Warning: spoilers for the Light and Darkness Saga.
A week after the battle against Vincal, the Dark Demon and the Hungry Rider, Dr. Erwin Stahlberg arrives at his Foundation branch, his own little kingdom, clutching a newspaper.
The headline reads:
NEO PLASMA ON THE RISE
Notorious Animal Rights Group Makes A Comeback
Erwin has recently taken in a new guest.
His first cousin once removed, Kirk Stahlberg. The long-lost son of Erwin’s hated great-uncle Hans.
Well, lost might not be the right word.
Forgotten, maybe.
Or perhaps abandoned.
For over seventy years.
In a freezer.
Kirk is currently at Faucheuse Tower, for another appointment with Dr. Deston Faucheuse.
If you don’t know what the appointment is for, it’s your own fault for not keeping up.
And Asimov and Hershey are at Happy Fluffy Daycare.
Erwin enters the lobby, greeting Gilda, making his way to his examination room with his brow furrowed.
As he passes Dr. Alex Ginger, talking to the Foundation’s resident Igor, Erwin realizes what is bugging him.
“Did you two see the news?”
He holds the newspaper up, displaying the headline, and Alex and Igor nod. Rather lopsidedly, in Igor’s case.
“Oh yeah, I saw.”
“They’re jutht a bunch of twith, thur.”
“Yes, but…”
Erwin taps the word “PLASMA”.
“I could have sworn that this was something else. What’s it stand for? People Liberating Animals and Stopping Mankind’s Abuse? I’m sure it was shorter than that.”
Alex throws up his hands.
“Not this again! It’s just like that whole debacle about my surname! I kept telling people, it’s always been Ginger! I hope people don’t start pointing fingers at Jack again.”
“Perhapth it wath Gathpar’th doing, Dr. Ginger?”
Alex shakes his head.
“Jack would know if Gaspar was messing with time again, Igor.”
“There’th thtill no thign of the bathtardth, ith there?”
Erwin smiles.
“Victor’s on the case, Igor. And he’s got a temporal stabilizer and an ample supply of power dampening darts. The government is keeping an eye out, security at the spaceports and Tele-Ports are keeping an eye out, even the O.M.A. is keeping an eye out. How could they possibly escape?”
“I thuppothe I can’t argue, thur. Arguing with the marthter is verboten by my family’th code.”
The trio parts ways, each having important duties to attend to.
Alex will be checking in on Jewel. Her offspring are finally being adopted out, having been deemed safe to adopt. But the Cabal will be keeping tabs on the purple fluffies, just in case their father’s power of persuasion manifests later.
And Igor will be going down to the morgue, to… ah… examine some of the bodies.
Igors don’t like letting good parts go to waste. And this Igor is allowed to take some parts home for his own personal projects, or to give to any of his relatives who might need a fluffy leg or a pair of fluffy eyeballs for their own projects. If the bodies aren’t claimed by anyone, that is.
If you’re ever gruesomely injured in a horrible woodcutting accident, you can always count on an Igor to…
Give you a hand.
Erwin sits down in his examination room, and it’s not long before his first patient is brought in.
He glances at a corner of the room that is now intentionally kept nice and shadowy, seeing Nivlac, Calvin’s dark side, stepping out of the shadows with an unconscious, freshly pillowed mare in his hands.
“Sup, Erwin.”
“Ah, Niv. Let’s get her in a vat, shall we?”
Erwin leads Nivlac into the regeneration room, placing the mare in an empty vat, watching it fill.
“What happened, Niv?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. Just another asshole abuser. I webbed him to the ceiling and left him there for the cops. They’ve got that spray, they can get him down.”
“They’ll probably need a stepladder to get him down, I fear.”
“Nah, Kaunkrit is pretty tall. And intimidating enough that the abuser will come along quietly.”
“I don’t think there are a lot of abusers who would argue with a troll.”
