FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The chamber is darker than anything the Mobian fighter had experienced before. Most people are content with their lives despite the wars and the apocalyptic scenarios.

But not this wolf.

He was only a puppy when the mad scientist stole his home and his parents from him, leaving him to fend for himself in the wilderness. The daytime was filled with the burning of natural resources and the sapping of the color of his habitat. The night comforted him, wrapping him in the blissful oblivion from the horrors his eyes perceived.

As the regime killed the forest, he had called his home. He thought that the liberation of Mobotropolis would give him a new lease on life.

That is when the aliens descended from the sky, causing wanton destruction and chaos everywhere. They killed many and gathered up the rest. He was confronted for the very first time by one of their soldiers, the black creature staring him down with in-Mobian eyes.

All the years of running and hiding. It was leading to an end at the hands of something not of this world. When the creature pulled the trigger of its weapon, he snapped and lept at it, digging his teeth, tasting its ichorous blood, tearing out its flesh.

And for the first time, he savored the joy of ending something that would have finished him.

Then, the planet cracked to pieces, unleashing horrors upon the world changing people during the day. The little people he had made friends with became sullen, angry, depressed, and depraved.

And the night, his time of solace, became the realm of monsters, glowing with a strange and terrifying energy. They hunted in the night as packs of roving horrors. Then, he learned to hone tooth and claw, digging into the shadowy not-flesh of their being, his heart beating faster and faster with each kill. It was either him or them, and they made him strong.

And when the world returned to normal, he finally stepped out into the sun, finding a world finally healed from the dark tyranny of oppression and the overwhelming destruction of horror. For a time, he was actually truly happy.

Then that was when the robots took over everywhere. There was nowhere to hide, and the wolf, now forged in the wilderness, joined the fight against oppression, tearing through hordes of robots with tools instead of teeth. And though the mechanical menace often screamed, it was never the same as when the dark creatures or the mouthless Black Arm baptized him into brutality.

There were more threats and horrors, and each time, they would dig his mind deeper and deeper into the knowledge that this peace is just a facade. The world is a horrible place for monsters; only monsters can survive.

But the Mobians disagreed. They gave him kind words, and they gave him pills, and they gave him companionship, such as the people in his support group.

"Lavender?" the soft-spoken voice of Whisper breaks him out of his wanderings. "Do you have something to say for the newcomers?"

The pinkish wolf tilts his head up, his squinting eyes, consistently so weak, gazing at the other Mobians and humans in the support group. He shakes his head. "N-no, sorry, miss Whisper. Not today.

Whisper smiles softly, tapping her pen against the podium. "That's fine. After all, we all know that we can't always speak about our deepest problems. Sometimes, just knowing we have friends can help."

"Can it, though?" Lavender says, wringing his hands.

"Huh?"

"Can it really help? I'm sorry." He gets up. "I'm sorry, everyone. This might work for you, but for me, it's different. I need something else. I need. I dunno."

Lavender storms out of the meeting room as someone says, "It started when my mother turned into a zombot..."

Outside, Lavender opens his pink eyes wide, taking in the starry moonlight, his hands in his jacket pockets to warm himself up. He sighs, shaking his head.

"Having trouble acclimating, even after all these years?"

He blinks and spins around, gasping, "You're-?"

Rouge smirks, holding out a card. "Charmed. A fighter like you can't exist in a peaceful world. It's not what life made you."

He snatches the card from her fingers, crumbling it up. "I'm not a fighter, I'm a--"

Rouge pulls out a picture, the crimson streaks on it all too familiar to Lavender. "A monster? Quite the job you did on this one. I think this used to be a wealthy man, indeed."

"I... he-he..."

"Had a terminal disease, and he offered you money to give him one last thrill. Yes, yes, and you must have given him such a good time, indeed. I'd bet that once you got the taste for it, it never quite disappears from you... does it?"

"What do you want?"

"If you would be so kind as to uncrumple that business card, I want to allow you to use your skills that won't net you in the Devil's Gulag or worse."

Lavender uncrumples the paper, his eyes scanning over it. "This...?"

"Is a golden opportunity for you. Join the stable I'm building, and you can do whatever your heart desires."

"It can't be my heart," he says, trembling. "Something like me can't have one."

Rouge snickers, stepping past him. She stops, smirks, and says. "Oh, you can stop pretending you are so civilized. I know that under your outfit, you're getting rock hard just thinking about tearing into me."

Lavender spins around, snarling, but Rouge takes off just then, flapping into the night, leaving him alone with the calling card and, to his dismay, a raging hard-on.