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A Mythical Match-Up - A Voluptuous Vixen, Part I
🕑 Added 2023-04-20 08:35:41 +0000 UTCThe cafe was one of those fancier boutique joints - the kind that offered every variety of bean but never 'coffee' and insisted upon the accent over the e in 'café.' It occupied a corner building on a moderately busy street downtown. The interior of the shop was visible from the street through numerous tall windows that extended down to the sidewalk, the words ' Pinnacle Roasters' etched upon its glass door in stately white arial font.
Mike stared at the cafe from the sidewalk. He did not frequent such places. Apart from not being a heavy coffee drinker, he simply didn't feel comfortable in high-end coffee shops. The point of patronizing a cafe, he felt, was to relax, and he found it difficult to relax in a place that looked like it might charge you for breathing its premium imported oxygen.
With sigh, he nudged the door open and entered the cafe.
The rich, earthy aroma of ground coffee filled Mike's senses as he stepped inside. He looked around. The tables and counters were topped with light-colored polished wood while stools and chairs were matte-black with forest-green cushions. A long row of plastic containers filled with coffee beans sat on the counter alongside the cash register and a small cabinet filled with pastries. Beyond the counter on the opposite wall sat a set of expensive-looking espresso machines and other coffee-related machinery that would have not looked out of place in a high-end biochemical research facility. Everything looked clean, bordering on spotless. Mike counted six customers sitting at the tables served by two baristas wearing featureless black aprons over short-sleeve white shirts. A soft, jazzy tune hung in the air.
Mike walked up to one of the baristas, who was standing behind the cash register. She had long blond hair as smooth as silk and a pleasant, youthful face. She gave him a smile that may well have been genuine.
"Hi!" she said.
Mike returned her smile, albeit with not quite as much enthusiasm.
"Uh, hi," he said distractedly. "I was wondering if you've seen someone recently," he said. He reached into his pocket and took out his phone. "Her name is Shelia," he said, showing her a photo. "She was a regular here."
The barista leaned forward slightly, gazing at the picture on the tiny screen.
"Oh, yeah, I've seen her," she said eventually.
"Wha-...really?" said Mike.
"Well, not recently. Last time....I dunno, a month ago? I remember her because she has a very...particular order and hung out here. A lot. Like, some nights she was here until closing." She smiled again. "But she was nice. And a great tipper."
"A month, huh?" said Mike as he pocketed his phone.
"Is she missing?" asked the barista. Then, her eyes narrowed. "Hang on, are you a cop or something? I'm not sure I can just-"
"I'm her brother," said Mike.
"Oh...uh...sorry."
"It's fine," said Mike, waving a hand dismissively. "She's not really missing. It's, well...I've just had a hard time getting a hold of her. She moved and never responds to texts or calls these days. I see her active on Instagram every so often but that's it. I just want to talk to her in person - make sure everything is okay with her."
"Well, um..." the barista bit her lower lip "Sorry, I don't know what else I can tell you," she said, shrugging awkwardly.
"Don't worry about it," said Mike. "It was worth a shot. Thanks."
He turned, took a few steps towards the door, and then hesitated.
"Any chance you remember anything...unusual about her the last time you saw you," he asked, turning around. "Did she seem worried? Happy? Sad? Anything stand out?"
"Uh..." said the barista, brow furrowing in thought "Not really."
"Ah well," sighed Mike.
"Oh! Wait," called the barista just as he was about leave. "There is one thing."
"Yeah?" said Mike hopefully, hurrying back to the counter.
The barista sucked in air between her teeth before continuing. "Maybe it's nothing, but the last few times she was here she didn't spend a lot of time working her laptop. She just kept playing this game on her phone."
"Game?"
"Yeah. I even got a look of it when I was serving her her cortado. Mythical...Mythic Matches? Yeah, Mythic Matches. Some kind of dating game."
"Dating game?"
"Or RPG? I dunno, I'm not really into those."
"Neither is she," said Mike. "Er, thanks."
"No problem, sir. I hope you find her."
"Mythic Matches, huh," said Mike to himself as he stepped out of the cafe. He leaned against the storefront and dug his phone out. He opened the app store and entered the words 'mythic matches' in the search box. A few seconds later, a list of hits appeared.
Then, he noticed the time in the upper right-hand corner of the screen.
"Shit," he hissed. "Lunch break is almost over."
With that, he hurried down the sidewalk towards a nearby parking lot
* * *
Mike knew the woman would be trouble the instant she approached the help counter. She was middle-aged, unpleasantly overweight and had a face that looked like it was starting to melt, topped with curly brown hair that might have looked alright on a thinner woman. On her, it looked like a bad clown wig. To be fair Mike had encountered many women with similar physiques who were quite pleasant and friendly. However, this one's pug-like scowl and self-important stride was setting off many of Mike's fine-tuned customer service alarms. He quickly adopted a thin smile designed to appear friendly yet not condescending.
"Hello! How can I help you, ma'am?"
"This thing doesn't work," snapped the woman, plopping a small, mangled plastic container on the desk. "It's supposed to let me play movies on my TV from my tablet but it doesn't fit!"
Mike nodded slightly. He reached down and carefully peeled a short white cable from the torn box. He checked both ports. It was a male-to-female HDMI USB-C adaptor - a pretty decent one, actually. He checked the package. He spotted a half-torn bar code and made out the store's name. Having confirmed she had indeed purchased the item from them - something that wasn't always the case - he looked back up at the woman, who was already growing impatient.
