Battle Vixens! - 26

 First / Previous / Next / Latest

---

Episode 26: The Second Round

Fear.

Raw, pure, paralyzing shock. That was what it was that burned the moment, the vision in his mind. To see one of them up close and personal, not six feet away, simply appear out of nowhere and be stuck in place, the mind caught in a race condition between running away and the knowledge that his wife was right there beside him, and if that thing was going to charge them then he was going to be the one who stood there for it to take rather than let her die. It was a frozen moment, an eidetic flash in his mind—so why was it so hard to draw?

The obvious answers were there, of course. Most of his supplies were back at home; there was no natural light to be found in an interior room, and though he had his sketchbook and plenty of pencils to burn through, their nature was just so..alien. It was like a boar, or a bull, but trying to draw it from that frame of reference resulted in a black-feathered mammal—fantastical, yes, but lacking in that indistinct quality that gave them their unique look. Part of him, the same mad part unconcerned with his own survival that had led him to a career as an artist, thought he just needed to study one for a little longer; if only another were to appear today, close enough to examine, and yet somehow far enough away to not kill him before he could get it all down on paper.

The next two seconds were blurry: a jet of water in front of him, hands like ice picking him up, a blur knocking his wife aside out of the way just before the monster ran past. At the time it had mattered that he was okay and she was okay, and a brief few moments later when it was dissipating into black dust it mattered that now they knew he was a target and had a way to protect him. Two nights later and he was feeling far less appreciative than he knew to really be appropriate. Rowan Shepherd had saved his life, and to go home was to put her and possibly everything else in his house in danger—but if he could just see her in person again instead of speaking over the phone, or reach his studio and paint, it would readily quell the storm in his mind and end the ceaseless pacing around in his room. He could go places only at the inconvenience of one of those protectors, and while home was among the possibilities, the idea of putting her in danger again was simply too much to bear.

He was getting melodramatic again. That was what she'd said on the phone just before going to bed. But Simon couldn't help but be melodramatic; it was an important part of his talent, he would say in response. Anyway, if there was a situation apropos to melodrama then surely it was this one: Monsters appearing in the streets, people blessed by some kind of superpowerful magic entity with powers to fight them—like a Greek legend, or a comic book, or perhaps an anime. All very common purveryors of melodrama at any rate.

He had also had the idea to paint them—the fox girls. Respectful portraits, of course; personal presents for them to have, and maybe pass on to whoever they liked should they fall in battle. They might even appreciate them enough to model for one he could sell afterward. Rowan seemed nonplussed by the idea, and that cold-handed girl looked annoyed, but that was how she always looked, wasn't it? But the best he could do for the moment was some sketches from memory and news pictures off the internet, because again—his paints were at home. If he could just get his paints again—!

Simon only knew of his habit of falling asleep atop his bed with a sketchbook open on top of him and a half-finished sketch with several scribbles of notes that looked like a lunatic's ravings from the evidence after the fact, of course. With what the continuity of his mind was able to recall, however, he was sure he must have done that and maybe passed into a dream when he found himself in a place that seemed oddly familiar despite looking literally foreign: An audience chamber of some kind, with a stage in front. There were people here, but he couldn't quite make them out—which for visual thinker was absurd, so clearly this was a dream. He could make out the decorations on the walls, the overall architecture of the building, and set to work memorizing as much of it as he could. Lucid dreams were honestly quite uncharacteristic for him, but if he was going to have one then he certainly wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to say that his latest work came to him in a dream, with a mystic tone of voice that was sure to sell the painting for a marginally higher price than usual.

The star of the would-be painting appeared only a moment later on the stage—a woman clear and beautiful among a congregation of blurry figures, standing on stage where someone like that clearly belonged. It finally occurred to Simon what kind of dream this really was, and he was excited for a number of reasons not the least of which was the opportunity to give a firsthand visual account of a genuinely supernatural event.

She gave the all-knowing smirk he might have expected from a trickster goddess, the one that says "I know exactly how to save them but I'll misinform you just enough for you to watch them die right in front of you" or something else suitably tragicomic like that. His attention was uncharacteristically drawn to her words afterward, despite the veritable ocean of novel visual experience.

"All of you already know what your world is up against. And now, perhaps, you can guess why you were attacked." She frowned slightly, disapprovingly. "The enemy thought to eliminate those with...potential. Many have already died with no one to inherit their gift, thereby returning them to me. I decided to give those gifts another chance at finding a home. So if you want to be an active participant in this little game rather than a bystander or a victim, you will know what to say to accept my gift for you." A blur of voices; Simon heard something like and not-like his own, and instinctively repeated what it said.

