[Mkguild] Superhero Tails

[Christian Okane]

 This story is a sequel of sorts to my story 'Unexpected results'. You can
read that at http://www.furaffinity.net/view/1804488/

This story is set in the City of Heroes online game that I play a lot.
Probably too much.

Enjoy!


Chris
The Lurking Fox

Superhero Tails
by Christian O'Kane

   Sometimes life can be so unfair. Three months in basic and advanced
training, jump school, surviving ranger training. Six tours in Iraq,
Afghanistan and Kuwait. Tours in Kenya, Germany, Panama. Missions into Iran,
Somalia, Ethiopia, Columbia and Ecuador. Wounded twelve times decorated and
promotion to staff sergeant. And with all that what did he have to show for
it in the press? A one line mention in his home town newspaper. "Private
Misha Brightleaf graduates from Basic training."

   Some idiot dresses up in freaky colored spandex tights and leather boots
and they get the front page of the papers and make the five o'clock news.
Never mind the four days he spent on that damn hill in Afghanistan. That
never even made the news. What did? One woman wearing lime green armor (LIME
GREEN) and a hula skirt fought some shaggy, vaguely manshaped thing called
The Furball. The commentator treated the whole fight like a football game.
To the soldier it looked more like a really strange professional wrestling
match.

   Misha found himself slowly wandering the streets of Paragon city thinking
about such things. He had come back from Afghanistan missing his left leg.
It had taken months for the doctors to regrow his leg and heal all his other
wounds.

   Misha was used to seeing all sorts of strange sights but even he was
surprised when he turned a corner and came upon a werewolf mugging a bus. At
least it looked like that at first glance. Intrigued he stepped closer.

   The figure was huge at least seven feet tall. He body was covered with
thick fur and he had the head and tail of a wolf. His legs had the odd bend
of digitigrade and ended in large paws instead of feet. Misha had seen
werewolves before. A small population of them had been in Paragon city since
it had been founded. He had even made friends with one in the rangers.
Sergeant Hollfelder was a good friend and a werewolf. On a mission in
Somalia he had shifted to his wereform in the middle of an ambush and the
Somali's had fled in a panic.

   But this werewolf was not like any he had seen before. His fur had a
metallic sheen to it and beneath that was metal not skin! From his back
sprouted a pair of metal and plastic wings that seemed more appropriate for
a jet fighter then a living creature.

   The creature was in front of a bus that was lying on its side partially
crushing a small car. 
Without any real difficult the werewolf picked up one side of the bus and
righted it gently. Then he started to pull the bus apart to get to the
people trapped inside.

   Misha deftly leapt through a large rent in the bus the werewolf had made.
He saw people of all ages and both genders scattered about. He knelt next to
an older woman whose leg was covered in blood. "Relax you're in good hands
now."

   "So you've done this before?" the woman asked through gritted teeth.

   Misha nodded as he checked her leg. "Oh yes but usually people are
shooting at me. This is a nice, quiet change of pace!"

   The woman gave a faint smile and laughed. "Glad you are enjoying this."

   "I'm not enjoying this," he answered without looking up from her wounds.
"This is one of my jobs and I'm good at it."

   "I thought soldiers like you only knew how to kill people," the woman
said.

   "We do a lot of things." Misha reached around and opened the small
haversack that he always wore. From it he produced some bandages a large
metal tube like a tube of toothpaste and a small squirt bottle filled with
water. He squirts the water on the wound cleaning away the dirt and dried
blood.

   "You have a really good cut there but nothing serious but the leg is
broken in at least two places."

   A fire rescue truck and two police cars arrived and Fire and police
emergency people swarmed over both wrecks. A pair of fireman came flying out
and ran over to where Misha and the woman were. "Her leg is broken in two
places between the knee and ankle. She has a bad laceration on her leg but
the breaks are the worst injury."

   "You are?" one of the fireman asked as the other knelt by the woman.

   "Staff sergeant Misha Brightleaf," he answered. "And I am EMT qualified."

    The fireman smiled. "Good. Are you hurt?" he asked.

    "No," Misha answered and shook his head. "The blood is all hers."

   Nearby stood the werewolf. He was carefully watching the soldier as he
worked. In his head voices spoke. he was not insane as these voices were
real. "Accessing data on Brightleaf, Misha. Rank: E5, Staff sergeant.
Assignment: B company, 3rd battalion, 75th ranger regiment. Presently on
medical leave."

