FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter Two

I spent the next two weeks bouncing back and forth between cublike euphoria and crippling doubts, equals parts ecstatic at being asked to join the Guild, and petrified that I wouldn't come up to snuff. I really struggled to see how much benefit I could be to the team when my only ability was healing; it'd have its uses, certainly, but in comparison to the four heroes' cornucopia of powers it didn't feel nearly enough.

It didn't help that I didn't know when I'd be joining them, just that I'd be contacted when the time was right. Acting under their instructions I had packed everything but a minimum of living essentials into a pair of medium-sized cases that sat ready near the door, along with a third empty one for the remaining items. They'd assured me I'd be able to take whatever food supplies I had left, and whatever items of furniture I wanted to; since most of the latter came with the flat when I rented it that meant only two pieces were on that particular list.

With most of my entertainment in a suitcase and no job to go to I was sorely lacking in things to do, and as the city seemed locked under a rain-cloud with no apparent end I found myself going slowly stir-crazy in the solitude of my flat. Even the odd burst of drama courtesy of the Guild did little to enliven things - a grand total of three supervillains had come to town, and all had been lesser variations on the theme of Steelhound, easily taken down even in the pouring rain.

I'd lived in Bristol for a little over a year now, and in all that time low level bruisers were the only villains that ever attacked, and even then not very often. For some reason they often showed up in bursts, four or five in rapid succession, then it could be weeks before another one made their appearance; the parallels with the local bus services were striking, although the supervillains generally didn't charge you through the nose for the inconvenience.

The latest attack, by a garishly-garbed hedgehog seemingly intent on ruining a home game for City (though given how very adept they are at that themselves right now it seemed rather redundant) had been six days ago and dealt with so easily it was bordering on laughable. Spirit had incapacitated the guy well before the other three showed up, and then spent the intervening period languorously exercising, curling her body through a number of smooth gymnastic moves while studiously ignoring the reporter's awkward attempts to interview her.

Spirit. I thought a lot about her, partially because she enthralled me, and partially because she confused me. When anybody outside of the team tried to approach her she'd be polite but distant, deftly avoiding any attempts to touch her, even from children, and yet she'd not only accepted my presence and touch that day, but even seemed to enjoy them, and I couldn't understand it. What was so different about me?

I was wrestling with that dichotomy yet again this morning, over my breakfast of bacon, eggs, tomatoes and fried bread, and still coming no closer to a resolution. Swilling down the last of my glass of cold apple juice I forced myself to leave it for now, instead mulling over whether or not to head to the shops for supplies - my food stocks were running pretty low, but for all I knew the Guild could contact me today.

I'd just made my mind up to go when a knock came at my door. The possibility of my visitor being a certain lovely coyote naturally rose in my mind, but I firmly quashed the thought - after all the care they'd taken in leaving last time, I rather doubted any of the Guild would be openly walking in the front entrance.

Not for the first time this month I was proven quite wrong - opening the door revealed a familiar willowy greyhound, though rather than his leotard and mask he sported dark blue overalls and a pale blue cap, and a large cooler bag hung from his right paw.

"Good morning, sir," he chirped, before I had a chance to speak. "I'm here from Cabot Moving - I have a van outside."

"Ah, good," I responded, doing my best to keep my voice calm. "Come in, will you? You can help me shift a few things."

Once the door was shut Streak clapped me on the shoulder. "Nicely done, mate. Sorry for the subterfuge, but we don't want the press to get wind of this. That could get real uncomfortable real fast."

"No worries," I assured him, a smile warming my muzzle now. "Mind if I finish my breakfast before we get going?"

"Go ahead. Can you spare a drop of tea?"

"I think there's a bag left. Sugar's in the top left cupboard."

"Thanks."

As he briskly conjured himself a drink I settled back in my chair and resumed eating, if at a brisker pace; I had good reason to finish as soon as I could, after all. After a minute Streak settled down opposite me, giving me a slightly lopsided, rather appealing smile.

"Don't hurry yerself, mate; we got time. Although, there is a certain pretty-as-a-picture coyote itchin' for you to show up."

I came very close to choking on my bacon at that. "You're joking."

