Unwrapping the Herald

“Steve!” I barked. “Gloves on, tie her tail to the table!”

Steve pulled the gifted magic gloves on. He grabbed Comet’s thrashing, long, fluffy tail with both hands, yanking it toward the corner pocket.

“NNNNNN!” Comet tried to pull it back. Her spine twisted. The movement forced her to arch her back at an extreme angle.

THWACK!

The bottle of Ambrosia wielded by Sarah descended. Comet’s head snapped sideways. Her struggles weakened for half a heartbeat. “Mmmmnghh!”

I tore through the pocket mesh in a single motion, assisting the resistance cell leader. Steve pulled Comet’s tail through the hole and wrapped the fluffy appendage around the table leg. Once. Twice. Three times.

The magic gloves he had on helped him hold onto the wiggling Herald. He wrapped the tail around itself, creating a self-tightening loop that would only get more secure if she pulled.

Comet finally seemed to register her new predicament. She tried to buck.

The tail pulled taut, yanking her hips back to the felt.

“Nyeeeehh?!” She cried out. She tried to roll sideways. The anchor held.

Her claws weakly scraped at the scarf on her snout. The colors of the fur on her face had gone from red to purple. Her eyes were streaming. Her chest heaved with desperate, fruitcake-blocked breaths.

I tore an entire dining couch booth from its base.

“SWALLOW the tasty cake,” I commanded, looming over her and holding the massive booth overhead. “Or you WILL suffocate. Your choice. Also, I will drop this couch on you.”

Comet’s silver eyes met mine. I saw defiance there. Fury. Humiliation.

And finally, survival instinct.

Her throat worked. Once. Twice. A massive, visible bulge traveled down her neck like a snake swallowing an egg.

GULP.

“She ate it!” Dave cheered high-fiving Tom, “Wew! Great success!”

“Five… four… three…” Sage counted down.

Comet’s movements turned syrupy and loose, like a marionette with half its strings cut. Her legs stopped kicking, settling into weak twitches. Her claws fell away from the scarf, flopping to the felt. Her head lolled sideways, pressing against the green fabric, a strand of drool escaping from beneath the gag.

I lowered the booth back down.

“Wuzzzzat,” she slurred through the silk. “Whyyyy… whycome there’s… there’s sooooo many eyes watching meeeee…”

“Watching and judging!” Sage laughed.

“Prettyyyyy,” Comet drawled. “So many foxies… in the hollow branches… seeing… mrahhh… gift-whapping… did I use enrghh ribbnnn?…”

“Definitely not enough,” Sage replied.

“Drrrrwwagon,” Comet squinted at me. “Rwarinbbbbbbooow dwagon at the roots… judging mreeeee….”

Galateya growled beside me.

“You… you won’t… win,” the festive prad drooled, flailing weakly. “You can’t… can’t beat her… she holds my soul… mrry… Saint…”

“Strip her,” I ordered.

“Mrrr,” Sage giggled into my left ear, “So assertive. Like a supervillain from a porno.”

I valiantly ignored her.

The humans descended on the pool table, grabbing fistfuls of cashmere. Comet’s arms flopped weakly offering only mild resistance.

“Nuuuuu,” she slurred. “M’cold… gonna be nakey… tree… dragon… and fox… eevrroneee… wathhhing mreee… uuu…”

Sarah grunted, hauling at the hemline.

Tom grabbed the antlers and pried them off.

Dave worked one sleeve free, inverting it over Comet’s limp paw. Her arm flopped back, failing to stop him. He moved to the other sleeve.

“Arms up, puppy,” Sarah ordered, tugging upward.

They pulled in unison, the sweater inverting over her head. Comet’s muzzle emerged from the neck hole, scarf still firmly in place, felt antlers completely gone now. Her mane was a disaster of matted fur and static electricity.

The sweater finally came free. Steve held it up like a flag trophy, grinning at me.

Comet lay on the felt in just her candy-cane skirt, torn green fishnets, and festive wrapping. Her cream-colored chest rose and fell with slow, intoxicated breaths. The jingling green collar circled her throat.

“Collar next,” I stated.

“Nutcracker! Chew off the collar!” Steve ordered after struggling to figure out how to unlock the leather belt for a few seconds.

