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ROGUE SWORD

Chapter 5 - No Wind Is Too Cold For Lovers

Marcel and Geno were next up to fly out of Ottawa. They would travel to Kiev the capital of the Ukraine separately because the Russians were on the alert for them after the Rainshelter sanction, and a short black fox accompanied by a buxom blonde cheetah were sure to be noticed. Once they arrived they would have to keep their contact to a minimum so no one suspected that they were a couple as Kiev was crawling with Russian FSB agents. Putin was trying to recreate the Soviet Union through a series of defence and economic alliances and the Ukraine was proving difficult to persuade to join in, preferring the European Union and NATO to their former comrades. So the Russian State Security Agency, the successor to Putin's former employer, the KGB, had deployed dozens of agents to get the dirt on key Ukrainian politicians in order to influence the outcome of the negotiations. Stumbling across a pair of wanted F.O.X. agents and eliminating them would be a shortcut to fame and promotion for the agent lucky enough to do so.

Once in Kiev both Marcel and Geno would report to the estate of a research scientist named Fedor Brodsky. Brodsky, a red fox, was from an old aristocratic family that had its assets returned after the breakup of the USSR. According to the experts that had briefed the agents, Brodsky's work in nuclear physics had led to new discoveries that were bringing sustained fusion power closer to reality. But those same discoveries could be used to improve the design of nuclear warheads, and that was why he was on the short list of scientists that may be targeted.

"In fact," Silver had added after the AECL briefers had left the room, "he may already have been targeted. A month ago his wife was killed in on their property when a tree limb fell on her.According to the police report they had heard a strange noise coming from outside during a thunder storm. Thinking that some animal was sacred or injured Brodsky initially went to investigate, but his wife, a zoologist, caught up with him in the foyer and suggested that she would be better suited for the task. She had taken his overcoat from him and covered herself with it before going out in the rain. A minute later Brodsky saw a bright light and heard an explosion. Rushing out into the storm he found his wife, still wrapped in his coat, crushed under a tree that had apparently been struck by lightning. Our explosive experts, however, say that they can simulate the same effect with a bit of C-4 and a large capacitor. No one suspected foul play so the tree was never tested for residue. Brodsky had it chopped up and the stump removed after the funeral."

"His tragedy has, however, created an opportunity for us." Silver had continued. "Brodsky is left with an infant to care for, their first child, a male. But, disconsolate over his mate's death, he has withdrawn from society. He works and he broods, often while consuming copious amounts of alcohol. Concerned for his and the kit's safety, his lawyers have persuaded him to add a chauffeur and a nanny to the household staff. Our contact in Odessa, Aleksy Lutsenko, managed to intercept the job posting and inject himself into the process under cover as the manager of an employment agency. Geno will be posing as a polish au-pair girl hired to take care of Brodsky's son. Marcel, you will go in as the chauffer. Lutsenko will act as your contact for this mission."

Marcel remembered the brown squirrel from his previous visit to the Ukraine, when they were on the trail of the master criminal known as the Werewolf of Odessa. Aleksy had been very helpful and he was looking forward to working with him again.

Marcel also liked the plan itself. Geno was always volunteering to sit the other agents' and analysts' children, and he had recently mastered the art of driving, a skill he had not been able to acquire while living on the streets. But, thanks to some coaching from Vikki and the Academy's Offensive and Anti-terrorism Driving course he could now drive like he skateboarded - right on the edge. Silver had scheduled two days of tutoring under a senior driver from the Parliamentary car pool to bring the young fox's style back away from the edge a bit, but not too far; if Silver was right about the attempt on the scientist's life Marcel would need those evasive driving instincts if he was to keep Brodsky and himself alive.

Marcel would not, of course, be going in under his usual cover as the professional skateboarder, Anthony Foxx. So he not only had to tone down his driving, but his dress as well. The Academy had access to professional makeup artists and costumers from the National Theatre and Silver had them outfit Marcel with a wardrobe suitable for a somewhat conservative domestic servant. He also had them trim and style the small fox's fur in a manner that changed his appearance considerably. With a chauffeur's cap and a pair of heavy-rimmed glasses not even 'Anthony Fox's' most ardent fans would recognize him.

Geno underwent a similar transformation. Her blonde hair was temporarily dyed a mousy brown and given a more conservative cut.Her visible piercings were removed and the holes plugged with fake skin and fur. Cheek inserts rounded her face and a powerful corset reined in her bust. Her long lashes were trimmed back and contacts muddied her piercing green eyes. The final touch was an outfit designed to make her look thick in the middle and wide across the caboose, with shoes that looked vaguely orthopaedic. When the theatre squad was done with her she looked about as sexy as a hearse. Geno added to the erection-numbing effect by moving with her shoulders hunched timidly in fits and starts that made her appear clumsy and uncertain.

They would both go in for a final fitting the next morning before flying out to Kiev along separate routes, something they were scheduled to do that evening but they had earned the night off by beating Silver in the stalking game. Marcel had been looking forward to sharing it with Geno in their isolated cabin on the Academy grounds; a building used in the past to harbour defectors or interrogate foreign agents that had been given over to them because their boisterous lovemaking disturbed even the most jaded neighbours in the agent's quarters. He was disappointed to find that she had agreed to sit with Leslie on their last night together. But he consoled himself with the knowledge that Silver and Vikki would leave immediately after the concert so Geno would be home by ten-thirty at the latest. That left plenty of time for an acrobatic sexual session or three and a power nap before reporting to the makeup department. Plus, Geno was always in a good mood after sitting with the boss's kit, and when she was in a good mood her lovemaking was especially animated. Marcel prepared the cabin for their encounter, lighting a fire in the fireplace, adjusting the lighting, spraying the room with a flowery scent, chilling a bottle of polish vodka and putting the breakable items out of the way.

