripping the screw plugs from their holes, and quickly scampered inside. He was now crawling up the building's air vents.

"I'd say you did plenty," Miria said with a gesture toward the unconscious pink team. "Unless those guys weren't also your doing."

There was a pause while Mr. Raptor introduced himself. Not the most original name, bit not like Miria was really one to talk, there. He didn't really stick around long, but did leave the crate he'd secured behind, and got a "you can count on me!" to see him off. She took a seat on the crate to continue the conversation.

"I thought magical girls were just a thing on children's television shows. I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised with everything else going on in this town." And there go the comments Maple's probably already had far too often. "And you use magic." So she was mistaken. Magic...was probably worse. Another variable to worry about, certainly. And just something that made Earth curiouser and curiouser.

"I suppose I shouldn't pry too much into how your magic works, but I am curious. It's not like magic is something one just sees every day. I guess you're another of the heroes running around Grailham, then?"

"Whether it be on children's television shows or in real life, a magical girl's mission will always be the same - to bring smiles to everyone!" Miracle Maple gave Miria a wink, "if there's trouble in Grailham, I'll be there! Because that's what heroes do!"

---

Kaede woke up on fine morning, still groggy from a good night's sleep.

"She said I did plenty, Trinity!"

"Yeah yeah, just eat your damn breakfast already, you've got a whole day ahead of you," Trinity sighs.

After which, Kaede would check the old snail mail.

"Would you look at that, Trinity!" Kaede squeals, "there's a new cafe! And they've got directions! I say we check it out before I invite any friends there!"

"You have friends?" Trinity raised a brow (or equivalent).

Kaede gave Trinity a deadpan look, before looking away and returning to the house to prepare to head out.

---

"This is the place. They boast some pretty good strawberry shortcake!"

"They also boast subpar graphic design," Trinity adds, "actually, what part of this looks like a cafe?"

"Yeah, good point," Kaede says, then speaks to a random man that just so happened to be Greg, "excuse me, Mister, where's the cafe?"

"Right this way, Miss."

"I'm a boy."

"... apologies. Mister."

With that, Kaede was lead into a room, where he was locked in ans immediately greeted with a rude display of kunai launchers - the road ahead blocked by them. Kaede's eyes widen.

"I think I've established that I am not dying until I get a girlfriend," Kaede utters.

"No you haven't," Trinity replies.

"I did now!" Kaede says, whipping out a bracelet, before taking a red-coloured trinket out.

"Maple Driver, activate! Insert Maple Stamp!"

"Sparkle~ Sparkle~" the 'Maple Driver' spoke in response.

"Enter Inferno Stance!"

"Strawberry Blaze~" the 'Maple Driver' continued to contradict his words.

"HENSHIN!"

"Change~"

A blazing typhoon surrounded him as he rushed forward, the sheer power of his transformation melting the kunai and obliterating all the machines. When the flames dispersed, a magical girl with a ponytail that fluttered like flames appeared.

"We did this joke already, didn't we?" Miracle Maple said as she looked at the burnt, charred and melted kunai launchers. "Oh right, one more thing - MAGICAL GIRL MIRACLE MAPLE: INFERNO STANCE!"

A pose was struck by instinct.

The dimensional refugee was a little offended at the fact that the other heroes seemed to ignore him. But then he realized that he had done nothing to show that he was really a hero. For all they knew he was just a guy cosplaying with a gas mask and Kevlar vest. Grailham City did have a sort of reputation for having many wannabe heroes and villains. Jasper could easily just been one of these fakes.

Still, it stung a little bit as the heroes assembled at the museum began to walk past him, apparently going home. Combined with the fact that Jasper had completely missed the battle at the museum, the young hero was rightly peeved off. So without saying anything, Jasper exited the museum and began the walk toward the library, where he had left the bag with his books and civilian outfit. Without the urgency of an explosion, Jasper decided to walk at a slower place.

He huffed at how pointless it was for him to rush into battle. That annoyance was only further increased as the city bus zoomed past Jasper, meaning he had missed getting on the bus again, and would have to wait another forty minutes. Not wishing to miss another bus, Jasper began to jog back toward the library. Within a few minutes, Jasper was once again in the alley beside the library branch. With as much speed as he could muster, Jasper pulled off his hero outfit and then put back on his shirt and jeans.

Stuffing his change of clothes back into his bag, Jasper left the alley and made his way to the bus stop in front of the library. Glancing at his phone, Jasper saw that it would be another half hour before the next bus was scheduled to arrive. Deciding to do something productive with his time waiting, Jasper fished the large book on Grailham history that he had checked out.

Skimming through the first few chapters, Jasper surmised that the history of Grailham in this dimension was very similar to that of his home dimension. Obviously there hadn’t been a Pandora Virus outbreak, but recent events were pretty much the same. One thing that Jasper had made sure of when he first arrived in this world was to make sure Terminus wasn’t a thing. The virus unleashing supervillain had essentially ended Jasper’s world, but a detailed search of this world’s Internet had showed that no one had heard of Terminus here.

As Jasper read, he began to lose track of time. His attempts to learn more about this dimension overtook his attention, turning from page to page. In fact he didn’t even notice the bus approaching him. Luckily the driver spotted him at the bus stop and pulled over. Jasper then noticed the bus, stuffing his book into his bag and pulling out his bus pass.

The ride back to Jasper’s apartment was uneventful. The streets were mostly empty this time of night, as he wasn’t passing through the partying part of town. By the time Jasper reached home it was technically the next day. As Jasper made his way up the stairway of his apartment building, he passed a room that was blaring music. Jasper thought of complaining to management, but then remembered that his landlord didn’t care what went on as long as you pay your rent and don’t wreck the building.

Thankfully for Jasper, his apartment was a few floors up from there, so the music wasn’t as quite as loud. As Jasper entered his apartment, he threw his bag onto the old, beat-up couch in the corner. Peeling off his clothing, Jasper collapsed onto the stiff bed he had. Pulling the sheets over him, Jasper could still hear the booming music from a few floors down. The drone of it pervaded Jasper’s head as he shifted in bed. But eventually his tiredness won out, and Jasper passed into unconsciousness.

Jasper would then open his eyes again several hours later, but not enough according to his body. His phone was buzzing with a tone just annoying enough to always wake him up. Reaching over and swiping off the alarm, Jasper rolled out of bed. He felt tired, apparently because of staying out too long and having a bad rest. Deciding that a cold shower was the answer, Jasper stripped off what clothes he had worn to bed.

Jasper was quickly in and out of the washroom, not wishing to spend too long in there. When he had first moved in, Jasper had made a solid attempt to clean up the washroom. But it was old, without outdated features, much like most of the apartment building. So there was always a little grime, just enough to cause Jasper not too linger.

After drying off and throwing on some fresh clothes, Jasper sat down at the small table next to the fridge and had a breakfast of champions: sugary cold cereal and milk. Jasper finished eating before looking at the time on his phone. He saw that he still had a little bit of time before he was supposed to remote access into work.

Walking over to his dresser, Jasper removed some sweaters to reveal a laptop. Jasper was still iffy about this part of town, so he had hidden all the valuables in different parts of the apartment unit. Bringing the laptop to the table, Jasper booted it up and immediately opened the Internet browser.

Wondering if the whole event at the museum had made the news, Jasper found that only a little information was available. It was mostly videos of the incident posted on social media, or mainstream news just stating that something had happened. Still wondering exactly what had happened, Jasper saw that he was due to start work in two minutes.

Pulling out a headset and accessing his company’s servers, Jasper got in the mindset of an IT support worker. It would only be a few minutes before a call was directed toward him.

“Hi, this is Jasper with GigaCom Tech Support, how may I help you?”

The previous night's adventure behind her, Miria returned to her apartment. She could just return to her ship, but a fair part of observing the events on Earth involved immersing herself in its culture. At least the electronic records systems were easy enough to get into and fabricate an effective identity. The details of dealing with a civilization not part of the Alliance were...difficult, to say the least. It's so much easier when more universal identifications are recognized and there's no need to jump through nearly as many hoops. Or at least the hoops to jump through weren't new and unusual ones. Establish one's prior history, identity, citizenship with the local governing body, income, etc. It took a bit to set up, but the effort was better than simply appearing one day, fully formed from the ether. She could alter records, but not memories.

The next morning, she had some unexpected mail. Looks like someone was aware of her activities the previous night. And well informed enough to track her down. This was, in and of itself, enough to follow up on. There was more to send a stronger message, but really, if one is going to invite someone in as a hero, one already knows what they're doing.

---

She arrived pretty early in the morning (got a scoop to chase down, villains related to the whole attempted museum heist, easy sell to go missing from the office). Volcano insurance. Really. Better be a brand name and not the actual business. Grailham wasn't even located in a region known for its tectonic activity. At least it was a more interesting front than an import/export warehouse or the like. Miria walked into the place still in her more civilian appearance. She ignored the staff and made her way to the elevator in the back. It looked ordinary enough, buttons for all the floors. And after some inspection, additional buttons labeled in Chinese characters hidden behind a panel and leading even further below ground. Time to jab a few and see what happens.

