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It takes a certain (lack of) talent to combine necrophilia, erotic jackal asphyxiation, and borderline copyright infringement into a single chapter, Sprocket, but I think I'll try my paw at it. Astute readers might notice the undertone of Invidia in this series. As mentioned in precious works, there are seven mortal sins, delicious in each their own way. There is enough for everyone, so please, Do Not Covet Happy FunBall(tm)!!!.

Selected lyrics from NIN's The Perfect Drug are copyright Nothing Records, and following Scientologist Tom Cruise's suggestion, I didn't ask permission.

The FLIR Conspiracy

Chapter V - The Perfect Drug

2008 by Eldyran

As Kelvin peered through his head mounted magnifier to poke at a M9's magazine springs with a set of electronics picks, he suddenly realized he had no idea what he was doing.

It was an odd state of affairs for the drug cooker to be in. The albino coyote paused long enough to flip up the lens plate and peer cautiously around his well organized, clean apartment. With a grim look of military resolve, went back to whatever it was he was doing. He smoothed out the militia guide spread out on his computer desk, following the break down diagram for the disassembled M9 just off to its right.

He stopped again when he realized he couldn't remember where the breakdown had come from.

The thickset yote leaned back into his office chair and wondered just what the hell was going on. Suddenly, someone pounded away at his apartment door, tearing him from his inexplainable fugue. Kelvin turned around halfway in his chair to stare at the instant racket, before his landlord half bleated, half bellowed to him.

"It smells like sumthin' died in there, coyote! Take out yar trash before take out mine!" The shant cocked his shotgun, the sharp cha-chink echoing out in the hallway. It was a favorite threat of his, however empty. The yote turned back to his work without saying a word, but the goat went on regardless. "And I want rent for this month you fooking mutt! Both of them!"

After a few seconds of silence, he stormed off back to his room on the first floor, the soft clicks of his hooves on the hallway floor receding away into relative silence. But as Kelvin continued his investigation of this pistol's earlier, however providential, misfire, he could not help but agree. Something in his apartment was rank. And not just the former overlay of unwashed canid, recently spilled coyote spunk, and festering garbage. No. This putrid scent make his nose water, made him want to gag. Like he had bought a pound of ground round last week and thrown it under the radiator or something.

He peered around the immaculate order of his renovated two room efficiency. No more bags of weeks old trash left unforgotten in the corner. No more stacks of molding, discarded pizza boxes littering the floor and kitchenette. In fact, he had even cleaned up the mess Mr. Eddie's goon's had made of his once glorious home brewed drug lab. It took him an entire day to clean out all the broken glass, discard the ruined hulk of his computer, dispose of all his thremographic surveillance equipment.

No more paranoid conspiracy theories regarding flaky FLIR remote cameras. Besides, he was done working for Fast Eddie.

But then again, who did he work for? How was he going to earn enough bread to keep the shotgun maniac off his tuchis? What was his new hustle? A thousand questions raced through the coyote's mind, but when he looked again to the disassembled firearm laying on the desk before him, an almost obsessive zen washed over him. He fiddled with the magazine springs some more, and noticed no tension between the them and his pick. Kelvin locked an 8x magnifying loupe into place over the headpiece's lens plate, and discovered several small cuts in the coiled metal, almost invisible to the naked eye.

Someone had sabotaged this gun before giving it to Mr. Eddie, and made it look like a common design flaw.

But who and why?

The only individual he knew that had a military background was the black wolf Mr. X had so kindly introduced him to. What was his name? Richard? It was odd that the black wolf would share the same middle name. And if what Mr. X said was true, it was the same black wolf that had initially called up Mr. Eddie and ratted him out. That might explain the who, but what was the wolf's agenda? Kelvin took off the head magnifier, sucked in a deep inhale to sigh, and almost heaved. The once grubby coyote was used to some sordid smells, but this was unbearable.

