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Born from a bitch (and not in the canine sense) of a Doberman mother and an alcoholic German Sheppard as a father, a lone but well suited canine sits at a Birchwood desk in a tight fit office somewhere in the tall skyscrapers of Mid-City. His mind distracted by its own musings, he stares off into the shallow space of his office while he scratches at a rather large and wavy scar that stretches over his scalp from ear to eye. Despite the wound being long time healed the scar was still quite noticeable. Its grotesque flesh bumps made plain visible in a linear patch of skin where his fur refused to grow ever again. The scar, a remnant of his time in the war, came from a time when his face had the unfortunate circumstance of having his skull intercept the path of a stray bullet.

The wound had nearly killed him and some days he wished it had. In witnessing why no man should ever truly survive a bullet to the face the near-death experience had left him with a number of mental disabilities. Describe by the doctors as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, one of these initial disabilities was a sense of Nihilophobia: A fear of nothingness.

Among other symptoms was also a case of amnesia, the canine had lost many of his past memories when he was shot. Although he knows his mother was a Doberman and he knows his father was a German Sheppard (by pure genetic appearance) little more of his past is known. It's all just blank for him. It was as though he was born from a void; as though one day he was not here and then another day he was. Thus within his Nihilophobia it was not the nothingness of death that scared him (he had already "died" once) what scared him was the nothingness of his past.

As his condition progressed, Nihilophobia turned into Nyctophobia: a fear of darkness and such fears were unfortunate for the lowly detective John Archer who would soon find himself enveloped in what the pulp magazines would call-a detective story noir.

Nihilophobia:

A Detective Story Noir Chapter 1

"Divided into parts for your reading enjoyment"-BeaverReturn

Part 1: The Cougar In Black

It was around 5:00, closing time, when I had begun to take the first shots of whiskey from the bottle I kept under my desk. Above me my ceiling fan screeched in its own ill-maintenance sounding and appearing as though any second it would fall from its holder and come crashing down on my floor. I realized that the fan itself was now more concerned for its survival then it was for dissipating the strangely off season and dull heat. Had I the money for a new fan then I would have retired it a long time ago.

It was a slow summer for Archer's Private Detective Company and I, John Archer, had begun to feel the tightening grip of my own financial misfortunes. Budget cuts already threatened much of my lifestyle and soon I would even have to say goodbye to my faithful secretary, Penny Luckwise. I needed a client; much like I needed to do another shot of whiskey and by golly I needed both of these things quick.

"John, sweetie?" Penny's demure yet cheerful voice statically spoke through the intercom, her sweetness counteracting the dismal appearance of my cluttered and unkempt office, "You have not closed shop yet have yuh?"

I pressed the "talk" button on the small white intercom box that laid on the desk before me, "I am just having a few shots before I head off to the shrink," I said pressing a shot glass to my lips; enjoying the sensation of whiskey as it fell down my gullet, "I can spare a few if you got someone for me."

"You are going to love this."

On the small white intercom box there were two buttons, one to "talk" and then another to "buzz." I released the "talk" button, put my shot glass and whiskey away, and then pressed the buzz button. There was a loud bbbzzzzt vibration_,_ beforemy door unlocked with a loud clicking sound. As I felt the effects of alcohol slowly flood into my system, a pretty little doll of a cougar came walking into my office. The thin and black dress she wore accentuated every bit of her slim and natural assets. My eyes became immediately drawn to her and as she entered my office. She walked in such a trained way that I could tell she was not only one who stole many looks from passing men, she was also one who enjoyed doing so.

From the tip of her dainty blonde fur fingers she held one of those thin and elongated cigarettes that women often smoked. Sitting down in the chair across from me she bent herself over exposing the tops of her round and furred cleavage. I 'aint no shmuck; I knew she wanted me in her spell so I forced a trained eye away from her breasts. Even as she used a slight and almost unnoticeable shoulder movement to encourage my glace downwards my will did not waiver. Soon enough she accepted defeat and in breaking her seductive stance pulled out a cigarette from the spaghetti strap purse she carried over her exposed shoulders. I lit her cigarette from a quickly drawn match as my dark green eyes met her sweet as chocolate but tricky as the devil, brown eyes. No matter what she wore, no matter how much she changed her appearance, all it took was one glance in her eyes for me to figure out who this woman was. I had met her before, I knew who she was, and I knew the kind of work a woman like her had floating about.

"That's rather plain attire. Never would I ever consider seeing you in such a feminine dress. Had I not remembered the way your brown eyes tend to shine trouble everywhere they glance I would have never recognized you." I said to her in a cocksure manner.

"Had to get your attention somehow John, but if you prefer me in a leather corset I could change just for you sweet-pea." I could see her soft ruby red lips move but I swore she was talking from the mandibles of a spider.

"So, did you come here just to tempt my gaze or is there something I can help you with?"

"Very funny John," She inhaled on her cigarette hard just before blowing a mushroom cloud of smoke into my broken fan, "But are you sure it's MY body you are tempted to look at? I do remember a time when you use to be quite the profitable customer for me." She doused her cigarette onto my desk ignoring the ashtray that was just inches away from her.

Such claws the little kitty had! "Listen here you piece of street trash that was a different time. I'm all fixed up now so if you came here to sell me one of your hookers then you best look elsewhere, got it babe?" My composure all too easily broken I snapped at the pretty cougar. My own low growl stained with the taint of whiskey.

"Put your fangs away big wolf! I am a businesswoman; ya can't blame a gal for trying a little bit of business related inquiry. In any sense and in all seriousness I have not come here to sell you anybody. I have come here--" She sighed, pulled out a new cigarette and then continued. Apparently the next words came with difficulty for her, "I would like to hire you for an investigation."

"I 'aint doing no dirty work." I replied, still vicious towards the cougar lady as she gestured me for another light.

"Nothing of the sort, I assure you. I need you to look into some murders for me. I tried the police but they generally don't care for...How-did-you-phrase-it? Street trash was it? ...Street trash like us."

"Murder?" I leaned myself forward on my desk as my interest suddenly piqued. She had said the big M word and it was liquid gold to the ears of any detective.

"Somebody has been brutally killing my employee's and I need it stopped. They've already got SWEETIE and SUNSHINE; I can't afford to lose anybody else!"

"And what would you have me do?"

Kitty fangs showed their whites as she lashed out at me, "Put a stop to it you oaf! Put a stop to it before more innocent people die."

"I aint no vigilante and I aint risking my ass, especially for you or your collection of whores." I leaned back in my chair, scratching a paw at my facial scar.

