Bunnyverse: The Four Musketeers (F+/F+) *15/09 NEW UPDATE*

[RopeBunny]

Hello and welcome.

I've attempted this before, something epic (with luck) utilising characters from previous stories, throwing people together and seeing what fun I can create.

Time to try again.

I don't expect everyone to of read everything I've written, don't expect you to know the players here, to remember detail. So I'll provide backstory as it becomes relevant.

Enjoy.

[RopeBunny]

Prologue the first.
Endless Desert.
Ushinatta.

It isn't magic.

Magic is symbols, spellcasting by way of scrolls that burn to dust after being read, or covering the floor with scribbles that tend to hurt the eye if you stare too long.

This, because with one rare exception they can't do anything more, is the human way.

Power isn't magic. It might behave largely the same: things nobody should be able to do, done with ease. But power comes from within. It's like flexing hidden muscles, buried deep down.

No scribbles.

The wands- bridging the gap, humans trying to be just like us, that rare exception -are a third way.

Magic by way of gestures, symbols sketched in the air, coupled to the wand owners will and wishes.

A wand gifts it's owner, provided they master the necessary skills to harness it, access to greater. Elevating a select few humans up to our level.

Which isn't often a good thing. For anyone.

So what side am I on?

Take a look and guess.

I could conceal my true form, something I inherited on turning twenty-one, but that morning having felt lost- ha, sorry, but my name literally means just that in Japanese -for so long, staring in the mirror. I felt whole. Real.

So no blending in when I do leave the Desert.

Each limb is black like darkest night, a colour repeated in eyes like pools of nothing. From toes to upper thigh and fingers to bicep, above which it twists and fades in multiple streaming lines, pale skin showing through, reaching for the centre of me.

Black hair too, and to think I was a natural blonde once. I keep the hair long, curling and tumbling.

To those in the know my markings are almost a warning, I'm one of the few, a Dark God second only in power to the three Elementals.

Three. Not four.

Don't ask lest the Shark hears, and comes for you too.

Symbols.

Brooding. Mourning. Even ten months later her death still hitting hard, everything made worst by it being pure wrong place wrong time accident.

That for all my power, a deep well that often feels without limit, there was, is, nothing I can do.

So. Brooding, in what passes for my room here in the Pyramid I call home, tall black stone. The only inhabited structure in the whole howling, snarling, taunting and begging Endless Desert.

I had tried, at first, to make it more habitable. More, human. Before realising I didn't care, actually preferred the obvious otherworldly nature.

I feel the symbols like a prickle under my skin, calling out to me, an itch I can't scratch, can't ignore.

So. Scowling, I push my focus out into the permanent storm.

Finding.

"Are you ou-" Up, striding with purpose across the room voice rising to a shout. Engulfed by a tight cone of sand mid sentence.

Transport- the storm, the sand, the source of my power.

"-t of your fucking mind!?"

Shouting now, and still you wouldn't hear unless my lips were pressed to your ear. All around me is chaos, sand and wind, the later throwing the former with enough force to bruise and sting.

Scowling some more, using my will to force an area of relative calm, quiet.

Into which she stumbles, falling forwards as the sudden lack of wind resistance screws her sense of balance.

Military, or pretending if not. Khaki tee pulled tight by dirty ropes wrapping above and below her chest, swell of squeezed C cups. Always a pleasant sight.

They, the various lost souls who stray inside my realm, my Desert, don't cross the border bound.

Though they always wind up that way, in the end.

Combat trousers a darker shade of green and tucked into black boots. Wrists bound behind she's rolling around, more dirty rope wedged and lashed into her mouth. What skin I can see: forearms, a slash of belly, is covered in drawn script.

The call I'd felt.

Someone, wanting my attention, crazy or desperate enough to send this girl into my Desert to find me.

On her back, a muffled cry as her eyes go wide, wild, focusing on me. Trying to roll away except she hits the wall of storm which spits her back across the space.

Bending I grab the ropes squashing her breasts and heave, holding steady as she sways, shaking her head and blinking at me.

Seeming calmer.

"Well?"
"Ggdddfffmm."

Gagged girls sound so cute. I smile, she recoils slightly.

Reaching and searching for something behind her. A file, tucked in her trousers and pulled out, waved awkwardly towards me.

"Mmmffgg ddffgggg."
"All the way here just to deliver the mail huh?" Shaking my head, flipping the file open. "Would've thou...."

It isn't very full. Four pages of text, five blow up photos taken from closed circuit cameras.

My smile drops as anger flares up.

The tied soldier yelps, tripping over her feet as the file bursts into flames, turning to ash in moments.

"Tell your boss," glaring down, voice tight, low. Dangerous. "That I'll be there. Tell them."

Shaking my head. No words.

I send her back, still bound and gagged when I could've kept her awhile.

My realm, my rules.

But. No.

I need my sword, then I need to go and burn someone's world down.

Because it wasn't an accident.

[RopeBunny]

Prologue the second.
Penthouse flat, Czech Republic.
Kayley.

'Buzz.'
'Buuuuzzzzz.'

"Foods here." Rolling to the side, off the bed standing in a fluid motion, I grin down at Jody. "I'll get the door."
"Ffggmm mmggpphh fffddgggmm."
"You'll figure something out."

Blowing a kiss and grabbing a baggy tee off the floor, one of hers white with 'Vorsprung durch technik' in black across the chest. Not bothering with pants or shorts the tee is long enough to cover my butt.

Making my way through our apartment.

Which I bought, after a couple of months living together in Jody's rented bedsit. Time we spent talking, enjoying company.

Fucking with plenty of additional ropes.

It isn't a large penthouse, sixth floor and a two bedroom with one common room split between kitchen and lounge. The main selling point is the balcony, more like a roof garden seeing its half the size of the apartment. The whole thing faces South and West toward the evening sun and parkland.

It's perfect, and worth the high price tag.

Opening the door, tip in hand only to find the corridor deserted, pizza boxes stacked on the floor.

"Oh?" Frowning, looking left and right despite there being no place to hide, and no reason to.

Kicking the door shut, I'm halfway to the lounge before realising.

There's one box too many?

"Ggddfffmm."
"See." Putting the boxes down on a sofa. "You made it."

Hopping, and quite a sight too. Jody's birthday present from me, which she'd asked for, is a full submissive costume, including add ons.

From neck to toes her skinny body is encased in shiny black latex, skintight with a zip from buttcrack to neck, currently open all the way to set her E cups free, to show off her star inked butt and shaved pussy.

Thigh high boots with dangerously tall heels lace up at the front, and gloves cover her hands, ending above the elbow.

Around Jody's neck a tall black collar is buckled, the whole neck held ridged, her head forced straight.

