FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

1

Today's mission: in search of Adventure on Joy-Moon, the bordello planet.

Joy-Moon, the most lucrative recreational mega-center of the Xolo empire, is a wild ride for newcomers. As pimped out as its innumerable hookers of every planets and species, the dense city is ever blinking with bright neons, pumped up with music, filled to the brim with titillated crowds and the criers demanding their money. Nobody sleeps at night here, at best one comatoses a hour or two during the day when their exhaustion beats the constant over-stimulation.

Who cares? One doesn't come to this side of the system to rest but on the contrary to get drained. In every ways: soft drugs, clean prostitutes and porn, porn, porn. This is the everything-you-can-eat of perversion... minus most genuine perversions as they would scare away the mainstream customer. No, here you get the taste without the fat and carbohydrates, you slum light and safe, you savor the forbidden withing carefully set limits of good taste and social acceptability. Joy-Moon is an amusement park, the kind that would "welcome all the family" if not for some laws about minors.

Vern is not amused. The luxury car he's driving has, mercifully, a great soundproofing and yet his headache is getting worse and worse by the minute: too many bright colors, too much movement everywhere, too many aggressive perfumes in the air. Moreover, the huge lizard doesn't consider himself the kind of guy to serve as a chauffeur nor to put a foot on a bordello planet; when taking the job, needing the money, he didn't expect it to feel that demeaning.

"Find a spot to park where you can, fatso, I need to take a leak." Speaking of demeaning, the old axolotl he's working for is never out of venom and won't shut up for more than two minutes.

Vern is usually a polite and friendly person who respects his elders, but after three days locked in a small spaceship with Tlaloc, then one hour and a half in traffic after they landed, he long ran out of politeness and is now contenting himself with refraining murder. "Again!? Are you entirely made of bladders, old fart?"

"Nope, only a single one. A single, tiny, one. And I pay so you'll stop as often as I like."

"Well, you'd better stop drinking all the minibar for a moment because I can't park in the middle of the commuting rail. Next exit shouldn't be too far."

"Hmmf, if a clever businessman can't be festive when about to make big money..."

Vern hisses in annoyance, for the entire trip his passenger babbled about his super-clever plan but wouldn't spit it to protect his secrets; then they arrived on the planet and, feeling safe enough to indulge his devouring hunger for bragging, he explained it at least five times in one hour. No doubt any ill-chosen word will trigger more lecturing on the topic. He doesn't answer.

"What was that? Did you growl at me, bellboy? Do you have something to say?"

The lizard clenches his jaws, then can't hold it: "Fine! You want to know what I think about your master plan? I think it's crazy delusions from a senile madman, it... it's just a pile of incoherences and I'd like to see your face when it'll crumble in your hands!"

The traffic is slow and the car basically drives itself when anchored to a commuting rail, so Vern can safely turn around and face Tlaloc. Angrily.

Wallowed on the comfortable backseats with a shot of brandy in one hand and a cigar in the other, the axolotl is the very caricature of everything people hate in the Xolo empire: smugness and arrogance distilled to their purest form. All in his calculated posture and motions, tailored suit and ostensible oversize jewelry feel like deliberate efforts to shout "I'm richer, thus better, than you all" at the face of the entire world. His wide and round, pinkish, somewhat translucent, face with its falling gills on the sides are alien and unsettling; not to forget the constant smirking and the widely spaced, pretty malevolent, black beady eyes. Also, very old, he's all wrinkly, seems too dry despite the thick layer of protective gel his specie uses to protect themselves when out of the water --which tends to smear messily on their nice costumes-- and smells funny.

On the opposite size of the ring, more casually dressed, Vern is nearly three times the size: "massive" is an adjective often used to describe planet Kodo's "dragons", but he's not fond of it. Sure, he is thick boned --for real, it's not an euphemism for fat--, sure his non-stretchy skin has folds and makes his figure heavier and rougher, but he's all muscle damn'it! His scales are dark brown, adding to the visual density, smooth and shiny; his hands and feet are large and adorning impressive claws, and his many fangs are no less threatening on the rare occasions when, like today, he's furious. None of this, however, impresses Tlaloc a bit.

"Alright, humor me: tell me one thing incoherent in my plan, since you're so clever."

"How about me? And this?" The lizard is pointing at a weird respiratory mask his customer brought around. "You're a rich Xolo, there's no doubt about that just from the price of the car you rented for us, and you chose to space travel in my humble transporter? And then you'll do your deal under a disguise? I say you're an over-aged kid out for some adventure, that's all. You made your plan to be fun, not logical."

"Psst, I told you: I'll deal with a cat and they are racist against my kind. I can't come from a Xolo ship showing my real face or he'd refuse talking with me. Are you an idiot or what? And you think I liked traveling with you? I chose you for your specie, because the cat will like you, it was a practical concession, not fun."

"Yeeeeeaaah, sure. And about that cat, of course, the particular guy you need to meet for your scheme happens to reside on Joy-Moon of all places? He's only a pretext because you won't admit you wanted to come here!"

"I'm a member of Joy-Moon's administration board, you moron! No he's not the only cat I could have met, but of course, given my connections, the one I found was here!"

"...Humf... Alright, this one is logical but I still..."

"...exit! You're about to miss the exit!"

The diversion cuts the argument short and Vern finds a parking place near a bar where Tlaloc can stop. He refuses to go open the door for his passenger who slams it shut as hard as he can on his way out. Freed from the tiering company, he takes a long breath, turns the ventilation to the max so he can clean the air up without opening a window to the ambient noise, and tries to relax.

He's a pilot, at home in cockpits and driver seats, enjoying to be alone with a machine. He caught the passion from his father, going along him on some week long transports, feeling proud to be allowed in and curious about everything. His dad wasn't talking a lot, but this wasn't boring at all. They bonded without needing to speak, just sharing the motion, the journey. The expensive car has some of the scents of his memories, its dashboard shines like spaceship's commands and the magnetic hovering feels floaty enough: he calms down fast.

After a few minutes recovering his composure the lizard gradually comes back to his normal character and begins regretting his earlier childish and disrespectful ways. A shameful loss of control. Even if the Xolo deserved all the aggression he received, this was unworthy of the gentleman adventurer he wants to be. He decides he'll apologize.

He then realizes Tlaloc is taking a long time to come back. He's probably angry and letting his chauffeur wait on purpose... but he's also a rich old man alone on a land of perdition... Joy-Moon doesn't have the reputation to be unsafe, yet Vern can't shake a touch of anxiety imagining the old Xolo struck by an heart attack on the lap of a busty hooker. Better go check.

On the short distance he has to travel, two guys bounce into him and a female trips on his thick tail. It's a relief that the bar is not crowded at this time of the day, mostly being a pick-up spot in the evening. It's a simple place, with too loud music and too much red as seems to be the rule on this planet. A nearly naked vixen with heavy makeup looks at him expectantly from her high stool when he enters, he shakes his head politely and is glad she doesn't insist.

There's no axolotl to be seen so he makes his way to the restrooms. Two other... foxes? vixens? (he's not too sure about the genders) are here, visibly only to wait for visitors, apparently this bar has a specie specialty. Still finding no traces of Tlaloc, he hurriedly retreats. Could this place have private rooms? Could the Xolo be somewhere near getting his hydrating gel all over the fur of a vixen? Yuck! he frowns at the mental image, thinking that however much the hookers are payed is not nearly enough.

Yet an other fox approaches him, one without makeup. He shakes his head again. "No, thank you."

The vulpine smiles. "I'm the waiter, sir."

"Oh, sorry I... I didn't mean..."

"It's fine, don't worry I'm used to it. Anyway, would you be a senior Xolo's chauffeur?"

"Yes?"

The waiter pulls out a little envelope with a fancy monogram and offers it to Vern. "He left this for you, and the message that 'it should deal with your payment'."

Vern blinks in surprise, then uses a claw to rip the envelope open. "...so... he left?"

"Yes, five minutes ago. He paid to be allowed through the back door and called himself a taxi."

The lizard groans but, all considered, he's not that sad to get rid of this customer if he didn't forget to pay his dues. He's done with the envelope and it contains no check, only a brief message which he glances ponderously at for a moment.

The fox guesses what's wrong. "You can't read Xolo, right?"

"...no. Help, please?" He gives back the paper.

This time, it's the fox's turn to pause. "Errrr... alright... please don't shot the messenger, okay big guy?" He clears his throat. "It says: shove it deep up yours, fatso."

2

Not far from there, the morning before.

Sleazy groans and shakes an ear, barely emerging from his slumber thanks to the noises nearby. Dark, cold, hard floor... he has one cheek pressed enough against metal to lift his lip, revealing a fang and making him drool. He needs some time to remember where he is and what he was doing when the bad case of surprise-nap happened.

With loud bangs as it rebounds on the narrow walls, the pesticide bomb lands nearby and starts spraying its gas around. He remembers: the building's monthly cockroach extermination. Most people rarely wake up naked, safe their briefs, inside of ventilation shafts rapidly filling up with toxic gas. Even fewer do so and are exactly where they wanted to be. Sleazy is one of those few.

The cat takes a sharp breath while he still can and closes his eyes tight. He starts counting the seconds in his head while mentally retracing his escape route, which he rehearsed earlier. "3, 2, 1," time to scram! He's careful not to let his claws extend by reflex as it'd make noise and he doesn't want to be noticed by the maintenance guys.

Turn right, turn left, small drop and the last long line... He inhaled a little of gas and needs to cough, getting dangerously out of air near the end. Distracted by it and running too fast on all fours with his eyes closed, he misses the tube's end and falls by surprise, arms and legs flailing in every directions without managing to avoid spinning and lending on his back.

"Ough!" He coughs and spits, then takes a moment recovering his breath.

"Aren't you supposed to always lend on your feet?"

Reopening his eyes he spots the gazelle who's talking, a recently arrived new hooker and friend. "We're also supposed to be graceful, I must be defective."

She chuckles briefly, before being stopped by sudden concern: "You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

He stretches up, coughing again, shakes himself and joins her at a safe distance of the fuming ventilation. "No, I think I'm good. 'nyway, hi Liz, what brings you here?"

"When I heard what you planned to do... I just had to check if it was true. You're insane, Sleazy, you know that?"

"Hehe, so I've been told. Often. Insane, but guaranteed one hundred percents flea-free! I have to look my best for this afternoon. What do you think?"

"Put some clothes on!"

"Good point!"

"Yeah, about this, since I was coming I brought the stuff you asked Anna to get for you."

"Oh, nice! Thank you!"

She reaches for a bag and takes out its content one item at a time. "One small bag of pet litter..."

"...bathing dust, it's bathing dust for my fur, I don't crap in a box."

"Errr, it says pet litter on the bag."

"Yeah, well technically... but same powder. Mostly. Kinda. And much cheaper, and it smells nice."

"Oooookay, whatever, a full toothpaste tube..."

"...but I only asked for half a..."

"...she told it to me, yes. She also told you didn't need to worry as she's not putting the extra half on your bill."

"That's kind from her, I appreciate that." The cat pours about half the tube's content into his maw and starts munching while carefully closing back the precious tube's remains.

Liz raises an eyebrow, almost comments, then just shakes her head in resignation and carries on. "One stiff brush."

"Ah' eede'ch aach."

"Hey you're spitting the stuff on me! And I can't understand a word you say."

"Shorry." The cat swallows his mouthful and licks his lips. "I said: I needed that."

"Agreed. You should get 'business meetings' more often, your fur is a mess."

"I wish!"

"And last but not least, the rags you call your clothes but clean. Which, I must add, is also way too rare."

"Aw, you're harsh. I do my best to stay clean, you know this, but I can't afford the laundromat too often and clothes wear out faster when washed too much."

"I guess buying new ones when they wear out is out of the question. Did you ever consider finding an other job? I mean, I see you working hard everyday and selling a lot of your stuff but yet you're the poorest guy I ever met. Hobos usually have more pocket change than you when they walk out of a liquor store. Or is it your supplier who's ripping you off every credit?"

"Oh, no! Captain Sue is a honest and generous man, I make pretty good money."

"Where does it go, then?"

"Home. To my family, they're the reason why I'm here."

"Awww... how sweet... I do the same! I'm sorry, I didn't know. Its a shame they say you cats are vermin, you're not that bad when one gets to know you."

"Yeah... it sucks."

Liz had to run back to work, hookers don't have much free time of their own, often at irregular and inconvenient times, and they can't afford to be late or their already slim pay is lowered and they risk losing the job. It always feels odd for Sleazy to catch a hint of the bad sides of their lives, despite how used he is to leave behind Joy-Moon's "stage set" where the dream factory is less dreamy and more factory-y. They are good at keeping a smile on and at enjoying what little they get.

As, officially, an undesirable vermin, the cat enjoys more freedom but less cordial contacts with the security. With their tonfas, especially, if he's not fast or sneaky enough. While he works at removing the knots in his fur with his brush to make himself presentable, sitting on a piece of cardboard, he wonders as often if his position is better or worse than theirs. And curses the exploitative Xolos!

It feels nice to be clean and to get soft clothes, for once. He wishes he could do it regularly instead of constant efforts everyday to somewhat avoid the worst and to preserve some decency. At least enough to approach the customers. Lacking a better mirror when he needs it, he urinates near a wall and watches himself in the puddle: Sleazy is an alley cat, gray, not tall and a bit too slim, ordinary all over. Even his eyes are of a boring grayish, not quite green, kinda blue. His fur remains untidy despite all his inexpert efforts with the brush. He smiles, easy to please and finding himself smashing today.

His grayish, shapeless and worn out clothes don't stand out either... which is their exact purpose. He pulls on his hood and, in a smooth, a little hunched, gait, trots his way following the walls.

