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SHASTA: LOVER'S GAME (2016)

I sigh as Kit pulls out of me, taking a moment to breath like I've learned from our times before. After a few seconds of ecstacy, 5 to be exact I collapse into our messy sheets. Our scents mingled on our small bed. My fox lies beside me with one paw around my chest and the other playing with the white tip of my tail.

I want to do anything, but go to work today. You see, this is the first time Kit and I have made love in, well probably two weeks. I've been so slammed with work I don't have to time to even see my partner, let alone kiss him or hold him like we used to when we were foolish teenagers. I've been getting home later and later over the past week and Kit was starting to get angry with me. If I saw him in the morning he would yell at me begging to know where all my money for the week had gone. As of now we were a week behind on rent, and as much as I wanted to help pay my share I was completely broke. Even though I worked my fucking ass off, my boss still wanted his share.

I look at my fox and smile, briefly looking down at the mess we've made together. I think of those first two years. My sheath grinds up against his as I kiss him. I close my eyes, thinking quickly about how to say I have to go back to work. He's doing nothing more than moaning back into my muzzle and getting hard again. I'd stay in bed all day with him if I could, but the clock tells me I have an hour before I need to be in my boss' office for my assignment.

Kit pulls out of the kiss and starts to climb on top of me. I try to casually get him to slide of, but he thinks I'm messing around with him and laughs.

"Shasta..." He brings his white dipped muzzle to my ear and breaths out my name slowly again.

I keep searching for a way out as my shaft starts to slide out of its sheath. I have less than a minute before it grinds against his tail and the way he's positioned I wouldn't be able to stop myself until I came.

I smile and push myself out from under him. I ruffle up the sheets as I do. I decide not to say anything, it's better that way. Maybe he'll think I want to save it for tonight. Whatever Kit will think I need to get into the shower, then into my suit, and out of the apartment.

I sit up on my side of the bed, letting my shaft slowly recede back into its sheath. I hunch over a little, knowing what's coming before I can even bother to stand up. I feel his fingers slowly running through the fur of my tail. He's trying to destress me and turn me on at the same time. That usually goes well for me, but right now I have to get to work.

"Shasta..." he coos.

I hang my head and sigh.

I feel his weight shifting and his fingers slide off my tail. I can't turn around and face him, I don't want to see the sad look on his face.

"Wait, you don't have to work again do you?" The telltale annoyance is in his voice, which means we're not far from a yelling match.

I stand up with my back to him, my tail hangs limply. It brings me no excitement to say: "yes,"

Here we go. I thought.

"Dammit, Shast,"

I take a long breath and start to walk towards the bathroom. I know once I'm in the shower he won't fight with me, he'll probably just get in with me.

"Shast, why can't you write your schedule on our calendar."

Our simple black and white calendar is devoid of my name, save my birthday. Every week Kit writes down his schedule in his tidy cursive writing. At first he wrote it down so we could compare our schedules to see when we could spend some time together. I never wrote down my schedule, during our two long years together I never once told him my schedule or wrote it down, I never have in my life.

"I told you to stop calling me that." I say under my breath, turning my head so I can see his naked form out of the corner of my eye.

"Stop calling you what?" My fox crawls over to me and sits down on my side of the bed. I know he's staring at my tail, imagining what's beneath it, but I also know he's angry with me. Yesterday at dinner I promised him we'd have today all to ourselves. The thing is, I needed it I needed the release, not just from the sex, but from the aching burden of work.

"Stop calling me Shast, it doesn't roll of the tongue..." I trail off realizing I'm talking about my partner's pet name for me instead of taking a shower or talking through our problems. I need to do both those things, I just don't have the time.

"I'm sorry I can't come up with something as original as foxy. Every guy or girl with a fox for a partner calls them that. Seriously..." Kit snickered.