Geno walked in through the door right at ten-thirty, as predicted, but instead of greeting him with the usual cheery hello, a deep French kiss and a squeeze on the testicles she ignored him and slumped on the couch. Once there she picked up the remote and turned on the television.

Marcel studied her silently for a few minutes while she flipped through the channels aimlessly. He was learning how to read body language but he was not as fast as it as Silver was, nor was he very good at interpreting Geno's moods, but he could see that she was upset over something. It was not him, as it often was, otherwise she would be yelling and throwing things. Those clashes always ended in rough and vigorous yiffing sessions, much to their mutual enjoyment, and one would often goad the other into an argument just for the make-up sex afterwards. That was why he hidden all the vases, bric-a-brac and anything with sharp edges.

But her silence was worrying him, and try as he might, he could not figure out what was bothering her, not from her posture alone. His need to make things right demanded that he do the one thing that most males feared and dreaded - open a channel of communication about feelings.

Marcel cleared his throat, just in case she did not realize that he was standing beside the television. "Uh-hmpf.Hey, Geno. How's it going?"

She snapped off the television but continued to stare at the blank screen. "Fine."

Fine. Silver had warned Marcel about that word. "When a female says that things are 'fine' you are probably in big trouble." The older fox had told him. "But they will never let you know what it is wrong, because in their warped sense of reality you are supposed to know already. If you don't, you are 'insensitive'. So you have to try and figure out what it is without being too obvious that you are doing it. Here are a few interrogation techniques that should be useful."

Marcel tried another question. "How's Leslie? Did you two have fun?"

The antics of the little kit always brought a smile and an amusing story, but not tonight. "He's fine." She repeated despondently.

This is really bad, he thought. He wondered if Vikki had said something to Geno. The tall vixen and the busty cheetah had not got along well initially, and Marcel had occasionally caught tears of frustration when Geno didn't think he was looking after one of Vikki's pointed insults. But since the attempted flooding of North America by the mad platypus the two had gotten along much better. Still, it was a possibility.

"Did Vikki enjoy the concert?" He probed.

"She liked it fine." She relied, but he saw her head jerk slightly when she did. He was on the right track. Back when he and Geno had first gotten together he had a terrible crush on the beautiful vixen. He was over that now, but in those days jealousy had helped fuel the poor relation between the two females. Maybe seeing Vikki all dolled up for a night at the symphony had revived those feelings he guessed. If that was the case he should be able to cheer her up by proposing that they do one of her favourite things - Nerf Palant.

Palant was a polish sport similar to baseball, named after the bat, or palant, used in the game. Geno had played it at the family reunions she attended between semesters in boarding school, and she had been very good at it. But Ottawa did not have a large Polish community, and you had to drive three hours to the town of Warsaw in upper Renfrew Country to find a good game of Palant. In order to cheer her up one day when she was missing her family, Marcel had come up with the idea of indoor Nerf-Palant. It was an instant hit, even though they usually ended up arguing about the score and beating each other with the harmless foam palants. That of course led to a grappling match that led to ... Marcel smiled.

"Hey Kid." He said cheerily. How about we get the nerf bats out and I whump your ass again in a round of Palant? And then we can ..." he gestured to the woolly carpet he had strategically placed in front of the fireplace, "... you know."

"What's the point?"

"What's the point of Palant? To outscore your opponent, I guess. We've never actually finished a game."

"No, what is the point of having sex? What is the point of us being together at all?"

Now Marcel was really worried, confused, and a little scared. Geno would yiff at the drop of a hat, usually before it could hit the floor. She was so spontaneous in that regard that they had been banned for life from three restaurants, two taxi companies and the local puppet theatre. Geno questioning the rationale behind yiffing was like a fish questioning the need for water.

"Wha - what do you mean?"

"I mean what I said." She responded angrily. "You're a fox. I'm a cat. Sex between us is about as effective as a screen door on a submarine."

"Well, if they surface in a mosquito infected area it could come in ..."

"You know what I mean." She almost screamed. But the tears in her eyes told him that is was not anger that drove her. She buried her head in her paws as sobs wracked her body.

The realization of what was bothering her hit him like a brick. Despite spending a good deal of her childhood in foreign boarding schools she had come from a tight knit traditional family, with aunts and uncles and dozens of cousins. Most of which, he was willing to bet, were married and had kittens of their own by now. You could rebel against the older generation, and she certainly had, but like a language learned in the cradle you never forgot the values you absorbed on your mother's knee. Geno's biological clock was not only ticking - the alarm had gone off.

It wasn't like that for Marcel. He could not remember his father, but he could remember feeling safe and loved in a period before his mother had become a widow. The death was unexpected, and not covered by insurance. His mother had to take two low paying jobs just to survive in the welfare apartments they had been forced to move to. She had hooked up with a series of males from the expatriate Ukrainian community, believing that a strong male presence would be good for her kit, but she had been desperate and choose poorly. Her last mate, 'Uncle` Yuri, had been more interested in beating Marcel's ass, of trying to yiff it, than protecting it. Marcel had gutted his abusive step-father and fled Toronto when he was just fourteen.

