Officer Wolfe, aka Stephen, ripped off Ruh’s headset, and suddenly, the Alaraf campus was a horrificly bright, noisy  place filled with red air raid sirens & the sounds of  Eisbrecher.

      “Ordnung statt Chaos.” He stated simply as an entirely different large feline grabbed Ruh by the scruff and sprinted to the subbasement.

        Ruh had only ever let one cat willingly scruff him like a kitten, and it certainly wasn’t Rob Reichhörnchen’s Fylgia.  Until today.  The fangs didn’t feel much different, if at all-  and Ruh attempted to be fascinated more by the spotted murder mittens than the fact that air raid sirens were screaming through Alaraf sound systems.

        ” PLEASE PROCEED TO THE UNDRGROUND, BITTE.  BRING NO MORE THAN TWO BAGS. IODINE DRINK WILL BE PROVIDED FOR YOU.  PLEASE PROCEED QUICKLY AND CAUTIOUSLY AND COVER ALL EXPOSED SKIN AND MUCUS MEMBRANES.  PLEASE PROCEED QUICKLY.   RAUS.”

Announced Dr. Whispurrs soothingly as Fylgia seemed to trip on their own fur…somehow, that was rapidly gathering around their own ankles.

     The larger cat quickly dropped the younger just as the spotted coat fully unraveled at the Right seem.

       Revealing a lanky, yet far thinner lykoi.  huge eyes, well, huge eye as the other was obscured by surprisingly long face fur draping over it emo-wise.

        “DO NOT LOOK AT ME!” he shrieked.

        …and neither Wolfe nor Ruh could understand why.   Panting under the ripped coat, there was nothing abnormal about the Lykoi whatsoever except a rather noticeable but indiscernable tattoo like flame along the entire side of his body and slightly up the side of the neck.

       “I AM NAKED!” he continued to scream.

       …which also made no sense.  He had just as much fur or more than any other Lykoi cat, more, if the remains of the mangled fur coat are included.

    “MOVE…. SCHNELL!” Wolfe shouted as he ran on all fours and the Lykoi left the coat behind and grabbed Ruh once more.

Ruh would have resented the audacity if he didn’t entirely mangle his paw earlier then proceed to move furniture all day to intentionally distract himself from… nothing he could change.

      Finally he found himself deposited in a windowless greenhouse room of small purple flowers from wall to wall.

       The Lykoi that was seemingly once Fylgia growled and carved a circle into the flowers, then extended his full clawed hand to drag across the circle he added two straight lines that branched in odd angles and then drew over where he lifted his palm from the dirt after destroying five lines worth of planted flowers.

       “Taviz” He said simply.

        “I prefer mine,” stated Ruh, “-it’s simplier- two k’s facing a cross on a stick with two swirly bits below… also, what about the Tavis with all the boxes, the three crosses, the little ghost guy in the corner and the nutsack in the middle?”

        “That’s Bird’s Sigil, Ruh.”

         “How would Fylgia know this?”

          “Because Fylgia is a coat worn by at least two different cats,”

           “one now,” offered Wolfe helpfully

           “True,”  The lykoi continued, “One now.  The other was Osprey.”

            “Does Osprey have a Sigil?”

            “Two S’s facing the wrong way separated by a large bar with a giant letter “I” in the middle, as fitting to him,  in a symmetrical, lumpy space with three more letter S above and three below.”

       “I thought all this time that my brother preferred Nightjars”

         “Oh. I’m sure he does, he just doesn’t prefer himself to Amon.”

     Ruh flattened his ears and loafed all four murder mittens intentionally and wrinkled his artificially adorable little nose in preparation to hiss

     “Are you safe?” Asked the Lykoi, tilting his head gently.  Wolfe could be heard a few rooms over, exclaiming he found the catnip room.  Ruh’s whiskers twitched.

      “No catnip.” said the Lykoi sternly. “Yet.”

Lykoi repeated.

       “Are you safe?”

        Ruh took a brief inventory, and other than the paw he already hurt prior to the present crisis, he found himself only slightly shaken, largely unharmed… and surprisingly…

     Calm.

      There were undoubtedly sirens upstairs.  They could still barely be heard. 

However.

       The only other sounds were the sounds of the automated irrigation system and the slight hum of the grow lamps.

