FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"I have a game for you to play, my precious pet--my pretty girl."

His voice was in my head through the open connection, as clear as if he were standing next to me. It was deep and commanding, the type of baritone belonging only to the greatest of villains. I would have been compelled to obey that voice, even if it hadn't been leading me to everything I wanted. Just hearing it gave me a warm rush--partly because his voice always sent tingles up my spine, and partly because I knew that tonight would be a special night.

"I'm looking forward to it, Master." Some masters preferred that their pets not talk. Mine wasn't one of them. He wanted to hear everything I wanted to say. He said it helped him get to know me better and to craft his experiences more accurately to my tastes. It was true that he found ways to please me--and by extension, himself--better over these last few months, but I secretly believed that he wanted to hear me praise him. He gave me enough reason to.

I shut out the world around me and let him come. First it was a trickle, like hands closing over mine to guide their movements. Then sensation spread to my arms, and legs. Slowly, he took control from me, leaving me just a passive rider in my own body, with him the pilot. My hand lifted from the compad, and the glowing outline around where my palm and fingers had been faded from brilliant blue to purple, then disappeared altogether.

I felt him gazing out from my eyes. He looked down at my attire--he always liked to make sure I'd followed his instructions to the letter for one of our nights--and rewarded me with a rush of pleasure and approval. "So charming. So unique! You will be the star tonight. Do you like this look, girl? Come, my pet, tell me what you think." The words were formed by my lips, but they weren't mine. All that was left to me was a little corner of my own brain where I could observe. As my pilot, only he could hear me when I crowed my appreciation for his taste.

He was right; I was striking. The pristine white suit he had instructed me to wear contrasted starkly with my black fur. It'd taken an hour of brushing beforehand to ensure that no stray wisps of shed panther-fuzz would ruin the effect. It'd been worth it. The rosettes in my pelt veritably glowed with a blue that was darker black than black, and the white suit gleamed so brilliantly bright. It was a style of feminine curves backed by the masculine cut of the suit in a gender defying blend that somehow managed to arrive somewhere near center.

My hands--his hands--tugged my suit straight. With a confident stride my legs weren't quite accustomed to, he strode out into the night.

2:00 A.M. was as bright as day, ersatz sunlight glaring down from holographic signs containing smiling people performing questionable acts with overpriced products. Master ignored them; I ignored them. Advertisements hung motionless in the sky, suspended like replacement stars that lit our way as he walked to the first checkpoint.

Identities checked--I was clean. Bored officers shined a laser off of my retinas and ran hands perfunctorily over my body. My credit chip beeped against their terminal--hard earned money exchanged for four hours outside my assigned district. If I overstayed my welcome, they'd come looking.

Second checkpoint was fifteen minutes walk. The officers here carried guns and their frisking would have been indecent and illegal if it had taken place outside of the security zone. It was double the charge for city center. I couldn't have easily afforded it myself, but Master paid the bills tonight. I probably wouldn't have even cleared past security, but Master must have pulled some strings.

They asked my destination, and I responded, "The Crown Royal." The guard's eyebrows lifted incredulously. It was a surprise to me too. That was upscale, even for Master. The Crown was the go-to for everyone who was someone, and off limits to anyone who was no one. The officer glanced at me, doubt in his eyes. A girl from two districts out with an invite to the Crown? He shrugged. It wasn't his job to wonder--just to confirm identity and record for later use.

With my suit rumpled from over-inquisitive fingers and my pockets lighter, Master straightened my jacket and strode into the deep chasms between the skyscrapers. Buildings in my home district were squat little affairs; the best they could ever do was sprawl. These buildings in city center, though, loomed. I could barely see the reflection of neon off of the smog clouds far above for the steel and glass that crowded about me like a towering cage.

"Here we are, my pet. A private party, and we're invited. That is, I'm invited, as long as I'm you. We're going to be the stars of the show tonight, my precious. Are you ready to give your best performance? I know I am." His whispers were musical, a song of eager anticipation.

What little of my mind I still owned tried in vain to discover his motives. Stars of the show? What did he have planned that was going to thrust us into the spotlight? This was the hardest part of our nights--the not knowing. The wondering what was in store for the body I was so intimately attached to.

There was a smartly dressed footman by the hotel door, standing just below a small security camera that focused on me as soon as I came within twenty paces. Master canted my head and gave him a warm smile, then pushed my thumb against the ID plate next to the wide double doors. The city was dirty (as Master had been so quick to show me on our outings,) but the street front of the soaring Crown Royal was immaculately clean, scrubbed, and bleached, until its color actually resembled bare concrete.

The doors gave a muted 'beep', then slid aside. Master had taken me to the Crown Royal once before--there had been this slinky ferret Master fancied--but the open atrium that rose all the way up the hotels eighteen floors still managed to impress on second viewing. Green plants (a rare sight in the city) draped from pots hovering midair in the atrium making a surreal rainforest. Above it all, holographic emitters painted a night sky on the roof that held a billion stars.

"You seem surprised, my pet. Tell me, what makes your heart race when we step into this artificial dream?"

It's the stars, Master.

I felt him smile with my mouth. "One day you will travel outside the city. By hover or by jet, you will fly above the smog cover and see the stars for yourself."

But you won't be with me.

"This is true, but you will still have seen them even with my absence." He walked me to the nearby elevator. Even before his confident stride took him within five feet, the elevator sensed his presence and the doors started to slide open. "Do not gape at this pale reflection, pet. It's not worthy of your praise. The stars, they are much more grand when they fill the sky from horizon to horizon."

"Look, my pet. Forget those fake stars and see what I see out in the city. See it out there, lit in neon and ultraviolet and amber streetlights? There are eighty-three districts in this hellhole of a city, pet, did you know that? Not many do. The city is larger than most old nations. Can you guess how many of them any one average 'citizen' may travel to?"

He waited for me. I knew the answer by heart. He told me this every time he took me to the center. Four.

"Four. Four measly collections of squat little shacks, trying to eke out a sad little existence on careful rations. I've shown you the center of it all, the splendor of the Aerie Bridge, the flying arches of the Atomic Reserve, the marvelous jungle here in Crown Heights. Isn't it beautiful? "

_Yes._My heart yearned for the green jungle with the stars twinkling overhead, fake as it might be.

"Shouldn't everyone be able to see the marvels that their own blood and sweat has bought? Yes? You are special, pet. You and half of point-one percent have the honor of seeing it in person. Everyone else is locked away behind the district walls."

Inside, the elevator accepted my thumbprint again, and rose into the green jungle speckled with stars. A small camera whirred behind me as it brought me into focus. Master ignored it. "You must do me a favor tonight, my pet, my beautiful plaything."

Anything for you Master.

"You must turn off your safeword. It would be dangerous if you used it."

It was a strange request. I had never used the safeword on Master, even when things became more than I thought I could handle. I knew it'd be the end of the evening, and perhaps even an end to Master's visits. Any momentary discomfort was worth the price for his continued attentions. I would never use the safeword with you, Master.

"Pet." It was an admonition. I could hear the steel in his voice--my voice.

It elicited the response he wanted. Almost instinctively, I acquiesced. It was a little mental switch, a fail-safe built into the jacking rig that had cost most of my life savings to have implanted. It meant that I could--when absolutely necessary--kill the transmission. My body would be my own again, instantaneously. It wasn't meant to be turned off, but I could. And at Master's command, I did.

"Very good pet. Now, the evening's plans can truly begin."

We rose above the greenery then passed through even the layer of stars. The glass tinted to black, or perhaps there was simply nothing outside to see. Then it 'dinged', and the doors slid open.

I exited onto the hotel's roof. I immediately felt a rush of adrenaline, quickly stifled by Master's control. I could see the whole city fall away below. The retaining walls on all sides of the rooftop seemed too short, too flimsy. In the private little corner of my own mind, I felt a thrill of fear.

"None of that, girl. We have a show to put on, and I won't have you distracting me with your inadequacies." He whispered through a smile. Around us, I found that the cultural elite had gathered. For the first time at one of Master's little fetes, I recognized some faces. There was Albert Hall, the city mayor. Rushcliff, the commissioner stood at his side, short and fat in a suit that did little to restrain the muskrat's girth. Representative DeLancey, that slimy fox that stole the election was chortling at something one of the other two had said.

