After deciding their plan for the day, they cleaned up the table and tidied up the kitchen. Tiffany helped Nick cut up the remaining meat from the deep freezer, bagging it into smaller portions for easier storage.
Nick headed to the barn, grabbed a gas can, and filled up the bike—ensuring they wouldn’t have to make any unnecessary stops beyond Tiffany’s apartment.
He then went back into the house to finish getting prepped. Before heading out, he handed Tiffany a pair of old shoes—too big for her, but better than riding home barefoot.
Grabbing his shoulder holster, he checked his extra magazines. Swapping out the rounds for regular hollow points, he secured his gear before reaching for his helmet, keys, and riding jacket.
With everything set, he and Tiffany headed out. She especially enjoyed the ride—comfortable in a way she hadn’t expected. Usually, she wasn’t a passenger, but something about it reminded her of her own speeder back home. Locked away in her hut, a distance from her grandpaws, the speeder was almost like a motorcycle—except with a turbine engine, hovering instead of wheels.
Nick tried to keep his mind on the task at hand—not on Tiffany’s large breasts pressed against his lower back, nor the side of her face resting lightly against his shoulder blade.
With her address programmed into his GPS, Nick didn’t have to think about the destination, leaving his mind free to do what it always did on long rides—wander.
Except this time, instead of idle thoughts, nonsense, or relaxation, he found himself lingering on Tiffany. This strange girl… creature—alien.
Despite their rocky start, he was starting to warm up to her—from her goofy awkwardness to the fact that, for once, someone besides his mom had cooked for him.
*Not to mention, she ran down and killed a deer—then made breakfast with it for me… Needed some seasoning, but still better than anything any ‘Earther’ girl (as she'd put it) has done for me,* he thought, his mind drifting to his new *partner*, snuggling against his back.
But as much as he enjoyed the company, it wasn’t something he was used to. It felt awkward—welcome, but strange. Awkward, yet undeniably pleasant. Warm, even.
While Nick sorted through the cloud of oddities floating through his head, Tiffany’s thoughts drifted as well. Part of her was trying to stay professional, but another part was excited—thankful to have a breathing individual close to her age to work with.
As she held onto Nick, her thoughts wandered. Her arms wrapped snugly around his waist—just in case he decided to punch it. He never did, but that gave her a good excuse.
She nuzzled the side of her face against his shoulder, resting her eyes and letting herself drift. The scent of his jacket pulled her into a distant memory—playing in her grandfather's hut. She’d sit by the fire pit in the center of the tatami mats that lined the small home’s floor, carefully arranging her homemade grass dolls, just as her grandpaw had shown her. He sat beside her in his yukata, shredding tobacco leaves and grinding fire petals into the mix, filling the air with that rich cherry scent.
“Sssso… chiisssai no (little one), what you plan to do when you reach of age?” Grandfather Tatsuen asked, his deep voice carrying the weight of his heavy accent.
Tiffany looked up at him with a toothy grin, a small, excited ball of red fur wrapped in shades of pink in her yukata. Her tail swept back and forth against the tatami mat in a furious blur, her grandfather chuckling at the sight as he packed his pipe.
He held the bowl to his scaly lips, exhaling a small blue flame to light it before placing the stem between his sharp, jagged teeth. Taking a long puff, he blew small orange rings of smoke through his nostrils.
“I want to be a hero, like you, Grandfather Tatsuen!” Tiffany yipped happily, hugging her grass doll and her granfather lovingly, nuzzling his shoulder .
Her grandfather chuckled, taking another slow draw from his pipe, savoring both the moment and her words. With a gentle motion, he picked her up, settling the small bundle of fluff in his lap.
"Ho, ho—I am honored, chiisssai no. Sssomeone asss pure asss you, holding me in sssuch high ssstanding..." He chuckled again, shaking his head.
"But I am no hero. I'm jussst one with a particular ssset of ssskillsss that wasss at the right place at the right time…. I'm grateful that I wasss where I needed to be—ssso that sssuch a cherissshed gift could be bessstowed upon me, even under sssuch dire circumssstancesss."
"Asss for your requessst… you know it will be a long and difficult road to travel?" he warmly hissed, looking down at her, a somber expression replacing his once joyous, prideful demeanor.
Just as quickly as the seriousness settled in, his face softened again, his heart melting at the sight of Tiffany’s beaming smile. In that moment, her unwavering love and gratitude for the stranger who rescued her—who protected her from the bad men invading his territory—shone through.
"Grandfather Tatsuen?" Her voice snapped him from his thoughts.
The
"Yesss, *chiisssai no*?" he asked with a thoughtful, deep hiss, puffing softly on his pipe.