"Had it been so long since the last time you came by? Had you forgotten the faces of these people already? Funny how quick time can make the memory so fragile." She grunted, "Listen, I can and I will pay you handsomely if you do the job." She stood up from her chair and looked at the broken ceiling fan above, "And judging from this place you most certainly could use the money." I growled at her but she just chuckled, "Come by the Falcon later tonight if you are interested in helping. I'll be there waiting for you in a booth."

"Then you'll be waiting all night. I am not interested." I folded my arms and shook my head before pointing to the door, "You should go."

She gave me one last long glance before shaking her head and turning around. But just as she was about to leave she said one last thing; "It's GANYMEDE. He's the next target."

Part 2: The Doctor's Office

It was not my intention to listen in, but as I sat in the waiting room of THE DOCTOR'S office, I overheard my therapist narrating to himself within the next room. Although being a canine gives me extraordinary advantages in detective work, in rare cases a strong sense of hearing can become a disadvantage, "After my initial analysis of the patient I've concluded that he is suffering from post traumatic stress disorder, a mental infraction most likely caused by his time overseas in the Draconian Wars. Suffering from loss of sleep due to a severe case of Nyctophobia brought on by a severe reaction to his Nihilophobia, I've encouraged a prescription of tranquillizer's to help the subject sleep. So far this has helped the patient with his insomnia but his further mental incapacitations should be met by means of a more formal analysis. Discovered in our third session together, I've found the patient has a history with homosexual romances that I believe are a direct result of war fatigue. Although he claims to be cured and to no longer have such desire and insists that he will be asking his secretary out on a date soon, I wish to further investigate his homosexuality in today's session. "

Damn! After that meeting with THE LADY back at my office I was in no mood to talk about THAT at tonight's session. Money constraints meant that this was going to be my last session and I was truly hoping that he would not find it necessary to talk about my past instances of-THAT-of my past "slip-ups". Angrily I wondered silently to myself, 'I stopped doing it a long time ago-why does he insist on bringing it up?'

As I sat waiting against the wall with my rump slumped into a cushiony couch, I was alone save for THE DOCTOR'S ASSISTANT who was busily working on a typewriter behind a desk in the far corner of the perfectly rectangular waiting room. He often sat behind that desk like some kind of receptionist but did little to actually receive the clients. In the many times I visited THE DOCTOR'S office rarely would the small grey and brown ferret strike up a conversation. I knew he did not like me very much, I knew that he probably read THE DOCTOR's file on me, I knew he thought I was some kind of fairy, and I always hoped that someday I would be given the pleasure of ringing his little neck between my paws. As I thought about doing this, starring at him from underneath my dark grey fedora, I scoffed a nasty eye at the rodent but he just continued to work. Either he did not realize I did this or he just did not care. Either way I had a feeling he knew I was watching him.

"Mr. Archer. Hello. Sorry to keep you waiting, I can see you now." My head turned sharply towards THE DOCTOR's office door as a tan coloured horse entered the room. He was smartly dressed wearing a bright red bowtie, thick framed glasses and a finely tailor grey suit. I gave him a cautious eye at first, I tolerated THE DOCTOR because he said he could make me better but it did not mean I had to like him.

"Mr. Archer?"

I did not respond. I just stood up and entered the room. But just before the door closed behind me I looked back at the ferret. I wanted to make sure the ferret did not retaliate a nasty face back at me. He did not. He just continued to work.

The Doctor's office was richly bathed in exquisiteness. Dark wood shelving bordered the room and housed many books of varying academic purposes. Finely stitched, yet oriental carpeting decorated the floor while a crystal electric chandelier illuminated the space. In the middle of the large office (much larger than mine) were two chairs; one a simple wooden chair and another that was a sort of elongated leathery lounging chair to which I was invited to sit at.

As I sat down on the seat I handed my hat to the horse, who also sitting down, placed it on a table beside him. Pulling out a notepad from his pocket, he was the first to speak. His voice working alongside the sound of a clicking metronome that sat on his desk a few spaces back from us.

"So this is to be our last session is that correct?" The professionalism of his voice had always been oddly soothing.

"That is correct." I said not letting his voice break my defences.

"And how have the tranquillizers been treating you? Helping you sleep?"

"Sure." I hated the tranquillizers but they had been helping me sleep.

THE DOCTOR made an 'Mmm' sound before continuing, "I thought today we would look a little more into your past, more specifically your experiences in war."

I did not say anything but merely kept my face stone as I starred towards the chandelier above. It was richly designed, the crystal casings that covered each bulb, four in total, twinkled with prismatic patterns as it illuminated the room in a warm light that was neither moderate nor excessive.

THE DOCTOR continued, "I want you to make sure that you are aware that the feelings you had once felt were the result of emotional fragility brought on by the stress of war. This relationship you had with Private ADAMS was not a romantic one but one of physical necessity. It is important that you do not confuse the need for intimate closeness with having these homosexual and self degenerative feelings. Sometimes in the absence of female closeness we can be drawn to the companionships we build with other men but psychologically you must realize it is not the same. Have you ever considered contacting Private ADAMS?"

"Private ADAMS is dead." I muttered as I leant back on the chair, putting my feet up.

"Well then that is unfortunate. I'm sure the two of you could have become close friends. It often becomes easier to dissolve such feelings when you can confront your actual partner and work out your confusions together. You should know he probably was just as confused as you were."

"Doctor, why are we discussing this?" At this point my teeth were grinding.

"I just thought with what has been in the news recently that it is important we discuss you and Private Adam's past relationship."

"What? The news?" I shot up from the lounge chair and swivelled myself around so that I was facing the taller male.

"You have not heard about the murders recently?" THE DOCTOR said placing a hoof-hand on my shoulder.

"I have heard of the murders but not from the news." I took THE DOCTOR's hand off of my shoulder and stood up. Pulling a cigarette out from my jacket, I pressed the papery tube against the bottom of my lip, "Got a light?" I asked, grabbing my hat.

"Mr. Archer, where are you going? We still have 30 minutes." The doctor said, calmly pulling a match from the inside of his suit.

"I'm afraid Doc that I don't much feel like talking about me and Private Adam's relationship. I had a slip up and I let it go. I fail to see what exactly I am doing here talking about it again." My growl vibrated the cigarette on my lips as I ignited its tip.

"I know it is hard Archer. But it's important for your therapy that we fully sew any wounds. New or old..."

"To hell with your therapy, I'm getting a drink." I snarled as I briskly turned myself and exited the office. THE DOCTOR, chased after me but I had no words for him. I chose to act in silence instead of acting out in the violent confrontation that suddenly had become all too tempting.

