The Bigger They Are ...

With the earth still far too far below, Cochrane felt gravity reassert itself. This was it. Even if the trees broke his fall, the ground was still going to break the rest of him. No way was he getting out of this, unless the Great Hunter in the Sky sent him a miracle.

And then the Great Hunter spoke: “Holy shit!”

His miracle arrived in a sweep of crimson wings. Syprelli maneuvered herself beneath him. He landed hard on the flying filly’s back. Both she and Cochrane grunted and swore, though hers was more of a neigh.

Deuce steadied him. “Thanks for coming out to meet us. I take it the fight’s not going well?”

“Understatement.” His gun was gone. They were up the creek for sure now, unless … “Did you get it?”

“Right here.” Deuce did a little drumroll on the lid of the plastic tub under his arm. “Nice and fresh and chocked with chunky bits. Now we just have to shove it down his throat.”

“You leave that to me. Can you get me up close?”

Syprelli shook her mane. She didn’t want to get any closer to the Hellephant than she was right now. Sensible, but not helpful. “Just set me down, then,” Cochrane said. “I shouldn’t have any trouble getting that asshat to attack me.”

The shifter fooled him. She changed course, aimed for the mammoth. Cochrane was impressed in spite of himself. He’d long believed shifters were monsters that skulked in the dark and menaced honest humans. This last week had made a dent in a lot of his preconceptions. Maybe some shifters could be spared. You just had to pluck the good apples out of the rotten barrel.

First things first. He had a mutant mammoth monster to kill.

Syprelli carried Cochrane and Deuce back to the heart of the battle. Cochrane leaned past her neck to peer at the ground. It looked like a tribe of Scotsmen—and one Scotswoman in a Xenaesque corset—was attacking the mammoth’s legs. Cochrane shook his head. This town just got weirder the longer he stuck around.

The winged filly flapped higher. “Watch out for the trunk,” Deuce said. Syprelli muttered something that Cochrane guessed was No shit in horse talk, and dove.

No good. The mammoth saw them. Syprelli swerved beyond reach of that snaking deadly trunk. She swept past the monster and climbed for another attempt. Its bellow followed her into the sky.

Deuce passed the tub of peanut butter to Cochrane. “Any idea what you’re going to do?”

“Stop him.”

Deuce shrugged. “Okay.”

The red horse dove again. This time they got help from the ground crew. The Scotsmen were watching Syprelli. When she started her dive they charged in and laid axes and knives to the Hellephant’s hind legs. The beast half-turned to deal with this more immediate assault. Its mouth gaped in an irritated roar.

“There!” Cochrane pointed. “Get me right up to his mouth.”

Syprelli whinnied. Are you out of your mind? But she bravely veered in as close as she dared. With Deuce’s help Cochrane got up on his knees on her back, with his feet under him. “Hey! Atcheson! Open wide, you son of a bitch!”

The mammoth swung its head toward them. It lifted its trunk and gaped its mouth to roar at them.

Cochrane jumped.

He landed right where he needed to, just inside its mouth. God above, it stank in here! And it was slimy, and hot as hell to boot. Bits of tree branches and mashed leaves and grass were stuck in its mammoth teeth. Cochrane anchored himself around a molar and throttled his instinct to gag. A mass of black flesh quested around for the annoyance worrying at it: the mammoth’s tongue.

Just the thing. Cochrane pried the lid off the tub and lobbed handfuls of peanut butter at that writhing slab of meat. He smeared gobs of the deadly-to-Hellephants foodstuff onto its teeth and the floor of its mouth for good measure. Finally he just tossed the whole tub down its throat. That ought to give it some problems in several hours’ time. “Bottoms up,” he said.

Now to get out of here.

Already the part of the monster that was still Atcheson was realizing something was wrong. Those hot blasts of breath came more quickly. The humongous tongue appeared to swell even as he stared at it. Short gaggy sounds rumbled up out of its throat.

It was going to vomit.

“No,” Cochrane groaned. “No no no no.” He scrambled past the Hellephant’s lips and teetered on the edge of its gaping mouth. A tusk curved just within reach. He leaped.

And missed.

Once again Syprelli appeared in the nick of time. Deuce caught Cochrane by the arm and hauled him aboard. “We figured you wouldn’t have an exit strategy,” he explained.

The airborne shifters streaked for the sky. Those on the ground scattered. The mammoth halted. It shuddered all over. It tried to scream, but couldn’t force more than a squeak through its rapidly-closing throat. Its eyes bulged. Its legs buckled. One of the Scotsmen yelled, “Timberrrr!”