Wrists and ankles are hugged by leather cuffs padlocked on, each pair joined together, wrists behind her.

On Jody's face a full head harness, black ball in the centre matching her goth hair.

She's promised, threatened, a body hugging sleep sack for my birthday. Which I'm toying with the thrilling thought of somehow covering the straps in enough magical symbols to prevent my simply Rope Bunnying my way free.

Allowing Jody to truly trap and toy with me.

I meet her halfway across the room, pulling her body to lean against mine whilst reaching around to unbuckle the gag, which I toss away.

"Hi."
"Hello you." Bending to kiss her nipple. "Happy birthday."
"I. Uuuhhhhhfffgggggggg." Eyes closed as I take the nipple, pierced by a chunky oversized metal ring, into my mouth, sucking it.

"I love you Kay."
"Only because I haven't locked your sexy ass to the bed for the night yet."

Jody's eyes blaze, full of want.

I know, because we've talked, lots, that she's spent many nights bound or strapped or tied down.

But never with me.

"I love you too." Kissing her. "Now how about we eat?" Waving a hand towards the food. "Some idiot gave us three pizzas."

Except they didn't.

Inside the third box is a single sheet of paper. A letter addressed to me.

"You should go." Reading over my shoulder as we both eat, whatever movie still playing, forgotten.

"Yeah." Nodding, rereading. "I guess."

At least it isn't for two days, so.

"I'll still be able to lock you up tonight."

Jody's grin, her squeel of excitement, is answer enough.

[RopeBunny]

Prologue the third.
Hyde Park.
Melantha.

Around one in every fifty trees aren't native. And to clarify we're not talking English oaks growing tall in Central Park, New York. No.

I mean not native to this world. Trees from my forest. My realm, leaking across the invisible borders.

Today, this morning, fog still lingering across the Serpentines surface, I've come to feed the ducks.

And talk to the trees.

Because we're friends, one of my tattoos which aren't but look awfully like tattoos, proves the fact.

And. No. I'm not- despite having spent an unknown, due to forced memory loss, amount of time locked away in Hidden Hills asylum -crazy.

"Heeeeeeaaaar mmmeeeeeee."

Trees talk like a sigh on the wind, and quiet.

"Yes." Throwing a handful of breadcrumbs towards the pond. No sign of any ducks, it's still early, slight chill in the air. I look over the water, above the low fog to a copse of beech and ash, flash of pink leaves within.

A young sapling, far from home.

"Do you hear me Mr tree?"
"Yyeeeeeessssssss."
"And how are you today?"
"Gooooooooodddd."

I nod, toss more crumbs managing to actually land them in the water this time.

Wait. Patience.

"Knnnooowww yoooouuuuu."

Trees, the trees in my forest anyway, pass memory down seed to seed, each new addition gaining hundreds of years of knowledge. Sights. Sounds. Smells.

I smile, open my mouth.

And someone sits down on the bench beside me.

And there are other benches, Hyde Park is awash with places to sit, and even here my bench is but one in a row of four. All empty.

"Chilly." Sat forward elbows on jeans clad knees, hoodie obscuring his face. His, because the voice is deep, the frame tall yet lean.

"Yes." And it is, though not to the point my leather jacket needs zipping closed, but I'm in jeans too.

"Um." Polite, I smile even though he isn't looking, brushing black hair back behind my ear. "Brisk."
"Brisk." Hoodie bobbing as he nods. "Too cold for ducks prehaps your highness."
"Well...." I toss some more bread.

Didn't come here for the ducks.

Turning back, surprised to discover an empty bench. No man. Not even when I look all around.

"Oh?" Confused, even more so by the letter left in the strange man's place. Plain brown envelope, my actual name. Melantha. Written in simple script on the front.

At which point it finally registers.

He'd called me 'your highness.'

And, he isn't wrong. I am, technically a queen though I rule over nothing save the forest, the trees.

Spiders and dragons.

A squirrel.

But.

"How did you know?" Tapping the envelope, the opened and read letter more full of questions then answers.

"Mr Tree."
"Heeeeeeeeerre."
"I need to leave." Standing, frowning, letter in my hand. "But."

Finally, ducks. I toss the rest of the crumbs in one scattered salvo. Tip the copse a salute.

"I'll be back, and we'll talk again. I promise."
"Quuueeeeeeeeen." Sighing, and they always do, but, there's a hint of gratitude there. "Thhhhhaaaaannk yyooooooouuuuuu."
"You're welcome."

Turning, leaving.

Because the Admiral needs to see this. He'll know what to do.

[Caesar73]

I must say! Very intriguing this three Part Prologue. Three different locations. I like it!

[RopeBunny]

Very intriguing this three Part Prologue.

Seemed like a good way to (re)introduce three of the four leading characters.

Thanks for the comment.

[BlissfulMisery]

Seems the team is assembling for some unknown purpose... I suspect friction and hijinks in their future.

Also seems that Ush has dealt with her own recent loss... Sad to hear.

Surprised to see Kayley playing around with the idea of being 'locked in' again. On one hand, I can certainly understand the appeal, but I feel like her last experience with doing so was... not the most pleasant. But perhaps she has come to terms with it - I would have expected some lingering fear, or at least hesitation.

(re)introduce three of the four leading characters.

Interesting detail. Certainly some obvious possibilities for the fourth, but I suppose we shall have to see.

[RopeBunny]

Surprised to see Kayley playing around with the idea of being 'locked in' again. On one hand, I can certainly understand the appeal, but I feel like her last experience with doing so was... not the most pleasant. But perhaps she has come to terms with it - I would have expected some lingering fear, or at least hesitation.

Yeah. You aren't wrong.

It's a case of a throwaway line on my part. Something added in to give the imagination a workout.

In reality I doubt very much that Kayley would favour any kind of restriction she can't 'Bunny' her way out of for some time, even at the hands of pretty Jody.

No doubt had I wrote up the sleep sack, and I don't have any plans to (throwaway line as I said) I reckon the story flow would've led me to add in hesitation, possibly even to the point of Kayley bottling it and Jody being strapped up instead.

Now there's a thought....

(Starts writing immediately )

Thanks for commenting, as always.

Next part below....

[RopeBunny]

001.
RAF Benson.
Sergeant Frost.

South of Oxford, near Didcot, you'll find RAF Benson. On paper, and according to posted signs at the front gates, it's a helicopter base hosting both attack and support squadrons. No runway to speak of.

And yet.

Standing apart from the base proper is a separate hanger, off limits and officially housing a Lancaster bomber since the early nineteen forties, undergoing repairs and upgrades, testing of new equipment.

Important business basically.

There's even paperwork to prove the fact.

The hanger is an anomaly, hidden in plain sight, and currently home to the Royal Marines zero battalion, which exists, if you know where to look or who to ask.

