Title: Everything is Better With...
Description: "Someone had the bright idea of putting women's hosiery on all the beasts and mechanisms in the stables. Valla, to say the least, is not amused."
Notes1: So...this particular chapter was inspired by seeing a picture on Facebook of a Samoyed dog wearing black pantyhose. The few friends I have post some pretty stupid stuff on there (their stance on advocating weed legalization notwithstanding), but I thought it ridiculous in a "Oh man, I just have write something about THIS" sort of way.
Notes2: I overestimated my belief that everyone would have played through Legion and understood the ending in the last chapter, so I do apologize for that. It's pretty much my bizarre interpretation of how Thas'dorah wound up on Niskara and the boss in the area coming up with the plan that he could use the bow to lure Alleria back from...wherever the hell she's at in canon. It certainly isn't AU!Draenor.
Notes3: What was with all the hits on my website on Friday night? It might be because of my restructuring the profile a bit, but holy crap, I came home from work and saw how big that blue bar was. It must be you fine folks wondering when the new chapter's going to be. Speaking of which: Some of you have been asking about Alarak, and while I can't see what the appeal of that guy is (because I'm exclusively a WoW player; and other than I keep reading he's just a brutally honest troll, although HotS made him into a bigger asshole) I decided that the next chapter will feature him.
Notes4: I am honestly surprised no one's brought up the mention of HAMMER-SPACE in the last chapter. You guys talk about Hammer possibly using vegetable oil in her engines to make deep fried foods but not that? Come on now. You guys can do better than that.
Notes5: And lastly, to Lucario, because I know you're reading this: If you can't rein the Brightwing BS in for the sake of this story (and the sanity of my readers, as even they seem discontent with how you're going on and on about...you get the idea), then yes, I think it'd be in everyone's best interests if you went elsewhere. That's all I'm saying on this matter. I don't want First Impressions to be remembered for this if it should wind up on TVTropes or somebody's fanfic recommendation page, but the damage has already been done. Well, at least the one good thing you've taught me is that if I ever became a famous author (although niche, given my particular tastes), I'll have some firsthand experience in how to deal with...zealous...fans.

"What is this?" Valla asked out loud, and she broke into a run toward the stable. Sylvanas tagged behind her, brows arched curiously but otherwise moving unhurriedly. She watched as the other woman stopped by the fences where the battle beasts grazed, then rushed over to the watering hole that Ringmaster Greymane's lion was currently drinking from. She pelted over to the corral the horses and the more exotic animals tended to roam and graze, then scrambled over to the smaller building adjacent to the barn where the mechanical constructs were housed in their charging stations. She jabbed in the code on the keypad, pressed her fingertips against the pad serving as a biometric pad and placed her eyes up close for the AI to scan, and leaned inside when the door slid aside. She jumped, a quaking shudder that slithered from the raised hilltops of her shoulders to the wing-spanning of her legs, and she leaned further in for a better look. A minute later Valla hauled out of there, making for the barn.

When Sylvanas caught up with her, the demon hunter had unlatched the bolt and pushed both doors open. Their shadows stretched across the ground like dominoes on a desk backlit by the light of the lamp.

"WHAT THE HELL?" Her shout bounced off the walls, surprising most of the veterinarians and their assistants from deep contemplation and work-induced stupors. "What is going on? What is…How…Why is everything…?!" She stumbled inside, glancing here and there at a horse or wolf. Her face was stricken, white and big as a cheese-colored moon.

"Lady Valla, thank Cernunnos you are here!" said a physician, who pushed and stumbled his way through his clustered colleagues. He managed to plow right into her, although he stopped them both from falling and righted himself, brushing off his coat. "We…We don't know! We were taking our lunch break and had the AI and helper units tend to the animals, and when we came back they…You know!"

"I want to know who did this!" Valla clapped down hard on the man's shoulders and rammed her face up to his. Her teeth were bared in a vicious snarl, and he tried to rear back as far as the vice grip allowed him to go. "I want to know who thought it was a good idea to put goddamn fishnet stockings on every single animal and construct!"

Sylvanas sighed. "You fools are so incompetent. Obviously someone decided to be cute and reprogrammed the command protocols on either one or, more likely, all the units before the lunch bell sounded. Perhaps this person must have done so last night, having taken guard duty where they could have plenty of time to sort through everything. It might not even be the case at all. Maybe the units just felt like messing with their fleshy, weak, immortal overlords." She pulled a passing, hovering droid aside and dragged it to the ground with her as she got down on her haunches.

