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Chapter 5: Elephant in the Room

Tibia had escaped.

Even when AEGIS's troops captured the Shinbone Mk. II and all the boneheads inside, the four-tusked elephant was nowhere to be seen. Harsh interrogation of the remaining boneheads revealed that Groups Alpha, Beta and Delta had been captured but Gamma remained at large, somehow missing despite being assigned to man the maze that Elliot had been trapped in. Supposedly, Gamma was meant to hunt down Elliot and keep him as far away from any electronics as possible. Even Felix was stunned when the orca revealed that he had charged through the maze unopposed. It all smacked of something deeper that left a bit of uncertainty in Caleb's gut; a pit that was made all the wider by the terrifying realisation that he now had no way to help or save Lars and the rest of his teammates.

The Cornucopia was already on its way back to West California Island. A small detachment of AEGIS members had been left behind to pick what they could from the wreckage of Tibia's base. AEGIS troops were running across the decks, processing each of the captured boneheads and sending them into containment cells. It boiled Caleb's blood that the very same villains who had mercilessly gunned them down were being put in the same wing as the rest of Arsenal. A feeling of helplessness weighed down on him.

What had been the point of the venture? What had they gained from it apart from a few extra prisoners? Arsenal remained shattered and broken. Tibia was still at large and they were no closer to figuring out exactly what the Gene Stealers wanted.

Being cooped up in the small private quarters surrounded by metal and with only a small window to view the passing clouds didn't help his stewing mood. Caleb slapped his knees and leapt to his feet. He charged out of the small room, the metal sliding door hissing aside and letting in all the noise of the busy starship. The men and women of AEGIS were rushing past him, all too busy to pay him any mind. With no place to go and fuming with the need to blow off some steam, Caleb absently followed a pair of agents who were trading notes on one of the henchmen that apparently used his power to create 'bone whips' stylised after barbed spines. He still wondered how in the world they had managed to defeat so many of the well-trained henchmen after they had so much difficulty with them during their first encounter.

He caught sight of a familiar figure leaning against one of the metal walls of the_Cornucopia,_ seemingly people watching while chewing on a power bar. Samson Connors caught his gaze and gave him a nod in acknowledgement with his approach.

"Brooding over your perceived 'failure'?" prompted the alpha werewolf.

Caleb refrained from sighing and leaned up against the wall beside the burly werewolf in human guise. "What gave it away?"

"It's what heroes do every time the supervillain gets away." Samson munched on the bar, chewing on the chocolate and nuts loudly. "It's a predictable reaction and a great weapon to use against even the most seasoned of superheroes. Get away enough times and they either get desensitised to the dance and get sloppy or even when they do win, they draw no satisfaction from the victory because what really gave them a thrill was the chase. They might even orchestrate your release so that the archenemies could once again clash."

"Sounds like you've had experience in this."

Samson gave him a wry smile. "Remember, I'm older than I look. I've been around since the first supers came about and even before then, literature was rife with such cliches. The thing is, in this day and age, it still holds a lot of truth. It's just like Reaper said. Sometimes, there are those people who will not be satisfied with their victory." The werewolf shuffled his weight from one foot to the other. "Almost comforting that there's a possibility of escaping that cycle through him and the so-called 'No Ones'."

"I suppose." Caleb absently scratched his arm, his claws raking through his fur. "Don't suppose you'd have any advice for a wannabe-hero going through the same thing, would you?"

"Wannabe-hero, eh?" snorted the werewolf king. "I suppose that's accurate given you don't technically have an archnemesis yet."

Caleb's ears flicked towards the man, his tail flicking in agitation. "I do so. Chimera."

"Right. Whom you've only seen once and you've never actually engaged in a fight. An archnemesis is the kind of guy that appears in every episode in your life and knows how to push your buttons. He'll challenge you. Make you stronger but at the same time, you make him stronger. He's the guy that you go irrationally mad over. Just the mere mention of his name will make your blood boil and take all of your restraint not to go for his throat. But you'll never go that far because without one or the other, you wouldn't have meaning in your life. No, Chimera isn't your archnemesis. He's just the villain that's pissing you off right now. Be grateful for that."

He stared at Samson incredulously. "What? That can't be true. Are you telling me that archenemies are doomed to fight one another forever and I should be happy I don't have one?"

Samson gave one, surly nod. "What is Batman without the Joker? What is Superman without Lex Luthor? Heroes are defined by the perils that they overcome and villains are defined by the people they imperil." He turned his dark eyes straight at Caleb. "Trust me on this one, son, when you find that one person that you know will shape the rest of your future..." Samson's voice grew dark, serious and so low that Caleb could feel his organs moving because of how deep it was. "... turn away."

Those last two words surprised him. "Huh?"

The werewolf straightened, biting into his power bar and turning his gaze to the distance. "An archnemesis is a commitment as binding as a marriage. Love and hate are two equally passionate emotions and, in some way, when you find your archnemesis, you both love and hate them. You love fighting them even though you would never admit it to yourself and you hate them down to the very fibre of your being."

There was a glint of... something in Samson's eyes that had Caleb perking his ears in curiosity. "You're talking from experience, aren't you?"

The werewolf let out a soft snort, his lips curling upwards very slightly so that his fangs were just showing. "What's that old saying? 'Heroes aren't born. They're made'? Villains are much the same." He gave Caleb a sidelong gaze. "What do you think happens to a hero when they've defeated their archnemesis? When there is no other challenge that could even amount to the unobtainable standards of the last guy?"

Caleb could only offer a shrug. "Settle down. Start a family? Have kids?"

"What happens if that hero is practically immortal?"

Clearly, Samson was talking about himself and that caused a realisation to dawn upon Caleb. "You... you were a superhero, weren't you?"

The werewolf let out a soft laugh and finished his power bar. "Emerged during the Silver Age about four hundred years ago. Wild Wolf." Sadly, Caleb could not recall any superhero of that name and just shook his head helplessly. "I'd be surprised if you heard of me. People would rather forget the part where I went from superhero to supervillain _and_I'm still kicking centuries later. I was a rich technology tycoon. Lived up in Silicon Valley in my own private mansion. On a camping trip one day with my beautiful wife and daughter, I was bitten by a werewolf. I didn't know I was a super already given how my power can remain dormant until I sustain enough kinetic damage and being a skinny, technophile, I never had any real reason to get hit a lot, even as a kid. I transformed and accidentally killed my wife. My daughter swore vengeance against me even as I tried to redeem myself to the world..." He tapped two fingers against his powerful chest. "... and in here. Used my funds to build my own 'Wolf Cave' beneath my mansion as my daughter moved away and..." He snickered to himself. "... and became a vampire."

Even Caleb had to wince at the premise of the old werewolf versus vampire trope. "Ouch... I can smell how stale that cliche is from here."

"I know, right? Even when it happened it was already old and mouldy." Samson's smile revealed a wistful memory and though there was pain in his closed eyes, Caleb could see exactly what the werewolf was talking about; that relationship between villain and hero, the bond between archnemeses. "Katlin became my archnemesis. For decades, we tried to outdo one another. She was constantly of the opinion that werewolves are nothing but savage animals and, let's face it, most of them are. Every time I tried to convince her of the contrary, she'd always be hunting this pack or this lone wolf that would counter my argument."

"How'd it end?" Caleb asked. "If you don't mind me asking, that is."

The alpha of the Alpha Pack shrugged. "It was a long time ago and we've shared the battlefield. You're entitled to know." Samson crossed one arm behind his head. "At one point, I thought I had killed Katlin by mustering the courage to stab her through the heart. As it turns out, she had a contingency plan for the eventuality of me manning up and killing her. She created a phylactery and the moment I plunged the stake through her heart, she began the arduous process of turning herself into a lich. An undead necromancer of great power. Our dance began again and there was some part of my that was elated to have her back in my life even if it was my enemy. I think she knew that." He leaned his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. "She did awful things, Caleb. I had no choice but to kill her again. This time permanently. And when she was dead, I found my life with little meaning. Everyone I knew was either old or dead and there was nothing to challenge me anymore. Not since I killed my archnemesis. But I would not be so weak as to contemplate suicide. No, I would _find_a challenge."

"By becoming the villain and inviting every super or moral citizen to try and stop you."

Samson gave him a devious smirk. "Now, now. Nothing has ever been proven. Everything is purely conjecture."

Caleb rolled his eyes. "Right. Of course."

Despite his words, Caleb now had a better understanding of the often-antagonistic alpha werewolf. Samson was a supervillain, there was no doubt, but he had also been a hero in a previous life. Perhaps there was still some of that nobility that remained. It certainly shone through in his affection for his wife and the other members of the Alpha Pack. Maybe David and the Hale clan wouldn't be too bad under the watching eye of the Pack after all.

"I'll keep your words in mind, Samson," he said, pushing off the wall. "Thanks."

"Just keep what I said in mind, son. When you find that someone..."

Caleb waved a paw over his shoulder. "Walk away. I get it. Don't give in to the love/hate relationship."

Samson's strong hand seized his arm, pulling him back a step. "And don't linger on what you could have done or what you think could've gone better," added the powerfully built werewolf. "There will _always_be other battles to fight. No one enemy is worth the self-inflicted punishment you're putting yourself through."

Strange to have some sound advice from the leader of a notorious criminal organisation but Caleb still appreciated it. "Thanks."

Samson nodded and then clasped his paw with both his hands. Caleb felt something tubular against his paw and when Samson pulled away, he found himself looking at a jet injector filled with a viscous green liquid. "Is this...?" he began.

"It is." Samson straightened and gave him a firm stare. "Tibia's men were trying to convince me to take it and join the Gene Stealers. Tried to make me think that Ben would overtake me as leader of the Alpha Pack or that I would fall behind of these growing Gene Stealer Generations." A savage grin touched his lips. "They may be excellent fighters but they have no idea what it takes to be a real villain."

His heart lifted to his throat. "I've got to show this to the others!"

"Go. You deserve it."

Caleb was practically flying as he bolted down the hallways, cradling the injector like it was the Holy Grail. It took him a whole minute to realise that he was just running and really had no idea where he was going. After asking a rather stressed looking woman where everyone else was, he was directed to the bridge. He charged towards the enormous elevators built to hoist cargo through the levels, tapping his foot impatiently until the doors mercifully dinged. A grey-furred blur sped past stunned AEGIS agents and Caleb burst into the huge bridge. The command platform was placed directly above the entrance so he had to bolt to the right and scramble up the curving staircase to where Nathan Rage stood in front a wall of holographic images. David, Leon and Lance were there as well as Jacob with the latter missing his right arm.

"Guys!" he exclaimed, catching the attention of those in front of him. Then he noticed Jacob's missing arm, the black wolf's coat arm curled up so that sleeve wasn't just flapping aimlessly. "What happened to your arm?"

"Huh? This?" Jacob replied, gesturing at his missing limb. "My arm was practically turned into gelatine and it would take _way_too long to repair it. So I just had it amputated." With his free paw, he hiked a thumb over his shoulder. "Nate's got the doctors growing a new one for me in the labs. It'll be ready in a couple of days."

It stunned him how casually Jacob just dismissed losing a limb. Then again, cloning was a viable solution to missing limbs and organs and was far cheaper than implanting cybernetic implants. "Doesn't that feel weird?"

"I'm way too doped up on pain killers to care."

"But you don't feel pain."

Jacob grinned mischievously, his eyes squeezed shut to accentuate the wideness of his toothy smile. "The doctors didn't know that when they hacked off my arm."

Nathan Rage ran a hand down his features. "Is something the matter, Caleb? Something so important that it will distract me from the gross misinformation our supposed founder gave our highly trained medical staff?"

Caleb held out the jet injector. "Samson recovered this from Tibia's base. They wanted to turn him into one of them."

David's features spread into a look of surprise. "An Original Serum." Then surprise immediately gave way to fury. "That bastard had this the whole time and didn't tell us!?"

"That's not what's important, dad." He held up the injector with a degree of reverence. "We have a Serum now. We can actually cure Lars and the others!"

"Whoa, hold on there," Leon said, raising a paw. "You remember the last time the Gene Stealers just handed you a Serum?"

He did. All too painfully. Trojan had tricked him. Some sort of control mechanism had been introduced into the Serum and though Caleb was eventually able to break free of it, he had been forced to face off against his own friends and family on the streets of West California Island.

"Tibia tried to turn me too," Leon continued. "Isn't it a little fishy that he tried to give two Serums to both Samson _and_me? I say you smash that thing."

What hopes he may have had about rescuing Arsenal_from Tibia's clutches faded. His eldest brother had a _very good point. Tibia was a very intelligent villain and he must've known that with Leon's strong virtues and Samson's strong will, neither of them would have accepted his offer. So that could only mean that the Original Serum was meant for one person: him. The pachyderm with the thick, leathery black skin had said as much in their first encounter as his new elephantine form.

'Previously, the only way you managed to find the 'cure' for the previous strains was because you were given the Original Serum. But rest assured, I have no intention of giving you mine.'

And yet... here it was, resting in Caleb's own paws.

"We've got to take this chance," Lance insisted. "We beat their control before and we can beat it again!"

"It's too risky!" Leon countered. "We don't know what_the Gene Stealers are capable of and we certainly don't know what'll happen if Caleb takes that thing! I mean, think about it! Why would Tibia even give us the _choice of injecting ourselves with it when he had the upper hand the entire time?"

"I'm going to have to agree with Leon on this one," Director Rage said with only one good eye, his words seemed to offer more weight than any others. "For everything that Tibia was, he wasn't an idiot and was very vocal about the cliches and tropes that make life as a superhero somewhat predictable. Thus far, the Gene Stealers have given you the Original Serums whether it be purposefully or accidentally. I don't think we can rely on their 'charity' in the long run."

"Then what do you suggest?" David demanded. "_Arsenal_are still ten times their own weight, have tusks sprouting from their skulls and are so lusty that I'm pretty sure our containment hold would be considered a Red Light district! Seriously, the amount of bodily fluids we've had to extract from their cells is enough to fill a goddamn Olympic-sized pool!"

Jacob lifted one eyebrow. "Impressive for just a single day's work."

"Stop admiring and come up with a solution!"

The black wolf waved his one good paw in apology. "I am way too high to be giving any sound advice right now, Multi-Eyed Purple Tentacle Monster."

Caleb had to wonder if his friend really was_completely out of it or just acting for whatever reason. As his family continued to argue amongst themselves, he regarded the injector in his paws and thought back to his encounter with Tibia. The ivory-hurling pachyderm had been all _about breaking the mold and taking advantages of predictive behaviour. With that in mind, he had to wonder if Tibia had purposefully planted the injector in his paws for the express purpose of stressing him with the weight of proving the enormous elephant right and saving Arsenal.

"Arsenal..." he whispered softly to himself. "Assault."

Two teams with differing ideologies. One was to defend, to react and contain while the other attacked, protected and prevented. For four Gene Stealer outbreaks, he had stuck to the Arsenal_methodology. He had lost a father figure to that, suffered pain and mental breakdowns since they constantly _waited_for their enemies to _hand them the solution instead of doing something to prevent them from attacking in the first place. They had been playing to the tune of Chimera and the others. There was even a very good chance that the advancement in his powers had all been because of the Gene Stealer's machinations. Was he damned to forever play the same routine over and over again? The Gene Stealers strike, cause heartbreak and turmoil, somehow tying with his personal life and then eventually wrapping up but with more problems than solutions. Was that how the rest of his life was going to be until he was defined by his conflict with the Gene Stealers and he would be left empty when the conflict was eventually resolved?

"You know what?" he announced.

SMASH!

The injector lay shattered at his feet, the fluid leaking out on the bridge.

"I'm not going to play their game anymore. I'm going to find some other way to change Lars and the others back."

Leon beamed proudly at him with Rage nodding in agreement. David and Lance were not too annoyed and just gave him an encouraging smile.

"You know, I may just have a solution," Rage said, lifting a finger. Jacob then wandered over to the Director of AEGIS, wrapped his paws around the tall, ebony-skinned man's shoulders and then proceeded to lick his cheek while everyone watched in horror. "What are you doing?" demanded the Director.

Jacob pressed a finger against Rage's lips. "Sssssh. Don't talk Magic Rainbow Lollipop. Let me taste you."

David gave him an exasperated stare. "How is it that a super-powerful interdimensional entity could get high on morphine?"

"He's still in a mortal body restricted to the rules of our reality," Rage sighed, trying to push Jacob back though Legion was putting up a valiant - albeit childishly comical - fight. "Think of it as someone compressing the sun into a fleshy meat sack. The sun can't stop what happens to the container and it will keep being impacted by those changes but should the container ever be destroyed, the sun will be free again."

"Why does the Magic Rainbow Lollipop have hands? Why is it wearing a coat?" Jacob began running his paws along Rage's black coat, his heavily dilated eyes observing the texture. "Oooooh... silky." Then he began rubbing his cheek against the Director's arms.

"Obviously the effects of such narcotics don't necessarily have the same effects on him as it does on everyone else," sighed the AEGIS Director. "I'm sure somewhere in there, R3 is fighting to maintain a modicum of sanity." He glanced over at Jacob who had then proceeded to gnaw on his arm lightly. "At least I hope so."

It was sort of nice to see the mighty Legion reduced to a degree of almost infantile insanity but then Caleb had to remind himself that Jacob had voluntarily inflicted this upon himself. Perhaps it was just another 'experience' the Writer of Reality wanted to get out of this universe or maybe he was just insane.

"Anyway, as I was saying," Rage said, ignoring Jacob entirely. "Tibia's henchmen managed to maintain their sanity albeit being stuck in their elephantine forms. When Caleb threated to rape them until they came so hard that they lost control again, they were legitimately scared. Maybe we can get them to train the infected. Get them to control themselves. Maybe even reign in their urges until they were back to being normal."

"Are you_insane_?" bellowed Lance. "Those guys almost killed us and now you want them to work for us!?"

Rage's features were like stone and his stare like lasers, made more menacing by his single good eye. "You're treating the sixty or so men that we captured as a collective. You're automatically assuming that all of them share the same mindset and are affected by the same events in the same way. That's a mistake too many people make these days and it's a slippery slope from there to be dismissive of injuries or casualties especially if the 'bad guys' were the one suffering them."

"What are you talking about? These guys tried to _kill_us and are allied with the bad guys!"

"Why though?" Caleb prompted, causing attention to shift to him. "These aren't just generic, faceless goons that all look the same and all die the same. Each of them brought a spin to the same powers that was given to them. You can't really believe that they're exactly the same." He glanced towards Rage and nodded. "I agree with Nate. We should at least ask them."