Inside the hanger now and standing under the shadow of the ancient bomber, assembled, under cover of darkness as Britain waged war many decades ago, from sections of Lancaster returning from raids, planes too damaged to return to service.

Because at some point, some, suit, was bound to run a check, and so there had to be a actual real plane here. To justify the hangers unavailability for other purposes.

Coffee in hand, scattering of other staff present, working around the periphery, I wait.

Will they come?

Yes.

Ushinatta first. I have files on all three, scrawled notes annotated atop sparse printed copy, because not much exists on any of them. Plenty of guess work.

If. But. Maybe.

Flashing me a quick, tight, smile. Young and slim, black hair bound back in a loose tail. Caucasian.

Scribbles alongside her name, Japanese heritage?

She's wearing a dress, white with blue and green flowers scattered up the right side, thin shoulder straps and a plunging neckline revealing E cups nestled inside a white bra. Converse high tops on her feet.

Not exactly appropriate clothing for a fight.

God. Before which someone has written DARK, underlined the word twenty odd times. And then a different someone has circled the word, streaking a line across to a blank part of the page.

Using a paragraph to explain that she could, easily, wipe out the whole base. If she chose.

And yet another line, linking that to 'PLAY NICE' in large red marker ink. My commander's handwriting.

Could she? Easily? This skinny young thing.

Black limbs, far too black for tattoos, her eyes a perfect match.

Across the table, my open files and me, my single chair on one side although I'm standing, three other chairs are arranged. She approaches one, running a midnight hand across the top. Flicked glance at me, another checked smile before walking to the third chair.

Dumping her sheathed katana.

'Tide Waits for You' apparently, as though weapons outside of fairy tales could have names? More guessing scribbles claim it has something to do with water?

And yes that was a question mark, because despite exhaustive research, we're largely in the dark, or, DARK- ha -about most of this.

Down on the table, Ushinatta sits, leaning back with arms crossed beneath that large chest, feet up on the table.

Waiting.

Two minutes later the lady Melantha, proving at least one of the written notes in her file correct, casually wanders in through the definitely locked door to the server room, from which there are no other doors save the one she just, impossibly, used.

Lady. Because apparently, though no evidence could be found towards the fact beyond vague guessed rumour. She's a queen?

Skinny, almost too much so. Young, her own black hair kept loose. Pale pink vest top showing a more modest bust and black bra.

C cups, apparently.

Why was that in my notes?

And faded blue denim shorts cinched around that small waist and sunken stomach with a black canvas belt, the too long slack tied off and still hanging down like an old world knight's sword belt.

Army boots. Melantha's outfit reveals plenty of ink: flames around her left breast, an eight pointed star high up on her inner left leg, a dozen colourful butterflies twisted with strange script on her left arm and shoulder.

Lastly 'Pending Approval' stamped red on her left hand, like a weird joke? I've got pages of reports from Hidden Hills, now closed, on her. Seems the inkwork just appeared piece by piece despite her being locked away and towards the end actually strapped down too.

Of course my printouts are covered in scribbled assumptions, guesswork that each inking means something more.

She can't really shoot actual fireballs though.

Right?

"Good morning."
"What?"

Ushinatta, caught out as Melantha walks straight to her, hand out all polite.

"I should've allowed the Admiral to come." Nodding as Ushinatta, shaking hands, looks bemused, whilst I suppress a smile.

She sounds quite mad, but, so my notes tell me.

Isn't.

"He'd love to see your sword." Melantha looks Ushinatta over, nods. "Did your tattoos hurt?"
"They aren't tattoos." Smiling now, a gasp from behind me as Ushinatta's mouth spreads too wide, showing sharks teeth.

But Melantha, facing the full force of the grin, nods.

"Nor are mine." She seems to think some more. "You've got a very pretty smile."
"Oh."

Shocked, I fight to swallow my coffee lest I spit it all over the desk.

"Ushinatta." Standing. "Ush."
"Melantha." Stepping in to hug the still semi surprised looking Dark God, who after a moments hesitation hugs back.

At which point.

"Room for one more?"

Kayley, grin as wide and predator like as Ush, breezes in like a carefree gust of wind.

Some sort of smoke bloom stutter jump and suddenly Kayley's standing right there with the other two, pulling both into her. Hugging.

Melantha's face getting unintentionally mashed against Kayley's impressive chest, the largest here.

And according to forms I've got, although, again, why am I needing this?

They aren't hers.

Ush giggles, Kayley, looking down, grins and let's go them both.

"Oops." Brushing hair back off Melantha's face. "Sorry."
"They're very firm."
"Oh."

Ush and Kay sound English, normal. But Melantha. Mel, although I doubt she'd like the shortening, sounds English posh.

Like a queen, I suppose. A queen who says the strangest shit.

Like complementing a strangers breasts.

"Thanks?"
"And blonde too." Reaching to brush back Kayley's hair. Melantha smiles. "All the boys must chase you."
"Well...." Half smile. "Actually I prefer girls."

Ush coughs, Melantha nods as though listening to interesting facts about the weather.

I look at the files, lest I somehow get asked my dating preferences too.

Rope Bunny. Kayley's is prehaps the thickest file: the medical report on those new breasts, her actual exam papers from not so long ago.

Bad grades, although supporting scribbles on other pages remind she was going through some pretty weird times, at the time.

Stills from that YouTube video, does she still wear the fur suit?

Nobody seems to know.

Bullet scarring -can only see one since she's wearing a tight green 'Skoda WRC' tee covering the shoulder -is real.

I can hear them all exchanging names, again in some cases.

Still Melantha. Not Mel, despite Kay and Ush being Kay, and Ush.

As for the Bunny herself. Is it a separate person?

Do I have to address both of them?

Pages copy printed from old texts. Words highlighted: trickster. Spirit. Kidnapping. Old.

"Do I get a sword too?"
"Wha...?" Attention pulled back up. Kay, all of them seated now, points at Ush's katana.

"Do we all get a big stick?"
"Can I have a gun?"
"No." Shaking my head at both of them as Ush smiles, feet back up on the table. "And no."

"When do we get issued a uniform?"
"You...." Grinning. Kayley. The mischief Bunny.

Standard issue black combat trousers tucked into black lace up boots, the tee is khaki green, not too baggy on my size eight toned frame, B cups only a slight hump mostly kept in check by a sports bra.

On the left sleeve zero battalions company patch is stamped: a phoenix aflame, wings spread wide and clutching an English longsword, beneath which a banner declaring 'Per Mare Per Terram' which translates from Latin to the Royal Marines motto 'by sea by land.' On the left breast my name and rank. 'Sgt Frost.'

Plus a green beret. A thing to be worn with pride and honour.

