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Furry Fighters (Let the Fur Fly!) Cobalt Raccoon's Part 1
This is the first part of my second attempt at a furry story (first published).
An inter-dimensional criminal escapes into a new world similar to our own, but with drastic minor differences, including their fonts. The protagonist must learn to adapt to this new world, but it's difficult without most of the abilities that he's used to. The most dangerous things that he's running from, may very well be the very world that he's run to. (20 pages long and almost 9,000 words)
The creator of this universe wishes to remain "anonymous". He's helped me write some interesting parts, but I still wish to give him credit (even if (s)he's a bit embarrassed). I based both of my furry stories in the universe that he's created and I'm proud to have done so. We're looking for a name to call this universe, since "Furry Fighters" was already taken by the video game industry. If there's any suggestions, don't hesitate.
(Rated Mature for some violence, slight language and suggestive content near the end. Please let me know if I can turn the rating down.) If male on male suggestive love is not your cup of tea, don't worry about it here and just read the story as is.
Ps. Some parts don't make as much sense due to inability to change fonts on online (undownloaded version).
As fellow human beings, it’s quite evident that there is not just one universe. You can look in one story and see the world as it was back in the 1940’s. Take another book and find that it’s 2010, but all of human societies are desolate wastelands, all but extinct. Pick up a manga over there and you’ll see the world is full of magical creatures that no one outside a certain layer can see. Next to that one is another manga with a world with ordinary humans, give or take a few exceptions. Take a look at that steam punk manga and you’ll find the world of the sixties with exceptionally advanced machines for it’s technology.
Yes, this one world contains the stories of countless others. Some good, some not so good. Very few are actually recorded where anyone can find them. Some are stashed away in computers somewhere and some are just easily lost in a passing thought. The larger majority of universes are only dreamed about, but never recorded. As a writer, it’s my job to document as many universes as I can. Or at least it was…
Among these universes are those that believe that none of the worlds should intersect, or intertwine with each other. Something like that. Some of these persons even exist on multiple plains of existence naturally. As such, rules have been put in place by these beings. For some strange reason, they made themselves enforcers of these very same rules, while also breaking them for the fun of it. There are also groups of people trapped by fate, that don’t break these rules on purpose. Not that these ‘enforcers’ care. Forgive me if I don’t name a few examples. It’s much easier to identify the entities by what they are, than what they do. Some exist in multiple groups. Even among the groups of enforcers, there are a select few of us, that purposely travel between the worlds in an attempt to make the stories come to conclusions that we’d prefer.
I am one of these people. I used to be part of a few categories of existence. Tao Minds, Identity Chimeras, and even a Writer or two. Not that these titles mean anything to you or my current story.
When I came to the world of this story, I was a wanted criminal. I broke the laws and attacked my fellow Writers (or at least their cheep imitations). These were laws punishable by fates worse than you could fathom. I came to this universe without any clue where I was running to. Well, running is not the right word there, but you get the point.
I woke up with my face down in alley water, the city sounds were clearly ringing through my head. That’s what got me up, the water not the sounds. God knows what was swimming around in that blackened filth. I certainly hoped that whoever created this universe didn’t make any special deceases that I should know about. Yet, that’s a natural haphazard when traveling universes. I remember that it was morning time and I felt like I had a hangover. Don’t get the wrong idea, I don’t drink. Heck, I’m such a lightweight that I once got drunk off mouthwash. Which is also why I don’t drink.
That’s not what worried me though. What worried me was that my true form was exposed to the daylight. I couldn’t let people see me like this. My true form is far too unique for someone not to identify me. Anyone could have seen me while I was knocked out. I hid behind one of those big industrial trash cans. I had to figure out what kind of people inhabited this world. For all I know, I could look like an ordinary drunk of this world instead of the ‘monster’ that I am. The city’s landscape looked normal to me, which should mean that it would look normal to you as well. Well, maybe a little more anime-ish, but still normal.
If I had to describe the place I landed, I’d say it was good old New York or Memphis, maybe a Los Angeles. I looked out to the streets. Normal people too, go figure. Most of them were in business suits, just walking down the street. Everyone was too busy to notice me at all. I had to pick a new form. I couldn’t go with my writer form. For one it was too monstrous. Second, if my pursuers were behind me, I couldn’t take that risk. I had to go with some kind of human form. Someone who could easily escape from whatever the situation. I didn’t have time to make a completely original one. Thinking back to my files, only one person came to mind. A character that I created for one of my own universes. No one, not even my closest friends, knew about this one.
I felt my form retract my most obvious lack in human features first, my wings and tail. I got rid of any accessories that could make me stand out. My cross and bullet necklace was something that I didn’t want to give up, but a blue handkerchief did look better. My clothes shifted a bit more uncomfortably. Torn up jeans and normal plain t-shirts aren’t easy to form with a splitting migraine, you know. His messy brown hair and bright brown eyes were a little easier. My age decreased as much as I felt it needed to. I didn’t want to be as young as the character I was impersonating. People might wonder why a ten year old was wondering the streets of the big city by himself. Sixteen ought to do for the moment. Not too young that it would raise suspicion, but not too old that the body’s limber legs wouldn’t work to my advantage.
Maybe I should explain the character that I’m impersonating. The kid’s name was and still is Rusty Mudstix. I see no reason to change the name just because he’s a little bit older. Besides, I like the name. In Japanese, the kanji for mud and sticks together is pronounce Kaitou (or Phantom Thief), of which he and I have in common. Sorry, I may be in hiding, but I’m still a punny creative writer. In his youth, Rusty became an orphan on the streets. As such, he learned how to take care of himself. He was became a master lockpick by the time he was eight. It wasn’t until he was ten that he met the main heroes of that universe. He changed his ways and decided that he’d fight along side his friends as teammates. They wouldn’t accept him at first because of his statist of civilian. That is until the enemy unlocked a hidden power within him.
I’ll get into that later on. It’s more fun that way and you don’t need to know Rusty’s whole backstory. You just need to know that I picked him because his body’s design was the most useful to me at the moment. If I were to be attacked now, Rusty’s nimble body can get away the fastest and the safest. Not that I needed to run. I had enough time to sit and wait ‘til my headache was gone. I decided to do one last thing before I finished using my godlike Writer powers for a LONG while. I materialized a backpack with all the basic essentials. If this place was like our world, then I’d have to find a place to stay. A park bench would be illegal for me to sleep on, well if there was a park in this city.
I picked up my pack and started my journey in this brand ‘new’ world. The open streets looked about normal as any city that I’ve visited in our world (among others). Everyone was trying to mind their own business and most of them are very good at doing that. I didn’t get any unusual looks from people, so I must have made a good choice. It would be easy to blend in with the background here.
I didn’t recognize most of the companies’ logos, but some of them were like spoofs to our world's. They still sold everything from sneakers to furniture in this city, they just didn’t call them Niké or Ashley Furniture. I must have been wondering around for hours before I even thought about getting food. Food, however, required money. Money wasn’t something that I thought about stashing away in my essentials.
“I wonder what kind of currency they have here,” I thought out loud as I looked up to what I assumed was this world’s version of a shopping mall. If I could just take a peak, then that would be the next thing that I could create. I shook that thought out of my head. No matter what world that I go to, I couldn’t just counterfeit. I like to earn my food. It tastes better that way.
“Hey buddy,” a huge arm landed it’s way around me, “you look lost.”
“I’m not lost,” I quickly slipped out of the arms hug, “but thanks anyway.”
I didn’t notice that the arm man had a ‘not so little friend’ with him. Taking note of my surroundings was never my strong suit. I backed into that friend right away. He didn’t take too long to grab ahold of both my shoulders. I couldn’t bring public attention to myself. I didn’t have much of a choice, but to let them lead the way. As I thought, they led me to the back alleys to do their dirty work.
There was three of them, standard thugs really. The biggest of them was on my right. The arm man stayed to my left. The third one was waiting in the alley way. He led the other two down the dark alleyway to an empty lot in between the buildings. These guys must have been using it as a hangout or something.
I’ve never been in a situation like this before. Sure, I’ve been in worse, but not as a Character. Rusty’s teenage body might be able to handle these guys, I didn’t know. The first thing that these creeps did was take my bag. Which was good, it would get in the way for what I was planning. The pair of creeps threw my supplies to the third one waiting in the backlot. He searched in it for a second, maybe looking for my wallet for easy cash or something. He’d never find it though.
“Look, I don’t have anything valuable,” I smirked at the fool, “You guys are trying to rob a hobo here.”
“Yo, Shut up, man,” the sitting thug was clearly the leader, “everybody’s got sometha’n.”
“Well, I’m not everybody.”
“Oh no…,” I didn’t like the way that guy said that. He threw my bag to the side as he got up. He got a little too close for comfort as he said the next part.
“You may not be everybody,” he grinned flirtatiously, “but you sure gots a body.”
“Oh god,” I gagged, “are you hitting on me?”
“Come on cutie,” he motioned to himself, “Don’t cha wanna be with a real man.”
“Believe me, if I did, I wouldn’t be here,” I couldn’t back up that would get me in contact with the other two.
“Come on, why do you’s gotta be so cold.”
“Cause I don’t swing that way.”
The thugs laughed their little heads off at that comment. I felt a little out of the loop about what was so funny. The leader continued to smile as wide as a crooked politician, “who saids we’s giv’n yous a choice.”
“Oh, you always have a choice,” I smiled, “Like how I chose to come with you guys and how I chose to do it quietly without raising suspicion. And why I choose to-”
That’s when I kicked him straight down the line. Unfortunately, he caught it in time. I wasn’t quick enough to hit my target.
“Well,” I clicked my tongue, as I tried to free my caught foot, “that didn’t work.”
“Geo,” the leader signaled the thug on my right to take a swing at me.
I ducked by bending my body backwards and Geo hit ‘Lefty’ square in the chest. I quickly took this opportunity to use my other foot to kick the leader’s side. He dropped my other foot, so I made a dash for the other side of the lot. I couldn’t take these guys head on. They weren’t as dumb as I thought they’d be. I reached into my pocket for my ace in the hole. As I turned back around the thugs were too close on my tail. (That’s figuratively not literally.) I had to get as much space away from them as I could.
“You know, usually I’m flattered when people think I’m cute,” I jumped to higher ground using the crates, “but getting kicked in the family jewels usually means that I’m really not interested.”
I got the cellphone that I was carrying out as Geo smashed his fist into the crate directly under mine. Rusty’s body certainly wasn’t, for lack of a better word, rusty. I flipped down and landed safely before the crate gave way. At least as safe as I could be at the moment.
“Why are yous making dis so difficult,” the three of them pounded their fists into their hands, “Alls I want’s a new man fa my-”
“Stay back or I’ll call the cops.”
“The what,” this confused them for a minute.
“You know, the cops,” I listed as they shook their heads no, “the police? The po po? The bolts? The pigs? Guys in blue?”
“You’re going to call blue clothed pigs on us,” Lefty questioned.
