"Getting Medieval" by NobodyAtAll

Warning: minor spoilers for the Hatred Saga.

In the dead of night, a man prowls through the streets of a city, a gun in his hand.

It’s a quiet night, not a lot of people out, which is to the man’s advantage. This city is not the kind of city that never sleeps.

Nor is it the city that so many of a certain team call home.

The man is, of course, a fluffy abuser, and in this city, what he plans to do hasn’t been banned yet. It hasn’t been banned everywhere.

Earlier today, the man was having lunch at his favorite restaurant when the owner mentioned a family of feral fluffies living out back, who the owner often gives a free meal of leftovers.

The man made a mental note to never eat there again, and bided his time.

The restaurant is closed for the day, and the employees have gone home.

But the fluffies should still be out back.

By the time the sun rises, the owner of that restaurant might be in for a nasty surprise.

When the man passes an alleyway, he stops, and turns back.

He looks into the alleyway, seeing nothing there.

But for a moment, he could have sworn that he saw something glowing red.

After a couple of seconds, he shrugs, and moves on.

“Meh. Must’ve been my imagination.”

Several streets away, a feral stallion searches an upturned trash can, hoping to find food for his family, waiting in the cardboard box they live in, like many feral fluffy families do.

Yes, the same family that man is going after. The stallion’s special friend needs to make milkies for her babbehs, and with the restaurant they live behind being closed, the stallion dutifully set out to find something that will hold his special friend and babbehs over until the bright time.

He finds a can of baked beans, and looks inside.

To his luck, it’s half full.

That’s the most edible thing he can find in the trash can, but it’s better than nothing.

“Hmm. How am fwuffy gunna git dis back tu speciaw fwend?”

The stallion thinks, and then has a lightbulb moment.

He remembers when his special friend was a soon-mummah, and became unable to walk.

He had to roll her out of the box every time she needed to make poopies, otherwise the box would become very smelly indeed.

That might work here.

So he starts carefully rolling the can away, back to his nest. It’s a big can. If it was full, he probably wouldn’t be able to move it.

“Fwuffy hope dat speciaw fwend wike deez nummies…”

The man moves closer to his destination, passing an all-night sex shop, paying it little mind.

On the next street, he hears movement behind him, and quickly turns around.

All he sees is an empty plastic bag, blowing in the wind.

He chuckles to himself, moving on.

And not noticing the glowing red eyes, belonging to another man, watching him from a rooftop.

The stallion carefully rolls the can of beans through the alleyways, stopping when he sees another fluffy, curled up on the ground.

An earthie stallion, with green fluff, a red and yellow mane and tail, and orange eyes. He looks too clean to be a street fluffy, and he’s wearing a collar, which most ferals don’t have.

“Yu nee sum hewp wif dat, fwend?”

The feral stallion nods. He hasn’t recognised the green fluffy yet.

But word’s spread fast about that fluffy. Give it time.

“Yus, dat wud be gwate, fank yu. Fwuffy nee tu git deez nummies tu speciaw fwend.”

The green stallion gets up and waddles over, helping the feral stallion roll the can.

“Wead da way.”

Surprisingly, the green stallion has a much easier time rolling the can.

On the way, the green stallion makes small talk.

“Su, du yu haf a namesie?”

The feral stallion shakes his head.

“Nu. Fwuffy am jus fwuffy. Du yu haf a namesie?”

The green stallion hesitates for a second.

“Yu wiww fine owt watew.”

“Otay. Den du yu haf a hoomin daddeh? Yu wook wike yu du.”


“Su whewe am yu daddeh?”

The green stallion snickers softly.

“Oh… he am awound…”

A couple of alleyways away from the restaurant, the man stops to catch his breath.

He looks at his reflection in a busted mirror. His unremarkable face, a grey denim jacket with a few brown stains that were originally red.

Then, for a second, he’s sure he sees the reflection of someone else, standing right behind him.

Someone with glowing red eyes.

He jumps in fright, but when he turns around, there’s no one there.

