Evolution of a Siren - rated PG-13.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"What a pretty child," said the tall woman.

Three-year-old Sally Jones shyly peered up at the woman, clinging to her mother's hand for dear life.

"Thanks, Mitzi," Rebecca Jones replied. "Come on, Sally, we have to catch up with Jane and Daddy." Her daughter smiled at her and tugged her mother's hand as she raced to the double doors leading to the parking lot.

~~~~~~~~~

Skye Reynolds scribbled furiously on the page, her tongue peeking out from between her lips, then re-read what she'd written. She frowned at the words on the paper in front of her and tore the page out. Closing her eyes, she crumpled it into a ball and heaved it at the wastebasket. She didn't see the streak of black fur that raced after it, tackling the wastebasket and pawing through it for the treasure within.

She rubbed her temples. Why on Zi had she written that? She'd taken a seat on her "thinking pillow" with an idea for a story for Denise and Toby. It was to be the tale of a young girl venturing through the vast jungle that was the local department store. She had even pictured the obstacles that would face her story's protagonist, ones that would undoubtedly entertain her niece and nephew.

She sighed. She supposed she was off stride today because Fern had mentioned their father again. She loved her sister, but Fern just didn't understand that Skye had no intention of speaking to Rafe Reynolds any time soon, and she wasn't about to explain her reasons to her sister.

She closed the notebook on her lap and leaned back against the wall. She usually did her best writing when she was seated on this big red velvet pillow, a gift from Fern, which was located against a wall adjacent to the window. Red was not her color, and the opulently gaudy cushion looked quite out of place in Skye's simple loft apartment, but she loved it. Usually when she got stuck for ideas, she would just lean back as she was doing now and run her fingers over the lush fabric. This time she couldn't help but feel a sense of revulsion at her appreciation for the rich material.

She got up and stretched, then looked at the clock. "Why fight it?" she said.

She walked to the bathroom, pulled the silver scrunchie from her ponytail, and tossed it on the edge of the sink. She took a long shower, carefully selecting the more expensive of the two body washes on the shelf. It was "her" favorite. It held a very faint scent, slightly spicy.

Skye turned off the water and vigorously dried off with a towel, then she began her metamorphosis. Instead of donning her usual attire of T-shirt and khakis, she reached into her closet and drew out a dark leather bodysuit. She draped the garment over the sofa.

A black cat crawled out from under the couch, dropping the paper ball it had been chewing to sniff at it curiously. Skye laughed. "Where were you when I needed comforting, Midnight?" she chastised the animal. The feline looked up at her and yawned, stretching her body out full length before padding over to Skye.

She rubbed against Skye's ankles. "Thanks for sharing," Skye said wryly, as she wiped the cat fur off her legs with a damp washcloth. Her job done, Midnight meowed in response, then slunk off to the window sill to enjoy the fading sunlight.

Skye smoothed a rich moisturizing cream onto her legs, giving it time to penetrate her skin before getting dressed. She carefully applied a few cosmetics to her face, further enhancing the illusion of a mysterious and worldly woman. Her slanted silver eyes took on a deep smoky hue, and her full lips completed the sultry appearance. She retrieved the leather outfit and poured herself into it, zipping up the front just enough to provide a tantalizing glimpse of her generous bosom.

She pulled on a pair of sleek black boots with soft rubber soles and gave herself an appraising look in the mirror. She fluffed her hair out until the waves fell seductively over her shoulders. She approved of her reflection. The transformation was complete. The woman looking back at her was classy, confident, and sexy.

She bade her feline companion farewell and quietly left the apartment.

~~~~~~~~

The party was in full swing when she got there, as she'd known it would be. She strode in as if she owned the place, every motion fluid and graceful. Then she waited.

It took less than ten seconds.

"Hi, babe," greeted a man who had consumed just a bit too much alcohol for his own good. Vixen sighed inwardly. Normally she'd prefer that they waited until she had left with them before they drank themselves senseless. That didn't mean she couldn't have fun with this one in the meantime.

"Hello," she purred, reaching over to adjust his necktie. She allowed her fingers to linger just a bit too long at his chest as she centered the tie, then ran her fingers along the length of it slowly before reaching the end and releasing it. She was pleased to note that his eyes crossed slightly. She stepped back enough to leave the next move up to him.

He staggered slightly as he leaned closer to her. She continued to bait him, weighing his reactions and determining where and how often to touch him. He had been somewhat smitten from the start, but within the next ten minutes, he was literally panting after her. She gave him a come-hither look with those smoldering eyes full of promise and sashayed out of the room. He followed, hot on her heels.

Less than five minutes later, Vixen left the man sleeping it off in his car. Sometimes it was just too easy. They all assumed that she was an easy tumble. She would have grinned if it wouldn't have ruined her image. All she wanted was information that she could use in her next Zoid battle. Of course, she couldn't help getting a charge out of the rush of power she felt each time she succeeded in weaving a spell over these men. It was a form of vindication for a long-ago insult.

She noiselessly glided back into the party, carefully surveying the guests to find her next willing victim.

~~~~~~~~

She returned home much later that night. Stripping off her leather bodysuit, she kicked the offending garment across the room and headed for the shower. She scrubbed her face clean and cleansed the scent of her alter ego from her skin and hair, this time choosing the unscented body wash and coconut shampoo.

She ran a comb through her hair and pulled it back into its customary ponytail, wrapping the silver scrunchie around it. She donned a pair of loose flannel PJs before picking up her leather outfit and carefully replacing it in the back of the closet. Then she made herself a cup of hot chocolate before plopping on the couch.

Midnight sensed her distress and climbed into her lap, gently resting a paw on her chest. Skye stroked the silky black fur, a sad smile on her face.

"Do cats have souls?" she whispered. "What does it feel like if you give yours away?"

She set her mug on the end table and leaned her head back as her feline companion settled on her lap. Moments later she fell asleep.

The next morning a frantic knocking at her door woke her. She yawned and stretched, then padded to the door to open it.

She was tackled by 8-year-old Hyacinth and 6-year-old Jacob.

"Aunt Skye," they squealed in unison.

"It's Sunday," her niece informed her. "You know what that means!" added Toby.

She gave them both their expected bear hugs before gesturing to the red velvet pillow and throw rug. They clapped in delight. She took her place on the cushion and her audience assumed positions of rapt attention in front of her.

She told them the story she'd thought of the night before, without the hints of emotional baggage that had plagued her earlier. Toby's eyes lit up whenever Little Sally had to fend off attacks from nemeses such as the Lady Who Talks Too Much and the Army of Tacky Sweaters, using only her wits and a large purple crayon. Denise looked skeptical when Sally's crayon grew in size, allowing her to pole vault over one of the Rabid Salesclerks, but she laughed nonetheless.

When Skye had finished, Denise said, "That's neat that Sally had a purple crayon. Purple is my favorite color." Her aunt smiled fondly. That was exactly why Sally's crayon was purple.

"My favorite color is orange," piped up Toby. "Like Mommy's hair."

"Ewwww," Denise responded, not at all concerned that her mother might feel insulted at her obvious distaste if she were there to hear it.

"I like it," Toby shrugged. "What's your favorite color, Aunt Skye?"

"Blue," replied Skye. In truth, she preferred deep, bold blues, like indigo, cobalt, and rich navy. In fact, her alter ego's favorite leather ensemble was the same midnight shade as her hair. She supposed there was only so far she could separate her own personality from Vixen's without losing all sense of self in the process.

"Mom said to come right down after story time so we can all have breakfast together," Hyacinth remembered. Skye stood up and stretched again.

"Tell your mom I'll be right down," she said, sending them back to the main house.

She brushed out her hair, tying it back again, then thrust her feet into a pair of big kitty slippers that Fern had gotten her as a joke for her birthday. She actually loved the slippers. She trotted down the stairs and across the driveway towards her sister's house.

Fern eyed her sister's attire in amusement. The only times she'd seen Skye come out of the loft still in her pajamas was when she had been up late the night before.

She waved away her younger sister's attempts to help her with breakfast. Skye sat down at the table and closed her eyes. She looked exhausted.

Fern studied the younger woman as she retrieved the ingredients she needed. She wished Skye would open up to her. It wasn't as if they weren't close. Skye told Fern almost everything. One topic that was off limits was Skye's falling out with their father. Fern had initially been convinced it was nothing more than a misunderstanding; something minor that Skye's sixteen-year-old mind had rebelled against. Several years later, Fern wasn't so sure.

Skye had always been the pretty one. Fern had been hearing that ever since the blue-haired girl had graced Zi. She supposed she should have been jealous, but then, Fern had always been considered the smart one. She suspected that might have grated on Skye's nerves as they were growing up.

Their father had always assumed that Fern would take over the family business. Once Fern threw a wrench into those plans by falling in love and eloping, it seemed only natural that he'd want to turn over the business to his younger daughter. He'd invited Fern's new husband on board instead.

A few months later, Skye had disappeared in the middle of the night. Her mother seemed just as confused as Fern was. Their father refused to comment. Eventually Ianthe formed her own opinions, but she never shared them with her daughter. Then Hyacinth was born, and things were much too hectic to ponder Skye's whereabouts.

Fern wanted to smooth her sister's hair and assure her that everything would be all right. She knew her sister was aching for something, and she had a tiny inkling what that was. She had seen Skye's wistful expression as she held Hyacinth for the very first time after she returned home. Fern shook her head. Perhaps that was just wishful thinking on her part.

She had been surprised when Skye revealed that she'd become a Zoid warrior. She supposed it would have been impossible to hide that fact, considering that Skye had come home in the black Guysack the same day she shared that tidbit of information. Fern would never have pegged her sister as competitive. A lot had certainly changed since she'd been gone, Fern mused.

For some reason, Skye refused to tell them when or where she was battling, so Fern had yet to see her in action. Her sister seemed to be hiding something, and if Fern thought it was something that could have endangered Skye, she would have forced it out of her. Instead, Skye actually seemed almost ashamed. Of Zoid battling? The workings of her sister's mind continued to be a mystery.

She finished preparing breakfast and called for her children to join them at the table.

"Where's Gary?" Skye asked.

"Working," Fern said, setting the table.

Skye got up and retrieved the silverware. "Oh," she said in reply.

Once they had all taken their seats and started eating, Fern set her fork down and looked at her sister. Skye noticed, but didn't say anything. She was sure if Fern had something to say, she'd say it.

"I spoke to Lucinda today," she began.

Skye focused on her food and tried to ignore her sister's well meaning but misguided actions. Lucinda was Fern's publisher friend. There was no way Skye was going to let anyone outside of her family read her stories. They were very personal to her. The thought of someone analyzing them, picking them apart and telling her what to do to make them better was like watching your dog get slaughtered. She shook her head.

"Skye, I really wish you'd reconsider."

"Fern, I know you mean well, but they're really not that good," she repeated her standard answer. "To be ready for publication, they'd have to undergo a major overhaul."

"Lucinda would be happy to work with you on that," Fern persuaded.

Skye shook her head again. "I can't, Fern." She had no desire for strangers to get to know the one part of her personality that she still felt belonged to her. She couldn't explain that to Fern, however.

Fern raised her eyebrows. 'Can't?' she thought. She let the subject drop for the time being.

