FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 3.0: Guilt Trip

Wolfehome Apartments

It's a dream I've had very often. One that constantly haunts me both in the waking world and in the dreaming one. Crossing a dark corridor with not walls or boundaries, I was flanked by floating doors, each one shut and yet each one I somehow knew led somewhere... Where it led... I wasn't sure.

My body felt light... almost weightless. Each of my steps seemed to take less and less effort but I kept moving forward towards the enormous circular door that stood at the end of the so-called corridor. For the first time, I noticed there was a man standing in front of the iris-like portal, features hidden beneath a deep cloak. Yet I could make out the burning, red eyes beneath the hood, alight with lust for power and triumph.

Somehow... I knew he was saying something but... I just didn't listen.

I knew how this dream played out.

Beyond the door... I saw myself... Or rather another Jacob Reaper. One that I had met before. A 'me' that was bigger, more muscular, taller and had much thicker fur. The blood that seeped out of the gaping wound in his chest soaked into his matching jet-black fur, staining the golden crest on his chest that mirrored mine.

I walked right through the red-eyed figured that just kept ranting. Somehow, I could tell he was surprised as I reached out through the door towards my counterpart. On the other side of that door, lying in a pile of black sand, the other Jacob Reaper reached up, paws shaking...

... our fingers brushed against one another -

"Jake..."

A paw fell on my shoulder.

That red-eyed hooded figure gave him a maniacal grin, his lips pulled back in an insanely wide smile that shone even through the darkness of his hood.

"Wake up..."

My eyes snapped open.

I saw a black and white splotch dancing in the world heavily saturated by the light spraying in from the blinds. A wince escaped me and I clasped my paws over my eyes, groaning softly. My other senses started kicking in... and my heart began racing madly...

I smelled bacon... eggs... and pancakes... Blueberry if I'm not mistaken...

There was something heavy sitting on my lap... and I felt the cool, autumn breeze coming in from the open window against my unclothed body. Someone big and with tight, round muscles was pressing themselves against me left shoulder, one arm draped across my back and a wet nose pressed against my neck.

Please don't be who I think you are...

Slowly, I peeled my eyes open...

... and I saw the face of Mr. Pancake giving me a bacon smile with sunny side eyes glittering with flecks of ground black pepper and salt.

Yarf...

Only one person in the world knew I loved this kind of breakfast... and that same person was gently nuzzling me.

Devlin Rooks.

It began to dawn on me that I was completely naked and the way Dev was rubbing his muzzle against my neck was slowly causing more blood to rush to my groin and less blood being pumped into my head for rational thinking. The tray on my lap was starting to slant to the side.

"Please tell me you didn't just cook me breakfast..." I whimpered.

That's one of the signs of a couple, right? Cooking your mate breakfast?

Chad has never done that!

Heck, I haven't done that!

The only person I've ever cooked breakfast for is myself... and my dad...

... Huh... I wonder if that's why he's always keen to get me in bed with him...?

Eeew...

Total boner killer...

"Oh god no," Devlin laughed, sliding under the sheets with me. I noticed that he was actually sort of dressed. He only had a pair of navy-blue shorts that looked ridiculously tight on him and a white undershirt. "I just went across the street to that breakfast deli and brought you something. Payed them a couple of extra Solars to arrange it like this. Oh and I got the tray too."

One of my ears dropped down as I inclined my head to the side. "You went down the street in that?"

The big footballer shrugged. "Let's face it, Jake, when you're this big" - he flexed his muscles - "the less clothing, the better."

My boner was back...

"So come on!" Dev insisted, picking up a fork and shoving it into my paws. "Eat up! It's your favourite right? Blueberry pancakes, bacon and eggs arranged in a smiley face." He leaned against my neck and no matter how much I tried to pull away, he found my flesh and breathed against it. "I still remembered that's what you kept getting at camp each year."

Crap... He did remember. I was hoping it was just some fluke.

Bacon was nice and crisp. Not quite burned but all the fat was crunchy and not tough. The rind had also been removed. Eggs were done to that limit where the yolk was runny and the whites were gelatinous. Those pancakes looked pretty darn good as well.

Only one thing was missing...

"You forgot the orange juice," I stated, a little ashamed there was a burst of elation in my voice.

"No I didn't."

I turned to Devlin just in time to see him lift a bottle of orange juice to his muzzle, take a large gulp and then -

SMECK!

... kiss me dead on...

I braced myself for the flood of orange juice that I knew would be coming... but as with all of Dev's kisses, he was soft, gentle... caring. Bit by bit, he poured the contents of his muzzle into mine. I tried to spit it back but he chose that moment to wrap his arms around me and hold me tightly. The tangy-sweet-sour taste of the orange juice made me lose myself in that kiss and I was lapping up the last drops from his lips and suckling on his tongue before I even knew what I was doing.

The kiss lasted a whole minute after the last drop left Dev's muzzle.

"How was it?" the bigger wolf asked with a cocky smirk.

...

"Still warm."

Devlin leaned forward and rested his head on my stomach. His muzzle was uncomfortably close to my rising cock but he seemed to ignore it for the moment. His lips parted for a moment. My heart froze. Was this the part where he would say he really enjoyed our fuck-session last night? Would this be where he'd mention that he'd been wanting to do that for a long while now?

"Jake... There's something I've been meaning to ask you..."

Crap!

He was going to ask me to marry him!

All my dreams about growing old with Chad instantly went down the drain... Tony, our homicidal plushie-turned-son was vanished in a puff of smoke... only to come back as an undead monster seeking revenge for what could have been. Then his brother, Michael, a beautiful angel of mercy, would come down and stop him...