“It can’t be… nah, he’s got bigger fish to fry.”

A fatal misunderstanding to make.

The man moves on, still not noticing the other man clinging to the wall a couple of floors up.

The unnamed stallion and his unexpected helper return to the former’s cardboard home behind the restaurant, finding, inside the box, a feral mare, her eyes fixed upon a litter of slumbering foals.

“Speciaw fwend! Fwuffy am back, an fwuffy gut nummies! Nao yu ca make miwkies fow da babbehs!”

As the feral stallion rolls the can over, his mate beams at him.

“Did yu git dat hewe aww bai yu-sewf?”

“Nu, fwuffy had hewp fwom…”

The stallion looks around, but the other stallion is nowhere to be found.

“Huh. Whewe did he gu? He wuz hewe jus a sekkund agu…”

The man arrives at the restaurant’s front, finally at his destination.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

He slowly tiptoes into the alleyway next to the restaurant, heading to the back.

Once there, he sees the fluffy family, the mare having poked her head into the can of beans as the stallion watches the foals.

um num num num num

The can is big enough that the mare’s head won’t get stuck.

They haven’t noticed their guest yet.

The man crouches down, deciding to kill the mare first, and as he takes aim from his hiding spot, he murmurs to himself.

“Say goodnight, bitch.”

He puts his finger on the trigger, and pulls.


But no bullet seems to come out of the gun to kill the mare.

The feral couple stops what they’re doing, looking around in fear.

“Scawy soun!”

“Wut wuz dat?!?”

The gunshot woke the foals up, and now they’re chirping in distress.

As the feral couple rushes to calm their foals down, the man loses his patience.

“Fuck it. DIE, SHITRATS!!!”

He runs out of his hiding spot, aiming his gun at the feral family.


He fires over and over again, but there’s still a mysterious absence of actual bullets, and the ferals remain unharmed.

He looks at his gun in utter confusion, the fluffies watching him in silence, just as confused as their would-be assailant.

“What the fuck is wrong with this thing?!?”

He hears someone clear their throat behind him, and turns around.

Seeing none other than Calvin Korkea and Marley, the former in his famous battle suit, his bag of holding and the Sword of Kings over it, both of the Omegas’ eyes burning red.

Calvin’s fist is clenched, and he holds it out, palm down.

When he opens his hand…


All of the bullets the man just fired fall to the ground.

Yes, that’s how fast Calvin can be.

Calvin grins at the man, or at least, he bares his teeth.


The man wheezes and stammers in fear, his eyes widening and his face going pale, and he drops his gun.

Then he runs away screaming.

Calvin looks down at Marley.

“You keep an eye on these guys. I’ve got this.”

Marley nods, waddling over to the ferals to calm them down, and explain a thing or two.

“Mawwey wud wish yu gud wuck, daddeh, but we bof knu yu nu nee it.”

The man runs for his life through the alleyways, ignoring the fact that he’s soiled himself.

Right now, he’s got a much bigger problem than shit-stained undies.

As he turns around a corner, he finds Calvin waiting for him, smirking with arms folded.

Hello again~.

The man flees back the way he came.

Back behind the restaurant, Marley guards the feral family, his eyes having gone back to their usual orange.

“Su, Mawwey gut sum ess-pwain-in tu du.”

The feral stallion gasps in awe. His special friend is singing a mummah song to the foals to get them back to sleep.

“Wait, su yu am dat Mawwey?!?”


“Su yu daddeh am… da Bestest Hoomin?”

“Da wun an onwy.”

“An… an dat bad mistah am…”

Marley cracks a grin.

“Awn a wun way twip tu Deep Poopies Sitty.”

The man exits the alleys and runs up to a convenience store, and he frantically pushes on the door.

“Let me in let me in LET ME IN!!!”

Then he hears Calvin whisper into his ear.

Psst! That’s a pull door, stupid.”

The man looks over his shoulder, but apparently, no one is there.


Apparently no one smacks the man in the face with an unseen hand.