Kelvin got up out of his chair and took measured sniffs, having a hard time locating the nauseating funk. After several minutes, the white coyote stopped in front of his only utility closet. His ears perked, trying to remember when, and even if, he last cleaned it out. He sniffed again, and his eyes watered. Placing a cautious paw on the handle, he tried to open it, but there was something heavy jamming the door from the inside. He tugged on the handle, harder this time, still with no success. The coyote placed his other paw against the door frame and jerked backwards, using his considerable mass as leverage. The closet door popped open suddenly, and something limp fell out on top of Kevlin, taking him to the floor.

Kelvin screamed as he looked up into the dead, glazed white eyes of a fox.

The frightened coyote shoved the corpse off of him and scooted backwards along the floor back in disgust. He barked in surprise when the back of his skull conked hard against the metal leg to his computer desk. Foxy didn't seem amused at this bit of slapstick, and continued to just lay there on his chest like a limp meat puppet whose stings had been brutally snipped. Kelvin, not accustomed to violence in any fashion, had a hard time looking at the swollen face and muzzle of the dead vulpine before him. A couple of claw marks and black bruises marred his once alluring looks, the flesh pulpy now with rot. Not being well versed in forensics, the coyote couldn't tell how long the fox had been dead, or what killed him.

Kelvin thought about calling the cops, and then realized how dumb of a move it might be. Their own ghouls would be all over his place, and in three minutes would find enough bake residue on the surfaces of his kitchenette to put him in the clink for ten to twenty. And thats not to say they wouldn't pin the rap of the wasted fox all on him to begin with? Kelvin's eyes widened as he connected the black wolf's wall decorations with the body in front of him. Gibblet finally realized who he had been watching all these nights through the FLIR camera.

The same wolf who's balls he had sucked dry last night.

Kelvin scrambled towards the body, hesitant to touch it at first. After a while he rolled the naked fox on his back, the limp neck lolling about. The coyote found the stench hard to overcome, but poked about the cold corpse, looking for a bullet hole. Maybe thats why the black wolf sabotaged the M9 and gave it to Mr. Eddie. Maybe thats why the wolf planted the fox in his closet. Maybe the wolf knew who stole voyeuristic peeks at him, unconsciously longing for that tight lupine body.

A lot of maybes, not enough certainties.

But why would Mr. X get involved? The smaller, gray coyote had recorded his little secret, shown him his own homophobic denial, but for what end? Blackmail? Mr. X had neither threatened to show the vids to his family nor Richard. Was it for money? Kelvin didn't have any fall back now that the three of them had given Mr. Eddie the old 1812. Was it for sex? Mr. X hadn't laid a paw on him, sexually at least, only to coax him into getting on his paws and knees before Richard.

With a hesitant paw, Kelvin started smoothing out the fox's bedraggled fur, looking for any entrance or exit wounds. Sweat and dried, crusty ... wolf? ... cum seemed to be the only thing matting down the silky, red and black fur under his exploring paw. No blood at all. The loose flesh of the fox's neck felt especially tender. Thats when the coyote realized that this was the same fox Richard had snuffed that fateful first night. The same night Mr. X saw fit to show him the sex appeal of two full sheaths rubbing against each other.

Without realizing it, his paw trailed down the fur of Foxy's stomach, running a claw around the opening to the exposed sheath before him. He caught himself for a second, his paw freezing at the profane desecration. After a moment of contemplation, the coyote slipped his paw tip inside the fox, curious. Richard's phantom voice snickered in the back of Kelvin's mind.

Hey, look at is this way Grub, he'd tell you if he didn't like it. The coyote glanced down at the fox's lifeless eyes, taking in a particularly attractive crack in the ceiling. If he minded, he didn't anything. That implied consent, right? That was the letter of the law, right? And right now, the introverted coyote was all about being an upstanding, model citizen. Kelvin pushed more of his furry digit in, feeling about the limp prick the loose skin of the fox's sheath hid. It felt chilly, and not as wet as the coyote expected.