From that point until coming to the academy he lived on the streets of various cities and on the roads that connected them. In those days sex was a weapon, one to be avoided. Shorter than average and looking much younger than his years he learned that there were worse predators than Yuri, but he survived them all. Many kits in his situation would have grown up just as abusive as their tormentors, but Marcel had experienced love and protection first, and that was what stuck. In every city he stopped in a gang of street youth would form around him, kits younger than him that could sense his protective nature. Many of them were used to trading sex for protection or comfort and offered themselves freely, but Marcel refused to take advantage of them. He would hold them if they came crawling up on whatever piece of cardboard he was using for a mattress that night, and pet them until they fell asleep, but that was as far as it went.

Not that he was a monk. When he hit his late teens he hooked up with chicks at the skate parks, suburban types out looking for a bad boy. But that happened infrequently for despite being in all likelihood the most dangerous kid on the streets he was still short and looked several years younger than he was. What little sex he did have was purely for fun, like skateboarding.

It was the same for Geno, he realized. She had spent her formidable years watching the previous generation bask in the glow of motherhood, and nothing in her wild youth or subsequent career as a secret agent could change that. His early experiences had turned him off of the idea of parenthood, and when they became a couple she claimed to feel the same way. But deep inside she must have been yearning for a family of her own, and if she could not have kits she had to live out the urge through the kits of others. Suddenly, all the voluntary babysitting made sense.

Marcel dropped to his knees in front of her and gently pulled her paws away from her face. He let one go and used his paw to tilt her head back up until she was looking at him. Then he brushed a trail of tears off her cheek, turning the gesture into a caress.

"Do you remember the day we met?"

"In the alley behind the video store?"

"Yes."

How could she forget that day? Her boss had set her up to be raped by a pair of sewer rats just so he could get into her pants by 'rescuing' her. Marcel had happened along and disarmed them long enough for them to make their escape. Then he had taken her to a downtown safe house where they had made love with wild abandon. That encounter had set her on the road to becoming a spy.

"I remember." She said.

"I never told you why I was in the alley that day. I was there to see you."

"But ... but you didn't even know me then."

"No, but I had seen you before, many times. When I was living on the streets I would see you leaving the convent with your friends during the day. Then I saw you and that Coyote fiend of yours sneaking out at night. You fascinated me, so tall and good looking and confident. But I was afraid to approach you, so I followed you instead. The night you brought the pack back to party in the gym I was there, watching from that oak that overlooks the convent. When things started to go bad in the gym I didn't know what to do, but then I saw Sister Rufina through her window. I had seen her on the streets too, helping the homeless, and dealing with the scum who prey on them in a most effective manner. I tossed an acorn at her window and when she looked out to see what had hit it she caught the noise coming from the gym. I had a feeling that she could handle those hounds, and she did."

"I always meant to approach you some day and say 'Hi', but, you know ..." Geno knew. Marcel got a little tongue tied around the females he admired. Even after she had seduced him in the safe house he still found it difficult to talk to her.

"Anyway," he continued, "Silver recruited me just after that and I was busy with the training and my first mission and all." His cheeks went red under the fur. Geno knew about his encounters with the seductive skunk at Dow's Lake and the porcine punta in Nicosia. He had told her all about those embarrassing encounters. "So it was a couple of years before I had a chance to look you up again. By then you were working in the video store and taking some classes at the college. When I wasn't busy at the Academy I would stand across the street, under the awning of the drug store there, and watch you work through the window. If you went on a smoke break I'd go up on the roof and look down on you."

"Like a guardian angel."

Marcel went red again. "I felt more like a stalker, until the day the rats showed up. I could tell that they were up to no good the instant I saw them. I had Silver's training to thank for that, and I didn't need someone like Sister Rufina to deal with them anymore either."

"You were awesome." She smiled the tiniest bit."Taking that gun out with your knife was quite the move." Then she turned sombre again. "And the sex afterwards was great too, but you were also following Vikki by then, weren't you?"

Marcel sighed. "Yeah, she fascinated me too, back then."

"And if she had not hooked up with Silver you would have gone after her. Because you are both foxes and there would be a point to your union. It wouldn't be just sex. She could have given you children. Now you're stuck with me because you pity me for falling for you. And because of that I'm never ... we won't ..." Geno clutched her paws to her belly and doubled over as the tears returned.

Marcel took her head between his paws and brought it back up. He held her firmly, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "That day in the alley, seeing you all vulnerable and in trouble, I would have done anything for you then, because I was the big hero secret agent and you were the helpless female. Now you're an agent who can kick ass with the best of them and you don't need my help anymore, but I still find you fascinating, and I would still do anything for you. I don't Pity you Geno, I ... I love you."

A long pause followed his pronouncement. As far as they could recall, it was the first time either of them had used the "L" word.

Marcel recovered first. "I love you and I intend to stay with you forever, and raise a family with you, if that's what you want." His grip on her head changed to caresses.

Geno raised her paws and returned the gesture, but her smile was a rueful one. "But that's the one thing that we can't have. Why do you think that we never use any form of protection, dumb ass?"

"I know about that. But the inability to procreate does not mean you can't have a family. Look at that actor you like from that show "How I met Your Mother". He and his male partner have adopted two kits. Or, you could have that artificial insemetary or whatever it's called.

"Artificial insemination." She said, really smiling now. "You would do that for me? Raise a kitten that isn't your own?"

"It's not genes that make you a parent." He said, getting off his knees and sitting beside her on the couch. "It's being there for them when they need you."

Geno snuggled her head against his chest and toyed with the fur on the arm he wrapped around her. After several minutes of silence she rolled onto her back on his lap and looked up to him with a seductive grin.

"You want to go in the bedroom, Sugar?"

Marcel began petting her head. "Not tonight. Let's just sit here and watch the fire until we fall asleep."

