FSE

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Devil Drive

by Korpse_Infested_Karnival

(KIK)

_(Author's Note: And so it is the second installment to 'The Bermuda Testament.' Ah, what a labor of love these stories are turning out to be. Yes, I know I've been one to say that I avoid story series' completely in fear that I'll lose stamina on the project, but I can't say that's the case here. Even though some elements become harder than others, I like having a bit more plot now than simple erotica, even though there's nothing wrong with complete yiff, eh?

True, more bizzarre than my other works, but then again, so was Mark Twain's "Mysterious Stranger," which was the inspiration here.

Well, enjoy YS, I certainly did. Stay proud and golden!

-KIK)_

Young Cassidy and Dapper had been playing in the alley of their regional city homes for quite a while in the early clutch of the morning. This was not uncommon nearing the habitual playtime at the end of the week, as school was out an almost every youngling was sprouting with joy when nothing was plaguing them save for what should be done with their imagination. It was especially entertaining for these two, as Cassidy was delighted to find his friend much like that of a friendly animal, Dapper being a mixed lynx male Chimera and his comrade a young, healthy human boy.

Outside the apartment they spent a great deal of time in the alley adjacent to their home, tossing a volatile reacting ball at the frame of scarlet brick or amusing themselves by sketching funny pictures in the ground with chalk. Currently, they were performing the latter, Cassidy lobbing an orb of blue as hard as he could against the resilient red wall, laughing in delight as it bounded in unpredictable, haphazard directions.

Dapper was especially helpful here, having excellent reflexes as a feline, shimmering in a blur of gold when his paw hands came streaking out to catch the sphere of sky pigment. In effect, it even became a game, Cassidy attempting to bounce the ball hard enough on the wall and get it past Dapper (though it would unfortunately find itself in the street, should that happen). Cassidy enjoyed himself because his friend was full of unexpected tactics, and Dapper loved it for that ancestral old cat-affection for small, fast moving objects.

It was, once again, Cassidy's turn, Dapper standing next to him in playful lynx anticipation as his friend chucked the sphere of rubber as hard as he could, only to have mis-thrown, sending it too high in the air. When the ball retaliated against the apartment frame, it was now far above the two, delicately careening towards the busy street.

Reacting on instinct, not reason, Dapper flung himself in the projectile's direction, only to be stopped immediately by his human friend's grip. The lynx-mix jerked and nearly fell, watching the rocket of azure lose itself in the wave of metallic vehicles and trucks.

"Hey! Why'd you do that?" exclaimed the feline in frustration. Cassidy yanked him up and frowned.

"Dumb cat face! You ain't sposed' to run out in traffic! Member' what our moms told us?" he quipped, pointing to the screaming speed devils rampaging on the coarse asphalt.

Dapper watched them go by for a few moments, then rubbed his head.

"Oh. . . yeah. . ." gulped he, wide green eyes fearfully latching on a rather mastodon-esque eighteen wheeler honking by.

"What're we gonna' do now?" asked Dapper aloud, "my favorite ball is gone!"

Again, Cassidy frowned, rubbing his thick splotch of brown hair in defeat. They were having a lot of fun. . . and he couldn't go get another ball, not after the many they had lost before. They were both prepared to do something else, or go inside in defeat, till' a rich, strange voice pricked their ears from behind.

"I'm sorry, young man, but was this what you were looking for?"

The two spun round' in an abrupt start, Dapper's fur hackles rising in such a shock while Cassidy nearly jumped out of his pants.

Their bodies bolted to stare at quite an unfamiliar sight, and one that had basically shattered the laws of physics. With a wry smile, lost orb of blue in hand, was a tall, somewhat aged fellow, eyes blocked by a set of deep, black sunglasses and hair invisible based on a slim, gray hat that complimented his narrow nose and thin lips. His body, all the same, kept itself in guise with a long, trench-coat length jacket of smoke hue, and his hands were hidden under the grace of a set of midnight coated gloves.

All the while remained a strangely pleasant sneer grafted upon his visage, a set of ridiculously well aligned teeth of unmarred pearl under the curl of his lips. . . in such a way that serpents smile.

Cassidy was the first to speak, though like his friend he was wide eyed and amazed. Where the gentleman had come from evaded the two, as they hadn't seen him come from the sidewalk, and it was very doubtful he'd jumped from the apartment rooftop.

"Whoa. . ." was the first utterance the human child could manage. Dapper huddled closer to the boy, instincts of feline taking over and sensed a twist of both danger and safety in the presence of this man.

Cassidy saw that the man was still holding his lost toy, and cautiously approached to retrieve. With a dark grace, the elderly chap relinquished calmly, intent vague and obscure with the aid of the soulless glasses.

"Thanks mister," said Cassidy, Dapper not too far behind him.

The tall individual in gray coated tilted his hat, I silent acknowledgement.