~~~~~~~~

She wasn't sure what exactly had drawn her to Bastion City. She had only been here once before, when she'd first started participating in Zoid battles. It wasn't as if she was in such desperate need to replace her Guysack's tail cannon that she had to come all this way to check out an obscure, albeit reputable, parts store. She could have found one much closer to Flyheight City, where she lived, or at least in the nearby Romeo City, where her team's base was.

She supposed it was because she was avoiding the man she had been betrothed to since she was three. "Sold to" was more like it, she thought distastefully.

She was in her sophomore year at school when her father decided to tell her that her future was no longer hers to decide.

"Sit down, Skye," he said, gesturing to a chair.

Skye nibbled at her lip worriedly. Was someone in the family ill? Why wasn't Fern here? Where was Mom?

Her father regarded her solemnly, making Skye fidget nervously.

"I thought it was time for you to start taking lessons," he hedged.

Skye looked at him suspiciously. "Lessons?" she asked.

"In high society. Culture. Mannerisms. All the things necessary to becoming a successful partner - "

Skye was relieved. Her father wanted her to take over the family business, apparently, and was worried she would embarrass him.

"Dad," she said, standing up and putting her arm around him. "Don't worry. I really have no desire to assume responsibility for the family business. You can leave that to Fern and Gary. I want to be a writer."

He looked at her sadly. She bristled. Did her father have so little faith in her? Why had Fern always been encouraged that she could be whatever she wanted, but Skye was treated like a simpleton?

"Skye," he said. "I want you to meet someone."

He opened the door and invited in a well-dressed gentleman in his early 40s.. "Skye, this is Dan Riley, my business partner. Dan, this is my youngest daughter, Skye."

Despite the age difference, Skye had to admit that Dan Riley was a good-looking man. She was sure he had been quite the heart breaker in his younger days, much like her own father had been. She wasn't sure what any of this had to do with her, however. Did he or did he not want her to take over the family business now that Fern was married and expecting her first child?

Riley took her hand and bowed over it before grazing the back of her hand with his lips. He smiled at her warmly, but Skye noticed a glint of something in his eyes that made her a bit uneasy.

"You will graduate from school in two years, Skye," her father said. "During these next two years, you will need to take on additional responsibilities, including training in etiquette and deportment."

Skye resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. She wished he'd get to the point. She didn't care for the way Riley's eyes watched her predatorily.

She was so unnerved by Riley's intense scrutiny, her father's next words barely registered.

"What?" she asked, blinking at him in confusion.

Riley stepped up to her, taking her hands in his and smiling at her possessively.

"Believe me, I am looking forward to the day you and I become man and wife," he said.

Skye blinked. This had to be an elaborate joke. Except her father wasn't the joking type. He was all business.

She pulled her hands away and turned to her father. If he had struck her physically, he couldn't have hurt her more. Her silver eyes narrowed.

"He's my fiancé," she said slowly.

"I've been waiting for the past thirteen years," Riley said smoothly. "And, although I would be quite happy to wed you now, your father and I have agreed that you should have the opportunity to finish school, even date if you so desire, before our union becomes official."

'I'm cattle,' she thought numbly. 'They don't even care what I think, or how I feel about this. My father promised me to this man when I was just a toddler.'

She glanced at Riley out of the corner of her eye. 'And what's this all about? He wants me to date? He's not even jealous?'

She turned her head slightly, and spied her reflection in the window. An achingly beautiful girl looked back at her. Skye had never despised her enticing good looks more than she did in that instant.

'Nothing more than a possession. A plaything,' she said to herself slowly. A cold smile reached her lips. If she were only an object to be bartered, treated like a mere toy in their sick little game, then she was just going to have to take a more active role than they expected.

Without realizing it, she sauntered over to Riley, her hips moving seductively. He licked his lips appreciatively as she approached.

"I apologize for my lack of tact earlier, Dan," she said in a low throaty tone. Her fingers reached over and traced the line of his collar.

"It's a pleasure to meet someone of your business acumen," she purred. "I can't say I'm not looking forward to our future 'merger.'"

She stepped back slowly, her hand slowly trailing down his chest as she did so. She looked at him with heavy lidded eyes, the silver depths smoky with passion. Then she nodded at her father and strode out of the room, insuring that Dan's eyes followed her out.

Once outside the door, the sensual mask dropped from her face. The passion that Dan Riley had seen was barely contained anger. The two of them could rot in Hades for all she cared.

That night, Skye ran away, taking nothing with her. She had very nearly turned to the illegal trade of prostitution as a means of getting back at her father, but by the time she got halfway across town, she realized that she'd only be hurting herself. Not only was it dangerous, she had far too much self-respect to resort to such a lifestyle.

Besides, she'd practically had Riley eating out of her hand. Oh, sure, he'd thought he was the one in control. Men like him always did, if the novels she'd read were any indication. She was sure that she could manage to survive somehow, and without selling herself to the highest bidder. That would be no different from what her father had done to her. She wasn't about to treat herself like some cheap trinket.

Over the next two years, Skye perfected the art of sponging off men and making them think that she was truly interested in them, and all this without ever uttering an untruth. The first year had been the hardest. She found that, although her appearance caught the attention of everyone she met, it was really the combination of looks and charm that set men's hearts racing.

Skye Reynolds ceased to exist, and Vixen took over. The latter knew which men were most susceptible to her charms. She knew how to wrap them around her little finger. She knew when to flirt and when to become more aggressive. Vixen was a master of psychology when it came to the male population.

The hairstyle became loose and wild, a shining sea of midnight blue to taunt men in their dreams. The clothing was selected to hug every curve and show off her figure to advantage. Every move, every nuance, every husky syllable uttered - all were calculated to obtain a reaction. She could read men and tell which ones would be immune to her charms. On occasion, she would flirt with them to see if she could find a chink in their armor; otherwise she did not bother wasting her time.