"What kind of tablet do you have?"
"A tablet," she said, rolling her eyes as though he'd asked a very stupid question.
"Yes, but what brand? Is it a Galaxy? iPad?"
"I don't know, a tablet," she said. "They're all the same! They all have the same plugs in 'em! Why do you sell useless shit like this?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am," said Mike with as much sincerity as he could muster. "Can I see your tablet? I just want to make sure there aren't any problems with it."
"No I didn't bring my goddamn tablet," snarled the woman. "Why the hell would I bring it here? The problem is with the cable-thing!"
Mike's eyes darted towards the customers waiting behind her. Their expressions ranged from cringing sympathy to tired indifference.
"Ma'am, I am very sorry the adapter isn't working, but in order to help you with this problem I need to know what ports - plugs - your tablet has. Unfortunately, not all tablets have the same set of plugs."
The woman's face reddened. Her nostril's flared as she drew in breath.
"If you could describe your tablet I may be able to help you," he said quickly, cutting her off just before she could launch another tirade. "I totally agree that there are way too many types of plugs and cables, but identifying what kind of tablet you have is the quickest way we can solve this."
The woman stared at him for a while, breathing in and out. She brought Mike to mind of a bomb that could explode or any minute or simply fizzle out. He waited grimly.
"...It's, uh, black," murmured the woman at last, deflating a bit. She raised two chubby arms. "About this big. And has a camera in the front."
"Is it a Surf-...did it come with a lot of Microsoft programs or Apple programs?"
"H-Hang on," said the woman sharply, holding up a hand. "It uh...uh..." she wagged a finger "I remember somethin' on the box it came in. It's a Surface something."
"Okay, a Surface tablet, that helps," said Mike, relieved. He turned to his PC and ran a quick search. "Does it have a weird power charger? Like, instead of plugging something in to the tablet it's like a magnetic strip that goes into a narrow slot?"
"Uh, yeah, yeah,"
"I'm guessing it's at least twelve inches...recent model...yeah." He looked back at the woman. "I can't be 100% sure unless I know the specific model, but I don't think that's the right adapter cable. Most Surface tablets don't have USB-C ports any more. You'll need an HDMI to DisplayPort adapter." He held up the cable. "This is an HDMI USB-C adapter - the wrong kind."
"I coulda told you that!" growled the woman, suddenly angry again. "It's the wrong plug!"
"Okay, tell you what," said Mike, who winced but managed to keep on smiling. "We can exchange this adapter for one that should fit your tablet. And if it doesn't work we-"
"Why should I give you this one?" said the woman.
"...I'm sorry?" said Mike as politely as he could.
"You're the ones who sold me the wrong cable. Way I see, it you owe me the right one and I don't owe you shit. Give me the plug that fits and we'll be square."
"...Very well, ma'am," he said. "I'll have an associate run out to get the right adapter. Sorry for the inconvenience."
"It better be the right one," huffed the woman.
Mike turned to Amelia, who had been standing a few feet away tending to other customers. By sheer luck she'd just finished helping the last in line.
"Amelia, could you run over and grab a male-to-female HDMI-DP adapter?" he asked.
Amelia - a young, dark-skinned woman of Middle-Eastern descent - gave him a look.
"We're just going to give her a free adapter?" she whispered out of the corner of her mouth. "Not even take the one she brought in exchange?" Fortunately, the store was still pretty busy and noisy. There was no way the customer could have heard her short of having superhuman senses.
"It's literally not worth the effort to try to re-box the one she brought," said Mike softly, turning and pretending to look for something in the drawer behind him. "Just do it."
Amelia gave a curt nod and hurried off. Mike and the woman stood there, waiting. Mike almost asked her to step aside so he could help the three customers behind her but decided not to risk it.
"Here you are, ma'am," said Amelia when she returned, holding out a small rectangular package.
Saying nothing beyond a snort, the woman snatched the adapter along with the one on the counter, stuffed them into her worn purse and waddled off. Mike heard Amelia mutter "-ing bitch" under her breath once she was gone.
Mike's smile briefly widened as he turned to the other customers.
"Hello, ma'am, how can I help you?"
The remaining three customers proved easy to assist - just two simple returns (with receipts and packaging intact) and someone dropping off an old phone for recycling.
"You think you'll get in trouble for giving that Karen a freebie, Mike?" asked Amelia once they were gone.
"Maybe," he said, shrugging. "You know Timothy's usually cool about this sort of thing unless upper management catches wind."
"Heh." Amelia paused. "Hey, wanna head out now?" She gestured at the store. "Things are quieting down. I can probably handle it here until we shut down. It looks like you've had a LONG day."
"Well, yeah I have, thanks," said Mike appreciatively. "Call it a very late ten-minute break," he said jokingly. "If you need me I'll be in the break room having lunch. I'll check in before actually leaving."
"Lunch? It's way past dinner!"
"I never had lunch," said Mike.
"But you headed out for lunch," said Amelia, confused, as he walked off.
