FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I ascend the decrepit staircase, softening my steps as much as I can manage. The old, unmaintained wood squeals in derision as my weight is shifted from foot to foot. Anxious that this place will fall apart from underneath me, I hasten my steps. Finally, I reach the top, the narrow, circular staircase opening to a moldy, ill-smelling room. The door frame leading inwards is noticeably lacking a door. It looks as if this place was once a living room before being abandoned, any furniture it once held having long been taken or scavenged. I make a brief scan of the room with my cybernetic eye, switching it to the thermal spectrum with a thought. No notable heat signatures, aside from some stray vermin. That's a relief, if this place had some squatters or vagrants, it would have complicated things.

I take a few steps towards the window stretching along the length of the wall. Old glass teeth still cling to the edges, the gleam from the streetlights outside muted under a coat of dust. Looking out, I am granted a sweeping view of the intersection from my vantage several stories up. The dirty, trash strewn streets are dimly illuminated by a series of lights, some of which are broken or burnt out. Shadows crawl all around the environment, the setting sun almost entirely obscured by the towering sprawl of the city. I adjust my coat to the breeze as my commlink crackles with a familiar voice.

"You there, Lyte?" It's Savant, my hacker partner for this job.

"Just arrived. You were right, it's perfect."

"Of course it's perfect, I pulled the 'prints myself. Took some fishing though, whoever owns that apartment doesn't give a crap about it anymore, ended up finding it in a data bank in Sichuan."

I let out a low chuckle. "I'm not surprised, this place should be condemned."

I hear a soft, brief snicker at the other end of the line. "Careful though, you're in ganger territory. Don't stick around."

"So, where's our man?"

"Coming your way. I re-routed his driver's route to move straight through the intersection in front of you. I'm sitting a few blocks away, boosting my signal to see if I can catch his car."

I slide the strap holding my rifle down my arm, bringing the gun to my hands. Edging to the window, I brace the body of the weapon between two shards of glass, the sights aimed straight at the dark intersection. The electronics in my rifle come to life, wirelessly linking with my cybereye and feeding me trajectory information.

"There he is now. I'll need a minute. Hold tight."

Seconds pass as I idly wonder what would happen in the unlikely event that he failed. I've worked with Savant for a few jobs now, and he knows his stuff, at the cost of having a bit of an ego. He does a lot of the prepwork and support while I am the one to get my hands dirty. This isn't a bad setup, since it plays to both of our strengths. We're probably the closest thing to friends that you can get in our line of work.

A pair of lights shine down the road, illuminating the pavement as they approach the intersection. I tense up, waiting anxiously for Savant to give the go-ahead. Peering at the oncoming car through my rifle scope, I line up a shot towards the tinted window of the back door nearest me. The tinting obscures my vision into the interior, but despite the heat-shielded metal, a quick switch to thermal reveals that the car has a soft signature in all four seats. Guess they didn't heat-shield the windows. I doubt the target would be driving, nor riding passenger, so he must be in the back. My pulse begins to quicken and I swallow nervously. This part always makes me anxious. The bloody stuff I can handle, but the tension leading up to it is too much.

Agonizing moments pass as the car slowly enters the intersection, before drifting to a stop. Savant's slightly high-pitched voice is like music to my ears.

"Done, that had some tricky ICE. They're gonna be pretty suspicious, so don't miss your chance."

I sigh with relief. "That was risky, Van, they almost made it past."

"Never doubt me, Lyte. I'll watch your back, take the shot."

Readying myself, I peer through the scope, waiting for an opportunity. The passenger and nearest back door open up, two suited men stepping out, pistols in hand. They look around nervously, speaking quietly through their commlinks. I could try to take out the target through the window, but it's likely that it's at least bullet-resistant, and may not guarantee a kill. I can't risk spooking him before I can get a clean shot. I wait, biding my time as the bodyguards scope out the area.

