Every law and rule (by law) has to have an Exception.

Occasionally these Exceptions get together and throw a party, get very drunk on something illegal. And in an attempt to prove they are in fact more than mere exceptions, start mucking about with the other rules and laws and usually end up creating something they all regret the next morning.

Usually they then slink off and pretend nothing happened, leaving whatever they created behind to make its own way in the Universe. Every once in a while they try to fix what they did and, in doing so, make matters worse.

An example of this is Terminia, birthplace of the dreaded Space Flea. One of the few creatures that are able to exist in all dimensions at once. A creature who's bite is so painless it actually causes pain to the flea. As an evolutionary defense mechanism it developed the ability to ‘retro bite’. Meaning you actually feel it three days before you're actually bitten.

Or the eight armed Octurian Galaxy, at the center of which sits the giant octopus Harold whose only goal in life is to play in the sunshine and drink frothy lemonade.

There are comets pulled by space whales and 9 dimensional asteroids that are occupied by flying rabbits.

Places like this exist for the sole purpose of flouting in the laws of physics.

Then there is a world located in the inner arm of a galaxy no one goes to. It doesn't so much flout the laws as it walks through it's lawn and tramples the flowers. It’s a medium sized planet in the outer reaches of some unknown galaxy. A world made unique by the fact it has no actual water oceans and it’s only land masses are six continent sized islands that float on what, for all the world, looks like a gigantic cotton ball of cloud.

It’s a world where science and magic live harmoniously side by side (except when they don’t^[1]) and prophecy and prediction walk hand in hand down the cobblestone streets kicking each other in the shins.

On this world there is a prophecy that has persisted for a hundred generations involving a lost child of Dawgeria, a rubber ball, and the fate of the world. Recently the Disciples of The Brown Shoe, ^[2] have become very active, having become convinced that the time of the prophecy is upon them. As such they have begun searching for the Chosen One.

However, as with all prophecies, no one actually knows who that is. Some have claimed the Dawgeria is the ancient lost island of of legend, but considering that no one in living history has ever seen this island, and chances are it doesn't really exist, it's generally assumed that it's a perfect place for the Chosen One to be from.

There is one who believes that not only did Dawgeria exist but that the Chosen One did in fact not come from there, but from somewhere much farther away. From his castle on the remote City Continent of Nardinia the one known only as Little Mister recently came across a bit of information that confirmed his theory of the person to whom the prophesy referred and as such has set in motion a plan to bring the prophesy to fulfillment. He isn't the first to try.

He's not even the most recent.

1. ^[1] Which, ironically, happens less often than one might think. Granted they don't invite each other over for tea, it's more of a working relationship. ↩
2. ^[2] Commonly called the Druogs, for reasons that will become clear later. ↩

© 2011, anthony. All rights reserved.

He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, it was after all fairly cold, and stamped his feet to make sure he stayed warm. In all honesty he wasn't really expecting the skies to fall. That would have meant something went right, and based on the fact this was the fourth time in as many months that the end of the world had been predicted, yet had failed to happen (after all, if it had he wouldn't be here waiting). The doom sayers were starting to get as bad as the weather men.

He shook his head remembering the global pandemic that almost was, but wasn't. Supposedly Mad Cow disease had become so pervasive and stubborn this past winter that it was going to hit everycow all at once, then mutate into a new strain. Some CDC researchers predicted it would re-animate the cows after killing them creating what amounted to zombie cows. It didn't sound so bad considering that people had gotten really good at killing cows over the last few hundred years until he realized that it meant no more steaks or hamburgers. He still wasn't sure how that was going to 'end the world' (and yes, he used air quotes every time he mentioned it) but it definitely would have meant dinners would be a tad less interesting. Although on the whole, it was better than zombie squirrels. At least regular squirrels stopped chattering long enough to sleep.

Then there was the comet that was going to pass extremely close to the moon, shifting it out of it's orbit and, at the very least causing all kinds of destruction as the gravitational forces worked to balance themselves. Worst case scenarios had it crashing into the Earth itself. All the scientists were in agreement that everything would work itself out and harmony would once again reign, but there was a very likely chance humanity would not survive.