I turn around to face him. His eyes meet mine, then I watch them slowly move down my figure to my balls. Kit stands up and brings his lips to mine, wrapping his two paws around my neck like a girl at a dance. Our bodies grind against one another further sending me into an emotional frenzy.

At this point if I had any other job, I'd call in sick. I'd waited my whole life for the perfect man to come into it, and Kit was that man. We'd only been together for about two months before I got my new job. Kit was adamant about me taking it when I said the pay was good. I remember the smile that lit up his face when he heard the large amount of cash I'd be bringing home.

The problem was I couldn't call in sick, not in my line of work. Calling in sick meant I could be fired or worse. As much as I wanted my partner to make our bodies one again, I knew I couldn't.

I pushed him away.

"Kit, I have work in less than an hour. Shower with me if you-"

Kit sat back down on the bed and started to cry. I couldn't tell if he was trying to guilt trip me or if he was genuinely upset. His green eyes filled with tears that rolled down his muzzle and onto his cream belly.

"Shasta, I love you, but I can't keep doing this."

I approach my fox and put a paw on his shoulder. I wipe the tears from his face and look him in the eyes.

I want to fuck him more than ever. I think to myself.

My eyes search his.

"Honey, I'm gonna pick up my paycheck today, I'll have enough for this week's rent, plus extra. Pick a restaurant anywhere you want to go, I'll go with you foxy."

Kit starts to dry his eyes himself.

I stare him dead in the eyes, and my paw reaches down his abdomen for his sheath. I move slowly down its length to his balls and cradle them in a my black paw. My fingers move in a miniscule fashion causing Kit to arch his back and close his eyes.

I look at my fox, enjoying himself and enjoying his time with me.

"When we get home,"

"I'll let you do whatever you want to me."

I take my paw off his balls, hovering over his genitals for a moment before I move it away. His ears cup forward to hear my last sentence and I can clearly see I've made him hard again.

"There was one thing-" Kit trailed off with a mischievous grin.

"Anything goes. If you need me to pick something up I can."

I lean my muzzle forward and kiss him once more. My escapade with him just cost me twenty minutes.

I rush to the shower and he doesn't even protest. He's too elated from me rubbing up against him to think straight. In the back of my head I realize I've avoided telling him what my job actually is for what must be the thousandth time since we met.

I don't stay in the shower long, not enough to enjoy the steamy water soaking my fur, only long enough to wash up for work. Even in my line of work I have to be clean. When I exit the shower I dry off in front of him I shake my fur off near the bed, because its all messy anyway.

Kit is nowhere to be seen in our bedroom. I quickly peer into the kitchen as I pull on a pair of boxers. He's cooking something that smells a lot like bacon, and I hear the coffee brewer going. I dodge back into the bedroom. Perhaps he was trying to surprise me with breakfast.

Me succumbing to his every request like I promised 10 minutes ago is huge for him. Usually I just bottom for him and we switch up the position every once in a while. On my birthday he usually lets me top, unless I request otherwise. (I always request otherwise). I know Kit wants to spice up our sex life so I'm already looking forward to what he has in store for me tomorrow.

The clock reads 9:30am. I have 30 minutes to get to work. I can spend ten minutes eating with my fox, once I get my clothes on. I slip my kevlar lined dress pants and suit on and walk out into our adjoined kitchen and living room. Our battered old television set sits unused just like the sofas before it.

Kit approaches me and gives me a kiss on the side of my muzzle.

"I'm sorry about using that name earlier." He says, looking into my eyes.

He's wearing those tight black denim pants I love along with a simple black t-shirt and a plaid button up. Anything my fox wears always looks good.

"Its fine," I lie.

I have too much going on to think about why the nickname pisses me off.

"You can use it tomorrow night if you like." I say with a smile.

The bacon starts to sizzle. I move around him and go to take it out of the pan. Picking up a piece with my paw and gnawing on it.

Kit laughs.

"I get to do whatever I want."

"Oh, okay. If you say so." I smile carrying a plateful of bacon to the table.