"Why, you're most certainly welcome," he responded, the tenure of his tone like warm rivers of oil. "You boys must be more careful,"

The lynx Chimera nodded nervously and Cassidy could only shrug. Skipping to the point, Dapper was far more intrigued at where this fellow had come from, and how, for that matter.

"How'd you do that, mister?" he chirped in anxious query. "You must be really fast," he added, vibrantly picturing the grandpa-esque human leaping to great lengths and catching the rubber sphere.

Kindly, the tall man shook his head. "Hardly," he responded.

"I merely made it appear in my hand, on a whim. . . like this,"

He snapped his gloved fingers, and the ovular shape that was held in Cassidy's palm disappeared, only to be found again in the grasp of this mystery creature. Both of them looked on, stunned and bewildered as they never had been before, the stranger returning the toy as he had done a moment ago.

Cassidy gasped. "Are you magic or somethin', mister?" exclaimed he in pure curiosity. Dapper reinforced this by nodding feverishly.

Chuckling warmly, the old man shook his head and retained his composure of unnaturally calm smile and wisdom.

"Hardly, my young friend. This type of thing comes naturally to an Angel," responded he with great confidence.

Now the two younglings were even more flabbergasted than before. The feline mix could hardly believe his ears, and Cassidy steadily shook his head in uncertainty.

"An Angel?" repeated Dapper, "but ain't you supposed to have wings and glow and stuff?"

This time, the old man did not chuckle, but frown. He took a pause to look upward, gaze at the sky in a few moments, as though filled with a passive, hate filled poison. A bleak fire raged through his blank shades, until he returned to the complacent chap he'd approached the two as, teeth grinding, though still smiling.

"I'm a special Angel. In fact, I'm the Angel. But my father didn't approve of my perfection, so he made me look old and ugly," explained he, though without any trace of malice in his tone whatsoever.

Cassidy scratched his ruffle of brown hair. "Father? You mean, uh, God?"

A silent twinge encroached over the ancients face, only to recede as quickly as it came. He only replied with a muttered 'yes.'

For some reason, the two began to feel more. . . connected to the stranger then they thought. Sure, he was someone they knew nothing of, but if he meant to do them harm, wouldn't he have done so all ready? And besides, he was able to do magic, and he was an Angel. How bad could he be?

"So what's your name, mister?" piped up Dapper, swishing his tail in kitten-fear though feeling a tad more confident.

"Lucifer. But that was a long time ago."

He paused once more, taking in a deep, sickly breath.

"Now they just call me Satan."

* = = = = *

NIS

* = = = = *

It had been three weeks since Fate's run in with the vague essence she had mentally nicknamed the "Umbrella Man." Three weeks since that suggestive, cryptic letter with five bold words that sent her reality tumbling and into a compulsive state of desire, the yearn to find out the truth, to locate what plagued the NIS and be done with its genetic monstrosities. But since that rather obscure day, one that was filled with a plot to send the collie-fox to the Cage and a headbanging, distracting GUNN, nothing had happened.

She had wondered if it had all been a simple hoax. Or a dream, maybe. Quite earnestly, it was rather difficult to grasp the concept of a faceless, featureless individual with a seemingly perfect element of stealth (and cloaked in a raincoat with business hat, at that). But it was impossible to deny the two dead impostors Scrap and Lock. Their blood was real, and she had no gun, she was merely biding her time.

So why did it. . . he. . . if that, bother to save her if the Umbrella Man would no longer follow through with its impressively haughty claim? False Messiah was no fool, and in fact was sometimes regarded as an illusion, something used to throw the NIS off course. The thinking and unseen cognition that the genocidal entity possessed was uncanny, unreal. For a fellow in black holding an umbrella to assume knowledge was simply too outrageous to believe.

And yet, on some mornings, when the luscious hybrid would sit with a morning coffee, many facts did come into place that would be far too coincidental for common knowledge. Lock had mentioned an arrival of 'Silhouettes' that would take Fate to her doom within the Cage, yet they never showed. Later, she had found another NIS report that stated a convoy of JUSTICE supporters was inadvertently destroyed, with none remaining alive. On that note, how he could have predicted where Fate was, and the fact she was being violated, was another near impossibility.

Irregardless, the sublime mix of canine and vulpine was taking no time off. She had ignored suggestions from her superiors and peers to take some time off, and was hounding out all the other algorithms of crime as she normally would. She wore the burden of the Umbrella Man in cunning secrecy, both training and instinct melding together to keep sacrosanct what she felt was hers alone.

The one presence she felt had respect for her obligations and loyalty was The Composer, who, surprisingly, was not essentially 'alive.'

