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Chapter -15- Centurions

Thursday, July 8, 1999 - 11:02 am Las Vegas, Nevada

A Ford Escort protruded from the side of a boxcar in the pouring rain. Even with the added weight on the side, the train remained on its rails.

Gunshots rang out, muffled by the intensity of the downpour. The rounds sizzled against an electric force field, pulsating in a bubble around Nathanial Carrington.

Karla Chintzy kept her hands outstretched, creating a telekinetic trench in the knee-deep flood waters.

She pursed her lips, telekinetically shifting the water of her reverse-moat, forcing the water on the outside of the group to be higher, so as to act like a liquid 'sandbag' barrier. "Okay, old man, we have our dry donut hole. Do your thing, babe."

Sinopa and Jonathan stood adjacent to their friends.

Nathan clenched his hand into a fist, creating an electric current in the water where their attackers stood.

The raw voltage electrocuted a group of men causing them to drop where they stood. More rounds struck the force field, vaporized by the raw energy of the dome-shaped field.

Karla sniffed disdainfully. "YiaYia called for rain, not a wet t-shirt contest. I mean, I know this is Sin City, but damn." She glanced back at Sinopa and said, "I've never made a 'foxhole' in water before. Don't get excited about the name, lovey."

"Give it a rest." Jonathan pursed his lips in an attempt to bite back the agitation. "I'm going to check on the children. Try and keep my wife safe this time, Nathan."

"I'll make it up to you." Carrington waved his left hand back, opening a hole in the field nearest to Jonathan. "Don't get shot, you're not as young 'n spry as you used to be."

The thirty-four year-old master thief made eye contact with the old man; they smirked at one another.

Jonathan stepped out of the inch-deep water and into the knee-deep floodwaters. With grace and gravitas, he scaled the gravel hill up to the tracks. Jonathan shimmied up a ladder on the side of the boxcar using only his arms and upper body strength, making the ascent appear effortless.

The master thief put a foot on the siding and pushed himself away from it, performing a flip onto the roof of the train car. He ran in the skin-stinging rain, left hand aloft to cover his face.

Parker hurdled the gap between each train car. Up ahead, he saw the hazy outline of where the road dropped down. He approached the overpass and performed a somersault off the side of the boxcar.

With a grunt, he landed on an abandoned sedan, the water even with its roofline. The top crushed in somewhat. He used the momentum of the first jump to carry him into a second flip.

Jonathan landed in a crouch on the flooded street with his right palm between his knees. Water rushed against his chest. He stayed low, surveying his surroundings.

Water rushed towards the nearby underpass beneath the tracks, behind him.

He stood slowly and waded through the floodwaters, which were even with his navel. The intersection was at the bottom of several hills, all of which drained down beneath the tracks into the intersection. Water gushed down over the side of the nearby I-15 like a waterfall.

Trees, sign posts and a car tire gathered, swirling angrily with nowhere else to go.

The nearby intersection of Twain and Dean Martin had a car with water racing across the hood. He recognized the color and approached it.

The water pressure held the doors shut. "Open the windows!" he shouted.

No reply.

Jonathan moved closer to the car. He noted the rental was damaged. He squinted in the rain, seeing signs of a substantial collision.

The master thief glanced back at the other car, beneath the tracks, which he used as a springboard a moment earlier. The bumper didn't appear to be high enough to cause the damage sustained by the rental sedan. "Peri! Marcus!"

No reply. Jonathan grimaced. He traced the backside of his hand over the crumpled front quarter panel. He determined an SUV or truck was at fault.

"Open the windows! I can't tell if your doors are locked or if the water is holding them closed!" He couldn't see in through the condensation on the inside of the glass.

No reply - all he heard was the ambiance of the rain and flood waters.

Parker ripped off the passenger rearview mirror. He used it to smash out the rear window.

He reached through, pulled up on the lock, and tried to jerk the door open, but the water pressure made it difficult.

Water splashed in through the broken window, leaving a puddle on the rear seat and across the already-damp upholstered floor.

He leaned in. The rental car was empty.

"Dammit." Jonathan turned from the car and made his way back up the hill, under the I-15 overpass, where Dean Martin became Industrial Road.

The water eventually lowered to knee-height again but he trudged against the current.

A palm tree floated towards him. He shoved it out of the way and continued up the hill back towards his friends.

Karla saw him first and held her left hand towards Industrial road.

Parker saw the water part in front of him. It rose up on the sides, creating a thick liquid wall. He hurried through the cleared trench.

Bullets struck the wall but broke apart against the water barrier. One of them harmlessly pelted his shoulder. It stung but didn't break the skin.

He approached the trio and said, "They're not in the car and it looks like something hit it. Possibly a truck or SUV caught by the floods, but that intersection is at the bottom of a hill on all sides, and there's only one other vehicle in sight, which isn't damaged. They were hit in a way that forced the sedan up onto the sidewalk; the collision point is high on the rental."

Karla took a deep breath to keep herself calm. "Hit and run? So, if they weren't there, did they go for help?"

"I didn't see any sign of serious injury inside the car. It's possible they were abducted."

The succubus narrowed her eyes. "For the sake of my temper, I hope you're wrong. If someone hurt my man, I will tear their heart out."

Nathan arched her brows. "Proper Klingon warrior death, huh?"

Karla nodded. "Everyone deserves a warrior's death." She nudged Nathan. "Lower the deflector shields, Captain. I'm going on an away mission."

"Karla..." Nathan's voice was punctuated by another round, which disintegrated against the force field.

Karla eyed the older of the two men. "I won't ask again. And don't give me any shit. You know I make jokes to handle stress."

Nathan sighed. "No, not the joke ... we can't afford to separate. I'm exhausted. We'll find the boy. We need to get out of this rain. If we separate now, we're not as effective against these people."

Karla clenched her molars together. "They might outnumber us, but the council sent a bunch of neophyte to fight. Most of these losers only recently manifested their abilities. I've got this."

"Karla!" Nathan turned to her and balled his fists up. "We will find him the way you found me! But if you walk away now, you may not find him, and you'll still be putting the rest of us in danger! We should do this together."

"I've known you a long time," she said, eyes narrowed from the hard rain. "And you've never loved anyone else after my sister died. But I know you remember what it feels like to be in love; after all these years I've finally found it. And the further he gets from that car, the harder it will be to find him, goddammit!"

Nathan put his hands on her shoulders. "Karla..."