Master had never dabbled in politics. In fact, he despised it. "It's one big shell game, and all that's at stake is the lives and livelihood of all the people they're representing. Politics is the worst kept lie that every knows is a sham, yet every election day the brainwashed poor shamble out of their boxes to put their print on yet another social contract, signing even more of their soulless little lives away to the cultural elite." His own words. If I'd had control, my pelt would be crawling.

"Patience, my pet." He murmured, only for me. "The night holds enough excitement for all nine of your lives, if you're patient enough for the climb before the fall."

Albert Hall glanced my way, and to my surprise, I was recognized. "Ah! And here's tonight's hostess, the beautiful Demosthenes. Gentlemen, make room for the most brilliant firebrand of our time."

DeLancey held out his hand, and I shook it. Rushcliff stood aside to make room for me. I smiled a little insidious grin, and I could feel Master's pleasure bubbling beneath the surface. Demosthenes? What had he done? I recognized the name--anyone who kept an eye on recent events would. She was a piranha in the goldfish pond of political media. Her daily feed had been picked up by every local news site. I knew the name even though I'd never read one of her columns. Everyone knew that name. Hell, most likely half of the big-wigs here could trace their recent political success--or the failure of their opponents--to her. Demosthenes? Me?

"Good evening, gentlemen. Thank you for accepting my invitation. I assure you, you'll find what I have to say most exhilarating." My lips curled in a demure little smile, showing teeth.

"It had better. Some of us should be working." Rushcliffe scowled. It seemed to be the only expression that suited his face.

"Patience, Mr. Commissioner. It will all be over soon. In fact, I do believe it's time for the festivities to start."

Master walked me to the edge of the rooftop. Around me, names and titles began to creep in to identify the faces. Jackal, tall and sharp, that was Governor Henries. Short female deer with a permanent look of panic on her face, that's the secretary of the treasury Ms. Catherine. This was the creme-de-la-creme of modern politics, the puppeteers that pulled the strings and danced the little wooden feet, and they were all here apparently at my behest.

"Ladies and gentlemen of New City, gaze down upon what your leadership has brought!" The words were clear and practiced from my throat. I felt like the ringmaster, with all these politicians my performing animals in their little cliques--circled together like rings at a circus. I was certainly dressed for the part, resplendent in my white suit and midnight fur. I was a mirror-image, the inverse of them.

They all gazed up at me, dozens of pairs of wide and intelligent eyes. I felt Master smiling--the game had begun. "Look down into your streets. Can you see them all looking up at you--your voters, your constituents, your responsibility,and the source of your power? Look around you and see what you've given them."

My arms spread wide, encompassing them, and the New City. They smiled up at me. Someone clapped, then another joined, and another. They all knew the game had begun too, though somehow I doubted any of them were playing from the same deck as Master.

"I've watched you all so closely; some more closely than others." I spared a mean little smile for someone in the crowd, and there was a giddy laughter that spread like a whisper. Was that the justice secretary? The face on the warthog was familiar. "Some of you I've even helped to get where you are now, because I thought you deserved it."

Helped? Master, you hate these people. What are you talking about?

"But you've all achieved more than I could have imagined. Look out on the city you've had such a hand in creating. The district safety act!"

The act that limited where citizens could travel, depending on their earnings. There was a cheer from the crowd.

"The clean skies bill!"

Corporate factories could purchase the sky above their factory, as if the smog they created would stay only in that one small patch of air. There was another cheer, especially from the director of the city natural trust and his cadre.

"The Safe Streets initiative!"

Empowering the police to arrest and incarcerate anyone they deemed dangerous. The cheer that erupted momentarily drowned out my speech.

"I've invited you all here tonight because I, Demosthenes, who have spent my life dedicated to the city and its well-being, have finally reached my verdict."

There was a response from the crowd, but it was confused. As was I.Verdict?

"The city is ailing, and you - are its disease."

Moments passed as the announcement slowly seeped into the politicians and their lackeys. Then the cheers turned to complaints. I wondered--had Demosthenes been a shadow puppet with the cultural elite dancing to Master's music? Master turned me to face the sheer drop, hundreds of feet down to the pristine and manicured pavement outside the crown. "You had all the tools to craft a utopia your people, and this - this is the splendor you create? I stand here ashamed of the land entrusted to your care."

"You crazy bitch, this is utop-"

"This is a jail!" I cut him off.

Master turned me back to face them, teetering on the edge of the building. I felt the vague touch of fear as gusts of wind played with my suit._Too close, Master!_He ignored me.

"And you can point that fat little finger of yours no further than the mirror, Mister mayor." The fat ursine face, so full of vinegar and hatred, puffed and gasped like a fish out of water. "This isn't the promised land, you collection of cowards. Gaze down on the little piece of hell you've made. Your petty and selfish reign ends tonight; the great devourer you've crafted has arrived to consume you all."

A general chorus of disagreement and anger started to rise. Master, we're between a rock and a hard place. This game you're playing, this is suicide!

"No, my beautiful pet, it's the start of something much grander than that." He whispered only to me. He turned my head to the sky, blackness reflecting the wasted light of the city below. I could feel their eyes burning into my back. Master hadn't just taunted them, he'd flat-out threatened them. Oh god, had any of them come to the party armed?

Master closed my eyes, and lifted my hands to cover them. At any moment, I expected to hear the retort of their gun firing, to feel the incendiary slugs boiling their way through me, to smell the stench of my own flesh cooking. Master! What have you done? I-

And the sky was filled with light.

I could see it even through my closed eyelids and the hands covering them. It was warm on my pelt like momentary sunlight. The light flowed across me, so solid I could feel it seeping like liquid through the seams of my suit. I'd never stood in light so intense.

Then sound rippled my fur, a thunder that brought wind with it and left everything silent behind it. The first bang of thunder so loud that I felt it more than heard it. After just a second of vicious sound, my hearing disappeared entirely. From then on, I just felt the waves of vibrations ripple through me as I stood statue-still.

There was a scratchy feeling to the connection with Master. Connection terminated. Then it was just me; alone inside my own body, and I felt panic. _Master? Master, are you there?_The jack rig didn't respond. I pulled my hands away as the light started to clear, and then opened my eyes. A spot in the sky glowed behind the greenish clouds like a second, poisonous sun. It was just me; alone, standing here uninhabited, and it made me feel naked. More than naked; I'd been naked in front of crowds before, but as long as Master was there with me, I was always safe, content in knowing it wasn't me, it was my Master.

Then the jack rig responded. _Executing script. Control restricted._It wasn't like Master, not quite, but who else could it be? A script? This must have been set into my rig from earlier in the night. Master had planned for this, and now his plan was coming together. It didn't feel quite right, but it felt close enough. Master spun me, and looked over the gathered crowd holding their eyes and ears, pitiful little squirming lumps on the ground, all pretense of dignity and pride evaporated. Mouths were open, probably shouting or screaming, but all I could hear was a soft ringing that was slowly getting louder.

And I could hear Master. Maybe it was some part of the jacking rig, or perhaps it was because I could feel my own mouth forming the words for me, but when he spoke, I had no trouble understanding. "Thank you, my precious pet, I could not have done this without you." I walked down among the writhing politicians and took the gun from Commissioner Rushcliffe. Master held it confidently in my hand, and I felt only the slightest recoil as he pushed the muzzle against Rushcliffe's cranium and fired.

I watched fur and skin and muscle peel back from beneath the shot. The exposed bone charred and crackled. There wasn't much of the commissioner's head left when his body flopped lifeless to the rooftop. Master didn't spare him a second glance, because the second pull of the trigger was for Mayor Hall. Then the next for DeLancey. Three, four, six, ten, one by one, Master made his way efficiently through the group. By the fifteenth, my hearing had recovered enough that I could hear the _pop_as the small handgun fired, and by the time all thirty-four bullets in the clip had been expended, I could hear the sizzling of flesh as Master dispatched the minister of agriculture. What little I still owned of my mind had crawled into my corner, watching the effortless execution with numb shock.

This wasn't my game. It had always been about pushing limits, sure, but it had never been intended to hurt anyone. Cupcake Apocalypse! I screamed it inside my mind. Nothing happened. Of course nothing happened. I'd switched off the safeword. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl. Fall in love with Master, trust him to handle you right, and you get burned again. If my eyes had been mine, I would have cried.

The gun fell from my hand as Master lost interest in it. Silently and efficiently, Master turned me towards the edge of the building. He'd shown me that he was a dancer, when he'd used my legs to waltz and foxtrot. It was almost like dancing as he brought me to a break-neck sprint. With a grace of a diver, Master threw me from the roof of the Crown Royale.