... to which they would end their conflict in a sea of cum...

Damnit! Something about Dev was turning my apocalyptic scenarios into homoerotic smut.

"That 'Grim' dude... Who was he...?"

And here I thought there wouldn't be anything worse than a proposal.

What was the best way to tell your best friend that you're being chased by Death?

"He's the Avatar of Death," I answered shortly. "You know the guy that comes and fetches your soul after you die? Yeah... That's the one."

Part of me wished that was enough to scare him away. The other part held its breath, anxious for his response.

"And you can get rid of him by taking a photo of him?"

"With my phone," I replied calmly, trying to keep my body from shuddering. The heat from his body was sending shivers down my spine and some overly hormonal part of my brain was trying to send telepathic messages to him.

Those messages mainly consisted of, 'Suck my dick! It's right there in front of you!' or 'Yiff me, please!'

One message said, 'Screw the orange juice. I want milk! Man-milk that is!"

"Don't you ever get scared... I mean, that's Death right?"

"The Avatar of Death," I corrected, trying to take a deep breath without pulling too much of his scent. It was a bad idea from the onset. His meaty, minty scent permeated the air and I could smell him on my fur.

Just what did we do last night?

I had to find out.

"Dev...?" I stuttered. "Did... Did you and I...?"

The bigger wolf's ears perked up and twisted towards me. A shine of mirth filled his ice-blue eyes. "You know, I bet I could totally screw with you right now if I said, 'yes', right?"

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"So... We didn't...?"

"As much as I wanted to, Jake," Dev answered, sitting upright and lying on my bed. He stretched his legs and arms, his undershirt sliding up his rock-hard abs.

Was he showing off...?

"I'm not going to get you and Chad to split because we had sex," he continued, lowering his arms and not so subtly curling it around my waist. "I mean, I totally wanted to but I don't want that kind of drama in my life. If I'm going to win you over, it's because you want to come with me. You'll let Chad off easy, you two will part on even terms and no one will be coming after you in the middle of the night with a rusty steak knife only to clip a bit of your fur and keep it on their mantel where they'd praise it like a god and ritualistically have sex in front of it with guys that look like you."

...

What...?

I shuffled away from him slightly and not because of the contact... Okay, maybe just a little because of the contact.

"Something tells me you're speaking from personal experience there..."

Dev growled and pulled his arms across his very impressive chest. "Biggest mistake of my life, Jake. Tried making myself straight. We non-stop with this one girl. Even proposed to her at one point. Well... Sort of proposed."

It was my turn to perk my ears at him. "Okay, this is definitely worth waking up next to you," I said, a grin spreading across my face.

"Gee," he muttered with a soft chuckle and a roll of his eyes, "thanks. You make it sound like you didn't like it."

I won't deny it. As the memories of the previous night came flooding back, I do remember Dev wrapping his big, muscular arms around me and myself pressing up against his chest, nestling in a crook on his corded neck and falling asleep after a series of passionate kisses. It was a feeling I didn't get with Chad.

There was no fear of being discovered... no need to remain awake in case the paparazzi came out of the closet, snapped pictures of us and ran off to out one of Rillotia's bestselling authors and a rising movie star.

There was just... Just a sense of justice... Like it was a long time coming...

"Your story?" I asked, unwilling to delve deeper into the idea. I was with Chad now. I made my choice.

Dev's eyes revealed that he knew about my deflection and I was grateful that he allowed it. "When I went off on that sports scholarship, I was a nobody, Jake. Just another newbie. The guys there were huge. They had way more experience than I did. It wasn't just about being bigger than the guy in front of you, grunting and following the coaches orders anymore. You actually had to be capable of thinking on your feet."

What big feet they were too...

And you know what they say about the size of a guy's dick to their feet...

I whimpered softly at the lost opportunity to see Devlin's dick un-morphed by werewolf genes.

"Anyway..." Devlin said, sighing softly. The regret in his voice weighed heavily in his posture as his broad, rounded shoulders slumped and his head drooped a little. "At that point, I was addicted to popularity... I needed people to know me. So... since I couldn't get popular by playing football... I got popular by dating people."

I translated 'people' to 'girls'.

"Got a lot of pussy... and a lot of ass too. Never any dick. Had to resist and kept convincing myself I was straight. I think at one point I actually believed it."

I inclined my head to the side. "What made you change your mind?"

A soft smile touched his lips. "Your books."

I just had to laugh at that point. "Oh come on. Dev, you've got to be more creative than that."

"Jake, I'm being serious," he answered, chuckling mildly. "I read your first book and I guess there was a sort of word association game that played in my head. 'Jake - Best Friend - Gay - Former Best Friend - Victim - Guilt...'" Dev spoke the last word in a whisper. "... gay..."

I could almost map that in my head.

"So you discovered you were gay by reading my books, unearthing memories of guilt and realising that you were guilt not only for the bullying but also because you were bullying to protect yourself?"

"Pretty much," Dev sighed, turning his eyes back towards me. "I'm sorry, you know."

I waved away his apology. "So you've said. Now get with the story. What happened with that crazy girl that you proposed to?"

Dev sniggered. "Crazy thing... Her sister got married and naturally, as her then-boyfriend, I was invited. The guy that her sister was marrying was actually a football buddy of mine so we knew each other pretty well. Just like yesterday, we went looking for suits and he showed me the ring he was planning to put on his future-wife's finger. It was pretty sweet too.

"As guys do, of course, we had a buck's party that night. He got royally wasted and I guess at one point or another, we somehow found our way to one of those games where a claw comes down and picked up a small capsule with a prize in it."