Of course, she obtained reactions from women just as much as she did from men. These reactions were usually jealousy and spiteful anger. Despite her predatory approach to men, Vixen didn't go out of her way to make women feel inferior. Sometimes it just happened. She refused to feel guilty for wandering eyes. If the women were so insecure in their relationships that they perceived her as a threat, that wasn't her fault. On those occasions when she was deliberately snubbed or on the receiving end of some choice insults, she enjoyed creating scenarios in which the harpies were put in their place.

She had honed her skills as a seductress, and she knew that "Vixen" had quite a reputation. That didn't bother her as much as it should have, and that in itself was troubling. It didn't matter what all these men and women thought of her. She knew the truth, and the ones that she led a merry chase eventually discovered that she had been the one holding the reins, although they would never admit it.

She also learned far more than how to wrap men around her fingers. She listened. Half of her allure came from making men feel that they were the most important beings in the universe. Fools that they were, they loved to talk about themselves and especially about their accomplishments. Little did they realize that Vixen took note of what they said. Having dropped out of school, she had an unsated thirst for knowledge. Through conversations with various prey, she gained a rather haphazard education in the fields of science, literature, and sociology.

When she was alone, however, she struggled with her own internal conflicts. Skye struggled to regain dominance, and finally Vixen stepped aside. Feeling that she was losing her sense of self, Skye showed up on Fern's doorstep one day.

Fern had taken her in immediately. By then, Hyacinth was 18 months old. When Fern first placed the youngster in her sister's arms, Skye felt as though she were going to cry. She felt tremendously guilty for missing the first year and a half of her niece's life.

"It's nice to finally meet Da Niece," she joked, choking back a tear. "When am I going to meet da nephew?" she asked, eyeing Fern's expanding stomach.

Fern laughed. "We don't know if it's going to be a boy or a girl yet," she said.

"It's going to be a boy," predicted Skye.

"How do you know," Fern asked, going along with her.

Skye looked down at the child in her arms. "Because we can't have any more floral sounding names in the family, can we?" She rubbed noses with the infant.

Fern laughed. It was true. Between Hyacinth, Fern, and their mother, Ianthe, it was a wonder how Skye had managed to escape a similar name.

"It's your hair," Fern mused aloud. Skye looked up her, startled.

"I was thinking about your name. It's from your hair," Fern repeated. "It's sky blue."

Skye nearly snorted. "You're being fanciful. My hair is neither cerulean nor azure. Sky blue is universally recognized as light blue," she stated firmly. "Right, Denise?" she asked her niece with a smile. The infant grabbed one of her slender fingers in response.

Fern looked at her in disappointment. She had expected her sister to be a bit more romantic about it. "The sky is many colors. On clear days, it's a soft, welcoming blue. On rainy days, it's a smoky gray. In the morning, it's amber, and at night, it's black. Then there is that time of day when the sky is darkening, turning from blue to black."

"Yeah, and that's called 'gray,'" Skye said, looking up. Fern pouted at her sister. "OK, how about steel blue?"

"Have you ever watched a sunset?" Fern asked.

Skye frowned at her. "No."

"On certain nights, when the moons are full and luminous, the sky stays blue for a while. It turns dark blue, Skye," she said softly, reaching out to pick up a lock of her sister's hair. "Where do you think the term 'midnight blue' comes from?"

Skye bit her lip. "If you say so," she said. She still thought that her sister was being more poetic than literal, but they had both gotten that trait from their mother.

Skye placed Hyacinth, newly dubbed "Denise," into her cradle, and rubbed her arms briskly as if she were cold.

"Are you sure you don't want any extra blankets?" Fern asked worriedly.

"I'll be fine," Skye said. She'd never had to go without a warm bed before, but she had done so on more than one occasion before she realized that she much preferred being pampered to retaining her pride.

The next day, Fern pulled her husband into the kitchen as Skye played with Denise in the living room. They spoke in low tones for a while. Skye ignored this. If things didn't work out here, she had a backup plan.

To her surprise, her brother-in-law offered her the loft apartment over the garage.

"I thought that was your office?" she asked in dismay.

"I want you to have it," Gary insisted, putting an arm around Fern, who smiled up him warmly.

Skye felt a rather sharp pain in her chest at the sight of the two of them standing together like that. She shook it off and stood up to embrace them both.

She'd made her home at Fern's ever since. When Fern's cat, Dusk, had kittens, Skye had taken one look at the tiny black fur balls and fallen in love. Fern had insisted that she take one. Skye had seated herself cross legged on the floor next to the kittens who were climbing all over each other to get at Dusk. She chose the tiny female that approached her on its own. The little black kitten had head-butted her knee a few times before climbing into her lap. Midnight wasn't the most original name, but it reminded her of the conversation she'd had with Fern about the various colors of the sky, not that she'd admit that to her sister.

~~~~~~

So here she was, in Bastion City. As she approached the parts store, she noticed the shop proprietor talking to a tall dark-haired man. They looked deep in conversation. Ordinarily she would have taken great pleasure in sashaying in to interrupt, but something about the dark-haired man's posture, even from this distance, suggested he might be immune to her charms, even if the shop proprietor would not.

Although she might have appreciated the challenge, she knew better than to try to thaw an iceberg with a hair dryer. She had a reputation to uphold. Vixen was enigmatic and beguiling. She didn't gad about begging for attention. She would return when the brooding stranger had departed. In the meantime, she would see what else the town had to offer.

Once again, she had no idea what drew her to the fabric store. Perhaps it was the bored expressions on the faces of the men who accompanied their wives and girlfriends. Or perhaps it was the wistful look on the young blonde's face as she caressed the velvet material.

Vixen found herself striding purposefully towards the girl, enticing the glances of several of the men. The blonde was admiring a bolt of dark blue fabric.

"A fan of the tactile, I see," she purred to the teenager. The blonde looked up at her in surprise. Vixen appraised the girl's blue eyes and pale hair. She would actually look very good in that color. Worn down, her platinum tresses would look absolutely stunning draped over the cobalt material, and Vixen was quite sure that the deep blue would make the girl's eyes look like sapphires.

She was mildly surprised at her charitable assessment. Without saying another word, she turned her back on the girl and walked away, feeling the eyes of everyone follow her out.

She walked back to the parts store and was relieved to see that the dark-haired stranger had left. She went in and asked about the mini-cannon. There was one in stock, and it had already been set aside for another customer, but Ian, the shop owner, had blushed furiously as Vixen flirted with him. The next thing the poor man knew, he had not only promised it to Vixen, since she was just passing through town, but also offered her a rather generous discount. She told the man she'd be right back with her Guysack.

The coal black scorpion Zoid, a gift from a wealthy admirer, was hideously ugly, but it had few weapons to learn. It wasn't that she didn't think she could learn to pilot a more advanced Zoid, but she had gained all her knowledge of Zoids by seducing many warriors, and half of them weren't as good as they claimed to be. The other half were more interested in showing Vixen their other alleged talents, and she took great pride in turning the tables on them, leaving them dazed and wanting more.

She couldn't say she regretted any of it. At times she felt a sick pleasure in exerting this raw animal power over men. Every single one of them that she conquered made her feel vindicated for that long ago slap in the face. Her romantic teenage heart had been hidden in a shell of ice, and every man who came onto her was going to pay for that.

Despite her passionate need for revenge, she didn't take anything from them that they weren't willing to give. Even when she used all of her wiles to distract opponents during Zoid battles, they had still been on the receiving end of the mysterious Vixen's attention, and that was a salve to their wounded pride. Contrarily, although she wanted them to suffer, she never seduced to destroy. Over time, it had become more of a game, and if she gained valuable information or an advantage as a result, all the better.

Vixen prided herself on her ability to weave spells over men. She was a consummate manipulator, but she never resulted to falsehoods. She didn't need to. A touch here or there and a couple of truthful compliments, spoken in seductively husky tones and carefully selected to stroke the ego of her intended target was all it took.

Despite her personal code of honesty, she still felt hollow when she returned to the loft apartment. The only things that helped her retain her sanity were Denise, Toby, and Midnight. Her writing and her workouts helped, too, she supposed, but it was the familial companionship that soothed her soul the most. A femme fatale led a lonely life indeed.

Her mind briefly flickered over the wide-eyed innocence she'd seen in the young blonde's eyes. She wondered how things might have turned out if she had looked like that. Ethereal and pure instead of exotically beautiful. She was surprised to discover she was almost jealous. A ridiculous emotion, to be sure.

It was useless to lament her striking good looks. There were plenty of women who would give their eyeteeth to possess even half of Vixen's sultry charms. Just because her father had made her feel as though she were an item to be auctioned and not a person with feelings and intellect was no reason to sulk like a petulant child. Besides, pouting had never been one of Vixen's ploys. She despised women who used that tactic.

She retrieved her Zoid and headed back to the parts store to have the tail cannon replaced.

