FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The mouse girl rode her bike through a narrow alleyway. At its end stood a little hut, a patch of greenery tucked within the urban decay of Prosperity. She chained her bike to the stone post outside, where a weathered foo dog guardian statue stood watch, and walked across the stone pathway to the wooden sliding door. The name Matsuda Dojo, written in traditional Japanese katakana, was posted on a sign next to it. She slipped off her shoes, aligning them side-by-side before stepping in with socked feet.

Within the humble dojo was a Macaque, quietly sweeping the floor of her space. Several weathered calligraphy scrolls lined the walls. In the corner beside where she entered, there was a simple altar of burnt-out incense and a woodblock plaque behind it, engraved with the kanji for “discipline, perseverance, balance.” She looked up at Kari with squinted eyes and a broad smile as the mouse bowed gratefully before the aged master.

“Dearest pupil, have you come to practice?”

“Forgive me, Sensei—I can’t stay. I just wanted to show you.” She pulled a rolled-up certificate from her backpack.

The Macaque took it gently, nodding with a quiet pride that didn’t need words.

“Why, Kari, it feels like just yesterday you were struggling to throw a proper kick.” Sensei Matsuda chuckled, her pink face crinkling into a smile beneath a halo of greying fur. “You used to wear that red bandana like a Power Ranger.”

Kari flushed. “I was eight.”

“Still got that keychain, don’t you?” She chuckled, then wiped a smudge from Kari’s cheek, brushing off the city smog.

“Look how far you’ve come.”

Kari’s smile faltered. “I only wish he came to the graduation.”

Silence. Only the faint shush of a broom as Matsuda resumed sweeping the old floorboards. Kari set her bag down carefully.

“I almost stayed late after the last recital. I thought if I practiced long enough, I could make it all fit.”

Matsuda clicked her tongue. “You always had a rhythm to your fighting - you weave them together well. But to your father, fighting was for thugs. Music was for fools. If it didn’t serve a ledger, it wasn’t worth a girl’s time.”

“I know what he thinks of all of it.” A breath. “But when the music was right… it felt like I had weight.” A smile tugged at her lips. “I used to sneak into the gym and rehearse after school. Told myself I’d try out for the dance team someday.”

The Macaque lifted her chin with a gentle set of fingers. “You keep waiting for permission. You are free now to chase whatever path calls to you. And don’t forget—this place will always be your sanctuary. Wherever your journey leads, remember: fall seven times, stand up eight.”

She ruffled Kari’s round ears affectionately, chuckling—a soft giggle Kari couldn’t help but share.

“Thank you, Sensei. I have to go now and get dinner ready before Father comes home. He’s been so tired lately… I keep wondering if I’m doing enough. He said his chest felt tight last night, but blamed the air. I told him to lie down. He didn’t.”

The Macaque’s stony expression cracked slightly at the mention of Kari’s father. “Your father forgets that even cherry blossoms fall with dignity.” She shook her head. “Anyway, go on, girl. The world won’t wait.”

Kari bowed once more, deeper this time, to Sensei Matsuda, then gave her a tight, careful hug—mindful of her old master’s fragile frame. She turned to the entrance and slipped on her shoes—aligning the soles again.

She slid the door open. Ahead: concrete alleys, flickering signs, distant sirens. Behind her: incense, wood, the broom’s quiet whisper.

She lingered on the threshold. Her fingers hovered. Then dropped.

She could’ve turned back—the sanctuary still waited.

The alley opened ahead. She didn’t look back.

As she rolled past the alley mouth, the holo-billboard flickered overhead.

Aizuna, the pastel-furred cat mascot of DreamForge, twirled in sync to a bubbly idol track. Her mouth never stopped smiling, even as her limbs moved in immaculate rhythm.

Love your fans. Be their everything.

DreamForge Productions™ – Experience Yourself™

She braked. Not fully—just enough to make the chain click. The pastel cat danced again. Her grip tightened. She looked away. Pedaled harder.

Dinner wouldn’t make itself.

==

Gravel crunched under her tires as she neared the looming concrete stack she called home. Her tail swayed as she walked up to Mr. Nick, the fox who made his home beneath the stairway, his jagged teeth flashing beneath long, wiry whiskers. His shabby jacket and scarf reeked of liquor, and several empty bottles lay scattered near his makeshift rug. He used his tail as a cushion, curling it beneath him like the rest of his sparse belongings.

“Hello Mr. Nick.” Kari gave a respectful bow to the longtime resident of the stairs of her compound, her large round ears flopping forward. “Hope you’re doing well today.” Her eyes lingered on the freshly opened bottles.

Nick flashed a snaggle-fanged grin. “Well, if it isn’t lil’ Miss Kazushige!” his eyes lit up through the bleary inebriation. “All dressed up for a night on the town? You just graduated—was that today? Congrats lil’ missy!”

Kari smiled faintly, her tail twitching behind her. “Thanks… I used to think I’d be on stage after this. Singing. Maybe dancing. But…”

She trailed off, shaking her head.

“But what?” he asked, grinning. “You’re leavin’ yer pappy’s nest, be free as a bird, mousey!”

He paused, then looked around, as if expecting someone else. “Speakin’ of the devil…Figured your pappy would be out there with you, proud as anything.”

“Y-yes, Mr. Nick. He was working today.”

“What’d I tell you ’bout the ‘Mister’ stuff…” He trailed off, waving his hand. It then drifted to a little pink bunny charm on his jacket. Kari’s fingers brushed the little ranger on her strap. The weight of it felt heavier.

“You… remind me of—” He paused, blinked hard, then laughed, shaking off the memory. His smile faltered.

“Always said she’d show ’em one day…”

Kari stayed quiet, and watched Nick even as his eyes wandered.

“Anyway, that’s a gaddumn shame that yer pappy couldn’t be there. He better not be working himself to death. Those corpo jobs… they drain a man out. I saw him last week—looked like something had hollowed him.” He sighed, and shook his head, before flashing Kari a fanged smile. “Well, I’ll be cheerin’ you on from down here. Now that you've done gone and graduated, you don’t need anyone’s say-so to light up the world.”

" He grinned before wheezing out a laugh. “Not many stop to talk to a mutt like me, these days. But you always did.”

Kari smiled, and opened up her backpack and pulled out a worn CredStick. “I… didn’t have a chance to stop and eat lunch today anyway. There’s about 10 creds on this.” She kneeled down beside Nick and placed it into his hand. “Please spend it on food.” She suppressed a sigh. She knew exactly where he’d spend it—and hated that. She bowed and took the stairs. Eleven flights up

As she entered the apartment, she let the gown slip into the laundry basket and tightened the straps of her backpack, with the keychain dangling from it.

The home’s bio-monitor was dark. Connected care, the slogan had said. She tapped it. Nothing.

Her father’s plate lingered in the sink from breakfast—a hearty meal she’d cooked for him: synth-yolk omelette over rice, a streak of ketchup drawn across the top. The artificial egg still set. After long days, Kari watched her father slump through the door. His ears drooped, shoulders sagged. He never spoke of the deskwork—only peeled off the WorkPatch™ with a wince and went to bed.

He worked in client transitions at Shinonome Group—a company whose ads always showed rising suns and smiling families. “Redefining your future.”

She cleaned the breakfast mess in silence. The unopened Paxetine patches sat on the table, vending-pack sleeves still intact. Optivacore strips—empty—lay discarded beside them.

He never missed a dose. He took one that morning—like always.

She set out two plates—clone pork over Nutrice, a bowl of fake miso. Made with care.

Yet his plate sat there in front of the empty seat.

He just wasn’t hungry. Maybe he had stayed late.

She picked at the rice with the synthplast chopsticks. The clock ticked. The food cooled.

The sharp trill of the phone shattered the stillness, making her squeak. She jolted from her seat, nearly dropping the phone before catching it with both hands. She inhaled sharply and answered.

“Hello, Miss Kazushige?”

“Speaking.”

“This is the Charge Nurse at Prosperity Health Systems Downtown—‘Your Health is Our Business!’” Her voice was syrupy, rehearsed. “Are you authorized to receive updates on your father’s condition?”

Kari swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“Thank you. Your father has been admitted to the ICU.”

Her chest seized.

One breath.

“What room number?”

“He is in room 1346. Please be made aware that visiting hours are over in an hour. Have a lovely day!”

The phone beeped. She stared at it, still in her hand.

Something pressed up behind her ribs. She swallowed. She stood.

Fall seven…

She touched the red ranger keychain.

stand up eight.

She slid his meds into her bookbag and ran down the stairs, hastily moving past Mr. Nick.

“Hey, mousey, where ya off ta in such a rush?”

“Can’t talk right now, Nick, I need to go!”

She pedaled. No breath. No thought. Just neon. Just speed.

Prosperity Health Systems loomed, a black-glass monolith against a smog-streaked sky. Its surface mirrored dim light onto streets scattered with syringes and beer bottles.