“No, if I was going to call your mother, I’d just say that.”
“Hey,” Lefty shouted as Geo laughed in a deep voice, “Geo!”
“Look,” I shrugged, “you set yourself up for that one.”
“He’s right… hehe you did,” Geo laughed as he agreed with me.
“Enough,” the leader silenced the other two, deciding that he’d flirt with me some more, “now gets yourself over here and give daddy a kiss, cutie.”
“That’s it,” I stuck my finger up at them, “you want cute, I’ll give you Cute.”
Like I said before, Rusty had a hidden power in him. Since I was now him, I could also use his hidden power. I quickly dialed the numbers 2-5-8-0, while reciting the required mantra, “Call up my soul!” I posed the phone in front of me, shouting, “Connection!” A shining blue raccoon escaped from the cell and scared the thugs back.
This shining apparition is Rusty’s soul. Well, this one was my soul too. The raccoon zipped back around and dove it’s way into my chest. Once it entered my body, I guess what happened next could be best described as a “Magical Girl” moment.
No, I’m not a girl! It’s just as close of a description as I could get.
One second, I was Rusty. The next second, I was a black and blue armored version of Rusty. The armor made me look like I was going to go extreme roller blading, complete with a helmet and visor. I had a unique golden >†< symbol on my blue plated chest and the alchemic symbol for Cobalt on the forehead of my helmet in blue. My ears were gone and in their place were black raccoon ears poking through the top of the helmet. I had a long raccoon tail flowing out from my backside. Everything else about me was standard human, “Rusty”.
I reached up to catch the character’s signature weapon forming above my head. I swung it around my body as I finished Rusty’s mantra.
“Like a thief in the night, I’ve come to steal back your soul,” I did the finishing pose, just for fun, “Kaitou Cobalt Raccoon!”
The three of them looked at me funny. I mean, hensin transformations aren’t exactly something you see everyday to begin with. And my current transformation, wasn’t exactly a normal transformation either. Certainly people would look at me like I was a freak. And yet, that’s not what freaked them out the most.
“Oh jeeze,” Lefty fell flat on his butt, “He’s a furry!?!”
“I ain’t mess’n with no furry,” the leader was the first to run away, “I’m outta here.”
The three of them ran off as if the alley had caught fire. I watched them trip over each other as they ran off. I stood there for a few seconds, to process what they were yelling about. When it finally hit me, I went on a bit of a tantrum.
“Hey, get back here you cowards,” I hopped like a Neanderthal, “I haven’t even had a chance to warm up! Get back here and fight me like real thugs would! You’re all nothing but lilly-livered stinking posers!”
I waited for them to come back, but they didn’t. They were seriously freaked out by a furry. Of all things, a furry. Big intimidating musclebound brutes are afraid of a little raccoon cosplayer. Well, this wasn’t just cosplaying, but they couldn’t have known that. Even with the transformation sequence, I was still shorter than them and weaker (physically) than them. The most intimidating thing that Cobalt had was that clawed stick that looks like I stole it from a giant claw machine.
“Maybe I’m not as cute in this form as I thought,” I flashed back to being regular old Rusty and put the soul-phone (yes, that’s what it’s called) back in my pocket. I slowly went over to retrieve my bag. Those idiots ruined at least half of my supplies. Well, I wasn’t planning to brush my teeth anyway. I took a look down the alley they ran down, “You could have at least dropped some cash for me and my troubles!”
I didn’t even know why I was bothering to yell at them. Being the background is hard enough for us Writers. We’re naturally addicted to attention. We are used to being in the heads of the protagonists and the antagonists. To be everyone and everything of importance, not the one person in the background that is never mentioned outside of the group tense. Heck. the background is something that usually forms itself without any help from a Writer. This was like trying to hide a tree in a forest, except the tree is ripe with fruit and the forest is evergreen.
But enough about the petty details, let’s get back to the story…
I took my time to put myself together. I bumped up couple of a few years and changed my shirt the old fashioned way. I liked green better than plain white any day. The handkerchief was getting uncomfortable too, so I put it in my bag. I’m used to being attacked, but that was by far the weirdest way for me to have gotten attacked. I’ve been attacked by (and in turn attacked as) giant monsters, devious devils, and even a polymorphic blob, but not one of them wanted to force their love on others.
When I felt that I was ready, I left the back alley. I considered staying in that dead end as a home, but I wanted to weigh some more options first. That and I might draw the overseeing Writer’s attention, if I hadn’t already. I still needed something to eat, so that mall was my next destination. I certainly hoped that they were nicer than the last inhabitants that I met.
The mall was almost bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. The glass windows across the front let in enough light that the all the stores three stories up didn’t need to turn on their display lights. The fountain in the main lobby was a whole story high and the water danced half a story higher than that. I couldn’t even fathom who could have designed it. It made the Trevi Fountain look like it was made by a three year old in comparison. A few happy families were posing and taking pictures in front of the fountain. Those families were clearly visitors from out of town and this fountain really was as fantastic as I thought it was. The other people around knew exactly where they were going and how to get there.
If I wanted information, I’d have to ask the people who were too busy to notice the fountain. Although, it might be more fun to do what I did.
“Excuse me,” I walked up to a family of three (standard mom, dad, and their young boy) that finished retrieving their camera, “I’m a little lost. Could you point me to where I can find a map?”
“Sure. In fact…,” the father dug into his black fabric briefcase and quickly unfolded a map, “you can borrow ours for a second.”
“Honey, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” the mother clearly didn’t think that I looked trustworthy.
“Would you just relax,” the man continued to smile as he pointed on the map, “See we’re right about here: at the Ravaflow Mall.”
“Woah,” I couldn’t read the type on the map, I knew it to be ‘english’, but the lettering was drastically different from our world’s. Here’s a sample:
Denejlom Well.
It says “Ravaflow Mall”, can’t you tell?
“Something wrong,” the father asked.
“Dear,” his wife whined at him to get him moving. He shushed her in response.
“No,” I shook my head, lying, “I just forgot that I needed my glasses. Long sighted. So where can I find the, oh tip of my tongue. Very specific bed’n breakfast thing.”
“The Platypus Suites,” the father asked, sounded expensive.
“No, smaller than that,” I snapped my fingers, pretending that I was trying to remember.
“Aye, then you’re referring to the Finalis Hotel.”
“That might be it,” I nodded, “Which way from here?”
“Well, let me see,” the man looked at the map again, flipping it over as he spoke, “We’re here. The Tretpop Industry building is back out that door. So, it’s about three streets in that direction.”
“Great, thanks,” I shook the man’s hand, “one more thing. Do you know if there’s a good food court in here?”
“Not the best in the world, but there’s decent Italiano at the Phichilli’s.”
“Sweetheart, we’re going to be late for the game if we don’t go now,” the wife said.
“Oh, it’s that late already,” the husband looked at his watch, “I’m sorry, we’ve got to go. There’s a MapCrest near the Phichilli’s. Good luck to you.”
“Thank you,” I waved as I made my way deeper inside the Mall, “I hope Italiano is like Italian. I could use some garlic bread.”
It wasn’t until a few seconds later that I realized, “shoot, I’m still broke.”
I needed a job from someone who could hire me right away. A thousand ideas popped through my head, most of them were out of the question. I refused to break the law. No matter how small it seemed. That’s when I saw it, turned out Italiano was this world’s version of Italian food. I could smell the spices from a dozen stores over, even over all the other food court selections. Should I be worried that it looked exactly like a fast food restaurant and there was no line? I think not.
I walked up to the woman at the counter, a cute brunet with a pony tail. The uniform that these people had to wear was a green and black vertical striped shirts and a black hat with the company’s logo on it. She smiled that fake smile that they were required to use. Her enthusiasm was sickening to me. Let’s just say that smiley people make me a little uncomfortable.
“Hello, welcome to Phichili’s. My name is Chelsea,” she spoke with one of those high perky voices, “Our special today is the Lasagna Lumaché with your choice of over fourty side cheeses and one of our fifteen fine wines ”
“Do I look old enough for wine?”
“I don’t understand the question, sir,” Chelsea kept that smile on her face while she said that.
“You mean there’s no age limit?”
“Well, we do advise our adult and teenage customers to drink responsibly,” Chelsea tilted her head at me, before smiling again, “what would you like today.”
“Truthfully, a job that’s willing to pay me in food.”
“Well, none of that is available here,” Chelsea said oh so perkily.
“How much for water then?”
“Free if you’re in prison,” Chelsea joked with that same perky tone, “would you like me to have security make a reservation?”
“Look,” I was about to lie my figurative tail off here, while showing her my bag, “I’m new in town. Some creeps stole my things. I got them back, but my wallet is gone. I have nothing to pay you with and I’ve got low blood sugar. This has never happened to me before and… and…”
I started huffing like I’ve seen some diabetics do when their sugar was low. I forced myself to cry a little bit. I kept a look out for anyone who might resemble a security guard, but (like I said before) I’m not good at being completely aware of my surroundings.
“Sir, are you okay,” she stopped smiling at least.
“God, I don’t even know what to do,” I faked braking down, “I should have never come here! I don’t know anyone, I get harassed by thugs and I get treated like a common criminal.”
Chelsea was a bit distressed now that I was making a bigger scene. She waved her arms in the air, to signal the crowd that she could handle the situation. I didn’t catch a white suited officer (who figured that they wear white instead of blue) coming our way.
“I’m sorry,” I bowed to the woman in apology, (which is multiversally recognize form of respect) and started my way, “I’m so sorry to bother you, miss. I’ll just try somewhere else.”
“Oh god,” Chelsea pity sighed as she made a choice, “Look, I go on break in ten minutes. Think your blood sugar can last until then?”
“No, don’t bother I…,” I said as I accidentally tripped for real and landed in this world’s version of a policeman’s arms.
“Don’t worry, I gotcha lad,” he said with an Irish accent.
“Ah, don’t hurt me,” I swung my bag to land in my chest.
“Whoa laddie,” the officer stood me up straight again, “I’m not gonna hurt chá.”
“That’s what those creeps said,” I had to keep up my act, course actually being hungry and harassed before helped.
“Let’s get some food in ya, lad,” the officer moved me back to the counter, “then ya can tell me all ‘bout these ‘creeps’.”
“Just something small,” I bit my lip, “I’ll pay you back anyway I can.”
“Don’t chá be worry’n about that,” he pat me on the back, “I had my fair trouble adjusting to the city life meself, lad.”
The officer respected my wishes to just get something small, a cheesy bread kid’s meal. It wasn’t much, but it came with a toy and (thank the Writer) no wine. The officer stayed with me like glue. He led me all the way to our table and we sat in silence until I had gotten at least one breadstick devoured. He asked me the standard questions for mugging victims. What’s your name? (He didn’t laugh, which meant it was a normal name here.) How old are you? How much did they take? Where did it happen? Could you describe the assailants? I didn’t really have to describe them. Like I said, the background tends to write itself. I also meant that quite literally as well. Besides that, I told him most of the truth, except for one small detail about what had “saved me.”