"Nope." His smile widened, mischief creeping in at the corners. "She's barely stopped yappin' about you, really thinks you're somethin'. I'm tendin' to agree - most anyone else would've stood there making like a goldfish at me. 'Sides, Jas's always been good at judgin' people."

"Jas, huh?" Now it was my turn to quirk a grin. "We all on first name terms, now?"

"I'm showin' ya me real face now, aren't I?" He tapped the side of his head. "No secrets between Guild members, mate. I'm Steve, 'fore you ask; Steve Ashton. Pleased ta make your acquaintance!"

He'd stuck out a paw at that, which I took and shook. "Likewise. How come you're the one collecting me?"

"'Cos I'm the least noticeable; just another local hound. Only people more common than dogs round here are foxes." I could have sworn his voice faltered ever-so-slightly on that last word. "Something about this town really agrees with 'em."

"Ringtails, too. At least, this ringtail. My life's picked right up since I got here, even before you guys gate-crashed it."

"Rough childhood, huh?" Steve's tone was sympathetic.

"No, actually - quite comfortable. The late teens is where it all went south." Downing the last scrap of fried bread I stood up and moved over to the sink, rinsing my plate. "I'll give you all of the painful details later, if you insist. Right now I just want to get moving."

"All right." The greyhound drained the last of his tea in one gulp then handed me the mug. "What're you taking, besides the bags?"

"Furniture?" I swept a dishcloth over the plate. "Just the old armchair and the small bookcase in my bedroom. Other than that, crockery and a little food."

Steve nodded, striding up to the chair. "You fill the cool bag with your vittles while I lug this beauty to the van." He hefted it with surprisingly little effort. "Light as a proverbial."

"Aye, sir." Setting the now gleaming clean plate on the counter I made haste to open the door for him.

He eased the armchair through skilfully, then trotted away down the corridor. A small flock of butterflies taking flight in my stomach - the move had now become very real, and that made me pretty anxious - I collected up what little food and drink there was left in my fridge and cupboards and packed it all into the cooler bag, then scurried around the flat retrieving clothes and a handful of other bits and pieces. I was in the process of cleaning out the bathroom when Steve reappeared to collect the bookcase. When he returned from stowing that in the van, I was done.

He took up the cool bag and one of the pieces of luggage. "Ready to get going, or do you want one last look around?"

"Nah - not been living here long enough to get sentimental about the place." I grabbed the last two bags and headed through the door. "Lets just leave it be."

Locking up for the last time I led the way to the front office, where I dropped off the keys to the flat. Outside the building a large blue van was parked, a little battered and worn, but still perfectly serviceable, into which we loaded the bags, then ourselves. As we pulled out into traffic I didn't even think of looking back; my attention was fixed fully ahead, on the Guild, and most of all Spirit.

She couldn't really be that eager to see me again...could she...?

You'd really think I'd have learned by now, especially where Spirit was concerned. Half an hour of steady, rain-swept travel brought us to the Cumberland Basin, the opposite side of the city to the suburb in which I'd lived, a place where the city's considerable nautical heritage still lingered quite strongly, not least in the form of three huge old tobacco warehouses, monoliths of black and red brick. One was now a council building, another a self-storage facility, and the last stood apparently unused in a sweep of thick and tangled scrub, its windows dark and its doorways sealed.

A much smaller, equally abandoned grey wedge of a building was just across the road, it's tall, slim arched windows walled up along with one of its twin broad entrances; the other was secured by a heavy metal shutter, which rose as we approached. Steve rolled the van smoothly through, nodding his thanks to the overalls-clad fox who'd let us in to what proved to be an electricity substation. This greatly confused me, until I noticed the vehicle lift tucked away in the corner opposite the entrance, into which we drew.

The descent was short, lowering us into an arched tunnel that, if I had my bearings correct, curved gently toward the derelict warehouse. It soon came out in a small (twenty or so bays, only half a dozen of which had vehicles in them, all nondescript unmarked vans) underground car park. Steve placed our van right by the lift doors that were the only other exit from the area, then slipped out in a very casual manner.

"Leave your stuff, mate - the Overalls'll sort it."

"The who?" Naturally, as I was asking the question, the lift opened up and five overall-wearing people (an ocelot, a black labrador, a wolf and two more foxes) poured out, chattering cheerfully. "Never mind."