The Hellephant collapsed just short of the bridge over Schitt Creek. It rolled over onto its side and wheezed desperately for breath. Red splotches—monstrous hives—appeared on its trunk.

Cautiously Syprelli came to earth a prudent distance away. Dante, the Scotsmen, Rafe the eagle shifter, and a naked Turkle, even scrawnier and uglier without his clothing, crept up on the mammoth. When nothing happened to them, Cochrane joined them. “Is he … ?”

“Not yet,” Dante said, with a jerk of his chin at the Hellephant’s heaving side. “Its mutant genes are trying to fight the allergy, and its human genes are resisting. It might survive. It might even recover, given sufficient time. We have to act fast.”

“No problem,” Cochrane said. He glared into the former Atcheson’s glassy blue eye. “Just hand me a gun. I’ll make it quick.”

“No.”

The hunter stared at Dante. “No?”

“I need to put in a call to the local witches. If they can’t restore him to human form, they’ll move him somewhere else—another dimension, another planet. Some place where he can’t hurt anyone.”

“Works for me,” Turkle said. “Someplace where he can smash stuff and be the biggest bastard around. I suspect he’d like that. Got a radio in m’truck.”

“Thanks.”

“You can’t do that!” Cochrane yelled at Dante’s retreating back. “We have to—”

One of the Scotsmen stopped his tirade with a meaty hand on his arm. “Leave it, laddie,” he advised. “Yon beastie’s threat is done. ‘Tis up to us to help him now, as well as we’re able. That’s our way.”

Your way sucks, Cochrane wanted to say. However, he saw that he was outnumbered and prudently kept his mouth shut. His opinion of shapeshifters rearranged itself yet again. He stood off to one side and glowered at his fellow defenders, and concluded his original hunt might not be finished after all.

# # #

Sometime later a weary, poo-streaked Ewan and Maureen trudged up the highway and joined those still on the battlefield. They made a wide detour around the laboriously-wheezing Hellephant and reported in to Dante. “I see you saved the day,” Ewan said. “Sorry I missed it. Anybody get a video?”

“We were busy,” Dante said dryly. “Duff and his buddies will be happy to fill you in, but you’ll have to buy the drinks. By the way, where’s my car?”

“Back there.” Ewan jerked his thumb to indicate the highway behind him. “It’s a little … well, try not to be too upset. It was all for a good cause.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Shit happens.”

"Hack yer way through!"

Waning SuperMoon howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Okay then, another late posting. I simply had too much going on that had to get done, which included making certain the pets have a supply of food.