The man runs away again, the employee inside watching him go with a nonplussed expression.

The employee doesn’t have the ability to see the invisible.

So he’s drawn the conclusion that the man outside is on drugs.

The man goes back into the alleys, stopping to climb over a chain link fence.

When he drops down to the ground, he turns around, seeing Calvin on the other side of the fence, a look of feigned annoyance on his face.

“Aw crap, a chain link fence! My one weakness! How did you know?”

Calvin smirks at the man.

Just kidding~. Noclip mode, activate!”

He goes intangible, walking through the fence like it’s not even there.

But the man’s already running away again, and this time, the look on Calvin’s face is one of genuine annoyance.

“I always hate it when they refuse to fold.”

Back behind the restaurant, Marley and the feral couple look at the foals, who have finally fallen asleep again.

“Ah, dis take Mawwey back. Mawwey haf had babbehs tuu.”

The feral mare looks at him.

“Su am Mawwey gunna be weave-in nao?”

“Nu yet. We shud pwob-ab-wee wait fow Mawwey daddeh tu come back.”

The man keeps running, desperately hoping to get away from his pursuer.

“Oh crap, oh shit, oh fuck, oh God please let me get out of this!”

He knows that there’s a train station not far from his current position, so his plan is to make it onto the next train out of town. He’s not really picky about its destination.

And he’s dumb enough to think that’s enough to get away from the strongest human on the planet.

Another fatal misunderstanding.

The man exits the alleyway, finding himself outside the sex shop he passed earlier.

“What the-- aw, I must’ve made a wrong turn somewhere.”

As he runs back into the alleyway, he hears Calvin’s voice again.

“Yeah, you did. When you decided to kill those fluffies. What did they ever do to you, huh?”

Calvin lands right in front of the man.

“Seriously, dude, you know that you can’t get away from me, don’t you?”

The man backs away, but Calvin just sidles toward him. If you’ve forgotten, Calvin can actually sidle forwards. Is it the least possible thing he can do?

“So how about you stop running, and we skip to the part where I beat your ass to a pulp?”

The man swings at Calvin, but Calvin effortlessly dodges the blow.


For a second, Calvin’s eyes are blank white, and his body glows silver.


He counters with a punch to the gut that floors the man.

“Wow, you’re a special kind of stupid, aren’t you? Be glad I dodged that, because if I didn’t, your hand would be broken now.”

“Y-you… p-p-please don’t k-k-kill me…”

In the blink of an eye, Calvin’s got his hand wrapped around the man’s throat, lifting him up. It’s not so tight that the man can’t breathe. Yet.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you. How many fluffies have you killed? Did you show them mercy when they asked for it? I can’t just haul you off to jail for fluffy abuse, it’s not illegal here. But we’ll work on that.”

“You-- you call yourself a hero, don’t you?!?”

“I’m the kind of hero who isn’t afraid to kill when he has to. If it’s the only way to keep a bad guy down, then I have to kill them, especially if there’s innocent lives at stake.”

He grins a humorless grin, looking the man in the eyes.

“Ah, but a guy like you probably has some other crimes on his rap sheet. Things that have been illegal for a while. So what would you prefer? Going to jail, or being killed by the strongest man alive? Think quickly, now.”

“Killing me is a crime too, you know!”

“Yeah, but I’m the Harbinger of Chaos. Breaking the rules is what the Harbinger of Chaos does. And unlike you, I don’t kill people who didn’t have it coming.”

“Goddamnit, this isn’t fair!

Calvin laughs.

“Oh, no no no. This is fair, because now you know how all the fluffies you’ve killed felt. It’s not much fun when someone vastly stronger than you decides to wreck your shit, is it? That whole the weak should fear the strong pile of fluffy crap doesn’t seem so good when you’re the weak one, does it? All I’m doing here is giving you a taste of your own medicine. What goes around comes around, bitch.

He lifts his free hand up and clenches it into a fist.