“Yup. If there’s one thing abusers should have learned from the fluffies they abuse, it’s this: you can’t win a fight against someone who can rip your limbs off and use them to beat you to death without trying.”
“Of course, Kaunkrit wouldn’t do that. You know John doesn’t tolerate police brutality.”
Nivlac smirks at Erwin.
“Yeah, but John doesn’t mind his troll officers scaring the crap out of the perp for a while.”
“True, true. So, how is your new arrangement with Cal going?”
“Oh, it is AWESOME. With both of us out to play at the same time, there’s so many more possibilities.”
If you aren’t aware, Calvin and Nivlac are now capable of existing independently of each other, via Gemini’s power.
Calvin is currently across town with Marley, trying to talk down a suicidal man on the Einstein-Rosen Bridge. The same bridge that Dexter the pyrokinetic fluffy with anger issues was once thrown off of, and the same bridge the now extremely late Dark Demon brought Gilda to after abducting her from the Foundation.
It’s not really a big deal if the guy jumps, Calvin can catch him.
But Calvin would prefer that the man not jump at all.
Nivlac bids Erwin adieu, leaping back into the shadows, and Erwin summons the mechanical arms to prepare the examination room for his next patient.
One of Jewel’s offspring, a rambunctious unicorn stallion, being adopted by a rather… unusual man.
Ethnically ambiguous and bald. A tad overweight, maybe. But what’s really unusual is his outfit.
Like his new fluffy, his outfit is entirely purple. A purple waistcoat over a light purple short-sleeved shirt, dark purple pants and even darker purple shoes, round sunglasses with reflective purple lenses…
And a purple fedora, too.
He’s carrying the fluffy in a luxury carrier from Flufftopia, and yes, that’s purple too.
“Dr. Phoric! I see you’re finally getting fluffed up.”
Dr. Ulysses Phoric, psychologist, nods, a mysterious smile on his face, speaking up in a deep, slow, calm voice as he opens the carrier and pets his new fluffy.
“Yes, I connected with little Asher here. I understand that you wish to keep an eye on his litter, in case they inherit certain persuasive qualities from their father. I’ll be happy to oblige you.”
“…Ashew nu undewstud hawf of dem wowdsies.”
Erwin raises an eyebrow.
“I don’t know how you learned about that.”
“Well… maybe you’ll find out soon. But I’d like to see if Asher is healthy before I take him home.”
Erwin gestures to the Stahlskanner.
“As I always say, it never hurts to be sure.”
So Ulysses carefully lifts Asher onto the medical scanner.
ping!
“He’s healthy, Ulysses. Of course, we keep a close eye on the health of our fluffy residents. Dr. Stronginthearm just checked up on our purple guests yesterday.”
Dr. Stronginthearm is a dwarf. That’s a very common dwarf surname, that is. Very old, too.
His examination room and its respective regeneration room have lowered tables.
Otherwise, Dr. Stronginthearm would have to do his job on stilts.
“Good, good. Don’t worry, if Asher inherits his father’s power, I can… resist it.”
“Really? How?”
Dr. Phoric chuckles.
“Oh, I have my ways. And I have excellent mental control.”
“…Ashew mite haf powahs? Wut powahs?”
The two humans decide not to answer the question.
The Foundation, for obvious reasons, has not told the purple litter about their possible powers of persuasion.
It’s just asking for trouble.
Dr. Phoric and Asher depart, and Erwin summons the mechanical arms again.
Just as they retract into the ceiling, Chaos walks into the examination room, leading a feral couple in, several foals, still blind, riding on the mare’s back, Chaos’ cheerful, flamboyant voice having the tone of a kindergarten teacher leading her students.
“Come along now, children! Have no fear, this doctor is very nice! My friend Life can back me up on on this.”
“Another feral family, Chaos?”
“Oh yes, dear Erwin. All the way from Manchester, in fact. A nasty woman had them cornered when I showed up.”
“So what did you do with her?”
Chaos chuckles.
