Chapter 1.

Magic has always existed in human society. Throughout all of our history, it has been used to explain the unexplained. From Gods driving chariots across the sky, to witches 3 influencing kingdoms, magic has always been at the root of it all. Real or imagined, it has played a role in our very lives and psyches
since we as a species started walking upright and chipping stone for tools. Which is why the events of the latter half of December 2011, while thoroughly shocking, shouldn't have actually surprised anyone.

December 26, 2011.

After another disheartening Christmas in which none of my friends cared to invite me to their festivities, and my family still hated me. I sat on the edge of the Murango bridge, staring over into the garbage laden Mississippi river below, pondering what a shit-fest my life was.

Sorry, didn't introduce myself...my name is Fuyuki Yamamoto, known as Fu to what few friends I have. I am an American of Japanese descent; my grandparents emigrated from japan after the second world war, enduring quite the figurative enema to make the USA their new home. My parent are both Americans of Japanese descent also (known as Nisei), named Arisu (my mom) and Hideki (my dad) respectively. While the rest of my family could speak and read Japanese quite easily, I could not... mainly because I was an idiot.

I didn't mean I wasn't smart, far from it. I was what my parents called 'a lazy leaf'... I didn't know where I wanted to fall, just drifting in the breeze. I was 30, a graduated jobless art major, who only now was realizing that I should have done what my parents asked and majored in medicine or law instead.
Art just did not pay the bills. I mean sure, I'd sold some things at art fairs and the like, but the lack of recognition was meaning more ramen than pizza lately, and the debts were beginning to hit. I couldn't even score a teaching job at my old Alma Mater.

All that wouldn't be so bad, except for one thing... the job market blew soft gooey green chunks. So penniless, alone unless the bottle of cheap red wine counted, I settled down on the bridge, contemplating life and the turgid waters below. At least, until a shout broke the silence.

"No, you mustn't! you need to live!"

A small missile of silk and flesh slammed into me, knocking me to my side and away from the edge. The back of my head collided with the stone bridge and I saw stars a moment. As soon as I regained sense I saw what hit me... a woman, dark brown hair, a classic face, and a body built for sin, both just starting to show their age. I'd guess her to be around 40... definite MILF material, dressed in a maroon silk body wrap, that shimmered when she moved. Kind of odd clothes for the middle of winter, come to think of it.

"I wasn't really thinking of jumping miss..." I didn't see a ring, why not flatter her if I can?

"Call me Betty."

"Okay Betty, I'm Fu, and I wasn't really considering suicide. Just drinking my problems away for a bit."

"You can't lie to me, you were thinking thoughts of death."

Okay, so a crazy person; great. Just what I need while working on a drunk. She was right, but not entirely so.

"Betty, I was thinking of faking my own death for a moment, but I wasn't serious. Let's just say I'm not in the best financial situation at the moment and leave it at that, okay?" I mean I was an art major, sculpting wasn't my thing, but I could make a dummy realistic enough to throw it off a bridge in front of witnesses....

"I might be able to help you, if you want me to."

"To do what, fake my death?"

She nodded, her face serious. "Yes. All you need to do is come with me."

She was a stranger, she was crazy, she was hot, and I was drunk with nothing really to lose. The decision was an easy one.

"I warn you, if you are leading me into a mugging, all you'll get is pocket lint."

"I'm not here to mug you. In fact, your world's continued survival may depend on you and you alone. I'm here to help you."

"You realize you sound crazy, right?"

She didn't reply, instead pulling me into the darkened park.

"I found him, lieutenant."

Looming shapes materialized out of the copse of trees; painted faces, camouflage, assault rifles of some type, and night vision goggles. I took a step back.

"Um, I don't have any money guys."

"You need to come with us sir, it's a matter of national security."

"...what?" I looked closer, seeing no markings to denote rank or nationality, even though the guy speaking was obviously American.

"You need to come with us sir, it's a matter of national security." The speaker replied in exactly the same tone and inflection. The guy behind him started talking into a headset.

"What am I in for? Using lead based paint?"

"I'm not at liberty to say sir."

I began to hear a chopper approaching. I looked at Betty, seeing a rather happy smirk on her face.

"Well...this is awkward. Don't suppose you guys want to talk to me at all, do you?"

"Not really sir."

"want to tell me what's going on Betty?"

"I can't yet Fu, I'm sorry. But relax, you are in no danger. In fact, these people are here to protect you."

I looked again. Only two members of this... team? Were facing me; there were at least 4 people that I saw facing outward, weapons not quite pointing outward,
but ready for deployment in a second.

"Protect me from what? Rogue Al Queda wanting me to paint propaganda?"

The chopper came into view, a big black affair with used to transport troops unless I missed my guess.

"Just come with us sir, I'm sure the boss will explain it to you."

The lieutenant led me back to the trail, where a basket of the type used in air rescues dropped down from the chopper. Following his motions, I climbed in and he belted me to it. He gave the line a tug, and it started reeling up. A helmeted guy helped me into the chopper and unbelted me, sending the basket down again.

"Please belt yourself in sir, we will be away momentarily."

I did so, watching as the team was brought up in the basket, 2 at a time. Last of all was Betty herself, spryly stepping off the basket with grace and a smile, and belting herself next to me. She took my hand in both of hers, seeming to will me to make eye contact with her.

"It'll be alright, I promise."

Oddly enough, I believed her.

Chapter 2.

The weather in Washington D.C. was rather chilly, suiting the rain that drizzled disconsolately down upon the capitol of the strongest country in the world. The perfectly manicured lawn was slick and windswept, providing treacherous footing for the security details as they patrolled. The city itself was fairly quiet, for one of those types of cities that never sleeps.

That is until the wind started changing direction, loaded with a bright blue-green glow and the sound of static discharge. The glow resolved into a large jagged tear, and a scene of jagged rock and searing sun resolved itself within, more hot wind blowing from the tear itself, stirring miniature tornadoes amongst the now abused grass.

From this rip in reality, stepped a gorgeous woman, clad in a maroon silk body wrap that did little to conceal generous curves, she looked around curiously, taking in the sights while ignoring the tear she had just stepped through as it collapsed behind her. The calm returned to the night almost immediately, the wind resuming it's normal course... though the grass was now scarred almost beyond recognition, and there still remained a faint scent of ozone in the air.

Stepping around the dying dust devils, the woman attempted to reach the large estate known to all of earth as the white house. She only made it six steps however, when she was surrounded by bleak looking men and women in suits pointing very large guns at her head. She put her hands up meekly and asked:

"Take me to your leader."

I turned from the closed circuit television displaying the security tape of last week to Betty with a gimlet stare.

"I can't believe you actually said that, that's like the worst cliche ever."

"True, but it worked, didn't it?"

"So what does this prove, exactly? Looks like an elaborate set up to me. I mean the entire situation spells Hollywood cliche."

Betty smiled. "You're exactly right, but in this case, that does not make it any less real. You do understand though, a hopeful sign."

"Not sure I understand anything; this footage could be faked."

"Come with us, sir." The lieutenant commanded from his position at the doorway.

"Where to?"

"Orders were to see you understood the situation, so we go outside."

I followed the entire team along quietly through the white house, and out to the lawn, Betty trailing us all. The magical mystery tour ended at a patch of grass burned in a ragged line; I looked and it matched the location the old video footage showed me.

"All this proves is that you guys cross your eyes and dot your t's in your scams...though why you'd want to scam me is beyond me."

"Look behind you sir."

I looked, and there was Betty...with a glowing ball of lightning in her hand.

"Back away please Fu, they are fairly adamant I don't leave more scorch marks."

Suppressing my curiosity, which wanted me to run up and see what the trick was, I backed away and waited.

"You know, you're the first one to actually hint at the need for a demonstration," Betty said conversationally as she opened another tear in space like the one that I no longer doubted took place here a week before. Once again the wind rushed before my face as the portal expanded; hot as the desert badlands depicted on the other side and... was that a city in the distance? Betty cautiously approached it, and her head disappeared, appearing on the other side as part of the scene, looking around almost as if afraid.

"Should we be worried?"

"Nope!' she replied cheerily. 'They haven't found the spot yet. We are safe for now.

"They?"