Then of course the comet missed. Later it was discovered that there was a rounding error and that it had missed the moon by several million miles instead of the predicted few hundred feet. Morton always shook his head at that one. Being an accountant for the Fifth National Bank of Wellington he always had a profound respect for number and tended to guffaw at the mistake whenever it came up in conversation. Which it did. A lot.

And who could forget the alien invasion. Millions upon millions of alien ships had suddenly appeared in orbit just above the planet. It was certain doom or so the pundits had proclaimed on every talk show they could squeeze themselves onto. No chance of humanity surviving this, it was most certainly an invasion, then had pictures of the ships and everything.

Until one researcher had discovered that the alien ships were in fact nothing more than space fleas and that the original discoverer had simply mis-focused his telescope. Then every one that went to verify it and discovered the mistake decided that since the gentleman who had made the discovery was so well respected and so very popular that it must have been they that had made the mistake and so proliferated the false claims for several days.

So it was with a shake of the head that Morton turned around and shuffled back into his house when the PA system started to chirp to life and the announcer came on and stated that the launch of the nuclear missile aimed at the enemy had been cancelled due to a mechanical failure. He had hoped all along there wasn't going to be yet another postponement but had put a pie in the oven, just in case.

© 2011, anthony. All rights reserved.

We lost 8 of our own and only managed, through shear luck, to capture 1 of them. None of the Asgard fell. From the tiny bits of information we were able to extract from our prisoner they not only have the forcefield that I encountered, they have also developed a device that allows them to teleport as well as anti-matter bombs. The latter we think was used in the North End.

It means they can strike anywhere at will and completely devastate everything.

It also means they can kill hundreds, maybe even thousands of people in the blink of an eye. Initial estimates put the loses in North End around 900. We will never know for sure because there are no bodies to count.

Some of the analysts now believe that the bank heists and other robberies were designed to acquire funds to develop this technology. Someone on their side has to have an extremely high IQ. This is tech that's been dreamed of for years but no one else has been able to even come close to these kind of devices. They managed to do it in a little under two years.

The other thing we've learned is that their headquarters is located in Quebec. They are using one of the older northern castles as a base of operations.

I have no idea why Quebec would aid and abet these people but ever since they gained their sovereignty the government up there has gone out of it's way to piss off Canada and the US. What better way to do that then to provide asylum to our biggest threat.

After the debriefing we met with the leaders of the military arm of the project to discuss the next move. After some debate it's been decided that we will take the fight to them, we are to air drop into their home base and let the government deal with the consequences of what will be consider an invasion into Quebec territory.

Drop from twenty thousand feet without a parachute isn't for the weak of heart. It took me several months to get up the nerve. And like the joke says, it's not the fall that kills you but the sudden stop at the end. 3 of us have telekinetic abilities and we use them at the last second to slow everyone’s decent at the last second. We agreed earlier not to bring us to a complete stop but to land heavily in the stone courtyard of the castle. A bit reminiscent of the scene in SuckerPunch and maybe a little cliche but it was cool. Considering the castle looks a bit like the one in the movie it was all the more surreal.

I sent one group to work their way around the right side of the castle and another to the left. Myself and the rest walked straight through the front door like we owned the place.

We searched for hours. Not that the castle was very large, but we looked for hidden doorways, secret passages, or hidden rooms. Anything to explain why the building was completely deserted. Sad to think our show in the courtyard went unseen.

Everyone finally mets together in what appears to be the throne room. Along one wall, opposite where I imagine the throne would be, but where now sits a large orange sectional sofa, are four large televisions mounted on the wall.

We are all milling around the room trying to decide what to do next, the military attachment is actually looking a bit relieved, when the hissing starts. Our first reaction is panic, that we walked into a trap and that an anti-matter bomb is about to go off. Funny how we didn't think of that before hand. Only when the tv's flash to life and we are all staring at the face of what has to be the ugliest man alive do we realize that it was indeed a trap but that we aren't going to die just yet.

"Interesting. More of you survived then I expected" says the voice from the televisions, "I'm slightly impressed. Not that it matters."

I step forward and address the screens.

"You are the one they call Exodus I presume?"

"You presume correctly. And you are the son. Father would be proud."

"You do not get to call him 'father'."

Exodus laughs and waves his hand, dismissing my comment.