"That's an enormous risk you're taking," grunted Leon, his arms crossed firmly. "There's no guaranteeing their loyalty."

"Then we'll just have to make it worth their while," answered the Director. "Or threaten them. Whatever works. In either case, our pathway to a cure to a strain previously relied on Caleb breaking off a sample from the Original, making a weapon from it and then using some of the Original Serum to infect Caleb and thus generate the cure from his blood. Obviously, we can't do that so we need to think of something else." He rubbed his chin with his one free hand as Jacob was still nuzzling the other. "We can't keep these civilians on the Cornucopia forever. Remember, AEGIS is meant to by anonymous. No government agency, no superhero group and no one outside of us really knows that we exist. Keeping these people here may stop them from spreading out until a cure is found. Besides, as part of this operation, we agreed to let the Elemental Alliance help in finding a cure. With their assistance, I'm sure we can find some way to cure them. All of them."

Caleb wasn't comfortable with handing anyone over to the Alliance particularly with how they treated Arsenal in previous engagements. Then again, David had been one of the leaders of the Alliance for a long while until he eventually turned into _Arsenal's_manager. Perhaps this was the push both teams needed to finally be civil with one another.

Maybe.

******

The scientists of AEGIS were scrambling to start running simulations and experiments on what would be the best way to restore normalcy to the victims including the members of Arsenal. Elliot was spearheading the effort alongside an energised David. At the same time, Nathan Rage was speaking with Felix and the captured boneheads to negotiate the terms of their cooperation. Caleb's spirits appeared to be might higher now that they had made some progress against the Gene Stealers. Since they didn't really have much to do to assist, both Lance and Leon were in the gyms, pumping iron to work out their stress.

For Jacob, he strode quietly into his private quarters on the Cornucopia, still without his arm but barely noticing it. The moment he stepped through the automatic sliding door, he was met by the cold grip of death like he had just walked into a freezer. Most people would have frozen in fear at the sight of the Hound of Death standing ominously at the centre of room. Arcturus' black fur was nearly a match for his own only that the Hound's sapped all light from around him, leaving no light to be reflected. Even with his blazing blue eyes shining and the ethereal wings sprouting from his back, the Hound's silhouette was barely visible. Dressed in an ominous black cloak and tight-fitting leather armour beneath, the Hound was perfectly still, expectant and with eyes locked onto Jacob's.

The sliding door hissed closed behind him and shut with a faint click.

"Interesting to see you so severely injured," rumbled the Hound of Death. "I could return your arm to you, if you wanted."

"No thanks," Jacob answered, waving away the offer icily. "I'm not in the mood for your 'charity' right now, Arty."

The Hound of Death seemed surprised. "Why the hostility?"

"How about the fact that Tibia would never have fallen into the Gene Stealer's grip if you hadn't tipped me off?" countered Jacob.

"It was still your choice to engage him alongside Caleb."

"Perhaps but you can't deny that you played a hand in guiding that decision." Jacob narrowed his eyes. "So you'll excuse me if I'm not too fond of your seemingly altruistic gestures." He gave Arcturus a dark grin. "I've read the story about the guy that got a silver hand from his dark lord who was obsessed with death and ended up getting choked by it, thanks."

The Hound's features remained unreadable. "You are reading far too much into a coincidence, Reaper."

Jacob strode over to one of the cabinets in his large room, opening the glass door and pulling out a bottle of bourbon. "Then you won't mind me airing some of my grievances since you're already here to provide some advice, no strings attached."

"Of course."

Jacob popped the lid off the decanter, having to do it all one handed, and poured himself a drink. "I'm sure the deities of this world are not too pleased with my constant interference or the fact that I'm now here 'corrupting' their creations. It occurred to me, however, that if the gods were serious about stopping the Gene Stealers, they would've sent for you or one of the many superheroes that are tied directly to them far soon. In fact, even now when one of the god's own daughter has been directly impacted, none of them have enacted any form of divine intervention." He brought the glass to his lips, lifting a finger before Arcturus could interrupt. After a sip, he continued. "Mary is effectively a demigod. It'd be seen as a direct affront to their authority if they let the Gene Stealers get away with this. Which brings me back to my first point. You, an Agent of the Gods, actually had a paw in infecting Mary. So either you've gone rogue or this was all part of some divine plan."

For a long moment, Arcturus was silent. Jacob spent the time swirling the amber-coloured, nutty-flavoured alcohol before taking another sip.

"Say what you say is true," Arcturus said evenly, "why would the gods condone this tragedy?"

"I can only think of one thing."

"And that is?"

"They agree with the Gene Stealers."

There was a faint twitch in Arcturus' left eye; the first sign of emotion he had shown in their conversation. He did not speak, however.

"On paper, the Gene Stealers are undoubtedly villains," Jacob continued. "However, when you think about it - when you _really_think about it - their philosophy isn't as half-baked as you would think. I mean, it appears they want to give _everyone_superpowers. Put everyone on even footing. Now powers come from many different sources. Magical energies, superpowers, science..." He eyed Arcturus from the corner of his vision. "... divine. But if everyone was given superpowers, then the monopoly for such unique abilities would crumble. The thing that once made superheroes and supervillains unique would no longer be so special. Sure you might be able to obtain magical artifacts and develop devices to help you but as far as the general public goes, being 'super' would just be being the 'norm'. You'd be trading in superpowers are easily as you'd go to the local supermarket and picking up a pickle."

Then his eyes narrowed at Arcturus. "All, that is, except for those graced with divine power."

Arcturus smiled very slightly. "How astute of you."

"Old pantheons can be restored to power," Jacob said, regarding the bourbon in his crystal glass. "People will be scrambling to get a leg up on their similarly 'super' friends by worshipping the gods again and begging them to get powers that no others could possess. Religion will once again craft the world. Church and State may no longer be divided and the fate of all mortals will once again fall in the hands of the divine." He snorted softly. "Imagine the expression on Chimera's face when he realised that he has divine help."

Arcturus folded his arms. "You have discerned the truth. Without your ability to see through time and space too. You truly are a very dangerous being." He lifted his chin. "What do you plan to do with this information?"

"Nothing." Jacob set down his glass. "This all hinges on the Gene Stealers succeeding. They won't."

"How can you be so sure about that?"

"Because Caleb won't let them."

The Hound of Death huffed softly. "You're putting your faith in an emotional teenager."

Jacob gave him a sly, dark smile. "And yet, without faith, there can be no gods. So I wouldn't be so dismissive of the wolf that I know will put an end to the Gene Stealers." He picked up his glass again and down its contents. "Now give me the piece of highly manipulative information you were originally sent here to pass on and then get the fuck out."

If Arcturus' presence filled the room with a deathly chill, Jacob's contained fury set it ablaze and even the Hound of Death was unnerved. "Tibia has retreated to a secondary facility in South Africa. Likely to lick his wounds. If you wanted to find a cure for the rest of Arsenal, you would be wise to act upon this information."

"And do what, exactly? Chase him down, force him to give up an Original Serum and get Caleb infected so that he can generate a cure?"

"You have very few options as is."

"Few options are better than none and as I said, I have faith in Caleb." He began pouring himself another glass. "So if that's all, kindly act upon the aforementioned invitation to get the fuck out."

Arcturus did not move. "One more thing. For my own curiosity. What will you do with this knowledge?"

"Same thing that I'll do with the knowledge of knowing the gods are plotting against us. Nothing."

"Why?" The Hound was growing agitated. "You could save so many people from suffering! There has to be more than twenty men and women at risk of severe mental trauma as they transform back and forth from a grotesque elephantine shape withe very second you waste! If you do not act now, they will be little more than animals!"

"And there we have proof of how little you and the gods care about the people of this world. You have no faith in them. They're little more than cattle to you. Grown and plumped up to be harvested for their worship when the time is right." He finally turned to face Arcturus, leaning casually against the liqueur cabinet. "A piece of advice for you, Arty. Well, actually... advice and a factoid." Jacob's eyes narrowed even as his lips turned upwards in a dark smile. "If you're ever going to get the guy, you're going to have to start having a little more faith in the people you engage with. Especially him if you're planning to woo that hunk of beef. Secondly..." His smile turned into a wide grin. "Hounds aren't made, Arty. They die. If you want to know more, why not ask Shin-Lazar. That is, of course, if you're not too proud to ask me."

The Hound's eyes narrowed with his scowl. Then he turned and disappeared in a flurry of shadows, taking his blazing eyes and shining wings with him.

"Didn't think so."

******

By the time they had arrived back at West California Island, it was well into the evening but of the previous day. Timezones were bizarre that way. Caleb was feeling utterly exhausted. He let David and his brothers fill the rest of the family in on what had happened as he sluggishly headed up towards his room - having to come back once to pick up his slippers. His bed felt so soft and fluffy after resting on the hard beds of the Cornucopia. Apparently firmer mattresses were better for the back or something along those lines. It was with some relief that his eyes began to flutter shut. His mind was still racing with the progress that Arsenal was making. Mary, in particular, had progressed the most out of everyone else with Madman coming a close second. Ben, Lars and even Bren were both making progress themselves under the careful tutelage of Felix but they were still prone to bouts of ballooning out into elephants. With the risk of spontaneous transformation, they couldn't risk uploading Bren to any of his clones in case that it somehow followed him to the new body. Using anti-super fields actually helped their training as it prevented them from causing extra damage with their enhanced powers.

That was an issue for another day.

A soft rumbling met his ears and he groaned loudly as he turned on his side, trying to ignore his vibrating phone. But the buzzing continued and he had no choice but to turn around and snatch the device off his bedside table and angrily stare at the screen.

"How'd it go?"

It was Ashton.

He had completely forgotten about the energetic and friendly tiger that was also Mary's paramour.

"Do you want to good news or the bad news?" he texted back.

"Bad news first. You always start with the bad. You have further to fall if you're on a high."

That was painfully true so he texted back, "We didn't get the Original Serum from Tibia. Can't cure Mary and the others the traditional way."

"I kind of suspected that when she didn't come barging in and demanding sex," came the light-hearted reply though Caleb could sense the pain behind the words. "What's the good news?"

"We gave Tibia a hell of a beating and captured some of his men. We actually think we've got another way to cure them. It might take a bit, though. Needs a lot of willpower on their side."

"If I know anything about Mary, it's that she has that in droves. What about you? How are you doing?"

Caleb let out a soft, thoughtful 'huh'. It was the first time anyone had actually asked him how he was faring. "Okay, I guess. A little disappointed that we couldn't cure everyone but I suppose it would've been too much to wish for."

There was a long pause from the other side. Ashton's profile had that '...typing' notification beneath his icon which was of him wearing a pair of sunglasses on the bridge of his nose and giving a sidelong glance at the camera. That marker vanished for a few moments and then came back a few seconds latter.

"Ah... then you probably won't like what's doing its rounds online then."

He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Assuming you've been out of radio contact, the media has pounced all over Tibia's attack. Particularly... GG Guinness."

Just the mention of his media rival sent Caleb's blood boiling. Without thinking, he immediately went on Chatter. The dashtag '-ArsenalGotBoned-' was currently trending. From what he could see, someone had managed to extract surveillance footage of the battle at Callista Heights Mall. Differing angles from stores and security cameras all showed members of Arsenal being transformed and Caleb breaking down until Jacob came in - dressing in his underwear - to save them. People were going wild over it. Some were pointing out Caleb's failure. Others were bringing back memories of when Trojan had forced Caleb to turn on his own team. There were even some wondering why Jacob didn't have tail.

And then there was George Geoffry Guinness.

The latest post from the extremely antagonistic, anti-Arsenal lion was particularly infuriating.

'I don't suppose we could really expect a lot from a mentally unstable, teenaged pup. We put our faith in someone who was born_with their gifts but has no way of controlling it. This is what we get for glorifying superheroes. Everyone wants to be one and the impatient children like <Arsenal_WM> don't have the patience or attention span to practice, train and hone their skills that they break down in the face of actual danger! -ArsenalGotBoned-'_

Caleb was fuming. The comment got over fifty thousand likes and even more re-chats. There were even more replies, each one supporting GG's hostile attack on Arsenal.

He was already tapping away at a reply before he could stop himself.

'Exactly what I would expect from someone who wasn't there. I suppose someone like you, safe in your mansion and guarded like a king could ever understand what it means to lose friends and family to the Gene Stealers. Oh what am I saying, you don't have any friends or family, do you, GG?'

He was just on the verge of hitting 'send', when a new reply came in.

It was from <R3_Legion>.

That was Jacob.

And it was just a simple dashtag.

'-WeAreAssault-'

Now fully away, Caleb held out his phone at arm's length and puzzled over the reply. There were no words. Just a dashtag; the tags used to identify replies and posts across the Chatter application.

He deleted his reply to GG's original reply and texted Ashton, asking if he saw Jacob's reply.

"I just did. What's that mean?"

"While we were on the field after Tibia, we kind of jokingly called ourselves Assault," he explained.

"That's fucking brilliant."

"It is?" Caleb asked loudly and then asked the same via text.

"Yes. Watch what happens next."

He did.

Within moment questions were immediately being asked all over Chatter.

What was this new dashtag?

What did Legion mean by 'WeAre_Assault_'?

Who was Assault?

Was Arsenal rebranding itself?

Social media exploded with the questions, drowning out GG's controversy. All anger over Caleb's poor performance was instantly replaced by curiosity and conspiracies.

Then a reply came in... this time from Lance's official superhero account; <FeralFang>

'-WeAreAssault-'

His those following him erupted into more and more questions. How was Feral Fang associated with Legion and Assault_when they were rarely ever seen together? What did the _Elemental Alliance think of this? What about Feral Fang's dad, Feral Steel?

And then David chimed in.

'-WeAreAssault-'

"Holy shit..." Caleb breathed as he read the replies that were streaming in.

'Holy sh*t! The Ferals are in Assault! WTF is Assault!?'

'Legion, Feral Fang and Feral Steel! Who else?'

'Arsenal and Assault. I'm definitely seeing a patter of 'A's here.'

It was funny considered AEGIS was thrown in there as well.

That was when Samson Connors added his two cents only his was even more controversial. As a supervillain, he was barred from social media. But for about a whole thirty minutes, he somehow managed to get into _Chatter_using the handle <AlphaDrive_AlphaPack> so that there was no doubt of who he was.

'-WeAreAssault-'

Comments and screenshots were taken, distributed all over the Internet. Even when the chat was taken down, the image of it had already been spread far and wide. How did the leader of the Alpha Pack fit into Assault? Was this Arsenal 2.0?

Caleb just grinned to himself, marvelling at just how easily Jacob had manipulated the situation and turned the tables on GG Guinness again. His eyes widened when he noticed someone called <ScowlWolf> make a post.

'-WeAreAssault-'

Leon.

Except his post was not just the dashtag.

It contained an image. Facial features were obscured by the huge letters that made up 'Assault' preventing any of them from being recognised.

The Internet immediately went wild. Even with the missing features, there was no missing Weapons Master and _Funny Bone_so it was only natural that he made his post even though it was kind of moot at that point.

'-WeAreAssault-'

******

The word on everyone's lips was 'Assault'. The moment Caleb stepped onto the grounds of West California Island High School, all the students and faculty were a buzz with the news. Theorists were already analysing whether or not Assault was responsible for one of the myriad of foiled supervillain attacks that had occurred in the span of time that Caleb had been gone. Thanks to the timezones and the fact that Weapons Master was exclusively a West California Island hero, no one even remotely suspected that they were related to the titanic portal explosion that had occurred at Madagascar that the United African Nations were now calling a freak accident. Thanks to AEGIS's work, no trace of Tibia had been left either in Dead Horizon or Madagascar, leaving the UAN's troops and supers scratching their heads in confusion. The difference in timezones helped add to the confusion. There was a certain thrill to having gone on this secret mission, avoided the governing bodies and snatched victory away from Tibia.

Pity there was really no one he could celebrate the victory with.

He didn't share any classes with Ashton and only shared history with Alex Connery. Normally he'd any of Mary, Ben or Lars to accompany him and they would be sending texts or telepathic messages to one another. With them up on the Cornucopia being trained, however, the crushing reality of his dependence on their friendship left him feeling haunted by Samson's words. Maybe he didn't have an archnemesis but he had that sort of interdependent relationship where he would be left with nothing without his friends. It was hard to focus throughout his classes even though the teachers were insisting that all the students ignore the hype of Assault and focus on the tasks at hand.

With Caleb being a sophomore, he had more electives than previous years. It was a little funny that neither of his parents or even friends commented about how he had taken both Art and Visual Design. Two art courses were the typical move for a lot of jocks since they could coast on the supposedly subjective pass criteria. Quite a few of his teammates from the football team took either one of the two. Only Gerard, the big moose defensive lineman, took both courses like him. Apart from his two electives, he had the standard Maths, English, History, Superhero Studies and a Science of his choosing - which he decided to opt for biology. With Trojan's attack taking the majority of the previous year's latter half, he hadn't really given much thought to which classes he would take and had gone for those that he thought would be easiest as he assumed he'd be dealing with the Gene Stealers for the rest of his high school career.

Now he found himself asking the question: was he _making_the Gene Stealers his archnemesis?

During recess, he sat quietly outside, in the freezing cold of the winter cycle, snow slowly descending upon him and munching on the apple he had brought with him.

"Maths is too easy," he muttered to himself softly. "English is the same as always. History and biology is all about memorising shit and I can do that in my sleep. Art and Visual Design don't really post any challenge and is just a glorified means for guys that have been knocked in the head all too often to play with paints like when they were in kindergarten. Only real challenge is Superhero Studies..." He sighed heavily to himself. "Shit..."

"Why not take advanced classes?"

He jumped in shock at the sight of Ashton standing just a few feet to his left.

"Shit! How long have you been standing there!?"

"Just arrived when you started muttering to yourself, mate," replied the athletic tiger with a shrug. "'Course I'm a tiger so I've got feline stealth going for me." He winked slyly at Caleb before his features returned to being serious. "You Americans always put so much emphasis on high school believing that they'll be the best years of your life and that you need to make the most of them because you'll never get another shot at it."

"It's true."

