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You will have to forgive the Hubris implied in the title of this bizarre little yarn, Sprocket. To understand it, one has to have read Plato's The Republic. The phrase essentially stands for: Who Watches The Watchers or Who Protects Us Against the Protectors? Ultimately, the most trustworthy security involves policing only yourself. But what happens when you can't even trust yourself? It more than likely involves Taunting HappyFunBall(tm).

Selected lyrics from the song Every Breath You Take, by The Police are copyright A&M Records. Someone call the Police.

The FLIR Conspiracy

Chapter III - Quis Custodiet Ipsos Custodes?

2007 by Eldyran

As Kelvin stared at the IRC window in contemplation, he rubbed the greasy, bleach white fur of his chin with a chubby paw. The drug trafficker and surveillance expert didn't know who was stalking him, watching is every move, but the albino coyote had a few leads. What he still couldn't understand how someone had hacked into his personal computer and displayed the strange message across his screen:

What does a scanner see? I mean, really see? Into the head? Down into the heart?

Although Kelvin's true expertise involved pharmaceutical engineering, his boss, one "Fast" Eddie, used the coyote's high intelligence to cross train him in surveillance espionage. For months now, the white canid kept silent vigil over the Fed's, his boss's rivals, even those who worked for him. The real question was, who was watching the watcher, this Mr. X?

It had taken Kelvin hours to search his two room efficiency for any trace of bugs or scanners, and despite his own knowledge in the area, the yote found nothing out of ordinary. The impromptu search had even forced him to clear out the stacks of molding pizza boxes and bags of festering trash. Waiting for his nephew's response in the IRC window, Kelvin's attention wandered to the lack of clutter in his apartment now that all the trash had been discarded.

Still, an odd funk still lingered, and Kelvin could not pin point where it was coming from.

The window suddenly blinked, and the chubby yote turned back his attention to the IRC conversation before him. While his nephew, Ezekiel Neiderst, had yet to graduate high school, he had a certain knack for computers, and in this knowledge Kelvin hoped to find some answer to the strange situation he found himself in. Kelvin hadn't talked much to his family since dropping out of BCC, the last time in recent memory being Zeke's bar mitzvah almost six years ago.

BurningChrome : Has anyone been on your computer besides you?

BlueFlowerFarm : No. I haven't vacated the premises in weeks. I usually order in for mediocre cuisine rather than leave.

BurningChrome : Have you noticed your 'ware doing any other strange things?

BlueFlowerFarm : No. Not since the first time the anomaly occurred.

BurningChrome : And you say you work remotely from your apartment?

BlueFlowerFarm : Somewhat. I work here on some projects, and monitor some off site cameras for my employer.

There was a pause, and Kelvin took the lag in conversation to get out of his sweat soaked computer chair, the tight sinew in his sore back creaking. He stepped over to the blinds to his only window and placed a paw tip on them, peering through to the weak daylight outside. Cherry Hill seemed somewhat subdued now, hiding its savage nocturne nature.

Kelvin found himself staring at the blinds, and realized he had been standing there for some indeterminate amount of time. When he peeked through again, the setting sun hung low to the south-west, a fiery semi-circle set behind the concrete and steel towers of downtown Baltimore. He stared blankly out of the dusty window, but he didn't feel nearly as stiff anymore. As the albino coyote walked back over to his office chair and sat down, he noticed the IRC window flashing at him again.

BurningChrome : I checked your system security.

BurningChrome : Hey are you there?

The yote blinked in confusion at the time, but just shrugged and typed away. He apologized for his little daydreaming spell, and asked his nephew what he had found out. Most of it went over his head. According to Zeke, all of his default firewall ports were still closed, and his SAM hive appeared intact. Cross detection on Kelvin's fixed disks revealed no presence of root kits, and as far the younger yote could tell, no hacker had infiltrated Kelvin's computer.