"No."
"Could I." Melantha, her hand up like we're in school. "Possibly have an extra small."
"No." Shaking my head for emphasis.

"I don't want one." Ush shaking her head back as though I'd offered a choice.

"How about we just get to the briefing?" I offer, five minutes in and they, all three as a combined thing, are already hard work. "Can we?"
"Sure." Kay nods, twirls one hand and raises her voice. "You in the back, lights down. Roll film."

Melantha giggles. Ush tuts, shaking her head but smiling.

I pick up the remote, take a breath.

[RopeBunny]

RAF Benson.
Briefing.
Attempt 1.

[Behind Sgt Frost twelve large flatscreens have been wall mounted in a three down four wide formation. At the press of her slim black remote they flicker to life.]

Sgt Frost:
"Seven wands."
[Waving an arm across the screens, all of which are displaying a shifting scrolling montage of images. All hand drawn on cracked obviously old paper. Wands. People holding wands. Casting fire and death all around. Surrounded by bowing masses. Making rain fall on bare earth under a cloudless sky. Occasional block of text, the language obviously old and forgotten.]
"Out in the world, each linked to a different individual by-"

[Melantha puts her hand up.]

Sgt Frost:
"This isn't school my lady."

Melantha:
"Oh."
[Turning to smile at Ushinatta, frowning at Frost's term of address.]

Sgt Frost:
"And you don't need to salute me either."

Melantha:
[Dropping her hand.]
"The Admiral always says."
[Dropping her voice to imitate a gruff old man.]
"You must follow procedure. What."

Kayley:
[Confused.] "What?"

Ushinatta:
"Admiral?"

Melantha:
"Admiral Nay."
[Smiling.]
"He's a squirrel, and my friend."

[Kayley and Ushinatta exchange confused frowns, which Melantha doesn't see, facing the front once more. Hand raised.]

Sgt Frost:
[Running a hand through her short dyed blue hair along one side.]
"You don't need to put your hand up my lady."

Melantha:
"Right."

[Silence.]

[Sgt Frost removes her beret, running a hand through her hair again before replacing it. Shaking her head.]

Sgt Frost:
"What's your question?"

Melantha:
"Is this like Harry Potter?"

Ushinatta:
[Serious face, blunt tone.] "No."

Sgt Frost:
"No. For a start there are only seven wands in.... So. There's never been any effort made to craft more. I mean...."
[Flicked glances from her files to Ushinatta.]

Ushinatta:
[Standing.] "Enough. Just, tell me where she is."

Sgt Frost:
"Don't you want to possibly-"

Ushinatta:
[Shouting.] "Where?"

[Sudden blast of hot wind detonating out from the Dark God like a miniature hurricane. All around the hanger paperwork is tossed every which way, various cups are toppled and three of the staff working around the hanger edge are swept off their feet. The ancient bomber, looming above and behind the three ladies, creaks. Pushed backwards a couple of inches despite a rusted closed brake assembly.]
[About a half ton of sand is tossed out and around, Ushinatta the dead centre, covering the floor and forming small drifts against walls.]

Sgt Frost:
"Wand five. Tit.... Um."
[Looking at her notes.]
"Titanus-sans-North."
[Clicking her remote. The screens change, becoming a top down Ordinance Survey map of St Andrews in Scotland, the University dominating and surrounding the small town.]
"We've just begun to narrow down. Um...."

Ushinatta:
"Close enough."
[Taking up her katana, turning to nod at Melantha and Kayley.]
"Won't be a moment ladies."

[Ushinatta vanishes inside a tight cone of sand.]

Kayley:
"Stupid."
[She stands up, looking from Melantha to Sgt Frost.]
"Come on. We need to go after her."

Melantha:
[Standing too.]
"To." [Pointing at the huge map.] "There?"

Kayley:
"If that's where Ush is headed, and at some point I really."
[Flicking a smile at Sgt Frost.]
"Really. Hope someone's going to explain what's going on here. But. Yes. We're going there. Better get your kit together soldier."

Sgt Frost:
"Sergeant."
[Shaking her head.]
"Frost."

Kayley:
"Sergeant. [Nodding at Frost, who gives a tight nod back.] "Get your kit. Please."

Sgt Frost:
[Moving to a small table, shrugging on a black armoured vest, leaving it unzipped. Slamming two pistols into twin holsters at each hip, picking up a chunky assault rifle with underslung grenade launcher.]
"Should I call in a chinnok?"

Kayley:
"No time. Like calls to like, it won't take Ush long to find the wand. Or."
[Frowning.]
"Her?"

Melantha:
[Looking at the server room door.]
"I could...."
[Walking towards the door.]
"St Andrews you say?"

Kayley:
[Looking at Melantha with a small approving smile.]
"Through a door? Really?"

Melantha:
"Yes."
[Looking up at the looming Lancaster bomber.]
"You too."

[Sgt Frost frowns, looking at the bomber too. Then shrugs.]

Sgt Frost:
"My lady."
[Doing small on the spot jumps, checking the load on her rifle.]
"Whatever you can do. Let's do it now. Please."

Melantha:
"Right. Yes."
[At the server room door, which opens. Bright sunshine spilling through.]

Sgt Frost:
"Fuuuuuuck."

Kayley:
"That. Is so cool."
[Patting Melantha on the shoulder.]
"Heard about world walking, never seen it though."

Melantha:
"You've. Heard of me?"

Kayley:
"Of the skill."
[A shrug as Melantha opens her mouth.]
"I'm older then I look. I know it's, the skill, unique to one bloodline."
[Gesturing at the door.]
"So you are a queen."

Sgt Frost:
"If we're going...?"

Kayley:
"Right. Yes. Careful though."
[Looking from Melantha to Sgt Frost.]
"Because I've seen the wands. I was there when the fucking idiots...."
[Shiver running across her body.]
"And even a Dark God's going to be needing help. Because Ush sure didn't sound as though she was going North to make a new friend."

Melantha:
[Stepping through the door, following Kayley and Sgt Frost.]
[Voice musing. Thoughtful.]
"What does 'Dark mean, though? I thought she was quite friendly."

[Rdo4y8]

Building up to another winner here, though I’m sad that we’ve apparently lost Luna, who I enjoyed in her and Ush’s tale. But onward we move into another exciting tale.

[RopeBunny]

I’m sad that we’ve apparently lost Luna, who I enjoyed in her and Ush’s tale. But onward we move into another exciting tale.

Indeed, and I miss her too.

Pleased you remember her, Luna, I loved that origin story, her and Ush and the wand.

One of my favourites.

However, and I've tried several times to come up with a part two for them as time passed. But writing the Bunny V2, adding in things that hinted at my wider universe of things like Ushinatta. And the idea for a team up occurred.