"The latter part, sure. But I beg to differ on the 'best years of your life' point." He crossed his arms behind his head, forming a cushion. The tiger then tilted backwards before Caleb could catch him. Ashton slumped into the snowy ground, kicking up a small blizzard upon impact. "I honestly wouldn't care for the stress of passing exams, constantly dog-eat-dog hierarchy of popularity and admittedly infectious pressure to have 'school spirit'. I would much rather be travelling from city to city, playing the lead on a critically acclaimed play."

Caleb smiled softly. "Don't want to be cruising the red carpet from movie premiere to premiere?"

Ashton waved a paw lazily at the suggestion. "Movies have far too many strings attached and tend to dip their toe into politics from time to time. Plays are much cleaner."

"If you say so."

The tiger gave him a sidelong glance. "I'm not saying that you shouldn't cherish these times but if you're honestly looking for a challenge, I would recommend taking some advanced classes."

Caleb grumbled and rubbed the back of his neck absently. "I don't know if I'll have the time..."

"If you really want something, you'll _make_time."

He glanced around briefly, making sure there was no one listening in on their conversation. Being in the middle of winter and with snow still falling quite heavily, few students were outside. "Look, it's not like I have a magical medallion that'll let me go back in time and somehow avoid paradoxes so I can go through all my classes, do all my homework, go to football practice and..." He dropped his voice to a whisper just in case anyone was eavesdropping. "... doing all the Arsenal stuff."

Ashton gave him a shrug. "Fair 'nuff." The heavily dressed feline patted the snow beside him, compelling Caleb to sit down cross-legged. "Can I offer a friendly observation?"

"Go for it. Seems these days I kind of need some direction."

"And I think that's because you're letting other people dictate where you are going. I mean the big bads have practically been handing you the solutions to the problems they create, right? It's like if a teacher were to propose a problem in class and all you do is wait for them to tell you the answer instead solving it like everyone else."

Caleb's cheeks began to burn at the analogy predominantly because that summarised exactly how he felt. "By that logic, shouldn't I be ignored what you're telling me now because that'd be like you're giving me the answer too?"

"Got me there, mate," laughed the cheery tiger. "But if I were you and I were the kind of guy that is looking to someone else for direction, I'd ask someone who isn't actively trying to manipulate me or use me for whatever reason. I'd ask for direction from the guy that _doesn't_need me around."

"That doesn't make sense. How would he know where to lead me if he doesn't need me to do anything?"

"He won't. And that's what will make him the most honest."

Perhaps that was what he needed right now. Pure honesty. "I'm going to have a hard time finding that kind of person." He sighed, pulling his knees up towards his chin. "How are you staying so cheerful after everything that's happened? I mean, your girlfriend is... well... uhm..."

"A hormonal elephant who is likely to swallow me up in her vulva while violently abusing her mammoth - pun intended - breasts?"

Caleb shuddered at the terrible image in his head. "Yeah... Uh... that."

"Comes with being related to a super," Ashton sighed. "You've heard about Army Wife Syndrome, right?"

"Only a little bit. I don't really know what it is."

Ashton flicked a paw absently through the air. "It's this phenomenon amongst the dashing women who find themselves as the paramours of active military personnel. During deployments of their spouses, the wives tend to find something - anything - to do to keep their minds off the fact that they may way up one day with the dreaded knock on the door from a military officer holding a folded bag and asking if they could 'come inside'."

Caleb's heart sank as he realised where Ashton was going with this line of thinking. Never once had he even thought about what his non-super family was going through every time they went out to fight. Lillian and Abby could be throwing themselves into their campaign or wedding preparations to avoid the crushing depression and worry over the men in the family never returning. The trip out to Madagascar probably hadn't helped with their mental health.

"Oh... That must suck."

"It does," Ashton admitted, his lips pressing together thinly. "Sometimes I wish I could be out there fighting right alongside her but you've got to admit that I'm really not that much of a fighter. I am forever relegated to the sidelines where I must constantly worry whether or not I'll see my girl again. And that's hard. But I've accepted that. Mary fights hard to protect me and the rest of the world. The least I could do..." He suddenly broke into a smile, beaming brightly. "... is greet her with a smile when she comes home."

"That doesn't seem healthy," Caleb admitted.

"The last thing I want for Mary is to fret about me when she's doing something she loves. I don't want to be the anchor that weighs her down in a crucial moment." He shrugged with a confident grin on his muzzle. "Honestly, I'm probably going to be held hostage at one point or another and Mary is going to be faced with the hard decision of saving me or saving the world. I want her to save the world."

It rang back to what Samson said about archenemies in a bizarre sort of way. Heroes could not afford to form lasting bonds because critical moments where they were asked the heartbreaking question that defined their very existence were likely to happen; were they willing to sacrifice their loved ones for the sake of the world? It was not something he could answer... but he knew someone who could.

Rising to his feet, he said, "I need to speak to Jake."

"The esteemed Lord Reaper?" Ashton asked, similarly jumping to his feet. "I haven't spoken to him since that one outing at Hero Taco. Mind if I tag along?"

A shout came from their right and Alex Connery came over, bundled up in a heavy parka and with his red hair hidden beneath the parka's hood. "What are you guys doing out here!?" shivered the gymnast. "It's freezing!"

"Just talking," Caleb answered. "I was going to go off and meet Jake." He glanced at the cafeteria through the tall, floor-to-ceiling windows. "Though probably for lunch. You want to come with? I don't think you've met him before."

Alex cock his head to the side curiously. "You mean Jacob Reaper AKA the super known as Legion?" There was a brief flash of calculation in Alex's bright eyes. "You know what? Sure. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine."

"Great. I'll arrange it so we can meet him up at lunch."

"I've been borrowing Mary's car while she's indisposed," Ashton announced. "We can take that."

They all agreed on the plan and just before recess ended, Caleb gave Jacob a call asking if they could come over for lunch. Sighing and wondering aloud if this was going to be a frequent thing, Jacob nonetheless agreed and thanks Caleb for the heads up. At least then he could prepare a meal beforehand. A few hours later during their lunch break, they were in Mary's bright red convertible (canopy up, of course) and zooming to Jacob's apartment. The sounds of the city grew quiet as they approached the apartment building. There were a few people moving_into_ the nearby buildings based on the few moving trucks that were parked on the curb. Where once the apartment parking lot was brimming with vehicles, now there was none. They were through his door a moment later with Jacob waiting at the kitchen counter expectantly.

"Just in time," announced the broad-shouldered wolf. "We're going to make crepes!"

"Sounds fancy," Ashton exclaimed, striding towards the stove top. "Might I ask what kind?"

"A savoury duck. It's oddly hard to find duck on the Island but I got the meat from one of the families of those that were hit by Tibia's attack. They were really grateful that their daughter is at least able to video-chat with them."

Caleb's heart leapt to his throat and he was blurting out words before he even considered them. "The victims are sane again?"

"Those with no superpowers, yes. Those with powers are still a little rabid. Elliot theorises it's because their baseline superpowers tend to become enhanced with their transformation so their emotions and sensations are much more stimulating."

Alex sighed in relief, a genuine smile on his face. "That's good to hear. I was beginning to worry we'd have rampaging elephants running through the streets of the Island."

"Don't count your chickens before they're hatched. Tibia is still out there. Alongside Dragon Knight's ability to create portals, he might just pop up somewhere again and start attacking." Jacob flipped a knife absently in his paw. Despite his arm still missing, he was still rather skilled with just the one paw. He caught the implement on the blade, holding it out for Alex. "Anyway, can you slice up the scallions? Nice and thin."

"Wait. We're preparing the meal?"

"What? Did you think this was a restaurant you could eat at for free?" Jacob gestured at his missing arm. "Besides, I'm a little... handicapped here."

It was a fair point and Caleb felt a pang of guilt for having effectively invited himself over for lunch expecting Jacob to cook everything while his best friend was missing an entire limb. "What do you need me to do?"

"I've got the dry ingredients over there." Jacob pointed the knife right beside him. "Use those meaty arms of yours to measure out the flour, sugar and butter then start mixing them up with the eggs."

Caleb did as he was told while Ashton was asked to keep an eye on the duck which was already seasoned and sizzling away on the pan, skin-side down. Alex went to work with the vegetables while Jacob began preparing what appeared to be a sauce to go with the meal. For his part, Caleb likened the batter to making pancakes only he was a little worried that the batter itself was far too liquid. After watching his mom making pancakes as a kid, he knew batter should me much thicker than this.

"Am I doing this right?" he asked. "Looks link of like soup."

"That's the consistency you're looking for," answered Jacob. "Crepe batter is just like that. It helps make the crepes thinner and easier to cook. Keep going then let it rest a little."

Seemed that he learned something after all. With a smile, he continued to whisk the batter, feeling like a chef as Jacob instructed the rest of them. "Hey Jake, you think Tibia is going to strike again?"

"I'm honestly not sure. I just wish I could've understood his obsession with Callista Heights Mall. Maybe I'd have a better idea."

Alex was skinning some potatoes when he held out his phone. "From what social media and investigators have come up with, Salazar Shin used to hang out at the Mall during his childhood."

Caleb perked his ears and leaned over Alex's shoulder. "He was?"

Alex explained that while they were gone on their mission, police had stepped up to look into Tibia's origins and indeed his reasons behind attacking the Mall twice in rapid succession. Under the Freedom of Super-Related Information Act (FOSRIA) any information related to supers acquired by a government agency _had_to be released within 12 hours of it being obtained regardless of whether or not it was verified or not. This was in the interest of public safety since supervillains had a tendency to obscure their identities and could be acting incognito right under people's noses or even manipulating people using their powers. FOSRIA supposedly ensured that the public could be made aware of any potential threats as soon as possible though sometimes it did cause some undue panic. There were exceptions, of course. _Arsenal_once worked under the FBI and they were granted an exemption from FOSRIA as they were considered 'informants or government assets' whose role could be completely compromised if their identities were revealed. Even though they had broken off from the FBI, the FOSRIA exemption remained. Theoretically, people could take the case to the courts but in previous cases lawyers tended to retaliate with the Superhero Protection Program that ensured individual superheroes that acted outside of the government had to have their identities protected by the US government so long as their actions remained a positive influence on the United States. The moment a superhero went bad, they were no longer protected.

In that way, Caleb was glad that people saw him as a goody-goody.

And it also made him realise that Jacob had circumvented both acts by revealing his identity to everyone.

"Apparently Shin was sort of a lower-middle class kid with ambitions to become a great superhero," Alex continued. The human gymnast had tossed aside his parka, revealing his broad but compact shoulders and lean, athletic form. He was surfing his phone for the information he was reading while also slicing the potatoes in one hand. "The guy was boastful. Kept saying that his power would be enough to make anyone squirm and that no one would ever expect it. That was how he was going to get into the Elemental Alliance. He spent his days off at Callista Heights Mall and even skipped classes from time to time to hang out there. From what his former friends and family say, he kept saying that one day he would be rich and famous enough that he'll be able to buy the Mall."

"It wasn't even that good of a mall," Caleb said. "Kind of old." He took the sliced potatoes, put it in a bowl and then poured some water into it to make a mash. Then he shoved it in the adaptive heater at a time that Jacob specified.

"Sounds to me like he was just trying to fulfil a childhood fantasy," Ashton commented, flipping the duck. A strong, savoury aroma began to fill the apartment, making Caleb's stomach rumble in anticipation.

"Great people, heroes and villains alike, have fallen to simpler." Alex shrugged and held out his phone, showing the latest dossier of Tibia. "Here's what I got off the FOSRIA website." Jacob took the chopped onions that the red-head had provided and began mixing it with some other ingredients. It looked like he was preparing some sort of creamy mix of herbs, oil and the onions.

Caleb squinted at the screen. It said Tibia had cut ties with his family some years ago and that he had been working odd jobs every now and then to keep himself afloat. Former residence was an apartment on the mainland and he had to make the commute to West California Island every day to get to a construction site interestingly near the convenience store that he had hit the first time they had met. The store owner mentioned that Tibia had come in almost every day to buy lunch and though he seemed grouchy, never suspected him to be a villain. Conjecture flew about the Internet about what triggered Tibia's descent from seemingly average citizen to supervillain and naturally his former friends and family were pitching in with their opinions. Caleb winced when Tibia's own mother called Salazar Shin a 'thug'.

"I should probably have a look at that site," Jacob said, setting down another pan. "Okay, who wants to be the first to learn how to make a crepe?"

Since he wasn't really doing anything, Caleb volunteered. With the batter he had made, they measured out a third of a cup, placed a bit of batter on the heated pan and then poured the butter away. They swirled the batter so that it covered the base of the pan and then let it cook. Jacob held up a strange-looking spatula that had a bright, blue head and what looked like some buttons on the handle.

"You'll need this," Reaper said.

"It looks... different," Caleb said, holding out the tool.

"It's a special spatula from Apple from their iCook range. The button triggers special micro-gravity field that not only keeps things from sticking to the head but also gently repulses anything that the spatula slides under. This way, it makes it easier to separate things like this crepe from the pan. It's really quite precise and I've actually seen people making perfect cuts into things like lasagna, cakes and even flipping eggs perfectly."

"Sounds fancy. How'd you afford this?"

"It's actually quite cheap. And besides, I've got to use my earnings for something, right? Time to flip."

"I suppose so." The blue and white spatula made it very easy to flip the crepe and a sense of pride filled him at the lush, golden brown colour on the exposed side. "Wow. That smells really good," he said, flaring his nostrils.

Jacob beamed, his paw on his hip. "Nothing more satisfying that seeing the thing you've worked hard to cook actually come out great. Wait until you taste it. Speaking of which, I got to start mashing those potatoes..."

"What are you doing with all of Shin's henchmen?" Alex suddenly asked as he brought over some light cheese and cream upon the black wolf's instruction.

"We're rehabilitating them."

"Rehabilitating?" Alex asked, suddenly strangely critical. "It's not like they're broken. Sure they made a certain choice that may not fit in with society's norms but it's not like they're sick in the mind."

"I completely agree. I was referring to their crippling constant battle to keep themselves from having an explosive orgasm and losing themselves to 'the beast' as they call it." Jacob poured the ingredients onto the potatoes and began mashing it with a potato masher. "I honestly don't think that's something they should have to live with. I mean, if they want to remain as elephants, all the power to them but from what I hear, the constant fear of 'going wild' is a handicap that they'd rather be without."

"Why do you care? They made their choice. This constant battle to keep their primal instincts in check for the power of a super. They made their bed now they have to sleep in it. I mean, they're bad guys right? Why should heroes like you care about them?"

"If that's your definition of a hero, then this society needs to look itself in the mirror and have a good, long hard look at itself." He instructed Ashton to pull the duck from the pan and wrap it in some foil to rest. Then he shoved the duck into the oven to keep warm while the rest of it cooked. Using the duck fat that had been left over, he threw in some onions and told Ashton to tell him when they had browned. "These guys are people just like us. I honestly find it reprehensible that even career supers would only focus on the main villain while hundreds maybe thousand of others could be in a panic while the self-destruct countdown is ticking away. Sure you defeat the bad guy and maybe save your target but you're _assuming_that those people working under the villain all died or somehow took care of themselves. They have friends, families and futures of their own. Why throw that away by labelling them as a henchman and thus not worth the effort?"

Caleb was a little alarmed by Jacob's words. "Don't tell me you're sympathising with the Gene Stealers now."

Jacob began portioning the duck onto four plates. "Of course not. What they've done is basically psychological and genetic rape. But only to those that they infect on the streets. If Tibia and his henchmen chose_to become these hypersexual elephants, that's their choice and I respect it. But forcing that transformation onto others for the sake of some petty grudge or some wider experiment, _that I cannot condone." He glanced over his shoulder. "Don't forget to take the crepe off the pan, Caleb, and then repeat to make more."

He nodded and began making more of the crepe, finding that with more practice, he was able to make thinner, crispier crepes with a beautiful golden texture.

"Onions are ready," piped up the cheery Ashton, bringing the pan over. "If I were to summarise, you're saying that you want to help Tibia's henchmen unshackle themselves from the restrictions that their transformations placed upon them so that they can better reach their goal. You do realise that this could potentially make them stronger and endanger us?"

Jacob poked the crispy onions and told Ashton to set them aside but to keep the juices still in the pan. "You're immediately assuming that all these henchmen want the same thing."

"Don't they?" Alex asked. "They did sign up with Tibia, after all. They're all his boneheads."

"That's like generalising that every wolf is a butt-sniffing, howl-crazy, muscle head, all French people are snooty, frog-eating surrender-monkeys or all Republicans are gun-loving, people-hating, white-skinned humans. Just because they belong to one group it doesn't mean that they aren't anything else. I mean, everyone who votes for the same person aren't all_the same, right? Agreeing on _one_topic _shouldn't automatically brand you as having the same mentality as everyone else that agrees to the same or a clone of the leader of that particular group. I think that's a lesson we can derive from these new, enhanced henchmen."

A frown touched the young, square-jawed gymnast's face. "Okay... Fair point. But where exactly are you going with this?"

Once the vegetables were steamed - only took a minute in the auto-steamer - Caleb brought them over and Jacob arranged them on the plate.

"Tibia's men all have differing skills, backgrounds and reasons for joining the Gene Stealers," Jacob replied, added the green vegetables into the juices of the duck. He was using the natural fat of the duck like oil to help emulsify a bright, green sauce. "I'd like to work with them. Understand them. Find out their individual reasons for joining Tibia. Why they stayed. Maybe I can understand them."

"So what? You can psychologically manipulate them into joining you?" There was a spark of venom in Alex's lips that confused Caleb. Though he understood how messing with someone's head to basically brainwash them was just as evil as what the Gene Stealers were doing."

"Nope. They're only getting this life. I don't want them to regret it."

That brought a collective confused look from the three high school students.

"What does that mean exactly?" Ashton asked.

Jacob placed the plates around the bench and framed each one with a knife and fork, gesturing for the group to gather around. "How about I let someone else explain it? I feel like I've only recently explained this. Like... one one week ago. Caleb? Why don't you give it a shot?"

"A week?" Caleb asked. "It was only yesterday."

"Not according to the upload schedule."

Ignoring the off-the-wall comment, Caleb proceeded to explain to Ashton and Alex how the gods basically could not see the futures of anyone impacted by the Gene Stealers' mutation. That scared the deities of the world who had all agreed never to let anyone touched by the Gene Stealers to enter their respective afterlives. The criteria to enter the afterlife was on what the person did during their life and if the gods who were passing judgement couldn't see that, there was no way they could tell if the people they are judging were good or just or evil and corrupt.

Ashton bolted upright in surprise. "Wait. Does that mean, since I became a bull that one time..."