The toy soldier rushed up and clamped down on the leather and began chewing.

CRUNCH. CRUNCH. CRUNCH.

“Hehehehe,” Comet giggled. “Tttt… Tickles… mstaphhhh!”

CRACK.

The buckle gave way. Steve yanked the collar free.

The candy-cane skirt was pulled off by Sarah without much resistance, revealing ginger fur and candy-cane striped g-string underneath. Comet’s legs twitched half-heartedly.

“Fishnets!” Tom grabbed one ankle. Sarah grabbed the other. They peeled the green stockings off like shucking corn.

“Nutcracker!” Steve ordered. “Finish the manicure! Strip every claw!”

“And the feet!” I added. “Don’t forget the toe-claws!”

“On it, Emperor!” the cell leader replied.

I watched as Steve coordinated the Nutcracker once it finished demolishing the festive paint on her hands. The wooden doll attacked Comet’s toe-claws with equal vigor, wooden jaws working tirelessly.

Comet giggled again, her head lolling back. “Hehehehe… full service salon… would recommend… to the other reindeer…”

Sarah yanked the G-string off her. The wolf yelped, covering her crotch with a hand and blushing furiously.

She yelped even louder as the humans peeled the festive tape off her, leaving her completely naked. Comet covered her chest with one hand.

“Uhm? What do we do with these?” Sarah asked, holding up the harvested, festive clothes.

“Got a null-bag or something?” I turned to Wattica.

“Uhhh yeahhh,” the Wendigo Commander responded, drawing her eyes away from the sight of Comet splayed on the pool table. She snapped her fingers and a prad bear approached from the crowd bearing a small gray metal box. The humans stuffed Comet’s clothes into the box.

“I have to admit, Emperor,” Wattica added. “That was the single most ridiculous takedown I have ever witnessed in my years of military service. Condiments and See-Mass presents as weapons! Ha! Didn’t think that mundane, level-less humans could take on a dungeon Sentinel, yet here we are.”

“We aim to entertain,” I commented dryly.

The Wendigo winked at me.

“Think the other Commanders will cooperate as much as you if the Princess and I offer them employment?” I asked her.

“Mmmm… maybe,” Wattica mused. “Especially, if you offer it… in an impressive manner. I am a privateer who can see where the winds are blowing. Like… mmm… The cheerful human with the hook hand I was watching on your primitive two-dee picture-box earlier.”

She gestured a sharp claw toward the television mounted above the bar which was currently playing Peter Pan. I chortled mentally. Of course the Wendigo would associate herself with the villain.

“Captain Hook has style,” Wattica said with a pitch of approval. “A loyal crew and… he hates ticking clocks, giant crocks and human children. I relate to him on a spiritual level. Plus, with the Slayer’s Sword avatar turned into lunar confetti, the central debt ledger is now vaporized. As my ranking isn’t high enough to lease a warship like the others higher up, my commission debt is now… zero.”

“So you are a free agent,” I said.

“A pirate open to offers,” she corrected with a toothy grin, “Steaks and fear are an excellent starting package, Emperor, do not get me wrong. However, a girl has needs. Maintenance costs. Hexasuit polish. Ammunition. I expect a competitive hourly rate in O-Bux, half of it transferred to an offplanet Omnithornian account.”

“Sure,” I agreed. “This can be organized… after we deal with the festive menace.”

I definitely didn’t have access to any funds or O-bux, but that would be a problem for the future me to sort out.

“Excellent. Then we are in business.” Wattica turned to the leopard. “Sevviya. Herald threat assessment?”

The Scrutimancer cautiously approached the pool table. She inhaled deeply near Comet’s neck, then moved down to sniff her paws.

“She smells like a wet, scared dog,” Sevviya wrinkled her nose in disgust. “And fruitcake. The cinnamon stench and the festive chorus is gone. No dungeon resonance. Just a drunk, naked, very embarrassed prad.”

“Good,” I said.

I reached down, accelerated myself and unraveled the scarf gag and freed her tail.

Comet took a deep, shuddering breath, wiping drool from her maw. She looked up at me blearily, struggling to focus on my person.

“You… youuuu won’t get away with this, human-tree,” she slurred, “Saint Nikky will… put coal in your… somewhere…”

“Doubtful,” I said. “Here. Put these on.”

