FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Somewhere over the mountains to the east past Malachite Falls. A back alley in the small city of Los Juramentos, 15 miles out from Las Promesas.

Pax rubbed their nose with their sleeve, brushing the grimy chain wrapped around their hand against the soft tawny fur of their left cheek. They snorted deeply and filled their mouth from their nose, and turned their head and spit, a sticky stream of red hit the pavement. The Short mouse's lithe frame towering over the figure crumpled before them, a suited golden retriever, bruised and retching.

"Now be a good boy. and gimme the paper." Said the Mouse.

"You gimme a second and I'll get back up and I'll give you another wheeze a pop in your udda eye dere, even ya face out you dick-height little fa-" The Dog didn't get a chance to finish that word before he felt the sharp blow of Pax's Workboot crack him in his floater rib, there was a pinch and a snap as he YALPED.

"I ain't asking again, Gimme. The Paper."

The Dog coughed and retched, again, the sharp intake of breath sending sharp jabs of pain through him, his breathing labored and troubled, despite it all.

"I left it with your dad before he went out to buy milk."

Pax reached down and lifted the dog to his feet

"You know the funny thing about bein' short, there, Fido?" Pax asked, before sending that chain wrapped fist right into the dog's solar plexus. there was no bark, just a wheeze and a sharp jab of pain, as his knees failed him again. "everyone's my height after a gut shot."

The dog struggled, barely able to breathe without pain as he dragged himself to the wall and propped his back up against it, trying to stagger to his feet.

"The paper. NOW." Pax said, and pulled their knife from it's place at their hip.

"Okay....okay.." The dog put his hands up, his breath ragged, "Its in my jacket pocket, Take it...just just take it..."

Pax put their knife back in it's sheath as they reached into the Golden's suit pocket, only for the dog to grab Their arm, and twist, dropping his bodyweight by falling to the ground, Pax was caught off guard, spun sideways as they crashed to the ground along with the Dog, their head striking the asphalt and ringing for a moment, as their Wrist was bent awkwardly but the chain wrapped around it, kept it braced, mitigating the effect of the wristlock. Pax yellped.

"You lying peice of shit!" They hollered before the golden managed a solid punch to the mouse's eye.

"wasn't lyin' when I said i'd even out that pole-smokin' face of yours you fuckin' bitch"

The dog struggled to get atop the mouse, fighting for breath, hands relinquishing the lock, to make a play for the mouse's throat, an artless, brutal two-hand choke as he kneeled on the mouse's arms, pinning them to the wet asphalt. Pax Struggled, and Flailed, vision starting to dim as the dog leaned down on their windpipe, before they flicked their wrist, and let the chain fall from it, and then grasped it with their tail and whipped it around, a lucky shot slashing the tip of it across the dog's right eye socket, the distraction breaking the grip on their neck, and tilting them off one wrist, just enough room to wiggle around, pulling their knees to their chest, and kicking upward, both soles cracking up against that already damaged rib. there was another sickening snap. And the dog recoiled clutching his chest as he fell backwards.

Pax wheeze and gasped getting their breath back, staggering back to their feet and grabbing the chain that had saved them, wrapping their fist again, before grabbing the dog by the collar and cracking him in the jaw, again and again.

The dog went limp, and Pax rifled through the Dog's suit pockets. Discarding a silver cigarette case, pocketing a switchblade, and some cash, and finally, pulling out a manilla envelope, They opened it, checked the contents, and closed the envelope again, lifting their shirt and tucking the envelope into his pants and letting the grimy tee fall back over it. The cargo secured, They knelt down, hand on their knife, and checked that the retriever still had a pulse. Pax staggered out of the alleyway, and into a phonebooth. They picked up the receiver and fumbled a few coins into the slot. It rang, once...twice...three......four times."

The other end picked up, No voice spoke, The sound of carousing and drinking and hollering could be made out in the background. Pax Spoke,

"Boss...I got it."

The Dobe's voice came over the line, brusque. "Are you good, Pax?"

"Been better but...i...dunno if I can make it back over the hills tonight..."

"You or your bike?"

"...me..." Pax said, the hesitation belying the shame in their voice.

The only sound over the receiever was a sharp inward snort, followed by the "thup" of a handpaw-pad pressing over the reciever.

Pax waited for a moment, and then, The ambient sound of the bar returned.

"Sam and Russet are going up the hill. You'll have a berth waiting for you at the old Horndogs' clubhouse. Can you make it that far?"

The sound of engines firing could be heard over the phone, the roaring of exhausts, and the squealing of tires on pavement.

"I think so....yeah..."

"ETA?"

"three...three and a half hours, Boss."

"If you're more than thirty minutes late, Russet's got orders to ride into town to come getcha and Sam will do it on principle alone. So Get there, Safe, Pax."

"Boss you know me I.."

"That's an order, Pax."

The Dobe's voice was firm. Cold, and Detached. Pax smiled, knowing that tone said all of the things She couldn't at the moment.

"Yessir, Boss."

Pax hung up the phone, and stepped out of the booth, and headed towards their bike, looking into the alley and saw the Dog hadn't moved much. They looked left, and right, A sinking feeling in their gut. But the throbbing and swelling of their eye reminded them time was of the essence, and so they hopped on their bike. and kicked the starter. Nothing.

again. Nothing. They twisted the throttle, and looked over their shoulder. The dog lay there still. Pax kicked the starter again. Nothing.

They swore to themselves. "Goddammit really? Now?!" They looked back in the alley, the figure of the dog still laid out unmoving, a crow landed in the alley nearby.

Pax swore again, and dashed back over to the phone booth, flicked the receiver off the hook and dialed 911 and slammed the phone booth shut.

They tried the starter again; and this time, the engine roared to life.

They sighed and gently patted the top of the fuel tank, the black tank adorned with a painting of a dove's feather atop the crossguard of a dagger. "Always Keeping me honest ain't you?" Pax said, as they cranked the throttle, and roared off down the highway, towards the hills.

Towards the friends that were worth all this.

Towards home.