Unfortunately Luna's death was/is one of the pivotal points of this story.

Thanks for commenting, I hope you'll continue to enjoy things moving forward.

[BlissfulMisery]

It's a case of a throwaway line on my part. Something added in to give the imagination a workout.

In reality I doubt very much that Kayley would favour any kind of restriction she can't 'Bunny' her way out of for some time, even at the hands of pretty Jody.

No doubt had I wrote up the sleep sack, and I don't have any plans to (throwaway line as I said) I reckon the story flow would've led me to add in hesitation, possibly even to the point of Kayley bottling it and Jody being strapped up instead.

Fair enough. Was just the thought that came to me when reading.

C cups, apparently.

Why was that in my notes?

Indeed...

An awkward meeting all around for poor Sergeant Frost, who seems in way over her head.

Unfortunately Luna's death was/is one of the pivotal points of this story.

Not a surprise, given Ush's... enthusiasm, and the thought about it in the first chapter. I do not think it is much of a guess to say that she is out for revenge.

I hope you'll continue to enjoy things moving forward.

I suspect I will

[RopeBunny]

Fair enough. Was just the thought that came to me when reading.

And it was a good thought.

Too easy to go TUGs TUGs TUGs and miss the small details

We continue below....

[RopeBunny]

002.
St Andrews.
Ushinatta.

Like calls to like.

Power. Magic. The fucking wands. If I focus, listen, reach out strain to hear and feel that invisible pulse. That silent song.

Once one of us gets close to another.

You could make a decent argument for it being a defence mechanism of sorts. That, wandering too close otherwise oblivious we instead become aware of each other.

Allowing time to make that decision.

Fight?

Walk away?

Talking, peace and smiles, is a third option. However power doesn't tend to play well with others. Too used to taking what it, we, want and fuck what you want.

The sand deposits me in parkland, row of tall pines behind me, gentle slope down to a road and housing in front.

Eyes closed, breath slowed, sun warm on my face.

There.

Only one?

Does she have it already? Would she even have a pulse without the wand I know is the target here.

Because.

Luna.

Dredging the name back up, tearing off the bandage and letting the pain flood back out. Is hard.

My college dorm roommate, who through various ups and downs became more. A close friend, a lover.

The girl who taught me what fun ropes could be.

She had a wand. Shakta-el-furiosa. And we'd discovered together, once I'd changed into this new, true, form.

Another story for another time, suffice to say I used to be just a girl.

Together we'd learned the truth about wands and Dark God's. About the old war between humans and whatever hides in the shadows, slipping in and out from places beyond.

Ten months ago Luna died, a hit and run. Pure accident right?

Wrong.

I've seen photos now.

Some. Unknown, female. Drove that car.

When a bearer dies the wand vanishes. They, the wands, through some process they choose a new owner, transporting themselves to the unsuspecting whomever at the moment of death.

Except clearly this unknown thought she had a work around.

Photos, showing her exiting the car, standing over my dying girlfriend, not helping instead doing.

Something?

Some magical thing, trying to capture the wand.

Failing.

So.

Here she is, apparently, to try again.

And the short, brief, letter accompanying the photos and police report. Promising me a shot at revenge, if I only turned up to RAF Benson, played nice.

Fuck that.

She's mine.

One pulse could be two, close together. It isn't an exact thing, I could look at her and not know. It's a general area not a pin stuck in a map.

Somewhere close as opposed right there by the oak tree.

She could have magic, a handful of scrolls. Or even power of some sort.

Regardless, if she, and/or the wand bearer are paying attention, they know I'm here now.

And neither of them are running.

So.

Time to go fuck someone up.

Unsheathing Tide Waits for You, faint hint of blue on the symbol wrapped blade, I toss the scabbard which vanishes becoming sand, a thing to call back when I'm done.

Deep breath.

Sudden intruding thought becoming decision: one chance, I'll give her one chance to surrender.

I let the sand take me to the pulse. Closer.

A dorm room. Like stepping back in time, small and rectangular, split down the middle with the same off shelf looking bland single bed and wardrobe with underslung drawers, bedside unit, taking up most of each half.

Two doors, presumably one out and one to the ensuite.

Window, through which I can see rain falling like a constant sheet, grey skies.

Something?

The rooms occupants, only now noticing me as I do them.

Two girls looking more like playboy models then university students.

Blondes, young and slim and tanned, breasts large and pert, gravity defying in their perfection. No bra needed here.

Although they are, both, wearing one.

But not a sensible bra, too much lace to offer any kind of real support, ditto the thongs, tiny strips of fabric, lace mesh doing a terrible job of hiding twin shaved slits.

One of them is already tied up.

Stretched out on the single bed, limbs taut, fingers and toes flexing as she smiles around a pink silk scarf gag.

At me.

As her friend, or at least I hope for her sake it is. Smiles at me too.

Neither of them are the wand bearer, ownership, the joining, leaves a permanent symbol, a tattoo like mark on the palm.

Neither girl has such.

Could they, one of them, be her instead?

Eyes darting around the room. Still raining.

Raining?

And.

"Would you like to tie me up?"

The untied blonde, climbing up off the bed. Her words, offer. Her body, because yes I like girls too.

Driving a freight train through my ability to focus on the task at hand.

"Kinda busy." Trying anyway, purposefully averting my gaze back out to the rooms corners. The closed doors, could she be in the-

"Are you sure?"

Closer. She moved whilst I was doing my best not to look. Her voice, light and playful, brings my gaze and focus back. Finding her stood close enough to touch.

That fantastic cleavage right there.

And she's somehow gotten rope. From under the bed? Or, did she have it all along, like a tease?

Her wrists are crossed in front, bound tightly coarse off white fabric clearly digging in and she.

My breath catching at just how damn perfect she, it all, looks.

She doesn't seem to mind. Is in fact still smiling, reaching up to tug briefly, once, at the low neckline of my dress before letting go.

My eyes tracking the movement of her bound wrists. The slight bounce of those breasts.

"If you tie me up." Flashing a grin, winking. "Gag me." Playful like a steamroller. "Then you can have us both."

Her rope tied friend, nodding, low moan through the scarf as she flexes, rolling first chest then crotch up off the bed and back down.

A clear offer.

And it's been so long. Too long. Months shut away, brooding and moping. All work and no play, refusing all company.

I. Am. Lonely.

"Well. I...." Remembering I'm holding the katana, drooping now and one handed no longer low and locked, ready for the fight I'd been sure would occur within moments of my shifting in.

I lift Tide Waits for You, bring the long hilt up to eye level. Stare and try to fight through the building internal fog.

"Why don't I," leaning in, reaching, "just take that big pointy sword off you."