"Spare me the theatrics. He was the creator of all of us. He created the serum and the process that gave us our powers, that made us more than human. He was our Genesis and I carry on fulfilling my interpretation of his vision, which is why I call myself 'Exodus'. But I don't want to upset you little one, so I shall refrain from using the term again."

"What do you want? I presume there is a reason we are here and you are talking to us?"

"Yes, there is a reason. I want you to run home and tell your president and military leaders I have a proposal for them."

"And what might that proposal be?"

"That is for them to know little one."

"You can't really expect me to tell them you want to talk and not give them a reason why?"

"Tell them I wish to make a deal."

I almost fall over laughing. After all this he really thinks they are going to negotiate with a terrorist.

"What deal?" I ask when I finally catch my breath.

"We want immunity and governmental support to sell the Ichabod drug to anyone that can afford it. Tell them that if they don't agree we will destroy a city every hour until they do and the clock starts in five hours.", Exodus leaned forward into the screen, "And you know we have the ability to do just that. Now run along."

© 2011, anthony. All rights reserved.

It's amazing what passes through your mind sometimes. As I sit on my knees feeling the pain of my dislocated right shoulder and broken forearm I remember the last time I felt pain like this. The day I went through the transformation process.

It hurts. They didn't know that at first, though in hindsight it should have been obvious. The first test subject died from the pain before they figured it out. The second went mad before they were able to get the pain and anesthesia levels right. Even then you feel it and it's still the worse pain you've ever felt in your life. The process causes your bones to re-knit themselves so that they become stronger. Your muscles are restructured as millions of new fibers are created and your skin is reworked so that it's denser and virtually impenetrable. In essence every cell in your body is transformed. In minutes.

All this passes through my mind in an instant. Even now the memory is still enough to make me catch my breath. Which the titan of a man in front of me apparently took as a sign of pain or weakness because he started laughing. Frankly it's rather annoying.

I raise my head and look at titan boy. He's at least 8 feet tall and built like a young Arnold Schwarzenegger. I have no way of knowing if was like that before or if the process did this to him. Either way, he's big. The process is also what gives us our powers. Every person is different so we never know what we will end up with. Some powers are, for lack of a better way of saying it, useless. Having the ability to grow plants well doesn't really help. Powers can range anywhere from telekinesis to super speed, although not on the level of the Flash, to a super genius. And everything in between. I was gifted with telekinesis. A rather strong form of it too. Where as most have trouble moving anything larger than a mid-sized SUV, I can bring down buildings. I've mentioned that the process reengineers every cell and makes us stronger and our skin denser. Anything short of an armor piercing shell will basically bounce off. It hurts like hell, but only for a second. It's the equivalent of being smacked with a ruler for normals.

With that said, physics is still physics. If I hit him with something big enough, and with enough momentum, it won't stop him, but might put him down long enough to get away. Instinctively I reach out and grab whats left of the side of a 7 story building behind me. He sees the wall start to shake, places his hands on his hips and starts laughing even louder. Not exactly the response I expected but he's starting to piss me off so I don't bother restraining myself and fling it at him with everything I've got.

The impact is tremendous, I feel it from where I'm sitting several hundred yards away. It's enough that a couple unstable structures near us start to collapse and fall into themselves in response. I head the crackling and tinkling of small stones falling back to earth after the impact sent them skyward. I struggle to stand, when a tremor shakes the area and knocks me back on my ass. Trouble is it doesn't feel like a normal tremor, nor does it come at the right time. There was too much time after the impact for the two to be related.

That's when I realize the cracking sounds I heard earlier weren't stones. Now that the dust has settled I see him kneeling on the ground with his left fist on the ground. He has caused the tremor by pounding the earth. And he has a forcefield surrounding him. That's new.

He grins and picks up the burnt out remains of a car next to him and heaves it at me. Can't dodge with my arm and shoulder so I push myself up and over using my gift, somersaulting badly over the car. I land wrong causing pain to flair in my shoulder and wrench my ankle. No damage is done but it puts me off balance long enough for him to uproot a light pole and swing at me. I can't recover in time and the impact throws me across the street. When I land the impact shatters my headset, however my only thoughts are that I'm glad he doesn't play for the Yankees and that he's left handed.

