FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

. Chapter five . "I know! That is why I said to be careful!" Lou called after him in a hoarse whisper and watched over the edge until Cain's body faded in the darkness. With a glance at the clear night sky, he pulled down the starlight goggles and flipped the switch to 'ON'. The electronic whine drowned out the vibrating rasp of Cain's descent for a moment as the world lit back up in shades of green and grey. He looked back down the exhaust vent and saw the first two antennae clinging to the wall. Farther down, his partner fiddled with the power switch on the back of the third. He watched until the equine set its magnetic base against the steel pipe and began lowering himself again. Nodding in satisfaction, Lou backed away from the edge and opened his briefcase. Again, the Yagi extended, but this time, he did not engage the dampening field. Instead, he turned on the passive detection systems, reading blips on the encased computer monitor as he spun the antenna about its mast. "There you are," he muttered, picking up an active microwave radar signal. "Good. Still in low-power mode." Keys clicked as claws skittered across the board's surface. One by one, a specific sequence of small conformation message boxes popped up on screen, awaiting final user confirmation. "Damn that shit fuckin' stinks!" Cain thought to himself for the dozenth time, fighting back the urge to snort. "Should have brought some damn Vapo-Rub for my nose." The fifth antenna clicked into place on the wall and he slid down the last dozen-odd meters until one hoof slipped into a void. "Finally," he thought. The warm, dry air flowing from this vent smelled vaguely of ozone, burnt dust, and ... cinnamon for some odd reason. "Anything's better than this shit-air pipe," Cain muttered, swinging hooves first into the tube. As he shinnied backwards, he slapped another antenna onto the wall and folded the boom out into the main exhaust. Two hundred meters and four antennae later, he passed over the source of the ozone tainted air. "Time to get out of this sardine can," he thought, pulling out a high intensity pen laser. He twisted the barrel and pressed the activator causing a bright, cyan beam of light to shoot from the tip. He focused it quickly on the ductwork's seam, cutting a good sized hole. An inverted can of compressed air made quick work of the glowing edges. If anyone had been in the data center, he would have been quite shocked to see a large equinoid slip from a new hole in the ventilation system. As it was, Cain slid onto the top shelf of an unused rack quietly and completely unobserved. Before jumping down, he secured the final antenna to the duct and pulled the flap of cut metal almost closed. Nearby a prominent label proclaimed the adjacent rack as the "Primary Data Pool". Finding an empty slot on the router, Cain plugged the A.I.D.S. unit in with a smirk. "Pool's closed, motherfuckers. Enjoy." Up top, a tone warbled in Lou's ear. Quickly he executed the first task and waited for the worm to make its run. After a second tone, a graphical display of processes and subsystems appeared on his screen. "Amateurs," he smirked. Deftly, he bootstrapped to the security communications system and suppressed the frequency monitor. "Runner, this is Coach, we are all go," he spoke into the mic. "How is it down there?" "It's a data room, it's boring," came the low-voiced reply. "I should hope so," Lou chuckled, typing away. "I found what appears to be the data we are after, but the encryption is a bit tricky and it will take me a few minutes. See if you can find a terminal in the room. That may help me out." "Humph. Threading a needle with a camel again?" "Bloody hell. The safeguards on this thing are insane. I need a password, but the data file has been double hashed, it will take me three years ..." "Bobba," said Cain. "What?" "You heard me. Badger, Ocelot, Badger, Badger, Aardvark. All lower case." "Damn, that was it ... Access granted ... how did ...?" Cain peeled a post-it note from the side of a monitor, "Apparently, the sys-op missed his own memo about not writing down passwords." Lou chuckled. "The largest security hole in any system is the user. Very well then, that was the biggest lock, the rest is child's play." "I don't like this, something stinks." "Probably just backwash from the main pipe or the odor sticking to your clothing," Lou commented. "Very funny. This place has ... something I can't quite put my hoof on. It feels ... empty. No lab techs in here geeking off, though I see signs that it happens. There's mold on the pizza crust that's turned to powder; the computer's background is amateur porn and the keyboard's one of the waterproof varieties. Not only that, a patrol should've been through here by now. Check the local personnel records." "Ok." Lou opened up another file browser. "Odd. Though I am showing a large number of people on the chit, they are listed as being at place called 'Ebaum'. There is only enough here to keep the base running." "Barely running. Ok, this really stinks now. Where's the Doctor?" "His quarters are listed about eight floors down. Hallway Dingo Two, room seventeen." "See if you can get some coordinates on this Ebaum place. I'm headed for the stairwell." "I am a jump ahead of you. It may take some time to get through the database. It appears to have no structure and is complete chaos with no search function. I may have to code up something so try not to blow up the base just yet." "Thanks for