~~~~~~~~~~

Skye Reynolds was working on a tree house for her niece and nephew in the backyard of her sister's house. Fern came outside to check on her progress and to see if there was anything she needed.

"Hand me that two-by-four, will ya?" Skye asked.

Fern was always amused when Skye's manner of speech became more relaxed. She was normally very well spoken, almost as if she felt she was constantly being judged. Fern picked up the piece of lumber and handed it up to her sister.

Skye reached down and grasped the wood with a gloved hand. She positioned it carefully and nailed it into place. Once she was finished, she leaned back and nodded in satisfaction. She jumped down from the tree, her sneakers sending a cloud of dust in the air as she landed, and surveyed her work from the ground. She pulled off her leather work gloves and pushed the goggles on top of her head.

Fern's eyes twinkled. Her sister was so meticulous about protecting herself. Using sunscreen. Wearing eye goggles. Applying lotion to her hands several times a day to keep them supple. If Fern didn't know Skye was a Zoid warrior, she'd suspect she earned a living as a fashion model.

"Gary and I would love it if you'd join us," she said, continuing a topic that had begun at breakfast that morning.

Skye waved her away. "Fern, I am fully aware of what you are trying to do. Believe me, I am not pining for human contact. You act like I've become a hermit secluded in a mountain retreat."

Fern smiled sadly. "I just thought - "

Skye held up one hand. "Please, Fern," she said. Fern nodded.

"You really don't mind watching Jacob and Hyacinth?"

Skye smiled broadly. "Don't be silly. It will be my pleasure."

Fern threw an arm around her sister. "Thanks, Skye. You're the best."

Despite Skye's response, Fern still felt she was missing something, but she acceded to her sister's wishes. She firmly believed that Skye needed to make friends. For all Fern knew, she might already have a few, maybe her teammates or others she'd met through Zoid battles. Something about Skye's attitude suggested she didn't, however. Fern sincerely hoped she was wrong about that.

~~~~~~~~~~

After reading a story to Denise and Toby and tucking them in, Skye looked at the clock. Fern and Gary wouldn't be back for several hours. Normally she'd use this time to work on a new story, but she was suffering from writer's block.

Instead she sat on the couch and turned on the TV. After flicking through a few channels, she found a live broadcast of a Zoid battle already in progress.

She watched with interest.

Although she was sure she could learn more about her competition by paying attention to their tactics, she allowed herself to indulge in one of her guilty pleasures. Matchmaking.

It was a hobby for her. Of course she didn't actually go out and try to set up the Zoid warriors. She just found it fascinating to watch people. Their interactions with each other and their reactions to those closest to them. She'd often imagine how various personalities would work if they were to become intimately involved.

Today it was the Champ Team versus a team she'd never heard of before. She always found it a challenge to try to find a mate for the oddly dressed Harry Champ. She had yet to peg someone that she thought would last more than an evening with the young man, and even then, the cynical part of her was sure it would only be due to his immense wealth. The game was hardly as much fun with odds like that.

Then there was the Lightning Team that she'd seen the previous week. At first she'd imagined one of the twins and the formidable Jack Sisco together. Five minutes into the battle, she had changed her mind and selected the other sister. By the time the winning team was announced, she wasn't so sure that either sister would make a suitable match for the mercenary.

She'd also once thought that the two original warriors on the Fluegel Team would make a suitable couple, but her mental machinations hadn't come to fruition in reality.

That was the fun part of this activity. Skye knew that it didn't hurt anyone to pair off the warriors in her head, and the very idea of the sparks that would fly if the imagined relationships existed in reality was entertaining.

It was rather ironic that Skye was so fascinated with people watching and matchmaking, whereas her alter ego was more concerned with seduction and manipulation. She shook off the negative thoughts and tried to pay attention to the Zoids shown on the screen.

~~~~~~~~~~

That night, Skye had the dream again. She'd been having it for about a week now. In the dream, she was sitting on her living room couch. She had a feeling that she was waiting for someone or something. She looked around her surroundings. The rest of the room looked hazy. A pink crab scuttled across the floor in front of her before fading into the shadows. Moments after the crustacean disappeared, the phone rang. As she reached over to answer it, a dark figure approached her. It was a man, that much she knew, but his face and upper body were obscured by shadows. He stopped when he reached the couch. She wanted to ask him if he knew anything about the crab, but she suspected that she would get more answers if she waited for him to speak. He sat on the couch and turned to face her.

That's when she woke up every morning.

She had tried to shrug it off the first night, attributing it to something she must have seen on television. Initially she thought that perhaps her mind had melded a few recent events. The appearance of the crab could have been related to the Killer Dome that the Striker Team had recently battled, although why the crab in her dream was pink she had no idea. And the stranger in her dream was probably nothing more than a personification of her mental matchmaking efforts. The mysterious "man in the shadows" was pretty cliché, after all.

The appearance of the telephone puzzled her. She didn't even have a phone in her apartment. She preferred communicating face-to-face. Fern had given up trying to convince her of the necessity of the telephone long ago. Skye had pointed out that if anyone needed to reach her, they could always call Fern, and Fern could summon her. The only people she expected to contact her would actually be interested in Vixen, and she had her Guysack's video communication link for that. She was sure Fern would think the phone in her dream was a sign that she should join the modern age.

After the third night, she'd been tempted to mention it to her sister, but Skye knew that she'd blow it out of proportion. Fern believed that dreams were either reflections of the subconscious or that they revealed the future. Skye had no such fantasies. Once, when she was only three, she'd dreamt of nothing more than the changing leaves of fall. The leaves changed color every autumn. How that could be considered a portent of things to come was beyond her, but her sister had insisted it was so.

