The WerefoxShe strode—no, glided—across the dance floor, striking in her bold nakedness. Her cinnamon fur glowed like fire despite the minimal illumination, and did nothing to protect her modesty. Her posterior pumped two mounds of muscle up and down, up and down, with hypnotic reciprocation as she walked… that is, until she stopped, flicked her bushy tail and peered back over her shoulder to look at him. Him. Sammy hunched behind his table, and thanked providence that his own species had robust coats that prevented him from seeing such intimate details on his packmates. It also prevented her from seeing the red heat that emanated from his face.or
San Francisco’s secret “thropes”-only club seemed like the place every werewolf had to experience at least once, but Samson felt himself experiencing was overwhelm and regret. And so he had slunk off into the farthest, darkest corner of the room just to observe. The club seemed to understand its clientele&
MisbegottenThe crisp forest air in the Anti-Meridian hours was tainted by the sultry sounds of growls and guttural screams and the dour smell of blood. Someone was being murdered in the borders of Argo, and two werewolves, diverted their patrol to ensure their land was not being used as an execution ground. Sammy—known to his brethren as Phoenix—quivered with anxiety as the crisis resonated through the forest, and channeled that nervous energy into his speed.
What they discovered was an unexpected sight, to say the least: two rogue werewolves, gaunt and covered in ragged pelts, beating another to death. Werewolves fighting was an everyday occurrence, but attempting murder inside someone else’s territory was not. The Argo pack did not care for intruders; trouble-making intruders were cast out with extreme prejudice.
He didn’t have time to think before Hatchet howled a battle-cry and charged into the fray. Sammy, urged by instinct and loyalty, followed his mentor. The fracas
"Professor Sewell! Come quickly! You're not bloody going to believe this!"
Professor Elizabeth Sewell gave the intern a cross glare through her glasses. She was a middle-aged woman, with red hair just beginning to silver. She was not finicky about her appearance, yet she tried very hard to avoid the "stern librarian" appearance displayed by many of her colleagues. "Language, Mister Porter. If you wish to be a professional, you'll need to control that hasty tongue of yours."
"Right sorry," young Porter gasped obligatorily as he shoved aside both flaps that served as the door to her tent and beckoned her outside. He was a consummate portrayal of young adulthood: longish hair that constantly dangled over his brows, sloppily-shaven stubble, and lose, dirty clothes. Dark brown hair and eyes were the only color contrasting an otherwise pasty complexion. "But you must come see this! We've found something in the cave!"
Elizabeth sighed as she closed her archeology book, obviously in no hurry.
The Next StageDis Carson and Zriz dropped their guns and raised their hands—on in Zriz’s case, claws—into the air. Zriz spat at the feet of the Eubolan holding them at gunpoint. Dis shared the sentiment. Out of habit, he berated himself. He should have seen the signs of ambush before boarding the derelict and called in the authorities. As if the life of a search and rescue unit wasn’t dangerous enough, he’d had to go charging into the dead ship looking for survivors. Trying to be a hero.
Instead, it looked like he was going to be just another victim. A five-year veteran should have known better.
“Look, just take the rations and go,” Dis said. “Shit ain’t even expensive.”
“Do not tell me you are afraid of death, Carson,” said Zriz with that clicking noise he had for a laugh.
“Hell no,” he said. “But dying at the hands of a filthy pirate over a measly box of food rations isn’t what I want carved as an epita
Earth and FangThis deep into the ancient maintenance halls of the disused subway system, air ventilation was not sufficient for a fire. Clara Hailey tightened the ratty length of knitting she called a scarf around her weather-worn face and surveyed the other piles of tattered, filthy clothing huddling together for warmth in the dank, dark environment humanity had been pushed into. Her raw fingers squeezed at the frayed ends of her scarf, as telltale sign of her stress. She did that a lot lately. The cold penetrated her into the marrow, as she had very little flesh on her bones to retain body heat. This was no way to live. Only two decades ago, humanity had been the undisputed masters of the world. She had been a child then, but she still remembered the pinnacle of their species. Now there was a whole generation for whom those were only abstract stories.