She slowed to a stop outside the hospital.

Above the entrance, the company’s logo gleamed: a cold-blue staff encircled by twin serpents, their bodies forming a near-perfect loop. Not a helix—no upward climb. Just a cycle. Endless. Self-contained. Beneath it, etched in clean, sans-serif steel, with the slogan underneath in italics:

PROSPERITY MEDICAL SYSTEMS

Your Health is Our Business

A holo-panel flickered beside the main entrance, showing a looping promo, in corporate calming cursive: In partnership with Caduceus™ Pharmaceuticals—Science You Can Feel From the Hand That Shapes Tomorrow. The twin serpents twined across the screen in perfect sync, their eyes glowing faintly as they circled the blue staff. The loop froze—glitched—then restarted. Seamless again. Like nothing had gone wrong.

She took a deep shuddering breath as the automatic double doors slid open - chilled air blasting her in the face, smelling strongly of rubbing alcohol and cleaning chemicals.

A small digital sign marked with the Caduceus logo near the check-in desk scrolled lazily through rotating digital banners: “Ask your care coordinator about Paxetine™ WorkPatches. Peace is but a prescription away.” Then: “Now offering Optivacore™ regulation strips in all partnered psych evaluations. Comfort and relief start here.”

These promised things cost more than an entry-level job made in a month.

The logos blinked below each ad in perfect sync—Caduceus and Prosperity Health Systems, side by side.

Within the hospital, nurses and staff wandered the floors, each off in their own world, many of their eyes sagging with dark bags hanging underneath. In the reception area, a pit-bull and a doberman stood near the reception wall—too sharp in dress, too still to be staff. They didn’t talk. Just watched. The kind of silence that followed blood.

Even a rabbit nurse jumped as she neared them, her cottonball tail puffed in alarm. Kari could relate.

A vixen in a fur-lined coat dabbed at her eyeliner. Tear tracks and high heels clicking like applause. Maybe she was crying. Maybe she just wanted someone to notice. Kari looked away—too plain, too quiet. Wrong shape for a city that applauded pain, as long as it sparkled.

A sheep mother sat with her child curled in her lap. She stroked his ears absently, eyes locked on the ceiling tiles like they offered her a way out. He sobbed quietly. She didn’t hush him. Just stared.

The young mouse walked up to the receptionist, her ears drooping a little.

“Can I help you?” the goat receptionist asked, voice clipped and brittle. Her narrow face and curved horns curling backwards gave her an unyielding look.

“I’m here for Mr. Kazushige. Room 1346.”

“Are you family of the patient?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m his daughter.” She bowed her head respectfully.

“Elevator’s behind you on your right. Thirteenth floor. When you step off, look immediately to your left; the nurses there’ll be able to guide you.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Her lips parted. Nothing came. The receptionist didn’t look up—just filed her nails while her screen blinked.

Kari’s jaw tensed. She bowed anyway, and turned, stepping into one of the nearby elevators.

As she rode them up to the thirteenth floor, she watched the numbers tick upward. Her tail coiled tightly around her waist. Not a brace. A restraint.

Breathe. Focus. No wasted motion. She repeated it like Sensei’s rules. Like the nurse's tone. Just doing her job. Anger wouldn’t help.

The elevator ding pulled her from her thoughts. She straightened. Her tail uncoiled, swaying behind her in practiced stoicism as she stepped off the elevator. Behind the desk sat a poodle nurse with ruby red nails and a flawless smile.

“Can I help you?” Polished smile. Polished scent. Polished words. Hollow, all the same.

Kari steeled herself. “Hi—I’m Kari. Kari Kazushige. We spoke on the phone. I’m Mr. Kazushige’s daughter. Room 1346.”

The nurse nodded, tapping at the keys with polished nails. “Visiting hours are almost over. Need to see some ID.”

Kari reached for her wallet. The nurse’s eyes flicked to the learner’s permit as if it were a used tissue, then back to the screen. “He’s flagged low-response. Just don’t disrupt him.”

Kari’s expression hardened slightly as she nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I brought his medicine list as well.” She pulled out a Ziploc bag: a Paxetine wrapper and a torn Optivacore strip. Stability, dosed. Just patches and strips—enough to fake function. Until he broke anyway.

The Ziploc bag rustled in her clenched fingers.

She smoothed the Paxetine wrapper before offering it. The nurse glanced at the bag, then back to her screen. “That’s fine, sweetie. We already filed his case under “non-urgent.” His compliance profile is on file—Caduceus protocol. Patch data is already on file. We log dosage history automatically. Just drop it there. You can collect them on your way out. Room 1346. Sixth door on the right.” She continued to work at her screen without looking up.

The charge nurse’s screen blinked again—“Billing coordination pending.” Kari didn’t ask. She already knew the answer.

Coverage. Compassion. Gone. His life had a price.

She wanted to snap. Just once. But that wasn’t what daughters did.

Maybe she meant well. Maybe not. Kari bowed anyway. Her spine stayed straight, but her jaw clenched. “Thank you.”

She turned and made her way down the hallway.

Her steps had no rhythm. No beat. Just arrhythmia—sneakers squeaking unevenly on the sanitized tile.

Her tail coiled again. She stopped in front of Room 1346.

Father had never liked being seen sick or tired—especially by her.

She wasn’t top of her class. Just consistent, quiet. Not rebellious. Not exceptional.

He never said she failed—just looked at her like she’d cost him something. He’d come home worn down, always scowling. She’d bring soup. Hope for a thank you.

“You should spend more time on your school! Bring your grades up! You are nothing without those grades!”

A sharp flick of the wrist. Dismissal in motion.

Maybe if she’d won something. A debate medal. Been the kind of girl they called a prodigy. Maybe then he’d see her.

As her footsteps squeaked quietly down the waxed tiles, she passed a cracked-open door. Inside, a little girl placed a sticker on her father’s arm. She couldn’t see his face through the oxygen mask, but his eyes smiled.

Kari glanced away. Her turn was next.

Be polite. Smile. Bow. Don’t hope. Hope ruins things.

Her hand trembled at the knob. Her arm locked. She inhaled—sharp and still. She raised her hand to knock—too loud. Then opened the door.

As she entered the room, she was greeted by the cold, sharp smell of disinfectant and the sterile hum of machines. An AI-generated mural: cherry blossoms by a riverbank. Too perfect. Still. Dead.

She saw a still-mostly-full bowl of miso soup on the tray beside him. The SynthTofu floated near the top, pale and square, its white corners just poking through the surface of the InstaBroth.

He hadn’t touched it. But someone had asked for it. Maybe he’d been waiting for her.

She crushed the thought.

Then his eyes focused in on her. And a sudden, frantic yell shattered the air — delirious rage pouring from his cracked voice, his Japanese accent thickening as his English frayed under the weight of emotion.

“Who told you to come here!” the elderly mouse shot up in bed and stared daggers at her, which immediately withered her posture as she flinched. His voice cracked. Still, her ears rang.

The sterile, searing white light illuminated his frail frame, hooked up to IVs, wires, and electrodes. The beeping of the EKG monitor punctuated his question.

Her shoulders tightened reflexively, and her hands shot up to shield herself from that familiar furious tone. Still, she grasped the keychain for courage and straightened. “I… I didn’t mean to bother you. The nurse called me.”

“Why are you here? Go study. Apply. Be useful.” His voice croaked as it started to give out on him—forcing him to take a brief reprieve.

Tears welled up behind her eyes. She stiffened, eyes stinging. “But I’m your daughter. Even if you don’t want me—I came.” She knew it wouldn’t change anything. But she said it anyway.

Without even looking at her, he rasped, “Get out. Just get out.” He swallowed, turning away as if her presence alone was too heavy to bear. “I don’t want to see you here. Not like this. If you want to help, go make something of yourself.”

She stood there.

She’d hoped for something. Just a nod. A word. Anything.

Stupid. Hope doesn’t fix anything.

She bowed. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave.” Her lips trembled. The words lodged deep. She said them. That had to count for something. Maybe.

She glanced back before she closed the door. The petals never landed.

Just kept falling. Like nothing broke.

“Given the patient’s Paxetine and Optivacore usage—two and a half and one and a half years ago, respectively, it is likely this has been an ongoing problem brought on by stress and self-neglect. The claim was denied.”

Kari’s eyes didn’t flinch. Part of her knew that the insurance would do this. The poodle never looked up, and just kept reading.

“Productivity strips aren’t life-critical. “System flags it as lifestyle-related. This is the current statement.”