   "Impressive military record! He's been all over the world! A very
impressive list of skills."

   "Recommendation?"

   "Use him! If he does not want the changes we need to download his skills
and knowledge for use other times."

   "Agreed. I'll make the initial contact," Rawr said.


*******************


   Misha was carefully placing the remainder of his medical supplies back
into his haversack when a large shadow fell over him.

   "Good afternoon!" a deep, guttural voice growled.

   He turned around and found himself looking into a wall of dark, gray fur.
He looked up, way up and found the werewolf looking down at him.

   "Hello! Sir." he said trying to remain calm.

   "Call me Rawr," the werewolf said.

   "Rawr?"

   "It's my nickname," the lycanthrope answered.

   "Wow, you're a big one," Misha commented. And he was big. This creature
had to stand at least seven feet tall and weight over one thousand pounds.
It seemed to be a human/wolf mix. It stood on two legs and had two arms like
a man but that was where the resemblance ended. It's legs had the usual
extra joint of a wolf called digitigrade and ended in large paws. He had a
wolf's head and a long bushy tail. The entire massive body was covered in a
wolf's thick gray fur. Misha had already seen that much of Rawr before.
Being this close to a werewolf was unusual but Misha had been this close to
a werewolf before but that time the lycanthrope had been a friend and fellow
soldier. He looked more closely at this werewolf and noticed some things
really odd. The fur looked normal but it had a definite metallic sheen to
it. And the muzzle was filled with teeth that were gray, the color of metal.
And the wolf's eyes had  a red, red, laser like glow that made the soldier
shiver. And there were those wings. They really were his and growing from
his body.

   "Thank you. I think," the odd werewolf answered in a voice that was too
calm and cultured for something so feral looking. "You like my new body?"

   "You're not a normal werewolf," Misha stated flatly.

   The werewolf gave a yip of laughter."No I'm not. It has been vastly
improved," Rawr explained.

   "Magic?" the soldier asked. "Somehow I do not think you used magic."

   "Nanite technology."

   "Nanites?" the sergeant asked. "The little machines? The microscopic
machines?"

   The massive werewolf nodded slowly. "Yes but they are infinitely more
complex and advanced then simple machines." he paused for a moment. "Misha.
Have you ever considered being a superhero?" Rawr asked.

   "Me? A superhero? You mean run around in tights and wearing silly
costumes?"

   "Am I wearing tights or a silly costume?" the werewolf asked.

   Rawr had a point. Except for a loincloth of some metallic cloth the
werewolf was covered only with his natural, thick fur. It was an impressive
sight. "These nantites.," Misha said slowly. "They are safe?"

   "Completely. I was the first but there have been a few others that the
nanites have improved," Rawr answered. "I would not have offered it to
anyone if it was dangerous."

   "How would they improve me?" Misha asked.

   "Improved internal organs, bones that do not break as easily. Under skin
armor as well as skin a lot harder to penetrate. Exactly what happens
depends on your choices."

   Misha did not speak but pondered the idea. "I could get anything? That
sounds exciting but I don't like the idea of those little things inside me."

   Rawr reached down to the belt holding his loincloth and produced a small,
silver colored bottle. "I will not force you to do anything," Rawr said
calmly. "If you chose to not take advantage of my little friends all I ask
is that you return them to me."


   Misha nodded his head. "Fair enough. One question how do I use them if I
do decide to use them."

   "Simply open the container and swallow the contents. They'll make contact
with you and take it from there."

   "Then what?" the soldier asked.

   "That's for you and them to decide," the werewolf answered.


********************


   Misha sat at the table in the kitchen of his hotel room. In front of him
on the table was the bottle the werewolf had given him. There was so much
power and potential contained in that little bottle. So many dreams could
come true but also so many nightmares. What if they made mistakes, what if
they changed him to what they wanted? And what did they want? why were they
helping people like this? All those 'evil machines taking over the world'
stories he had seen and heard came to mind and laughed. They were all too
absurd too really be taken seriously but for a moment the doubt and fear
were there. he dismissed them.