      “Hey! Ich habe Hopfen gefunden – wir können hier Bier brauen! Danke Jesus!”  …which was undoubtedly Wolfe.

        “We can not help being born as we are.  Neither respected as men nor free like beasts,” Ruh stated, with uncharacteristic despondency.

         “Ah, but Shuyoukh ‘summon’ us, we simply find more of us.  You are what you seek.”

         “Who are you?  You sound like one of us.”

          “You act as if I haven’t been here the entire time and grossly misrepresented.”

           “…As Rob’s Fylgia…?”

           “Partially.  Will you allow me to actually examine your injuries?” Replied the Lykoi without much emotion.

            Ruh didn’t quite know what to do at this point.

            “Surveillance showed soft tissue injury to right paw, threat issued directly after via headset.  ‘You will bow in Sujood one way or the other for me’ recorded via Spanish capture….”

       “…Wait, that was real…?”

        “Affirmative.  Milikitty Intelligence Section Six, captured by a transmissions supervisor relative of yours…’the little guy with the socks’”

          Ruh could not picture Wolfe nor Whispurrs as either “little” nor “wearing socks” unless paired with sandals as Deutsch national costume.

           “…You have more than two brothers and I can read your thoughts as if you typed them to me.  You are utterly transparent Ruh, like clear glass…”

       The Lykoi pawsed for dramatic affect.

        “Isn’t Pennyroyal extraordinarily toxic to cats and human beings?” Ruh stated entirely as a nonsequitur, hopefully ruining the Lykoi’s train of thought entirely… and thought. Ha!  Maybe you shouldn’t tie kitties to philosophical tracks…

         The Lykoi almost ignored it,  “That’s why I planted Florida pennyroyal.  Is good for tea.”

           “You planted pennyroyal?”

           “I also planted catnip, cannabis, hops, poppies, valerian,  comfry, lemon balm, roses, plantain, and silphium.”

            “Sure.  And your Sylphium plantation is fertilized by passenger pigeon and Mysterious Starlings.”

          “Do you have someplace better to be when the very ground shakes that the air raid sirens were not ‘Just for practice’…?”

Ruh flattened himself into the pennyroyal further.

“Do you not realize we may be the only two teachers some Americats listen to from overseas?  They do not see how high the pendulum is held, not as threat but as probable patterned outcome?  Only so much force can be applied from one direction alone before the collapse of that object of directed force application… one must end, the force ends through interruption or lack of energy, but even then, the weak are then empowered into potential retaliation”

      “Is this political?”

       “This is everything. Doesn’t your paw hurt slightly?”

        “Can I go to the catnip & cannabis rooms yet?”

         “No.  Not until you properly identify me.  How many of us can change form like this?”

          “Myself and Egregore.” Replied Ruh, “The one guy shaves his tail and thinks he’s an entirely new character.”

            “You mean the giant predator who wanted to be a stork in a Cat college?” said a small English tabby cat, with perfect white socks.  Exactly the same height and build as Ruh.

“I used to run royal signals relay in United kittydom until my signal was captured and used as a lure.  Ariel of the Thames.  The louder I sang, the more they clapped.  MkUltra.  HAARP.  Allentown.  Other foul projects.  My songs used at Bohemian Grove as the very soundtrack of everything I want to expose…and being radio SIGINT.  I got to listen and receive summaries of all of it, entirely inactionable, like my own private hell.” 

The Lykoi temporarily lifted the fur from his eye.  He does have two of them. They even sort of match.

      “Ruh.  For Fuchs Sake father was a Venus in London for three decades.  You have no issue writing about Pierre Robert, David Lynch, or Dero Goi.   But you write a single story about your Milikitty Intelligence Section Six Radio Supervisor, Matty B-“

   Wolfe appeared suddenly and clamped his paw over Matty Mi6’s mouth, “We would be breaking several German laws and OPSEC if we let you finish that sentence.”

     “My last name is American,” growled Matty. 

      “…And neither are the rest of us, Limey.  Welcome aboard.”

      “SAY MY NAME!” Roared the Lykoi

      “Tyler Durden!” Chirped Ruh,

      “Fylgia!” Cheered Wolfe, who was wearing a magenta and purple batik suit this entire time the author refused to describe out of principle.

     And Matty, Dear Matty-

Matty asked,

“Aren’t you that guy who got poisoned on BBC Persia October 2021?”