"The people we need your help with. My people. Obviously, we are mages from an alternate universe... and they are coming here to conquer, same old shtick. I came here to warn your people."

"...Obviously. So why, if you're all mages, are you wanting our crappy planet? You have your own."

"Well we pretty much destroyed ours; you know how it goes, ultimate power leading to the grubbing after more power, a short sighted point of view, planetary destruction, etc. Pretty much the same road you lot are headed towards now, just a slower road."

"Human nature? You are a type of human aren't you?"

"Perceptive; I am a type of human of course, from one of many alternate universes layered next to yours. The irony is in where you come in Fu. I'm here to help your people, by teaching you all how to be as silly, ruthless, and powerful as we are."

"That sounds like the best plan ever... but I guess it's better than trying to rely on tanks versus someone who can simply open a rip in space and time and send them to another planet. For starters I assume."

Betty nodded. "I'm not very strong by my people's standards, really, or I'd stop them myself and you'd never have seen me."

"So you need us. So how does this magic thing work? All universes have it?"

"As I understand it, yes. though it differs from alternate reality to alternate reality." Following a gesture from our resident special forces team leader, we started heading back inside.

"The way it works is simple. Belief. Throughout the history of humanity regardless of which reality they call home, there are legends. Myths, real people who led amazing lives, fantastical stories that are dreamt up and just take root. For whatever reason these...we call them archetypes of humanity get seeded into the collective unconscious of a people...and belief or thought itself has power. then sooner or later, something happens in that reality; some sort of watershed event that opens everything up."

"How?"

"We never really found out how. Maybe you guys will... because your event is just under week away, and my people plan to take advantage of the distractions provided by several of your people and your latent magic awakening by invading."

"So what form will this event take?" I asked as we made it back inside...it was odd, I hadn't seen a single reporter or paparazzi, at the white house. In fact, I hadn't seen many people at all; the halls were probably being cleared as we walked down them or something. It made me wonder why we were even meeting at the actual white house; it seemed like a bad idea.

"Well it differs world to world; my people thought it was due to the humans on the planet reaching critical mass... so many just believed in the odd and strange that the odd and strange simply started happening. However, your global population is already past where that happened for us. So... no clue. You'll have to ask your scientists when it happens."

"Not the science buff, huh?"

"No, not really."

I turned to the lieutenant. "Got the egg head team assembled yet?"

"We are working on it, sir. Priority was given to assembling people like yourselves first."

Wow, a legitimate answer...I did not expect that. I had expected to be put off with some need to know bullcrap, but maybe he felt I needed to know. So one good question, properly answered, deserved another.

"People like me? Artistically inclined, dreamer types? Voted those most likely to become one of Betty's archetypes?"

"According to her sir, yes."

"There is also a way to control the process, making sure that it happens.' Betty chimed in. 'Which is why you are here. I know you will develop power according to the legends of your people. I can at least partially control what form it takes, and make you more powerful...if you'll help defend your world
from my people."

I believed Betty was telling the truth about wanting to stop her people. Unless of course she was gathering us all to kill us before the invasion. I doubted that, but it was possible. "So who is in charge of this little project, and how black is it?"

"The department of defense sir, and it's as black as you think it is."

"Well, that explains the media blackout?"

"Exactly sir."

"Then I think I need to speak to the boss."

"Boss, sir?"

"The one you have waiting in the wings to take questions from me and the others you guys are abducting."

He changed directions on a non-existent dime.

"Right this way sir."

This is all too easy...scripted, most definitely. But maybe more? I searched Betty's face for hints. What could she really do? Just make gates, or was there more?

"So why do I need your help? From your words, this is going to happen anyway. What do you mean more powerful?"

"Well, not all legends and myths are created equal. For example, we have a legend on our planet of Heracles; you do too perhaps?"

"He's commonly called Hercules here if we are thinking of the same guy. Greek half-god right?" She nodded.

"Yes... know who he was based on, who came before him?"

"Uh... no."

"Exactly. Would you rather be Heracles, or that guy that almost no one knows about, who is also a legend and in your collective thoughts, just far less powerful."

"OK, I see your point. Especially with a war coming, I'd much rather be one of the haves."

"Haves? Not familiar with that term."

"So your world is close, but not entirely like ours, huh? The full term is, haves and have nots...as in, those who have the power, and those who don't, and are commonly run over by said power."

"Ah, I see. Yes, good attitude, but don't carry it too far; my people did, to the detriment of all."

That was the last word as we made it to a conference room; my escort stopped and let Betty and I in first, following after.

This conference room was just the wrong side of huge, with a soulless feel and bad decor. It was also filled with people... some fifty or so sitting down at the table, and many many soldiers looking like my escort lining the walls. Perhaps a small team for each person? Betty pointed me at one of the few empty
chairs and we joined the conversation already in progress.

"You have all met Betty, and you have all seen the security footage; even if you doubt the threat is real, can any of you afford to take the chance? We are talking about a possible extinction event for the American people, and perhaps our world."

The graying yet still imposing man seated at the front of the mahogany table stated, before getting interrupted by a rather irate looking frumpy brunette with a face that could curdle milk and a voice to match:

"But that's just the point! How can we trust that witch's word for anything? For all we know, this very gathering starts the apocalypse! She could be gathering us for her people to slaughter en masse, and end resistance before it begins, under the guise of friendship! She...."

The 'lady' slowed her rant as the object of her tirade came into her view.

"Yes, yes, I warned you of a threat my people represent to destroy you, when I could just have easily let nature take it's course and...destroy you. Does anyone doubt how effective the gate I used is? Perhaps when troops or a bomb is sent through it without any warning? But you don't need to take my word for
it, all you need to do is wait."

Time to jump right in and add my 2 cents.

"What I'd like to know is, if you can gate here, why can't they? Why are they waiting until we undergo this 'event' you spoke of?"

"Well, there are a few reasons Fu. One, the type of power I wield is one of a kind. I see multiple futures, and can react to them. My people don't know I'm here, or even what world they can link to in a week; they will be doing it blind without my guidance. Secondly, without the event, you are both much more prepared even when surprised, and much harder to gate to as a world. Why waste resources and power you don't have to waste when you can simply wait a week and fall upon an unsuspecting world in global chaos?"

"That makes sense... I'd bet you are sorely missed on your planet already."

"Oh, I'm sure I am."

"So, why come to the US? Why not another country?" a middle aged bespectacled man asked, rubbing a hand across his thinning blonde hair. By the looks of his cheap, rumpled suit, a salary drone who hadn't slept in days.

"Isn't the answer to that obvious Conrad? The USA is the strongest country on this world, and I can't be everywhere at once. You are also the country most likely to help anyone in need on your own planet, for little to no ulterior motives or gain. Who better to defend the world in quick order while a global
resistance is formed and mounted?"

"Does that mean you're only helping us? I mean if you say I'm going to be strong, I know this guy in Sweden who might as well be my twin brother in attitude."

A third speaker, a young man with dirty black hair, a gaunt frame, and glazed eyes chipped in.

"I will, of course, make exceptions as time allows to gather the best other countries have to offer. but you shouldn't expect too many others to join you here in time. Expect that what you see here is it, and plan accordingly. Which reminds me, enough rest. I need another chopper and team Mr. McGonacgal."

I knew I'd seen that guy! the sec/def himself, Harry McGonacgal. A real hawk as I recall.

"Take them, they are waiting. Sure you don't need rest?"

"I'll sleep on the way. By the way, the next chopper you scramble will have engine problems and blow up somewhere over the Atlantic...might want to tell your people to pull it and go with the next one on rotation."

"I'll make a note of it."

"Later all, have a fun time."

She departed with a wink and a blown kiss. Sigh, Bet she was a real party-er...maybe after all this I'd get the chance to find out. But for now, I turned back to this collection of motley souls, studying them and in turn being studied.

"So is it safe to say we are all on board with the current plan? To humor Betty and act like this 'event' will come to pass? You're all on board to potentially face this threat and save the human race?"

I held up my hand.

"Sir, I'm all for helping the human race, but if I might presume to speak for at least some of us...what's in it for us? You're asking us to give up our jobs, lives, and potentially die for the cause... all well and good, but I'd rather not be living under a bridge in the meantime."

