Prologue: Calling Cards
#1 of Calling Cards
(There is some m/m stuff here so if you are under 18, I am not liable so don't get caught. Also this is my first posted story of any sort so constructive criticism is appreciated. Thanx)
Thomas Solana crawled across the concrete floor of the abandoned warehouse using only his front two paws, seeing as how a 12 gauge shot gun had only recently hit his spinal cord making his once nimble and muscular legs now useless. The blood soaked fox groaned through the pain, trying to haphazardly scramble away from the white wolf slowly approaching from the stairwell door. Thomas silently cursed, wishing that he and his cohorts had never tried to betray the wolf Rathe.
They had thought it would be easy when they saw how young the supposed infamous thief Rathe was. They would let him do all the dirty work and when Rathe was distracted they would wax him and the cops would be none the wiser.
And the plan went well at first. That was, until the rendezvous. When Thomas and his friends had rejoined up with Rathe and the federal documents valued at fifty thousand dollars, they thought they had it made. Jonas, an otter had snuck up around Rathe with a lead pipe, ready to finish the deed, but the young wolf was too quick. Rathe caught the pipe mid swing and with his other paw slammed down on Jonas' arm, snapping it like a twig. That's when all hell broke loose.
20 minutes later and Thomas' friends were dead and he himself was a paraplegic, on his way to becoming a corpse. Although his body was filled with shot from the firearm, most of his nerves were damaged so he couldn't feel a thing. As he dragged himself over the fire escape, a white paw smashed down on his right forearm, and that Thomas could feel. As he looked up into the face of the young wolf, known to him as Rathe, he begged and pleaded.
"Please, spare me. When never meant no harm, it was only a joke, I swear. You can have the Manifesto, just let me go."
Rathe looked down over the miserable shaking form before him. "Unfortunatley, you do not have the luxury of being trusted." Rathe raised the 12 gauge until it was point blank against Thomas' skull. "May the Devil have mercy on your soul."
Twelve hours later the police arrived on the scene, but by then the nineteen year old lupine thief known as Rathe was long gone.
The superior officer at the abandoned warehouse was a burned out German shepherd named Rex Collins. As he was looking over the evidence a snow leopard in a suit and tie approached him. An id around his neck identified him as Mark Harrison.
"Are you the superior officer on the scene?" Harrison asked Sergeant Collins.
"Who wants ta know?"
Mark Harrison flipped open another Id showing the letters FBI in bold black. "Ive been following Rathe's trail and I heard that you found his calling card at the scene of the crime."
Sergeant Collins picked up a plastic baggy holding a business card with the words "Rathe: Professional Thief" on one side, and the expression "Fear the Reaper" on the other.
"Fear the Reaper?" Collins mused, turning to Harrison, "Do you know what that means?"
"No," Harrison responded, "he leaves a different saying on each of his cards. I think he's just trying to mess with our minds?"
"Is that so?" Collins responded, losing interest. Well, the crime scene is yours. If you need me I'll be cataloging evidence."
Harrison walked over to the other side of the warehouse and viewed the carnage of the four bodies that littered the concrete.
"Matthias," Harrison muttered under his breath, "What have you done?"
The scene was like a silent black and white movie. Matthias, the white wolf, was slowly making love to the snow leopard, Daniel, kissing and licking his neck as he slowly thrust in and out of Daniel's tail hole, complete trust and devotion painted on both of their faces. Their muzzles locked and tongues intertwined, as the heat and passion of the two lovers was only complimented by their love for one another. As the climax was slowly being reached, the scene changed into a flash of fire with agonizing screams in the background, shrieks of three being burned to death inside an infernal suburban tomb.
With a jolt, Matthias sprang up from his bed, his head and bare torso covered with sweat. As tears started to brim in his eyes he collapsed back down and turned to the side. He glanced up at his night table with the lone picture of a snow leopard and a white wolf embracing and smiling. A lone red candle flickered in front of it.
"Daniel", Matthias whispered to the picture "I love you..."
Then Matthias fell asleep with his muzzle wet from the glistening tears. He slept easy for the rest of the night, having no more dreams about memories of events from his past. He lay peacefully on a queen-sized mattress in a five room apartment. Besides the bedroom, there was a kitchen, a bathroom, a living room and a secret room hidden behind the entry hall closet. Inside of that room hung a black cloak complete with hood, a 12 gauge shot gun leaning up against the far wall and among other things cluttering a gargantuan table a stack of business cards stylized with the words "Rathe: Professional Thief".