Her smile, somehow too wide, mirrored by her gagged twin. Both of them too eager, the whole thing just too perfect.

And the rain.

Even so she almost. Almost. Succeeds.

My strike is swift, chopping two handed from high right down to low left, carving a path. A killing blow.

Except she pulls apart, fading and dissipating.

Like an illusion.

Her tied friend too, eyes briefly wide as both she and the bed, all the furniture, fades away to a bare room.

Empty.

Sunshine streaming through the window.

And behind me, slow deliberate clapping.

[GreyLord]

What an eclectic story, @RopeBunny. The magic is strong. I didn't expect the two tied up playmates to fade away as they did. Very well done.

[Caesar73]

What an eclectic story, @RopeBunny. The magic is strong. I didn't expect the two tied up playmates to fade away as they did. Very well done.

I cannot agree more! Indeed: The fading away was indeed unexpected.

[RopeBunny]

What an eclectic story, @RopeBunny. The magic is strong. I didn't expect the two tied up playmates to fade away as they did. Very well done.

I cannot agree more! Indeed: The fading away was indeed unexpected.

Thank you both.

Kinda glad it caught you both out, it was meant to come across as real, despite them being 'Playboy' types in a Uni dorm room.

Plenty more twists to come.

[BlissfulMisery]

And it was a good thought.

Too easy to go TUGs TUGs TUGs and miss the small details

Indeed

As for the chapter - it definitely smelled like a trap, so the end was not exactly a surprise - towards the end I was thinking 'it is going to be a cliffhanger with the reveal after', but you pulled the trigger earlier. And Ush should have probably had the presence of mind to realize she is going to have backup soon - would be odd to be getting up to fun in the meantime.

Reading the other comments actually surprised others did not see it, it seemed fairly obvious (too strange even for a TUGs story, plus the general feeling was off).

I wonder what exactly the mysterious stranger wants - she certainly seems to know a lot about Ush's history. And since she specifically baited her here, I suspect she is ready to deal with Ush, who will probably end up getting bailed out by the others when they arrive.

[RopeBunny]

towards the end I was thinking 'it is going to be a cliffhanger with the reveal after', but you pulled the trigger earlier.

Wanted the slow clapping to be the cliffhanger, better then anything related to the Playboy illusions I felt.

[RopeBunny]

Interlude.
Musings.

"But what if...."
"Daughter." The black skinned, black like midnight and not an African native, male with Asian features, long limbs and messy spiked hair, stands. Stretches. "Enough. The hour grows late."

"I'm not ten." Tutting but with a smile. "Dad. And you could at least try to use my name once in awhile."
"Very well." A nod. "Ushinatta. Commander of the sa-"
"Fine." Throwing hands up in surrender.

A look exchanged. Her, midnight black only on each limb, retaining some hints as to her mothers human side of the family tree, smiling. He, chuckling softly, smiling back.

"What if someone had more then one?"
"No. How they pass down we do not know. This is true. However. They, live, after a fashion. Made from that which once lived but now grown into separate essences."
"But they came from a whole, so, couldn't they just be." A shrug. "Put back together?"

"No." Slight crack in the tone. Final, discussion over. "Each." The next word spat out. "Human. Is gifted one. Unto death. They made these rules, and neither they, nor the living wands, can break them."

[RopeBunny]

003.
St Andrews.
Ushinatta.

"I promised." Not turning, because to turn is to fight, and I promised. "Myself. That you'd get one chance to surrender."

"And I thought." The clapping stopped. Female. Behind me. Soft voice with some kind of accent I can't place, only coming out every third word. "That you'd be a boy."

I laugh.

She does too.

"A trap then?" Tingles up my spine, how close I'd come to falling in. And yes it had all been about them, the not real blondes, me binding them.

But what I'd felt was the desire to have them both work me over, to be their plaything.

"A trap." Her confirmation only making the tingle drop down lower.

Get a grip Ush.

"I knew," she's still calm, like we're not about to go at it, "that eventually someone would come."
"Well." Feeling the anger, tamping down and extinguishing the flutter. Good. But I keep my voice level too. "Maybe you shouldn't of killed my girlfriend."
"Hmmm." Thoughtful. "Necessary I'm afraid."

Except she doesn't sound sorry.

Bitch.

"One chance." Tightening my grip, shifting left hand slightly lower. Breathe. "Back down."
"How about...."

"No." And still she sounds like we're just talking. "Turn around. Face your fate."

Slow. Tensing. I turn, expecting an early strike, one I'll not be fully angled for.

But no.

Instead I face her. Seeing.

The impossible?

Not her. She's human. Pretty, slim and busty, hair long and dyed red like flames, the tips white like ash after the fact.

Not her clothing. Although barefoot, a small white string bikini worn under a long black puffer coat that falls to below the knee, white fur lined inside, hood up. Slightly crazy.

Not her inkwork either. This woman, early thirties at a guess, her whole body is covered in loops and swirls, a mixture of tight symbol like script and flowing spiked lines. All of it black. There's even a run of it up and around her neck, curving around the left eye. In three places: upper right thigh, left breast, low on her flat stomach. These swirls seem to be wrapping, trapping or caging almost, a larger symbol.

What's impossible is that. Around her waist a brown leather belt is loosely buckled, hanging low on the right side where a quiver sits against her hip. But. Instead of arrows four wands, like slim sticks of doom, protrude.

Four.

With a fifth in her hand.

Impossible, I'd once been told. The wands choose, upon death. Nobody can, would, will, ever wield more then one.

On the back end of which I recall the briefing I'd been too full of smoldering rage to sit through. 'Wand Five' the soldier had said.

They, she, knew.

This is so much bigger then Luna.

And even as I watch, too stunned to make that quick first strike. She grins at me like someone revealing a trick.

Like she knows what she's doing, everything she's about, is completely impossible.

But she does it anyway.

Dropping one wand into the quiver, selecting another apparently by feel: fingers lingering dancing across, pulling one.

And as she does. Her ink moves.

The swirls shifting, one of the caged symbols begins to crawl, slither, across her body to vanish inside her right sleeve, moments later a different symbol, shepherded and corralled by swirling spiked lines, emerges from the sleeve, settling down wrapped and.

Caged? Contained?

On her lower left leg.

New wand held, she even tilts her hand.

See how clever I am take a look.

To show me the inked palm, the caged symbol for the wand she's holding. The link.

How?

"How are...?"
"Trade secret." An almost playful wink. Confidence for days. And why not. I don't know much, should've studied but too busy brooding. But I do know that one wand is trouble.

Possibly.

Cold sweat breaking out across my back. Hint of fear. Doubt.

If she knows how to use them, and it appears she does, then even taking on one wand isn't child's play.

Even for my vast well of power.