He launches himself into the air directly at me. It's one hell of a leap, but based on the display so far nothing for someone with his strength. As he's in the air I realize where we are and using my power grab him in mid air and slam him into a concrete building in the center of the street. It's the building where the Red Line goes back underground so I put everything I have into forcing him as far down as I can and piling debris on top.

It won't hold him forever but should long enough for me to get away.

I go north, planning to cross over the Charles at the museum heading for the Garden where our HQ is set up. They need to know that the game has changed.

© 2011, anthony. All rights reserved.

We buried my father today. A man considered by many as the brightest mind that ever lived. Others called him the harbinger of doom. Apparently that's the way it works with men who are super geniuses. If his death had been natural I might not hate the sunshine and cool breezes blowing around me as I stand here on the balcony overlooking the graveyard where his body now lies.

My girlfriend is with me and has been trying to console me all afternoon. Unfortunately this is one of those situations where unless you've experienced it, you can't even begin to understand what it's like. She kept reminding me that her father was killed when she was 12, and while that is true, her father wasn't killed by a terrorist organization that was created specifically to destroy his work. She can't understand that because of his work in genetics and biology, and because of the powers he gave me and others like me, he was targeted from the beginning.

I don't blame her. I can't. Of the 10 billion people living on this planet and the moon only 15, the ones dad chose for the Ichabod project, would even begin to have an idea of what it felt like. Of those, only five had a parent in the project. Then of course only I was lucky enough to have the man that started it all, the man that discovered how to give ordinary people what amounted to super powers, as a father.

Right now she is in the other room trying to absorb everything I told her. In this case I can imagine what she is going through. I went through something similar 5 years ago when dad told me all about the Ichabod idea. He told me about how he had worked out how to alter a persons physiology and biochemistry to give them super human abilities.

He had gotten FDA approval to begin testing on humans, and wanted to know if I would be willing to be part of the trials.

That's when everything went to hell. A group calling themselves 'The Asgard' broke into the lab in Boston, stole all the serum and notes and research and blew up the lab. Injuring my dad in the process. They began to experiment on themselves. No one is sure where their scientist came from, or if they even had one, but suddenly they began to acquire abilities that were unstable and dangerous. Well, more dangerous. Especially in their hands.

Dad went into self-imposed exile to recover from his injuries. The worst of which was a shattered spine which left him unable to walk. 'Very Professor X' I always said, teasing him about it. At least it made him smile.

When he recovered to the point he could work again he dedicated himself to developing a serum that would counter the original drug, holding himself responsible for all the death and damaged caused by Asgard.

Then a year ago they changed course. Some said that the leadership within Asgard changed, that there had been a coup of some kind and that was why the change of philosophy. Others said it was because they had found out about dad's little fail safe. That those given the treatment became sterile and could not produce offspring. He had said it was to prevent the powers from getting out of control and evolving into god knew what.

Either way they went from committing crimes like theft and extortion to terrorizing the general population. I'm convinced that they did it intentionally, knowing dad would do something and it would bring him out of exile.

And they were right. He came out of seclusion and, with the help of the government, formed the super-human group he dubbed 'League'. He kind of named it after the 'League of Extraordinary Gentlemen', but also, as a private joke, because the training part of the program would be called 'The Minors'. He did love his baseball.

Because I was his son I was recruited to join. Training was brutal. Not only did we get training in using our powers but we went through the standard Marine basic training. Only it was accelerated because no one felt we had a lot of time to figure it out.

We held our own the first time we face Asgard. No one died and no one got seriously injured. However in retaliation they attacked and leveled Atlanta. Sherman would have been proud, and probably a little embarrassed. That was six months ago. They are still searching for missing people. They announced a couple weeks ago that they were targeting Boston next since that was where it all began and where League had setup it's headquarters.

When the announcement hit the news dad jumped on a plane from LA, where he had been working to setup a west coast division, and headed back to Boston. They attacked his plane somewhere over Kansas and brought it down. They pulled my father from the plane, tortured him for fun then finished the job they started back when they first attacked the lab. I'm told he died quickly once they decided to kill him. Small consultation.

Steph came out after a couple hours and is standing next to me. We stay like that, neither of us talking for several minutes until the sirens starting going off, announcing Asgards arrival in Boston, and my signal that it was time to met the rest of the team.

I really wish it wasn't such a nice day.