“And then,” I paused for dramatic effect. Well, that and a drink of milk, “no, never mind. I had to be delusional about that.”
“About what, lad?”
“I think there was this guy in blue armor and he just appeared out of no where. When those three saw him they screamed,” I mimicked the thugs’ voices, “like, ‘ah, it’s a furry!’ and ‘I ain’t messing with no furry!’ And then they ran off.”
“A furry, you say,” the officer scratched his chin, “my that is unusual.”
“I know right,” I nodded as I consumed my last cheesy bread, “I had to of imagined it.”
“Furries usually don’t go vigilante,” the officer looked at me more seriously than he did when I described the thugs to him, “what did he look like?”
“You can’t be serious,” I said while thinking, ‘he must be messing with me.’
“As a heart attack,” the officer turned to a new page on his notepad, “did you at least see what species he was? What level furry was it? Male, female or otherwise. Any special markings or color schemes?”
‘He is serious,’ I thought, and answered, “I don’t know… it all happened so fast.”
“You’re not just saying that just to protect him.”
“I swear on my life that I’m not protecting anyone else at this moment,” I didn’t lie. I wasn’t anyone else, “so I wasn’t hallucinating?”
“What, you’ve never seen a furry before, lad?”
“I’m certainly not used to seeing them.”
“Laddie, where have you been for da las’ hundred years? You need ta get some culture inta ya.”
“Obviously, he meant walking around town agent,” I overheard Chelsea from behind me, “sorry, I couldn’t help, but overhear.”
“HI, um, I’m sorry about earlier. I got scared,” I turned to look at her. She no longer had that plastered smile on her face. She was on break, just like she said that she was going to be. As such, she had brought her own tray of food.
“Mind if I sit here,” she asked as I nodded, “great, I don’t want to miss today’s Game.”
“What game?” This was the second time that I heard about some kind of game.
“So yar a fan as well,” the officer laughed a hardy laugh, “got a vidscreen, lass?”
“Of course,” Chelsea reached into her purse and pulled out a miniature monitor. It flipped out it’s own stand. It grew to be about 8 inches wide and automatically flipped on to the right channel. It displayed a man in a costume that I’ve only seen in animes. Behind him was a coliseum that reminded me of a combination of the gladiator’s and an English palace. The crowd cheered loudly in their seats.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the announcer shouted almost immediately on the screen, “Are you ready to let the fur fly!”
“What luck,” Chelsea started to shovel her food into her mouth, “Just in time.”
“Then let’s get started,” the announcer posed from his stand, “today’s match is what all you’ve all been waiting for. The world renowned horseman, Valiant Galahad verses the world infamous jackrabbit, Ripper De Beauregard!”
The screen then split with a VS emblem between the two. The warrior’s names and stats were displayed under their pictures. Galahad was displayed on the left and Riper on the right. I did a spit take when I saw them.
First there’s Galahad, he was a white centaur warrior that looked like he belonged in the Trojan War. He even had wings attached to the sides of his helmet and he had the long face of a horse. His eyes could still look forward, but they could split his vision (like a chameleon) if he wanted to. He carried an equally ridiculous winged sword. Ripper was a lot less flashy. It was as if he was imitating Jack the Ripper from our world. He kept most of his features under a dark cloak. If it wasn’t for the long brown ears prolonging from under that huge hat of his, I’d never tell that he wasn’t human.
The announcer continued by going through scenes of their earlier fights. There was a huge variety of Furries fighting with these two. Despite Ripper’s villainous assassin feel, I actually liked his style. He kept a wide variety of weapons hidden under his cloak. He used a different one in every fight and he was fast. Galahad’s style was different. It was the same every time. Be it a sword, mace, or hammer, he’d only charge in and swing his weapon. He was fast too. The only equivalent would be an actual jousting knight on horseback.
“So who are ya rooting for lass?”
“Galahad, who else,” Chelsea sighed, “he’s so big and strong.”
“Yeah, that’s all anybody cares about, isn’t it,” I rolled my eyes, “typical girl’s choice.”
“I don’t be suppose’n that you’re a Ripper fan lad,” the officer looked at me as if he caught me stealing gold from Forte Knox. Chelsea gave me the dagger eyes.
“Um, I wouldn’t say that,” I said.
“Course ya wouldn’t laddie,” he smiled knowingly, “no woman lov’n man alive and in their right mind would pick Ripper over Galahad… especially with one of his fangirls with’n spit’n distance.”
“Galahad’s going to cut Ripper down to size once and for all,” Chelsea cheered.
“Not if Ripper doesn’t have a nasty trick hidden up his sleeves,” the officer pointed his finger up, “Which the dastardly scoundrel usually does.”
“He certainly has that feel to him…”
“No matter what tricks he uses, he’ll never beat Galahad,” Chelsea announced.
“I think not,” I mumbled to myself.
“What was that?”
“Galahad is clearly all show with the same headstrong strategy,” I explained, “I’d stake my life on Ripper’s plan.”
“Your life ye say, lad,” the officer crossed his arms, “And what makes ya think that he has a plan? Near’s I can tell he’s just been lucky pick’n random weapons ‘nd not kill’n any one.”
“Oh, he’s got a plan alright,” I suddenly got an idea, “can I borrow your pen and pad?”
“Sure. Why do you want them, lad,” the officer handed me the items.
“You’ll see,” I quickly wrote down as much information and as fast as I could. When I was done, I folded up the paper so that no one could see, “here you go. Don’t read it.”
“Would you mind telling me what all this is about, lad.”
“Just don’t read it until after Ripper wins,” I smiled to myself.
“Quiet, both of you,” Chelsea shushed, she really wasn’t paying mind to either of us, “it’s starting…”
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the announcer did his job flawlessly, “Are you ready to let the fur fly!”
The Rosecrete Coliseum audience cheered with a thunderous roar. The kind of sight that you’d normally see at a baseball game. The workers double checked the holoshield systems for any glitches. This was a world wide event between the reigning champions of several regions. They didn’t know how dangerous this fight was going to be. One of the competitors was known for being unpredictable. While the other one’s last battle involved a large amount of explosive powers. They had to rate the level as Ω, just in case.
“Then let’s get started,” the announcer posed from his stand, “today’s match is what all you’ve all been waiting for. The world renowned horseman, Valiant Galahad verses the world infamous jackrabbit, Ripper De Beauregard!”
The competitors entered the field in their human forms, however, that’s something that only the paying audience gets to see. Those watching the fight live or otherwise would only see pictures of their Furry forms. The announcer knew that. He also knew that the screens were about to review scenes from previous fights. He had to be certain that he kept to the script for this part. His reputation as an announcer was on the line and on live TV.
One, a thirty year old, had short nearly white blond hair and a goatee. He was all clean cut as if he was a super model. The man was dressed as a fancy rich boy from the waist up. This means a white business suit and a bright yellow tie. From the waist down he was covered by a long white kilt and he had no shoes.
“On the left field we have the brave and dashing Valiant Galahad. Born in the mountainous regions of Desmond, the great Valiant was raised around the horses and had been taken in by their beauty and strength. His battle style is a wonderfully beautiful charge to rundown his opponents. With his healing abilities, he’s able to completely wipe out the strongest of foes and come out looking as magnificent as ever,” the announcer nearly gagged as he finished listing the qualities. He knew the guy. He’s not nearly as majestic as he tries to make himself out to be.
Valiant took this time to transform into his silver armored centaur form. He threw away his kilt when his front pair of legs had grown in fully. His helmet and armor had winged designs throughout. Everything about him was white or silver now. Unlike the centaur of most myths, he had an equine head attached to his human shoulders. The Centaur called forth his Silver Wing sword. Valiant’s entire design was for that very clean image. It did a very good job at hiding his almost barbaric version of fighting.
The announcer cleared his throat and moved on to the next fighter. The other side had a twenty something year old. He was not nearly as hansom as the other, but he wasn’t even close to hideous either. He had normal clothes on that look like they were bought at a charity store. Everything about this competitor was normal and average. He didn’t wave to the audience or even acknowledge their existence. He was focused completely on the fight at hand. Not that it mattered if he didn't. None of them were cheering for him, most of his fans actually enjoyed to boo him.
“On the right field,” the announcer did his best not to sound biased in any way, “We have the one that goes by many other names. The Bloody Byron. The Ascending Assassin. And my favorite, the Jackknife Jackrabbit. He’s the one and only Infamous Ripper De Beauregard. In a constant veil of mystery, Ripper is known for his shady techniques and surprise attacks. Will his deception be enough to trick the…”
The announcer paused for a split second, he couldn’t believe this, “the great Valiant Galahad.” As the cameras were off of him to record the crowd, he turned to question his side crew, “Hey, it’s hard enough trying to sound unbiased without you jerks writing this sh-”
The announcer stopped in time to get back to his job. Ripper didn’t want to waste any time preparing for this match. He closed his eyes for his shift into his furry form. First he stretched his long legs as he change into a brown jackrabbit morph in an assassin’s uniform. He then summoned his signature cloak and long brimmed hat. It was all a nearly spontaneous change. He chose his the weapon for this battle last and summoned it under his cloak.
“So now that we have gotten to know our competitors,” the Announcer jumped onto a floating stage as it rose up above the battlefield, “Fighters on your marks, Get set, Let the fur Flyyyyy!”
“I’m coming for you, Ripper,” Valiant Galahad pointed his sword at his cloaked opponent, before kneeling down in a centaurian version of starting position, “Have at the!”
As if an invisible bullet was shot, the silver armored centaur charged at full force. Ripper stood his ground, all while the centaur was yelling at the top of his lungs. Calahad swung his long sword upwards, Ripper dove to the right. Calahad’s centaurian body was unable to stop or turn nearly as quickly as Ripper. As he back skipped from the centaur, Ripper threw his arms out then quickly returned them back. He repeated this motion several dozen times, but no one took note of it. Most people took it as him running away in fear.
Some people noticed that Ripper wasn’t holding anything. Valiant certainly couldn’t see anything. He took note of Valiant was able to turn and begin his second charge. Ripper leaped in a more zigzag motion. Valiant stopped as he watched Ripper do this.
“You can’t avoid my sword forever cretin,” the centaur boasted, “You’re expanding too much energy just leaping around like that.”
Ripper stopped after a bit. He landed a bit shakily and was breathing hard. Valiant scuffed the dirt like a bull, he wanted the whole world to know that he was about to charge, “Now you’re mine!”
Valiant started headlong into the field again. That’s when the unbelievable happened. Valiant’s horse legs tripped over each other. The centaur rolled over twice, dropped his sword and fell flat on his face. At the very instant that Ripper saw Valiant was falling, he dropped his act and took off again. Ripper quickly encircled the centaur before Valiant realized what was going on. It a few short moments, Valiant was no longer able to move his body how he wanted. When he jerked one direction, another part of him moved. It was as if Ripper had put some kind of curse on him.