When Kelvin suggested that there might be a proverbial Ghost in his Machine, Zeke scoffed at him, and informed him that such attack could not be easily duplicated at the firmware level. Despite his high intelligence, this bit of technical thaumaturge had gone over the white coyote's head. He scratched at his chin and thought for a moment, before continuing.

BlueFlowerFarm : Firmware?

BurningChrome : Yes, the semi-rigid software code that runs BIOS, your bleeding edge PCI Expansion Bus, and other base motherboard hardware, generally updated using Flash ROM.

BlueFlowerFarm : If you said my hardware and software are intact, are you saying that some unscrupulous, yet knowledgeable individual is using this uncommon exploit against me?

BurningChrome : Doubtful. The expertise needed to execute such an attack is beyond most individuals' skills, and your firmware revision numbers are original for your model of Aptiva. Its unlikely that someone flashed your ROM chip sets using remote access. Someone who knew your password infiltrated your system locally, and you are the only one that I can tell that has logged on to that unit.

Kelvin's pink eyes narrowed at his nephew's implication.

BlueFlowerFarm : Are you insinuating that I sabotaged my own computer? I'd presume to think that there are unseen forces working against me, ones that are diligent and resourceful. If perhaps my original firmware has security flaws, can I trust it?

BurningChrome : You would need Read/Write jumpers on your firmware ROM, which many consumer units do not have. Then it begs the question: how much do you trust the makers of your machine? If you start to question that, there there is no limit to how deep the rabbit hole goes, Uncle.

Somewhat irritated that his even own nephew didn't believe him, Kelvin just leaned back in his chair and gave a low sigh. Kelvin didn't say anything else to his nephew, and he knew Zeke wouldn't take it personally. Zeke's wolven classmate Alex had asked him to the prom earlier last month, creating scandal amongst his family. Even though the Neiderst family was non-orthodox, many decided to shun the brilliant yote anyway.

If Kelvin's sister new his dirty little secret from earlier, she might bring to bear the anvil of tradition upon his head as well. Maybe thats what Mr X. wanted, to blackmail him. But for what reason? He wasn't close to his family.

He picked at his bare thread bathrobe in mild annoyance, and realized that he hadn't washed it in months. The corpulent coyote glanced around his semi-clean apartment, and realized how much the picked up portions only emphasized the months of caked grime on others. An almost unconventional desire to take a mop to the place and take a shower came over him. In the middle of wondering where this sudden urge for military-rigid cleanliness sprang from, an alarm went off from his computer's speakers, startling the grubby coyote.

Kelvin beady, paranoid pink eyes studied the alert flashing up on his screen with narrowing dread. Sure enough, the phantom camera 555-0134 reported recorded surveillance of some importance. He swiveled in his computer chair, one clammy paw already clamping down upon his grime covered mouse with tense unease. The albino canid wondered if Zeke could trace the physical location of the incoming video feed, but then remembered how quickly Mr. X pulled the streaming video once one of Mr. Eddie's jackal pushers, Ms. Nakali, knocked on his apartment door two nights ago.

Maybe Mr. X watched him right now, the mystery individual no doubt gauging his every reaction, watching the paranoia bloom from the seed so skillfully planted. Cold sweat broke over the fur of Kelvin's matted brow as the previously recorded video feed sprang up on his screen. He squinted at the time stamp in the lower right corner; 03:20. Sometime late last night. The same sparse, two room efficiency showed up like before, but this time the yote cursed the hazy blur inherent in the thermo graphic FLIR equipment.

If he could just make out a few details of the relatively sparse, unfurnished room, he might get a clue as to ...

Two individuals entered into the muddled, dark blue background of the lens frame, and Kelvin instantly recognized the fuzzy outlines of their heat signatures. The shorter male, who the spying yote presumed to be a wolf, sauntered over to his military surplus cot against the barren, cracked northern wall. Kelvin half expected him to lead a femmy little male fox to his no frills bedding, but did a double take as he realized who climbed astride of him.