Part 3: The Ball-Tease Falcon

The Ball-Tease Falcon was a flamer joint in one of the shadier parts of Mid-City called "The Village." The Village was known as a cornucopia of sin. Spawned from bribery and a corrupted police force this place existed as the Camelot for our city's most deviant behaviours. While Constable Deep-Pockets turned a blind eye to this dark corner, I was driving past cross-dressing prostitutes, effeminate limp wrists, men celebrating themselves as women and women celebrating themselves as men.

As I drove my way to the Ball-Tease Falcon, I became more infuriated that THE LADY would request me to come to this part of the town. She had always been a cruel and wrathful lady. She hated most people, loving only those who were her fellow deviants. She may not have been the mayor of the village but she most certainly was their queen, a wretched hag for deviant fags.

Perhaps she had chosen the Ball-Tease Falcon because in her cruelty this was her way to remind me of a different time in my life, a time where I would have been driving down these streets with much different purposes. As I gazed at a young lad dressed in only leather chaps from under the lowered brim of my fedora, I was reminded how disgusting those past objectives use to be.

A cigarette lit on my lip, I coarsely muttered to myself from inside my car, "Stick to your morals in this part of town old man. The homosexual may run wild but if you can resist old temptations then you'll be cured after all." I sighed; smoke exiting my lips, "This is for GANYMEDE. You owe it to him."

When I pulled in front of the Ball-Tease Falcon it took every bit of will I had to exit the car. It was only when I pulled my revolver out of the glove compartment, loaded it, and stuffed it into my jacket that I had found find the courage to do so.

"You owe it to him." I reminded myself one last time.

My jacket up stiff, my hat down low, I shadowed myself in my attire, exiting my car and looking towards the flashy joint before me. In big neon-letters it impertinently presented itself as the capital gay bar in all of Mid-City. "The Ball-Tease Falcon," as it would read in its pink cursive lights, was once an old movie house but now was the most depraved bar in the entire city. I had only been inside once. It was after the war, at a time when I was still confused. But that was far into the past, I was a changed man now. However, all the same I felt that it was important that I could feel my cold metal revolver within my pocket.

The musical genre, described by street mongers as "dirty jazz," flooded the interior scene of the bar. On the stage musical instruments accompanied a cross-dressing human singer that folks around here called a "drag queen." As he danced in lacy stalking, moving his hips like a century flapper, his large feathery and colourfully excessive headpiece swayed as the beads that made up the entirety of his dress clattered along to the tune of his moves.

At first I watched him and only saw him. I do not know why, but everyone always draws their attention to the performer when they first enter joints like this. Maybe they don't want to look at what's going on around them, maybe they just want to pretend that they were in a normal bar, maybe they, like me, become afraid to realize that once again they've stumbled into a place they never wanted to visit again.

As I looked away from the dancer, and as I looked out to the bar locales around me I quickly gave noticed to numerous acts of rampant homosexuality that this bar allowed. In plain eyesight I saw guys kissing guys, girls kissing girls, guys touching guys, girls touching girls and I thought how could they act like this in such a public atmosphere? Just then I realized where I was. Described biblically, I had thought myself as having suddenly entered into Gomorrah, or perhaps it was more likely I was in Sodom, either way I had truly found the one piece of the world that god had forgotten about. Damn! I needed a drink.

Sitting at the bar, MR. FALCON, the owner of the establishment came to serve me from behind the counter. He was near naked save for some short-cut blue-jeans and a pink fedora. With inconspicuous eyes I watched him, he was tall, taller then I remembered and his body was more physically built since last time I saw him too. It would not be hard to find appreciation for the particular masculinity in a man of that physique. Even one time I would confuse such an appreciation for desire, but not now, I had changed, I had been cured.

However, as much as I had changed it appeared that MR. FALCON had remained the same. He was part queen and defiantly all fairy. Although it was always said he had an eye for faces, he fortunately did not recognize me from my one visit to this place many years ago. Instead, the bipedal white avian addressed me as though I was any old John Doe, any old customer that would typically come into his establishment.

"What'll it be, bitch?" He squawked in an effeminate tune.

"Just a gin and tonic-- Hold the talk." I muttered, still using my hat as a shield.

"Jeez." The falcon dismissed me turning over towards the bottles of alcohol behind him. Looking away from the bar I peered towards the back booths and looked to where my lady in waiting would be. I spied her somewhere near the backrooms, sitting in a darkened corner booth smoking a cigarette with her paw clutched around an empty martini glass. In secret I had a strong distaste for the dark and it appeared she had chosen the darkest booth in the entire bar. I would have thought this was all part of her cruelty but it was impossible that THE LADY could have known about my condition. But then again, as a detective, I also knew never to rule out the impossible.

"Hey! Your gin!" MR. FALCON yelled at me as I got up from the stool, almost forgetting my drink at the bar. I grabbed the drink, and paid with a tip. In my past I had known MR. FALCON to be a decent guy, even if he owned this bar, even if he was confused, I had a conversation with him once and I knew him to be a decent guy.

As expected, the darkness of the back corner made me nervous. I fretfully tried to hold in my anxiety trying to hide my discomfort from THE LADY but the shaking ice-cubes of my gin and tonic told all secrets. As I sat down with THE LADY who was now dressed in her usual sexualized leather corset I found that my throat was clamming up. Behind my clothes I had already shielded myself from the influences of this world, but now in my nervousness, I did not just shield myself, I shrunk.

"Archer?" A familiar voice called to me from across the bar and it was not THE LADY's. From back at the bar I did not see anyone sitting beside THE LADY but that appeared to be a miss-observation on my part. Someday else had just said my name and I had heard the voice perfectly. Despite the loud music, despite the sinful revelry around me, despite my ears being lowered, I had heard his voice perfectly and it stung me in a place I had before long lost feeling in. My shaking paw raised my glass to my lips and I sipped my drink.

"GANYMEDE." I said softly, gulping the liquid down my dry throat.

"So you remember him. How swell." THE LADY said, waving over the server and ordering another drink, "But you must not wear your hat indoors, as it is quite rude." She said jovially as she lifted off my hat and placed it onto her lap. Rage towards THE LADY and anxiety towards the shadow mixed in my insides and suddenly they became a spinning turbine. The queer sensation immobilized me and it made it hard to speak.

"Archer? What's wrong?" GANYMEDE's voice, despite his homosexuality, was not effeminate. There was little about him that was. Looking at him one would not expect him to be a homosexual, or a prostitute at that manner. He never desired to wear women's clothes, he never let his wrist go limp, and he dressed as sharply as any man would in this age. He was, in a debateable sense, manly.