What happens is a death trap. The elevator stopped somewhere between floors, its lights cut off, and some vents near the bottom started pouring water into the elevator. For most intruders, this alone would prove more than enough, but Miria hardly seemed worried. If anyone's watching on hidden camera, they're in for a boring performance, as she hardly seems to react to her situation of a slow death by drowning. Miria at least has the good grace to play along enough to swim to the top of the elevator and get one good breath from the swiftly-disappearing bubble of air at the top of the car. Unfortunately, the emergency escape at the top was locked and sealed shut. No way would it be that easy.

By the time the doors were pried open from the inside, Miria had transformed her clothes into her scifi superhero get-up. She swam out into a room that was fairly well-lit, with walls, floor, and ceiling covered with white tiles. It would almost make a nice swimming pool, if not for the corpses in various stages of decay hanging upside-down from chains strewn about the place as food for the crabs and occasional fish flitting around in the room. There was, at least, a surface here to break. And above it, in the ceiling, there was a grate. That's her way out, then.

Some amount of effort and noise later, and Miria was in the room above the lovely water trap, carefully resetting the grate into the floor. Someone had probably heard that, so she'd soon get to see whatever the next challenge this place would throw at her. In hindsight, she should've just used her Klein field to trap some air. Now, she had it up and ready to deflect attacks in case of more traps, or a welcoming committee.

---

And welcoming committee it was. Miria stepped into a hallway to meet about half a dozen ninjas rushing her way. "So that's how it's going to be," she asked. "I don't suppose anyone knows where I could find a manager? I'd like to speak about a possible OSHA violation on the way in."

A volley of kunai and throwing stars was her response. It stopped in midair, held in place by her force field. Miria narrowed her eyes as she sized up the enemy from the other side of the ineffective missiles. "I should have known better than to try." A quick outburst from her shield sent the projectiles flying back down the hallway ahead of her as she rushed the group.

The invitation had arrived with the mail. A challenge of sorts, addressed to Danny personally. It was succint and to the point, featuring his full name, an address, and a stamp. The stamp consisted of angular straight lines, depicting a robotic looking face.
"Are you going to go?" His dad asked.
Danny nods. Regardless of how they found out who he was, the fact they sentthe invitation to his house had certain implications.
"Do you need us to-"
"It's alright, this shouldn't take long."
"Alright, just be back before dinner." His dad said, smiling.

As the elevator descended, Danny prepared himself. His feet morphed into claws, stretching the legs of his jeans. His teeth slowly melded into sharp points as his mouth stretched wider, splitting open his cheeks. He left his head transformation there though, he may have been in need of a human face at the end of all this. The back of his jeans burst open as a large tail worked its way out behind him. He kept his hands in his pockets, ready to transmute into talons at a moment's notice. As the elevator door opened and Danny stepped out into the dark room ahead, it was almost a disappointment that nothing happened.

An array of lights flickered to life across the room, illuminating a metal clad figure in the middle of the flat room. A man in samurai armour with a katana at his waist. Strangely, he seemed to be made almost entirely out of metal. Danny put on his best smile and began walking forward. Though with his new mouth, it looked more like a menacing grin.
"I was expecting some traps or obstacles down here, you know." Danny said casually. "Hope you're not going to split into 6 like the ones I fought yesterday.
"Petty tricks." The samurai said, drawing his sword slowly. "Speed is the only true power."
His voice droned out with the sound of clicking metal, echoing out into the empty room. His katana glowed red and hummed threateningly.

Danny stopped walking and the metal-clad samurai pointed his sword towards him.
"They call me the Super Sonic Samurai, and I am not without honor. You may wait for your friends to arrive, if you wish."
"They're not really my friends just yet. And if it's all the same to you, I'd like to get this over with."
"Very well. The samurai said, resheathing his sword.
He his body clicked and whirred as got into a ready position, leaning forward with one foot back as if preparing to charge at any moment. One of his hands rested on his scabbard and the other on the katana's hilt. Parts of his body opened and slid across, revealing a lean metal flame. Something akin to engine clicked on, sending a low rumbling sound into the surroundings. Danny's eyes changed colour, becoming more reptilian in nature, as the combatants prepared to fight.

"Let us... Begin."
The Super Sonic Samurai burst forward to meet his adversary in battle.

The quiet vibrations of his cellphone woke James from his slumber as he dismissed his alarm with a small growl of frustration at himself for forgetting to disable it. It’s his first day off in ages, he was not supposed to be woken up at 6:30am. Pulling himself out of bed, he went over to his wardrobe and quickly threw on jeans and a sweater before he started to collect any clothes lying about in his room and repeating the process in the bathroom, throwing everything into his hamper before picking it up and heading towards the laundry room.

It wasn’t until he passed the couch and saw Arf and Arthur passed out on it, that the events of last night registered. ”It actually happened…” Sighing at the ever-growing list of tasks being added to his to-do list at the revelation. Quietly leaving the apartment he headed down to the laundry room and started the first load. The first errand out of the way, he moved on to the second, leaving the building and boarding his bike, reentering his apartment about 40 minutes later with two bags of groceries in hand.

Preheating the oven, he swiftly deposited everything into their rightful places, while taking out everything he’ll need for breakfast. His first action was to dump two bags of sausages into two of his largest pans before sticking two trays of bacon into the oven. When the first batch is done, he’ll load up the oven with another. He doesn’t know how much Arf needs to eat, but he’d rather make too much than too little. While he waits, he whips up a mixture for waffles. It didn’t take long for the meat to finish as he piled up two large plates with waffle towers. After that, he put a few slices of bread into the toaster and cracked open three eggs into a pan - scrambling them - and turned on the kettle. He has a decent selection of tea, and if Arthur does turn out to be a shudder coffee drinker, the small container of instant coffee he picked up at the store should suffice.

The toast popped out of the toaster and he removed the eggs from the pan. It was time to wake them. 𝒢𝓊𝓎𝓈, 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝒻𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎!~♪

Arthur's dreams, pleasant as they were, were oddly fluffy, not unlike the living pillow he had buried his face into upon falling asleep. A warm, comfortable sensation he was not accustomed to. Unlike the previous nights since arriving, Arthur found himself waking to the heavenly aroma of cooked meat and a boundless sea of fluffy dog. Looking up through bleary eyes, Arthur focused on James’ visage as a yawn escaped him. “I thank thee sir James for the hospitality. I dare say, I was expecting for us to go out on a hunt. ‘Tis a great way to wake the mind and body, isn’t that right boy?”

Arthur tries to wake the wolf, petting him gently at first before moving on to shaking him a bit. Seeing it remain unresponsive, he gradually increased the intensity of his jostling until he was furiously rubbing its fur all over. It was kind of fun, given how soft it is, but still, nothing. Welp, guess the dog is dead. It’s clearly still breathing, but it appears to be in some sort of coma. ”Mayhaps our canid friend has been on the receiving end of a cursed apple?”

”I don’t know how common cursed apples are where you come from, but I think he’s just a heavy sleeper?” As if to test his theory, James brought over a plate full of bacon, taking a piece and dangling it in front of the wolf’s nose.

A little over a second passed in complete stillness before the wolf snapped the bacon out of James’ grip in an instant, causing him to recoil away as the visceral illusion of losing a few fingers set off alarm bells in his head. Thankfully, in spite of the lingering imaginary sensations, no fingers were lost, and it seemed to have worked in waking the wolf up. Or, at least, getting it to wake up.

The wolf gobbled down the strip of bacon greedily without opening its eyes, as if eating the entire thing in its sleep. Only a moment after it swallowed did it seem to stir in earnest, tiredly looking up at the two men surrounding it before stretching out like a cat and getting off the bed.

“You’d be wise to remember that when feeding an animal, it is always best done palm up.” Arthur had learned that lesson the hard way while feeding the stray dogs and cats that seemed to flock to Merlin’s hut.

Rubbing his fingers after their narrow miss, James gave a stilted laugh. ”I'll remember that.”

With Arf up, they all moved to the kitchen, where James served the large wolf a veritable feast of meats. Arthur began tearing into the tower of waffles as James set out a selection of breakfast beverages for Arthur to choose between. Oddly, before beginning the feast, Arf walked over to the opposite end of the kitchen table and gingerly grabbed the mug with coffee in it between his teeth, carefully dragging it back towards his plate of meats. It was an odd sight, but Arf seemed to be happy as he licked up the coffee, apparently undeterred by the lack of opposable thumbs.

A chill crawled up James’ spine, covering his entire body with goosebumps. Coffee…blegh…

Wait a minute… ”Isn’t coffee toxic to dogs?” A touch of humor coloured James’ voice as he gave the wolf his best dead-pan look.

This caused Arf to pause, looking back at James, before looking back down at the coffee. A second of silence passes. Arf resumes drinking the coffee.

A snort left James as Arf’s priorities revealed themselves. Arthur, on the other hand, knew better than to doubt the wisdom of a medicine man. Glancing at Arf with wide eyes, showing clear concern on his face, Arthur swallowed what food was currently in his mouth before choking out a single word of concern. ”Toxic?”