He frowned at me...which was a rather unnerving sight to be honest, though I don't think I let it show. Everyone else seemed to be holding their collective breath; was I really the first one to bring this up?

"You will, of course, be paid for your services... Fu, was it?"

"Fuyuki, sir. No offense to the soldiers present, but If I'm supposed to be more destructive than the soldiers here are, I want more pay... and I want it in writing. Our current administration has a distressing tendency to be forgetful sometimes."

I was wrong, he'd only looked mildly displeased before... NOW he was frowning. Visions of ending up sunk in a river somewhere danced in my head. But bravely I pressed on.

"For example, the Abrams main battle tank... is 44 million dollars, and costs quite a bit in terms of fuel, support staff, and parts to maintain. And from listening to Betty, we are all going to be more flexible, and more powerful than one of those. So why not cut the requisite number of tanks... and pay us
that money instead? Sounds like a bargain to me."

We stared each other down for a long, pregnant moment. He broke the contest first, looking around the table at the other faces present in the room, then back to me.

"Provided this pans out as expected, I have no problem paying you a reasonable fee for your service... and the cost and maintenance of an Abrams battle tank might be considered fair if this all happens as Betty has explained... AND you all stay loyal American citizens, ready to pitch in to help mom and apple pie. Otherwise, you will be fairly compensated for time wasted on a fool's errand. I'll have some accountants draw up the contracts. I assume you will all want one?"

General nods of assent met that question.

"Good. Now I have work to do. The kitchen has food ready if you're hungry; you're all invited to stay and explore. Your teams of course, will escort you to prevent any misunderstandings. You'll be driven to a hotel come nightfall, where you'll all be staying, together with your teams."

"Afraid of another Betty?"

he paused again.

"We like to cover all eventualities. Excuse me." The door slammed behind him.

A general murmur burst out behind me, exclamations of shock and joy erupting as the stoic soldiers looked on.

"I can't believe it, before you came that stuffed shirt was basically feeding us the 'for the good of all' line and acting as if we should be pleased to martyr ourselves! You actually stared him down!"

I turned to spy a blonde bombshell I vaguely recognized as one of those magazine fashion models, all busty and borderline anorexic looking.

"Yeah, I am all for patriotism, just not the blind kind, Miss..?"

"Oh sorry, where are my manners? Holly Summers. I'm a model."

"You sure are, I remember your name now. Sorry." This lady redefined vapid. So interesting noting who was picked by fate... and to wonder why.

"I mean, the nerve of that jerk, pulling me right off my gig... I make more money there than he does in a year! Fair compensation my ass!"

"I'm sure there is no fair compensation for your ass Ms. Summers... but if you'll excuse me, I'd really like to see the white house before they kick me out."

"Ha! you're funny! Mind company?" Think fast, think fast...

"I don't, but I'm pretty sure our escorts would get in the way of each other."

"Ugh, you're right, damn gestapo...."

"See you later." I left before I could get ambushed by someone else.

Once safe outside the door, I turned to my escort.

"So lieutenant...looks like we will be seeing a lot of each other; your thoughts?"

"First of all sir, it's captain Harris...we ran short of lieutenants for this little farce. Second of all sir, I'm paid to follow orders. The fact that I think you're an ass, holding America's well-being hostage for financial gain, does not matter. I will do my job."

"Well captain, sorry for the mistake, if you'd wear rank insignia I'd have a chance, though I understand that in your line of work it's optional. Are you a family man Captain? Is family important to you?"

He looked wary.

"Yes, sir."

"Good, we can understand each other then. So am I. I'm dirt poor captain, and in debt up to my eyeballs. My parents, brother and sister make a decent living, but not enough to pay my bills if I die... and soon they may not be able to afford anything at all, and my sister has kids on the way. Chances are, the casualties for this little merry band is going to be high as the crap piled in this city, as since I understand it, we are to buy time by rapidly responding to any gates if possible, correct?"

He actually looked surprised that I'd figured it out. "Yes, sir."

"So if I ask for what a tank costs and is maintained for per day... and die in one day, all my bills will be paid, as well as my family taken care of. At least provided we win, and America survives."

His look softened a bit and gained a measure of respect. "Yes, sir."

"Now, you been here before?"

"No, sir."

"Then let's enjoy ourselves, shall we?"

Chapter 3.

The White House was a bit underwhelming, and entirely too touristy for my taste... at least the parts I was allowed in. There was the awe inspiring sense of history, of "Lincoln was here", but there was also the inescapable fact of "this is how it is now", that did much to ruin the mystique. I never did ask,
but I think the majority of my escort felt the same.

"Alright captain, what now? Do we whistle for our ride?"

"Well sir, about an hour ago we received word of a change in plans. The four-star hotel stay has been canceled; instead, you're all about to take a trip to West Virginia."

"What? Damn was kind of looking forward to the mini bar. What's in West Virginia?"

"The Greenbriar resort."

"Oooo, even better, bet they got a full bar."

"No word on that sir; Chopper is this way."

We made it out to the yard, where a succession of helicopters I recognized as Hueys were hovering, one on the south lawn. As we approached that one took off, and another landed.

"That's our ride, sir." Let's go!" The captain took the lead, running hunched over as people are wont to do; I followed his example.

We all piled in, and the captain took the time to strap a parachute onto me, which of course I had no clue how to use really, other than the usual 'pull the cord and pray'. We were joined by the mousey looking bespectacled man who spoke up during the conference and his escort. They strapped him in a chute as well and we were off.

"Nervous? You look green."

"I don't do so well with flying; especially flying in loud helicopters with open doors!" He yelled back at me.

"Name is Fu; what's yours?"

"Conrad."

"Pleased to meet you."

Since all the noise wasn't conducive to prolonged conversation, I settled back and decided to wait it out. After at most an hour, we passed over a small town and began to lower; looking around I could see the other helicopters of the same type (which had been out of sight for the trip), lifting off or hovering.
Seems someone in charge actually valued us.

Once the chopper set down, I was unclipped and all but thrown through the door before I could react in any meaningful way. With my team clustered around me, we broke for what appeared to be a small one story ranch house, as the chopper lifted off behind us.

"No way that house can take us all. So what's under it?"

The captains' response was a smirk as he led me inside, his squad actually taking up positions and staring away at the surrounding field as if someone would come popping out of it any minute.

"Beginning to think you guys are entirely too high strung."

No response as I was led deeper into the house... to a closet door. The captain opened the door, and it led to an elevator. A heavily reinforced looking one, if looks were any judge, and large enough to hold us all, if we were very close.

"How positively cliche. So what is this?"

"Enter the elevator please, sir."

I entered, of course, followed by my escort... standing room only. I felt for the female in our merry band, she was likely getting groped. Then again, she looked tough, so maybe not. I made sure my hands didn't wander, of course.

After about a 5-minute ride, the elevator stopped abruptly, tossing us all against each other, and the doors opened, spilling us out.

"Well, that ride could have been smoother. Sorry to anyone I inadvertently hurt."

"No problem, sir."

We all extricated ourselves and I stared down a hallway about 3 feet wide, made all of dark concrete. It sloped slightly downward and was lit with bare bulbs as far as I could see. Almost at the range of my eyes, the hall forked left.

"This way sir."

"Knew that, only one hall after all."

"You're a smartass, sir."

He led me down the hall of course, off the left branch, where marked doors started appearing to my right. Barracks, operations, communications. Another barracks and the hall forked again, this time to the right. Two guard rooms on either side then the hall was filled with plain but sturdy doors as far as I
could see. My beloved captain led me to room number twenty-six, and opened it, gesturing me inside.

Inside was a suite; only way to describe it. A room larger than my entire apartment with an entertainment center (even if the television was outdated), large leather couch, mini bar, and a kitchenette off to my left. to the rear was another door, much less sturdy. I crossed the thick russet carpet and opened it as my escort spread out. A bedroom, I believe the word was 'sumptuously' appointed. A canopy bed, in royal purple, with matching mahogany bureau and nightstand. An open door to the left led to a large bathroom, decked in marble.

"Got to be a senator's retreat... holy crap."

"Got it in one, Sir. Remember the old senator known for drinking and womanizing? This was his bomb hideaway starting in the 60's, we saw it on the list and the boys and I thought of you."