© 2011, anthony. All rights reserved.

p.s. Everyone should feel free to use the 'Highlighter' thing if they feel the need. I'm still give it a test to see if it's worth it.

He thought back to the incident as he fell to the ocean floor, the water slowing his decent to almost nothing. The other had managed to work their arm under underneath him, and as he shifted his weight to move the coral he had attached to broke away causing his current predicament.

On the way down he had hit another piece of coral that had been razor sharp, slicing off a portion of one arm. There had been very little blood and the pain had already began to subside as the wound had closed itself off fairly quickly.

As he hit bottom he was able to glance back the way he came and saw the other sitting on the top of the coral in his old spot, most likely oblivious to the events that had transpired. He bore no ill will toward the other, they probably hadn't intended to knock him off the reef after all. Besides, no one could have predicted it would have given way just then.

He sighed inwardly and took his bearings, trying to determine the best path back to the top where he had been. Once he located the route he set his mind towards the goal and began the long trek.

He hoped the arm would grow back before he reached the summit. Scars were cool and all, but trying to explain this to the other starfish wasn't something he was looking forward to.

© 2011, anthony. All rights reserved.

The humiliation that came with being tossed around because you weren't paying attention was something he wished, very strongly, to avoid. Especially since the incident last year. Besides, with over 50,000 others in the hive, it wasn't like there was a place for a Bee to hide when the mocking became too much.

© 2011, anthony. All rights reserved.

I'm 17, from Boston, MA and I'm a Zombie Hunter.

Trust me, it's not as glamorous as it sounds.  In fact it's kind of messy, but I do get to travel to remote and exotic places and met exciting people.  Not.

I've learned a few things about Zombies over the years.

1.They maintain full function of anything not destroyed when they die.  That includes the brain.  For example, if your brain is damaged but your arms are fine you could hit a baseball.  Assuming you know what a baseball is. Or what a bat is even for.

1. They can speak.  Sorry to say it but George Romero got it wrong.  Maybe he knew and left that part out in his movies because it's too terrifying.  It may not seem like much, but trust me, when a horribly disfigured creature shambling about is calling your name, it's not pleasant.  Especially when said person is your mother.  Of course you're probably use to her shambling about calling your name or maybe that's just me.

2. They have an hierarchy of sorts.  There is a master zombie all the way down to slaves and drones.  Drones are usually the ones that have had a significant portion of their head (and subsequently their brain) damaged and are basically stupid.  Masters are strong physically, very strong.  They have to be to make it up the food chain.

3. They aren't all that common.  There is probably 1 zombie for every 100,000 people on the planet, give or take.  They tend to gather in groups (clans, covens, flocks, gaggles???) and hold up somewhere away from people.

4. They don't actually 'hunt' people.  True, they love the taste of human flesh (eww!) but they are actually attracted to movement. Stands to reason when your eyes are glazed over that you can't see very well.  So if you were to stand stock still they'd walk right by you.  Not that many people will stand still while a pack of flesh eating monsters are strolling by.

5. There are actually 2 types of zombies: Dead and Infected.  The names are misleading, but then again they didn't ask me my opinion when they named them.  Dead zombies are people that died and then contracted the virus and were reanimated.  These are usually the ones you see bumbling around.  Infected contracted the virus and died as a result (meaning they are un-injured) or were bitten.  Kind of like Werewolves.

6. There is a cure.  If you can get to it within the first 12 hours after infection it can stop the virus. And yes, I realize how much that sounds like vampirism.

I've also learned that none of these rules mean a damn thing when your stuck on the roof of a parking garage in the middle of the night, your only weapon being a sand pail of not-quite-ripe peaches that you just (illegally) picked and your best friend, Sixx,  is standing next to you in a fuzzy pink hospital gown with rabbits on it, all the while surrounded by a band of reasonably intelligent zombies who were actually out looking for you specifically.

Trust me, pink is not his color.

Oh, and Sixx is a zombie as well.

"Explain to me again how you ended up wearing a ping hospital gown."

"Really?  You think now is the best time to bring that up again?"

"Well yea.  It gets funnier every time you tell it."

"Oh hardy-de-har-har.  What are we going to do Z?"

"I called Stephanie, she and Mike are on their way over now. They only live a few blocks from her."