James simply shook his head before giving Arthur a reassuring smile. ”While I’m firmly of the opinion that coffee is toxic to everyone, he should be fine. I don’t think he’s an ordinary dog, after all. Besides, chocolate is also toxic for canines and my mom used to feed her pup a small bar of it every night when she was a kid, and he still lived for almost 15 years. As long as he doesn’t push it with a second cup -“ Here James directed a very stern look towards Arf, ”it should be alright.”

Arf disregarded James entirely and began moving towards the stove as the first mug was emptied. He tilted his head sidewards and awkwardly picked up the kettle of boiling hot water before James realized he didn’t want the oversized wolf pouring scalding liquid into a cup he can only barely see in his peripheral vision.

Arf rubbed his head on James’ shoulder affectionately, like a cat instead of a dog again, as James begrudgingly made another cup of coffee for him.

Arkin, having ascended to the status of real, actual person™ with the help of caffeine, began eating breakfast in earnest, digging in with a ferocious appetite that the back of his mind told him was frankly concerning. Still, the bacon and sausage was too good for him to pay it any heed, and the time he spent without coffee made it all the more satisfying to finally return to, like separated lovers finally reunited. Even if it is toxic to him, it’s absolutely worth it.

Maybe being a giant wolf man has made him more of a morning person, because he was feeling pretty good today. He couldn’t fathom why James, finally sitting down and getting to his own breakfast, didn’t seem to share in the same good vibes. Maybe he got in over his head with the huge buffet?

James, meanwhile, was doing his best to look stern. He would not be encouraging bad coffee habits by showing that he was amused. No sirree. Besides, there was a lot to think about, arrangements to be made and errands to run. ”Alright, eat up guys. We have a lot to do today. We’ll need to go into town later to pick up some essentials for you two. I’m just gonna head down to switch the laundry to the dryer, we can go once I get back. Arthur, feel free to help yourself to anything in my closet in the meantime.”

”I am humbled by thy allowance of thine wardrobe.”

As soon as James leaves, Arthur immediately turns to Arkin and begins begging for another ride. ”Would you mind giving me another ride, my friend?”

Arkin, in between bites of his extensive plate of schmeat, spared Arthur only a brief response. ”Arf.”

”Please, boy. I’m not ready for another ride on that infernal stygian chariot!”

”Arf.”

Arthur grew increasingly more desperate, knowing full well he had nothing to leverage for the request. ”I beg of thee, great and noble beast, grant me thy mercy and you shall have my eternal gratitude.”

”Arf.”

”I shall be eternally in your debt. Your whims, my command. Anything, anything, that I may be spared such a wretched and terrible fate as that of yesterday.”

”Arf.”

”Please please please please please please please please please please!”

”Arf.”

”Ah! The light of mercy shineth upon me.” Arthur gets up, walks over to Arkin, who is still largely preoccupied with eating, and hugs him. ”Truly your magnanimity knows no bounds. I am humbled by your generosity. You are an inspiration of what a King should be to his people. I will look back on this moment for all time, remembering the selflessness you saw fit to bestow upon me here today.”

”Arf”, Arkin said for the sixth time.

---

After returning to his breakfast and finishing it last, Arthur wandered into James’ room and, with subtle help from Arkin, managed to put together a casual outfit that wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb. As James returned, the two followed him out before Arthur climbed up onto Arkin while James started his bike’s engine.

Whilst he was clearly more used to riding a equine steed with a saddle, there was something oddly soothing about mounting his oversized canid companion. The softness of his fur was unparalleled. Plus, it was clearly safer than riding in that roaring metal carriage. Had James even pondered what would happen if one of his wheels were to come free from their axles? For that matter, where were the axles? Pushing those thoughts aside, Arthur instead opted to think of ways to repay his furry friend. Surely with what little coinage he had, he would be able to find something that he would like. Upon further thinking, he realized he had yet to repay James for his kindness as well.

Pulling up at the mall was the start of an… experience, to say the least. If James thought corralling a hyper five-year-old was tough, he hadn’t seen anything yet. The first obstacle came when security threatened not to let them in, but considering the recent rise in abnormal-looking supers, they managed to get past him easily enough with some smooth-talking from James. After that, the real challenge bagan. They went from store to store, picking up essentials; bathroom supplies James had to ensure Arthur were all important,

“Yes, deodorant is necessary. No, I don’t know why it has such a weird name. Arf, please tell Arthur it’s necessary.”

“Arf.”

“See?”

Some modern clothing for Arthur to wear,

”Why must every other shirt bear a picture or a joke on it?”

“Arf.”

”I don’t understand!”

“Well, I think your selection of t-shirts and leather has you covered for the most part. How about we move on to shoes?”

“Arf.”

”’Tis warm and protective.”

“Leather jacket, leather pants, and now steel-toed boots… You sure you don’t want to ride on my motorcycle?”

”Yes, that thing is absolutely terrifying. I would rather ride a wooden pony.”

And eventually a toy store, to keep Arthur entertained, if nothing else.

Arthur had been happy in his youth with a homemade wooden sword, and the few animals the ladies of the brothel had made for him in their free time. However, upon entering the toy store, Arthur’s eyes nearly bugged out of his skull, his jaw nearly unhinging as he took in what he saw. One of the first things that caught his eye was a display upfront full of McFarlane action figures. More specifically, a Final Fantasy Action figure of Cloud Strife. “I cry thee, what is this? This man’s sword is far too large! And how pray tell does his hair do that? I mean it’s just...” His voice suddenly cut off as his eyes fell upon a scantily clad female knight. “By God’s grace this is just wrong!” His enamored shouting quickly drew the attention of a nearby kid. “I dare say, this woman is barely dressed! In fact this armor is practically useless! Prithee, tell me this. In what way would such armor protect thee?”

Arthur would have gone on about how useless the woman’s armor was, when his eyes fell upon something truly disturbing. Sitting on a lower shelf, marked as half off, sat a six inch statuette of a ruggish brunette man clad in armor and cape, with long flowing hair, emerald green eyes, and a grizzled beard. Engraved on the base it read ‘Arthur Pendragon’. Arthur didn’t know how to feel as he stared at what was supposed to be him. Was history so skewed, that is how they remembered him? Is this really what people thought he looked like? As Arthur sat dumbfounded staring at the misrepresentation of himself, he didn’t notice the employee who had come up behind him.

“Oh, are you a fan of the ‘Guinevere’ series? It’s funny, but nobody seems to want the Arthur figures. All they want are Merlin and Guinevere action figures.” Snapped from his stupor Arthur promptly grabbed the figurine and waved it in the man’s face.

“This is an outrageous lie! My hair be not this dark! Nor my eye’s green! How dare thee peddle such blatant lies! Have thee no dignity!” Thankfully James managed to pull him away from the action figures, and a very confused employee, before he could cause any more of a ruckus.

After preventing anyone from throwing down a gauntlet, James ushered Arthur back outside, highly amused, and had him wait there before grabbing a set of walkie-talkies, as well as some teddy bears for his nieces and nephew. He figured the walkie-talkies would be easier for Arthur to operate than a phone.

While Arthur wasn’t the easiest, Arf was the real challenge. James had no idea what he might need, going so far as to drag their group into a pet supply store.

“What do you think about this bowl, Arf? It’s shiny?”

Slaps bowl out of his hands with extreme prejudice.

James gave him a deadpan expression. “Nice.” He then picked up a nearby chew toy and squeaked it. “What about this? It’s bone shaped?”

Slaps chew toy out of his hands with extreme prejudice.

Sensing a pattern, a mischievous grin crossed James’ face. Picking up a nearby bag of meaty dog treats, he gave it a shake. “Not even for an Arf-snack?”

Walks away

Laughing, James ran after Arf’s retreating form. “Wait, come back! I’m sorry!”

Ultimately, they left the pet store empty-handed.

They continued shopping for hours before James declared that it was finally time for them to head home. Satisfied with his procurement of essential supplies, he brought the two to an ice cream shop, where they sat down for a frozen treat before heading back.

”Prithee tell, how do your people keep your food so cold? This must surely be magic. Also, I’m not too sure of the current going rate for currency these days, but it felt as if thou hast spent quite a lot on me today. By any chance would you know how much my money is worth?Surely gold must still be worth something.” Reaching down to his belt he undid his coin purse and slid it across the table to James before taking a bite of his vanilla ice cream. ”By the grace of god almighty that is heavenly. I must eat this with every meal!”

James grinned as Arthur devoured the frozen treat, picking up the gold absentmindedly. “I'm glad you like it, it might not be magic, but good old human ingenuity ain't anything to scoff at either, just don't eat it too fast.” James wasn't really expecting much when Arthur mentioned gold coins - a part of him was even expecting it to be those chocolate coins - he had prepared himself to humor Arthur, to gently inform him that values have changed and that he wasn’t going to be able to get much for them…he wasn't prepared for the sight of actual ancient gold coins. “...”