Program terminated. And my limbs were all mine, free to flail as I screamed in freefall.

---

I had a roommate who got a jacking rig, Sarah. Sarah was a worker girl, just like me, but she'd had a big payout from a mark, and spent it all to get a jack rig. Within the first month of recovering, she not only paid her rent early for the first time, but she also paid the back-rent that I'd been 'lending' continually for the last half a year. I'd been so angry that she'd spent all the money she'd earned on that jack rig instead of paying me what she owed, but by the end of the month I was jealous. At the end of the second month, I borrowed enough from her to get a rig of my own.

By the time I'd recovered from the surgery, she was rich. At least, she was what we'd consider rich, able to afford her own place at the top of Aerie Heights, the tallest high-rise in our otherwise squat and squashed district. I didn't hear from her more than four or five times over the next year as I started to pick up jackers of my own.

By the next time I heard about her, Sarah was dead. It wasn't a big story, so it's a wonder I caught it at all. See, even all the money in the world couldn't make Sarah a smart girl. A jacker that'd hired her had climbed up to the top of a tower in city center with a wingsuit and a parachute. Why she didn't safeword out as soon as she saw the skydiving gear - Well, as I said, she was stupid. Maybe fifteen years ago you could have flown from the top of the Locke tower and arrived on the ground with nothing but a stiff fine and a night in jail. Not anymore.

They found her body in pieces. The jacking rig in her--and in me--was a good part stainless steel--ferrous. The magnetic webs that held all those 'floating' advertisements and decorations in place so high and prominent in the night sky had torn her to bits. She'd never even made it far enough to open the parachute.

I never imagined I'd end up like Sarah, but it began to sink in as the world seemed to move so slowly around me as I drifted from the top of the Crown Royale, I knew I'd never see the ground again. It was a strange feeling, an awkward, detached feeling, like the loss of a pet. I felt the tug, oh, that was unmistakable, the magnets had me. It felt like a harness, arresting my fall and lifting me unkindly towards an ad for a soft drink.

The steel grip on my insides faded, and I began to tumble. The massive sign pirouetted once, then began to fall with me. It was almost graceful the way gravity stole over me and the sign, making us dance to its irresistible music. Another magnet tugged me sideways into its field in short, sharp jerks that made me feel ill, then it too failed.

At the very end, I must have fallen fifty stories, but by the time I hit the ground, it was as if I'd leaped down no more than a flight of stairs. With my head-over heels tumble, I collapsed amid the rubble of the monstrous signs that had preceded me in the fall. Bruised, scared, and in shock, I stood from the rubble. If nothing else, I was alive.

Around me, alarms sounded sporadically. When I'd walked here only twenty minutes ago, displays had shone in all of the windows, showing news, and silent shows, and more advertisements. Now, those few screens that were still functional were only showing static. Every storefront was either in lock-down, or had failed halfway through the process. Steel webs had drawn over gaudy display windows, guarding precious possessions.

Above the erratic alarms, I could hear people: two million packed into the city center district alone, those that weren't awake yet would be soon. The yelling, shouting, and crying droned together into one horrifying sound. All at once, I wanted to flee, fight, and curl into a ball and hide.

But I couldn't do any of that. I wouldn't be free for long if anyone upstairs had survived. Had survived? Of course they had. Master had been efficient, but there had been only thirty four bullets, and there were at least fifty up there on the roof, counting the serving staff and assorted bodyguards. Worse, Master clearly hadn't intended me to survive. That hurt most of all. I guess over the last months I'd grown used to being used. Even as what I'd been made to do had horrified me, it hadn't been me. What I'd done wasn't as horrible as what Master had done.

Why, Master? Hadn't I been good enough for you? Had I disappointed you somehow? Was I not everything you'd-

Stop it. He didn't deserve my worry anymore, and standing here in the ruined street was what stupid Sarah would have done. No, I needed to hide. I wasn't exactly familiar with downtown, but this wasn't the first time Master had brought me here. Whether he'd intended to or not, memory immediately gave me a address: eighth and harbor, in a little alley behind the Italian fast-food--key was hidden in the mail slot.

My feet carried me, automatically, as if I'd had a jacker. There only real outward appearance of trouble downtown was that it was darker--much darker. Without the overhead signs and neon billboards and video and holo feeds in the windows, the night was just that: night. I stumbled as much as I walked, with fallen signs cluttering the road. What should have been a quick five minute walk dragged into a quarter of an hour as I picked my way between piles of rubble. On sixth and harbor, I found a lithe greyhound in police clothes banging his radio angrily on the roof of his car. I decided not to tempt fate and made my way around.

The key was still where Master had me leave it. Inside, it looked like no one had so much as opened the door since I'd last been there. Thinking about it, maybe no one had. Safe. As if ushered in by that thought, I barely had time to close the door before what I'd seen--what I'd done--crashed in like an unwanted guest. It'd never been like this before. It'd always been someone else.

But I could still remember the soft gust of hot wind as I watched the fur smolder and skin peel back, just disappearing beneath my fingers like the touch of some angry mythical god. I could still smell the smoky reek of burnt flesh in my pelt, sunk into my suit, hanging over me like a guilty cloud.

Off came the suit - on went the shower. I rinsed and scrubbed until all I could smell was lilac fur shampoo. Then I stood under the water until I told myself I couldn't even remember the smell anymore. I was lying, but I was good at lying to myself.

How could I not have seen it? Isn't that what I'm supposed to be asking myself now? No, I couldn't have. I didn't even know Master's name. He was just an anonymous at the far end of the line. He was the puppet master that pulled all my strings, and I'd never even asked where he lived. But then, that was my job. Anonymity was what paid me until I was the richest whore in the district. If asking questions had been my modus operandi, I might have been smarter, but I'd also be broke.

That bond of trust was supposed to go both ways, though, and as I stood under the hot spray, the guilt slowly seeped away with the water, leaving just anger. I'd been played with and thrown away like a toy in the hands of a petulant child. For money? No, money couldn't buy what Master had done with me. I didn't feel guilty, I felt used and scared. The police would hunt me down. You didn't run from the police, at least not for long.

So now I was living on borrowed time. Thanks, Master. Every minute--every second was precious now, and I wasn't about to waste it. I jabbed at the touch-sensitive controls on the shower and the hot spray stopped. I didn't need to think about 'what next'. I wasn't going to be brave. Brave implied that there was something to lose, and Master had taken that away from me. As soon as the power came back up and order was restored, I'd be number one on the police's hit list. Nothing that happened now could be worse than what would happen once I was caught. Nothing to lose, so nothing to fear, right? That wasn't bravery, that was logic.

But I'd need more than bravery, logic, or courage to actually achieve something. For that, I'd need skill and experience, both things I was in desperately short supply of. But who said I needed to use my own? Every apartment had a compad, especially here in city center. It only took a few seconds to hop online. I had the inklings of a plan, but I couldn't do it alone. I needed friends, and failing that, I needed a jacker.

Body looking for Soul. No payment requested, but must have net tracking/hacking skills.

The site was called "In2U", and I was no stranger to it. In the right forums, I was the highlight, but I wasn't using those ones today. My lifestyle was bleeding edge, too technologically advanced to even be illegal yet. It would be, of course. The room I watched now was filled with the more difficult fringe types, the ones that couldn't pay their way into my normal room unless they broke in the hard way. In other words, they were exactly what I needed.

After a few instantaneous responses-bots, which I ignored-the real responses started to roll in. Names, ages, offers of currency, measurements (height and otherwise) as if any of that mattered.

Serious about the tracking and hacking. First one to break into my compad and put an image of a llama on my screen gets in.

Silence again for a few seconds. Some of the offers immediately withdrew. One cheeky fellow by the name of "Gh0stInYourShell" managed to put an image of a yak into the chat window. Not good enough.

I counted down the seconds. Everyone online seemed to fancy themselves some elite net god, but the reality was that few of them could code themselves out of a paper bag, let alone crack an old connection. Ten, twenty seconds, then a minute went by. Hope slowly faded.

Then a new thumbnail appeared on my desktop. I brought it up, and it brought a smile to my face. It was a fuzzy llama with its tongue out, and a hastily added caption said "Llama delivery service. -BodyRaider"

Sure enough, I had a message from BodyRaider, blinking in my chat window. I laid my palm against the compad, and a thin beeping in my ear told me voice chat was enabled.

"Get it?"

I ran my fingers over the pad, the burn of anticipation tingling down my spine. "Got it."