A frown crossed my features. "You know the reason why they make those capsules round is that round things are harder to get than other shapes, right? They're designed to steal your money."

Devlin held up his paw and nodded solemnly. "I know. That's why I decided to dare my buddy to try and get one. Funny thing, he was totally drunk and he got a capsule on his first try!"

I could do that too.

Gravity manipulation powers were really handy in those games.

"Guess what was in it?" Dev said, wagging his tail.

"A fortune cookie saying, 'Your life ends at the altar'?"

"Close," my boy - I mean, 'best'. Devlin is my best friend. Not boyfriend. I wasn't thinking boyfriend. Not even close! "There was a ring inside. A shoddy, plastic, golden ring. He gave it to me for laughs and told me that's the best I could afford.

"Anyway, on the day of the wedding, when I went over to pick up my 'girlfriend'" - he emphasised the word with air quotes - "I was dressed in my new suit and ready to go. I felt that the suit around me was a little tight so I removed the jacket and tried to see if I had gotten the right size." Devlin was grinning at this point. "Something dropped on the ground... It was a ring."

"The fake -?" I began.

Devlin held his paw up, indicating silence. "So, naturally, I bent down to pick it up. At that moment, the girl I was dating opened the door."

My jaw dropped.

"Oh no..."

"Oh yes," Devlin sniggered. "Now here's the best part." He paused for effect. "You wanna know why my jacket was so tight?"

"Why?" I demanded, leaning forward.

His grin grew bigger. "Because in our totally shitfaced night, me and my buddy and accidentally switched suits! So the real ring..."

"Was with you..." I finished, my eyes widening in both horror and amusement. "He must've dumped the ring back in suit bag during the night... So that means -"

The big football player nodded. "Yep... When the wedding came and my buddy tried to put the ring on his wife's finger, everyone realised it was fake."

"Oh god..." I laughed, throwing my head back.

I couldn't even begin to imagine the humiliation the groom would've felt after everyone saw the plastic seam on that fake ring. Even worse if some of the gold paint had started to fall off!

Tears were forming in my eyes at the sheer hilarity of the situation.

"But what happened to you?"

Dev took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well... After we realised our mistake, Anna and I bolted for the church. We were too late, of course. But the ceremony had gone on without us. It took a while to explain why the ring I gave her said 'To be Dearest Hannah'."

So one sister was named 'Hannah' and the other was 'Anna'?

That must've been all sorts of fun in the household.

"Those two are still happily married now from what I hear," Dev said with a small smile on his features. "My buddy told me to keep the ring. Apparently, the fake one he won is pretty lucky."

I'd say so.

After getting it for a first try,drunk and amidst a nest of similar spherical capsules only to present it to your bride on your wedding day and still walk away with the girl...

Yeah, that was pretty darn lucky.

"And you and Anna?" I asked.

"She's kind of superstitious." Dev shuddered. "Kind of into the occult and everything. She took the whole blotched marriage incident as a sign that we weren't meant to be together. So she did everything in her power to try and change fate. She had a voodoo doll of me and everything. I drew the line when I saw the altar to me in her living room with vials of my blood."

That deserved a wince. Despite all the craziness I've been through, somehow Dev's ex-girlfriend outstripped them all.

"Well," Devlin announced, stretching and wrapping his arm around my waist again, "I can safely say that I'm glad I left her." He pulled back, a big grin on his face. "Heck, imagine what she would say if she found out that we slept together! I mean, we didn't do anything except spoon but still!" His laughter echoed into the canals of my guilt ridden heart. "She'd probably do some of her crazy voodoo and try to poke you with needles!"

For an instant, he frowned. "Though, I guess you'd like that, wouldn't you?" He pressed his nose against my neck constantly. His cold nose felt a lot like icy needles that constantly jabbed at my jugular, practically drawing me closer and closer to death.

I winced and somehow managed to strength to push him away. "Dev... You know I'm with Chad..."

"So?" he responded a big grin on his face. "You're not married to him or anything. I still have a chance to win you over. That and I bet the idea of having sex with your former best-friend turned bully really turns you on..." He pressed his forehead against mine, our noses touching and his hot, iron-corded body pressed against mine. "Doesn't it, Jake?"

Every fibre of my being_screamed_ for him. It took all my will to slow my arm's progress around him to a crawl. My cock was at full mast and I don't even know how that affected the tray that had been sitting on my lap. In my head, the miniature Chadstone Wests were now courageously manning the walls of their formerly-impregnable castle from the invading army of the mini-Devlin Rooks. At the very top of the tower, dressed in a pink, frilly dress...

... was me...

Crap...

I pressed my lips against Dev's but before he could push further, I pulled away.

"You get that for your effort," I told him softly. "Nothing more."

It was probably a horrible idea of bring a challenge to a football player. Recalling how I had easily goaded him into playing a game of VRCSs, I realised I had just made a fatal error. My words ignited a spark in his eyes and brought a grin across his muzzle.

"So I'll get more if I keep trying, huh?"

No! Just stop trying!

My muzzle was clamped shut.

Devlin jumped off the bed with surprising agility and stood back with his paws on his hips. "Okay! So the game's just begun! Chad got a head start, but if anything, I know how to catch up! The game's not over until one side raises the white flag!"

For emphasis, he grabbed his crotch and made a show of just how hard he was.

It took me a second to wonder why he would do that...

When my own 'flagpole' twitched, it came crashing onto me... hard. I twitched I mentally asked what would make a flag 'white' and my cock answered by leaving a rather discernable stain on the sheets.