your vote of confidence, asshole. I'll contact you if I need anything. Out." Cain crouched low and listened for a moment before pulling the door. He glanced left and right, then stepped into the empty hall. For all his bulk, the large equine moved silently along the inside wall to the closest corner, attaching the silencer to the end of his pistol. With a quick look in the curved mirror high on the wall, he slipped into the stairwell. Rubber clad hooves thunked softly on the concrete steps as Cain hurried down the spiraled flights. He only paused long enough to look out the wire re-enforced safety glass of the stairwell door, verifying a clear exit before moving into the D-Level corridor. "Status check," he murmured, approaching door nineteen. "Data transfer nearly complete. It seems that 'Ebaum' is simply the name of a base. The facility is located on a place called 'The Isle of Goats'. The HLF has moved all chemical processing and stores to this island. According to all the information I have been able to find, there are twelve places world wide that carry that name either now or at some time in the past." "We'll have to review that later. Can you pop this door?" "One moment," said Lou, accessing the security subsystem. He quickly found the door lock program and slipped a generic routine into the loop. "I did not bother pinpointing the doctor's door, so everything on your floor will now open to any four digit code." Cain nodded and punched in "0300". A soft chime sounded and the door slid open. "Doctor Moareu?" Lou heard him say. Cain paused for a moment and then spoke, "Would you please come with ... shit! It's a trap!" he shouted just before a burst of static jammed the signal. * * *

. Chapter Six . "Runner, come in, repeat last transmission," Lou called into the mic, toggling a switch. "Runner, this is Coach, repeat last transmission," he called again, but only received high pitched whining static. He felt a distant rumble and the echo of an explosion wafted from the air pipe, followed by strident klaxons. "Damn it, Cain," he thought. "I told you not to blow shit up." He pulled one plug from his ear and heard a distant shout. Farther away, the unmistakable drone of a helicopter turbine revving up echoed across the flat ground in between the harsh siren blasts. "Bloody hell," he muttered, looking up at a helipad raising from the ground almost a half-click to the North. He flicked another switch and folded the briefcase up. He stuffed the case into a small pack and turned toward the PeRPs. "I see whut joo did thar," a voice called from the darkness. Lou froze, instinctively crouching low against the scrub. "What the?" he thought, wondering why he didn't pick up on this one's presence sooner. "Keke, you fail. I still see joo!" Lou turned his head toward the voice, sizing up the green, ghostly outline of a suited individual with a large fluffy hairdo. The human stood sideways, presenting the smallest profile possible to his target. "This one knows what he's doing," he thought, slowly standing. "How about we keep this simple? You toss me your backpack, and then we'll take a nice little trip in the party van to the showers." "The gas chamber, you mean? Hmph. Just like the Holocaust." "Pics, or it didn't happen, furfag. Your pack," the sound of a pistol hammer clicking into place punctuated his final statement. "Now." "You are making a rather large mistake," Lou said, slipping out of the pack. He swung it lightly in one paw, testing its weight before heaving it toward the enemy agent. "Catch!" he said, diving to the left. The throw arced on a path directly aimed for the human's head. He cursed and sidestepped taking his eyes off the tiger for a moment. When he looked back up, the cat had vanished into the night. He scanned around, brandishing his pistol about searching desperately for his target until the crunch of a foot on pebbles sounded behind him. As he whirled to face the noise, Lou struck. "Oh shi-!" he cried out, clamping his uninjured palm down on three large and very deep gouges across the back of his hand. The weapon clattered to the rocks, to be kicked away by a booted paw. "You fucking furry faggot!" he cried out. "Fight fair!" Lou stepped in close and grabbed the human's tie. "How fair was the way you treated the other furries in your horrid experiments?" he hissed. "Mengele was more humane than you. I should ... urk!" Lou's words choked off in a gasp of pain as the agent brought a knee into his groin. His paw slipped from the red tie as the man stepped back and aimed another kick. "Cunt punt, motherfucker!" the human gloated at the collapsing feline. "Cunt! Punt!" He punctuated the last two words with hard kicks into the side of Lou's gut. Lou gasped loudly, shifting sideways with the force. Coughing, he slowly climbed to his paws and knees. "You think you can yiff and breed wherever and whenever you damn well please. You think you can spread your faggotry across the globe! Well, guess what?" he asked, bending down and grabbing the fur at the scruff of Lou's neck. "We're your fucking reality check," he snarled at the cat. "You stand for all that we hate. We are Anonymous, and we neither forgive, nor forget." He stretched over to pick up the weapon. Lou saw his chance and tossed a pawful of sand and rocks at the man's eyes and sprang, throwing his shoulder against his opponent. The blow straightened the human up somewhat and knocked him back. Black oxfords caught on a small rock and the man pin wheeled for balance before falling backwards to the ground with an odd, crunching thud. Lou looked down at his twitching body, noting bloody spikes protruding from the human's chest. Nodding in satisfaction, the cat scooped up the pack and hurried over to the PeRPS. Quickly he keyed the self-destruct sequence and set the proximity trigger before shuffling off in a wide circle toward the helipad. * * *