   Misha had spent the last two days researching that unusual werewolf. His
official name was Rawr 2.0 and odd name to be sure but his service record
spoke for itself. He had helped defeated several Rikkti incursions and he
had a long chain of successes against the mob, several gangs and more then a
few villains. There was one item that caught his eye. A battle between a
super team and some villains had brought down a building. Rawr had ignored
the battle and started rescuing people from the wreckage. One of the
villains, a woman in a blue latex suit had attacked him throwing razor sharp
shards of ice at the werewolf. Rawr had walking through the ice storm and
calmly disemboweled the woman. Then he turned and went back to his rescue
work. Even the super team members called him a hero after that.

   Misha had no fear that the nanites were following some evil agenda.
Rawr's actions had shown him that much. So why was he hesitating? He picked
up the bottle and held it up and looked at it. Did he really want to change?
Radically alter himself into something else? And if he did change himself
what would he change and what would he keep? Well for one he could make
himself bulletproof. No more taking an AK round through the arm or chest.
   
   Misha removed the top from the bottle and looked inside. All he saw was a
sliver liquid that smelled faintly of chocolate chip cookies. He took a deep
breath and quickly swallowed down the entire contents.

   "Insertion successful!"

   "FINALLY! That bottle was boring!"

   "Oh! This one is in fine shape! No extraneous fat, even his cholesterol
levels are good."

   "Thank you," Misha answered the voices speaking in his mind. "I do
exercise regularly."

   "It does seem a little battered. There are thirteen different wounds that
were inflicted by violence."

   "Twelve," Misha corrected. "I fell out of a tree when I was ten. Broke my
arm."

   "We know that. We have access to all your memories."

   "You have led an exciting life!"

   "Thank you," he said unsure of what else to say. "I think."

   "Your military skills are impressive, no need to improve them."

   "Improve them? You can change my skills?" Misha asked. Both excited and
afraid the concept being used on him.

   "Oh yes! We have safely filed all the skills and information we gained
from all we come in contact with."

   "Then you could give me a skill in a weapon I've never held before?" he
asked.

   "Yes, of course it would require a good amount of practice to really
become proficient with it. Data transfer does have its limits and the new
skills must be adapted to the new user."

   "That makes sense," he commented. "Practice makes perfect."

   "What skills do you want?"

   "What improvements do you want? You do not want to keep that boring
form?"

   "What's wrong with this body?" Misha asked. "I've had it my whole life."

   "An animal/human hybrid would be the best. Mixing the best of two or more
species.

   "What species to use? Something new and bold! Perhaps we could use a
leopard base?"

   "The felines excellent hearing and smell would interact well with his
skills as a ranger. Besides spots are so bold and innovative. They are a
statement - Watch out world!"

   "We have been watching those fashion shows again."

   "And what is wrong with that? would you rather we use Bugs Bunny for
inspiration?"

   "Calm down. It's my body. I get to choose. How many species do you have?"
the soldier asks. "I know you already have the wolf. Or at least werewolf."

   "We have the complete DNA of 32,347 separate species and the partial DNA
of 12,172 others."

   "Partial DNA?"

   "Unfortunately we have been unable to reconstruct the complete DNA of
many extinct species."

   "At least not yet."

   "A sabertooth cat would be interesting!" Misha commented.

   "Smiledon fatalis? Now that is a bold choice."

   "True but it doesn't feel like my style," Misha answered.

   "You already have an idea in mind."

   "Yes, yes I do. You mentioned a cartoon character earlier?"

   "That was merely a comparison used to confirm my argument!"

   Misha laughed. "I know that. But It did give me an idea! You ever watch a
Disney movie?"

   "ALL of them. Our personal favorite is Ice Age."

   "Ice Age was not produced by Disney," Misha countered.

   Understood. But we liked the anyway. They are done in the same style that
Disney pioneered."  

   "Mine is Robinhood!"

   "You mean the animated film?"

   "Of course! Can you see me as Errol Flynn?"

   "Vulpes Vulpes, an excellent choice. Sensitive hearing and olfactory
senses couples with the reflexes. We will of course include our own
improvement replacing muscles with a polymer strands interacting with
cellular sized motors.  Nervous system will be replaced with a Optican
crystal strands increasing  reflexes 158%. Calcium based bones will be
enhanced with bioplastic increasing their strength 256%. Replacement of skin
with a biodurralloy/polymer alloy that improves defense 347% but retains
same flexibility and sense of touch. Built in targeting optics along with
long range communications both thought controlled."