When Ripper finished his movements, Valiant was now hog tied on his side without the ability to move at all. Ripper now stood at Valiant’s back. Valiant didn’t understand what was happening until the rabbit circled a hand around the horse head. Valiant caught sight and felt the tug of a very thin, but extremely strong wire. The weapon that Ripper had chosen was Spider’s Line.
Spider’s Line is a handy tool that is able to generate a spider’s thread seeming out of nothing. It’s normally used for securing heavy metal objects while also causing no physical damage to them. There were as many brands of Spider’s Line as there were spiders. It didn’t matter what brand it was, no one (not even furries) could break the wire with their strength alone. The only tool that is able to cut it is the Spider’s Oil Knife that is included attached to the Spider’s Line Ejector.
“Now do you surrender,” Ripper tightened the line to make his point, “Or shall I choke you until you faint?”
Admitting defeat would surly be a worse sting than death to Valiant, especially since he lost to someone like Ripper. Still he mumbled, “i submit…”
“I’m sorry, the ref didn’t catch that,” Ripper winced his eyes as he tightened the thread a little.
“I said that I submit! You’ve beaten me,” Valiant shouted out loud for the entire stadium to hear. In response, Ripper cut and released the wire from its ejector. Even under all the booing and hissing that ensued afterwords, Ripper felt the need to do one last thing to teach the hardy fool a lesson in humility.
“That’s a nice Horsey,” Ripper smacked Valiant’s horse rump, “It was fun taming your wild ass.”
Valiant growled deeply at this. Plans of revenge were running through his head, but he still couldn't move. It would take an hour for his crew to untangle the horse from the Spider' Line. Even if he could move, the match was officially over. He already lost. He’ll have to get him next time.
“Well, that was a little more than disappointing…,” the announcer mumbled under his breath, before getting back to his job, “And that’s it for this Game. Sorry folks. I’m being informed that refunds for a partial amount will be returned to you. Just slid you ticket card on you way out and 60% of your well earned Blambers will be returned to your accounts.”
“I can’t believe this,” Chelsea nearly threw her vidscreen across the food court, “that wasn’t even worth my break to see.”
“What did I tell you,” I couldn’t help but smile.
“Okay, lad. So Ripper won,” the officer waved the folded up piece of paper in the air, “Do I get to read it now.”
“Sure, if you’re willing to make a bet with me.”
“You know beting’s illegal,” he answered, while tapping his badge, “and you know that I’m a security officer, right lad?”
“Not if there’s no money to bet,” I said as I emptied my pockets, putting the only item (the soulphone) in my pocket to the side, “of which I don’t.”
“Interesting point,” the officer nodded, “go on…”
“I bet both of you that I knew exactly what Ripper was planing and that he’d win using that strategy.”
“Oh, is that what this is, lado,” the officer smiled widely as he waved the paper again, “but go suppose’n that I destroy this little paper and you were right.”
“Then you’d never know,” I smiled reaching out for the officer to hand me the folded paper. He complied.
“No, there’s no way that you could have possibly predicted what Ripper was going to do,” Chelsea pointed an angry finger at me.
“The proofs on the paper,” I said, unfolding it.
“I still say you couldn’t have,” Chelsea turned her nose as she said the words that I wanted to hear, “if you did, then I’ll give you free lunches for a year.”
“Then read it and weep,” I slammed the paper down on the table.
The two of them looked at the paper where I wrote the following:
“Ripper wins by tricking Galahad into a trap. While RIpper dodges Galahad’s attacks, he will set up the trap. Galahad will go running head on into it. Once caught, his legs will be tied up and he will be forced to forfeit.”
“What is this nonsense,” Chelsea picked up the paper and tilted it a few times.
“I wrote that before the match began and I gave the only copy to him.”
“This is ridiculous,” Chelsea slapped the paper back on the table.
“You can read it a thousand times, but you still have to admit that I was right.”
“No, I can’t,” Chelsea looked at me like I was nuts.
“It’s not that hard, just say, ‘I admit’ and I’ll let you off-”
“No laddie,” the officer interrupted me as he placed his hand on my shoulder, “What the lass means is that she can’t read your note.”
“What,” I read the paper through a couple of times, “But it’s right there in black and white.”
“It may be there in black and white, but we still can’t read your handwriting, lad.”
I don’t have a messy handwriting. I did write the correct prediction and I made certain that everyone knew that I wasn’t pulling a trick. What I didn’t count on however, was the drastic difference in our basic fonts. What they read looked more like this in their eyes:
“Jibbaj mius ph tjickiud deleyeq iuto e tjeb. Myila Jibbaj qoqdas deleyeg’s ettecks, ya mill sat nb tya tred. deleyeq mill do jnuuiud yaeq ou iuto it. Ouca cendyt, yis lads mill tiaq nd euq pa jocaq to jojait.”
See my dilemma here?
“Darn my bad handwriting,” I threw the paper to the side, “and I was looking forward to a year of free lunches.”
Luckily, the officer took it as a joke and laughed. I decided to follow his example. Chelsea on the other hand, didn’t see what was so funny.
“You know, I really wasn’t going to give you any food.”
“Don’t worry lass,” the officer motioned for Chelsea to calm down, “the lad is a cheep date.”
My stomach churned, “did you have to say it like that? It makes it sound like we're a couple.”
“Oh, sorry laddie,” the officer tipped his hat and slipped the paper into his notepad, “well, i best be getting back to work. Good day, Lad. Miss.”
“Good day,” Chelsea and I said together.
“Which reminds me that my breaks almost over,” Chelsea picked up the mess of papers and placed them on the tray, “I need to get back to work, um. You know, after all this commotion I didn’t even catch your name.”
“Mudstix,” I reach to shake her hand, “Rusty Mudstix.”
“Chelsea Seabout (Pronounced /sēˈbout/),” she returned the gesture.
“Look, I really do need a job,” I admitted to her, “I’m completely broke thanks to those jerks in the allyway.”
“What about your parents? Can’t you call them on that thing,” Chelsea pointed to the Soulphone. I quickly snatched it before she could touch it.
“No, not unless it gets a better signal,” I faked a frown, while telling the truth, “I don’t think that it can reach other planes of existence.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Chelsea figured that I meant that they were dead, when in fact, all four of them are still alive and kicking, “for how long?”
“Long enough. I have my pack and my phone, but nothing else. Heck, I don’t even have anyone to call.”
“Well, tell you what,” Chelsea got out her pen and wrote on a napkin, “this is my number. I get off work in four hours. Call me and I’ll take you somewhere safe you can go.”
“Gee thanks,” I said, while wondering why she was being so nice all of the sudden.
“Just try not to loose it,” she winked as she handed me the napkin.
“Okay,” I nodded, then realized something, “can I ask you one more thing?”
“If it’s quick.”
“Would it be rude if I called you, SeaSea?”
That got her laughing, “No, but I’ve got to warn you: only my good friends get to call me Cici.”
“What are we going to do boss,” ‘Lefty’ from earlier whined, “that furry wasn’t affected by your charisma, like he's supposed to.”
“Fo’ starta’s, Don’t cha whine about it, a’ight,” the boss brought ‘Lefty’ in close by the chin, “real men don’t whine.”
“Real men don’t whine,” Lefty repeated for his master.
“Good boy,” the boss leaned back into Geo (of whom’s lap he was sitting on as if he was part of the chair) while still holding onto Lefty’s chin, “there’s gonna be a problem if my power ain’t absolute.”
“But it is, boss,” Lefty wanted to get closer, to be useful to his master and not fail him again, “I still need you to take me.”
“We need to expand our territory,” the boss released Lefty from his grip, “I can’t do dat if you’s still here instead of get’n me more men.”
“But then we’d have to share you with them.”
“Did I just hear yous disagree with me,” the boss snapped, “don’t I always make yous and Geo here happy?”
“Yes boss,” Lefty started to act a little more like a drug addict going into withdrawal, “I’m happy because of you.”
“Well, when I has my harem, yous has ta learn ta share with all yours brothers,” the boss had to drill his instructions, his influence in, “Sharing makes me happy. ‘nd what makes me happy will makes yous happy too. Ain’t that right?”
“Yes, boss,” Lefty started to smile, that charm of the boss’s was better than any drug he had before they met, “sharing you makes me happy, because it makes you happy.”
“Good,” the boss smiled, “now find me someone new fo’ us ta share, I needs me some virgin ass.”
“Yes boss,” Lefty bowed, several times as he backed out the door, “right away. I’ll find you someone real young too.”
“Not too young, or he'll be useless to us,” the boss shouted after Lefty had left. He then looked up at the blank face of his ‘chair’, “Yous sure been quiet, Geo. Someth’n wrong?”
“Ne-ve-ver b-b-b-boss,” Geo stuttered, his face twitched as he spoke.
“Still resisting huh, big boy,” the boss slipped off Geo’s lap and stood up to face Geo in the eyes, “Don’t cha worry ‘bout dat. Yous is my favorite, ya know?”
Geo shakily nodded his head.
“Course ya know,” the boss ran his fingers down Geo’s chin, “yous my first and de best. After I maked yous so strong, I ain’t eva let’n yous go.”
“Yes, b-b-boss,” Geo said, forcing out his words.
“Yet alls that strength ‘n yous still can’t help, but do what I want,” the boss sneered as he hated that Geo, despite his submission outside of his trance state, still resisted on some deep level that the boss hasn’t found yet, “so why ain’t yous as devoted ta ‘n happy with me as yous brother is?”
Geo couldn’t answer for a few moments, “I don’t know, b-b-boss.”
“Don’ts I make yous so strong? Don’ts I always make you happy too?”
“Always,” Geo said without a moment’s hesitation, “Always, b-b-boss.”
“Then act like it,” the boss slapped Geo across the face, “I do this cause I cares ‘bout yous Geo. Now smile cause yous so happy.”
Still Geo didn’t smile, nor stopped stuttering. This interrogation went on for almost an hour. By then, Lefty had found and brought two new brothers for his boss to induct into the fold. The first was already ruined by Lefty. The second was brought in using the first’s help. Lefty got scolded for his mistake, as the two new brothers were rewarded for their devotions. After all, they’ll now get to be real men. Real men as defined by the boss.
After many hours of having his fun, the boss still worried about that furry. What if his power just didn’t work on furries? What if the furry figured that out? What if the agents were told before he had completed his goals? He couldn’t let anyone figure out his secret. The furry must be found. Whether that furry joins his brotherhood or not was irrelevant. The boss will have his harem and nobody, not even the security agents or any of those freaky furries, would get in his way…
To Be Continued…
An inter-dimensional criminal escapes into a new world similar to our own, but with drastic minor differences, including their fonts. The protagonist must learn to adapt to this new world, but it's difficult without most of the abilities that he's used to. The most dangerous things that he's running from, may very well be the very world that he's run to. (20 pages long and almost 9,000 words)
The creator of this universe wishes to remain "anonymous". He's helped me write some interesting parts, but I still wish to give him credit (even if (s)he's a bit embarrassed). I based both of my furry stories in the universe that he's created and I'm proud to have done so. We're looking for a name to call this universe, since "Furry Fighters" was already taken by the video game industry. If there's any suggestions, don't hesitate.