. Chapter Seven . An office chair with its back to the door sat in the middle of the space revealed by the opening portal. A bed and a desk framed the chair. A lamp shining onto a laptop sitting on the desk completed the Spartan decoration. Cain took this in within moments. "Doctor Moareu?" he began, walking up to the chair. "Would you please come with ..." As he spoke, he set a hand on the chair's back and turned it. The naked, blood-drained body of the female calico sat in the seat, staring blankly at nothing through milky, human eyes. Ragged holes in her wrists explained the paleness of the skin and bits of shredded flesh hung in her teeth. "Shit!" Cain cried, jumping back. A soft beep from the laptop pulled his attention away. On the screen, a digital readout flashed what looked to be a countdown with two seconds on the clock. "It's a trap!" he yelled, jumping out of the room with his hands on his ears. Cain's world broke apart in a thunderous roar. Shrapnel from the room skewered the steel covered granite across from the open door. Smoke and dust billowed out, obscuring vision and coating everything in its path with a fine mixture of pulverized rock, desk, chair, and ... other contents. Cain slowly got to his knees, coughing slightly. Blood trickled out of his nostril again as he pulled himself to his hooves and wobbled back toward the stairwell. Once inside he leaned against the door with both hands on his thighs. "Coach," he coughed into the mic, "the race is rigged." The sharp hiss of static answered him. "Coach, come in. Coach? Aw fuck." He closed his eye and stood slowly, resting his head against the cool steel of the door. The base blueprints skittered across his eyelid as he reviewed them for an exit. Over two hundred meters above him, his partner and yes, his lover occupied an unknown state. Unknown if alive, dead, or worse. Though the plans shifting across his eyelid showed him the best way out was down, when it opened again, he began to climb. He'd almost reached the data center's landing when he heard a door bang open from below. He pulled his weapon and peeked down the center of the well, staring at the spiral of white painted metal and grey concrete. About thirty meters away, a frizzy haired head leaned across the space, looking down. Cain held his breath and took aim. Then, the human turned his neck and shoulders, looking up and spotting the equine. The man's eyes opened wide as he opened his mouth to give a yell that never came. Cain's silenced weapon coughed a split second before the backside of the man's head exploded, staining the sterile stairs a grim shade of grisly red. Secondary shouts followed an instant before arms holding fully automatic weapons shot blindly up the shaft. The roar of gunfire, accented by the whine of ricochets across concrete and steel handrails filled the space where Cain had occupied moments before. He burst into the data center's hallway, cursing the lack of an anti-personnel mine or even a grenade. "There it is!" came a shout from down the hall. "OPEN FIRE!" "Son of a ...!" Cain exclaimed, staring at a hastily constructed and heavily armed barricade, half-way down the hall. Immediately he jumped to the right, behind the wall, as automatic gunfire erupted from the fortified position. Bullets shattered the window on the door as well as denting into the steel. Ricochets whined and bits of concrete exploded from the corner from the deadly hail of lead. He rolled to his knees, directly in the path of two agents. Instead of stopping, Cain used his forward momentum to bury both fists into the groins of his opponents. Then, he hooked an arm around the inside thighs and stood, falling backwards, driving his elbow into their solar plexuses. The air squeaked slowly out of crushed chests as he sprung to his feet. He left the pair writhing in the dust, pausing only long enough to take one of the dropped weapons. He fired intermittently over his shoulder at the corner as he ran toward the data room, stopping only when he skidded to a halt in front of the door. Savagely, he yanked it open and slipped inside, tossing the spent weapon to the floor. He climbed up the rack, denting a shelf or two in his haste, and shinnied into the duct head first. Kicking the flap down he rumbled toward the main vent shaft, stopping to turn a switch on each antenna before squirming on. Three-quarters of the way out of the shaft, Cain finished twisting the mast on the third antenna when he heard a shout behind him. "The fucker's in the vent!" "Well, don't just stand there flappin' your yap, get the fuck in there and go after it!" Cain redoubled his efforts, quickly covering the last 20 meters toward the exit. He snorted in disgust again when he hit the foul air, but caught hold of the rope and hauled his body out of the duct. Wrapping the cord around his leg, he began to climb. When his hooves cleared the opening, he reached over to his watch and twisted the bevel a quarter turn. "Hey!" a voice shouted from below. "Stop right there, furfag!" Cain looked down, his red lamp illuminating the face of another afro-framed human head. In slow motion, he heard the sound of a hammer drawing back and watched a large caliber semi-automatic weapon swing around. His watch spoke a single beep moments before an orange fireball erupted from the vent with an explosive roar. The man fired a single wild shot before being ejected, screaming, into the black void. * * *