"You will train me, right? In your ways, so I can help save people from bad men?"
Tiffany stared up at him, her red poofy head cocked to the side inquisitively. Her ear twitched a few times as she waited for his answer.
"I will teach you the waysss of my people... You will grow into a beautiful and powerful flower upon the fieldsss of battle," he told her with a gentle hiss, running his claws through her thick, bushy fur.
Beaming at his words, Tiffany began walking in slow circles on all fours atop his lap before settling into a curled-up ball. Content, she drifted off to sleep, safe and warm in the presence of Grandfather Tatsuen.
*I will teach you all that I know. Sssso when the day comesss for you to fight, you will return to me alive, and when you are ready... I will sssend you to a good friend I trussst.*
He stroked her poofy fur, smiling to himself.
*Ssshe will guide you from there and teach you the waysss of the huntersss... You’ve ssssertainly warmed this Draken’s cold-blooded heart,* he thought fondly, petting her head.
"Hey, Tiff—Tiff, you still alive back there?" Nick asked, reaching a hand behind himself and poking Tiffany in the ribs.
*Snort*—"huh—who, what?" Tiffany jolted awake, shaking lightly from Nick’s pokes, her nap interrupted.
Nick had the bike parked by the front door of the apartment building when he was trying to get confirmation on it being the right location
"I think we’re here. Is this the place?" Nick asked, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the building.
*yawn* "Hm—mmhhmmm, yup," she said as she stretched, smacking her lips before swinging her leg off the bike.
Nick watched her in his mirror as she paused on the sidewalk, his jaw dropping slightly when she bent herself backward—her hands and feet both touching the ground before kicking up into a handstand.
With effortless control, she pressed off her hands, landing neatly back on her feet before cracking her back and neck.
*Wow… I bet she'd put everyone to shame in a yoga class,* he thought, taking off his helmet to give his head a break while waiting for her to return.
Tiffany lightly jogged up the stairwell to the top floor, slowing as she reached her apartment door. She paused, eyes narrowing at the sight of it slightly ajar, then gently pushed it open.
Her face shifted from peaceful content to full alert in an instant.
"Jarvis?" she whispered, stepping cautiously inside, scanning the space.
Her eyes landed on him—badly beaten, malfunctioning, and upside-down near the double French doors at the back of the apartment.
She rushed to him, scooping up her metallic companion as his cracked display flickered to life.
"Oh—morning, mum… sorry, I’m a bit hard on the eyes right now…" he crackled out, his digital mustache flickering on and off the broken screen.
"Shhh, what happened to you?!?" Tiffany murmured, pressing her palm against his casing.
Then—something else caught her attention.
*Sniff-sniff.*
*Wait… that smell… oh, fudruck—*
---
Meanwhile, Nick sat patiently downstairs on his bike, mindlessly adjusting the settings to pass the time.
Then—*BOOM-----CRASH, FWOOSH!!!.*
A massive explosion shook Nick from his trance, showering him with shattered glass and bits of mortar. He shielded his head as debris rained down, catching a glimpse out of the corner of his eye—
Something had been blown clean out of the side of the building, descending through the air, tumbling in a red blur before coming to a stop against a dumpster in the alley across the street.
"Tiff!"
Nick tore off after the red blur, leaping over the hood of a car that had stopped in the middle of the road—its driver gawking at the carnage unfolding before them. Pressing through clusters of stunned onlookers, he crossed the street, slipping into a narrow alleyway.
There—a furry mound curled up in a tight fetal position.
He dropped to his knee, reaching out and placing a hand on her.
"Tiff? Are you okay?"
She didn’t hear him. Her ears rang, a faint, garbled mumble the only sound she could register—mixed with a continuous low drone of ringing that just wouldn’t stop. But she felt his touch.
Slowly, she relaxed, unfurling her fluffy tail as she uncurled herself, shifting upright with shaky, uneven movements.
Jarvis was clutched tightly to her chest, safe—shielded from the blast, his battered housing still intact and partially functioning.
Nick stepped closer, repeating her name. He pulled a penlight from his pocket, checking her eyes for signs of a concussion.
"I don’t see any dilation—phew, you really are a tough son-of-a-gun, lady."
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Tiffany just sat there, stunned, teetering slightly, her eyes darting in every direction as she tried to process what just happened.
Her balance and equilibrium were completely off.
She could see Nick’s mouth moving—but she couldn’t hear him.
*Whoa… why is Nick so close? What’s he saying? Why are there so many Nicks? Oof, heeee’s reeeeally close to my face—ALL of them…*
"Tiff! Can you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?!?"
Nick leaned in—then froze.