"Now, I'll tell you what I told the first to receive my gift. I will be watching, and if you want to make me happy in return..." She pointed vaguely forward, but there was an impression of her pointing right at him that was difficult to place. "Don't. Be. Boring."

"If you survive, perhaps I will see you again soon," she said with a more mischievous smile. "For the moment, I think it is time for you to wake up."

That was the point at which Simon instantly woke with a start, and found himself in the state he'd have expected to wake up in in the first place.

After a second or two to process everything he'd just experienced, some mental noting down of all he'd seen although it didn't seem the memory was quickly fading the way a dream was normally supposed to, it occurred to Simon that he had some very important information all of a sudden, and he went scrambling for his phone.

Within ten minutes Rowan knocked on his door: the stern, loud kind of knock he associated with police telling him that was who was doing it. That, and Rowan was who he'd called anyway. Simon opened up, and the first thing he said was, "Show me."
"Show you?" with an implicit what exactly?
He sighed as if having expected this much to be obvious. "I believe you, but they're gonna want proof of this claim before taking any action. She should have..taught you a phrase to say or something?"

"Oh! I see." Simon scratched his head. "It's just that I haven't tried saying it myself yet. Oh, I hope I haven't called you over for nothing."
Rowan nodded. "Just, give it a shot."

"Alright then. Here goes?"

It felt so familiar...like a nursery rhyme he known all his life, maybe. The complicated mess of nonesense syllables rolled off of Simon's tongue like an order of his favorite form of vaguely coffee-esque mixture. And that sense of familiarity was joined by an exciting feeling, a rush of—well, something anyway, and it felt pretty good at that.

Suddenly, and for no apparent reason, Simon understood his body differently. It was a collection of former- and would-be dust, a clump of dirt soaked in water and shaped a certain way—like clay. It was clay, and in someone else's hands, perhaps. He felt briefly soft and malleable, and that was seemingly taken advantage of, his body squeezed and compressed down by an invisible potter. His ears were molded up and out, the air pleasantly tickling them as fur appeared there. His hair was teased out longer and longer as he himself grew shorter, until it fell all across his back, some locks finding their way onto his shoulders.

His body was gently but insistently pressed inward, growing slim and small and yet increasingly solid at the same time. One tail, then another, was shaped outward from his back, twisting around each other at first before gently untangling and falling to either side. He felt an inward press between his legs, a gentle change of sex, just before her clothes were torn up and pasted back together as a kind of battle dress: Boots, stockings, a skirt and a robe with detached puffy sleeves over the arms. Her chest was gingerly shaped outward, a modest bust for a modest figure in general. She had a sense of her body possessing the softness of clay and fur merged with rigidity of rock and steel. It seemed seemed to fully solidify after that, a feeling of toughness settling over her that seemed to do away with all kinds of fear.

Simon's hand reached out reflexively, and rock from the building's foundation pulled itself up, tearing through some of the floorboards onto her right hand. A gauntlet it became, and a sword and its sheath, all feeling quite natural to her; the metal felt heavy and solid, yet at the same time light and easy to move by her newfound strength.

She smiled for a second at the way it felt before realizing she'd just destroyed some of the room's floor, and also that Rowan now more or less towered over her. "Ack! Uh, sorry, I don't really know why I did that.." She dropped the sword and the gauntlet, but they just turned into a bunch of loose dirt on the way down. "Aand I guess I don't exactly know how to put it back, either."
"Uh, we'll get it fixed. I think this should be more than enough proof, anyway," said Rowan. "Can you come with me to tell them about the dream?"
"Hmn? Sure." He started moving right away, and she followed, initially thinking that having such a short body—hence a short stride—would have her falling behind but instead feeling like he was going a little slow even with what was clearly a soldieresque quick-march.

"What do you think? I could go home, see my wife and my paints again?" she said.

"Well, you could always do that."
"Right, but there wouldn't be danger from it now. One of those things comes after me again, I could just smash it." She put a fist in the opposite palm. "I feel like I could keep anyone safe!"

"Keep in mind how dangerous those things are, even to us with powers," he said.

"I know I know. But—"
"What you do is your decision, always has been. In your shoes I'd be just as eager to get home," said Rowan. "You would certainly be in less danger leaving here, having powers of your own, if that's what you're asking."