Five, alone, because I was too eager and angry to wait for backup, is likely some kind of death wish.

"Which one are you then?" Idly twirling the wand. "Do I get a name before you fail to poke me with that big stick?"

Teasing. But, for forms sake, and because names matter, I oblige.

"Ushinatta." Feeling the moment stretch, the upcoming fight like a chill calm settling in. Facing her across a duelists distance. "Ruler of the Endless Desert. The long walk nowhere. Shadowmancer." Lifting my katana, one handed, hilt tapping forehead and long blade vertical, pointed down. A salute of sorts. "Keeper of the blade Tide Waits for You."

Names. A title, some inherited from my Father, some mine by right of birth.

I can't say it without feeling a tingle.

"And you are?"
"Call me...." Flick of tongue across red lips, a half smile. "Parris."

Stillness. Silence. We face off, my katana moved back to a two handed low stance, ready. Her with wand held loose.

Wand versus sword. It looks one sided, for reach alone.

It isn't.

I narrow my gaze. She blows me a kiss.

Her right arm twitches.

I explode towards her like hells own vengeance.

Sweep up to disarm, tracking smoothly into a downward arc, a block or parry for whatever Parris throws back.

Stepping in closer, coming in high right at head level.

Katana, clang and scrape of contact. Again. I follow through with a backwards swipe.

But she moves. Parris becomes blur like, right arm, wand, upper body, moving almost too fast to see. Dodging and blocking, always shifting so I'm swiping empty air, or my blow hitting the rock like wall of her wand.

Fifty times, at least, I sweep and pivot, spin and lunge.

Fifty times I miss.

Sudden contact, the wand gently tapping my nose.

With enough force to fling me back against and through the wall, out into glaring sunlight as the wand and wall strikes combine to knock the wind from me. I flail, turn to see rushing green.

Striking the ground hard enough to leave a divot.

Stand, slight shake on one leg, I look up to see Parris stood in the gaping hole, four floors up. Grinning.

Smile dropping off her face as I reach out without moving, snarling as I push.

Smile of my own as Parris streaks upwards, her own body- brief shimmer of blue all over -smashing through the angled roof. Heading straight for the fucking moon.

If I could.

Instead I watch, brushing hair that's come unbound in the fight off my face. Get my breath back.

Can't see her but she'll be falling anyti-

"Miss me?"

Too slow, even without whatever time fucking ability that wand was putting out, giving Parris an unmatched speed edge. I'm hours too slow.

But I try anyway.

Pivot and turn, left arm reaching down, down, reaching for the hilt.

Tide Waits for You coming up, cut the bitch clean in two.

Crack of sword against solid, enchanted, bone. The fucking wand. Stopping my momentum cold.

Another strike. Left handed and. Fuck. Not only does she have five of the cursed things, she can hold one in each damn hand.

Losing my grip on the katana, which spins and whirls away to become embedded in the buildings brickwork, I'm tossed backwards, rolling and tumbling.

Feeling my limbs tugged and pulled, forced and yanked and secured.

The second wand, one I'm familiar with: Indominus-decrees-nul, king of binding.

I land tangled in a bush. Something rope like, the familiar pinch and burn feel as I struggle, memories of times past with Luna. My wrists and elbows are bound behind me, my legs wrapped at ankle and knee. The not rope flexes as I struggle, tumbling forward to land on the grass, tightening, constricting snake like.

Alive.

From somewhere I hear Parris laugh. Rolling onto my back, searching, spotting her approaching.

Victory grin on her inked face.

Which only grows as I squirm and wriggle, ignoring the tighter tighter pinch of her ropes.

Ropes which I can't break.

Taking aim Parris dances her left hand wand, giving a small flick.

Gestures and will imposed.

The gag spreads fast, ball inflating from nothing to jaws forced wide and strap finding strap behind my head.

Silencing me.

"Well then." Looming over me, replacing both wands, pulling out a third. "That was fun."
"Ggffffdddpppmm."

Fucking, Indominus. Fucking, decrees. Fucking, nul. I can't do anything. Just like last time, waking to find myself strapped between two stone pillars underground, markings and magic all around courtesy of the wand, some facet of the binding is locking a door between me and my ability to flex and burn everything down.

Parris stands, watching me struggle and curse. Then, shrugging, she retrieves Indominus.

"Enough." Flick, and the ballgag grows, forcing my jaws wider, making even moaning hard, whilst my legs are pulled behind me, arching my back into a hogtie.

Exhausted, weak.

Afraid and yet, it's been so long that some tiny traitor part of me tingles at my helplessness.

"So." Back to just one wand, which Parris taps idly against her cheek. "I didn't plan on taking hostages, but."

Hankering down, using the wand to carefully.

Because contact between wand a Dark God tends to be explosive, as already demonstrated when I got tossed through the wall.

Parris lifts up my dress, exposing my thong.

"I'm sure I can find somewhere to put you."

Standing back up. Nodding.

At which point something whistles through the air from behind me, slamming into her.

Exploding.

[RopeBunny]

004.
St Andrews.
Kayley.

"Official business."

The sergeant, flashing something like ID as Melantha stands close by smiling at the two policemen in their Volvo estate who, quite rightly, came at us with a screech of heavy braking and a shriek of siren.

Wondering what the good soldier thought she was doing wandering around a Scottish town tooled up for war.

I'm stood slightly apart. Eyes closed. Focusing.

Searching out the pulse. Any pulse, Ush's or the wands.

Or.

Hers?

"Any luck, Kay?"
"Yes." Nodding, eyes back open, I raise a hand to point, as the police car drives away.

As, in the direction of the pulse, a crash followed by a distant muffled thud.

"Let me guess." Frost, pointing.

We set off at a jog.

Close. Frost leaning around a corner, using the rifles sight. Checking whilst I wait behind.

Whilst Melantha casually wanders around the corner, seemingly oblivious to how things should be done.

I dart forward, yank her back.

"Ush is down."
"Shit."
"Yeah." Quick nod, not taking her eyes off the scope. "I've got a shot. But...."
"But? Sergeant."
"It isn't clean."
"Take the shot." Patting Frost's shoulder, gentle lest I disrupt her aim. "Ush can handle a grenade. Promise."

Standing, Frost slips a small fat cylinder from her gun belt, slotting and racking it home.

"Ready?"
"Ready." Nodding, small smile as beside us Melantha salutes.

Frost steps out from cover, taking a second. Firing.

I, stepping out behind her, see.

Ush, trussed and gagged, helpless on the grass. Still. Apparently beaten.

A woman looming over her, body full of swirling ink and dressed improbably in a string bikini and long puffer coat.

Wand. Shit. In her hand.

The grenade hits, detonating, tossing the redhead up into the air and away. The explosion pushing Ush back several metres towards us, rolling her along the grass, her dress and underwear shredding to less then scraps.