Being a vermin is more strategic that most would think, because they have important choices to make everyday with few safety nets to prevent errors from biting them. Sleazy's morning dilemma is to decide if he'll take the risk of a breakfast, a tricky operation in a day when finding trouble would be even worse than usual, or stay hungry. He knows hunger doesn't help him to think and can lead to bad decisions, an other hazard for his afternoon business.

Be it wise or stupid, since he can't think straight with an empty belly, he always ends up taking the same decision in such cases: get food.

As far as the cat is concerned, Joy-Moon's map is split in three types of areas. First come the safe ones, what's behind the scene like his current location. They are technical areas full of hiding places with little crowd and even less guards, he knows them like the back of his hand and as a small and parkour-adept cat he can evade a bulky guy anytime there. Next come the open and crowded areas, where many unpleasant things can happen fast but in which you can still hide and see what's coming. This is where he works, they're manageable is he remains attentive and doesn't stay at the same spot for too long. Everywhere else are bad, bad, places for him.

Naturally, free food is always in the third kind of places.

But first there's some morning routine to take care of.

Sleazy sneaks into a chimney that's no longer used and thus became one of his hidden stashes. He gathers a few supplies. The first is a clean cover, preserved from wetness in a trash-bag, that he spreads on the minuscule place's "floor" to be able to kneel comfortably. Next comes his personal selection of what he considers the best porn this side of the galaxy, and he fancies himself an educated connoisseur. He gets himself naked and neatly folds his precious clean clothes.

The cat got his nickname for a reason and, admittedly, he's what many would call a huge pervert. He is, however, a shy and genuinely respectful one, the kind of person who daydreams the most sordid things but, while living on the hooker planet, won't pay for sex nor discreetly peek into the holes he could find because he'd feel horrible objectifying an other individual.

This earned him the trust, and eventually friendship, of many... as well as a lot of playful tease from them. But to keep his good behavior without soon succumbing from overheating to the point of spontaneous combustion, some daily "maintenance" has to be done. Sometimes more than once a day, actually.

He gently pulls today's helper from its plastic pocket. "Ruff likes it rough" is a booklet of SM illustrations picturing dogs dominating bitches. The cat is not too picky about species, eclectic about the character looks and a balanced bisexual. What really matters to him is what they do, and he prefers when it's a male who's receiving the abuse but has enough imagination to adapt. He flips a few pages to find back that especially inspiring picture, the one with the amazing work on detail in the bondage gear and that sweet expression on the submissive female's face...

His tapered penis is already sliding out of its sheath but he ignores it so far, he wants to take his time and do it nicely. He gets himself his "toys" while starting to build a scenario. The stories usually involve cats from the old times, noble and beautiful ones. He often pictures himself with a bright white fur... that is, when he's himself a cat: his imaginary felines have imaginary disputes with various species he finds would make good pairs, like colorful exotic birds or strong dogs. In the fantasies, Sleazy is always on the losing team.

He retrieves a bouncy ball he found somewhere and stuffs it firmly into his muzzle. Today, the cats win and he'll be a strong dog. A bull terrier. With an old piece of thread, he secures his ankles together. He tightens it well, he likes it when it bites some. He's a proud dog who finds cats weak and likes to bully them, dogs are better! But he got outsmarted and captured and now, payback will be a bitch! Or rather, he will be! Getting impatient, he prepares the second thread faster. He makes some loops with it, loose enough so he can slide both wrists in, then makes one turn to tighten it into the shape of an eight and produce the desired sensation of being bound. The makeshift gag is starting to make him drool a little.

As if he had a dominating audience, he spreads his knees wide and arch his back, tail raising to present his butt, ears flattening. He allows himself a little moan when reaching down to start stroking himself.

3

"Not so proud now, uh, doggy?" The cat released Ruff's ear and eased himself out of the translucent pink silicon cock-sleeve forced by straps into the dog's helpless muzzle. The toy was going far enough to nearly make the prisoner gag and he panted desperately. The ginormous helping of cum was already escaping through the silicon holes, soaking his tongue in a awful taste of... errrr... of... ...something like concentrated milk, but more, like, musky.

"Hnnf!" made the dog in a last straw of rebellion, trying to preserve any trace of dignity. The white cat silently raised the remote of the shock collar, slowly placing his thumb onto the punishment button. Ruff already knew the pain of it and, his rebellion washed away, the gasping growl turned into a more appropriately miserable whine.

The cat let his thumb linger menacingly a moment, then decided not to shock. For now. The dog being subdued, he casually wiped his barbed member into his face, spreading some strong smelling, gluey, seed to mark his plaything. He and the audience chuckled at Ruff's humiliated expression.

The two... no, three, three looks more like an audience ...three felines were elegant nobles with crazy expensive shirts. With lacework at the collar. In silk. And nice boots, like, evening dressed all over. In contrast, the poor canine was entirely naked safe his restraints and gear and was crawling on all fours at the end of a leash.

One of the audience cats who looked... Do I make him muscular? No, no, it'd break the contrast. ...like the first one, but with black fur, probably his bro of something. And I'd like to point they would all have looked minuscule face to the strong dog if he was standing up!

Where was I... Ack! Unfinished sentence!

The black cat, so, slapped Ruff's bottom with a cane... riding crop... cattle prod... Keep it simple, don't overdo it, stay focused. ...with his gloved hand, leaving a pink imprint visible through the thin layer of fur. "What did we say, bitch! You're not allowed modesty, I want to see your gear all the time!"

Ruff hurriedly raised a leg uncomfortably high to present. A second sleeve like the one in his muzzle was spreading his vagin... Errrr, hold on a minute... Okay, I can attach it this way... Was gaping his anus lewdly, mercilessly held shoved in by more straps. Two ones were running up each side of his tail, going around his shapely... I mean, muscular hips to get tied up around his penis. Yes! Right below the knot and tight, holding it unsheathed and offered. Also two others on the bottom of the toy were laced to his balls, pulling the other way, holding them tucked down and tight.

The cats laughed again. "Well well well, look at that! Somebody's enjoying herself despite the pretense to hate being a cumdump!" The black cat pushed his claws into the tender of the dog's thigh to make him spread and present harder. Ack, the gloves! Why did I give him silly gloves! Then removed his gloves. Errr, I mean, after he removed his gloves.

This made more cum from recent use escape from the butt toy, dripping under Ruff's nuts... and he wasn't even aroused, the erection forced by the tight bonds around his member and from his penis tapping his belly during the debasing "walkie". Devastated, the dog whined again, eyes getting wet, blushing all red from being publicly shown in such predicament, here... Actually, is she even outside? The stylized background is vague. Bah, who cares! ...on the market place. No, better! In the conquered dog town, in front of all his friends and family.

The white cat pulled the leash shorter, half choking Ruff, and reached down to pull on his nipple clamps... No, don't do it again, you can't put clamps and hoods and everything all the time or it'll lost its taste. Stick to the picture, it's nice! To pinch his nipple, then teasingly caressed it. Meanwhile, the third cat... was totally unhelpful for the situation and only a distraction ...left for now, so he... could fuck Ruff's wife for fun. Mmmmmm meh.

Okay, situation's description's good. Ah! Also, Ruff's wrists where cuffed together so he couldn't defend himself and had to hobble on all fours when paraded around. Ah! And the third cat slowly circled around and pulled his cellphone to take photos from all angles!

In the real world, Sleazy's hands are accelerating as he's leaking pre. The scent of his arousal is spicing up the air and he's letting out short noises of pleasure. His fantasy is taking some momentum, the ideas starting to flow more naturally and the inner nitpicking getting out of the way.

Ruff was unable to move with the leash on one side and claws on the other. Having trouble breathing but not daring to pull on the shock collar, he had to arch to release the pressure on his throat. His knee was hurting on the ground and he was straining from the weird posture, all the muscles in his raised leg tensed. The sharp claws played with them, making him clench his toes.

An other vile whimper escaped from him, he hated himself for lacking the self-control to hide, even only a little, his suffering: they loved it too much. To be manhandled by weak, easy to break, felines! A new flash further rubbed his nose into how public this all was. With all the town watching, his life was destroyed. "Hhnnfff..." He wriggled, which made the way too big toy impaling him squish and slide in the cum, pulling onto his balls. He got a new spank for this and the leash was pulled more. They had full control and didn't intend to let go of any of it, never had him felt so helpless in his life.

He had to arch further which caused the warm cum still stored into his gag to drip into his throat. He almost chocked and tried to swallow to escape the taste as he couldn't spit it out. But all he managed was to suck on the toy with a funny noise and further entertain his abusers.

A hand wrapped around his offered member and stroked. "I wonder, should we hook you to a milker as a breeder to get plenty of toy doggies or castrate you to deal with your difficult behavior?" The cat punctuated the threat with a firm slap to Ruffs balls, squeezing them against the toy which... aaahh which... unf! uf uf aaah!

Sleazy collapses, panting, eyes closed and fur still raised up. The last drops of his morning load gently ooze into his hands, saving the imaginary dog from further torments. Until next time.

He watches his bound and now gooey palms, hesitates... and, this time again, lacks the determination to check once and for all what sperm tastes like because this little kink gets a lot less appealing right after release.

4

The boar readjusts his collar carefully, then knocks at the door of what is supposed to be his office. There is no answer. He checks his watch, just in case: he's on time, a few seconds early even. At the exact moment the second's counter returns to zero, and only then, a quiet "Yes, please come in," comes from inside.

He enters to meet his mysterious visitor, a tall, dark blue, Xolo named Coatl with a stylish eye-patch. The bosses rarely visit his security office, usually content with sending orders, weekly goals and blames by electronic messages. Wiping his leather gloves clean with a towel after he applied fresh gel on his gills, the axolotl straightens in a martial looking posture and nods as a salute.

The colleagues were right, the pig notes, this guy obviously has some military background. It fits the athletic build, something unusual for Xolos. He knows the reputation of their commandos for affinity with close combat and cybernetic enhancements: despite being a bulky, burly, male nearly twice the other's weight and way taller, he has this unsettling feeling his deceptively lithe guest could beat him within seconds. With an arm tied in his back.

"Ah, mister Rod I presume?" The voice is quiet and syrupy, warm. He's polite and even remembers his name despite the rank difference, another anomaly from his kind. Something in this one makes the boar very uncomfortable, a more menacing edge than the usual threat of fines and blames in his files.

He swallows and hurriedly removes his cap. "Yes sir. Pleased to meet you. How can I be of assistance?"

"I will conduct a brief operation in your sector for the next two hours. As the etiquette demands, out of respect for the local administrators, this can not happen without cooperating cordially with the local forces; you, in the present case. You and two team-members of your choice will tag along me."

"Understood, sir. May I ask what will be our part, to better chose the most fitting teammates for the job?"

"Certainly: your part will be to exist within my vicinity without getting in my way and then to write that you did in your report."

"Ah..."

"An other question: why can't I find the daily infraction records and statistics in your computer?"

"Ah... the... well... The previous chief of the office was not good with computers and a bit old fashioned. Since his time we do all that on paper... but we have them, full and regulatory, sir, and I checked the rules..."

"...31.5.2, administrative manuals green, last revision. Regulatory indeed if the paperwork is done right, but you'll stop living in the past and update to modern technology within the month or I'll send a memo to your administrator about how you waste the resources that are your expensive computers."

"Y... yes sir, thank you sir."

"Bring me all your files for this semester." The Xolo snaps his fingers. "Go."

Minutes later, the entire desk and most of the floor are covered with papers, which Coatl examines carefully, concentrated, tilting his head here and there as his eye fly from one sheet to an other following some subtle track. Sometimes he'll order Rod to get rid of a row and replace it with an other, demanding neat page alignment because even in the circumstances he has no tolerance for chaotic messes.

As he kneels to pick and pile up some pages, Rod eventually dares a question. "Are you searching for something specific, sir? Maybe I could help with... my knowledge of the terrain."

"A cat. Who you probably can't help me with since otherwise you'd have caught him a long time ago: he's been selling pornography without a license for years."

The pig winces and is about to try defending himself but a more urgent detail stops him: "A cat? Sir, you'll have an issue then! We got special orders last week, from a high ranked Xolo, we can not mess with cats, in this sector, at the moment. I can show you the memo."

"I know the memo, I'm the one who wrote it on behalf of my employer. Do not worry, I have no plan to 'mess', only to observe. Routine security protocol: I like to assert the threat of doubtful characters my employer plans to meet in person, in order to be properly prepared to preserve his safety."

Rod doesn't comment but internally gives Coatl an ironic "good luck". Typical Xolo: he thinks he'll find in minutes what he and his entire team, who know the terrain, couldn't in years. It's not that easy to find a tricky cat hiding in Joy-Moon's huge crowds! He'd like to see th...

"There we are. Nirvanaburger #54." The axolotl looks at his watch. "We still have the time. Get your two teammates, mister Rod, the mission starts now."

"Wh... what? How!?"

"Data, mister Rod, you have plenty of it, too bad you lack the skill to mine it for patterns and relations. In short: our felon feline friend has habits, many of them unlawful and therefore repeatedly referenced in your files. The rhythms of his footsteps are all over these papers, I'm amazed you can't hear how loud they are. But don't stay here with your mouth gapping, we can't be late!"

Mabel, one of the two other pigs Rod picked for the mission is young, impatient, and less prudent than her chief. After forty long minutes spying on the Nirvanaburger from a side street, doing nothing but preventing her pal Tim from snoozing and being stopped by the reprobative eyes of her superior when she wanted to intervene on a couple of minor infractions she witnessed, she openly doubts the Xolo: "I don't think he will come."

Luckily, Coatl is not insulted. "He will. Delinquents are not known for their punctuality, but if you want to become a good investigator you need to learn trusting your data."

She sighs. "If you say so, sir... And, then, when he comes we are not allowed to use our tasers nor tonfas, correct?"

"Correct, you are not even allowed to get closer than twenty meters from him."

"Gah, with all due respect, sir, that's a boring mission!"