Maneuvering between the long shelves, racks, and displays, Mike made his way to a side door, scanned the RFID lock with his employee card and slipped inside. He walked down a short hallway illuminated by flickering fluorescent lights and entered a small break room with two tables, four chairs, a half-empty vending machine, a refrigerator, a short cabinet with a decrepit microwave and a coffee maker on top. A large poster of State and Federal Labor Laws and Rights was posted on the otherwise featureless west wall. Mike retrieved a nylon cooler bag from the somewhat smelly interior of the refrigerator, sat down at the table and started munching away on a sandwich. A few minutes ticked by. Suddenly, he stopped, mid-chew, his bored, haggard expressing turning suddenly despondent. He swallowed and then took out his phone. He opened his photo album and, after flicking through a few images, stopped at a photo of himself - a twenty-something male, lean-faced and lean-bodied, short brown hair, soft hazel eyes - grinning into the camera along with a twenty-something woman - also brunette, also hazel-eyed, but bespectacled and somewhat heavier-looking, but with an even brighter smile.
"Damnit, Shelia," he said softly.
Then, he remembered why he had skipped lunch.
Mike put down his sandwich and opened the app store. He re-entered the words 'mythic matches' and selected the top result. He was met with a logo of the app - a pair of beautiful faces, one with rounded ears, the other with pointed ones, gazing at each other, clearly in love. The storefront didn't clearly identify what kind of app it was; it didn't even have any tags apart from 'dating.' Its lengthy and rather florid description billed the app as some kind of dating sim game where the player would woo or befriend mythical beings - elves, fairies, centaurs, satyrs, anthropomorphic unicorns and much more - through something called 'soul-resonance.'
Mike snorted - half in derision, half in amusement. He'd seen hundreds of games like this. Most were poorly-programmed and written vectors for pay-to-win schemes, malware and pornography, half of the latter being stolen or AI generated. The app's low price - $2.99 - just added to the shade factor. There were, curiously, no in-app purchases, but it did have 'limited ads,' meaning it was probably a shell of a game populated with more ads than ten superbowls. Curiously, it did have a near perfect user rating, but he never trusted those.
Then, it occurred to Mike that his sister had been playing the game. At least according to the barista. When he tried to imagine Shelia playing Mythic Matches, he experienced the sort of mental disconnect one might when contemplating what a roast beef sandwich thought of dentistry. It made no sense. True, she was geeky - far more so than Mike - but also something of a snob when it came to games and avoided trash titles, particularly those that were barely disguised cash-grabs. Either her standards had lowered considerably or there was more to Mythic Matches than met the eye.
Mike tilted his head from side-to-side, gazing down at the screen.
"It's only three bucks," he murmured.
With a grimace he tapped the 'buy' button. He then set down his phone and turned to finish his 'lunch' while he waited for the app to download.
A soft chime filled the otherwise empty break room. Mike picked up his phone and saw that Mythic Matches had been successfully installed. With a shrug, he tapped the icon. After a second's load time the screen went dark. Several seconds passed. Nothing happened.
"Aw, don't go crashing on me," said Mike.
Then, the Mythic Matches logo faded into and then out of existence. The phone grew noticeably warm. Then, a textbox appeared.
'Welcome to the Realms of Shaltae!' read the message. 'Our exquisitely woven thaumaturgic formulae have already pierced the veil separating our realities and found harmonic souls. You may find a new friend, confidant, sweetheart or even your true love. To commune with the denizens of our world, simply touch their portrait. New matches may reveal themselves in time as others in the Realms open their hearts to us. Be polite, honest, but bold! Our clients seek companions who intrigue, impress, and excite.'
'This is not a game! Take this seriously and consider the consequences of your words and actions! The denizens of Shaltae are quite real! We really mean it!'
Mike tapped the 'continue' button. After a short pause a set of illustrated portraits appeared arranged like overlapping cards. Mike ran a finger along the screen. When highlighted, a portrait would expand and a short biography would appear beneath it along with a 'message' button. Each portrait depicted a potential match, all of whom were, apart from being some kind of supernatural being, absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. That was it - no context and no narrative. All and all, it resembled an actual dating app more than a dating simulator game.
Unimpressed, Mike tapped one of the portraits. He was met with towering, long-haired Amazon of a woman wrapped in a shiny tight-fitting leather dress that resembled a leotard; it seemed designed exclusively to exaggerate her prodigious cleavage. She wore a proud, haughty smile, two small canine teeth protruding from her lower lip. At first glance she appeared human. Then, Mike noticed she was covered in a thin coat of golden fur. Furthermore, her nose was slightly upturned and sported an unusual brown tinge. Her profile identified her as a gynosphinx.
"Aren't they supposed to be four-legged?" muttered Mike.
He selected another match.
This time the girl was clearly not human. Her skin was cerulean and, not to put too fine a point on it, translucent. Indeed, she seemed entirely composed of some kind of smooth, viscous gel coalesced into the shape of a curvy young woman. Though she wore no clothing her watermelon-sized breasts lacked nipples and her portrait did not encompass anything below her waist. Curiously, her hips and abdomen were far less defined than the rest of her body, almost as though half-melted. Her pupil-less eyes, in contrast to her otherwise uniform blue coloration, were teal. She was staring directly at the screen, a curious look on her innocent face.
"Monster Musume has a lot to answer for," sighed Mike.
He swiped through some of the other matches. All of them were similarly beautiful, well-endowed, exotic, or all of the above. The artwork was exceptional - almost photographically detailed yet clearly drawn rather than computer-generated. It had that going for it, at least.