“Well, she told me to get on my bike, so I repaid her in kind. She got on a bike, but she can’t get off the bike. She’s still pedalling as we speak. Hey, she’s getting lots of exercise, and between you, me, and our fluffy little friends here, she could afford to burn some calories. I think I’ll let her get off the bike when she reaches Liverpool, but she may discover that every train back to Manchester leaves just before she can board it, and that her phone hangs up by itself every time she tries to call someone to ask for a ride home.”
“You’ll let her go home eventually, won’t you?”
“When she says that she’s sorry. If she mouths off at me again, she’s biking up to Scotland. All the way up to–”
Chaos briefly adopts an exaggerated Scottish accent, a kilt appearing over his jester outfit, a tartan bonnet over his cap and bells, a searing orange fake beard over his porcelain harlequin face.
“John o’ Groats, laddie! Ooh aye, th’ lassie wull hae a loupin bahookie, ah think!”
“…Let’s just get all of you you on here, alright?”
As Erwin gestures at the Stahlskanner, the fluffy couple warily eyes it.
“Wut am dat?”
“It nu am gunna huwt da babbehs, wite?”
Erwin shakes his head.
“No, no. This device will tell me if you’re all healthy.”
“…Otay…”
After carefully transporting the fluffies onto the table, Erwin places each member of the family on the Stahlskanner one at a time, the stallion volunteering to go first so his special friend can see that it’s safe for the babbehs.
Other than one of the foals having a mild case of constipation, and the mare having a minor case of teat rash, the family is healthy, if a bit malnourished, and rather dirty.
And those small maladies are easily treated here.
“Nothing serious, Chaos. They just need the Standard Package, some laxative, and a rash ointment.”
“Fantabulosa!”
Erwin pets both adult fluffies.
“We’ll have a saferoom ready for you by the time you’re done with your bath, and two big bowls of kibble.”
The stallion responds reflexively, his mate now humming a mummah song for her foals.
“Wawa am bad fow fwuffies.”
“There’s no need to worry. Every fluffy who goes into that bathing room comes out unharmed. Right, Minerva?”
Minerva answers Erwin’s request from a speaker on the wall.
“You are correct, Dr. Stahlberg. I can confirm that the bathing room has a 0% fatality rate, dear fluffy.”
Her body is currently occupied elsewhere in the building. She’s a skilled multitasker.
“Which means nobody, ah, goes forever sleepies in there, er… we’ll work on some names for you, too.”
“Otay. But hu sed dat?”
“Oh, that’s just Minerva. She’s very friendly to fluffies. You’ll meet her in person later.”
So the fluffies consent to be bathed, and Erwin calls Sasha in to give them a ride to the bathing room on a cart.
As Sasha wheels the family out, the parents giggling as they enjoy the ride, Chaos prepares to leave too.
“I’m going to go see how far she’s made it. She won’t be able to stop pedalling until I say so. I hate forcing people to do stuff, you know. But she didn’t give those poor fluffies a choice. If I hadn’t been following her in the form of a crow… I don’t want to think about what would have happened.”
“So you can do animals too, Chaos?”
“Any form I please, dear Erwin. And you know what the funny thing was?”
“What?”
“I was quacking, and the stupid bitch didn’t seem to notice.”
Chaos leaves Erwin laughing, sterilising the examination room for him on the way out.
Chaos is still wearing his Scottish attire over his jester outfit, and will be wearing it for the rest of the day, for no other reason than that he feels like it.
Fortunately, Erwin stops laughing by the time his next patient arrives.
Mark wheels in a rather fancy looking bubblegum pink mare with a hot pink mane, tail and eyes, and a hot pink ribbon worn like a collar. Her mane and tail are both wavy, and her fluff has a glittery quality to it.
Mark looks rather sad, and as Erwin snaps on a new pair of latex gloves, he notices the look.
“Was ist los, Mark?”
The part time demon hunter answers with a sigh, having worked with Erwin long enough to have picked up a few German phrases.