"Error: Pathing protocol has been obstructed," it intoned in a soft, mechanical contralto. "Please remove any and all objects to continue."

"Shut up," she said, offhandedly. "Requesting nanorite engine deactivation, code-A23F6."

"Request confirmed. Deactivating nanorite engine." The nigh audible thrumming of its paneled underbelly subsided, and with Sylvanas' guidance gently leaned up against the wall.

"Activate sleep mode." She reached behind her and withdrew an arrow from her quiver, flipped it around so she held it just below the arrowhead. Placing the tip against its cylindrical chest, she pried the panel open and, reaching inside, unwound the disc-shaped keyboard from its confines.

"Sleep mode activated," said the robot, and the digital red orb in its ocular visor became a flattened hyphen and turned a soothing, quiet blue.

"Good robot," she mumbled, flexed her hands (being mindful not to pop her knuckles again), and set to work. A smaller, rectangular slot above the keyboard opened and activated a teal holographic screen.

"You had best be quick about it," Valla warned Sylvanas, right over her shoulder, "because as soon as you discover who's behind this travesty I'm going to…going to….!"

"Keep your panties on. Goddamn, woman, it's just fishnet stockings. It's not like someone poisoned the water hole and food supplies, or dressed them up in Hallow's Eve costumes and teepee'd the whole place."

"Don't give them ideas!" the technician exclaimed, horrified. "They could still be here, just listening! It might even be one of us!"

"You better hope it's not!" said an angry voice, and Valla and the man turned and saw Kerrigan standing within the threshold of the barn, her shadow stretching long and dark. Her face was backlit by the sun save for stray, intermittent sparks of psychic energy dancing from her eyes.

"Kerrigan!" said Valla. "The culprit got Torra?"

"So they did. Look what they did to him!" She swept her arms behind her where a purple, spiky Ultralisk the size of a large dog stood growling at her side, clacking its scythe-like pinchers. Somehow, through some miraculous and impossible feat, his stumpy legs were garbed in pantyhose (that looked ready to tear) and covered in fishnet. He tried to twist his head around, teeth gnashing, but his neck proved too short to reach. Torra contented itself with lifting a leg and attempting to scratch it off against his thick, scaled hide. "I dropped him off last night to recuperate at the nesting grounds, and when I went to pick him up I get this! When I get my hands on the neck of the rat bastard who touched Torra—"

"You'll need to wait in line, I'm afraid," said the tech. "Valla's got dibs."

"We can kill the rat bastard together," said Valla. "You impale him with your blades, and I'll fill him full of holes."

"Or you could pin him against one of the posts at the training grounds and have your shadow beasts and Torra eat him a little at a time," said Sylvanas, ears stirring thoughtfully as she studied the error message. She clicked her tongue, closed out of it, and moved her hand across the screen. "An arm here, a leg there. If you want to go smaller, then take off his hand or foot…or, if you feel particularly voracious, you could always rip out his heart and have him watch them eat it right in front of his eyes before they chop off his head."

"WHERE do you get these ideas?!" the tech asked.

"An assortment of authors both living and unborn, dead and soon to be. Lurk the library more, pleb." Sylvanas raised her head to glare at him, huffed, and ducked back under to resume her work. The man gave her a tight-lipped, affronted look, then shook his head.

"Why use a simple training post when you can peruse an assortment of totems?" said another voice, more gruff and masculine, and Valla and Kerrigan turned to see it was Rehgar padding into the room in ghost wolf form. His gait was awkward.

Their eyes bulged. "Oh dear Lord," Kerrigan sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"They got you, too?!" said Valla, shocked.

Rehgar sniffed, looking none too please. "All I did was take a nap after spending some time out in the Loamdeep training and communing with the spirits, and when I came to…." He trailed off and looked down at himself, Valla and Kerrigan following his gaze. Fishnet stockings stretched across his four lean legs across the lower part of his scruffy chest. "Honestly, ladies and gentleman," he said, regarding the technician, "I'm afraid of what'll happen if I change back." He gasped. "You don't think they'll stay on, do you?"

Sylvanas paused and sat up. She looked Rehgar up and down, studying him. After a beat, she scoffed. "Spare us the mental image."

"I didn't ask for this!" Rehgar barked, hackles rising. "Besides, fishnet would clash with my manly image! I'm an orc shaman who pays respect to my ancestors, not a Westminster sideshow attraction!" He licked his lips. "Bah! Whoever is behind this mess, I want to have a nice little brouhaha with him. Speak to him in words only a man will understand!"