. Chapter Eight . " ...ome in, *crackle* ... in, Coach. ... is ...unner," a faint voice spoke into Lou's ear. "Runner? What the bloody fuck did you do this time?" Lou asked, tuning his earpiece. "Look, this sh *crackle* wasn't ..." "No, never mind that now. Are you OK?" "Yeah. Was Sp *crackle* of yours?" Cain asked. "Boost power, I can barely hear you. Repeat all after 'Yeah'." "Was Spiky here a friend of yours?" Cain repeated. "Hardly. Be advised, the PeRPS are hot. Improvised exit at grid sector two dash one three. Wide *crackle* left and approach from the west. Watch for search *crackle*" "My specialty," Cain replied, cutting the cord and letting it fall into the shaft. He recalled the map again and shuffled through the rocky scrub toward Lou's hiding spot. "Psst. Over here!" came the expected whisper. "Where is the other runner?" "He's a no-show. I'll ... I'll tell you more later. Right now, let's just get the fuck off this goddamn rock. What's the plan?" "Easy. We have to steal that chopper that is surrounded by guards and fly out of here before we get nailed by the roving gunship." Lou pointed to an older model UH gunship. "Right. Well, you've been up here longer than I have, seen any weaknesses?" Cain asked. "The fuel dump is directly ahead. If we can get that close without being spotted ... Do you have any of the antennae left?" "One. I had two, but left one under your buddy's body." "Perfect. You set the charge on the tank, and we sprint to the helicopter. Now, all we need is a distraction." "Hey, you know what freq they're transmitting on?" asked Cain. "Three one four dot six two," Lou said automatically, watching the guards patrol about. Cain nodded and twisted the tuner. "Command," he spoke quickly into the mic. "We've got hostiles on the roof near main exhaust shaft. Send reinforcements, we have them pinned down for now. Hurry!" Suddenly the search chopper roared overhead, the prop-wash leaden heavy with the stink of burnt jet fuel. Its search beam jerked about on the rocks near the pair's hiding place, but skipped around them before the craft headed toward the exhaust vent. From inside the hangar compound, a small squad of men peeled away from patrol and followed the chopper at a jog. "That's six less we'll have to deal with," Cain said. "All we need to do now is wait for the fun to begin." Lou sighed and rolled his eyes, but kept watching the remaining guards. Then, over the whine of the idling Huey, a loud thump shook the ground. In the distance, large, bright sparks trailing smoke arced across the scrub. Incendiaries cooked off, destroying sensitive technology as the high-explosive charges reduced everything else to shrapnel and scattered the parts to the winds. The search chopper peeled away, rising to a safer distance, focusing its beam on the remains of the hang gliders. The effect on the remaining crew was near instant. Leaving only a scattered few behind, a second small group hurried toward the carnage. Unobserved, two forms slipped through the shadows to a large, red tank holding the aircraft fuel. "Cover me a moment," Cain said, pulling out a third clip. He popped the magazine and cycled out the round from the chamber before loading the new one. "Armor piercing," he said in response to a quizzical look from Lou. Nearby, several smaller bottles of propane sat, waiting for a turn in the fork lift. "Oh, even better," muttered Cain, snagging a full one. He slipped it under the red tank, setting it directly under the last antenna charge. "Best not be in the area when this thing goes off," he said in Lou's ear. "Not my intentions," he said back. "Ready?" Cain nodded. "Now!" Both furs sprang from hiding and sprinted for the copter. Cain took a moment to fire a single shot at the red tank. The bullet struck low, piercing the steel side. Fuel began leaking into the rocks under the tank, quickly forming a puddle. He turned back around and saw Lou jumping through the door of the gunship. Following closely, he cleared the door just in time to avoid the body of the pilot as Lou threw him out. "Thirty seconds," he called. Lou nodded and strapped into the pilot's chair while Cain snapped into the restraint at the gunner's position on the port side. The helicopter's engine whined up to a dull roar and the rotors chopped the air hard. For all its noise though, the mounted SAW roared louder than the aircraft when Cain opened fire on the remaining guards. Suddenly, the fuel dump exploded with a double thump and a wash of hellish heat, shaking the chopper. Small bits of stone and shrapnel pelted the starboard side of the chopper and the twisted valve handle buried itself through the half-shut door. The red steel tank rocked forward, lifted from its rear legs by the force of the antenna charge and propane bottle. "Damn!" Cain called out, watching as the conflagration quickly spread as raw fuel gushed from the tank, surrounding the remaining propane bottles. "Hurry the fuck up, Lou!" he yelled into the headset. Lou slammed the throttle open and trimmed the rotor, making the old Huey leap from the landing pad. With a thumping roar of high speed propeller blades punctuated with occasional bursts from a fifty caliber machine gun, the chopper peeled away toward the missile testing range.