   "How about flight? I want to be able to fly," Misha asked.

   "Insertion of a gravitic module is possible. that will allow suspension
off the ground but it will be too small to allow proper forward movement."

   "How about wings? It's worked for the birds for several million years."

   "What about spinning his tails to provide forward thrust?"

   "Spinning my tail like a propeller?" Misha asked. "That sounds awful."

   "Why? It uses an already present appendage that is otherwise not of any
use. Besides it's worked for Tails in Sonic."

   "You mean tails in the Sonic the Hedgehog game?" Misha asked appalled.

   "You inspiration is cartoon movie and you're complaining about OUR idea?"

   "Good point but the idea of spinning my tail seems rather silly and kind
of obscene."

   "All right, we'll go with wings," the voice sounded disappointed.

   "Good. But you do have a point about the tail not doing anything. I have
a good idea for the tail," Misha said and explained his idea.

   "OH! now that is a neat idea. And very tricky. We will add that to the
standard upgrades."

   "I want to go with archery," Misha explained. I'm already good with a bow
but I'll need to be better."

   "Not a problem. We have compared your present skills with those on file
and we will improve yours 65%. But intensive practice is recommended."

   The sergeant nodded."Very good. I'm used to lots of practice. About the
ammunition I'll use."

   "Of course! What good is a super archer with ordinary arrows? Comparisons
made of the known super archers has given us a list of twelve possible
designs. These heads will all be modular and all heads will fit onto a
single design of shaft.  First is the ordinary arrow with a plain target
head. Second is an armor piercing head which can be fitted to specially
reinforced shafts. Third is one with an incendiary head that will burst into
flame upon contact. Fourth is an explosive warhead with both time delay and
contact detonating. Fifth is a smoke warhead with a range of colors
possible. In addition a variety of chemicals can be used including sleep gas
and the irritant CS gas. Sixth is a stun arrow with a thick, soft head
intended to knock a target down. Seventh is a taser arrow which gives off a
burst of electricity. Battery size limits the charge possible. Also
available is a glue arrow whose adhesive could clog up machinery and stop or
slow down a living target. Also available is a flash warhead giving the
equivalent of a military flash grenade. A more deadly alternative head is
one containing a small amount of acid. Also we are adapting the charge of a
sonic grenade making possible a warhead on an arrow that gives of a very
intense sonic attack. Also in development is a guided arrow that can lock
onto a target automatically and steer itself to the most vulnerable point
but that is not available just yet."

   "You just developed all that?" Misha asked.

   "No we have been studying the issue and acquired much of the needed
information from available sources."

   "Acquired. You mean stole don't you?"

   "Stole is such a harsh term. If they had wanted to keep such information
secret they should have used far better security."

   He laughed. "Great. I'm going to be sued."

   "Never we left no traces but it is best to avoid the Super heroine
Strella for a few months just to be safe."

   "That brings to mind an important question. Is all that information
stored with you inside me?" he asked.

   "No. We have a safe data storage location."

   "Several actually. All of which are secret and are very well defended."

   "If you ever need help defending it just call."

   "Thank you. I am sure eventually we will have to take you up on that."

   "That's what a soldiers job is; defending those who cannot defend
themselves."

   "That's profound. Are you ready?"

   Misha took a deep breath and tried to relax. "Yes!"

   "Commence transformation sequence. Now!"


***********************


   It was a quiet night in Paragon city. Or at least a quiet as it ever gets
in a large city.  Still crime was down a little and the Rikkti had not
raided in several weeks. But this was Paragon City and SOMETHING unusual was
always happening. It was just a matter of it not being noticed by anyone
yet.

   Port Independence was busy, even at this late hour. Ships were always
leaving, arriving loading and unloading. And where there is commerce there
is crime. The various crime families were always pushing for their cut while
trying to keep out everyone else.

   Tonight a group of people were clustered around a container. The doors
had been opened and boxes of various sizes were being removed and loaded
onto a truck. but these men were not regular dock workers. Most were too
well dressed to do any manual labor and all of them were heavily armed.
Assault rifles, shotguns, submachine guns and all manner of automatic
pistols were being wielded about.

   The information the nanites had given him was correct. Members of the mob
were taking a shipment of smuggled weapons. These weapons could not find
their way onto the streets. The police had enough problems without criminals
and gang members shooting at them with assault rifles and light machineguns.
Misha had to act now.