Thus it was in this that his masculinity betrayed his lifestyle. Or was it lifestyle that betrayed his masculinity? Either way, one could easily mistake him for the kind of friend that you could share a beer with. He looked like a real pal till he tried to take your pants off.

"Can we--"I paused grasping my palpating heart firmly, "Go somewhere else?"

"No can do Big Wolf." THE LADY objected "This is the only place my little Ganny is safe."

"Somewhere else in the bar then?" I rather aggressively retorted.

"The upstairs lounge, it'll be quiet there-- more comfortable for Archer." GANYMEDE said placing his paw onto mine. His touch electrified my fur. The softness of his paw reminded me of when the same paw had touched me many times before, and the many different places he would touch me. I retracted my paw back into my jacket sleeve, the bittersweet memories flooding over me in both a sensation of nostalgia and disgust. I was not ready to look at him.

Without really watching where I was going as I was still a turtle within the shell of my own jacket, I was brought upstairs into a cigar lounge of sorts. Large drooping red curtains decorated the walls as lanterns hung from various wooden pillars that connected the floor to the concave roof. A man dressed in a tuxedo played a large grand piano on a slightly elevated stage as a slew of couches and tables decorated the floor.

Infecting the air was a thin foggy like haze was the smoke from the various cigars lit around the lounge. The three of us assembled around one of the tables as THE LADY, who now took to wearing my fedora, offered me a cigar. I accepted, the brightly lit room helping to ease me out of my suit shell. GANYMEDE spoke,

"Thank you for coming Archer. In all honesty I never expected to see you again. But I am thankful that in desperate times I can still call you--" He paused, and I looked up at him, "Friend."

GANYMEDE had not changed much since the years I last saw him. With THE LADY, MR. FALCON and now GANYMEDE, It appeared people in The Village rarely do change. He was wearing a pure white suit, with matching pants, his tall lion body enticed a response in me that I had not felt since the last time we were together-the sensation suddenly scared me. My jaw dropped, as old feelings began to re-manifest, the confusion I had once disregarded had come back to haunt me once again. His blue eyes, blonde fur, strong and full brown mane gave me the near undeniable urge to hug him right then and there. An insatiable desire inside of me wanted to feel his impressive, larger then myself, physique against my body once again. I am no sissy, I do not usually submit to any man but when I saw him again I'll admit there was a certain spark of lust inside of me.

Shame was the next thing I felt. For where he had maintained his body, kept it as magnificent as ever, I had been less keen. I felt the roundness that had begun to shape in my belly: a condition of old age, I felt the scar that had made itself all too obvious on the scalp of my head, even my teeth felt yellower then they probably were. I let my shame turn into anger, the alcohol helping me boil my blood, and it let me break from GANYMEDE's spell. On his breast pocket as though it was turned into a brooch of sorts I noticed a purple Pansy flower pinned to his jacket,

"Nice flower." I sneered.

"Thanks it's a symbol for...Uhh...Other men."

"Still gay then?" I continued my joust.

"Well, not everyone can supposedly just turn it off." GANYMEDE acted offended.

"You two, stop it." THE LADY protested raising a feline paw in authority. Somewhat annoyed she addressed me, "Archer? I want to know if we have your cooperation."

"Sure. I could use the money." I murmured miserably.

"Thank you Archer. I know, given our past, it really is hard for you to accept such a job. But we did not know who else to turn to." Said GANYMEDE as he collected his composure while unpinning his flower and stuffing it into his pocket, "I only require your protection. I will keep all business between us strictly professional."

"Wait. Protection?" I snarled, "I thought I was just investigating. I'm not going to walk around with some fairy."

THE LADY, offended that GANYMEDE had put his flower away, lashed out at me. Her feline ferocity intimidating, had it been any other female besides her I probably would not have shrunk back into my seat so defensively. Sometimes she could be sweet as a flower. Cross her though and she'll snap like a fly trap, "Look, Archer. GANYMEDE is not safe among me and my boys and he cannot hide around bars all the time. He has no safe house outside of The Village where he can hide. You take on this case, and sure as the devil's violin, you better see to his safety!"

"Fine." I said rising up in my seat, "So where do I begin?"

The lady began her monologue, passing me a few photos she kept from within her breast,

"It all started a couple of months ago when SUNSHINE failed to show up for his shift one night. We tried to reach him at his house but his partner and roommate, RAIN said he had never come home. So suspecting something was awry we hunted down his last john, a philanthropist you might recognize from the paper as MR. BROWN and personal regular of SUNSHINE."

I stopped THE LADY mid-speech, "MR. BROWN? He's not gay."

"So YOU would think." She retorted, narrowing her eyes at me rather malevolently for interrupting her, "Anyways, when we confronted him about it, he was quite upset to hear that SUNSHINE had gone missing and offered us a hefty sum to find him. Accepting the money we hired a private detective working here in The Village to find SUNSHINE but he too went missing. With our detective now gone the search suddenly seemed fruitless until a couple of weeks later on the news we heard of a body showing up on the beach down by the old port. It matched SUNSHINE's description perfectly. It seemed he was brutally tortured for days, multiple lacerations-as though from a whip-on his back, smaller cuts with a knife all over his arms and legs, fingers broken, his body deprived of food and water, and in a final act his throat had been slit.

A few weeks ago a second missing person had turned up, on the same beach, the same cuts, only this time there was a message carved into his chest. It was one word, 'Eureka!' Later the body was recognized as SUNSHINE's partner, RAIN.

Three days ago, another one of my clients went missing. SWEETIE was his name."

I nodded my head, listening intently before turning to GANYMEDE, "Well what makes you think GANYMEDE is the next target?"

"Well we realize our killer is using a particular pattern. First, I do not know why but he is hunting only my employees. Next, we believe he may be killing by age. SUNSHINE was my oldest, at 43, RAIN came next at 42, SWEETIE is 38, making GANYMEDE my next target at 35."

"I see." Once again, I nodded my head, "Any suspects?"

"There are a lot of people who would like to see us dead Mr. Archer, it's just a manner of who would be brave enough to do it so brutally."

"And the detective that went missing. Any leads on where he may have gone?"

"His office is just up the street from here. It's a small shop called the Shack Detective Agency. That's all I can tell you."

I stood out of my seat grabbing my hat off of THE LADY's head. GANYMEDE stood up as well. Despite where I was, despite all that had happened, something about being "on the case" invigorated me with a youthful virility. There was something authentic and exciting in this case. Murder? Brutal killing? Well this seemed to be a story right out of a pulp fiction novel. Change a few names here, a few sexualities there, and I thought I could even become famous for cracking this one.