"Good. What's the rules?"

"Twenty minutes, in exchange you hunt someone down and leave the trail for me."

"How much access?"

That's what they called it now. 'Access'. It was just another name for the thing I'd been selling since I was old enough to run away to the city. I hesitated, but not for long. It wasn't being brave, I just had nothing more to lose.

"Full access, but can't leave the apt."

There was a pause on his end. "Anything interesting in the apt?"

"Who needs what's in the apartment when you'll have me? Trust me, you won't be disappointed."

" Deal."It seemed like the equivalent of a shrug. He probably would have accepted no matter the details. Full access for free didn't come along every day.

I put my hand on the compad and opened the connection. Most of the hardware was inside me, or on the other side at BodyRaider's place, but it needed the compad to make the connection. Once that was established, though, I felt him arrive.

It was like slipping into sleep, a comfortable, detached sleep, but staying awake to experience every second of it. Muscle by muscle, inch by inch, his will took over where mine disappeared. I retreated to the safe little corner of my mind. All of my senses stayed alert and active--I could hear and smell and see as if it were me--but the will wasn't mine anymore. It was BodyRaider.

"Oh, oh my." My mouth formed the words. My hands dropped to my belly and started to caress my body. It was a ritual that every new jacker seemed to follow. He gazed down at my body and saw me for the first time with my own eyes. Sleek black fur, still slightly damp from the shower and gloriously naked, apparently met his approval. "Whoah. I didn't expect..." His thoughts were uncharitable. I knew what he'd been expecting: fat or disfigured, or ugly or scarred. Pretty girls like me weren't desperate, so we were expensive even for the simplest "access." But I wasn't today, because I was desperate.

Fingers tweaked at interesting places, and a hand roamed over my chest, measuring the rest of my features. I could feel his surprise and pleasure. I had other motives tonight, but even distracted as I was I couldn't help feeding off his excitement. As much as I craved to simply throw it all away and enjoy it, though, that wasn't what I was here for tonight.

_Business first, BodyRaider._I made the mental equivalent of a tap on the shoulder. If he misbehaved, I could just safeword out and find another. If I posted my picture, I'd probably have them lining up in the channel.

"Just Andy." .

Okay, Andy. Up until an hour ago, I had a jacker that I need to locate. Can you do that?

He chewed my lip nervously. "Probably. He must owe you a lot if your willing to give full access to chase him right now. Did you guys get knocked offline by that electrical storm earlier?"

Storm? If he thought that whatever Master had done earlier was a storm, he has to be buried in someone's basement somewhere. Bless the nerds in dark closets; they were my best customers.

Something like that.

Andy pulled my limbs into a flurry of activity. The first few bits I recognized. He pressed my wrist to the compad and started diagnostic mode in my jacking rig. It was a simple thing to extract the first part of the trail--that I could have done myself.

Then it began to get complicated. Numbers and portions of words flashed onto the compad's screen and disappeared just as quickly as Andy dismissed them. Every once in a while, I caught the snippet of a location. There I saw the Crown Royal, and here I saw a secure checkpoint (access denied). There were other city names, too, Ulster Point and Darmitty, both of which were hundreds of miles away.

In my private corner of my mind, I had the sudden ghost of fear. What if Master was in another city entirely? It'd never occurred to me, but why not? Everything was global these days. If he was, my little mission ended here. There was no way I could travel, that'd require permits and authorization. I might as well call the police and hand myself-

"Got him." Andy brought up a map and searched for an address. It was local! My panic waned, replaced with a feeling of accomplishment.

Okay, tell me all about him.

"Hey, I found him for you, that doesn't mean-"

How do I know you didn't just make up an address?

Andy paused, then with a renewed sense of purpose the compad screen started to flicker again. This time, it glowed with snippets of personal information. It was a chaotic medley, too confused to be talking about one person. Architect, soldier, businessman, free-thinker and radical, politician, doctor, psychotherapist, cybernetics engineer and, for some reason, daycare nurse. These couldn't all be Master, but at the top of every one, the same picture appeared.

It was my very first view of Master-the hand behind the puppet-and any doubt was replaced with certainty. He was a tiger, regal and handsome, with a savage, feral grin that managed to show more teeth than smile. Immediately, my mind filled in the details. He'd have a deep, throaty voice that purred and growled in equal measures. I could hear so many of our conversations echoing from out of that smiling mouth, attach so many of his eccentric mannerisms to that personable but dangerous face.

"Well, I don't know how many of these are real, but that's him alright."

No doubt about that, Andy. That's...

Words-or thoughts-failed me. Master was stunning. No amount of personal grievances could still the way my breath caught in my throat when I looked at just his picture. Could I do this? Could I take revenge on this; this Adonis among cats?

Then I remembered the smell. I remembered the way I walked between them, executing them without so much as a thought for the life I was ending. I remembered how I'd been used, then thrown away.

"I hope you can get him to pay. He looks like a tough customer."

You have no idea.

From my peripheral vision, I took note of the time.

Twenty minutes start now, Andy. Full access. You earned it. Remember, no leaving the apartment.

My tongue licked along my lips, and the flush of arousal immediately made the room feel slightly too hot. It wasn't my arousal--it was Andy's--but there's only so far you can distance yourself from your body. It wasn't mine to begin with, but by the time Andy had started to drag my hands over my front and down between my legs, it had become mine too.

And really, wasn't this part of why I was in this profession in the first place? All the regular girls, they'll tell you it's just a job. They'll insist it's just good money, and that it's no different than stocking shelves or flipping burgers, but they'd be lying. The girls that didn't get this, this slow and steady burn of pleasure from being used, they went out and did exactly what the axiom stated, they stocked shelves and flipped burgers. It wasn't just the money, it was the sex, and the adrenaline, and the control (or lack of) it brought with it. So by the time Andy began to really get into the feeling (and subsequently, into me), I wanted it as strongly as he did.

I expected a full-on rush into eroticism, hands down and fingers everywhere, but it seems Andy wasn't the type. Almost at a leisurely pace he tapped at the compad. In moments, I saw an image of myself. Ah, so I was to be a show. Secretly, I was pleased. I was proud of my body, and any inhibitions about showing it off had melted away under months under Master's control.

With the compad's built-in camera focused and my naked body well-framed in its view, Andy stepped me back gazed into the lens. "Hey Andy, I've got a special show just for you, big boy." Ugh, typical porno-writing. I didn't interfere, though. This was his fantasy, and he'd earned it.

He pulled my arms down over my chest, and fingers pushed up under my breasts to accentuate them. One pushed up towards my muzzle, and he ran my tongue slowly over my aureola, then swiped it directly over my nipple. My tongue was raspy, and I could feel it tugging at my skin as it passed. My mouth closed, and I could feel sharp pricks from my canines as he dug them into the sensitive flesh.

He had me purring. It was an autonomic reaction like breathing and blinking, and it startled him. He stopped momentarily, and the purring stopped with it. He must not have been a cat. When he started again, the purring doubled, as if he was intentionally overdoing it for effect. As if? No, he was. I could feel his arousal, fed down to me through the jacking rig, as the rumbling purrs filled the compad's audio buffer. You like that, Andy? I can purr for you.

He dragged a chair over towards the compad and put one leg up on it. I knew he was intentionally letting it build slowly, but I could feel him getting close to that point, where foreplay and teasing just isn't enough anymore. He wanted to see everything--to feel it all, but I knew someone with a romantic streak when I felt them. He wouldn't want to just to dive in, he needed to let it grow until he was ready.

So even with my leg up and slit clearly in plain view, his fingers still only barely grazed around my mons. Index and middle finger spread to either side, just squeezing at my lips. I let myself ride the wave of his arousal. I needed it after tonight. He wasn't the best I'd ever had jacked in. The way he dragged my fingers was just a little too fast, and when he squeezed, it pinched just a bit. He was a little rough for being gentle, but I'd learned long ago that 'good' didn't have to mean 'best'.

It wasn't until after five minutes of rubbing and caressing that I felt my fingers pushed in between my lips. Knuckles dragged inside as he slid them deep. He'd spent so long rubbing and caressing that I was aching for it by the time I felt the first touch to my sensitive flesh, and the sensation of digits spreading me open was almost electric.

He spread my legs for the camera. He wanted to be able to see in the recording every little wet twist of fingers on my flesh. I could tell by the way he moved how my body worked him. I knew he found me gorgeous. He'd be reliving this over and over in his buried little basement for years to come.