As the female jackal shed the blanket she used to cover her slender, curvaceous nakedness, Kelvin found himself hardening under his ratty bathrobe. The coyote could not mistake Ms. Nakali's large ears, pert breasts, and sexy hips for anyone else's. For months he had watched the female jackal from a hidden camera implanted in a small vent somewhere in her bedroom. He even tapped her phone calls, all under the direct orders of Mr. Eddie. The voyering coyote grew skilled in recognizing her nude form as she showered, got dressed, and slept.

He even watched when her paws dipped down between those shiny black thighs in the dead of night, watching her lithe, arching jackal heat form spike white with unheard pleasure. Sometimes in the flared white blur of her feminine muzzle, he dared to imagine that her muzzle lips called out his name. Sometimes he even pawed off to it live, sharing her climaxes in secret.

But this new situation confused the yote. Why was this wolf, who he watched fucking and then snuffing a femmy male fox just two nights ago, with Ms. Nakali? As the wolf stripped off his thin, stretchy shirt, the jackal slipped down aside his legs lower, large paws undoing his BDU fly buttons. There could be no mistaking the pair's intent.

But, why? Was this wolf some type of switch hitter?

It only further confounded the already confused yote, but he spied on, regardless. Without conscious of it, an errant paw stroked over the hardness his bathrobe barely concealed. His tail twitched at the sudden sensation, a pang of jealously now ripping through his seared soul. He wished he was there now, in the place of the hard bodied lupine stud, having this Roma jackal pull off his pants. Ms. Nakali placed her hot muzzle down upon the lance of heat that slipped free of Lupey's sheath, and Kelvin groaned out softly as he watched her take it deep into her muzzle.

All three furs moaned out in unison, a remote menage-a-trois of the digital age.

The coyote watched on as the female jackal bobbed up and down on the wolf's thick canid meat, his own chubby paw slipping in to grasp the slick flesh of his emerged yote pole. Lupey reached up with his paws, the heat trail blurring somewhat as he caressed those large, exotic ears that Kelvin fantasized about touching for oh so long. His pink eyes lingered there, drifted down to those thick Roma lips, which grew lax and tight in sensual rhythm with each bob of her black canid muzzle.

The thermal spike of Lupey's huge cock disappeared and reappeared in quickening pace, and for a lusty moment, Kelvin imagined it might look like in person. His pink eyes rolled back into the glazed orbits of his skull, immersed in the arousing image.

Kelvin didn't realize he liked the sight of huge, throbbing canid cock until just then.

When the usually silent video capture sprang with live audio, the spying yote's eyes opened, his bleach hite ears twitched. A quick spurt of pre shot from his own tapered tip at the sound of Lupey's earnest groans and the soft, rhythmic slurp of Ms. Nakali's skilled oral ministrations. How could Mr. X know that Kelvin enjoyed listening to the sounds of sex even more than watching it? The yote couldn't question it further, his racing libido only causing a paw to squeeze and stroke his own leaking length even faster. Kelvin pulled his yote cock from out underneath his bathrobe, rubbing his now exposed, rounded belly with the other paw.

If Mr. X was watching, the voyeuristic coyote seemed bent on giving him a personal show of his own.

When the wolf grabbed ahold of the jackal's arms and urged her forwards, she complied willing, scooting her slender, feminine build astride over him. After few torturous moments of adjusting, the motions indistinct in the vague thermographic blur, Ms. Nakali arched her back as she slipped down onto Lupey's molten girth. Her sudden growl of pleasure ripped through Kelvin's speakers like a chainsaw, chewing its way deep into the coyote's senses.

The canid pair melted together in the sudden flush of heat, their body cores flaring white in the FLIR's all seeing electronic eye.

Kelvin's paw slowed down despite his flood of urges, the rough pads of his paw working now over the swelling base of his knot. He molested it like his eyes and ears molested the other two unknowing canids before him. The yote's panted deepened as the jackal's entire body rode atop of the wolf, her breasts rolling with every wild rock and sway of her curvy hips. Mentally the yote urged the wolf on, the three canids' thunderous hearts racing faster with a building crescendo of sweat forged lust. Lupey reached between the apex of Mrs Nakali's pitching, conjoined body and ran a lupine claw up and down the moist slit of the back backed jackal's puffy sex.

