FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Agent Diaz paused as he reached the door of his office, frowning at the package stuffed haphazardly into his dropbox. It was a padded envelope, seemingly bursting at the seams with some kind of rectangular content, and he took it warily from his box. Handling it with care, he unlocked his office door and walked in, flicking the light switch and stepping through darkness as the overhead florescent lights flickered on.

He set the package on his peeling desk, and sat down in his old chair, eyeing it suspiciously. He was expecting to hear back from someone regarding a sensitive operation, and he didn't appreciate surprises at the moment. And there was always the chance, regardless of their mail being screened, that this envelope could contain something sinister.

Diaz began by checking his phone for voicemails, and to his disappointment, there were none. Next was his email, and yet again he came away empty handed. There was nothing here that he was hoping for, and his eyes fell on the package once again. It was very likely that it didn't contain a bomb or anything, but with no return label, and a suspicious weight to it, it couldn't be any good.

He picked it up, and ran a letter opener through one end of it. Then peering inside, Diaz saw a small metal box. He slid it out, and observed that it was quite heavy, and had a simple key lock. Looking inside the envelope again, there was a thumb drive, and a small key at the bottom. He dumped them out onto his desk, and then considered which to look at first. Giving the box a little shake, there was clearly something loose bouncing around inside. Setting it back down, he picked up the thumb drive, and after some trepidation, plugged it into his computer.

It popped up on his desktop with two files inside: one text and one video. Diaz opted to open the text file first, and read:

Do not fuck with us, sending us your whore spy. Come see us yourself if you want to know what we are doing.

Diaz's blood ran cold. He didn't even need to ask; he knew who the note was referring to. And he knew just who had sent this. His heart pounded painfully while his eyes turned to the video file. It was labeled DCIM_0004, and was a couple of gigabytes large. Breathing hard through his nose, Diaz grabbed his cell from his pocket and scrolled through his contacts to an entry: Mela.

He dialed it, and put the phone up to his ear, listening as it rang over and over. His heart dropped into his stomach as the voicemail message played. Hanging up, and immediately dialing again, he pressed the phone hard into his ear, as if that would help.

_Ring. Ring._Voicemail. Agent Diaz slammed the phone onto his desk, clenching his teeth in fury and fear. He knew what this meant. There was really only one possibility, though perhaps there was still a chance that she was being held hostage. Maybe she was still alive...

He looked to the video file again, highlighted by his mouse. He had to look. There was no way he could just leave this alone, even though he knew what he was about to find.

So he double clicked it, and waited with teeth clenched in his closed mouth while the player popped up, seeming to think while it tried to load the clip. Then it resized, to an HD quality size as the video began playing.

It was just as he'd feared. In the frankly amazing quality, which he supposed he should've expected from this cartel, Diaz observed that he was looking at a scene in a forest, with tall grass and trees surrounding the clearing that this was taking place in. There were several people, bearing various weapons, most of whom were standing around a kneeling figure.

His heart sank horribly. This was playing out to a T just as he'd been afraid of. The men who were standing belonged to the cartel he'd been directing operations against for months. He knew them by their faux-military uniforms, which were always meticulously maintained; they loved to put on airs of being a legitimate military, and a governing body of the country. They were standing around a woman, who had been stripped naked and had her hands tied behind her back. She had a black bag on her head, but Diaz knew Mela's body regardless.

Someone at the front of the group, a vicious looking wolf bearing a combat knife, stepped forward toward the camera. He knew this man, he was an unhinged psychopath who'd been on Diaz's personal most wanted list ever since taking over this position. El Sol, he was known by, and very little was known about his life, other than his utterly brutal reputation in the cartel.

"Mister Diaz," he said in that energetic, insane voice, gesturing his knife at the camera. "I'm disappointed in you. You tell me that you want to sit down with us and talk. You want to end the violence. You tell me that you're all in on ending the warfare. Now I come to find out that while you're saying all this, you've planted a mole in my operation."

With that last word, he reached to his left suddenly, ripping the bag off of the woman's head. Diaz's heart froze in his chest: there was that beautiful woman, fiery and spunky. She looked terrified, and resigned; she knew what was coming. And so did he.

"Say your name, baby," El Sol said, pointing the knife at her like a microphone. "So when he shows this to his bosses, they know who you are."

Mela stayed quiet, and after a few seconds, he reared back and belted her across the face with his free hand. It nearly knocked her over, but she was caught by the others standing around.

"I said say your fucking name, bitch," he hissed at her. "Unless you want us to have some fun with you like we did last night. You want nice Mr. Diaz to have to see that?"

There was silence as he stared down at her quailing form.

"Carmella," she muttered, not looking at the camera.

"And you were sent to spy on us, weren't you?"

She said nothing, but nodded very slightly.