Mike rubbed his stubbly chin. Shelia was heterosexual; she'd dated men throughout high school and college and had never shown any interest in women. There didn't appear to be an option to change one's gender and/or sexual preference (he couldn't even find an options menu). If this was all there was to the game, he simply couldn't see his sister playing it - ever.
With a sigh, he picked one of the matches at random and tapped the message button. If he was going to get to the bottom of this, he'd actually have to play the damn thing.
'hi there!'
As he hit send, he realized he hadn't even read the match's biography. He scrolled down.
Salutations from beyond the veil, dear reader! I am Maeve Marigold - Enchantress, Adventuress and Investigator Extraordinaire! I am also an ardent scholar of extraplanar thaumatics! Even as a young mageling at Lyineer Academy I devoured every last scrap of lore pertaining to the Celestial and Infernal Realms. For instance, did you know that extreme concentrations of mana or even mundane energies can trigger brief asymmetrical intrusions from the Infernal Realm but not the Celestial? Imagine my surprise and delight when I learned of the existence of a fourth Realm - one that does not lie above or below but beyond the Realmsedge! However, my elation soon soured when I determined no mortal magicks can pierce the veil between the Realms of Shaltae and this 'Earth.' Believe me, I tried! So it is with some apprehension I employ this odd but fascinating piece of divine thaumaturgy. I welcome inquires from fellow scholars, sages and even laypeople.
Mike scrolled back up and took a look at her portrait. If one were to describe her in a single phrase, it would be 'ridiculously curvy fox-witch.' She wore a floppy black conical hat with a decorative buckle and oversized brim, her tufted, pointy red ears poking through it, presumably through holes in the fabric. Long, luxurious locks of cherry-red hair hung all the way down to her lower back. The upper half of her head was red-furred while the portion below her nose was white. She had a cute little muzzle and petite black nose flanked by bright yellow-brown eyes which had irises relatively smaller than those of an ordinary fox, making her appear far more intelligent - more human. Her slight smirk and half-lidded gaze lent her an expression that was equal parts mischievous and seductive. She wore a black bodice over a frilled white undershirt that contained an absolutely massive perky bust, each breast literally as large as her head. Her vast expanse of cleavage could have hidden an apple or possibly even a football. Her hips and rear were equally astonishingly thick - just an inch or two shy of being downright cartoonish. Below her bodice she wore a somewhat skimpy, silky green skirt, parted to the left and right, presumably for ease of movement, but possibly also to emphasize her impressive thighs. She wore a pair of dark-brown long laced boots that looked only slightly less durable than steel. A huge, fluffy red extended from her substantial backside.
"Yep, about what I expected," said Mike, shaking his head.
A few seconds later, he realized he was still staring at her.
Blushing slightly, Mike put his phone down and looked around as though concerned someone might have noticed him drooling over an illustrated buxom anthropomorphic vixen, even though he was the only one in the room.
His phone beeped.
"Huh?" said Mike, looking down.
A reply had appeared in the text box.
"At last! A voice! I was assured by that merchant I could expect a response within a day at most yet almost three have passed."
"O...kay," said Mike, reading the message. "Some kind of chatbot. Huh."
"What is your name? You are a 'human,' yes?"
Mike hesitated, then shrugged and decided to play along.
'hi, i'm Mike,' he tapped. 'yeah, i'm human.'
"Wonderful! What other beings inhabit your Realm - this 'Earth?'"
Mike frowned.
'you mean, other intelligent life or any other life? like, animals?'
"Ah! Yes! The former, darling - sentient and sapient beings, ones capable of thought, reason, emotion, logic, introspection, self-awareness, all that. Though you must tell me about your Realm's native fauna and flora later."
'well, no,' replied Mike. 'there isn't any other intelligent life on earth. we're it.'
This time there was a bit of a delay before the next message appeared.
"That seems improbable bordering on impossible! All the legends and chronicles agree that primordial phlogiston does not discriminate when imbuing consciousness. Even if no elder blood was shed during your Realm's formative era surely your gods would have created more than one ensouled species."
'uh, nope. sorry.'
"But...how did your kind come to be?"
"Is this thing really asking about the origin of humans?" murmured Mike to himself.
'well, it depends on who you ask,' he tapped. 'some people say we just sort of evolved from simpler life.'
"Evolved? Elaborate, please."
"Uhh..." said Mike as he dredged up memories from high school biology '...over time simple animals change. mutate. if their traits give them some kind of advantage, they have more children than others animals. the kids inherit these traits, which means they will have the same advantages and so on and so on. over many thousands of years this can lead to whole new species.'
Again, there was a pause - this time it lasted nearly a minute.
"Martin D'Eoctin's Theory of Unmanaged Hereditary Adaptation! It is held only to explain why wild populations acclimatize to new environments as though bred by an unseen handler. But it is the leading explanation for life in your Realm? Ridiculous, and remarkable!"
"Uh, okay," said Mike.
"Perhaps I am being too narrow-minded. This 'Earth' of yours is an entirely different Realm, far removed from the Realms of Shaltae. Thaumatic and physical laws may differ just as they are subject to the whims of the gods in the Infernal and Celestial Realms."
'what's thaumatic?'
"What is thaumatic? Magic, darling! The distortion and suspension of physical law through channeled mana. I see someone wasn't paying attention during rudimentary spellcasting! Er, you did attend some sort of school, yes?"
'yeah, i've been to college. i have a b.s.'
"B...S...? Balance sheet? Bill of sale? Bee sight? Bowel sickness?"
