Unnatural Selection - Ch 5: The Magnificent Seven by Dikran_O

Unnatural Selection - Ch 5: The Magnificent Seven

Dikran_O, Bat, Canine, Catbat, Cunnilingus, Espionage, Fellatio, Fingering, Fox, Husky, Lemur, M/F, Oral, Vaginal, Vixen, Wolf

#5 of FOX Academy 6 - Unnatural Selection

FOX Academy VI - Unnatural Selection

Chapter 5 - The Magnificent Seven

Silver stood and moved toward the door. One of the team swung a heavy batting ram at the hasp and the door flew open with a crash. Silver stepped in, staying upright because a professional waiting in ambush would shoot low, expecting the assailant to be crouching in the entrance. This way he would only get shot in the leg or knee. He immediately spotted the subject and aimed his Glock on the centre of mass.

The subject had started to stand and turn toward the door at the sound of breaking wood, paws raised. Whether they were raised defensively or offensively was difficult to tell. All Silver knew was that there was something long and metallic in one of them and he did not want to wait for it to be pointing at him before he acted.

Silver, the best instinctive shot in the Academy's history, adjusted his aim and squeezed the trigger, sending one hundred and twenty-four grains of copper and lead flying across the gap between the student and him at the speed of sound.

The bullet went swiftly to its target, striking the shiny silver object and ripping from the fox's grip. The projectile deflected slightly and buried itself in the ceiling near the back corner of the room. The would-be weapon flew back and embedded itself in the dry wall above the bed. The student wisely cowered in the chair by the desk.

Silver heard doors opening and inquisitive shouts being directed at the pickets that were there to keep the rest of the students away from the scene. He sensed the rest of the team filling the room behind him. Knowing that he was covered he stepped around the bed and pulled the silvery device from the wall where it still vibrated and examined it. With a sneer he tossed it on the desk beside the student's laptop.

"What were you going to do with a cocktail mixing spoon, Muzzle? Stir me to death?"

Grey lowered one paw while keeping an eye on the security team and retrieved the chrome mixing spoon. The other end was built like a fork, with sharp tines for spearing olives and pearl onions. There was gypsum dust on the tines from where it had stuck into the wall and a dent just below the base of the fork.

"Nice shot." He said nervously.

Silver, who had been aiming for the fox's paw, just grunted. Behind him a technical expert pushed forward to recover the laptop before any automatic program could erase traces of the message they had intercepted or other important files. Another guard lifted Grey from his seat and slipped a Teflon strap around his wrists. Others prepared to tear the room apart.

"Guess where we're going now Comrade." Silver said as the guard took grey by the collar and lifted him so that just the tips of his toes touched the floor as they sped out of the dorm.

Grey did not have to guess, he knew.

* * * * * * * *

Ansin managed to drag the gibbering English toy terrier back to her room and retrieve the key from her without running into anyone else. That was good because he was still wearing the French Maid outfit Aglaia had tricked him into putting on, but now it was wet and dirty from rolling around on the muddy ground after literally running into Anabel. She did not look much better in a mud-splattered Academy tee-shirt and shorts. It was not what she was wearing when she had followed the stretcher with Sam on it to the infirmary, soaked in his blood from the attempts to revive him. Someone must have lent them to her after throwing away her bloody clothes.

Ansin sat her down on her bed and scanned the room with his sonar, hoping to locate a towel. It was pretty bare. One wall had some martial arts gear that he was familiar with, and her desk was covered with scissors, tweezers, clippers and some tapered metal objects that could be small daggers or shivs. There were no towels hanging on the rack on the back of the door. He wondered if he should check out her closet or just ask her where she kept them. Before he could she held up her paws and screamed.

Ansin whirled. She was staring at her claws. More specifically, at the dirt under them. He did not know it, but the main reason for her near mental breakdown was discovering Sam's dried blood under her claws after being informed of his death. Normally she was obsessed with digital cleanliness and was checking her claws for dirt or cracks constantly, but she was so concerned about her one-time lover that she had not as much as glanced at them since the accident. Not unit she was told he was dead. Then the thought of bits of him stuck under her claws had almost sent her around the bend.

Ansin tried to grab her wrists to calm her down. Before his paws reached hers she lunged for the desk and snatched up one of those tapered metal objects. It was a nail file but it was shaped just like a shiv, and Ansin misinterpreted her actions as a panicked attack on him. Before she could turn the blade on him he was sending out a constant stream of high-pitched sounds, his ears swivelling to and fro wildly as he mapped her movements.

Ansin caught the paw with the blade and drove it against the edge of the desk, forcing it to drop the object. Anabel, startled by the interruption in her obsessive cleaning ritual retaliated with an elbow to the side of his head. Ansin rolled with the blow and hooked a leg under her arm to knock her from the bed as he fell. She clamped her arm on his thigh and dove backwards to counter his weight, pulling him on top of her. Ansin drove a closed fist at her jaw, hoping to strike the nerve bundle under her ear and stun her, but she twisted away.

They rolled on the bed exchanging blows, neither managing to land a decisive one. Both were fighting for their lives, neither understanding why the other had attacked them. Anabel tried to reach the desk where her manicure files and scissors were, but Ansin drove her back. When he attempted to pick up one of the pointed objects she kicked it out of his paw and across the room. Fortunately neither of the martial arts experts got their paws on anything more deadly than a pillow.

But sooner or later someone had to get lucky, and it was Ansin. He found himself straddling her, her arms pinned to her sides. He had one arm back, his digits rigid and poised to drive them through her larynx, as he held her down with the other on her breast. He looked down and screeched to aim the blow, and that was when the image of her heaving chest, the tee-shirt somehow pulled up in the fight, came back to him. Her small breasts covered in short black fur were high and round, the light brown nipples erect from the excitement of a life-and-death battle. His left paw was planted firmly on one of them. Her muzzle was open as she gasped for breath, with her tongue hanging out one side.