The Composer was the elite Artificial Intelligence that was tied into the entirety of the NIS network, from every security facility to every high end security console that was present in the States. It was everywhere, simultaneously, performing thousands upon thousands of operations in a single second, all the while appearing as though it had nothing to do. Fate found it quite fascinating, for it was dubbed with a rich, southern accent found only in the remote Victorian days of pre-Civil War Georgia and the other collection of south states, while retaining an impeccable degree of intellect and charming mannerisms.

She was with it now, to her great relief (Faith was very at ease when surrounded by Composer's mainframe), in the circular neon-lit blue room with its frighteningly beautiful cascade of blues and ceruleans. In the center of the room was an enormous, semi-sphere pillar that buzzed with a different array of noises, the 'sub-language' behind the grandiose level of operations The Composer enacted every so few nano-cycles or so.

Upon a streamline steel clipboard she had a slew of papers she'd kept a strict detail of information on, these filled with some of the more urgent cases threatening Junction and so on. When not on patrol, the collie-fox had taken it upon herself to do extra hours of investigation (as the title Bureau Commander allowed her many windows of authority), and no matter how many protests she received from her peers, her work ethic remained consistent and precise.

Especially now, what with the Umbrella Man and more recent events that were taking parts of Junction by storm.

"I'm quite certain it isn't False Messiah, Ms. Xaviel," The Composer had chimed in, filling in a gap of questions Fate had been launching at it for some time.

There was a great, blinking, blue orb that was part of the spire-terminal that gazed at her, that being Composer's 'eye' so to speak. Most of the time there were multiple eyes spread throughout each NIS installation, but this was one of its more characteristic ones.

"And why not? It's right up the alley of the Cage. Prostitute children and get them early in the slave market, make more profit to benefit JUSTICE," she countered, walking back and forth, the clamp of her black cloth-mesh boots resounding off in the circular room.

"True," complied the accented AI, "but then again, False Messiah is the ultimate anarchist. He wants all world governments to burn, and the NIS, and one effective method of doing that is to get the people on his side. If there was definite evidence he was supporting these sudden kidnappings, then he would become nothing more than another twisted villain, a corrupt face for the NIS to defeat,"

"Since when does False Messiah care about people?" she quipped, tail swishing angrily with degrees of frustration not entirely directed at The Composer.

"He cares about people to the length that they can be used to serve his goals. Since society is what gives a government power, or at least in our country, he would be more preserved on gaining their trust than defiling it," mused Composer.

"It simply does not follow his pattern, Ms. Xaviel. I assure you, these kidnappings are of an entirely different force, and one that seems just as dangerous as JUSTICE,"

The hybrid of amber and cream adjusted her short-cut black skirt in an old habit of nervousness, anxious to find the answers. These sudden disappearances over the last few weeks were certainly JUSTICE material, small children and such going missing without a trace of forensic evidence.

"What if it's a GUNN gone rogue? How loyal can those biological rejects be?" she questioned, in slight desperation, using all and anything to pin the blame on False Messiah.

Composer paused, sub-logic and surface logic analyzing her suggestion.

"I do not think it's a GUNN. But then again, perhaps it is a genetic breed we've yet to encounter. It's quite obvious that this is not the doing of any normal person. Not even a collective of intellect could manage such feats," it offered, hoping to pry hallways of inspiration in the cognition of Fate's mind.

Before the vixen hybrid could respond, Composer spoke once again.

"In any case, there are no leads to move from as of yet. As for yourself, you've got a task of utmost importance today, and I want you at top shape for it,"

Fate cocked her eyebrow, confused to see what could take a higher priority over the plaguing disease that were disappearing children and the like.

Not waiting for her to pose a query, The Composer went on.

"There's a greenhorn at Fort September Commander Sabius wants brought over. The young fellow has had a mediocre career in the NIS, flunking multiple times out of several academies and breaking probation on two counts," explained Composer, catching little interest from Fate beyond some minor irritation.

"Sabius wants to add another success to his track record, straighten this one out. He wants you to head over to Fort September and pick him up,"

Fate was stunned. She stopped her pacing and froze, a silent, vague icy rage beginning to form over her otherwise lovely face. Her thin black muzzle lips curled, and a very potent growl rippled through the cords in her throat.

"What?" she choked out, wolfish yellow eyes lit with an abrupt, venomous loathing for her superior.

"Is that bastard serious?" she added, one paw hand clutching so tightly at the metal clipboard her claws were beginning to scrape it. "All these kids are getting picked off the street and he wants me to babysit some dropout who can't hold his balls together!?"

Another paused wafted between The Composer and Fate. Perhaps she'd spoken out of turn. She was on edge, after all.

"Commander Sabius," started the AI, "thought it might help to mention that his name is Mathias,"

Fate nearly fell. What was a threshold of seething hate towards her superior for thinking his motives to be ignorant, now became a storm of surprise and shock.

"Yes, Mathias Aden Xaviel," chimed in the southern toned mainframe, "Your brother."

The words took their time to slowly seep in. It had been nearly six years since she'd seen her younger sibling.