The jackal faltered, shrieking as her climax budded deep insider her. She bounced up and down the slick sex impaling her most intimate depths in reckless abandon, coating the wolf's pick in her thick cream. As Ms. Nakali's inner core flickered in the view of Kelvin's electronic eye, her throaty orgasmic wail pierced his ears, almost drove the coyote over the edge. Lupey must have felt it too, and took away his paw tips away from the jackal's pulsing clit.

With little preamble, the wolf used his chiseled body to pull the still shuddering jackal onto her belly. Kelvin's knot bulged in his paw at the raw animal desire between the two. Over his speakers, the yote listened to the wolf's primal growl, needy and drawn out at the same time. Lupey's paw's latched onto the jackal's wide hips, drawing himself into position on his knees to mount his bitch. Ms. Nakali's head pulled back in a whine of bliss as his lacquered girth once again speared her still quivering sex.

Kelvin's other paw worked their way down past its other, pumping brother to fondle his furry white sacs, feeling them churn with envious seed. As his slitted, pink eyes glued to the frantic, rough pairing on display for him, he didn't even realize as Mr. X magnified the feed. The footage zoomed in closer to the lupine length stabbing deep into the semi-prone jackal again and again. Kelvin panted hard at Lupey's swelling knot, which mashed up again and again against Ms. Nakali's dripping, breeding folds.

The yote's paw tips ventured down even more, sexual arousal and curiosity over-riding deep, tradition instilled taboo. Kelvin's paw tip curled up just underneath his tail, his meaty thighs spreading for access. As he continued to watch the wolf's thick knot squish against the jackal's cum slicked vulva, he pushed his rough, ridged canid paw pad against his pucker entrance, felt the tight anal ring clench.

A sudden, thick spurt of pre shot out of the yote's tapered tip.

Kelvin's tail twitched, thumped hard against the office chair as he leaned back with a soft squeaking creak. He spread his legs even more, even resting the backs of his hind feet on his computer desk. The chubby white coyote played with his anal ring to the erotic scene on screen, too rapt to remember that Mr. X might be watching. It was hard to tell what Mr. X got off to; recording a hot wolf and jackal fuck, or tempting a pudgy, introverted, and supposedly straight yote to spread his legs and hitch them up like two bit whore, the whole time playing with his tail hole.

No doubt Mr. X was one manipulative, sick fuck.

Straining, growling, Lupey pushed his swollen lupine knot hard into the jackal, and with much resistance, the searing, fleshy orb of red and white plunged deep into the bitch's swollen heat. The view zoomed back just in time to catch Lupey and Ms. Nakali throw back their heads in mutual whines of deep seated satisfaction. Without thinking, Kelvin's paw tip pushed in of its own accord, and the albino coyote's legs kicked as he fingered his own ass.

While the wolf's thrusts never stopped, the tie did make him buck in shorter, more frantic pace. A primal need to get off drove the wolf now more than simple sexual gratification, and it only fueled Kelvin's deviant explorations. As the wolf drew near, his thrusts growing more and more desperate, the coyote found a spongy, hardening lump inside himself, and rubbed it.

Kelvin's white ears folded back as his spread legs thumped hard against the desktop, his speakers giving a quick bounce. Regular, thickening pulses of pre shot out of his flaring cock tip. The coyote couldn't take it anymore, and pushed hard into the quivering organ inside him. Kelvin's other paw bore down on his pulsing knot as he massaged his prostate to a literal eruption of thick coyote cum. The wolf and the jackal gave one final howl as they shuddered together in mutual climax on screen, their hard and soft bodies tied together in primal union.

Still caught in the clutches of orgasm, a different envy coursed through the coyote's conflicted and repressed nature.

Kelvin was in fact more jealous of Ms. Nakali.

Kelvin wanted the mystery wolf to fuck him instead of her.