Ansin paused. What was he about to do, he thought, kill her? That was crazy. She was his classmate, and a damned sexy one at that. Sure, she had been Sam's girl, and he felt really bad about Sam's death, but still ... the erect nipple pressing against his left paw was confusing him. His right paw slowly relaxed as another portion of his anatomy grew stiffer.

Anabel saw the opportunity and she took it. Bringing her legs up in a move practised for years in Gymnastics class she hooked her ankles across Ansin's face and jackknifed her lithe body. Twisting around in mid air as if coming in for a landing off the pommel horse she landed on top of him. Her paws locked together and rose for a killing blow.

The soft mattress saved him from a broken spine but all of the air was driven from his body. The bat was helpless to defend himself, but it had done nothing to dull his erection. And the sight of her with her breasts exposed rising above him, with her groin pressing down on his cock, made it grow even bigger.

Anabel felt that strange stirring as she sat poised to strike and it sparked a memory. A memory of felling the same sort of bulge against her recently. That's when she remembered Sam and his blood under her claws. She lowered her paws and checked them. There was only dirt there now. The nurses had cleaned all the blood off after giving her a sedative, she recalled. Dirt was okay. Dirt could be washed away. She looked down on her assailant.

"Why are you wearing a French Maid costume Ansin? Is this some sort of perverted sexual assault, stalker thing of yours?" She still remembered his sonar voyeurism from the first morning.

"It ... it's a long story." Ansin gasped as his breath started to come back.

"Better start talking then." Anabel instructed, pulling down her tee-shirt when she realized where his ears were pointing.

Ansin started slowly, recounting how he and the rest of the students were talking in the TV room when Aglaia had led him back to her room with promises of sexual delights. He explained how he could not tell the nature of the outfit she had put on him as the frilly costume absorbed too much of his signal to get a good image of it, plus the fact that he was distracted by her seductive tail. He also repeated their exchange of personal histories, how they were both here looking for someone, and how they seemed like soul mates. Until she chained him to a rack, whipped him and tried to ass rape him that is.

Ansin was making clicking sounds again, she noticed, scanning to read the expression on her face and her body language, as he had explained he could.

"Can you get anything from someone's tone of voice, like a forensic linguist?" She asked him as she rubbed his torso absently through the sodden maid's outfit.

"A little bit." He admitted, reading something more than idle curiosity in her tone. She sounded inviting, and the upper body massage seemed to encourage reciprocal cuddling, but he was cautious after his recent experience, so he kept his paws at his sides. "We also have a degree of telepathy."

"Telepathy? Can you read my mind?" She conjured a mental image of herself naked as a test and concentrated on sending it to Ansin.

"No, not yours." Ansin's answer disappointed her for some reason. She frowned and put the risqué image out of her mind as he continued. "Bats can only communicate telepathically among their family group. It developed in pre-sentient times as a way of controlling large groups in flight, just a rudimentary 'go left', 'go right', 'dive' sort of thing. It evolved as we got more intelligent into the ability to send emotions and concepts, like 'help me!' or 'where are you?' but we can't actually talk back and forth. Not yet anyway. Maybe in another hundred generations or so."

"Can't you use it to locate your brother?"

"The range is really limited, a couple of miles at best. I send out signals to him regularly, but either he is too far away, or dead, or just ignoring them." Ansin's voice tapered off and he fell silent.

"Jesus, Ansin. You must be so lonely here." She said with compassion. The skinny bat's story had touched her in ways she had not expected. Firstly because she had always been too self conscious before to worry about other's feelings, and secondly because she found that she wanted to take him in her arms and make his pain go away, and not in a motherly way. Unless you were the mother of Oedipus that is.

Anabel had continued to rub Ansin's chest in little circles while he talked and she now realized that she was doing it. But she did not stop, she did not want to. Being here around so many young, talented, and fit people had woken something inside her, an itch that ached to be scratched. Being with Sam had satisfied it for a time, but now it was back stronger than before. Strangely, although she still mourned him as a friend, she no longer felt any emotional connection to Sam because of the physical intimacy they shared.

Anabel had wondered why she was able to qualify for entry into the Academy. How exactly did a virgin qualify to get into a profession where sexual promiscuity was practically a prerequisite? Maybe that psychologist, Doctor Gordon, had been able to detect a deep-seated wanton trait in her. She had certainly never suspected one. But here she was, straddling a bat in her bed and wishing his erection would come back because it had felt so right to have it pressing against her mound.

Maybe it was better not to over analyze these things, she thought. Hadn't Rusty said the first day that most of the physical activities an agent engaged in were best done instinctively? What could be more physical than making love? She noticed that the costume blouse had a row of three buttons down the front. She undid them and slipped one of her paws underneath to caress him directly. She pulled her tee-shirt back up to expose her breasts with the other.

Ansin caught his breath, and then with the quickness he demonstrated during their fight he shot a paw between her legs. He felt around for a second and then he relaxed, pulling his paw back to rest it on her hip.

"What was that all about?" She demanded.

"Just checking." Anabel remembered his recent disappointment and laughed for a moment before turning serious again.

"Here, let me show you." She said in a low voice.

With a gymnast's grace she straightened her legs under her while keeping her paws on his chest. Without raising her torso she lifted her paws and hooked the Academy-issue shorts with her thumbs. She pulled them down to her knees, revealing the fact that whoever had lent her the clothes had been fresh out of panties. Then she straightened up and steadied herself by placing her paws against the ceiling, like a stripper on a stage. Raising one leg she pulled it out of the shorts and let them drop around the opposite ankle. She brought the leg straight out, parallel with the floor and around, exposing her open sex before returning it to the mattress. Then she raised the other leg with the shorts dangling from her foot until it was pointing straight out at a ninety degree angle. She cocked her leg and tossed the shorts into a corner of the room.

Ansin's ears were glued to the portion of her anatomy that was being hidden again as she lowered her leg. The three-dimensional model created by his sonar was augmented by a scent emanating from the same locale. His erection began to grow again, but much slower than ever before, as if it had learned caution from its recent painful experience.