Mike chuckled. 'bachelors of science,' he explained. 'it's a four-year study. my major was information technology. it's all about working with computer software and hardware.' He paused. 'computers are a type of machine,' he added. 'i'm actually talking to you on something that's pretty much a computer.'
"Oh my! I want to know everything! What are computers used for? How are they manufactured? Do they incorporate runic magic? Geomancy? How large was this college? What other 'majors' does this institution offer?"
Mike laughed out loud. Then, a thoughtful expression grew on his face. Artificial intelligence had never been his strong suit; he probably remembered more about evolutionary biology than AI theory. But even he could tell that the game's chatbot was remarkable. And AI was one of Shelia's specialties. That and system architecture.
He glanced over at the clock and noted the late hour.
'long story, another time,' he tapped. 'um, listen, i need to get going. maybe we can chat another time.'
He put his phone down, drank the last bit of water from his bottle, rose and tossed the empty bottle into the recycling bin. He reached down to pocket his phone when he noticed he'd received another message.
"Naughty boy! How dare you tease me with so many tantalizing mysteries only to scurry off with the only the vaguest assurance we will ever correspond again. This will not do! Whatever business you have, you will put it on hold."
'sorry, i need to go home. i just finished work' replied Mike. His finger slid towards the power button.
Suddenly, the break room door swung open.
"Oh good, you haven't left yet," exhaled Amelia in relief.
"What is it?" groaned Mike.
"That crazy lady who got the wrong adapter is back and screaming about how we ripped her off," said Amelia. "I think the goddamn Karen just bought a USB extension cable."
"But we literally handed her the right adapter!"
"Apparently she switched it out for whatever she purchased because she..." Amelia made air quotes "...didn't like the color."
"For the love of...I'm on it," said Mike. He pocketed his phone and hurried out the door.
* * *
Between the poor light and clutching his tangle of keys, a bag of Chinese take-out and his mail in a single hand, it took Mike a while to a) find the right key and b) successfully insert it into the lock. He'd thought about installing a timer on his porch light but couldn't access the wiring without digging into the wall. After about the fifth try the mechanism gave way with a sharp click. Mike awkwardly rotated the knob between his thumb and index finger and then nudged the door open. He staggered into his unlit apartment, set his belongings on a coffee table and then turned to flick the lights on.
Mike would be the first to admit his place was nothing special but it was, in truth, not a bad little abode. The furniture was well-crafted, if a bit worn; the floors and surfaces clean and there were even a few tasteful framed prints on the walls - mostly van Gogh and Rousseau. An expensive-looking exercise bike and set of free weights dominated the eastern corner of the living room.
With a weary sigh, he picked his things off the table, set his mail and take-out on the kitchen counter, put his backpack in his bedroom, poured himself a cup of sparkling water in the kitchen and then plopped down on his couch with his dinner.
"Well, today was hell," he announced to the empty room.
As he struggled to open his box of chow mein a soft, unfamiliar sound filled his otherwise silent apartment. Mike sat up and looked around. It took him a few seconds to realize the noise had come from his phone, currently in his pocket. It had sounded like some kind of bell or chime. It wasn't his ringtone or text alert and no app he'd installed made such a sound. Puzzled, he dug into his pocket and held up his phone.
He had forgotten to close the Mythic Matches game.
"Ah, crap," muttered Mike.
A window had appeared in front of his text exchange.
'Success! Your match will be arriving shortly.'
"What did I..." Mike slowly gazed down to the couch "I butt-dialed it when I sat down," he said flatly. "Please don't tell me I bought something or gave out my information."
A couple seconds passed. Mike tried tapping the screen but it seemed frozen.
"Well, there's the cherry on today's shit-sundae," he said. "What's ne-"
Suddenly, a bright blue light soundlessly filled the hallway. Mike rose to his feet with a yelp, nearly tipping his box of chow mein to the floor. He set his dinner down on the coffee table and looked up. The light was gone. However, a few seconds later, he heard footsteps coming from down the hall.
Someone was in his apartment.
"Who's there!" he barked fearfully.
The footsteps stopped for a moment and then continued, growing louder.
"Ah! There you are, darling."
Mike's jaw dropped. His eyes widened.
The anthropomorphic vixen from the game stepped out into his living room. She appeared just as she had in her portrait, only this was no illustration or CGI. This was real life. No painting or even photograph could have captured the way her oversized-hat bobbed as she walked, the way her hair shimmered in the light, the sway in her hips and the way her enormous, fuzzy white breasts jiggled with every step. It also couldn't convey the intoxicatingly sweet scent of her perfume. She stood at around five and a half feet but her boots and pointy hat made her appear much taller. Indeed, her very existence contrasted so heavily with the relatively drab background of his apartment that everything else around her seemed dim and unreal.
She regarded Mike for a moment and then smiled.
"My goodness, your kind does bear a resemblance to the elves," she remarked, paws on hips.
Her voice was smooth, refined and confident. She spoke with a Mid-Atlantic accent. That is, somewhere between a British noblewoman and 19th century American heiress with just the hint of a bordello madam.
"Oh shit!" blurted Mike, staggering back. He nearly fell back over the couch.
"Pardon?" said the fox woman, cocking her head.