"We were thinking of taking turns on him when we nab the guy," said Kerrigan. "Any ideas you want to toss in on how we should deal with him?"

"If we find him!" said the tech. "He could have access to cloaking technology, just like Nova and Zeratul!"

"Nova's as bright as a dying star and Zeratul has four fingers on each hand," said Sylvanas, closing out a window and scrolling through another. She tapped on a spot two times, ran her finger up, and stopped to read. "He would need some serious surgery if he wants to delicately handle women's lingerie."

"Would he really do that?"

"About as possible as him sneezing like a normal human being."

"He doesn't have a nose. Or a mouth."

"Exactly."

"As I've mentioned, I have a number of totems that I have crafted when I can make the time for them and when I am not needed on the battlefield," Rehgar explained to Valla and Kerrigan. "I only had my Earthgrab totem when I had been pried from the Maelstrom, but that's the kind that slows people down. You're looking for something more…destructive, aren't you? Yes. Yes, I can see that murderous glint in your eyes. I'll bet you can see the same in mine. Maybe I can…alleviate some of this stress we're all feeling."

Sylvanas coughed laughter. "As if! There is nothing here that's holding me down."

"What about Mister Horse?" the tech asked.

"A convenient partnership. He's not even my steed; one of you morons gave him that name. Thrall introduced me to him when I entered the Nexus and he just…what's the word…imprinted on me."

"Wouldn't you say the same about Nova?"

"That's a whole other ballpark I'd rather not play in right now."

"What do you have?" Kerrigan asked Rehgar.

"Right now? I'm only allowed to bring a single totem to the matches, and that's the Earthgrab totem, and I always carry that with me. As for the rest, they are at my den by the Loamdeep. There's the Windfury totem, which can harness the winds so sharp and fine they can cut like blades; you could benefit from that the most, Kerrigan. Or maybe…hmm, something like the Liquid Fury totem, where you can shoot liquid magma from the cracks sprouting deep beneath the earth; I think you would like that, Valla. Or better yet, there is the Lightning Surge totem, in which the very air itself crackles with electricity." Rehgar bared his teeth in a dog-like grin, tail wagging at their brightening expressions. "There are plenty more where that came from! The teleporters have been in working order so far since they were repaired a couple days ago, so we don't need to use my keystone to hotwire the ley line networks for quick access. Also, I haven't heard anything about any of those temporal rifts opening up, so you can…play around…to your heart's content."

Kerrigan ruffled the fur between his ears. "Thattaboy, Rehgar. You know how to win a woman's heart."

Rehgar closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, a look of pure bliss gracing his features. "Of course I do. That is one of the ways of the school of manhood!"

"We'll treat you to dinner tonight," said Valla, stroking his long neck. "How does veiled cutlet sound? Pork shank round? What about a full slab of kodo ribs slathered in slow-simmer hot barbecue sauce?"

"I like the way you think!"

"And this, ladies and gentleman, is how a dark shaman is born," said Sylvanas, sitting back on her haunches to better read the decrypted data. "Garrosh would be proud."

"We're not going to use them for nefarious reasons, woman!" said Rehgar, shaking off the physical adulation to twist his head toward her. "This is justice!"

"Oh yes, let's condone first-degree murder on a guy who felt like tempting fate by playing a prank on not only his fellow colleagues but his customers as well. You could just, you know, tear them off. Oh but that's right," she added, snapping her fingers. "Common sense is dead in the Nexus. Why chastise the poor shmuck and dock his pay when you can torture him to death?"

"Did you not get a good look at Torra?" said Kerrigan. "If we're going to put armor on an Ultralisk, that dumbass should've come to me, or even Abathur, and ask for permission to work on creating new evolutionary pathways!" Torra rumbled in agreement, stomping its front feet.

"I'll bet if Doodle got pranked, you would speak differently!" said Valla.

"Doodle does what Doodle does. That dog doesn't know when to keep his leash on. You there," Sylvanas gestured to the technician with a nod, "what's your name?"

"Me? Uh, Franklin, ma'am. Franklin Beaumont."

"Well then, Mister Beaumont, I believe I've found your culprit."

Everyone started. "You did?!"

"Who is it?"

"Have at it, Sylvanas!"

"Tell us!"