* * * * * * * *

Halfway across the world, in Islamabad, Kain was leaving his hotel for a tour of the town. It wasn't so much because he wanted to see the city so much, although he did need a break from the computer screen, as he needed to act the role that the Academy had sent him there to play. He was supposed to be a distraction, someone to lead the ISI around while a mysterious allied agent tried to infiltrate the military's nuclear program. Hopefully the ISI did not know why a F.O.X. agent had come to their town, but they would get suspicious if he just sat in his room all day so out he went. The trip would serve somewhat of its intended purpose anyway. Kain would tour sensitive sites, but not those associated with the nuclear power commission, the PAEC, because that was where Ophelia would be working today. The cloud leopard had left his room the evening before to begin her reconnaissance of the scientist, Aban Barbar.

Kain took the first cab in line outside the hotel and gave the driver an address in Zone II. Using a mirror slipped inside a guide book he checked behind them as the taxi pulled away from the Marriott. Sure enough, a nondescript sedan with a pair of creatures in it pulled away and began following him at a discrete distance. A minute later the taxi's radio crackled and there was a short exchange between the driver and the dispatcher, punctuated with surreptitious glances at his passenger. Lifting the book again Kain saw the sedan drop back, but continue to follow. They did not need to stay too close if they already knew the destination, he realized. Just to confirm, he leaned forward and told the driver that he had changed his mind, and gave an address in Zone III. As he did he inserted the ear bud of a device that looked like a smart phone, and it was, but it was also a translator unit. He switched it on and leaned back.

The driver cursed. "I must let dispatch know of the new destination." He mumbled before picking up the microphone and slipping into his native language. The short conversation was heated. The dispatcher was upset that he had to contact the security forces, he was afraid that they would get mad if the passenger changed destinations too often. The driver told him that there was nothing he could do about it, and that he did not think that his passenger knew that they were being followed. Checking the mirror Kain saw that they had lost the sedan. He let the cabbie carry on without further changes, and after a few minutes he noted that the sedan was back in position a block behind them. At the new destination he got out, paid the fare with an appropriate tip, thanked the driver and turned down the cabbie's offer to chauffeur him around the city all day for a flat rate.

Keeping away from Zone IV, where the PAEC labs that Barbar worked were located, Kain travelled by street car and taxi around the downtown core and the residential areas that surrounded it. There were a number of government offices in those districts and he had memorized the locations of those associated with the ISI, especially those sections of the national intelligence agency that were suspected of keeping contact with the Taliban and Al Qi'ada. Each time he got close to one of them he got out and walked around the block that the office or front business was on, looking at everything else but studiously ignoring the target itself.

Such suspicious activity was sure to generate some interest, and it did. By the second stop the surveillance team was taking his picture whenever they thought he wasn't looking and by the fourth his followers had grown to at least eight agents in three cars and a pair of motorcycles. Late in the afternoon he decided to return to the hotel rather than piss them off by staying out past their supper time. So far they showed no signs of interfering with him, but one misstep and Kain knew that he could end up as a guest of the state in accommodations considerably less comfortable than the Marriott.

He returned to his room to freshen up, it was still fairly hot and in Islamabad this time of year. The traps he had placed on his doors and luggage were still in place, but they must have been found and replaced because the more subtle ones he had placed inside his bags had been disturbed. A check of his computer showed that they had tried to download the contents but had only gotten the material on the simulated hard drive. Before coming over Kain and Joel had put some clumsily encrypted documents that might lead a clever analyst to conclude that F.O.X. was seeking a particular terrorist, but that the mission was a low priority. The ISI. was aware that the terrorist in question was already dead, but believed that only they knew that information. Kain anticipated that his surveillance team would shrink back to four or less once they concluded that he was on a wild goose chase.

Ophelia did not show up while he was washing up so he went down to the hotel restaurant for supper. He recognized two of the followers in the lobby and was not surprised when they came into the restaurant a minute later and sat at a table between him and the exit. Kain ignored them, concentrating on catching up with the world news with the English-language paper the staff had left by his door that morning. A famous nuclear physicist, a former Nobel winner, had fallen off a cliff in Switzerland while on a family outing, he noted. Police had no explanation for why the elderly scientist had left his grandchildren at the picnic site and climbed the ridge in the first place, but he would be sorely missed, his colleagues commented, as he was expected to announce a breakthrough in sub-atomic physics that might have earned him a second Nobel.

Kain stopped for a beer at the bar before heading back upstairs. He did not drink much because of the damage to his stomach in the explosion a few years back, but still enjoyed the taste of a good beer. While he was standing there a local female, a shapely mouflon with brown wool and horns that curled exotically on either side of her head, asked him if he would buy her a drink. He declined. Not only was the honey pot it the oldest espionage trick in the book, Ophelia would make his life miserable if she watching in disguise and saw him enjoying the company of another female. She was as jealous as she was fierce.

When he got back to his room he found his laptop open on the desk and a naked cloud leopard on his bed.

"Baa-a-a-a." She greeted him.

He checked to make sure she had bypassed the security cameras before answering. "So you were watching. From where?"

"I was one of the girls busing the tables in the restaurant. Not in your section though."

Kain recalled a figure in a shapeless hanging out near the ISI agent's table. "How did your day go?"

"Not bad. I managed to get into Barbar's facility and steal a uniform my size, or at least the size that he would want to see me in. The guy's a perv. Everyone on his staff is a shapely female that dresses in a very clingy version of the local dress, at least they do while they are at work. No matter. I'm heading back out in a bit to slip in with the night shift and see what I can find out."

Kain's face dropped. "Oh? You have to leave so soon?"