The three of us dash for Ush, she sees us coming. Eyes going wide, body wriggling and arching towards us. Breasts flopping freely as she struggles.

I, reaching her, drop down. Running hands across the moving shifting ropes binding her.

Feeling. Questing, because I'm the Rope Bunny, and if it's bondage then I'm the fucking king not some stick of old bone.

Melantha and Frost stay standing, looking left and right. Scanning.

"Can you...?"
"Given time." Nodding up at Melantha. "Maybe we sh-"
"There." Frost, voice a bark, rifle already raised and tracking.

Only before she can get a shot off her clothes, change.

Dropping her rifle, forced to, as her gun belt unbuckles and slides free. As her combat trousers shrink and tighten, becoming a single dress like tube down to her ankles. Skintight.

Tighter.

As her tee likewise shrinks, sleeves growing down to the wrist, becoming one with the main body, pinning Frost's arms and wrists by her side.

Her trouser pockets seeming to swallow her hands, pinning them too.

In seconds Frost is cocooned, pitching forward to land squriming on the grass.

Helpless.

Looking up I see her, the redhead. Striding purposefully towards us, smirk on her face and wand in hand.

Four more?

What?

Four more wands in a brown leather quiver, on a belt and hanging low at right hip.

And. I'm not a fighter. I'll be able to get us all, even myself, out of whatever bondage she wands us into. But I can't prevent her victory here.

Melantha however.

Standing, still standing beside me. I throw her a quick glance, she offers a tight smile.

"Wu-Quikhf." She shouts. The far away eyed somewhat lost smile gone, her whole demeanour changed in moments to one of command.

To a queen.

And then suddenly, shading in from nothing. Invisible? Melantha's now stood between the front legs of a purple Chinese dragon, huge serpentine body and tail going back and back, over and across Ush and me, sheltering us too, long neck coiled and head down level with, beside Melantha's.

A dragon easily the size of most houses.

"A." Coughed out laugh, the inked redhead stops. Stares. "Fucking. Dragon?"
"Now." Shouting again.

From a wide mouth the dragon. Wu-Quikhf? Unleashes a torrent of flame. Hot enough to make me, out behind the inferno, cringe. At the same instant Melantha throws both hands forwards as though tossing a basketball, somehow adding a smaller yet no less impressive torrent of her own to the barrage.

Not killing, nor visibly injuring the redhead. Yet driving her back all the same.

Turning her clothes to ash and scraps of nothing, revealing. As the onslaught ends. The full extent of her ink. The four seemingly trapped and bound symbols, the fifth on her palm.

"I thought we said no dragons." Shouting across the distance at us, amused despite being naked. And if I'm any judge currently losing whatever fight this actually is.

Because we weren't exactly briefed properly before Ush decided she could handle matters alone.

Patting her bare butt, as she wriggles some more, sweat like a million small rivers all over her slim black limbed body from the heat, no different to mine. Soaked clothing and matted hair.

Bound, so, not able to handle matters then.

I fail to hide a smirk, hoping Ush doesn't see.

Only Melantha seems immune to the heat, standing calm. Small smile.

Whilst beside her the dragon growls, stamping forward a pace.

"We did?" And she's back. Looking from the redhead to me, confused smile.

Ditzy.

"You see." Voice pitched to carry. "There wasn't time for a full briefing."
"What?" Frown chasing across the redheads face, she shakes her head, bends to wrap the four loose wands up in the tattered charred shreds of her coat.

"I'm leaving now." Holding her one wand up like the weapon it mostly is. "Stay out of my way or next time I'll take the rest of you too."

And, answering the question for us, suddenly Sergeant Frost is. Well. Sucked away is the best I can do by way of explanation.

Her cocooned body, wriggling, is pulled away from the three of us, vanishing into nothingness moments later as the redhead takes a step backwards, vanishing too.

"Fuck." I curse, even as Ush's gag finally crumbles, falling away under my influence and concentration.

"Fuck." Melantha, somehow managing to make the curse sound posh and acceptable, nods agreement.

"What now?"
"Well." Still hunkered down over Ush, I glance at her, she shrugs.

"No point asking me," spark of humour, shaking her bound body, "I'm still just a little bit helpless."
"Only a little bit?" Smiling, humour bubbling up.

With an effort I manage not to laugh.

Melantha fails though, small giggle escaping before she clamps a hand over her mouth.

"Sorry."
"S'alright." Ush shrugs, smiling too. "Thank you both for coming."
"Yeah." Thinking, semi distracted. Focusing. "Um...."
"What?" Rolling onto her back to look up at me. Ush's breasts are not helping me focus.

"Can you take Ush back to base?"
"Like this?" Looking down at herself, giving me a disbelieving look. "Really?"
"I can get the Sergeant back."
"Oh."

"Can you?"
"Well...." Looking around, her dragon gone. For real, walking up into the sky even whilst becoming a shimmer becoming hazy, vanishing.

"Yes." Melantha nods, gives me a thumbs up.

"Good." I stand, take a step back as Melantha approaches. "I'll meet you at the base, we can." Shaking my head.

Five wands, I still can't believe it.

"Talk. I guess."
"Right."
"Yes." Ush, nodding too, voice full of sarcasm, as Melantha begins half lifting half dragging her towards the nearest door. "Hurry back, Kay. Because you didn't quite get around to removing all these wand made fucking ropes."

[BlissfulMisery]

Wanted the slow clapping to be the cliffhanger, better then anything related to the Playboy illusions I felt.

It was good. Was just not what I expected while reading.

As for the chapters...

Ush should be careful with acquiring more titles - at this rate simple introductions will turn into a tedious affair

As a rule of thumb, if you cannot say all your titles and names in a single breath, perhaps you have too many

And I see we are operating on a different level of destructibility here now - I remember when Kayley almost died from a simple gunshot. Now we have explosives and severe blunt force trauma being shrugged off like it was nothing. Well I suppose it was not directed at Kayley.

Of course Parris is doing the old 'I could defeat all of you but I am too bored/busy/going to give you a chance' villain move. I think that one is listed somewhere in a manual for how to *not* succeed in your master plan. Somehow I suspect it might end up backfiring on her in the end...

But (over?)confidence is quite a dangerous drug, and certainly after accomplishing what is supposedly impossible in this world, it would be hard to remain humble.

All in all quite the action sequence. Certainly setting a different kind of tone.

Also an explanation as to why Luna was targeted. I had initially thought it was personal, that Parris (at that point mysterious) had some connection with Ush, but apparently not. Interesting.

[GreyLord]

Masterfully written, @RopeBunny. Your story is wonderfully complex and fascinating. I'm enjoying this tremendously.