Go ahead, Andy. Make it a show to remember.

It worked to stoke the flames. He made me moan, and then the fingers twisted. Oh, it felt good when my claws touched just there, a hard and sharp little tickle contrasted with the short fuzz of my fingers, against the silky smooth flesh.

How I'd been looking forward to this all night, the sensation, like a charge, building, threatening at any moment to spill over. It's what I'd been waiting for since Master had jacked in. Since...

The sudden darkening of thoughts seemed to seep through to Andy, because he faltered. The fingers pulled out with an audible slurp. Immediately I quashed the memories of the explosion, then of the gun and the smell of flesh burning. Okay, so maybe not immediately, but quickly enough to hide it from Andy.

No, no, keep going.

In an attempt to make the move seem natural, he had my smile at the camera and spread my slit wide open for his inspection. In the display of the compad I could see myself in miniature, leaning back against the rickety chair with legs wide apart and displayed lewdly. It wouldn't the first time I'd been on show, and not by far the most intimate one I'd given. For a regular paying jacker, this would have just been the opening to a good night. Or for Master...

No. I wouldn't go there again. I keep my thoughts neutral as I just enjoyed the sensations as my fingers dove in and started to stroke and prod again. Minutes passed as Andy enjoyed my body, and for my part, I simply relaxed into the pleasurable stupor of being a passenger in my own body. I rode his excitement like a a roller coaster. I had no control over where the tracks took me, but what a ride it was as Andy took me over the top of the hill, then down the other side.

He had me shivering, and I could hear myself purring for the camera. My hands were slick with juices, and I could feel short fur tug at my insides as my fingers slurped free. I was panting, but rather than rest and enjoy the afterglow, he pushed my fingers in again, aiming for round two.

Andy

He was too deep into it. He wasn't paying attention, or maybe he was intentionally ignoring me.

Andy, your time is up.

I felt him beg: a wave of hopeful sorrow that ran through my body like a shock. He didn't want it to end. I was no stranger to the sensation, so gently--as gently as I could while still being forceful-I let him know that 'no' wasn't an option.

Andy, your time is up and I have someone I need to find.

"Hh, okay." He breathed heavily, and one wet hand tapped at the compad, ending the transmission. I didn't want to have to safeword him out, but I would have. With a rush, the feeling of control returned. Slightly shaky and in need of another quick shower, I dashed to the bathroom.

Garbed in my white suit and back out in the city streets, the anarchy had grown worse-not better. The sky was bathed in the pre-dawn glow of the thick smog that was ever-present over our heads. It made everything seem even darker than deep night. Busted cars and bikes had joined the rubble on the street, and no matter where I looked, I could see at least one fire somewhere.

The crowds on the street looked less than savory. A lot of them were confused innocents. They were easy to spot--they were the ones wandering around looking lost and dazed. The others, though, I could tell they were gangs. Many of them were of similar predator species. I passed a group of wolves, each with their own functional bike. I saw a group of weasels and martens on foot but carrying firearms. There were looters, too, usually on their own rather than in a group. Once in a while, a vehicle would pass by, glutted on stolen goods and dodging drunkenly through the rubble.

The address Andy had found was another district over. By foot, it should have only been five minutes to the district gate, but rubble and dangerous crowds made it fifteen. When I arrived, I cursed myself for thinking it'd be that easy. Of course the district gate was down. Heavily armed soldiers with twitchy trigger fingers were facing down an angry mob. If their sensors didn't work--and after that blast earlier, they wouldn't--no one was going through. The rules were the rules.

Even so, I approached, hoping to find a way through. An eye-bot sank in front of me, and a sharp flash momentarily blinded me. Looking up, I saw swarms of them, little cameras on magnetic disks dodging nimbly like insects. Every once in a while, one would descend to the crowd, take a picture, then ascend before they could be caught again. Everyone was marked, tracked, and watched.

I heard a beep. My eye-bot must have seen something it liked, because it quickly ascended, and a light went off. Angry red and blue lit the crowd around me, and like the rest of them, I scattered. All the gate guards needed was a wanted criminal to be in the crowd. Thin slivers of gunfire echoed off of the looming buildings, and cries went up from the quickly fleeing masses.

I made it to an alleyway where a coffee shop stood half-open, so I ducked inside. Everything worth having had been stolen, even the paper cups and plastic holders. Just like everywhere else, though, there were compads. Every table had one, set into the tabletop. I found one that hadn't been defaced and slapped my hand against it. Time was not a commodity I had in abundance.

Body looking for soul. No payment--must be good at city running. Pain shared, so if you suck, you get hurt.

This time, I didn't wait for proof. Within ten seconds I had private messages from five would-be runners. I chose one with a monicker I liked, "L3ap", and without any further discussion, sent him the connect code.

Moments later, I felt him arrive. He looked around in disbelief.

"Holy shit."

Yeah, it's a mess. You ready to run?

He shook my head to clear the fug of the hasty jack. Then he looked down at me. Hands rubbed over my front, grabbing my tits and squeezing. "Holy shit!"

Okay, enough freaking out there, L3ap. I'm in trouble and you're going to run me out of this.

"First, what's the terms."

Full access, twenty minutes once we get to the destination.

He breathed heavily, then nodded. "Right. What've you got? Mugger? Pimp you owe money?"

I ignored his rude assumptions. District police and a swarm of eye-bots, and I need to make it into the next district. You game, or do I need to find another jacker?

That stopped him. "Holy shit. You serious?"

Deadly.

Unexpectedly, I felt him start to smile. "Damn, girl, you should have said so. I would'a done this for free!"

Does that mean you won't take the terms?

"And miss out on this gorgeous body of yours? Not a chance."

Red and blue lights shone through the cracked and half-shielded window of the coffee shop, and a thin wail started up. L3eap's nerves sprung into action, and I launched myself at the employee-only door. Its feeble lock didn't even slow me down.

In the front of the shop, we could hear footsteps. No doubt who that would be. L3ap threw open the rear entry, then ignored it entirely and ran back into the miniature kitchen. As one of the police examined the alley the rear entrance opened onto, L3ap silently slid the kitchen window open. Grasping the window frame, he slipped me through the window.

My feet never touched the ground on the other side. L3eap caught a pipe that ran up the side of the building and pulled me flush to the wall. Hand-over-hand I started to climb. First floor, second, third-by the fifth, I was just above the eye-bot swarm, and could see them milling about midair in the distance. By the eighth, the muscles of my arm were starting to complain. We drew level with the district wall, eight stories high and topped with thick bars. Above them, thin holograms lit the sky displaying clearly the end of 'downtown'.

"Good thing you're in shape, girl. This'd be torture if you were some fat bitch." I would have ground my teeth if I'd had control of my jaws. As it was, I made no comment, because he was good. In fact, he was damn good. He threw me from wall to window ledge, and then launched me fearlessly into a sheer climb using nothing but a drainage pipe and a bit of external electrical tubing.

How are you planning to get into the next district from up here?

He pulled me up to another ledge. By my count, this was the thirteenth floor. "Do you ask magicians how they're about to do their next trick, too?" He looked over the district wall at the buildings beyond. They were nearly as dignified and towering as those here in city center. Between the wall I clung to and the building on the far side of the divide, the glowing blue district wall looked like nothing more than a river flowing through a canyon. In a way, it was rather pretty. It was lost on L3ap, though, who was measuring distances with my eyes. With no further explanation, he threw me bodily out over empty space.

It was the second time that evening that I'd felt the dizzying sense of weightlessness. Gravity reached up to claim its wayward child, and the world spun towards me at a dizzying rate. Arms flung wide like a bird; I felt the wind cushioning me, whistling past my ears. It would have been liberating, if it wasn't also so fucking terrifying.

The fall must have been no more than a few seconds, though it felt like a miniature eternity. My hands caught one of the steel bars suspended above the district wall. I swung below, and the centripetal force threatened to tear my limbs from their sockets. Gravity and momentum sucked down at me for excruciating moments as the skyline swung uncertainly around me.

Then L3ap curled, and my feet pushed off the bar, using my redirected momentum to launch me at the building on the far side of the district line. At the apex of my arc, the staggered ledge of an intermediary rooftop appeared beneath my feet, and L3ap rolled. Twice, three times I felt the brutal tar and concrete batter my shoulder blades and back, then the world stopped spinning.

I uncurled, and started up at the starless city sky. I could still see the remnants of angry green flitting in between clouds, where Master's little 'present' remained to play hell with the skyscape. I felt a giddy rush--not mine, but L3ap's.

