FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

In the observation room, Clutch whistles, leaning on his cane. "That excitement... that rush. It was incredible. "They almost completely let loose, even though they were fuckin' each other. You can't get entertainment like that, except maybe on the dark Eggnet."

"It's funny you should mention that," says Rouge, resting the back of her hand upon her chin. "Because I have yet another demonstration for you all. This time, however, it won't be in this establishment. We'll have to take the Eggrail again." She stops and looks over her shoulder as she passes the two of them. "I can expect the utmost discretion from the both of you in what we're going to see next. Otherwise, we'll have to conclude our business here and now."

"I'm not going to break NDA," says Breezie, stepping up beside her, "I just hope you don't expect me to copy your success."

"I honestly don't think you can," Rouge says, snickering. "It's not what you know: It's who you know, after all.

Clutch follows the two women. "Believe me when I say I know when to keep things on the down low, Miss Rouge. Especially when you show your hand that you have something to hide."

"Not to hide," says Rouge," But something amazing to show you."

--

The rail takes the passengers further than the last trip, following a darker tunnel system showing much more wear and tear with cracked cement and rusted metallic infrastructure. When Rouge steps out onto a platform, it buckles and creaks under her weight.

Clutch follows her, offering his hand to help Breezie get off her seat. The hedgehog hops out on her own, her nose wrinkling as they arrive at the metallic door with sheet metal bolted over what was once obviously the Eggman Empire insignia.

"This seems more like your element," Breezie says, looking over the platform and off into the abyss below.

"It's one of Eggman's old testing facilities," Rouge says, whipping out a keycard and swiping it by the door. The recessed key reader blips to life, flashing red and then green.

The wall groans, and then it slides open with a slow and ponderous rumbling. "Also, until I get the full support of generous sponsors and business partners, I see no reason to pretty up this place or the competitions within. After all, the viewers of these competitions like a little more grit to their battles.

Their footsteps echo throughout the dark metal room. The only walkways connect to a large circular arena in the center, suspended over a large hole that dives down to depths unknown.

Spotlights flicker on, pointing down to the three arrivals and leading them to temporary chairs set up for the viewing pleasure at the edge of the massive arena.

"Once, the good doctor used this place to have his badniks fight to determine the strongest. Then, he moved on to virtual simulations. Now, the test of strength returns, and instead of oil and electricity, it is blood and sweat that spill onto the concrete and metal." Rouge says this, sitting down on the leftmost seat.

"And just whose blood is going to be spilled today?" Clutch says, snickering as he sits next to Rouge.

Breezie looks to the chair, sighs, and sits. "I'm sure we're going to find out."

"And you're bound to be surprised," Rouge says. "Send in the fighters," she says into her wrist communicator.

A notification blips on Rouge's phone, and the bat glances down at it, smirking when she sees the image that her cameras caught in the shower. With Surge and Blaze furiously making out in the bathroom, it seems that all is going according to plan, as she had described it that night a while ago.

As the spotlights move to the ends of the industrial arena, Rouge types a quick note, stating, "Project Sparkplug is a complete success. Pick up the ignition girls in the showers and wait for my arrival. I have the fight to watch, and I think it will be a while."

Across from the massive empty chamber, an elevator opens with a hiss. Stepping out of it is a red fox dressed in a tight black outfit. A yellow bow ties her hair back, but aside from that one accent of feminity, Fiona Fox's face shows her scowling certainty.

"Isn't that a mercenary?" Breezie says, her nose wrinkling.

"Sure is," Clutch chuckles, tapping his nose. "Didn't think the girl would do prize fights, but I suppose the world has seen stranger things. How in the world did you find this has been, anyway?"

Rouge smirks, shrugging gently. "Oh, it wasn't too hard to find her; she is an old friend of mine, after all."

"Fuck that," Fiona barks, stepping into the arena proper and flipping off the bat.

"Fuck you too, love," the bat adds. "She's annoyed at all the terrible decisions she's made. After all, we both come from similar backgrounds, yet I'm the one in the chair, and she's in the ring. How many jurisdictions are you wanted in, Fiona, dear? In how many parallel zones?"

Fiona huffs, folding her arms over her chest. "Just send in the opponent, so I can kick his teeth in and get paid."

"Oh, right." Rouge snaps her fingers. "He should be here any moment himself."

Opposite Fiona's entrance, the doors open with a hiss, and through crimson mist steps forward spiked shoes belonging to a black-furred individual. White stripes line along his chest, and white hair whisks back from atop his head. His heterochromia is only part of the distinguishing features on his scarred face. Just underneath his chest fluff is a hexagonal burn scar and indentation in his chest. Gripped in one of his black leather gloves is a gnarly red sword.