That said, "The Battle of Schitt Creek" is raging, and our monster hunter, Cochrane, is in danger of either orbiting the Earth, or making a nasty splat... but, dear fans, who else has entered the fight to save Talbot's Peak?

~~~~~~

"Hack yer way through!"

Scottish dog shapeshifter, Duff McDuff, swung his enormous broadsword high, signaling his band of four warriors -- Donnie Bonnie Lad, a Scottish Deerhound shifter; Dristan, a Collie Dog shifter; Mad Cow Agnus, a black Angus shifter; and Night Runner, a black superwolf.

Behind them, and hovering above on delicate wings, was Duff's light and love, Kyrbella, a fae fox shifter. His woman had promised him on her oath that she'd stay well out of harm's way, merely using her eyes to advise them. 

With Talbot's Peak under attack by some mad-scientist concocted beast, Duff had hastily gathered those he knew would not cower like beaten dogs -- but would fight with heart, to their last mortal breath. If the god's saw it as necessary.

Bellowing a battle cry, Duff charged, broadsword held high. The familiar feel of his kilt against his pumping legs as he raced down the embankment served to fuel and fire his ages-old fighting blood.

He roared a mighty growl, and heard the sound echoed by Donnie, Dristan, Agnus, and Night Runner. "We're comin' for ya... ya beastie from the pits of infernal hell!" he thundered from the depths of his huge lungs, from his warrior's heart.

For Duff McDuff had fought in an uncountable number of battles since the Ancient Ways. No one's bloody fool, though, he'd sized up the combat situation from high ground. First.

He and his kilted, blade-ready band watched as Mr. Turkle bombasted the malformed monstrous beastie with a grenade to its shoulder. Then, the old hand at defense, took careful aim at the creature's giant skull -- surely as the gods laughed, a target not to be missed by whoever could hit the broadside of a barn... as the saying went.

"Batter up," Donnie quipped beside Duff.

"And he swings," Dristan crooned like a sports announcer.

"Home run," Agnus finished.

"Hell," Night Runner growled. "Looks like Turkle is about to be a turkey dinner. Without the trimmings." 

With the superwolf's words ringing in his ears, Duff raced the relatively short distance toward the mammoth's uglier-than-sin hindquarters. Reaching their point of attack, he halted close to the beastie's oak-trunk sized back leg. 

Duff spun several times, gathering his force. "Batter up," he bellowed. "ya unnatural pachyderm from a warlock's nightmare."

With his full strength, Duff aimed for the hellephant's tendon slicing his mighty blade across its lower back leg. Thick fur flew and a bit o' flesh. A warrior's madness took possession of him, and Duff roared.

"Hack yer way through!" he shouted, already hearing the others swing their blades against hide as tough as steel.

Taking turns with Agnus, Duff repeatedly slashed hunks of bloody flesh off the mammoth's leg. At the same time, he heard Cochrane's elephant gun blasting shot after shot.

"What the freakin' scat is this lab-conjured monster made out of?" Night Runner growled above their chopping blades. He, Donnie, and Dristan attacked the beastie's other back leg.

Mr. Turkle shot himself free! Kyrbella yelled inside Duff's mind.

"Faster, lads," Duff barked. "Cripple this out-of-Frankenstein's-grave creature."

"Bad news," Dristan panting-barked. "It's self-repairing."

"Call on the Great Force, me lads," Duff encouraged. He continued hacking like a moonstruck fiend, with Agnus matching his strikes. "Whoever delivers the crippling blow gets to yell 'timber'."

Watch out! Kyrbella telapathed. Grenades. Dante is attacking. Aerial attack too.

Sudden explosions around the leviathan beastie's front legs, then it's furiously shaking head,  caused Duff and his warriors to jump back. Escaping the hellephant's backward but unaimed kicks, they rallied, only to see Dante whip and weave on his Hawg.

Miraculously to Duff's mind, Dante avoided the serpent strikes of the unholy creature's trunk. Not long enough, though. With one savage slap on the rear of the motorcycle, the alpha werewolf skidded, hit the hump of ground and went sailing through air. With the saints' own luck, Dante landed on a soft spot of grass.

Seeing Cochrane rush into the middle of the road, and take aim, Duff barked, "Now's the time, lads. Let's cut this monster down."

As Cochrane played target, taunting the beast he called Atcheson, the five of them frantically swung their blades. Pieces of mammoth meat quick-as-spit covered the road. Until... 

A trumpeting roar shivered the air. The very sound shook the asphalt beneath their feet.  When the Atcheson beast charged, quaking the ground, the five of them were hurled backward.

Unable to land on his feet, Duff's derriere smacked the highway, his blade clattering on the highway. He wasn't alone, thank the fine gods. His four brave comrades had fallen on their backsides as well.

Cochrane, the beastie's got him trapped like a hungry python, Kyrbella blasted inside Duff's mind.

As one, Duff and his warriors leaped to their feet. Blades at the ready, they charged toward the mountain-of-fish stench that was the Atcheson behemoth. All of them stopped dead in their tracks, seeing Cochrane flung from the mammoth's impossibly long trunk.

The monster hunter skyrocketed into the wild blue yonder. No one spoke as Cochrane disappeared.

~~~~~~


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ...

Savanna 

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Atcheson snaked his monstrous trunk...

August howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

So, what about our monster mammoth villain? What does a Hellephant think about as he destroys and dines his way to Talbot's Peak?

~~~~~~

Atcheson snaked his monstrous trunk around another hapless tree, snapped it off at the base, and thrust it inside his admittedly cavernous mouth -- where it didn't last long. His hunger knew no end.

Fueling the franken-mammoth he'd been genetically transformed into was nightmarish. Morloxian had gleefully treated him like a prized child, feeding him high-nutrient formulas that kept his hunger at bay. Now he was on his own, and constantly starving. 

Piss on it! The werewolf part of him howled for a side of beef. Hell, a whole herd of succulent, in their prime, beef on the hoof that he'd crash and tear through -- devouring until he'd finally had his fill. Once he finished trampling Talbot's Peak, and all of its shit-unholy shapeshifting creatures into the dust as if they never existed... searching out the nearest cattle herd was his first priority. Unless...

Atcheson well realized he'd be the target of every monster hunter in the business. That thought had him wondering where Cochrane was lurking these days. The bastard would aim everything, even the kitchen sink, at him. But so what, if the Elmer Fudd-idjit lobbed his store of grenades. Hell yeah, bring it on! 

With his quick-as-a-whip trunk, Atcheson figured he could catch the explosive devices, and hurl them back. Besides, he doubted the puny force of their explosions would do much to his super-powered snout. That is, except for breathing the smoke out like a dragon.

Driven by hunger, Atcheson wrapped his beastly trunk around the tall summer grass ripping it up. Dirt and all, he shoved it in his mouth, and kept on semi-trucking down the highway. Through beady eyes, he observed the mere humans scatter like ants.

Shit -- and his mammoth crap plopped in gigundis piles -- humans weren't high on his list of likeability either. Terrorizing the little scurrying apes gave him quite the thrill. Squealing tires announced their departure in silly little vehicles he could crush with one humongous foot.

Maybe, just maybe he'd been chosen by destiny -- Atcheson had known he was destined to far surpass Cochrane as a monster hunter -- if he had to become a mutant mammoth werewolf to destroy the supernatural monsters that now littered the entire planet, then so be it. With the catastrophic damage he could inflict in this form, he could force order out of paranormal chaos.

He trumpeted in glee, his trunk shooting skyward. Even that eagle shifter had failed to cause him a lick of harm. And that ridiculous winged horse... at least, she'd had the smarts to stay out of reach.

And now, with destiny operating through the pathetic wolf-coyote shifter who rescued ugly, glasses-hiding Maureen... Atcheson had been delivered him from his more-than-annoying rider -- the too-silent, shifty-eyed Pete, who... no shit-surprise... had been a Tiger Yakuza shifter. 

Atcheson stopped to give himself a violent shake. Without the mutated-into-a-werewolf-tiger's claws digging into him, he'd been given free rein to reign over the world. But first, Talbot's Peak!

He bellowed in sheer rage, tromping madly down the highway. Atcheson hardly felt the giant potholes that his weight and strength sunk through the asphalt. Oh yeah baby Dumbo, he could earth-quake his way across the North American continent.

Right now, tidal waves of fury compelled Atcheson's thundering march toward the shapeshifter enclave. Yet, he also burned with one helluva high. A whole new life lay ahead of him -- mercilessly savaging whoever and whatever he wanted.

Just for shit and grins, Atcheson imagined consuming entire golf courses, crashing through football teams lined up for the last crucial play of a game... and compacting rows of cars at shopping malls.

With a swipe of his trunk Atcheson uprooted a line of saplings, tossing them down his throat. Given his insatiable hunger, he was damn effing glad there were no peanut fields to scarf up.

Although, he owned not one clue if his death-by-peanut's allergy had translated into what Morloxian had said was his greatest mutant achievement to date. Him. The pride in the misshapen wolf-man's eyes had given Atcheson something he'd never emotionally gotten from his father. That was for shit fucking sure.

His father had been a monster in his own right. Well now, Atcheson had the power to fold, spindle, or mutilate any monster, any shifter at will. To prove it, he drove his death-dealing tusk through a jack-knifed, abandoned mack truck.

He raised it high over his head, blasted a trumpet of triumph, then gave his head a toss. The truck flew through the air landing atop the huge branches of the forest's older trees. If he wasn't hellbent on Godzilla-taking out Talbot's Peak, Atcheson would have stopped to appease his appetite.

On second thought, before mangling everyone and everything in the shifter town, before stomping and stamping the entire town into a bloody combo of goo and dust... maybe he should suck up every last bit of food.

Then, it struck Atcheson. An ah-ha moment that squirmed through his rampaging haze, and into his mutated, possibly still mutating mammoth brain. How tasty were shapeshifters?

His werewolf side howled to find out. Howled for the taste of blood.

~~~~~~


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ...

Savanna 

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Go Fish

Following the Hellephant’s progress wasn’t a problem. The once-human creature fed as it went, ripping branches from trees and huge swaths of grass from any meadow it passed. This resulted in large piles of natural “breadcrumbs” left in its wake. Deuce, behind the wheel, swerved around one and rolled up his window. “He does like grass,” he remarked. He glanced over at Ewan. “You sure you wouldn’t rather have grabbed a gun?”

“This’ll work.” Ewan was fitting his weapon together—no easy task, as its larger piece was ten feet long and stuck out the passenger-side window. It made stringing the line somewhat difficult. “It’ll get me on top of him. After that I can wing it.”

“I know you’re a coyote and all, but … a fishing rod?”