Sylvanas skimmed through the entry again. She pressed her lips, nodded. "Hmm, yes. It would appear a Mister Jamieson Pierce instructed all the active droids on the night shift to induce the beasts with a sleeping agent and ordered them to shut down the constructs. He got some of his buddies together from the Wine and Pearls tavern at the Wend and had them dress everything and the kitchen sink in fishnet stockings, pantyhose, and," she squinted, "huh, that's…interesting."

"What?! What is it?!" Franklin demanded, almost at hysterics.

Her ears swept downward, reading the sentence one more time. "…Leather chaps."

Franklin balled his hands into fists. "Jamieson! That son of a bitch! I always knew he was a trickster, but for him to go that far…!"

"They're just chaps."

"But they're not bottomless, are they?"

"They're not."

"Then that means the animals can't use their tails! The flies and zerglings would be all over them!"

Sylvanas gave him a long, hard look, one suffused with very little patience. "Mister Beaumont, it's leather. Just take them off. Give them to the tanners. Use the scraps for…I don't know…something. Don't let them go to waste."

"We can't do that! Disposing of that leather would be like putting down a sick beast all over!" Franklin's eyes welled with tears, to which he slammed them shut to stem the tide. "You don't know what it's like!"

Sylvanas' face fell into severe exasperation. "Oh my god." She heaved a long suffering sigh. "Why, oh why, do I get myself involved in these things?"

Kerrigan and Valla exchanged fierce glances. "We need to find him," said the demon hunter.

"Sylvanas, does it say anything about what his last whereabouts are after visiting the Wine and Pearls?" Kerrigan asked. "You know, don't you? Don't just sit there! Read, dammit!" She clapped her hands on Sylvanas' shoulders and leaned forward, pushing her weight on her so that the Banshee Queen's face went through the hologram and rammed up against the droid's body.

Growling, Sylvanas pushed back and sat up. "Get off me! And I've checked three times already! He and his buddies took separate portals across the Shire proper and rendezvoused back at the State of Hubland dorms."

Rehgar hummed. "State of Hubland…that's not far from here, is it?"

"You're looking at a long walk if you go by foot," said Valla. "Maybe an hour out if you decide to take the expressways via transport, but from a port?" She licked her lips and grinned. "From a port, you'll manifest right by the gates. If we can redirect the coordinates so that we're outside the school grounds, away from all that security…."

"I hear Hubland's a big fan of mine," said Kerrigan. "We can pretend we're on a, I don't know, a visit—say we just want to build relations with our sponsors. We can bring Torra, too; they like you, don't they, boy?" She gave the Ultralisk a couple pats on the back. "You can let them pet you and take pictures of you while we slip inside and introduce ourselves to Mister Pierce. Say, maybe they'll even let you be their watchdog for…hmm, how does an hour sound? We want to make sure we show him how Heroes show their appreciation." Torra grumbled and cocked his head to one side, looking up at her. "Don't worry. We'll call you when we have everything set up. I'm sure you want in on the action, too."

"Are you sure there's nothing else?" Valla asked Sylvanas.

"This is the last entry, dated last night. The rest is all technical jargon." Sylvanas sighed and closed out the windows, working her way back to the desktop. "Well, it was fun while it lasted. I'll restore this droid's original commands and then be on my way. I have more important matters to attend to than watching two women, a wolfaboo, and a critically bleeding heart go on a manhunt all over the Nexus."

"Who are you calling 'wolfaboo'?!" Rehgar snapped.

Kerrigan rolled her eyes. "Right. Because killing Nova over the most asinine things is more exciting."

"Of course. If I want to kill, I do it right away. I don't waste time like you're doing right now. He could be dicking off in some other realm for all you know."

"Hey, everyone! Sorry I'm late!" hailed a voice, young and hearty and choked with laughter. Everyone, staff and Hero, turned toward the open stable doors where a dark-skinned man in the long white and blue-lined trench coat of the Nexus Animal Welfare Society strolled into view. He was panting and doubled over, hands on knees as he tried to catch his breath. When he did, Jamieson Pierce straightened up, gracing them with a winning, toothy grin. "Oh man, did you guys see all the animals outside? Somebody put hosiery on them! It…Isn't that something? Who woulda thought of that? Boy, we better get to the bottom of this right away!"

His smile diminished slightly but did not falter at the sense of heavy disquiet. "Hey, what's wrong?" He chuckled. "This…This is serious."

"I know somebody's bottom is in serious trouble," Rehgar growled, and flashed his fangs.