(Rated Mature for some violence, slight language and suggestive content near the end. Please let me know if I can turn the rating down.) If male on male suggestive love is not your cup of tea, don't worry about it here and just read the story as is.
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Ps. Some parts don't make as much sense due to inability to change fonts on online (undownloaded version).
Furry Fighters!
Let the Fur Fly!
____________________________________
Prelude & (Part 1) “New Beginnings in a Nameless World”
Universe’s Concept and Original Story-line by “Anonymous Writer”
Documenter of the following is “Cobalt Raccoon”
____________________________________________________
As a Warning: "Persons attempting to find a Motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a Moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a Plot in it will be shot." - Mark Twain
______________________________________________________________________
As fellow human beings, it’s quite evident that there is not just one universe. You can look in one story and see the world as it was back in the 1940’s. Take another book and find that it’s 2010, but all of human societies are desolate wastelands, all but extinct. Pick up a manga over there and you’ll see the world is full of magical creatures that no one outside a certain layer can see. Next to that one is another manga with a world with ordinary humans, give or take a few exceptions. Take a look at that steam punk manga and you’ll find the world of the sixties with exceptionally advanced machines for it’s technology.
Yes, this one world contains the stories of countless others. Some good, some not so good. Very few are actually recorded where anyone can find them. Some are stashed away in computers somewhere and some are just easily lost in a passing thought. The larger majority of universes are only dreamed about, but never recorded. As a writer, it’s my job to document as many universes as I can. Or at least it was…
Among these universes are those that believe that none of the worlds should intersect, or intertwine with each other. Something like that. Some of these persons even exist on multiple plains of existence naturally. As such, rules have been put in place by these beings. For some strange reason, they made themselves enforcers of these very same rules, while also breaking them for the fun of it. There are also groups of people trapped by fate, that don’t break these rules on purpose. Not that these ‘enforcers’ care. Forgive me if I don’t name a few examples. It’s much easier to identify the entities by what they are, than what they do. Some exist in multiple groups. Even among the groups of enforcers, there are a select few of us, that purposely travel between the worlds in an attempt to make the stories come to conclusions that we’d prefer.
I am one of these people. I used to be part of a few categories of existence. Tao Minds, Identity Chimeras, and even a Writer or two. Not that these titles mean anything to you or my current story.
When I came to the world of this story, I was a wanted criminal. I broke the laws and attacked my fellow Writers (or at least their cheep imitations). These were laws punishable by fates worse than you could fathom. I came to this universe without any clue where I was running to. Well, running is not the right word there, but you get the point.
I woke up with my face down in alley water, the city sounds were clearly ringing through my head. That’s what got me up, the water not the sounds. God knows what was swimming around in that blackened filth. I certainly hoped that whoever created this universe didn’t make any special deceases that I should know about. Yet, that’s a natural haphazard when traveling universes. I remember that it was morning time and I felt like I had a hangover. Don’t get the wrong idea, I don’t drink. Heck, I’m such a lightweight that I once got drunk off mouthwash. Which is also why I don’t drink.
That’s not what worried me though. What worried me was that my true form was exposed to the daylight. I couldn’t let people see me like this. My true form is far too unique for someone not to identify me. Anyone could have seen me while I was knocked out. I hid behind one of those big industrial trash cans. I had to figure out what kind of people inhabited this world. For all I know, I could look like an ordinary drunk of this world instead of the ‘monster’ that I am. The city’s landscape looked normal to me, which should mean that it would look normal to you as well. Well, maybe a little more anime-ish, but still normal.
If I had to describe the place I landed, I’d say it was good old New York or Memphis, maybe a Los Angeles. I looked out to the streets. Normal people too, go figure. Most of them were in business suits, just walking down the street. Everyone was too busy to notice me at all. I had to pick a new form. I couldn’t go with my writer form. For one it was too monstrous. Second, if my pursuers were behind me, I couldn’t take that risk. I had to go with some kind of human form. Someone who could easily escape from whatever the situation. I didn’t have time to make a completely original one. Thinking back to my files, only one person came to mind. A character that I created for one of my own universes. No one, not even my closest friends, knew about this one.
I felt my form retract my most obvious lack in human features first, my wings and tail. I got rid of any accessories that could make me stand out. My cross and bullet necklace was something that I didn’t want to give up, but a blue handkerchief did look better. My clothes shifted a bit more uncomfortably. Torn up jeans and normal plain t-shirts aren’t easy to form with a splitting migraine, you know. His messy brown hair and bright brown eyes were a little easier. My age decreased as much as I felt it needed to. I didn’t want to be as young as the character I was impersonating. People might wonder why a ten year old was wondering the streets of the big city by himself. Sixteen ought to do for the moment. Not too young that it would raise suspicion, but not too old that the body’s limber legs wouldn’t work to my advantage.
Maybe I should explain the character that I’m impersonating. The kid’s name was and still is Rusty Mudstix. I see no reason to change the name just because he’s a little bit older. Besides, I like the name. In Japanese, the kanji for mud and sticks together is pronounce Kaitou (or Phantom Thief), of which he and I have in common. Sorry, I may be in hiding, but I’m still a punny creative writer. In his youth, Rusty became an orphan on the streets. As such, he learned how to take care of himself. He was became a master lockpick by the time he was eight. It wasn’t until he was ten that he met the main heroes of that universe. He changed his ways and decided that he’d fight along side his friends as teammates. They wouldn’t accept him at first because of his statist of civilian. That is until the enemy unlocked a hidden power within him.
I’ll get into that later on. It’s more fun that way and you don’t need to know Rusty’s whole backstory. You just need to know that I picked him because his body’s design was the most useful to me at the moment. If I were to be attacked now, Rusty’s nimble body can get away the fastest and the safest. Not that I needed to run. I had enough time to sit and wait ‘til my headache was gone. I decided to do one last thing before I finished using my godlike Writer powers for a LONG while. I materialized a backpack with all the basic essentials. If this place was like our world, then I’d have to find a place to stay. A park bench would be illegal for me to sleep on, well if there was a park in this city.
I picked up my pack and started my journey in this brand ‘new’ world. The open streets looked about normal as any city that I’ve visited in our world (among others). Everyone was trying to mind their own business and most of them are very good at doing that. I didn’t get any unusual looks from people, so I must have made a good choice. It would be easy to blend in with the background here.
I didn’t recognize most of the companies’ logos, but some of them were like spoofs to our world's. They still sold everything from sneakers to furniture in this city, they just didn’t call them Niké or Ashley Furniture. I must have been wondering around for hours before I even thought about getting food. Food, however, required money. Money wasn’t something that I thought about stashing away in my essentials.
“I wonder what kind of currency they have here,” I thought out loud as I looked up to what I assumed was this world’s version of a shopping mall. If I could just take a peak, then that would be the next thing that I could create. I shook that thought out of my head. No matter what world that I go to, I couldn’t just counterfeit. I like to earn my food. It tastes better that way.
“Hey buddy,” a huge arm landed it’s way around me, “you look lost.”
“I’m not lost,” I quickly slipped out of the arms hug, “but thanks anyway.”
I didn’t notice that the arm man had a ‘not so little friend’ with him. Taking note of my surroundings was never my strong suit. I backed into that friend right away. He didn’t take too long to grab ahold of both my shoulders. I couldn’t bring public attention to myself. I didn’t have much of a choice, but to let them lead the way. As I thought, they led me to the back alleys to do their dirty work.
There was three of them, standard thugs really. The biggest of them was on my right. The arm man stayed to my left. The third one was waiting in the alley way. He led the other two down the dark alleyway to an empty lot in between the buildings. These guys must have been using it as a hangout or something.
I’ve never been in a situation like this before. Sure, I’ve been in worse, but not as a Character. Rusty’s teenage body might be able to handle these guys, I didn’t know. The first thing that these creeps did was take my bag. Which was good, it would get in the way for what I was planning. The pair of creeps threw my supplies to the third one waiting in the backlot. He searched in it for a second, maybe looking for my wallet for easy cash or something. He’d never find it though.
“Look, I don’t have anything valuable,” I smirked at the fool, “You guys are trying to rob a hobo here.”
“Yo, Shut up, man,” the sitting thug was clearly the leader, “everybody’s got sometha’n.”
“Well, I’m not everybody.”
“Oh no…,” I didn’t like the way that guy said that. He threw my bag to the side as he got up. He got a little too close for comfort as he said the next part.
“You may not be everybody,” he grinned flirtatiously, “but you sure gots a body.”
“Oh god,” I gagged, “are you hitting on me?”
“Come on cutie,” he motioned to himself, “Don’t cha wanna be with a real man.”
“Believe me, if I did, I wouldn’t be here,” I couldn’t back up that would get me in contact with the other two.
“Come on, why do you’s gotta be so cold.”
“Cause I don’t swing that way.”
The thugs laughed their little heads off at that comment. I felt a little out of the loop about what was so funny. The leader continued to smile as wide as a crooked politician, “who saids we’s giv’n yous a choice.”
“Oh, you always have a choice,” I smiled, “Like how I chose to come with you guys and how I chose to do it quietly without raising suspicion. And why I choose to-”
That’s when I kicked him straight down the line. Unfortunately, he caught it in time. I wasn’t quick enough to hit my target.
“Well,” I clicked my tongue, as I tried to free my caught foot, “that didn’t work.”
“Geo,” the leader signaled the thug on my right to take a swing at me.
I ducked by bending my body backwards and Geo hit ‘Lefty’ square in the chest. I quickly took this opportunity to use my other foot to kick the leader’s side. He dropped my other foot, so I made a dash for the other side of the lot. I couldn’t take these guys head on. They weren’t as dumb as I thought they’d be. I reached into my pocket for my ace in the hole. As I turned back around the thugs were too close on my tail. (That’s figuratively not literally.) I had to get as much space away from them as I could.
“You know, usually I’m flattered when people think I’m cute,” I jumped to higher ground using the crates, “but getting kicked in the family jewels usually means that I’m really not interested.”
I got the cellphone that I was carrying out as Geo smashed his fist into the crate directly under mine. Rusty’s body certainly wasn’t, for lack of a better word, rusty. I flipped down and landed safely before the crate gave way. At least as safe as I could be at the moment.
“Why are yous making dis so difficult,” the three of them pounded their fists into their hands, “Alls I want’s a new man fa my-”
“Stay back or I’ll call the cops.”
“The what,” this confused them for a minute.
“You know, the cops,” I listed as they shook their heads no, “the police? The po po? The bolts? The pigs? Guys in blue?”
“You’re going to call blue clothed pigs on us,” Lefty questioned.
“No, if I was going to call your mother, I’d just say that.”
“Hey,” Lefty shouted as Geo laughed in a deep voice, “Geo!”
“Look,” I shrugged, “you set yourself up for that one.”