"I'm up to the challenge!" Dev exclaimed, pumping his fist into the air. "Don't count me out yet, Jake! When the final bell rings, we'll just have to see who scores the most!"

Yarf...

I wondered if he was doing that intentionally or it was just some ridiculous sports-related clichés that I was corrupting...

Devlin winked at me and hiked a thumb at his chest. "I've been known pull victories out of my ass! I really know how to come from behind!"

Okay... he was so doing that on purpose.

"You're evil..." I growled.

"Ha!" he exclaimed, leaping forward and poking my nose. I reeled back as he stood straight with a look of triumph on his face. "How's it feel to have a taste of your own medicine!"

"As long as you don't administer it as a suppository, I'm fine," I muttered.

Dev gave me a puzzled look. "Uh... What?"

Whump!

"Just get out of here," I growled, picking up another pillow.

Dev laughed and swaggered over to the door. There, he stopped, clutching the doorframes in his meaty paws.

What? Was he going to show off now in picturesque positions in the doorway?

Not that I was going to look...

...

Okay... Maybe I'd spy on him using the reflection in the window... Just to find out when he'd stopped! Nothing else!

"Hey Jake..." he cooed in a seductive tone. Damn... His deep, rumbling voice is just so... manly.

My eyes twisted away from him even if my head was inching to face him.

"Guess whose clothes these are?"

A wisecrack about his mother crept into my mind until it was horrible derailed by one fact.

Last night... I ruined his suit...

I poured a mango slushy down his pants... Then he splashed himself with water... No way those clean, blue boxers were his.

So... that could only mean one thing...

"Give them back!" I cried.

Again... I made a fatal error.

"Sure."

He reached for the waistband of my shorts -

"No!" I screamed, just a fraction of a second too late. I grabbed a pillow in each paw and threw them at him.

His laughter could be heard all the way down the street as he left me to my shame... and my arousal.

How could I be thinking of Dev like that!?

I was with Chad!

I took several deep breaths. The best thing to do was to do something to get my mind off Devlin Rooks. I snatched up my phone, hoping to call my parents and arrange my little VRCSs game. I saw about 30 missed calls and 50 messages.

All from Chad...

Yarf...

I needed to get this off my chest... I had to tell Chad straight up that I was having unfaithful thoughts about Devlin Rooks. Hell, I needed Chad's help. I needed him to support me. To help pull me back from Devlin. I chose Chad and I was going to stick by that decision.

Even if my heart -

"No!" I snapped at myself.

I didn't even leave myself time to wonder where that sentence would have finished.

"No..." I muttered to myself.

Maybe... Maybe confronting Chad wasn't the best option... Not at the moment. I had to do something else.

My paw shook... and not because I was angry. My phone was ringing. From Chad again.

I hit the receive button...

... and then hit the 'end call' button almost immediately.

I was such a crap boyfriend.

My eyes fell on my cold, uneaten plate. Mr. Pancake was frowning at me with yolk tears running down his rounded, blueberry marked face.

"Shut up, Mr. Pancake."

Chapter 3.1: Cliff Edge

Shell Stadium

Perhaps one of the greatest reasons football was always at odds with VCRSs is that both sports ran practically in tandem season-wise. The professional VRCSs season in Rillotia - known as the Atlas Cup - was held about a day or two after the football season's first game. Naturally, that polarised fans especially since the Atlas Cup only held matches on weekends while football usually had their best games reserved for those days even if they had several during the week.

At one point or another, both leagues had to use the one stadium and relied heavily on one game or the other finished so the other could start. Eventually, the Rillotian Virtual Combat League (RVCL) obtained enough funds to built their own stadium in Shellington.

This was Shell Stadium.

Contrary to its name, Shell Stadium doesn't look anything like a turtle's shell though that might actually have looked pretty neat in my opinion. As I stepped through onto the stadium grounds, I was amazed at the stricture's wide, circular design with gentle, sloping walls that eventually led to a thin rim. Countless seats filled the sides broken only by several slanting walls and the walkways. At the centre where I stood were main combat 'ring'. It was called a 'ring' despite the fact that it was actually a large square shape. Rising from the centre of the ring was a tall, sloping spire with a small bauble at the top.

The general shape of the stadium plus this spire made sure that Shell Stadium remained true to the city where it was housed.

Shellington wasn't named after turtles.

It was named after the constant shelling it received during multiple wars. If you wandered out into the farmlands enough, you'll still be able to see the massive craters left behind by all those shells that was reminiscent of Shell Stadium's shape.

"Mr. Reaper?"

A squat mole scrambled up to me with a bunch of papers in his paws. A bunch of papers and an all-too-familiar book.

"We've got the match all set up for two days from now," she said, eyes sparkling behind her rather thick glasses. "It will be yourself and three others correct?"

"Right."

"What are their experiences using such equipment?"

That I had not considered. My dad was an expert at this stuff. Programming training simulations for myself was a piece of cake for him. Not only that, but I remember that he could've gone to the professional level if he hadn't decided to be the 'slightly-less-risky' parent. Though considering his culinary skills, that was debatable.

As for my mom... She probably begrudgingly used the simulations to train but other than that, I doubted she was really that good at it.

And of course, Dev would never have touched any of it.

"Let's say two experts and two total noobs."

The girl grinned at me and nodded, writing it down on one of the papers. "Custom weaponry?"

"Sure."

"How many CP do you require?"

There, I smiled. "Give twenty per person. That should be enough points to create a good enough weapon."

"Yessir!" she exclaimed excitedly. "Two teams?"

"Yes."

"Will you be bringing your own suits or renting?"

"I'll have my own suit and so will another two. We'll be renting one."

"Excellent. Any preferred battlefield?"