"See, you're a good girl after all," El Sol said, lightly slapping her cheek. "Now, Mr. Diaz, since she cooperated with us, I'm going to take it easy on her. I was going to bring her out here, and cut each of her limbs off, one by one. Starting with her fingers, little toes, then every joint in her body after that. I was gonna make you listen to her scream for an hour while I dismembered her in front of you. Then I was gonna send you every little piece of her in a separate piece of mail.

"But since she decided to play nice, I've decided to return the favor."

For just a split second, Diaz's heart jolted with hope rather than fear. But then El Sol moved directly behind Mela, and he knew what had been meant by 'being nice'.

"Watch close, Mr. Diaz," El Sol said in a low voice. "The next time, it's gonna be you."

He brought the knife down to Mela's throat, directly under her chin. With his other hand, he grabbed her chin and pulled it up, leaving her throat stretched taut and exposed. With a sawing motion, he dug the knife into her fur, and her skin flayed open immediately.

Diaz watched in cold horror while El Sol drug the knife back and forth across her throat. From the first stroke, her fur was stained scarlet, and he could see the muscle and her windpipe of her neck's insides, and saw as her arteries squirted jets of blood away from her and onto her chest, lap, and the grass below.

She squirmed under El Sol's grip, her body falling to the side in an attempt to escape the impending death, but it was no use. His knife sliced through her muscle, skin, esophagus, and connective tissues like he was carving up a roast. Her eyes were bulging wide, and her mouth was wide open in a silent scream. Her exposed, severed windpipe spasmed, and he knew that was her scream dying in her cut throat.

El Sol didn't stop, and his obviously sharp knife made it to her spine. He worked deftly around and between her vertebrae, and Diaz watched with a hand over his mouth while her spinal cord came apart in half.

By now she was limp, of course, effectively dead already, and she was mostly lying on the ground now. El Sol had allowed this, following her down while he cut, and now he made it through the last bit of skin and fur at the back of her neck, and her head came away in his grip. He held her by the hair atop her head now, and her body laid quietly in the grass on her front, her neck squirting helplessly as the last blood drained from her poor body.

Mela's beautiful face was still frozen in a scream, her eyes still wide, looking around in terror. But the light faded quickly, and soon Diaz knew that she was dead, though she still looked surprised and in pain.

El Sol knelt over her body as it twitched, holding her head up for the camera.

"Here's your whore!" he said jovially. "I'm gonna have some fun with her, but don't worry. I'll send you a little souvenir to remember her by."

With that, he got up, and walked toward the camera, still holding her head in one hand. The other men, who had been standing around doing nothing, now picked Mela's body up, and dragged it off camera. But El Sol, who had set his knife down, picked the camera up, and showed Diaz where she was going. There was a pit, a shallow grave, that had been freshly dug, and they were dumping her limp, naked corpse inside. Then they stood there, perhaps waiting for something.

El Sol turned the camera back toward Mela's deceased head. She was near his crotch, and to Diaz's utter dismay, he was undoing his pants, and then the lunatic's throbbing erection was hanging out in front of her unseeing face. He brought her open mouth to his dick, and then forced her to give the most morbid blowjob imaginable.

He moved her back and forth, and she just stared blankly at his stomach while her tongue and lips unwillingly massaged the psychopath's shaft. Then, apparently unsatisfied by her limp jaw, El Sol turned her upward, and shoved his cock into her esophagus. He brought the camera up, so Diaz and he both were looking down at her face, and through her open mouth, his dick could be seen poking up at the back of her throat like she was throwing it up. In, out. In, out. It went on, slowly increasing speed as her saliva and blood lubricated her.

Then with a mighty thrust, El Sol pushed the tip of his dick onto the back of her tongue, and held it there while he fired jet after jet, squirt after squirt of cum into her waiting mouth. He ejaculated into her for a good minute, covering her teeth and tongue with the goopy white liquid. Then, finally, he pulled out of her, and Diaz watched as he tossed her head, rolling in the air, into the grave with a sickening plop.

The second he did, his fellows began using shovels to dump dirt over her, and the video ended abruptly.

Diaz sat with his head in his hands. He had no words. Mela... They had murdered a woman he had cared so much for, and who he had put in danger. He should have known better...

He turned his attention to the box. Taking it in his hand, he unlocked it with the included key and opened it. Inside was the tip of Mela's tail, fluffy and bloody. He closed the box again, shaking. This wouldn't stand. If this was the kind of violence they wanted, then that's what they would get. Maybe the thought was that Diaz would now roll over and just cry in a corner over the loss of his friend. He clenched his fist, unable to hold in his hatred. El Sol had made a mistake; he'd just created his own greatest enemy, his worst nightmare. And Diaz was coming for him.