Shaking THE LADY's paw, I confirmed quite firmly, "I'm on it. Don't worry, I'll find him."

"I believe you will Archer. I truly do." At those words, I tipped my hat to THE LADY and looked over the pictures she handed me. The collection of photographic evidence depicted the bodies of each murder. I thought about asking THE LADY where she got the pictures, but then I realized some things are better left unknown and stuffed them into the interior of my jacket.

Part 4: Where in the world is Detective Shack?

GANYMEDE and I had left the bar and made our way to MR.SHACK's office. Located in a refurbished old-shoe factory (to which we accessed through an open window) called "Le Plaza", I found it was located among many other offices and shops on the fifth floor of the lofty building. The fifth floor consisted of illuminated corridors which became lightened overhead by loosely fixed hanging bulbs. The industrial interior, although renovated, was still quite rusted and derelict and as we walked down these newly made corridors looking for MR. SHACK's office, we came across wig shops, masseuse parlours, and one particular shop labelled as, "Madame Euphoria's Garden of Heavenly Pleasures." We treaded down the metallic hallway as quickly and quietly as possibly, keeping an eye out for any security patrols which might be guarding the area. However, the place seemed pretty well abandoned and since the cops did not come by this area there was not much to worry about-at that time.

The door was locked but with a bit of stealth it was picked easily enough and we were inside. GANYMEDE seemed impressed that I had acquired such a skill and I jokingly told him I had learned it from a travelling gypsy and he foolishly believed me until I could no longer hold in my building chuckle.

It was night and as such Shack's office was incredibly dark save for the light the poured in from the hallway. Confronted face to face with the dark shadow, in a panic I quickly flicked on the lights. As I fought to catch my breath in a panic, GANYMEDE dumbly held a flashlight in his paws,

"Uh Archer? Are we not trespassing? Maybe you should not turn on the room lights?" GANYMEDE suggested.

"No. It's fine. I'm sure the building is abandoned at this hour." My breath had returned to normal but my heart beat was still strong causing me to stoop over.

"Archer, are you hurt?" GANYMEDE lowered towards me resting a hand on my arched back.

Springing up, I jumped away from his paw, "Rule number 1: Don't touch me." I thought and then added another rule, "Rule 2: Only talk to me if I talk to you or if you see a clue."

"Alright..." GANYMEDE responded partly troubled as he put the flashlight back into his pocket.

Where my office was in a state of disrepair, Shack's office was in a state of pure ruin. His single room office consisted of a table, a chair, a typewriter and then a collection of books and folders in various cardboard boxes scatted all around the mostly empty, metal-box office. One other artefact I noted was a picture frame of MR.SHACK and what appeared to be his wife. Examining the picture of the two coupled bloodhounds who sat together at the Old Port's beach I called towards GANYMEDE,

"Hey! This guy was straight. This must be his wife. Wonder what he's doing working round here." I commented showing the picture to GANYMEDE.

"Not everyone who lives in The Village is queer. Some people come here to escape. Some people come here for the cheap rent. Others come here because there is nowhere else to go." Melancholically informed GANYMEDE, "It's not all brimstone and fire here. We do have our own sense of community."

"Oh." I shrugged looking at the frame one more time and then placing it back on the desk. Suddenly in a flash my eye caught something. In using the typewriter as a paperweight, Mr. SHACK had placed under the machine various word filled papers. I began to read them over.

"What's that?" Wondered GANYMEDE as he looked up from the box he was searching.

"His Journal, I think."

"What's it say?"

"September 25th," I read, "I have been hired to find a missing person. Going only by the alias SUNSHINE, it appears the streets have taken away another of our community. Cases like this always end up bloody and violent, and as much as I hope that this time maybe somebody had just run away from home I am full of doubt. No cops in this area means plenty of business for me, but the chaos one sees without natural law enforcement can make the average person immediately regret their career choices. Within all the drugs, the murders, and then the general violence towards our community, I have certainly become hardened for sure but just once do I wish that my life in this place did not have to be so cruel. I am reminded of what MR. FALCON once told me, 'They try to destroy us with violence, so we destroy ourselves with drugs, and in the end when you live in The Village long enough you'll start to feel doomed too.' Makes me think, who's to blame for the squalor we live in? -Mr. Rory "Roar" Shack"

"September 26thI decided to visit MR. BROWN an outstanding member of higher society and yet a secret heavy supporter of The Village. I am not fully convinced he speaks truthfully when he claims that he did not know what happened to SUNSHINE after their arrangement that night. MR. BROWN, as a closeted homosexual, might have incentive to murder SUNSHINE had his position become compromised. Such scandals ruin one man while being profitable for another. There is nothing more terrible in this world as blackmail. I will not stand for such injustice. If somebody has been blackmailing MR. BROWN I will retaliate in violence. It is fair. It is justice. --Mr. Rory "Roar" Shack."

"September 27thMR. BROWN was less then agreeable when I visited him and I have to break two of his fingers to get him to confess. There was no better choice to get him to confess, so I had to break his fingers. Just his fingers though. Fingers heal easily." Then I stopped reading.

"Why'd you stop?" GANYMEDE wondered.

"Nothing left on the page, see?" I showed him the blank page. Folding the three pages up I then stuffed them into my inner coat pocket deciding that later they may be important. I continued searching the desk for any other helpful clues but it was GANYMEDE who found the next clue.

Moving a box to the side, suddenly GANYMEDE eyes set upon a dark red patch on the floor, "Archer! It's blood!" GANYMEDE shrieked.

I circled around the desk and kneeled down towards the dried blood splatter, "It must be MR.SHACK's!" I quickly deducted, "Which means he must have been interrupted as he was writing that last journal entry." I paused running a paw-finger over the blood, I smelt it, it smelled like Bloodhound, "But then there is the obvious question as to why did they leave the journal entries behind?"

"Maybe they were acting quickly. Maybe they overlooked it?"

"Then it was not our killer who nabbed the detective. Killers like our killer rarely act so carelessly. No this was the work of hired lackeys, thugs perhaps. Thugs hired to keep the detective's mouth shut." I paused, "I believe we must visit MR. BROWN next." I said before I was suddenly interrupted,

"Hey? What are you doing here?" A corgi in a blue uniform shouted at us from outside the office, "You are trespassing you know?"

He looked like a lowly security guard armed only with a baton but I grasped the revolver in my pocket all the same. If he threatened us I could at least fire a warning shot, show him I'm armed, might even show him we have the upper hand, it might make him think that its best to leave us alone. I spoke clearly, and calmly, making sure he knew we meant business,

"We mean no harm. We're investigating the disappearance of MR. SHACK." I said, one paw raised, other paw on pistol concealed within my jacket. GANYMEDE remained knelt down by the blood splatter. Jaw stuck open-frozen in surprise.