"Yup. When you die, you die," Jacob concluded. He pulled the duck out of the oven and sliced into it, finding the flesh lightly pink but the skin still perfectly crispy. With a nod, he began slicing it into thin medallions and then laying them out on the arranged plates. Caleb brought over the crepes and set some on each of the plates while Jacob poured his fresh sauce onto a bowl and set out the mashed potatoes. "Same with the rest of _Arsenal_now that they've been mutated. And go ahead and start. Lunch is served!"

The tiger looked pallid. "Well... I believe this is the time for an existential crisis."

Caleb flicked his ear at the tiger curiously while he added some mashed potatoes, duck, the sauce and some of the crisp onions onto his crepe. He rolled it up like he would a burrito. "You're religious?"

"Christian, actually."

"Huh... I never knew." He lifted an eyebrow as he bit into the meal. The flavours were perfectly mixed. The natural saltiness from the duck blended well with the zesty freshness of the sauce. The mashed potatoes were creamy and silky, melting on his tongue like a delicate cloud or a savoury piece of cotton candy. Mixed with the crunchiness of the fried onions and it was perfectly balanced with the sweetness of the crepe. Despite his lupine heritage, he was compelled to savour every bite instead of shovelling all the food down his muzzle at once.

"Wait..." Alex began, just finishing assembling his first crepe. "Isn't premarital sex frowned upon by Christians?" He bit into it and his eyes sparkled while his expression turned into one of pure nirvana. Whatever Ashton's reply was, it would fall on deaf ears.

"I never said I was a good Christian."

Jacob snickered. "Don't worry, Ashton. That's partially why I'm here. I'm kind of catch statement in this supposedly 'flawless' program. Those that the Gene Stealers turn get thrown into No One territory."

"Meaning?" The tiger bit into the crepe and his knees went weak. He partially collapsed, having to catch himself on the kitchen counter. If Caleb didn't know any better, he could've sworn the feline was having an orgasm.

"Meaning that when they die, we get their souls." Jacob began cutting his pork and took a bite. "Instead of just judging people based on their actions in one life and throwing them to eternal damnation or paradise if they meet our criteria of what's good or bad, the No Ones look into whether that person is the best that they could ever be."

"If they have self-worth," Caleb concluded. "You guys see if that person can honestly look back at what they've done and be proud of it."

"Exactly."

"And if they don't?" Alex asked.

"Now that would be telling," Jacob said with a sly wink. "I wouldn't want a pure, incorruptible bystander like yourself throwing prostrating yourself to a Gene Stealer because you think my system is better than the existing one."

"So you're not going to tell us what awaits us in the afterlife?" Ashton asked. "I'm specifically talking about me, here. Just to be a little selfish."

"Suffice to say that there's reincarnation, annihilation, pain, suffering, joy, rewrites and a whole lot of paperwork involved." Jacob clapped his paws. "Now eat up, guys. Food's getting cold and you guys are on a schedule."

Caleb savoured every bite, chewing lovingly at the meal despite his muzzle. It was a surprise that he was already starting to feel full after only the first crepe. In the back of his mind, he reminded himself that he came here to expressly ask Jacob for advice on how he should proceed since if there was anyone that didn't need him, it was the Writer of Reality. In fact, he was fairly sure that if he retired now and left all the issues with the Gene Stealers with Jacob, the super could deal with them all in an instant without breaking a sweat. It wasn't like Jacob had any family that could be threatened by his identity being public. The Gene Stealers knew of his and his family's identity so that threat was present regardless of whether or not he gave up the fight.

"This is really good," Alex commented, his cheeks full of food. "How often do you come over here and bum off a meal, Caleb?"

Caleb looked towards Jacob hopefully and the black-furred wolf rolled his eyes.

"Looks like it's going to be far more frequent now," answered Legion with a sigh. His expression turned to one of sadness for a moment. "Here I thought that coming in without any ties would be an advantage. Pity I didn't take into consideration the ties I'd be making." Then he shook his head and grunted. "I honestly thought freshmen weren't allowed to leave campus."

"We're sophomores now," Ashton corrected. "Plus, we're all about 18 - 19 years of age." He turned to Jacob curiously. "In fact, when's your birthday?"

Such a simple question left Caleb surprised as even he didn't know. Only terrible people didn't know the birth dates of their friends and even worse were those that didn't even ask.

"That entirely depends on your definition of 'birthday'," Jacob replied. "I didn't have a vaginal ejection day in this world so that's definitely off the table. I suppose you could talk about the day that I actually entered this world but that wouldn't really be a birth."

"Why not your birth in your home world?" Alex offered.

"Wouldn't_really_ work. My home reality has a different dating system to Earth. My home planet had four moons. Five, technically, if you count the artificial one that was built. Dates sort of got built around that. When all of them were out and full, it was basically like daytime." He inclined his head and scratched his cheek lightly. "Though I guess if we're going for a rough estimation, my birthday would be March 15th."

That was just a few months away. A sense of giddiness actually built up in Caleb's chest at the thought of throwing Jacob a party. It must be a lonely existence being in this world helping our _Arsenal_without any real connections. Perhaps the Hale Clan could be that family. Being surrounded by 31st Century wolves would definitely be an experience that the dimension-hopping lupine would never have experienced... at least he'd like to think so.

"Mine is April 23rd," Ashton chimed in.

"July 4th," Caleb added.

"September 7th," finished Alex.

Ashton sighed as he finished off his plate and neatly placed his knife and fork atop one another. "Ah, a most spectacular meal, my good sir. Would that I could repay your kindness."

"Leave it," Jacob said, waving a paw in his direction absently. "I'll be fine. I won't have to go to work for another few hours."

This seemed the opportune time to ask Jacob about his lack of direction but before he could say anything, the door suddenly burst open. A big, bald man with white skin charged in hefting two huge bags under his enormous arms and with a backpack slung over his enormous shoulders. For a human, he seemed quite tall - at least 6'9'' in height - and very well built. Even beneath his thick, woollen jacket and heavy, black pants, it was very easy to see his impressive physique which was exceptional to the point of rivalling human bodybuilders. Bright brown eyes were partially shut as his enormous grin pushed his rosy cheeks back.

"Heeeey, roomie!"

Jacob jerked back in surprise. A long awkward pause followed before he finally spoke. "Uh... I think you've got the wrong place."

"Nope! Definitely the right place." The man set down his bags. "So do I just get the second bedroom or do you want to swap?"

The three furs exchanged confused glances while Alex slowly backed away, hands up as he was closest to the invader.

"Uhm... If you don't mind me asking, kind sir, who are you?" Ashton asked.

The man seemed equally puzzled as he gestured at his broad chest. "It's me! Felix Cameron!"

Jacob slowly leaned towards Caleb. "Do I know a 'Felix Cameron'?" he whispered softly.

One second later, it clicked for both wolves, their ears perking up at the same time.

"Holy shit! You're Felix!" Caleb exclaimed. "The elephant!" Then he realised he had one of Tibia's henchmen in Jacob's apartment. "What the fuck are you doing here!?"

Felix ripped off his jacket, revealing a tight-fitting AEGIS-issue sleeveless shirt beneath. "Nathan Rage sent me here. Part of our agreement for my cooperation in training the infected to return to normalcy is that we get to go around and live on the Island like normal people."

"You must be joking," Alex said bluntly. "You're a bunch of highly infectious Gene Stealer-sympathisers. Why would you just be allowed to run around without supervision?"

"We are under supervision. We're going to be renting all the apartments on this block and AEGIS members are going to be in the surrounding blocks." He wrapped his hand against the side of his lips and spoke in an exaggerated whisper. "Your guys were getting a little tired of being cooped up on the Cornucopia, Reaper."

There was a loud smack as Jacob inflicted himself with a very obvious facepalm. "Alright.... But why are you rooming with me when you have your pick of all the apartments on this block?"

"It's part of the rehabilitation program that Elliot came up with. Everyone gets to spend some time with you before rotating out. Apparently, being exposed to you tends to lead to self-realisations or something and people recover more easily if they're in a more natural environment that being cooped up on a spaceship. So..." He shrugged his enormous shoulders. "Here I am!"

Caleb watched Jacob's sour expression for a long moment, trying hard not to laugh. There was no doubt that the No One's perspective could benefit the former-henchmen but he also realised that Jacob was juggling two jobs, his weekly talk show and AEGIS-related issues at the same time. Then there was the teenage angst that Caleb himself was piling on and he had to wonder how it was that this one-armed, tailless wolf would be able to handle it all.

"I am going to have a serious talk with how our dear Director Rage signs off on programmes without my consent," Jacob sighed. "Especially since it concerns me." He pointed at the couch. "You're getting the couch."

"Don't you have a spare bedroom?"

"That's not for guests."

"Fine." Felix rolled his eyes and strode towards the couch. "Rage did mention you were a little weird. Where can I set up my stuff?"

Jacob began instructing Felix where to put his things and that felt like an appropriate time to leave. With a flick of his head, Caleb gestured that they should go. Noises were coming from the stairwell indicating that the other members of Tibia's former entourage were now also moving in. AEGIS must really have had a lot of resources to rent out all these apartments. Then again, he remembered that most of the people in the apartment - and even the city block - had started moving away ever since Jacob emerged. Contrary to popular belief, no one wanted to live near a superhero. Too many risks of 'collateral damage'.

As he stepped out the door, Ashton and Alex already heading down the stairs, Jacob seized his paw.

"Hey, we didn't really get a chance to talk one-on-one," said the black-furred wolf. "Considering how you were the one that called me, I suspect you wanted to ask me something."

Observant as ever. The earnest look in the blue-eyed wolf's features eased Caleb's heart and reaffirmed that he had made the right decision to come here.

"I guess I'm just feeling a little... divided right now," he confessed. "Between football, my classes, Arsenal, my family and now Assault, I'm not really sure where I want to go with my life."

Jacob's features softened and he lifted his eyebrows. "Oh. This old song and dance."

He lifted a paw. "Don't bother telling me that I'm putting too much emphasis on high school or that the idea that high school is the best years of my life is stupid. Ashton already told me that."

"He did? Was he drunk?"

"No."

"Huh." Jacob scratched his cheek. "Alright then. I guess I'll just tell you this then: cherish every moment for every second only lasts one second." He gripped Caleb's shoulder, squeezing it tightly. "Doesn't matter whether or not you decide to become a professional football player, a teacher, a full-time superhero, a vigilante or a devoted family man. Don't compare your life to how everyone else has led theirs. Own your journey."

That only left Caleb even more confused. "So...?"

"You enjoy playing football, right?"

"I suppose... Hurts sometimes but I like the game and playing with friends."

"You enjoy your classes?"

"Sort of. Some of them are a little boring."

"Then change that so that you enjoy it. What about being part of Arsenal? Do you enjoy it?"

"Not... enjoy." He hesitated and averted his gaze. "I mean I like feeling like I'm doing something and helping people."

"Then there's your answer." Jacob stepped back, giving him a warm smile. "You clearly know what you're enjoying and not enjoying about what's currently happening. Why not change it?"

"It's not really that easy..."

"Why? You get hurt in football and that sucks. Get better so you don't get hurt as often. Change positions if you have to. Some of your classes are boring. Transfer out of the ones that are crap. You like helping people but, what, hate the politics of being part of Arsenal_and always being on the back foot against the Gene Stealers? Then change it up. Change starts with _you, Caleb. No one else."

"That's it?" Caleb asked, his shoulders sagging. "I was honestly expecting some sort of parable or touching story."

Jacob shrugged. "Alright. If that's what you want." He cleared his throat theatrically. "There was these two guys walking through a forest on their to their father's funeral in a distant city. They came to a fork in the road and there, they met God."

"Which god?"

"Doesn't matter. Anyway, God told them that the path to the right was very dangerous but along the way, there would be a great city of gold ripe for plunder. The path to the left was much easier and was populated by a very well-populated bazaar. Both paths would eventually lead to the same destination. The first brother went right with the desire to find great riches to pay for his father's funeral costs and to make sure that his father was remembered. Selfless, courageous and determined, he trekked through the dangers of the deadly city, passing the corpses of the many adventurers that had died before him. A variety of traps and puzzles barred his way but he was strong and intelligent and managed to navigate through them all with is. After many days, he found his treasure and carried it proudly out of the city. But as he was escaping the golden city, he was caught by bandits on the road who were waiting on the outskirts of the golden city just for the right time to pounce on any would-be adventurer that managed to find the treasure. He died in a ditch, penniless and broken.

"The second brother happily went down the easier road. Believing himself with time to spare, he visited the bazaar and there he found the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Completely enthralled by her beauty, he began to woo her, forgetting about his father in the process. In the days passed, his poet's soul spoke out and he studied the arts to find some way to win her heart. Little did he know that he already had her heart and after some awkward conversations, they eventually confessed their love for one another. They were married a day later and the two lived a happy life together. They raised their children, grew old together and eventually died happily and smiling even if this son forgot about honouring his father."

"Sounds like the second son was a bit of an asshole."

Jacob tilted his head slightly to the side. "You're missing the moral of the story. See, when both brothers eventually came to the doors of Heaven, God was there to meet them. He asked them if they ever managed to reach their goals and both regretted that they never did honour their father. God chastised them, however, since they had done exactly as they had promised. They had both come to honour their Father and eventually, they arrived at their destination at the same time."

Caleb was utterly confused. "You've lost me."

"It didn't matter which path either brother took. In the end, they both arrived at God's gates at the same time. Though both brothers died in different circumstances, both died doing what they loved. They parted ways and led their own lives separate from one another and even though they died, they still got into Heaven because they lived their lives. No one else's." Jacob released Caleb's shoulder and gave him a gentle, sagely smile. "Do what you enjoy doing and don't fret about public opinion, some unknown future or the end. You only get one life. Make it yours. Just believe in the path you've chosen and enjoy the ride. You can't go wrong."

Jacob laughed at himself for a moment, his eyes dropping. "Write your story not because you have an audience to please but because you enjoy telling a tale."

Those words hung over Caleb's head and melded with what Samson and even Tibia had uttered. Do not be bound by anchors or the expectations of others. Make your own path and take pride in it. Find... self-worth.

"Hey Jake..." he began.

"Hmm?" There was a crash somewhere behind Legion and the corners of Jacob's eyes tightened in agitation. Felix apologised from where in the apartment.

"Are you... are you grooming me to find my own self-worth because you know that when I die, I'm going to fall into your paws?"

Jacob's eyebrows rose a little. "Honestly? No. You looked like something was bothering you. You were pretty quiet most of the time we were preparing and eating until I actually had to prompt you to speak. I'm focused on the here and now. Just like with Tibia's henchmen. I'm more than happy to help you and them when you pass on but you're never going to get this time back. I want to make sure that it's a time you don't regret. If you happen to find respect and pride over your own actions, so much the better. No matter what happens, even if you don't find your happy ending in this life, you know I'll be there to help you get there."

"Uh-huh." Caleb pursed his lips a little, deep in thought. "Thanks, Jake. I really appreciate it."

His friend smiled at him brightly. "Sure thing, Caleb. Any time. Now if you'll excuse me..." There was another crash behind him and this time, Jacob's ears folded back in annoyance. "I have a _literal_elephant in the room."

He had to laugh at that and waved Jacob goodbye.

The entire building was swamped with Tibia's former henchmen moving in along with some AEGIS soldiers. Even then, when he stepped out into the cold, crisp air of West California Island in January, he felt a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Write my own story, huh?" he murmured softly. "Not to please anyone but because I enjoy telling it."

He nodded to the words.

"Yeah. I like that."

******

With Lars being absent, their football formations had become a little skewed. They had their backup quarterback - a groundhog by the name of Keith - but the way Keith played was entirely different to Lars. Caleb had to get used to Keith's slower reaction speed and weaker arm but he was just as adept at short passes as he was in long ones and that left him very vulnerable to interceptions. When Keith threw him the ball during one play, he snatched it from the air and then looked towards the end zone. It was a much shorter path and for a second, he was daunted by just how far he had to run with the ball in his paws. He might as well have been running about a hundred yards with a ticking time bomb. Training from Gwen and even his dad gave him greater reflexes and agility, however, and as he dashed, legs pumping, he dodged the mountainous moose that was Gerard and slid forward feet first past a titanic boar named Theo as it was a boar's instinct to gore with his tusks - the upward swipe giving Caleb a wide opening . He bolted down the track to the end zone and spiked the ball, throwing his head back and letting out his victory howl.

David blew his whistle. "Good job, boys! Offense, defense, swap over!"

As had been his tactic since he was instated as assistant coach, David had pushed both starter teams to understand the intricacies of their opposing role by swapping them during practice. Caleb, who was the star wide receiver, found himself being placed on the defensive line. He was leaner and faster than the huge, gargantuan men that were designed to stop an advance so he was at a disadvantage but he tended to make do with trickery and wit.

Except today.

David clapped his shoulder and pulled him back from the line while Keith took his place. "Not today, son." The older wolf shoved the ball into his paws. "You're the quarterback today."

Caleb jerked back in surprise. "Wait. What!?"

"I know you can do it," said his dad with a grin. "Besides, you need to get to know the defensive team a little more by being their quarterback."

"Wait... but the defence is playing offense and normally Lars is..." Caleb's muscles were too sore and his body pumped with too much adrenaline to really meander his way through the situation. "Dad, I can't take Lars' place."

"You're not. You're filling in for Hanson who normally plays the quarterback when the defence plays offense. So It's not the same." David clapped Caleb's back heartily. "So come on. Give it a shot."

With a grimace, Caleb stepped into the role that Lars would normally play. It was a good thing he had an excellent memory as he knew exactly what play they were executing. He barked the orders and with a lout 'Hut!' the ball was shoved right into his paws.

Then his brain went blank.

He was usually used to keeping the ball in his paws, not throwing it about.

Seconds quickly ticked by and he glanced around the field, trying to spy for anyone that was open. Near the 40 yard line, a jaguar by the name of Aaron was waving his paws for attention. Gerard, who was now on his team shouted at him to get rid of the ball as the offensive line broke. Instincts took over and Caleb bolted down the field by himself, stunning the coaches and even his teammates as he broke the play. His teammates cheered him on as they tackled those that would charge him down but Trent, an okapi that was usually on his side on the offense - the other wide receiver - , leapt past them all and charged him down. Trent was probably the second fastest in the team, second only to Caleb but with so much more to run, Caleb was getting winded.