The bacon taste in my muzzle and nose doesn't mask the fact that I can't smell any eggs.

Kit sits down with me as I set the plate in the middle of our small mahogany table. The table is about the only nice thing in our apartment. Kit's grandmother passed it down to him when she died.

"You're trying to psychologically manipulate me into using that name, because' you like it don't you?" Kit grinned his cute fox grin like he always did when he was talking sex.

His voice got lower and sexier.

"Do you like it when I call you that name?"

"Who's manipulating who here?" I laugh. We eat in silence for a minute. After we've finished I get up and pour myself a cup of coffee in my to-go mug. I briefly look at the picture on it, Kit and I together, two years ago. We're both standing with our backs to a scenic overlook in Colorado where I met him. A vixen who looked a lot like my Kit, (except that she was a girl), had kindly agreed to take our picture. I assumed she hadn't known that Colorado was our honeymoon, of sorts.

We'd never actually married. I had proposed to Kit in secret on Christmas of 2014. I committed to marrying him whenever marriage equality was passed nationwide. When that day came I was off at work and Kit was home alone, watching our president sign the bill allowing the two us to get married. I had had a particularly brutal day at work so that night when I got home I was a dick to Kit.

We had money then and we could have had a wedding. Without my homophobic family of course. I didn't have many friends, but Kit wanted to keep it small. We never did have that wedding and slowly over the course of a year, our saving dwindled. Now we couldn't have the wedding even if we wanted to.

I quickly drank my cup of coffee and kissed Kit goodbye as I walked out the door. Luckily the elevator was unoccupied so I took the opportunity to quickly check my handgun. I slid the magazine out, 18 golden bullets were all still there. I checked my coat for my pager and found it safely nestled in my left side pocket. I don't know what my boss would do if I lost another one of his pagers.

They cost him nothing, but he constantly bitched about expenses, how nobody could make any money if we lost a handgun or a pager. He's the one taking all my money, all my hard-earned pay. I knew how easy it would be to take him out, but he knows powerful people. People powerful enough to not only hurt me, but to hurt the ones I love. I can't see Kit tortured or worse even killed.

I slid my Glock into my side holster just as the elevator doors opened to let in a vixen and her two kits. I'd seen her a few times before around the apartment complex. She was older, possibly the kit's grandmother.

"I'm going to the ground floor, you?" She looked at me. The vixen was holding one of the sleeping kits in her arms, the other was holding her paw. Both kits looked about the same age, were both male, and were no older than 7.

"Yeah."

I ran across the beaten street to the parking garage that held my Camry and Kit's Malibu. The road connecting our apartment complex with main street was more pothole than street. Walking across I had to be careful to avoid shards of broken Coke and beer bottles.

I take another elevator up to my car on the third level of the garage as usual and I open my black Camry's door, careful not to hit the side of Kit's blue Malibu. Except Kit's Malibu isn't there instead there's a green Ford Focus adjacent to my Camry.

"He must have parked down one floor." I thought to myself.

I reach into my coat for my keys and find them missing.

"Shit!"

I frantically search again.

Kit always locks the apartment door, if he went out and I can't get into grab my keys (assuming they're even in our apartment), I'm fucked. I'll have to call him and I'll be late to work. Luckily I didn't forget my phone and the time reads 9:45. If I run I can get to work just in time.

5 minutes later I'm panting at the door and it opens just as I put my paw on the handle. Kit smiles at me and hands me my keys, clasping his paw in mine. He kisses me quickly and casually slaps my ass.

"Have a good day at work sweety!" He calls after me as I run back to the parking garage.

I pull up to the pawn shop at 9:59. I quickly put my car in park and rush into the store.