Anabel spread her legs so that she had a foot on each side of him and balanced on the mattress as she released the ceiling. Using both paws she peeled the tee-shirt off and tossed it aside as well. Now she stood over the stunned bat, her light brown forearms, muzzle and legs contrasting with the sleek black fur of the rest of her body. The tan areoles of her nipples were just large enough for him to make out the change in colour, the teats themselves clearly outlined by his sonar. She dropped her paws to her groin and rubbed herself there.

"You should take that outfit off. It doesn't suit you." She advised as she dipped a digit into a twat already moist with expectation.

Ansin hurried to comply. The blouse and bonnet came off easily enough, but the frilly panties got stuck on an erection that was growing steadily larger. He did not panic however, he just took a deep breath and tried again, lifting the waistband in front before pulling down this time. The controlled breathing seemed to calm his nerves and cool his rising passion too, so he concentrated on the technique he had learned for meditating in his Zen garden back in Georgia: inhale through the nose for five seconds, hold for five seconds, exhale through the mouth for five seconds, hold for five seconds, repeat. He fell into the familiar pattern used for clearing his often confused mind. Unbeknownst to him, Ansin had just learned one of the fundamentals of Tantric sex.

Ansin felt himself unwind from the extremities inward. His head cleared. His toes, clutched tightly a moment ago, spread out as did the digits on his paws. Then the muscles on his legs and arms loosened up. Finally his chest stopped heaving and his abs relaxed. The only portion of him still uptight, and rightfully so, was his cock. It was as long and as hard as it had ever been. It was pointing up at a forty-five degree angle and bobbing slightly as the pulse in the arteries that fed it beat below the taut covering of greyish skin.

Above it Anabel had spread her sex with the digits of one paw and was teasing her clit with the other. She was alternating small circles with long lazy strokes that saw her digit disappear deep inside her slit. Ansin could just make out the bright pink interior as he mentally laid a layer of colour on the highly detailed sonar model in his head. He directed his signal upward. From this angle her small breasts stood out dramatically against the firm layer of muscle on her chest and the nipples stood out above all else. Above and between them he could tell that her eyes were half closed and that her tongue was still hanging out to help cool her down as she panted. The smell coming off of her was stronger than ever.

Anabel dropped to her knees, placing them by his shoulders at first, and then spreading them apart so that her vagina was only a few centimetres from Ansin's open maw. She abandoned her clit and used both paws to spread the lips of her cunt wide for him. Ansin caught the clue and bent his head forward to close the gap between them. He was close enough to make out the details of her vagina by eye now, closer than he had ever been to one before, and he marvelled at its construction. But it was not time to study anatomy, so he shot out his long pointed tongue, designed for sucking the juice from ripe fruit, and used it much as nature had intended on her fuzzy peach.

It darted in and out of her slit, probing her insides deliciously. It traced the contours of her clit and then flicked rapidly over the tight drum of skin that contained it. It went into every crevice and cranny around her sex until she was dripping feminine nectar like an overflowing orchid. Ansin drank it down eagerly, sucking it into his mouth by making a tube of his flexible tongue.

While he tickled and sucked his paws caressed her buttocks. With his arms trapped against her sides by her legs he could not reach any further. Anabel ran her own paws over the upper half of her body where she ached to be touched. She squeezed her own breasts and pulled on her hard nipples. She sucked the scent of her heat from her digits and then sent her paws back for more.

Sensing her orgasm approaching, Anabel pulled her vagina away from the hungry bat and swung a leg around to face the opposite way. She pressed her thighs together to stop the overwhelming urge to come from spreading. Arms freed, Ansin used one paw to caress her mound and the other to stroke his own aching prick.

Looking down, she saw Ansin's cock swaying like a blind snake as his paw slid up and down the shaft. It was longer and thinner than Sam's had been, and had a pronounced curve to it. She wondered if it would taste the same. Dipping her head and opening her jaws she went to find out.

Ansin took his paw away as her warm mouth closed over his cock. His measured breathing skipped as the tip slid along her wet tongue and into her throat. He managed to regain the rhythm only when she pulled back to suck on the tip with her lips. By the time she had plugged her throat with it again he was back in control. It was a good thing too, other wise he would have come right then. But this was already the longest he had managed to last without coming, and he was very proud of that.

Anabel took her turn sucking and tonguing his cock while her legs slowly opened at his caress. After a minute he could rub her clit again and after two she was spread enough for him to get a digit inside. By the time he could feel the pressure building in his balls he had three inside her and was alternately pumping her and stroking the sensitive pad of tissue inside. He wanted to have her as ready as possible for the time when he could no longer hold back. He knew that he was on the right track from the way she was pressing back against him.

Anabel stopped sucking and lifted her head from cock when she saw him clenching his pelvic muscles in an instinctive attempt to stave off orgasm. Head down, eyes closed, and mouth open, she enjoyed the movement of his paw inside her for a while. She reached back and took over rubbing her clit so he could concentrate on driving his digits deep inside her.

She was swelling up inside, she could feel it in the way her twat gripped his digits as they travelled in and out. It felt like she was filling up with soft balloons, warm wet balloons. But behind them, and approaching fast, there was a more intense sensation, like an electrical storm on the horizon. When it caught up with the balloons they would burst. This time, she wanted more than digits inside her when it did.

She swung herself about with the same grace she had displayed earlier, returning to a standing position above his trembling cock. With her thigh and calf muscles standing out like they were carved from stone she lowered her butt straight down until her gaping sex hovered just above the tip of his cock. Reaching down, she took the shaft in her paw and seated the tip between the pink lips that protruded from the nest of short black fur. Then she released it, put her paws on his hips, and lowered herself slowly, deliberately down.

For Ansin it was like dying and waking up in Valhalla. His sonar picked up every detail of her cunt as it leisurely swallowed and regurgitated his cock, from the way her clit stood out in the 'vee' at its apex to the way the inner lips dragged behind as if reluctant to give him up. And the physical sensation of being inside her! In his one previous hasty coupling he had not had time to savour the feeling before coming, and that girl had kicked him out of bed immediately thereafter. But his tranquil state of mind and new found control allowed him the leisure to experience her to the fullest, so he lay back and let the centre of his consciousness wander down to where the action was.