Even as Kelvin continued to spurt rope after rope of coyote jism at the proscribed fantasy, the video footage abruptly halted. A live feed of himself from the viewpoint of his right speaker sprang up on screen, giving the coyote a rather revealing view. No one could deny Kelvin's dirty little secret anymore, with his hind legs spread and his furry digit deep in his own ass, still coming.

Not even himself.

To add a bit of sass, Mr. X suddenly blared 'Every Breath You Take' from the Police through Kelvin's speakers.

_Every breath you take

Every move you make

Every bond you break

Every step you take

I'll be watching you_

The semi-nude coyote tore his finger out of himself and shot up in his char. He snatched up the right speaker in his hard claws, screaming into it.

"WHO ARE YOU???!!!" Kelvin roared, spittle coating the speaker cover. Up this close, the surveillance expert noticed the small optical wire behind one of speaker grill holes. Up on his CRT monitor, the wicked, smiling visage of the insidious Mr. X replaced the extreme close up of Kelvin's rotten fangs and hard palate.

It was the same gray coyote from his dreams, the one who Kelvin watched sneaking around, breaking into the other apartments of his residential complex. Aside from being otherwise nondescript, darkness and loathing filled the black endless pools of the trickster's eyes. Despite the shadowy grin, Kelvin felt acutely conscious of the thinly veiled, contemptuous stare. He dropped the speaker, which hit the wood desk with a soft clunk, and leaned in closer to the monitor.

"Well then, you little Faigelah," the thinner coyote growled low at him, "Are you going to face facts? Richard and I are getting quite sick of it."

"Why are you doing this to me?!!!" The chubby coyote wailed, tears streaming down the greasy fur of his white muzzle. Thick sobs of shame and helplessness threatened to break in his lungs, which could not breath. Despite the demanding question, Mr. X, whoever he was, didn't even seem to acknowledge it.

"Its amazing how much you've lied to yourself, Kelvin. And all for what, for that little piece of gypsy ass? We already know all about her, don't we? And yet you ignored all my warnings, didn't you?"

Kelvin stared on, listening to what the other coyote had to say. It was strangely familiar.

"But it doesn't matter now, we can't trust you anymore to do whats best. The black wolf called the Boss on you. Mr. Eddie is on he way as I speak, and he isn't none too pleased. Better think of another lie you pathetic little bitch." The gray coyote growled, narrowing his dark, manipulative eyes. "Just remember that no one hides secrets from the FLIR scanner. Ever. Not even you."

The pre-recorded video snapped off, only to be replaced with footage of his revealing self exploration in thermo-graph. His own writhing body trembled in climax, an indistinct paw moving in and out between his spread legs. Against the back drop of dark blue, red spurts of molten cum erupted into the cold, open air. At the bottom of the screen, a familiar quote faded in.

What does a scanner see? I mean, really see? Into the head? Down into the heart?

The CRT blinked off, leaving the sobbing albino to sit and contemplate the imminent arrival of his less than forgiving Capodecina. After a few moments of self pity, the coyote cried out in anguish and overturned the monitor, which crashed onto the scuffed up hardwood floor in a sputter of sparks. He gave the tower by his hind feet a hard kick, and with a crash, his secondary assignment went up in a puff of acrid white smoke.

Panicking now, the coyote scrambled to his homebuilt laboratory, hastily opening drawer after drawer in the desk on which the glass maze of distillery tubes sat. He looked everywhere for the latest batch of blue and purple tabs, an entire kilo of his personal opus, Substance D, but found nothing. He threw the last empty drawer against the western wall with a dull bang, cracking the old drywall.

Whoever his neighbor was, he didn't seem to care.

Kelvin scurried over to his little hidey spot underneath some loose floorboards and pulled it up with a squeak of dry wood. He felt around in the small space for that one quart zip lock plastic bag he knew he had filled sometime last night. The coyote wailed out in desperation when he couldn't find Mr. Eddie's latest stash, worth at least five Mercedes Benz S600's. He hoped to pop at least half of it into his muzzle before Mr. Eddie showed up. Enough to OD and either off himself, or stare endlessly at the new crack in the drywall with a fried egg brain, entertained for all eternity.