Without warning, Karla spun away from Nathan's hands and dropped. The water level rushed inward, filling in their circle. Sinopa, quick to react, reached for Karla to keep her from falling beneath surface.

"Nathan, the field!" Jonathan shouted.

Carrington clenched his hands, creating a fresh field of electricity over them. "Bullshit," he muttered. The old man glanced back at the others. "Is she okay?"

"I'm fucking fine," Karla snapped, sitting up with Sinopa's help. "It's my fault - I distracted you from keeping the field up."

"Karla, I'm sorry. I guess I really am getting old."

She gingerly reached over and protectively cupped her arm where she'd been grazed. "I really didn't need getting shot, I didn't need this dirty-ass water in my goddamn wound, and I don't need those rookie Specials taking my man." She got to her feet.

No one spoke.

Blood, half-washed away from the water, ran down Karla's bicep where she'd been grazed. "I've had worse periods, goddammit. But those guys ... oh, I've had enough of those guys. Lower the field."

"Karla, you've already been shot once! You want that to happen again?!"

She glared at Nathan.

He glared back but kept his focus on the field this time. "You're right, I have been in love. You're right, it was before I met you. But that doesn't mean I didn't learn how to love again."

"What?"

Nathan sighed. "Karla, you've already been shot once; I don't want you to be shot again. You're the only girl left in my life, kiddo. Don't go out there, okay?"

"Lower. The fucking. Field. Or I'll find another way through it."

"This is goddamn bullshit, Karla."

"Let me out!" she shouted in frustration.

Nathan opened the side nearest to the boxcar.

Karla stepped out of the domed section and held her hands out in front of herself. Her palms and forearms took on a moderate pink incandescence, visible even in the daylight, even in the hard rain.

She kept her palms outwards. Rounds veered away from her, driven off course by the power of telekinesis. She trudged through the knee-deep water, approaching the attackers, some who had guns, some who wielded supernatural abilities.

"Where's the boy?!" she shouted upon approach. "I know you people act like a goddamn paramilitary group. You're in contact with each other. You all know he's here and I know you want him more than you want me, and more than you wanted Nathanial, or that mirror."

"You're wrong," shouted one of them.

Karla approached the one who spoke, assuming he was the one in charge.

The man sneered, backing away from the succubus. "We care about the mirror more than we want any of you. Nathan was the only one capable of getting it back, so we took him out of play."

"Where. Is. The. BOY?!" She ground her teeth together, eyes squinted from the rain. "What did you do with him?!"

"Kill them all," the man shouted to his subordinates.

Karla's arms flashed with a brilliant carnation glow. The pink incandescence went all the way up to her collarbone.

One of the boxcars tipped over, snapping the metal connectors in front and behind it.

The box car, with the Ford Escort jutting from its side, flipped from the rails and tumbled down the hill. It bowled over the group of attackers and came to rest over most of the group.

An enormous wave splashed up, followed by a strong rush of water.

She opened her stance to balance herself. The water came up to her torso, passed her, and returned to knee height.

Anyone left standing turned about and ran.

She sniffed with disdain. "You're not killing anyone, especially him."

Silence. All that remained was the sound of rain and the distant wail of emergency response vehicles somewhere up on the interstate.

Nathan, Sinopa and JC approached her from behind.

Sinopa was the first to speak. "Karla-san, we will find him. Marcus-san is surely well. I promise we will..."

"Chance." Karla turned back to the group. "His name is Chance. Let's start looking. Those neophyte assholes didn't know where he was."

"You're sure?" asked Nathan.

"If they did, they'd have used him as a bargaining chip to demand our surrender. He can't be far." She looked up, seeing a helicopter race by.

Two people dangled from a rope beneath the chopper, suspended by a rescue harness.

She kept her hand up to shield her eyes from the rain. With a sigh, the succubus turned back to the group. "Let's hope that's what happened to them." She watched the helicopter disappear over a tall casino to the east.

Karla approached the overturned boxcar lying in the middle of Industrial Road. She shuffled her feet beneath the water, walking along the large car.

She paused, reached downward, and used her telekinesis to draw the water back from a man half-trapped beneath the train boxcar.

"I'm going to ask you one more time; this is your only chance to save your life. Where is he?"

The man coughed several times.

Karla put her hands on her hips; her palms remained glowing, keeping the water parted. "I don't have all goddamn day. Make a hand gesture or something. There's a train on your legs, you're in shock. You had the breath knocked out of you, else you'd have drowned by now, dipshit. Now, tell me where the telepathic boy is, or I'll end you. Don't. Try. Me."

The man continued to cough. He lifted his right hand up and weakly formed the middle finger. He panned his hand back and forth, making the gesture to everyone standing near Karla.

Karla turned away from him. The water rushed inward, covering the man trapped beneath the train. "This is turning into a very bad day." Karla took a deep breath then exhaled calmly, eyes shut. "Okay. We should start by investigating the car they were using."

Sinopa's eyes went wide. She turned away and shook her head. "Karla ... where is your humanity?"

Nathan frowned. "Jesus, kid. What you just did ... that was the Karla I knew back in December of 1906. I thought we worked to get past that side of you. Remember?"

Karla took a deep breath and sighed through her nose. "That boy is the best goddamn drug I ever had. What you just saw was me going through Chance-withdraw. Now, I'm going to repeat myself one more goddamn time, okay? We need to start by investigating the car they were using."

Jonathan glowered. "I'm not letting my wife down there. I have to think of our children first. It's at the bottom of several hills and there are tree branches floating through there, and the water is continuing to rise. It's not safe."

Karla looked from Jonathan to Sinopa. She lowered her gaze to the kitsune's belly. Karla cut her gaze back to Jonathan with a sigh. "I'm ... I'm not arguing with you, Conner. I understand it's dangerous, and you need to protect your future children."

Sinopa said nothing, not wanting to interfere with her husband taking charge of the situation.

Jonathan added, "Then we all agree - we need to come up with another plan."

Karla ran her hands up through her wet hair, catching her fingers into a clump of tangles. She sighed in frustration. "The thing is, we need to learn whatever we can about..."

"Karla." Nathanial put his hands on her shoulders. "You need to slow down. We need to get out of the rain before reinforcements show up. You just crushed and drowned a dozen supernatural members of the Esoteric Community. The rest of them are further up the track, trying to get the train moving again. Now they're going to have to cover up this mess before it attracts attention. And with rescue helicopters in the area, pilots are going to notice it and report in."