"I'm touched. This place got an internet connection? That TV looks old enough to belong to my great grandma."

"5 T-1 lines split among the residences sir. If you want we are authorized to buy new furnishings... including a television. This was a snap decision as I understand it."

"A television and computer are a bit of a must, followed by paint and canvas, since I'm assuming I'm supposed to stay cooped up in here, right?"

"Got it in one again, sir; this room is your home until the invasion, at the very least. Easier to defend in case of attack."

"And we're all together in case something goes wrong. Oh well, fine by me." I checked the fridge... fully stocked, and cold. No dust on any surface; new toothbrush and toothpaste in the bathroom, as well as soap.

"Seems like some prep work has already been done." I wrote down a list.

"Can one of you get these for me? Everything on the list should be found at Walmart, and there are Walmarts everywhere."

The captain handed the list to the large brawny guy next to him with a curt "See to it, Sergeant.", then turned to me.

"Specialist Rose and private Arman” he pointed to them, as if it wasn't obvious who they were; “will be outside your door. The rest of us will be around. You need anything, ask one of them, if necessary, they will get me."

"Understood captain. Don't suppose you'd join me for a drink? We could all likely use one."

"Still on duty sir... once I'm off, maybe." And he marched out of the room without further ado, his remaining soldiers behind him.

I hated drinking alone, but this situation called for it. I made myself a rum and coke and scrounged up some stationary from that beautiful desk in the corner. Sitting at it to doodle. Any painter worth their salt can draw as well, and I spent a few hours drawing Betty from memory, as well as my special
forces soldiers. I'd use the drawings to paint them later, provided I didn't die horribly or get my arms blown off or something.

I'd always been accused of having a small morbid streak... and rum doesn't really help that, I've noticed. So out of curiosity I turned on the television. Not only did it work, but it had satellite... hundreds of channels, 95% of them useless. I settled on the history channel, lounging on the amazingly plush
couch and nursing my rum. Where the coke had gone, I was no longer sure.

A knock on the door interrupted Rommel's push through Africa.

"Come in."

My captain entered, my sergeant close behind, carrying the items I requested, along with some take-out Chinese and a case of beer of some kind. I didn't recognize the brand.

"I see you started without me."

"Yep, not much else to do but drink and think, and too much of either is dangerous. So, history channel, rum, and whatever that beer is possibly, if you'll share. That and.."

"Sweet and sour.' he interrupted me, holding a box under my nose. 'Betty said you'd like some. She's begun her phase 2 of our fireworks display... she's unlocking your little groups powers, whatever that means."

"Fast work, she must be very tired by now."

"Hasn't slept in two weeks, near as I can tell."

"That has got to suck. So the desert fox, getting ground down but never really defeated. Your thoughts?"

"He was a badass.' The captain replied, handing me one of those beers and a spork. 'He never really lost any battle save for Normandy... and that's more due to the fact that he wasn't there to give the right orders."

"I actually agree with you, except he was terrible at defense. My opinion is that Hitler should have put him in charge of the Russian campaign. He'd have won that."

"Possibly. The circumstances in Russia were horrid for the Germans, they never should have opened that second front in the first place; not enough resources and war material."

We sat there, discussing history channel shows for hours, slowly getting hammered, till the knock I'd been dreading sounded on my door.

"Come in."

Of course it was Betty, looking twice as tired as when I'd met her.

"I'd love to put this off, but we simply have no more time; you ready Fu?"

"Ready as I'll ever be; what do I need to do?"

"Just move to your bed, it's easier. I'll do the rest."

"Well, a pretty lady asking me to meet her at a bed, I won't argue. But in all seriousness, you alright? Things that bad?"

"No, just a serious lack of time...can't wait till I can hand all this responsibility off to you all."

We moved to the bed. At Betty's gesture I lay down, getting comfortable.

"Now the only thing you need to do Fu is stare into my eyes. That's it."

"OK." I stared into her big, liquid eyes...was she crying? She was, but why?

And of course I fell asleep.

I found myself floating...apparently orbiting our lovely planet earth; I could see the continents, and I was alone in the dark of space. Some dream, I thought. The old adage of trying to control my dream came to mind, and with that thought I found myself hurtling down... towards Japan? Not really where I
wanted to go.

"Excuse me, Fuyuki-san?"

I turned and found myself somehow in front of a traditional Japanese shrine, staring at a miko of all things. Dark brown expressive eyes, long black hair bound in white ribbon, and red hakama under white haori.

"I am your guide, Kagami. If it pleases you, would you follow me?" She bowed.

Something about the name Kagami tickled a faint alarm bell... but she seemed inoffensive enough, and a guide was more or less what I was expecting for this.

"Please Kagami-san, lead on."

"Please Fuyuki-san, call me Kagami-chan." The very soul of courtesy, she was... apparently. Forgoing the use of the usual honorifics was meant to close social distance and foster friendships. Two could play that game.

"Then please, call me Fuyuki-kun."

"Of course Fuyuki-kun."

She turned and bowed again, ignoring my fumbling attempts to do the same. She then turned back and resumed leading me across the large courtyard, past the guardian dogs and cherry trees. Of course they were in bloom, and the wind was blowing the blossoms all over in a most wonderful display which I slightly distrusted.

She led us inside the shrine itself.

"If you please, Fuyuki-kun. In the cases you see, are the options you seek. Mighty generals, warriors, and crafty inventors are among your choices."

I looked; blinking away the bright sunshine and adjusting my eyes to the relative gloom. all around the walls of the shrine itself were display cases, like those used for historical artifacts in museums.

The first, was a typical hakama clad samurai, weilding a daisho (long and short sword set), pipe in his mouth, hair wild, a free roaming ronin if ever I saw one.

The second was a variation on the first, but with a shaved head, and a spear added; and no pipe.

The third was a guy that looked much like myself, but with odd tools in a belt, and a giant robot in the background.

The fourth looked to contain the typical Japanese delinquent, straight out of an anime.

And on and on this went, no real end in sight, cases stretched to infinity. I felt that I could look at them forever and still not get what I needed.

"Excuse me, Kagami-chan, you are here to guide me, right?"

"Of course, Fuyuki-kun, do you require more guidance?"

"I suppose I do Kagami-chan; after all, the world won't save itself. Even if I trust the others to do as expected, and do the right thing, I can't be sure they won't fail. You do know what is taking place on earth, right?"

"Of course, Fuyuki-kun. You are here in an attempt to gather the power necessary to save earth from invaders who have yet to appear. Tell me, do you desire power, Fuyuki-kun?"

Her stare seemed almost to glow for a moment, and her smile became less pleasant, more predatory. Despite myself, I backed up a step... then gathered my courage.

"Yes please, take me directly to the most powerful displays if you are able."

“Why do you desire such power, Fuyuki-kun?” Kagami took a step forward, almost into my personal space. I suppressed my instinct and held my ground.

“To save the lives of others, of course. To defend against those who threaten our existence. You know this already.” This was no mere dream; my mind was trying to tell me something. I had no idea what it could be though.

"But you have already found the most powerful display here, Fuyuki-kun. Your desire to save your own speaks highly of you, and the shrine has responded."

Dropping all pretense of propriety and lunging forward suddenly, she kissed me deeply... with tongue. As I blacked out I heard her voice as from a long tunnel:

"Farewell Fuyuko-chan, and good luck. Do our kind proud."

Chapter 4.

I woke up suddenly, without any of the normal grogginess I'd come to expect in a morning. That dream had been so vivid, I just knew it meant something! Then it hit me all at once. It did mean something... it meant I'd gone through the whole intricate process to become a warrior for my race. An experimental wiggle returned the thought of heavy and large for my new self. Great.

I sat up and immediately felt something VERY wrong. It felt like I was sitting right on the end of my spine! It was a really uncomfortable feeling and I shifted to get rid of it, almost overbalancing before I could get my hands under me. Then something gently slapped me in the face, in a supposedly secure
room! I turned to see who had done it, and saw something out of the corner of my eye. Rapidly I turned again, and promptly overbalanced and with an undignified squawk fell out of the bed. A snicker from the corner of the room that I hadn't taken in before distracted me from the fact that my chest had squished when I fell for a second.

"Who is there?" My voice came out light, breathy, and very feminine. I could feel my eyes widen.