His breath hitched as Tiffany’s tongue slowly flopped out of her muzzle, her face tilted straight down.
In one smooth motion, she lifted her face toward the sky, dragging her long, rough, moist tongue from the bottom of his chin all the way to his forehead in a completely absent-minded motion.
*Sluuuuuurrrrpp!!!---Clatter!*
Nick locked up, his penlight slipping from his fingers and landing on the ground with a soft clatter—his face turning just as red as her fur.
Tiffany’s ears twitched at the sound, a faint sign her hearing was finally starting to return.
Nick let out a breath, chuckling as he wiped her wet, slobbery kiss off his face.
"Well… I certainly wasn’t expecting that."
"I’ll... take that as a yes then.
It took her a few minutes to finally shake off the haze, the swarm of Nicks finally merging into just one. He was still looking down at her, clicking his fingers, trying to get a response out of her besides doggie kisses.
She reached up, placing her hand on his and gently easing it down to stop the clicking.
"I’m fine…just...give me a minute," she murmured, forcing a smile.
"Well, darn…" she growled out with a pout
"What?" he asked, feeling like he’d missed something.
She smiled at him—a bit warmly, finally steady enough to joke now that the world wasn’t spinning like a g-force simulator.
"I was beginning to like having more than one of you…"
Her tongue lolled out to the side, licking the edges of her muzzle, trying to moisten it—the blast had given her a brutal case of cotton mouth.
Nick’s concern didn’t fade.
"Are you sure you’re okay?" he asked, watching her closely.
"I’ll survive," she managed gruffly, lifting Jarvis, inspecting his chassis, then pulling off his cover to disconnect the power supply.
After a few seconds, she reconnected it, watching his display flicker back to life and reboot.
Nick glanced toward the growing crowd, keeping his voice low.
"You think it might be a good idea to change back if you can? Your apartment’s drawing attention—fast—and if you want your things, we need to move—now. If anything’s intact, we grab it before the fire department gets here."
She nodded, closed her eyes, and shifted back into human Tiff. The transformation was slightly off-kilter, some body parts finishing before others, likely due to the impact of the explosion. But eventually, everything caught up at the end.
She staggered up, tucking Jarvis securely under her arm, making sure to grip him tight.
Without another word, they darted out of the alley and straight through the crowd of onlookers.
Nick tried to keep up with the bobbing blur of fiery-red hair trailing behind Tiffany. Even zig-zagging through the small crowd of onlookers, it was all he could do to keep pace with her.
She reached the apartment door, dodging at the last second to avoid some of the panicked residents who arrived late to the chaos.
She sprinted up the stairs, slowing only when she reached her floor, moving lightly as she assessed the damage.
Right then, Jarvis started beeping and vibrating, slightly startling her. She held him out in front of her with both hands, watching his display screen flicker to life.
Two small dots appeared—gradually growing in size—then his mouth.
When his eyes and mouth reached the right proportions—*boop!*—his mustache popped into place, giving her a big, warm smile.
"Evening, mum!" Jarvis spoke in his overly excited voice, sitting comfortably in Tiffany’s open palms.
"Can you fly? What’d your system check say?" Tiff asked critically.
"I’ll check right away, mum!" he chirped.
His eyes and mouth flattened into three straight lines, while a faint clicking-ticking sound—like an old hard drive—echoed inside him.
"System check came back yellow, mum! Minor damage—(mind the looks though)."
Jarvis slowly hovered out of her hands, bobbing about as he tested his flight system.
"Looks like everything’s normal, mum."
He seemed to function fine—aside from his dented-up housing and the small crack at the corner of his screen.
Tiffany started down the hall, stepping over scattered debris as she made her way to her apartment, Jarvis weaving through the wreckage beside her.
As she stepped into the gaping hole where her door used to be, Jarvis looked around—his digital face dropped open in disbelief before he managed to recover.
"Oh dear—mum, I…don’t believe you’re getting your deposit back on this…"
Tiffany glared at him, squinting slightly.
"Really? I don’t know, I’m sure if we worked all day and night, it’d look as good as new again," she said, her voice dripping with enthusiastic sarcasm as she waved her arms about as if presenting the room of chaos in an elaborate manner.
"Did you bump your head a bit, mum?" Jarvis hovered near the wreckage, tapping his lid with a clamp-like hand, as if deep in thought.
"Usually, you’re not the optimist—although… maybe a few days—some paint—adhesive bonding strips here and there—and it’ll be right as rain!"
Tiffany ignored him, heading to the bedroom, which had taken only minor damage from the blast. Her nightstand had been blown into the corner, but her work tablet remained safely tucked inside.