   The first arrow came flying out of the darkness and hit the side of the
container. There was a loud explosion and men, tools, weapons and boxes and
countless pieces of shrapnel flew in all directions.

   "Where did that come from?" a voice roared. The container door was now
gone as was a good portion of the container itself. Just twisted, burning
wreckage and debris was all that remained. Scattered around the wrecked end
of the container was a half dozen bodies.

  "WHAT HAPPENED!" A voice roared. Echoed by several others.

   Hidden in the deep shadows of a building over one hundred yards away
stood a figure. His outline was vaguely human but little else was clear. In
his hands was a bow two meters long. "What happened? You should never bunch
up in combat," Misha thought to himself. "And now you know why! I learned
that the first day in basic training. All those expensive weapons and no
combat training or common sense."

   He spotted a group of men clustered around an expensive looking SUV. They
had assault rifles in hand and were looking all about. He raised his bow and
nocked an arrow. Slowly he drew the bow back, the weapons five hundred pound
pull weight not bothering him at all. He waited for the right moment and
released it. The arrow quietly and almost invisible arced through the air
and down into the side of the vehicle, right over the gas tank. There was an
explosion and the back of the vehicle went up in flames. Burning gas spread
out from the SUV in an ever increasing pool. The flames reached a truck and
soon that was ablaze too.

   Bullets suddenly ricocheted off the wall around him. Misha muttered a
curse and ducked behind the corner of the building as bullets chased after
him.

   "There he is!" someone shouted.

   "Did you get him?" another asked.
   Misha leapt into the air as his wings spread out. Beating slowly he
gained altitude and flew down the street. He banked sharply around a corner
and raced along the street. He turned again and then again. He stopped
suddenly hovering some thirty feet off the ground. Half hidden by the corner
of the building. Now he was looking at the scene of the fight from a
different direction.

   Both the truck and SUV were fully alight now and burning brightly in
spite of several men with fire extinguishers. Other people were rooting
through the wreckage of the container. still others were wildly shooting
into the darkness. None of the rounds came close to Misha.

   Misha took careful aim at one of the men standing at the edge of the
pier. The man looked around at the destruction all around him. Then he
slowly backed away. After a moment he turned and ran at full speed away from
the fight.

   "Smart man," Misha thought to himself. He watched for a few seconds to be
sure the man was actually leaving. Then he turned back to the battle and
picked another target. This man was not running away but was brandishing
about a large shotgun. and shouting orders to all the rest. "This is the
leader," he told himself.

   Misha reached back over his shoulders to the quiver that was tucked
between his wings. His fingers searched among the arrows till he found the
right one.  No explosive arrow this time. Instead at its tip was a large
multi-bladed head of razor sharp metal. He nocked the bow and slowly drew it
taught. He saw the man clearly in spite of the darkness. The infrared and
low light optics in his eyes made seeing even in total darkness easy. He saw
light green numbers dancing across his vision giving him the temperature,
wind direction and speed, distance to the target and four other potential
targets. 

   "We have been monitoring police communications. Someone has heard the
shooting and explosions and reported it to the police. Already two squad
cars are being dispatched to the scene. ETA twelve minutes."

   "Faster than I expected."

   "The Paragon City police are more efficient then the media gives them
credit."

   "Do not get me started on the failings of the press. But please hush for
a moment. I need to concentrate." Misha carefully aimed making minute
adjustments for the wind and temperature. finally at just the right moment
he loosed the bow string. He watched the fast moving projectile arc through
the air and slowly descend. the man was still shouting orders when the arrow
slammed into his head. the mobster tumbled backward, dead before his body
hit the pavement.

   This had the desired effect. The half dozen remaining mobsters scattered
in all directions. any though of fighting gone. After a few moments he
landed in the parking lot and looked around. the only people around him were
the dead. Everyone else had fled. Even the wounded were gone. He was the
only person left standing. "Cool."

   He walked over to the damaged container and looked inside. One end was
badly damaged and all he saw unusable wreckage. But the opposite end looked
untouched and he was sure the boxes and weapons there had survived. From a
pouch he removed a bundle that was wrapped in plastic. Removing the wrapper
he revealed the five pounds of C4 explosive in a hard plastic box. He
slapped the box against the undamaged end of the container and it remained
there after he removed his hand courtesy of the magnets in the container. A
few moments work on the fuze set the timer. He spun around and leapt into
the air, his wings beating the air and propelling him away from the
container. He was safely behind another container when the explosive went
off with a roar. Misha was very satisfied to see that the entire container
had been destroyed.