Like a tight little ball of awareness amid a sea of numbness, his concentrated awareness moved down his chest and into his cock. All else was forgotten as he concentrated on that one appendage. He could tell the difference in the texture of her nether lips from the swollen tissue inside. He could tell when her clit was dragging down his shaft. He could even feel the slightly rubbery texture of the spot a few centimetres inside and high in her channel where he was sure the impending explosion would originate.

For her part, the curve of his cock made it press on that spot in a way that Sam's thicker member had not. She found that by shortening and speeding up the stoke she could tease it with the tip of his cock in a manner that her digits were too short to do. She leaned forward so that her breasts brushed his chest and rocked her hips rapidly, massaging his shaft while she serviced herself. She would not need much more to bring on the lightning.

She came with a cry and a release of waters that soaked them both. When she did she dropped to Ansin's chest and clutched him with all her might while her hips continued to rock his cock. All of this was new to Ansin, the cry of passion in his ear, the female form pressed against him, the baptism of fiery fluids. The shock of the combined sensations ruined his concentration and disturbed the serene shell he had created. The pleasure index on his prick shot from a manageable level to critical in an instant. He clutched the cheeks of her ass and drove into her with new urgency.

In less than ten stokes he joined her by crying out himself and holding her hips against his as what seemed like an endless stream of spooge shot through him. His balls clenched again and again as the long pent up supply emptied itself deep inside her.

They stayed like that, the small canine laying on the skinny bat, head to head, locked together, arms about each other, for over ten minutes before one of them spoke.

"Anabel, I ..."

"Ansin, don't." She whispered wearily in his ear, emotionally drained from the stress of the last twenty-four hours. "Don't say you love me. Anything but that. Okay?"

"I was just going to say 'thanks'."

Anabel buried her head in the nape of his neck as a tear escaped from the corner of her eye. She hugged him tighter. A few minutes later, physically worn out from making love and mentally exhausted from the death of Sam she fell asleep in that position.

It took Ansin considerably longer to fall asleep as he did not dare move and wake the exhausted toy terrier. But he eventually did, and when they awoke at dawn they made love again.

* * * * * * * *

Grey had guessed correctly. They took him straight to the cells, his feet hardly touching the ground between the dorm and the interrogation wing.

They put him in a small concrete room with a conspicuous drain in the middle of the floor. Then they stripped him naked and chained him to a hard wooden chair under a harsh light and left him to stew for a few hours. With nothing else to do Grey examined the chair. There were deep claw marks gouged into the arms and suspicious red stains soaked into the wood. It smelled like it had been seeped in bodily fluids like sweat and urine. Shifting his butt he could see that there were nail holes where his scrotum would be if one were to pull it forward and stretch it out. His testicles tried to climb back between the bones of his pelvis at the thought of it.

After what felt like several hours the big silver fox that had blown away his best cocktail spoon entered the room pushing a much more comfortable chair. He turned its back toward Grey and sat on it with his arms crossed along the top edge and rested his chin on them. For several minutes he stared unblinkingly at the other fox through blue-grey eyes that seemed to lack any trace of compassion. Grey's stress level soared.

"Comfy?" The fox asked so unexpectedly that Grey lost a few drops of urine before regaining control.

"N ...no. Not really." He managed. "This chair is very uncomfortable ... and dirty, mister .... uh, who are you?"

"You can call me Silver." Silver kept his expression neutral but inside he was smiling. Ever since he had seen the old chair in Rusty's garage, where it was used as a makeshift saw horse, he had known its beat-up appearance and chewing tobacco stains would produce the psychological effect it was now having on Muzzle.

"The game is up Muzzle, if that is your name. We have the messages you sent. We have your codes. We have decrypted your notes about the personalities you have met and the layout of the Academy." As he talked Silver took out his Glock and screwed the silencer on to the end. "We have enough in fact to get a MEOW for you."

"A MEOW?" Grey asked, confused.

"Yes, a Ministerial Execution Order Waiver. Silly title for a command to kill but everything in government has to have an acronym these days." Silver shrugged. "But before we do we'd like to hear your story. So would you like to tell me now and save yourself a lot of unnecessary pain or would you rather play the tough guy and add more than your piss to the decor of that chair?"

Grey noted that the big black gun was pointed straight at his left kneecap. He swallowed hard.

"Alright. I'll talk. I'm a KGB sleeper agent."

Silver looked bored. "I figured that already. The code you used is over thirty years old. How long have you been a sleeper, anyway?"

"Forever. I was born over here. Mom and Dad were first generation sleepers. They taught me all my spy craft and passed their codes on to me when they moved on."

"Oh, they're dead?"

"No. They relocated to a retirement community in Florida. But they are both suffering from Alzheimer's and have forgotten that they were ever Russian agents. They even cheer for the Washington Generals now, they are that far gone. Dad can hardly remember to put on his pants before he goes out."

Silver knew that the technicians monitoring the interrogation would be checking on the parents with the American authorities. "How long have you been trying to get into a western spy agency?"

"Over twenty-five years." Grey slumped in the chair as much as the chains would allow. "I tried the DIA, the CIA, the NSA, the NRO, the FBI and even the NGA and the DEA. Unfortunately with the end of the cold war no one was hiring. I had to take up writing porn and bartending on the side to make ends meet. By the time that the war on terrorism created a need for new agents I was considered too old." Grey was almost crying.

"There, there Muzzle. It's not that bad. Take it like a fox."

"You don't know how frustrating it's been." The old red fox with the grey patches in his fur continued. "I had to pay capitalist rednecks good money to learn how to fire automatic weapons at the recreational rifle ranges. My folks had bought me a tuxedo and black silk bow tie when I graduated High School in anticipation of me infiltrating my first agency but I soon outgrew it. I had to buy a half dozen others over the years as my waistline spread but they all just hung in the closet gathering dust. But the worst thing was the look of disappointment on Mom and Dad's faces as the rejection slips piled up. I had just about given up when I thought of trying the Canadian agencies; age discrimination is illegal here. They all rejected me too, until the FOX application showed up. Cute trick with the disintegrating paper by the way."