PROSPERITY HEALTH SYSTEMS

In partnership with Caduceus™ Pharmaceuticals

Billing Division: Patient Financial Outcomes

"Your Health Is Our Business"

PATIENT NAME: Kazushige, Masaki

DOB: 03/14/1972

PATIENT ID: 8397-1102-5546

ADMIT DATE: 05/28/20XX

DISCHARGE STATUS: Ongoing Observation (ICU – Tier B)

CLAIM STATUS: Denied

Itemized Statement of Charges:

Emergency Cardiac Triage (Level 3)..........................₡12,600

NeuroVital Scan (Legacy Equipment – Continuity Fee)........₡4,400

ICU Monitoring (Tier B) – 3 days @ ₡9,300...................₡27,900

Paxetine Interaction Panel..................................₡2,150

Optivacore Toxicology Review................................₡2,850

Assisted Vent Support (Limited Plan)........................₡5,200

Somatic Registry Alignment (Pharma Gene Index)..............₡3,100

Administrative Processing Fee................................₡850

Regulatory Sync: Civic Engine Integration Log (auto-gen)....₡1,250

Digital Chart Access (per session) – 8x.....................₡640

Caduceus Health Messaging Compliance (embedded licensing)...₡980

Emotional Risk Disclosure Acknowledgement (auto-stamped)....₡730

Behavioral Tier Alignment Report™ (Transplant Eligibility)...₡1,150

Responsibility Reacclimation Protocol – Participation Declined.....₡1,050

Bedframe Rental – ICU ergonomic (scratched).................₡460

Ceiling Light Burnout Replacement – shared room..............₡325

Pharmaceutical Delivery Margin (Caduceus Surcharge).........₡2,200

BioData Capture Fee (Memory Sync: Pending Analysis).........₡590

ICU Moodfield Optimization – Passive Scent / Tone Modifiers...₡1,175

Next-of-Kin Verification Delay (No Confirmed Contact)...........₡380

TOTAL CHARGES: ₡78,580

INSURANCE ADJUSTMENT: ₡0.00

PATIENT RESPONSIBILITY: ₡78,580

Claim Notes: Per Prosperity Health Systems policy 18.3(c), medications classified under “Productivity Assistance” (e.g., Paxetine®, Optivacore™) are not eligible for emergency coverage unless pre-certified with dependency documentation and an approved spiritual exemption code.

Human Outcome Value: Non-prioritized

Rehabilitation Tier: Pending Behavioral Audit

Review Method: Credit-Risk Optimization

Payment Due: Within 28 days of statement issue

Failure to pay may result in:

*Service Denial

*Interest Accrual (12–17% variable)

*Behavioral Credit Recalibration

*Automated Triage Restriction

*Employment Risk Pool Reassignment (Palmera Sync)

To appeal this statement, please contact the Virtual Appeals Bot in your patient portal.

Emotional inquiries may be submitted via our Emotional Processing Intake Form (in development).

Thank you for choosing Prosperity Health Systems™.

A Caduceus-Aligned Service Provider. Progress. Precision. Service.

She hadn’t read past the total. Not the amount—just the length. Her fingers stayed clenched around the paper.

“If unpaid within twenty-eight days, balance may increase by twelve to seventeen percent. Variables include late penalties, tier reassignment handling, and third-party escalation. Behavioral collections review will initiate on day twenty-nine. ICU continuation beyond day three is currently not eligible. Revised billing estimate: sixty-six to seventy thousand credits.” Pause. “This information is available in your statement printout.” She finally looked up to Kari with the same smile she always wore. “Any clarifications you’d like automated follow-up for? We value your emotional feedback.”

Kari said nothing. The question didn’t sound like one.

Her body held still.

The word 'seventy' kept looping.

Behind the nurse, the holopanel reset. Your Health is Our Business.

==

The charge nurse had explained the procedure in clinical detail. It washed over her like static. All Kari really caught was the five-figure price tag—and that her father needed it soon. Fear didn’t matter. Not when every closed door was another tick off the clock her father didn’t have.

She scanned storefronts for any ‘Help Wanted’ sign—places desperate enough to hire a high school grad with no experience.

She kept walking, jaw set, ignoring the burn in her legs.

The first was a soykafe bar, smelling of burnt beans and cologne. They wanted four years of barista experience and a full background check. Ten business days. She didn’t have ten days.

The second was a Stack+Saver—cheap imports, flickering lights, markdown tags stacked like noise. The floor manager barely glanced up. Said she wasn’t tall enough to reach the top shelves—and that insurance wouldn’t let her use a stool.

SynthFish cart didn’t trust minors; laundromat didn’t trust nobodies.

“Try again when you’ve filled out more.”

“Smile didn’t meet baseline marketing calibration.”

“Persona profile incomplete. Applicant unverifiable.”

She kept walking. AutoJobNetworks scanned her. A red flash. No job. No message. Nothing.

A red light blinked. Then stayed on—just above the kiosk. Had it always been watching?

She shook her head at her own paranoia, and her thoughts drifted to happier times. At fourteen, she danced five days a week—concrete floors, no mirrors, just the speaker of her cracked phone and a drama teacher with a cigarette cough. She wasn’t trained. Not really. No academy would’ve looked twice. But she watched enough bootleg videos to mimic form, rehearsed routines in the laundry room when her father worked nights. Singing rehearsals on weekends. She’d thought maybe she was good enough. Maybe.

But when the music hit—her ribs expanded, her limbs remembered what joy felt like. Her body could lie and tell the world she was free, even if she wasn’t. On stage, she could become someone else.

But her father called it wasting time. “Dreams don’t pay bills,” he would say.' “Real life has no room for a stage!” “Prosperity does not care about rhythm - just clocking in and shutting up!”

The awful truth crept in. Maybe he was right. Just another unranked girl. No Persona Score. No prospects.

The next door stank of fryer oil and raw meats. Rust n’ Rations. A lonely register, a broken horn, and a rhino who looked like he’d seen better decades. He was the only one managing orders tonight. With an uncaring tone and gravelly voice, he nearly growled at her. “Rust n’ Rations. Can I help you?”

“Please sir, I’ll take anything!”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Sorry, kid. We’re full. Should’ve applied a month ago.” He scratched his head. “Try Northwood?”

“They said the same thing.”

He muttered, almost to himself, “Yeah. Figured.” And then: “Tough times. Everyone’s scroungin, ya ain’t the only one.” He turned and re-entered the backrooms.

The door’s bells jingled as she left. Her stomach clenched. Her socks had slipped halfway down, heels rubbed raw. A thread from her cuff caught on a dumpster corner. She kept walking, even as the thread tore.

Her round ears drooped. She scanned the street, desperate for one more chance.

Fall seven. Rise eight. But her legs gave out first, unable to carry the mantra any further.

Her chest burned—rage, or grief, or just breathlessness. She didn’t know which.

Maybe it didn’t matter.

She wiped her face and stared at the pavement, waiting for the tears to stop.

She dropped onto a nearby bench. It was crusted with dried bird droppings—neglected like everything else—under a flickering city lamp that buzzed with disrepair.

It was past 7:30. Most stores were already closed. Only bars and clubs stayed open. The rooftops burned orange, and the neon buzz of nightclubs flickered on, one by one, like stained stars.

For the first time today, tears leaked down her cheeks.

What was she expecting? A miracle?

She clutched the red ranger keychain on her backpack strap. She was praying for one—a miracle. Just enough to erase the number that was erasing him. In less than a month.

Her thoughts coiled bitter and sharp—no big deal, right?

When the tears finally slowed, she climbed on her bike—but her vision stayed clouded. By the time her bike rolled to a stop near the apartments, she could barely see. The tears kept coming, blurring everything. Her breath caught—raw and shallow. She wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve.

Locking it up, she started toward the stairs. She hadn’t meant to stop at the stairs. But her legs did. Like they already knew there were no other exits. Her heart hammered in her chest, temples throbbing. She curled inward—tail tight, lungs shallow. Just the moment. Just staying.

She didn’t hear the bottle until it clinked again.

Then a voice: “Heyyy, mousey! You’re burnin’ the midnight cheese again, huh? Where was you off to in such a rush?”

She looked up. Nick sat beneath the stairs, a half-empty bottle in hand and more bottles scattered on his tail-cushioned spot underneath the stairs of the apartment complex. In his inebriated stupor, he pushed himself up and steadied himself before limping haggardly towards Kari. But even he could tell something was off.

Her throat tightened. “Nick…” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. She swallowed hard, choking back sobs. “My father’s in the hospital. He needs surgery. Heart surgery. It’s… nearly eighty thousand credits.”

Her knees buckled, and she collapsed in front of Nick. Tears streaked the concrete.

“I don’t know. I don’t know how I’m supposed to earn that much. No one’s hiring. No one cares.” Her voice cracked as she lashed out, her face contorted. Her shoulders shook, and her breaths came in ragged gasps.

She sounded like a child. She hated it. Hated how small her voice had become.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered just a hush louder than the faint traffic of the night.