He caught sight of Aaron who was still free and started angling towards him. Aaron caught his gaze and made a beeline for him. With Trent rapidly catching up, Caleb could only think to get rid of the ball as quickly as possible. Even with the cheers of the rest of his teammates, he kept charging until he could practically feel Trent breathing down his neck. He hurled the ball right into Aaron's paws and then whirled around, slamming boldly into Trent. There was a loud crash from their armour smashing into one another as they went down and Aaron was free to charge straight to the end zone.

The jaguar was built to be to be the cornerback so he was a little slower but had more stopping power than Caleb or Trent but he was still fast. He was unstoppable as he made it to the end zone to the cheers of the team.

"Dick move, Halestorm," Trent grunted, rising to his feet and slapping Caleb's ass playfully.

"You were breathing down my ass. Though I might as well give you my cock to choke on instead."

The bumped helmets before returning to their positions.

"Hale!" Coach Davis - the head Coach of the West California High Raptors - roared. "You're the fucking quarterback not the wide receiver here! Don't run with the fucking ball unless you've got a death wish! I don't care how fast you are! That's a fucking stupid decision!"

Too tired to really offer any legitimate response, Caleb just hiked a thumbs up over his shoulder and continued playing.

It was odd fighting his natural instincts to run with the ball the moment it landed in his paws and he became painfully aware that while he was excellent at receiving the ball, he really wasn't that good at giving it up. As a quarterback, he was absolutely terrible. His ability to throw the ball was absolutely dismal. It was something both David and Coach Davis realised as they began deconstruction of their plays and how they would go up against their next opponents come Friday. There was no telling when Lars would be back from being 'sick' and that would mean they might just have to rely on Keith as the quarterback. That meant Caleb would need to catch the ball closer to the scrimmage and he would need to run at top speed for longer. Normally, he could bolt at half speed until about twenty or thirty yards away, Lars would toss him the ball then he'd be bolting off to the end zone. Now, he might have to catch the ball just ten or less yards away. He would need to run faster for longer and he knew that one of his greatest weaknesses was burning out too early in the game.

"If it comes to that," Coach Davis concluded, "you need to be able to toss the ball to someone else, Halestorm. We need to work on your throwing arm."

"Yes, coach," Caleb panted.

"Tomorrow, you're doing throwing drills. Try and toss the pigskin around with your old man tonight as well."

"You got it, coach."

The team was dismissed and as they were heading towards the locker rooms, bumping shoulders affectionately and pumping fists, Caleb reached for his phone and noticed several texts for Hank Frankfurter. The grey-brown vulpine had been a contact of his during the Ursa Strain Outbreak and beyond. Being in the media, Hank was a source of constant advice when it came to dealing with the news outlets and even keeping him calm during his confrontations with GG Guinness. Most of the texts just asked him to call. The showers were usually packed right after practice so Caleb wandered over to the bleachers and dialled Hank's number while the rest of the team bathed and got ready to go home.

"Hey champ," Hank greeted. "Was wondering when you'd call."

"Sorry I didn't call sooner. Been busy."

"I can tell. Assault_, eh?"_

It struck him that despite being his media mentor, he hadn't told Hank about Assault at all. "Right. Sorry. It's just kind of a joke but I guess it's got everyone talking and shut Guinness up."

"Oh boy did it. You should've seen his segment last night. Purposefully avoided the topic. I'll give him this, he knows_when not to poke the hornet's nest."_

"Really? I would've thought he'd blow up with some conspiracy theory or some other shit."

"Guinness may be an asshole but he's still a reporter at heart and he knows that if he attacks someone without knowing all the facts first, he's going to get burned. Just like the first time he went up against Jacob."

"And the second. And third..."

"Pretty much. He definitely wasn't prepared for the time he actually managed to call out Legion and Legion apologised_on air. He's scared."_

"Good," Caleb growled. "But is that all you wanted to talk about? I mean, I'd love to give you the details but I think the big pull of Assault right now is _not_knowing what they are."

"I know and I'm not going to pry." There was a sound of shuffling on the other side of the phone. "Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about that offer to be your agent?"

It had been an offer mentioned a while back and with the Trojan Strain and now Tibia Strain, he had completely forgotten about it. Jacob's advice about taking some of his mother's responsibilities to help her campaign translated as well to David's predicament. Though part of him was a little reluctant to give his dad more time to interfere with his life, David was already going through the rough trials of transitioning into a werewolf. He wasn't even sure if David had decided when he was going to fuck Lance or if he had even spoken to Lance about it to get consent. Between the possibility of a stressed out Feral Steel compared to David injecting more time into Caleb's everyday life, he decided on the option where David wasn't so high strung. Perhaps being less agitated would lead to less yelling in the household. Besides, when they were hunting down Tibia, David wasn't so controlling.

"You're going to take it?" he asked, tail wagging.

"I think I'd like to, yeah. I mean, working at GUYS has been great but I think I'd like to branch out a little more. Maybe become my own producer or something. But we'll see. Baby steps. Can we meet up?"

Caleb mentally checked his schedule. "I probably can't for the rest of today. How about tomorrow?"

"Sounds great. Where at?"

He recalled that particular cafe that Jacob had taken him to where they had been free to talk about their escapades seemingly without any fear of their identities being revealed. "I'll send you the address. See you then!"

His tail was wagging excitedly at the chance of working closer with Hank and taking away David's more aggressive approach to painting him as a saint to the media. That wagging soon slowed down as he headed into the locker rooms and spotted his father speaking with Gerard about his form. It dawned on him that he would have to tell his dad that he was no longer in charge of his career as a superhero. He would have to fire his own father.

"Hey son," David said, waving him over. "Who called?"

That he was not prepared for.

"Jake," he lied immediately, knowing David was very likely to drop the topic when Legion was mentioned.

"Who's this Jake guy?" Gerard asked. "Some guy at school?"

If only. That would make things a little simpler.

"Just a friend," Caleb answered, giving the big moose a playful punch. "The world doesn't revolve around your fat ass, Ger. Though given how big you are, I'm surprised it doesn't."

The huge, brown-haired moose gave him a light elbow to the ribs before heading towards the lockers. "Fucker."

Once he was gone and they were left in relative peace, David asked in a whisper, "What did he want?"

Again, Caleb had to quickly think of an excuse but at the same time didn't want to lie to his dad... too much. "Just going over some stuff about Shin. He found the FOSRIA site. Wanted to know if I found out anything since I was the last one that saw him."

David gave a conceding nod. "Fair enough I suppose." His features split into a bright grin. "Anyway, good job out there. Need to work on your throwing arm. Good at catching and running but passing, not so much. We're up against South Weisenheimer Grammar on Friday but they have a shitty defence and put all their effort on offense so I don't think you'll have trouble. You'll need to watch out for their cornerback though. He's big and a boar. Those tusks could do a lot of damage."

"Got it, dad. Thanks."

And he meant it. There was a lot of joy he got from football. It was simple - at least to him. Yes there were plays and routines he had to memorise, he had to think on his feet and the possibility of injury was always there but he loved the game and he loved how his mind just went blank as he barrelled down the field. School politics may play in there somewhere but that was always at the periphery of his vision. There was a great sense of relief knowing that, just for an hour or two after school, the world of supers, family drama and whatever else faded away. It was just like Jacob had said. Appreciate every second and don't worry about the end goal so much.

After a quick shower and then the ride home with his dad, he entered the house through the garage. Thankfully, Leon hadn't arrived yet since he was still at the precinct so the daily arguing match between him and David had yet to start. Lillian Hale was in the kitchen, cooking up a storm for the nightly Hale feast.

"Hey mom," he greeted.

Lillian beamed at him, her features absolutely shining. "Hi sweetheart. How was your day?"

"Good. Are... Are you wearing makeup in the house? Did you go out campaigning?"

"Hmmm? This?" She touched her cheek lightly. "Oh dear, no. Just wanted to look good for my big heroes."

He frowned and squinted at her features. Though she tried to hide it well, the stress lines around her cheeks and eyes were still visible when she smiled. "Mom, when was the last time you did anything about your campaign?"

"Honey, I've been working on my campaign all week!"

"I meant actually go out and meet your constituents or talked to someone?"

Lillian averted her gaze. "Well, you know there's a _lot_that has to go into planning that, after all. I mean I need to decide what I'm going to say, the venue, entertainment, pamphlets. It doesn't all happen instantaneously."

"Mom," he said bluntly. "You're procrastinating. You've seen how Washington is advancing in the polls. You haven't even been out there or along the neighbourhood! You've got to _do_something."

"I am Caleb," she said defiantly. "I'm taking care of my family. My family comes first. Whether or not I make it to being mayor, I can't live with myself if my family starves."

Pursing his lips. That was some clever manipulation right there. His mom would make for a fine politician indeed. "Alright. Then how about I start cooking?"

Lillian's eyes widened in terror. "Caleb, dear, the last_time you tried cooking, you nearly burned down the lounge room. Not the kitchen. The _lounge room."

That was a terrible mistake. Caleb had taken a pan into the lounge because he was trying to watch a football game while cooking. He couldn't remember exactly what he had been cooking but something caught on fire, he dropped the pan out of reflex and charred the carpet.

"Trust me mom, let me give it a try. I'll cook this Saturday. I've invited Jake over so he can help supervise."

That somewhat eased her worries. Lillian loved having Legion over if only because he helped set up and clean up where the rest of the Hales tended to do their own thing. "That sounds lovely."

But Caleb wasn't done. "Do you have a campaign manager, mom?"

"No. Of course not. If I can't manage my own campaign, what kind of mayor would I be? Besides, I don't want to use taxpayer funds or our own just for something I want to do."

Again, there was that guilt-tripping that made her such a fine politician... if she ever got into office.

Caleb gave his mom a smile and headed to his room - after been chastised about not having his sandals on with a sharp, 'Claws!'. Once he was in his room, he flipped open his phone and immediately dialled Hank's number again.

"Hey. Didn't think I'd hear from you so soon. What's up?"

"Listen. What do you think about being the campaign manager of an up-and-coming mayoral candidate?"

"Uh... I'm not sure about that. I mean, that'd be a lot of exposure, I suppose... Hmmm... Would certainly have more career prospects in the future whether or not they win or lose. Honestly wouldn't be that different from managing an Outsider's career though the work wouldn't be as consistent. Might actually get a seat on the council or be a mayoral adviser afterwards... Huh... You know what? I've talked myself into it. Who's the candidate?"

It took him a moment to realise that Hank didn't know him outside of Weapons Master and perhaps linking him to Lillian Hale would expose him. Then again, if Hank was to be his agent anyway, he'd have to know his identity. So he decided to give him a little treat.

"Lillian Hale. My mom."

There was a pause on the other side of the phone.

"Whoa... You... You just dropped a bombshell on me there, champ. Are you saying...?"

"Yep. I'm giving you my secret identity. It's honestly nothing. The Gene Stealers already know who I am so, full disclosure, if you sign up for this, you might be a target."

Again, another long, lengthy pause on the other end.

"This job just got a lot more... exciting. But I think I'm up for a change. Sounds good! Sign me up!" Hanks voice became high-pitched and a little girlish. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

"Thanks Hank. Talk to you tomorrow."

He hung up just as he received a text message. It was from Jacob.

"Hey! Wanna go out clubbing?"

That put a frown on his lips. It was still fairly early in the night and most clubs were just opening. The request was odd coming from Jacob who would have to work at the bar fairly soon.

"Are you sure?" he responded, tapping away at the screen. "Don't you have work later?"

"Me? Nah. I'm under house arrest, remember?"

Caleb narrowed his eyes. "Wait... Felix?"

"Yep! Rage wouldn't let me have a phone that wasn't tapped so I stole Reaper's."

It appeared that Jacob had just stepped into a sitcom about a hard-working super and a criminal with no personal boundaries. There was probably a show like that on air already.

With nothing else to do that night and with both Samson and Jacob's words lingering in his mind, Caleb shrugged and said, "Sure. I've never been. Where are we going?"

"I'll send you the details. See ya there!"

******

The club was called 'Ev3r'. Located in what was commonly known as West California Island's central business district, the club was a three-storey building in the midst of tall spires of glass and steel. Positioned between two corporate buildings and far back into the alley itself, one wouldn't be able to actually _see_it unless one was looking for it. However, it was quite hard to miss when the sun set as the lines to the club tended to reach past the reaches of the alleyway and curve down the streets. _Ev3r_touted itself as one of those establishments that was accepting of all people - gay, straight, transgender, super, outsider or unpowered - and was run by the super, Undying.

Unique to Undying was his 'immortality field' which would ensure that even if someone came in and gunned down everyone, they would be unable to die. This did not mean that their injuries would heal, however. It just meant that even if their heads were ripped off their bodies, neither part would perish. If someone could get them the medical aid they needed, then they would be fine but if Undying himself were to die, an anti-super field was erected or the person moved outside of the immortality field's effect, then their injuries would take full hold. It made Ev3r arguably one of the safest places in all of the Island. People could get black-out drunk, try potentially fatal doses or narcotics or even start a fight and they would be mostly consequence free as long as they recovered and remained within Undying's immortality field.

So if ever there was a place to go clubbing with a former henchman of a Gene Stealer currently undergoing rehabilitation, what better place than Ev3r?

"Ashton? Alex?" Caleb asked, striding up to the two. "You're here too?"

"I was curious how a guy like Felix parties," admitted Alex with a shrug. "Besides, I'm really curious how he'll manage to get us past the bouncer given we're under age."

That was not something he had thought about until he saw the actual crowd. Ev3r was a very adult establishment. He had heard that while the first floor was usually reserved for the more tame party goers, the second floor was where people partied hard. The third was where Undying stayed and - if rumours were to be believed - the retired super indulged his more hedonistic desires. There was a tiny, innocent child within him dressed as an American Boy Scout screaming that this was not the kind of place that Weapons Master should be found in. But the 18-and-a-half year old football player with testosterone pumping through his veins decided that this was exactly where he needed to be.

"That's why I brought this guy!" Flex exclaimed, still in appearing as a human but having discarded the AEGIS uniform in favour of a fishnet, sleeveless shirt and what appeared to be a kilt made of glow sticks. He pulled Jacob in front of him, with the black-furred wolf waving with a sheepish grin. Oddly enough, his golden blonde hair was dyed a very deep brown, almost black. If he didn't know any better, Caleb could've sworn this was an entirely different wolf.

"We meet again," Jacob greeted.

"How's he going to get us in?" Alex asked.

"By playing the grizzled, racist war veteran!" Jacob patted the stump on his shoulder. "Got to make use of this while I have it!"

Felix gave him a sour look. "We talked about this..."

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Fine. I won't be racist."

This was worth seeing if only for Jacob's ploy.

When it was their turn to get into the club, the bouncer - a titanic bull with one broken horn - regarded the group sceptically. "IDs?"

Felix produced IDs for everyone. Where he got them was a mystery but clearly they weren't good enough as he looked directly at Jacob with a frown.

"You don't look 33," growled the bull.

Show time.

"Are you doubting my age?" Jacob scowled, dropping his voice so it was deeper and gravelly. "Listen here, you pumped up, asshole. I fought for this country! That's where I lost this!" He gestured at his missing arm. Funny thing was, he technically wasn't lying. Reaper did_fight for the United States against Tibia and he _did lose his arm. "Just because I look younger than I am, you're not letting me in!?"

The bull looked flustered. "Uh... No, sir. Just..." He glanced up towards Felix. "I just... I mean, is he really your son?"

"What? A guy can't fuck a human and get a human kid? What are you? Some kind of racist?"

Caleb jerked his head back in surprise at the accusation. They had made it so that Felix was Jacob's son? Why?

Felix huffed and wrapped an arm around Jacob's shoulder. "Come on, dad. This place isn't worth it. Not when you have bigoted bastards like this guarding the door. I mean, he can't recognise good genes when he sees them. How else could a human get this tall and buff than having a little wolf in him?"

Mentally, Caleb pointed out that a human could be genetically manipulated by a group of transformation terrorists but kept his muzzle shut. It was clear the ploy was working, however, as the other patrons in the line were starting to give the bouncer foul looks.

"Okay! Okay!" the bull grumbled, handing back their IDs. "Sorry. Go on in."

With a grin, Felix marched them all into the club. They were instantly hit by a wave of loud noise that reverberated with such force, Caleb was sure the speakers would be considered some form of sonic weaponry. Past the cloak room, there was an enormous dance floor where the floor was made entirely out of transparent panels that flashed with different colours according to the music. Transparent balls that refracted the very same lights bounced along the floor accompanied by a low mist. The outer walls of the room were occupied by booths and seats while the DJ stood on a platform at the far end, filling the room with his deafening music.

"That went better than expected!" Flex bellowed, somehow managing to speak over the noises. He glanced over at Reaper with a sly smile. "You just had to play the race card, didn't you?"

Jacob shrugged, grinning proudly. "I told you _I_wouldn't be racist. Doesn't mean I can't accuse anyone else of it."

Caleb shook his head in amazement when he realised he was missing someone. "Hey!" he cried. "Where's Ashton!?"

A loud wail erupted from somewhere on the dance floor and he flinched at the sight of Ashton, without his shirt, and a very bright martini in both paws, dancing with some random doe, a necklace of glow sticks around his neck.

"That was fast," Alex said, his head tilted in amazement.

Felix clapped the shorter gymnast's shoulder. "I'll go keep an eye on him. You guys grab a booth. Anyone want anything to drink?"

"I'm good," Jacob said. "I serve drinks, not partake."

"I'll just have a Coke," Caleb replied. "Still underage and I drove here." Alex said the same since he would likely have to drive Ashton back home.

Despite the crowded environment, there was a booth available and they sat down while the music only seemed to grow louder and louder. Despite the deep throbbing in his ears, Caleb found himself filled with energy and the overwhelming desire to go out into the dance floor and shake his butt. This place was so simple. Just dance. That was it. Dance and never have to worry about anything beyond those doors. He liked it. Perhaps it would also be somewhere he could keep himself from over-thinking all the torments that awaited him when the song ended. It was impossible to just sit still and wait for his drink.

"I'm going to go dance!" he announced.

"Go for it!" Alex shouted back.

Caleb, bouncing on the balls of his feet, bounded onto the dance floor. This was unlike dancing at Homecoming. There was no social stigma about who he danced with or how he danced. He could make a complete and utter fool of himself but no one would care because everyone was just being as stupid. There was a good chance he would never see the same people here again let alone know who they were. If he were to announce that he were Weapons Master, people would just smile at him and ask if he wanted to dance.

