FSE

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"Okay, here's a quick update for anyone who's just tuned in to the show," Shakira said. The lamp between her and Otto's laptops flickered and went out, came back on for half a second, and cut out with a faint pop. Shakira sighed. "Shit!"

"I wouldn't exactly call our show that." Otto laughed and walked over to the floor lamp in the corner, switched it on and returned to his seat. He watched her ample boobs bounce as she laughed and brushed her long dreadlocks away from her face. He grinned for a moment before pulling his gaze reluctantly away from her breasts.

Down, boy. Keep those teenage hormones under control, for once. He sipped his coffee and tried to shift the direction of his thoughts before all the blood left his head.

"Heh." Shakira leaned over to the microphone and said, "Sorry about the distraction, folks. This lamp got knocked off the desk when I was moving stuff around last week, and has been wonky ever since." She flicked her finger against the lamp, but it didn't come back to life. "Well, it's a goner."

"Well, at least it didn't start smoking or shooting sparks. I had a fan do that a couple weeks ago. I turned it on and the blades just twitched and there was a sound like a bug zapper, and then smoke farted out the back end."

Shakira laughed again, and Otto sipped his coffee while watching her boobs jiggle.

"Anyway," Shakira said, brushing her dreadlocks over her shoulder again, "for those who have just picked up the stream, our favorite delivery guy and his roommates seem to have hit the big time."

"Yeah. For anybody out there who hasn't heard about this, Jack started off delivering pizzas, then quit the job so he could work with his girlfriend, who was sort of a hired gun. That lasted a couple days, then they got into a hell of a shootout in the Fly-by-Night Enterprises office. Jack, Corona and Taura got blamed for the whole thing, even though they were just caught in the middle of a huge mess that Fly-by-Night made, and our friends had to start working for some sort of law-enforcement agency to avoid a prison sentence."

"And while they're still adjusting to that," Shakira added, "they helped the cops resolve a hostage situation earlier today, and on the way out, they were cornered by a bunch of reporters."

"We just saw some of the video." Otto laughed. "Jack sure was grouchy, and Taura just looked uncomfortable. Corona seemed to get a kick out of it, though."

"Right. Some of the reporters picked up on that, and on her and Jack's relationship as well. Then the interview shifted directions a bit."

Otto grinned. "I guess a hostage situation isn't all that interesting, but a human having sex with a dragon-chick--that's hot!"

"I'm sure you'd think so." Shakira chuckled and shook her head.

"Sure, but I'm not the only one." Otto shrugged. "Y'know how people are. Thousands of 'em will be glued to their screens watching this stuff, running searches to find out more about our friends, gossiping about them on message boards, maybe even trying to find nudie pics of Corona and Taura--and then they'll bitch and moan about how disgusting it is and how Jack should stick with his own species."

"Not to mention all the furries out there who'll latch onto them."

"Oh, I hadn't even thought of that." Otto grimaced and shuddered. "Great. The thought of stumbling onto drawings of Taura with shitting dicknipples or Corona with an engorged cock the size of Florida--it gives me douche chills."

Shakira laughed and slumped over the desk. She gasped for breath and all the right parts jiggled nicely. "Eww!"

"There are some things even I don't want to see. Don't want my masturbatory fantasies ruined by some furvert's idea of 'teh hawtness.'"

"I'm sure Jack will be happy to hear that you fantasize about his girlfriend," Shakira said after she'd caught her breath. She winked at him and he shrugged.

"Nah, I don't. She's already taken, and I don't play that game." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Taura, on the other hand, is available, and she's cute."

Shakira arched an eyebrow at him and shrugged. "Not sure she'd be interested, given recent events."

"That's okay. I can always take the problem into my own hands."

Shakira burst out laughing again, shook her head and let out a slow breath. "You know, sometimes I still have trouble believing that you actually admit to, uh..."

"Punchin' my munchkin?" Otto shrugged. "What's so surprising about it?"

"Well, when I was your age, none of the guys I knew in school would ever admit it. They were too busy humping it out with half the girls in the school."