Nick paused, drinking the story in. The news was more bitter than the foulest liquor. He shifted uneasily, licking his lips, eyes flicking to the shadows as if they might be listening. Then down to his hand.

He turned to leave.

Then stopped.

She hadn’t said anything. Just sat there, holding her tail like it was all that kept her together.

He muttered a curse. Rubbed his face. Then reached into his coat pocket.

“Mousey. Look. I had a daughter once. About your age. Real firecracker.”

He stared at the streetlight. “Too loud for this city.” He paused. “Too soft, too.

Liver gave out. They said hepatitis. Said it was a fluke. Played by the rules. Still rotted out. ”

Shaking his head, with tears leaking from his eyes, he continued. “She got desperate. I told her no—thought I was protectin’ her. I… I thought—”

He swallowed. “Didn’t matter. It still got her. Slow. Ugly.”

He looked to his pile of empty bottles. A long pause. He reached into his coat and placed his hand on her’s. She let go of her keychain to accept something stiff and paperboard. Still warm.

“Look. It ain’t clean. But clean don’t keep people alive.” He stared at Kari’s hand covering the item in his palm for a long time. Like that thing weighed something. “I knows a guy. He’s got work. Fast work. Pays good. Real good.” He trailed off, squinting as he thought his words through.

Kari thought of ICU lights. Her father’s still chest. Her father’s hospital bed behind a curtain of wires. Then Nick’s daughter.

Maybe shame could come later. Breathing came first.

“You remind me too much of her,” he said. “That’s the only reason I’m—” He didn’t finish the sentence. Just looked away, as his lips curled back revealing grimacing fangs. “Please. Just… think careful-like about this, yeah? It’s the kind of place people go when they’re desperate—or dumb.” He paused. “It do pay. It’ll pay off that bill. Still… decide for yourself. You didn’t hear this from me, alright? Watch your back.”

He removed his hand to reveal a matchbox. A smirking sphinx stared back, cigarette in its teeth.

“Go to the alleyway behind the Chop Exchange. Show it to whoever’s back there. 4 AM sharp. Don’t be late, don’t be noisy about it. Tell him Nick sent you. And… just don’t tell me how it ends, alright?”

Kari looked at the matchbox, thumb brushing the corner. Her hand trembled. The sphinx on the box smirked—like it had been waiting all along.

She hugged Nick. Her head barely reached his chest.

“I’ll go.”

She pulled away, eyes stinging.

A red light blinked above the stairwell. Watching? Or always there?”

===

At 3 AM, she left the apartment and blazed away. The ride across the city blurred past. By the time she reached the Chop Exchange—a small butcher shop near the downtown subway station—it was 3:40 AM.

Dismounting, she wheeled her bike into the dark alley, her back lit by flickering neon signs. A cat yowled two blocks down. Then silence again. A car backfired somewhere distant. Then quiet. Even the neon buzz felt muffled—like the city was holding its breath.

Her bike lock felt heavier than it should. Her chest rose, but the breath never came. Her eyes flicked to the shadowed corners, muscles coiling slightly. The alley stank—wet meat and hot ozone burning her nostrils. The dumpster oozed something that hissed when it hit the pavement. A buzzing cloud of flies hovered above.

Still, the homeless scavenged, never letting the trash rot for long. The thought made her blanch. She prayed, silently—for his fortune, and for her own. She wondered if Nick was still holding on… or if the city had already sunk its teeth in.

She paused at the opening maw of the alleyway. It was 3:45 AM. She had a moment to turn back. She clutched the keychain on her bag without realizing. Her thumb ran over the helmeted face—brave, rubber, grimy from years of grip.

No. No turning back. Not now. She pulled out her phone and dialed into Prosperity Health Systems’s EchoCare line—a cost-saving feature branded as “real-time bedside connection.” Everyone knew it just funneled desperate voices into a backlog of unread data—assuming the terminal worked, and someone remembered to check.

Her screen lit up with the system prompt:

“Room 1346 is not accepting calls. This message will be stored in backlog until authorized staff can review it.” A beep. Then nothing.

She hesitated. Then spoke. “Father, if you wake up… I’ll be different. I prom-”

The system interrupted her with another sharp beep. “Message recorded. Thank you for your compliance. Prosperity Health Cares™”

She let the phone fall to her side. Her fingers stayed curled like it was still there.

“Close enough,” she muttered.

It wasn’t. But the line had gone quiet. Just like everything else.

The alley was too quiet. Too dark. Neon spilled in from the street—but the shadows swallowed that, too. Within the alleyway stood a white-furred rabbit. Her sun-faded utility jacket hung loose. Her cargo shorts were threadbare. On her right arm were six bracelets, each threaded with a name—worn, smudged, impossible to read from this distance.

She glanced over. The rabbit met her eyes and gave a faint nod. Not respect. Not friendship. Just acknowledgment.

Her eyes flicked up and down Kari once—quick, clinical. The grime dulled her fur, but her expression said more—like she’d run out of tears weeks ago. Kari dared not pry.

A click. A whirr. Kari startled mid-flinch—and froze.

“Face the wall,” a smooth voice whispered.

Kari turned—halfway. The camera didn’t need more.

A red pulse. A whine. A beep.

A smile stirred in the dark behind them.

“There. Immortalized.” A soft chuckle from deeper within the darkness. A faint whirr ticked behind the figure’s glowing red eye. The bronze implant nestled in his socket shifted focus—zooming, shimmering, studying.

A line of static danced across the lens—barely a flicker.

Something unseen clicked—soft, mechanical, satisfied.

“Mm. No grace note, chérie—but they never care. They like the twitch. The flinch. The little shivers.”

The darkness peeled open, and out slid a lanky sphynx cat. Porcelain-smooth skin, marbled with dusk-gray swirls. His zoot suit shimmered in plum with black chrome pinstripes. At his breast, a neatly folded handkerchief—same deep plum—peeked sharp against a matching rose brooch cast in dull iron. The cut flattered his height too perfectly.

He moved with a fluid, feline ease—each step precise, theatrical, a dancer lost in himself. His amber eyes, rimmed in deliberate black, scanned like blades—feral, unreadable, and too aware. He smelled of rose oil crushed into scorched vanilla—too sweet, too thick. Beneath it, old cigar smoke coiled, chased by the antiseptic sting of something that had to be scrubbed clean. A perfume meant for silk that had seen too many wakes.

“Now then… what lovely little delicacies have wandered into my alley tonight?”

Kari raised the matchbox with the cigarette-smoking sphinx. Alicia mirrored her. He flashed a fanged grin which cut through the dark and swayed forward on the balls of his feet, gloved fingers clasped behind his back like a stage conductor greeting his players.

“Ah… Lapinita Blanca, Nezuhimetta. I could weep with joy. But mascara’s expensive—and the train is running late on our little date. Oh, but where are my manners? Felix Smoke. Opening act, closing deal. Impresario of the in-between.” He swept into a bow—sharp at the waist, exaggerated. “They never remember the names. But every show needs lovely new faces, bella freschezza.” He pivoted slowly. The monocle shimmered again—lines of light dancing faintly across their features. Like a collector inspecting prized pieces under glass. “Mon dieu, and what beautiful fresh faces indeed. Lapinita Blanca—che bambolina perfetta. Too poised to plead.”

He purred as he leaned in, before his gaze shifted to Kari. “And Nezuhimetta, darling, those knees—so sweet when they wobble. That smile—trembling. La maison devours it.”

He licked his lips. She shifted. He hadn’t touched her, but her ears still withered.

“...Kari, Alicia, right? You’re chasing fast lights. Faster tips. A stage that pays by the gasp—not the hour. The kind of thrill that pays quick if you learn your lines fast. That’s what you’re after, isn’t it?”

Kari’s jaw tensed. No answer came.

Alicia clutched her bracelets. Then nodded.

Her fingers shifted barely—tightening, just once—when Kari flinched. Then stilled again.

Kari’s mouth was dry. Her stomach clenched. The alley stank—smoke, piss, and something sweet, soured.

Her weight shifted, breath caught. But the bill... it nailed her there.

She hadn’t auditioned. Just landed in the middle of a production already running.

“…Yes.”

Alicia gave a small nod, mostly to herself.

"Don’t be scared, bamboline. Coraggio, as they say.” He made a gentle gesture—hand rising like a magician prepping a reveal. “And Nezuhimetta—posture, posture,” he cooed, stepping closer. One hand floated through the air beside her, tracing. Never touching, just sketching potential roles in the space her body might someday fill. “Confidence is key.” He clicked his tongue, then clasped his hands together as if in prayer. “Come now. You can trust me. Tell Uncle Felix...” He purred, grinning like it was a private joke.

Alicia shifted. Her ears bristled.

Her breath caught. Her mouth opened, then shut. Nothing came.

“My father. He’s in the hospital. Needs surgery,” she said, barely restraining the emotions behind her lips and eyes as they burned with the need to release.