The minutes drift by. One of the bodyguards hesitantly approaches the unopened back door. After a short chat, he opens it. I inhale deeply before exhaling and holding it, intent on capitalizing on their lapse of caution. My body is still, my heart beating slowly, calmly. A head rises out from the car door. My cybereye relays my trajectory, indicating a clear shot. I place the crosshairs over the target. Time seems to slow as I gently squeeze the trigger. The man begins to chastize his bodyguard for the delay as he lights a cigarette, unaware that his life is about to end.

The shot rings out, the sound echoing off the towering buildings around me. A spray of blood erupts from the cranium of the target as he falls lifeless behind the car and out of sight. The bullet pierces straight through and strikes the bodyguard in the sternum, knocking him to the ground with the impact. I pull back the bolt on my gun, ejecting the empty casing, the cylinder of metal clinking along the ground as I load a new one, pushing the bolt back into place. I scan the area, seeing the two bodyguards swiftly duck for cover. I fire a shot at one as he dashes behind a dumpster, the bullet shattering on the concrete as my shot goes wide.

"Shit." I curse. That was stupid, a second shot will dial them in to my position that much faster. Gunfire rings out from the streets below, bullets plinking on the side of the building a few feet away from my position. I pull my gun away from the window and step back as the gunfire intensifies. I swing the rifle onto my back before drawing my sidearm and holding it in both hands.

"I'm in their commlinks, they know you're up there."

"I gathered that." My voice is muted by the gunfire below. A stray bullet strikes a small intact chunk of glass in the window, loudly shattering it. That's my cue to exit.

"Huh. The driver turned off his commlink. Can you see him?" Savant sounds oddly nervous about this.

"No, they're shooting at the window, I'm about to leave."

"One of them is covering the window, the other is already heading your way, he's halfway up the stairs."

I let out an exhale of exasperation. "You could have told me that a minute ago. Give me a minute."

I press against the wall, peeking out into the hallway leading to the stairs. The familiar sound of the creaking wood echoes from the staircase and I grip my handgun in anticipation, balancing its weight and keeping my finger on the trigger. I see a figure in the darkness as it reaches the top of the stairs. I pull back from my vantage point, closing my eyes and listening for the footsteps to get closer.

Creak. My breathing seems deafening in the silence.

Creak. I hear the soft shuffling of his clothes as he edges closer with each step.

Creak.

Opening my eyes, I twist out into the passage, pointing my gun towards the man. He reacts faster than I anticipated, ducking to the side as I fire two quick shots in succession. One sails past and impacts the wall behind him, kicking up a cloud of dust. The other strikes him in the bicep, piercing through and leaving an expanding blot of blood on his charcoal suit. Flinching from the pain, he attempts to barrel into me, but I step aside, turning my gun sights on him again. He turns to fire his own pistol at me, and our shots ring out simultaneously. His shot goes whizzing past my ear, thudding on the wall behind me, but my bullet strikes true. Piercing his skull, my projectile sends blood and gore splattering onto the empty floor. The bodyguard falls limply to the ground, a puddle of crimson leaking from his shattered cranium.

I take a deep breath, calming myself before speaking into my commlink.

"This one's down, where's the other?"

"Think he's waiting for backup, he's in the foyer downstairs."

I leave the dead bodyguard, despite my desire to search his body for weapons and valuables. Cheaper than buying them, though his weapons would be licensed, and thus, traceable. Flying downstairs in haste, I reach the corridor leading to the entrance foyer of the building. No thermal sigs. I warily proceed down the hallway, gun in hand. I approach the opening to the foyer, tense and anxious.

"Where is he? I don't see him." I whisper.

"He's around the co- Look out!"