“He’s right… hehe you did,” Geo laughed as he agreed with me.
“Enough,” the leader silenced the other two, deciding that he’d flirt with me some more, “now gets yourself over here and give daddy a kiss, cutie.”
“That’s it,” I stuck my finger up at them, “you want cute, I’ll give you Cute.”
Like I said before, Rusty had a hidden power in him. Since I was now him, I could also use his hidden power. I quickly dialed the numbers 2-5-8-0, while reciting the required mantra, “Call up my soul!” I posed the phone in front of me, shouting, “Connection!” A shining blue raccoon escaped from the cell and scared the thugs back.
This shining apparition is Rusty’s soul. Well, this one was my soul too. The raccoon zipped back around and dove it’s way into my chest. Once it entered my body, I guess what happened next could be best described as a “Magical Girl” moment.
No, I’m not a girl! It’s just as close of a description as I could get.
One second, I was Rusty. The next second, I was a black and blue armored version of Rusty. The armor made me look like I was going to go extreme roller blading, complete with a helmet and visor. I had a unique golden >†< symbol on my blue plated chest and the alchemic symbol for Cobalt on the forehead of my helmet in blue. My ears were gone and in their place were black raccoon ears poking through the top of the helmet. I had a long raccoon tail flowing out from my backside. Everything else about me was standard human, “Rusty”.
I reached up to catch the character’s signature weapon forming above my head. I swung it around my body as I finished Rusty’s mantra.
“Like a thief in the night, I’ve come to steal back your soul,” I did the finishing pose, just for fun, “Kaitou Cobalt Raccoon!”
The three of them looked at me funny. I mean, hensin transformations aren’t exactly something you see everyday to begin with. And my current transformation, wasn’t exactly a normal transformation either. Certainly people would look at me like I was a freak. And yet, that’s not what freaked them out the most.
“Oh jeeze,” Lefty fell flat on his butt, “He’s a furry!?!”
“I ain’t mess’n with no furry,” the leader was the first to run away, “I’m outta here.”
The three of them ran off as if the alley had caught fire. I watched them trip over each other as they ran off. I stood there for a few seconds, to process what they were yelling about. When it finally hit me, I went on a bit of a tantrum.
“Hey, get back here you cowards,” I hopped like a Neanderthal, “I haven’t even had a chance to warm up! Get back here and fight me like real thugs would! You’re all nothing but lilly-livered stinking posers!”
I waited for them to come back, but they didn’t. They were seriously freaked out by a furry. Of all things, a furry. Big intimidating musclebound brutes are afraid of a little raccoon cosplayer. Well, this wasn’t just cosplaying, but they couldn’t have known that. Even with the transformation sequence, I was still shorter than them and weaker (physically) than them. The most intimidating thing that Cobalt had was that clawed stick that looks like I stole it from a giant claw machine.
“Maybe I’m not as cute in this form as I thought,” I flashed back to being regular old Rusty and put the soul-phone (yes, that’s what it’s called) back in my pocket. I slowly went over to retrieve my bag. Those idiots ruined at least half of my supplies. Well, I wasn’t planning to brush my teeth anyway. I took a look down the alley they ran down, “You could have at least dropped some cash for me and my troubles!”
I didn’t even know why I was bothering to yell at them. Being the background is hard enough for us Writers. We’re naturally addicted to attention. We are used to being in the heads of the protagonists and the antagonists. To be everyone and everything of importance, not the one person in the background that is never mentioned outside of the group tense. Heck. the background is something that usually forms itself without any help from a Writer. This was like trying to hide a tree in a forest, except the tree is ripe with fruit and the forest is evergreen.
But enough about the petty details, let’s get back to the story…
I took my time to put myself together. I bumped up couple of a few years and changed my shirt the old fashioned way. I liked green better than plain white any day. The handkerchief was getting uncomfortable too, so I put it in my bag. I’m used to being attacked, but that was by far the weirdest way for me to have gotten attacked. I’ve been attacked by (and in turn attacked as) giant monsters, devious devils, and even a polymorphic blob, but not one of them wanted to force their love on others.
When I felt that I was ready, I left the back alley. I considered staying in that dead end as a home, but I wanted to weigh some more options first. That and I might draw the overseeing Writer’s attention, if I hadn’t already. I still needed something to eat, so that mall was my next destination. I certainly hoped that they were nicer than the last inhabitants that I met.
The mall was almost bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. The glass windows across the front let in enough light that the all the stores three stories up didn’t need to turn on their display lights. The fountain in the main lobby was a whole story high and the water danced half a story higher than that. I couldn’t even fathom who could have designed it. It made the Trevi Fountain look like it was made by a three year old in comparison. A few happy families were posing and taking pictures in front of the fountain. Those families were clearly visitors from out of town and this fountain really was as fantastic as I thought it was. The other people around knew exactly where they were going and how to get there.
If I wanted information, I’d have to ask the people who were too busy to notice the fountain. Although, it might be more fun to do what I did.
“Excuse me,” I walked up to a family of three (standard mom, dad, and their young boy) that finished retrieving their camera, “I’m a little lost. Could you point me to where I can find a map?”
“Sure. In fact…,” the father dug into his black fabric briefcase and quickly unfolded a map, “you can borrow ours for a second.”
“Honey, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” the mother clearly didn’t think that I looked trustworthy.
“Would you just relax,” the man continued to smile as he pointed on the map, “See we’re right about here: at the Ravaflow Mall.”
“Woah,” I couldn’t read the type on the map, I knew it to be ‘english’, but the lettering was drastically different from our world’s. Here’s a sample:
Denejlom Well.
It says “Ravaflow Mall”, can’t you tell?
“Something wrong,” the father asked.
“Dear,” his wife whined at him to get him moving. He shushed her in response.
“No,” I shook my head, lying, “I just forgot that I needed my glasses. Long sighted. So where can I find the, oh tip of my tongue. Very specific bed’n breakfast thing.”
“The Platypus Suites,” the father asked, sounded expensive.
“No, smaller than that,” I snapped my fingers, pretending that I was trying to remember.
“Aye, then you’re referring to the Finalis Hotel.”
“That might be it,” I nodded, “Which way from here?”
“Well, let me see,” the man looked at the map again, flipping it over as he spoke, “We’re here. The Tretpop Industry building is back out that door. So, it’s about three streets in that direction.”
“Great, thanks,” I shook the man’s hand, “one more thing. Do you know if there’s a good food court in here?”
“Not the best in the world, but there’s decent Italiano at the Phichilli’s.”
“Sweetheart, we’re going to be late for the game if we don’t go now,” the wife said.
“Oh, it’s that late already,” the husband looked at his watch, “I’m sorry, we’ve got to go. There’s a MapCrest near the Phichilli’s. Good luck to you.”
“Thank you,” I waved as I made my way deeper inside the Mall, “I hope Italiano is like Italian. I could use some garlic bread.”
It wasn’t until a few seconds later that I realized, “shoot, I’m still broke.”
I needed a job from someone who could hire me right away. A thousand ideas popped through my head, most of them were out of the question. I refused to break the law. No matter how small it seemed. That’s when I saw it, turned out Italiano was this world’s version of Italian food. I could smell the spices from a dozen stores over, even over all the other food court selections. Should I be worried that it looked exactly like a fast food restaurant and there was no line? I think not.
I walked up to the woman at the counter, a cute brunet with a pony tail. The uniform that these people had to wear was a green and black vertical striped shirts and a black hat with the company’s logo on it. She smiled that fake smile that they were required to use. Her enthusiasm was sickening to me. Let’s just say that smiley people make me a little uncomfortable.
“Hello, welcome to Phichili’s. My name is Chelsea,” she spoke with one of those high perky voices, “Our special today is the Lasagna Lumaché with your choice of over fourty side cheeses and one of our fifteen fine wines ”
“Do I look old enough for wine?”
“I don’t understand the question, sir,” Chelsea kept that smile on her face while she said that.
“You mean there’s no age limit?”
“Well, we do advise our adult and teenage customers to drink responsibly,” Chelsea tilted her head at me, before smiling again, “what would you like today.”
“Truthfully, a job that’s willing to pay me in food.”
“Well, none of that is available here,” Chelsea said oh so perkily.
“How much for water then?”
“Free if you’re in prison,” Chelsea joked with that same perky tone, “would you like me to have security make a reservation?”
“Look,” I was about to lie my figurative tail off here, while showing her my bag, “I’m new in town. Some creeps stole my things. I got them back, but my wallet is gone. I have nothing to pay you with and I’ve got low blood sugar. This has never happened to me before and… and…”
I started huffing like I’ve seen some diabetics do when their sugar was low. I forced myself to cry a little bit. I kept a look out for anyone who might resemble a security guard, but (like I said before) I’m not good at being completely aware of my surroundings.
“Sir, are you okay,” she stopped smiling at least.
“God, I don’t even know what to do,” I faked braking down, “I should have never come here! I don’t know anyone, I get harassed by thugs and I get treated like a common criminal.”
Chelsea was a bit distressed now that I was making a bigger scene. She waved her arms in the air, to signal the crowd that she could handle the situation. I didn’t catch a white suited officer (who figured that they wear white instead of blue) coming our way.
“I’m sorry,” I bowed to the woman in apology, (which is multiversally recognize form of respect) and started my way, “I’m so sorry to bother you, miss. I’ll just try somewhere else.”
“Oh god,” Chelsea pity sighed as she made a choice, “Look, I go on break in ten minutes. Think your blood sugar can last until then?”
“No, don’t bother I…,” I said as I accidentally tripped for real and landed in this world’s version of a policeman’s arms.
“Don’t worry, I gotcha lad,” he said with an Irish accent.
“Ah, don’t hurt me,” I swung my bag to land in my chest.
“Whoa laddie,” the officer stood me up straight again, “I’m not gonna hurt chá.”
“That’s what those creeps said,” I had to keep up my act, course actually being hungry and harassed before helped.
“Let’s get some food in ya, lad,” the officer moved me back to the counter, “then ya can tell me all ‘bout these ‘creeps’.”
“Just something small,” I bit my lip, “I’ll pay you back anyway I can.”
“Don’t chá be worry’n about that,” he pat me on the back, “I had my fair trouble adjusting to the city life meself, lad.”
The officer respected my wishes to just get something small, a cheesy bread kid’s meal. It wasn’t much, but it came with a toy and (thank the Writer) no wine. The officer stayed with me like glue. He led me all the way to our table and we sat in silence until I had gotten at least one breadstick devoured. He asked me the standard questions for mugging victims. What’s your name? (He didn’t laugh, which meant it was a normal name here.) How old are you? How much did they take? Where did it happen? Could you describe the assailants? I didn’t really have to describe them. Like I said, the background tends to write itself. I also meant that quite literally as well. Besides that, I told him most of the truth, except for one small detail about what had “saved me.”
“And then,” I paused for dramatic effect. Well, that and a drink of milk, “no, never mind. I had to be delusional about that.”
“About what, lad?”