Ophelia smiled and her icy eyes twinkled in the dim room. "Not right, right away." She said as she ran her paws down her bare fur. "I've got about thirty minutes to spare. What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, nothing specific." Kain answered as he undid his belt and let his trousers drop to the floor. "But I'm sure something will come up."

Ophelia winced. "You've been hanging around Silver too long."

* * * * * * * *

Marcel woke the next morning to a strange sensation. He badly needed to pee, but was to be expected since he had polished off a few vodka's mixed with cola before going to bed. Then there was the ache at the base of his cock that told him he had one of those morning erections, and that was to be expected too. But there was also a warm, wet sensation, and not the type you get when you refuse to acknowledge your need to pee until it is too late. This one was moving around. He opened one eye and took a peek.

Geno was curled up in a ball beside his hip. Her tail was swaying in the air above her and her head was moving above his hips. When she raised it he could see the shaft of his cock sticking out of her mouth. When she lowered her head it disappeared back inside.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

Geno dropped his cock from her mouth and looked back at him over her shoulder. "You didn't think I'd let you go away on a mission without a good yiffing, did you?"

Marcel struggled to sit up. "Yes, no, I mean ... I should go pee first ... don'tcha think?

Geno reached over and pushed him back down. "You just lay back and let me worry about what you should or shouldn't do, honey." And before he could protest she engulfed his prick again. Marcel lay back, but he stuffed a pillow behind his head so that he could watch her work. There were not many things more impressive than Geno when she was focused on a meat stick.

Her head bobbed and rolled on his rod as she sucked him contently. She held it steady with one paw and closed her eyes. Marcel could feel the warmth of her mouth heating up his prick, and the ache in the base began to fade. Fresh blood began to engorge it, making it thicken and stick out even more. Sensing the change Geno pulled it out of her mouth with a 'pop' and started licking the shaft. She wrapped her clever tongue around the tip and let the rough side drag against the sensitive skin there. Marcel shuddered, but he did not move; she would only pin him down and carry on if he did. He just concentrated on not crying out from the intensity of the sensation.

Geno teased the slit at the end of his knob with the tip of her tongue before lapping the length of his cock down all the way to his balls. There she paused to suck first on one and then the other while she stroked his shaft with her paw. After a minute of that she swallowed it and started the cycle all over again.

Her raised tail exposed her cheeks and upper backs of her thighs, as well as her sex, squeezed between them. Marcel reached down and caressed her butt, stroking her tail from time to time while he enjoyed the movement of her head on his prick. Twisting his paw he rubbed the entrance to her cunt with his thumb, and discovered that it was already warm and moist. He pressed harder and the outer lips parted slightly, allowing his digit to sink in between them. Geno moaned appreciatively, encouraging him to continue.

He rubbed harder, forcing the tip of his thumb between her pressed labia until he could feel the hard button of her clit. When he found it she wiggled her butt a bit and sucked harder on his dick. Marcel continued to run his thumb up and down and it gradually sank deeper and deeper inside her. Suddenly it took a sharp detour and sank deep inside the channel of her vagina. It drove in until the widening base of his thumb stopped it from going any further. He pulled it back out letting the blunt claw press against the top of the shaft passageway. When it popped out he slid it along the length of her slit, keeping it outside so that it travelled over her clit again. After that he alternated driving down and sliding across, and soon Geno's ass was wriggling uncontrollably.

"That's enough." She declared, spitting his cock out and pulling away from his paw. She spun around on the bed and put her paws on his abdomen as she sprang into the air, coming down with a leg on each side of him. She raised her butt up above his hips and reached back to grab his prick, angling it as she lowered herself down on him. She wiggled the tip into her cunt and sighed as she impaled herself on his hot shaft. She dropped until her ass was compressed against his pelvis and the tip of his cock was tickling her cervix. Then she flexed her thighs and rose up again.

She kept going up until just the tip of his prick was left inside her, and then she came down again. Up and down she went, rolling her hips as she went so that his rock-hard shaft massaged her insides. Left and right, back and forth, she angled him this way and that in search of the elusive spot on the wall in behind her clit, and when she found it she rubbed it on him vigorously with each plunge on his shaft.

Marcel just had to lay back and enjoy it, really, but there was so much more to enjoy if he put a little effort into it. Geno was using his cock as a swizzle stick to stir her insides and was mashing her clit against his pelvic bone. Reaching down with his right paw he got his thumb between it and her love button and he heard her moan as the rough pad made contact with her diamond hard clit. He rubbed it in little circles as she rose up on him again, and let her gyrate against it when she bottomed out. He raised his other paw to grab her right breast, squeezing the erect nipple between two digits until she cried out. Then flexing his back he sat up, wrapped his left arm around her back and took what he could of her left breast in his mouth. He gobbled it, sucked it and gently nibbled on the nipple before switching to the other breast. Meanwhile, he continued to massage her clit mercilessly.

Geno was the first to come, and she did so clutching his head and wailing in the manner that had gotten them kicked out of the agent's quarters two years before. There was a sudden hot moisture surrounding his cock. Her mons seemed to deflate as the juice shot out of her cunt, and her hips spasmed against him as he chased her clit back between the folds of those nether lips. Each time he caught it she cried out and her hips jerked afresh, but after a few of those she threw him back down on the bed and jumped off his still stiff member, scrambling out of reach of his questing paw. She stopped when her head was at his groin and, grabbing the quivering meat missile gave him a toothy grin.