The axolotl smirks. "Duty is not about getting yourself entertained. But, be reassured, it comes with its rewards." His attention suddenly returns entirely to the view. "Ah, target spotted."

"Where? Where?"

"One hour thirty, thirty-five meters, the gray hoodie now passing in front of the Jerry's Vibrators."

"I can see him! How can you tell he's a cat? his clothes hide him well."

"They do not conceal his motions. Every specie, every individual, has a distinctive way to move: with training you can reliably recognize someone you never smelled nor saw the face of."

"Impressive! Wow, he's climbing the wall!"

"He has swift 3D motions, good to know. I think he's going for the ventilation."

"You can slip through these small things?"

"You can't, but a cat his size and flexibility can do it easily."

"Aaaawwww, we could so bust his ass right now..."

Rod is following the scene with as much fascination, and frustration, and he shares his tactical knowledge about the place with the others: "This ventilation is the only one without a fan, which makes it traversable, but is also not leading to the kitchen. He'll arrive into the main room, a hard place to be stealthy in."

"Correct, but you forget how the main room's ceiling is built."

"How the cei... Oh, right! They have suspended ceilings! He can go all over the place hidden and peer through tiles to see inside! I never thought about this trick."

"That's because you don't put yourself in the shoes of your target, you envisaged the terrain only according to your own abilities. A lone customer is about to enter, he'll probably act then."

"Why then?"

"Because the automatic door will open wide without being obstructed by a group, creating an escape route." Just as the Xolo finishes explaining, there's some commotion from inside. The cat bumps against the arriving customer on his way out, running frantically with a trash-bag on his back and leaving a trail of plastic forks and napkins. "Poor prediction of the others' movements and dodging, showing a lack of combat skills. Physical strength is average but the stamina looks good. Prefers avoidance over menace or force." He nods with satisfaction. "Threat potential: low."

Back to the safety of a hidden street, far from the crowd and neons, Sleazy happily rips the bag wide open to check its contents. There are several unfinished pockets of fries, sauces, enough remains of various sodas to make almost a big glass and plenty of half eaten burgers, an excellent catch!

He gets comfortable to eat, finding how well this went to be a good omen for today. There wasn't even a single security pig in sight, it was so easy for once! Not that he can't outrun them, but if by accident he ever lets them understand how he operates he will need to abandon this food spot or else would risk capture next time; so the mere sight of an uniform in the wrong place often means leaving with an empty belly.

5

A few hours later, Sleazy is running from roof to roof going to his meeting. He enjoys the roofs, there he can see far, feel the wind in his fur and the noises from below are muffled. It's like being in an entirely different place. There are no guards, only a technician or an other illegal visitor sometimes, seen from afar, and thanks to all the advertising billboards crossing the streets like bridges he can go anywhere.

He's excited at what could happen, he knows little about the deal he'll be offered but this might mean good money. Opportunities like this are a rare treat in his world. He also made a few sells while waiting for the time, this is truly a great day.

As he's passing the support beam of an ad for a new penis pump, his attention is caught by something in the street: parked below, there's a very expensive car that's entirely covered with long scratches. Someone really went berserk on the paint! Never having been fond of rich people, he chuckles.

That's a very expensive car too. Despite his distaste for the rich, as a street vendor, the cat likes encountering them briefly for a sale or two. He has enough time to try it without getting late, if he can locate the owner, and the place looks safe enough for a transaction.

No likely owner is in sight, unfortunately. On the other hand, a consternated huge lizard dressed more like a chauffeur is contemplating the mess with a mix of anger and depression. "Wow, this sucks, friend, I feel your pain. Hope your boss doesn't fire you for this." He likes lizards, maybe he can brighten the poor guy's day even a little?

Vern groans, holding his forehead in a hand. This is it, the day's mess is complete: not only he endured all he went through for nothing, he even wasted some too needed money on fuel, but he also lost control in a fit of rage and vandalized the poor innocent car. How bright, how dignified, what a nice display of self-control. It's not even like Tlaloc will care, it was a rented vehicle and his insurance will pay the repairs up to the last credit. "This is not what Captain Holon would have done..."

"You like Captain Holon? The greatest Kodo dragon hero? Sweet!"

The lizard turns around, surprised, to face a smiling cat carrying about half his own weight in bags and bowing politely. For all his life Vern was mocked every time he let his passion for the hero comic be seen, so his first reflex is to get defensive... but there's no trace of mockery in the cat's tone or expression. "...yes... I... You know, he used to be the hero of my childhood, made me dream of space adventures and all that stuff." He rubs his arm uneasily. "But I'm an adult, now."

Sleazy rummages through piles of booklets. "Hey, you're never too old to have some imagination! And you're in luck, I just received the last issue of Captain Holon's monthly! I'll give you a low price, too!"

Vern blinks in puzzlement. "The what? Captain Holon's an old classic, its author died more than ten years ago and there are no new issues!" Sleazy pulls out a comic which Vern grabs from his hands for examination. It's dated from the previous week and it looks genuine... but not quite, there's something wrong. Eyes narrowing and watching closer, he realizes suddenly: the inking is actually better than it should be, it's not the same artist. Obviously. Only then he reads the title: "In the claws of the Domina goddesses from planet Sodo-10." He lets out a shocked, strangled, noise.

"I won't spoil anything, but the story is super good in this one and it concludes the Silver Dildoer's arc too!"

New to the exotic world of bootleg porn, the lizard is in shock. For the fan he is, and one who associates the series with fond childhood memories and a certain moral ideal, this is terrible blasphemy! Not helping, a little voice in the back of his head is reminding him that, as a true collector, he must grab every existing Captain Holon related material.

The cat starts looking concerned. "Are you feeling alright? Some newcomers have bouts of stress on their first days on Joy-Moon, especially if they tried some of the stimulating pills the street vendors sell. You can't trust the street vendors... Do you want to sit down?"

Vern stumble to the nearest bench, indeed not feeling so well. "Yes... stressful day... first visit..." he mumbles.

The cat fans him with a gay magazine. "Take big, full breaths and close your eyes: the neons make it worse."

Vern follows the cat's advices and recovers fast. Which helps his brain to resume operating normally and, at long last, to notice the obvious. He reopens his eyes suddenly. "Hold on a second... Are there many cats around here?"

"Hehehe, nope, I'm quite the rarity!" Sleazy refrains just in time from adding how the security works hard for this, no need to let the customer know he's an illegal vendor.

"Hehe... hehehe... muhahahaha!"

"Errrr... maybe I should call you an ambulance? What pills did you take?"

The lizard grabs the cat by the shoulders and almost lifts him from the ground. "You're the Love Locust guy! I can't believe I just ran into you, this must be Tlaloc's horrible karma!"

"The Love Locust?"

"He didn't explain, right? He and his silly secrets! You have a meeting scheduled for business at 14h30 nearby. You were going to it."

Sleazy's face brightens and he nods frantically when he understands whose chauffeur he's talking to. "It's me! Awesome, maybe you can bring me to your boss, then?" And then he frowns. "Hold on, hold on... what name did you say? Tlaloc? It sounds Xolo as fuck!"

"Yes, 'Xolo as fuck' is exactly who he is."

"Gaaah, no way! For once I though I was lucky! It was too good to be true... Fuck, fuck, fuck, so unfair! I even cleaned myself!" He catches back the Captain Holon comic before Vern could react, ears flat and back fur raised. "Nothing personal against you, pal, but tell your boss there's no deal. I don't work with them!"

The lizard manages to grab him by a sleeve before he runs away. "Wait! I'm not with him anymore, he dumped me without paying for my work. Maybe we can make the deal, that'd be a sweet revenge!"

"Stealing a deal from a Xolo... You're really, really, not trying to trick me into working for him, right?"

"I loathe the guy. Look at what I did to his car!"

6

Tlaloc walks back and forth with irritation, he hates having to wait and it's too tight and too hot in his specie-concealing disguise. His breathing sounds so loud in the mask! He looks at the time yet once more, the cat went past fashionably late... He fidgets with his wristband to turn his communicator on. "Coatl! Are you still here?"

"Nearby and alert, sir. I have visual on you."

"I don't care if you can see me! Can you see the fleabag?"

"No, sir. No sign of him approaching."

"What's taking him so long? Could those incompetent pigs of the security finally have caught him?"

"No, sir. I personally made sure they wouldn't, and ran an extra phone call 10 minutes ago to check they hadn't still been that stupid."

"Ha! who do he thinks he is to make me wait like this! I'll make him pay for that as soon as he's no longer needed."

"I'm sure you will, sir. By the way, his lateness is beginning to grow suspect, may I ask you a question?"

"What?"

"I'm certain you are too wise to have told anything about your plan to the chauffeur you dropped less than 200 meters from your meeting point, sir, but just in case he... somehow... got some intel, would you like me to locate his car's tracer, to send a team guard his ship and to listen for any activity of his credit card?"

"...hhh..."

"Understood, sir, I'm on it."

"HE WOULDN'T DARE!" Tlaloc rips his mask off and hurls it to the ground. "Coatl! Find the lizard and turn him into a handbag!"

"Naturally, Sir."

"And catch the cat too, but gently, we might still be able to salvage the deal."

"Naturally, Sir."

Vern groans, panting, as he lifts himself over yet an other wall to find Sleazy impatiently hopping at a distance. "Are we close yet? You told me it was less than five minutes away!"

"I didn't know you'd be so slow!"

"Well sorry I don't fit in the holes you can go through! I still say we should have kept the car."

"And have its spy tell the Xolos where we are? Believe me, walking is better."

"You're paranoid. Beside, if they really had this kind of powers don't you think going to a restaurant would be a mistake?"

The cat instantly stops his climbing of a pipe to look back with concern. "Why so?"

"Security cameras."

"Ah, that! No worries: did you see any ones since you're here? Remember how, at the spaceport, they checked you for any cam and neutralized your wristband's recording apps? With all the guys coming here but not wanting their colleagues and family to find out, filming is a huge taboo on Joy-Moon. Listen, I'm sorry I took the difficult way for you... but the subway is a dangerous place for me. And we're arriving now, just one more grid to climb."

Vern puts his credit card back into his pocket and takes his tray. Looking around, he finds the cat already at a remote table, busy stuffing as many fries as he can, as fast as he can, in his mouth. Sleazy pulled his hood on and stays hunched so nobody can see his face, having found a seat near a corner. He joins him. "You look hungry for this time of the day... well, thinking about it, I know nothing about your culture so maybe... when do you normally eat?"

"Mmmch... every time... glomp... we can."

"Ah. It's none of my business but do you know what you ordered is unbalanced and full of artificial additives?"

"You bet I do! Those fast food meals are loaded with sweet, sweet, tetra-py... I don't think you lizards can taste or smell it, you're missing out!"

"Tetrapy?"

"Tetrasodium pyrophosphate. The salt from heaven... I can't describe it to a non-feline, you have to experience the stuff to understand, but let's just say there's a reason why this place is called a Nirvanaburger!"

The reptile shrugs. "Whatever, it's your body..." He pours half of his sauce-pocket into his salad and discards the rest. "Speaking of names: I'm Vern."

"Pleased! Everybody calls me Sleazy."

"Sleazy? That's a horrible nickname! ...it's a nickname, right? You're not really called like that?"

"Of course it is, my true name is Thysphaestus." He says the name with a surprisingly chanting and delicate accent.

"That's beautiful! I'll call you that, Tysf..."

"Thysphaestus."

"Shispheu..."

"Thysphaestus."

"Tyssspheustus..."

"Thysphaestus."

"Fine. Sleazy it is."

"Ends like this every time."

"Sorry... but I'm really impressed, that's a classy name. I didn't expect... errr, no it's not what I meant."

The cat smiles with good humor and shakes his head. "It's exactly what you meant, everybody assumes we have no class since the Xolos stole our thing."

"They stole your thing?"

"You didn't hear about it? The whole Xolo image, you know, being noble, elegant, precious and tasteful, that aristocratic charm they try to instill? It was ours! The cat way! They were just slimy things floating dumbly in mid-water until they took it!"

"So that's why you dislike them so much."

"You really know nothing about us. There's that and tiny things like, say, taking over our home planet and flooding it entirely when they polluted theirs, almost eradicating us and turning the survivors into space hobos. We're still a wee bit resentful about this one."

"Ouch."

"Man, you should know all that. Please tell me you at least know who Enkins was? Palando Enkins."

"Palando is a common family name on Kodo, but Enkins? It rings no bell, sorry."

"Awwwww, seriously? He's just the guy who fought for years in the council to prevent a sentient specie from being declared a pest and get the same status as cockroaches before the law! You sent support troops to help us for years after everyone else was bribed by the Xolos into turning their heads the other way..." The cat sounds genuinely hurt and his voice trembles a little at his last sentence: "How could you forget?"

Vern puts down his plastic fork, moved, and swallows. "Listen, my specie is not called 'dragons' only because we're tall. We have a fierce side too: our early primitive ancestors, they often killed each-others when mating and ate their own babies. We grew out of it, fortunately, but it took us more efforts than most to get civilized, it's a constant discipline. So we have that thing called the Ministry of Civilization, which removes anything violent from the TV and books, checks what history is told in schools, organizes the educative centers to keep us all gentle and polite..."

"No way... they removed the war from your schoolbooks?"

"Yes. Until I grew old enough to start traveling and meeting non-dragons, I believed the universe was a big cuddly thing where everybody was happy and war was only an abstract theoretical concept. Believe it or not but I'm one of the least clueless dragons too: I spent most of my childhood in special schools trying to cure my tendency for 'chaotic violence' just because I was impulsive and liked things like the heroic Captain Holon's adventures. I never hit anyone nor did anything bad but, at home, they see me as some kind of a time-bomb ready to explode. I'm glag my old man could introduce me to a job letting me leave Kodo."