Sure, they had managed the Earth with foolhardy recklessness, but it had still been theirs. They had more rightful claim to it than the aliens who h
The Princess PrerogativeNo one knew where Omnicide came from or how he had begun. All the people of Earth knew was that he was from a dark corner of the universe, and driven to become the last form of life standing. And, as cosmic energies built up about him, they knew one other intrinsic fact: It was him, or them. The Planetary Guardians did not kill. But for genocidal maniacs, they would make an exception. So long as none of the “pure” heroes had to taint their costumes with blood.
That’s what they kept Wildman around for.
None of the other Planetary Sentinels had the guts to do what was necessary. With scream that would be described as inhuman by anyone who didn’t know him, Wildman coiled and sprung himself into the vortex. He pulled his trademark machetes out of their sheaths. Omnicide was so sure in his victory, so enraptured by the play of energies around him, that he did not see Wildman coming until it was too late. The Indestructanium blades pierced his thick black hide. He loo
The ZooCybertronians did not experience grogginess. Unlike humans, there were no levels of consciousness; they were either offline or online. Moonhunter had tried to explain what it was like to Whiplash once, on a Saturday morning when her human brother Cassidy had been reluctant to get out of bed. But the young Maximal had not been able to fathom what it was like and she still couldn’t.
Although, when she snapped online to find herself in a dark cell, staring up at a barely-illuminated ceiling, she found herself wishing she could control her level of consciousness and go back offline without fully registering the freakishness into which she had just awoken.
She played back her most recent memories for some clue as to how she’d wound up here. There had a huge sphere in the sky, suddenly spearing out of nowhere while she scouted a valley on some remote planet. A blue light had illuminated her and then nothingness. It must have been a stun ray, or a tractor beam, or some efficient
The Warrior's PathHe had decided. As his sensei had taught him, a warrior needed to be resolute. Ironic, then, that the warrior's interpretation of his master's teachings had led him down a path that separated him from said master. Sensei had disapproved of his intentions, saying that he sought glory, not honor. But were they not the same thing? Glory could not be achieved without honor, and honor meant nothing without glory.
He walked through the hallways of the Astrological Imperium. Such a duplicitous hideaway was hardly becoming of the future conquerors of Cybertron. But then, the legends said that the original Megatron had founded the Decepticon movement amongst worse straights. The Predacons were repeating history, but they would learn from the mistakes of their ancestors. This new Megatron had assured him of a grand plan to wipe Cybertron free from the stranglehold of hypocritical, oppressive Maximals. They would succeed where the Decepticons had failed.
He hesitated at the entrance of Megatron's
Oddities“Welcome, Nikola, to the TARDIS!” said the Doctor. He tossed his hunter-green coat onto a coat rack and spread his arms out for dramatic effect. “Is it not magnifisome?”
Nikola Tesla was awestruck by massive room. “It’s-“
“Bigger on the inside?” asked the Doctor.
“Actually, I was going to say beautiful,” Tesla said. “You didn’t really expect me to state the obvious, did you?”
The Doctor pouted. “Most people do. Care to take a guess at how it’s done?”
“Well, this is obviously beyond the reach of contemporary science, but I would hazard a guess at the manipulation of dimensional laws?” He stepped forward and surveyed the control panels. As if dared, he reached out to touch the console. It somehow felt more real than he expected. “For a fantastical machine, the façade strikes me as rather anachronistic. Wooden panels, brass fixtures. What are these glowing rods in
Half the BattleBilly couldn’t take it any more. His parents were so mean. So he was going to run away. That would teach them a lesson. He stuffed his backpack with clothes, his favorite action figure, and a jar of peanut butter. He would take care of himself and prove to his parents that they shouldn’t treat him like a baby. And then when he finally came home, it would be on his own terms.
He waited until midnight. When his parents were sound asleep, he opened his bedroom window and climbed down the latticework from the second story.
Billy made it all the way to the corner before a yellow car transformed into Bumblebee. A military helicopter shone a spotlight over him and several G.I. Joes rappelled down around him. Superman swooped down from the sky, landed, and put his hands on his hips. Captain Planet materialized in a rainbow of light. A manhole creaked open and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles came pouring out of the sewer.
All the assembled heroes scrutinized him.
When does this end?
And I want to enter :3