"Nathan..."

Nathanial continued overtop Karla's protest. "So now your actions will bring the whole damn EC here to keep this contained. We need to find your boy and get the hell out of here as quickly as we can."

"Both of them," said Parker. "We also need to find the girl with him."

"Her name is Peri," Karla muttered.

Jonathan put his arm around Sinopa's shoulder. With his other arm, he lifted her up into his embrace. "Let's get out of the floodwater. My wife isn't safe in this mess, Nathanial is exhausted, and ... Karla, you've been shot."

"I don't have time for that right now! Chance doesn't have an active ability! We need to find him!"

JC sighed. "I'm headed to the Luxor. Just keep heading south until you see a sign for it. I have a permanent suite there. I will tell them I'm expecting friends. When you mention that you are with me, they'll take care of you. They'll bring you dry clothes and a tailor if necessary - whatever you need."

Nathanial nodded to Sinopa. He cut his eyes to Jonathan. "Where are you going?"

Jonathan sighed. "I'm going to take a helicopter out of the city."

"What?!" Karla threw her hands up in the air. "Are you serious?"

Parker replied in a stern voice. "I am taking my wife home. It's the only place I know she's safe. When we're situated, we're going to look for the mirror. You two take care of yourself. I don't want to find out you two were killed, do you understand? I work for the EC and it's already a shaky relationship because they don't like the fact that I've married a demigod. So far as they're concerned, Sinopa was able to get out of that boxcar because she's a messenger god - not because she had help from fugitives. When I get back to San Fran, I'll report to them that she is home, resting. I will tell them that I never saw the rest of you, are we clear?"

Karla turned to the older man. "Go on, Nathan. You're exhausted and they need your protection between here and the Luxor. I'll handle things."

"Nathan, iie, stay with Karla."

Nathan glanced from Karla back to Sinopa. "Are you sure?"

"I will handle whatever comes our way," said Sinopa. "Please, help her find the boy. He is important, and more importantly, he is important to her."

"I can't be around the telepath," Nathan said with a sigh. "It would cause..."

The succubus pushed her hair from her face and shouted. "Dammit, Nathanial! Just get them out of here before they're seen with me. Go!" Karla pointed south. "GO! If they're seen with me, or standing around the train with you, then they won't be able to help us anymore! We can't expose them to the EC. You know what you've got to do, old man. Get them there without being seen." She put her hands on her ears. "Go on!"

"We're in water," Jonathan replied.

"Jesus, okay fine!" Karla waved her hands. The waters receded, pushed back by telekinesis. She brought her hands to her ears again. "Go!"

"Fine." Nathan turned to the Parkers and put his hands on their shoulders.

A flash of light filled the area. A bolt of lightning ascended into the sky. Another flash descended to the ground in the distance.

The heat caused a hollow tunnel through the rain for a split second. A clap of deafening thunder knocked Karla off her feet. She stood back up in the rain. Knee-deep flood water rushed inward, around her bust line.

Karla shouted a string of obscenities in frustration.

She got to her feet and brought her hand to the stinging bloody flesh wound on her bicep. She headed down Industrial Road towards the intersection where Chance and Peri's rental car was abandoned under the rising floodwaters. "Goddamn 'desert' my ass."

X

X

July 8, 11:35 am Somewhere nearby...

"You okay?" Chance asked two more times before Peri stirred.

"What happened?" Peri asked in a weary voice. She sat up, rubbed her forehead, and looked around.

She lay on a comfortable bed. On a nearby nightstand was a plastic placard that read, "STARWOOD, Hotels & Resorts Worldwide Inc." She rubbed her cheeks and glanced back at Chance. "What happened, Mark?"

"We're at some swanky hotel. Caesar's World, or ... Palace or ... something. I'm not sure what it's called. One is a casino, the other is the hotel."

Peri looked around but the room had been stripped of identifying features. "What can you sense?"

Chance frowned. "In the next room there's some rich guy from a place called Park Place Entertainment. He's a business rep; his company is buying this place. I can hear his thoughts."

"Yeah? What's on his mind?"

He shrugged. "Money. He's working out a deal to buy buying this place to make legitimate money for the Esoteric Council. I don't know what his ability is, but there are two guards in the area. I think he's in charge of our, uh, 'capture.'"

"Oh, is he now? Good." She swung her legs around and slid off the bed. "Let's go get some answers, then."

"We can't leave. There are people with guns outside of our door."

"Fine, fine! Whatever, then. I won't leave. Doesn't mean I can't ask what's going on." She stopped by a bathroom and stared at a dress on a hanger. "That had better not be for me. I'm not wearing that. I'm not like your frilly little friend, Mark. I don't do dresses or skirts."

Chance shrugged. "It was hanging there when we were brought in here."

Peri opened the door. Two armed men turned to face her, pointing handguns in her face. "Whoa, whoa." She put her hands up. "I just want to talk to the guy in the next room over."

"Listen," said one of the guards, "Get your pasty white ass back in that room and stay there."

"Whoa, hold up. First of all, don't judge me because I don't have a proper tan. I tried to catch some rays yesterday, and one of my friends sprayed me down with this sunblock crap. Second of all, I want to talk to the guy in the next room. You know, pal, the guy who works for Park Place with all the money?"

"His day job is none of your business, girl. Get back in the room or you're going back out in the rain. And trust me ... you'll sink under the floodwater from all the holes I'll put in you."

Peri eyed him for a moment. "I'm sure the other patrons on this floor would love to hear gunshots."

The man put his gun to her forehead. His accomplice attached a silencer barrel and put his weapon to her forehead. The first man followed suit, attaching a flash suppressor. They put both their guns in her face and said, "A lot of accidents happen with guns. And there are no other guests staying on this floor at this time."

Peri ground her teeth together. "Fine. I'm going to call you out on your bluff. Shoot me."

The second gunman told the first, "The reward is for the boy, not the girl. I say we give her what she wants and kill her."

"Fine." The first guy pointed his weapon down and shot Peri in her outer thigh.

She fell to the floor, hissing in pain.

Chance launched himself off the bed, hurried to her and dropped on the carpet, adjacent to her. His leg locked up from sympathy pain. He quickly put his hands on her thigh, trying to stop the blood flow.

The guards grinned at one another, satisfied.

Chance looked up, pain on his face, and said, "What did you do that for?! All she wanted to do is ask why your boss rescued us! She wasn't going to hurt anyone!"