The pawn shop is only a cover. The clerk nods at me briefly and I head to the back of the store. I take a small flight of stair down to a large, low ceiling basement. A pine marten I've never seen before is looking around at the weapon wall. I think he has his green eyes set on a pair of Glock 17s. I turn to find my boss a big grizzly bear behind his desk yelling at someone on the phone in his thick New York accent. His two bodyguards stand outside his open office door. One of the bodyguards is a female lynx, she's the only woman I've seen in this complex since I started work here.

The grizzly looks up from his conversation and at me. He slams the phone down.

"Shasta, in here now!"

I slowly approach his desk.

"Yes, Mr. Maroney?"

Over all these years I'd never learned his first name.

"The vixen club down on North Street slipped on this month's protection payment. I need you to go shake some sense into those cocksuckers."

"Yes sir."

"No fatalities."

I nod.

"Tell them they have 24 hours to produce the money or they'll come under new management. Threaten them do whatever you have to do, you know the drill by now."

"Yes sir."

Maroney's phone rings again and he picks it up ignoring me. He yells a curt "fuck you bitch!" to the other party and slams the receiver down once again.

I stand there for a second thinking about the pine marten. I'd never seen him before. Maroney looks up at me while his big paws absentmindedly comb through some files.

"What the fuck are you still doing here?"

I stand with my back straight as a board like a soldier at boot camp and he is my general.

"Who's the new recruit?" I ask, looking him in the eyes.

He combs through some more files, starting a pile.

"The marten?"

"Yeah,"

"That's Jacques, he came down from Ottawa."

"Ottawa, Canada?"

"No, Ottawa, Kentucky - Of course Ottawa, Canada what the fuck do you expect?"

I look down at the ground briefly, then back to Maroney. His eyes aren't even on me anymore, but I keep mine on him. He has a big stack of papers in front of him now.

"He's mute, but that doesn't stop him from being damn good at his job. He takes after you, except he didn't take two years to get to the level you are it took him a month."

I take the blow more than I should. The pine marten is bad news. If he's as good as me or better than me, I'll start to lose the opportunity for more missions until eventually I get none at all. I'm going to have to up my game.

"I've told you all you need to know, now get the fuck out my office." Maroney waves a paw at me.

I turn my back to him and walk out of his office.

"Shut the door behind you." He calls after me.

I shut it quickly. I glance at each of the bodyguards, then I look around for Jacques. He's nowhere to be seen.

I run up the stairs and the clerk nods at me when I leave once again. There are no back doors in and out of the place save the front door. This is of course a huge safety violation, but Maroney knows powerful people, people powerful enough to excuse a few safety violations on a "pawn shop".

Since I joined this line of work, I've figured out there's more than one boss in town. They all say they own the city. It's like The Godfather except Maroney isn't Vito. The real owner of this city is a mysterious arctic fox named Pan. Mysterious enough that all I know about him/her is their species, and that they've owned this city for a long time.

Just as my paw curls around the chipped gold doorknob I realize I forgot to ask for my paycheck. My paycheck makes me think about my promise to Kit. I'm good at what I do, I've had training legally and illegally to kill. Luckily I don't have to kill tonight, but I put myself at risk more and more as I go deeper into this life.

Kit's at risk too. I'm fucking with powerful people, one slip up and Kit could be dead. Maroney's never threatened me or Kit. Actually I don't even know if Maroney knows I have a fiance. I always assumed Maroney suspected I was gay, because he used gender neutral pronouns on the rare occasions he brought up whoever I was fucking. He's clasp his two big brown paws together and make tell a quick story about his wife, who he fucking loathed. I wouldn't be surprised if he beat her. After some of his brief rants, whether he talked to me or in front of I and my coworkers (the few of us that there are), he'd ask me how I dealt with my partner when they were being a dick.

He'd always said dick. He'd change the way he phrased the question, but he'd always use that particular word: dick. I caught him starting to say cunt, but he stopped himself when he looked at me. Cunt was his nickname for his wife, it made me cringe, but the most I showed was my tail tightening.