"They were full of shit." Otto snorted. "Come on, think about it--I'm thirteen, the hormones are raging, and I gotta get rid of that excess energy somehow. Since I don't have a girlfriend, what else can I do? It's a physical need, same as breathing."

"I've known a few guys who never outgrew that."

"I hope I never do." Otto grinned and wiggled his eyebrows again.

Shakira snorted and shook her head. "I'm amazed that we have any sponsors left. Good thing we're doing this for laughs in our spare time instead of relying on it for a living." She brushed her dreadlocks away from her face again. "Um...what the hell were we talking about a few moments ago?"

"Jack and the girls and their newfound fame."

"Oh, right. So, shall we get on with business and play back one of the interviews?"

"Sure." Otto reached out to his screen, tapped the media player icon and loaded one of the clips. "Here's one we haven't seen yet. These are all linked on our website, and I'm sure they're all over the Net, in fact, but what the hell. We might be pausing the playback now and then to offer our own observations. Anyway, here we go."

He tapped the play button and the clip started with Jack already in the middle of responding to someone's question.

"Well, I can't say much about what we do. The boss sent us here to take Givens down, so that's what we did. If you really want a scoop, maybe you can ask the cops why they held off for so long." He frowned. "Any other questions, or are you gonna let us get back to work?"

Otto paused it. "Looks like Jack's had enough."

"Can't blame him for that." Shakira waved at the screen. "They haven't even been able to get away from the crime scene."

Otto nodded and resumed the playback.

Corona, standing behind Jack, put her arms around him and rested her muzzle on the top of his head. She smiled at the camera, and Jack almost let a smile of his own show.

Taura stood beside and slightly behind them, shivering and looking around nervously.

"Anyway," Jack said, "after it was all over, we talked to the lab tech that Givens assaulted. He said Givens was pissed because he'd been waiting longer than an hour for his pictures to print out. That was it. Instead of taking it like an adult, Givens threw a tantrum like a goddamn crybaby. Then he assaulted the tech and pulled a gun on him." Jack smirked into the camera. "Corrie, here, ended it in about two seconds. One punch and she put him down like the bitch he is."

"He actually crapped in his pants." Corona giggled. "He'll never live that one down."

"Serves him right." Jack raised an eyebrow and stared directly into the camera. "Anybody out there who routinely abuses retail or food-service employees would do well to keep that in mind. You never know when it might be you sprawled on the floor with a load in your shorts."

Shakira paused it. "I wonder how many times Jack wished he could punch a customer in the face like Corona did."

"Probably numerous times every day. Y'know, after hearing Jack's delivery stories, and seeing the videos he recorded with his eyes, I decided that people working in retail and food service should be allowed to hit anyone who gets abusive."

"Well, one good thing about Jack's new job is that he can do exactly that, now." Shakira grinned and tapped the play button.

A reporter's off-screen voice fired off another question. "Ah, from the way you're cuddling, may I assume you're...uh, a couple?"

"You may." Corona giggled and flashed a brilliant grin at the camera, which probably scared the crap out of most of the people watching. The baring of her thumb-length fangs was an expression that could easily be misinterpreted unless one knew her fairly well.

"Ah," the offscreen voice said, sounding less than thrilled. "That's...interesting."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You got a problem with that?"

"Oh--uh, no! Not at all. Just...um..."

Corona laughed. "If any of you suddenly have questions about our sex life, don't expect any answers. It's no one else's business."

"I imagine it must be rather difficult," someone else said. "I mean, with those claws and teeth and all."

Jack stared at him for a moment and shrugged. "I'm still in one piece, so obviously it's not that hard."

"That reminds me," a third voice called out, "weren't some video clips of you having sex circulating on the Net recently?"

All three of them tensed up, frowning at whoever had just opened his cake-masher, and everyone else grew silent. Otto imagined all the reporters taking a few steps away from the guy who'd just spoken.