"Ohh, great! I can't wait to see my paints again..."
"Your—"
"I mean my wife. Both! Not, equally. Favor to the lady." Rowan was unable to restrain a small chuckle at her antics.

"Listen...as soon as they see this they'll want to recruit you."

"Recruit?"
"To work with the Initiative. Fight those things. You shouldn't feel that you have to. You should take time to really think about it first."
"Well, sure."
"Don't forget that it means risking your life," he said. "We've tried our best, but people are still getting killed or—eaten by those things even with the largest groups we've seen."

"Right right." But if she fought them, she could see them again. Up close, for extended periods! Nobody was drawing those things and really capturing their essence, the fear they really embioded to those nearby. No camera footage or news interview could get to the heart of the matter, not the way Simon could.

The thinking was done. Well, Simon's part of the thinking was done and the answer was yes yes yes! But obviously there was somebody else affected if she did decide to turn into a serious for-real monster fighter. The better half would have to agree with her, so she needed a better reason than 'I want to paint them'. It was time to start thinking about that...Well, Rowan was leading her into an office now, so it would be time to think about that after telling them about the dream last night and what that gorgeous woman had told her—told them all.

---

The tiredness just after changing back faded as they walked around, easing some of Light's worry about the meeting she'd arranged later that afternoon. Changing back to 'normal' was an awful feeling, like going...dim. As weird as the 'bigger' body had felt at first compared to her usual appearance like this, it just felt good to be that strong and fast and capable. It was almost an...addictive quality. And now that the feeling that came with that form had worn off she realized just how strong a compulsion to go out and fight something—and be a hero—it had come with. That was...undoubtedly something to be cautious of.

Ning sighed. "I think it might be over for me."
"It?"
"Secrecy. Privacy. I was reckless on the way out of my house, tore the door up, and anyone could've seen me doing it too. It was just—it was right there. I couldn't—I couldn't let it get any closer to her." She paused, looking at Light. "At least you'll still be safe. There's no real connection known between our 'real' selves."

"I dunno if we should give up just yet. Maybe you got lucky, hmm? I mean, the door was broken so early in the fight that the cameras probably weren't looking this way at all yet. So, it could've been me or 'you' getting thrown into it by the tail or something."

"The direction of the damage wouldn't match."
"Maybe not, but only whoever repairs it needs to know that. And one repairman can spread a rumor, at worst. Even if he knows, or suspects—I think anyone could understand your need for privacy in this situation. Especially if he sees Nadia's around."

Ning looked slightly insulted. "I won't—"

"You won't what? Use her as a shield? To protect herself?" Light said, feeling like she was pointing out the obvious. "The reason you don't want anyone to know is to keep her safe, right?"
"Yes..." She nodded slowly.

"Then there's nothing wrong with subtly communicating that. I'm not talking about parading your little girl around, okay? Just happening to see her, long enough to understand that you're the only one taking care of her, would be enough. For that matter—your neighbors know about your, uh, family situation?"

"They do. The ones just nearby, at least." She looked around; they were getting close to her backyard at this point. "This is an old neighborhood, Light. Generations live here. We get a few new ones moving in every now and then, and welcome them, but...mostly, everyone knows each other."

"In that case, I'm not sure you have anything to worry about. Any of them who saw you, just upgraded you to 'neighborhood hero'. And if they know your situation then the last thing they'd want to do is betray their new hero, right?"

"Maybe you're right. But, Light, you make it sound so...I don't know...cold. Calculating?"

"I'm just thinking logically, and taking other people's perspectives into account. You can't fully understand any situation if you only look out from your own head, but you have to keep your own goals in mind to make a good plan. I mean—honestly I am being really hopeful in humanity here, that one of them won't value getting to be on TV for five seconds over protecting you out of gratitude for protecting them. But there's at least some reasons you could still be safe here even if someone saw you."

Ning nodded, considering it. Then she ducked inside the back door, looking around. "Nadia?"

"Here!" She popped out from a nearby closet. "Ooh, hi Light!" she waved.

"Hiya."
Ning picked her up in a brief whirl of a hug. "I'm so glad you're okay!"
"Mhm! I hid just like you said." And after she was put down: "Did you beat up the bad guys?"
"Yes...we did," she nodded. "I bet you're hungry by now, too."

"A little." She said it with a bit of a playful tone—child sarcasm, Light thought.