Grey referring to the original envelope and instructions for filling out the application form. After exposure to the air and light they began to biodegrade at an accelerated rate. If the application was not sealed and mailed within the time allotted it too would turn to dust in the holder's paws, leaving no evidence of the agency behind. Silver nodded his head in acknowledgement of the compliment.

"The Soviet Union collapsed over two decades ago. Why bother after all these years, Muzzle?" Silver asked, puzzled.

"It's hard to break with family tradition." Grey shrugged. "I have a friend who still wears a yarmulke to please his mother, but he converted to marry a shikse years ago. Besides, when that crazy squirrel Putin got in power I thought the KGB would make a comeback. My life was pointless without it. If I could save just one world from capitalism, one planet, or topple even a single imperialistic government, my life would be complete." Grey paused and stared into space retrospectively. "Of course, there is the sex thing too. No one gets yiffed like a double agent; twice the poontang."

Silver nodded in agreement. "You're right, Muzzle. Double agents do get laid more often than us straight spies. But not for as long." He checked the load on his gun pointedly. "And the KGB is coming back, or at least the former members are, in the new security service. The Soviets may be gone but the Russian threat isn't. They answered your message just before I came in by the way. I think that they are just as surprised as we were to see a sleeper wake up after so long. They were impressed that you managed to kill two FOX agents and have asked for more details."

"You think that I killed Charlie? Or that I had something to do with Sam's death? Is that why you have asked for a MEW against me?"

"It's called a MEOW."

"Sorry, I am a little stressed right now." Grey spoke fast but he could not keep his eyes off the muzzle of the silencer on the big black Glock. "I was just trying to make myself look good to my former KGB masters. I am innocent. I wouldn't hurt a fly. All my responses to the psychological tests were drilled into me by my parents. The thought of physical violence makes me ill."

"How did you expect to become an agent here if you don't have the killer instinct?"

"I thought that maybe I could join the headquarters staff as a translator or something." Grey shrugged but the silver fox's expression never changed. "You must believe me." He begged.

Something in Silver's pocket chimed softly. He fished out a PDA and glanced at the screen before putting back in his pocket. Then the silver fox with the scar through his left eyebrow stood up smoothly, almost lazily, and walked behind Grey. He rested the silencer of his Glock in the little hollow of Grey's right shoulder. Then he leaned down so that he could whisper solemnly into Grey's ear.

"Your MEOW just come through, Muzzle. You know what we have to do now I suppose?"

"Arrange for an exchange?" Grey asked, hopefully. The silver fox shook his head to indicate no. Grey sighed and let his chin drop to his chest. Hiss parents had steeled him for this moment, the inevitable moment that ends all sleeper agents' careers, the moment when you are caught, tried in secret, and summarily executed.

"I'm ready." He said, with a sense of calm that he had not felt for years. "Just get it over with."

Silver pulled the silencer back and Grey sensed movement behind him. Then there came the sound of metal on metal, like the slide of an automatic pistol being cocked. Or the ratchet of a set of steel shackles being unlocked. Grey almost fell out of the stained chair when his bounds dropped from him. He caught the arms and turned his head to stare at the now unarmed silver fox.

"You ... you are not going to kill me?" He asked, uncertainly. It would be like these Western agents to toy with him.

"If you would like me to, sure." The big fox replied, pulling his gun back out from under his jacket. "I was kind of hoping that you would come work for us as a triple agent, but whichever you prefer is fine with me." He lowered the muzzle to Grey's head.

"What the hell." Grey spoke hastily. "Communism failed. Even Putin is a capitalist now. When do I start?"

Silver put his pistol away so fast Grey could not follow the movement. It was just there one second and gone the next. "You'll need a few months of intense reconditioning and debriefing first. Don't worry; we'll keep up the conversation with your new contacts in Moscow while you are gone."

"Will I be going far away?" Grey asked, a pleading note in his voice.

"Just to a safe house outside of town. Someone from our highest echelons will be by now and then to check up on you and make sure that you are comfortable. Why?"

"Any chance of that liaison person being Mademoiselle Chienne-Caniche?"

* * * * * * * *

The next morning the students were told that physical training was cancelled due to the trauma of the recent events. They were to report directly to their classroom instead. When they arrived they were shocked to see that Grey's desk had been cleaned out. They knew of course that some kind of raid had been mounted on his room in the dorm, but they were hoping that it had been a mistake, and that the kindly older fox would be back in class today with another funny story to tell. They did not know much about what was going on because the SWAT team had kept them back from the scene but Aglaia, whose room was across the hall from Grey's, had reported that a large silver fox had lead Muzzle away.

"At least he is still alive." Zac observed.

"WAS alive." Aglaia pointed out. "That fox did not look like the tolerant type. I'll bet that Muzzle had something to do with O'Leary's and Matty's deaths."

Zac started to protest, he could not imagine that the elderly bartender and bon vivant could have any to do with the death of their fellow classmates, but he was cut off by the husky, Sanmer.

"What did the fox look like?" Sanmer asked Aglaia.

"Muzzle? Sort of scared, nervous. It was hard to tell. I had to peek through the door because the SWAT team would not let us out into the hall."

"Us?" Ansin wondered aloud.

"Not Grey." Sanmer said, exasperated. "The silver fox. What did he look like?"

"Oh him." Aglaia stood up and took a deep breath, happy to have an audience. "He was huge. Big and ugly. His fur was the colour of old tin, and ragged, like he had just come from a fight. He was missing one eye as I recall, and there was a bright pink scar running down the side of his face where the eye used to be. I think that he was missing a chuck of meat from his snout too. Yeah, a big chunk, so all his teeth were showing on one side."

"What about his paws, Aglaia." Sanmer asked, his eyes no longer focused on her but on a point above and behind her, like he was visualizing the monster fox, she supposed. "Was there anything special about his paws?"