"WOO!" The cry hurt my throat. He picked me up and dusted off my battered and torn clothes. L3ap then swung me over the side of the rooftop and started the descent. . We were on the ground in just minutes. The wall deposited us in an alleyway, but I could see light and flickering fire just beyond in the street, along with shouting and someone singing loudly and badly.

"Holy shit, I made it!"

Rational thought stopped for a moment.

I assumed you'd done that before.

"Of course I have. Twice. First time, I broke both legs, second time I went through a closed window and cut up my arms."

You reckless son of a bitch! I should boot your lying ass out just for-

"For getting you safe and sound to the next district?"

He had me there. Dammit, he was a rude asshole, but here I was, exactly where I needed to be. I didn't want to give it to him, but he'd earned it.

Twenty minutes starts now, fly-boy.

"Shit, yeah!" He ran me out towards the street, towards the fire and shouting.

Not that way, idiot!

"Full access, bitch. Pay up or kick me out, but you know you owe me."

I didn't bother to respond, but I seethed in my safe little haven in my own mind. How dare he, with my body? After so many times out with jackers, I thought I'd finally seen the last of that impulse, but L3ap brought it out with a passion. I felt powerless, trapped in my own body--trapped by my own goddamn sense of fairness that told me I owed this prick. I felt helpless.

And that alone was enough to bring the rush of arousal back with such a force that it embarrassed me, and even that fed it further. It was a self-sustaining spiral that dragged me back down into willingness. No, not willingness, eagerness. I wanted it, I needed it so physically that I'm sure even my jacker could feel it leaking out.

In the street just around the corner were no less than a dozen canids. A few I could identify--husky and dalmatian and terrier. Some were dragging expensive electronics out of a smashed storefront, others were drinking around a car that'd been set alight. They were shouting at each other, but there were smiles on their faces and the way they held their tails and ears. No, this wasn't a group, this was a gang.

But the rest of the dogs didn't grab my attention like their leader did. I could feel the authority and ownership of the gang nearly dripping from the jackal. Lean and rangy like most jackals I'd met, he still had an aura of cool command that those poisonous politicians I'd executed earlier would be jealous of. He was the one who was singing, though maybe not as badly as the echoing alley had made it out to be. He had a clear accent, one that even the song couldn't cover. He was standing on top of a car's hood, almost like a conductor in front of an orchestra.

I didn't make it more than five steps from the alley before one of them noticed me. "Heya, pussy! Looking for some warm milk?"

Some of them turned from their looting and carousing to face me. Cat-calls and lewd suggestions echoed strangely off of the dark storefronts.

"Pretty kitty, got some salami for you!"

"Hey ba-"

L3ap cut them off mid-taunt. I pointed at the leader, and he hopped down from the car hood.

"You." I was walking quickly, but instinct and excitement had my tail twitching high.

"Yeah, bascha, you want something."

"Yes." I pushed him back across the hood of the car, and his gang let out surprised whoops and laughs around me. "You."

L3ap was at less than a minute of full access used, and already he had my hand tearing at the jackal's jeans. The jackal held his hands up, but my jacker wasn't having any disagreement. Not that the jackal was disagreeing, but he did let out a grunt of pain as my claws shredded the waistline of his pants and caught on his belt.

I didn't often use my claws for the ripping and tearing they were made for, but they served perfectly well in removing his denim jeans in a single tug. They fell away in long strips.

"Whoah, bascha, careful with the-"

"Shut up" I growled at him as I crawled up onto the hood of the car, straddling his pinned hips. More cat-calls emerged from the gang around me, and I could smell them. Dogs were shameless about their arousal, broadcasting their scent at just the slightest provocation. I breathed it in like perfume.

The gang leader tried to push himself up to his elbows, but I shook his shoulders and slammed him back down against the car hood.

"Come on, puppy, can't you show me what you got?" L3ap ground my hips down against his, and through the shredded fabric, I could feel him pulse in response. I dragged claws down his jacket as he growled up at me. There we go, he was starting to get into the act.

"Too much for you to handle, boss? We can take 'er if you can't!" One wolfhound had his cock out and was swinging it in the smoky city air. Laughs echoed from around us.

"Put your little toy away, boy! Can't you see the lady's found a real man?" The gang leader gripped my hips and tugged at my suit pants. L3ap lifted my hips and wriggled efficiently--in just moments he'd shed the inhibiting fabric, and when I sat back I felt hot flesh throbbing against me. The jackal rolled his hips. He was no stranger to the show either, and now that he appeared to be on more familiar ground, I felt his claws catch at my fur and pull.

There was no foreplay. This wasn't the place for teasing and romance. I lifted my hips, he lifted himself with two fingers, and when I sat back down, it was with a wet squelch and the rush of skin against skin as he slid up into me.

Even with L3ap in control, I couldn't restrain the hot groan of pleasure as the rubbery flesh stretched me wide. I'd had dogs before. They were always a bit floppy when they first went in, but that was a blessing given their size. I was built for other cats, and while they had passion, they didn't have that thick, throbbing girth that filled me out until it hurt. Cats didn't make it so wet that everything felt slick and velvety. And when I rolled my hips against his sheath, I felt the last thing that cat guys lacked--that gorgeously hot bulb of flesh at the very base that ballooned out as I stroked.

I almost forgot the crowd in the sensation of the hard rutting, but they hadn't forgotten me. Cats were generally fairly private, but for dogs, it was a pack thing. I felt hands drag around my waist, and fingers tugged at my tail and below. They all wanted a good view of the show.

The jackal yapped and barked. He leaned to the side and snapped at the over-bold gang-members, but with me riding his hips he couldn't reach far enough to scare them off. Someone else's flesh pressed against my side and left a wet imprint. Then someone else snarled and bit him. A squabble broke out to my right, and I didn't care. It was a whole different world than I knew, down here on the street with the gang, but here with L3ap riding me, it was exactly where I wanted to be.

I clawed at the jackal, and he bit my arm. I squeezed my hips, and he ground his knot up against my slit. This wasn't smooth lovemaking, it was a rough, feral hump down with a gang that was just one scarce step removed from beasts. No one talked--they were all speaking a language more native than English.

There was an explosion somewhere else in the city, and overhead I heard the whining of eye-bots. No one even bothered to look. The jackal growled beneath me, and I felt him throb. He was coming. L3ap clawed at his chest, and the squirming as the jackal writhed under me was enough to bring me off as well. One of the gang members let out a whoop; another laughed.

"Heya girl, got room for another?"

"Or two?"

I planted my feet against the hood of the car and started to stand. I couldn't, not immediately. The jackal had tied, and his hips raised as I lifted him bodily from the hood just by the force of his tie. He yelped and whined beneath me, and even L3ap winced in pain. It didn't stop him, though. Another harsh tug, and the thick bulb pulled from me, dropping the jackal's ass back to the car.

The gang crowded in around me, but I ignored them. Hips were thrust at me, but one set of brandished claws and a smile full of sharp teeth quickly deterred them. For a gang, they were awfully timid. I collected my suit pants, and without a backwards glance, I prowled off towards an alley. I could feel the remnants of the jackal's excitement starting to run down my leg.

That's it, L3ap. Time's up.

"Good run, eh? You're fine, you know. Look me up when you need a soul again and-"

_Not a chance. Out, now before I kick you._It lacked vitriol, though. He was crass, rude, disrespectful, and only interested in his own pleasure, and maybe that's why he'd been such a great time. He could tell, too. I felt a caress of his smug confidence as a parting gift as he disconnected. With him gone, I hid behind a dumpster to clean and make myself presentable.

When I found it, Master's building was opulent, as high-class and ostentatious as anything I remember seeing in city center. The doorman had fled, leaving the door unguarded. Even though the glass had been bullet-proof, it wasn't car-proof. One still sat as a crumpled hulk in the middle of otherwise obvious decadence.

Everything that wasn't bolted down had taken a leave of absence, but quality couldn't be stolen from the mirror-smooth marble and curved, ergonomic lack of corners. The entire atrium was a masterpiece of glass and steel and carbon fiber. I saw indentations and cracks where statues and sculptures had fallen, probably suspended mid-air in the air above, but even without them it was beautiful. Master would be upstairs, but I had something I needed to do first. Around the back of the main desk was light from a screen. The atrium may have been a mess, but the power was still on. Behind the desk was a monitor with security feeds, a spilled coffee, and my goal: a compad.