Oh my God. . . she thought. Matty?

* = = = = *

NIS

* = = = = *

Fort September was perhaps one of the most meaningful icons to Chimera throughout Junction and United States. For one thing, it was one of the first stops for any morph-gene hopefuls who wanted to become part of the elite NIS, and for another it symbolized a structure of integrity and peace with humans and Chimera, ever since the darker days roughly a century ago.

It was an ode to a one Mr. Lucas Roswell, who after certain events in his life decided to become a deep-seated advocate of Chimera rights, and eventually helped win them their full equivalence in many other nations, all in one fateful September. It was also a testament to the rights of every living thing as well, and reminder of the US government to never again go into so dark a chapter that was the Bar Code conspiracy.

Fate had unusual sparks of nostalgia whenever she drove by it, and this time was no different. It was a grandiose facility that was a mixture of NIS architecture and imperial-esque marble makings, Corinthian pillars on the outside making for an impressive entry way whilst the interior was about as technically efficient as any other NIS establishment.

She had graduated here, and learned a whole slew of information about the Chimera from their beginning to modern days. She took as much pride as she could in her past, having learned all that, even though in comparison with the reality of humans it was a meager history at best.

The purring engine of Fate's top of the line Athlon model auto murred in supremacy as she drove up towards Fort September, parking next to the entryway sidewalk as a conglomerate of different people walked in and out of the building. She stepped out with her dancer's grace and gave the old structure a once over, the panels of white marble shining with the few rays of sunlight washing over it.

A different sea-scape of memories pulled themselves from the archives of her subconscious while she walked up the granite steps. These were the same strips of rock she walked up when first joining the NIS, or at least the academy, and the same she walked down hence receiving her diploma of authority and official NIS badge. From there, it had all been a matter of which branch she'd be posted at. This had gone on at least seven years ago. . . coming here when she was 17.

When the gorgeous mix of fox and collie had made her way inside Fort September, all the old smells from days long ago immediately met her senses once again; a kind of fabricated, clean air with a small dosage of chemicals for sanitary purposes. Mixed in with that was the winding combination of human and Chimera scents, while the echoing cascade of multiple voices breached her acute ears. For Fate, it was almost like stepping into an old film, back on stage when you thought it was all over.

And then, of course, came the one she could pick out no matter how many different smells were present. It was her own, in a way, but more masculine and power driven, designed to represent dominance whilst her musk was to attract and allure.

Out from the corner of her piercing yellow eyes, sitting on a bench with a gray hoodie and blue jeans, green duffel bag resting next to him, sat her brother, Mathias Aden Xaviel, or Matty, for short. While one could easily find the similarities between the two, Matty had his own set of defining features, that, unlike his parents, were more fox like than collie (they had claimed he picked this up from his grandfather).

Most female Chimera, in retrospect with their sex, had hair and hairstyles, a feminine addition to their morphed genes in hope to attract potential mates. Like most male Chimera, however, Matty had no hair. Instead, he had a very dark hue of fur that was a deep root of brown and orange, and his ears held the classic black tint at the point which was quite characteristic for vulpine. His facial features, along with his body, were more carved and angled, and his tail, which should have been very puffy because of the additional collie breed, was actually quite thin, resembling his eldest vulpine ancestors.

His only real feature that may have been noticeable was a splash of white, or a spot, over his left eye, while other streaks of cream would only be found on his torso and loins.

Fate saw him first, and was instantly amazed at how much he'd grown. Her inclination was to be happy. . . if only he hadn't dropped off the radar for such a long time. Instinct had always told the vixen hybrid her brother was fine, and living, for that matter, but without contact for such a long time made it hard to bear at some points in her life.

He had somewhat of a burdened face, for one thing, almost a scowl. No doubt the failings and mistrials he had faced in his academy time were all over his visage.

Settling herself and with a deep breath, she strode towards her youngest blood and kept herself as casual as possible, in feeling and appearance.

Mathias, upon witnessing her, didn't look surprised. In fact, he sighed slightly and stood, as if in some kind of subdued defeat.

He must've known I'd be the one to pick him up, the hybrid mused.

"Hey sis," he muttered, keeping his pair of similar wolfish eyes to the floor. Obviously, he was not in high spirits.

"Matty?" responded Fate, observing her brother in timid disbelief. "Jesus, Matty, it is you,"

"Look at you, you grew up," complimented the vixen-collie. Irregardless, she had it in her right mind to slap him hard and beat some sense into the young fox-dog.

"What the hell happened to you, Matty?"

Mathias cocked his eyebrow and gave a gruff snort.

"What?" he responded, confused.

"Dammit, don't play games with me, little bro," said Fate, her voice and eyes full of accusation and conviction. "I haven't seen or heard from you in half a decade! I was worried sick!"

The younger sibling scoffed, and shook his head.