"Yes!" The blue vixen almost shouted, remembering a flash of angry reddish flesh. "His paws had no fur. Just hardened scar tissue, and they were twisted into horrible shapes that were tipped with broken blackened claws that dripped gore. If I had not have seen Muzzle walk by alive a second before I would have sworn that the silver fox had just ripped his guts out for a midnight snack."

"So where did the blood come from then?" Anabel asked with evident disdain.

"How should I know? Maybe one of the SWAT team pissed him off. I didn't count them all coming and going so maybe one yiffed up and the silver fox had his guts for garters." Aglaia went on defensively.

"So the fox in the dorm was a huge, repulsive, monster with one eye, fur-less paws and poor hygiene." Sanmer concluded, still staring away.

"Yeah, not the type you want to get on the wrong side of." Aglaia confirmed, her tone confident.

"Not at all like the fellow behind you then?" Sanmer asked innocently. "Although now he does look a little ... fiercer ... compared to when he came in a minute ago."

Aglaia's ears went back as her eyebrows shot up. Her tail, which had been twitching aggressively high behind her, fell to the floor limp. She did not turn around, but addressed Zac, who had, out of the corner of her mouth.

"Is there a tall silver fox with a small scar over his left eye and a teensy burn scar on his left paw standing behind me?"

"You forgot the stern look and the big black gun strapped to his hip." Zac smiled back.

"Shit." But embarrassed or not, Aglaia had enough guts to turn around and face the music. As she feared, the silver fox that she had glimpsed through the crack in the door frame the night before was standing there, wearing a scowl that looked permanently etched onto his face. His brows were so deeply furrowed that the scar over his left eye seemed to dance.

"Good day, uh, Sir." She brazenly stuck out a paw. "My name is Aglaia. Aglaia, er, Jones."

"I know. Sit down." The fox replied in a tone usually reserved for sending people to the guillotine. He turned away from her and moved toward the front of the class, seemingly ignoring her, but when she tossed her braids irritably one ear swivelled to track them much as Ansin's had, and his paw twitched beside his gun. Aglaia realized that she had been correct in her first, instinctive statement; he was not the tolerant type. Her survival instinct momentarily tussled with her need to dominate every conversation and, fortunately for her, survival won.

"My name is Silver." The fox announced as he reached the podium at the front of the room. "I am the Chief of Staff here at FOX. I apologize for not introducing myself sooner, but we have had a few incidents that I have had to deal with in recent days. I wanted to talk to you about some of these that have affected your class in particular. But rather than make a statement I'll ask you to put any questions you have, any at all, to me. I'll respond as best as I am able."

A smart move Zac, who knew something about psychology, thought. Defending a statement automatically put you at a disadvantage. Everything you said would be regarded as suspicious. But just answering questions, even with the unspoken restrictions of national security, gave it a sense of honesty. Of course, from now on the fox could lie through his teeth, and Zac suspected that such skills were a prerequisite for the senior staff. But if he was really skillful he would not have to lie. He just had to answer as much as he wanted and let their fertile, active minds fill in the blanks. He decided to start the session off and try to catch the old silver fox out if he could.

"Were Charlie and Sam murdered?" He asked.

"We don't think so." Silver answered, pleased to see that the wolf did not begin by asking if his classmate Muzzle had killed them.

"Then why do you have Grey under arrest?" The tall timber wolf, Thomas asked.

"He is not under arrest." Silver answered truthfully. Technically the old red fox was detained, and under an execution order, not arrest, so Silver's conscious was clear and his face was free of signs of falsehood. "But he is off the course. We have found a more suitable position for his talents."

"I never thought that he could cut it." Aglaia said loudly. Silver silenced her with a look.

"Is it common to lose so many students so soon in the course?" This came from Sanmer, who for all his quirks and irrelevance seemed to have the ability to cut to the heart of a matter more than anyone else.

"Not really." Silver turned to the husky to answer him. "it is a tough course that until recently has been filled with candidates that were daring to the point of being suicidal, brave to the point of being foolhardy, and bold to the point of being ... idiots."

"You generation?" Thomas inquired boldly.

"Yes." Silver admitted without emotion or offence. "We were an odd breed, shaped by circumstance and refined by accident. We were defined by our ability to survive and kill." His gaze swept the room like he surveying so many paper targets. "And we were promoted in accordance with our ability to shrug it off and do it again the next month, the next week, the next day. Whenever it was required." He looked at each of the students in the eye until they were all forced to turn away from the cold fire in his eyes.

"Did you lose as many in your day?" Anabel asked.

"My course started with sixteen." Silver looked up in remembrance. "We graduated four."

"Good God, you had twelve people killed?" Zac interjected.

"Oh, no. Two were pulled of for medical reasons and two completed the course but were not considered good enough to graduate. They were sent home on the last day."

"So you lost eight." Ansin did the math in his head. "Seems a bit excessive to me."

"Standards were tougher in my day." Silver reminisced. "But we only had five killed. Three were merely crippled."

"And that was okay with you?" Saira asked, a little in awe. He had been staring at Silver open mouthed since the fox's appearance.

"We lived closer to death in the Cold War. Everyone expected the nuclear holocaust to occur in their lifetime, so taking on a few extra risks did not seem like a big deal. But times have changed." He shrugged, his wide shoulders rolling smoothly under the sports jacket that he wore. "Now we have counsellors to help you work your way thought a traumatic event like the death of a co-worker or a fellow student. Speaking of which, Doctor Gordon and his staff will be interviewing you all, starting tomorrow, to make sure that you don't have any deep-seated issues that may reveal themselves in an unfortunate manner sometime in the future."

"What do we do in the meantime?" The ever practical and somewhat insensitive blue fox inquired from the corner where she had retreated to.

"We are going to watch a few of my favourite movies." Silver replied. "Starting with a classic about dedication to an ideal and commitment to a mission, 'The Seven Samurai'. It's a Japanese film but very understandable even without the subtitles. Next we'll look at the American remake of it, 'The Magnificent Seven'. It's a western."