Alicia’s eyes flicked over Kari—her sagging ears, her tear-streaked face, the nervous grip on the matchbox. Her fingers reached out—then dropped. She stilled, offering only a faint nod. “Sister’s sick. Other hospital. Five more at home.” She blinked back moistness as she clutched the bracelets on her arm. “I…I have to…”

“Una vera sorellina. Five mouths and no script. Tsk. Quelle tragédie. The City of Prosperity—so cold, so cruel,” he whispered again, as if savoring a stolen line. “But that’s the stage, isn’t it?” Then he leaned in with a coo. “Nezuhimetta with her dying papa. Lapinita Blanca with a whole warren to feed. Ah! Tragedy sells.”

A hand to his heart as he bowed, his fanged grin never faltering. “But me? I’m the only one who applauds before the act begins.”

She stepped back. Her fingers clenched the ranger keychain.

Felix giggled. Took a soft step closer. “A souvenir from a softer ending?” he cooed.

Alicia’s stance shifted. She stepped a little closer to Kari—just enough to place herself between them.

Yet Felix slid around them with oiled ease, cutting off escape without seeming to. His lanky form loomed over Kari, peering at her keychain.

And as she stared up at the sphynxcat, her tail coiled toward her side, and her whole body trembled.

Alicia watched him—unflinching, unreadable.

Somewhere near the alley mouth, metal shifted. A presence. Not part of the show—just keeping it from being interrupted.

Felix didn’t look. He didn’t need to. The exits were already closed. His eye flicked—just once, whirring faintly. “Come now, bamboline. You know the script. Auditions start in the womb. It’s all blocked in advance—birth, bills, burnout. The cradle-to-curtain pipeline.” A click of his tongue as he shook his head like a chiding mother.

“They want their starlets barely budding, already priced for market.”

He leaned in, voice like burnt sugar. A low pulse of light passed across his monocle lens.

“Smile. Sway. Let the petals drop.

That’s the choreography.”

He clicked his tongue and beckoned with one curling finger.

“I offer you liberty, carina mia. A different kind of performance, seared into memory. Indelible. Undeniable.”

A glint of gold as he flicked his wrist, catching the flicker of some neon sign behind him. “…provided you can keep your smile for the spotlight. But this isn’t community theater. We don’t hold the curtain.”

A confirmation chime beeped beneath the crimson glow—sharp, mechanical, cold.

Her thoughts flashed back to her father. The bed. The tubes. The silence between heartbeats.

Everything about this screamed run. This wasn’t a job you walked from. Not on both legs. The ticking clock pinned her in place.

“What… happens in this job?”

“Why, I’m glad you ask. Lapinita Blanca… the camera will drink you in. So still. So certain. They crave to watch their heroines crack.” He grinned, before turning to Kari. “And you, Nezuhimetta—my trembling little bloom. Fragile, yes… but ripe. The kind of heartbreak the stage aches for. It’s a lifetime gig, darlings. No exits. They write the end when it’s time.”

He licked his lips. Then leaned in—just a little too close.

“But you, bamboline—you’ll shine in the spotlight.”

The alley stayed silent. Alicia’s voice came quiet. Not brave. Not trembling. Just… tired.

“How many girls before us?”

Felix didn’t blink. “Just one,” he said. Not to her. Just… out loud. “Over and over again.” His monocle flicked—slow, mechanical.

Kari’s breath stayed caught. She heard it. Didn’t answer. Didn’t blink.

She clutched the keychain. But she could only feel its cold metal.

He pivoted suddenly, spreading his arms with theatrical flair.

“Different lighting, of course.” His tone dropped. “Less rouge… more rust.”

He paused, savoring the thought, then looked back—grin too wide, teeth too sharp.

“Mon dieu. That crowd never leaves hungry.”

She blinked too slowly, like her body forgot the rhythm.

She didn’t know. Alicia’s silence did. Her mouth tightened—like she’d seen it before. And Felix smiled too wide. It couldn’t just be about tips.

Her throat burned. She didn’t feel her feet. Didn’t feel her voice. Just the line.

Fall seven times, stand eight.

Her fingers trembled.

Already on the eighth.

Felix spun behind her like a shadow, closing the space with measured steps. Kari’s eyes flicked to alleys and fire escapes—no way out.

In the alley’s gloom, someone already waited near the mouth of the alley—hooded jacket, rabbit ears just visible beneath the fabric. Nearby, a faint red glow flickered from a hovering drone, its lens tilting as if studying them, the red sensor light narrowing to a thin slit. Its shadow stretched across the brick wall—broad at the snout, tapering toward the tail. The rabbit’s eyes flicked to the drone, then back to the girls.

“Ah, the plucky starlets, glowing with youth’s soft flush. Eager, unguarded. Rabbits tend to end up in the Pit more than most, given their... prolific nature.”

The rabbit spat to the side but kept watching. Alicia’s ears folded back against her head.

He danced around them with sweeping motions like a harlequin on stage before leveling a single finger at the two girls.

“You’re stepping onto a stage older than any opera — a blood-lit ballet. Fangs. Claws.” He flashed his fangs. ”A language that everyone speaks — from the penthouse to the pavement.”

His monocle flickered across their frames.

Shoulders. Waist. Hips.

A faint icon flickered across Felix’s monocle—two curved lines forming the outline of a waiting jaw.

The dance halted, replaced by a cold, deliberate gaze.

Kari shivered. Her ears flattened against her head.

“The name changes depending on who’s paying... but we call it the Pit.”

Kari’s breath caught, ears wilting. Alicia’s jaw clenched, her ears folding back as her eyes hardened.

Her eyes flicked past him—to the rabbit at the alley mouth, to the drone above.

A place where girls vanished. The lucky ones came back.

“Oh!” Felix clicked his tongue at Kari’s naïveté. “You really are a débutante starlet through and through. An adorable mouse, darting in the shadows—too small to lead, but just right to entertain.”

A slow, satisfied smile curled his lips as a faint mechanical hum vibrated from his throat. “Don’t be so shocked,” he chuckled. “Out there they call it the Steel Petal Circuit. Bright lights. Sponsors. Pretty girls smiling for the cameras.”

His smile sharpened.

“Back here… claws.”

“So tell me, bamboline… will you grace the stage with your presence, or go back to the hospital empty-handed? ICU beds are terribly expensive these days.”

His grin widened as his gaze slid to Alicia.

“A sick sister in another hospital… and five more waiting at home, wasn’t it?” He clicked his tongue softly. “Povera coniglietta. Medical bills climb so terribly high these days.”

Felix uncurled the fingers of his offered paw, and simply watched, waiting.

Kari’s breath caught; a cold knot tightened in her stomach.

She paused.

Staring at the open hand.

She glanced at Alicia - who only stared in stony silence.

Slowly, she reached out.

Her paw met his.

Alicia pressed her own paw firmly over Kari’s, shooting Felix a cold, steely glare.

Above them, the hovering drone shifted slightly, as if settling into the air.

Felix’s earpiece crackled.

“See?” a voice whispered raspily. “I always find the good ones.”

Felix didn’t look up. He just smiled.

“Good hunt, Ammit.” His eyes turned back to the two. “Splendido. The stage door is already open.”

He brushed invisible dust from his sleeve.

“Now then. Off you go.” He gestured down the alley with a languid flick of his fingers. “Dick’s Drinks. Front door. Tell the bull Felix sent you. Be discreet.”

His smile sharpened.

“They’ll take it from there.”

Kari swallowed and took a step toward the street. Alicia’s hand lingered a moment longer before she pulled away.

The rabbit shifted slightly, already clearing the path toward the street.

***

Shoulder-to-shoulder buildings pressed in. Among them, Dick’s Drinks was dimly lit by the flickering, half-burned-out neon sign. The cracked and bullet-hole-ridden windows rattled with booming club music. A gruff minotaur lady with a nose ring stood at the entrance in a sleeveless tank top with fingerless gloves. She glowered at anyone who approached the doors.

Kari saw the gruff minotaur and took a deep breath. Alicia looked back to her as she stopped.

Near the wall, something stirred. A mother cat — mangy, missing part of an ear, gaunt from hunger.

Alicia kneeled beside the mother cat guarding the kittens in the box. The cat raised its tail, but Alicia kept her eyes soft and her hands open. She waited. The cat paced back and forth, its tail lashing, the motion slowly easing.

Kari knelt beside Alicia, shoulders softening as she watched the mother cat and her scraggly kittens. She forced a comforting smile.

“Poor gal. Any scraps she finds probably have to go to the kittens before herself. …wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t share.” She shook her head - one of her hands reaching up to play with the charm bracelet with the names.

Kari looked toward her but avoided eye contact. Silence between them. A simple nod.

The cat finally slowed and settled…very slowly lowering to its belly. Alicia reached out - the cat’s head jerking up. She sniffed the fingertips - seeming to eye Alicia and Kari with suspicion, before lowering her head for a gentle, timid stroke between her ears - its tail flicking slowly.