"I'm gonna eat you up, and then you'll be part of me, and part of you will be in whatever children I bear." And with that she angled his prick back and commenced sucking on it again. "Mmmm ... I can taste myself." She murmured when she paused to stroke it with her paw. "And I want to taste you. Come on, big guy, gimme a taste." She dipped her head and swallowed it again.

She alternated pumping with her paw and sucking, urging him to come when her mouth wasn't full of cock. And Marcel wanted to, but his over inflated bladder pressing against the workings down there and someone in the control room was recommending against it. But those recommendations carried little weight in the face of ... well ... in the face of the ardent cheetah that his cock was buried in at the moment. By the time she next came up for air the rebellious little demons were ready to blow, so to speak.

"Give it to me, baby. Give it all to mama." She crooned as her fist pumped him hard. She caressed his balls with the other paw and that did the trick. Roughly a bucket of cum shot through the tubes, only to be stopped dead before they could pass the bladder and enter the home stretch. But just when Marcel thought that the tubes would burst inside him the spooge forced their way through, catching Geno full in the face as she leaned over for another suck.

She laughed as wad after wad of sticky spooge splattered against her and she rolled her head back and forth like she was showering in it. She closed her eyes to protect them, but some shot up her nose, to be expelled with a snort, and some went in her mouth but most stuck to the fur on her face. As the eruptions tapered off she wiped at the globs with one paw and sucked the excess off her digits. The she leaned down and took his trembling wand in her mouth again, and sucked the last few shots directly out of it. When there was no more to come she pursed her lips and ran them up and down his cock to force whatever was left in the tube out.

Marcel wiggled and gasped at the intensity of her mouth on his overly stimulated shaft, but he had nowhere to escape to. So he gripped the sheets with both paws and clenched his teeth as his testicles feebly tried to add more soldiers to the fray, but the armouries was empty, for now. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, Geno listed her head and rubbed his abdomen while she smiled down on him.

"There." She said. "Now you are a part of me forever, and you will be with me always."

"Yeah, but right now I gotta go."

Geno glanced at the clock. They were not due for their final make up session for another ninety minutes. Plenty of time for another session before cleaning up and grabbing some breakfast. She leered down on him. "You're not going anywhere kid."

A look of surprise came over her face as Marcel flipped her over and vaulted out of the bed. He hit the floor running and scooted down the hall, making a sliding left turn into the cabin's sole bathroom. There was a crash of plastic on porcelain from inside followed by a seconds silence, and then came a sound like someone filling a wading pool with a garden hose. That was followed by a huge sigh of relief.

Geno slumped back against the pillows. "Oh well, when you gotta go, you gotta go."

* * * * * * * *

Marcel flew to Kiev through Montreal and London. In order to prevent any foreign agents seeing them together and associating them with the Rainshelter job Geno took a separate route, through Toronto and Paris. He was dressed in a worn suit with his fur trimmed and slicked back in the European style and wearing thick glasses so not only was he not recognized as being Anthony Foxx, he was not given a second glance by anyone of either sex, except for a matronly vixen who evidently approved of his demure demeanour. But even she left him alone, so he had plenty of time to review the mission during the long lonely flights and the lengthy stopovers.

Marcel had dropped out of high school in grade nine and before coming to F.O.X. the only education he had was what he could pick up on the streets. One may not think that it was the best place in the world to learn about world history, but Marcel had discovered a secret early on. Anyone could walk into almost any library and read all that they wanted even if they did not have a library card for that library. When it was cold and his mother was working and he needed to avoid his step-father he would escape to the local branch of the Toronto Public Library. After he ran away he would go into libraries to get out of the rain or to warm up on particularly chilly days. Sometimes he would hide out in the washrooms until they locked up and then grab some shut eye, and whatever snacks the librarians might have in their fridge, before slipping out through the fire exit early the next morning.

At first he favoured picture books, but he discovered that the librarians were more likely to leave you alone if you looked like you were studying something serious, so he switched to encyclopaedias. While the stock of books varied from one town to another they almost all had a set of the more popular encyclopaedias. He had not been considered an academic type even when he was going to school and he had some difficulty understanding some of the words, but he was no dummy. He got in the habit of taking one of the reference dictionaries to the reading area. To look up the words he didn't know.

Marcel had started with the letter 'A' and worked his way through the rest of them alphabetically. Sometimes a librarian would come over and ask him what he was studying, and he would answer with whatever subject was under his paw at the moment. The librarian would inevitably suggest some further reading, sometimes bringing the books right to Marcel's table. In order to keep up appearances he was forced to read some of them, but which parts he read and how much of them he absorbed was totally random, and his education progressed in a most eclectic fashion. He had made it halfway through the letter 'T' before Silver recruited him into F.O.X., and so had missed reading about the home of his ancestors.

In between language refresher Silver had one of the instructors come in and give Marcel an overview of the Ukrainian history and culture, because, as the older fox said, one has to understand where they came from if you want to understand how they think or react to event s today. Marcel absorbed the information with the same speed that he took in details about his environment, one of the survival traits he had been recruited for. Next, they moved on to examine the country's nuclear energy program.

Much of the nation's attitude toward nuclear power was formed by the Chernobyl disaster back in nineteen eighty-six, when the Ukraine was still part of the Soviet Union. It had been the largest nuclear accident ever, only the more recent Fukushima accident even came close. But while all of the reactors with the same design as the one that cooked off in Chernobyl were shut down for good, the country still relied on nuclear power to supply half of its power. That was because the Russians were using energy politics to try and force the Ukraine into an economic and defence union that would keep them out of the Western sphere of influence, the instructor explained, asking if Marcel needed him to expand on the topic of spheres of influence. Marcel waved him to continue. He understood gang tactics and strategies from his time on the streets; when big gangs wanted to take over a territory they first offered to partner with and assist the little gangs in their local turf wars, then when the little guys were totally dependent on them for protection from the other big gangs they took over.