"We'll choose on the day."

The mole nodded and handed me the papers. "Great! Please sign here. The payment will go through tonight and if you wouldn't mind..." Her blush cut through her brown fur.

"Not at all," I answered, giving her two signatures and a little, 'Thanks for the help' on the inside cover of the book she handed me. "Oh hey," I called after her before she scampered out and squealed. "I'm a little rusty. Mind if I take the system for a swing for a bit?" For emphasis, I rolled my shoulders.

"Of course not, sir! Did you bring your own suit?"

"I did."

Her grin was bright and almost split her face entirely. "Great! This one's on the house!"

"Thank you."

Then she was gone. As I turned around and reached into my sports bag, I heard her squeal accompanied by the squeals of many others. I may not be a big-shot celebrity like Chad or Devlin but I still attracted my fair share of followers. There were already a few people in the stands, eagerly watching me with camera in paw.

Sighing, I unzipped the jacked I had brought and removed the baggy jeans I was wearing. The neuro-suit didn't provide much protection against the autumn air especially since it was criss-crossed with multiple blue circuits that hugged my figure. The sleek, black material was light and didn't hinder me at all as I stepped onto the combat ring.

The instant my feet touched the metal platform, the central tower exploded with light. A barrier of light wrapped around the edges of the ring, barring all sound. A holographic panel sprang up in front of me and I immediately went to setting up some preferences.

I set the game to be 'private' and gave myself 30 Customisation Points and assigned 5 AI combatants or 'bots'. For armour, I chose a generic medium armour and as a location...

Hmmm...

Under 'Industrial', I chose 'Machine Temple'.

The light barring me from the outside world instantly turned black. Those 'private settings' coming into play. The sound of metal grinding against metal, steam shooting out of tubes and soft bang-bang-bang of machines at work filled my ears. The coolness of autumn was instantly replaced with thick, acrid air heavy with sulphur and heat. The a red, clouded sky rolled up from above while rusty pipes, dark metal walls and dilapidated factories unfurled before me in a swirl of light. The ground beneath my feet morphed from the pristine white of the ring to a dark, dusty, concrete floor.

Using the panel that was still in my paws, I gave myself a default longsword, two handguns and a shotgun. For my blade, I built two gun barrels into the hilt that could fire Liquid Nitrogen Rounds, capable of freezing enemies on hit. A magazine of 20 sounded good. That cost me a good 10 CP. The Charge Shot ability for my handguns was another 10 CP (5 each) and my shotgun I equipped with a grenade launcher (4 CP). I kept the remaining six for emergency reloads during the game though I doubted I would need it.

I pressed the big 'Play' button.

Countdown...

5... 4... 3...

2...

1...

_"Game Begin,"_a loud, mechanical voice announced.

I drew my longsword immediately and started running. An air vent sprang up to my right and I quickly sliced through the gratings and charged inside. The AI was meant to be on the 'Homicidal' setting so they would be smart enough to use the vents themselves. I kept both ears perked in case one of them decided to sneak up on me from behind.

Something flashed up ahead.

Reflexes instantly took over and I pressed myself against the wall just as -

Swoosh!

A dagger flew by me just barely missing my left cheek.

CLANG!

My blade slammed against the combat knife of a rather generic looking rodent. I didn't waste time with our swords crossed. I knocked him back with a fierce kick to the gun before spinning around and bringing my sword around. He block it as expected but he never saw me draw my handgun as I spun.

BAM!

Headshot.

One down.

I got a nice round 5 CP for that.

The sound would've attracted more foes so I quickly found the nearest vent and jumped through. My senses screamed the instant my feet touched the floor.

BANG!

CLANG!

My longsword flew out of my paws.

I wasted no time hesitating and flicked out both handguns. I pulled the triggers, sending a hail of bullets at the upper balcony of the factory. The bot hiding in the rafters ducked out of sight and bolted to my right. I kept firing with my right gun but held down the trigger to my left. I felt my left handgun grow hot and just as the bot ducked behind a nearby support beam, I brought it up and released the trigger.

BOOM!

A mighty blast erupted from my handgun and slammed straight into the pole. There was a blast of blood as the bullet shot right through solid metal and pierced the bot's head.

Too easy.

'Homicidal' wasn't nearly as hard enough.

A ferocious cry erupted from my left... and my right!

A quick glance in both directions confirmed two bots charging at me with blades raised.

I held the triggers of my guns...

They drew closer... About five seconds to impact.

Just a little more...

Four seconds...

Their cries were deafening... Oddly enough... I detected some fear?

Why would bots have fear?

Three seconds...

I was probably just being paranoid. It had been a long day and it was just barely noon. That, or this was a very convincing simulation. It's been a while since I've been in a VCRSs simulation.

Two... One...

At the last second, I jumped forward, diving away from both of them. I felt both their blades slice through the air, just barely skimming the fur on my tail.

That's the more 'Homicidal' I remembered.

I flipped around in mid-air, levelling my guns straight at their heads.

BAM! BAM!

Both went down, blood seeping out of their wounds as they lay in a heap in front of me. I landed deftly on my feet and holstered my handguns.

Four down. One to go.

The soft pad of footsteps came from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder as a heavily armoured, black and green glad warrior stepped out of the shadows and seized the hilt of my blade that had been embedded into the concrete. By the looks of his thick, metal armour he was a heavy weapon specialist. Slow, cumbersome but packed a punch if he hit. The question was how accurate he was with that chaingun that was fused with his left armguard.

"You'd make a killing in the Dark Nexus, Reaper."

My heart skipped for two reasons.