Alicia reached into her crop top jacket and pulled out a bag of SynJerk. “Hold out your hand.”

Kari opened her palm, and Alicia shook loose a couple of pieces. “You go ahead and feed them.”

Kari nodded, and reached the hand full of SynJerk out to the mother cat as Alicia slowly withdrew her hand. The cat sniffed the SynJerk. Its eyes lifted to Kari for a moment, before snatching the SynJerk out of her hand with her fangs, and bringing it to her kittens behind her.

It was then that the default ringtone of Kari’s phone erupted from her back pocket. Kari jumped, wincing. The mother cat shot her a look. The mouse gave her a sheepish apologetic grin, before digging out the phone and pulling it out - stepping back and facing away from Alicia.

“H-Hello?”

“Kari! Little blossom, I haven’t seen you in a bit.” Sensei Matsuda’s warm, antique voice creaked through the phone. “You haven’t come back to the dojo and I was getting concerned.”

“S-Sensei!” Kari’s voice rose in alarm - and she looked back quickly at Alicia, who shot back a puzzled expression. “Um…h-hello. Sorry. I know, I haven’t been back at the dojo.”

“No apologies, child. I just wanted to check on you. Is everything alright? You sound far away…Where are you?”

Kari’s eyes darted to Dick’s Drinks - the hairs on her tail standing on end at the bass crackling through the speaker. Her ears wilted. “Um. It’s just…I’m…out with…friends. That’s it. Yes.”

“…well I’m glad you’re finally stepping into yourself.” A pause. “Just…keep your guard up. You know how the city is.”

Kari clutched at the deep knot in her stomach. She forced herself to straighten. “Yes, sensei. I’ll be careful. I will…see you soon.”

“Don’t be a stranger, don’t forget your training…and most of all, take care of yourself, okay?”

“Yes, sensei.” After a brief pause, she clicked off the phone and sighed. Her eyes burn as she barely holds back her tears, hugging herself through her jacket.

“Hey.” Alicia reached over and placed a paw upon her shoulder, and squeezed gently, while glancing down at the club at the minotaur bouncer guarding the door. “…no tears. Not here.” A pause. A breath. “If you can’t handle it, you can still walk.”

“I can’t.”

Alicia solemnly nodded. “Yeah. I figure.”

Kari approached the mother cat and her kittens. She leaned down and brushed her finger along the top of her head before straightening.

They stepped towards the minotaur bouncer, garbed in a sleeveless leather vest covering kevlar plating underneath. Her muscular arms crossed underneath her bulky chest. Dark eyes scanned over the girls - their reflections visible in them. She said nothing, but quirked an eyebrow.

Alicia straightened herself and looked the minotaur in the eyes. “We’re here for the audition.” Kari kept her face tight and nodded, even as her tail lashed about behind her.

The black bull looked over the two - eyes raking over each of them with cold judgment. She slowly turned to face them, and stepped up, looming over them two heads taller. “Name?”

“Kari Kazushige.”

“Alicia Reyes. Felix sent us.”

The minotaur pulled out a tablet, and her eyes scanned the listed names methodically. “Mn.” Her dark eyes flicked to the two girls. “They’re going to like you.” Her jaw tightened. “Don’t let them see you shake.” The towering bull stepped aside and motioned with her head inside. “Wait in the back.” She didn’t look at them again.

The door beside the minotaur clicked.

A gust of stale air pushed out from inside. Kari hesitated. Alicia didn’t. She stepped through first.

The lounge was thick with smoke and sweat, smelling of liquor and cheap disinfectant. A couple of patrons huddled around small booths to the side. A large space in the middle was cleared out, blank, with no dust.

At the bar, a lean, slight-built squirrel was polishing a glass nervously. His eyes flicked up to the two girls and lingered. He said nothing before returning to his glass, polishing ithe same glass a little too quickly.

A couple of girls in simple, fetishy waitress outfits tended to each table—a petite pink-furred one waved with far too much enthusiasm before a cream-furred one pulled her away. The cream-furred one looked at the girls with a sad smile. A chocolate-furred bunny girl—more voluptuous—eyed the two. She gave a small knowing nod and jerked her chin toward a hallway.

The hallway beyond was narrow, lit by buzzing fluorescent strips. It led down a set of stairs into the dark. The bar’s faux-varnished wood paneling soon gave way to concrete and peeling paint. Exposed metal piping ran along the walls and overhead. Somewhere deeper inside, a gate slammed shut with a heavy metallic echo.

Kari swallowed and followed Alicia down the hallway as the door closed behind them.

—Inventory. Places.—

As Alicia and Kari entered the room, the other fighters looked up and regarded the newcomers in silence.

The first face to catch their eye was a familiar one. Another rabbit sat against the wall. Hoodie. Same one from the alley. She watched them for a moment before her attention drifted to the others. One finger tapped slowly against her knee.

The second figure who drew Kari’s attention was a serval. Her spots were threaded with glowing cyberware. A magenta manehawk rose high above sky-blue eyes tuned brighter than the basement allowed. They were bright—too bright for the dim basement, like they’d been tuned for a camera instead of a room.

She spoke in hushed whispers with a golden retriever girl whose dirty-blonde hair was cut short and neat. Her shirt was a little too clean, a little too fitted, clearly chosen to show off her curves. She stood straighter than the others, shoulders square like someone used to instructions. Something about it felt staged, though Kari assumed that might have been the point.

Only then did Kari notice the girl in the corner. She rubbed at her own arms as she peered out at the others. Her hoodie smelled faintly of fryer oil and antiseptic. An overstuffed tote bag hung from her shoulder. A spiral notebook peeked from the top beside a folded pair of scrubs.

Kari’s ears perked at the hushed conversation between the serval and retriever. Alicia leaned against the wall nearby, her ears tilting toward them as well. Kari slipped into the space beside her, pretending not to listen.

“Sup, chooms—it's your girl Velvet Vex with a quick update for the next HoloVid that’s gonna set your screens on fire.”

The CamDrone chimed as Velvet, Vex’s NetHound, slid into the speaker. “Audience count rising. One-thousand, three-hundred forty-two viewers and climbing. You’re doing great, darling.”

The serval tilted her head toward the hovering CamDrone beside her. It bobbed gently, as if nodding along.

“We’re in deep tonight, fam. Waiting on pickup.” She flicked a claw toward the retriever beside her. “Got one of the girls here with me—who’re you again?”

The golden retriever flashed a warm smile and gave a quick wink to the camera. “My name’s Sama—” She caught herself, clearing her throat. “Erm. Sam.”

“Sam, huh?” Vex grinned. “Mind if I call you Sammy? Sammy, give the viewers the rundown—what’s going down tonight?”

Sam’s brow furrowed slightly before she answered. “You tell them. You’ve done this before, right?” She tilted her head, a forced smile on her face. “How big are these fights usually?” Her eyes flicked briefly toward the door before settling back on Vex.

Vex laughed. “Heh. Fair enough.” She leaned a little closer to the drone. “Alright, chooms—here’s the deal. We’re heading into the Pit tonight! Underground fights, real crowd, real stakes!”

The word hit again. Pit. Same word. Same cold knot. Kari grimaced. Alicia squeezed her paw.

Vex’s gaze swept briefly around the room.

“Competition’s lookin’ a little light so far,” she added with a shrug. “Which means more screen time for yours truly to teach them how it’s done. Velvet Vex is here to liven things up. They won’t be able to keep their claws off me.”

Velvet purred through the CamDrone’s speakers. “Live viewers only tonight, darling. Archive privileges reserved for premium partners. Tier-4 subscribers will receive a curated close-up selection.”

Sam’s jaw tightened slightly. “I’m sure.”

“Hells yeah. Let’s hope we don’t get disappeared!” Vex laughed, then spun the CamDrone toward Kari and bounced over to her. The CamDrone zipped forward, hovering far too close to Kari’s face. “Whaddya think, smalls?”

Kari could only blink and stare blankly. “Um… I think— I mean…” She took a deep breath and looked directly into the camera. “I… hope we can put on a good show?”

Kari offered a sheepish smile.

There was a brief, awkward silence. Sam let out a small snrk before she could stop herself. Alicia rubbed the side of her face.

Vex stared at her. “Chat’s gonna eat you alive,” Vex said, glancing at the CamDrone.

Velvet’s voice crackled softly from the drone. “Clip probability: ninety-three percent. Engagement spike predicted. Nervous energy plays well with first-time viewers. They adore the shy ones.”

Kari’s ears wilted. She stepped back, suddenly aware of how close the CamDrone still hovered. “I’ll… go over there now.” She backed toward the corner with the deer girl, drawing in a quiet breath.

The deer girl looked up as Kari joined her.