"Not just his bottom," said Valla, brandishing her crossbows. "It's everywhere."

"Not even his thoughts will give him comfort," said Kerrigan, and she unfolded her wings. "Torra!" The Ultralisk snarled and opened jaws overflowing with saliva. He roared, clacked his pincers, lowered his head, and charged.

The boyish mirth Jamieson wore collapsed, replaced with a dropped jaw and pure horror. He screamed and ran in the direction he had just come in, nearly tripping over his coattails.

"GET BACK HERE AND FACE YOUR FATE LIKE A MAN!" Rehgar barked, following close behind Torra.

"It was just a joke, I swear!" Jamieson cried, tripping over his feet. He clawed back up and kept running. "I was gonna clean 'em up eventually!"

"Not soon enough!" Valla roared, and the bolt she fired plunged into the tree he had just passed. A trickle of blood spilled from the graze next to the ear and flowed down his neck. Jamieson whined and pumped his legs faster.

"You're demoted, goddammit!" Franklin yelled. "You hear me? DEMOTED! All this is coming out of your paychecks! Oof! Blargh!" He was nearly bowled over by Valla leapfrogging over him, and then as he was about to rise he was knocked flat on his ass by both the blast of air by Kerrigan's wings and the surge of psionic energy emerging from her.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't think—" He screamed, and from where Sylvanas sat she heard something akin to a firecracker exploding. It caused the interior lights to rattle and flicker.

Sylvanas was about to reactivate the droid when a series of metallic clangs went off like gunshots. She ground her teeth, biting back the urge to groan. "FLY, MY FRIENDS!" cried the technician that unlocked the gates. "TAKE BACK YOUR DIGNITY!" The Banshee Queen remained where she was, grousing as horses, battle beasts, unicorns, Billie goats, felstalkers, wolves, tigers, cloud serpents, dragons, reindeers, pigs, and a lone treasure goblin stampeded past her in an onrush of wind, dusty clouds and unswept detritus. Neighing, barking, oinking, rumbling, cackling, and bleating made a cacophonous symphony, accompanied by the angry "RABBLERABBLERABBLE!" of the rest of the staff running alongside (or, for some, riding atop) their animal companions.

A minute later, the stables were emptied. A coat of plaster, straw, and grime covered the back of her hood and cloak.

Sylvanas sucked in a breath and blew it out in a long, drawn huff. "Idiots," she said aloud. "I'm surrounded by a world full of idiots, and I'm the only one who still acts like a proper adult." She clicked her tongue. "Right then. Let's get you back in working order, seeing as I am still here," she said this to the inactive droid, and bent toward its chassis.

She was interrupted by a howling, sucking noise and the phantom sensation of many hands tugging her clothes and skin. Ears flickering, she recognized these telltale signs for what they were: a spatial rift opening. She was now long since used to sensing their immediate approach, and while the majority of Nexians were incapable of drawing on the aether, that left only two possible sources: shadowbeasts from the Realm of Darkness—and they would have no interest in inhabiting an area devoid of life to harass, attempt to possess, corrupt, and/or capture someone to convert when there was a Hero who could fight them on equal ground—or—

"Woof woof!" Or a canine bundle of white fluff that could tear through the fabric of space-time as a hobby and a way to reach his newfound master (or her friends, no matter how much she denied it) for treats, head pats, walks, and belly rubs.

Sylvanas sighed. "Hello, Doodle," she said. "I'm a little busy at the moment, but whatever it is you need I will give it to you in just a moment—" She looked at him and paused, for words failed her.

Doodle padded up to her, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth and the little stub of tail a vibrating blur. He stopped before her and brought his chest low to the ground, stretching his front legs. He arched his back and made a pleased grunt.

His lower half was swathed in black fishnet tights.

Sylvanas stared at him, mind blank yet trying to process what she was seeing. She blinked once, twice, and stared more. Doodle stared back, smiling, waiting patiently and expectantly for a word of praise and a pat between the ears.

In the distance, there was a very faint, very primal roar of triumph, and then an explosion like the cork being popped from a bottle of champagne.

Sylvanas looked behind her in that direction and pondered.

Doodle cocked his head to one side.

Sylvanas looked back at him, studying the tights around his midriff. "You don't even notice, do you? How tight that thing looks on you. No?" She sighed. "Come here, Doodle. Let me take that off before I have to start worrying about your blood circulation being cut off this early in our…relationship."

"Woof!"