"Best logistics an' support crew you could ever ask for." Steve grinned as he exchanged slaps and squeezes of paws with every one of them. "We wouldn't function without 'em."

"He's exaggerating," the ocelot, a dapper female, told me, shaking my hand. "We just do all the boring stuff so they don't have to. I'm Tracy, head Overall."

"Simon, bewildered newbie. Pleased to meet yo-" I was startled into silence by the wolf kissing me on the cheek as he passed. The labrador then lightly pecked my nose, and finally the foxes (identical male and female twins) pressed their lips to either side of my muzzle. All I could do in response was gape stupidly. "F-friendly staff you have here..."

"Just trying to make you feel welcome," Tracy told me, before kissing me right between the eyes. "And you're cute."

"I...uh...I...th-thanks...I think..."

A loudly guffawing Steve grabbed my paw and towed me over to the lift. "Come on, loverboy - things to do, people to see!"

I was still in something of a daze when he pulled me out of the lift and into an expansive open-plan area. Bright, airy, dotted with desks, chairs and thin pillars, its colour scheme a gentle cream-white, a fair number of people in various states of dress (or undress, in a few cases) milling around with quiet industry it wasn't at all what I'd expected of a superhero base, feeling more like a rather relaxed office space, but it worked. The warmth and life and atmosphere of the place were quite palpable, and I felt myself loosening up in response.

"Not bad digs, huh?" Steve beamed, trotting over to the corner just to my right, which was set up as a changing area, complete with many lockers and hooks; lots of overalls of red, green, blue and grey hung on the latter. Sloughing his outfit, he swapped it for a cheerful green and yellow shirt he left hanging open and a belt to which many small tools were attached. "This is the admin section, aka Paperwork City."

"I like it - feels more like a home than a workplace. Interesting dress code, too."

"All thanks to Jas," the greyhound informed me. "You wanna get more comfy, go right ahead - nobody here's gonna even think to judge."

"Maybe later." I have to say, I was a little tempted. "Where next?"

"Terry wants a chat - he's upstairs."

He caught my paw and led me through the huge room, his free hand exchanging greeting after greeting with every person we passed; all of them also gave me a friendly kiss somewhere on my face, much to my confusion and his amusement.

Maybe it was just their way of teasing the newbie...

"Oh, by the way..." He stopped abruptly, not reacting when I bumped into him, and jabbed a finger at a pair of sliding automatic doors in the left-hand wall. "Through there are the server room, the hub room, the meeting room and the portal room - you'll see 'em later. Onwards!"

He pulled me into another lift (why two, I had no clue) with such pace I almost lost my footing. As it ascended a level he stood close behind me with one paw resting on my shoulder, the other on my hip, contact I found I actually didn't mind at all. Behaviour this tactile and friendly was just a little distracting after the staid if polite removal of my prior workplace, but I was pretty sure I'd get used to it.

When the lift came to a halt and the doors opened Steve shoved me forward; I got a brief glimpse of another huge open-plan area, this one a living space, before I was all but bowled off my feet by Spirit.

"Simon! Welcome home!" Hugging the breath out of me she kissed the end of my muzzle so warmly I swear I lost all motor function for a moment. "Good trip?"

"Fine, thanks," I replied, returning her clasp as lightly as I could (and marvelling at how wonderfully soft her fur was as I did so) then gently extricating myself from her arms. "Steve's a very good driver. Traffic wasn't too bad, either."

"Wonderful!" The coyote wore only a translucent triangle of pastel yellow cloth across her hips (two points tied together on her left, the third trailing down her right to the mid-point of her thigh) and a strip of the same material tied loosely around her neck, the ends hanging down to the tops of her shallow breasts, while delicate gold bracelets encircled her left ankle and right wrist.

She looked beautiful, and it was impossible for me not to just stare, mesmerised by her.

"Like my casual wear?" she trilled, spinning with a ballerina's grace.

"Love_it," I responded, with fervour, then instantly worried I'd been a little _too enthusiastic. "I-I mean, uh..."

She stopped spinning and regarded me curiously, head cocked to one side. "You mean what?"

Oh, this was awkward. Luckily I had a friendly neighbourhood Steve to come riding to my rescue.

"Yeah, you mean what?" Or maybe not.