The word dick always was a turn off for me. I'd always replied politely to Maroney even though he was basically a mobster. I'd say my partner was doing fine and no they weren't a cocksucking dickhead.

I arrive back at Maroney's office to find his door closed. Both guards stand outside, but they don't stand as straight and they're quietly conversing. The lynx seems to fancy her wolf counterpart. I can see it in her eyes. I wouldn't be surprised if they were sleeping together.

I try to notice these types of things. That way I know who is close to a target if I'm stalking them. Sometimes, I don't even have to torture them to comply, I just give them the name and address of their partner or a dancer they like and they do whatever I want.

Maroney has a policy: when his door is closed no one is to enter. I laugh to myself sometimes thinking some sleek young male dalmatian is sucking him off, or any gendered prostitute. Most of the time someone leaves his office, either a client, (which none have stepped through the door for the ten minutes I've been here), or someone like me: an employee.

A much smaller unguarded office is cramped in the corner by the gun wall which adorns both the north and East wall. I turn around briefly to find the small gun range behind me unoccupied. My claws click on the concrete floor as I walk towards an empty booth. I grab a silencer from the small tote near the stairs door and screw it onto my Glock.

The silencer clicks and I hold the gun in both paws, bringing it to my eye level, the barrel looks out to the black horizon of the small range. I set the pistol down as I pick up a paper target from the tote. All of the targets are shaped like a canine. In my years of working for Maroney I've only killed a canine once, and I'd promised to myself never to do it again.

The muzzle, even my muzzle reminds me too much of Kit. Other parts of canines remind me of him, but none more of the muzzle. I should know I'm built like him, but I'm a little stockier, especially when my winter fur comes in.

The paper canine stares me in the eyes as I send it to the back of the range. I bring the pistol into both my paws. The target stops moving and I take a deep breath.

"Think of the gun as an extension of your arm." I hear my father say to me.

I'd killed my first pheasant with him. It wasn't a big one either. I remember the frail bird being small enough to fit in my two outstretched paws. I was six when my dad took me out shooting, and I'll never forget what he made me do.

The first shot hits the canine right between the teeth, causing his muzzle to explode in a shower of blood.

The second shot hits him between the eyes, burying the bullet in his brain. He'd be dead within seconds, if not instantaneously.

The third shot is non-lethal. (I do this on purpose). The dog's knee shatters, sending splinters of blood covered bone everywhere.

The fourth shot is also non-lethal. Hitting him in the paw disarming him and sending him into shock.

The fifth shot is-

I feel a paw tap my shoulder and I can't pin the scent down. Its masculine, but not very familiar. Like maybe someone I'd met today. I turn around to find Jacques staring me in the face. His eyes search mine a bit too long, and if he wasn't mute I'd assume he had a thing for me.

I looked at him briefly.

"Can I help you?" I didn't want to sound mean, even if Jacques was competition the fact that he was mute made me feel bad for him.

The pine marten pointed a brown finger in the direction of Maroney's office the door was now open. It wasn't like Maroney to tell other employees to bring other employees to his office, he'd just yell their names.

I looked at Jacques briefly. I shot out a paw to shake his and he looked as if I had a gun pointed at his chest. (My gun was safely clasped in my other paw). He hesitantly brought his paw to mine and clasped it with a smile, that seemed somewhat ingenuine.

The paranoia of what Maroney could have called me into his office for nagged at my conscience for the three second walk from the range to his office. He must have heard the gun going off and known it was me. The guards nodded at me and went back to quietly conversing as I walked into his office and shut the door behind me.

Maroney shifted a little in his chair and leaned against his desk, looking right at me. His brown eyes bored into mine.

"I have your paycheck." He said as he looked into my eyes.

I still feel weird accepting a paycheck for what I do. I mean I want to get paid, but when it came time for my first payday I expected to get a wad of cash, not a crisp check. I thought at first that the check wouldn't go through, but it did, they have always since. I still don't know where Maroney gets all his money. Jacques and I aren't his only employees.