"God, sis, you sound just like mom now. So what? I decided not to talk to anyone for a while. I didn't realize I was still a damn pup," said he, shortly, keeping his gaze and face askew, without focus.

She pushed him gently in the arm, getting his attention, her anger and fright from those anxious years beginning to surface.

"You're not a pup, but you are still family! Would it kill you to write or call every once in a while? I at least send mom and dad a birthday card, for God's sake!" she scolded, wanting to shake her brother senseless for being so careless and daft.

Matty started to snarl. "Really Faith? You wanna' do this now? In here? I'm too effing' tired for this; can we talk about it later?" he questioned irritably, showing off that age old Xaviel family defiance.

Fate gestured with her finger for him to follow.

"Oh, we're going to talk all right. Come on,"

Blindly and obediently, Matty grumbled and grabbed his duffel, not at all looking forward to the verbal beating he'd probably get. He wasn't stupid, per say, he knew exactly what he'd been doing for the past several years by ignoring his family; it was only a matter to see if they would bother to understand why he'd acted they way he had in the first place.

Trying to retain an unimpressed composure when seeing Fate's Athlon (but most knew these were the equivalent of the antique classic Ferrari), Matty jerked himself into the streamline machine and waited for Fate to speak, numb to most things as the sound of the car purred to life.

Only until they were nearing a highway which would take them back to Fort Socrates (Fate's HQ) did the vulpine-canine femme decide to speak.

"Matty," began Fate.

"Oh don't start, sis" cut in her brother, trying to stop it before it began.

"No, I will, Matty. What the hell has been going on with you? You know what I found out today? That you'd flunked out of three separate academies and put on probation. Twice. And you broke it!" she yelled, and though it appeared to be nothing more than bashing her brother, it was actually out of care and concern.

"You broke off communication with everyone, you had mom and dad thinking you were dead, and I lost sleep worrying about you! Dammit, Mat, you put us through hell!" she growled, unintentionally hitting the gas on the Athlon a little harder as she did.

"Cut the melodrama, Faith!" Mathias bellowed back, "you honestly thought I was dead or in some kind of trouble!?"

Fate's eyes narrowed. "The fact that you've violated probation and have failed to get your NIS diploma tells me yes, Matty, yes! Something has been going on and you're not telling us what!"

"Maybe I just didn't want to deal with any of you!" he countered, keeping his frustrated gaze out the window. "It's bad enough mom and dad wanted me to be just like "their perfect girl," but they had to force me into the NIS too? So sorry I couldn't live up to that glorious expectation!"

Fate paused at this, and realized what he was saying. So he'd never wanted to be part of the NIS in the first place?

"Well, why the hell didn't you tell them that?" she retorted in question, a little more softly in tone. The dog fox didn't answer, his arms crunched up before him in resolute defeat.

"Matty, you didn't have to-"

"The hell I didn't," he interrupted angrily. "Mom and dad would have fucking shunned me if I had stopped trying to become part of NIS. It's not my life and it never has been,"

For a few moments, Fate found herself remotely speechless. There was an odd combination of sympathy and anger for her brother, yet understanding and attempts at trying to be empathetic as well. She reached over and placed a paw-hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

"Matty, you-"

He shrugged her off. "Don't, sis, don't. There's nothing you can do. Just drop me by my apartment first, all right?"

Fate half glanced at him in confusion, and also worry, since NIS had strict penalties for not meeting up to certain standards.

She carefully place a query in front of him. "Why, little bro?"

He sighed heavily, gazing somewhat forlornly at the street rushing in front of him.

"I need to get some shit together. Chill before I get reamed out all over again. I know they'll put me in the hot spot for being a day late, or whatever, but who cares? I'm getting castrated anyway, not much else they're gonna do to make it worse,"

Fate hadn't realized just how bad Mathias felt about all this. What was worse, he felt subdued to his fate, living the life he never wanted. Certainly, she'd love to see her little brother on the force like herself, but if it didn't make him happy. . . well, this wasn't for him.

In compliance, after a few hours of driving, Fate managed to find Matty's home that was a conjunction of several floors built into one, a bland, somewhat red brick building that was built rather a little too close to the road. It was a half-stop from Fort Socrates and Fort September, and Fate could only imagine how he ended up in so many different places at once, but seeing as how he was in an all ready low state of spirits, she decided to keep her questions for later.

"I'm gonna' spend the night here," he muttered, before stepping out of the Athlon. Fate's brow softened, relativity sad to see him go.

"I'll pick you up in the morning, all right?" she called. Mathias did a half turn and shrugged, not saying another word. As he disappeared behind the worn down oaken door, Fate drove off to return to Fort Socrates, having forgotten about the Umbrella Man, the kidnappings, or anything having to do with False Messiah.