The Ukraine was fighting back by making new deals with other energy providers, building new pipelines that the Russians did not control, and by planning to add eleven more reactors of a safer design to the nineteen that they had already built. Even though they were only increasing the number of reactors by fifty percent the leaders of the country expected that the new reactors would effectively double the capacity, making them independent of the Russians for their electricity needs forever.

The reactors were run by a state-owned company called Energatom. Its headquarters was in Kiev, but that was not why he and Geno were travelling there. Energatom's reactors were not the only ones in the country. There was also a research reactor in Kiev, owned and operated by the Kiev Institute for Nuclear Research. And in the Nuclear Data Centre of the Institute's Neutron Physics Department there was a scientist that was doing some cutting-edge work in neutron data measurements, the kind of work that the country would need to double the capacity without doubling the number of reactors. And that scientist was the fox they would be working for, Fedor Brodsky.

Marcel had no problem clearing in though customs and immigration at Zhuliany airport under a UK passport, courtesy of MI-5. He found the brown Squirrel that he and Vikki had worked with in Odessa waiting for him in the pickup zone in a new ZAZ Forza. They shook paws formally and then Aleksy helped him put his bag in the trunk. Then Marcel slid into the passenger seat and waited silently while Aleksy buckled up and pulled out into traffic.

"How are things?" Marcel asked in Ukrainian.

Although he spoke English quite well the squirrel replied in Ukrainian. "It's safe to talk." Aleksy tapped a small black box stuck to the dash that had a small green flashing light. "Silver told me to use Ukrainian so you could practice."

"No problem. Did the other agent make it in okay?"

Aleksy grinned. "Yes, she came in last night. She is quite the looker, isn't she?"

Considering the makeover that added an apparent fifty pounds to Geno and a foot to the width of her ass Aleksy must be one of those guys who liked his females big. "Yes she is." He agreed. The squirrel did not know that Marcel and Geno were a couple; he did not need to know.

"You are lucky to be paired with her. Have you worked together before?"

"Once or twice."

Aleksy bit his lip apprehensively before continuing. "Do you know if she is, uh, seeing anyone, back in Canada, I mean?"

"Forget it Aleksy. She's a real pro. Lives like a nun when she's not on a mission. They call her the ice queen back at the farm."

"Oh well." The squirrel shrugged. "You new papers are in the glove box. Your name is Marko Lysytsya. Your partner is Jena Gepard." Marcel opened the container and pulled out a sheaf of papers. Underneath them was a large Ziploc bag half filled with clear liquid. Marcel put his travelling papers inside, sealed the bag and gave it a shake. The passport and other identification dissolved instantly, turning the liquid cloudy. After a minute it turned solid. Marcel opened the bag and took a bite. It tasted like marzipan.

He offered it to Aleksy. "Want some?"

"No." Aleksy patted his belly. "I'm trying to cut back on the sweets."

Marcel shrugged and continued to eat as he looked out the window at the city as it rolled past. He could see that modern Kiev was a mix of the new and the old. There were a lot of older apartments, done in pale blues, yellows and greys, mixed in with the modern ones of brick and glass. Even the people were a mix, old and young mingled freely on the streets. There were folk in conservative or even traditional dress and others in the latest western styles.

Kiev was on the Dnieper River and had a population of three million. The airport was on the right-bank of the river, an area with numerous woody hills, ravines and small rivers. They were driving toward the river and the older part of the city, the part that dated back to the fourth century. Brodsky had a mansion in the historical Pechersk district, only a few kilometres from the Nuclear Institute. Marcel recognized the streets; he had driven them often on a simulator back at the Academy in preparation for his role as a chauffeur. After dropping the scientist off at the institute the next few days he would have to drive the real ones to get used to the traffic patterns.

Aleksy pulled up to a gated mansion and pressed the buzzer beside the keypad. "The Institute pays for top notch security. There are three layers, the perimeter, the house and the office. You'll have the code to the first two, but not the third."

"No problem. Jena can handle it."

"So I assumed. Ah! Here we go." The gate slid open and Aleksy drove through. It was a short drive to the front of the mansion, which they made in silence. Aleksy parked behind a Mercedes limousine. Marcel got out and walked around it. "An S550 with a one metre extension." Aleksy informed him.

"Sweet"

"Yes, but not too pretentious. Come. He is waiting for us inside."

The door to the mansion opened when they were halfway up the stairs. An elderly male mouse held it open and greeted them with a slight bow as they entered. An equally old female mouse was standing inside the foyer. She curtsied and held out a paw for Marcel's bag. He thanked her but told her it was heavy and that he would take care of it. She smiled and shrugged before moving aside to let them pass into the parlor.

"Mister and Missus Mysha take care of the house." Aleksy explained. "They have been with the family for years and are the only other servants."

Marcel set his bag down in the centre of the parlor. A moment later a tall red fox entered the room from the opposite direction. "Ah! Mister Lutsenko." He shook the squirrels paw vigorously. "Good to see you again. And this is?" He turned and shook Marcel's paw before the smaller fox could object.

"Marko Lysytsya." Marcel answered before the squirrel could, and he added a short bow.

"Excellent." Brodsky beamed. "Mister Lutsenko tells me that you are a good driver."

"If by that he means a careful driver, then yes, he is correct. I have a perfect driving record." It was true. Marcel had never had an accident or a speeding ticket in the twelve months since he got his driver's licence ... on the fourth try. The fact that he had only actually driven a car twice on public roads, and only for a few minutes each time, did not negate that accomplishment. But he had put a lot of hours on the simulator, and the accidents on it did not count, he told himself.