“I think there was this guy in blue armor and he just appeared out of no where. When those three saw him they screamed,” I mimicked the thugs’ voices, “like, ‘ah, it’s a furry!’ and ‘I ain’t messing with no furry!’ And then they ran off.”
“A furry, you say,” the officer scratched his chin, “my that is unusual.”
“I know right,” I nodded as I consumed my last cheesy bread, “I had to of imagined it.”
“Furries usually don’t go vigilante,” the officer looked at me more seriously than he did when I described the thugs to him, “what did he look like?”
“You can’t be serious,” I said while thinking, ‘he must be messing with me.’
“As a heart attack,” the officer turned to a new page on his notepad, “did you at least see what species he was? What level furry was it? Male, female or otherwise. Any special markings or color schemes?”
‘He is serious,’ I thought, and answered, “I don’t know… it all happened so fast.”
“You’re not just saying that just to protect him.”
“I swear on my life that I’m not protecting anyone else at this moment,” I didn’t lie. I wasn’t anyone else, “so I wasn’t hallucinating?”
“What, you’ve never seen a furry before, lad?”
“I’m certainly not used to seeing them.”
“Laddie, where have you been for da las’ hundred years? You need ta get some culture inta ya.”
“Obviously, he meant walking around town agent,” I overheard Chelsea from behind me, “sorry, I couldn’t help, but overhear.”
“HI, um, I’m sorry about earlier. I got scared,” I turned to look at her. She no longer had that plastered smile on her face. She was on break, just like she said that she was going to be. As such, she had brought her own tray of food.
“Mind if I sit here,” she asked as I nodded, “great, I don’t want to miss today’s Game.”
“What game?” This was the second time that I heard about some kind of game.
“So yar a fan as well,” the officer laughed a hardy laugh, “got a vidscreen, lass?”
“Of course,” Chelsea reached into her purse and pulled out a miniature monitor. It flipped out it’s own stand. It grew to be about 8 inches wide and automatically flipped on to the right channel. It displayed a man in a costume that I’ve only seen in animes. Behind him was a coliseum that reminded me of a combination of the gladiator’s and an English palace. The crowd cheered loudly in their seats.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the announcer shouted almost immediately on the screen, “Are you ready to let the fur fly!”
“What luck,” Chelsea started to shovel her food into her mouth, “Just in time.”
“Then let’s get started,” the announcer posed from his stand, “today’s match is what all you’ve all been waiting for. The world renowned horseman, Valiant Galahad verses the world infamous jackrabbit, Ripper De Beauregard!”
The screen then split with a VS emblem between the two. The warrior’s names and stats were displayed under their pictures. Galahad was displayed on the left and Riper on the right. I did a spit take when I saw them.
First there’s Galahad, he was a white centaur warrior that looked like he belonged in the Trojan War. He even had wings attached to the sides of his helmet and he had the long face of a horse. His eyes could still look forward, but they could split his vision (like a chameleon) if he wanted to. He carried an equally ridiculous winged sword. Ripper was a lot less flashy. It was as if he was imitating Jack the Ripper from our world. He kept most of his features under a dark cloak. If it wasn’t for the long brown ears prolonging from under that huge hat of his, I’d never tell that he wasn’t human.
The announcer continued by going through scenes of their earlier fights. There was a huge variety of Furries fighting with these two. Despite Ripper’s villainous assassin feel, I actually liked his style. He kept a wide variety of weapons hidden under his cloak. He used a different one in every fight and he was fast. Galahad’s style was different. It was the same every time. Be it a sword, mace, or hammer, he’d only charge in and swing his weapon. He was fast too. The only equivalent would be an actual jousting knight on horseback.
“So who are ya rooting for lass?”
“Galahad, who else,” Chelsea sighed, “he’s so big and strong.”
“Yeah, that’s all anybody cares about, isn’t it,” I rolled my eyes, “typical girl’s choice.”
“I don’t be suppose’n that you’re a Ripper fan lad,” the officer looked at me as if he caught me stealing gold from Forte Knox. Chelsea gave me the dagger eyes.
“Um, I wouldn’t say that,” I said.
“Course ya wouldn’t laddie,” he smiled knowingly, “no woman lov’n man alive and in their right mind would pick Ripper over Galahad… especially with one of his fangirls with’n spit’n distance.”
“Galahad’s going to cut Ripper down to size once and for all,” Chelsea cheered.
“Not if Ripper doesn’t have a nasty trick hidden up his sleeves,” the officer pointed his finger up, “Which the dastardly scoundrel usually does.”
“He certainly has that feel to him…”
“No matter what tricks he uses, he’ll never beat Galahad,” Chelsea announced.
“I think not,” I mumbled to myself.
“What was that?”
“Galahad is clearly all show with the same headstrong strategy,” I explained, “I’d stake my life on Ripper’s plan.”
“Your life ye say, lad,” the officer crossed his arms, “And what makes ya think that he has a plan? Near’s I can tell he’s just been lucky pick’n random weapons ‘nd not kill’n any one.”
“Oh, he’s got a plan alright,” I suddenly got an idea, “can I borrow your pen and pad?”
“Sure. Why do you want them, lad,” the officer handed me the items.
“You’ll see,” I quickly wrote down as much information and as fast as I could. When I was done, I folded up the paper so that no one could see, “here you go. Don’t read it.”
“Would you mind telling me what all this is about, lad.”
“Just don’t read it until after Ripper wins,” I smiled to myself.
“Quiet, both of you,” Chelsea shushed, she really wasn’t paying mind to either of us, “it’s starting…”
___________________________________________________
Valiant Galahad VS Ripper De Beauregard
(Official Televised Event
@1:15 pm, June 8, 194 AC
The Rosecrete Coliseum
Sold at Ω Level. Later rated as a ∆ Level, Mature)
_________________________________________
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the announcer did his job flawlessly, “Are you ready to let the fur fly!”
The Rosecrete Coliseum audience cheered with a thunderous roar. The kind of sight that you’d normally see at a baseball game. The workers double checked the holoshield systems for any glitches. This was a world wide event between the reigning champions of several regions. They didn’t know how dangerous this fight was going to be. One of the competitors was known for being unpredictable. While the other one’s last battle involved a large amount of explosive powers. They had to rate the level as Ω, just in case.
“Then let’s get started,” the announcer posed from his stand, “today’s match is what all you’ve all been waiting for. The world renowned horseman, Valiant Galahad verses the world infamous jackrabbit, Ripper De Beauregard!”
The competitors entered the field in their human forms, however, that’s something that only the paying audience gets to see. Those watching the fight live or otherwise would only see pictures of their Furry forms. The announcer knew that. He also knew that the screens were about to review scenes from previous fights. He had to be certain that he kept to the script for this part. His reputation as an announcer was on the line and on live TV.
One, a thirty year old, had short nearly white blond hair and a goatee. He was all clean cut as if he was a super model. The man was dressed as a fancy rich boy from the waist up. This means a white business suit and a bright yellow tie. From the waist down he was covered by a long white kilt and he had no shoes.
“On the left field we have the brave and dashing Valiant Galahad. Born in the mountainous regions of Desmond, the great Valiant was raised around the horses and had been taken in by their beauty and strength. His battle style is a wonderfully beautiful charge to rundown his opponents. With his healing abilities, he’s able to completely wipe out the strongest of foes and come out looking as magnificent as ever,” the announcer nearly gagged as he finished listing the qualities. He knew the guy. He’s not nearly as majestic as he tries to make himself out to be.
Valiant took this time to transform into his silver armored centaur form. He threw away his kilt when his front pair of legs had grown in fully. His helmet and armor had winged designs throughout. Everything about him was white or silver now. Unlike the centaur of most myths, he had an equine head attached to his human shoulders. The Centaur called forth his Silver Wing sword. Valiant’s entire design was for that very clean image. It did a very good job at hiding his almost barbaric version of fighting.
The announcer cleared his throat and moved on to the next fighter. The other side had a twenty something year old. He was not nearly as hansom as the other, but he wasn’t even close to hideous either. He had normal clothes on that look like they were bought at a charity store. Everything about this competitor was normal and average. He didn’t wave to the audience or even acknowledge their existence. He was focused completely on the fight at hand. Not that it mattered if he didn't. None of them were cheering for him, most of his fans actually enjoyed to boo him.
“On the right field,” the announcer did his best not to sound biased in any way, “We have the one that goes by many other names. The Bloody Byron. The Ascending Assassin. And my favorite, the Jackknife Jackrabbit. He’s the one and only Infamous Ripper De Beauregard. In a constant veil of mystery, Ripper is known for his shady techniques and surprise attacks. Will his deception be enough to trick the…”
The announcer paused for a split second, he couldn’t believe this, “the great Valiant Galahad.” As the cameras were off of him to record the crowd, he turned to question his side crew, “Hey, it’s hard enough trying to sound unbiased without you jerks writing this sh-”
The announcer stopped in time to get back to his job. Ripper didn’t want to waste any time preparing for this match. He closed his eyes for his shift into his furry form. First he stretched his long legs as he change into a brown jackrabbit morph in an assassin’s uniform. He then summoned his signature cloak and long brimmed hat. It was all a nearly spontaneous change. He chose his the weapon for this battle last and summoned it under his cloak.
“So now that we have gotten to know our competitors,” the Announcer jumped onto a floating stage as it rose up above the battlefield, “Fighters on your marks, Get set, Let the fur Flyyyyy!”
“I’m coming for you, Ripper,” Valiant Galahad pointed his sword at his cloaked opponent, before kneeling down in a centaurian version of starting position, “Have at the!”
As if an invisible bullet was shot, the silver armored centaur charged at full force. Ripper stood his ground, all while the centaur was yelling at the top of his lungs. Calahad swung his long sword upwards, Ripper dove to the right. Calahad’s centaurian body was unable to stop or turn nearly as quickly as Ripper. As he back skipped from the centaur, Ripper threw his arms out then quickly returned them back. He repeated this motion several dozen times, but no one took note of it. Most people took it as him running away in fear.
Some people noticed that Ripper wasn’t holding anything. Valiant certainly couldn’t see anything. He took note of Valiant was able to turn and begin his second charge. Ripper leaped in a more zigzag motion. Valiant stopped as he watched Ripper do this.
“You can’t avoid my sword forever cretin,” the centaur boasted, “You’re expanding too much energy just leaping around like that.”
Ripper stopped after a bit. He landed a bit shakily and was breathing hard. Valiant scuffed the dirt like a bull, he wanted the whole world to know that he was about to charge, “Now you’re mine!”
Valiant started headlong into the field again. That’s when the unbelievable happened. Valiant’s horse legs tripped over each other. The centaur rolled over twice, dropped his sword and fell flat on his face. At the very instant that Ripper saw Valiant was falling, he dropped his act and took off again. Ripper quickly encircled the centaur before Valiant realized what was going on. It a few short moments, Valiant was no longer able to move his body how he wanted. When he jerked one direction, another part of him moved. It was as if Ripper had put some kind of curse on him.