A suited figure rushes me from the side, launching himself from around the corner. I raise my gun and he raises his, our shots flashing out one after the other. In the chaos, both shots miss, harmlessly striking the wall and rotting carpet that stretches across the foyer. I see an object in his other hand and realise with concern that it's a stun baton. Keeping his gun in hand, he lashes out with a strike, smacking my own gun hand and sending our weapons thudding along the floor. As he steps closer, stabbing with his baton, I twist my body aside and catch the offending arm with my hand. Drawing my free hand back, I flex my fingers in an abrupt, deliberate motion, causing a glossy, foot-long blade to snap out from my sleeve. Thrusting my opponent's baton-wielding arm to the side, I grip his shoulder, driving my forearm blade through his throat, pushing the bloody tip out through the back of his neck. I shove him away, his baton falling to the ground with a thud, grasping in vain at his throat as he gurgles and gasps in terror. Swinging my arm to dislodge some of the blood, I retract the blade and retrieve my gun. A single shot reverbrates through the room as I put the writhing man out of his misery. Whether out of mercy or spite, I'm not sure. I holster my gun and proceed.

"Managed to nick an empty car. Hang a left, second alley on the right."

Dashing to the entrance, I pass through into the street. Looking down the street to my right, I see the target's ebon-painted car, barely able to make out the figure of the dead victim on the pavement, his fluids oozing into a nearby storm drain. The unfortunate bodyguard struck with the same rifle bullet still lies on the road, his body shifting occasionally. Still alive. He hasn't seen my face, so it shouldn't matter.

My musing is interrupted by a strong slam to the side of my face, sending me tumbling into a cluster of nearby trash cans. My head throbs and the world spins around me as I attempt to discern my attacker.

It's no trouble spotting him, standing 8-feet tall, an imposing, muscled silhouette in the street . A pair of tusks jut out from his lower jaw, with a complimentary pair poking out from the top of his head and curling to a point. He wears an ill-fitting suit, the buttons straining to hold against his enormous bulk. I think he's grinning at me, but it's hard to tell through his mangled set of teeth.

"Lyte, get the fuck out of there!"

I rise to my feet, drawing my gun and firing a few shots towards the troll. They appear to simply bounce off him, my attempts at another barrage answered only by a few clicks of my gun. In a panic, I eject the current clip and reach for a spare, but I am grabbed by the throat and hauled into the air. His crushing grasp on my windpipe chokes me as I struggle to breathe. He brings me closer, his putrid breath wafting over me as he chuckles malevolently.

I tense my fingers, and my blade snaps out with a soft click. Driving it into his chest with all my might, I thrust the point towards his heart. The troll lets out a wild roar of pain, and I slip from his grasp. Ducking, I retrieve my pistol from the ground, slipping in a fresh clip it as I dash down the road towards the escape vehicle. Turning around, I see him rapidly closing the distance, rage burning in his eyes. I fire a quick volley of shots, catching a horn with one, causing it to break off from the middle, sending it sailing through the air. Behind him, I can see the target's car start up, headlights beaming down the road. The engine roars, and the squeal of burning rubber reverbrates down the street as it races towards the raging troll. Spinning around at the last moment, he attempts to stop the car with brute force, but the impact is too much and he is sent spinning along the pavement. The impact with the giant brute smashes the front-end of the car, sending it squealing into the wall with a loud crash.

I cut into the alleyway, approaching an abandoned taxi cab that will serve as my temporary transportation. I catch my breath as the door opens at my signal, and I take a seat behind the wheel.

"Nice work there, Van. My life flashed before my eyes there."

"Just hope he doesn't remember you, I don't think that killed him. Who the hell was he? That was no typical business chauffeur."

My HUD pops up with the various commands for the vehicle. I start the ignition as I get buckled in.

"No idea, but he was bad news. I hope we didn't screw with anyone too important tonight."

"I'll look into it. Keep in touch, Acolyte."

"I will."

---

My senses slowly return to me, gradually lifting the darkness of my unconscious haze. I am in a small room, featureless white walls surrounding me on all four sides. A fluorescent light beams down from the ceiling, bathing the room in a sterile glow. I shift my weight, my arms refusing to move from their position behind my back. I feel rings of metal around my wrists, binding them together. It dawns on me that I've been taken somewhere against my will, as I attempt to piece together what happened before I was knocked out.