Clouds started to roll in to quell the solid blue sky, and the vixen-collie was left to think only about her brother, and all the broken ties that had been left open like a fresh, pulsing wound.

* = = = = *

NIS

* = = = = *

Now they just call me. . .

Matty couldn't sleep. His mind was a storm driven melody of disappointment and littered anger, walls of unearthly frustration blocking every channel and doorway to peace, of both mind and rest. A stroke of insomnia took hold in his conscious like a ravenous parasitic tree, intent on staying and causing him to thrash wildly in his bed, vague, failing attempts to find a position more comfortable than the last.

He didn't know why. Perhaps with all the tension that he'd experienced earlier in the day, or maybe that so much of his time in the academy had crashed upon him and had decided to resurface as sleeplessness once more. Indeed, he felt skewered and empty, devoid of any freedom, as though his spirit was sulking and boxed in, everyone demanding a status of him that he could not possibly deliver.

The ride with his sister had been less than favorable. It had been what, six years? Six, long years jumping from fort to fort in a desperate attempt to please 'mommy and daddy.' Faith had always been the shining star of the two, casting a shadow so black in engulf Mathias entirely, rendering him about as significant as a spacial void. And now what? He suddenly gets pulled into a facility where his bigger sister just happened to be established at?

He didn't need this. He wasn't some novice pup. He had made his own way through life, without the 'blessed talent' of his sibling.

Raising up from the crunched surface of his white sheets, the fox-dog checked the time amidst the sea of darkness assailing his eyes. The green neon shone back reading 1:32. Almost two hours past midnight.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, swinging his legs to the side of his clumsy mattress, lacking any kind of exhaustion that could pull him back in bed. Like the old days in the NIS academy. Many stress filled, sleepless nights crawling around and closing in, wraiths with a tireless cumbersome weight to drag him down and render all his workings hapless and futile.

His apartment must have represented his feelings as well: messy, un-kept, lacking organization or care. This would be one of his last nights before he went back under the jurisdiction of Sabius, for one last chance to become something, since everyone was so resolute that he was currently nothing.

An eerie silence perused through his room. While the outside city still had its comings and goings of cacophonous industrial noise, this corner of his world lacked any sound whatsoever. It felt familiar. No one around. To talk to or to help him. How buried he felt in this nigh ineffable quiet, so similar to his lackluster career and seemingly purposeless existence.

Until he heard something.

Mathias' ears flagged and his eyes darted around in the darkness, still adjusting to the sea of black. No, he wasn't hearing things, there was in fact a noise, a very tiny one, much like a dainty thump. Upon further study of one of his more acute senses, he could tell it was outside his bedroom, in the hallway. Or. . . wait, no, not there, it was actually in his apartment.

The vulpine-canine suddenly became alarmed. Someone had gotten inside. A burglar, a thug, maybe some angry memory he'd forgotten about had come back, or maybe it was none of those at all. In the least case, someone was in fact in his home, and their footsteps, though stealthily quiet, were audible, and getting closer.

NIS training, though considered novice, took over, combining itself with his natural Chimera instincts of defense. He didn't have a gun, unfortunately; not only was he not permitted to own one but the force at Fort September had stripped him of any lethal weapons until he was an official officer. So, he resorted to the next best thing, a steel bat he kept under the bed for an "occasion" like this.

No doubt this unwanted interloper would try to break through his door first, so the hybrid strode up to the side of his door and wait, ready to smash the mast of metal over the skull of whoever decided to break in his shabby apartment. He may have only been in boxers, but he was still quite dangerous.

Until she spoke.

"M-Matty?"

Mathias' mouth went slightly slack, and his grasp on the bat went limp. Out of the blue, at this time of night, calling him through the muffle of the door was his sister.

"Fate?" he called back through the door, "what the hell are you doing here?"

He shuffled with the doorknob and opened the cheap wood frame, to see Fate standing there, looking quite delicate, in a silky white bathrobe and her tail twitching nervously.

First and foremost, he had to wonder, why in the hell was she wearing a bathrobe? Secondly. . .

"How'd you get in, sis?" he repeated from thought. He didn't have any spare keys, last time he checked.

Fate was holding herself, so to speak, as though she'd done something wrong, only allowing for a guilty smirk.

"You left your door unlocked, silly," she said weakly.

Mathias felt baffled. He wasn't one to be neat or pristine, but he was cocksure he had that door clutched up tight. In any case, he focused on his older sibling, somewhat alarmed that her feelings and senses were. . . botched, so to speak. Not to mention, why exactly was she in a bathrobe? Was she sleeping here or something?

The gene-hybrid sniffed, and placed a tender paw hand on Matty's shoulder.

"Mat. . . Matty. . . I'm sorry for today, for all the yelling. . ." she kind of choked out, squeezing the fur and flesh of Mathias' frame as she spoke. The fox-dog's ears flagged, and he abruptly became quite sympathetic

"What? Faith, c'mon now," said he, attempting to consolidate her.