“Surf rod,” Ewan corrected. “I grew up using these, back in New Jersey. You can reel in a two-hundred-pound marlin or a shark with one of these babies. Hey, if they’d had a grappling hook I’d have taken it. It’s all about the improv. Any word from Dante?”

“Last time I talked to him, he was making a stand at Schitt Creek. He’ll hold off as long as he can, so you can get Maureen. That means we—there he is!”

Ewan shot a look out the windshield. The broad, brownish-blond line of the mammoth’s back towered above the treeline. Deuce floored it.

The car shot around a curve, right into a pile of poop. The engine ground and shut off.

Deuce worked the windshield wipers, and got only a field of streaky brown. “Dante’s gonna have a goat,” he said.

Ewan, rod in hand, was already climbing out of the car. If anything, Freddyphant had picked up speed. Maybe whatever human memory was left to him recognized the road to Talbot’s Peak. He’d come here to kill shifters, and now he had enough natural power to do some serious damage. No wonder he was eager.

“Get his attention,” he ordered Deuce. “Stall him. Then run and catch up with Dante. I’ll take it from there.”

“Yessir, boss.” Deuce dumped his clothes and shifted. His gray wolf form raced after the motoring Hellephant.

Ewan made a couple test casts to get the feel of the rod and make sure all the parts were working properly. If he could pull this off, what a tale he and Maureen would have to tell their grandkids. “Lord of the Rings,” he murmured, “meet Jaws.” He dashed up the road.

# # #

Deuce did his bit, as well as he was able without getting tromped. He didn’t exactly stop the beast, but he slowed it enough for Ewan to catch up. Then he whirled and ducked into the safety of the forest lining the highway. The Hellephant bellowed its rage. It seemed unaware of the second peril creeping up behind it.

Here goes nothing, Ewan thought, and cast.

The heavy hook snagged in Freddyphant’s shaggy coat, high up on its side. Before Ewan could give it a test tug the Hellephant tugged first, with a long stride back on its course. Ewan was yanked off his feet. He stumble-ran-got-dragged several feet before he could reel himself up. The braided line could hold several hundred pounds of fighting fish; it should be able to handle his one-eighty long enough for him to grab a handhold of mammoth pelt. It was the hook that scared him. If it tore loose—

The hook held. Ewan had one iffy moment when a treetrunk leg swung back at him. He kicked off it and upward and landed near Freddyphant’s underbelly. By the time the hook finally ripped free Ewan was scrambling hand-over-hand up the mammoth’s side. He reached the top, reeled in his line, and took a look around.

The first thing he saw was Maureen. She was clutched beneath the arm of a seven-foot mutant werewolf. The werewolf held onto the swaying pachyderm with its foot-claws and steered it by tugs on its ears. It didn’t appear aware of Ewan’s arrival. Maureen spotted him and clapped her hands over her mouth so she wouldn’t cry out and betray him.

Something must have, though, because the werewolf suddenly turned. Its muzzle wrinkled back from a set of teeth that put a shark’s to shame. It dumped Maureen on the mammoth’s head and charged.

Ewan swung the pole. The werewolf swatted it aside. Three feet of pole snapped off and tumbled to the ground, trailing line. Ewan dodged the werewolf’s lunge and reversed the pole in his hands. He brought the heavy grip end up between the werewolf’s legs. The big reel landed exactly where he aimed it.

Well, howzabout that. Mutant werewolves could yodel.

The beast crumpled, clutching at its groin. Its feet lost their grip on the Hellephant’s pelt. The werewolf slipped and fell over the side.

Ewan darted along the mammoth’s spine and peered down at its flank. No clinging mutant werewolf. If Mutie had hit the ground and survived, he wouldn’t be in any shape to tag along.

Then Ewan’s arms were full of hot, frightened woman. A she-wolf’s hiked scent hit his nose and a tongue crammed into his mouth. Ewan crushed his mate against him and kissed her hard while maintaining both their balances on the back of the swaying mammoth. No easy feat, but coyotes are nothing if not adaptable.

At last he could see her tits. They were everything he’d dreamed they’d be.

Finally they broke apart. Ewan grinned down at her. “You are one tough gal to land a date with.”

“You’re deranged.” Her laugh had only a little hysteria in it. Commendable, given the circumstances. “That wolf thing—he used to be Pete. This—this is Atcheson. Pete told me. They're going to destroy Talbot’s Peak.”

“He’s got a long way to go and quite a few tough characters to get through before that happens. Be nice if we could stop him. You know how to drive this thing?”