"I mean...uh...I don't want you to think I'm...looking at you the wrong way or anything..." I fiddled my fingers as I spoke, my cheeks burning.

"Wrong way?" Spirit's nose crinkled in confusion. "You're not talking sense. Unless you mean...that wrong way?" She took a step closer to me. "Do you see me like that?"

"No!" I almost yelped, horrified at the very thought. "Nonono! Not even slightly!"

"Not even slightly?" She pouted, hooking out a hip in a coyly sensual manner and batting her eyelids. "Not even one tiny little bit...?"

"Guh..." My brain had gone completely on the blink again. "I...I..."

Then Steve started snickering behind me, and realisation dawned.

"Oh, for..." I physically sagged, groaning. "Very funny."

Spirit leaned close, her grin impish indeed, and kissed my nose. "You couldn't look at me the wrong way if you tried. Why do you think I like you so much, hmm?"

"That and you're fun to prank," Steve put in, pulling something from my back and waving it cheerfully in my face - a sheet of paper with the words 'KISS ME' written on it in very large capital letters and a couple of strips of tape clinging to it - before sticking it to his chest. "No hard feelings, Si?"

Something gave way inside me at that point, a barrier breaking, and I found myself grinning hugely, then laughing, loudly, for what seemed like minutes on end. When I got hold of myself again I felt more alive than I had in ages, and quickly decided a little payback was in order. I reached out to fix Steve's head in my paws and then pulled him in for the biggest, slurpiest muzzle-press I could manage; I even finished with a nice wet lick across his snout. "No hard feelings at all, Steve-o."

"G-good to know..." Ah, so satisfying to see someone else looking so epically gormless.

A familiar Estuary accent chose that moment to chime in. "You were right, Jasmine - he's going to to fit in wonderfully."

My head snapped to the side; the otter and the tigress were standing close by watching us, both looking highly amused.

He wore a light, loose, pale green sleeveless tunic with a v-cut neck that nearly reached to his navel; it was cinched at the waist by a thin cloth belt and extended to his knees. She sported trousers of a dark blue hue, baggy and generous and quite possibly silken, with a lighter blue and broad sash belt, and a thin string looped round her neck from which hung a small silver locket, nestling into the ruff of fur between her bare, plump pillows of breasts.

I stepped toward them, extending a paw in greeting, only for Wayu to engulf me in a hug, my face ending up enveloped in her cleavage, and kiss me in distinctly maternal fashion on the top of my head, between my ears. "Welcome to the family."

I couldn't stop myself pressing closer to her - for all her strength she was as warm, soft and comfortable as a duvet - or the melancholy that crept into my tone as I responded. "Nice to have one again."

Wayu's large paws gripped my shoulders, easing me away from her, and pale green eyes regarded me with quiet concern. "Lost yours?"

"In a...manner of speaking." My own eyes were staring at a spot just above her navel, a twinge of pain behind them. "It's a long story...."

The tigress frowned at this - with a paw to my back she guided me through the room, past a long dining table, a full-size snooker table, a pinball machine, a large card table with a pile of board games, a small cluster of shelves filled with books and DVDs and (of all things) a large and impressively intricate model railway to an array of sofas, armchairs and beanbags arranged in front of a massive flatscreen TV. Something told me these guys took their relaxation pretty seriously...

Wayu settled into an expansive and plush recliner, then spread her arms open and looked pointedly at me.

"What am I - a cuddly toy?" I asked, cocking an eye ridge.

"Yep!" Steve gave me a sharp, playful push, more than enough to set me toppling into the tigress' embrace. "Try not to break this one, Ji."

"Break?!" I squeaked, even as I felt her arms tighten around me. "But I just got here!"

"If I really wanted to break you you'd be in two pieces already," Wayu told me, with gentle humour, her whiskers tickling my ear. "Now, about your lack of family..."

"I warn you - it's heavy stuff..."

"All the better to get off your shoulders, then."

"If you insist." Relaxing into my stripy cocoon, my head nestling into the valley between her breasts, I took a moment to order my thoughts whilst the others settled down around us. "To be blunt, my parents don't recognise me as their son any more. They haven't for about six years now. All because of Nick..."

"I think I see where this is going." Ji nuzzled the crown of my head in sympathy. "They didn't approve?"