"Chasing... her tails. Bwa ha ha ha ha ha! I can't even..."

Chasing her tails? That was specialist Rose without a doubt, but who else was here? I looked around; save for the darkened corner where Rose lurked, no one else was here, but then there was that annoying thing at the edge of my vision...

"Specialist, report!" The Captain's voice roared through the door.

"Seems safe enough sir, the subject is awake but not hostile at this time." Rose replied through glances and occasional snickers. I tried to pick myself up, but somehow I'd become tangled in the bed sheets.

"Excuse me, Rose-san, could you please help me? My body isn't working." I was entirely too formal; I knew I was, but couldn't stop myself.

"Oh, um, sure."

The door opened as specialist rose was helping me disentangle myself, I counted arms and legs, but had other limbs caught apparently; all behind me. I focused on standing up, almost stepping on my new extremely long platinum hair. Now when I say platinum, I don't mean the blonde platinum that comes
from a bottle: I mean true platinum-silver hair that could be taken as a slightly less shiny chrome.

"Hello Fu; are you alright?"

I took pause at seeing weapons not quite pointed at me, but nonetheless ready. a bit further up I saw the stern faces, much different from Roses' amused one. Then what could only be my tails popped free of their cloth prison, and I instantly felt better.

"Yes Captain, I am well, I think."

Rose was stroking a tail, holding it ever so gently near its base and sliding her hand up over and over, and it felt wonderful! Like an electric tingle all the way to my brain.

He stared at me a long moment that might have been tense, except Rose was using both hands by this time... ah, bliss! I flopped back on the bed, sighing,

"Hmm, well you seem fine. You remember who you are and what you're doing here?"

"Of course captain, I'm Fuyuko Yamamoto, kitsune and servant of Inari-sama. I am here by request to defend humanity against a suspected dangerous foreign invader."

I blinked a bit; while I was sure there was something wrong with that, I couldn't quite figure out what it was.

The Captain had tensed again. "Have you always been a... kitsune was it?"

"No, of course not Captain, I became one just now in order to save humanity."

That answer felt much more right. Just as I nodded to myself something hit my nostrils like a tail slap to the face, if such slaps were pleasant.

"Is that... aburage?"

As quickly as I could I ran to the living room of the suite... perhaps too fast, I was using on all fours. It didn't matter, I had to! I didn't need chopsticks! I was hungry and there was a plate full, and it was all mine!

"Stand down soldiers, she's just hungry."

I looked up, face stuffed with delicious heaven, to see every weapon inches from my nose. I swallowed and raised my hands.

"I'm sorry Captain, was this yours?"

"Um, no. Go ahead, it's for you. We just can't take any chances, there have been a few... incidents since you've been asleep."

I needed no further encouragement.

"Incidents?" I asked between bites.

"Some of your fellow champions of humanity have woken up less than stable."

I winced. "That doesn't sound promising captain. Can I help?"

"Honestly no, if you step outside you'll likely be shot on sight by twitchy army pukes."

"Well that would put a damper on my day... or a further damper,” I frowned. “not really sure what to make of all this yet."

"Well, whatever you do, don't go crazy and start killing us... I happen to like being alive."

"No intention to captain, you fed me. But I really would like to help if I could."

"Orders from Betty were to sit tight if you grew tails, and wait for something, she said we'd know what. But I'll see the brass gets the message."

"Hmm, well what do we do then? We can't just sit around, there is an invasion to prepare for!"

"You're in the army now.” he replied. “Hurry up and wait time."

And he sat down and turned the television on, flipping channels with a bored look. The rest of the squad relaxed as well. Sated, I decided to surreptitiously check myself, not wanting to move much and cause my squad to stress. My nails were rather claw like, my hair was just impossibly long, My ears were those of a fox, and of course, there were the tails.

Problem is, my mind insisted they should be there... that this was normal, even though I knew I wasn't like this yesterday. I still looked 90% human, but was absolutely sure I was a fox, and simply wearing this shape as I might wear clothes. If I looked like this, what did my fellow champions of humanity look like? Were any of us still human at all?

Did that matter?

I had to admit that for myself, it did not. Having come from humanity, I wanted them to have all the nice things, not to be ruled by a bunch of despoilers. Besides, all my favorite people were people! But... I was pretty sure not everyone would feel the same. Good Inari, what about when the entire world
changed?

And just like that, I was somewhere else, whisked away into a bird's eye view of some wooded terrain bordering a city. Thousands of humans shooting dozens of various eldritch seeming horrors, embittered former humans who were not part of the old regime any longer, striving to impose their will on a desperate, intolerant species.

With a shudder I snapped out of it. What was that? was it something like Betty experienced?

"Captain, might I go to the restroom?"

he looked up from the south park episode he was watching.

"huh? Oh sure. Rose, your shift."

"Screw that Captain, I'm staying here." She shot me a smile as if to say 'I trust you.'

I gave her a smile of gratitude and departed quickly, hoping to avoid any potential dressing downs that might occur. Once in the bathroom I closer. That I was dressed as a miko was obvious the moment I looked down before. But the mirror confirmed a few facts; I was perhaps 5ft 3in or 5ft 4in, tall. My chest was wrapped in a traditional manner, and yet it was easy to see why I lost my balance at first. I had wide hips, and a narrow waist... and my face could probably stop traffic. But the most unusual thing (aside from the hair) were my new eyes.

They were mismatched; one was a clear crystal blue the color of a tropical waterhole, and the other a pure amber gem that looked see through. Very weird.

Since I didn't have to actually go yet, I splashed some water on my face and headed out, my curiousity satisfied. And I walked right into a Mexican stand-off.

My team had their weapons pointed at a tall handsome Japanese male; Cut body, longish ebon hair tied into a ponytail, and arresting grey eyes. I knew immediately who it was, and bowed deeply.

"Inari-sama! What a surprise to see you here."

"Greetings Fuyoko-chan. How are you this fine morning?"

"You know this guy? He just appeared while you were in the can. Big no-no at the moment."

"Lower your weapons captain, he's on our side... and he's a god, so I doubt you could stop him anyway."

"A god?"

"My God specifically; meet Inari-sama, patron god of kitsune everywhere."

"And this is my chief servant on all the world, Fuyuko Yamamoto. Of course I would pay her a visit to see how she is doing after her traumatic night."

I bowed again, using my hair to cover my reddening face and racing thoughts. Inari-sama here personally! Stilling my face, I raised again to find everyone looking at me, Inari-sama calm, while the others present seemed to be in shock.

"What is it? I said before I served him. Of course he will help us in our darkest hour. You WILL help us, won't you Inari-sama?" I turned to him and tried to pile on the charm.

He flinched back melodramatically. "Ack, please stop with those doe eyes Fu-chan! Of course I will help... in fact that is why I am here. I come bearing gifts."

He handed me two pouches that smelled like kidskin, both bearing strange kanji that I did not fully recognize, but looked like 'tough'. One was filled with ofuda (prayer slips used for casting various spells), a fine detail brush and ink for writing on them. The other was empty, and I raised an eyebrow at my benefactor.

"The use of the second bag will become clear in time. The ofuda from the first bag will never run out, and can be used for any of your miko magicks. Nor will the ink."

I bowed deeply.

"Thank you Inari-sama. I am sure they will be useful."

"Of course they will... and now, I'm afraid I have my own preparations to make. so I will depart. Good luck, Fu-chan."

And with a wave, he was gone.

"Well, that was different." Sergeant Dewinter summed it up for us.

"Yes, it is nice to know that Inari-sama will be taking an active role."

The captain opened his mouth, but the quick burping of sub machine guns from the hall quieted his words. Immediately the squad was active, finding cover and pointing guns at the door. I wasn't surprised exactly, but the screams that followed shocked me. They sounded piteous, as if the persons crying out were both in pain, and had lost all hope.

"Oh, enough of this. I'm going to go help, shoot me if you must."

I strode to the door and slammed it open. right outside was a statue of a soldier with a machine gun pointed back down the hall, a frozen expression of horror plastered on his face. A quick flash and I was somewhere else, in an underground temple with frescoes. I slammed the door closed again.

"One moment. You can follow, but stay behind me, otherwise this will end badly."