"Oh, is that the one with the Jackal Yul Brynner, and the golden retriever Steve McQueen?" Saira asked enthusiastically.

"Yes. And the coyote James Coburn, the fox Robert Vaughn, the wolf Charles Bronson and a few other canines."

"The Chihuahua Eli Wallach was funny." Sanmer said wistfully.

"Well, I want you to pay attention to how they handle their weapons." Silver said seriously. "Even though it is Hollywood's interpretation there are some valuable lessons to be learned about focus and control there. If we have time afterwards we can relax and watch the third remake of the story, the animated Disney version, 'A Bug's life'."

Put at their ease about the untimely deaths and disappearances, the group broke into general laughter about the ludicrousness of watching a Disney film as part of their espionage agent course.

"Intelligent talking bugs." Zac shook his head at the absurdity of it. "What will Walt's boys think of next?"

* * * * * * * *

While the students were enjoying their day off from regular classes the rest of the Academy was busy trying to get a grip on what was going on. Two purely accidental deaths just before the capture of a double agent would be highly coincidental, and Silver did not believe in coincidences. So he had everyone available rechecking the student's backgrounds, re-interviewing their references, and reviewing the security camera footage.

Joel, having verified that all of the student's documents were authentic for the third time, was engaged in reviewing the security footage of the past few days. Silver had given him some specific things to look for. Anyone carving or drawing any kind of symbol, for one. He also wanted to see if anyone had gone up into that oak tree since the day the first student arrived. Finally, he wanted the movements of anyone who was Muslim tracked, because of the crescent moon carved into the bark of that oak.

Joel had eagerly volunteered to take on those tasks because he had access to the camera network, he had the software to track the subjects, and he had the computer power to assemble the huge video files required. He also happened to know that one of the students, Sanmer Soon the black and white husky, was from Malaysia, and therefore presumably a believer in the Islamic faith. Someone who bore watching he presumed.

Joel could have pointed out to Silver that there are many groups and organizations that use the crescent moon in their symbology. He could have passed on to him that the Islamic moon symbol was almost always accompanied by a star between the pints of the crescent. The flag of Malaysia, for example, had a fourteen-pointed star, not the more common five-pointed one or the six-pointed one they had found beneath Matty's body. But why complicate things? If Silver wanted the husky watched Joel would oblige.

The lemur settled back in his padded swivel chair and flipped through the camera feeds until he found the one he was looking for. At the moment it showed an empty room in the student dorm. Joel reversed it until the time of the raid the night before. Then he searched forward until a figure entered the room. He watched as Soon prepared for bed, a routine that included a half hour on the internet, skimming through some sites of interest to Joel. As usual, the husky finished his search on one of the BDSM sites Joel managed in his spare time. Joel watched him paw off, catching his spooge neatly in a tissue before heading off to dump it in the toilets.

Joel made a note to check the site and see what it was that had excited the canine. He would have to do it from home, Silver had made Kain block the sites from the Academy servers. Soon must be using a wireless internet account to have access to them, he supposed. He watched the husky undress and go to bed and then fast-forwarded to morning and watched him go through his morning routine. It was not as much fun as his evening ritual, but Joel liked to watch the Asian husky walking around his room naked, unaware that he was being filmed.

Joel smiled at his ingenuity. Take the cameras out of the showers and change rooms, Silver had said. Move them outside, Silver had said. And so Joel had done as ordered. But Silver had not specified where to aim the cameras, so technically it was okay to have one mounted outside Soon's dorm window pointing into the husky's room.

The rest of the footage of Soon and the other students from the other cameras around the Academy were not as much fun to watch. Joel added them to the growing file in the virtual world he had created for this case and went back to his regular work of forging document for the agents. It was mundane work that only took up a small portion of his consciousness. While that portion tried to match the shade of blue used in the Myanmar exit visas he let the rest dwell on the Malaysian husky with the slight bulge around his waist and the sexy butt.

Joel knew the canine's routine by heart. Now, he wondered, how to arrange an accidental meeting?

* * * * * * * *

The Japanese movie came on two DVDs. Silver called a fifteen minute break while he switched discs. Some of the students went to grab a smoke. Some went to use the vending machines. The rest headed for the washrooms.

It was an older building once occupied by several different ministries before FOX took it over and knocked down the interior barriers. Because of this it had many small washrooms instead of centralized male and female facilities on each floor. Some had a couple of stalls and urinals, and these were marked for males. Others had several stalls and no urinals, and these were marked for females. Some had just a single toilet and sink, and these were marked as unisex washrooms. Anyone could use them, but it was advisable to lock the door behind you if you were shy. With walls of solid stone covered with insulation, gyp-rock and tile they were virtually soundproof, so the private rooms were a favourite spot for a little lunchtime yiffing.

One of the students headed straight for one of the private washrooms and entered alone. Privacy was not strictly required for sending a message, but it make one less nervous and better able to communicate. After a minute the connection was established.

"Report."

"They think it was an accident, but we are all to be interviewed by a psychologist in case we show signs of post traumatic stress. We have today to rest and the interviews start tomorrow."

"Can you handle the interview?"

"With your support brothers, yes."

"Do not let your faith waiver. We are superior. Our quest will not be denied. But there is still a possible witness. An in-depth examination of the events may bring out facts that she herself is unaware of. She must be eliminated before she can pass on any details."

"When?"

"Tonight. Here's what we'll do ..."

* * * * * * * *

The stormy weather returned as predicted just as they were released from the classroom. Of all the students only Anabel and Sanmer had raincoats. Anabel because she studied the weather reports religiously and was always prepared for anything. Sanmer because he kept a raincoat in every location he may find himself in. He had one here in class, one in his room, one in the cloakroom of the cafeteria, and one on the rack in the waiting room of the infirmary. They were all hung so that the shoulders lined up perfectly with the lines of longitude. He had to bend the hangers to accomplish that.