When Ripper finished his movements, Valiant was now hog tied on his side without the ability to move at all. Ripper now stood at Valiant’s back. Valiant didn’t understand what was happening until the rabbit circled a hand around the horse head. Valiant caught sight and felt the tug of a very thin, but extremely strong wire. The weapon that Ripper had chosen was Spider’s Line.
Spider’s Line is a handy tool that is able to generate a spider’s thread seeming out of nothing. It’s normally used for securing heavy metal objects while also causing no physical damage to them. There were as many brands of Spider’s Line as there were spiders. It didn’t matter what brand it was, no one (not even furries) could break the wire with their strength alone. The only tool that is able to cut it is the Spider’s Oil Knife that is included attached to the Spider’s Line Ejector.
“Now do you surrender,” Ripper tightened the line to make his point, “Or shall I choke you until you faint?”
Admitting defeat would surly be a worse sting than death to Valiant, especially since he lost to someone like Ripper. Still he mumbled, “i submit…”
“I’m sorry, the ref didn’t catch that,” Ripper winced his eyes as he tightened the thread a little.
“I said that I submit! You’ve beaten me,” Valiant shouted out loud for the entire stadium to hear. In response, Ripper cut and released the wire from its ejector. Even under all the booing and hissing that ensued afterwords, Ripper felt the need to do one last thing to teach the hardy fool a lesson in humility.
“That’s a nice Horsey,” Ripper smacked Valiant’s horse rump, “It was fun taming your wild ass.”
Valiant growled deeply at this. Plans of revenge were running through his head, but he still couldn't move. It would take an hour for his crew to untangle the horse from the Spider' Line. Even if he could move, the match was officially over. He already lost. He’ll have to get him next time.
“Well, that was a little more than disappointing…,” the announcer mumbled under his breath, before getting back to his job, “And that’s it for this Game. Sorry folks. I’m being informed that refunds for a partial amount will be returned to you. Just slid you ticket card on you way out and 60% of your well earned Blambers will be returned to your accounts.”
Fight duration 108.57 seconds.
____________________________________________________
“I can’t believe this,” Chelsea nearly threw her vidscreen across the food court, “that wasn’t even worth my break to see.”
“What did I tell you,” I couldn’t help but smile.
“Okay, lad. So Ripper won,” the officer waved the folded up piece of paper in the air, “Do I get to read it now.”
“Sure, if you’re willing to make a bet with me.”
“You know beting’s illegal,” he answered, while tapping his badge, “and you know that I’m a security officer, right lad?”
“Not if there’s no money to bet,” I said as I emptied my pockets, putting the only item (the soulphone) in my pocket to the side, “of which I don’t.”
“Interesting point,” the officer nodded, “go on…”
“I bet both of you that I knew exactly what Ripper was planing and that he’d win using that strategy.”
“Oh, is that what this is, lado,” the officer smiled widely as he waved the paper again, “but go suppose’n that I destroy this little paper and you were right.”
“Then you’d never know,” I smiled reaching out for the officer to hand me the folded paper. He complied.
“No, there’s no way that you could have possibly predicted what Ripper was going to do,” Chelsea pointed an angry finger at me.
“The proofs on the paper,” I said, unfolding it.
“I still say you couldn’t have,” Chelsea turned her nose as she said the words that I wanted to hear, “if you did, then I’ll give you free lunches for a year.”
“Then read it and weep,” I slammed the paper down on the table.
The two of them looked at the paper where I wrote the following:
“Ripper wins by tricking Galahad into a trap. While RIpper dodges Galahad’s attacks, he will set up the trap. Galahad will go running head on into it. Once caught, his legs will be tied up and he will be forced to forfeit.”
“What is this nonsense,” Chelsea picked up the paper and tilted it a few times.
“I wrote that before the match began and I gave the only copy to him.”
“This is ridiculous,” Chelsea slapped the paper back on the table.
“You can read it a thousand times, but you still have to admit that I was right.”
“No, I can’t,” Chelsea looked at me like I was nuts.
“It’s not that hard, just say, ‘I admit’ and I’ll let you off-”
“No laddie,” the officer interrupted me as he placed his hand on my shoulder, “What the lass means is that she can’t read your note.”
“What,” I read the paper through a couple of times, “But it’s right there in black and white.”
“It may be there in black and white, but we still can’t read your handwriting, lad.”
I don’t have a messy handwriting. I did write the correct prediction and I made certain that everyone knew that I wasn’t pulling a trick. What I didn’t count on however, was the drastic difference in our basic fonts. What they read looked more like this in their eyes:
“Jibbaj mius ph tjickiud deleyeq iuto e tjeb. Myila Jibbaj qoqdas deleyeg’s ettecks, ya mill sat nb tya tred. deleyeq mill do jnuuiud yaeq ou iuto it. Ouca cendyt, yis lads mill tiaq nd euq pa jocaq to jojait.”
See my dilemma here?
“Darn my bad handwriting,” I threw the paper to the side, “and I was looking forward to a year of free lunches.”
Luckily, the officer took it as a joke and laughed. I decided to follow his example. Chelsea on the other hand, didn’t see what was so funny.
“You know, I really wasn’t going to give you any food.”
“Don’t worry lass,” the officer motioned for Chelsea to calm down, “the lad is a cheep date.”
My stomach churned, “did you have to say it like that? It makes it sound like we're a couple.”
“Oh, sorry laddie,” the officer tipped his hat and slipped the paper into his notepad, “well, i best be getting back to work. Good day, Lad. Miss.”
“Good day,” Chelsea and I said together.
“Which reminds me that my breaks almost over,” Chelsea picked up the mess of papers and placed them on the tray, “I need to get back to work, um. You know, after all this commotion I didn’t even catch your name.”
“Mudstix,” I reach to shake her hand, “Rusty Mudstix.”
“Chelsea Seabout (Pronounced /sēˈbout/),” she returned the gesture.
“Look, I really do need a job,” I admitted to her, “I’m completely broke thanks to those jerks in the allyway.”
“What about your parents? Can’t you call them on that thing,” Chelsea pointed to the Soulphone. I quickly snatched it before she could touch it.
“No, not unless it gets a better signal,” I faked a frown, while telling the truth, “I don’t think that it can reach other planes of existence.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Chelsea figured that I meant that they were dead, when in fact, all four of them are still alive and kicking, “for how long?”
“Long enough. I have my pack and my phone, but nothing else. Heck, I don’t even have anyone to call.”
“Well, tell you what,” Chelsea got out her pen and wrote on a napkin, “this is my number. I get off work in four hours. Call me and I’ll take you somewhere safe you can go.”
“Gee thanks,” I said, while wondering why she was being so nice all of the sudden.
“Just try not to loose it,” she winked as she handed me the napkin.
“Okay,” I nodded, then realized something, “can I ask you one more thing?”
“If it’s quick.”
“Would it be rude if I called you, SeaSea?”
That got her laughing, “No, but I’ve got to warn you: only my good friends get to call me Cici.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Part 1’s Epilogue: Written by Anonymous:
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“What are we going to do boss,” ‘Lefty’ from earlier whined, “that furry wasn’t affected by your charisma, like he's supposed to.”
“Fo’ starta’s, Don’t cha whine about it, a’ight,” the boss brought ‘Lefty’ in close by the chin, “real men don’t whine.”
“Real men don’t whine,” Lefty repeated for his master.
“Good boy,” the boss leaned back into Geo (of whom’s lap he was sitting on as if he was part of the chair) while still holding onto Lefty’s chin, “there’s gonna be a problem if my power ain’t absolute.”
“But it is, boss,” Lefty wanted to get closer, to be useful to his master and not fail him again, “I still need you to take me.”
“We need to expand our territory,” the boss released Lefty from his grip, “I can’t do dat if you’s still here instead of get’n me more men.”
“But then we’d have to share you with them.”
“Did I just hear yous disagree with me,” the boss snapped, “don’t I always make yous and Geo here happy?”
“Yes boss,” Lefty started to act a little more like a drug addict going into withdrawal, “I’m happy because of you.”
“Well, when I has my harem, yous has ta learn ta share with all yours brothers,” the boss had to drill his instructions, his influence in, “Sharing makes me happy. ‘nd what makes me happy will makes yous happy too. Ain’t that right?”
“Yes, boss,” Lefty started to smile, that charm of the boss’s was better than any drug he had before they met, “sharing you makes me happy, because it makes you happy.”
“Good,” the boss smiled, “now find me someone new fo’ us ta share, I needs me some virgin ass.”
“Yes boss,” Lefty bowed, several times as he backed out the door, “right away. I’ll find you someone real young too.”
“Not too young, or he'll be useless to us,” the boss shouted after Lefty had left. He then looked up at the blank face of his ‘chair’, “Yous sure been quiet, Geo. Someth’n wrong?”
“Ne-ve-ver b-b-b-boss,” Geo stuttered, his face twitched as he spoke.
“Still resisting huh, big boy,” the boss slipped off Geo’s lap and stood up to face Geo in the eyes, “Don’t cha worry ‘bout dat. Yous is my favorite, ya know?”
Geo shakily nodded his head.
“Course ya know,” the boss ran his fingers down Geo’s chin, “yous my first and de best. After I maked yous so strong, I ain’t eva let’n yous go.”
“Yes, b-b-boss,” Geo said, forcing out his words.
“Yet alls that strength ‘n yous still can’t help, but do what I want,” the boss sneered as he hated that Geo, despite his submission outside of his trance state, still resisted on some deep level that the boss hasn’t found yet, “so why ain’t yous as devoted ta ‘n happy with me as yous brother is?”
Geo couldn’t answer for a few moments, “I don’t know, b-b-boss.”
“Don’ts I make yous so strong? Don’ts I always make you happy too?”
“Always,” Geo said without a moment’s hesitation, “Always, b-b-boss.”
“Then act like it,” the boss slapped Geo across the face, “I do this cause I cares ‘bout yous Geo. Now smile cause yous so happy.”
Still Geo didn’t smile, nor stopped stuttering. This interrogation went on for almost an hour. By then, Lefty had found and brought two new brothers for his boss to induct into the fold. The first was already ruined by Lefty. The second was brought in using the first’s help. Lefty got scolded for his mistake, as the two new brothers were rewarded for their devotions. After all, they’ll now get to be real men. Real men as defined by the boss.
After many hours of having his fun, the boss still worried about that furry. What if his power just didn’t work on furries? What if the furry figured that out? What if the agents were told before he had completed his goals? He couldn’t let anyone figure out his secret. The furry must be found. Whether that furry joins his brotherhood or not was irrelevant. The boss will have his harem and nobody, not even the security agents or any of those freaky furries, would get in his way…
To Be Continued…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This Co-op Story is a copyrighted and brought to you by:
Characters © Cobalt Raccoon (Rusty Mudstix)
Furry Fighters (Let the Fur Fly!) Universe © Anonymous Writer
Today's Quote is © and brought to you in part by Mark Twain
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