“I hope so too,” she murmured, almost like she was trying to convince herself. She shifted her tote bag closer against her chest.

“Elena,” she added quietly.

Kari forced an awkward smile. “Kari.” She nodded briefly before a loud cough interrupted.

Bennett stood and motioned them back from the door. “Hush. They’re coming.”

Somewhere above them, a door slammed. Then heavy footsteps on the stairs. The girls backed away from the door.

Vex hissed. “Velvet, ghost! Tip jar’s open, chooms—catch ya on the flip.” She blew a kiss at the lens.

The CamDrone bobbed once before drifting above the doorframe, settling into the shadows with its lens still trained on the room.

The handle turned.

A cape buffalo filled the doorway, horns curving out like scythes. Six feet and change of muscle packed into a stained tank top. His beady eyes swept the room. Tattooed arms like tree trunks hung at his sides. Cheap cyberware cables ran along them into reinforced gloves. His gut—though bulging—still carried thick muscle. A scuffed ballistic vest was strapped over the tank top. A stun baton hung from his belt.

From behind him entered a pale, yellow-scaled snake with shaggy hair. One sickly olive eye peered out at the room—the other was a red cybernetic implant, its lens whirring softly as it scanned the girls. His tongue flicked at the air, tasting fear and sweat, a fanged grin stretching from ear to ear.

His gloved, claw-like hands bore the faint seam lines of implanted cyberware, the fingers moving with a precise, mechanical economy. The tools on his belt were arranged with neat, practiced order: bundles of zip ties clipped along his right hip, a compact scanner and injector kit secured on the left, a shock baton holstered along his thigh, and a SmartLinked pistol resting low at his side. A folded stack of black hoods hung from a pouch at the small of his back, within easy reach. Nothing jangled. Nothing was loose. Every tool had a place, and every place had a purpose.

###

“Line up against the wall.” The buffalo’s jaw worked slowly as he looked them over.

The girls lined up in silence, facing the wall. Sam held herself stiffly - eyes facing the wall with cold professionalism. Kari swallowed. Her tail bristled and every muscle in her body tightened. The CamDrone hung motionless near the ceiling, still watching.

He counted them slowly, eyes moving down the line, thumb tapping against the stun baton on his belt.

His eyes stopped on Elena’s bag. His hand drifted to the stun baton on his belt. “Drop the bag. Now.”

Elena flinched and let the tote fall. It hit the floor with a soft thud, its contents spilling out in a messy scatter.

The buffalo kept his stun baton leveled loosely in her direction while the snake rifled through the pile with methodical precision.

His eyes drifted to the notebook. A few loose flashcards slid across the floor beside it. He picked it up, flipped through the pages, then let it drop back to the floor, before hissing to her. “Just nursing notes. Tryna make somethin’ of yourself, eh?” The snake gave a sick mix between a snicker and a hiss.

The buffalo snorted. “This ain’t no study night, toots. Won’t be needing that." That goes for the rest of you.” His gaze moved down the line again. “No bags. No extras. You’re going in light.” He scowled, before barking at them. “Hands behind your backs. If I see any funny business, there’ll be a bullet for your trouble.”

As the girls obeyed quietly, the snake slithered behind them and zip-tied their wrists with professional, cold efficiency, putting a black hood onto each as he went down the line. The air inside felt warmer. It smelled of sweaty fur and the fabric was coarse from detergent.

Except for one near the end.

“You guys always this gentle on the first date?”

Kari winced. The voice was distinct. Vex.

“You want the needle? Because that’s how you get the needle,” the buffalo grunted, like he was explaining a parking ticket.

“And the needle means sedation. Sedation means incident report. Incident report means I’m here all night, and I ain’t paid extra for all of that. So do me a favor and knock it off.”

Immediate silence.

Then, the silence was broken by a mic crackling from somewhere near the buffalo. The voice came from nowhere and everywhere inside the fabric. A nasally, skittish voice spilled through the speaker.

“Blue’s holdin’ back, but hurry the hell up already. Window ain’t gonna stay clean forever. C’mon, c’mon.”

The buffalo’s voice lowered to a sharp hush. “Shut yo damned mouth and stick to the plan. I’m keepin’ time. Come on, get these broad’s asses movin, the clients are waitin’.”

Suddenly, Kari felt herself yanked up to her feet, letting out a sharp squeak before she could help herself. She winced, and her ears flattened - expecting retribution.

Instead, the snake simply hissed. “Just keep walkin. Go. Go. Say a word, and you’ll get the needle.” She felt something sharp jab at her back. She picked up the pace, biting her tongue to not whimper.

They made their way upwards - up the stairs. She heard the booming club music. No gasps. No whispers. Maybe drowned out, hard to tell. The wooden plank floor underneath their feet.

Then the concrete.

Then a sharp shove, pushing them into what she assumed was the vehicle as she hurried to take her seat - shoulder to shoulder with others.

A paw upon hers. She knew it from the feel of the charms. Alicia.

She shut her eyes tight, trying to keep herself from tearing up.

—Processing—

Time blurred beneath the engine’s hum. The muffled exchange at the front, punctuated now and then by the driver’s high-pitched voice. The cramped shoulder-to-shoulder seating forced Kari to curl inward, knees tucked tight. Sweat, detergent, stale fur, and cheap synth nicotine hung thick in the air.

Then the vehicle screeched to a sudden stop, throwing everyone sideways.

“Hey, watch your elbow!”

“Fuck you, don’t tell me what to do!”

“Please, don’t fi—”

“HUSSSH.” The sound cut through the hooded dark.

Kari flinched. Her ears flattened beneath the hood.

She was yanked forward out of the vehicle, stumbling as her shoes hit crushed stone.

“Keep moving and watch your step,” the buffalo growled. “Don’t want to have to report any damage to the brass.”

“Yeah yeah, brass’ll have our hides tarred and feathered if there’s even a scratch on yas!” the high-pitched driver added.

They shuffled forward in careful, uneven steps.Water dripped somewhere in the dark. The sound echoed strangely beneath the hood, impossible to place.

Somewhere ahead, metal groaned. Not machinery. A gate. Heavy. Industrial.

“How many tonight?”

“‘bout 5 or 6. Got some cute ones. Felix pulled two more rabbits outta the hat.”

“Any runners?”

“Nah. Couple looked twitchy though.”

“Heh, they always are when they’re green. Cleanup on standby?”

“Always is.”

“Christ. Corporate’s full too.”

“Mm. Balcony and box. Suit crowd showed.”

All around them, preparation. Drills whining. Hammers ringing against steel. Someone testing a microphone. A burst of feedback. Through the hood, thin bands of light flashed and disappeared.

Then, up ahead, a door on rusty hinges creaked open.

“Get in. Stay there until he comes for you.”

It was a barren backstage room.

A few chairs sat against one wall, restraints hanging from the wrists and ankles. A full-length mirror stretched along another, surrounded by makeup stations with drawers left half-open. Beneath the makeup stations sat numbered plastic bins. Small barcode labels had been stuck to the edges of the drawers.

A rack of skimpy latex costumes lined the far wall. Sequins. Faux leather. Glittering metallic fabrics.

The room smelled faintly of foundation powder, sweat, hairspray, and disinfectant. A standing fan rattled noisily near the ceiling, pushing warm air around without really cooling anything. A cracked holoscreen mounted near the door cycled silently through sponsor logos.

Along the mirror's edge, old motivational stickers and post-it notes had been slapped on years ago.

Smile for the Camera.

Confidence Sells.

The Crowd Is Rooting For You

Most were peeling.

Empty Bliss cans crowded the corner beside a trash bin overflowing with makeup wipes and disposable gloves. A few still sat half-finished on the makeup counters. Neon pink, blue, and gold.

The labels promised:

Feel More. Feel Alive. Consume the Moment.

One can had lipstick on the rim.

"Okay, chooms, nobody said the backstage looked like a tax write-off. Velvet, are we live? Because this place is giving abandoned warehouse chic."

Vex pulled her visor back over her eyes to set up the stream - her gaze scanning the room and taking it all in. "The BDs made it look bigger."

“Of course they did.”

Sam glanced at the door, then the camera placements, then the mirror.

“Nobody pays to watch what happens before the show.”

The hoodied rabbit from the alley raised an eyebrow, one finger tapping slowly against her knee. “How do you know that?”

Sam shrugged.

“Worked events.”

“What kinda events?”

“The kind with drunks, dressing rooms, and managers who thought yelling was a leadership style.”

The tapping stopped. The rabbit regarded her for a moment. “Right.”

Kari glanced between them, and then looked to Sam. “Did…it pay well?” she asked, hopefully, before glancing at the costumes. “Those kinds of events, I mean. Before all this.”

Sam eyed Kari and let out a small laugh. “…you’re adorable, you know that? Uh, yeah. They paid well.” A pause. “Course, after taxes, parking, uniforms, and whatever fresh bureaucratic circle of hell corporate invented that week, 'well' gets a little iffy.”