It was interesting how she could remember very little about her childhood, but she remembered that dream. She thought it was because it was the first time she no longer viewed her older sister as infallible. Up until then she'd thought Fern knew everything, but her amateur analysis of Skye's dream had been disappointing. Clairvoyant dreams were the stuff of romantic novels and science fiction but had no place in the real world.

~~~~~~~~~~

Skye chased her niece and nephew around the backyard, her dark blue ponytail streaming behind her as she ran. The delighted squeals of laughter filled her heart with joy as she pursued first one, then the other.

She finally let herself catch up to Toby. She flung him over one shoulder and bounced him up and down. Denise gave up hiding from her aunt and came over to watch. She pointed a finger at her brother and laughed. Toby was giggling uncontrollably.

"Argh, matey," Skye said in her best villainous pirate voice. "Me thinks ye should be walkin' the plank, me does."

Denise clapped her hands excitedly. "OH! Tell us that story about the pirates again, Aunt Skye!"

Toby, out of breath, seconded that, and Skye set him on his feet and they headed for the shade of a large tree. Once settled, Skye began the story. She changed her voice for each character, using a gravelly voice for the pirate captain, a thin, reedy, whiny voice for his cowardly first mate, and a rich deep baritone for the hero of the story.

Toby and Denise got to contribute a few lines of dialog now and then. Skye would pause, nodding to one or the other, and they would try to imitate their aunt's voices for the various characters. This always made the telling of the story take much longer, because they often collapsed in a fit of giggles if the voice came out sounding funny. They always loved their aunt's interactive stories, though. They didn't always contribute the same lines, and Skye would have to change the next character's response as a result. If it weren't too close to lunchtime, she would even change the story line slightly. The ending was always the same, with the hero saving the day, but the obstacles in his path were dependent on Toby and Denise.

Fern listened to this from behind the shed. She had come out to tell them that lunch was ready. She was amazed at how perfectly Skye's entire demeanor changed as she "became" each character. She should have been an actress.

She took this opportunity to survey the sight before her. Skye looked so much like their father. Fern took after their mother, with her burnt orange hair and ruby eyes, but Skye had the exotic dark looks of the Reynolds. Right now, Skye's face was animated. In fact, she was glowing. Fern found it hard to believe her sister could look any more stunning, but when Skye was truly happy, she radiated so much more than just physical beauty. Her entire essence was bewitching. Fern pitied any man who fell under her spell when she was like this.

Every now and then, Skye would stand up to act out scenes from the tale she was spinning. Jacob and Hyacinth bounced in excitement each time she acted like she was attacking them with a sword. This playful minx was so incongruous with the serious girl that Fern had grown up with that the older woman could do no more than blink. The pretty little girl had always seemed to be their father's favorite, placed on a pedestal and spoiled to the core. The woman narrating to the children looked years younger than she really was. With her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail and her voluptuous figure hidden under the baggy clothes she wore, one might think that she was still in high school. Fern grinned at her sister's garb. Over her khaki shorts she was wearing a Pokemon T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It was Jacob's favorite cartoon this month. Last month Skye had gone around wearing a Hamtaro shirt, and the month before, it was something with a blue-eyed white dragon - Hyacinth's favorite at the time.

Fern wanted to join them under the tree, but she knew that her children liked to think they had a monopoly on their aunt's time when she was telling them stories. She also wondered if her presence would stifle Skye's creativity. From Skye's reluctance to meet with Lucinda, Fern suspected her sister lacked confidence in her writing's ability to appeal to the masses, but if only she could see how much other children would be taken in by her tales of adventure! Had Skye lived in the days of long ago, Fern suspected she would have made an excellent troubadour.

When Skye finished the story, to the excited applause of her audience, Fern strolled casually towards them, as if she had just come around the corner.

"Your timing is impeccable," Skye commented dryly. Fern wasn't sure if she was being sincere, but she nodded.

"It was a really good story, Mom," Hyacinth said, jumping to her feet and running over to her mother.

"Yeah!" added Jacob. He stood up and swung his arm like he was brandishing an imaginary sword. "Take THAT, you limey swine!"

Fern hugged him. "OK, Captain, let's see if we can fill you up with something more appetizing than hardtack."

At Fern's choice of words, Skye eyed her suspiciously. Her sister beamed at her. "You, too, Skye." At the other woman's look of protest, she added, "I insist."

She knew that Skye would rather get back to doing work around the yard, work that she had gladly abandoned when her charges bounded outside to play. Skye always felt she owed Fern and Gary for the room and board, and she flatly refused to consider all the babysitting she did as a means of paying them back. "It's too much fun to be actual work," she once told Fern.

Fern sighed. Her sister needed to take some time off. If she wasn't staying at her Zoid team's base, wherever that was, she was taking care of Jacob and Hyacinth, or building something for them, or cleaning up the yard. When not busy earning her keep, she could be found next to the shed, throwing jabs and upper cuts at her shadow as if she were fighting an invisible enemy. Usually she'd take a break to go up to the loft for a couple of hours, then she'd come downstairs for dinner. She'd argue with Fern over washing the dishes every night, with Fern insisting that Skye didn't need to help her. Then her sister would tighten the laces on her sneakers and go outside to start running. She'd be gone for half an hour to an hour, then she'd race back and head straight for her apartment. Sometimes Skye would look quite refreshed in the mornings, and other days she looked like she'd been awake all night. Fern hated to see the dark circles under her sister's eyes, but suspected Skye would simply shrug off any suggestions for curing insomnia, not wishing to bother Fern with her problems.

She walked slowly behind Skye, who was skipping towards the house with the children. She hoped Skye would win the battle against whatever inner demons she was fighting.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Area scanned. Battlefield set up. The Striker Team versus the Kairos Team…"

"Ready, Fox?" winked Prometheus in his Redler.

"Of course," purred Vixen. "I do have you watching my back, after all."

"Hey! I'm watching your back, too!" protested Loki in his Brachios. Vixen graced him with one of her heart-stopping smiles. He mentally slapped himself in order to force his attention back on the battlefield and not on his teammate. It wouldn't do to let Vixen's charm put him out of the battle before it had even started.

"Battle mode 0982. Ready…FIGHT!" the judge finished.

It was a three-on-three battle. Prometheus' brother, Baal, was watching from their base. Over the vid link, Baal quickly briefed them on the opponents they faced. The Kairos Team boasted a Great Sabre piloted by the cocky Arkadiy Belov. The other two warriors were a force to be reckoned with. The brother-sister team of Aither and Hemera Sotiris used their Zoids as a combined assault, with Aither in his Demantis and Hemera in her Glaive Quama. The most effective tactic, Baal suggested, was to come between the two siblings.

"Not that either one alone will be easy to contend with. Loki, don't forget the plan," Baal reminded him.

"Piece of cake," Loki said with a grin. "After all, we have our secret weapon."

Baal grinned back. "I'll be watching her, too," he said.

On the other side of the battlefield, the Kairos Team was quickly reviewing their plans as well.

"Aith and I are going to take out the Redler first," barked Hemera. "Ark, watch out for that bitch in the Guysack."

The Sabre pilot didn't know why his teammate was so worried about the scorpion Zoid. It was fast, but not heavily armed. All he needed to do was keep it from getting away, and it was toast.

The Demantis and the Quama darted towards the opposing team. Hemera headed straight for the Redler as her brother carefully aimed his arsenal skyward as well, keeping one eye open for that Brachios. That was the only Zoid he was really worried about. He had heard that it was armed with anti-air weaponry and could withstand quite a beating.

The Great Sabre lumbered towards the black Guysack. As he did so, his video link opened up. He gaped at the vision in front of him.

A gorgeous woman with smoky gray eyes and wild blue hair graced him with a seductive smile. He shook his head and gave her a feral grin.

"Hey, beautiful, what's a classy broad like you doing in the middle of a battlefield," he said with a leer.

"I've been looking forward to meeting the legendary Arkadiy Belov," she murmured.

He puffed up a bit. "Today is your lucky day, then, babe," he said. "Don't take it personally, sweetheart, but I have to take you out of this battle. Afterwards, however," he said with a lecherous grin, "I'd be happy to show you what else I'm capable of."

"I'm sure you have many talents," Vixen purred, licking her lips slightly. "It's very magnanimous of you to offer."

His eyes nearly bugged out of his head, then he chuckled. "Enough small talk. Let's get this over with. The sooner we finish, the sooner I can introduce you to the real Ark Belov."

He advanced on the scorpion, aiming his artillery at her. As he fired, she quickly dodged to the side. He swung around to fire a second round at her, and she scampered away again. He chased after her and then came to a sudden stop.

The Guysack scuttled behind the fierce Brachios.

"Aw, crap," Ark said.

"Hey, Belov, nice to see you again," Loki grinned at him. The Sabre launched a few rounds at him, but not before the brachiosaurus fired at him using one of its hidden cannons. He didn't even have the satisfaction of putting the blasted Brachios out of the battle, because it was capable of sustaining heavy damage without loss of function.

He swore as his control panel displayed a System Freeze.

Prometheus was busy keeping Aither and Hemera distracted from his teammates machinations, but he was taking a serious beating from the combined assault.

"Loki, Fox, I sure hope you're done with Belov," he ground out as his Redler spiraled toward the ground.

"Nice work, Aith," crowed Hemera.

Hemera's next words were ignored as Vixen's image appeared on Aither's screen alongside that of his sister. He suspected that Ark had been taken out of the battle. There was no way the burly man would have let this woman out of his sight otherwise.

Despite this knowledge, he couldn't help but feeling a bit weak in the knees at the sight of the vision in front of him. He knew his sister was going to read him the riot act later, but what did she expect? He was only sixteen, for crying out loud!

His mouth went dry, and he forced himself to ignore the come-hither look on his opponent's face. He waited for her to say something, but she remained silent. She just looked at him as if she were surveying a seven-course meal. His hand trembled on the controls to the vid link. He should just terminate the connection. But if he did that, he'd cut off communication with his sister, who was still dictating orders.

His hand trembled uncertainly.

"Aith! Wake up! The Guysack is almost on top of you!"

He snapped out of his daze and faced the scorpion Zoid head on. He knew one of her tricks was to trap her opponents in the giant pincers. He was certainly not going to fall for that, even if the sight of the Guysack pilot had caused a battalion of butterflies to perform the River Dance in his stomach.

"I won't hurt you," a throaty voice said.

Startled, he forced his eyes back towards the communication screen. The leather-clad vixen was speaking to him finally.

"Why don't I believe you?" he asked.

She looked almost insulted. Almost. "I never lie," she said softly. "I despise liars."

He was surprised by her statement.

"Aith!" screamed his sister. He charged at the Guysack. If he kept out of range of her pincers and didn't allow the tail cannon to fire at him, he could easily take her out of the battle. If he and Hemera were to have any chance against the Brachios, they needed to work together.

The Guysack moved to the side. Aither was surprised at how slowly it moved. Perhaps Ark had managed to damage it before he was taken out of the battle.

He raced after it. He slightly misjudged the distance between his Demantis and the Guysack, and realized that she would easily be able to grasp his left claw. To his surprise, nothing happened.

"I told you that I wouldn't hurt you," came that silky voice again. He stared at her in disbelief, then blinked a few times.

"Aith!" shrieked his sister.

A loud BOOM was heard, and the Brachios fired its twin 20mm cannons at the Demantis.

'But I never said anything about Loki,' Vixen thought. A subtle smile graced her features, but Aither didn't see it, as she had closed the vid link.

"I warned you about that bitch! Belov, that goes double for you! But do either of you listen to me? NO! You are both complete and utter idiots!" raged Hemera. "MEN!" she spat angrily.

She didn't care that the odds were against her. It didn't matter if the Brachios took her out. She was going to blast that damn scorpion if it was the last thing she did before her Zoid was out of commission.

Unfortunately her fury clouded her judgement, and Loki's anti-air cannons quickly sent her Quama into a tailspin.

"The winner is…the Striker Team!" boomed the voice of the judge.

"Told you I'd watch your back, Fox," bragged Loki.

"Thank you," murmured Vixen.