"I'm not supposed to let anyone in here after hours." The corgi nervously stuttered. I could see that he was not use to finding trespassers and seemed quite inexperienced. I read the square badge pinned to his breast pocket, "Rainbow Defense Force, Pvt SMITH: Village Protectors." Apparently this part of Mid-City had some sort of law enforcement after all; a private security force. I laughed at the idea of dweebs like this ever being a real police officer. Not only was he young but he was small, nervous, and looking like he never had seen a fight in his life.

"Hold old are you Smith?"

"17, dog years." He quickly responded, "But that's none of your business! Now GO!" I curled an eyebrow at his authority but decided it was best to listen to him.

"Okay, Okay, we're leaving. Come on GANYMEDE." As we walked past the security guard I snapped at him, making sure to miss his muzzle by a hair. He jumped back shocked, probably white in face if I could have seen his skin underneath the fur.

Part 5: The Wall of War

GANYMEDE and I returned to the car, drove out of the village, and started to head back to my place which was located downtown. I decided that it had become too late to be visiting MR. BROWN and that it might be best call if we call it a night. We would continue the detective work tomorrow. That and the alcohol I drank before had all but left my system now and suddenly I was overcome by a sense of extreme drowsiness.

Driving in the night city, there is little places for voids to hide. Mid-City never sleeps and thus it is constantly illuminated by streetlights, advertisements, the lightened rooms of apartment buildings, and etcetera. Downtown everything was there for me to see clearly and that's why I lived there. Where my memories fail to serve me I had become born in the light of this city. There had always been light. And although I have been given witness to the many evils that hide in this city, I knew it was not in the downtown lights that they hid. That's why I lived downtown, because downtown lights never fade.

Arriving at my apartment we ascended the staircase to my room on the 8thfloor. I opened the door to my home and quickly turned on the light preventing myself to witness any dark void to be found within. After a few blips of my dying central light bulb the void was gone and my living room was brightly lit before us. Immediately I rushed to the corner bar of my living room and poured myself a scotch on the rocks.

"Want a drink?" I asked.

"No thank you." GANYMEDE said as he followed me into the small apartment, observing the surroundings.

My apartment was small but homey. I had done everything in my power to make the best of the affordable space and my apartment was well decorated. A softer side of me would admit that I had always loved the arts and in this passion I had obtained a fine collection of cityscapes, floral paintings and portraits to decorate the brick walls of my home. Aside from my wall decorations I had managed to furnish my apartment quite nicely as well. On a deal I had managed to buy a rather nice white leather couch and it sat behind a copper and glass table that stood over a fake bear skin rug. GANYMEDE chose to sit on the couch. Across from the couch was the bar and I chose to sit there.

In a momentary silence I sipped my drink while starring at GANYMEDE. At that time I was conflicted. Part of me wanted to hate him; another part of me wanted him in my bed, and then another part of me, a part of me that was just like this sad little pup, wanted more than anything for me to just talk to him. Did he know how much I missed him-As a friend?

GANYMEDE tried to avoid eye contact with me as I awkwardly starred at him. Instead he carried his eye to each and every painting that decorated my four walls. If awkwardness was a liquid substance, then between us surely we would have drowned. After awhile GANYMEDE commented on the walls trying to mend this silence between us,

"I remember each of these paintings you know. Back when I was-visiting."

"I have gotten some new ones." I responded rather dull, yet my gaze towards him did not break.

"I see that." GANYMEDE finally looked at me, his blue eyes like magnets to my green ones. It was becoming harder and harder to refuse my feelings for him, the scotch only making conditions worse. And just then, as there was a growing sorrow in my eyes, his eyes too became sorrowful, "Stop. Please."

"Stop what?" I was still transfixed on the lion.

"Starring at me," GANYMEDE whimpered, "Treating me like some piece of art work."

"Well you are some piece of work are you not?" My drunkenness making quick work of my tongue.

"And what the hell is that suppose to mean?"

"You're a prostitute. A fairy prostitute!"

"...One you USED to hire!" GANYMEDE stood up, roaring a deep lion roar.

"Only because I was sick, because I was confused. Because being with you reminded me of him!" I stood up too, slamming my glass onto the bar surface.

"Who?" GANYMEDE's rage doused and he sat back down on the couch.

"None of your damn business!" I snapped turning to the bar and pouring myself another drink. GANYMEDE remained silent awhile before I shook my head and whispered, "Come with me." I let out a deep sigh and began walking towards my bedroom. The light switch to the bedroom was on the outside of the room and I flicked it on before opening the door.

As we entered my small bedroom, I pointed GANYMEDE towards the far wall. There, sandwiched between two well filled shelves was my private collection of memories from the war. Pictures of my old regiment, maps of places we battled, pictures of vehicles I saw, generals I met, and even a framed bandana that belonged to a friend I had once lost. On the shelves beside the pictures there were medals, bullets and other physical object relics that represented one of the few moments of my past I still remembered. From my bedside table I had my lamp pointed towards the shrine like wall, so that it was always illuminated; never in the void.

"I know of this wall. I had seen it many a times during my past visits. That's where you got your scar from. The war, I mean." GANYMEDE said looking at the wall and then looking at my scar.

"That's right."

"And I remember you had to take tranquillizers, because of your PTSD, right?"

"Sure."

GANYMEDE paused dropping his head, "I'm sorry."

"It's over now." I shrugged, leaning on the doorframe of the bedroom entrance.

"So then who was he? This fur I reminded you of?"

Taking off my jacket and throwing it onto the floor I moved to sit down on my bed and looked into my palms and then I began to tell my story,

Part 6: Old Memories, New Desires

"It was the Battle for White Shale Beach and we had just managed to take Thurass City from the Draconian Empire. Our orders were to maintain the small city until the navy came to drop us supplies. The charge on the beach was victorious but yielded heavy losses for us and by the time we had made it past White Shale Beach and into the city we did not have enough man power or provisions to continue the push northward. All we could do is defend our ground and hope that the Dragon's didn't mount another assault and try to take back the ground they lost."

"It was during this time that I and a solider by the name of Private RYAN ADAMS became bonded. We were chosen as partners for our guard shift in a sniper nest somewhere within a bombed out bedroom. Both he and I did not understand why we had been chosen to become snipers, as both of our sharpshooting experiences were limited, but apparently it just went to show how low on soldiers we really were.