I had ditched the stolen taxi once I got clear of the area, making my way home on foot. Mr. Johnson sent me a message, asking me to collect my credstick in person. I knew it was fishy, but I thought I could handle anything that arose, and the need for money suppressed my anxiety. Most every other job I've been paid electronically, a small account set aside just for the purpose under a false name and SIN. I close and reopen accounts constantly, ferrying my funds around in an attempt to throw off anyone following my datatrail. Black-market banks may be easier, but the security of an actual civilian bank sits more comfortably with me.

I was instructed to go to a nearby park, and to sit on a specific bench. I noted that the park was mostly empty, the few homeless and stragglers being ushered away by a pair of cops. I thought it was coincidence. I was only waiting for a few moments before I woke up here. Wherever 'here' is. Was the Johnson selling me out, or was it a spoofed message? Maybe cutting off a loose end? I should have been more careful, dammit.

The door across from me opens with a metallic whine, a sharp-suited elf stepping through, followed by a more roughly dressed orc, who closes the door behind him with a slam. The elf looks at me with a smug, superior expression, his short blonde hair gleaming in the light. The orc just sneers at me, glaring in contempt. They look me over for a moment as I defiantly return their gaze from my uncomfortable metal seat.

"The only reason you're still alive," The elf begins, his even, silvery tone pleasant on the ears, despite his meanacing words. "is out of a respect for your talents."

"I'm talented, am I?" I ask, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

The elf nods. "We have clear footage of your hit on Mr. Adams. You put him down cleanly, and even managed to escape Fritz, our special-order bodyguard. I enjoyed the show."

"Fritz, huh. He was a pushover. So, are you going to hire me, then? Or are you just letting me know how great I am before you shoot me?"

The elf begins pacing back and forth, a smile on his face. "Oh no, we don't need your services. Indeed, we don't need you at all, now. We've lifted everything we need from your commlink. We know you were working with Savant."

I try to conceal the surprise in my face. "I don't know any Savant. I fly solo."

"Please, I am not an idiot. The comm data we have should be enough, it will only be a matter of time, now."

So they're going after Savant? Wonder if this is his history catching up to him. Or, more accurately, catching up to me. The elf opens his mouth to continue, but is interrupted by a loud smash as the door flies open. A pair of figures stand in the doorway, a revolver and pistol levelled at the ork and elf.

"Who the-" Two shots ring out, one striking the elf in the head, snapping his neck back as he collapses to the floor, cutting his exclamation short. The other glances off the ork with a metallic ping as he draws a long knife, his other arm extending sharp metal spurs at the fingertips. One of the figures in the door, a human, lunges into the room, using the motion to draw a katana from a scabbard across his back. A whirl of the blade deflects a stab of the ork's knife, and a deft lean narrowly avoids the spiked punch. A bullet from the other figure, revealed to be another ork, tears through the torso of the knife-wielding foe as the human whirls forwards with a sweep of his blade. The strike is lethal, and blood fountains out from the ork's neck as his head tips back, grotesquely held on by only a thread of skin and bone. The ork's body hits the floor with a thump, and the two figures approach me.

The ork steps behind me, releasing me from my bonds as the human draws a spare pistol, twirling it in a flourish before holding it to me handle-first, along with a couple spare clips. I stand, taking the pistol and examining it. I pop the slide back, checking that it's loaded. Satisfied, I take the ammunition before nodding at the human. I feel an odd shiver, but I ignore it.

"Where are we?" I ask. "And do I know you two?"

"An Ares compound. And you don't, but you know Savant." The humans voice is suave and serious. He would be handsome if it were not for the look in his eyes. The kind of... haunted look one gets when one is a runner for most of their life. Desensitized to the death, carnage, and constant backstabbing. His dark coat obscures some, but not all, of the gleaming metal of his mechanical arms.

The ork chimes in, his voice gruff but not menacing. "We know him better under another name. We're paying back a favor." The ork is a little rough-looking, but fortunately, he looks like he still tries to keep up his hygiene. Washed hair, at least, and no facial hair. He would look almost professional in the right uniform. He sports only a single cyberarm, but it's much more sophisticated looking than the human's.

