FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

_ Drip. So much blood. Drip. Can one body even contain such huge quantities? Drip. Almost hypnotic to watch the blood trickle down from the ceiling. Such unusual color. Too bright and luminious to be of natural origin. Probably enhanced or due to copious amounts of Spice. Smells funny too, like guts coated with candy. Sweet with an earthly flavour. Take a sample or take a lick?_

The wolf shakes his head, trying to resist temptation. A taste will tell him a thousand times more than a common analysis by magi-technical means, but chances are that it will also make him sick to the core. He thoughtfully strokes the grey fur under his chin. He has learned that this simple gesture makes people believe that he is listening to them, when in truth he is far away scouring The Dream for clues.

Of course, noone besides himself is present at the moment, but habits won't be denied. After a while he inhales deeply and for a brief moment a reddish light washes over the sad remains of what was once a nice little apartment in the Outer Ring. At least the apartment can still be identified as such. The same cannot be said about its former resident.

The Teks in the lab won't have much to analyze, but then, if they had, they wouldn't have called him, a Serarr. His probing of the room only reveals vague images of the victim, so the wolf decides to go for a compromise. He kneels down and slowly dunks one finger into the blood gathering on the ground. Almost violently he is pulled into The Dream.

Being a Serarr has its benefits. Like extracting valuable information from any object that contains traces of essences. Every living entity leaves behind fragments of its essence and blood is overflowing with it.

Of course, being a Serarr can also bring you nightmarish visions full of terror and pain.

Unsurprisingly, the wolf finds himself in one.

It's dark. No, wait, that doesn't do it justice. It's pitch black. Could be a spell. Or just simply a blindfold. There is fear, fear of death , which is imminent. A voice, very close to his ear. No, not his ear. The ear of the poor bastard someone has painted the walls with. Never forget it's just a memory, just a dream, this isn't real. Well, ok, it has been real enough for the victim. But you are the Seeker , the Dreamer. Focus. The voice is whispering in a strange language. It has a touch of Anuvian, but if it were the language of the jackals, he would understand it perfectly. There is also too much hissing and too many shrill sounds. Maybe Sleek? If they are involved there will be tons of trouble._ Damn those good for nothing rats._

_ Don't let your personal grudges get in the way. Remain focused. Live the memory, combine the threads in The Dream. There, something he understood. Tears of the Abyss. Was it a name? A Place? Code Phrase? Echoes of pain, lots of pain. Time to wake up. _

He is still kneeling, the blood slowly seeping into the seam of his trenchcoat. It takes a while until he has disentangled his mind from The Dream and shut off all the voices. He has sometimes trouble figuring out which one is his own. Although he is on good terms with the dwellers of The Dream, they can be annoying at times, even disturbing. He reaches for the metallic contraption strapped to his wrist and activates it.

A cold, distant voice cuts through the silence: "New Canis Police Department. You are Inspector Nellis Serarr. Patching you through. Please wait."

The wolf uses the time to take another hit. The room hasn't gotten any prettier. Another voice, possessing just a tiny bit more warmth than the one before: "Found anything?"

"Maybe. You can send in the team now."

"Anything else?"

"There's something wrong with the blood. Blood magic or Spice would be my first guess. Send me a purged sample so I can have a taste. And I need a storage crystal and one of our linguists. I'll store my vision and show it to him."

"Understood. What about the one who made the call?"

Another deep inhalation. "I'll take care of it."

He cuts the connection and makes his way to the door of the apartment. Standing in the door frame he casts one last glance back over his shoulder. Another light extinguished. Such a terrible waste. He will be looking for answers to the question that always greets him at the beginning of a journey. Why. __It's what he does best, collecting all the fragments and stitch them together until the image is complete. You love puzzle games. Yes, he does._ And they would be so much more fun if they weren't always created by misery._

He steps outside into the twilight of a dawning day. He knows that it won't get much brighter down here at the ground level. Perpetual twilight. No wonder most residents of the Outer Ring have developed a weakness to sunlight. Someone approaches him hesitantly. Slender frame, soft sand colored fur, emerald eyes. It is the one who made the call. A Kha'Purr, Jaguar heritage, in his early twenties. Shivering, radiating fear, tail twitches and curls. Poor guy. The cats hate violence, more so than any other race. It just doesn't fit with their gentle, laid back demeanor.

He watches the boy trying to formulate a question. "Inspector Nellis? Is ... is he dead?"

He stares at the jaguar, then realizes that the kid is still in shock. "Yeah, pretty much. You knew him?"

The Kha'Purr nods, then shakes his head. "No, I ... we were just neighbors."

Nellis puts a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Listen to me, kid. If you knew him you gotta tell me. The people who killed him may come back for you. You don't want that, do you?"

The jaguar slowly shakes his head. His eyes well up with tears. "They'll kill me if they find out he told me!"

The scent of fear is overpowering. From the corner of his eyes the wolf can see twisted figures forming in the long shadows around them, eyes glowing red and claws reaching out to them. Damn that Law of Attraction. He pulls the boy closer to him in what he hopes is a reassuring hug, so the kid doesn't see the nightmarish creatures trying to break through the gap.

Nellis focuses and closes the rifts in the fabric of what some may call reality, forcefully pushing back the all too eager denizens of The Dream. Another perk of being a Serarr. Wherever he goes, so does The Dream, causing varying degrees of outlandish events. That's why Nellis spends most of his time keeping the Dream from interfering with reality. Others just call him absent-minded.

He whispers to the boy: "Don't you worry. The NCPD will protect you. I'll also call your Embassy."

The reaction surprises him. He is usually very good at comforting others, but in this case it didn't do a damn thing. The jaguar is still shaking. "You can't help me. They will find me, no matter what you do. They come in your sleep!"

Nellis feels icy fingers creeping up his spine. He grabs the boy and stares at him in an almost menacing fashion: "What did you say?"

His sudden rudeness surprises the kid enough that he is momentarily pulled out of his shock. "Jason ... he told me they mess with your mind and wait for you in your sleep. They ..." His eyes widen as a sudden realization hits him. He slips from the wolf's hold and staggers back a few steps.

He points a finger at the confused inspector. "You aren't here to help me, you are one of them. You are a Serarr!"

Nellis stares at him dumbfounded. "No, wait, I am on your side!"

The kid dashes off into the next alleyway like hell itself is on his heels, which is probably close to the truth.

The wolf stands there for a moment, motionless, silent. Takes it all in. The light desperately trying to pierce through the various layers of buildings, railways and platforms overhead. The humming of engines and the crackling of energy rushing through the crystal veins of the city. A light breeze ruffling his fur, carrying the stench of the lower levels combined with the unique flavor of blood drying on his trenchcoat.

So it begins. _ The hunt is on. _

He takes a long drag, inhales deeply and slowly exhales again. Then he thoroughly assesses the situation. "Shit."

So much for a quiet day of contemplating and analyzing clues. He had worse starts. This case is worse in a different way though. It hits too close to home.

The wolf raises a hand to his nose and sniffs it, then licks it a few times until he has caught the unique signature of the young jaguar's essence. Of course, he could use his wolven senses but he can't risk losing too much time.

He steps into the alleyway and enters The Dream. His figure frays out at the edges, dissolving further until he is nothing more than a shadow flickering across the walls.