Death had an odd habit of taking most of the fun out of such things.

The coyote took his other paw and pulled the sheath skin down, morbid curiosity over riding his disgust now, before jacking off the dead fox a bit. The tightness in his own sheath parted his ratty bathrobe, and he watched in silent fascination as a spear of pink slid out of it. He started to jack himself off as well as Foxy, wondering what type of yips and whimpers the submissive vulpine might make if he were still alive.

Foxy's dryness started to bother Kelvin a bit, and left for a moment to retrieve a small tube of petroleum jelly from his stash of lab supplies. In street labs, PJ might be used to keep glass stoppers from seizing up in the mouths of distillery flasks, but now the deviant coyote found a more irreverent purpose for its use. He applied a bit to the dry, rough pads of his paw, before resuming in earnest back to its original task.

Up and down the coyote's paw stroked, the pale pink flesh now glistening with greasy lube. Kelvin found him saddened that no blood could flow to the vascular organ now, fill the Corpus cavernosum, and make it grow stiff. He wish he could get the fox off, watch the subby canid squirm and bark out his climax, watch the little fuck spurt all over his paw. His own shaft started throbbing as he tended the slick flesh, felt his aberrant desires grow from the sickest parts of his drug eaten mind.

He jacked himself off faster, his silent lover as well. A small bead of pre welled up around the slit of his tip, only further fulling his deepening pants. With shaking paws, he left go of himself, before taking off his bathrobe entirely. He crawled over Foxy on his paws and knees, until his hard yote cock ground against the other canid's cold sheath. Kelvin shuddered at the taboo feeling of rubbing against another male, naked. The stench didn't seem to bother him as much now for some reason, and he reached down to pull down Foxy's sheath and expose the slick flesh of his limp member again.

Kelvin grasped both in his paw, grunting as he rutted against the deceased fox.

After a few minutes the coyote braved full on fur to fur contact, his white tail swishing has he kissed his Mary Jane vixen full on her cold lips, their two bodies grinding in one last, erotic dance. As the coyote continued to make love to his femmy fox, it seemed like his need would know no peak, know no moral boundary. Kelvin shuddered a bit, his humps grew shallow as a whine escaped his pink muzzle lips.

He wanted to know what it was like to take another male. The submissive coyote knew this might be his only chance. He'd be too timid otherwise. And in all honesty he felt he had started a good rapport with Foxy already. Even if his lover might not say it right now, Kelvin knew deep down that he wanted to whisper the same thing he had to Richard right before the dark lupine wrapped his paws around the fox's neck. The coyote hugged his fox tightly, and thought he heard something squish inside him.

You're pathetic, Snowball. You may be smarter than me, but those are grapes dangling between your legs. At least I have the balls to take what I want. Ask the jag I met in the alley last week, right before I ripped his face off ...

Small tears crept from under Klevin's eyelids, sealed tight from self loathing. Richard was right: he was a pathetic grub. But not anymore. He'd show the black wolf. He'd show everyone he had cohones. The coyote flipped over Foxy onto his slender chest, watching the limp body roll and splay before him. As Kelvin moved aside the once vibrant red and black tail, the fox's starfish almost winked at him, driving the deranged coyote mad with lust.

Kelvin took some more lube from his stash and slicked his dick up, lingering a bit at the base. He whined and shuddered with the feeling, with knowing that he was going to do more now than simply watch from the safety of a remote camera, jerk himself off to some empty, unfulfillable fantasy.

He was going to get himself a piece of ass.

Some drop dead gorgeous fox ass to be more poetically precise.

He crawled over Foxy, braved some sweet full on ass to hip contact to savor his newfound guts. Kelvin smiled and whispered in his right ear, so quietly that even the angels that greeted Foxy into heaven couldn't hear.

"I told the black wolf you'd be next ..."