I decide not to press them for answers, content with what they've offered so far. I check my implanted commlink and find that the elf was right, it's been thoroughly tampered with. Telltale signs of outside interference litter my HUD. Most of my files are missing, including all my information regarding Savant. After this I'll need to get a reset, and a change of model while I'm at it. Probably a fresh SIN as well. Those aren't cheap, bastards.

The three of us exit the room, entering a featureless hallway all lit by the same plain fluorescent lights lining the ceiling.

"Where's our exit?" I inquire, glancing down the hallways.

The human points to the right. "We can't go back the way we came, so we're going that way. Savant should have an escape ready for us. There's only been a few guards in these hallways, but we can't afford to be careless."

I nod and we proceed down the indicated hallway. Winding ourselves around the building, the sterile, boring architecture begins to slowly give way to a more professional style, and we find ourselves in what resembles an office complex. Cubicle walls decorate the room in a somewhat random fashion, the outer edges of the room made of glass from floor to ceiling, offering a view outside. The sun has set, and the electronic glow of the city radiates in the darkness. We're several dozen stories up, the cityscape visible from the windows. The offices appear to have been emptied, most of the lights have been turned off.

"Nobody here, huh." The ork voices his skepticism.

"Savant probably took care of it." I say, trying to reassure myself as much as them.

Our hopes are dashed as we hear rushing footsteps around us. A half-dozen figures decked out in full black and blue military armor swarm out from the doors leading to the room. We each scatter and duck for cover in different locations, using the cubicle walls for protection.

The ork speaks aloud into his comm, his tone one of urgency. "Savant, what's going on? Talk to me."

"Freeze, drop your weapons!" shouts one of the soldiers. The order falls on deaf ears. I don't know why he bothered.

"An astral scout must have tagged us." The human says, readying his pistol, gripping his unsheathed katana in his other hand.

That explains the shiver, I should have noticed it from earlier. He passed right through me in astral form. Still, they responded faster than I would have thought, maybe those two were spotted on the way in. Gunfire erupts in the room, deafening salvos punctuated by bright muzzle flashes. I hear a series of 'thunk's, as the room begins to cloud up with smoke.

"Guys, stay down and keep away from the windows! And try to hold your breath, that's tear gas!"

I shift position, entering a cubicle to shield myself from the hail of gunfire. I hear a sound, faint at first, but growing louder with each second. The whine of an engine, accompanied by the pattering of rotors. The telltale sounds of a helicopter. A beam of light shines into the window from outside and it sweeps around the room, the sleek silhouette of a gunship illuminated by the reflected light. Twin flashes of orange blaze out from the vehicle, showering the room with a thunderous hail of bullets, shattering the glass and scattering glimmering shards everywhere. The sound is deafening, and I cover my ears with a wince.

Mercifully, the barrage halts, all ambient sound muted as the ringing in my ears subsides. I poke my head up from the cubicle, watching the human and ork dash towards the gunship as it aligns itself sideways along the window, a door along its chassis opening up.

"Run!" The human shouts to me.

I spring into action, running full-tilt towards the gunship. After only seconds of silence, I hear shuffling behind me as the room fills with reinforcements. They unleash a salvo of bullets at me, and I weave between cover, the bullets impacting around me as I frantically dodge towards the window. I am only a few feet away from the gunship when one unfortunate projectile makes contact with my leg, tearing through my shin and splintering the bone. I cry out in agony, my stride broken. With one final lurch, I throw myself towards the gunship.

Bullets whiz past me, some piercing my body, but I feel no pain, only a blind determination to reach the safety of the gunship. The human leans out from the door, extending his metal hand towards me. I reach out in midair, sailing over the gap between the building and the hovering gunship. Our arms stretch, hands gracing each other, just out of reach. The gunship rises before me as I sink into the open air below. Horror tears through my body as I look up to see the human and ork, staring down with disappointment. Not anger, not relief, not even sadness. Disappointment.

I make peace with my imminent mortality as I plummet towards the street.