"Shut up, kid." The gunman shoved both Peri and Chance back into the room with his foot. He shut the door behind himself and leaned against it. "Stupid kids. They're lucky I didn't throw any punches."

"Okay, okay, man." The second gunman put his handgun into a holster on his side, beneath his blazer. "This gig is easy money. Don't go using your abilities and screw it up."

"Yeah..."

Inside the room, Chance kept his palm over Peri's leg. "Oh my God, I'm sorry he shot you."

"I'm ... I'm fine," she said in a weak tone. "I'm okay."

"No you're not. I can feel the pain in my leg, too. You're hurting. I'm so sorry he shot you."

"Marcus, it hurts. But not as bad as the rest of my body." She felt cold. Adrenaline spiked her blood. Her heart raced. Sweat beaded up on her forehead.

Chance stared at her, puzzled.

"My back hurts worse. And my jaw. God my jaw hurts. And I've got a wicked headache. My feet, my hands." She trailed off, panting from the debilitating aches throughout her body.

"I ... I only feel the gunshot in your leg. You hurt elsewhere?"

"Just ... give me a minute." She waved him away and put her hands on her leg to compress the bleeding.

Chance frowned at her, unsure of what to do. He stood up and hobbled to the other end of the room. "Feeling your gunshot gave me a Charlie Horse." He glanced back at her, concern in his eyes.

"I'll be fine, just ... shh." She leaned against the doorframe to the adjacent closet.

Chance turned and glared out the window. He could see the brand new Bellagio peaking up over other buildings in the background. "Peri..." He kept his eyes on the window. After a moment he felt more pain than just his leg. His jaw began to hurt. His head began to ache. He reached for his lower back with a wince. His ankles hurt horribly. He turned back to face her on the floor in front of the closet, adjacent to the door to the hallway.

Peri clutched at her thigh, blood gushed up between her knuckles, covering her hand. She drew her hands back from the wound and looked down at her palm. She opened and closed her fingers several times. "God my hands hurt."

"I feel it," he said, panting from the pain.

Peri looked up at him with glassy eyes; tears streamed down her cheeks. "You look like you're hurting a lot more than me," she said, looking back at him then down at her hands again. "She swallowed back the agony, trying to look tough. I can't believe that guy shot me."

"You've got the adrenaline. My body knows there's nothing wrong with it, so it's not generating any. I think. But I feel your pain."

"Marcus, I'm sorry you're going through this, too." All at once she gasped in exquisite, excruciating pain. She flailed back and flung herself across the carpet.

Her body locked up. She curled into a fetal position. Peri opened her mouth to groan but she was breathless, despite the heavy flood of adrenaline to her system.

Chance dropped to the floor, feeling everything she experienced in raw, sober detail. No adrenaline. He drew his knees to his chest in a ball, unable to cope with the intense pain. Everything became dizzy and distorted.

Peri's body began to swell. Her mouth remained agape, unable to scream. She thrashed about. Her foot struck the closet door, pushing it all the way open.

The dress fell from its hanger and draped over her face. She arched her back and brought her knees to her chest again.

She was in shock from being shot. She couldn't think clearly enough to rationalize what was happening to her body.

Her ankle shifted, snapping the joint only to reform itself. Her foot arched and her heel changed.

The flesh of her foot split, bloodying her socks. Her toes clenched together and the skin began to fuse together. Her toenails pushed outward and changed shape.

She kept her mouth open, unable to breathe. Her teeth changed shape. Her jaw shifted forward, elongating. Her jawline became narrow beneath the dress draped across her face. Her nose pushed forward against the fabric.

Her intense headache consumed her. Her ears pushed upwards, moving higher than her temples.

Peri arched her spine again. Her lower back felt as though it broke at every vertebra, which paralyzed her legs. Her feet trembled and her knees knocked together.

The young woman's shoes began to split at the sides and front. Her left pant leg swelled up just above the knee. Her tailbone ached. A growth at the base of her spine filtered down along the backside of her thigh.

Her shirt split at the back. Her bra strap snapped. The fabric cups drooped as the fat deposits of her small bust shifted away rapidly.

Her waist expanded and her hips reshaped. The button of her pants broke.

Chance watched, helpless, as she went through the painful and brutal change of her first transformation.

Her eyes became grey in coloration and glazed over with a visceral look.

Fur sprouted from the pours of her skin, growing in splotches and patches over her body in a surprisingly short amount of time. The tissue of her ears changed in shape. Animalistic ears sprouted from the top of her head.

Her jaw snapped from the breaking of bones. The grinding sound of the bones reshaping was even more sickening. Her face grew outwards into a muzzle.

Her fur became thick, until her flesh was covered. Dark dapple grey with mottled markings in clusters of lighter grey and brown, her fur continued to grow in thick. The remains of her shirt and jeans, still damp from being in the rain earlier, puffed up from the fluff growing beneath.

Tears welled up in her eyes, which caused them to glisten. Her animalistic gaze softened, showing vulnerability.

She reached to her torso where two lines of fleshy buds popped up along her belly and chest, seven nipples in all.

She floundered about in anguish for another moment. Peri gasped, taking her first breath of air in nearly a minute.

Peri felt overheated but didn't sweat. She couldn't sweat.

Her clothes continued to rip at the seams unable to contain her larger frame, and then suddenly...

All at once, the pain stopped.

So many new sensations occurred at one time, the sensory overload was overwhelming. New smells, new sounds, the feel of ... whiskers.

Out in the hallway, Peri heard the muffled voices of the two guards.

"Yeah," said one guard to the other. "My girlfriend is stuck on the CAT. I think she said her bus number was 729."

The second gunman's voice was equally muted through the door, yet easily audible to Peri's new ears. "No shit...? She's okay? Where did it get stuck?"

"Jones Boulevard. She's good at the moment; says the 95 is a parking lot. No doubt in my mind this is going to be the straw that causes us to break up. If I wasn't working today, she wouldn't have been alone."

Peri remained silent, lying still to regain her composure after the terrific pain of her first transformation. She crawled towards the door and continued to listen to the dialogue between the gunmen.

"You ever met the Grand Justiciar? He's out of Chicago. He hates humans, man. If he ever heard that you date a mundane, he'd have flipped out on you, man. If she breaks up with you, just let it go. Better to find someone with abilities because your peers won't judge you, man."

"You judge me?"