Maroney opens a drawer and pulls out and envelope with my name on it.

"Is that all?" I ask taking the envelope in my paw.

"No, actually, quick question."

Oh no, he knows I'm gay and he knows about Kit. I don't know how he found out, but he did.

His eyes light up and he smiles.

"Why didn't you remind me about today?"

I'm baffled as to what he could mean. He didn't know I was gay hopefully. I hid my emotions and looked at him with a smile as he stood up.

Maroney patted a big bear paw on my back.

"Today is the anniversary of your first kill." He smiled.

I never marked what I wasn't proud of. I did my work well, but I never marked any of my assignments on the calendar when I finished. I certainly didn't remember my first kill with good memories. It ate at me for weeks to tell Kit about it, until I finally gained enough resolve to hide this side of my life from him.

I put a paw behind my head, scratching at my fur.

"How could I forget?" I lied.

"I gave you a small bonus in remembrance of that night." Maroney said as he went over to his desk and pulled out a bottle of liquor.

"Let's have a drink for the occasion." He grabbed two small glasses and poured a generous amount of the liquor into each.

"No thanks, not before a job." I put a paw up.

"Suit yourself." Maroney says as he downs both glasses and wipes off his muzzle with his unused paw.

"Alright, go do your job." Maroney sat back down in his chair as I walked out. My tail was wagging anxiously and I couldn't calm it down. I stop by the gun wall and grab a new cartridge for my Glock and head up the stairs once again. Before I'm out in my car I'm already stifling tears. Maroney had brought back the darkest recesses of my memories.

I know that once I set paw in the club I have to be in perfect health physically and emotionally. This kind of work, the things I've had to do, it's only so long before I crack. While any doctor can fix my bullet and knife holes, no one can fix the emotional dagger slowly sliding into my heart. With each new kill I become more numb to the job. The only place I've felt any positive emotions is with Kit and that's mostly when we make love.

Now even our lovemaking is preluded by fights. My fox wants to know what my line of work is, and I have to lie to him. He probably thinks I'm a prostitute, Kit is smart, but he's not clever enough to figure out what I really do with my time. I wipe the tears from my eyes as I get in the car. Now I'm in the zone. Nothing could stop me now. I shut the car door and start my short drive to the club.

Admittedly, this wasn't the first time I'd been to the club. When I got back from the military, me and a couple of guys got piss drunk and went to the club, because I was chanting the explicit things I wanted to do to a fox. I remember blacking out before I climaxed, and the embarrassment that followed. My friends carried me out of the club and took me back to my small apartment. I woke up the next day with a raging headache, which I satiated with more booze.

A turn onto main street takes me past a police cruiser parked on the curb. I take a quick glance to find that the German Shepherd driving it is writing something down in a notebook. The priuse in front of me driven by some sort of feline, is stuck in the middle of the intersection attempting a left turn. This is what the movies don't show, even people like me have to wait for traffic.

The Prius turns and thank god, as I go straight for another block, then take a right towards the club. I pull up to the curb and leave my car running. I don't like to make these things long. Whenever someone doesn't pay up, I just rough them up a little bit, then they always acquiesce my request.

The neon vixen flickers off and on, between two positions on a pole. I step out and into the club. The scent of fox hits my nostrils, combined with a strong feminine scent, and the slight bitter smell of beer. One vixen, a rather busty one, is working the pole in nothing, but a tight black thong. She gives me a sideways glance, and if I wasn't gay I'd say she'd just tacitly asked me to come over and watch.

Several other vixens are milling about. Most ignore me, until I come upon a rather young fox. She looks me up and down. I try to slide by her, but she puts a paw in my way, and another on my crotch.

She looked me dead in the eyes, grinning mischieviously.

"You look like you could use some companionship." It was hard to deny that my groin was heating up from all this attention.

I stuttered.