Mike's mind began desperately supplying him with possible explanations. He was asleep and dreaming. No, that couldn't be it. He had been drugged. Possible, but when? He hadn't eaten anything out of the ordinary and no one he knew had any reason to drug him. Apart from that crazy Karen, that is, but he'd gotten rid of her. He hadn't smoked weed for half-a-year, hadn't taken 'shrooms since college and had never took LSD. Maybe some reality television show was messing with him. He risked a closer inspection of the intruder. Again, possible but unlikely. He'd seen some pretty impressive costumes but this looked real.
"So, this is Earth," said the fox woman, looking around, ignoring Mike's gobsmacked stare. She sashayed past him and examined his television. "What is the purpose of this device?" she inquired, bending over to run her paw along the dusty screen.
Mike's face turned red as he gazed down at her possibly two-foot wide rump. While not a particularly restrictive article of clothing, her green skirt was clinging to her like a second skin. Her large, bushy tail swished back and forth.
Suddenly, she stood straight up and whirled around, frowning. Mike opened his mouth to issue a stuttering apology but was cut off.
"Is there a thuamatic dampener, manasink or planar intrusion nearby?" she asked.
"Buh..."
"Because I cannot feel any mana whatsoever, apart from my own of course," continued the fox woman. She turned, stepped towards the living room window and peered through the shades.
"Oh my! A city!" she exclaimed gleefully. She hurried over to the door and reached for the doorknob.
"Wait!" shouted Mike in panic.
"Mmm?" said the fox woman absently, paw on the knob.
"You can't...you can't just..." Mike waved his hands frantically in the air.
"Ahh, yes, I almost forgot," said the fox woman, nodding. "The covenant did stipulate I must adapt the form or appearance of a native and conceal my origin. Quite tedious, but needs must."
"Hang-on-hang-on-hang," said Mike frantically. "H-How did you get here?"
The fox covered her mouth and laughed merrily.
"How did I get here? Darling, you invited me! Or rather, I asked if I could visit you and you agreed! As I explained in our correspondence, I wish to learn more about your world and there is no better way of learning about a place than exploring it first hand!"
"I invited you?" said Mike, confused. Then, he recalled the butt-dial. Realization dawned. "Oh shit," he groaned.
"Language!" chided the fox woman playfully. "There is a time and place for cursing. And curses." She cleared her throat. "Now, first, I have a bit of a confession t-"
"Just a second, okay?" barked Mike more fiercely than he had intended. "I...I need...oh God..." he whimpered as he tried to steady himself. He gripped the arm of the couch.
"What is the matter, dear? Ever since I arrived you've looked as though you've seen a kraken."
Mike took a deep breath and exhaled a few times. If he experienced one more shock he was sure his heart would burst out of his chest.
"Sorry," he panted. "I...where to start? I didn't think that this..." he leveled a trembling finger at the phone "...was real. I didn't think you were real!"
"Not real?" said the fox woman, sounding almost hurt.
"Because there's no such thing as magic," cried Mike. "There's no such thing as other dimensions or dragons or...or slimegirls and all that."
"I'd say present evidence contradicts your hypothesis," chuckled the fox woman.
"Not true. I could be hallucinating!"
"Ah, the eternal conundrum of perception vs. reality," she said mischievously. "Are you a human or a fairy dreaming you're a human?"
"How did you...look, here on Earth, magic is just a legend. Elves, dwarves, orcs, dragons, unicorns - they don't exist here. It's just us humans. And animals! But none of them are intelligent! And there's never been any hard evidence magic is real!" He paused. "Up until now, I suppose," he finished lamely.
The fox woman gave him a long look.
"Hmm...it is true there doesn't appear to be any mana," she said slowly, looking around. "There is life, but no mana. Fascinating. And terrifying! It's like you are all capable of breathing in the total absence of air." She quickly shook her head. "No, no, that's a terrible analogy."
"Huh?" said Mike, lost.
"You see, in the Realms of Shaltae, all life - no matter how mean or how grand - generates mana," explained the fox woman. "From the tiniest blade of grass to gargantuan dragons, every living thing exudes it. As for what exactly mana is, well, that encompasses an entire sub-field of study of its own. Suffice to say it is raw energy that stabilizes reality and, through intention and manipulation, can be employed to suspend, tweak or even supplement physical law." She paused. "A quick test, darling."
The fox woman raised a hand into the air and a bright halo of yellow light coalesced around her pointer digit.
Mike goggled.
"Ah, good," she said, holding the glowing orb in her hand like it was nothing special. "This reality does actually not preclude magic. However, I must draw upon my life energies rather than siphoning ambient mana. Fortunately, that is something of a specialty of mine." She snapped her fingers and the orb vanished with a soft pop. "Blood magic is so misunderstood."
"That was magic?" breathed Mike.
"A simple illumination cantrip," said the fox woman. "Though I should eventually attempt every spell in my repertoire, circumstances and energy permitting."
"O-kay," said Mike nervously.
"Back to business," said the fox woman. "An entire Realm devoid of magic? I find that highly unlikely. After all, you said magic was 'only' a legend. Yet clearly magic exists. Otherwise I could not have journeyed here. Therefore, these legends of yours are likely grounded in some truth, as many legends are."
Mike found himself slowly nodding. Despite her exotic, outlandish appearance, she had the voice, bearing and cadence of a schoolteacher.
"How large is your Realm?" inquired the fox suddenly.
"Huh?"
"What is the size of Earth," said the fox woman patiently. "Is it potentially infinite like the Celestial and Internal Realms or finite, like the Realms of Shaltae, my home?"