“Poor Cassie here was just dropped off with all of her things.”
“Am mummah come-in back soon, mistah Mawk?”
Mark gives Cassie a sad look.
“Cassie… your mummah isn’t coming back. I told you that, and so did she.”
Then he turns back to Erwin.
“Her owner got Cassie for her twelfth birthday. That was last week, Erwin.”
And Erwin sighs too, stroking Cassie.
“That old chestnut. The girl probably bugged her parents incessantly for a fluffy, and hastily accepted responsibility when they finally relented, not knowing what she was getting herself into.”
“How did you–”
“I’ve seen this too many times, Mark. I’ve seen fluffies dropped off here three days after adoption. One time shortly before you started working here, a fluffy went from the store to the house to the Foundation in an afternoon. I distinctly remember that owner’s father saying that he should have just gotten his son a Tamagotchi, because it would have been cheaper and cleaner. It wasn’t a Flufftopia fluffy, obviously. Flufftopia fluffies are better trained. But a lot of kids just don’t realise how much care even the most well-behaved fluffies require. Some kids still think that fluffies are just toys, and don’t realize their mistake until they have to clean up the smelly mess on the carpet. I think Des should write a book about this to educate them. But it’s very ironic, since fluffies were intended to be sold to kids.”
Mark manages a weak smile.
“Well, PLASMA broke in before the project was finished. Hasbio didn’t get time to make fluffies more kid-friendly. Er, I have to ask, it’s been bugging me all morning. Do you feel like–”
“Like PLASMA’s name wasn’t always PLASMA? I’ve already had this conversation with Alex and Igor. We’re pretty sure it’s not Jack’s fault, but by now, he’s probably been asked a dozen times. And we’re not ruling out Gaspar, either, even though it’s unlikely. Alright, Cassie, let’s get you on here.”
So Erwin gently transports Cassie to the Stahlskanner.
ping!
“Well, there’s that. You’re in good health. And I can see you’ve had a bath recently, so why don’t we get you and your things set up in a room?”
“Otay, mistah dok-tow. Cassie wiww wait dewe fow mummah, wite?”
Erwin and Mark give each other uneasy looks, and Erwin briefly touches his glasses while looking at Cassie.
“Ah, you’re a Flufftopia fluffy. I don’t think there will be any issues with your new saferoommate. Jacqui has been feeling a bit lonely, having a saferoom all to herself, and I think you’ll get along with her just fine. Mark, do you mind? You may need to explain things to Cassie on the way to her new lodgings.”
“I know, but I’ve gotta check in on Cleo and Julius soon. So Cassie, please listen to me this time…”
Cleo and Julius have adopted another litter. Brought in yesterday by Calvin’s brother Scott, who returned from death as a nephilim not that long ago.
There are also two more angels operating in the mortal realm now, assisting Samuel and Gabriel.
They’re here as a result of Hans and the Dark Demon’s respective escapes from Hell. The two demons came to the Prime Material Plane unsummoned and wreaked havoc, and that entitled two more angels to come Down Here and counterbalance the demons’ evil deeds, as the Pacts dictate.
And the demons could loophole their way around the Pacts. Half-demons aren’t subject to them, same as nephilim, because they’re still human on the inside.
But there aren’t any half-demons Down There.
And if there are, they won’t remain half-demons.
Those who are selected by Hell’s elites to become demons usually lack the restraint to avoid going all the way there.
Same as those selected by a certain group of rebellious former elites.
Both groups raised their standards for new demons after the Oldman breakout.
Perhaps they should raise their standards a bit higher.
In the demons’ defence, unlike angels, demons have a finite lifespan to deal with, ever since the Chris and James Oldman of this timeline escaped from Hell.
So they can’t afford to be as picky as Heaven’s elites.
Demons still get much more time than humans do.
But compared to infinite time, it’s still a downgrade.