"Come on, I'll give you a discount."

I put my paw on hers and moved it away from my groin.

"I'm sorry maybe another time." I lie.

I slide past her, and towards the bar.

"What's the matter don't like me or somethin'?" She calls after me.

Half of me wants to turn around and make a quip, but I'm on a job, this isn't a comedy hour.

A older grizzly bear mans the bar and gives me a glance as I walk to the door behind it. At night this door would be guarded, but they know me. When I set paw inside the owner's office a young vixen is sitting in front of him. The owner, a brown spotted lynx with a slight british accent (I don't know how he got it), is interviewing the fox. He completely ignores me.

"...Sex isn't the act of making two bodies become one, its not an act of pleasure between a man and a woman, it's an act of pleasure for the man. You are nothing more than merchandise here. I pay you well, to never get attached to your clients. Do you understand? Failure to comply will result in termination of employment."

The vixen nodded.

"Then go, ask outside for Mandy she can help you get started."

The vixen exited giving me a quick look. I don't know how any woman would stay in this man's employ after his job interview. Its demeaning, well so is the work I do.

The lynx acts as if I'd just walked in and he hasn't seen me in 30 years.

"Shasta! How nice to see you again!" The lynx stands up and puts his paw out, I decline his handshake and stare him down.

"Dan, it's been two months. Why don't we just cut the bullshit and you pay?"

Dan's smile dampens a bit.

"Alright, Mr. Tomlinson. It is Tomlinson isn't it. Married to Kit Parkson?"

WHAT THE FUCK? How does he know about Kit?

Dan's smile turns sinister, his paw slides into his desk, and I whip out my Glock. The lynx's paw slowly comes up out of the desk holding a folder. He begins to read it.

"Says here your both male."

"Shut up." I say, my paws starting to shake.

"Ooh, so foxes aren't they a little nympho?"

"SHUT UP!"

"Wait, scratch that. All you fags are."

"I will shoot."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Dan slowly pulls a picture out of the folder and drops it onto his neat desk.

It's our apartment, the blinds aren't drawn. I can just make out Kit looking out the window.

"Kit's gonna get killed. He righteously deserves it anyhow, so why don't you just shoot me, so my men can cut your boyfriend up."

I rush forward, and put my paws on Dan's head, bring them full force down on his desk. I hear something crack and Dan groggily stands back up, spitting out a tooth and a puddle of blood.

I put the gun against his head, I visualize the bullet speeding through the feline's brain. His limp body falling to the floor. Before I can pull the trigger, I'm startled by screams from outside the office and the sound of gunshots. I hit Dan in the back of the head with my pistol and he falls to the carpeted floor.

The moment I slowly open the door, a bullet comes racing at me and goes right through my shoulder. I fall back a little, but maintain my footing, using my other paw to hold my glock through the opening. From this angle I can't see any attackers, but I can see several dead dancers on the floor, I can smell the blood and the bullets. One vixen seems to be clinging to life. One paw is on her abdomen as the other fervently claws at the ground, trying to pull herself to safety.

A figure appears over her and before I can react a bullet's already in her head.

I open fire and snag the assailant in the arm, but not before he rushes at the door. My other quick shots miss and he tackles me to the ground. He's wearing some sort of scent blocker. I can't trace anything of him. I can tell he's male, and his only scent is the blood of his victims. I roll over top of him straddling his chest and putting both my paws around his throat. I'm to focused on defeating this adversary, that I don't see the second behind me until I feel a sharp pain in the back of my head and I fall to the ground.

*******

I wake up, with the taste of blood in my muzzle. By the light outside Dan's office windows it's been several hours. Maroney will be expecting me back with the money. I take a deep breath and feel my shoulder rage in pain. I turn my head slowly trying not to aggravate my shoulder. Dan lies in a puddle of blood with a gunshot through the head.

When the realization of what just happens I know where I must go, and I must go there immediately.