Kari smiled back at Sam, and sighed. The smile didn't quite reach her eyes. “I... don't really have another plan.” She glanced toward the door.

“I keep thinking about it.”

A pause.

“But my dad's still in that hospital.”

Sam looked Kari over. Frowned for a moment. “I promise. Everything will be okay.”

Alicia glanced at Sam. “And what do you exactly plan to do?”

Sam shrugged. "Things'll work out."

Alicia rolled her eyes, and opened her mouth when the door opened - all eyes drawn to it.

“Bamboline! Clothes off. Down to skivvies.” A sharp set of claps as Felix entered, all smiles with a sing-song voice. Behind him entered the buffalo enforcer from earlier.

Elena gasped, and trembled.

Vex guffawed and scoffed. "Psh, that's partner-tier content, bi-"

The buffalo pulled out his baton.

Vex immediately raised both hands. "Okay! Okay. Free trial's over."

Felix examined his long, manicured nails, barely looking up at the chaos. “When the director says strip. You strip. When he says perform, you perform. Understood, darlings? Now. Strip.”

Kari quivered and turned her gaze away.

The buffalo tapped the baton against his palm.

She pulled the hoodie over her ears first. The fabric caught briefly on one of them before slipping free.

She folded it automatically. Same with the shirt. Same with the jeans. Neat corners. Careful edges.

She set her sentai keychain on top of the pile and rested her palm on it for a moment. A deep breath. Something to do with her hands.

Alicia refusing eye contact. Mechanically working through her wardrobe. Face hardened. Elena let out a timid, restrained whimper. And Kari realized nobody was looking at anybody. Around her, fabric rustled. Nobody spoke.

Then there was nothing left except her underwear. Her stomach tightened.

The baton tapped again.

She swallowed and hooked her thumbs beneath the waistband. A paw immediately moved to cover herself. Her tail curled instinctively toward her body.

“Line up.”

Kari kept her eyes down at first.

Then she glanced up.

Nobody looked comfortable.

Elena hugged her arms tightly across her chest. Alicia stood rigid, a glare fixed on Felix. Sam held herself straight-backed and still. Face stoic. Tail high up and alert. Even Vex seemed smaller without her grin. The other gray-furred rabbit looked at Felix with irritation and boredom. Her jaw clenched, foot tapping.

Kari swallowed and looked away again.

Felix looked each of the girls up and down. Small hums of approval. Quirked eyebrows. His monocle zooming in and out.

He did not drool. Simply took inventory.

“A promising cast, if I do say so myself.” His smile sharpened. “Now then, bamboline. Some might find themselves welcomed into our lovely little famiglia. Others..." He shrugged. "Well. Not every performance receives an encore."

He spread his hands theatrically.

“The Pit values many things. Strength. Grace. Presence. The ability to keep an audience leaning forward in their seats.”

His monocle whirred softly.

“Anyone can throw a punch. We are searching for stars.”

Elena fidgeted, before tightening her fists. Vex held her head up high, a cocky smirk upon her face. Sam, Alicia, and Bennett were unreadable.

Kari took a deep breath. “P-pardon.”

Felix quirked an eyebrow. “Speak.”

Kari swallowed. “What…what do you mean your famig…famig…” Her ears drooped. “The family thing.”

"A place to belong, bambolina. Actors need a troupe. Everyone here has a role to play. The Pit takes care of its stars, and the audience never forgets its favorites.”

His smile softened. "You came here for someone, no? Hospitals. Rent. Little brothers. Sick sisters. We are not monsters." He spread his hands. "Perform well, and the people waiting for you at home tend to sleep easier."

Felix’s monocle examined Sam, the golden retriever. She stiffened. Her eyes tracked him back as he circled her.

“Always sniffing, scanning for the exits. Thinks she’s always on the hunt. You’ll be the Bloodhound.”

Sam quirked an eyebrow. Grimaced.

He walked over to Elena, the doe, still trembling, still fidgeting with her fingers. “Always carrying the lamp for others, while the flame flickers with the slightest gust. You will be Nightingale.”

Elena offered a slight smile. “Th…thank you?” Elena blinked. “It’s a lovely name. I think.”

“Non non. Don’t mention it.” Felix’s grin spread even wider, before moving onto Vex, eyes scanning her. He let out a casual low whistle.

“You have already christened yourself for the stage, haven’t you, Ms. Velvet Vex. Your name. You own it just as it owns you.”

Vex held up her head high with pride, met his gaze with a smirk. "Damn right. Brand recognition, choom."

His eyes narrowed into slits as his grin grew wider. “Keep it. Branding costs money. Just pray you know whose altar you built it for.” He smiled, straightened, and continued onward.

As he passed by Alicia’s dour face, he shot her a grin. “Ah. Lapinita Blanca. Always moving. Always late. As if the show would fall apart if she missed a step. Let’s keep it simple, White Rabbit.”

Alicia’s brow twitched. Hairs on her neck rose up.

Felix simply smiled, and moved to the other rabbit. Only then did Kari notice the thin seams ran from wrist to elbow. Gray fur gave way to synthetic material.

He did not lean in. He simply quirked an eyebrow. “…Enforcer.”

The other rabbit simply nodded, staring back at Felix with a cold gaze.

Felix continued onward, finally stopping before Kari. She shut her eyes tightly - ears folding.

“Ah. The little dancing performer. Eyes still full of wishes, always trying to hide from the audience.” He chuckled. “Little Star.“

Kari swallowed. It was a lovely name. But her ears clung tighter to the top of her head. The fur on the back of her neck stood on end.

Felix stepped back and regarded his cast.

"There now. Much better." His hands spread wide. "Names matter."

"So are those starter gear, premium unlocks, or what?" Vex asked, gesturing to the racks of costumes in the back. "Not gonna lie, choom, those fits are doing numbers."

“You’re blessed when you enter our world with a name. A costume, however, is earned.”

His monocle whirred softly. “Besides, first impressions are terribly important. If the audience falls in love, we'll discuss wardrobe.” He gestured lazily toward the racks. “The costumes. The lights. The music. The names.” His monocle clicked softly.

“They're all props.” He smiled.

”This is a performance. Winning is lovely. Audiences adore winners." He shrugged and offered a sad smile. "Until they become boring."

Vex tilted her head. “Then what matters?”

“Being remembered.”

Vex snorted. "That's it?"

Felix smiled. "Darling, obscurity is the only unforgivable sin."

"What happens if we don’t win?" Elena’s voice cracked as she asked.

The silence thickened. Felix simply smiled, for a moment, considering the question, as he examined his manicured claws.

"Depends how you lose."

Sam shook her head and looked at Felix. Her brow furrowed. "What happens when a fighter can no longer continue?"

Felix tilted his head. "How professional."

Sam shrugged. "Just trying to understand the risk. Anybody ever die in the ring?”

Felix's smile froze for half a second. He then placed a paw over his chest as though genuinely wounded. "Kill? Mon dieu, what a waste." He laughed. "Corpses don't sign contracts."

Kari breathed a sigh of relief. But Sam grimaced. She pressed on. "Can we surrender?"

Felix tilted his head. "Of course."

Sam’s brow furrowed quizzically.

Felix grinned. "There are many ways to yield. Whether anyone accepts the gesture is another matter. Any more questions, ma’am?"

Silence.

“Okay then, bamboline. If that is all . . . ” He claps twice sharply.

The snake from the club entered, wheeling a cart with a medical tray. Surgical mask. Latex gloves. Tattooed arms lined with synthetics. His tail tip twirled a syringe filled with neon pink fluid. Tiny letters ran along the barrel. Too small to read. The liquid was the same shade of synthetic strawberry as a Bliss can.

Alicia’s eyes narrow at the neon pink liquid within the syringe. “What’s that?”

The snake didn't look up. "Standard."

"Standard what?"

"Standard." He gestured Elena forward. "Arm."

Elena froze. The rabbit beside Kari rolled her eyes, stepped forward, and offered her arm. The snake didn't hesitate. The needle went in.

“Next.”

One by one, the needle went in.

Kari looked away as it penetrated her hide. Sucking down a deep breath. She monitored her heart rate.

Nothing. Yet.

Felix glanced toward the ceiling as muffled cheers rolled through the concrete.

"How exciting. First appearances in..." He checked a pocket watch. "Seventeen minutes."

His smile widened. "Standard bikinis. Standard makeup." His smile widened. "The audience can decide the rest."

Felix started to walk away - before turning to Kari, and adjusted her chin.

“Head high, Little Star. Smile for the audience.”

Kari forced a grin and nodded stiffly.

Felix's eyes brightened. For a moment she felt like one of the porcelain dolls in a shop window.

Seventeen minutes.

Kari had spent longer choosing what to wear for graduation.