"That's an understatement. They disliked him from the moment we first met in primary school; he was always too demonstrative for their comfort. He'd hug me for the smallest reason and kiss me goodbye at the end of each day, and while I loved every moment it made my folks deeply uncomfortable. When we moved on to secondary school they deliberately picked a different one to his for me, so I thought I'd seen the last of my charming fox.

"They then started pushing girls at me; trying to make me forget him, I think. I did actually build up a little something with a pretty ferret girl one summer, but it only lasted a couple of months; we just didn't click properly. By the time I started college they'd given up trying to set me up, and were growing a little distant, while I was retreating into myself more and more. Luckily, college came with a huge bonus - Nick.

"We bumped into each other the morning of the very first day, and I remember so vividly how he picked me up and spun me round like we were in a movie romance, right in the middle of the main quadrangle with crowds of people around us, then kissed me full on the mouth. It was silly, and corny, and absolutely wonderful.

"We spent every moment we could together after that, determined not to lose each other again. At first it was just during college, but in time he started inviting me back to his house in the evenings and at weekends. I quite quickly ended up staying there far more than at my own home, mainly because it felt a hell of lot more like a home."

"His parents more accepting, then?" Spirit asked, from the midst of a particularly large beanbag.

"As accepting as you, if not more; open, warm, friendly and trusting to a ridiculous degree. I mean, take the Saturday night I stayed over and decided to enjoy a nice long shower before going to bed, and Nick decided to join me. We pretty quickly forgot about washing and got lost in each other instead, on a level we hadn't gotten close to before." I couldn't help the fond, if bitter-sweet, nostalgia that crept into my voice. "We ended up sharing our first real, proper, full-muzzle kiss."

"How was it?" Ji's tone was distinctly motherly; her role within the group was becoming ever more obvious.

"Clumsy." I chuckled softly at the memory. "At first. Took us a while to figure out how to properly fit our snouts together. Worth it in the end, though. I think we were onto our fourth or fifth kiss when we noticed a flash going off, which turned out to be Nick's mother Anne taking a photo of us. She then skipped away, grinning hugely and sing-songing about printing it out, framing it and putting it on the wall."

"Really?!" Jas had a paw to her mouth, giggling, her tail swaying. "She _really_did that?"

"Oh, yes. Mischievous lady, she was. So was her son, actually - Nick chased after her without even bothering to dry off or put anything on, throwing all kinds of playful threats at her."

"Blimey!" A chuckling Steve shook his head gently. "Doing that to my mother would've gotten me a lecture and a thorough spanking _and_a week's extra-heavy chores. If I was lucky."

"Damn, that's harsh." Suddenly my parents didn't seem quite so bad.

"I lived." From his tone and the faintly haunted shadow that passed over his face not without scars. "What about your fox?"

"Well, I wrapped a towel around myself and followed, feeling a little awkward but really wanting to know what was happening. I found the dressing gown Anne had been wearing on the floor right outside the door, and then the lady herself came tearing along the landing toward me, now as naked as her son. I have to confess I froze - she _was_quite a beautiful lady, after all - and stood there with my jaw flapping loose like an idiot guppy...right up until she stole my towel, flung it back into the bathroom and pinched my bottom, all as she was racing past.

"Now, that did it. I snapped. All inhibition vanished and I joined her son in trying to hunt her down. We finally corralled her in the spare bedroom, also known as my room since I stayed over so much, and set to getting our revenge - by pinning her to the bed and tickling her till she begged for mercy. When she finally gave in - and it took a fair old while - we ended up just...relaxing together, lying in a bundle on the bed chatting until we fell asleep.

"After that, I..." I trailed off as a shrill, pulsing alarm sounded and the flatscreen came to life, flashing up a news report.

"...a large metallic container of some kind has landed in the middle of Broadmead, almost crushing a bystander in the process..."

TK stared intently at the cylindrical object now filling the screen, his eyes widening. "One of Rune's trickbombs; but he'd never..." He shook his head. "Spirit, take Simon to the hub room; the rest of us will head out to deal with the device."

"Got it," three voices curtly chorused, the others jumping to their feet as one; in the process I found myself being propelled from Ji's lap into Jasmine's arms.