Kelvin placed the tip of his rigid, tapered sex up against Foxy's pucker, watched in silent fascination as it widened easily to accommodate him. He helped guide the first inch of his yote stick in with an unsure, shaky paw. Foxy's anal ring gave little resistance, but it was still tight. The coyote closed his eyes and whined out some more as he slipped another inch into the vupline's soft ass, and Kelvin paused. He let the sensation of something slip around his the first quarter of his girth wash over him, the feeling making his mind swim. With each bit he working himself into the lukewarm body under him, the albino yote's eyelids fluttered.

Kelvin paused, taking full stock of what he was doing. If Foxy had any hesitations, he didn't show them, his stoic, half white eyes staring blankly at the far wall. His muzzle half open, the fox's swollen purple tongue lolled out on the recently swept, scuffed hardwood floor. Kelvin closed his eyes, imagining a feminine moan escaping those dark, oxygen deprived muzzle lips. He pushed his cock deeper in, felt the fox's insides give a bit at the forceful thrust, and the coyote threw his head back in a pleasured bark.

With each salacious inch he stole from his inert partner, the forbidden desire within him continued to mount, until it threatened to steal his very reason, his very sense of decency. The coyote's hips refused to halt until the soft fur of his inner thighs made contact with the gentle curves of the vulpine's ass. Kelvin halted, hilted now, his throbbing sacs pressed hard against Foxy's own. The coyote had never felt anything so good before, a pleasured moan escaping his muzzle lips at the sensation. The fox's snug insides fit him like a glove.

A glove left out in the middle of a balmy September night perhaps, but a glove none the less.

His head swimming with an euphoria that he could never have imagined, the white coyote almost seemed lost on what to do, and instead seemed content to rub against the fox, balls deep inside him. The short rubs soon gave way to deeper humps until Kelvin's paws latched on to Foxy's hips. With short, animalistic grunts Snowball claimed his prize, full on fucking the fox now. As his wide hips rode Foxy's slender ass hard, bouncing against it, Kevlin's thrusts grew more erratic. Lungs hitching, balls itching, the coyote's engulfed fuck stick started to tingle as its base swelled.

Kelvin had never tied anything before, was unprepared for the tightness around his knot as it swelled deep inside the fox. The coyote couldn't stop now, his pants broken and short, his thrusts much the same. Nearing the point of no return, Kelvin clamped down tighter on the fox's backside as his churning sacs tightened, drew up against himself. He fucked the dead whore what what little worth the fox had left, before Kelvin tipped his muzzle up to the ceiling and gave an unexpected, wolf-like howl.

His prostate twitched once, shooting his creamy hot coyote jism deep into the cold corpse again and again.

When Kelvin collapsed on top of the fox, exhausted, it didn't take long after the orgasmic euphoria ebbed that the coyote realized what he had just done. He glanced around his apartment with half glazed eyes, wondering if Mr. X might still be watching. There were no electronic cameras now, no central computerized hub of surveillance that the dark trickster might break into, steal what few secrets his snowy alter-ego might try to futilely hide. Still, Kelvin wondered if he could ever shut off the cameras rolling and hub processing 24/7.

His eyes. His mind. Had Mr. X broken into them as well?

Another flurry of knocks came from his door, and Kelvin's dumbstruck eyes snapped over to it, the rest of him frozen. He waited with breathless suspense, not sure if the landlord had come to make good on his threat, or if Mr. X himself had come to catch him in the knot tied act of defiling the dead. It was the last fur Kelvin would suspect, the whole reason why he found himself in the tsuris that he did.

"C ... coyote?" Ms. Nakali barked softly on the other side, unsure, "Are you okay? I heard a howl in the room above mine ..."

The coyote's eyes widened, realizing that his door might be unlocked. The last unexpected guest that showed up simply waltzed into his apartment, although this was a harder predicament to explain than simply being found naked in the shower. Kelvin tried to scramble off the fox, but his swollen knot just dragged the limp corpse backwards with him. The coyote whined in panic, before dragging Foxy under him back to the closet, where he half sat the complacent vulpine upright. Now all he had to do was untie and stash the body. He tipped over a broom and dustpan in the closet, which clattered on the wood floor.