Everything was so simple.

The music flowed through him, its rampaging rhythm pumping his heart and moving his limbs. He bumped butts with a sexy ocelot, ground his groin against the leg of a tall giraffe and was even groped by twin lizards while he shamelessly licked his own biceps. During the song, he lost his leather riding jacket and his shirt, leaving him only with his singlet but he didn't care. Someone hooked a pair of glow sticks tied together by a thin rope around his neck and he began swinging his head from side to side just to see the trails the two colours made through the darkness. A pair of powerful hands gripped his rump and he felt the head of a dick barely contained by some cloth pressed up against the crack of his ass. He glanced back and balked a moment upon realising it was Felix, looking at him hungrily with his tongue rolling out.

He froze.

If Felix was overstimulated, he'd transform and possibly take out everyone here! There had to be at least one hundred people on this floor alone. He could take out everyone in a single blast of ivory, changing them all before anyone could react! Was that his plan!?

"Why'd you stop?" Felix asked, looking puzzled. "You looked like you were having fun. I just wanted to join in."

That look in his eyes was sincere and Caleb lowered his guard, just slightly, and turned to face the bald man. "Honestly? I thought you were going to fuck me on the dance floor, change and then infect everyone here."

The former henchman shrugged. "It did cross my mind but after spending half the day with Jacob, I don't think that's what I'd want to do."

"It isn't?"

"Nope! Because infecting people and shit is what Gene Stealers do. I'm not going to just be a copycat of Tibia. Really, that guy was a fucking idiot." Felix rolled his eyes. "Went on and on about the cliches between heroes and villains and turned into a cliche himself. I'm not going to let myself get defined by a guy like that."

Though he didn't want the troubles of being part of Arsenal seep into this little bubble of purposeful ignorance, Caleb was still curious why Felix would have called Tibia a cliche. "I honestly thought Tibia was kind of unexpected. He did a lot of things that were unconventional."

"You mean apart from the fact that just played the guy that would sit behind his throne and let his henchmen do all the work? That he still went ahead and tried to kill everyone with a bomb at the end? Nah, dude. What made him unconventional is us. Just because he was self-aware doesn't mean that he stopped being the fool that he was."

That was a very good point and now he could see Jacob's interest in the henchmen like Felix. Take away the boneheads and really, Tibia was just another villain who thought he had figured everything out.

"I guess that's why Jake is so interested in you boneheads and not chasing around your boss," he admitted, shaking his body.

"Boneheads?" Felix blinked a couple of times. "Is that what you guys were calling us?" He threw his head back and laughed. "Holy shit. You have any idea what our 'boss' was calling us?" Caleb just indicated that he had no idea. "His 'skeleton warriors'! Fuck, boneheads would be so much better!"

Caleb slapped his forehead and kept his paw there for a second. "Are you serious? 'Skeleton warriors'? You guys are big and buff! There's nothing skeletal about you!"

"I know right!"

They laughed heartily with one another, making for a strange sight. A hero cavorting happily with the henchman of a villain. Was this what Jacob had intended or was this what the Writer of Reality had hoped to accomplish from this outing? The music suddenly became far more energetic; loud drums pierced momentarily by thundering guitar riffs. The lights in the room would go out during the drums and flash brightly during the riffs. Caleb couldn't help but perform an air guitar solo alongside with the music with Felix mirroring the move.

Suddenly, Ashton appeared between them.

"I'm going to use you two gents as strippers poles now," announced the tiger.

"Wait, what?" Felix began but further protests died in his throat when he suddenly got a mouthful of Ashton's pants.

The very limber tiger jumped into Caleb's arms, stunning the strong, shirtless wolf. He wrapped his thighs around Caleb's waist and then began gyrating his hips, grinding his groin against Caleb's abdominals while his arms were crossed behind his head. The clueless wolf had no choice but to hold onto Ashton's shapely ass while the feline used him.

"Ashton! What the hell, dude!?" he exclaimed.

This was just in time for Felix to toss aside Ashton's pants. The thespian feline noticed and immediately bent backwards, curling his arms around Felix's crotch and using that as an anchor point. Showing incredible flexibility, Ashton unwound his legs from around Caleb's waist and transferred his weight from one beefy man to the other. Even though he was completely upside down, Ashton had no trouble nuzzling Felix's crotch while his legs twisted and bent in intricate shapes in the air.

It was impossible not to think how that flexibility could be used in bed.

As the lights went dark between the drum riffs and when they came back on, Ashton had somehow managed to get back on the ground, sliding up and down Felix's front, one paw sliding along the length of Felix's leg and the other shamelessly groping the former henchman's pectorals.

"Okay, kitty," groaned the part-elephant, grabbing his molester. "You're out of it. Come on."

"Please! This is nothing! Stand still and I'll _really_show you dancing."

Caleb had no idea what his friend was saying. It had gotten to the point where Ashton was clearly drunk but he was still coherent enough to start spewing nonsense. Thankfully, despite all his flexibility, Ashton was no match for Felix's raw strength as the big man carried the flailing tiger back to the booth. Halfway there, Ashton stopped resisting and just indulged himself in gnawing at Felix's meaty shoulder.

Back at the booth, Jacob and Alex were still seated. Felix deposited Ashton beside Alex and then parked himself next to the tiger to prevent escape.

"He's so drunk he's speaking in tongues," sighed the former henchmen. "Didn't know this kitty was such a lightweight."

"I am not that drunk!" protested Ashton. "I'm still coherent! Not my fault you can't understand my sophisticated speech!"

"See? Utter nonsense."

Jacob leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "Huh... Let me see..." He made a face. "Hey Ashton, can you understand me?"

"Thank Wolf Christ! I knew if someone would get me, it's you, Jacob! Please tell these glorified walls made of muscle that I'm not that drunk!"

Reaper leaned back with a shrug. "Ah. I get it. He's just speaking in size 12 font whereas this world is based on size 11."

Caleb gave him a puzzled look. "What?"

"Forget it, Caleb. The kitty clearly has had enough." He got to his feet. "Come on, Ashton. I'll get you home. I trust you guys can find your own way back?"

With a grateful smile, Caleb said, "Yeah. We'll be fine."

"Good. I'm going to go to work right after I drop off the drunken cat so I won't be able to make it back unfortunately. Take care of yourselves, guys!"

"This is bullshit!" Ashton protested, trying to valiantly fight of Jacob. "I'm not drunk! You know I'm not."

"No but you're speaking in a font that the others can't understand. That's drunk to them. Come on."

Jacob hoisted Ashton to his feet and they navigated past Felix before heading out the door.

"What were you two talking about?" Felix asked Alex once they were gone.

"Just some stuff," answered the gymnast with a shrug. "So, we gonna party or what?"

There, Caleb beamed brightly. "The night is young!"

******

It was a good thing neither Alex nor Caleb drank anything alcoholic because Felix downed more than his share for all three of them combined. Slurring his words, barely able to stand and with eyes half-closed, Felix was carried towards Ballistic by the two. With the very drunk, very bald and mostly naked man clutching his shoulders, Caleb drove Felix back to Jacob's apartment block - what he now considered AEGIS Central. It was about one in the morning so no one was awake at this time. Caleb briefly glanced at his phone while he had Felix slung over his shoulders. There were several missed calls from his dad, mom, Lance and even Leon. He would likely get an earful once he got home but he didn't care. He had thoroughly enjoyed himself and was seriously considering going again. Though he would likely need someone to buy him drinks or get past any bouncers. He doubted Jacob's 'grizzled war veteran' routine would work twice.

"Ya know..." Felix mumbled. "... this is what I miss. I miss having friends."

"I gotcha, man," he sighed, carrying the drunken man up the stairs. "We're almost home."

"Being a henchman sucked. I just wanted to stop playing the victim, ya know? Had no powers or money to do any shit and almost every day some villain or super gets into a fight and makes me go through all the legal shit of making claims."

"At least you were insured."

"Maybe but you know some asshole bosses won't forgive you because your car got totalled in a super-fight and you couldn't make it to work on time. That's how I lost my job. The bastard."

So that's what got Felix so embittered against the current society. There were probably millions of cases just like his. No wonder the Gene Stealers had so many henchmen. Still, only a select few actually managed to make it through to the 'elite' to be selected exclusively as henchmen of Tibia. One could argue that being the goon of an idiot like Tibia wasn't exactly something that would pop out on a resume. Still, the allure of becoming bigger and buffer than the average human, gaining the ability to switch forms to a huge elephantine beast and back while also summoning ivory at will would make for a very alluring job description. The appeal of rising from the ashes of victim to someone with powers likely would've drawn in a few other candidates as well. He had to wonder what would happen to anyone who was in a similar state but had 'weak' powers like Tibia originally had. After seeing how the power mutated in his friends, it would not be anything good for Arsenal, AEGIS or Assault.

"But being Tibia's thug wasn't any better," sighed Felix just as they reached Jacob's door. "I realise that now. Sure I got in the best shape of my life. Became even bigger than I ever was before. Got superpowers. But following around that idiot who was only being used by the Gene Stealers..." He blew a raspberry. "... it was weak."

Caleb frowned and glanced at the drunken man. "The Gene Stealers were only using Tibia?"

"Yeah. Dunno what for. I mean, he's just one part of the Legion of Pain. There were hundreds of us henchmen that were split into groups and assigned to the members of the Legion. Dunno why the Gene Stealers wanted to do that. They kept us in the dark and just kept telling us that we would get superpowers as promised and get a chance to fulfil our dreams. Whatever."

LoP. That insignia that had flown on the flag in front of Tibia's hideout stood for Legion of Pain. There were more of them as well. More than just Tibia. What could that mean?

Felix began to drift off. There was no extracting information from him this night.

Caleb pushed open the door and hobbled into the dark apartment.

"Cale?"

The sound of the familiar, masculine, tenor caused his heart to freeze. His eyes went to the couch which was partially illuminated by the light from the holovid. There, seated with one leg crossed over the other, was none other than...

"Lars?" he asked.

Caleb dropped Felix unceremoniously and rushed over to the Doberman. Lars jumped to his feet and the two immediately hugged. The embrace of those strong, muscular arms was something he dearly missed. Nevermind the line between best friend and boyfriend. He was just glad to see the Doberman safe and back to normal.

"When did you get out?" he asked, holding Lars out at arm's length. "When did you change back?"

Lars grinned at him brightly, his bright brown eyes shining. "About six hours ago. I actually learned how to change back this morning but Elliot and Rage wouldn't let me out until I had fully mastered it and they were satisfied with their tests." His pointed ears perked up and Caleb just knew his nub of a tail was wagging. "Mary was released too. Ben was a little stubborn and was stuck on the ship when I left but I think that's only because he wanted to 'explore' himself a little more. Bren was the first one out, actually, but they're confining him to the ship because they're not sure if his transformation will carry over to his clones."

"What about Madman?"

"He's out too but Elliot said there was something weird about his situation since technically he's a Gen 1 and was infected with a Gen 4 strain and it's messing with him." Lars looked worried. "They said that it was fine on a genetic level but on an emotional one, they're afraid that the fact that Madman hasn't manifested any powers of his own and was given a power by a loser like Tibia is a bit of a blow to the ego."

"Especially after what happened with Trojan," Caleb murmured. "I'll go see how he's doing tomorrow. But for now..." He threw himself at Lars and licked his cheek, savouring the salty taste and the smell of his boyfriend. "I fucking missed you!" Then he pulled away and punched Lars' shoulder, hard. "Don't go doing something stupid like that again! Why the fuck weren't you watching your flanks!?"

Lars gave him a nervous laugh. "Yeah... I guess I was kind of careless. Didn't expect the Gene Stealers to infect supers like they did."

"Of course they infected supers! That's what happened to you when you went bear, remember!?" Caleb's relief doused the raging fire in him and caused him to shake the unsightly thoughts from his head. "I'm just glad you're back."

His hunky, muscular doberman lifted a paw, showing a thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "Sort of."

Caleb's ears folded back. "What do you mean?"

Lars opened his paw completely and made a pained face. The flesh just at his palm split open, the leathery pawpads being sliced open vertically. Judging from the Doberman's face, it was extremely painful but from the opening, a long spire of bone rose, nearly half the length of Lars' forearm.

Stunned, Caleb took a step back from the sight. "Lars...?"

"Wait... give me a second..." Lars grunted and an eerie blue flame suddenly encased the spear of bone. The Doberman was panting and could only maintain the flame for a few seconds. "My... uh... My body is a little messed up right now. I wasn't 'cured'. I can still turn into an elephant. Not really at will, either. If I sort of lost control like if get horny, angry or really emotional, I start growing tusks and a trunk. My powers have sort of mutated as well. As you can see."

It was just like what had happened with him when he had been infected with the Trojan Strain. His powers had mutated as well. Just what were the Gene Stealers planning?

"That's... Great?" Caleb replied, not sure how to react.

"I guess. It'll take some getting used to." Lars grimaced as he retracted the bone spear into his paw. "I can sort of make those bones come out and set them on fire but it hurts and it's slow as hell. Took me my whole life up to this point to master my power over fire up to this point. Adding this kind of messes things up. I don't think my body is used to it like with my original superpowers. Elliot said it was because as a super, my body was secretly preparing itself to shoot fireballs while I was growing up and when I hit puberty and my powers manifested, it was ready. But the introduction of this completely unrelated power, my body is still fighting to get used to it."

"Is that what would've happened had I not cured you from the Ursa Strain?"

"He thinks so, yeah."

Elliot theorised that Lars likely developed some secondary superpower when he had been infected by the Ursa Strain which had bumped him up to becoming a Gen 4. Similar to how Tibia developed the power to manifest ivory while he still possessed the ability to inflict pain. However, because Caleb had used his abilities to cure Lars of the Ursa Strain, those powers went away - or more likely, extracted into the viking helmet. Still, in the short time frame that Lars was a bear, his original superpowers had evolved and grown stronger so while Caleb had removed the influence of the Ursa Strain and compartmentalised it in a weapon that allowed Lars to transform back into a bear at will, the Doberman's original form as a canine and the powers linked with it still remained in the boosted version prior to being 'cured'.

"Rage thinks that's what the Gene Stealers are going for," Lars continued. "They were looking for a way to infect supers in a stable way and then they want to stockpile power after power on their troops _without_you curing them. He thinks that they can't predict what superpower someone will develop once infected and are purposefully spreading the infection so that when they do find a power that they like, they'll store them and give them to one another. Kind of like having a specific superpower as a resource."

It made a lot of sense and justified why the Gene Stealers would go to such lengths to rescue Tibia and provide him with so many resources when earlier strains like Gnoll, Minos and even poor Gabe as Ursa were discarded. None of those earlier strains had well-trained troops like Tibia. They must really have liked the ivory manifestation and that was why they spread it into henchmen like Felix. Maybe that was a field test of sorts. Testing the strength of the power and how different people used it.

Still... why were they stockpiling these powers?

"Let's forget about that for now," Caleb said with a shake of his head. "I'm just glad you're back."

"Me too," Lars said with a cheery smile. He sat back down on the couch with a heavy_whump_. "What have you been up to? I heard you went on an international rescue mission for me."

Caleb laughed and went into detail about his adventure under the banner of Assault. Teaming up with Samson, Jacob, Lance, David and even Leon who proved extremely competent and level-headed out in the field. Then there was his fight with Tibia which ended in a draw. Lars, in turn, explained how after he had first managed to return to his canine form, he was shipped over to the Elemental Tower for more training as part of the original agreement with AEGIS. The Tower had better facilities for individualised training as well so he was able to train with a bonehead without being interrupted and in relative privacy. His mother and father had differing reactions to his abilities.

"Mom honestly had the same fiery, ambitious look she always had," Lars said. "Made me feel like I was just this piece of meat that she was going to eat to get stronger. Dad was more supportive and actually came into the training room with me to help out."

"Yeah, your dad actually seemed genuinely concerned for you just before we left."

Lars glanced over to where Felix was slumbering on the floor. "One good thing about this is that AEGIS is giving me a place to stay a few buildings away. I won't have to worry about rent again. Some of the other boneheads told me that you guys had gone out with Jacob so I thought to wait here. Bad thing is that I now have to really watch my powers and my status. Can't get too emotional or I might just go wild."

Caleb glanced around the room, remembering that he was in Jacob's place. There was a burning need that was quickly growing deep within him. Having lost Lars once, he realised that he had taken advantage of his boyfriend. Jocks had a degree of egotism about them - it was just what was natural in the macho world of the high school athlete - but realising that he been so self-centred that he hadn't much he needed Lars was a dagger straight through the heart. Though he was a little wary of sullying his friend's lounge room, he took to heart the lessons from Samson, Jacob and yes - even Tibia. He had to seize the moment and look back without regrets.

"Hey Lars," he began, "I'm going to confess something."

His boyfriend looked at him worriedly. "What's up?"

"When I saw you transform, it really hurt. I hated seeing you like that again. Hurt even more that the rest of the team got transformed too because I couldn't muster the balls to put on Live Wire. It's been a hell of a week and there's something I learned from it all." He heard Lars swallow loudly. "You can't spend time pussing out with the time you have because when the moment is gone, you're never going to get it back. I've honestly been scared about going all the way with you because I don't want to lose the friendship we have."

Lifting a paw, he held it tightly into a fist. "But I don't want to waste time anymore. I don't know how long we'll be together but I want to be look back on this time and smile. So, that said..." Eyes fierce with fire, he stared intently at Lars. "...you want to fuck?"

The cute, brown-haired doberman swallowed loudly, his thick neck undulating with the gesture. "Cale... I mean, I'd love to but I haven't been back long and I'm afraid that if I lose control..."

"We'll deal with that then," Caleb said. "I trust you. You won't hurt me. Besides..." He winked slyly at Lars. "You're on the bottom."

Lars shivered, letting out a moan. The poor canine couldn't help but lift a finger and bite down on hit to keep himself from losing control there and then. "Uhm... Fuck... I've wanted this for so long..." One more hard swallow. "O... Okay. Let's go slow, though, alright?" A loud snort reminded him that they were not quite alone. "What about...?"

"He's blacked out. He won't notice."