The coyote ushered me forward in the wake of the otter, greyhound and tiger; we piled into the lift and rode it down a floor, the heroes all pictures of focused intent, me a mildly disorientated bundle of tingling and jangling nerves. A blur of desks and people passed by and then we were in amongst all the lockers, Steve, TK and Ji switching into their uniforms with effortless fluidity and speed. Spirit collected a wrist-pad from her locker but didn't put it on, instead beckoning to me as all the others hastened away.

"You can change as well, if you like, Simon; get more comfortable."

"Tempting, but..." I pulled at my shirt collar. "My clothes are..."

"Right here." She patted a locker a couple along from hers. "Well, a few bits and pieces, at least. The rest is in your room."

"Damn..." My eyes went wide. "Steve really wasn't lying when he said the Overalls were good."

"Why, thank you!" trilled quite a high, soft voice from right alongside me. "We aim to please."

Jumping round my now even wider eyes fixed on a short, slim, almost androgynous young ocelot who'd magically appeared next to me, his trimly-furred, lithely-fit body clad only in a snug green tank top with a high neckline. His paws folded behind his back he stood and regarded me much in the manner of a relaxed and genial butler. I'm quietly ashamed to admit I spent a few seconds taking him in, since he was an attractive little feline indeed.

A giggle from Spirit, now swathed to the neck in her iridescent suit, snapped me from my reverie, and I felt my cheeks warm. "I...I think I will get a little more comfortable...actually..."

Wrenching open the locker (which somehow already had my name on it) I shed my clothes, which were snatched up by the ocelot with a grace and speed that almost had me staring at him again, then tried to decide what I could slip on instead. Then my hand found a pastel blue tank top I'd forgotten I had, and I just couldn't resist.

"Interesting choice," Spirit observed, with a knowing smile.

"Well, since it works so well for this handsome fellow" - I patted the ocelot on the shoulder - "I thought I'd try it on for size."

"You pull it off a lot better than me!" The feline was grinning wide as he unashamedly looked me over. "You've got the definition for it."

"That you do," Spirit concurred, running a hand over my abdominal muscles, a sensation that sent a shiver through me. "Home workouts or gym visits?"

"Home workouts; more for relaxation and finding focus than building muscle, though." My ears shot up as a hopeful thought dawned. "You wouldn't happen to have any equipment here, would you? I lent my weights to someone from work and he never gave them back."

"Of course." Spirit's eyes sparkled. "Maybe Oliver can give you a tour later on...?"

The ocelot beamed, nodding with great enthusiasm. "I'd love to! We could work out together!"

How could I say no to that? "It's a date, then. See you later, Ollie."

"Later!" He took off with a bounce in his step and a jaunty sway to his hips and tail; it actually needed a little effort to pull my gaze from him.

"You really can't resist a pretty face, can you?" Spirit teased, ushering me forward; she patted my rear impishly. "Or backside."

My face flared red. "I-I...wasn't...he's only..."

"Lusting after a sixteen-year-old." She shook her head, while I gasped and spluttered. "He's age of consent, true, but he's also Tracy's_son_..."

I blanched, stumbling through the sliding doors. "I'm not_thinking of him like that! I just find him appealing! I'm _not_going to...I wouldn't ever even think of...I _can't..."

Spirit giggled, steering me along a plain white corridor to a door on the right hand side, then pressed a finger to my muzzle. "Easy, Si; I'm just teasing. Something tells me you're the last person to be thinking or behaving like that."

Resisting twin urges to thump my forehead against the wall for being so gullible again, and to violently throttle the still-grinning coyote for touching such a sensitive area, I sighed and chuckled ruefully. "So what exactly tells you that?"

"You haven't so much as twitched, at me or him, or anyone else," she responded, pressing a pad to open the door.

"Twitched?" My nose did just that as I struggled to understand.

Her grin turned puckish as she padded past me. "A penis never lies."

I blinked, and looked down at my modest floppy bits, feeling suddenly even more stupid. Scratching my head I followed her into a large, dark disc of a room. "Well, I...never really have...twitched...and I don't think I ever will. Just one of many things broken about me..."

Her brow creased, and her jaw tightened, and I could see she wanted to say something, but she just sighed and shook her head. "We'll talk about that later." She flourished a tablet she'd picked up. "They should be there any second, so we need to get to work."