Taking a second to make sure that he wasn't just seeing things, James looked up at Arthur, slightly stunned. “Dang, you're just chock-full of surprises kiddo.” James is not going to ask where he got them. He doesn’t want to know. “I'm not an expert and I might be wrong, but - depending on the collector - these might be worth a fortune…” Sliding the coins back to Arthur, James looked at him with a serious expression “Promise me you won't spend them until you have an expert look them over, I don't want you getting scammed.”

”You have my solemn oath, that I shall refrain from any ill spending.”

“Great, I’ll set up a meeting with an expert for you during the week, so you’ll just have to hold off until then.”

Returning home and entering the apartment with arms full of purchases, the three men all breathed a sigh of relief. Shopping is always an ordeal. Placing the purchases down, James gave the two of them a smile. “Okay, now we can officially get you guys settled in. I’ll call my family later to see if any of them have an old chest or dresser we can move in here for you. If not, my sister-in-law’s a woodworker so I’ll get the friends and family discount if we need to commission one.” Giving Arthur’s shoulder a pat, James continued, “There should be enough room in my closet for your clothes until then. It might be a little tight, but -”

”Arf?”

“I don’t mind. You guys can live with me for as long as you need.”

”Arf?”

“You guys don’t have to worry about anything. As the epitome of a responsible adult, I’m financially stable enough to keep the expenses from affecting me. I appreciate the concern, though.”

”Arf.”

”You’re right, Arf. You have my thanks, James. If not with gold, then I’d still like to repay you in some way.”

“Pssh, don’t worry about that, I’m a paramedic after all, helping people’s in my DNA or something, and it’ll be nice to have roommates again anyway.” His voice also took on a slightly teasing tone as he flashed them a grin. ”If you really want to help out though, we can establish a chore-chart, once you’re all settled in. Hope that doesn’t give you any second thoughts?”

”Nay. I might be unsure as to what a chore-chart is, as I’m still inexperienced with the customs of this time, but I’ll defer to Arf’s judgement for now.”

”Arf.”

”Yes.”

Giving Arthur’s shoulder a final pet and Arf’s fur a quick ruffle, James took a step into the kitchen, taking out one of the tupperware containers filled with some leftover waffles (he might have gone a little overboard with breakfast) before heading to the door. “Right. I’m just going to run these over to Mrs. Kowalski and go grab the laundry from the dryer. There’s leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry while I’m out.”

As the door closed behind James, Arthur was left with his furry companion in what he still thought of as a royal chamber. Looking at Arf, something just felt off. This animal had shown him that it was far more than some wild beast. In fact it showcased a level of intelligence he had rarely seen of most normal people. It was quite perplexing to say the least. “Say, boy, this may sound odd but do you actually have a name?”

Two barks this time. ”Arf, Yip.”

”This just won’t do. I wish you knew how to write.”

Arkin stood up on all fours. This could be his chance. ”Arf!”

Arthur’s eyebrow cocks up at the sudden reaction. ”Wait, can thee write?”

In response, the wolf looks Arthur dead in the eye and nods. If there was ever any doubt about the wolf’s ability to understand speech, they’re gone now.

Arthur grins childishly for a moment before holding up a placating hand. ”Just wait right there! I shan’t tarry!” Spinning up from his spot on the couch Arthur bolted to the kitchen and began scrounging for what he needed. More than once did he find something that truly confused him, but he didn’t allow himself to get distracted. It wasn’t long before he came rushing back with a notepad and a pencil. After a few frantic moments of writing he set the pad on the floor revealing he had written out the alphabet, albeit poorly. ”Could you show me how to spell thine name?”

Looking at the letters written in runic, Arkin had to regretfully shake his head before pawing at the pencil in Arthur’s hand until he released it. ”Oh?”

Arkin began, with great difficulty, flipping over the paper and writing English characters on the back. After spending nearly a full minute trying to grip a pencil between his two front paws and drawing a crude ‘A’, Arthur realized his mistake. Kind of.

”Oh! You know the king’s speech!” At this revelation Arthur promptly started a new sheet with the archaic latin alphabet, before promptly sliding it over with a grin. ”’Tis better?”

Arkin nodded, but after staring at the paper for a few conflicted seconds, he began tearing it up, carefully separating the letters into little pieces. After tearing about half of it up and wracking his memory over which latin letters represent which english ones, he rearranged some of them to spell out his name: ‘𐌀𐌓𐌊𐌉𐌍’.

“Arkin? Is that your name, boy?”

A nod.

“Arkin! You are Arkin!” Arthur couldn’t stop himself from lunging forward and wrapping his arms around Arkin’s body, engulfing him in a tight hug as he celebrated this newfound connection he’d made with his furry friend.”Thou art a truly magnificent creature. I will begin work on larger letters post-haste so that we might begin communicating with further ease!”

Arkin simply sat back, watching with the canine equivalent of a smile. He thought he’d have more to say, but now that he’s finally getting the opportunity to do so, his mind went blank, unable to think of anything but the Latin alphabet and Arthur’s innocent smile. They got so occupied exchanging pleasantries that they didn’t even notice James return.

Mrs. Kowalski was very appreciative of the waffles, pinching James’ cheek and promising him a batch of cookies that weekend as thanks. James mentally fist-pumped. Score! Mrs. K makes the best cookies. He grabbed the laundry without problems and quickly folded the clothes before leaving the laundry room. He then made a quick stop at his mailbox in the building, balancing its contents on the hamper, before heading back. Nodding at his new roommates, he placed the mail on the kitchen counter before leaving the room to put the laundry away.

Only when he returned did he realize that two of the letters were addressed to ‘Arthur Pendragon, one true king of the holy land of Britannia, protector of the weak and downtrodden.’ and ‘Big Wolf Thing’. He also received a letter addressed to himself. Without thinking much of it, he handed the other two their letters, not paying much attention to their activities, before opening his own.

Arthur was perplexed, to say the least. Guessing from the look on James’ face, it wasn’t abnormal for people to receive mail like this, but having never received a letter before, he found it odd that not only had he just received a letter, but it was also written in English, using strange Latin characters, (is this normal here?) and addressed to him in the manner he had introduced himself the other day. Conceding to his curiosity he opened the letter.

To Arthur Pendragon, one true king of the holy land of Britannia, protector of the weak and downtrodden,
It has come to our knowledge that you have made your way to our junction in time. Our organization has prided itself in protecting many powerful artifacts that could spell trouble for the world if they fell into the wrong hands. We are descended from the organization you started, The Knights Of The Round. Long have we held onto a holy relic that was once in your possession. You may know it as the holy blade Excalibur. We wish to return it to you, and provide you with any aid we can in allowing you to protect this land and its people.
Merlin himself entrusted us with making sure you would one day receive this relic, and it would be our most humble joy to finally see it reunited with its master. If you would be so kind as to meet us at the address located below, we would love to finally meet you and, with your permission, join you in your crusade to save this society from villainy. We look forward to finally meeting the great King Arthur in person.

Yours Truly, Greg The Wise

Utterly baffled by what he had just read, Arthur was unsure of what to believe. If what the letter said was true, then the sword had been removed from the stone and could now be wielded by anyone. That, or it was a trap. Either way, Arthur knew to go prepared. Almost instinctively Arthur’s entire demeanor changed as he dropped the letter where he stood and marched off to get changed. A short while later he emerged from the back room. He had traded his borrowed civilian clothes for his combat garb. A pair of black leather pants with matching leather jacket, a plain black t-shirt, and a pair of black steel toed boots. He had also taken the time to reattach his sword and his quiver to his belt as well as grabbing his bow. His face was now completely devoid of emotion as he mentally prepared himself for another battle.

---

Opening his letter wasn’t easy for Arkin. He gave it an earnest attempt but it only took a few seconds for him to give up and rip the envelope to shreds, exposing the message beneath. He’ll gather up the shredded paper later.

To the wolven hero,
My employer said I had to write you this letter, even though he wasn’t sure you would be able to read it. If you’re a transformed hero, you’ll have to forgive our confusion, since you remained transformed all the way back to your address.
We would like to cordially invite you to the attached address for an interview. This invitation is open to any wolven hero, intelligent wolf, or owner/legal custodian of supernaturally large wolves, though bringing the wolf in question is a prerequisite. In addition to providing information and aid for newly established heroes, our organization aims to research all things falling particularly far out of the norm, such as the existence and intelligence of super-animals or the potential limitations of transforming in or out of alternate forms enabled by super-abilities. As remuneration for your time, our organization is prepared to offer a lifetime’s supply of high-quality dog food, as well as any of our specially designed dog toys that you may find appealing.

Best Regards, Greg

P.S. I’ve always loved dogs. If you don’t mind, I’d love to meet you just to give you some pets. I promise I won’t make it weird if you’re actually human.

Arkin grimaced at the thought of eating actual dog food. It’s called dog food because it’s unfit for human consumption. There’s probably some gourmet shit out there but he’d rather go back to hunting wild animals and eating them raw than degrade himself like that. He was still a human on the inside and wanted to be treated as such, dammit. There was something about this Greg guy that really rubbed him the wrong way.