Ning turned back around. "I guess you haven't eaten either, have you?"
"Nnope." Light instinctively brought a finger to the tip of an ear, twiddling it slightly. "To be honest I got some, uh, advice that I should probably eat to keep my powers from burning out as quick, and was on my way here to see if I could get a sandwich or something, pay you back later?"
"Hmph. You don't ever need to worry about paying me back, Light. Come on, let's see what there is in the kitchen."

Nadia hopped down off her chair and marched off to the bathroom in the middle of the meal. This was as private a time as they were going to get, Light thought. "Okay, listen," she said quietly. "What happened earlier—everyone who was being targeted by those things got powers, apparently."
"Everyone? So—"
"Right. Amory's power is like...a meta-power. It can strengthen anyone else's powers. So, doing that to me made me look like...that, and have some better powers than usual. But it's temporary. And she can't fight."
Ning looked surprised. "She can't—"
"Not at all. The—that woman told Amory that he's completely immune to the mist things while changed, but..this needs to stay as secret as it can. Without any ability to fight, Amory could get kidnapped and forced to use it on someone he doesn't want to."

"I see.." Ning nodded. "Thank you for trusting me with this. I would've bought that you'd found some way to 'absorb more light' or something, but then I'd ask you to teach me to do something like it..."
"Yeah. I kept an image of my usual look up for any cameras there were, but I can't really disguise my voice. As soon as I saw you fighting that thing I knew I was gonna have to decide what to tell you. It didn't take me all that long. After all, we're partners, right?" She held out a hand.
"Heheh, yeah." Ning took the hand gently for a second or two before they both dropped it. "Although this marks only the second time we've actually fought as a team."

"I would say we should fix that, but honestly the less fights are necessary, the better," said Light.

---

The first thing Simon did when his wife came to the door and opened it, saying his name in a tone composed equally of surprise and delight, was step forward, take her in his arms, and kiss her for the first time in three or four days, with enough passion to make up for the lost time. She returned it just fine, hugging him lightly back past the end of it. "Well, I'm happy to see you again, too."
"I'll bet. Your wounds have healed, I see?"

"What, those scratches? I get worse than that in fourth period every weekday. So what're you doing here, huh?"

"I have good news and better news, my dear," he said with a grin. "The good news is those things are probably not hunting me anymore."

She raised an eyebrow and stepped back slightly. "Probably."
"The better news is that if they are then I can do something about it myself!"

She put a hand on one of her own hips. "What, did the scary new government agency give you experimental monster repellent or something?"

"No no no. Karis, this is far too amazing to share with the door open." She rolled her eyes, but indulged him by stepping back enough that he could come inside and close the door behind him. "You know the weird dream a lot of people had a week ago that started this whole mess?"
"More or less. Not personally."
"Well, I got to have one of those last night. Evidently the reason I and everyone else was attacked was because we had 'potential' of some sort, to have powers like that."

"Are you telling me that you got turned into a furry?"

Simon opened his mouth and stayed quiet for about ten seconds, which seemed to have been the intended effect based on that 'trying very hard not to laugh out loud' expression on her face. "Okay, first of all that is not what a furry is, and secondly the more salient point here is—"

"You get superpowers, right? What kind? What do you look like as a kemonomimi, huh?"

"It's no fair when you put out my fire and steal my thunder. Well, maybe I should just show you."

It had, fortunately, been established for him that for some reason the weapon automatically gets summoned with the first time, but after that you can decide whether to bring it out or not. Paying for some new floor just for the sake of this would be worth it, but not needing to was even more so. Simon spoke the word (or words? hard to tell), turned again to clay and reshaped into the two-tailed form from before, everything there save the gauntlets, sword and sheath. "..And there we are," she said, sweeping a hand over her appearance. "Cute, right?"

"Yeah, but..that's, not the first thing I imagined you'd say."

"Hmmn, me either. I guess I must like it, though. This is supposed to mess with your head a little bit." She flicked her ear once or twice, considering it.

"You're nice and flat, too. I can't imagine how you'd handle having real jugs," said Karis. This sparked a mild fit of annoyance in Simon that didn't feel entirely characteristic; after all, she was basically right. Having less weight and volume there made it easier to get used to the body, even with all the other strangeness. But she still pouted long enough for her wife to get a laugh out of it.

"Hahahah, that expression is hilarious. Cheer up, you do have a nice pair..of tails!"