She shook her head. “Pete was controlling him, but it was getting harder. I could tell. Atcheson always was a contrary bas—”

The mammoth lurched. Both Ewan and Maureen fell atop its spine. Ewan dumped the rod and grabbed Maureen in one hand and a hunk of thick hair in the other. Freddyphant, it seemed, had finally realized there was no one at the wheel.

Ewan tried to get up. The mammoth’s trunk curled back and quested about for a target. Maureen yanked him back down right before the trunk smacked him. The mammoth trumpeted.

“New plan,” Ewan said. “Here’s where we get off. Wrap your arms around my neck and hang on.”

Maureen clamped her arms around his neck and her legs around his torso. Just in time. Freddyphant suddenly reared up. His back rose at a steep vertical angle. Ewan slid the length of the mammoth’s spine. He managed to snag hold of its lupine tail. They swung there while Ewan scanned the ground for a spot less hard and rocky than the rest.

There. He swung out and let go. They landed dead center in the chosen spot and sank. It wasn’t ground. It was soft and grainy and filled with bits of grass and leaves and stank like a son of a hound. Maureen shook clods of it off her hands and wiped smears of it off her glasses. “Shit!”

“Pretty much,” Ewan said. “Beats broken bones, though not by much. You okay?”

“I will be, after a week-long shower.” She leaned through the crap cushion to press against him. They held each other close. Freddy was already nearly a mile up the road, still stubbornly on course for Talbot’s Peak.

“Ewan?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“Are you going to take your hand off my boob?”

“Not in this lifetime.”

“You damn well better not.” She grabbed him by his hair and crushed her mouth to his.

We Are Not Alone... Skyflash...