First, bots never spoke. They weren't programmed with any sort of personality. Artificial Intelligence was still in the experimental stages and if my experiences said anything, it was that AIs always turn on their creators somehow. That was why bots never had any personalities.

Second... That voice...

It was...

"Cliff...?"

The soldier reached up towards the snarling, all-consuming helm shaped like a growling wolf. The lower jaw remained attached to a thick collar that protected his neck, bound to a massive anatomically emphasized breastplate. The emerald 'V' of the Virulent Vipers was emblazoned onto the right pectoral of the plate. Share edges and wicked curves gave the entire armour the appearance of a 'Dark Knight'.

"You know," the coyote said, his sandy fur a stark contrast against the darkness of his armour, "when I heard off the news that you and that boy-buddy of yours, Devlin, were arguing about the age-old rivalry between football and VCRSs, I thought I could use that to my advantage."

He inclined his head to the right, flicking his ears towards me. His right ear still had that diamond stud he had since high school. His left now looked like someone had bitten a good chunk out of it. Sharp bangs of his red hair hung over his eyes, barely hiding the knot of pink flesh that formed a scar running down from his left eyebrow, over his left eye and across his muzzle.

"But when I heard that you were actually booking a match... Well, how could I resist?" Cliff snatched my sword and threw it at me. I deftly grabbed it out of the air and spun it deftly in my paws. It wasn't meant to be a friendly 'Here's your sword back buddy' throw. He had hoped I'd injure myself... or even kill me.

"I don't suppose this was just meant to be a friendly invitation to a match, is it?" I asked, backing away slightly. My left foot made a loud squishing noise against something on the ground. Blood soaked my soles.

Blood...?

But... It's been more than ten seconds... The simulation should've gotten rid of the bodies by...

... now...?

"I see you're starting to catch on," Cliff chuckled darkly, a terrible grin crossing his features. "You know those guys in the stands? They were on my side. They would've taken a shot at you as soon as that mole left. Then you stepped up to the ring... and I couldn't help myself!" Cliff's grin grew broader.

The cogs were ticking away in my head... as much as I tried to stop them, they pieced everything together.

"These aren't bots... are they...?"

"Nope," Cliff answered nonchalantly. "They're my Spawn." He spat directly at me. I knew where he was aiming but he kept still and let his spittle land on my left leg. These 'Spawn' were probably murderers in their own right but somehow, it just didn't seem right to let Cliff desecrate their bodies in anyway. I think Cliff knew what I was trying to do. That smirk on his face sort of gave it away.

"In the Dark Nexus, we have a three-tier system when it comes to teams," he explained. "Spawn are the lowest of the low. Grunts. Cannon fodder. Meatbags for the slaughter. There are hundreds of them. Their leaders are the Squalor. Slightly more skilled and with enough kills to actually make them somewhat." He hiked a thumb at his chest proudly. "And commanding them all, are the Sins. That's me."

"You must be proud," I growled. "So what? You're the leader of the Virulent Vipers?"

Cliff threw his head back and let out a barking laugh. "That's rich. The only ones who lead the Virulent Vipers are those rich, money-grubbing assholes who fund us. There are countless Sins who command the rest but even they have to answer to the brokers. Without the funds from those bastards, we Sins can't fight. The only reason we're called the Virulent Vipers isn't because we have some sense of camaraderie or we share the same ideal. It's just because those brokers decided to pool us all together in one group."

He let out a disgusted sound and hefted his chaingun over his shoulder. "Assholes... They 'balance' out the teams. They don't stick all the good ones in the one team. They make sure that each team has a weak spot. So that when they make their bets, they don't all bet on the team they know they'll win. They want to take each other's money as much as they want to see us kill one another."

It was a cruel world... but some part of me realised that the world accepted by the public wasn't so different. Maybe it was worse. At least in the Dark Nexus everyone knew they were scum. Here, people hid behind self-righteous causes and benevolent facades only to achieve the same end.

Made me wonder which side was better.

And it made me wonder why Cliff - who had such a bright future ahead of him - would willingly choose to switch.

"What happened to you, Cliff?" I asked softly. "The Cliff I knew would never throw away people's lives uselessly like that!"

My ex-boyfriend snorted. "Seems to me that you may not have known me as well as you thought... Just as I never knew you."

Touché...

"If you want to know, Jake," Cliff said.

I sensed the shift in his tone. I swung my sword up just as Cliff levelled his chaingun at me.

"You'll have to get it over my dead body.

I was hoping he wouldn't say that...

The whirring of the chaingun's barrels spinning hit my ears accompanied by the rapid chug-chug-chug of the high-speed bullets biting at my heels. My senses were screaming, begging me to use my powers and stop Cliff's bullets where they stood and send them flying back at him. Or I could teleport behind him and slash through that chaingun.

But that just didn't seem fair... He didn't have powers and even though he was willing to go so far as to let his subordinates get killed, I wasn't going to sink down to his level. I certainly wasn't going to acknowledge his strength by going all out.

I ducked behind a tall, metal machine. Sparks flew out from the corner where Cliff's bullets slammed at my trail.

"This is a simulation!" I shouted over the noise. "How can people die in here!?"

"How do you think people die in the Dark Nexus, Jacob," Cliff answered, ceasing his assault. I peeked around the corner.

He was gone.

Crap!

I felt the cold barrel of his chaingun press against the base of my neck.

"I've taken off all the pain inhibitors. And if you're wondering how I did that, you know all those screams you heard when that mole left you?"

My eyes widened. "You didn't..."

"You bet I did," he answered with a malicious grin. "You're next."

My fist tightened around the hilt of my blade. "Wanna trade places?"