Slow. They had to go slow. He could do slow. It felt like he was having sex again for the first time and bumbled awkwardly with his thoughts and body. He appraised Lars, eyes roving the muscular doberman's lean, muscled physique and how it was perfectly outlined in the dim light of the holovid. It reminded him of that first time he had drawn the handsome canine and how much he really cared for Lars. His eyes roved the pronounced collarbone, the rounded, strong shoulders, the strong, perfectly built pectorals and down to the wall of muscle that were his abdominals. Knowing that if he focused on Lars' crotch, he would never be able to tear his gaze away, Caleb followed the long bands of muscle down Lars' legs, barely contained by the black, _AEGIS-_issue pants and down to the thick, bulging calves. Those large boots caught his gaze and he reached down, pulling Lars' foot towards his lap.

Caleb pulled the AEGIS-issue boot and gently rested it on the floor. He brought up Lars' footpaw towards his muzzle, brushing the appendage against his cheek and drawing in the scent that emanated from it. He wanted to memorise every aspect of the Doberman, commit every part to memory. It was a little maudlin to think he was doing it just in case they were separated again. Still, he craved Lars and as he gently caught the tip of Lars' sock with his fangs and pulled, he became more and more determined to keep going. The strong scent that wafted from Lars' foot spoke of hours spent in the training room. It was a manly scent and one that started Caleb's dick stirring within his pants.

Heart racing, Caleb set aside the sock and regarded the paw in front of him. It was rare for him to see the creamy-brown colourations around Lars' feet. It matched the 'gloves' around his hunky boyfriend's paws but he had never consciously looked for them before. This was the first time he realised that bronze fur wrapped the entirety of Lars' foot and ended abruptly around his ankle like his calves were so big that they pushed the lighter colour further down. He took a breath, collecting more of Lars' scent up his flared nostrils and stirring the desire within him all the more. He needed some part of Lars in him and before he could register what he was doing, he had Lars' big toe in his muzzle.

A stifled moan came from his tightly coiled boyfriend. Lars was laying back on the other end of the couch, claws digging into the leather and lips twisted in concentration. Caleb reigned himself in and slowly wrapped his tongue around the digit in his muzzle. The touch of the short fur and the warmth from the pawpad filled him with a sense of security like Lars was telling him everything would be all right through touch alone. He ran his tongue between the toes, twisting his muzzle this way and that, to get the best angle as he absorbed all that many scent into him. His tongue gently grazed the balls of Lars foot, causing the Doberman to moan a little louder. Encourage, he traced the line along the arch and he felt Lars tense.

"Too much?" he asked quickly.

"N - N - No," Lars mumbled, his features scrunching up. "J - Just finding it hard to concentrate, that's all."

A soft cluck of the tongue came from behind. Felix's big hand rested on Caleb's shoulder as the henchman moved forward.

"Typical hero," rumbled the surprisingly lucid, bald man. "Thinking you need to reign yourself in all the time. The more you fight the beast, the more it'll fight back and then it's just a bit of weakness and that bastard is going to get out and split your boyfriend in half."

"Felix?" Caleb asked, stunned, heat rising into his cheeks. "I thought you were out cold!"

"I'm basically a super now, remember kid? Alcohol gets absorbed way faster in me than if I were just a normal guy again." The broad, former henchman moved behind Lars, wrapping his big hands around the Doberman's firm shoulders and gently massaging them. Lars whimpered in response. "Let him out slowly. Don't fight him getting out. You remember what your instructors said, right?"

Eyes shut tight, Lars said, "Find that linchpin. Use it."

"Linchpin?" Caleb repeated.

Felix nodded, his features dead serious. "For everyone that's been infected, there's thing commonality between them and their 'inner beast'. The Gene Stealers are all about breaking down the barriers between the conscious, unconscious and subconscious minds. They say that the subconscious is what controls your superpowers and the unconscious is that 'inner beast' of yours. The last two are linked tightly." He leaned down, lips just inches from Lars' pointed ears. "But there are links between all three. The linchpin. Use it to keep in control."

Lars nodded slowly even as he began to let out soft whimpers. "C - C - Cale... Could you... uh... Could you keep going?"

Suddenly a little self-conscious himself with Felix watching, Caleb hesitated. "I... uhm... I'm not sure..."

"It's for your boyfriend's sake," urged Felix. "Keep going."

Regarding the footpaw before him, toes curled and shaking, Caleb closed his eyes and pushed aside his doubts and worries. He pressed his nose against the arch of Lars' foot, taking in the scent and forcing his boyfriend to let out a loud, unshackled moan. His tongue snaked out, running from heel to toe, brushing up against the leathery footpads and fur there. Just as Lars getting discarding his own inhibitions, Caleb did the same. As many toes as he could fit were pushed into his muzzle and he licked and suckled on each of them with a ferocity of a starved wolf. He could feel his boyfriend tensing and squirming beneath him. That triggered the primal part of Caleb's mind; the wild predator that had just experienced the thrill of the hunt and was now enjoying the taste of his prey clutching to the last vestiges of life in his jaws.

Then he felt something change.

One of Lars' toes suddenly surged out and pressed up against the inside of his cheek. He shifted slightly, letting the big to pop out from the corner of his mouth. Surprise sparked in his eyes as the light brown fur before him began to shrink back into hardened, grey, leathery skin. The soft, warm pawpads vanished beneath the same grey flesh as the muscles, bone and flesh began to extend and grow. The black claw at the tip was bleached white starting from the root and going all the way to the tip. With the growth of the digit, the same claw began to flatten out, widening around the base to transform into a thick, white cap that rested securely at the edge of the toe.

Caleb gagged as he felt the other toes in his muzzle began to shift and morph. He was forced to pull the foot away from his muzzle as he watched Lars entire foot change before his eyes.

"That's it," rumbled Felix, a loud crackling sound coming from the big henchman's shoulders. "Nice and slow. Don't force it out and don't force it back either."

Caleb didn't even wait for permission and dove back in at Lars' foot, lapping at the heel with his, long, flat tongue. An inferno rising from Lars' foot that urged his own desire all the more. There was something strangely appealing about the feeling of Lars' body shifting and changing beneath him that stirred his loins all the more. The heel popped and cracked, growing bigger and broader in preparation to carry the weight of the elephant he would soon become. He could feel the blood vessels and muscles expanding beneath his tongue. With Lars' footpads vanishing into the ashen, leathery flesh, he found himself lapping at their edging, chasing them down to their last inch until they had all but gone. Suddenly, he was holding a much bigger and different foot than he was mere moments ago.

"Fuck..." Lars grunted. "G - Get these clothes off me. I - I - I'm gonna burst out of them."

Felix, rolled his shoulders, his silhouette expanding in the darkness as he underwent his own transformation. "Hang on," he said, reaching down towards Lars' shirt. "I've got you."

Caleb suddenly lashed out, pressed a paw against Lars' chest possessively. "No," he growled.

"What?" exclaimed the bald henchman.

Lars winced at him. "Cale, there's no stopping this. I'm gonna burst!"

"I know," he growled back. "I wanna see you tear out of your clothes."

Felix lifted an eyebrow in surprise and Lars, in a moment where his concentration lapse, moaned. The doberman kicked out with his other foot and the fabric of his boot audibly strained with his growth.

"Seems our goody-goody boy scout has got his own beast to let out," chuckled Felix.

"Shut up," Caleb snarled. "And don't you _dare_tear off any of his clothes. You're keeping your pants on too."

Lars straightened a little in surprise, once again leaving an opening for his inner beast to surge out. He grunted, falling back and gripping his face in both paws. His other foot was now straining against the AEGIS-_issue boot. Caleb couldn't help himself. He pulled the appendage up onto his lap, panting loudly and in anticipation, his own cock pressing up against his pants just as Lars' foot was stretching the boot. These transformations had always been grotesque and unnatural to him. Every time _he had transformed, it was associated with some looming disaster or a battle but this was entirely different. Without the threat of the Gene Stealers and the danger to the civilians tainting the experience, this was almost erotic.

A tear appears across the seams of the boot and Caleb's eyes widened as he watched Lars foot tear right out of the black boot, the socks shredded from beneath the leather. He caught sight of the last few patches of brown fur vanishing beneath the leathery skin. Those sharp, pointed nails came shooting out, capping off each of his toes. A strong scent of sweat and musk wafted into his nostrils, pulling him in and compelling him to wrap their sources in his muzzle. He could only fit Lars' big toe where before he could gobble up at least three. Suckling on the digit brought a moan from Lars and eased the transforming doberman's convulsions.

His paws roved Lars' enormous, changed feet; each one at least twice the size of his own head. They radiated power, heat and raw masculinity. This was unlike anything that he had experienced before with Lance who had always been rather submissive to him. Here, he stood on equal footing with Lars but there was no struggle for dominance. No pressure of social norms, uncertain futures or even wondering about what turned the other on. That awkwardness and fear of shattering their friendship was gone. In this moment of transition, they were both just two males who cared for one another enough that neither would ever think of hurting the other. It was with absolutely certainty that he continued his adoration of Lars' feet, knowing in his heart that even should the inner beast be unleashed, Lars would never harm him.

A slight pressure began to push Lars' feet against his chest and he followed the source of the change a little further up his boyfriend's leg. Bones were stretching longer, thickening and he could see the hems of Lars' pants starting to peel away until they got stuck around a quarter of the way up the doberman's already thick calves. Hungry for more, he abandoned Lars' toes, pulling the feet to sandwich his muzzle while he peppered the back of the foot with light kisses. He chased Lars' transformation from his ankle to the rapidly retreating shins. The darker, almost black fur receded into tight leathery skin, revealing the thick, blood vessels beneath; greenish-blue vines that snaked their way up the calves that almost looked like swollen, upside-down pears. Fabric tore loudly, peeling back at the seams and revealing the receding line of fur that was giving way to muscle and skin.

Caleb immediately gave chase, lapping up at Lars' calves and feeling the rushing blood beneath them accompanied by a radiating warmth. He ran his tongue along the twin bulges and the tight tendons, loving how with every lick, the muscles grew bigger and thicker. When he was met by some fabric, he gripped it with his fangs and ripped it aside. A loud moan rise from Lars' lips and his boyfriend instinctively curled both his legs around Caleb's shoulders, straddling the wolf's broad neck and inviting him to follow the change further up. Naturally, he complied and nuzzled Lars' knees as they shifted and changed.

Free of the lower part of his pants, Lars bucked his hips, claws raking across Jacob's leather couch. Caleb was immediately drawn towards the shifting doberman's vibrating thighs. The fabric of his pants stubbornly held on even as his quads bulged out and began pressing themselves up against the fabric to the point where it was almost like the tightly-woven polyester blend was like a second skin. Lars was forcibly flexing his legs - Caleb could feel the muscles tensing from mere contact - but he could not shed the pants. Sensing his boyfriend's frustration, Caleb pressed one claw against the seams. Just the lightest of flicks was needed before the entire garment came apart in a flurry for fabric. A wave of heat and musk hit Caleb, almost lifting him off the couch before bringing him down closer to Lars' crotch.

"Jockstrap, huh?" he chuckled softly.

"It's easier on the changes," Lars rumbled, sweating profusely and panting. "It stretches so even if I change fully, I can still stuff my dick into it."

Felix's hand rested on the doberman's chest and Caleb was surprised to see the big man had already fully changed into his elephantine form. It was with some regret that he hadn't seen Felix burst out of his pants but he had been so engrossed with Lars' change that he didn't mind as much.

"You know the drill," rumbled the hulking pachyderm. "Save the dick for last."

"Huh?" Caleb asked.

"You're more likely to cum if you change your genitals first or even second," panted Lars with a strained voice. "You cum and you either go back to normal or the beast takes over the rest of the change. Got to... focus and..." He let out a gasp, bucking his hips.

Caleb watched curiously as the grey skin purposefully avoided Lars' crotch, navigating around the doberman's dark-brown crotch fur and seeping up his waist, past the bands of the black jockstrap and to his abdominal region.

"Now comes the hard part," warned Felix. "Stay calm. You know what to do."

"Y - Yeah..." Lars mumbled. "C - C - Cale. Come up here. Kiss me."

Not needing another reason, Caleb shuffled past his half-changed boyfriend's legs, pausing only momentarily as he felt Lars' erect member press up against his chest and shuddering at the sensation. Every fibre of his being wanted that dick in his mouth but just like the hunky doberman, he had to restrain himself. Shuffling forward, he pressed his muzzle against Lars' lips. His fire-wielding boyfriend tilted his head to the size and savagely lunged in for a full-blown kiss, bypassing any further foreplay. Caleb didn't mind and plunged his tongue into the awaiting muzzle, breathing in the strong aroma wafting off Lars' sweat-covered body and pressing his body as close to the doberman as possible. He wanted to feel every fibre of Lars change.

It started further down at Lars' abdominals. The already solid barrier of muscle beneath him began to gurgle; he could _feel_it through the fabric of Lars' shirt. The mounds of his abs began to rise, pushing upwards against Caleb's own abdominal muscles like six firm buns rising in the heat of an oven and quickly multiplying into a solid eight. As they rose, they expanded and he couldn't help but run his paw down their length, tracing their journey as they widened and lengthened. The edge of Lars' already-tight black shirt retreated further and he was able to slip his paw beneath it to feel the rapidly expanding muscles beneath his fingers directly. Fur brushed up against the leathery pads at his fingertips but as the transformation progress, those strands vanished into thick, leathery hide that only added to the sensation of firmness.

Lars moaned, his voice growing deeper. His chest expanded right beneath Caleb. The enormous pectorals built from years of being a super and playing football grew bigger and bigger, spreading wider and forming a monumental valley between them. Caleb was lifted further off the ground as more and more muscle packed around rapidly growing bones and internal organs. He could feel Lars' mighty heart growing bigger and bigger, its rapid beating beating like the rapid pounding of thunder. Caleb pressed his other paw against Lars' chest, eagerly anticipating as that fabric grew tauter and tauter until...

Rrrrrrip!

Caleb quivered, his eyelids fluttering with the heavenly sound of a man bursting right out of his own shirt. Lars moaned, his voice several octaves deeper and muffled by Caleb's own muzzle. The rapidly changing doberman was shifting and undulating beneath him. Caleb gripped Lars lats in both paws, running his fingers up and down the widening 'wings' as the canine's body grew broader beneath him. There was a slower, more prolonged tearing noise as the shirt tore from the back, leaving the black fabric hanging on Lars' shoulders alone.

Unable to stand the raw eroticism any longer, Caleb reached down for his own belt, desperate to release his own dick from its prison. Lars sensed his need and gripped the hem of his shirt. With the two working in tandem, Caleb was able to toss aside his pants, shucking off his shoes in the process and Lars was able to slip his shirt over his head with little issue. Caleb didn't have the time or patience to remove his socks but he decided that was not important. His own boxer shorts were tented and at long last he was able to pressed his erection against the hunky slab of meaty muscle that was his boyfriend. Sitting up, was able to nestle his thick against Lars' thick abdominals, quivering in excitement as he was able to sandwich his member along the ridges of the muscles.

Lars' paws wrapped around his firm rump, pulling him closer. Even as they began to change, there was extreme care taken in their movements as they pulled Caleb closer to the doberman's muzzle. Caleb traced the lines of Lars' shoulders, following the retreating fur along the scalloped shapes of those deltoids and down to the thick, meaty biceps. With such thin fur, Lars never had any problem showing people just how vascular he was but now, without his fur, every blood vessel was all the more pronounced. He loved ever moment of it. The contrasts between the two forms was just exquisite and made him drool in desire. Those veins flowed seamlessly towards Lars' widening forearms, sliding into hardened ridges and hot muscles. His fingers touched Lars' own where he finally caught up with the change and felt his boyfriend's digits thicken and lengthen. The pressure of claws against his rump faded as Lars obtained ivory-white nails instead.

Lars abruptly released his butt, curling his fingers around Caleb's. Taking the cue, Caleb wrapped his fingers around Lars' newly shaped hand. The sudden loss of leverage had him sliding down the slope of Lars' mountainous pectorals. His erect dick spearheaded the way and pressed itself against Lars' muzzle, leaving the doberman's eyes boggling in his skull.

"Did you get bigger?" Lars asked. Even as the words spilt from his muzzle, Lars was pulling down the band of Caleb's underwear to reveal the huge, deep red canine dick bobbing in front of him.

"Thirteen inches last I checked," Caleb boasted shamelessly. "I think I got some horse in me after the last time."

Lars could only mumble a response as he eagerly swallowed Caleb's cock. The highly sensitive flesh was adored by Lars', long, flat tongue, sending rippled of pleasure all the way up the young wolf's spine. Only about half of it could fit into his boyfriend's muzzle but part of his continuous leaking of pre-seminal fluids was the anticipation of the change to come. The problem was that he still did not have any leverage to hold onto. The answer came when Felix gently cupped the back of his head. Their gazes met. Nothing needed to be said.

He opened his muzzle willingly and Felix angled his enormous dick towards the willing hole with his other paw. The slab of flesh beat with the pulse of Felix's heart and tasted both salty and strangely sweet - a hint of cinnamon - while giving off the same manly vibe that radiated from Lars. This was the true form of Felix unleashed. A man who had control over his physical form and was unshackled by society. In this space, the three of them could toss aside labels like Outsider, super, Gene Stealer or even boyfriend and just enjoy the pleasures of the flesh that came from having their cock sucked or sucking cock. Caleb threw himself entirely into the moment and eagerly lapped up Felix's member, bobbing his head back and forth along the tremendous 18-inch length, one inch at a time. Barely able to take a quarter of it, he was slowly working his jaw and his throat to take more even as he swallowed the precum that was meant to lubricate its passage.

Beneath him, a loud moan rose from his mostly-elephantine boyfriend. Even without looking, he could feel Lars changing beneath him. The hard length of his boyfriend's muzzle began to soften and lengthen. More and more of his cock sank into Lars with each of his thrusts as the canine's skull reshaped and changed. To his credit, even with his broadening features, he never let go of Caleb's dick and kept the suction as strong as before he started to give the handsome wolf head. Even as his nose started pulling away from his face, stretching outward into the serpentine pattern of a trunk, he kept diligently sucking, happily drinking every drop of precum his boyfriend gave him.

It was Caleb's turn to let out his own lusty, muffled moan as Lars' expanding trunk began snaking around his waist, slowly working its way around his back and towards his chest. It pulled him closer to the super and in turn, pushed him closer to the base of Felix's dick. The big elephant in front of him grunted, his thrusts growing more and more bestial. Two enormous hands gripped the back of Caleb's head, guiding him gently down the huge, pulsating shaft without being forceful or hurting him. Even in the throes of lust, Felix had enough control to maintain his senses and was considerate towards the young wolf.