"Kelvin?" the concerned female jackal called out, "Is everything okay in there?" Inside, the frantic coyote tried to pry himself out of the dead fox, but just didn't seem strong enough to do so. "Kelvin ... what's ... that smell?"

The coyote gritted his teeth before stepping partway out of the closet, and closing the door between him and the fox. He put his hind feet on either side of the door trimming and leaned back with all his might. He growled with exertion, pain as he slowly ripped himself out of the fleshy, rotten vice. The fox's pulpy sphincter ripped without warning, and Kelvin yelped as he fell hard backwards on the floor with a hard thud. Ms. Nakali's terrified sobs filtered through the door, muffled.

"K. You're ... scaring me." She wailed on the door, whining in desperation. "Open the door!"

Kelvin pulled his hefty self up and closed the closet door, before sniffing at himself. He reeked of sickly sweet rot, and gray nasty ooze covered his junk and balls. Bits of Foxy's rectum still clung to his deflating knot. He ran into the bathroom, again paused to wonder about the broken mirror above the sink, and then washed himself off as best he could. The rattle of the locked door calmed Kelvin somewhat, and he took the time to steady himself by looking into the spiderweb of sliver and glass.

A thousand Mr. X's stared back at him with a stern glare, reminding Kelvin of what the gray coyote had said last night in the poker game.

Steady now, the albino coyote strolled to the door, taking his time, before unbolting it from the inside. The slim waisted jackal pushed her way inside, puffy eyes streaked with tears. They made her cheap hooker mascara run, although hard to tell with the shiny raven black fur covering her cheeks. She clamped her arms around the thick yote, lungs still hitching. Kelvin just stood there, confused at the female pusher's sudden unexpected attachment. Despite her soft 'b' cups pressing into his chest, her once covetous body pressed tight up against his own, he didn't even sprout a hard on. Something had changed.

A lot of things had changed.

"Ms. Nakali?" He questioned, gently pushing her away. "As you can perceive yourself, I am quite all right. I just encountered some unexpected difficulty culling the mold that seems to have taken stubborn residence in my kitchenette sink." When she gawked at him, unconvinced, he added with confidence, "Pardon the odoriferous nature, let me introduce some outside ventilation ..."

Kelvin moved over to the window and opened it, the thick late night air billowing in like light mist. Despite the crisp Autumn air, the sickening funk refused to leave, the putrid scent already seeped deep into the old drywall. The jackal looked around to the recently renovated apartment, and saw something in the emptiness that frightened her even more. She gingerly picked up the M9, and with shaking paws, turned back to the tall coyote. Her slim chest racked with another sudden outburst of sobs.

"Oh Gods, coyote, where did you get this?" Kelvin looked at her with a half angry, half blank stare, unsure of what to say.

"I picked it up at a pawn shop, put it down."

"No you didn't," the jackal shot back, "One of Ed Coccotti's goons owned it. A lion. Picked it off the black market." Her Roma accent came out thick and clipped, as if she found it hard to breath. "Someone broke into his apartment up on third a few months ago, stole it. Then left it back in his apartment three nights ago."

Kelvin started to growl at the handiwork of Mr. X, wondering why the gray trickster had sabotaged the gun and let Mr. Coccotti hold him at gunpoint. Why did the sick fuck enjoy messing with him so much? But if the gun wasn't Richard's, how did he get it from Mr. X? It didn't seem like the black wolf and the gray coyote were on good terms last night. None of this made a lot of sense.

"Give it back to me ... bitch ...." Kelvin growled low with the same conviction he had heard Richard give to Foxy, minutes before he strangled him to breath. The jackal sucked in a deep sob at the sharp words, before absently wiping away her thick tears with the back of her paw

"I'm sorry, please ... I didn't mean to get this close to you. I shouldn't have come back with you after what Sleazy Pete did ..."