Instead, the coyote hustled to the bathroom in blind panic, throwing open the medicine cabinet. He didn't even question why someone had busted the mirror on the cabinet door into a spiderweb of silver and glass. After rummaging through the mess inside, he pulled out the sharp object his paws felt for, and threw off the ratty bathrobe. Kelvin stepped inside the mildew caked, neglected shower, before turning the controls. A spray of foul smelling water washed over him with a sudden hiss, before clearer water burbled through the rusty, rarely used plumbing.

Under the cold spray, the shivering, obese yote fumbled with the straight razor in his paw, inching it closer and closer to his left wrist. He gathered up what little resolve he could muster, concentrated on going through with the deed. It would certainly be more merciful than anything the long winded eggplant had in mind. The sharp steel edge pressed against the matted fur and thin skin there, and an acute sense of pain raced up his arm, stealing what little courage he had. Kelvin gritted his rotten teeth and pressed harder, a thin seep up crimson welled up around the razors edge. Underneath the shower spray, the welt of blood brightened.

Bright Red against Snow White.

Even if he could run from the black cougar, he couldn't live with himself now. He couldn't deny his secrets anymore, couldn't cope with his conflicted sense of homophobia. Even if he never talked to his captious sister anymore, each time he looked in a mirror he would see himself for who and what he really was.

Mr X. would grin back at him, and some part of him would smash the mirror. Maybe even lick the red blood from his paw, then kill or maim someone else to stay the self loathing and internalized hate for just another night. He had every reason to end this. He pressed the blade deeper, felt the cruel bite of steel into his frail flesh.

Even before the stinging spray could wash away another drop of himself, to swirl around the mildew encrusted drain before plummeting into the yawning abyss, he dropped the razor into the blood streaked pool at his soaked hind feet. The bawling coyote slid down with his back against the slick shower stall wall, until the chilling spray dowsed his entire huddled, worthless form.

Too much of a coward even at the end, the coyote just couldn't do it.

Underneath the hiss of the shower head, Kelvin almost didn't hear his apartment door open, and then close soon after. A moment later Mr. Eddie's favorite enforcers, the badger and lynx, stepped into the cramped bathroom. The paranoid coyote didn't remember unbolting the door, and a sliver of himself wondered how it got unlocked in the first place. Did Mr. X, skilled in Breaking and Entering, somehow sabotage his door as well? Kelvin did have long to contemplate what if's, as a moment later Mr. Eddie strode through the door, smoking a cheap cigar.

The same brick of a lion enforcer who had broken his arm months ago stopped just behind him, leaned against the bathroom door trim.

Kelvin tried to scoot back his naked back even farther against the wet wall, his hind claws scrambling in futile effort for purchase. Despite the black cougar's own deep-chested physic, Mr Eddie picked up the tall, bloated yote with labored effort and slammed him hard into the shower wall. Kelvin barked out, hind legs kicking as the shower spray snuffed out Mr. Eddie's cigar in a soft hiss, soaked his immaculate attire. He let the cigar drop from his tight maw, his jaw setting itself firm again right after.

Mr. Eddie didn't seem to mind the scummy water. A trip to his well paid, personal dry cleaners could get almost anything out.

"So tell me you squirmy little fuck, how was it?" When Kelvin didn't seem to understand the question, Mr. Eddie elaborated. "That little screw job you gave me, right after that black Gypsy rat?"

"No ... no Mr. Coccotti !!!" the pinned coyote yelped, his matted white paws grabbing a hold of the black feline's thick wrist. The cougar went on anyway.

"I knew it was a mistake to let a worm like you keep tabs on her." The black feline spat out in a gravelly, intimidating rumble. "At first I thought it was just her, working my case, you see. But when that bust down here in Cherry Hill came down a few months ago, the one that you so conveniently forgot to warn me about, I started realizing that maybe I had another mole in the operation."