"Those videos were recorded without our knowledge or consent," Jack said through clenched teeth. "We found the person responsible and..._dealt with him."_

Taura stepped forward. "I've been tracking those clips down and deleting every copy I can find. I know a few still exist, but believe me, I will find them." _She glared directly into the camera. Her whole body shook and she looked ready to leap into the crowd and start slamming heads together. _"And if anyone continues to copy and distribute them, I'll track them down and--"

Jack and Corona exchanged a startled look and stepped in front of her.

"You'll have to excuse us," Corona said. "We need to get back to the office for debriefing."

With that, the three of them pushed through the crowd, ignoring the reporters' shouted questions, and the clip ended.

"Well," Otto said with a chuckle, "let that be a lesson to all you--Jack and the girls don't like having their privacy invaded, and they don't react well when someone tries to pry answers out of them."

"Especially Taura. Poor girl looked like she could barely stop herself from throttling the guy who asked about the clips."

"That's probably because she's in heat. She's normally a master of self control. Very Zen, actually. I always found that rather intriguing, given the reason she was created." Otto grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. "On the other hand, the 'feisty and scary' Taura is kinda hot, too. I bet she'd be dynamite in bed."

Shakira flicked a sharp glance at him and rolled her eyes. "Excuse me, folks, I'm gonna go grab another cup of coffee while Otto regains control of his hormones. I'll be right back."

Otto watched her leave, adjusted the front of his pants, and reached out to the recording panel on his screen. "Actually, I think we'll take a quick break and kind of reset ourselves, and I'll try to play nice. Don't go anywhere." He paused the recorder, loaded a random music clip and inserted it into the stream. He took a longer drink of his coffee and hoped his erection would subside before Shakira came back.

#

Maybe you can ask the cops why they held off for so long, Jack said. Ramirez rubbed her hands over her face as she walked up to the door leading into the squad room. Good question. She'd been wondering about it long before she'd caught part of the interview in which Jack had made that comment--in fact, it had been on her mind since she arrived at the scene.

She could understand the need to exercise caution, but the situation should've been resolved before Hammer and the others got involved.

She wondered if she would ever find the answer. This wasn't the first time the NCPD had been interfered with. Ramirez had worked in several other cities, and none of them had functioned quite the way this one did.

If a word like "function" could even be applied to the NCPD. Ramirez and her partner, Enrique Montoya, had been assigned here less than six months ago, and already they'd both learned that the megacorporations that had built this city could do pretty much what they wanted. The biggest ones had their own internal security forces and enough money to throw at all the right politicians when necessary. When an investigation led the police to someone high up in one of the big companies, it was like slamming into a brick wall.

Not all the companies based here threw their weight around, of course. Most of them rarely screwed anyone other than their own employees, but the ones at the top--the weapons manufacturers, the bioengineering companies that had created the chimeras, the cybernetics and military hardware builders--they were altogether different.

She'd heard rumors about this place before moving here, but hadn't believed them. She'd thought they were exaggerated, and accepted the transfer because it had seemed like a hell of an opportunity. Better pay, warmer and drier climate, and a better location--an entire city that had been built on the cutting edge. But half a year later...

Now? Not so much. She sighed and stopped in front of the metal detector built into the gate between the lobby and the squad room. Maybe it's time to look for a different line of work. It's been years since I've felt like I made a difference, anyway, so what the hell.

She took a quick look into the squad room. Same thing she saw here every day--cops, both uniforms and plainclothes, seated at their desks and talking or throwing paper airplanes back and forth. Most were making phone calls or were busy with the computers on their desks, but she wondered how many of them were actually doing real work.

She tried to shrug it off and took her gun out, passed it and her spare clips through the little slot in the side of the cage, and a uniform took them. He nodded at the metal detector, as if she didn't know what to do next. She had to fight the urge to flip him off.

She stepped through the door and a shrill alarm went off. The rest of the cops whirled around, dived behind their desks and reached for their weapons.

"Oops," she grumbled, holding a hand up. "My lighter." She took it out of a pocket and tossed it onto the counter, and walked back through the metal detector. No alarm was set off this time.