   Misha flew over the wreckage and debris to another shipping container
that rested near to the first one. A few hits with a hammer and the lock
shattered. He pulled open one of the doors and looked inside. The soldier
pulled down one of the boxes at random and ripped it open. Inside he saw a
familiar shape, one he had faced countless times in Iraq, Afghanistan and
Somalia. He picked up one of the AK47 assault rifles and examined it even
pulling the bolt back to see how well the action worked. He was not
impressed. "It's a cheaply made Chinese copy and very poor quality. Bad
steel and poor machining, even the stock looks to be the cheapest plastic
available," he thought.

   "Still in the wrong hands it could see a lot of people killed or
wounded," came the answer. "The entire shipment must be destroyed."

   It was his new, enhanced senses that saved him. His vulpine ears picked
up the faint whisper of something mechanical behind him. With lightening
fast reflexes he ducked low and flung himself out of the container.

   ROAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

   A fusillade of bullets ripped through the container missing the fox by
the thinnest of margins.

   Misha hit the pavement hard and turned over fast. His bow came up and he
snapped off two arrows in the direction the bullets had come from. One of
the arrows struck the pavement and exploded throwing asphalt and concrete in
all directions.

   "You'll have to do better then that!" a voice called out.

   Misha didn't bother wasting time standing up. Instead he sprinted across
the pavement on all four limbs as bullets flew all around him. He reached
the relative safety of a brick wall. Misha listened to the sounds of bullets
ricocheting off the bricks and was thankful for his insistence on giving
himself the ability to run on all fours.

   The archer looked in the direction the voice was coming but didn't see
anything. His opponent it seemed was good at throwing his voice and
confusing his location. Misha scanned all around him using all his senses
both biological and electronic. Finally he located his target. A faint heat
source behind an overturned pile of garbage bins. "You talk too much," Misha
shouted. "And you're wasting ammunition." He nocked an arrow and loosed it
as fast as possible. Afraid that if he waited he would loose his attacker.

   The man dodged sideways as an arrow skittered across the pavement sending
sparks in all directions.

   Misha caught sight of his attacker then. It was a tall, thin man wearing
a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a cloak. All of black. 

   "You go out in public in that silly costume?" Misha called out to the
figure as he loosed another arrow.

   "You're dressed like a Disney character and you call ME silly?" came the
reply.

    A score of bullets hammered the wall Misha was hiding behind showering
him with chips and dust. He kept low to the ground and crawled fast along
the wall as the bullets kept hammering the wall behind him. He popped up
suddenly and loosed off two arrows and dropped back down behind the wall.
Misha quickly hustled away crawling as fast as possible.

   BOOM!

   The explosion behind him sent the fox flying through the air and he hit
the ground hard tumbling over and over till he slammed into something hard.

   "MASSIVE DAMAGE!"

   "7 ribs, right arm, both legs broken. Right foot badly mangled. Internal
injuries. Contusions, punctures, abrasions, bruises. Blood loss. "

   Misha felt searing pain lance through his body and he tried to suppress a
moan. He tried to get up but his strength fled him and he dropped back to
the ground. Without hesitating he grabbed a can shaped grenade from his
belt. He pulled the pin and tossed it over his shoulder. It flew a few feet
and came to a stop close to him. There was a soft pop and clouds of black
smoke bellowed upward from the grenade enveloping him.

   Emergency repairs initiated. ETA 2:25 Pain suppression activated. Blood
loss stopped. Stabilizing vital signs."

   The pain subsided and he managed to turn over and sit up. "Where is he?"
he asked.

   "45 meters distant on a bearing of 270 degrees. He seems to be unsure of
what happened. Most likely he lost sight of you. That smoke grenade is
obscuring all vision."

   "That's the idea," Misha said slowly. He could feel his innards shifting
about and he realized the nanites were fixing him. The fox looked at his
right arm which was bent in the wrong place. As he watched the arm
straightened out and the cuts on the skin quickly vanished.

   "Emergency repairs finished. Please do not let that happen again."

   "I do not like being shot," Misha snarled. "But it's one of the parts of
being a soldier."