---

James’ face was completely blank as he examined the envelope’s contents, not a single twitch crossed his face. Only his fingers tightening on the envelope - crumpling the paper slightly - showed his distress at what he saw.
There were three photos and a letter.
The first picture showed a woman and a little girl laughing through their kitchen window, the second of a man and woman walking in the park with two toddlers and the final one featured an older couple working in the garden. It was obvious none of the participants were aware of the camera.

To the hero Medic, also known as Mr. James Harris,
I apologize for any distress our letter might have caused and we assure you that no harm was brought to your loved ones. My employers simply felt it necessary to inform you of the potential risk they face given your recent career change. Now while we pose no threat, the same cannot be said about other, less savory, folks.
Our organization is specially designed to give up-and-coming heroes like yourself aid, as well as helpful tips and specially designed courses to aid in developing your skills. One of the many lessons you’ll learn is methods to protect your loved ones and your identity more effectively. Judging from the foiled caper at the museum last night, you seem like a prime candidate.
An interview has been scheduled for you tonight. It is recommended you attend; simply follow the directions on the back of the letter to reach the destination.

Best Regards, Greg

Taking a seat at the kitchen counter, James put the letter down and buried his face in his hands taking a deep breath. Seeing those pictures had to have been the single most terrifying moment of his life. The letter might not have been intended as a threat, though it might as well have been one. There’s nothing he wants to do more than to rip up the invitation, show them that he doesn’t want anything to do with a place that deals in emotional blackmail, but he couldn’t. Obviously, he was easier to track than he imagined, Greg’s people having found his family in less than a day after his first time getting involved with actual hero-work. If this place could teach him how to be better, keep his family untraceable, doesn’t he owe it to them to go? On the other hand, what if he doesn’t go and they decide to use more extreme ways of getting their point across? James needs to go to the interview tonight, but he won’t be going unarmed. He’ll have to dig his old bat out of his closet. Noble as their intentions might have been, he’ll make sure that they understand that his family is off limits…

---

“I take it ya’ll got sketchy invitations too?”

”Aye.”

”Arf.”

“Ya’ll gonna go?”

”Aye.”

”Arf.”

“Alright. What do you boys want for dinner tonight? I doubt they’ll be providing food.”

Arkin kept the contents of his letter to himself as he described to James what kind of meat dish he was in the mood for, in great detail: ”Arf.”

Eager to unveil his newly learned information Arthur let his guise slip for a moment. He could only guess based off of previously shared meals, before he hooked a thumb towards his furry friend with a wry smile. ”Arkin says he wants steak.”

“Arkin, huh?” James gave the two of them a grin. ”That suits you. I’ll see about whipping some up.”

As the full moon became visible against the colorful dusk sky, The three men arrived at their destination, none of them knowing exactly what to expect. All three of them, however, were not expecting the organization from their respective letters to be housed within a building emblazoned with the words ‘VOLCANO INSURANCE CO.’

There was something overtly fishy about the whole thing, like a low-budget parody horror movie. The letter’s promises were probably as bogus as the need for volcano insurance in western Texas. Even a catastrophic yellowstone eruption would only douse a place this far from the epicenter in a ton of ash. As James parks his motorcycle and Arthur dismounts Arkin, the large wolf is the first to approach the building, though not through its front entrance. Arkin first leapt up onto a nearby building, before jumping on top of ‘Volcano Insurance Co.’ It was only two stories tall, but being able to leap atop buildings from ground level was a nice, if surreal perk of being a giant wolf.

The roof bore only modest shin-height railings and was largely utilitarian in nature, featuring ventilation ducts and solar panels. They were a bit small for Arkin to use for infiltration, but luckily the stairwell into the building wasn’t kept locked.

Leaping back down to rejoin the others, he did his best to convey his intentions by gesturing towards the roof with his head, since he is completely and totally incapable of communicating through simple barks.

James watched Arkin’s actions, momentarily confused, but quickly grasped his meaning. “You want us to go through the roof…?” That’s about as sketchy as this building’s obvious cover-story.

Exchanging a look with Arthur, James tilted his head in question, receiving a shrug in response. People doth call it ‘animal instincts’ for a reason.

…Alright then. James can’t really argue with that, so guess Arf’s leading the way. Besides, if this supposed organization really ends up being that easy to infiltrate, James’ll know that they aren’t worth wasting time with. Adjusting his leather jacket (a jacket he hadn’t previously worn, having bought it on a whim after discovering his powers because of its style reminiscent of plague doctors), he took his aluminum bat out of his sidecar and shouldered it. “Through the roof it is then. I’m not seeing a ladder anywhere though, can you still jump like that while carrying us?.”

Arkin simply bent down, like when he was letting Arthur climb aboard. The two men got on and held on tight as Arkin was barely able to repeat his previous jumps. Infiltration by roof still seemed like the best option, though he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to perform jumps like that quite as well every time.

In any case, as they entered the empty stairwell and descended into the building, they found it empty, devoid of any life or conspicuous aspects. When they reached the second floor, they took a peek inside, only to find an office workspace with the lights off, full of empty cubicles with the ‘VOLCANO INSURANCE CO.’ logo strewn about, adorning marketing posters and abandoned coffee mugs. Perhaps whatever organization that invited them here was in need of logistical support staff, or perhaps the obvious dummy company kept up pretenses here. Either way, a cursory examination revealed that it was very much not in use currently, unlike the first floor whose lights could be seen from outside.

As they returned to the stairwell and made their way down to its bottom floor; the ground floor, they exercised a bit more caution. Arkin led the way out as James held the door. There was only one other person discernable in the office space, and not having to wear shoes actually did wonders for minimizing the sound of one’s footsteps. Before he even knew what hit him, Arkin pounced on the man clad in a standard white dress shirt, holding him down by his shoulders as Arthur and James followed to begin the interrogation. Contrary to expectations however, the man simply grinned as he reached up and began petting Arkin’s sides with both hands. “Doggie! I knew you’d come!”

It was so jarring to see the man, Greg, react this way that Arkin froze up for a second, unsure of what to do in this situation. After thinking it over, he resolved to show Greg that they meant business and let out a series of angry barks that were so loud and visceral that even Arkin was having second thoughts about traumatizing the poor man. He had never tried to bark or growl at something to intimidate it. He never even practiced it, but the sound he made screamed ‘I am going to violently maul you’ and he found it a bit disturbing. James, never having heard what a dog about to attack sounded like, also couldn’t help but grow concerned about how far their wolven friend was willing to go.

The barks themselves managed to get Greg to shut his eyes, perhaps to avoid Arkin’s moist dog breath getting into them, but after he was done, he simply continued smiling and started talking to him like he was a baby. “There, there, you’re not in the best mood, are you, big guy? But your fur is so soft, yes, so, so soft. Nobody with such soft fur can be that bad.” He leaned his head over to one of Arkin’s legs and began nuzzling against it as he gradually dropped the baby-speak. “Well I’m here for you, big guy, just think of me as your best friend. You wanna tell your pal Greg what’s wrong?”

Arkin was starting to get uncomfortable with this situation, so he got off of Greg, who promptly sat up, briefly dusted himself off, then leaned forward on his knees to hug Arkin, who tilted away from it in mild annoyance. He was starting to really dislike this guy. Arthur himself felt a little saddened and disappointed that he was no longer the only person to have hugged Arkin today.

Meanwhile, James was doing his utmost not to laugh at the turn that the situation took. No matter how funny it was, they needed to present an united front right now, besides the poor wolf was obviously in distress, and intervention was called for. Clearing his throat, he took a step towards Greg, staring him down through his helmet.

Greg noticed James' approach and immediately backed away, realizing his faux pas. “Oh! I’m sorry! Does he belong to you? Sometimes I just can’t help myself, I gotta pet the dog.”

James gave a nod in reply, the picture of seriousness. “I understand completely, if ya gotta pet the dog, ya gotta pet the dog.”

Arkin did not agree with his first statement, but wasn’t in an adequately linguistically capable position to object.

“But no, Arf does not belong to me. We just live together. Getting back on topic, though, I assume you’re the Greg from the letters?”

“Ah, yes, that would be me.”

Nodding at the confirmation, James gave his bat a little twirl, keeping his tone conversational. “While the invitation was appreciated, I could have gone without the underlying threat.”

Greg simply shrugged as he inched closer to Arkin, who simultaneously inched further away. “I was given suggestions on each letter by my superiors, based on the intel we gathered. Yours was the photos of your family, right?”

James nods.

“Oh man, yours was one of the hardest. I think my coworkers took pictures of six different families before I had to give up and photoshop them around using pictures from fakebook. I think they just wanted to pass off a random family as yours, and I can’t blame them. They probably don’t get paid enough to go digging through public records in order to travel to a random suburban house just to take some pictures. If you thought they were photos though, that must mean I did a good job!”