She came back out, picked up her lighter and collected her gun and clips from the officer in the booth, and headed for the vending machines lined up along the wall near her desk. She returned the gun to her holster, lit up a fresh cigar and inserted several dollar bills into one of the machines. She punched in her selection and a paper cup dropped into sight and filled with shitty coffee. She added sugar and leaned over to pick up the cup--and something pointy jabbed into her ass. She whirled around as the people nearby laughed.

A paper airplane lay on the floor, its tip crumpled by the impact with her rump.

She swept her glare over everyone. Some of them kept on laughing, but others fell silent when they met her gaze, and a few turned pale. Several others, farther away but still close enough to see what had happened, shook their heads and rolled their eyes.

She picked up the airplane, took the coffee out of the machine and sipped it as she walked slowly toward the other cops.

"Who hit me with this?" she finally said, her tone a deliberate mixture of anger and calm that caused a few more people to look away and pretend to be absorbed in their work. When no one answered, she ramped up the anger and repeated the question.

"Alright, alright." One of them chuckled. "It was me."

She turned and saw one of the uniforms raising a hand in a half-assed sort of way. She locked her glare onto him and walked over to his desk. A glance at the tiny plate above his right breast-pocket showed her his name--Cordova. He was leaning back in his chair, feet propped on his desk and crossed at the ankles, balancing the chair on its rear legs. He stared up at her with a smirk that made her want to kick him right in the sack.

"Think you're funny, do you?"

"Yep." Cordova chuckled again, and several others laughed along with him.

"I thought it was funny," one of them said, but Ramirez kept her gaze aimed straight at Cordova.

"Ah, I see. An amateur comedian." She placed her coffee on the corner of his desk. "I've got an idea for a bit of slapstick you could work into to your routine." She took the lighter out of her pocket, set the end of the paper airplane on fire, and waited a moment to be sure that it would keep burning.

Then she dropped it on Cordova's lap.

"Shit!" He swatted the plane off his lap and the sudden motion tipped him over backward. He crashed to the floor, spewing a stream of profanities, and was back on his feet a moment later, rubbing the back of his head and glaring at her.

"That was fuckin' hilarious," Ramirez said with a grin. She reached for her coffee, but Cordova was suddenly right in her face, grabbing the front of her jacket and yanking her toward him.

"You fuckin' bitch!" he growled, but that was as far as he got. She lifted a knee into his crotch and he doubled over, letting out a sort of truncated grunt, and slumped over his desk.

"Fucking douchebag," she snarled around her cigar, then took it out of her mouth and jabbed it at him. "You touch me again and I'll make sure you never get another hard-on for as long as you live." She turned slowly, making eye contact with everyone, warning them silently not to try anything stupid. When she was sure that none of them were going to rush her, she walked slowly over to her desk and sat. She released a long sigh and considered handing in her badge. Again.

Taking this job was a mistake. Fuckin' hell. Even before transferring here, criminals she'd arrested were released quickly, she always investigated murders instead of being there in time to prevent them, and some days she'd felt as if the only people she ever dealt with were scumbags. The need to make the world a better place for her daughter was the one thing that kept her going. Having lost her husband in a car accident six years ago, Kim was all she had left, except her parents, and they lived far away from Neon City

If things get dicey, I can find a way to keep her safe, at least until we can get out of this shithole. Send her to stay with Mom and Dad, maybe. Or...hire a bodyguard. She didn't like the thought of resorting to that, but she sure as hell couldn't trust the NCPD to keep an eye on Kim. If I ever have an investigation bite me on the ass, that might be the best way to keep the fallout away from her.

A quick, bitter chuckle escaped before she realized it was coming. It's pretty fuckin' sad that I have to think about shit like this. Part of the job, I guess. She shrugged and gave it some more thought.

In case the first option didn't work out, she would have to find someone suitable and be ready to contact him or her at a moment's notice. But she didn't know where to start.

Well, maybe I do. That dragon-girl, Corona, and the others had helped Kim before, and were in a better position to protect her now than when they were still freelancers.