Mike opened his mouth, shut it, and then reached down to pick up his phone.
"Hang on," he said, tapping the side of the device.
"What are you doing?" she asked, leaning over to see what he was doing.
"I'm check on my phone," said Mike, glancing up. His eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of her mind-bogglingly wide cleavage. He forced himself to look back down. Fortunately, the screen had unfrozen. In fact, a new set of menus had appeared on the Mythic Matches app.
"Phone?" said the vixen curiously.
"It's short for telephone," said Mike nervously, closing the app and opening his browser. "But I guess it's more than a phone. I uh, don't know the exact size of the Earth off of the top of my head so I'm Googling it."
"Google?" she chuckled. Then, her eyes widened. "It this some kind of miniature grimoire?" She said excitedly, hurrying over to his side to peer down at the screen.
"Uh, yeah, it can be," said Mike, blushing. Her right boob was softly grazing his shoulder. "It's also how I contacted you. The Mythic Match app...er, I guess you could call it a spell? It's on here too."
"Really?" she said. "In the Realms the thaumaturgy can be invoked simply by reciting a rather curious geas in front of a reflective surface. Some might mistake it for a spell, but it is a-"
"Okay, the Earth is around 196 million square miles," said Mike quickly, stepping forward and turning around. The fox yelped softly in protest and actually reached out as though to snatch the phone from Mike's hand.
"Only 196 million square miles?" said the vixen. "That's all there is? The Realms are a good 500 million square miles, according to most estimates."
"Um, okay then," said Mike. He held up a 3D image of Earth. "This is Earth," he said, gesturing at the screen.
"Oh my!" said the fox woman, delighted. Then, she cocked her head. "Hold a moment, darling, that appears to be a sphere."
"Uh, yeah, Earth is round."
"But...that can't be," said the vixen. "The Realms are round, yes, but also flat. That is to say, a disc, floating in the Realmsedge."
"Well, Earth is a sphere. Don't know what else to tell you," said Mike, shrugging. "You can circumnavigate it and everything."
"But...what are all those lights behind Earth," asked the fox woman.
"Those are stars. You know, space?"
"Ah, you also have a Celestial Realm. Where your deities reside."
"...No, that's outer space," said Mike slowly. He quickly Googled 'solar system' and showed her an image of it. "See, that's the sun - also a star - and Earth along with all these other planets orbit around it," he explained, pointing. "There's nothing between them but empty space. Hence, 'space.' All those other stars are light years away. As in, they're far, far away but not actually in another dimension or something."
This time she actually did snatch the phone out of his grasp. Mike glared at her but did not protest. She gazed intently at the tiny diagram of the sun and planets on the screen for a few seconds and then drew back and squealed like a teenage girl receiving a brand new car for her sweet sixteen.
"By the Progenitors!" she cried, jumping up and down. "To think your Realm differs so much from my own in cosmology and physical law! If Lucinda knew she would spend the rest of her life here! Hah! Given half a chance I might spend my remaining days here. Think of what I could learn! What I could publish! The implications of it all!" Then, she stood up and cleared her throat. "But...another time, I suppose," she said, regaining some of her composure. "It can wait. Business first, pleasure later."
She stood there in silence for a time, lost in thought. Mike cleared his throat meaningfully.
"Mmm?" said the vixen.
"My phone?" said Mike, holding out his hand.
"Oh, yes of course," she said, returning it. "Er, I don't suppose you'd be averse to me borrowing the device?"
"Uh, yeah, maybe some other time," said Mike vaguely, pocketing it.
"Well, as I was saying, I have something of a confession to make," said the fox woman. "I did not join this covenant simply to explore this brave new Realm, tempting as it is. I actually learned of Mythic Matches and Earth weeks ago. I long contemplated contacting one of your kind, but did not 'take the plunge' so to speak. Recent events, however, have forced my paw."
"O-kay," said Mike for lack of anything better to do.
"Though a scholar, mage and seeker, I am also by trade an investigator."
"Uh, investigator?"
"Be it unsolved crimes, unexplained phenomenon or simply secrets shielded from the light of truth through sheer obscurity, I will uncover them - for the right price," she said, a touch dramatically. "Nobles, commoners, princes, dominators, merchants, priests, guilds - all have sought my acumen. It was I who exposed the vile conspiracy to dethrone the Satrap of the Bronze River. When the Beast of Ronan stalked the Forest of Adé, it was I who ascertained what it was, where it laired and how best to put it down. The murderer of Lord Edelwood would have escaped unpunished had I not-"
"You're a detective?"
The vixen looked nonplussed.
"Detective? One who detects? I...suppose you could say that," she shook her head. "In any event, though I am loath to admit it, I have hit a dead end in an investigation. My latest client is a scion of a noble family. I cannot reveal much about them as I owe them confidentiality. But, in brief, someone has been spying on their house, uncovering and weaponizing their deepest secrets. They retained my services to determine how and who."
"Er," said Mike, trying to cut in but she was speaking too quickly.
"Despite extensive reconnaissance on my part - both mundane and magical - I have not been able to ascertain either," continued the vixen. She raised a digit in the air. "However, during my investigation I learned of a burgeoning trade of unusual goods in the city where this noble resides. The sellers claim these goods originate from beyond the veil. At first I dismissed this as nonsense. Until, that is, I acquired one of these items for myself."