Rabbit Warrior by Tweekt~deviantart.com

Summer-hot howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Gosh, so sorry for the late posting. I just can't get my act together these days. However, I hope the following flash scene, another aerial adventure above the rampaging mutant mammoth-werewolf, is worth the read.
~~~~~~

We Are Not Alone... Skyflash...

Blade Runner, the Peak's own extraterrestrial rabbit shifter, carefully maneuvered his small UFO craft, staying close to the top of the mountain. Upon arrival, mere moments ago, he'd activated the sharp spire of granite with a resonance frequency that kept his disc craft hidden. Enemies lurked everywhere in the unfriendly skies, especially the so-called 'visiting' otherworld races.

With Pachyderm-wolfzilla quaking the ground toward Talbot's Peak, Dante had contacted briefly, both of them aware of a galaxy-sized problem unknown to most. So, despite his earthquaking tryst with his fox-fairy lover that had him sleeping like a newborn rabbit, Blade Runner hopped out of bed. In a matter of minutes, he'd booted up his trusty, pie-pan craft, and soared to the best mountaintop vantage point he'd discovered.

"Skyflash," he identified the incoming ET ship. The quick explosion of light faded as fast as it filled the western quadrant of the Montana sky. "Not good," Blade Runner muttered in his lingo. Immediately, he put on his rabbit ears -- the tech from his world that would give him listening access to the crew -- auto-interpreting their language.

***

"Brother Qiy, the genetically modified mammoth has a most impressive profile. The Earth scientist must be a rogue."

"I see what you mean, Brother Xuon. The beast has certain advantageous capabilities."

"With a few tweaks we would dominate not only sections of Earth, but there are other planet worlds we could trample... hehe... into obedient slaves."

"My thoughts exactly. Do you recall the primordial-stage planet we discovered three-point-five-eight years ago?"

"Yes. I understand. A perfect breeding ground for a pair of weaponized mammoths. The other mutated canine beast riding astride, are his genes useful to us?"

"Perhaps, more than I first realized. He is controlling our future weapon. I will program the retrieval probe to gather both samples."

***

Knowing he didn't need any more information than what he'd just heard, Blade Runner rapidly punched in his own program to intercept the collection probe, and to take evasive action. No doubt, the Crugriox would attempt to laser-burn the hide off him and his craft, about one-tenth the size of their atmospheric cruiser.

Blade Runner grinned, his own rogue nature coming alive. He lived for these David-Goliath contests, as some humans called them. On screen, he watched the probe, tiny as a sliver of glass, deploy.

He darted out of the resonance field, diving his craft like a bat out of hell, as the saying went. Given timing was crucial, Blade Runner flashed toward the now popularly named Hellephant, whose rampage down the highway was leaving  potholes that could eat a small car.

Within a split second, the Crugriox detected his presence. Invisible to the human eye, beams that would make him invisible sliced through the air toward his craft.

"Yahoo and screw you, wabbit killers." With the skilled swift precision that made him excellent with a rapier, Blade Runner dashed through the pelting rays. "This is one rabbit you won't fry up for dinner."

Not that the Crugriox dined on small mammals, their diet being mostly crustaceans. That hardly mattered in the heat of battle, in gaining his prize -- the probe now aiming for the franken-mammoth's monstrous butt like a hypodermic needle equipped with a nano jet pack.

Blade Runner avoided another blast from the Crugriox ship, this one meant to destabilize his power source and disrupt his craft's flight path. Deploying his own catcher beam as he called it, once the hyperspeed calculations completed, Blade Runner quickly lessened his speed.

In a sweeping arc, he flew about half a mile above the Hellephant and its malformed werewolf rider, who appeared to be clutching some very unlucky woman beneath a hairy brute arm. "Heroes desperately needed," he muttered, hoping Dante and crew were on the case. His aerial rabbit butt was about to be roasted, if the Crugriox had their way.

"Gotcha!" Blade Runner triumphed seconds later. With the gene-collecting probe in containment, he flipped his craft upside down, his magnetic boots holding him in position.

On screen, Blade Runner watched the unsuspecting group gathered below never gaze skyward, except Dante, who gave him a brief salute from astride his ultra-tricked out Harley.

An onslaught of microwaving beams struck the bottom of his craft, as expected. Unexpected, the interior steam-heated quick, even though it was protected by a sheet of specialized foil.

"Defcon one, scramble, scramble," Blade Runner repeated the military mantra, thinking fast. "Time to play tilt-a-whirl."

To save himself and fight another day, he tapped the large gold button. Instantly, the craft spun, righted itself, then zoomed across the sky while wobbling madly.

"Riding the whirlwind." Blade Runner shouted. "Cook me now, shrimp breaths." Even as his head dizzied, and his eyes took turns crossing and uncrossing, Blade Runner pumped his fist.

Minutes passed one click at a time. Then, as if a giant hand reached down, his craft stopped its spin and ascended straight up. The loud buzz signaled Blade Runner he was out of range, or the Crugriox halted their pursuit. A swift glance at the instrument panel, once his gaze steadied enough, had Blade Runner hopping up and down with glee.

His hand flew over the weapons' panel preparing the strike. One sizzle and bang to the power unit of the Crugriox's ship, and they'd be the prey. Blade Runner collected every last ounce of energy from the craft's systems that wouldn't cause him to fall unceremoniously out of the sky.

"Butt-whipping about to take place." Stealthily, Blade Runner positioned himself above the cruiser, now concealed by a large cumulus cloud. Likely, the Crugriox waited for another chance to steal the lab-brewed monster's gene material. Enough to risk an attack.

"Pow, pow..." Blade Runner crooned, and palmed the shoot-to-destroy button. He pushed.

Streaks of red pulsed through the cloud. "Wow! Target is attained... target is attained," Blade Runner celebrated. On screen, he watched the neon stream blast the exterior of the cruiser, then penetrate the power unit.

Wise enough not to push his luck, or his craft, Blade Runner unlocked. Zipping high into the sky, he returned to the mountaintop, and hovered. Just in case...

~~~~~~


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ...

Savanna 

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

The wide open invitation of the Montana sky... and the resurrected mammoth...

Summer howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

THANK YOU to everyone who participated in THE FREEDOM HOP. Right now, we authors at ShapeShifter Seductions are choosing our winners.

So, this week I get to tag along for a ride on Pat Cunningham's fabtastic serial flash scene from yesterday, "All Hellephant Breaks Loose" ... don't you just love that title?