“Uh…”

“Oh, you probably want to meet with my boss, or maybe just a manager? Well, you’ll find them in the floors below. You can take the elevator over there.” Greg pointed to the elevator sitting off to the side of the front desk. “Mind the kunai turret by the front door. Wouldn’t want the heckin’ pupper to get hurt.”

“Much obliged.” Taking a step in the direction Greg pointed, James paused before turning back to Greg. “You know, I like you, Greg. You seem like a diligent young man, and you’re obviously a talented photoshopper, so I’m just gonna say this once. No more pictures of my family, fake or not, okay?” Giving the young man a very friendly pat on the shoulder, James turned back around and made his way towards the elevator with Arkin. “You take care now, Greg.”

Arthur himself had held back, waiting for James and Arkin to get a little further away until they were what he hoped to be out of earshot Before turning his gaze to Greg the Wise. With one hand still gripping the hilt of his sword Arthur took a step forward, amused slightly as the man took a single step back, before leaning in closer, speaking in a firm but quiet tone. ”That dog has a name. It’s Arkin, and he belongs to no one. You seem nice, but remember, he is his own…” Arthur stopped for a moment, faltering at the realization that he couldn’t quite say he was ‘his own man’, before shaking away those thoughts and regaining his composure. ”...What I mean to say is ask before petting. Otherwise you won’t remain Greg the Wise.” Spinning on his heel Arthur hurried to catch up with his companions, feeling a slight shame for having blundered his words.

Greg responded with a smile, still not taking his eyes off of Arkin as he left with the others. “I thank you for your wisdom, Arthur Pendragon, one true king of the holy land of Britannia, protector of the weak and downtrodden!”

Arthur pretended not to hear that.

They all entered the elevator, which apparently had the ground floor as its highest floor, and waited as James selected B1, figuring they’d reach a reception area for whatever ‘Volcano Insurance Co.’ was a cover for.

---

Meanwhile, in a certain central control room, a goon smiles deviously as he presses a few buttons before leaning back in his swivel chair and taking a sip of his coffee. “Man, I love my job.”

---

Perhaps only a second passed between the elevator door closing and the lights flickering out. The entire elevator seemed to start shaking as red hazard lights replaced them, flashing rapidly enough to cause a seizure. They were arguably more blinding than the complete darkness that preceded them. Loud klaxons blared, as if to pretend it wasn’t a trap from the start. Gravity itself seemed to betray the three as they entered freefall and came to sudden stops randomly. The elevator, if it could even still be called that, was clearly not moving in a single direction anymore.

”WHAT IS HAPPENING!? WHAT IS AN ELEVATOR!?”

But before James could answer him, the elevator jerked at one particular moment and partially opened its doors, sending Arthur tumbling out, but keeping the large wolf in, who consequently blocked the door, preventing James from following suit. With Arthur out, the doors shut, the elevator stabilized, the lights turned back on, and its descent continued. It was evidently going past the first basement floor, taunting its occupants with relaxing music

After stabilizing himself again, James glared at the now closed door. Great. Just great. Not only was he certain that this was no interview now, Arthur was alone somewhere. Who knows what’ll happen to the kid? “Damn it.” Sighing, he gave Arkin a pat. “Thanks for the save, big guy.” Everything will be alright, Arthur can take care of himself until they find him, the building can’t be all that big, they’ll find him soon.

When the elevator doors opened again, Arkin and James found themselves in a nondescript hallway, empty other than the green carpet laid out along its length. Naturally, the elevator buttons became unresponsive. They walked down the hallway cautiously, wary of further traps, but nothing seemed to be there. That is, until a trapdoor opened up beneath them, going so far as to cut into the previously seamless carpet, and leaving them nowhere to stand. The two of them both manage to react in time to the trap by grabbing the edge of the pitfall, but unfortunately Arkin lacked the means to grip the edge, causing him to plummet into a white room below. Before James can think over his options, the trapdoor swings back up from beneath him, tossing him back up onto the green carpet.

And then there was one. Pulling himself up, James immediately started inspecting the floor. Looking for any cracks and stomping on it to try to force it open, to no avail. “Shit...” There was nothing for it. He’d have to continue on and try to find them through the path ahead.

Fiadh woke after a long rest, sprawled over her hoard like those chalk outlines in a crime scene. Despite the uneven, bumpy, and often hard surfaces it is all too comfortable and alluring to Fiadh. Sometimes taking her hours before she deigns to get up from her ‘bed’. From the corner of her eye, she saw the crate, still unopened, containing a mysterious relic from who knows where. Part of her wanted to open the crate, rip it apart and see what new thing is now hers. But on the other hand, it still being in a crate makes it pretty damn hard to steal, the package being more unwieldy to carry than the content presumably. She was not even sure how she got it inside the apartment without breaking a wall… Plus treasure is treasure but a box could be anything! It could even be treasure!

Her thoughts were interrupted when she noticed a letter by the door, curiously almost covered in gold star stickers… Fiadh groggily picked up the letter and examined it. It was a normal envelope size, far as she could tell, seemed to contain something thin, a single sheet or two which probably had words on it. It was unmarked, save for all the gold stars which considering the events of last night meant it was for her. But could it be from that gold star man? What’s his name? he seemed like a mostly normal guy, how would he know where she lived? Though she is a pretty large character when in that form, stands out of a crowd like a sore thumb, who would not notice that a dragoness lived there? Not like she took caution it it, most of the time. Might explain why the neighbors never say hi or interact with her…

Well, no point in putting it off. She opened the letter and found a simple and brief message.

To Dragon,

Treasure here.

Regards, Volcano Insurance Co.

Ps. Bring crate from museum heist, thanks.

Followed by a map with detailed instructions. Pretty convenient all things considered. Sure, it is kind of suspicious, did not even note if she would be able to just take some treasure and walk away but she damn well was sure going to try. It was almost enticing enough an offer for her to obsess over it like she tends to do, when she becomes that other part of her. She sure as hell was not going to bring her newest prize though, they thought too little of her. But her stomach protested, she has not eaten for like almost two days and doing the whole fast transformation thing takes a lot out of her. Food first then treasure, Fiadh decided clothing herself in the usual way to hide her draconic features.

---

A few hours later, after getting a meal from Wcdonalds…well several. Five Wcchickens, two Big Wacs, 120 chicken Wcnuggets…. All she got for a pretty good deal thanks to all the coupons she hoards, those extreme couponers are on to something there. She arrived at the address. It just dawned on her how stupid volcano insurance is in a place far far from any volcanoes, least as far as she is aware. She was starting to be convinced that this was a trap, that she was lured here, but the allure of treasure had a strong grip on her.

Walking inside, she was almost immediately greeted by a man dressed kind of like Jake from State Farm. In fact, a name tag signified him as ‘Greg the Intern. From Volcano Insurance Co.’. Greg was typing something on his computer at the front desk for a few seconds before greeting Fiadh.

“Hello mam, how can I help you?”

”Uhh… I was told to come here.” Fiadh said, confused on why treasure would be at an insurance company.

“Oh nice! One of your friends or colleagues refer you for our excellent insurance?”

”No, I uh. I got a letter saying something about treasure. And directions here..”

“Treasure? I don- ooooh. You must be that dragon we have been waiting on… I guess you transform into one like a werewolf or something? If you don’t mind me asking mam.”

” Something like that.”

Greg went back to typing on his computer for a minute, checking something.

“Well, it looks like there will be a bit of a wait for the elevator, just a few minutes though but if you want there are some snacks on the table behind you.” Greg said, pointing to a table covered in snacks, both store bought and homemade. “I’m taking a cooking class on the side and you are lucky enough to come on a day when I was trying some new dishes! I have not had the opportunity to try it but the guys in the back sing praises of my cooking!” Greg said with a smile.

” Oh, no thank you! I just ate, I appreciate the offer though.” Fiadh responded, starting to warm up a little around Greg, whatever this place does they have a really damn good and courteous receptionist.

After a few minutes of idle chatter and with Greg constantly looking at his screen, he finally motioned Fiadh toward the elevator and told her to go to level B-4. Arriving on the floor, was a hallway with a dozen or so doors, but she was drawn to a particular door, sensing something valuable on the other side. Through the threshold was a dark room, with the only visible feature being a golden jeweled skull sitting on a pedestal.

”Jackpot…” Fiadh said, eyes greedily focused on swiping that and making off. But as she took a step near it, the room was suddenly flooded with a bright light, blinding her momentarily as she heard a dozen or so pairs of feet burst into the room followed by a heavier pair of footsteps.

“So, you must be that ‘dragon bitch’. I don’t see a dragon, just some whelp.” Said a voice behind her. “That’s too bad, I was hoping for a fight.”

As Fiadh’s vision began to return, she saw a dozen men dressed like ninjas wielding a variety of appropriate weapons and in the center of them was a large man with an athletic build and…holding a bowl full of something green.

Fiadh was hoping not to transform today, to give in to that other part of her, but she could not see another way out. ”Whelp?” Fiadh growled in pain, as she was feeling her skin rip and tear from the inside, visibly twisting into a different form. ”Let me show you how strong I can be, before I wipe the floor with you!”

As Fiadh’s skin began to tear from the body, creating a mess of blood and viscera on the floor, the henchmen began to exchange nervous looks but the Man began to look interested. “Ah, Impressive. But I can do that too, for I am the legendary Wasabi Warmachine! Observe.” The man said, as he began devouring the bowl of wasabi and began to contort and bulk up similar to Fiadh.

“Now, let’s see who is strongest.” The Warmachine yelled, preparing to strike.

Shogun of Shadow's Garden

The Demon faintly smiles at the sight.

The scenery. The Japanese theme garden straight out of the Feudal Japan period. The platoon of Samurai soldiers from every corner. The temple they're trying to protect by the order of its unknown leader, watching and sitting on its throne, wary of this intruder.

It was all an elaborate trap, A guise designed to lure its prey in. I find it amusing and yet I hate it so much. The thought of even deceiving and trapping me is of utmost laughable. Flauros's frown grew even wider.

Flauros clutches his face with the biggest shit-eating grin he can muster. His ring of power glistens. He trembles with excitement at how many humans dare to oppose him.

"Since I'm in a good mood, I'll let you live since none of you is even worth my time. Flee now or be turned into burnt corpses." Flauros extends his arm, manifesting an ample amount of black flame at the end of his index finger. He fires and incinerates the field behind them, setting ablaze the once peaceful garden.

As if the Demon summoner's act of aggression wasn't enough to break the morale of the troops of the opposing side.

A rift tore asunder. A portal opens behind Flauros. Demons of all shapes and sizes come pouring from this doorway. Bipedal fiends, Winged fiends, Animal shape fiends, lesser imps come forth to aid him, evening the odds against the enemies' numbers.

This should be a massacre.

Most of the Shogun's henchmen are quivering in fear, losing their footing as creatures beyond their comprehension manifest before their very eyes and started attacking them like ravenous beasts.

Their swords clink through their feral attack, struggling to fend them off, Doing the best they could not to get ripped to shreds by the creature's sharp fangs and claws but to no avail.

Others began to flee while the others reluctantly advanced to fight in service of their Shogun.

"Shit I didn't sign up for this, this is above my paygrade!"

"I should have stayed in art school!"

"Stay in formation and fight you fools, We must protect the shogu--arrggghh!!"

Everything burns as Flauros continues to ransack the bad guy's garden.

---

Greg watches the incident unfold from his monitor and winced at the horrendous act of the demon arsonist decimating their precious garden that he worked hard on during the weekend.

"Maaan i'm so getting fired for this, I should've done more background checks on this guy. I'm sure Mr. S.S. (Shogun of Shadows) can handle this. After all he is the second strongest and the most scariest member of the sinister gang" The intern sighed and continues to observe.

---

Shogun of Shadow's Throne Room

Flauros' trail of destruction ends as he reaches the throne room. A room made entirely out of high grade wood, imperial Japanese weapons hanging from each side of the walls as displays, and an abandoned chair fit for an emperor at the center.

Strangely enough, this room is suspiciously empty and quiet - That is until the shadows began to shift and move in his direction.

"Kill, War, Conquer " A hazy figure emerges from the floor and lunges a quick surprise attack.

Flauros's backline of disposable demons put their body on the line and easily got eviscerated trying to protect its master.

Its shadowy tentacles each wielding a sword strike true; Slicing them into two with one clean cleave before phasing out and blending in with the shadows once again.

The Demonic intruder stood his ground as he prepares to defend himself, anticipating the shade's attack.

"Kill, War, Conquer,.." The shade repeatedly chanted. It seems that's the only thing this creature knows. A shell of man that lost its sanity and reasoning. A deranged warlord that descended further into madness, fixated on living his life in these three simple words.

"My, you're nothing more than a mad dog. Consider yourself fortunate, Fiend. Today is the day that i'll put you out of your misery."

The ninjas easily dodged the haphazard return fire of their own projectiles, but it was still enough to put them on the defensive. And Miria was already closing the gap. Really, all she needed was to get through, but there was little reason not to pause and deal with the current opposition anyway. They wouldn't chase her down, that way. And even if she probably could outrun a few humans at a dead sprint, if only from sheer endurance, there might be more traps or the like ahead.

Miria leapt into the air, launching a flying kick into the chest of the first enemy directly ahead, knocking him off his feet.
Two to the left, two to the right, one above. Miria gets a Klein field up just in time to stop the attacks. "I can do this all day," she says, sounding bored enough to make the point. She steps further ahead, turning to face at least some of her opponents, and with a thrust of one hand slams a wall of force into them, knocking them both flying down the corridor back the way she had come. Three left. Before the fight could continue, one of the ninjas throws something on the ground, and it explodes into a massive cloud of smoke. By the time it clears, the ninjas have vanished.

Nothing for it but to keep going. As it turned out, the entire facility was some sort of maze full of traps. Most of the rooms and offshoots were just more of the same, or full of ninjas. Except for that one break room full of puppies. That was nice. Eventually, after far too many explosions, pitfalls, rotating knives, and large pendulums swinging from the ceiling, Miria had found something more interesting. It looked like a control room of some sort, manned by a single security guy.

Just an ordinary security guy, with how easy he was to take out. Clearly, Miria hadn't found her way to the lair of one of the true masterminds of the place, but she had found its nerve center. It didn't take her too long to find the other heroes making their way around, and start shutting down any traps nearby. She also found the intercom. It was a risk, but it wasn't like she'd be undetected forever anyway.

"Hello," she says to pretty much the whole facility. "I've managed to take over the security hub. This facility is now under my control. I'll do what I can to support you from here." Some of the heroes might recognize her voice from the previous night.

Arkin
You don’t have hands. You’re not built for climbing. You're able to keep a grip on the ledge of the trapdoor for only a moment before your considerable weight drags you down. Your claws rip right through the carpet and leave scars in the ground before you find yourself holding onto nothing but air and begin plummeting towards your imminent demise. You lose sight of James as the trapdoor promptly shoves him back up and out of your rapidly shrinking view.

You panic as you try to right yourself like a falling cat. You would have made a much better cat. Alas, you are a big dumb dog, and your vision fades to white as you slam into the ground.

...

...Okay, so it wasn’t that much of a fall after all. The room you find yourself in is simply covered from top to bottom in pristine white tiles, a look both clinical and mysterious. The lighting is whacky, as if lit from top to bottom, though you can’t distinguish any obvious light source. The tiles simply look white, and the grid of indents between them seems to form the only shadows within the entire room. Even looking straight down only reveals the faintest of shadows beneath you, as if every tile in the room is a light source, or perhaps that you’ve stumbled into a video game with bad graphics.

You weren’t alone, naturally. There were maybe a dozen of them, all garbed in the same goon costume that you can only describe as ‘eastern disciple’. They encircled you, each assuming some sort of fighting stance, with one in particular standing out in front of you. Where every other outfit was a light gray, his was black. He steps forward, breaking the circle.

“Welcome to the white room. It’s brand-new, and tailor-made to make sure you won’t make it out alive.” He walks back towards the wall and presses his hand on one of the tiles. The tile gets pushed into the wall a bit before sliding out like an SD card. The man gestures you over with a wicked grin, and the circle of goons split up a bit to make way for you. You cautiously walk over to get a better angle on the apparatus that slid out of the compartment and find, to your horror, memories of a DS game that never worked for you because of your human handwriting.

“THAT’S RIGHT! THIS IS A PUZZLE ROOM! AND UNLESS YOU CAN SOLVE MATH PROBLEMS IN PROPER HANDWRITING YOU WILL BE TRAPPED HERE FOREVER! MUHAHAHAHAHA!”

He begins doing his best evil laugh. You just stare at him, unamused. Besides the oversized touch screen and stylus, the device is basically just an emulator for the DS game, Dr. Kawashiro’s brain training. You’ve always hated this game because it didn’t recognize your handwriting. He’s right. As a dog, you’ve got no hope, so you do the wisest thing you can think to do in this situation and jump onto the device. He abruptly stops laughing and looks up at you, meeting your mildly annoyed gaze. About a second later the compartment snaps and you fall to the ground, still on top of the device. You maintain eye contact the whole time.

“ERROR. PUZZLE ROOM CANNOT BE COMPLETED. ALLY PRESENCE DETECTED. UNLOCKING DOORS...”

A set of tiles on both sides of the room swing open, revealing two pathways out. You turn back to the man and give him a smug smile. His eyelid twitches.

“Whatever. Whatever! The puzzle room was plan B in the first place! Men, block the doors! Like I said before, this fight is mine! I’m not like the other goons, wolf. I’ve got powers of my own, and when I defeat you, Dr. Wu will give me the promotion I deserve! Behold, your undoing!”

You step back a bit in apprehension as he puts his hands together. He brings his hand behind him, mirroring several figures in popular media as a glowing blue ball of light appears next to his hands.

It can’t be...

The man doesn’t say it, but you can hear his voice in your head. ’Ka... me...’