Using a skill I knew I possessed, I conjured an illusory mirror. It wasn't real, but it would work for my purposes. Closing my eyes, I opened the door again, feeling around the new statue and called out.

"Excuse me, Medusa-san? I hate you and all that you stand for."

"You what!?! Do you know who...I...am...."

I heard cracking sounds and had an idea. Summoning mirror shades through the same ability, I peeked. there was a new statue in the hall, a lady with the lower half of a snake, and snake hair, staring at me with disbelief. She looked vaguely familiar.

"Well, that was easier than I expected. Captain, isn't that the model? Miss Summers?"

"It was... she obviously went off the rails."

"there is a certain amount of irony here. How many did she kill?" Rose chimed in.

I stepped to the door, de-summoning my illusions.

The pockmarked mess that was once an underground suite much like mine greeted me with a forlorn spectral wave.

"Looks like her entire team. the man outside was the only one to escape the initial surprise I think."

"Carstairs. Good man, had the constitution of an ox." Corporal Delgado identified.

We stood in silence for a moment, contemplating developments.

"Well we can't leave him in the hall... can we maybe move him and the snake witch into the suite?"

Everyone glared at Rose.

"What? Too soon?"

"No Rose-san, we do need to be practical. funeral arrangements can wait. Dewinter-san, Berkowitz-san, could you please help?"

By this time we had an audience of military personnel watching us move the new pieces of rock.

"I can perhaps help."

Everyone turned to see an old man in a dirty brown robe looking suspiciously like Gandalf from lord of the rings. With a gesture the man caused Carstairs and Summers to float into the suite.

"Alright, you both helped... now back into your suites so we can be less nervous. alright?"

"Alright, Captain. thank you for your help, wizard-san."

He gave a polite nod and we both went our separate ways, heedless of the weapons pointed at us.

As soon as the door to my suite closed, I turned and bowed apology.

"I apologize if I caused you trouble captain. I just could not stand to do nothing."

"Don't worry about it Fu, you're fine. I might take a little heat, but I don't think you're what my boss had in mind when he gave the order to lock this place down. You didn't seem all that surprised to see who our medusa was though."

"I wasn't Captain. Rose-san stated it; there is a certain amount of irony there. I feel that who we are affects what we become, in a very real sense."

"It's possible I suppose. But those types of thoughts are above my pay grade. Let's all sit down and watch some boring television while we can."

And so we did, trying to shelve our worries as long as possible.

Chapter 5.

I most definitely had some sort of precognitive power; after another vision, this showing me in no uncertain terms what happened to Conrad (he was wizard-san, of all things, and he didn't even tell me!) Then again, he probably did not recognize me at all; I did look much different than I used to. Even when shown a picture of myself, taken days before, it was hard to imagine that person was myself – the body I wore now fit much better.

Well, with the exception of the tails. They were long, fluffy, and very sensitive, and got in the way almost incessantly. I could lower the number out by sending them away (And where did they go, anyway? Did I transform further or simply send them away?) but there had to be at least one; I just couldn't lower the number any further than that.

Even bringing the number down made me more uncomfortable in the human guise I was wearing, as if the wrinkled and worn favorite outfit I was in had become starched and new somehow. But one tail made it much easier to sit down and other things, and made it harder for them to slap me in the face. Or even get caught in doors, which is something that has never ever happened and will be spoken of no more.

Rose was having a ball, of course.

I hadn't seen Betty yet, she was still busy awakening the others. There had been no more incidents like Holly's, though there were a few close calls. Rumor was there was now a guy who was the left hand of Death itself, and there had almost been an... incident.

For my part, I was now painting my beloved Inari-sama. He was beloved despite the fact that a few days ago I'd barely known his name or anything else about him, something I eventually realized. I had changed more than just physically. At least, through Inari-sama's grace, I was able to recognize that I had changed, and what thoughts were changed. I mean, they were all my thoughts, but some were older than others and seemed to work at cross purposes, but both were comfortable, like the new body. Apparently, not everyone could tell the difference... or got confused.

That was what had happened to Holly; she had been one part herself, and one part pissed off snake.

A few of our 'starter fifty', as I liked to think of them, were stable but underwhelming. Like the Hector want-to-be. I wasn't sure the legendary warrior that died in a one-on-one against Achilles was going to be much good; I'd have rather held out for Achilles himself.

Chris, the dark kid, had become a jaded cynic. Well, more of one. I didn't recognize what hero or villain he was supposed to be, but he was even more quiet than he started and for breakfast this morning he had stared.

Some poor guy was an Ogre. Big, dumb, and lumpy. He liked to carry around a log, and even though he mostly grunted, I was still able to understand him oddly enough.

If my visions were accurate at all, a woman named Sandra would go from a heavy fifty-something year old to a Morgana Le Fey clone sometime later today. I was hoping I'd see Betty soon so I could ask for some confirmation, but it was hard with us still being quarantined.

I put the final touches on the painting; the colors wouldn't look at all correct until it was dry, but it wouldn't really do proper justice to him anyway. Rose came over and cocked her head, looking.

“Wow, amazing likeness. I just had to come over here and see what you were sighing about.”

I put the brush down and took a step back. “It just isn't good enough. It never is.”

It didn't matter what I did, my paintings were never good enough. It probably never would be, even if my newer and more delicate hands seemed to have greater fine control. Logic gave way to intuition, as it always must. It was an artist thing, and hard to explain; if you were lucky you got close, and if you were unlucky friends stopped you before you burned the offending piece of canvas and put it on display where anyone could see.

Rose looked to be the type for that, cocking her head again. “It looks exactly like him. It looks so like him, in fact, that it might as well be a photo.”

“It is kind of you to say such words about my unworthy efforts.” The formulaic response just sort of rolled off my tongue, and Rose frowned.

“Were you this good before?”

I looked back at the painting. It looked like my normal efforts to me. More representational than impressionist, which was my normal style, but well within what I remembered my skill to be. So I nodded, stepping towards the bathroom. Next, I would try to paint Betty, I think, but the colors for her were different so I would need to wash things, not the least of which was myself.

“Then I can't figure out why I haven't heard of you; you're good enough to be famous.” Her words angered me, and it took some effort to fight down the searing blast of white-hot rage.

Such a response from me was unusual, wasn't it? “I was not well regarded within the local art community because I refused to compromise my vision, or what I saw as my vision. I also lived far away from the more enlightened places such as New York or Los Angeles.

I had to admit, such anger over my art was not unusual for me. Even if I mostly forgave my fellow man (or used to be fellow man) it was hard to shake the feeling that sometimes rather than having me paint haystacks or dogs for enough money to eat on, they should be willing to enjoy my paintings of breathtaking other worlds and creatures. But it was hard to sell even boring scenery, such as the historical bridge I had been drinking on when picked up by Rose's team.

With a shrug I let the emotion go and started washing my hands. Such thoughts would be helpful for no one at all, least of all myself.

At least I'd managed to miss painting my clothes. I'd hate to have to clean them again today. I walked back out and carefully lifted the painting, placing it in the corner. When it was dry I would frame it and complete my makeshift shrine; I couldn't just worship Inari-sama anywhere, at least not properly.

Sargent Dewinter came in just as I was finished adjusting the new canvas, and made a face at me. “More painting, huh?”

“Unless you have something better to do Sargent, yes.”

He grinned widely, showing a lot of teeth. “But I do! It's lunchtime.”

Unbidden I checked the clock; it read twelve forty-two. I had been awake and painting since shortly after the sun rose, with only a quick stop in the cafeteria for breakfast – before almost anyone else was even awake.

I found the wide-eyed staring from those whose forms were more normal... disconcerting. I did wonder, though, what the people who had yet to undergo Betty's process would think, how they would react, upon seeing the rest of us. If the reaction of the mighty Thor sitting one seat over was to stare at my tails, then what would someone who was 'normal' be? We would not find out; so far they were kept away and in the dark. All that meant one glaring truth for both of us, though; if we didn't go to the cafeteria at the appointed time, we didn't eat. Well, unless our escorts took pity on us.

Pity was in short supply for most of us.

Rose adjusted her weapon, a submachine gun of some type on a sling. “Well, we better go.” We were already a bit late.