"No, no, I shouldn't have done that. . . I didn't understand how much you've been going through. . . and I've been so caught up with my own life that I didn't see it. . ."

She then pressed herself close and buried her cheek on his bare, fur chest of snow hue. Mathias felt a hot tear begin to dampen a pocket of his hair, and he looked to see his older sister start to cry.

"Faith, no, It's all right. You had. . . every right to say those things. I should've kept up with you guys, at least once in a while. I know I put you through tough times, and I feel bad for it. Please, sis, don't cry," said he, taking an arm and wrapping it around her.

Noting how she was beginning to whine, he carefully led her over to his bed and sat her there, all the while holding her and trying to get her back at ease.

"Matty. . . there's a reason I felt so bad about what I said. . ." she trailed, still with cheek in his tuft of chest fur.

"I love you, little brother, I love you so much," she cooed, taking a free hand-paw and starting to caress his bare leg. "And it hurt so much to find out. . . to find out you'd been miserable all these years,"

Mathias murred timidly as the gentle strokes of his sister eased him, and he began to repeat her motions by ruffling his fingers through her neck and such. He felt flattered, as well, that she'd decided to open up so tenderly and try to make amends for what happened between them earlier in the day.

"S'okay sis, don't feel bad. I love you too, I would never hold it against you," he responded quietly, planting a minute kiss on her head. He paused, a little shocked he was showing these methods of expression. To his relief, however, Fate didn't seem to mind, if at that it actually comforted her even further.

Intruding his nose was a rather eloquent, spicy musk that he recognized as his sister, a lovely scent that he secretly enjoyed but never bothered to compliment her on (with sibling rivalry, and all). So deeply did he sip it in that he felt the desire to get closer, pressing the end of his nose into her neck fur and taking a deep, long drag, as though she were an intoxicating substance.

Fate murred as she felt a thorough twinge of pleasure at the sensation of her brother's closeness, his hot breaths drawing in considerable warmth to her tender flesh. She took her head from its comfortable position and gave Mathias a long, sturdy look, both their eyes meeting and communing some kind of secret resolve. . . and desire.

What overcame Matty was entirely within his wishes. His mind, like a heated reactor, waved a red flag for him to go, with no scrutinizing arguments to intervene, only approval. A sheer wall of static accelerated about the two, as the hybrid's found their muzzles suddenly pressing together, broad tongues of soft pink flitting over the other in unrestrained passion.

Traveling paw-hands rocketed to the other in hopes to make the other bare. Mathias had always been aware of Fate's delicious figure, what with her round, soft mounds and sumptuous buttocks and all, but he'd never gotten. . . full on them, so to speak. So, with great energy and stimulus, his fingers quickly found themselves through her thankfully think and simple robe of white, able to unleash her budding womanly mantle with its pink treasures and all.

He gasped somewhat as Fate gave a wry chuckle, a tender hand shuffling through his boxers and tease his undisturbed foxhood. He let out a few groans as her hand was supple like fiery silk to his soft member, easily arousing him and sending floods of pressure and blood to his loins.

Matty had become fully erect within a minute of Fate's teasing touches, and now he had gotten her entirely bare, able to feast on figure with voracious delight as his maw watered in compassionate hunger. His sister had cupped his tight haunches somewhat and yanked down the fabric of his boxers, he standing a little so he could get the cloth out of the way without much trouble, feeling the crown of his shaft hot and heavy, begging for his sister's sex.

In another sensual taunt, Fate rubbed her fingers a few times over her outer, puckering lips, smiling at him both wickedly and lovingly.

"Matty. . . you don't know how long I've wanted this. . ." she whispered melodically, lapping at her chops as her brother's desire became apparent.

The younger fox-dog didn't say a thing, his throat (oddly enough) choked up with too much of his own heat, and not really caring for words, either. He only held his breath as his sister roved herself on all fours, flagged her tail, and spread wide her juicy opening which caused electric twinges to burst through every fabric of Mathias' body.

With an aching groan did he level himself with her curvaceous rump and wiggling hips, running a paw-hand once through her blond hair and over the grooves and timid curves of her lovely body. He didn't concern himself for the fact that this was own blood; all that mattered was that he be inside her, and that they could moan together in the wild throws of unmitigated love making.

From her luscious and moist snatch did he slowly press his throbbing fleshy mast, and she hissed in a shocking, buckling enjoyment, tongue hanging out as she oh so wanted his full length within her inner thighs. Bearing the orders of his inner libido, Matty began the slow, deliciously strenuous trek of pushing into Fate, uttering a thick, guttural growl as every copious inch of heaven drilled itself into their nether regions with explosive rages of neuron frenzy.