~~~~~~~~~~

"…ninety-eight…ninety-nine…ONE HUNDRED!" announced Skye as she finished counting. She uncovered her eyes and scouted the backyard for signs of the imps she called Denise and Toby.

She saw a brief glimpse of purple from behind the garage. That would be Denise's shirt. Skye whistled casually as she walked in the opposite direction.

"Hmm, where could they be?" she mused aloud, looking along the ground. She bent over and picked up a rock, looking under it. "Nope, not here," she said sadly.

She could hear Toby's giggle somewhere to her right, so she changed direction again and wandered back toward Denise. Along the way, she continued to check unlikely places, such as behind Toby's skateboard that was leaning against the side of the garage, and behind a tiny shrubbery too small to hide even Midnight. She strolled toward Denise's hiding place, her pace slowing until she came to a complete stop just around the corner from her niece.

She waited several seconds to let Denise enjoy the suspense, then jumped in front of her.

"Ah HA!" she shouted, causing Hyacinth to squeal. The young girl quickly dodged her aunt then sped in the direction of the tree house, which was deemed "safe." Skye ran after her, not allowing herself to catch up until Denise had almost reached "home."

As she neared the tree house she heard a rustle overhead. Jacob dropped from one of the nearby trees onto the shoulders of his aunt, toppling them both to the ground. Skye flipped her nephew onto his back and wiggled her fingers menacingly. Toby laughed helplessly, anticipating the torture of being tickled and unsure whether or not she would go through with it. He decided not to take any chances.

"Uncle! Uncle!" he shouted in surrender. Skye raised an eyebrow at him. "I mean I give! I give!" he giggled.

Forgotten for the moment, Denise raced over and tackled her aunt. "Toby's IT, Toby's IT," she chanted.

The three of them tussled briefly, then Skye stood up. As they began to protest, Skye folded her arms in front of her and smiled, then gave them a stern look.

"It's almost time for dinner. You two need to go inside and clean up before we eat," she said, perfectly mimicking Fern's voice.

The children laughed hysterically at hearing their mother's voice come out of their aunt's mouth, but they pushed themselves to a standing position.

"Company MARCH!" commanded Skye, and they all marched toward the house in a straight line.

They hadn't gone more than several yards when Fern approached them. She eyed their disheveled appearance and crossed her arms. She fought a smile and said, "It's almost time for dinner. You two need to wash up before we eat."

The two of them howled with laughter. Fern swung her gaze to Skye, who was standing with her hands clasped behind her back and looking up at the clouds innocently. Fern laughed.

"You're making fun of me again, aren't you?" she scolded gently. "Jacob! Hyacinth! Inside! Double time!"

The children raced inside, giggling the entire way.

Fern studied her sister who had a pleased grin on her face. How young and unaffected she appeared. Her deep blue hair was full of sand, her T-shirt had several dirt stains on it, and one of her knees was scraped and bleeding, but her face was radiant with joy. If not for the fact that her sister's oversized shirt didn't completely conceal her generous curves, Fern would swear Skye looked about twelve.

"And you," she said. "Dinner is in fifteen minutes. Don't be late."

Skye smiled softly, nodded, then gave her sister a smart salute before heading back toward the garage and her loft apartment.

Fern felt a small twinge of guilt for not telling her sister, but she felt the ends would justify the means.

Thirteen minutes later, Skye entered her sister's kitchen. She had obviously showered, as her hair was still wet and her knee was cleaned and bandaged. She had exchanged her sneakers for a pair of leather sandals.

Fern supposed Skye's olive-green shorts and Charmeleon T-shirt couldn't be helped. She would have preferred if Skye had dressed just a little more formally this time, then mentally chastised herself. Despite the saying, clothes didn't really make the man. Or woman.

The reason for Fern's sudden interest in her sister's attire became clear as the doorbell rang. Gary went to answer it.

"Schuyler's here, right on time!" he announced.

A young man in his early twenties entered their home. He shook hands with Gary and clapped him on the back.

"It's nice to see you again, Fern," he said politely. "You're looking as lovely as ever." Fern blushed prettily at the compliment. Skye watched all this with a feeling of dread.

"Oh, where are my manners?" fluttered her sister. "Skye, this is Gary's business partner, Schuyler Roanoke. Schuyler, this is my sister, Skye."

Schuyler extended a hand and Skye grasped it, pumping it up and down heartily. Schuyler looked mildly surprised, but he recovered quickly and brought her hand to his lips.

"A pleasure," he said with a smile. He released her hand.

"Sit down, everyone," Fern said as she bustled about the kitchen.

Skye wished for a hole to open up in the ground and swallow her right there. Gary's business partner? How could Fern do this to her? Gary was Rafe Reynolds' right hand man. It was like history repeating itself.

"Excuse me while I go and fetch the rug rats," she said, sidling past Roanoke.

"Thanks, Skye," said Fern, who was busying herself with a large pot of soup.

Skye paused outside her nephew's room. To be fair, Fern had no idea what had happened all those years ago. She forced herself to be calm. It wouldn't do to let Toby and Denise see how unsettled she was.

She wasn't sure how to handle this situation. Vixen would be in her element, but Fern and Gary didn't know about her alter ego. As far as they knew, Skye was a shy, demure writer who just happened to participate in Zoid battles on occasion. They would never connect the calculating femme fatale with the easygoing woman that played with their children and read them bedtime stories.

That was it. She would just be herself and relegate Vixen to the dark recesses of her mind for now. If she were lucky it would be enough to discourage the interest of this Schuyler.

"Skye and Schuyler. Isn't that cute?" Fern asked Gary after Schuyler excused himself to use the bathroom.

"Your sister seemed a bit nonplussed," he replied. His wife frowned slightly.

"Do you really think so? I think she's just shy."

Gary considered his wife's explanation. For some reason he had never really considered Skye to be a shy person, but then again, he had never seen her in the company of strangers, and Fern had known her a lot longer.

"I'm sure you're right," he said, standing behind Fern and wrapping his arms around her. She elbowed him gently. "Hands off. We have company," she chided.

He laughed and released her just as Schuyler returned from the bathroom.

"Where did your sister disappear to?" he asked. He had been mildly surprised at the young woman's attire, and had done a double take at the sight of those long legs. There was no denying she was attractive. He felt almost silly in his three-piece suit. He had been sure that this was a date, and he'd so wanted to impress Fern's sister.

His head turned as he heard the sounds of two children running towards the kitchen.

"What's for dinner?" they cried in unison. Fern frowned at them slightly, then pointed at their seats. They slunk to their chairs in silence.

"We're sorry, Mom," said Denise.

"Schuyler, these monsters are our children," Gary said. "This young lady is Hyacinth, and the young man to her left is Jacob."

"You can call me Toby," announced Jacob.

Hyacinth didn't offer her nickname to the stranger. Only Aunt Skye called her Denise. She turned in her chair to look for her aunt.

Skye was entering the kitchen, her hands in her pockets. She sat quietly in her chair and smiled warmly at Toby and Denise.