"Nah, I don't even date. Fuck that noise."

"Seriously?"

"I'm neurotic, man. OCD, ADD, I get weird in relationships, man. I'm broken. I don't even have a dog. When I go home, I like shit quiet. I like it peaceful. I'll be happy when I die if it's quiet like Shakespeare says."

"Damn, man. Not to sound gay or nothing, but I hate being alone."

"Nothing wrong with being gay. My brother's gay; coolest guy I know. He likes shit to be quiet, too."

The hotel door flew off its hinges, bowling down both men.

An enormous grey-furred creature stood up on its hind legs with a dress draped over its head, across its shoulders. Massive hind-paws carried the animal through the doorframe.

Two large forepaws reached forward, picking up both men by their throats.

The werewolf clapped them together hard, smashing their bodies three times. Both men went limp.

She threw them to the floor.

Silence.

Peri turned back towards the hotel room.

Chance stood by the hotel bathroom door with wide eyes.

She wore ripped socks that went from her ankle to her heel. Around her left calf, her pants were tight at the cuff, dragging the floor. She wore a thong, with her tail hanging out at the back, but the waistband was stretched to excess, and the fabric was bulged in the front from fur.

"P-Peri is that you in there?"

She trudged back towards him and leaned in close until her large, wet, black nose brushed against his.

Chance froze; his heart pounded in his chest.

In a slightly huskier voice, she said, "The pop tarts weren't enough to tide me over. I'm hungry." She stood up straight.

"P-pop tarts. Right. Of course. You, uh ... you love pop tarts."

"Hell yeah I do. But, like everything else on the market, they're loaded with preservatives, genetically modified corn syrup; all sorts of bad crap. Sugar is probably the best ingredient in there. I say we go talk to that guy now. Although I doubt he'll have any pop tarts for me."

Chance swallowed back his initial fear and brought his hand up to touch the wetness she left on the tip of his nose. "I can't read you very well. All I can tell is ... that you're overheated."

"I'll adjust. I can't sweat like this. Fur is blocking the pores. Sweat glands are inactive. Christ, I'm going to need one hell of a myofascial release. Not looking forward to that - it hurts. I doubt it'll be as bad as that transformation, though. Jesus, that was hell, wasn't it? Feel great, now, though."

"A what? What's a myo...fash...al? I'm glad to see you're feeling better."

"Hell yeah. This is awesome. I feel amazing. I was born for this. I can't believe it took a bullet in the leg to trigger my first time. I need to learn how to control it so I can do it whenever I want! Oh, and to answer your question... First-time transformations mess with the fascia, the muscles. Strands sometimes reconnect wrong. The first couple of transformations were hell on werewolves until Andrew Still came along in the nineteenth century."

Chance stared at her, unable to read anything, including her. He remained silent with a black stare.

A devious looking grin tugged at the corner of Peri's newly formed muzzle. "C'mon. I want to see this guy. Which way? Left or right?" She pulled the dress off of her head and draped it over the faces of the two men lying on the hallway floor.

Chance stepped out into the hall, looked down at the broken door and the two motionless men. He licked his lips and pointed to the left.

Peri's grin broadened. "Jackpot."

Chance's head began to clear. The fear, confusion, and other emotions of witnessing Peri's painful transformation concluded. He could sense his surroundings again.

"Let's do this, Mark."

Chance nodded. He walked down the hall to the next door. "He heard the commotion. He's already calling for help."

"Step back, kid." Peri took a position across from the office door. She put her foot on the hallway wall and tensed up.

Chance licked his lips in apprehension.

Peri launched herself across the hallway and used her shoulder to blast her way through the door. The handle lodged itself in the wall inside the room.

She stumbled, amazed at how easily the door gave way. The werewolf stood up straight, flooded with confidence. She stepped into the business suite, and snarled. Her upper lip lifted, exposing her fangs.

Chance telepathically fed off of Peri's intense confidence. He stepped in next and nodded politely to the man. "So. You're here to relax in your swanky new investment, huh? That makes me a business transaction, doesn't it? And damn ... you don't even care that I'm telepathic, nor do you care what they'll do to me because of it. All you want is more money, and the Esoteric Council has plenty of that, don't they?"

The man looked from Chance to the werewolf. He stared at Peri for a moment. "I've never seen one of your kind after transformation. I've only heard stories. What is that mucus on your elbows and shoulders, were-beast?"

"Were_wolf_, get it right, shrimp." Peri lifted her left arm, causing mucus in her fur to glisten in the room lighting. "It's pushed out during the transformation, especially if it happens quickly. So, are you going to talk to the kid? He asked you about what's going on." She eyed the man behind the desk, disappointed by his lack of fear.

"I'll have to cover up what you've done to my guards. And yes, my day job allows me to make money. I'll leave Park Place after the acquisition, and find somewhere else to set up a new merger. That's what I do - I broker mergers for various groups."

Silence.

After a moment, Peri turned to Chance. "You know what would be awesome about being a telepath? I've always wanted to turn around in a big chair, hands folded, and say, 'I've been expecting you,' but you could totally do that. Also, you could do this guy's job better than him without even trying."

The man shifted his eyes to Chance. "Three billion dollars, boy. I'm making fifty million of that up front, and another two hundred and fifty million after the deal closes. Three hundred million dollars. That's what speaks to me. Money. I don't care if you know my thoughts. You don't have the personality or sales experience to steal my business deals, so you're no threat to me."

Chance tilted his head somewhat. "I have a friend who can 'broker' a deal for you to look the other way and give us information. Three hundred million is chump-change to this friend. You and I could do business."

"I have a better idea," said the man with a smile. "I let the council take you both, right here and right now. Then I tell Jonathan Parker that I have proof you two are friends, which will upset the Council. Then, Mr. Parker pays me whatever I want. It's called extortion. I get the money I want either way. You don't think like a businessman, boy. I do."

Chance glanced back at Peri. "He's afraid. This is his poker face and it's a good one. But his biggest fear is death because it means he won't have his money anymore."

The corners of Peri's muzzle tugged, feigning a toothy Cheshire smile. "I've been told the first bloodlust is always the most memorable one. Want me to rip him apart?"

"No, wait." Chance turned back to the man and asked, "So, let me get this straight ... Philip Astor is it?" He took another step closer to the desk. "Who is my buyer?" Chance's style of speaking changed to mirror Philip's own. "With whom have you brokered a deal for the sale of information regarding the telepath? Wait ... no..." Chance moved closer to the desk. "My mistake - what is the name of the buyer interested in purchasing me?"