"Madness! Dragons are supposed to be adventurous and impulsive! You're heroes, it's in your blood! You don't do chaotic violence, more like... the righteous fist of justice, yeah!" Sleazy stops the time to ponder about something. "I'd bet my tail the Xolos have something to do with your Ministry of Civilization."

"Don't be silly." But Vern's voice is not that assured when he finishes the sentence, remembering how many of his special schools had Xolo names to honor generous benefactors and their large donations.

After this, the two eat in silence for a while. The lizard is confused, was this story true? Was he right all the time about dreaming to be a hero, despite everyone calling him sick and stupid for it?

Sleazy, however, didn't forget why they came here: "So, will you tell me what's the Love Locust?"

"Hhhm? Oh, yes..." Vern refocuses and takes a moment remembering Tlaloc's explanations. Impulsively running for the opportunity to get his revenge against the Xolo, he'll now have to defend the plan he considered so idiotic to begin with. But Vern is not only impulsive, he's also obstinate once he started something. "As you know, the sex industry is a huge but competitive one. The markets are quite saturated, and opening new ones would bring enormous benefits."

"Only, as you said, it's saturated already: unless you found a new inhabited planet nobody ever heard of, I don't see what new markets could be opened."

"How about the many planets where no sex industry is implanted yet because it's forbidden by the local laws?"

"Yeeeeah... sounds good, but I foresee a tiny issue with the legality of it all..."

"If not it would have been done already, but I have a trick around it. Something entirely lawful and foolproof: a legal loophole. Here's how it works: first of all, due to the way commercial laws are written and to some trade arrangements, a planet can prevent a Xolo trader from installing himself on their lands but not from doing its business there after it installed lawfully. It's about ensuring 'legal safety', so their businesses don't lose money due to changing laws."

"Soooo, something like bait and switch? Installing a lawful business then gradually changing what it does? That easy?"

"No, no, this wouldn't work. Legally it'd become a new establishment if you changed its purpose, so it'd no longer be legally installed. This is where we bring the Love Locust: it will be a spaceship, which counts as a valid commercial building. By registering it to a Xolo base spaceport, we also make it a mobile piece of Xolo land. So this is our sexy Xolo import establishment. And because it's a commercial building, declared as such, paying business taxes and everything, it's the establishment all the time. Do you follow, so far?"

"I think I see where you are going: then if we can, for any lawful pretext, land the Locust on a planet, it can do its business there no matter the local laws."

"Exactly! And even better, on most planets if we do it repeatedly for some time it becomes a 'right from use', or something like that, which means it's like if we got a license and we can come and build emporiums everywhere we like: it starts small, then grows into big, big money."

"Oooooh, so that's why it's called the Love Locust? Tiny, insignificant creature that, if you let it set in, turns into ravenous hordes covering everything!"

"Errrr... The Xolo told it was because it symbolized 'boldly jumping forward' and was an omen of good fortune, highly representative of the capitalist spirit. I admit I had the same image as you, of ravenous hordes coming to devastate everything. He said it worked too as the totem of entrepreneurs, question of point of view. I'm not sure yet about this name."

"I like the idea to steal his name, but we'll think about that later: you didn't tell the best part yet! How do we lawfully land the Locust where it's not welcome?"

"That, my friend, is your part. From what Tlaloc told me, you cats are good with mechanic and have the connections to find some long forgotten vintage techs, right?"

"True, we do that."

"So, does the term 'crash drive' sound familiar to you?"

Sleazy was out of the mechanical field for a while, he needs a moment to remember the details. "That's a very old kind of spaceship engine, they were the ancestors of the modern ones and the fastest drives ever made... but had some bad drawbacks, which is why they disappeared as soon as second-generation resonators were invented."

"Drawbacks such as...?"

"A strong return shock in the resonator at the end of the push, something fierce! Thus the name, those things shook you up making you feel like you hit a wall! And they managed to make the engines sturdy enough not to get damaged but you still had to spend about two days disassembling everything to realign pieces before you could move again after a push."

"Precisely. In other terms, they were engines bringing you to your destination and then reliably failing..."

"...oh! I got it, I got it! Universal, major law of space travel: you can not, under any circumstance, forbid a ship with a failing engine from landing on your spaceport! It's non-assistance to a ship in perdition! And it's a lawful failure, no sabotage or trick! This. Is. Genius!"

Vern smiles, then sighs. "The only thing is I don't have the same cash-flow as Tlaloc, it'll be tough to start from nothing. Now, this scheme to start forbidden businesses legally certainly offers other opportunities than to sell porn, hookers and sex toys but I didn't have much time to think about it."

Sleazy looks down at his bags of booklets. "If we stick to the porn and toys idea, I know who we can work with to get ourselves started with some good merchandise for cheap. He's the best in his field and he won't rip us off!"

7

Vern is sinking his spoon into his ice-cream when the metal cylinder comes rolling under his chair with a tingle. He peers down, there's a loud "poof", and a cloud of white fume raises out engulfing him. "What the..."

"Eeeek! Xolo attack!"

Security pigs are rushing in, the lizard recognizes them from the noises of their boots. He tosses his table aside and vaults to blindly catch Sleazy. "Grab on me!"

There are new "clack" noises around. "Vern! they're shooting tasers at us!"

The lizard is disoriented and about to panic. "No! Heroes don't panic! What would the captain do..." He'd finds a way to evade the tactic of the attackers and turn it against them, that's what! Go up! He climbs onto his chair and jumps as high as he can. The suspended ceiling's tiles bounce around when he tries clawing at them but he manages grabbing at a neon suspension.

Below, the pigs are charging, hitting blindly in the smoke. "Gah! I'm touched, they have tonfas too! Ayh!"

Vern is above the smoke, but not for long as it's climbing fast. He desperately looks for an exit... this restaurant has an emergency fume-evacuation trap, in case of fire!

In a flexible leap, with a powerful punch at the trap to get it open faster, Vern lands onto the ceiling. Right in front of the dark, eye-patched, Xolo.

Coatl stops his chronometer and delicately place it back into his pocket. "Eight seconds forty-seven. That's nearly four seconds better than I expected, impressive for a civilian." He readjusts one of his gloves and makes his joints crack. "Surrender the cat to me. I will not harm him in any way, you have my word: we only want to make a mutually beneficial deal with him."

Sleazy hisses, so stressed that he's clawing at the big arm holding him upside-down, without noticing. "Do not listen to him! He won't let you escape with his secret!"

"Don't worry, buddy, I'm not abandoning you. With what army do you plan to take my friend, Xolo? I'm three time your size and I'll have you shred to pieces long before your pigs join us: do yourself a favor and, you, surrender the cat to me! I promise you won't get hurt!"

Coatl bursts in laughter. "Thank you, I was hoping you'd take it this way." He quietly unbuttons his shirt and, in a smooth motion, discards it behind himself exposing an impressively sculpted chest for an axolotl. No less impressive is the subtle discoloration of the right side of his body, going up to the head but only noticeable there when you knew about it or saw the whole picture. "Witness the body of a superior warrior, lizard! Do you see the rings and bones tattoo at my arm?"

"Errrr... no?"

"Correct: I earned it fighting in a war you probably didn't even hear about, and lost it there along with my arm, half of my chest, one lung and twenty percents of my brain. Any non-Xolo would have died but our regeneration powers are legendary! This is nature's way to tell you which specie is built to rule on the battle-field! So you think your mass makes you a warrior?" He raises a fist and grins wide. "Approach and learn your lesson."

Vern gets rid of the cat and rips his own shirt open... which gets stuck at his arm, so he has to shake it off frantically and loses most of the dramatic effect. "Damn it!"

"Destroy him, Vern! He's all bark, you're a mighty dragon! Punch his superior grin out of his ugly face!"

The lizard knows better than to underestimate his foe because of his size, he's aware of the feats a good martial artist can pull out. But he's not afraid, he has his surprises as well, the axolotl probably doesn't expect him to have trained in boxing. He's not just tall but also fast... he doesn't want to disclose his cards too early, however, so he can use the other's overconfidence to trick him and hit hard when the least expected. Purposely presenting a bad guard, he advances toward the Xolo, trying to look like a mindless brute.

Coatl stretches, standing his position casually. "Enhancements: on." Suddenly, all his muscles tense, bulging to a new width. He darts forward at an amazing speed, shifts to the side when Vern starts hurriedly lifting his guard and takes off the ground.

The lizard doesn't have the time to react before the fist crashes into his face, tossing him aside. Coatl is not just strong... it felt unnaturally powerful, it was like being hit with a metal bar. He falls onto the ground and slides at least too meters away, the taste of blood filling up is mouth. "Ghhff aahhh..."

"Disappointing." As his opponent is still crawling on the floor half knocked out, the Xolo picks him by a shoulder and tosses upward. The comparatively massive body is lifted back to a standing position as if it was weighting nothing at all. A new punch sinks deeply into the lizard's abdomen making his feet slide backward and getting him to spit a flare of red.

Vern doesn't surrender. In the blur of pain and suffocation he still punches as hard as he can. Coatl stops everything effortlessly and returns more hits, fast enough to lend five or six of them between each of his useless attempts. He never felt so powerless, steadily pushed backward. Then he makes one step too much and finds no more roof under his foot. He falls down.

The last thing he registers before the ground ends his misery is the voice of Sleazy shouting "chapter twenty".

Coatl wipes away a little of Vern's blood from his cheek. "This should be enough. Now, mister Sleazy, if you would be so kind as to..." When he looks back for the cat, he only finds an abandoned pile of bags. He sighs. "Naturally."

His communicator beeps, a message from the pigs. Maybe he should leave the chase to them, he doesn't like risking to scare the cat so badly he'd fall and get killed. He pushes his wristband's button. "Sir! Tim is injured! The suspects hit him in the face with... some blunt weapon. I request permission to call some supp..." He cuts down the communication.

"Imbeciles." He walks to his skirt, pulls it back on and starts running toward the edge of the ceiling.

Sleazy runs and jumps from roof to roof, displaying his best acrobatics as if his life was depending on it. Which for once may be true. He often looks behind, to check if he's followed: he is fast enough for the Xolo not to catch up easily, the moment he'll see him trying he'll go down and get lost in narrow streets taking full advantage of his advance.

As he spots Coatl starting the chase, he realizes that plan won't work: the axolotl is bouncing from walls to beams to roofs with more ease than any feline, something he would never have expected to witness, and is narrowing the distance alarmingly fast. It looks like if he was flying... no, looking better, with the way his fat tail undulate, his nearly horizontal body and the gills floating in the air, it looks like if he was swimming.

Too busy watching backward, the cat misses a jump and tumbles down, luckily only to a lower roof rather than all the way down the street. He zigzags for a moment, hurt everywhere and shivering at the near catastrophe. Running won't do. He must think fast, his only chance is to outsmart his half machine pursuer within the next few seconds. Half machine? He's a mechanic! He can find a way!

The cat angles his way to the nearest neon and assaults the electric box at its side. He lacks the tools to cleanly open it but, hitting with his elbow and then clawing and pulling at the opening he manages breaking it. He hurriedly covers his hands with his sleeves as a makeshift protection against the shocks and examines the wires. Lots of juice, several starters with strong capacitors... he can get the most of this baby with a little rewiring.

The neon sizzles and shuts down while he does his work. Coatl is almost arrived already. "I need an antenna... pleeeease..." He spots a metalized tarred tape piece used to cover a crack in the roof. It should do if he manages holding it into an arc... Beside him, the capacitors are buzzing at an higher and higher pitched tone, getting near full charge...

Coatl lands on the last roof before Sleazy's and smoothly runs toward his prey. He ignores the neon the cat used as a bridge, he'll cross the gap over the street with a jump as he did every time since he began his chase. Easy as pie. As will be the target's neutralization with minimal damages: the attempt to use electric wires as a weapon, if he's giving him points for imagination, is laughable given the difference in speed and martial aptitude.

Just as the axolotl's foot steps on the roof's edge, the cat does something he didn't expect: he raises an arc connected to one of his wires and touches the opposite end with the other, discharging a strong jolt. The resulting electromagnetic pulse is weak, way too weak to damage the Xolo's enhancements. But it's enough to trick their safeties into a protective mode for half a second. The wrong half of a second. Coatl's muscles weaken when he leaps and instead of crossing the gap effortlessly he drops down to the street.

"Impossibleeeee!"

8

Coatl slowly comes back to his senses, how long was him out? Probably not for too long, the crowd around is still letting out panicked noises. Blood is running from his nose and he hurts, but he knows he'll live. He won't be able to finish the chase, however. He groans, reaching for his wrist, and makes a call in visio-conference mode.

A Xolo looking almost exactly like him, safe one more eye, naked and floating in liquid, appears in miniature on a bluish hologram. The voice would normally be different than his, younger and feminine, but from the water she can only communicate in Xolo clicks, their old language.

"Brother!? Are you injured?"

He waves a hand dismissively. "Nothing serious, but my mission is on jeopardy. The family's honor is at stake, are you ready for your first real field operation?"

"It'll be my honor! I won't disappoint you!"

"I'm sending you all the files. Make me proud. And, please, stay safe."

"I love you, big brother."

"I love you too, Mix."

Vern slowly comes back to his senses, how long was him out? Probably not for too long, the pigs didn't come to get him yet. Blood is running from his nose and he hurts, but he fell on one of their cars which saved his spine. He should be able to run away. He groans, hardly getting up, and uses his recently acquired knowledge of the technical areas' accesses to disappear in a side street.

It was his first encounter with genuine adventure, like in the comic books... it didn't go as well as he'd have dreamed it. Unable to walk straight, he bounces from wall to wall, exhausted already and feeling pain at every motion. He has to stop... and throws up all over the floor. Does he need medical assistance? Captain Holon endured a few beatings in his adventures, to come back triumphant later... but never was the hero that wasted and, in all honesty, the lizard has no illusions about his chances to settle the score if there was a second round.