Fern had gone all out for the meal. They started with steaming bowls of chicken soup, followed by salad and crescent rolls. Roasted pork loin with rice was served following the fruit cocktail.

Schuyler complimented Fern on every dish, much to her delight. Her blood-red eyes glowed with pleasure as she watched everyone enjoying the meal. Gary reached up under her mane of thick orange hair and rubbed her neck. She turned and smiled at him.

Their guest watched their interaction, then turned his gaze to the midnight-haired woman across the table from him. She was watching her sister and brother-in-law, too, and a slow smile graced her lips. Schuyler found it hard to believe that this woman was still single. She was gracious and pretty and obviously good with children. Any man would be lucky to have her as his wife.

After dinner, Skye led the children to the bathroom to perform their nighttime ablutions.

"She'll be back after she tells them a bedtime story," Fern explained. She considered telling him that Skye also wrote the stories, but thought perhaps that information would best come from Skye herself.

Skye returned fifteen minutes later and seated herself gracefully once more.

Gary suggested they all take their coffee out on the deck. Skye had cocoa instead, but she picked up her mug and followed them out onto the porch.

"The crescent moons are breathtaking, wouldn't you say?" Roanoke asked her.

She sipped from her mug, her gaze on the two moons, and considered this. He admired this about her. She took her time to consider her response, unlike most women he knew who were more interested in talking than in actually saying anything.

"I won't disagree with you," she said quietly, taking another sip.

He puzzled over her answer. Was she agreeing with him or merely being polite? He stood next to her in companionable silence. He didn't notice when Gary and Fern slipped back into the house, but Skye did.

She mentally strangled her sister. At least Schuyler wasn't oily as Riley had been. She fought the impulse to shudder at the mere memory of her fiancé. She wondered if she should still bother thinking of the man as her fiancé since she'd never accepted him as such. She'd sooner die than marry that snake that her father had chosen for her. To get out of the marriage, she'd severed all ties with her family for two years. Even after returning, she'd avoided the senior partners of her father's firm, with the exception of Gary, like the plague, even though she'd long since reached her majority. Now here she was, attempting idle conversation with yet another cog in the wheel of Ianthe Enterprises. It was sadly ironic that the company that represented all that she despised bore the name of her beloved mother, but that was life for you.

"Is something troubling you?" he asked her tentatively.

She mulled over that question. She refused to lie, but she wasn't about to confide in the young man at her side, either. If she wasn't mistaken, he was quite a few years younger than she was and probably had yet to discover what some of Ianthe's CEOs were really like.

"Nothing is amiss," she said carefully, turning her gaze on him. Wordsmithing, or twisting words to fit the situation without resorting to falsehoods, was a skill she shared with her alter ego.

He looked into those silver eyes and was at a loss for words himself.

"Forgive me for being so bold, but I would love to see you again," he began.

Those platinum eyes gave him the answer he dreaded long before he finished asking his question. His ego deflated severely, but he wasn't surprised. He was beginning to suspect her aloof behavior around strangers was the reason she was still single.

"If you ever change your mind," he said, grasping one of her hands in his. "Let your sister know."

She smiled at him warmly, and his stomach did flip-flops despite his steely resolve.

"It was a pleasure meeting you," he said genuinely.

~~~~~~~~~~

"How could she do that to me?" Skye raged at Midnight. "What was she thinking?"

She had been going over this since she'd returned to her apartment. Fern's disappointment had been visible when Schuyler had excused himself early and left. Skye didn't stick around for the third degree she was sure would follow his departure.

"I'll walk you out, " she'd suggested, much to his surprise.

As soon as he bade her farewell and drove away, she went straight to her rooms. As curious as Fern was, Skye knew that her sister would respect her privacy and not come after her to grill her for information. Not that there was much information to give, at least nothing that she could share with her sister.

She hated keeping secrets from Fern. The issue between Rafe and his youngest daughter was just that, between them, and Skye was not going to drag Fern into the middle. Despite her feelings towards her father, she knew that he genuinely cared for Fern, and she wasn't about to put Fern through an emotional wringer just to justify her own lifestyle.

She also didn't want her sister to discover her alter ego. To Fern, Skye would always be the pretty one who just up and left one day. It was hard to guess whether Fern would be more likely to encourage Skye's behavior in the hopes of seeing her settled with the right man, or if she'd be appalled at her sister's seemingly lascivious ways.

If that weren't enough to contend with, Skye Reynolds enjoyed anonymity when she went into town. Should anyone connect Vixen to Skye, she wouldn't know a moment's peace. Usually when she went out, she donned a pair of dark glasses to avoid squinting into the sun and causing wrinkles. An incidental benefit was that they hid her unusual silver eyes. Granted, the lack of cosmetics left her eyes a pale silver instead of a smoky pewter, but she occasionally worried that she'd meet someone who would take one look into her eyes and realize they'd seen her somewhere before. It hadn't happened yet. Laughing she couldn't help but think of how the mere addition of spectacles successfully hid the identity of a well-known fictional superhero. If it worked for Clark Kent, why wouldn't it work for Skye Reynolds?

Midnight got up and stretched in response as Skye paced her living room. Skye couldn't help but laugh at the cat's laissez-faire attitude.

"If only I could deal with my problems like that," she told her feline companion. "Oh, to go through life enjoying what it has to offer, and the hell with everyone and everything else." She stopped pacing and sat on the couch. Midnight jumped into her lap and rubbed against her chin, purring loudly. Skye stroked her cat and relaxed, closing her eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~

A young woman wearing sunglasses, long baggy olive-drab cargo shorts, and a gray T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up stood outside a shop window, looking at the various items on display. An inky black cat wound its way around her ankles.

She apparently decided that there was nothing on display that interested her, for she headed toward the next large display window. Her feline companion noticed one of her shoelaces was untied and pounced on it.

She stopped in her tracks, laughing softly at the antics of her cat. She dropped to one knee and retied the laces of her sneakers. The cat's head butted her elbows in an effort to win her attention.

"Midnight, you are such a showboat," she gently chided the animal. She brushed the dirt off her knee and reached out her arms. The cat leapt into them, and the young woman stood up gracefully. She carried her pet to the fruit stand on the corner and set the animal back on the ground so she could peruse the variety of fruits for sale. The cat sat on her feet as if to remind the young woman of her presence.

The feline had mixed feelings about going into town with her human. On one hand, or in Midnight's case, on one paw, there were the new and exciting scents to enjoy in town. On the other, there were far too many animals that failed to recognize Midnight's superiority. They darted right by her, or worse yet, boldly approached her to sniff at her inquiringly. Midnight preferred to be the one to make the first overture.

She was quite fond of the young woman with her, although sometimes it seemed as though she was two different people. The underlying smells and textures of the human were the same, but at times they were enhanced with other fragrances. Midnight's nose twitched excitedly when this happened. On top of that, the human's aura changed significantly.

Regardless of which aura was visible, the woman always had a kind word for her, and never failed to take the time to stroke her fur and tell her how beautiful and regal she was. Sure, occasionally she had to tolerate being called "cute" or "pompous" but overall she received the respect she so deserved.

Skye made her purchase and then glanced down at the cat who was still camped on her feet. If she didn't know better, she'd swear the animal was deep in thought. She laughed at herself for such fanciful notions.

"Let's go, Midnight," she called, causing the cat to get up from her feet and stretch. The feline trotted alongside her, nose in the air and tail curved above her back in a question mark shape.

Skye hadn't always been fond of cats. When she was only five, she had approached a stray cat after school one day, intent on greeting it with an enthusiastic hug. The animal had responded by scratching her in the face. Luckily it hadn't scarred, much to her father's relief.

She had avoided cats ever since, until she ran away from home years later. The first night she was looking for a place to sleep, and she saw a cat slinking around a garbage can. She couldn't help but admire its grace and bearing, despite its scrawny appearance. How a cat in such dire need of a meal could carry itself like it was royalty had fascinated her.

She'd felt an odd kinship with the animal. In that moment, she learned something about human behavior. No matter what trials and tribulations one faced, it was the outward appearance presented to the rest of the world that defined who you were to those around you.

Vixen had taken that philosophy to heart. She never presented herself in a way that she wasn't proud of, despite the inner turmoil that plagued her alter ego.

It wasn't until she'd returned home and moved into the apartment at Fern's that she had any desire to acquire a pet of her own. Dusk was an absolute darling, and everyone had mourned her passing. When Gary brought the anizoid cat home to his wife, Skye was mesmerized. Fern let her pet the digital feline, and she was intrigued by the sensations of a real cat under her fingers. The anizoid's purring surprised her even more.

Midnight hadn't known what to make of Dusk's new form. With the familiar smells gone, she hadn't recognized her mother. She sniffed the R.U. curiously, her ears perking up as Dusk meowed in protest. She tried to swat at the unit, and the flickering light that represented Dusk made her circle the box warily with her back arched. Eventually she grew bored with it and went back to Skye.

Skye found it interesting that Dusk's personality was unchanged. There was so much she didn't know about this technology.

When she and Midnight had returned home that night, she looked at the cat and stated firmly, "You'd better stick around for a good long while."

She sat on the couch, and Midnight jumped into her lap. She ran her fingers along the cat's back.

"I would really miss this," she said, referring to the soft fur under her fingers.

Midnight leaned her face into Skye's chest and purred in response.