Stephanie and Mike are the other half of our team.  Steph is actually my ex but we've remained friends.  She's 5' 7", very much a tomboy and can kick the ass of just about anyone I know, including me.  I've seen her take on 3 strong Infected at once and not even break a sweat.

Mike, her partner, puts Steph to shame.  She is very feminine but is a better fighter than any of us.  The belts in Judo, Aikido and Capoeira help. Don't let the blond hair fool you though, she doesn't take crap from anyone and doesn't suffer fools period.  Imagine Charlize Theron with a ninja sword and an attitude.  And the fact that Mike and I get along better than Steph and I has nothing at all to do with my praise.  Honestly.

"Getting into trouble again I see?" Steph says through a giant grin on her face.

"You know me," I reply as Mike tosses me my sword.

We wade through the first wave of grunts, slicing and hacking and the occasional thwack when I heave a peach at a zombie.  I take the heads of a couple of twins, Mike takes out three local business men.  Severing the head is the only sure way to guarantee that a zombie is dead.  Romero got that much right.  Then again it works for just about every other creature on the planet as well.  There are a couple exceptions but that's another story.

I glance over and see Sixx beating another zombie into submission with their own arms, hooping and hollering the entire time.  At least he enjoys his work.

He takes a break from the beating to look up at me just as I cut off the left arm of a zombie still holding a broom.

"Any one else notice they aren't really putting up a fight?" he asks.

It's then that I notice the leader standing off in the distance.  He realizes I've seen him and steps forward.

"I come with a message."

"And what might that be?"

"The Matriarch would like to speak with you."

With that the remaining zombies turn and leave.  Something I've never seen happen before.  Not exactly a good sign to be honest.

We all stand and stare at each other for a few minutes, Steph is the one to finally break the silence.

"What do we do Zed?"

I pause for dramatic effect, "Let's go find out what my mother wants."

© 2010, anthony. All rights reserved.

As his eyes adjusted he could see shadows moving around behind the lights in all directions, their purpose and goals unknown to him.  Across the room was a beautiful girl standing just inside the doorway.  He knew her, or felt he should.  At the very least he wanted to. Occasionally sounds came drifting in, soft enough and low enough that he couldn't quite understand the words.

His first instinct was to wonder if they were talking about him, looking across the now lit room he could see the girl standing by the door, maybe the voices were talking about her

He chose his spot beside the couch and looked carefully around the room.  It was an average sized room with average furniture.  It was mostly in line with his tastes, enough so he wasn't repulsed by it, but he knew it was all fake.  Nothing he could see was real, nothing belonged to him.  Looking around again he couldn't remember what his own furniture, or even his room actually looked like.

He licked his lips as his gaze passed over the shadows moving around behind the lights.  The whispers again passing by him, not quite understandable.

How long would they stay away, how long would the light keep them out.

He glanced over to the girl again and noticed that she seemed more confident, more sure of herself than he felt.  He wondered if she was even real and fought the urge to walk over to her to touch her, knowing it would provoke the Director in the shadows and cause himself anguish.

Instead he sat on the arm of the couch, sensing his time was coming.  Instinctively know that soon the lights would begin and everything would change.

He was supposed to do something, or say something… if only he could remember.

He started¬†fidgeting, shaking his hands and feet. He closed his eyes trying desperately to remember what it was he was supposed to do. ¬†It was something important, that much he remembered. ¬†Something about…

Suddenly his head rose up, everything came flooding back to him in a frantic rush.

He sorted it out in his head, took  a deep breath and felt his confidence grow.

He was set.

He was ready.

Ready to play his part. Ready to tackle the role before him in this grand drama.

He smiled briefly at the girl across the room, and she smiled back.  His confidence rose again.

Another deep breath.

He faced the light, ready.

The shuffling in the background quieted, the lights began to dim. The shadows stilled.

Now.

Now was the time for him to do what he had come to do, to stand on his own and face all his fears and demons.  To give the performance of his life.

Suddenly a face appeared across the room, distorted by the lights and shadows into a mockery of a man.  The face seemed to take a deep breath and shouted:

"ACTION!"

© 2010, anthony. All rights reserved.

He smiled, which considering he was a large Golden Retriever made a fairly expressive grin.


"Sam. You have some nerve coming here. Especially with out your little white bodyguard."