“So what’s it gonna be? Are you gonna give up, or do I have to punch a hole through your torso? Or perhaps I could simply run you through with my sword. The Sword of Kings won’t harm you if you don’t deserve it. Wanna flip that coin? Or I could just obliterate you with my new special move. There won’t be enough left of you to fill a thimble.

“I give, I give!”

“Good answer. Seems the single brain cell in your head made the right call.”

A short while later, Calvin returns to the restaurant by himself, finding Marley watching over the feral family, all of the ferals now sound asleep.

“Everything go alright here, Mar?”

“Yus, daddeh. Whewe am da ass-howe?”

Calvin smiles, his eyes fading back to their usual blue.

“At the moment, he’s in a holding cell at the nearest police station. If he breaks out, I’m not bringing him back. I gave him one chance, and here’s hoping he doesn’t waste it. We’ve got enough shit to deal with.”

He pulls a package out of his bag. It’s wrapped in paper with little Xs in octagons on it, and he places it in front of the cardboard box.

It’s filled with food and toys for the fluffies.

“We’ll have to drop by again in the morning, to ask these guys if they wanna go to the Foundation. But until then…”

Next, Calvin pulls out a can of glow in the dark spray paint and a stencil, and yes, that’s a stencil of an X in an octagon. It’s clearly seen a lot of use.

“…I’ll have to leave a warning behind for anyone who wants to hurt these little dudes.”

The ChaotiX’s logo. Fluffy abusers across the planet fear that logo as much as they fear the organization it represents, so it’s basically a stop sign for fluffy abusers.

As in “stop what you’re doing, or suffer the consequences.”

Calvin quickly sprays the logo onto the wall above the cardboard box.

“And we’ll have to tell the guy who owns this restaurant what happened, too. He deserves to know.”

“But fow nao, daddeh, ouw wowk hewe am dun.”

Calvin looks up, seeing a Faucheuse drone hovering above the alley.

The drone’s cloaking tech activates, and it vanishes from sight.

“For now, yeah.”

“Yu nu fink dat ass-howe am gunna come back, du yu?”

Calvin and Marley make their exit, walking to the front of the restaurant.

“Nah. Turns out that he had an outstanding warrant for his arrest. For starters, he didn’t obtain that gun legally. He’s just another petty criminal with a big ego, Mar. There’s plenty of people like him in the world.”

“A wotta dem am bee-hine baws nao, foh.”

“Yeah. It’s like Whac-A-Mole. Just gotta keep whacking every idiot that rears his ugly head. They’ll get the hint sooner or later.”

“Yu fink su?”

“Eh, probably not. Some people are just too stupid to live. Again, I’m hoping that asshole isn’t one of them.”

The Omegas stand in the restaurant’s deserted parking lot, and Calvin smirks at Marley.

“You wanna make our exit in style?

Marley smirks back, nodding.


With a sound like chicken nuggets, Marley changes shape, growing into a literal horse.

A green horse, with a red and yellow mane and tail.

“Hop awn, daddeh.”

He still sounds like a fluffy, however.

The duo recently copied the power to turn into any animal they can think of from Paul Murphy, a fellow ChaotiX member who also works at Fluffywood Studios’ post-production department.

Calvin looks down at his battle suit, and it shifts into a suit of armor. Now, Calvin looks like the knight in shining armor that so many see him as.

Of course, Calvin actually is a knight. He’s an official Knight of Drakonia, and King Lorik himself knighted him. But you don’t have to call him Sir Calvin Korkea.

If you’re wondering, that suit is actually MIKA, Calvin’s Endo-Klyn Suit, a highly advanced suit of nanotechnology that can turn into any outfit its wearer can think of.

Sadly, Endo-Klyn Suits are extremely expensive, which is one reason they’re not available to the public yet.

Calvin climbs onto Marley.

“Hi ho, Silver! Awaaaay!

“Mawwey am gween, nu siw-vuw.”

“It’s just what you’re supposed to say, Mar.”

“Otay, daddeh. If yu say su.”

And Marley gallops off into the night, both of the Omegas knowing that there are more fluffies who need a hero.

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