~~~~~~~~~~

"The winner is...the Striker Team," announced the judge.

Vixen was inordinately pleased with her contribution to this battle. Normally she was little more than a diversion. She lured their opponents in, like the proverbial spider to the fly, and then she would either trap them in her pincers and shoot at them point blank, or she'd slow them down so her teammates could take care of them. It wasn't that this bothered her, but she sometimes felt that it left her with a rather scant bag of tricks.

This time, she had grabbed the Gun Sniper by the tail and swung it around. Almost before she realized it, she had released the enemy Zoid, launching it through the air until it had crashed against one of its own team's Zoids. This had caused a system freeze in the Command Wolf that the Sniper collided with, much to Vixen's delight and surprise.

She kept her emotions carefully in check, of course, but Loki and Baal were ecstatic. Prometheus just chuckled in amusement as he finished off the Gun Sniper with his tail razor.

"Go on with your bad self, Fox!" Baal shouted from his Gunbluster.

Vixen couldn't help but admire the porcupine-looking Zoid. Baal and Loki had sent a barrage against the MadThunder and taken it out in a surprisingly short period of time. When the opportunity presented itself, they made a powerful combination. Prometheus didn't have the arsenal that his brother had, but he had easily defeated the Pteras at the beginning of the battle. Vixen knew that she was only part of the team because she had charmed them all, but they never failed to give her credit for her contributions. She had played a supportive role in all the battles since she'd joined, even when they'd competed against an all-female team. In that case, all she'd had to do was flirt a bit with her own teammates. That had riled the opponents so much that their anger caused them to get sloppy, resulting in yet another win for the Striker Team.

They'd lost their share of battles, too. The predominantly youthful team was still learning to take their battles in earnest. They'd also faced a few Zoids that they weren't prepared for, and their new distraction tactic wasn't foolproof either. There were those few occasions when they were up against warriors who took their battles very seriously and allowed nothing to sway their attention. However, even before Vixen had joined, the newly formed Striker Team, with its energetic pilots and their formidable Zoids, had shown potential, and was paving the road to Class A.

Her attention was brought back to the present when an image appeared on her vid screen.

It was Ania, the female pilot of the Command Wolf. She was raving about something called "Pogo."

Vixen closed her signal and gracefully jumped out of the Guysack. She was greeted with hugs and kisses from her jubilant teammates.

An angry young woman with honey-blonde hair climbed out of the downed Command Wolf, pulling a large iron box out of the Zoid behind her. She let loose with a stream of colorful phrases as she half carried, half dropped the box to the ground. She continued her angry monologue as she trudged towards the rejoicing members of the Striker Team, alternating between kicking the black box in front of her and turning around to drag it a few feet until she reached the members of the opposing team.

"Tramp!" hissed Ania, turning to confront her nemesis. With her foot, she shoved an R.U. forward angrily. "Look what you did to Pogo!"

Vixen's teammates moved as if to defend her, but Vixen placed a hand on Baal's forearm. He in turn tapped Loki on the shoulder, and Loki stopped Prometheus with an elbow to the ribs.

Vixen stood there quietly, allowing the woman to continue her rant.

The woman continued unleashing a string of unflattering names. Vixen's silver eyes narrowed slightly, but she did not take the bait. She simply took a few steps forward and gestured toward the R.U.

"May I?" she asked silkily.

Flustered, Ania paused in her tirade. The statuesque woman in front of her took her momentary silence as assent.

In one fluid motion Vixen dropped to one knee next to the R.U. Despite her altruistic intentions, she wasn't oblivious to the picture she made with her leather-clad backside displayed to her teammates. However, that couldn't be helped.

She ignored the outraged Ania and the stares of Baal, Loki, and Prometheus. She quietly coaxed the digital animal out, murmuring in low husky tones. An image flickered on top of the R.U. Vixen slowly reached out one hand. The image stopped flickering. Vixen pet it gently, all the while managing to retain her perpetual look of sensuality. Ania thought the jezebel looked a bit like a cat herself.

The anizoid began purring as a pair of exquisite hands stroked the holographic image. The sight further angered Ania, who marched over to her opponent.

"Did I say you could touch him?" she flared.

Vixen didn't grace her with so much as a glance but continued to pet the anizoid. Then she stood up and returned to her teammates as Ania stood in front of the R.U. defiantly, ready to hurl more insults at the doxy. Before she could open her mouth, the dark-haired warrior spoke.

"I will offer you one piece of advice," Vixen said smoothly, her back still to the other woman. "Treat Pogo as if he were still alive."

With that, she walked away, the rest of the Striker Team following in her wake.

As much as Ania hated to admit it, the harlot was right. She had been treating Pogo more like a toy than a living creature. She knelt next to the R.U. as the other woman had done and stroked the digital cat's head. The purring resumed.

"Hussy," she said, her angry features softening slightly as she continued petting Pogo's head.

~~~~~~~~~~

Skye was torn. On one hand, Vixen was more than content with the Striker Team. She had the trio eating out of her hand more often than not, and when she stayed at the team's base she lacked for nothing. Not to mention they were a bunch of good-hearted teenagers who were extremely loyal to those they considered friends. For some reason Vixen had a hard time convincing herself that her teammates accepted her as a friend, feeling that they treated her as such only because of her looks. Skye felt guilty for not giving them more credit, but over the past several years, she'd found it increasingly difficult to trust any man. Despite this, she worked well with her current team and had no reason to complain.

On the other hand, she wasn't spending as much time with Denise and Toby as she'd like. She was also worried about Fern. It had been over a year since her sister's beloved Dusk had contracted feline leukemia and been saved as an anizoid. Lately there was a lot of dissension in Europa regarding anizoids, and as long as Fern had one, she was going to be at risk for someone's misguided attempts at retaliation on behalf of the animal. Skye didn't think she could ever resurrect Midnight as a digital animal, but she certainly supported the right of anyone to tap into that technology to save a beloved pet and family friend.

She bit her lip. Perhaps she could find an opening on a team in Flyheight City. That would keep her closer to Fern and the children. She was sure she would have no trouble being accepted. She just needed to meet the men in charge of the teams that interested her, and she knew she could have most of them wrapped around her finger in no time. It wouldn't do to join a team headed up by a woman. Vixen's deliberately sensual demeanor often came across as intimidating. She didn't do it purposely, at least not unless she was provoked. Unfortunately for some of the women Vixen had encountered, they unwittingly incited her as a result of their own insecurities. To those who were deliberately rude and cutting she showed no mercy in her retaliation. Sex was power, and she was willing to use that theory to knock those women down a peg or two.

A new team would provide an interesting challenge. She had been getting too complacent with her current situation. She was surprised to realize she'd actually miss the boys, all of whom were somewhat overprotective in battle. She wasn't complaining. It had always been nice knowing there was someone to watch her back.

If she ever hoped to hone her skills higher than Class B, she needed to register with a Class A team at least. Maybe she would actually learn to use the Guysack to its fullest potential so she had something to rely on other than her sexual prowess. A higher class team would also mean a better rate of pay, and she'd be able to afford the upgrade to her Zoid. That is, assuming she couldn't charm any of her new teammates into paying for it. She'd been considering replacing her single tail cannon with a gunner station, which would effectively triple her arsenal. That wasn't to say that she wouldn't continue to use every trick up her sleeve, but it would be a welcome change to win a battle because of her piloting abilities and not because she made men's knees quiver.

She looked over at Midnight who was happily chasing a paper ball around the kitchen, then picked up the remote to check information posted by the ZBC. It looked as though Vixen had some homework to do.

~~~~~~~~~~

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