Astor's eyes widened. "You want to reason with him? Those guys will end you because you're an invasion of their privacy. You don't have a chance."

"I just might. In fact, if I let you live, you can call me Chance. What's his name?"

Astor remained silent, but the trick worked, causing him to think about his business contacts.

Chance folded his arms, feeling brave with the werewolf adjacent to him. "He gave up the name, Peri. Reinhardt and Sire St. Leonard. They're brothers. Apparently, they have the ability to make people do what they want with a mere suggestion."

Astor glowered in anger. "You have no willpower when they speak, especially in the presence of Sire. Reinhardt's power of influence isn't quite as strong but he's twice as influential outside of his abilities. The brothers hate humans as much as telepaths. Wasn't your mother a mundane human? Oh, and wasn't your father trying to bring down part of our governing council with some information?"

"Maybe it was time to fix things," Chance replied.

Astor scoffed. "You know what is bad for business? Unplanned change. So," Astor said, getting his cocky edge back. "I'm going to wager a bet, boy. I'm willing to bet the farm that Reinhardt would kill you whether you were telepathic or not, and he will stop at nothing to make sure you die."

"Okay." Peri approached Astor.

He retreated from the desk, and moved to the bedroom section of the business suite.

Peri followed with a calm, playful gait.

Astor pushed himself up into the corner adjacent to the bed, eyes wide. "Wait!"

Peri's expression became devious, offering a dark smile. "Guess your pals will be here soon, huh? Soon is still too long, and I'm hungry. That's okay, though, Philip. I'll settle for fast food." Peri moved in slow, watching him scrunch up against the wall.

Chance felt Astor's confidence drop, and his fear spike. "He's scared to death, I can feel it."

Peri grabbed Astor and threw him down on the bed. She opened her maw and bit down on his arm, wanting to hear him beg for his life.

However, she couldn't sink her teeth into his skin. She strained, biting as hard as she could manage but she couldn't do much more than mar the flesh, creating a bruise.

The werewolf lifted her head, eyes wide. "What ... the hell? You got a metal plate in your arm, Phil McCracken?"

"It's true. I'm afraid to die," Astor said, adding, "The telepath is absolutely right. But I'm good at hiding my hand until it's time to play it."

Chance swallowed, feeling as though his telepathy somehow failed him. "He manipulated us. He somehow fed me information on what he wanted me to think."

Astor smirked. "You cannot do my job, boy. I take into account what abilities people have, and use them to my advantage."

Chance approached the bed, standing next to Peri." I find it ironic that a man who has no emotional fortitude, when it comes to the thought of pain or death, has natural resilience to physical injury."

Peri elbowed Chance. "You're talking like him again. I hope I rub off on you the same way. I'd love to hear you say or act random like me." She turned back to Astor and bared her teeth. "But let's see if your throat is as tough. Maybe your tongue can still be ripped out, or your eyeballs..."

Astor sat up and shoved them both back. "Girl, you can't do much more than slobber on me." He drew his hand up and perused his marred wrist. "I'm surprised you were able to bruise me. But it won't be enough to kill me."

Chance eyed him. He cut his gaze back to Peri. "It hurt him. He felt the bite." Chance smirked. "But hey, we're pretty high up. I wonder if he'll survive a fall." He glanced back at Astor.

Peri's ears laid flat in frustration. "It would guarantee his escape if he does live from it," she said. "Hey, I heard people can die from tickle torture. Their lungs collapse or something."

Chance furrowed his brows and looked back at Peri. "I imagine a person would go unconscious from not getting enough oxygen. To be honest, we don't have time for that."

Astor smirked. "You're right, young man. You don't. They're going to..."

Men came up the hall in a large group. Astor smiled.

Peri's ears perked up.

"...Ah, here they come now. I played the games, I thought in my mind how I'm afraid to die. It kept you both here. I waged and won this hand. Now ... you're the Grand Justiciar's problem."

Peri snatched the man by his throat and hurled him at the group coming into the doorway.

Astor's body bowled everyone down.

She went to the window and gazed out. She saw a pool but it was too far to jump. "We're going to have to go through those guys, Mark."

"Dammit." Chance clenched his hands and tried to repeat the mental attack he caused back in France but nothing happened.

Peri cocked her head, staring sidelong at him. "What the hell is that look for? You constipated? Come on, we'll make it. You need a gun. Should have taken one from the guards. That was dumb of us."

"Yeah. Rookie mistake made by two rookies."

"Pretty much..." She watched as the men got to their feet. "We're trapped in this room, and I'm high on adrenaline. Also, I'm the only one who can fight."

"Tamamo called you our weapon," he said. Chance swallowed down a lump in his throat, watching as the angry group of men stood.

The soldiers appeared unharmed.

"Look, Peri. They don't want you. They're satisfied to return you to your people. They might even help you find your original tribe. That's their job as a government. They want me; you don't even know me."

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but I'm batshit crazy."

"Peri..."

The man with the solid skin, helped up by another, forced his way back to the front of the group. "Oh, boy, one more thing ... did you know that your father wanted to use you?"

Peri put her paw out, pushing Chance back behind herself. "Head games, huh? Figures, you seem the type to..."

Chance stepped out from behind Peri. "Wait, what?"

"That's right." Astor dusted his hands over his suit, smoothing it of wrinkles. "Your father wanted to use you to spy on the council. He needed your ability to prove his information about someone in their group. I broker more than deals; I sell information, too. Your own father wanted to use you for your ability when he found out about it. I just wanted you to know that before you die. You were just a tool for him. You didn't even have a very good relationship with him because he resented you."

Chance sensed truth to the man's words, but refused to fall victim to another possible ploy. "Yeah, right. He took me to the hospital instead of going to the meeting."

"Actually," Astor said with a smile, "you reminded him of his worthless human wife."

Chance flinched. He empathically fed off of Peri's newfound confidence to keep his wits. "I doubt there's any truth to my dad using me. I manifested the day of the accident."

"The initial word on the street was that you manifested the day you woke up. But your father used to be a council member. Council members don't receive the death sentence. They receive imprisonment. Of course, we told him that you're alive. But we also told him that you're an anarchist who doesn't remember anything."

Chance ground his teeth together. "Bullshit. My father died in that fire. You're lying."