The depressing thought hits him: he's inept as a hero. All his training at the gym, all his determination, it didn't help. He didn't last ten seconds in front of the foe threatening his new friend. Sleazy... "What happened to you, little buddy? I failed you, I'm so sorry..." He trips and falls to his knees.

"No, heroes don't abandon when they're down... now is the real trial. I can find him back and save him!" He remembers what the cat shouted. A hint to set a meeting point, surely. Chapter twenty? There's no doubt chapter twenty of what it is but... does the cat know the real story of Holon? Because he certainly has no clue about the porn version's scenarios.

The cover of "In the claws of the Domina goddesses from planet Sodo-10" pops back in his head. That composition, the visible characters, the title... it matches "In the claws of the weird gods from planet Bone-10" in the real comic! The bootleg parodies the real story! He can decipher the code!

He gets back up, decided. His head starts spinning from the too fast move and he collapses back, unconscious.

When Vern wakes up again, he's comfortably resting on a very pink bed. Which he can see thanks to the mirror facing him on the ceiling. This also gives him a good view on the bags of ice on his forehead and belly, on his lack of shirt and on the splint at his left forearm. The light is soft and there doesn't seem to be any window.

"Let's make things clear right away, big boy: I'm the one who rules the show here, see this?"

He looks at the bed's front to see who's talking: it's a shapely, middle aged, female hare wearing a black rubber corset and red gaiters. Behind her, Sleazy's gazelle friend and a male skunk in flashy but less weird clothings are watching shyly. She's pointing to a choker at her neck.

"Yes? Who are..."

"...I'm Lady Anna to you, and this cute jewel is actually an alarm button. One click and this room will get full of angry pigs before you can say 'I regret', so watch your mouth and moves."

"There has to be a mistake, lady, I..."

"Lady Anna makes no mistake, big boy. You shut up when I don't ask questions." She pauses to check if she's obeyed. Bewildered, the lizard remains silent. "Good boy, fast learner, we might get along. The girls found you laying in your own vomit in a side street. You wouldn't be our first guest achieving that feat, but you did so right beside the restaurant where there was a... some kind of a riot. The radio claims it was a safety exercise gone wrong, but the way you look as if you were ran over by a truck doesn't match with this version." She stops again and gestures to the skunk. "Smoke."

"Lady Anna, it's the fifth this shift and... and remember how you told me to watch out if you smoked too much?"

"I do, and now I tell you to shut up and give me a cigarette, sugar. I'll stop smoking an other day."

He sighs and obediently brings the required cigarette, which he delicately places between her lips. "You say that every times..." He lights it up.

"Not now, sugar." She inhales with pleasure and blows a ring of smoke. "Where was I?"

"The truck," helpfully groans Vern.

"Right! We don't like brawly boys here, the only reason why I didn't delivered you to the security yet is you kept mumbling in your sleep about Liz's pet and going to save him."

The gazelle perks: "You like Sleazy as much as I do! I saw you making him eat bugs the evenings when you're stressed out by your customers!"

"Not now, sweets." She takes a new puff. "So, and I warn you I won't ask twice, what's the story between you and Sleazy, and what trouble did that idiot ran into this time?"

"Loads of trouble and it's all my fault..." The lizard sight sadly and explains the situation, in broad terms.

Anna is finishing her cigarette, dropping the ashes into the cupped hands of the skunk, and she lets out the last puff of smoke slowly through her nostrils. She takes her sweet time to ponder about her next move. "Mimi, dear, your assessment?"

The skunk looks at Vern a last time before answering: "He's honest, Lady Anna. I'm sure he'd totally stink at lying, too."

She nods. "Hmm, I agree. That gig could be risky, so I can't take that decision for you two: all in favor of biting the hand that feeds us by helping big boy and Sleazy against the Xolos?"

Both the others raise their hands without any hesitation.

"It's settled, then. Let's see if you recovered enough to stand up, big boy."

Studying the map the skunk unfolded for him, Vern is surprised to find himself so far away from the Nirvanaburger.

Mimi explains: "I rolled you into my car's trunk to carry you here. Standard procedure, you could say: when you're a hooker and are not sure what to do about a situation, you ask Lady Anna. She deals with things."

"So you're the one who found me?"

"Nah, I was sent to get you. I'm the muscle goon, can't you see?" Lithe and graceful, he doesn't look like one. But he doesn't give the lizard any time to answer, instead tapping a finger on the map. "Focus, we can't waste time. Find the rendezvous point."

"Do... do you even think there's a chance Sleazy could have escaped the Xolo and reached it?"

"All we can do for now is hope he did and act accordingly. Don't despair too fast, this kitty has a long experience in hide and seek." He stands up and gets away from the table. "While you search, I'll try getting you new clothes that don't stand out. I hope you don't mind mesh shirts because that's probably all I have in store that can stretch to your size."

Vern winces a bit in anticipation, then concentrates on the map. Chapter twenty. Mink Boy, the Captain's sidekick, is nearly captured by the zombie-selenites and has to hide in a jungle temple until he's rescued. The situation roughly matches but Joy-Moon is kinda short in jungles and temples. He thinks harder. More specifically, Mink Boy sets his camp on the back of a giant goddess' statue... "Miss Moon!"

Miss Moon is the planet's mascot, a cartoony pinup of a non-specific specie with huge breasts. Her probably hollow giant statue welcomes the arriving patrons, spreading her legs above Eros-plaza, a place where all the sector's main streets meet and where the traffic is huge at all times. The perfect spot to arrive from anywhere blending with the crowd and then hide in plain sight. And its not too far from the Nirvanaburger.

9

Now hugged by a mesh-shirt, with "life's happy, be gay" and "legalize acids" pins where a mammal's nipples should be, Vern feels pretty self-conscious but would indeed blend a lot better as a festive tourist. He doesn't have to for now, however, because Anna picked a new route after she somehow got the info that the pigs were actively patrolling and checking cars in the sector.

He sighs. "If someone told me I'd end my day in a tunnel with three escorts and a shovel..."

Liz, who's holding the torchlight, rolls her eyes. "Not funny, Vern!"

The skunk elbows him playfully. "You never plan it on your first time."

"Not funny, Mimi!"

Puffing on a new cigarette a few meters forward, and still in her fetish outfit, the lady hare shakes a finger at them. "Quiet, girls, mommy's trying to remember her way. I didn't come here since Bart 'went on vacations'."

Mimi smirks. "I heard he'll get out of prison next month, you'll be able to traffic your duty-free booze again soon, Lady Anna."

"Not now, sugar." She soon decides which direction to take and they resume walking.

It's a long trip. Being hunched under the low ceiling and avoiding pipes, wires and huge spider webs doesn't help going fast. After a while, Vern takes the opportunity to ask questions. "What's this place, Mimi?"

"A wiring tunnel. In a touristic place like this one, you don't want to block the main streets to dig every time you need to work on a phone line or to repair a leaking pipe, so we have these things that are large enough for a technician to operate in, instead of just burying everything."

"Neat! And we can go anywhere like this?"

"Nah, those tunnels are more expensive to build that the normal burying, we only have them under a strategic selection of streets. We're lucky Miss Moon lives at a popular place."

"I see. Ah, I was curious too... earlier you played polygraph on me: it's a special talent of yours?"

"Yep! I've always been the empathic guy, I'm good at reading people."

"For real? So, for example, what could you tell about me now we spent time together?"

The skunk ponders briefly, then: "Closet gay. Definitely."

Liz muffles her laughter behind while Vern stops in surprise. "Hey! You're the one who dressed me up like this!"

"It's not about your clothes, it's more subtle. How little you look at Lady Anna's exquisite behind in front of us, how you visibly like sculpting your own male body..." He makes a vague hand-motion in the air. "Small details that mean nothing taken individually. General gay vibe."

"...hhhf... I..."

"Relax Vern, it's alright. You'll accept it at your own pace and, someday, you'll make a bear-loving boy happy."

Uneasy, the lizard turns back to Liz. "I think Mimi is wishful thinking."

She's still chuckling. "Sorry, he's very very heterosexual. And nearly unerring."

Vern makes a face, he needs a new topic. "Does Anna really feeds bugs to Sleazy?"

She nods enthusiastically. "Yes! Ugly, disgusting ones! With big hairy legs that go like this," she mimes with her fingers, "yuck!" She pauses a moment, then leans closer to whisper with a conspiring tone: "But I think he likes them." After a new pause, she leans again and adds: "But don't tell it to Anna."

In the front where they can't see her face, Anna smiles.

Anna eventually stops under a set of heavy metal grids and snaps her fingers. "Shovels."

Mimi trots in position, tugging Verne by his non-broken arm. "Alright, I slide mine through the left like this..." He reaches his shovel up and sticks it into the grid. "And you do the right. On my mark, we both lift and slide the grid forward. Three, two, one, push!"

The hare snaps her fingers a second time as soon as they are done. "Periscope."

It's Liz's turn to trot, climb the metal ladder, and peek out carefully. "It's all going along your plan, Michele is on time and she parked the truck right beside us. It hides us well!"

Anna makes a rotating motion with a raised finger.

The gazelle slowly turns around to examine her surrounding. "All clear, we won't be seen!"

"Good work, girls, now everybody gets their asses out!"

Vern is the last to go. As he climbs, he sees they are under the statue's legs... where there's what must be the greatest concentration of billboards on the entire planet.

Catching him look up, Mimi winks: "It's true, she wears nothing under her skirt. But you won't catch a glimpse through the twenty thousand credits worth a day in advertising. You can say what you want about Xolos, but they are geniuses when it comes to marketing."

"No time for the tour, sugar, we may be hidden but it won't last forever. Big boy, we are a hundred meters away from Miss Moon's left high heel, we'll need your muscle to open its door without the key but you're the only one of us who can't go around unnoticed. We will locate the guard pigs and organize a diversion for you: stay on your toes and get ready to move the instant you can, it'll be hard to hold it for long so be swift... but don't run or act suspect, remember you're a normal tourist."

"Understood, lady."

"Then, let's close that grid and roll!"

Vern's heart is pounding hard as he spies around from behind the truck. True adventure, take two; he hopes it'll go better this time. A slightly humiliating but also reassuring thought is that Anna & co look more competent at this than he is... They spread in different directions, which makes it hard to follow what they do. Mimi is the last to join his pair of guard pigs and starts chatting with them, offering one of the hare's cigarettes. The lizard checks the two others, they are still in position. The time has come!

Terribly tensed, he walks out of his hide, looking straight before himself, going as fast as he can without running. He's standing well above most of the crowd, visible from far... but bending down would look suspect. With his fists closed tight and his tail straight he's aware of his failure at being inconspicuous, luckily everybody here is too busy trying to peek under Miss Moon's skirt to grant him any attention.

Almost there! He can't see the pigs anymore and doesn't dare looking behind. At each step, he expects to hear someone shouting in his back. He's taking way too long, no way 3 different groups of guards won't see him in the open! With each meter closer to the giant foot, he gets closer to panic and to run.

He at last reaches his destination and hides behind, breathless. It takes him a good minute to make sure nobody noticed him.

Anna joins him back soon. "Drat, my cigs are away being distributed to pigs..." Lacking a better substitute, she nibbles her lower lip with an annoyed pout.

"Where are the others?"

"They'll join us soon, we just can't all come here at the same time. Calm down, everything is going smoothly."

The team regroups as promised and Vern is happy to get his chance to shine: it's time to force the metal door open. Liz is examining it closely, getting anxious: "Do you think you'll manage opening this? With your hurt arm?"

He steps in and smiles to her. "Don't worry, I won't need both arms. It's not that thick, I'll fold it like paper." With Mimi's help, he manages getting his claws stuck in the opening enough to get a good grip and pulls. The lizard is as strong as he looks like and the door doesn't resist for long, it soon bends and opens.

With a loud creaking noise.

Everybody but Anna shivers and curses, she on the other hand keeps a perfect composure: "Mimi, periscope. Carefully."

"Yes, Lady Anna..." He lays down on his belly to sneak a view from behind a tuft of the grass surrounding the giant foot. "This is bad! A pig is coming to check."

"Distance?"

"Thirty meters, Lady Anna."

"Tell me when he reaches fifteen."

They all wait, holding their breathings. Vern is getting himself ready for a fight, this is not hopeless, he can take a pig. Probably.

"Fifteen meters, Lady Anna."

The hare grabs the door and waves it back and forth, causing it to creak rhythmically. Both Vern and Liz almost jump and look at her consternated and wide eyed. "Liz, E minor orgasm, mezzo forte."

The gazelle's expression enlightens in understanding and she immediately starts moaning in a very convincing way as the hare gradually accelerates the creaking. "Aaaooohhh... yes yes! Harder! Aaaaiiih!"

The skunk's tail relaxes a bit: "He's smirking and slowing down... he's... leaving, yes!"

Anna lets go of the door. "You can stop, Liz. Excellent performance, well done."

"Thanks!"

"Mimi, smoke."

Sleazy jumps into lizard's arms. "Vern! You're alive! You found me!"

The reptile happily fluffs his head. "It's good to see you're well, little buddy. And... I had some help. Precious help."

"Lady Anna! Liz! What's-Your-Name! You're here too!"

Liz laughs and sticks her tongue at Mimi. "What, no smart reply? And what's with the silly smile? I would be insulted."

"We're in Miss Moon's boobs! Don't pester me, let me savor this!"

Anna slaps her hands. "Sorry to interrupt your touching reunion, boys, but we're still in the hot water. We'll properly rejoice when we're exfiltrated for good. Mimi, you'll live in regrets if you don't go groping that giant cleavage: I give you thirty seconds. Liz, you go into the head to reach an eye and send the signal."

Both answer an enthusiastic "yes!" in chorus and follow their orders. Vern puts Sleazy down. "The signal?"