Anabel's raincoat was black, like most of her fur, hung nearly to the ground, and had a hood that covered everything but the tip of her long snout. She walked calmly through the heavy rain, resisting the urge to run like as most of the others were forced to do, pulling shirts and light jackets over their heads in a pathetic attempt to stay dry.

When she got to her room she carefully hung the dripping raincoat up in a corner and spread a towel under it so that the puddle would not spread. She hated getting her feet wet, and had to dance around the wide pools of water that were obstructing the sidewalks and pathways around the Academy. She had not thought to bring rubber boots with her to the spy school. Maybe they had some in the Academy stores?

At least she was dry enough that she did not have to change for supper and therefore did not have to rush. She sat down at the desk and decided to check her emails while she brushed her fur.

Several of the emails were from Ansin, and she cringed a bit, wondering if she had gone too far by making love to him a second time. She had hoped that he would not be the clingy type. She opened the latest one, sure to be a good indicator of his mood, and bravely read it. To her relief it had nothing to do with him and her. It was warning that Aglaia was on the warpath. Apparently the blue fox, or was that vixen? Whatever. It seemed she was upset that Ansin had gotten away from her. She had also found out where Ansin fled to, and he believed that she was mad at Anabel now also. He thought that she may become confrontational.

Bring it on, Anabel thought, with a sense of confidence that was new and exhilarating. I'll kick her right in the balls and slap her tits silly if she as much as raises a paw. I'll pull every blue hair off her pointy head. I'll ...

Anabel almost peed herself when a loud incessant knock came at her door.

"Who ... who is it?" She struggled to maintain a normal tone.

"It's Aglaia, Balfor. Let me in."

"What do you want?" Anabel tried to sound pissed at being disturbed, but she had not had much practice at it.

Aglaia had changed. She was wearing a loose black outfit that covered her vibrant black fur from neck to ankle. She had black leather boots that looked waterproof, Anabel saw with anguish. They were practical and stylish. Her hatred for the vixen deepened.

"You have something of mine." Aglaia said haughtily.

It took Anabel a second to realize what the fox was talking about. The maid's outfit. Anabel had put it in the washer before going to bed and had put it in the dryer before her and Ansin's second bout. At the moment it lay neatly folded on her dresser, all clean and ready for the next ... volunteer.

Anabel grabbed the outfit and unlocked the door. She pulled it open and managed to stand there rather than throw the costume at her in a panic and slam the door again. She thought that she looked cool, aloof, but she actually had a stern, judgmental look on her face. One that Aglaia was all too familiar with. It did not help foster their friendship.

"You have my outfit?" The vixen snarled

"Yes."

"Cleaned I hope?"

Anabel held the sweet smelling black dress out, glad that she had added a scented sheet to the dryer. She had used to bonnet to tie it up in a neat bundle.

"Of course. Although I believe some of the stains were rather old."

"Faraday better not have ripped it when he went tearing out the door with it."

"It is intact." Anabel said with her nose up. She could not resist adding, "More than I can say for you."

"At least I haven't yiffed everybody in the Academy yet." Aglaia shot back.

"Pity. I hear that you are well equipped for it."

Aglaia raised a paw, but hesitated. Anabel tensed, ready to fight, but did not want to be the one to strike first. A ringing sound interrupted their standoff.

It was Anabel's phone. "Hello?" She answered. "Saira? Where are you? At the school? Why? Oh, you are the senior student this week." Each week one of the students was assigned the role of senior student. Their job was to get everyone where they were supposed to be on time. They also had to make sure that the classroom was unlocked and set up for the first period of the day, and that it was cleaned up and locked at the end of the day. Students with natural leadership abilities would enlist others to do these tasks. Those lacking such skills, like Saira, did them themselves.

"Sure I can come help you put the audio-visual equipment away. I'll stop by on my way to the cafeteria. Give me five minutes, okay? Right. See you." Anabel returned her phone to her pocket. Aglaia was still standing in her doorway, examining the outfit that she had unfolded while Anabel and Saira talked.

"I have to go Aglaia."

"Yeah." Aglaia said, stepping back while continuing to look for popped stitches and rips. "Have fun with Rasielle."

I wonder what that was supposed to mean, Anabel wondered as she pushed past the intersexed vixen. Saira was a sweet guy, but he seemed kind of ... gay ... Anabel thought. Still, she could not help but wonder what kind of equipment he was packing, and how it would compare with Sam's and Ansin's. She had recently come to realize that something was missing in her life, and that something came in many different shapes and sizes.

Oh they came alright; she thought as she donned her black raincoat and closed her door behind her. They certainly came.

Just before the exit there was a small vestibule with large windows on each side. Anabel paused there to check the weather. It was still raining heavily, so she pulled her hood over her head, stepped past the window and reached a paw out to open the door.

* * * * * * * *

Out in the rain a watcher was hidden in the trees, keeping an eye on the exit. He saw Anabel pause in the window, her two-toned muzzle and pointed ears distinct through the clear glass. He saw her pull her hood up.

"Here she comes." He reported to the others, transmitting a description of her clothing. High above the pathway, where the rain had made an impassable pool, they waited with their paws gripping the electrical power line that supplied the dorm. Below them, a figure in black with its head shrouded so only the tip of its snout protruded left the dorm and strode down the path. When the student got to the edge of the huge puddle it hesitated. It looked left and then right for an alternate route, but seeing none, stepped into the shallow pool and waded cautiously through it.

When it reached the midpoint they pulled hard on the electrical line. It came free of the transformer with a spray of sparks. Safe only as long as the spitting end did not tough the cross beam they were perched on, they hastily dropped it.

Pounding rain and covered ears covered the sound of the hissing electrical serpent as it dropped to the ground. But the victim must have caught some movement out of the corner of their eye as its head turned just as the end that was emitting sparks touched the surface of the water.

A mouth opened to scream, but only smoke came out.

* * * * * * * *

To be continued ....

The FOX Academy series:

Book I - The New Breed

Book II - The Werewolf of Odessa

Book II.5 - The Love who Spied Me

Book III - The Curse of the Yellow Monkey

Book IV - Wait for No One

Book V - Dawn of Vengeance

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