"P ... please Mr. Coccotti, I don't ... know what you're talking about!" Kelvin whined, his large white coyote ears pinning back against his soaked skull.

"You never could lie to me, coyote." The cougar grumbled low, his grip tightening around the coyote's neck. Kelvin gave a think squeak as his boss crushed off his airway. "I had someone trace that anonymous call tipping me off about Pete's little directors complex. After that little fiasco over at the Mariano pill house, it made perfect sense that someone made the call from this very apartment."

Mr. Eddie's golden feline eyes pierced the struggling, fur matted albino canid, looking for some sort of reaction. When he didn't get the confession he was hoping for, he held out an upturned paw to the lion. Without saying anything the enforcer pulled out a M9, pulled back the slider, and handed it to his boss. Kelvin wondered why the somehow familiar sight of the brandished firearm made him feel like he had somehow betrayed himself.

"I'm sick of playing games you little cocksucker." Mr. Eddie rumbled in low feline disfavor, before sticking the barrel of the service pistol up underneath the coyote's dripping chin. "Now you better tell me how far you shoved the Fed mike up my ass before I liberate some of that precious gray matter from your thick skull ..."

With a soft click, Mr. Eddie snapped off the safety, and his finger tightened around the trigger. Kelvin burbled, shaking.

A second later the weapon gave a wet click in misfire.

With a whimper, Kelvin closed his pink eyes in blind terror. A sudden gout of warm yellow piss fountained up around the opening to his sheath, before running down the soaked white fur of his right leg. The three thugs behind their boss gave a short chuckle. With a slow turn of his head and a dirty look, Mr. Eddie silenced them all. He tossed the defective firearm into the nearby sink with a clatter, before turning back to the coyote, eyeballing the coyote's glazed look.

"You don't even know who you are anymore, do you?"

Kelvin writhed against the adamant grip holding him in place. He felt the last trickle of urine dribble down the wet fur of his leg, and wondered if his spine would ever solidify after that close brush with death. He honestly didn't have a clue to what his boss was saying, but had a suspicion that Mr. X was somehow behind it all. But for what reason? Aside from watching him through the odd dream, like through a murky electronic eye, he had never met the coyote.

Or had he?

The steely grip around the jowls of his neck loosened, and the albino yote slid back down into his previous shivering, huddled position. Mr. Eddie turned and walked out the door in disgust. The mafia boss had done some things that would have made a billy goat puke, things that would shame a starving Raspberry, but he simply could take no more of this particular lackey's ineptitude and less than firm grip on reality. Mr. Eddie had seen first paw what Substance D did to the mind.

Ironic that it would consume its very creator.

"Leave him boys." The black cougar said, readjusting his tie on his way out the door. "Let the sorry shack of shit rot in his own skull fucked prison ..." Without saying anything to Kelvin, the three thugs followed their boss out the door, smashing Kelvin's home built drug lab on the way out.

Kelvin just sniveled and wrapped his arms around his knees, having a hard time getting them around with his belly in the way. He listened as the three soldiers destroyed his livelihood up in a crash of splintered glass tubes. Somehow he knew that all three of them would be contenders in the next 'Fang Gang' competition, and they would get theirs.

The coyote realized he had no else to turn too, nor could he go the Fed's or police for help. They would just throw him on ice for the good reminder of his short, happy life. Mr. Eddie owned a good portion of the Baltimore PD, and had a Fed or two in pocket as well. But that didn't matter. Kelvin would make them all pay. All he had to do was enlist a certain ex-marine who had a knack for explosive devices.

Who Protects Us against The Protectors, when the Protectors Fail Us?

Those who shatter unjust laws that only protect the status quo. Those who, in chaos, create the potential for a true classless society.

Those who incite ... Anarchy ...

~ Fin: Part III ~

Quite a odd troupe, the black wolf, the gray coyote, and the white coyote. Who is fucking over who in this sick threesome? Only time till tell ...