"Yes big boy, good old shaken mirror in the direction of an accomplice: we're leaving like we arrived but I don't want to take the risk of two soft diversions. As we don't care getting the pigs nervous after we left, now we can crank it up. A false fire alarm in a nearby shop should do nicely and is a common enough incident not to draw much attention."

Seconds later, the shrieks of the fire alarm resonate from below. Returning to the tunnel is done fast and without troubles. Back from the shop, Michele leaves with the truck soon after so no visible trace of the operation remains but a damaged door.

10

Mix crouches low over one of Miss Moon's internal stairs and, much to Rod's uncomfortable puzzlement, slowly sticks her tongue to lick the floor. He fidgets with his collar. "Ahem, the team finished inspecting the shop, ma'am, nothing to report. It's probably only a stupid tourist's joke, I'm afraid there's nothing interesting here."

She stands back up and delicately spit a single cat hair. "Ten to fifteen minutes fresh. Mister Rod, hour of the alarm?"

"Thirteen minutes ago, ma'am."

"Their movements got a lot more stealthy, they no longer do beginner mistakes... They got support, a small team, experienced. Interesting. How are things progressing at the spaceport?"

The pig turns his wristband's holograph on and makes a few verifications on his tactical map. His recently installed tactical map: Mix was no more amused than her brother when finding their lack of computer support but she made things change at a crazy pace. That and the stash-finding: her first action was the exact same paperwork-divination-show as Coatl and, using "iso-time radius triangulation", she sent them to 12 spots. 10 of them contained hidden merchandise belonging to Sleazy but no trace of the feline, and if he had to take a bet he'd guess the 2 missing ones were failures from his search teams rather than from her. "Nearly done, ma'am: all the teams you requested are in position, a fly couldn't take off without us knowing, and the dragon's ship has been discreetly moved to a new shed. Mechanics will neutralize its engine shortly."

"And the communications?"

"Ahh... well... sorry ma'am, we tried our best but your rank doesn't authorize you to cut the zone's outward communications off. The administrators are definitive about it."

"It was to be expected but I had to try. Fortunately the two targets have loner profiles, there are good chances they didn't even have the idea to leak their confidential intel. They'll want to keep it to themselves."

"What should we do to find that support team they got?"

"Nothing, too slow. If you followed my instructions, they can not possibly have left this zone in a vehicle and they can neither walk around unseen for more than minimal distances. We grossly underestimated their knowledge of the terrain: this leaves only one way, underground, and do you know what is lacking underground, mister Rod?"

"Eeeerrr... The sun?"

"The wind. Fleabag is shedding us a persistent hair track and I just found its start, retribution is near."

Mix finds the wiring tunnel before Rod even had the time to get a maintenance map and locate it himself. The whole team of pigs is excited from knowing they are nearing their preys and that they'll get to see the Xolo fight a dragon. No treacherous EMP trick this time, it will be awesome!

Rod, if as thrilled as the others, is also regretting she's going so fast: the last minutes where the most interesting ones in his entire career and he's learning plenty of things that will make him a better security chief just by keeping his eyes peeled. The Xolos may be insufferably arrogant sometimes, but he has to admit they are superior investigators and, unlike her brother, Mix makes full use of his crew rather than playing solo.

Working under her lead is a wild ride. No, all considered, "wild" is not right. This is intensive but methodically organized. An implacable war machine. The way she coordinated the blockade and control of the zone, so many orders and not a single mistake, everything falling in place and synchronizing like magic... this was beautiful.

And the instant this zooming arrow will hit her target, she'll vanish for ever and routine will resume. There is so much more he'd like to learn and he's missing most of it because it passes so fast.

Coatl is standing at attention in the luxurious office, his bruised face tensed, jaws clamped hard. The Xolo nurse is watching after him closely, also in a bad mood as she strongly reprobates him getting out of the hospital at his employer's call.

Tlaloc, going back and forth in front of his desk, is fulminating with rage. "Do you even have an idea of the cost of your antics at the Nirvanaburger, you dumb brute!?"

"The administrators sent me a detailed esti..."

"Don't talk back to me! And with all this muscle flexing, scaring the shit out of our tourists, you didn't manage to get your target! You got beaten! By a cat! I don't even have words for this, Coatl! Do you?"

"No, sir. I am deeply ashamed and have no excuse. I will assume the consequences of my incompetence and will present you with my official apologies and resigna..."

"Silence! I still need you, you'll resign when and if I tell you! And..." The old axolotl nearly suffocates just by thinking to the topic he was about to comment, to the point the nurse starts looking at him with concern. He unbuttons the top of his costume and loosens his tie, shaking an accusing finger at his employee. "And yet, you would deserve it with your last antic. Your little sister? Really? I knew you were proud and would do anything to save your family's honor... but this? Isn't one of your asses kicked enough already!?"

"Sir, Mix is the apex of our family's eugenic and cybernetic research, enhanced and formed thanks to the data I gathered myself in war. I assure you that despite her younger age, lesser experience and incomplete formation she's already a deadlier warrior than I am. She will not lose this battl..."

"DO NOT INSULT MY INTELLIGENCE! This is enough! A little girl is on the field right now bossing teams of pigs all around the sector, Coatl, and do you know what's happening? What do you think is happening, Coatl!?"

"She..."

"SHUT UP! What's happening is she's desperately running in circles unable to find her own tail, that's what's happening because it's what happens when you send an untrained recruit on something way too big for her with no track to follow whatsoever! What's happening is your little sister is making herself ridiculous in front of the pigs! They are laughing at her, Coatl! They are laughing at us!"

"I assu..."

"YOU ASSURE ME NOTHING!" He has to sit down and catch back his breath. "Coatl... you served me well for many years time and I'm not ungrateful, which is why I'll consider forgiving you for your first pathetic failure. This one time. But it is obvious that as good as you are as a bodyguard, you're worth nothing as a hunter. It's not in your blood. I'm blaming myself for using you the wrong way."

Coatl's face is trembling, his temples shook by a nervous tic. Gloves creaking around his tightening fists, he endures what's about to come in silence.

"I'll hire mercenaries to get rid of those two troublemakers. Your new mission, after you recovered, will be to find an other cat for the deal. We have no choice but to restart from zero... what a mess... But first of all: call Mix back home. Without delay. Am I making myself clear?"

"Crystal clear, sir. May I dismiss to make my call?"

"Dismiss."

Tim the pig, now adorning a huge bandage covering half of his face, nearly knocks himself out a second time on one of the tunnel's pipes. The resonating bang alerts Rod who turns back to watch him finish his run toward him and the group.

"Chief! Hhfff... hfff!"

"Take a second to breathe. What's all this commotion about, and what are you doing here while I assigned you outside?"

"Ghhfff... the Xolos... Hhhfff... the mission..." He resigns to obey and takes a brief moment recovering enough to make a full sentence. "I was sent to transmit a message to you, chief, because they can't reach you under the ground: mister Coatl called, his boss removed his authorization to operate... the mission is canceled!"

Rod stares blankly, shocked. He has no time to recover from the bad surprise before something slides fast besides him, nearly pushing him off balance: Mix "materializes" out of nowhere, hanging at Tim's collar and making him fall on his back. "Transmit. Exact. Message."

The poor pig squeals in fear at the murderous face hissing half an inch away from his snout. He barely manages turning his wristband on to play the recorded message, Coatl's hologram shaking from his trembling. "Sister, our employer withdrew me from the mission. It wounds me deeply to deprive you from the catch of your first hunt, and I want you to know you did nothing wrong to deserve such affront... but his commands prevail. You will stop and retreat immediately on receiving this message. I repeat, stop and retreat immediately. I'm sorry, Mix."

"The... nasty... old... fool... One, one, incident in brother's years of loyal service and he'll deprive us from our righteous chance to clean our name back up!" Her voice is hoarse and trembling from the emotion. "...and take my preys! So near..." Recovering her self control, she releases the pig and stands up, head low and gills dropping miserably. "Orders shall prevail. You all heard them: mister Rod, call retreat."

Rod has a brief hesitation, then clear his throat. "I don't think I heard anything, ma'am... A shame Tim got lost in all those tunnels and couldn't join us in time." He looks around at his teammates. "Did you hear any order from above, guys?" All of them shake their heads with a determined face, none wanting to be stopped now. "We are all behind you, ma'am. Your decision."

Mix's eyes narrow and her gills raise back slowly while she thinks. "My brother will be here soon... but I caught the track of the smoker again and we're not far anymore. Mister Rod, send one of your pigs to create as much traffic jam as he can. Everyone else gets ready for battle, no more pauses, the ones too tired to follow my pace or to engage the target will be left behind. Go." And she zooms back into the tunnel to follow the smoke's scent.

11

The glass of orange juice in his hand, Vern explores the room curiously. It's a small apartment like there are many for Joy-Moon's workers but that doesn't seem to be used for habitation. The only piece of furniture here is an old outmoded sofa, there are refrigerators at nearly every outlet, up to the bathroom, and boxes of seemingly random stuff are piled everywhere: house products, packets of plain underwear, small car pieces...

From the sofa, the ever helpful Mimi, comments before he has to ask. "Welcome in Lady Anna's secret stash. Please forget everything you see here, or I'll have to kill you. Hehe."

Sleazy nods. "Everybody knows this: Lady Anna deals things."

The lizard looks back. "Was it not 'Lady Anna deals with things'?"

"Yes, that too!"

Mimi stretches and, remembering he needs a refill, goes finding a new pack of cigarettes. Which he dutifully mentions on the dedicated notebook. "The Xolos don't pay us a lot but it doesn't prevent them from taking back as much as they can in taxes... we buy our stuff nearly as expensive as the tourists. But the worse is the heavy sanitary laws at the spaceport forbidding the import of fresh vegetables and fruits: when you're just passing by you don't notice, but if you have to live here you'll soon start loathing food cans."

The lizard looks down at his glass with newfound appreciation. "So, she organized a complete black market... Impressive! How does she manage passing all that through the customs?"

"One bit at the time, no big loading arriving in secret... well, except for Bart's booze and we all know how this one worked. It's a collective work, many hookers getting a nice customer to bring this and that. And the Lady coordinates, setting the priorities, making sure everyone works his share and receives his share, rationing when necessary."

"She provides the discipline. I can see she's a natural leader."

"You have no idea! The day she tried her first strap-on was one when the military lost a great general."

They all laugh.

"How about the distribution?"

"Same thing, collective and well organized effort. Sleazy, being mobile and reliable, often carries stuff for us, don't you kitty?"

The cat smiles proudly. "Anything not too big: light bulbs, medications, dried apricots..."

"...fleas..." teases the skunk with a smirk.

"...errrr... sometimes, but it's uncommon."

Liz and Anna come back from outside and, impatient, Vern is near them before they could finish closing the door. "Do you have news? What's the plan to get my ship back?"

"Big boy, sit."

He gets himself onto the sofa so fast he almost pushes Sleazy and Mimi out of it. "Sorry."

As usual, the hare takes her time blowing a ring of smoke before talking. "Hun, I won't sugar-coat it. A good adventurer has to learn his limits and the spaceport is way, way, above ours at the moment. I'm already proud we managed to bring you to safety, but you'll have to settle here for a while, until you get forgotten, before we can consider trying to help you leave Joy-Moon."

Liz, seeing the disappointed faces and hating that, tries to be enthusiastic: "We found you a nice, safe, place! You'll see, Sleazy, it's way better than what you're used to get."

The cat forces a poor smile but fails at hiding his true feelings. "But... what about the Love Locust?"

Anna shakes her head firmly. "Sorry, sweety, you don't get to eat that one bug. The Xolos are too big for you, I know how bad it..." In the middle of her sentence, Vern stands up and darts to a remote room. They hear a punch in the wall. Liz and Mimi are ready to go after him but she stops them. "Not now, girls. Big boy needs his lonely time and you can't comfort him yet. Let him lick his wounds."

Mimi sighs. "If you allow me to get some supplies in the stack, Lady Anna, I think it'd be a good time for me to cook my galaxy-famous chocolate and cherry cake. It's not much to cure such sadness..."

"...but it's the best we got and everything counts. Granted, help yourself with everything you see fit. Liz and Sleazy will give you a hand." Anna doubts Vern will be able to appreciate the cake so soon but whatever makes the three others feel like they're helping while keeping them busy will be good at least for their morale. And, admittedly, she can use the comfort food herself.

Not too far away, blocked in the traffic, a taxi driver is cursing. "The fuck are those blasted pigs doing? It was driving fine minutes ago and now look at that! On the four commuting rails too! Was there an accident or what?"

"It seems my fears became true: 'those blasted pigs' are discovering pride at the most inconvenient opportunity and my dear sister let herself get influenced by her comrades. Her excessive camaraderie with he troops is her only weakness."

The driver peers at the dark Xolo in his rear mirror. "Uh?"

"Remain slow for a minute."

"Ha, no risk I do otherwise!"

"Enhancements: on."

The driver has to look at the road to avoid a motor-bike that's trying daring moves to advance despite the jam. "Careful shit-head!" He misses the noise of a door opening...

...but not the outraged cries of his other, female, passenger: "Sir! You can't do that! You're not in a state to... Mister Coatl, come back in the car! Mister Coatl! you are due to the hospital!"

The driver accidentally bumps the front car: did he just see his passenger, far away forward, jump from the bridge!?

Now alone in the room with the sofa all for herself, Anna reclines and relaxes: in days like this, it's exhausting to preserve the mask of impenetrable quietness and confidence her boys and girls need to see to feel safe. She's proud of them, everybody was a good trooper today. Outside, the lights suddenly go down... to return stronger than ever with the loud noise of sirens ending in an artificial version of an ecstatic moan. People start shouting in the street.

She doesn't flinch but Vern returns from his retreat in panic. "What's going on?"