   "And a superhero."

   "Target is moving towards your location. suggest you move and shoot at
him."

   "I'm tired of all this dodging and racing around. This ends now," Misha
said and stood up in plain view.

   His opponent was about twenty feet away with a small gatling gun cradled
in his hands. There was a look of surprise on his face.

   Misha reached for an arrow but his hand felt only an empty quiver. He
looked up to see the three ends of a mini gatling gun starting to rotate...
but nothing happened.

"Oh you've got to be kidding. This is like a scene in a bad movie." Misha
muttered and reached for a knife.

   The human looked at his spent mini gun for a moment and cursed under his
breath. Then he threw it at the fox.

   Misha dodged the awkward projectile easily and rushed straight at his
opponent. He sprinted across the open ground between them at surprising
speed. He jabbed hard at the man aiming for his stomach.

   The man lashed out with his hands and knocked the blade from Misha's
hand. The fox leapt backward barely avoiding a roundhouse kick to the face.

   "Stupid fox, why don't put on your tights and go run around Sherwood!"

    "Idiot! The fox Robin Hood didn't even wear pants!" Misha growled.

   "I'm glad you do," the man shouted. "Do not want to see your naughty bits
hanging out."

   "You pervert!" Misha snarled. He lashed out remembering all the training
he'd had over the years in hand to hand combat. His legs and arms moved with
lightening speed.

   The man jumped over the flying legs and blocked both of the fox's arms
with ease. Then he lunged forward to deliver the killing stoke. Misha leaped
up into the air and spun around. The human caught sight of Misha's tail
swinging towards him.

   WHAM! the vulpine's tail hit him on the side of the face with all the
power of freight train. There was a bright flash and a surge of electricity
surged through his body. The man's body flew backed and slammed into a brick
wall. He fell to the ground as bricks and debris rained down on him.

   The man slowly stood up, shaking off the debris and dust that covered
him.

   "Why aren't you dead?" Misha growled.

   The man stuck out his tongue at the fox and made an obscene gesture. "It
takes more then a few arrows to kill me Pops."

   Misha took a deep breath and prepared to rush his enemy and finish this
fight once and for all. He saw his enemy tense and ball his hands into a
fist.

   "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO IDIOTS DOING?" a voice boomed.

   Both figures turned at the same time in the direction of the voice.
Standing next to a police car was a pair of police officers. One was
crouched down behind the hood with his pistol aimed at the two fighters. The
second was standing in plain sight with his hands on his hips and an irate
look on his face.

   The fight came to a sudden halt as the two combatants looked at the
police officer.

   "All right you two. Stop all this idiotic fighting. You're messing up my
neighborhood," the irate officer ordered. "Produce your Superhero
registration ID card."

   Misha reached into a pouch attached to his belt and produced a small,
plastic card. He looked at his opponent and saw that he had also produced a
similar card. The two looked at each other for a moment.

    "Oh shit," the both said at the same time.


********************************

   PCPD 17th precinct

   "Mom was right. I should have been a fireman," Sergeant Lincoln mumbled
to himself. Being a sergeant in the police department was never an easy
thing. The full moon always brought out the worst and weirdest. In a city
filled with bizarre gangs and Super Heroes and super villains things could
get VERY weird. Tonight was no different unfortunately. First in was ten
gang members, their clothing was ripped and tattered and all had some
injury. Another nine had been transported straight to the hospital. Those
were not his worry, at least not at this moment. He did have to dispatch
officers to guard all those people as even badly hurt they were still
dangerous.

   But those mundane criminals were the least of his worries tonight. No
sooner had those gangsters been processed then two figures came in escorted
by a pair of officers. The first one was a man wearing a t-shirt, jeans and
a cape all colored black, even his sneakers. The other figure was even
stranger. He had the head of a fox and was dressed to tail in camouflaged
clothing. In his hands was a bow that was as tall as he was. These two
strange arrivals were arguing loudly.

   "THIS IS YOUR FAULT!" the fox snarled revealing a muzzle filled with
sharp, metal teeth.

   "MY FAULT? You were the one stealing from a cargo container," the man
answered.

    "Stealing? I was destroying an arms shipment!"

   "Bah! Covering your tracks!"

   "It was a shipment of assault rifles and light machine guns.," Misha
argued. "I had to destroy them to keep those mobsters from selling them."