"I figured she might upset you a little after the incident last month, and I wanted to talk to you peacefully."


"Talk? Why should I talk to you? You and your little 'pets' mean nothing to me."
Gustav tried to put every ounce of disgust he had into pets. It was a lot.


"Maybe, but the subject matter of our conversation will interest you a great deal. "


"Really. And what could you possibly want to talk about that I would be interested enough in to prevent me from siccing Thunder after your scrawny butt?"


"I'm helping a cat try to find his friend…"


"A cat!", if possible Gustav managed to put even more disgust into cat than he had into pets, "Why on earth would I care about helping some flea bitten little furball?!"


"Because he might be a victim of a catnapping and animal trafficking." 
 Gustav froze with his mouth partially open. He close his mouth, licked his lips and looked around at the others surrounding him. They were all looking back at him with a mixture of anxiety and sadness.


Finally he lowered his body to the ground, stretched his paws out in front of him and held his head up.


"Let's talk"


**********


Watson was on his hind feet with his front paws on the side of the house trying to push his nose as close to the open window as possible.


"Interesting."


"Whats interesting?" asked Harley, trotting over to see what Watson had discovered.


"Sniff and tell me what you smell."


Harley put his nose to the ground and sniffed everything he could find. He circled under the window several times, occasionally looking around as if he expected to something to suddenly appear.
"Fear."


"And why is that odd?"


Harley sniffed.


He continued to sniff and began to work his way away from the house towards the yard.


"Oh, because if he was running away he wouldn't give off fear, but would be anxious or nervous."


"Right."


"So he was stolen!"


"Slow down, all it tells us is that he didn't runaway.


Harley sniffed again.


"There's else some interesting here."


He began weaving back and forth across the yard, trying to pick up the scent again. Occasionally he would look around as if expecting something to suddenly appear.
 Suddenly he froze and looked up at Watson.


"Dog!"
 


**********


"Is there any kind of pattern?"


"Not really. They are taking all types of dogs from pure breed to mutt, cats, rabbits, hamsters and even a parrot. The only anomaly seems to be age. Older animals aren't being taken."
 "So all young animals."


"Yep." replied Zena. She sat on the floor and looked around at everyone. The only missing members of the group were Timothy and Maggie who were assisting Malcom with the search for Peri.


Everyone had returned home and gathered to share what information they had gathered. No one looked particularly happy.


Sam paced around in circles. He went over to the water bowl, got a drink and water, and with his beard still wet sat down and looked at Watson.


"What did you guys learn at Peri and Chester's house?"


"There was a lot of fear scent all over the place under the window and even some up the wall. Almost like he was trying to climb back in."


"Fear scent would be expected in a kidnapping" replied Zena, "Even up the wall. He was probably trying to get away."


"That was my original theory, but he wasn't kidnapped. We followed the fear scent away from the window and across the yard to a tall oak tree. He apparently climbed the tree to escape a dog."


"Wait," interrupted Sam, "What do you mean escape a dog?"


"There was a dog scent that overlapped the trail we followed out to the woods, but it doesn't look like the dog was actually chasing him."


"Wouldn't the dog cause the fear even if he ran away?", Sam asked.


"The dog scent seemed to weave back and forth across Peri's. It appears the dog followed the scent to the tree, circled a few times and finally gave up."


"Did you find any place where Peri came down?" Zena asked.


Watson waited and after a few seconds nudged Harley gently with his nose.


"Oh right! Yea!" Harley exclaimed realizing it was his turn to share information, "This was my idea! The branches in the trees are thick and look fairly sturdy. There are a lot of them close together and I think Peri, realizing there was a dog below, must have used the branches to travel without coming out of the tree."


Tim suddenly appeared in the window out of breath, "Malcom's patrols found Peri!", he shouted, "He's about 2 miles away in a little culvert. They said he looks okay but appears to be scared out of his mind. Not that I blame his with all those birds circling overhead."


"It's farther than I thought he would be but if he used the branches like Harley suggested it would be possible." replied Sam as he stood up and began pacing in circles.


"Farther than you thought? You know something we don't?" Timothy asked as he leapt down from the window and sat facing Sam.


"I think have a fairly good idea of what happened, and I believe I know how."
 
 


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