With that, she dipped a hand into her cleavage. She frowned, and then, to Mike's amazement, began riffling around inside.
"Oh bother, where did I put it?" she muttered to herself.
Mike swallowed. It sounded as though she was rummaging through a cluttered purse.
"Is that....no, not that," she sighed.
Mike stared in shock as she pulled a long sheathed dagger out. Even considering their prodigious size, there was no way her breasts could have contained it. Yet they had. She stuffed the weapon back in and continued searching.
"Ah, there it is!" she said, pulling out a much smaller object. She proffered it. "Do you know what is, darling?"
Mike reluctantly took the thing from her paw. It appeared to be a silvery metallic rectangle around two inches by one. It was warm. He slowly rotated it and then saw a small screen. Then, he noted the audio port on the side. Recognition dawned.
"Hey, this is an iPod nano!" he exclaimed.
"Ah, the merchant called it a pod of sound," said the vixen. "It plays strange melodies when connected to these curious white tendrils." She glanced down. "Let me show you," she said, already reaching between her boobs."
"That's okay!" said Mike quickly, handing the iPod back. "Er, yeah, this came from Earth." He paused. "It's actually kind of antiquated tech. Most people just stream music or listen to it on their phones."
"Ah," said the fox woman, tucking the iPod back into her cleavage. "Well, I subjected this 'pod' to every augury I knew yet I could not detect the slightest smidgeon of magic." She pressed her paws together and started pacing. "Now I understand why. It came from a Realm where magic is, presumably, rare to the point of nonexistence. Yet it can play hundreds of songs, flawlessly, upon command." No mundane device in the Realms of Shaltae is capable of this and any Celestial and Infernal artifact would have had some detectable dweomer." She smiled smugly. "So, my working theory is that whoever is spying on my clients is using an artifact from your Realm." She turned to face him. "It this possible? Is there anything manufactured here that could be used to surreptitiously surveil?"
"Uh, yeah, sure," said Mike, nodding. "There's tons of stuff like that - recorders, videos, binoculars. These days you can even pick up actual spy gear like laser microphones, microtransmitters-"
"Wonderful!" said the fox woman happily. "Well, not for my client, obviously, but a path forward nonetheless. Yes, you will do nicely."
"...What?" said Mike, nonplussed.
"I need a consultant on this investigation," explained the vixen. "Someone familiar with these...'pods.' Once we identify how, the who will soon follow."
"You want me to help you figure out who's spying on your client?"
"Yes, darling!" said the fox woman. "That's why I joined Mythic Matches. I thought I explained that."
"You said you wanted to learn about Earth!" exclaimed Mike. He was getting very tired of this and not just a little scared.
"Oh, that too," she said. She waved a paw. "Come, no time like the present! Contact Mythic Matches and arrange a portal back home post-haste. I paid for the first portal so I believe it's only fair you pay for the second."
"You want me to come with you to your world?" said Mike incredulously.
"Of course! You can't very well do it from here," she laughed.
"No!" cried Mike.
"What?" said the vixen, sounding taken aback. "Why ever not?"
"Because I have to be at work tomorrow at 8:00 AM!" exclaimed Mike, throwing out his arms. "Because I have rent to pay and a life here. Not to mention I know absolutely nothing about the Realms of Shaltae. Up until fifteen minutes ago I didn't even know the place exists. Or that magic exists. And now you want to drag me there and get me involved in some kind of...intrigue between nobles or something that I know nothing about and I don't even...gah! Come on! It's too much to ask!"
Mike just stood there for a time, catching his breath. The fox woman stared at him.
"Oh, er, I see," she said, her ebullience rapidly fading. She slowly lowered her head, the wide brim of her hat obscuring her face. "Yes, yes, a bit much to ask of one I have just met," she added, a slight tremor in her voice.
"Er, uh, yeah," said Mike, his anger dissipating just as quickly. He felt as though he had kicked a small, adorable puppy. Yes, it had peed on the floor but that was no excuse, really.
"Well, in that case, I shall be on my way," said the fox woman stiffly. She curtsied. "I apologize for disturbing you, kind sir." She turned.
"H-Hold on," said Mike, somewhat to his own surprise. "I...I can still answer any questions you have about Earth. Hell, I could at least show you what microphones and cameras look like and how they work. You came all this wa-"
"No, this task is my burden alone," she said, more than a touch dramatically. "I cannot ask a complete stranger - let alone someone who knows nothing of the Realms - to share it. Fair well, noble sir. Please do not presume others from the Realms are as...selfish as I."
Mike looked askance at her. He couldn't tell if she was being genuine or just trying to play on his sympathies. Her flamboyant personality didn't make it easy.
Then, something occurred to him.
"Seriously just....hang on," he said, raising a hand.
"Hmm?" said the vixen sadly, looking over her shoulder at him.
"First...sorry, what was your name again?
"Ah, am I so inconsiderate that I did not deign to introduce myself when we first met?" groaned the vixen. "In person, I mean." She stood straight up, boobs bouncing, and bowed extravagantly, removing her hat. "I am Maeve Marigold, sorceress, scholar and investigator."
"Maeve, okay, yeah," said Mike. "I'm Mike. Er, Mike Gallo." He took a deep breath. "You said you were a detect-...um, an investigator, right?"
"Yes?"
He took a deep breath.
"Tell you what. What if I wanted to hire you?"