As Mark wheels Cassie out, and the mechanical arms obediently carry out their duty for the umpteenth time, Erwin decides to take a break, making his way out of the building.
When he exits the lobby, he sees a rather amusing sight.
WHUD
Right on the threshold between the Foundation’s property and the sidewalk, there’s a very sketchy man, who was walking towards the building, and just slammed face-first into what appears to be an invisible wall of some kind.
“The fuck?!? This place is warded?!? Seriously?!?”
Erwin chuckles knowingly, noticing certain telltale signs, such as suspiciously rusty brown stains on the soles of the sketchy man’s shoes.
“If you can’t get past the wards, we wouldn’t let you adopt a fluffy anyway. I humbly suggest that you go home, sir, and that you rethink certain life choices you’ve made.”
The sketchy man bangs on the invisible wall with a fist, sneering at Erwin, who is safe from retaliation, still being within the boundary of the wards.
“You think you’re so clever, huh? Because you hired some weekend wizard who just finished the first chapter of Magic for Dummies to cast a few spells? Why don’t you come over here and–”
Erwin taps the badge on his lab coat’s lapel.
An X in an octagon.
“–oh shit you’re ChaotiX please don’t hurt me.”
“Das ist richtig, du Idiot. I have been in the news, you know. I won’t hurt you–”
Which is costing Erwin considerable effort.
“–but might I take this opportunity to remind you that abusing fluffies is illegal in this state? It has been illegal here for a while. You should know this, and yet, your inability to pass the wards indicates obvious hostile intentions towards the fluffies living here. Incidentally, those wards were cast by none other than Dr. Deston Faucheuse, Archmage of Earth, and not, as you put it, by some weekend wizard. I have no solid evidence of any misdeeds on your part, but if you happen to have any possibly injured fluffies at home who you suddenly feel the need to relinquish, perhaps we could arrange a dropoff just outside the wards? We’ve got plenty of room for unwanted fluffies here, and excellent medical care. And I have a lot of friends who could, ah, oversee the dropoff, and make sure that no, ahem, funny business occurs.”
The sketchy man sees no way out of this, and folds.
“…Yeah, I think I might have a couple of shitra-- fluffies in my baseme-- saferoom who would appreciate a change of scenery. I’ll just… go get them now, shall I? They might be a bit roughed up, but I swear, they were like that when I got them. Please don’t call the police on me.”
“Oh, you have my word. I will not call the police on you, sir. I hope to see you again very soon. Preferably by the time I get back from that Starbucks over there. Let’s say, half an hour? Forty-five minutes, tops. So if you feel an unexpected urge to, oh I don’t know, do some late spring cleaning, I would suppress that urge, if I were you. I could always ask one of my friends to accompany you to your home, they can be here in a flash–”
“Nothat’snotnecessaryI’llbebackassoonaspossiblewithmyshitratsImeanfluffiesIpromise!”
The abuser turns around and starts sprinting home, and when he’s out of earshot, Erwin resumes his journey to Starbucks, taking his phone out of his pocket and making a call.
“Cal? Did you-- ah, good. Glad to hear he’s doing alright. Listen, I’m going to need you to come to the Foundation as soon as you can. And call John, we’re going to need one of his boys in blue as well…”
What?
Erwin said that he wouldn’t call the police.
It’s hardly his fault that the sketchy man didn’t think too hard about that statement.
Erwin can’t prove that the sketchy man is an abuser. Not without a search warrant. That brown stuff on the sketchy man’s shoes might just be fluffy diarrhea. Stepping in feces isn’t a crime.
But if the sketchy man wasn’t an abuser, he would have been able to pass through the wards like they weren’t even there.
As Erwin said, the place is warded to keep people with hostile intentions towards fluffies out. The security cameras have footage of the sketchy man being repelled by the wards, with a clear view of his face.
And that’s good enough for Commissioner John Jackson to investigate the sketchy man. Erwin wouldn’t be surprised if the sketchy man has a criminal record.
Another good litmus test.