They bracketed me down the hall, with Sargent Dewinter in front. We didn't see anyone in the hall, but the cafeteria was as full as ever; I saw immediately that I was too late to talk to Betty about Sandra. Morgana Le Fey she was, a tall ebon-haired woman of voluptuous curves and a coldly aristocratic face and bearing, no older than twenty-five by my best guess. She was beautiful in a way I could not match, and in all likelihood far above my power; the legends about her were very specific in painting her a match in strength and cunning for Merlin. She was sitting alone and being stared at. Her food was untouched.

I grabbed my food (a burger, a medium well steak, and some steak fries) and sat down next to her. “This seat taken?”

She looked up, a little lost, and I gave my one tail an extra shake to make sure she saw it. “Um, no, go right ahead; have we met?”

I shook my head and picked up my burger; I had to use both hands for it. “No, my Name's Fuyuko; it used to be something else. And your name is Morgana, and it used to be Sandra. I'm pleased to meet you.”

I was pleased, but I wasn't about to hold out my hand to shake; I was more hungry than I had known.

Sandra nodded. “Yes, I am Morgana now... I am taking that name, at least. How did you know who I was?”

I swallowed my fourth bite before I grinned. “Powers, of course. You are probably the strongest – magician – here but I have visions, among some of the other things I can do. One showed you as you were, mixed with you as you are today.”

I finished my burger in the comfortable silence before she asked the question plaguing her mind. “Aren't you afraid of me?”

I paused at just the right time but did not hesitate. “Nope. Should I be?” I asked her before stuffing a bite of steak in my mouth. It was good, loaded with pepper and a hint of lemon.

“Well, the legends about me....”

“Have you plotting and overthrowing a kingdom.” I had to interrupt her here; this was important. “I don't see any legendary kingdoms for you to tear down or knights for you to destroy, at least not yet. But more importantly, you want to stop the invasion right? Help save your friends and family?”

The newly minted Morgana nodded, eyes wide.

“Then latch onto that. Don't let who you could be subsume who you are and you'll be fine.”

She thought for a moment, and I finished my steak.

Her next question hit my ears the same time the first fry hit my mouth. “Have you foreseen this?”

I had to make her wait while I chewed. My answer was an easy one; I stared straight at her, straight into her eyes, and lied. I lied because I knew what would happen if I didn't. “Yes.”

She nodded, satisfied, and started eating herself.

Now. Now was the time. “However, if you see King Arthur, limit yourself to polymorphing him into a newt; he's on our side, after all.”

The spit take she made was perfect; she turned around and mock glared, trying to hold it through her slightly manic giggles. “That was bad, and you're bad.”

“I'm a kitsune; a mythical creature known more for its sense of humor and pranks than anything else. We can all fight our nature, but I love a good joke anyway. As long as my past-times don't really hurt anyone, I don't see the harm.”

Perfect, or nearly so. She got the message, nodded, and went back to eating. I got up and waved to her, and she waved back; the others present let out a collective breath and the tension in the room dropped several levels. Rose met me at the garbage can.

She got close and whispered, my body hiding her mouth from those in the room. “That was... uncanny.”

“You saw?” I whispered back. She nodded; of course the military had ways of watching without seeming to, but I hadn't even smelled Rose, and with my nose as good as it now was that was an achievement.

We made it to the hall; with the door closed, I felt better about talking. “Well, Morgana should not forget why she is here. I didn't want to tempt fate.”

“So we won't have her rampaging around, and have to fill her full of holes?”

“That, and so we don't lose one of our strongest legends when the time comes to fight.I have the feeling we will need all the spell casters we have.”

“What about you? Don't you cast spells?”

I didn't, really. They were prayers, power granted me by the gods. Well, in addition to my normal powers... but it was complex to explain, so I just nodded along.

“Of a sort. I'm actually more of a priestess.”

Rose snorted. “Well, yeah, the whole God showing up was a major clue. Fu, I have to ask you something....”

Rose had stopped in the empty hall. I stopped too, wondering where Sargent Dewinter was. Why didn't I ask earlier? “Yes?”

At least her hands were away from her weapons; she wasn't planning on doing something we would both regret. “Did Inari exist before you transformed and come here because you were here, or did your transformation make him?”

Now that was a loaded question. “I can't say for sure which of us came first, but I can say what I suspect.”

She waved me on.

“I suspect he did not, and was created by me. However, in being created by me, he created me, the Fu you see before you. With his powers as a major God, a certain ignoring of the laws of the space and time is to be expected. So in a way, it does matter, yet in another way it does not, as if a God exists at any point in time, they exist in all time, and I do not. Do you understand?”

“Yeah... sure... crystal clear.” Rose's tone made it clear that she did not understand at all, but I did not know how to explain the situation any better, so I let it slide.

We managed another few steps before Rose asked: “So do you think there will be other gods? Others either created or summoned by people like you?”

Ah, so now she gets to her real question. No, that was uncharitable of me; both questions were valid and deserving of answers. Rose wore a crucifix after all, for her, my next answer was very important. “Yes. However which gods will appear and which will not, I wouldn't hazard to guess. I have little doubt that you'll see more of Inari-sama's pantheon, however.”

Belief either created him based on old legends, or drew him forth, or both... and who's belief in a god was stronger than another god's? Just having Inari-sama back would ensure the return of others, even if their power might be less than his.

Well, there would be no might about it, really, but then again wasn't I biased? Amaterasu at least, would have to be very strong, as the embodiment of the sun itself. In a real way, it did not matter; both would be stronger than my humble self.

The real question is would it be enough? Even with all our gods, well the enemy was sure to have gods of their own. Would ours be enough, or would they be outnumbered? How bad would the war in the heavens be?

Had it already started there?

Something told me it had; instinct, perhaps. Inari-sama had not requested my help, however, so it could not be so bad as I feared, yet. I hoped.

Where was Betty? I really needed to see her.

Sargent Dewinter met us just before the door to my room, smiling and waving.

“Where were you, Sargent? I was beginning to worry.”

“I went out for a smoke break while I had the chance.” Was his reply, and it was a lie; I smelled no smoke on him at all and hadn't since I met him.

Great; more secrets. Par for the course, really, and maybe something to be expected. I didn't have to like it, I just had to fight down the flash of rage. Well, that, and resolve to get even later; maybe with salt and pepper in his coffee. Sargent Dewinter liked his coffee.

“Fine, be that way then.” I swept past him and into the room. It was empty; the rest of the team had the night shift for now.

I started on my painting; there was nothing else to do but watch television, nothing else I could do to fight that burning need to move and do.

It was finished and the sun was setting when Captain Harris showed up; it was still too early for his shift, so why...?

“Come on, it's finally our turn again. The halls are clear, let's go, let's go.”

He ushered me out, and it wasn't in the direction of the cafeteria. “Where are we going?”

“Out. Several of the personnel to come here have been evacuated to other points in the country in preparation of the attack for their own safety; it's been decided you're going to be one of them.”

Ah. In other words, I was deemed stable enough now and the priority of the government has changed to make best use of me. Best use apparently meant hiding me away in addition to using me as a rapid responder; I wasn't sure how that was going to work.

Once I settled on ear muffs to reduce the noise, I was loaded onto a helicopter again, this time alone (unless you counted my team) and then we waited until Rose and Sargent Dewinter came huffing up with bags packed. Rose had my paintings or most of them. I guess it was a good thing I didn't work too hard on the shrine.

The flight was long, over an hour; I couldn't talk with anyone, but the door was shut this time so I was able to sketch. I satisfied myself with sketching what I remembered of the rip in space, and how the stars rippled in the sky on the other side of it; recreating that in a painting would be a true challenge.

The ride ended on the carefully manicured lawn of an old plantation. I knew it was an old plantation because of the old plantation house we landed in front of. The house was a mix of Greek influences mixed with something else; the combined effect was a bit odd. Standing at two stories (Two and a half? Three maybe? It was raised) it had a square cupola crowning it. It also wasn't in the best of shape; the paint was beginning to peel, and the stairs and many of the porch timbers were sagging.

It also appeared to be full of ghosts; I could feel them, wafting around like moldy vapors. At least the roof appeared to be intact.

Captain Harris clapped me on the arm. “Don't worry, it's sound. We can whip it into shape easily with a little paint and some furniture.”

“Where are we?” I asked him.