"Do you even know his ability?" Astor asked. "Boy, your father wanted your help in taking the government in a new direction; that's his obsession. We interrogated him, so we know the truth. And then we told him that all you want to do is attack all supernaturals with the help of that dick sucker blond. Needless to say, your father was very disappointed."

Chance balled his hands into fists. "First of all, you're a liar. You're a good one, but you're still a liar. If you ever mention Karla again..."

Peri put her paw on his shoulder. "Just stop. You're embarrassing yourself, Mark. You're Charles Xavier. I'm Wolverine. Let me make the threats _for_you."

Astor tilted his head. "You know, I could take you to meet Daniel Howard before your scheduled execution, young man." Astor adjusted his cufflinks with a smile. "There are a lot of people in this hall. Some of us have very imaginative abilities. You don't have a chance. Either jump out the window like idiots, or give up."

Silence.

Astor turned towards Peri. "Also, the boy is right. As he would be, since he can read all of us ... Miss Darken was it?"

"You can eat a fat one, Phil."

Astor rolled his eyes. "I mean that you can come with us. You were manipulated by a telepath. We don't hold you as guilty."

Peri scoffed. Her ears laid. Her whiskers lowered along her muzzle. "You assholes have treated us worse than Colonial people treated Native Americans. Some of my people forgive it because it happened a long-ass time ago, but some of you age slowly."

"Our people have had our differences," said Astor. "The Esoteric Community and the Mythological community has found peace."

"First of all, we're not mythological. You asshats have known about vampires, werewolves, and the fae for a long time."

Astor held his hands up. "I'm being sincere, Ms. Darken. We will return you to the nearest lycanthropy reservation."

Peri's ears lifted. "My brother says to forgive and forget." Her ears lowered again. "But I say ... I'm going to eat every last one of you bastards."

Chance turned to her and put his hands up. "Peri! This is your chance to walk away! You _just_got your ability! Don't throw it away on me - some kid you don't even know!"

Astor folded his arms. "He's right, dog girl. This is your last chance to walk away. I'm growing impatient. Make a decision."

Peri looked down at her newly formed, velveteen padded paws. The gossamer sheen of mucus was nearly dry.

Silence.

Peri lifted her eyes. "A demigod spirit came to me in my dreams and I know how much you people hate deities. Well, I'm _very_spiritual. And that woman told me I would fight with my heart and rescue this boy. And she told this boy that _I_would be a weapon. Now. Let me show you why faith is more powerful than you people and your political drama." Peri stormed across the room and reached for the first two men on either side of Astor.

The man in her left paw brought his hands up and drove his fingernails into her skin, causing blood to soak her fur, matting it down.

She fought the pain and crushed his throat until his neck broke.

The man in her other massive paw brought his foot up and struck her in the shin. Her leg broke with the first strike.

She eased up on his neck.

The supernatural soldier grabbed her and threw her across the room.

Peri struck the wall, leaving a mark in the surface with a crack that went to the ceiling. She dropped to the floor and howled in pain, landing on her fractured leg.

Astor adjusted his tie and smiled. "You know how, in movies, you fight through a hoard of people and the last one in the group is always the most impressive and difficult to defeat? Video games call that person the 'boss' of the stage." His eyes shifted over to Chance.

Chance turned to Peri, swallowed, and glanced back at the group of men surrounding him.

A smile spread across Astor's lips. "Guess what, boy? Your friend went for the boss before fighting everyone else. My guard out in the hall was able to throw punches that could penetrate most materials. Steel I-beams, oak blocks..."

"The one that Peri killed?"

Astor shrugged. "He'll likely survive. Regardless," Astor gestured towards the man that threw Peri into the wall a moment prior. "This gentleman man can bend a steel I-beam by pinching his fingers together. He could break you two in half with ease." Astor turned to the strongman and said, "Finish her slow so the boy can watch."

"Yes, Mr. Astor."

Philip Astor excused himself from the group and left.

The remaining nine men piled into the hotel room. The man that threw Peri stood at the front of the group. "He's right. She went for the toughest guy of the pack. Mister Astor is really well off. He has humans in his family but he invests so much money into things the EC needs that we treat him like the bar of gold he is. And now, see, you've gone and attacked the wrong man."

Chance looked at Peri with a frown. He glanced back at the man at the front of the pack. "If ... if I can beat you in a boxing match, will you let us go?"

The group of men snickered amongst themselves.

Finally, the strongman folded his arms. "You're telepathic. You'd dodge every strike and wear me down with little jabs. I'm not an idiot. Thing is, it would only take one successful strike to kill you. And I'd eventually land one, you'd just know it's coming before I land it."

"Enough fucking talking!" One of the men at the back of the group pushed his way to the front. "I'm sick of this shit. Let's finish these two. I heard the electro-freak escaped from the train and I want to fight that guy. I heard he's a tough old bastard and you're taking me away from that hunt." The second man approached Chance. "I bet you can't wait to see my ability." He lifted his chin a bit.

Chance dropped to the floor, gasping in pain. "What th-the...?" He read words from the man's head and said, "You can microwave th-things?" The Chance rolled onto his side, gasping. He laid flat onto his back, overheated from the inside out.

Without warning, the man attacking Chance went to the floor with Peri atop of his body. She closed her muzzle over his throat, bit down hard, and jerked her head from left to right.

She turned about, on all fours, but with her injured rear leg held aloft. She padded towards the group, causing most of them to back up into the hallway. "There's going to be blood on the walls at the Caesar. And when I find the punk politician who started this shit, I'm going to go straight up Casca on his ass." She followed them into the hallway.

They continued to back away.

The group of men tripped over Philip Astor in the hallway, his body half embedded in the wall.

Chance followed Peri out into the hall until they came across the remains of Astor, who was embedded in the floor from his waist up.

Chance's eyes widened. He felt a familiar presence nearby. "Karla!" He turned to Peri, adding, "She followed the supernaturals who rushed here to help. She's here somewhere ... she's..." he trailed off and tilted his head somewhat. "She's fighting someone."

All at once, the entire group found themselves atop the parking garage, adjacent to the hotel, in the hard rain.

Everyone appeared together - eight men, Peri, Chance, Karla, someone the succubus had been fighting, the two dead men, and Astor, who appeared half lodged in the parking deck.

The rain came down at an impressive rate, causing everyone to hold their hands up to shield their face.