"Hmmm? Oh, the girls left to cook you a cake."

A spotlight crosses the window and briefly illuminates the room. The lizard would have jumped under a table is he managed to find one. "No, this!"

"Ah, this! Don't get your tail in a knot, we're not under attack. It's half past seventeen, also known as 'the night' here. Joy-Moon is waking up."

He calms down but watches her in disbelief. "What, it wasn't awake yet?"

She has a goodhearted laugh. "Awww, hun, I'm no longer used to meet newbies with all my 'usual suspects'... No, it wasn't awake. You didn't see anything yet." She gets up and motions him to follow. "Come, I'll bring you to a discreet observation point so you get yourself educated. Welcome on Joy-Moon by night."

A few minutes after Miss Moon's evening moan, the streets are their usual pandemonium. Under the strong basses of ultra-fast electro music, the crowd is jumping and dancing, eating pills, fucking in the open. Here a fat old horse is leading five younger donkeys, naked on leashes, there a vendor is distributing balloons shaped like dicks and inflatable-dolls. Colorful lasers are tracing animated porn on the building fronts and hookers are rappelling down into the groups from blimps. Some teams in white are picking up the patrons who fall down to drag them into slow moving trucks: they'll get a summary medical checkup and a refill of exciting or soothing substances --the first gastric lavage will only happen in about forty minutes--, then will awake dropped in the best paying districts ready to resume their consuming binge. The vehicles will also sometime high-pressure hose a couple of brawlers with faux-sperm to separate them before embarking one away.

And it's a quiet start of the night, because it also started raining a lot and a bigger part of the party than usual is remaining indoors. Most street shows are postponed as the teams wait to see if the torrents of water will stop soon or not.

Despite being right beside her, Rod is screaming to communicate with Mix. "The terrain is horrible, ma'am! There can't be any trace left!"

"True! But we're near! We'll pull a bluff! Get me the control of a loudspeaker and spread four teams to this, this, this and this towers! On the roofs! Have them split the three-sixties among themselves, two pigs per slice! When you're ready, I'll kick the anthill! If the targets bite and move we'll spot them!"

"Understood, ma'am!"

"And remember about my brother, every radio stays off! We'll sync by Morse signals with the flashlights!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Sat on a chair beside a stairway and hunched to peer through a small open vent, Vern watches the madness, wide eyed, and understands why the epilepsy-test was mandatory to land on Joy-Moon. Bellow him, a horde of leather bikers is parading slowly, shaking rainbow flags and opening its ways in the crowd by playfully assaulting the pedestrians with handfuls of wet confetti.

One in particular is a male bear, tenderly holding the butt of a twice smaller male mouse who's standing on his lap, laughing and shooting as many colors as he can. Most of it is coming back into his face or falling short, too soaked by the rain, which doesn't seem to deter his enjoyment. His soggy top is glued onto his fit body.

The lizard imagines himself in the large guy's place, but riding fast with the tiny male spooned against his body and clinging tight... and gets the beginning of an erection. Remembering Mimi's prophecy, he hurriedly corrects the fantasy: of course he meant a petite female! Her firm breasts pushed onto his pecs! The erection softens. "Awww... seriously?"

The embarrassing moment is interrupted by something almost subliminal. There's this light, a tiny one with a boring hue lost in all the stronger and more vibrant spots, barely registered by some remote part of his brain thanks to some rarely ever used part of his pilot training. This sneaky light just said "red in position".

Did he dream the Morse code? An other discreet light from a different position is now sending a "wilco". Beside it, he guesses the crouched figure of an axolotl. "No! L... lady Anna!" He sends the chair falling down the stairs with his tail as he darts into the corridor. "Lady Anna! Sleazy! Mimi! Liz!"

In the middle of the corridor, something weird happens. His fear disappears, flushed away by a kind of rush he never experienced. He suddenly feels incredibly self-confident, powerful and sharply aware of every scents and details in his surrounding. His skin is tensing and tightening, subtly altering his figure into something leaner and sharper... curse the Ministry of Civilization! Captain Holon's "action stance" was a true power of his specie all along and he never knew!?

"Aaayyih! Don't drop me! Don't drop me!" Held upside down by a leg, the pig is balancing above the asphalt from the tenth floor's window of a tower.

"I'm in a hurry and in a very bad mood, mister Tim. Your colleagues told me you were the one delivering my message to Mix, so I will ask you only once: wh..."

"...the Raised Tails Palace! She was going this way! Eeeyh! It was the only exit from her position but I didn't follow her so I swear it's all I know! I swear sir!"

He pulls the security guard back in and discards him onto the floor. "Thank you for your cordial cooperation."

By the time Tim dares uncurling and reopening his eyes, Coatl is long gone. Probably through the window. His wristband buzzes and a colleague calls: "Tim, are you with mister Coatl? We can't contact anyone in charge... We have some... kind of a situation with the spaceship, if you could ask him..."

"...go fuck yourself!!"

"...what... Tim?"

"Bwaaaahaaaa... I quit!"

The technician mink looks at the two pigs, back and forth, wiping his already clean hands with a rag in a nervous tic... since they are as puzzled as he is, he eventually tries his luck at getting out of this. "Well, if you guys have no new instructions, I think I'll leave this to you. I have tons of work to finish and time is ticking..."

"Wait, we have orders: you must neutralize this ship's engine!"

"Hey, hey, I don't want to get crushed. And I know my rights, you can't make me go if my safety is at stake! Sorry guys, but there's no way in hell I get near this thing again. It charged at me!"

"What went wrong? Moving it was no problem at all..."

"If you ask me, I think it didn't like it at all when I tried sabotaging it."

"AIs can't... hurt a flesh and bone mechanic, right?"

"If you're willing to bet your bones on this, be my guest. I'll direct you to what has to be done from here, it's not hard."

This proposal showers the pig's enthusiasm. He looks at his colleague, who isn't any more tempted by the challenge. "If we don't follow the orders, we'll have to respond to ma'am Mix later..."

They both ponder, feeling trapped between a rock and a hard place. The second of them eventually moans an uncertain: "That thing is tens of tons heavy and I don't think she'd want some of her crew down... maybe she'll be understanding?"

They don't have the time to further consider their options: from the shed, a long, thundering, honk resonates. The mink runs away as fast as he can without saying bye. The amplified electronic voice follows: "Bravesteed to ship thieves, this is my first and last warning. You are illegally concealing me away from my legitimate owner's shed: I'm going back. Open your doors or lose them. Twenty, nineteen, eighteen..."

Both pigs frantically reach for their communicators: "Backup! Backup!"

Lacking the time to warn her teams, Mix lights a flare up for them to notice her move as she drops in free-fall along her tower, the hot caresses of lasers crossing her back a few times on her way down. She opens her vest and pulls at its sides to catch the relative wind and get pushed into the building, against which she flattens and splays to get enough friction to slow down before impact despite the water.

Vaulting in a splash before the end, she lends onto one of the white trucks from where she begins to run toward her destination: her brother trained her well to filter the tiniest bit of information in torrents of it and she heard someone shouting Sleazy's name despite the size of the vent, the distance and the deafening ambient noises. Stepping lightly from one pedestrian's head to an other so she won't drop into the crowd and be slowed down, she's ecstatic!

The door's likelihood to be closed is above eighteen percents, the mathematical expected value of checking is a waste of time. She simply raises an arm to protect her eyes from splinters and runs through it. No elevator noise, only one stairway: she climbs up to the right stair. Scent of flour and oven sound, this building is hosting hookers who should all be out during the rush-hour, she kicks the right door open.

On her left, Mimi's galaxy-famous chocolate and cherry cake is just starting its baking, abandoned alone in this apartment. On her front, a window on the opposite side of the building than the one she came from and leading to fire stairs. It has a little of water on the sill, betraying its recent opening.

Running away outside, in the less crowded technical areas, with the slippery rain making the terrain her element? She smiles wide: their chances to evade her are now a solid zero.

Coatl didn't miss the Morse lights and even less the soon following dropping flare. "Bar to twelve degrees starboard! Full engines! Hurry!"

"Sir, this is a pimp blimp, not a fighter plane! I can't make it go any faster!"

"We'll never reach them on time, she's cornering them! Put me on the loudspeaker, we're close enough for her to hear me and she can't ignore a direct order!"

"We... we don't have a loudspeaker, sir..."

"Aaaarrrh!" He plays with his wristband. His temporary lack of accreditations, thanks to Tlaloc putting him on the sideline, will not allow him to take over the many speakers spitting music everywhere. Heck, he can't do anything computer-related, if his physical presence wasn't intimidating enough to prevent questions he wouldn't have been able to requisition the blimp. "Then three more degrees starboard, you'll drop me at B7!"

"Is it not an electric installation, Sir? It's dange..."

"This is an order!"

Sleazy is dragged carelessly by the scruff, and his feet are often slipping as he has a hard time following Vern. And to think the dragon was the one lingering behind earlier today! He's a different lizard now, even his look changed. Having read all the Holon comics, the porn ones where what's going on is explained in well documented details, he knows what's happening... and also that if it's greatly empowering his friend, it might not do any good to his ability to take the right decisions!

"Veeern! You're hurting me! We lost the others!"

"Sorry little buddy!" The dragon gets more careful with his claws, barely. "Losing them is good: they'll risk less without us. Nobody knows their faces!"

"Okay, okay, but where are we going?"

"To the spaceport! All the pigs are here, it's now or never!"

"What if they are also there? And you're running the opposite wayyyyip!" The cat flails when he's brutally pulled off the ground as the larger male makes an abrupt half-turn. "No! No! Don't run back to the Xolo! Side street! Side street!"

"If they are there too, I'll pummel them!"

The cat's fears are confirmed: Vern went berserk and trying to talk him into reason is hopeless. The best he can do is to use this to run away from here and hope it'll calm down before reaching the spaceport. Suddenly all the music stops and the lights go off. The nearby crowd has a collective surprised gasp. The sector is experiencing an electric blackout! And cats are the best to see in near total darkness! "This is our chance! Go exactly where I say!"

"Will do! But stop shouting now the noise is out. We go stealthy, Sleazy!"

"Gah! Well done, big brother, well done..." Mix is not that bad at seeing in the dark but she's not as good as a cat and her eyes will need more time than his to adjust --she won't use her torchlight, which would be less efficient at helping her to see them than the other way around--. And she didn't imagine a lizard could run so fast. Moreover, the targets stopped shouting like idiots which will make the chase a lot harder.

Coatl has to be at B7. There's a subway line coming from there, which won't be affected by the blackout and whose lights in the dark will probably draw the fugitives in like butterflies... her time is running thin.

Sleazy has been relocated on top of Vern's back so he can whisper near his head. A way more comfortable position, he was exhausted and his scruff is still in pain... he hopes he won't get erect there, because the scruff thing is one of his buttons. "Fortunately" the fear he's experiencing is enough to prevent this accident.

They hop over a wall to return in the crowded streets. The atmosphere here is surreal: the party looks like if it was frozen in time, everybody looking up, the small remaining noises drowned by the rain. Some patrons are drugged enough to keep dancing as if there was still wild music, shaking glowsticks in the air. One manages to accidentally punch the cat in the ribs as Vern barely avoids running into him. One of the guys in white shines a light in the cat's direction and he has to close his eyes, he can't afford needing them to readjust. For the two seconds it lasts, he hears gasps and people falling... and receives a huge pack of balloons in the face.

Vern ran over one of the balloon sellers and, with the strings caught into his right arm, Sleazy is now dragging away all his merchandise. The weight attached at the bottom of the anchoring rope nearly pulls the cat off balance and drags noisily on the ground behind, hitting various ankles... he frantically claws at the floating penises and spread-eagle ladies to manage getting rid of them.

"Visual! This way, chief!" Pigs! The incident got them noticed and he spots the group of guards running in their direction from the entrance of a tower. "Fuck fuck fuck!" Vern is growling and will not hesitate attacking the more numerous and better trained guys, it's time to forget his motto about avoiding to get inside of buildings... "Left, Vern! Enter the Sugar-Box!"

At least, the reptile is still following his suggestions without wavering. "Growl!" The dragon roars loudly, getting the corridor's crowd to split open for them. Surprised people are squeezing themselves against tall side windows, the meager shine of a few lighters or holo-wristbands letting one guess the surprised pole dancers on the other side, in their boxes.

They reach the main room and its play slave market. At the noise of their arrival, the "slaves" on the podium miraculously get rid of their oversize plastic chains and shackles to scram. Sleazy recognizes a few faces and voices. "Sorry! We're sorry! Vern, go behind the curtain!" The feline doesn't know the place's map. He hopes there's a back-door there... there should be from what he was told about show organization. There is!

They rush in the middle of a circle of barely dressed smokers squeezed together under the short door roof. Somebody way more menacing is also arriving to welcome them.

Vern sees the dark Xolo dropping from a phone cable to block his path to an enlightened hole... a subway opening? Escape? He shivers and loses some of his self-confidence when he believes he recognizes the newcomer, mistaking Mix for her one-eyed brother. "What? Two eyes now? Their magical regeneration thing is just ridiculous!" Still remembering the pain and shock from his first battle, the lizard is ready to believe this: the guy is supernatural.

The needly claws of Sleazy are sinking into his shoulders. No! He won't let his weaker friend down again! The evil Xolo was beaten once, he's not as invulnerable as he looks. But he can't be taken upfront, he must not be allowed to come near.

Smiling in a rush of unadulterated joy, Mix reaches for her concealed back scabbards and pulls her two favorite blades out, cleanly spitting a few raindrop in halves in the motion. She locates the target's joints and main tendons, she wants to be careful not to accidentally kill the cat while hacking the dragon to shreds...

Behind Vern, the pigs rush from the back-door. He had forgotten them! Caught between two fronts! He can not afford to turn his back to the Xolo. It's time to make his training lessons count, to feel and anticipate their motions without watching. It helps that Rod screams his excitement when charging.