Suddenly, Lars was forced to release Caleb's paws as the burning need of his own cock grew to volcanic proportions. Caleb was momentarily pushed off balance and he had to reach out to stabilise himself. He found Felix's enormous thighs for stability, like gripping onto two redwoods. At the same time, Lars let out a soft, muffle trumpeting moan like an elephant's cry as his tusks began jutting out from his features. Caleb flinched a little as the two ivory spikes pierced the air and came a little close to skewering him. Thankfully, the tusks began to veer off the the side. Then they were engulfed in blue flames, making both him and Felix flinch. His gaze locked with Lars' even with his muzzle full of elephant dick. There was love, compassion and a request for trust in those brown orbs - no wild, all-white irises like when Lars had first transformed.

With a gentle nod, Caleb seized the tusks, propping himself back up with them as leverage. The flames did not burn them even though they cast a serene, blue glow upon the scene. Now once more with some leverage, he continued his assault upon Felix's cock and simultaneously thrust his dick down Lars' muzzle. Behind him, Lars pulled down his jockstrap, a spray of precum splattering out with the member's newfound freedom. The clear fluid splattered across Caleb's back and his own winding trunk. Inch by inch, Flare Blue's cock grew thicker and lost its canine features, lengthening into a bright pink flat-headed member that brushed up against Caleb's back, leaking precum directly onto the wolf. Lars rubbed the length vigorously, his own gargantuan balls cupped by the straining jockstrap.

The trio worked themselves into an increasing feverish rhythm, moans of desire rising up from their throats. Caleb was in heaven. Free of the pressure of responsibility and the restraints of social norms, his spirit was elated just as his body was growing hotter and hotter with lust. Perhaps there was another kind of simplicity in this world apart from just going back to the way things were. The only pressure he felt was building in his balls. He could feel the same in Felix as the elephant's grip tightened around his head slightly. Beneath him, Lars' suckling on his member grew more and more intense with need, the loud slapping of his huge hands sliding up and down his dick overpowering their moans. The contrast between the two elephants was palpable.

Then, Felix suddenly stopped his thrusting, every muscle in his body tensing while his eyes squeezed shut. Caleb could actually_see_ the flood of cum shooting up from Felix's tight, cantaloupe-sized balls. With so much length to travel, Caleb had a few seconds to brace himself before the elephant's seed crossed all 18-inches of dick and came pumping down his throat. The searing seed was like being hit in the face with a wave from the ocean during summer - salty, warm but at the same time, welcome. He swallowed the first load but the second came too fast and too quickly for him to swallow. It came blasting out, puffing out his cheeks before he was forced to push it back out, sending a wave of cum splattering out past his lips. The third came even faster but he was somewhat prepared and was able to swallow at least half of it before he gurgled in protest. Caleb pulled his muzzle free, arching his back and gasping for breath, almost baring his chest to the elephant. Waves of cum came splattering against his chest, dousing him like a warm shower.

His grip around Lars' tusks grew tighter, his own balls starting to churn wildly. However, he didn't want to cum. Not until Lars came and even then, only at the same time. His boyfriend was making it exceeding difficult, however, as with the growing desire, Lars' sucking of his cock grew more and more intense. He grit his fangs together, barely holding on. If Lars could keep his sanity after transforming into an elephant, he told himself, he could at least keep himself from nutting.

The pressure built and built and he could barely keep himself steady.

Then Lars went rigid and a moan rose from his throat. Hot bullets of liquid elephant hit Caleb's back with enough force to force him forward. The shock forced his muzzle open and he found himself speared back onto Felix's dick. The elephant henchman went rigid and then moaned. The sudden surprise of having the cum-covered cock in his muzzle again triggered the breakdown of barriers in Caleb. His own canine cock, knot firmly buried in Lars' muzzle, unleashed its payload. Though comparatively smaller to the two elephants' load, Caleb still produced enough in the first wave to puff out Lars' cheeks. When the second load came, it was in tandem with Lars' own. He became lathered in cum from both the front and back even as he filled his boyfriend's own throat.

Caleb moaned softly as the last of his seed, built up over days - perhaps even weeks - of sexual tension, finally left his balls. His eyelids fluttered, a dazed, goofy look crossing his lips and his slipped off Felix's dick. The big elephant's hands seized his shoulder and slowly guided him off Lars and the couch, which confused him a little. The reason came a second later as he watched Lars' form bubble shift. The huge doberman-turned-elephant began reverting right before his eyes, still clutching onto his gargantuan dick. Seemingly running on auto-pilot, Lars' form faded back into his compact, canine shape while still shooting seed from his dick.

"Looks like your boy still needs practice," rumbled Felix.

He glanced up at the elephant, realising that he still _was_an elephant. "You maintained your shape even after you came."

"Part of the training. Eventually, I'm pretty sure your beau will be able to do it too. Bur right now, I think it's best that we got that monster dick out of his muzzle before he choked on it." To prove his point, Felix gave Caleb's still erect cock a light flick.

"Y - Yeah," Caleb chuckled, noting how Felix's was going flaccid even though he head it erect and in his muzzle a few seconds ago. "Canines kind of keep our erections for a little longer. Part of 'knotting', you know."

"I'll bet. Might have to try that one day if you ever find a canine strain." Felix crossed his arms as Lars slumped into the cum-covered couch, exhausting but thankfully maintaining his shape. "Looks like he and his 'inner beast' are at least somewhat in synch. He's not changing back immediately so he's definitely made progress."

"How long did it take you to get used to it?"

"Just a day or so but we were trained pretty intensely beforehand. Still can't prepare you for the actual change though." Felix sighed and glanced around. "Shit... I was going to sleep on that couch..."

"I guess we'll need to clean up then."

"Or..." The elephant turned to him and wiggled his eyebrows at him. "... We could go for round three."

Caleb glanced at his still-erect dick... and then grinned.

"I'll wake up Lars."

******

He was tired and seriously considering if there was still any merit to working at the Tower Hospital as an orderly and his bartending job. In theory, Jacob Reaper had enough funds coming in from his weekly talk show that he could make a relatively comfortable living. With AEGIS buying an entire city block around his apartment, rent wouldn't be an issue either. Then again, he recalled that he would now have to feed a hungry teenager and whomever he decided to invite every day. Getting ingredients would cost money. Then again, there were a variety of Advocates he could call upon to manifest food for him. If exposure was the issue, he was confident Washington and the Gene Stealers already had their eyes on him. The only issue was appearances. Any signs of weaknesses could provoke either faction to attack.

A yawn escaped his muzzle as he hopped off the bus. It was four in the morning. Maybe he could get a few hours of sleep before Felix woke up and then he'd have to sort through the problems of the former bonehead for the day. He wondered if he could get a time-bending Advocate to create a pocket dimension where time moved far slower and squeeze a few more hours of sleep. Since they were pretending the assault on Madagascar didn't happen, he had jumped straight back to work the moment he had gotten back. The strain on his body was causing him to reach his limit. Even an inter-dimensional Writer of Reality needed sleep every now and then.

He glanced up at his apartment and noticed that there were a few lights still on. No doubt some AEGIS members or former henchmen were doing something to disrupt the peace. A loud orgasmic cry erupted from one of the apartments which he hoped was not his own. As much as he would've liked to fall into the comforting embrace of his own bed, he doubted he'd be able to get any rest. The boneheads had to practice constant vigilance to keep themselves from 'beasting out' and now that they were in some relative freedom, they were likely indulging in some of their basing instincts. That mean that even if he were to get to bed, he might just be woken up during the night by some earth-shattering orgasm and none of it coming from him. Reaching down his shirt, he pulled out a silver necklace which had a small, golden key hanging from it. He gave it a little flick and a shimmering, silvery door sprang up in front of him, just hanging in the air and about a foot off the ground.

"Damnit..." he grumbled. Normally, he was more accurate with the key but that space between the ground and the door always made things a little awkward when passing through. "I must really be tired."

Pushing open the door, the _Cornucopia's_bridge awaited him on the other side. Nathan Rage was seated in front of his wall of holographic screens, quietly watching statistics and news feeds from all over the world.

"The United African Nations are treating the incident in Madagascar as the sudden destabilisation of an experimental portal that was left there during the zombie outbreak," the Director of _AEGIS_announced. "Those spies and false leads we planted did exactly what they were meant to."

"Good. I would hate to have to explain to the UAN President how a villain that's supposed to predominantly be in the US somehow managed to set up shop at his doorstep and set off the equivalent of a black hole bomb."

Rage glanced over his shoulder, a frown on his lips. "You look like hell, Reaper."

"All these non-stop nights are finally getting to me, I think."

"Considering how you've been at this for over five months with something like three to four hours of sleep a day, I'm surprised you're only feeling the effects now." Rage offered him the cup of coffee he was drinking. "You might need this more than I do."

"I'm fine," Jacob answered, waving the offer away. "I might just hit the hay in my room and sleep for a decade or so."

"You know we can't afford that."

"I'll probably manipulate time with an Advocate weapon or something." He gave Rage a weak frown, unable to muster more than that. "I'm still pissed at you for sending Felix and the other henchmen to my place of all things."

"You were becoming a liability," Rage warned. "People were moving away from you. With good reason. That stunt you pulled with Sturmspalter was very showy and made everyone realise that they were sleeping next to a big bullseye. I figure it'd be better to fortify the area instead of leaving all that land unoccupied. Sending the boneheads there gives them some sense of normalcy. Plus if they happen to like how we run things in AEGIS and decide to join up, so much the better."

"It's free real estate," Jacob muttered.

"What?"

"Sorry. I'm too tired and I can't meme really well." He stifled a yawn behind a clenched paw. "Getting them on our side would be useful though they don't know much about what the Gene Stealers are really up to. That said, they are the kind of people AEGIS recruits. Disenfranchised from this superhuman society, dejected and abandoned by their families and friends, no material connections. Seems like prime AEGIS material." He ran a paw through his hair and slapped his cheeks. "I barely got a status update from Felix. How're the others going with what I like to call 'reversion therapy'?"

Rage snorted softly, a soft smile on his lips. "Reversion therapy. How appropriate." He turned back to his screens, waving a hand so that the contents changed. The members of Arsenal were shown. "Brightwood was released but we're keeping watch on her. Ordered her to avoid any sexual activities to avoid transforming. Seems that her family is at least understanding."

"Don't suppose Athena has decided to poke her head in?"

"Nope."

"Typical. What about the others? Ben?"

"The werewolf in him loves the power that he's experiencing and I honestly think he's purposefully triggering the transformations to get a better hold of it and bend it to his will."

Jacob wasn't that surprised. Though Benjamin Connors was a werewolf, he was still pack of the Alpha Pack and touted the most fiercely determined of them all. Amongst the werewolf circles, he was known as the 'Hunter' because he could trace someone through their blood alone and has been known to keep chasing them for decades. There were rumours of how Ben had hunted supers all the way to their dying days. Ben was also very ambitious as could be seen by his alliance with Arsenal and his involvement with them. Little doubt remained in Jacob's mind that Blood Wolf was going to turn this 'infection' into his own.

"You don't seem worried," Rage said.

"Even if Ben won't admit it, he's grown fond of Caleb and the rest of Arsenal. Samson too. If put in a position to choose between the Alpha Pack and us, they would be torn enough that a heartfelt plea from Caleb or even Lars would be enough to at least convince them to find another solution."

"I'm holding you to that." The Director glanced to the right, to an image of a large hyena crouched on a bench press, sweating profusely. "Sanchez is a bit of a worry."

"His mutations clashing?"

"No. His mental state. Everyone that's been transformed seems to have obtained some form of ivory or bone-related power. McLeod can make bone blades from his palms and set them on fire. Brightwood seems to have obtained some sort of 'bone sense' where she can 'feel' where bones are and their status."

"That'd make her excellent in finding fractures or injuries. Or digging up old graves. I wonder if being an archaeologist has ever appealed to her."

"Right." Rage grunted and leaned back into his chair. "Well, Sanchez seems to have developed hardened bones. Still as flexible as normal bones but they're at least three times harder to break."

"That's fairly useful. You could toss him off a fifty storey building and he'd survive with maybe a bit of soreness."

"That's what Elliot and I tried to tell him but he thinks it's a 'weak' power and not his."

Jacob folded his arms, watching Madman go back to another ferocious set of bench presses. "I can see where that mentality could have developed after his encounter with Trojan. I'll talk to him later. What about the others?"

"Bren was in the lab all day and has been successfully transferred to a new cloned body. Uniquely, his transformations didn't carry over so he can't transform again."

"You mean you killed him."

"Bullet through the brain," answered the Director dismissively. "Unfortunately, because the other body was effectively a super, it healed that head wound and went on a rampage."

Jacob grimaced. "Oh Lord... please don't tell me it had some existential crisis and we had to deal with it screaming, 'I'm the real Bren'?"

"Thankfully, no. There was enough damage to its brain that it suffered a massive drop in intelligence. It was basically feral. Managed to terminate it completely and utterly after being disintegrated. Might be something you need to watch out for in case this happens again."

"Fair point. Have you tried killing Bren's current instance?"

"No. Why?"

The Writer of Reality inclined his head slightly. "I'm curious. It's his whole shtick to die and just keep coming back. I'm worried that though the mutation was bound to his previous body, he might still be infected. Superpowers work weirdly, after all."

"But these infections aren't related to a superpower. They're manufactured by the Gene Stealers."

"Right but where did the Gene Stealers get the basis of these formulae? Think about it, Nate, even back to when the first Gene Stealers were making Thralls. When they transform, they're producing mass out of nothing. People bulk up, grow stronger, develop super powers and even become highly sexual to the point of fucking anything. Do you really think that's all created by some mad scientist?"

Rage let out a long, thoughtful noise. "I'll add it to the tests. Bren might be the key to figuring this out."

"Bren's deployment speed is also a little slow. Every time he dies, he needs a new vehicle to get him to the location that he previously died. Give him the Respawn Device."

Rage gave him a curious look, one bushy eyebrow raised. "Are you sure about that? Sure he'll be able to get to the battlefield sooner and we'll be eliminating the need for him to rely on his clones but with this recent development, if he gets infected again, killing him could add another enemy into the field."

"One that can be killed, made an example of and even tortured in front of primal beasts. Show dominance in front of a pack and they will call you their alpha. Besides, you said it yourself. Manufacturing and maintaining Bren's clones is expensive both in resources and space here on the Cornucopia. If we get rid of them through the Respawn Device, we'll have more room for other things."

"What other things?"

"I've been meaning to put in a rec room. This place needs a pool table. Maybe a bowling alley."

Rage rolled his eyes and sipped his coffee. "Do you want to hear about Rhiannon?"

"I don't know. Do I?"

Their surroundings suddenly became inky black. A chill descended upon them and the air became so still that it was like breathing in gelatin. A sickly, purplish fog seeped in around their feet, somehow retaining its visibility despite the lack of light. A loud crackling met his ears followed by a tremendous shaking. Large, totems built from the skulls of humans and furs sprang up from the ground, surrounding them in a tight circle. The same purple miasma flooded out of their skeletal jaws.

"Who dares call the Lady of Bones?"

Jacob sighed heavily. "Rhia, I'm way too tired to deal with this right now. So please... can we just... not?"

"Weakened is her prey, the Lady of Bones strikes!"

Rhiannon sprang out from the shadows, descending from above with her claws out. Jacob lazily took a step to the side resulting in her hitting the ground with a loud thwap!

"She's obtained the ability to create a terrifying pocket dimension," Rage sighed, still in his seat. "Thus far, she can't generate it larger than about twenty metres in diameter but it's still quite fearsome. Only drawback is that she can't maintain it and her other illusions so it's one or the other. Also can't make it last more than ten minutes."

"But I am getting better at it!" Rhia announced, springing up to her haunches. "What do you think, Reaper? Scary huh?"

"You clearly haven't been to the dimension of magical rainbow-farting ponies," Jacob muttered. "Thank you, by the way."

Her red eyes narrowed in suspicion. "For what?"

"For keeping Caleb from being mauled by those elephants when Tibia first attacked in his new form. I have no doubt Tibia had ordered them to kill or at least maim instead of infect. The Gene Stealers don't need Caleb to help fuel their experiments anymore and he's the only one that can make the cure for their strains. Without him, our chances of curing these people drop dramatically."

The Hound of Destruction rose to her feet, folding her arms in a mirror to his stance. "We're not entirely cured either, Reaper. We've still got Tibia's stink in us. You could say he's got us boned." She smirked at her own joke but her features immediately slipped back into seriousness. "I can't shake the feeling that we're playing into the Gene Stealer's hands again."

"Perhaps but there's no use stressing about it now." He stifled a yawn again. "You say you can maintain this pocket dimension for ten minutes?"

"About eight now. Why?"

"And this place distorts time in the real world?"

"Naturally. Ten minutes out there could last a whole ten hours in here!" she cackled, lifting her paws into the air and wriggling her fingers.

Jacob flicked his left paw while letting out a full yawn. A large, brown grandfather clock with a total of thirteen hands on its face appeared beside him. "I'm going to take a nap in here. Don't wake me up unless it's important."

The Hound of Destructions attempt at appearing evil stalled as she stared at the Writer of Reality in surprise. "Seriously? Don't expect me to conjure you a bed or something."

"I'll manage," Reaper answered, messing with the hands of the clock. Then he pulled open the clock's door and placed a foot inside, somehow he managed to fit his whole leg inside. "Okay, goodnight. I'm out."

"Wait -"

Then Jacob Samuel Reaper disappeared into the grandfather clock, shutting the door behind him and vanishing. That left both Rhiannon and Nathan Rage sitting in the pit of darkness and bones alone.

"So... we're stuck in here for hours?" Rhiannon asked. "Do you want to talk about... stuff...?"

Rage sipped his coffee again. "No."

Her bitter stare at the grandfather clock was filled with irritation. "I'm almost tempted to drop this dimension and see how he likes to be interrupted."

The Director of AEGIS gave her a pointed stare. "You really want to wake him up after he's been working his ass off to keep the Genesians off you and still helping you out on top of that? You _really_want to wake up Jacob-fatherfucking-Reaper?"

"Don't you mean 'motherfucking'?"

"I know what I said."

She moaned in agony. "Please tell me he didn't stick me in this place for seven whole minutes with the most boring person in the world!"

Suddenly, Nathan Rage flicked up his other hand, producing a deck of cards. "Wanna play some poker?"

Her features brightened. "Strip poker?"

"No."