Karla stood at the center, using telekinesis to create a bubble around herself. Rain glanced off of the invisible umbrella. She breathed a sigh of relief, seeing Chance unharmed. She cut her gaze to the enormous werewolf, now a sodding wet dog.

Everyone looked about, trying to get their bearings in the new setting.

"Here's the deal!" Karla announced in a loud voice. "We talk this out or we fight it out." She pointed back towards the adjacent hotel building. "Because people are looking out the windows to see the flood, undoubtedly someone is going to see this fight. Not that they'll see much in this rain, at this distance. So if you want to fight, I'm down for it!"

One of the attackers approached Karla.

She smirked, adding, "But they're probably tourists standing at those windows! So who knows if one of those people have a fancy camera with a nice zoom lens. Am I wrong?"

The attacker paused. He backed away from Karla.

Silence.

Karla smirked. "So what's it going to be?"

The group of men turned to one another and spoke softly, discussing their options.

Chance grimaced. "Karla, Peri is injured."

Peri stood up on both feet, albeit slowly. The bone had already begun to mend. "I'm fine." She reached a clawed finger down to her thigh where she'd been shot earlier and pressed her finger against where the wound had healed. "Poke ... poke ... poke ... yup, fine. So, check out the freaking football team over there, talking about their Statue of Liberty play."

The men, nine in all, remained huddled together.

Karla approached Chance and Peri, and showed where she'd been grazed on her bicep. In an English accent, Karla quoted an old comedy movie. "It's just a flesh wound."

A weak smile tugged at the werewolf's muzzle. "I love Monty Python."

"Karla...! You've been shot, too?"

Karla nodded. "Tis but a scratch!"

"Peri took one in the thigh, then some guy kicked her in the shin and broke her leg."

Karla winced empathetically. "Thank you for keeping him safe. You okay, champ?"

Peri grimaced, her facial expressions surprisingly human-like for having the face of a wolf. "No dog names."

"I ... hmm, guess you're right about that one." Karla looked over Peri and frowned. "At least the rain is washing the blood out of your fur."

Peri grimaced. "I'm disappointed you're not as jazzed about my transformation as I am, Cheerleader."

"No dog names for you, no pep-rally nicknames for me."

"Deal." Peri ran her paws up and down her arms, forcing the blood to wash out quickly. "Some of this blood belongs to the guy who tried to nuke Mark from the inside out."

Karla blinked. "You guys went up against Chef Boyardee? I didn't see him." She looked across the rooftop at the nine men still huddled, discussing their options. "That's what I call him, anyways. God, he's a nasty bastard, too."

"Karla ... she killed him," Chance glanced back at the other group, huddled together. "They're a hung jury. Half of them want to get back to someone in the council, report their findings, and go from there. The rest of them want to bring our heads back on pikes and act like heroes to their peers. I'm not ready to watch you two fight for my life. It's not fair to you two that I can't pull my own weight."

"Chance," Karla trailed off, reached up, and touched his cheek with her palm. The succubus offered a soft smile. "Shut the fuck up and stop assigning gender roles. I love you."

"Don't go kissing in the rain," Peri said with a roll of her eyes. "Not the time or place. They're looking back over here like we're meat. But hey, at least it isn't hailing."

Karla rubbed her face, her shirt again saturated with water like earlier. "God. I wouldn't fight out here if it was hailing. Some of those guys have weird abilities. One of them can freeze this rain, or at least any water within several feet. He's not going to use it in public, because that would get him in trouble. So, he's limited to gun-slinging. Another one of those guys has limited telekinesis. He can only lift himself. He won't fly in public, so he's a chump in this arena. One of those guys can change his skin like a chameleon. Useless out here, especially in the rain on a large open space like this."

Chance nodded. He directed his voice towards Karla, but kept his gaze forward. "I can't believe you teleported all of us at the same time without killing anyone. I'm really proud of you," he told her. "See? You didn't need Ethan to teach you."

Karla pointed to the left, where Philip Astor was half buried in the ground. "That guy had it coming, though. You can't harm him physically. And it's not like the movies or a video game, where it wears off. He's like that all the time. Never had a vaccination shot, so he has that microwave guy kill germs ... whatever, the point I'm trying to make is I killed that guy. By accident in the hotel. Definitely on purpose when moving him out here."

Chance nodded. "He made a video game reference earlier."

"He loves playing them," Karla said. "It's probably the most normal thing about him." She looked back down at Astor's emotionless face. "God I hated him."

"Why?" asked Peri.

"He killed my sister's friend, Beth in 1899 - a succubus from England. She survived being attacked by Jack the fucking Ripper, but dies because Philip Astor liked drugging his sex toys." Karla rubbed her hands together in the rain. "Come to think of it, it felt really good to kill that jackass." She turned and spit on Philip Astor's emotionless face. "I wish it wasn't raining. Makes spitting less insulting."

Peri turned to Karla. "Can you teleport all of those asshats the same way? Can you kill them?" asked Peri.

"I've burned through all my mojo, sister. I'm spent."

Chance looked back at the group across the rooftop. "They're weighing their options but I think they're going to fight."

"Great." Karla pushed her hands together and cracked her knuckles. "I followed them from the train to here. Some of those guys are no joke. One of them can empower any weapon he holds, so that it becomes supercharged and beyond lethal. I don't know how it works, except that the weapon discharges some sort of energy when it hits its target. You don't want to be on the end of that. It doesn't work with guns or arrows, just handheld stuff."

"Anyone else?" asked Peri.

Karla rubbed her chin. "One of them is a vampire. They're not going to be easy, especially as a group."

"They've decided," Chance said. He folded his arms and frowned, seeing the group approach from across the rooftop parking deck. "They've all agreed to fight while one of them goes for help."

Eight men made a line in front of the trio.

Karla rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

Peri growled, delighted to fight. "Red Rover, Red Rover, get ready to bend over."

"None of them live," said one of the men. "This ends today."

Chance swallowed, sensing the finality in the man's mind. The leader of the group wanted vengeance and violence. Chance rubbed rain from his eyes and swallowed again.

Peri crouched down, ready for a fight.

Karla stepped out of her high heels, ready to fight.

Chance sighed. "Well, gang. This is it. We lost the mirror, but we got Sinopa and Nathan back. We're one-for-one. It's time to score another win."

"Mark, your pep-talks are worse than your threats." Peri howled long and loud. She opened and closed her claw-covered paws twice. "Let's fight them already!"

---

Next Chapter: https://www.sofurry.com/view/698972