She quickly grabbed a couple of sets of clothes, stuffing them into her rucksack, along with the tablet she retrieved from the displaced nightstand.
She found her sneak suit, changed into it quickly, and pulled on her favorite boots from the party.
Her rucksack lay buried under a pile of rubble, still intact with everything from the night of the party. She pulled it free, then grabbed Jarvis’s dock and her wooden Kunai box, stuffing them into her bag.
Just as she was about to grab the last of her items before leaving, Nick appeared in the shattered doorway, out of breath, scanning the wreckage.
"*Phew* I hope you found what you needed, ‘cause we need to go—unless you feel like playing twenty questions at the station..."
As he stepped inside, he spotted her standing in front of an extremely large freezer—its stainless steel exterior charred and blackened by the blast, yet somehow undamaged.
She pressed a finger to the keypad and entered a code, suddenly making the entire freezer begin to shrink, folding inward on itself in a seamless collapse.
Within seconds, it was no bigger than a Rubik’s cube, a small black biometric reader pad positioned at the top.
Tiffany reached down, picking up the cube and slipping it into her bag.
Another shiny steel box rested on the floor, about half the size of a convection oven. She squatted down, inspecting it carefully, until she found what she was looking for.
She flipped a switch, and the second box shrank, mirroring the first—except instead of a biometric reader, it had a manual switch in its place.
As she picked it up, Jarvis’s attention shifted from mourning the apartment to fixating on the new guest walking through the gapping door frame.
"Oh, my, sir! I apologize for the mess—" Jarvis hovered slightly, trying to collect himself. "We’re... currently in the process of remodeling, so please mind—"
He turned, gazing around the destruction.
Then, his posture dropped, arms slouching at his sides, his gaze lowering in defeat.
"Mind...everything, please, sir..."*Sigh*.
Nick blinked, pointing toward the sulking Jarvis floating lopsided.
"Uh—Tiff…what’s with the flying Roomba?"
That prompted Jarvis out of his slump instantly.
"Mum? Pray tell—you know this man?! And he called you… Tiff?"
Jarvis quickly hovered to Nick, floating from top to bottom, scanning him, gathering a detailed view of the new guest.
"You finally made a friend! And he's in one piece! And not expired! Good job Mum! I'm so proud of you...however…" He paused, grumbling as he surveyed the wrecked apartment. "I do wish our living quarters were in a bit better—state."
Jarvis flew up to Nick at eye level, squinting hard at him.
"And I'll have you know—sir! That cheap contraption of a droid wishes it could do a smidgen of what I can!" Jarvis spat out in an exaggerated manner talking with both clamps moving about.
Jarvis huffed, his telescoping arms crossing stiffly.
"And another thing—I am Jarvis, Model #3724. But if you’re a friend of Madam Tiffany, you may simply call me Jarvis. *NOT--FLYING--ROOMBA."*
"Boys… are we done here? Or are you two going to fuss until the Earth authorities get here?"
Nick remained calm, his devil-may-care smirk barely shifting as Jarvis worked himself up.
"Come on, guys—we’ve got a job to do," Tiffany said, passing by them, leading the way out of the apartment.
Jarvis paused, scanning the apartment one last time.
Nick stopped at the doorway, turning back toward the floating droid bobbing in the air.
"Come on, Roomba—clock’s ticking."
Then, he ducked out after Tiff.
"Really?!? This again?!? I’m—not—a—Roomba! I say—come back here, I'm not done with you sir!"
Jarvis hovered after Nick, blathering in a frustrated flurry, while Nick, too entertained to care, reveled in riling up one of the *appliances*.
As they ducked out the side of the apartment building, making their way down the fire escape, Tiffany grabbed Jarvis and tucked him under her arm.
She settled onto a nearby bench on the sidewalk as Nick went to retrieve his bike.
"So, mum… now what? We don’t have a home anymore..."
Jarvis started sulking in her arms, exaggerated tears streaming down his digital display as she held him.
She looked down at him, trying not to let the weight of recent events get to her.
"I’m not sure… but I think if we ask the nice man—the one you were about to throw clamps with for calling you *a flying Roomba*—then maybe he might be nice enough to take us in for a bit...at least until the job is done."
She said it softly, her eyes misting up as she smiled at him.
Jarvis’ expression shifted instantly—a mischievous glint appearing in his digital eyes.
"So… you’re saying he’ll take in a couple of *strays*, are you mum?"
"Also, last and formost, I'm not, a flying Roomba..." Jarvis's voice carried a slight irritation as he crossed his arms and lay in her lap, waiting for their ride.
Are the reptilian S's to much for grand father?