By the time her brother was fully within her, a river of drool was forming at Fate's lower jaw as her tongue hung out and she panted feverishly, whining and grinding as every breath was a sweetened, joy filled moan with as a piping hot meaty pike was buried deep in her giving vaginal walls. She could only yelp in divine exclamation as Mathias pulled out a few inches, only to thrust himself back in, the fiery lubrication of her moistened nethers causing her brother to gasp in his own trails of sexual euphoria.

An engine of the flesh suddenly wrapped itself about the younger sibling. Oh, her tight, succulent body was holding him fast, and he had to drive himself into her harder, faster, and deeper, to get her softer, more tender, fill her with the honey of his seed. Each time he repeated his slow, piston motions of the groin his sister bleated a cry of canid-vulpine joy, a mixture of bark and yelp, and each time he did so her own sex was sucking and massaging his foxhood even further, each impact of thrust better than the last.

Oh, he was going insane, his mind numb when an uproar of flaming, smoldering hunger took him. He couldn't get enough out of each pounding motion, damn him, he couldn't! Every buck, every thrust, every sound and every drop of dewy bodily nectar wasn't close to filling his or her needs, only bringing out a crashing voracity for more, endlessly, eternally, faster and faster, rocketing their minds through waves of a universal sexual phantasmagoria that they never imagined before.

Damp their bodies became, fur soaked with sweat and heat, an exuberance of smells filling the room and sending them into a drunken love-spell that had their flesh in a haze, and all they could do to hold on was collide with the other at an ever increasing pace, building with pressure each moment, so erratically pleasurable it was almost unbearable. . . painful even.

Mathias breathed out as he never had done so before, realizing that his loins were reaching the focal points of their motions, about to epitomize a paradise only produced and constant for a matter of lovely, heavenly seconds.

Yes, he was close, so very close, ears ransacked with Fate's hungry whines and loud yelps, until finally he reached that light in the back of his mind, closer, closer, closer and then. . .

. . .

He awoke with a sudden jolt, member bursting with a spasm of pleasure and seed. More specifically, he fell out of his bed and onto the cold, hard floor, tendrils of pain racking his head to go along with the euphoria. Shocked and sputtering, Mathias shook his head to find. . . it had all been a dream. A surreal, emotion trenched dream, and a wet one at that, noting a bit of moistness in his groin region.

Everything slowed. Winding down. The blur he'd been deadlocked in suddenly vaporized, leaving him in an odd, amorphous world of disarray and confusion.

Shaking, the dog-fox immediately sprang up and felt sickly. He gazed at his sheets with discomfort, only to find with relief that his sister wasn't actually there. Or was it really discomfort he was feeling?

"Oh God. . ." he whispered, in disbelief that he'd actually had such nocturnal emission. How could he even imagine copulating with his sister? She was family, not some high school sweetheart!

The gene hybrid rushed into his bathroom, flicking on the sink. He feverishly bathed his muzzle and face with cold water, feeling quite hot, immensely turned on. Almost as though a sleeping desire had been snapped to life and came gushing forward like a riptide, sending him into a sexual, dizzy fog.

Yet, still. . . there was emotion there, right? All those things in the dream, all the words. . . they felt real, and now it was an empty deprivation to realize none of them had actually been said. He loved his sister, but did he love her in that way? Was it right?

The odd thing about Chimera genetics was a newly evolved trait that was intended for survival. Whilst incest was heavily frowned upon in human society for a multitude of reasons, Chimera and gene-morphs had an easier time swallowing it, for the mere fact that DNA disorders and diseases did not effect them through reproduction of their own blood. It wasn't the same in the animal kingdom, but betwixt two anthroids, there was no longer a deficiency in having a child with, say, a brother and sister.

So what was Mathias trying to do? Justify that strange escapade of sex? Was he going to fly out the door and find Faith, tell her loved her, then try to sleep with her? He shook himself again. He didn't know what to think. Strange trails of right and wrong were colliding within him. It wasn't simply a fact of shrugging off an odd wet dream; no, he actually had feelings now, and they were starting to surface in ways that he wasn't positive of.

He had to get outside. He didn't know when he'd fallen asleep and thinking he had insomnia, but now he was awake, fully. Throwing on a collection of clothes, he rushed out his apartment (which was locked) and into the dark noise of the city night, trying to compose himself.

For a while, he stood, not sure if he wanted to run, jog, walk, or dash. All he knew was that his head was jackknifed, and there was something either beautiful or obscene running amok within him.

Until he heard a voice.

"Mr. Xaviel. Fine evening this night,"

Shocked, he whirled to observe an elderly old man walking out of the alleyway adjacent to his apartment, cloaked in a long gray coat, hat, and black, soulless shades.

"Tell me, Mr. Xaviel, how is your sister?"

And into this man Mathias saw something both frightening and comforting. Into this man he saw evil, he saw light, and he saw the Devil.

The Devil of Bermuda.

= END =

(KIK)