The lift was out, so I used the stairs. I had to pause on the twenty-third floor to catch my breath, and again on the thirty-eighth. The stairwell terminated at the forty-fourth and emptied into an elaborate foyer. The locks in the stairwell had been modern swipe-locks that had all malfunctioned, but the front door of Master's suite was locked by an ancient and complex tumbler with numbers etched into the front. I didn't need to guess.

" There are eighty-three districts in this hellhole of a city, pet, did you know that? Not many do. The city is larger than most old nations. Can you guess how many of them any one average 'citizen' may travel to? Four. Four measly collections of squat little shacks, trying to eke out a sad little existence on careful rations. I've shown you the center of it all, the splendor of the Aerie Bridge,the flying arches of the Atomic Reserve, the marvelous jungle of the Crown Heights. Wasn't it beautiful? Shouldn't everyone be able to see the marvels that their own blood and sweat has bought? Yes? You are special, pet. You and half of point-one percent have the honor of seeing it in person. Everyone else is locked away behind the district walls."

I'd heard it so many times that it wasn't just a recollection--it was muscle memory. I had no doubts when I spun the tumblers to eight-three-four-zero-five. The last digit let out a soft click, and the door swung open.

The first room was palatial. It must have occupied the next four stories upwards just to contain the huge window that gazed out into the city. As I started to take in the details, it occurred to me that it was the only room. Amenities of luxurious life were scattered almost at random across the smooth hardwood floor. Against one wall was a stainless steel kitchen, obviously used but immaculately cleaned. Further on was a tiled section with no walls where shower heads on long stalks sprouted from the floor and aimed towards drains. Near the towering window was a huge nest-like bed, with pillows and cushions strewn liberally about.

In the center of the room stood what could only be described as the media center. Holoscreens and old-fashioned tvs sat interspersed with overstuffed couches and equally bloated chairs. Sprawled across two of the couches was Master, the headset and wires from his jacking rig still nearby. He was large, larger than the pictures of him could have done justice. Stretched out as he was, he sprawled to fill the room that two normal people would occupy put head-to-toe.

I had planned to be stealthy, but I couldn't have anticipated the soft chime that sounded when I first stepped foot into the room. With a rush of motion, Master spun to his feet. It was a movement composed of orange and black, so fluid that he didn't seem to occupy any of the intermediate space between the couch and where he now stood. Incongruously, he leaned on a cane he'd fetched from the side of the sofa. He seemed at once both frail and deadly.

For the first time, I got a good look at my Master. The stripes just seemed to accentuate his gorgeous body, all eight or nine or however-many-feet tall he was. They crawled over his lanky musculature and crept around arms that were as thick as my thighs and thighs that were as thick as my waist. They only ended in the deep creamy white of his belly and lower.

And oh yes, I could see lower, oh so lusciously lower. He was gloriously naked, and I felt the natural reaction to such a prime specimen of feline form seep in.

We stared at each other. Remember what he'd done, I forced myself. Remember the smell. Remember the way he'd broken my trust. He'd used my hand to kill, then he'd thrown me from the top of the Crown Royal. Those weren't the actions of a loving master.

"Pet." His aggressive stance slowly melted as realization spread across his features. "I..."

I filled the silence where he stumbled in surprise. "I live. You've failed."

"Not all the way." He slowly relaxed, and a smile crept onto his face. "But I must say it's the happiest I have ever been to fail. Pet, you astound me!"

With one arm stretched out, he limped towards me, the clack-clacking of his cane echoing in the cavernous room. With a careful and bullet-fast punch to his gut, I dropped him where he stood and stepped back.

"You used me, you son of a bitch."

He coughed and held his gut, kneeling and looking up at me. That cocky grin still adorned his muzzle. "So there is bite to your bark, pet. The kitty has claws. You never cease to impress me." He pushed himself back to his feet. "And yes, I used you. You, who sold herself body and soul to me, begging to be used."

"Not for that!"

"May the hammer choose which nail it hits? You sold your will to the highest bidder. Don't blame yourself, pet. It was my will that created this new dawn for our city."

"Don't try and hid it behind your stupid philosophy. It was my hand that pulled the trigger, my eyes that watched them-" I choked on the next words. I could still smell the flesh searing beneath the barrel of my gun. "Watched them die."

"No, my pet." He walked toward me, but I dropped back into a fighting pose, and he stopped. "Don't you dare shed a tear for them. They engineered their own demise. You were simply the hand chosen to deliver their sentence."

"I am not an executioner! Nor am I a judge or jury, and don't you dare call me an assassin. This is your personal crazy fucking crusade, not some social justice. Didn't you consider what it would do to me."

His gaze fell, and he turned his head to gaze out of the window into the false dawn. Was that pain I saw on his face? Sorrow?

"No, of course not," I pressed on, "because I wasn't supposed to survive, was I?"

"It was a mercy, my pet."

"A what? Are you serious? Mercy, for me, by throwing me off the fortieth story?"

"What do you think they would have done to you when they caught you, pet?" His cane clicked as he walked to the window. "Do you think they're kind? Three-square-meals a day, respectful and sensitive guards, and time off for good behavior? You wouldn't have survived the night, pet."

"That wasn't your decision." I shot back hotly. "Never was, and never will be. I gave you control, but only under the trust-"

"You didn't want me to have control, pet." He turned towards me again and held his cane in front of him. His tail squirmed behind like an agitated snake. "You wanted me to have you."

"Is that what you thought? Is that what you convinced yourself I wanted?"

"Of course pet. I saw how you desperately you craved to be rid of every bit I took from you. And now here you are, and I see in you more of me than I see of who you used to be." He pointed out at the city, with thin plumes of smoke rising like banners from every district center. "Look at what we've made, my pet. I could not have made this without you."

"Don't include me in your delusions of grandeur. I'm just a-"

"Was. You may not say what you are, pet. That is my privilege alone. You were a scared girl, fresh from the country and barely come to grips with her own power. Now you are a force to be reckoned with. You are the face to Demosthenes' crusade! When you speak, heads will turn and ears will open and minds will churn. You don't know what you are now, because so much of what you are is me!"

"Maybe." I gritted my teeth. "But the rest of me wants what you've stolen back."

His smile fell, and I saw such sadness. "You've such a dream ahead of you, my pet. Don't spoil this moment with a childish tantrum. Come join me at the window and I will show you the new age you've ushered in."

"No."

"Then you are no Demosthenes" He lifted his cane, and almost too late I saw the smooth bore in its base.

Now, A55a55inyou.

My final jacker, waiting in the wings since my break on the twenty-third floor, came with a rush. His instinct pulled me down and to the left. I felt the flare of gunfire scorch my back, and a burning pain lit the end of my tail. A55a55inyou ignored it, and performed a forward roll, then flip. Master's eyes widened in shock as the leap covered the span between us in fractions of a second. Before he could lower his cane, I grabbed its middle and yanked it from his grip.

It was a dizzying ride to watch as my jacker spun and ducked. My leg shot out and swept Master's out from under him. Without his cane to steady him, he dropped heavily on his tail end. A55a55inyou twirled the cane until its business end pointed down at Master's striped face.

Do it, now.

"Now I see how you've done it. How many did it take, pet? Three? Five? Ten? How many have ridden you like a prize horse to get to this finish line?

A55a55inyou fumbled with the cane. While he searched for the trigger mechanism, Master didn't even budge.

"Oh, how rude of me. That's not you, pet, is it? Let me introduce myself. I'm the Master."

Don't let him talk, dammit, I let you in to finish this, so finish it!

My fingers finally stumbled across a nub in the cane that wiggled under my grip. A55a55inyou steadied himself, then pointed the cane down between Master's eyes.

"So, are you a professional? Will you look me in the eyes as you burn me and my dreams away?"

Stop dawdling, A55a55in. This is what you wanted to do!

My eyes closed, and my finger played across the trigger. My claw traced over the cane's intricate grain. "I..."

"No, I guess not. A talented hobbyist killer, then? Only take lives on the weekends?" Master scoffed. He hadn't moved an inch.

"I can't." My finger eased off the trigger.

Oh for fucks sake. It's your god damn name. 'Cupcake apocalypse'.

I've read that it hurts to be booted by safeword. I hoped so.

I opened my eyes. I could look into Master's eyes when he ended. I was strong--he'd made me strong.

"Oh, are you back now, pet?"