"What are you talking about?"

"I swear I didn't know .... coyote ..." Ms. Nakali wailed, sinking to her knees. Kelvin could tell she wanted to hold him, kiss him, confuse him with gypsy wiles.

"Know what?" He commanded more than asked. Kelvin could feel a tightness in his arms, as if the muscles there started to bunch with rage. He had never felt such a strong flush of adrenaline before, maybe in flight, but never in fight.

" ... how bad its got ... your addiction ..." Nakali looked up, her soft olive eyes pleading to the coyote. "They found bits of Coccotti all over Scott Street, what was left of his Mercedes still parked next to Three Corners ... homicide found a jaguar with his face pealed off in Hall Alley ... they are still looking for a fox missing from Club Phoenix last week ..."

Kelvin listened on to these peripheral events that somehow involved him, somehow involved the manufacture, distribution, and ultimately the recreational abuse of his own creation, Substance D. He couldn't deny all these strange memory lapses started when he first glimpsed Ms. Nakali's naked jackal body through the FLIR lens for the first time, and found an addiction that Sub-D could never match.

_I got my head but my head is unraveling

cant keep control can't keep track of where it's traveling_

"Please ..." she begged, "come back with me downtown. We can help you ..."

"Who can?" The coyote questioned, trying to still his trembling paws. He found it harder to contain the homicidal rage that threatened to break through his timid facade with each passing second.

"I know a social worker ... she specializes in cases of rehabilitation after brain damage ... she can convince the DA ..."

Kelvin snapped at Ms. Nakali, foaming now at the muzzle now. His once extensive vocabulary started to fail him, lesions on his brain consuming his half baked community college education at an accelerated pace.

"How the fuck do you know the district .... attorney ...." Kelvin's words died off his muzzle lips before he could even finish the sentence, and looked down at the floor.

A part of him connected the dots with little effort, having suspected the narc for some time now. Another part of him wished he could feel her gentle curves under his paws once more, maybe help her re-apply her ruined mascara. Ultimately, the last part of himself, the timid, trusting part of him looked back up and felt the heart stolen through gypsy treachery shatter into a million pieces.

_I got my heart but my heart's no good

you're the only one that's understood_

Ms. Nakali looked into Kelvin's eyes, saw the conflicted battle within them cease, empty into dark pools of nothing.

And then fill with Murder.

She pulled out a concealed Glock 26 from the back of her pant's waistband and brandished it at Kelvin. The albino coyote stepped forward, either fearless or knowing something the narcotics agent didn't. The jackal didn't even intent to fire a warning shot, instead opting to line up the yote's head in her fixed sights and pull the trigger. She knew she would only get one shot, and the stopping power from the sub-compact pistol's 9mm round was nil.

The sharp click of another misfire snapped about the dead silent apartment. Purely coincidental. Most certainly none of Mr. X's doing.

The jackal bolted, throwing the door to apartment 215 wide open in haste. The undercover agent read the coyote's dossier months ago, knew without a doubt that the coyote's close combat training easily outclassed her own. She raced outside into the hallway, half falling as she turned to the left. She scrambled back up, bouncing off the right side of the scummy hallway, but refused to give up any momentum.

Nakali rounded a corner, unsure of where to go, the dim light in the trash filled hallways turning the unfamiliar housing project into a nightmarish fun house of wrong turns and dead ends. Several times the feminine jackal tripped over a discarded, crud encrusted pup's toy, falling and skidding on her side. Each time she clawed her way up, fled from the calm, measured hind foot steps behind her.

_I come along but I don't know where you're taking me

I shouldn't go but you're wrenching dragging shaking me_

Ms. Nakali skidded to a graceless stop next to the elevator, and jabbed the call button again and again. She thought about the stairs, realized she had never taken them, and didn't know where they were. Her apartment downstairs was just a cover after all, spending one or two nights a week there. She'd imply to the landlord that she'd crashed at a pill house otherwise, just enough to convince the Cherry Hill drug lord she pushed his goods. Nakali turned to look down the dark corridor, and watched a shadow pause at the corner she just passed.