"Nonetheless, my time with ADAMS was quite enjoyable in that tower. We shared a lot of stories and we seemed to get along quite well. Eventually, as we shared shifts in the sniper's nest we become bonded as extremely close friends. The best of friends even.

"As the days continued the nights suddenly grew colder, and at first we accepted each other's embrace in warmth but then later it developed into something more. In myself I could feel a sexual need beginning to mix with my desire for physical warmth and I soon felt that perhaps ADAMS was beginning to share the same ideas as well.

"At first, we would only joke about it. Call each other 'fairy,' stuff like that. Than one night, our last night together, things got out of hand and we gave into the desires."

"Then what happened?"

"What do you mean 'what happened?' I got horizontal with another man! I let him take me. End of story. That's it. It was a stupid mistake for a weak man to fall for." I exploded in a hot drunken temper before falling into my paws once again,

"I mean what happened to ADAMS. After-Well, you know..."

"They never did launch an assault to retake the city or the beach and eventually ADAMS and I were split up and we became mobile once more. It was not until I woke up from my bullet wound a couple of weeks later that I found out that ADAMS was classified as MIA. His death upset me to say the least; I spent many a days in recovery wishing that I had been killed instead of him. The grief added up, and then I started hanging round The Village, spending my hard earned military dollars on folks like you."

"I had always known you were sad." GANYMEDE sat down on the bed beside me, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me into his embrace. I tried to hesitate but the alcohol had all too quickly soothed me into a state of liquid wax, "But now I know why. I'm sorry."

"I should be thankful. In what little memories I had left of my past after my accident, ADAMS was one of those memories that would never really leave me. It was hard to get over him, but the nights we spent together certainly helped. It helped enough that it then encouraged me to seek therapy to deal with my desires, to deal with my depression and now, as soon as this is all over I'm going to ask my secretary on a date. A nice big fat pay check will help me out greatly when I take her out for steaks."

"Oh. That's good. I guess." GANYMEDE trailed, "But, are you really sure that's what you want?"

"Of course, she has always been faithful to me and I truly appreciate her company."

"Oh," GANYMEDE stood up from the bed and walked to the frame of the bedroom door, "I'll be sleeping on the couch then? Good night."

Then suddenly the lights in the apartment went out.

Part 7: The Black-Out

Suddenly I was in the void once again. The limitless possibilities that existed in the blank expanse around me terrified me and as I became consumed by those infinite fears I could only scream like a pup. I curled into the foetal position, feeling as though slick and black ink fingers were crawling up my legs, penetrating my skin and tauntingly shivering my bones. I cried, I whimpered, I screamed for it to stop, but I knew for the night I was going to be trapped. The void, in its most grandiose potential had returned and I feared that it had come to drag me back into the shadows from whence I was born.

"Archer, are you okay?" GANYMEDE said, turning on his flashlight and spotlighting it over to my wide-eyed and terrified face.

"The dark, I'm terrified of the dark." I screamed, choking on the dry air I seemed to be breathing. I could feel the blood in my ears pulsate. The liquid that was being coursed through my veins felt as though it was some sort of dark molasses that painfully violated my ears with a dull pound.

"You are afraid of the dark?" GANYMEDE questioned, "That must be why you always wanted the lights on..."

It was becoming harder to breath, my throat clamming up, my heart paining me in my chest. There was a locked stiffness in my body as my joints felt like a spring forcefully held tight. I pleaded to GANYMEDE, completely at his mercy, "I hate nothingness, I hate not seeing anything, I do not like the abyss. Get me my tranquillizer's please."

"Okay, where are they?" He said, taking the flashlight off of my body and using it to search around the room.

"Argh! Keep the flashlight on me. Please!"

"Sorry." GANYMEDE apologized giving me the flashlight to which I held stiff between my arms, trying to focus only on its light, trying my hardest to calm myself.

"They are in my dresser. Top drawer, My sock drawer." I could hear GANYMEDE shuffle over to dresser and begin to search through my drawers.

"Found them." He said throwing the pill bottle onto my bed. Like a starving man desperately diving for the smallest of crumbs, I snatched the bottle. Quickly I popped the cap and shoved two pills into my mouth, swallowing them dry.

"GANYMEDE, I need a favour." I said, still focused on the flashlight. "GANYMEDE, can you stay with me till I fall asleep...Till the pills take effect?"

"I-Uh sure." Behind me I could feel as GANYMEDE crawled into bed-space behind me. He laid on his back starring at the ceiling as I starred at the light of the flashlight. "What would you have me do?" He questioned.

"Just hold me. Please. But no funny business." I whimpered, keeping my eyes open and on the light-always on the light.

"Okay." Two strong arms came up behind me and GANYMEDE's larger body folded around my fragile curled one. It helped; it helped tremendously to feel him behind me. His touch, his presence, offered a light of its own as I kept myself within the flashlight's offering. I could breathe easier now but my heart rate would not decrease. Instead it seemed to pump even stronger as the lion held me from behind.

I had fit perfectly within his embrace. I was this fragile pup and he had taken the role of this all brave, all strong lion but yet as he held me I felt like there was no reason to feel inferior to him. When he spoke next he spoke to me softly,

"Is this okay?" He wondered.

"Yes. But no funny business got it?" At first, I cursed my own abrasiveness, my own will that fought to stop me from giving into desire. I cursed myself. I cursed the swelling that occurred in my pants. I cursed the very lustful cries my body sent through my blood.

Then I cursed my fears. I cursed my fear of the darkness around me. I cursed my fear to recess back to my homosexual desires. I cursed my fear of failing to become normal.

Then finally I cursed my needs. I cursed my need to be with him again. I cursed my need to be cured. I cursed my own SEXUAL needs.

"Okay. You can trust me. Are you feeling drowsy yet?" GANYMEDE seemed oblivious to my own internal conflict or perhaps he was just too caring to indulge into it.

"No. Not yet." I sighed, I had not even begun to feel the effects of the pills. Perhaps my own arousal was keeping me awake. As a pup I had often found it hard to sleep with an erection.

Then, like a strike of lightning suddenly and drastically striking the ground I finally found the will to confess in a slight whisper, "GANYMEDE, I'm hard."

"I know." He whispered back. One paw hugged me harder, pushing my back against his front, while another paw lowered slightly, "Do you..."He trailed off.

I could not say the words I wanted to say, so instead I chose to use action. Grabbing his paw in my own I placed his grasp onto my swelling pant. He began to knead the bulge there, playing along the length of the swelling that occurred. I whimpered as he touched me, shivering as he sent electrifying bursts through my body. My paw that had prior guided his hand downward was now grasping his thick wrist tightly, his fingers now playing with the button of my pants.