"If you need something done--" I mumbled between gritted teeth. My finger felt for that trigger I'd felt. It made sense that it was well protected--wouldn't want it going off unless you absolutely meant to fire.

"Do it yourself? I disagree, pet, but at least find a worthy proxy. Pet, please." He reached up and took hold of the cane, but he didn't move it away. He held it centered between his eyes. "Before you put an end to me, may I show you something? You may keep the cane, and at any time you believe you've seen enough you can always pull the trigger then. After all you've proved to me, could I stop you?"

"You can't buy your life back, Master. What you've done to me, that can never be undone."

"And I wouldn't undo it, even had I the chance." My finger finally found the little nub, but I hesitated, just like A55a55inyou had hesitated before me. Just one little squeeze, and this could all end, and I'd go back to... No, after what Master had made me do. I'd be better off turning the gun on myself after this, rather than be caught. Mercy, Master had called it. "I wish instead to show you what you need to see. I want your decision to end me be an informed one."

Keeping my finger on the trigger now that I'd found it again, I stood back. Master let go of the cane and painstakingly pushed himself up to his knees. Hobbling without his cane, he made his way to the center of the room where a titanic holo screen hung suspended in air. He picked up a small remote, and the screen sprung to life.

"-advising residents to stay indoors. Anyone seen on the streets will be considered a rioter and will be dealt with harshly."

On the screen as the view from above one of the ruined streets, just next to one of the district gates. The view wobbled and tilted alarmingly, then steadied. It was probably being shot from an eye-bot, especially as there was no sound. Below, frightened and angry citizens crowded around the gate. Some of them waved their citizenship cards, others pushed at the security gate, desperate to get through.

"I repeat, the station is being warned that the police have been authorized to deal with any gathering of three or more people. We are advising residents to stay indoors. Anyone seen on the--oh god."

There was a flash from the gate, and the crowd fell back. I couldn't immediately tell what had happened or who had fired the first shot, but from the lack of uniforms on the bodies laying in front of the district gate, it quickly became apparent. The rest of the officers lowered their firearms, and another three flashes lit the camera. Before the feed cut out, I caught just a glimpse--a frame or two--of the bodies laying three-thick, dead where they'd fallen.

Even though I imagined myself cold to the violence of the night's riots at this point, I still felt a chill that seeped down my spine. "Are you actually proud of what you've done? This is sick, this is-"

"Not me. Did I jack in to force the police to pull their triggers? Did I write the laws that allow them to do so? Did I hire the bastards willing to do so in the first place? No, I think not."

"It was your twisted idea of a 'fun night out' that's made this all possible. Don't tell me that you didn't think it would happen."

"I knew it would happen." He turned away from the screen again as the news station tried to cut to another eye-bot, but apparently the scene wasn't available for broadcasting anymore. He pressed a button, and another clip from the night popped up. Without preamble, policemen were plowing through a gang of wolves--incendiary rounds leaving charred flesh behind as the members of the gang ran. One of the wolves surrendered, hands in the air before he went to his knees. One officer walked calmly up behind him and fired another shot into the wolf's back. "I knew this is what they were capable of. How can you watch this, pet, and not feel anger?"

I bristled and growled, holding the cane up and fingering the trigger. "Of course I'm angry, Master, but this is what is. The fact that you stirred the wasp's nest, knowing nothing would change, makes you responsible for this!"

"Pet, if I thought nothing would change, then I would be fighting you for the right to pull that trigger first."

I paused. "But nothing has changed. Look out there. Everyone out in the streets, they're dead walking. Even if the police don't catch them now, all those names and faces, it's just cataloged down somewhere, and tomorrow, or next week, or next month there'll be a knock at the front door for them. For me, Master! I'll be first on that list, because nothing will have changed."

"Nothing has changed yet. Pet, this was only the first step."

"Oh, don't lie to me. I--You killed a bunch of assholes in suits, but it'll pick right back up. It'll be the same group of bastards at the top."

"No, no, no, nothing so benign, pet." He hobbled over to the side table and picked up a different remote. "I was waiting for the right time, you see."

"What, and all those people in the crowd, the time wasn't right for them?"

"No. They were necessary."

I shook my head. "Nothing like that is ever necessary."

"No? Think, pet. You told me that everyone's name and face was being logged and tracked. You're right. It's an ingenious system, a network that spans the whole city, co-located in fourteen different complexes at police stations, redundancy so many layers deep that it'd take fourteen simultaneous wipes of the entire network to take down."

He held up the remote and hobbled towards me. It took a few moments for what he was suggesting to sink in.

"Fourteen... You mean to take the whole network down."

"Not the network, no. The data they contain, yes. Do you know, it's not just criminal records they store. It's the occupations and social status archives, so they can keep the downtrodden from bothering the elite with their problems. It's citizenship so they can properly contain immigrants. It's the surveillance and the grades and the certifications of loyalty to the state. Can you see what would happen if we could banish that wraith from the public consciousness? It's a new start, my pet."

"Bought with blood."

"The only currency worth spending." He confirmed, and he gave me the remote. "Fourteen more presents like the one you saw earlier tonight, placed strategically over the fourteen interdistrict hubs."

I gazed down at the remote in my hands. "This is all I was, then. A distraction."

"You were a match, there to set the fuse on the powder keg. Does it disturb you to think of yourself as a tool?"

I ran my hands over their occupants. In one, the trigger of the cane had warmed under my fingerpad. In the other, the remote was cold and heavy in my palm. They were both so simple.

"No, Master." He had that cocky little grin again. How long had he known what I'd choose? From the moment I'd agreed to listen? Before? Damn him, he had me. I felt a slow shudder pass through my legs as he stood to his full height and reached out.

"I..." I gripped the cane and the remote, and an evil little thought came to me. Why choose? A smile spread to my face. "Master, I could always do both."

He paused. Had he not even considered the option? It was a victory to see him suddenly so unsure. "You could."

"And why shouldn't I? I will bring about your glorious revolution, erase myself from the archives so I can live my own little life, and at the same time wipe your twisted face from the history books."

He lowered his hand and stood back from me. He visibly deflated. I toyed with the trigger on the cane. It'd be so easy, and he'd already given me the tools I needed to save myself. Just one little squeeze, and the architect of so nearly my demise would face his own justice.

"Move to the window, Master." He jerked, then followed my lead as I pointed the cane at his chest. "And tell me, when you decided that I needed to be 'sacrificed' for your cause, did you hesitate at all? Did it give you pause?"

He opened his mouth, then turned away from me, facing into the dawn as the sun crept just above the jagged skyline.

"And what about the people in the streets? Waiting for the right time? Watching them die from your safe little haven, did you reconsider? Did you mourn for your pawns?"

He didn't answer for long minutes. The sun had crested over the Crown Royal, tall and imposing in the distance, by the time he answered.

"Would you believe that I didn't want anyone hurt? No, I don't mean those nobodies that called themselves our selfless leaders. I meant everyone else. You, the people on the street, the gangs--you are all my people."

"Believe? You seemed perfectly willing to-"

"Willingly is not gladly, pet. Everyone makes sacrifices out of necessity. Those unfortunates down in the streets, they needed to be there. The survivors need to see what they've sold their freedom for, so when the city is rebuilt it doesn't wear the same mask." He put his hands on the glass and stared out into city center over the glowing blue of the district wall.

"Master..."

"And you. I needed to find the head of the snake so I could cut if off. Can't you see what you've been a part of? This is a new dawn, my pet, and willing or not. You were to welcome it in. On my hands are the stains of their blood, but in yours you hold their broken chains. That was always my gift to you, pet."

"Remember when I told you that you'd see the stars one day, pet? I fooled myself into believing it, even though I knew in just half an hour I'd throw you bodily from the top of the crown. Can you believe that? I've become so good at lying that even I believed it." He sighed and ran his fingers over the window.

I followed his gaze out into the city. The highrise district cut the early sunlight into jigsaw pieces. Even though the smog, it was gorgeous.

"Master, close your eyes."

His head hung, and in the reflection of the window, I saw his eyes close. Then I squeezed with my thumb.

There was no noise, at least not yet, but the light was so bright that even through my eyelids I felt it sear my retinas. It was painful, yes, but it was a pain I was willing to bear. The initial flash only lasted a few seconds, then I opened my eyes to new stars rise in the city's sky, one for each district in view.

"Enough people have died today, Master. I can always kill you tomorrow."

He took the cane from my hands when I offered it, then he took my hand and stood with me at the window, watching the many-sun-rise over the City as the thunder rolled in.