On the other hand, chimeras made her nervous, especially ones as big and muscular as Corona and Taura. They were living weapons, after all. But those two seemed to be good people, and Kim considered the draconid a friend. Having some chimeras on her side couldn't hurt.

"Hey, Lola..."

She gasped and twitched, almost knocking her coffee over. She scowled over her shoulder and relaxed when she saw Montoya walking over, carrying his own cup of coffee.

"Sorry," he said with a sheepish grin. "You're kinda jumpy, eh?"

"Just...got a lot on my mind."

"Me, too." He put the cup on his desk, which faced hers, and draped his denim jacket over the back of his chair before sitting. He sipped his coffee and his pockmarked face twisted into a grimace. "This crap gets worse every day."

"Hey, if it doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger." Ramirez shrugged and aimed a lopsided grin at him before picking up her coffee.

"Eh, I dunno, the coffee here always sucked, but today it's disproportionately bad." He took another sip and stuck his tongue out. "Blecch. Tastes like it's been filtered through a handful of used tampons."

Ramirez stared at him for a long moment, shuddered and put her cup back down. "Fuck."

Montoya burst out laughing. "The look on your face--"

"Yeah, I'll need a belt sander to get that image out of my head." She changed the subject before Enrique could gross her out any further. "So, what's on your mind?"

"The hostage situation. Specifically, why we were held back, yet three agents with very little experience or training--who, in fact, took their jobs to get out of a prison sentence--were sent in while we stood around with our thumbs up our asses."

"I've been mulling that over, myself." Ramirez puffed on her cigar. "They're quite lucky to have gotten that opportunity, after killing that cop in the Fly-by-Night office."

"Well, I'm glad they did." Montoya leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I finally managed to get my hands on the recording from the mech suit's black box; it confirmed everything Hammer and the two anthros said--they were attacked, Officer Wilson gunned down several civilians who weren't even in the line of fire, and then they took him down and Corona blew his head off. So they told the truth about the whole thing. And Wilson got what he deserved."

"I didn't really doubt them. I was just hoping that one of us wouldn't do something so goddamned low." She groaned and rubbed her hand over her face. "I'm getting too old for this shit."

"Me, too." Montoya sipped his coffee again and typed idly on his keyboard. "Anyway, it's good that they were able to stay out of prison. It'd be good to have them on our side. The agency they work for, too, if we can get it."

"I was just thinking the same thing."

Montoya nodded and entered a few more commands into his computer, then tapped an icon on the screen. "As for why we were held back during the standoff...Givens didn't have any corporate connections at all, so I doubt they'd pull any strings for him. No rich friends or family, either. It doesn't make sense. There was no reason for us to hold off so long, aside from being worried about triggering another shootout like the one at Fly-by-Night."

"Yeah, but we couldn't let it drag on all day and night. Sooner or later, that nutter would've plugged someone."

"Uh-huh. The conspiracy theorist in me thinks that someone just wanted us to look like we weren't bothering to do anything. Or like we're incompetent." He shrugged. "Conspiracy theories are always horseshit, but..."

"This one isn't?"

"I've heard things. Just rumors, but this one has the right feel to it." He leaned forward again. "I've heard about plans to phase out the city police and replace us with a public security corporation. Maybe more than one, to handle different parts of the city."

She stared at him for a moment, then rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Oh, Jesus Christ."

He nodded and leaned back.

If that's successful here, it could be done in other cities. "How close to the truth do you think this is?"

"Wouldn't surprise me if it actually happened."

"But is that even legal?"

Montoya snorted. "Come on. If it's not legal, it can be made legal by throwing money at the right people."

"Son of a bitch. You know, I'm really getting sick of this shit." Ramirez shook her head and turned back to her computer. "I think I'll look into this. Do a little digging, see what turns up."

"Just be careful. If they really are planning something like that, and if they can pull it off, you don't know what they might do."

"That's been on my mind for quite a while. I've got some precautions in mind." She puffed on her cigar and took a slow look around the room, shook her head and grumbled. "I wonder if the agency Corona and the others work for has any other openings?"