   "Is that so? You had to stop the mob? You're not a cop!" the man said
calmly..

   "Neither are you," Misha countered.

   "But I am," Sergeant Lincoln said calmly interrupting them both.

   Misha turned to the policeman and stiffened. "Sir. I am a fully
registered superhero and was attacked by that criminal." He pointed to the
black dressed man.

   The man opened his mouth to speak but the policeman next to him
interrupted him.

   "They are both registered supers," the cop said and handed two ID cards
to the sergeant.

   Lincoln looked at the two ID's for a moment.

   "Sir . . . " Misha started.

   "Hush," Lincoln ordered.

   "He . . ." the black drabbed man said pointing to the fox.

   "Shut up!" Lincoln snapped.

   "Misha," the policeman said.

   "That's me sir!" the fox answered. "Misha Brightleaf."

   Lincoln looked to the black clothed man. "So that makes you Stealth."

   "Yes!" the man  announced proudly.

   "Which one of you trashed the containers?" the sergeant asked.

   "Me!" Misha answered. "They were filled with assault rifles and light
machineguns. They had to be destroyed before they go to the streets."

   "I see," Lincoln commented in a dry tone. He made some notes on the
computer next to him. "So who sank the boat?"

   "ME!" stealth answered.

   "Boat? Boat? Where was that?"

   "Where do you usually find a boat?" Stealth answered sarcastically. "In
the water."

   "So you admit that sank it?" Lincoln asked.

   Stealth nodded. "With my little gatling gun."

   "I didn't hear you shooting at the boat. I didn't hear any gatling gun
until you started shooting at me."

   "Well if you hadn't been flying around imitating Errol Flynn with that
silly bow you might have seen me sink it."

   "Where did you get that gatling gun?" Misha asked.

   "I... confiscated it," Stealth answered hesitantly.

   "You mean you stole it. Do you have a license for it?"

   "No but the guy I 'confiscated' it from didn't either."

   Misha nodded his head. "So they guy you stole it from stole it from
someone else. Probably the military."

   "Not any local military and not any time recently."

   "Enough of your bickering," the officer ordered. "Explain to me what you
were both doing there? What were you after?

    "The arms shipment," both stealth and Misha answered at the same time.

   "I've served in Iraq, Afghanistan and Somalia. I knew what those weapons
can do. the havoc and chaos they can cause. When I got a tip on the shipment
I immediately acted on it."

   Lincoln nodded his head. "I see. You really should have gone with
backup." He did not ask the fox where he got the tip. Such information was
best kept secret. After all the contact gave the fox one good tip perhaps he
would get more. "And when exactly when were you going to call the police or
did you intend to take all nineteen into custody by yourself?"

   "Ah . . " Misha stuttered. "Well. I wanted to be sure the area was secure
first."

   "I see," the sergeant commented in a monotone. "This your first night as
a super?"

   "Sir!" Misha said in an indignant tone. "I've been in combat before."

   "I know. But this is your first night as a super," Lincoln countered
interrupting the fox. "Don't bother denying it. This card says you
registered as a Super this morning!"

   "Oh, yes sir," Misha answered in a whisper.

   Sergeant Lincoln pointed to Stealth. "And what's YOUR story. Your card
says you registered last month."

   "I've been tracking down that arms shipment for a month. Working leads
and taking out all sorts of smuggled stuff. TV's, car tires, even sneakers.
Last night I stopped a shipment of heroin."

   Misha ears perked up and his tail wagged. "You're the one who stopped
that heroin shipment?"

   Stealth nodded in answer.

   The vulpine patted stealth on the back. "Nicely done!"

   The human stuttered for a moment, "Uh, thank you!"

   "So you will both get credit for destroying that arms shipment. So how
are you going to divide the reward?"

   Both supers turned to the sergeant and spoke at the same time. "Reward?"


*****************


   The two Supers stood outside the police station. Dawn had arrived and the
sun was just starting to poke over the tops of the buildings. "Well it's
nice to have some money for a change. Superheroes don't get paid well,"
Stealth commented.

   "Neither do soldiers, but it was never about the money," Misha countered.

   Stealth shook his head. "No, no it wasn't."

   "What's your favorite animal?" Misha asked suddenly.

   "Ah," Stealth answered slowly. "A cheetah. Why?"

   "How would you like to be one? Well at least partially."


End?


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