"Yes, Ma'am. But how...?"

Her grin curled wider in a manner bordering on the sinister, and she tapped the tablet. In response a huge, circular map of the city flared into being under my feet, taking up most of the floor, and a broad ring of images came to life right around the walls, not even broken by the door. A trio of vivid green dots, each marked with a name, clustered in the middle of Broadmead on the map, while security camera feeds, a trio of mobile camera feeds with familiar faces in the corners, a slew of data displays and the local news lined up around the walls.

"Holy_whoa_...!" I breathed, clicking into full-bore geek mode. "These are LED panels, right?"

"Yep; Steve's pride and joy." She tapped the tablet once more then set it in a receptacle on the wall beneath the displays. "Confirm voice."

"Voice control active," responded a soft, even male voice.

"Activate comlinks."

"Activated."

"This is Hub coming online. Check in?"

"Right on time, Hub," TK answered, his voice coming from the camera view with his face in the corner. "Just reached the bomb. The police have cleared the civilians, so that's one less worry."

"I've noticed." Spirit's gaze flicked to the security cameras, displaying empty shopping streets and police cordons. "Anything of interest?"

"Just the box of boom," Streak chimed in. "No messages, no warnings and no clues."

"Which isn't Rune's style, from what I know of him," TK continued.

"We're looking at a stolen bomb, then," Spirit reasoned. "We'll see if we can dig anything up."

"Search Phantomcat's records, if you can - he's the one who usually deals with Rune."

"Will do." Spirit spun round to face the data displays. "Request access to records of Phantomcat."

"Connecting..."

I stepped closer to her, feeling a little bit of a spare wheel. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Keep your eyes open. Two of us looking means we'll find what we're after quicker...hopefully."

"Access granted."

"Initiate search. Keyword: Rune."

Dozens and dozens of records spilled out across the displays, a mass of journals, reports and photographs; something that struck me right away was the complete lack of any images of Rune.

"No-one's ever managed to get a snap of this guy?" I asked.

"No-one's ever even seen him," TK's voice responded. "He keeps well out of sight. The only reason we know he's a he is the voice messages he leaves."

"Seems even Phantomcat doesn't know what he looks like," Spirit put in. "Every time he thinks he's tracked Rune down it comes to nothing."

"A shy and retiring supervillain?" I muse. "That doesn't sound right."

"He's a rarity, that's for sure," TK concurred. "So far we've found six buttons scattered over the bomb, all marked with chess pieces, but no idea which of them defuses it."

"Guess we should be grateful there's no timer," Streak interjected, a little drily.

"Six chess buttons..." Spirit was collating photos with swift strokes of her fingers across the displays. "He's built a few like that. Does it have any markings; insignias or logos?"

"Not unless you count a crude bit of graffiti scratched into it," Streak told us. "Actually, crude's a good word for all of it."

"Then it's an early one," I deduced, noting the dates appended to the photographs. "His bombs got more elaborate over time." I glanced at Streak's camera, centred on a rough bird design etched into the casing of the device. "Doesn't look like he's ever cut any kind of image into a bomb, though..."

"I've found seven bombs with chess piece buttons," Spirit reported, a hint of frustration creeping in. "Two are too modern, one was blown up and one malfunctioned, which leaves three possibilities. Two were taken by the authorities and one just disappeared."

"I'd vote for that one," Streak chipped in.

"So would I, except that one had a shallow, embossed 'R' symbol on the top of the casing..."

"And this one doesn't," TK finished for her. "Wait - traces of grinding here. A patch about an inch across."

"That's right," Spirit confirmed. "Hexagonal."

"Confirmed. What was the solution?"

"Looking now." Spirit expanded the report attached to the photo and we both scoured it impatiently. "Doesn't seem to..."

"Pawn!" I yell, louder than probably necessary. "Hit the pawn!"

"You're certain?" TK demanded.

"Hundred percent!"

"Right."

Spirit and I span round to watch as the otter's finger pressed a button with a stylised pawn printed on it; latches on the right side of the case clicked open in response. TK and Streak exchanged confused glances before the former swung the box open. Fixed inside, in the midst of the mechanisms, in the space that should have contained explosives, was a gleaming copper mask of a canine. We all had exactly the same reaction.

"What the hell...?"