Anyhoo, hope you enjoy this aerial view...

~~~~~~

The wide open invitation of the Montana sky... and the resurrected mammoth...

Was there no place left on Earth where she could roam free, fly the skies without fear?

Of late, Syprelli had grown tired of hiding, of staying concealed in mountain caves while in winged form. Determined to keep the ability to shapeshift -- lost to so many of her kind over the centuries -- she'd searched the world over, finally discovering an enclave of supernatural folks who appeared to live together in some kind of sustainable harmony.

Syprelli stretched her ten-foot scarlet wings and soared. Unfettered, she kicked her back hooves, and stretched her long neck sniffing the great strong winds. The wide open invitation of the Montana sky had been her undoing.

Danger surrounded her, yes. As a winged horse shapeshifter, her kind was always hunted -- the number of enemies incalculable at this point. But with the sun's rays deliciously warming her hide -- the winds caressing her, and whipping through her long mane -- Syprelli chose to ignore reality.

Besides, she did need to investigate the shapeshifter haven town of Talbot's Peak. What superior way than circling from above? 

A shiver of apprehension passed through Syprelli. After all, that had just been her excuse to fly the friendly looking blue, blue skies. Truth was, she should have hoofed into town first.

Relishing her freedom, Syprelli sailed ever higher. Catching a whirlwind created by the sky powers that be, she tightened the arc of her wings, and performed aerial pirouettes.

Enough, she scolded herself. Having flown toward the town, Syprelli glided downward, her wings spread wide, the feather tips fluttering from the wind's friction.

What the... !!! Instinctively, Syprelli braced her hooves trying to come to a screeching halt in the sky. The scene below her, at what appeared to be a mini golf course, was the stuff of nightmares.

If she could believe her horse eyes. Syprelli flapped her wings frantically to keep herself aloft.

Tigers, men changing into tigers, ran in every direction as if demons clung to their tails. Teenagers, their feet apparently glued to the ground by shock, held up their cell phones recording the thundering emergence of... what the --?!

Enormous curled killing tusks, a trunk that could have squeezed a couple of buffalo easily, came into view. The beast, some kind of resurrected mammoth with a stench that would have stopped a stampeding horse herd in their tracks, broke into the open.

Not only that! two half-shifted werewolf creatures rode on its hairy-as-a-bigfoot back. And worse, there was a woman who was obviously being abducted.

Syprelli's heart leaped into her throat and she cringed inside, even as she fought to keep her wings beating swiftly enough. What did she do?

Were there no heroes who would risk life and limb to rescue the woman?

Observing the unleashed Frankenstein-like chaos below, Syprelli somehow managed to stay afloat. As she attempted to figure out a way to save the terrified, clinging woman, she kept circling the mini golf course.

She spotted two men who had their gazes locked on the lumbering progress of the giant, genetically-modified mammoth who sported a wolf's tail. Likely they were canine shifters by their bearing. And, Oh Thank Epona! one of them shot off vibes she recognized. It was his mate who was being carried off.

Stunned again, Syprelli beat her wings furiously, watching as one of the ugly malformed riders sprang up, then leaped so he caught hold of the GMO mammoth's tail. He landed in a dirty-water moat apparently unperturbed by his predicament. That is, until a group of women with iron putters surrounded him.

Hearing brakes scream to a halt, Syprelli spun as quick as she could, being airborn. Human shrieks rent the air. The hellbeast resurrected from an icy grave threatened a tour bus, its trunk slashing the air like a pissed off anaconda.

Before a disaster of movie-biblical proportions happened, the werewolfian rider spurred it past the bus. As the franken-monster mammoth pounded along the pavement, the sound terrifying, cars shook and were lifted off the ground -- as if an earthquake suddenly hit.

Winging a bit higher, Syprelli followed, unable to do anything else. She'd never been an accident gawker... but the woman remained in peril... and wasn't that the highway leading to Talbot's Peak?

She was about find out. Syprelli scanned for the two shifter men she'd observed earlier. They'd launched themselves inside a car. Now they crazily weaved through the stalled traffic, and Syprelli was reminded of a made-for-movie obstacle course.

Her heart sank as she flew above the shifters' speeding car. The sheer horror of what occurred gripped Syprelli out to her very wingtips, and down to the bottom of her hooves. She wondered if Talbot's Peak was about to be demolished -- torn apart and crushed beneath the brute's stomping clawed feet that were the size of ancient Greek columns.

Epona's good grace! She hadn't even had a chance to explore the 'supposed' haven as a new home. And if this was any indication of life there, her search was far from over. Still, she had to help if she could.

As Syprelli flew, she tried to think of ways that would stop the possible, goliath like destruction. If she positioned herself before the mammoth-zilla, distracted it, then winged out of reach... but what would that accomplish, given the rider seemed to be in control.

*** 

From high on a mountain perch, the man filmed the flying horse as she cavorted in the skies. He'd been tracking her for the last year, in human form and horse form. Now finally, as her coat blazed a beautiful shade of red beneath the bright sun, he'd been able to capture the not-myth filly in flight.

No one would believe him, of course. Despite his evidence. Photoshop and the tech-wonders of the movie industry had seen to that.

He'd already made his peace with that reality. However, he had other plans. A daring one at that.

~~~~~~


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ...

Savanna 

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance