ND: LoveGun Part 1 (Ringing of the Bells)
Story by LiveIron on SoFurry
...Move this here... take that away... Good.
Now, I just have to wake him up...
...Ehh, I'll be nice.
(Takes place after Part 1)
Valentines special from 2023. If you want to get to know each of the characters a little better, read on.
>You're woken up by the crashing of bells.
>With a groan, you fumble for your phone-- must have done an update in the middle of the night or something-- that's not your alarm tone.
>When you check the time, though, you realize that couldn't have been it as you bolt upright. It's almost noon, and your watch confirms it.
>You mutter a few curses, blinking the sleep from your eyes as the midday sun leaks in through the blinds. Well, it's not as though you have work, they told you not to come in this week thanks to what happened yesterday. Still, you have things you need to do.
>When you finally get up to do them, you scramble right back into bed, your hand going to your Webley.
>"Easy there, Rambo," the glowing figure in your doorway says, "All you'd do is blast a hole in your wall."
>His hands are up, and as your eyes adjust and his tan fur comes into focus past your sights, you hear him mutter "shit, should have moved that too..."
>"Who the hell are you?" you ask the fennec fox.
>"...And why are you naked?"
>"Ahem. Loincloth?" he replies, his voice almost human as he points down. There is in fact a small bundle of white fabric down there, shining like the rest of him in the sun.
>You flip the safety off with a click, and he chuckles.
>"Very intimidating, Anon. But I know you won't shoot me."
>"Yeah ri--"
>As you try to pull the trigger, you find your finger is unresponsive. You realize that beyond your sights lie his eyes, and that they're unusual, even for an anthro's.
>They're orange. An unnatural, bright orange.
>"Didn't want to do that, but that's probably my fault," the fox says, strolling through the threshold.
>"Who the hell are you?" you ask again, keeping the revolver leveled at him. Even if you can't seem to pull the trigger, no matter which hand you use.
>"Ah, apologies," the intruder says, stopping only a few steps from you.
>"I'm Cupid."
>You stare at him; great. He's half nude, and coked out of his mind. Must have broken your fingers or something, and--
>"I didn't break your fingers," Cupid says with no small amount of exasperation, "I bent your will a little, is all. I'm tempted to a little more to make this all go a bit easier, but that'd be a lot of paperwork."
>You lower the gun slightly, unsure what to say.
>"Just say nothing and let me talk for a little bit, huh?'
>The fennec fox sits down beside you on the bed with a slight huff, though he doesn't displace the mattress at all.
>"So here's the deal. I screwed up. Normally, I'm supposed to do all my arrow-shooting and what not in spring, February especially. But I kinda... skipped over you this year. And boy, were you high up on the priority list."
>"What do you--"
>"It'd take too long to explain, and if I did, I'd have to kill you."
>He laughs, but you get the feeling it's not entirely a joke.
>"Anyway, the point is, I'm making up for it now. Right when you need it, in fact. Here, take this."
>Cupid grabs your free hand, and there's a small flash as you feel something appear in it. You uncurl your fingers to find a familiar, brass grain of rice, the tip shining a slight rose hue.
>"It's one of mine. Legally, I can't fire it out of season. But you can-- and since you happen to have somewhat decent taste, you'll actually be able to fire it, too."
>You slowly look up from the cartridge to the fox's face, still trying to comprehend what exactly is going on. You don't recall taking any acid. He sighs, getting up.
>"Look, I can't really explain much more. That little bullet will function like the arrows you've probably heard about: one shot, and whoever you hit falls in love. Now, I'm going to do my best to help you out this week, but--"
>"Help me how?"
>"Be your wingman. Sort of. But this is the important part:"
>He locks eyes with you, that orange glow intensifying for a moment.
>"I cannot make your choice for you. You're the one with the bullet, and you're the one that has to decide."
>Wait.
>Wait a minute.
>"You're telling me to do exactly what the State is telling me to, aren't you?"
>"No, I'm giving you the luxury of choice. But yes, I didn't choose this date randomly. It's... divine stuff."
>You sigh as the lithe fennec walks back to the doorway, tail swaying. He's got a point.
>"And what if I don't want to choose?"
>"And this is why I have my job," he mutters, partially to himself as he turns around.
>"Look, just consider it, alright? You'll be happy, you'll have your problems taken care of, and it's all got the divine seal of approval! I know you're a paranoid little anti-Statist, but just once, try and believe that it's all gonna work out."
>"...how do I know I'm not hallucinating?" you ask, right when he turns away; Cupid's response is curt.
>"You don't. Gotta have a little faith, Anon. Maybe that bullet not disappearing like I'm about to will give you some."
>"Like you--? What-- wait!"
>The fox is through the doorway and around the corner by the time you get up, and when you look around the corner to your living room, he's gone.
>To be sure, you search your apartment, high and low, but not a single hair from his pelt shows up. You're left standing there in your living room, looking down at the tiny 2.7mm round in your hand. It's still there, just like he said it would be. And unlike him, it appears to be solid.
>Real.
>God, you need a fucking drink.