"Oh yeah, that is pretty unusual I think," she said, picking one of them up in a hand. "I'm not sure if it really means anything though, a lot of people seem to get weird extra traits like horns or multicolored eyes or whatever." It slid off again more or less on its own. Her fur was...very soft, actually.

"Mm-hm." Karis crossed her arms. "So what kind of powers did you get?"

"Um, earth powers I think? Pretty sure. I can grab the ground and throw it around, or stomp and make it jump up. I don't look it but I feel super strong like this, too."

"Show me!" she said excitedly.

"Uhh...I don't really wanna tear up our floor, dearest."
"What about pottery? That's made of dirt, right?" She pointed to one of Simon's own works decorating a small table in the entryway.

"I can generally tell when you're trolling, you know. But that seems like it should be close enough, let's see..."

Simon carefully lifted the pottery up off of the table, instinctively holding out both of her hands and waving them around with the intended motion of it. She was able to turn it a full 180 in the air before setting it gently back down again, clapping her hands a bit. "That was harder than I thought it'd be..I don't think it's so well tuned for picking up priceless works of art."
"It just looks like you're using the force," said Karis. "Still, that's at least a little impressive."

"Anyway. I was thinking since I can do all this, I should put it to good use," said Simon.
"You going to stomp out a sculpture in central park?"

"...That's, not a bad idea actually. If I can figure out the precision for it...but! Not what I meant. I mean I can actually fight those things like this. Obviously I would do so if they dared encroach upon our house, but more importantly, I thought it might be good to help out the defense of the city in general."

"What, you? Have you been using a time chamber and not telling me? I mean—you're wonderful in all kinds of other ways, but you've lost a fight with a paper bag before."

"That was the staples," Simon protested. "Anyway, expert fighting skills come free with the powers. You didn't honestly think every person who got powers before me was some kind of expert martial artist or swordsman or...marksman or whatever, did you?"
"I guess I didn't really think about it. So you're thinking of going out and risking your life for the greater good?"

"Right right!" she nodded.
"...What's in it for you?"

Simon pretended to be taken aback by it. "You wound me, my darling," she said, putting a hand close to her own chest. After giving Karis long enough to give a skeptical glare she said, "Just think about it. I can get so close to these world-changing people if I am one. They'll trust me after I fight alongside them, maybe save some lives back and forth. I could draw portraits of them—I could draw those monsters themselves, give people who never had the misfortune of coming near one the idea of what it's like to see it up close, all without the risk!

"This is a major turning point, and I can make works that historians will refer to for centuries! That's not even beginning with the fact that everyone who gets powers like this is more or less an instant celebrity. I don't know why everyone else is so averse to talking on the news, you know—give me five or six days and I can have this Initiative thing funded solely by merchandise, turning whoever's in charge a massive profit and obviously taking a modest gain in exchange."

"I think there are literally dollar bills in your eyes," Karis observed. Simon also noticed that she had started leaning forward slightly and clutching her hands up in the air during all of that. Her wife just sighed slightly, "Well, at least I know you haven't been replaced by someone else."

"I really didn't mean to go quite that into it, eheh."
"I suppose, even with motives like that at least you'll be doing some good." She patted Simon's head a couple of times and rubbed her ears, which felt rather nice, causing the fox-girl to lean forward into it. "Just remember you're in more danger than the monsters. There was a lot of death near the beginning, you remember. Anyone else with powers might come running to kill you, and more of them the more well-known you become."

"Mrrr..let 'em come. Fame is a far better shield than anonymity, and comes with barbs—people don't like their favorite celebrity getting killed, you know. And it's so easy to get revealed and stay revealed forever, but a famous person is always famous—or at worst turns infamous."

Karis said, "So are you sure you're not a furry? You do seem to like the ear rubbing."

"Bwaauh!" Simon hopped back and away a few steps, blushing furiously. "I told you what a furry is and isn't. You even used the right word earlier! A-and I can't help what feels good to this body."

Her wife just laughed out loud again. "I would ask 'can we keep her?', but you're already kept. Are you planning to use a superhero name or just stick with the real one?"
"I hadn't thought of that! An alter ego name would be way easier to brand..."

"What about Petra? Roughly similar to the Greek for rock?"

"That's perfect!" She pounded a fist onto her other hand. "You might have a real talent for this. Maybe you can come up with something for that water-girl who saved us, or those professors at the university..."

She crossed her arms. "I insist that whoever I come up with names for actually approves the name themselves. So I'll be keeping it to myself unless we meet in person about it."

"Aww..."