It slid away, and the jackal breathed in a short lived sigh of relief moments before a radio detonator set off a small charge attached to a power transformer outside. In a massive explosion of sparks, the utility pole crashed down to the street, crushing a parked sedan. Instant pandemonium engulfed a good section of Cherry Hill as the entire neighborhood blinked out.

Set up well in advance as a dry run for tomorrow night, the black wolf Klein wanted to see how his neighbors would react to the loss of their precious power grid connection. If left to itself Klein knew society would sprint towards chaos like an Olympic event. In the streets, normally law abiding welfare mothers tossed empty strollers through storefront windows to loot the contents inside. Once cheery pantomiming street mimes pulled knives and carved up the passing, ungrateful pedestrian masses.

In short: Anarchy.

The lights inside Klein's apartment complex died instantly, bathing the jackal in utter darkness. The building, built in the 1970's, did have emergency lighting. What it didn't have was a efficient landlord, who refused to hire on a full a time maintenance engineer. The decade old batteries in the emergency lighting flickered on for not more than ten seconds, before dimming out to nothing.

_turn off the sun pull the stars from the sky

the more I give to you the more I die_

Nakali jabbed the elevator call button again in desperation, before feeling her way on the wall for a sign that indicated which direction the stairs might be located. She found some type of sign, but her paw pads only made out braille. When the eerie calm steps approached again, the jackal took of again, feeling her way down the hallway this time. She pounded her fists against any door she came across, screaming for help, but with the riot outside in full swing, no one was brave enough or dumb enough to unbolt their door.

The jackal fled, tripping, sometimes crawling in an unseen maze. Her assailant followed just behind, the addict seeking his next fix with single minded purpose. Nakali didn't know for how long she fumbled about in the pitch, backtracking after each terrifying dead end. It seemed like an eternity before she saw the flashing strobes of arriving emergency vehicles outside. Their circulating lights spilled through an apartment window and in past its wide open doorway. She ran towards it, but tripped again just outside the safety of the entranceway. Her paws groped about for something to pull herself back up.

It closed on a door number plate that must have fallen off at some point, and never replaced. Maintenance lacking as it was. She squinting in the dazzling pulses of red, blue, and yellow reading what door she happened to fall in front of. Her eyes widened, breath frozen in her panic-struck lungs as she realized where she was. The black jackal looked up to the closed door besides her, then to the open one just ahead.

She scrambled backwards on her paws and knees. Nakali backed up into someones legs. The narc shot up on her hind feet and spun, arms flailing as she looked deep into reflective dark pools. As the multi-colored strobes glinted off the psychotic gleam in them, a pair of black wolven paws clamped down around her thin Roma neck. Her scream croaked out in a hoarse, panicked whisper of its intended self.

_my blood just wants to say hello to you

my fear is warm to get inside of you_

Nakali's fists beat at the wolf' arms, her pathetic attempts to free herself from the iron clad grip only accelerating the oxygen starvation in her brain. The jackal's hind legs kicked, convulsed as the wolf picked her up by the neck, letting the bitch strangle to death in slow agony. Her mind burned, lungs threated to explode. But as her vision narrowed, the pain in her neck and head eased. The last thing she saw was the glazed eyes of her killer, high off his deranged fix of sex and violence. They watched her life force ebb, drain out of her beautiful olive eyes, the ones he wished he had.

Her arms fell limp at her sides, dangling about as her paws trembled once.

Then stilled.

_without you everything just falls apart

it's not as much fun to pick up the pieces_

~Fin: Part V~

I'm running out of characters to kill. Who will be spared in this series finale? Given the context of this work, it will come as no less than a surprise ...