Rod didn't anticipate the strong tail's swift motion and his legs are mowed from the wet ground. He misses his tonfa hit and is the one receiving a big elbow right in the plexus. The explosion of pain makes him miss what's going on, he barely registers being grabbed up and tossed like a bag.

Mix is watching the pig fly to her, experiencing the moment like if she was seeing a film in slow motion. She could easily dodge him, he's a slow projectile, but if she does so he'll fall in the subway stairs behind. A teammate is in danger... but helping him will jeopardize the mission. Sacrifices are normal on the battlefield and he knew the rules when engaging.

Dodging Rod is the right decision, she has no doubt. She has no doubt, and yet she pulls back her knives and crouches so she'll get a good ground traction when catching him. She has to focus on the delicate task of controlling her augmentations for the impact on her not to injure the weak unmodified soldier.

The trashcan hits her square in the side of the face while she's still sliding backward with the security chief in her arms. She lets out a groan. It hurts but she's trained to cope with the pain and needs more to get neutralized: what really bites is the impact's direction tells her Vern passed her side and is now having a free path to the subway.

The timing is perfect: a subway is arriving right when Vern forces the pneumatic doors open to get in without a ticket. He shoves some tourists aside somewhat brutally in his hurry to get in the car. They have the time to get back up and shout at him angrily: of course, the subway doesn't leaves instantly. On his back, Sleazy is repeating "Leave! Leave! Leave!" as if it could decide the machine.

Those are long seconds! The pigs are in the stairs, struggling with the doors. No Xolo flies over them with knives yet... did he successfully knocked him out? The subway's doors close exactly when the guards open the stairs ones. It leaves the station.

Both fugitives press their cheek against the dirty window to try seeing if no super-axolotl is running behind them. They don't see any. The cat is the first to voice the unlikely conclusion: "We... we escaped!"

Two cars behind, hidden in the crowd, Mix and Coatl are sitting side by side, each looking straight forward in silence. The one-eyed male eventually talks: "Never do this again, Mix."

She sighs, letting her gills drop. "I'm sorry." There's more awkward silence. "Are... are you angry at me, big brother?"

"I'm trying." He sighs at his turn. "I've been your age once. Back then I'd have punched mister Tlaloc's face and acted as foolishly as you. I'm sorry I had to take your first hunt back."

"I understand."

"I guess you want to see how they'll get arrested? I warn you, I will tolerate no more meddling, we remain invisible even for the pigs. Not a single word. We are only observers, and I'm already stretching the rules here."

"Thank you, big brother."

12

Vern and Sleazy are sitting side by side, each looking straight forward in silence: they are still recovering from their emotions and their minds are too blank right now to already worry about what they'll do next, without Anna's guidance. The lizard's "transformation" ended fast when he calmed down, leaving him drained.

The subway enters an aerial portion and neon lights rush in. Sleazy is shook of his daydreaming and looks at his neighbor again with a huge smile: "Wow, friend... you were awesome back there. Captain Holon grade awesome!"

The dragon smiles, enjoying the compliment and needing a bit of festive abandon. He martially raises a fist up in a heroic posture and parodies the comic's cover lines. "A ray of light in the cold darkness of space, here comes Captain Vern!"

"And his faithful Sleazy Boy!"

"Flying from planet to planet everywhere the innocents need justice! Meeting mysterious alien forms..."

"...and boldly fucking them!"

Vern is stopped brutally in his momentum and looks at Sleazy with consternation. "And boldly saving them!"

"Oh? Are you sure? I think..."

"Awww, buddy, I need to show you the real comic sometimes."

This makes the cat ponderous. "Say, if I get this right, your Captain Holon doesn't fuck Mink Boy in the ass?"

"Ewww, Sleazy! No, of course not. Holon's pure and righteous, he doesn't do that! The symbol of justice doesn't buttfuck his sidekick!"

"Like, not at all? Never?"

"Never."

"But then, how does he trigger his action stance?"

"By the mere strength of his mighty willpower, of course!" Vern is about to get into a rant but a sudden realization stops him: could it be that Sleazy knows things he doesn't about his power? "Wait, wait... how does your Holon's action stance work, exactly?"

The cat clears his throat and tries his best at a deep voice when reciting the explanation from memory. "Past in the dark days, before civilization, the almighty Dragons were not always defenders of the weak but once beasts of fury! Reptilian monsters in a desert land, they'd turn their metabolism down to save energy while waiting for the prey!" Instead of describing the panel where prehistoric reptile jumps to the throat of a prehistoric bovine, he mimes: "Grooarrr! Arggrrrarrr! However, there was one time of the year when, on the contrary, they'd unleash the fire! And this time was the mating season..."

"No, please, don't mime this one."

"Okay... The mating season, so, when the large males fought to the death with all they got, only the strongest surviving and having the strongest children! From this past of savagery, even Holon keeps some traces deeply woven in his DNA. And when the captain meets a foe while aroused..." Sleazy stands up on his seat, raising both hands in the air with energy... "Boom! Action stance!"

Vern wants to find the theory ridiculous but... but he knows about his specie's natural ability to operate economically when the food is lacking, it's common knowledge. That they'd have a rut induced trigger unleashing all this saved energy for male fights doesn't sound unbelievable. And, of course, those jerks from the Ministry would have made a secret of it. The story matches exactly the circumstances that triggered him! He clenches his fists and hisses at a sudden realization.

"You... you're okay? I said something wrong?"

"Not you little buddy, not you... Raw! All my life I trained hard, all my life I failed at becoming stronger and despaired, thinking I was inept... And the truth was my body was set not to allow me to show my full potential? All along? And all I need is the... the right mood, for this chains to be broken! I wasted so much time and efforts!"

"Awww, well now you know: arousal and menace or domination of an other male. Thus the butt-fucking of Mink Boy, achieving both at the same time thanks to the faithful sidekick's tight warmth and natural bashfulness. That is, until the perfidious purple-wonder teaches Mink to enjoy sodomy, greatly harming the Captain's ability to go action stance. Fortunately..." Only then noticing the way Vern looks at him, the cat stops. "Well... you don't need all the details. Got the idea."

One uneasy and the other pensive, they resume staring in front of themselves. From a ceiling screen, the ad for erection pills is interrupted by a news flash about some lines getting interrupted. The speaker gives more details: "This is a bad day for Joy-Moon's stock exchange quotation as more spectacular incidents keep piling up. The rumor of a religious terrorist group fighting 'sin' on our beloved recreational planet is spreading. The security administrator board strongly denies, still confirming that the Nirvanaburger's so called 'riot' was just an accident due to a security rookie accidentally tossing a real smoke bomb during a routine exercise, causing a brief and minor panic, and that the current blackout of three full blocks is a mere technical failure. The track of coincidences, however, is turning hard to believe now a rogue spaceship on auto-pilot is running loose in the airport spreading chaos and destruction! Arrivals and departures are still on hold at this time and the perimeter has been evacuated to avoid casualties. Support military teams are on the way. We'll give you more news as the events unfold."

Vern's maw is gaping for a long moment. "It... it can't be... we can't have this chance!" His wristband was turned off since he met Anna so it couldn't be traced, with a trembling hand he takes the risk of turning it back on. Red blinks as a pile of urgent messages from Bravesteed welcome him: the ship reactivated its communicator despite the normal parking procedure in a spaceport. Not taking the time to read them, he calls it.

"Bravesteed to captain, reporting. I evaded my thieves but am meeting strong opposition and can not return to my shed. I require instructions and renew my earlier observation that I should be equipped with heavy weaponry."

"Bravesteed, can you locate us!"

"Affirmative, captain."

"Join us! We need evac!"

"Flight above the city is restricted, captain."

"It's a life or death situation, I assume full responsibility."

"Voice stress detected. Potential for threat confirmed, the non-flight rule loses precedence. Incoming in nine minutes, captain."

"Too slow, way too slow! I know you can do better!"

"As you wish, captain. Incoming in two minutes."

Vern stops the communication and smiles to Sleazy, jubilating. "Can... can you believe that, little buddy?"

"But... next stop is in nine minutes. And now you used your communicator, the pigs will be there."

This showers the lizard's joy.

The ship searches for an exit route that doesn't involve crushing any living things, all its sensors on. There's that wall, not a real obstacle for a vehicle powerful and sturdy enough to take off and land on a planet. It only needs to get a few security pigs to run away so they won't get hurt by falling debris, and it managed to stress them enough so they might respond to pretty basic intimidation bluffs...

"Engaging lethal mode. Unlocking torpedoes in three, two, one... Pew-pew-pew! EXPLOSIONS!"

It works, they are so scared they don't even listen to what it says but just run when it makes loud noises.

It unleashes its engines in a deafening noise and rams through the wall to shoot toward the sky. How convenient not to have fragile passengers who can't take Gs! It makes a beeline to the subway car while evaluating the possible extraction scenarios. Force the subway to stop: high risk of casualties. Open hatch against car door: not enough time between pillars. Land on roof: needs captain to climb. Let captain use emergency brakes himself, then land on roof: obvious, rational and efficient choice, must be Vern's plan!

Mix shakes her head in disbelief, insulted in her warrior sense of aesthetics by the way events are turning. "I can't believe those two morons still didn't think about the emergency brakes!"

Coatl shrugs, amused by her frustration. "Beginners do beginner mistakes, especially when they are tired and stressed."

"And I can't believe his ship evaded my pigs on its own."

"Beginners have beginner's luck."

"And beginners die on the battlefield."

"Correct, I also suspect climbing on the car's roof will be their last antic. Try to enjoy it, little sister, it's rare your enemies are that creative and melodramatic at offing themselves."

She smirks and nods, stretching her head through the open window in the car. She idly dodges a pillar and readjusts her posture, doing her best to see what they are doing. "They are still talking. Maybe they'll change their minds?"

His vest slapping in the air from the tempest the window opening causes, other passengers fleeing around him, Coatl is looking at something else. "The ship is arriving."

"You should come watch this way, big brother. They... he's pulling the cat's tail and pining him onto the trap. Are they about to mate? Now?"

He laughs. "I think they are trying to trigger the Dragon's paleolateral gland to get him 'enhancements on'. I doubt they'll do more than a little of clothed rough-housing. It... might just work."

Sleazy can't deny it, in less stressful times he'd enjoy himself a lot. He's suspended by his tail and the strong reptile arm pushes his face onto the open trap. He squirms like if he was trying to escape. "You... you're alright, little buddy?"

"Yes! Don't be shy, it's okay Vern! We have to do this, I won't hold it against you I promise! You... you need to make me less alright to trigger yourself, please go a bit harder and more violent. Hurt me a little."

"Awwww... but I can't..."

"If you don't and we get caught, the pigs will beat me into pulp! And we'll never get our Love Locust adventure Vern!"

The dragon groans uncomfortably, hesitates... and tightens his claws around the side of his friend's neck a little less carefully. He pulls back and slams the cat back into the trap, more violently than he meant to because he's not used to such games. The cat shivers and has a genuine yelp, the traps's edge hitting him painfully in the ribs. Vern "transforms" and his strength increases without him registering it.

"Gffhhh... can't... breahhfff..." Sleazy claws at the wall in his front and has to arch in a weird posture to avoid his tail being ripped off. Vern is so heavy! He moans pleadingly. "Please!" He lets out a whistling gasp when suddenly grabbed by the scruff and pulled off the trap.

"Hang on tight, Sleazy, here goes nothing!"

When pulled out in the strong wind, traveling way too fast and way too high above the ground, the feline has a change of hearts and a belated inspiration about emergency brakes. "Aayyyyyhnooooo!" It's too late, Vern's on the roof, staggering and sliding, clawing at what he can but still slowly sliding away from the trap and toward the edge. "We're gonna diiiiie!"

Spurred by the panicked cries, Vern stops struggling against the wind to instead run along. Bravesteed, following their movements, understood and takes position presenting its opening rear loading ramp. Vern jumps. He misses. The ship makes up for it in a sharp move. The fugitives crash hard inside the bay, that closes fast.

Trembling in frustration, Mix watches the ship getting high in the air. For all his failures, according to his files, the lizard is a good pilot: he'll escape Joy-Moon. "Th... they won!"

Coatl pats her shoulder soothingly. "For now. Mister Tlaloc will unleash mercenaries after them and if those fail... we'll still be there when he wises up about choosing his warriors."

Mix is still horribly depressed. She was so close... and they didn't even die! It's unfair. She was the best, she should have won! She checks the time. "Big brother... Would you mind doing a last unruly thing with me? Please?"

He tenses, defensive. "What do you have in mind?"

13

Anna checks that neither Mimi nor Liz is following, as she ordered, and gathers her courage. The door is open on the room the two Xolos entered, it's not yet the stash's one but they'll find it soon. No doubt about it. She was prepared for this to happen someday, the ride was fun while it lasted. Time to face her responsibilities.

"Xolos! I'm the boss of this operation, I'll show myself, slowly, with my hands raised, please don't act hastily." She does as she told and presents herself at the door. "I..." For the first time in a long while, she stops out of words and flabbergasted.

Mix has chocolate all over half of her face and her mouth is too full to answer before her brother. He lowers his own piece of Mimi's cake and licks his lips. "Ma'am, I respect your effort to try covering for your troops. However, we are both out of duty can can not proceed to your arresting. I'm afraid your noble sacrifice will have to wait until the security pigs find you on their own. Which, I regret to say, might not happen anytime soon."

Anna slowly lowers her arms. "But then... what are you doing here if you won't arrest us?"

Mix swallows and looks at her defiantly. "We're illegally trespassing and are stealing your pastries. Will you tell on us?"

Anna peers at the remains of cake. "My... my silence might be bribed."

"Help yourself to a plate, they are in the rightmost bottom drawer."

"I know."