Fuck this! You have a fight or flight reaction. It’s not the first time you’ve had one, but you’re not exactly accustomed to actually fighting people, and it’s hard not to be cognizant of it even amidst your impending vaporization. You default to flight, because for all you know that blue ball in his hands will just explode even if you rip his head off. This is not much different from choosing to fight, because you find that literally ripping a man’s head off is not that hard. You don’t actually rip a man’s head off though. You only rip his arm off. All it takes is one bite and the fountain of blood is enough to get all of them to flee in terror. You slam the door open, but you hear him call out behind you, “Too late!”

The door opens up to the full width of the hallway beyond, and the opposite end has no door handle to grab onto. You’re left with no recourse as the glowing blue ball of light erupts from his hands, flying directly towards your face. You shut your eyes, turn away, and brace yourself for the worst sunburn of your life.

Instead, you get hit by an inflatable rubber ball.

You open your eyes. The glowing blue ball has bounced off you and landed on the floor. You approach it carefully and poke it. It rolls back a bit but otherwise nothing. You press onto it a bit, finding it actually does have a consistency akin to rubber, and watch as it deforms into an oblong shape before springing back up again when you let go. You poke it with a claw, harder this time, and watch as it deflates into a glowing smudge on the ground.

You look the man in the eye, still splattered in the blood of the earlier goon. He laughs awkwardly. Before you make any moves, he abruptly turns to run through the opposite door. You leap across the room in a single go, shutting the door. He backs away, looking towards the other door, but he knows it’s pointless. The rest of his goons are already gone. He pulls out a gun - finally, the first one you’ve seen, but you bat it away before he can even point it at you, throwing it to the corner of the room. If he had it this whole time, why was he fooling around? You approach him slowly, menacingly, as he falls onto his ass and begins having to drag himself backward to get away.

Then, you show him something you haven’t shown anyone before. You transform in front of him, in a blinding flash of light, into your moth form. The big one. Not nearly as big as your wolf form; you’re still not as large as a human, even counting your wings, but he must be scared of insects or something because he starts screaming. You spread your wings and take off, giving him full view of them. You’re not sure why, honestly, but your instincts tell you this is what you want to do in this situation. As you do, he gradually stops moving, continuing to hyperventilate but holding still instead of trying to get away, blankly staring at your wings with wide eyes, like he can’t help himself.

You’re quite amused. You know moths imitate eye patterns to confuse predators but this outcome is completely unrelated and unnaturally effective. You hover closer to him and open your jaw - also an unnatural feature for moths, considering they typically have a proboscis if any mouth at all. Rows of shark-like carnivore teeth glint in the light of the room as they near his face. His breathing gets so heavy and erratic that he breaks whatever intangible hold you have on him to scream before simply passing out, slamming the back of his head on the ground. Ouch.

A golden glow envelops you once more as you achieve yet another new form. As the light subsides, a pair of dark black wings replaces your big reddish-orange-brown ones. Purple and white specks adorn the edges of your wings, with only four stark white crescent moons to break up the deep abyss of black across the rest.

You were mainly playing around with him. You’re not actually going to eat human flesh, but this result is downright impressive. Your ego balloons and abounds as you exult in your prodigious ability to spread terror. You do a mental fist pump. You’d do a physical one, but your legs don’t bend like that. You could try anyway, but it wouldn’t be the same.

You admit you switched to this form just to scare him, because a giant insect is terrifying, but you also did want to take advantage of finally splitting up in order to try unlocking new forms without spilling the beans. Maybe it’s not that big of a deal, but you’re still holding onto the possibility you’re going to need to keep a form ready to rob a bank or something. Minus James, you are homeless, after all.

You idly wonder if you can still hypnotize people in this form. There’s no point to sticking around in the defunct puzzle room, so you fly down one of the hallways, picking the one with a blood trail, staying in your moth form. You may be enormous by moth standards but your main body is still not as big as an actual human, and your outstretched wings are just barely able to maneuver through the hallways that would normally be considered decently large.

Your question is answered as you come across some more goons and they stop to gawk at you. They seem content to just stare at the moons of your wings even as you come within arm’s reach of them. Seeing no need to fight them, you simply land and squeeze by them. They all turn so as not to break eye contact like a certain animate concrete statue, but in reverse. It’s kind of creepy.

As you look back at them with the kind of disgust a celebrity might have for a bunch of stalkers, you realize you should probably stop them from causing any problems for you once you’re out of sight. You head back and affix them all to the wall with webbing. You’re pretty sure you’re past the point where ordinary opponents can give you new forms in this evolutionary line, but you can’t switch to your weird white caterpillar form without breaking your hold on them, and time is probably of the essence in terms of reuniting with James and Arthur.

You continue through the labyrinthine hallways, following the blood trail for lack of better direction until you find yourself in what seems like a medical wing. Each room within that you pass by has a clear view of the beds inside via large windows. It’s mostly empty, and none of the privacy curtains are drawn. You soon hear noise from the one and only room with any human presence, finding some of the goons sitting outside of it. You ignore them as they get caught staring at your wings and peek inside through the window, only to find the goon whose arm you ripped off laying in the bed with a swarm of doctors around him. You peer at him through the window with morbid curiosity. You were originally going to be one of those doctors before you ended up in the mess you’re in currently. You’re not nearly an expert yet, but his alarmingly high heart rate visible on the heart monitor is indicative of hypovolemic shock. You may not have given him the cleanest of amputations, but he should have been fine if he was treated properly to stem the bleeding. They could probably even reattach the arm. The distance between the puzzle room and the medical wing is only a few minutes.

...

You look at the paralyzed goons with suspicion. Even idiots should know that you’re supposed to stem the bleeding with a tourniquet, but in hindsight, the blood trail has remained pretty thick throughout. Arthur is practically a caveman and he knew to cover his wounds in cloth. You turn back to the window and see that his heart has stopped. They’re busting out the defibrillators now.

You get off the windowsill and turn back to the goons, hissing at them briefly before earnestly trying to verbally speak for the first time since you barked out your name for Arthur.

"҉w҉h҉a҉t҉ ҉d҉i҉d҉ ҉y҉o҉u҉ ҉d҉o҉?҉"҉

Your voice is scratchy, screechy, and generally unpleasant, like nails on a chalkboard crossed with an elderly chain smoker. You’re irritated, because you’re not to blame for this. Nuh-uh. You haven’t taken the hippocratic oath and you may have been under duress but the situation does not sit right with you. Your enthralled captives seem to want to respond but they don’t seem able to. In fact, they’re still staring at your wings. You sigh in exasperation before webbing them all to the wall and finally transforming back into your wolf form.

“YOU!”

“IT’S BACK!”

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

You growl at them, a futile attempt to get them to shut the fuck up and answer your question. Why are they being so loud anyway? Are they trying to distract the doctors? Do they not care about their coworker at all? They stayed behind while the others left, so wouldn’t that mean they’re closer than that?

“We didn’t do anything!”

“Yeah! It was you who bit his arm off! Why are you mad at us!?”

“It’s all your fault! You didn’t have to rip his arm off! We don’t even have guns to defend ourselves!”

These guys really love pissing you off, don’t they. You feel yourself edge closer to a precipice that you don’t want to jump off of. You grit your teeth and let your claws dig into the tiled floor. The tile eventually cracks and the three men shut right up as they finally realize how foolish it is to taunt and blame the monster with their lives in its... paws.

Then, you begin to glow again.

A new form, so soon? For what? For why?

Then, the answer hits you. Hard. Like a sack of bricks, along with a ton of other answers you didn’t even ask for. Still, nothing hits as hard as the first brick. The worst brick. It might as well have been a live grenade or a runaway train, because it’s exactly what you don’t want to hear right now.

Unlock condition: Take the life of a human.

Why is this happening? Another brick. Because you’ve achieved a humanoid form.

You’re flooded with information, information you’ve been dying to know. Woefully incomplete information. Not enough information, and not what you want to know most, but whether you like it or not, you now know.


You feel like you need to sit down.

You do so. On the bench the goons were sitting on before now, in fact.

The goons seem to have shut up at the sight of you, and the doctors haven’t come to investigate, so either they’re committed to their jobs or the operating rooms are soundproof.

You look down at yourself. You take in the sight of the bluish-black hair covering your hands completely. You should be ecstatic that you have a humanoid form now. It’s not exactly what you wanted, but it’s a step closer.

It’s also a dead end, or so your newfound knowledge tells you. You can’t evolve again from your Mothman form, and new branches basically require you to fumble around in the dark looking for them.

You intuit that you have a newfound control over the process of unlocking new forms. You’re no longer required to transform into them immediately, or do so in such a flashy and superfluous light show. Cold comfort, you suppose.

You’re not the same person you used to be. You have blood on your hands, even after transforming the literal blood off of your wolf form. The guy in the hospital bed is young, like you. You don’t deserve being thrust into this situation and neither does he. The trite saying goes that hurt people hurt people, but that doesn’t make it okay. You... aren’t okay.

You stand up and leave. Hypnotized or not, you’d rather be alone for a while.