I pulled the trigger of my sword.

BAM! BAM!

Cliff shouted as one of the bullets bit into his left calf. Almost instantly, the bullets exploded and let out their deadly payload. They froze every blood vessel in Cliff's calf, bursting them wide open and painfully freezing every nerve.

His howl of pain broke my heart and filled me with a grim satisfaction at the same time. I ducked away from him long before he could regain his composure. My feet carried me away from the open. I climbed a nearby ladder, heading straight for the catwalks. Cliff probably couldn't move without extreme pain but I wasn't going to take that as a blessing.

I froze for a second when I saw the wide-eyed body of that sniper I had shot earlier. A bit of anger boiled inside of me as I considered that this was probably the guy that would've shot me if I hadn't entered the ring and Cliff hadn't stopped them. Still, I felt sorry for him.

TWANG! TWANG! TWANG!

Bullets slammed into the metal grating beneath me and I ducked behind a pillar. I managed a glance around the corner at Cliff...

His left leg was perfectly fine!

What the -?

"What?" Cliff laughed. "You think I'd be stupid enough to remove the pain inhibitors on myself!? Come on, Jake. I'm the bad guy here! I don't play fair!"

Damn straight... So why should I play fair? I bet he was counting on my 'good guy' nature to restrict myself.

Asshole.

I had half a mind to crush him in a powerful gravitational force. See how he liked that. Or maybe I should teleport an extra hot piece of metal into his guy and watch it slowly burn through his intestines.

No... No, not going to sink to his level.

If I was going to beat him, it'd be on even grounds... at least by my standards.

"Jake! Heads up!"

Something clattered to my right and left.

Grenades.

Yarf!

My body went into overdrive long before I could think. I clung onto the pillar and slipped around to the other side, driving my sword into it.

BOOM!

The grenades went off and the pillar shattered in front of me. Before any of the shards embedded themselves into my chest, I planted both feet against the concrete and kicked off. Cliff's bullets streamed through the air, just barely an inch from my feet.

He had a slow turn rate...

Maybe...

Yeah!

I sheathed my blade and brought up my shotgun. I levelled it straight down and pulled the trigger. The powerful recoil slowed my descent slightly and sprayed pellets all the way down at Cliff. The coyote scrambled for cover just as my feet landed on the metallic surface of a rusted machine. I wasted no time and slid down back into cover.

"I thought you were a successful soccer star!" I cried. "Didn't you make it into the big leagues? I thought you were supposed to marry some girl!"

"Don't believe everything the media feeds you, Reaper." His came from around the corner but in a big, empty space like this factory, it was hard to tell the true source. "Don't just think of the leagues as different teams come together to play. The leagues are run by a single body. Fat old men who line their pockets every day on the hard work of 'muscle heads' that clash horns over three months once a year."

His voice was growing louder so I knew he was getting close. It would be so easy just to teleport somewhere nearby and when he turns the corner and finds me absent, I'd strike. I fought off the temptation and thought rationally. Chances were, he'd still block me. I had to play smart.

I slammed the hilt of my blade against the hollow metal of the machine behind me. As the loud clang rang out, I bolted from cover and dove behind another machine, the reverberations covering my footsteps.

"The teams are just puppets to their giant play," Cliff continued, his voice now wary. "But when one of the puppets decides not to play nice, they intervene. If something will ruin their entire play, they'll be fast to cover it up. For example, if one of their players turned out to be gay."

It felt like one of my own bullets had slammed into my head and was slowly freezing my brain.

Did Cliff... Did Cliff come out to them...?

Cliff suddenly dropped down from above the machine I had hid behind. He glanced around, trying to look for me but I was safely hidden. Still, I had to keep him here. Keep him talking. People were bound to notice the bodies. This game would be stopped eventually.

BAM!

Cliff roared as his left paw was suddenly encased in ice, rendering his chaingun useless as the ice spread all over its surface.

"A sniper now, are you?" the coyote laughed. "It felt like I had one of you bastards around ever since I came out to everyone." He gripped his arm and tore the chaingun right off his forearm. He brushed the ice away from his left paw and flexed his fingers. Good as new. "Remember that rally we went to where your boyfriend decided to pelt us with food and call us 'faggot'?"

He was baiting me. No way I was going to fall for it.

I slammed my sword against the machine, creating a loud echo once more. I turned away from him and bolted away. As I did so, I opened retrieved my shotgun. As I reached where two machines came close together, I threw my shotgun ahead of me, letting it slam against the second structure as I turned into the small opening between the two.

There was a loud clang followed by cluttering and I heard Cliff scoff.

"Lost a weapon, Jake? You're getting careless."

That's right, just go on thinking that.

"Anyway, that rally really opened my eyes." His heavy footsteps grew louder and I held my breath, bringing up my blade ready to fire upon him if he so much as turned into my little hiding spot. "I entered the professional soccer circuit but everyone knew I was gay. And you know what? That's all they saw in me. No one took me seriously. It wasn't made public. I heard that they were keeping me for that time when I made a name for myself so that I can come out after scoring a winning goal. That way, not only will the team get publicity for having the first gay soccer player but I'll be rocketed to fame because I wouldn't let my love of cock interfere with my game.

"But you know what...?"

I froze. His voice was just right around the corner.

"They were counting on exactly that kind of attitude."

He crossed the opening, a smirk on his features but his eyes planted straight ahead at the gun I had dropped. Nerves were starting to wiggle and vibrate. One shot... My gun was already levelled at his head and I could end it here and now. Just one shot...

Why couldn't I fire!?

He was a criminal!