“A place called Rocky Hill plantation, in Alabama somewhere. It's far enough away from all main objectives an enemy army would look for, big enough to station more people at, and isolated enough that if it is attacked, no major population centers will be caught up in it. Places like this were recommended by Betty for those that can teleport, and she mentioned you were one of those.”

I nodded, it made sense.

The inside was like the outside, if in a little better condition. The smell of mold as pervasive, and I could hear worms or other bugs eating the walls and woodwork. There weren't any holes in the floor, but there were carpets in such poor condition that I didn't want to walk on them; they would actually dirty my boots worse than the ground outside.

“How long will it take?” To me, it looked like it would take time, effort, and money. Maybe too much.

“Well, we'd have to be careful not to draw too much attention with calling contractors and driving material in, so a bit longer. For everything? Months, probably. The place isn't set up for modern amenities and running water, but we can get a generator shipped in and....”

No. No way. I refused. “No, that will not be happening.”

Captain Harris's hands tightened around his gun as he turned to me. What did he think I meant? Had I made him angry somehow? Well, I didn't really care because I wasn't living like an uncultured savage.

“What do you mean, Fu?”

“I mean, as a priestess of the great Inari-sama, staying at some run down ruin of a building is beneath my station. I can see the necessity but this house makes a poor shrine as it stands, and your statement of months implies I will be stationed here for months, and others may well be stationed with me for months. That is simply unacceptable. Even you must admit a lack of desire to stay here, sacked out on the fetid floor like a hunted animal brought to bay.”

I was checking the stairs gingerly when I realized he had stopped. The entire team had stopped, and were staring at me with hard faces, guns not quite up and pointed my way. “And what do you intend to do about it, Fu?”

This was confusing. What did they think I was going to do? Surely they didn't think I was going to attack them over it?

“Well, I intend to restore the house. I can hide the changes made, and we can also have beds and showers. With any luck at all, tonight.”

The weapons got slung again.

“How are you planning on doing all that?”

I smiled at him and stopped before I put a foot through a stair. “I'll show you. Bring my stuff in, please.”

I went through my bags in the parlor, getting the correct tools together; the candles and blessed items. My painting of Inari-sama and a small glass of rice wine completed the shrine. Luckily no one asked where I'd gotten it. Lighting the candles I began my chant.

Inari-sama appeared almost immediately. “Yes, my dear Fuyuko-chan?”

I bowed low. “Inari-sama, I am pleased to see you well. I have a bit of a problem I could use some assistance with, if it is not too much trouble.”

Inari-sama rubbed the back of his head with a hand. “If I can help you I will, Fuyuko-chan, but I am very busy. What situation do you need assistance with?”

In response I gestured, waiting for Inari-sama to take in my surroundings. “This is the location given me by the United States government to turn into a temple fitting of your magnificence. I have only two days left to do so before the enemy invades, assuming Betty's timetable is still correct. I lack the time to properly prepare this site.”

Inari-sama sighed and looked around again. “You're lazy, Fuyuko-chan.”

Well, that was blunt. And I wasn't lazy, just impatient!

Inari-sama held up a hand to stall my answer. “But you're also right. A proper temple is important; important enough at this juncture to warrant intervention. You prepare your end, and I will do my part. However, please note that it will still require consecration when the renovations are finished.”

I bowed low. “If I might speak, Inari-sama....”

He sighed again. “Yes, Fu-chan, I'll include indoor plumbing with hot water. Go, and make your wards.”

I stayed low and backed out of the room; Inari-sama was already opening the portal he required, and his yokai were already flooding from it in a tide, repairing things as they went.

It would be a game, to see which would finish first; them or myself. I dropped to all fours and headed for the tree line.

And only after I reached it did the image I'd seen, of a special forces team showing the whites of their eyes as the spirits flocked around and through them, bother me. They were going to be very angry with me. Well, I HAD warned them I would be using magic to help fix the place, and they had not objected. I just hadn't told them whose magic I'd be using.

The sun was setting before I was finished slapping spell slips on trees and engraving wards on stones around the property; anyone or thing from further away than two kilometers would see the mansion in its previous state and without a soul present. The illusion would hold regardless of sight or sound until a person stepped across the boundary. Stepping away from the inscribed boulder with a sigh, I looked to the house.

It was obvious I hadn't been fast enough; Even the outbuildings were clearly repaired; even the brick tower attached with a connecting wall was now in perfect shape and a nice shiny (if dark) red. I dropped down and raced back again; perhaps they weren't done with the inside.

They were. I stood up in the once again grand double parlor to find Inari-sama and his host gone, and my escort still where I'd left them, though they were all sitting on the floor. There was one spirit remaining, and it had a list of the changes made to accommodate us; it was fretfully long and thorough. The spirit vanished with a salute after handing me the list, and everyone else in the room breathed a sigh of relief.

Inari-sama hadn't even stayed here to direct them; they had added the water pumps fed from an underground spring all on their own. And where had they found the hot spring to tap!?! This wasn't even an area for that!

“Fu, are you pouting?”

I crumpled the sheet to find Rose looking at me, her hand on the remote to the large television hanging off the wall. When had they installed satellite!?! Where did they even put the dish?!?

“No, Rose-san, I'm fine. Why do you ask?”

“Because you look like you're pouting.” Private Arman stated as he got up and sunk experimentally into the very comfortable looking couch. The television came on to a baseball game; I recognized the station as a paid sports channel.

I shook my head. “I am not pouting, Arman-san.”

I went into the kitchen. There was an icebox in it, and it was filled with ice. Most of the contents of said icebox were beer, and several bottles of sake were set out on one of the counters. The sink was now a large metal affair not that different from a small bathtub, and there was a pump handle and spigot over it. I checked it – hot water. There was another pump handle in the corner, which was cold, over a tiled inset portion of the floor.

I went back to the parlor, this time giving a proper look to the rest of the house passed along the way; to the restored or replaced furniture, the now brand new floors, the restored wainscoting and trim. I could hear not one insect or mouse in the walls.

“She's definitely pouting.” Sargent Dewinter announced as I re-entered the room. Captain Harris looked at him; it wasn't a happy look.

“Alright, that's enough. You're all getting soft – I want a secure perimeter, now. Anything bigger than a rat and I want to know it's out there, got it? All of you, go; take the cardinal points.”

They got up and saluted, then left without a word. Rose at least turned the television off. Without it on I could hear the Captain muttering about how soft they'd gotten clearly.

I checked the list again and walked off while he was still in mid-rant.

While the toilet had been moved (there were now two, one in a room that used to house slaves near the tower, and the other the original bathroom) A new room had either been added or converted to a hot springs bath. The temperature was just right, judging by the steam that wavered up. The entire room was coated marble tile, floor to ceiling, just as a Greek or Roman bath might be, and boasted the same type of columns. There was even a rinsing pool, in the Roman style – right next to the pump handles clearly meant to be used for bathing and rinsing the Japanese way.

There were five of those, which seemed a bit excessive.

Captain Harris walked up, stopping behind me. “This is....”

“The bathroom, Harris-san.”

“Crazy. Your god works fast.”

I nodded. I knew without looking that the bedrooms would be lavish, much like the one I left behind in the bunker. Not just mine, but all of them. The former slave quarters were unpurposed but had fold up tables, chairs, and beds. The cellar was not stocked of course, but cool and now dry, with no lingering rot; it could be used to store food again.

I was glad Inari-sama had provided sake; I needed some.

Back in the kitchen, I found the masu right where I expected to; in the cupboard to the left of the icebox. It was just like Inari-sama to have a full complement, from the sakazuki to the ochoko, and yet have the traditional wooden cup used for festivals as well, made out of Japanese cypress.

I opened the first bottle and filled it. The Captain pulled down another, so I filled his. We saluted and downed it, the fire it contained lighting and warming us.

“There are Japanese cherry trees in the back yard.” The captain said, and I refilled our glasses. We downed those in the same manner.

It was almost a relief when Betty walked in the door; I would have to work on wards barring entry. Then it occurred to me that Inari-sama had meant both kinds of wards when he spoke with me earlier; I had been beaten even worse than I had suspected.

“Come on Fuyuko, we don't have time for that! I need you to open a gate back to the complex right now!”