"Ah-" I let out a gasp in relief as he unzipped my pants offering my red stiffness much needed freedom. With one paw still hugging my torso from behind, his large paw guided my pants off of my hips, around my knees, over my feet and then completely off. Now I was in my underwear, my rigid erection protruding forward so that it tented in the centre. The tip of the tent was moistened with a wet drip of my own pre. In the air around us, the scent of my musk with the scent of the Lion's own arousal mixed into a delicate cologne. It was absolutely intoxicating, worse than any alcohol I could have ever drank and as my animalistic need, my inert desire to procreate consumed my mind, the darkness now bothered me less and less.

The lion was quick to push my boxers off of my legs as well, and now my lower half was naked as all sin, my red genital firmly strong and rigid before me. GANYMEDE licked the back of my neck as he began to pump the needing cock in his paw, purring a resonating sound as he instinctively grinded his panted hardness against my own backside.

The familiar sensation of feeling his hardness pressed against my rear as it grinded against the cushions of my own buttocks resurfaced so many suppressed emotions I felt as though such feelings were blowing out of me like oil shooting out from a drill-tower. The lion was quick to take off his own jacket and throw it on the floor, and soon too would he take off his own pant and expose his raw organ to my naked hole.

Darkness? What darkness? In my bedroom, I could only feel the lion rub himself against me; my sex in his hand, his sex against my rear, our man to man bonding heightened by a need to feel each other. To engage each other in an act so visceral, yet so unreal, that at this time not even the entire Draconian Empire could stop me from experiencing this moment. So what if he was a man? So what if this was not natural. I wanted him and I wanted his cock.

He rolled me over and I was on my back facing him as he looked back at me as the flashlight fell off the bed. With a deep passionate kiss his feline tongue invaded my canine mouth just as a saliva moistened paw finger began to play with my opening. First he just rubbed it but soon he was stretching me, preparing me just as he had many times before; preparing me for penetration.

Caught in the madness of it all, I did not resist but merely let him play with me, almost riding his finger, almost enjoying it as he invaded my interior. A second finger soon joined the first, and although it pained me, the alcohol I had prior ingested helped me ignore it.

With strong arms he lifted my legs and pushed them backwards so that my knees were nearing my own ears. My prepared hole was now ready for him, fully presented for him, ready for him to take me. But just as GANYMEDE pressed the tip of his barbed cock to my desiring hole he asked me,

"Are you sure you want to do this again?"

"Don't make me say, yes."

He smiled and with those words his strong hips pushed inside of me, opening my entrance and forcing my lungs to let out a loud gasp.

"Jesus." I cried, wincing a bit as his rather impressive genital forcefully made its way into my passage. My legs stiffened as I fought to force myself to relax. The lion's head now resting in the crevice between my neck and shoulders, it was there where he gently nipped at my neck fur. It was, and always will be a sensitive spot for any canine.

"S-S-sorry." GANYMEDE apologized as he pushed his entire length inside of me. His fur-covered balls slapping against my back in a loud shmack, shmack, sound as he began to increase speed.

As I became use to the sensation I began to relax and soon I let my stiff legs fall onto the body of the lion who continued to hump me with a strong force. My own cock still hard, the lion rubbed my full and red erection as he continued to dive deeper still into my hole; drilling me with every muscle of his strong physique.

Now both my paws worked to free his clothed upper body from the shielding constraints of his own shirt. As his chest became exposed, a jolt of excitement waved over my body as I gave witness to the straining muscles of his impressive and sculpted torso.

"Take your shirt off." He commanded just before letting out a deep growl and then nipping my neck. I did not do it however. I had no reason; no want to show my body off to him. Instead I merely pulled his head off of my neck and onto my lips as we engaged into another deep, long and passionate kiss. He purred through our joined kissed and I moaned, both of us caught up in the pleasure of the other person's presence.

Darkness? What Darkness? I asked again as the flashlight continued to offer the only light in the dark bedroom, it's bulb now pointed at the far wall. I no longer had to focus on that light; I only had to focus on the lion, who now prodded deep into my needing passage. His thrusting embrace filled me with both an offering of sexual gratification and a sense of protecting security. Would the feeling had been the same if I was with a woman? I doubted it.

Breaking the kiss, I saw strain in his face and I knew what was soon to come.

"Jerk me harder." I barked and he complied, increasing his speed and tightening his grip, "Ahh-" I moaned, my knot forming, popping out, my climax quickly building now.

As a white wash of ecstasy quickly overcame me, my muscles firmed and my mind went dull. Powerful waves of pleasure released inside of me and from the tip of my canine cock I shot numerous streaks of white over my own dark fur. The lion was second to release himself inside of me. His orgasm marked by a loud roar, the burst of his own seed filled my interior with his warm and wet ejaculate. His body went stiff and then he fell into me. Panting heavy from the exertion he just went through.

The final burst of our orgasms brought on a wave of drowsiness as the pills finally took their effect. By the time the lion had pulled himself out of me and rolled to cuddle me on my side, I had fallen into a deep sleep.

--

WOW, Have I ever been busy! From the length of the first chapter alone I'm surprised this story even got finished or edited for that manner. I will say this though although I had to edit this in parts over quite some time I'm scared to admit that this may not have been my best edit job. I know I always say that. It's just I would like to remind you that among being a student, a social butterfly, and one who looks for love in all the wrong places, I find editing is the hardest and most time consuming process. There are parts that I REALLY like in this story and there are parts that I have less faith in but all together I can feel a bit of pride in this work. I have never ever written anything in the detective, mystery novel and although I'll admit I've read authors who are a 100% better than me it's a good first attempt to say the least.

That being said, I won't leave much more commentary for this first chapter (the story is long enough) and most likely will be saving all other comments for chapter 2. Which although I said I would post with chapter 1 will now be posted hopefully by sometime next week or the week after (then it's time to begin midterms!).

I decided to post them separate for two reasons. 1) Suspense, you can't have a mystery story without suspense! And 2) I can use the comments (if there are any) provided in this story to help me better formulate Chapter 2. That being said, I'll try my best to get chapter 2 done as quickly as possible so that I can say, "I'm done!" with this project and continue on with school, finding a new job (recently lost mine), and working on some OTHER non-furry related projects that have been on the back burner for FAR too long. As my Muse tells me, the strange creature deciding to be a pirate all of a sudden, "GET TO WORK YOU SCALLYWAG!" and we all knows what happens if I ignore my muse for too long....

So rate, favourite, watch, and comment. It does make me a happy Beaver as I'll always appreciate the extra love!