I dug into my leather side bag and tossed the bundle at her face.

Comet fumbled with the fabric. She struggled into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

On the front of the black shirt, a cartoon fox was making a dumb face. The bold, white text above and below the graphic read: “NO THOUGHTS, HEAD EMPTY”.

The shorts were black too with the words “TOUCH TAiL” printed in bold, white letters across the butt, a fox eye visible in the dot above the i.

Comet looked down at her chest. A low whine escaped her throat. “More eyes… of the fox?” she asked.

I didn’t answer her, slipping a Sage-containing friendship bracelet onto her wrist from my collection.

“Now, to our new Security detail…” I dug into my bag and handed an entire pile of outfits and friendship bracelets to Wattica.

“What’s this for?” Wattica asked, eyeing the clothes suspiciously.

“Company branding,” I said. “Courtesy of my Archmage.”

“Aight.” The Wendigo Commander unfurled the black fabric.

It featured a neon green graphic of a fox. The text read: “EXTRATERRESTRIAL EMOTIONAL SUPPORT FOX”.

Wattica stared at the shirt. Then she smirked at the TV screen where Captain Hook was yelling at Smee. She looked back at the shirt.

“Acceptable,” she decided. Her gray and black striped antlers softened for a second, acting almost like wobbly jelly. This allowed her to pull the shirt over her skull-head to wear it atop of the hexasuit.

I handed another shirt to the Scrut. The leopard accepted the garment with a grunt.

Her shirt had a pink fox on it. It simply said: FURRY TRASH.

“I do not get it,” she grumbled.

“It means you are elite,” I lied. Sage chortled beside me.

I distributed the rest. The shirts featured more stylized foxes and meme tags such as:

IF I FITS, I SITS.

PRESS ‘F’ TO DOUBT

TAX EVASION EXPERT

SCREAMING IS A VALID STRATEGY!

Within a few minutes, the Frontenachii division looked like a group of convention-goers who had raided the discount bin at a meme kiosk. The humans led by Steve accepted and pulled on the shirts with amused looks.

“My… my cheer,” Comet exhaled, looking marginally less magic-cake-high, “you took my cheer.”

“We disarmed you,” I corrected.

She looked up at me. Then at the humans and Frontenachii in fox-themed shirts.

“I… I am… empty,” she let out.

“You are free,” I insisted.

“I am useless!” she wailed. “I can’t hear the Saint! I can’t hear the Sleigh! I’m… I’m a nobody with nothing left! Please! Give me back my purpose!”

I sighed.

Comet looked at me, shivering. “What are you going to do? Execute me? Turn me into wall art like the Frontenachii?”

Wattica snorted. “You would make a nice rug, prad.”

“For now, I’d like to ask you some questions,” I said.

“I cannot betray my Saint’s secrets,” Comet shook her mane.

“Can you read her thoughts now?” I asked the Wendigo.

“Loud and clear,” Wattica answered with a cruel smile. “Her mental defenses were tied to the clothes. She is wide open. If she lies, I will know. If she omits a detail, I will know.”

“Excellent,” I said. “Now. A test question. Do you actually like Sergey?”

Comet froze. She glanced at the astrophysicist now wearing the “WHAT DOES THE FOX SAY?” shirt.

“I…” she started and then fell silent.

“She does indeed like the human,” Wattica revealed.

Comet’s shoulders slumped. “Yes. He is… refreshing, nice. He really doesn’t want to kill things. He likes stars. He is soft. He reminds me of… before.”

“She’s telling the truth,” Wattica confirmed, looking mildly disgusted. “She thinks he is ‘precious.’”

“Hey, I’ll take it,” Sergey interjected, wiping his glasses with a blue microfiber cloth from his pocket.

“Good,” I said, freeing Comet from the metal bar. “Everyone back to the booth. Comet, since you think he’s so precious, you get to sit… On his lap.”

Comet blinked. “What?”

“You heard me. Sit on his lap. Sergey, your job is to wrap your arms around her. Hold her. Pet her fur if you want. Make her feel safe.”

“Is this… some kind of trap?” Comet asked, eyeing me warily as she cautiously got off the pool table. She glanced nervously at the Frontenachii surrounding us as we relocated back to the booth.