His eyes suddenly flicked to mine, that smirk still on his face. "I'm touched, Jake. You still care."

Thud!

Pain...

I looked down... at the knife embedded in my chest...

Shit...

"Too bad I don't."

Thwack!

I felt his cold, armoured paw wrap around my neck and slam me against the wall, holding me up in the air. His other paw was on the knife's hilt, twisting it painfully. There was no air in my lungs to scream out in agony.

"This is game over, Jacob Reaper."

Goddamnit...

On the plus side... I'd never have to tell Chad I was having unfaithful thoughts about Dev... Heck, maybe at my funeral they would find comfort in each other's arms and eventually hook up. Heh, Chad and Dev... that would be a totally hot scene... if I wasn't about to die...

My vision started to blur...

Game over...

Chapter 3.2: Who Cares?

Shell Stadium

Thud.

I gasped for air and curled over, clutching at the non-existed knife that was in my chest. I could still feel the pain there... but there was no knife. No blood.

What...?

My eyes found Cliff's cold, emerald eyes. Unlike myself, he was dressed in the actual armour that he wore during the battle. I had little chance against that. All my weapons were holographic in nature. Just pretty lights arranged to look like real weaponry. They couldn't pierce real armour.

That begged the question though... How did my weapons kill those people...?

"My team just gave me shit over being gay," he grunted, regret and hatred in his voice. "On the outside, we looked like a team but the instant we got back in the locker rooms, they just kept making jokes about me kicking around my 'balls' and getting a boner over tackling people. I couldn't say anything because they all knew that this was my big shot. My career was at their mercy. If I injured them, if I made them look bad, I'd never get that winning goal and I'd never get to come out to the world.

"Terrible players blamed me for them doing a shit job in practice or missing that goal or this pass. They'd heckle me on the streets and whenever they got drunk..." Cliff grunted and shook his head in disgust. "So you know what I did?"

"What...?" I coughed.

"I threatened to leave. It's about then that I realised they were banking on me too. The team sucked and their support base was pretty darn low. If they had the first gay player in soccer, they'd get more support, more funds. If I left, when will be the next time any gay player will have the balls to apply to a professional soccer team? So I had their balls in my paws now... just as they had mine in theirs..."

Cliff turned away, his eyes narrowed. The hatred in them was so intense that I could feel it oozing from him and making my fur tingle.

"So we endured each other for a little longer... Then, one night, some asshole finally got the balls to bend me over and fuck me in the lockers rooms then and there."

A locker room scene would be hot... but I don't think Cliff considered it that way...

"The whole team, the coach included, just stood there, getting boners but never saying a word. Afterwards, they tried to placate me but I threatened to go to the media about it. So you know what they did instead?"

I didn't reply.

"They tried to turn me straight. Gave me a girl that was all over me and tried to make her so dependent on me that if I left, I'd have her career, her life and her future on my soul. Even tried to get us married at one point."

I never realised that all those things I had heard about Cliff Thornton were all lies. All just cover ups for people attempting to use who a person was to their advantage. Was this what would happen to Dev? Would they try to exploit his sexuality to further their own needs?

"In the end, I couldn't take it anymore," Cliff growled, his paws forming into tight fists. "I left. But you know that soccer league I told you about? The fatasses that rule the whole goddamn sport? They didn't want to just let me go. They accused me of raping some guys ass in a drunken stupor. Of being an abusing soon-to-be-husband. They then leaked my 'latent homosexuality' a little and still got their support from the conservatives while I had other gay players and more open-minded people accuse me of being just being a 'rotten egg'. A 'poor example of a gay man'."

The whole world turned against him...

"So you're wondering what happened to me, Jacob?" Cliff snarled, his eyes flicking towards me. "That's what happened." Then he scoffed and turned his muzzle away from me. "And to think... You were at that rally as well. But despite that, no one knows your gay. They knew about my orientation the instant I handed my resume. You...? You got off lucky. Which puppeteer is pulling your strings, Jacob Reaper?"

My heart froze...

That's right... I wasn't being accused of trying to subliminally convert people with my books... and yet I had basically the same upbringing as Cliff... We were at that same disastrous rally... Cliff was branded gay from that point on and we weren't very subtle about our relationship in high school.

Why didn't anyone know?

Who had my fate in their paws...?

"Wait..." I choked, staggering to my feet. A flash of red caught my attention off in the periphery of my vision.

Blood.

The bodies of those four unfortunate souls that I had killed... They were really bleeding...

So... Cliff hadn't been lying about him taking off the pain inhibitors... but then... Why wasn't I...? Was it my regeneration...? No. I should still have bled a little. Apart from the pain, I was still good.

"Did you...?" I began softly.

"Whatever we had, Jake," Cliff answered darkly, climbing down off the ring, "it's what saved you today. Don't count on it again next time I try to kill you."

There was going to be a 'next time'?

"Why are you trying to kill me!?" I demanded.

He glanced over his shoulder at me, eyes narrowed. "Because you know what I look like. You and your boyfriend. As far as the authorities know, I'm 'Claymore'. I can't have them breathing down my neck." A cocky smirk crossed his features and he leaned back a little, staring at the afternoon sky. "I like feeling the sun against my fur but I'd rather not be running from some pigs when I come up for some fresh air."

Then he resumed walking away. "There are other reasons," he finished, waving a paw over his shoulder. "But you don't need to know them. Just don't worry your pretty little head. Soon you'll lose it."

I couldn't stop myself from rubbing my neck a little.

Cliff Thornton was dead. At least the Cliff Thornton that I knew.

The coyote walking away from me was Claymore.

And next time we met...

I wasn't going to hold back.