"Excellent." The superlative seemed to be the scientist's favourite word. Then Marcel realized that Brodsky was nervous. Silver had said that the death of his mate had shaken him up so much that he could hardly function anymore, which was why he needed a driver now. Marcel felt a wave of sympathy for his temporary employer.

There was a noise from outside the parlour, in the same direction as from where Brodsky had appeared. "Ah! Jena. Please join us." A moment later Geno appeared with a baby wrapped in a blanket in her arms. Marcel could see the snout poking out and its tiny paws waving about. She passed the baby to Brodsky, giving Marcel a sly smile that the scientist did not see because he only had eyes for his son. Marcel, who had never seen a male of any age ignore Geno, was impressed. Brodsky must really love his kit, he thought.

The master of the house stepped over to Marcel and leaned down to show the baby to the shorter fox. It had black forearms and paws, a light red face with darker marks on the sides of its snout, and huge, deep brown eyes that seemed to stare straight into Marcel's soul. Marcel had to admit that it was a cute one. It reached out to grab Marcel's whiskers but Brodsky pulled it back out of reach at the last second.

"This is Aldwin." Brodsky informed Marcel. "Aldwin is an English name. It means 'old friend'. His mother is ... she was ... from England." A single tear fell from his face and splashed on the kit's nose, which brought forth a tiny wail of displeasure. Brodsky passed the kit back to Geno/Jena with some reluctance. Turning back he noticed that Marcel/Marko's eyes were on the Polish Cheetah. "Where are my manners? Marko, this is Jena. She is Aldwin's nanny."

"Please to meet you." Geno held out a paw, digits downward, like a lady offering it to be kissed.

Marcel took the paw and bowed over it. He almost clicked his heels like a Prussian before remembering that the Ukrainians were not big fans of the Germans in general. "Madam." He murmured.

"Have you met the Myshas?" Brodsky inquired as Marcel stepped back away from Geno.

"Briefly."

"You will get to know them better at dinner tonight. You and Jena will eat in the Kitchen with them." He waved to dismiss the nanny. "Mister Lutsenko has explained the other terms and conditions of your employment? He has? Good. Please use the rest of the day to settle in and familiarize yourself with the garage and the car. You'll start your official duties tomorrow morning, and Marko," the taller fox stepped closer and spoke in a confidential tone, "in case Mister Lutsenko did not tell you, Jena is Polish. Are you okay with that?"

Marcel had read about the poor relations between the two countries that started before the Second World War and were heightened by the massacre of Poles in Volhynia and other places during and after the war. Relations only began to improve after the breakup of the Soviet Union and the Warsaw pact, but they were still not perfect. As recently as July someone had smeared egg on the jacket of the visiting Polish President. He could understand Brodsky wanting to make sure that his household did not become a scene of ethnic tensions.

"A polish cheetah?" Marcel/Marko pursed his lips and shrugged as if considering his options. "I guess I could live with that."

* * * * * * * *

Near midnight, Eastern Standard Time, in a small cubicle in the basement of a secure building in a restricted compound on a military base outside of Washington D.C. a raccoon was trying not to be bored out of her skull.

Lola had joined one of the many American three-letter intelligence agencies straight out of university in Maryland, where she had graduated with a degree in Intelligence Analysis. She had expected that coming in with such credentials would have put her right in the heart of the anti-terrorism division, but that was not what had happened. Ignoring her job application's stated preferences for counter-terrorism work in the big-three fields of Human Intelligence (HUMINT), Signals Intelligence (SIGINT), or Imagery Intelligence (IMINT), she had been sent to a section that practiced Open Source Intelligence, or OSINT. It was a discipline that involved searching publications and the internet for hints and clues that could help guide the other three 'INT's.

The training was interesting. They taught her how to exploit those web sites that were well connected, the ones that anyone could find, and those that were down 'internet worm holes', the ones you had to work to find. Then there were the really good sites, the "islands in the internet ocean', where hard core criminal organizations, terrorists and hackers hung out. It was a new and growing field in Intelligence and Lola could not wait to go after Al Qi'ada or one of her nation's other enemies.

But instead of the operational section she was posted to the counter-intelligence group. There her job consisted of scanning Twitter feeds, Blogs, Facebook pages and other social media for mention of her agency or any other American security and intelligence agency for that matter. To do that she used a computer that was in no way connected to any level of government or government associated entity. As far as the Internet Service Provider was concerned, she was Farah Massoud, a part-time Poly-Sci student living in a rented room in a middle-class suburb of Baltimore.

Whenever Lola got a hit on one of the terms in her search library it was her job to visit the site and see exactly what they were saying about them, and then alert the countermeasures section if appropriate. If it looked important, but not critical, she would file a report and address it to the agencies concerned. If it seemed innocent, she took no action other than to log the location and the gist of the contents.

Lola hated her job, but stuck with it in hopes of advancement when and if the economy improved enough for the intelligence agencies to start hiring again.

The software she used to search the sites looked not only for American terms, but also those of their main allies and partners in intelligence. As a courtesy she would include them in her distribution when she found a site that mentioned them. It didn't happen as often as the hits on the American agencies, but it happened often enough, especially after each of the new releases of Rainshelter's material on FurryLeaks.

There were also a fair number of false hits due to agencies having generic names or acronyms that were shared by non-governmental organizations. F.O.X. was particularly bad because of the celebrities with that last name; them and that stupid video that was making the rounds. A famous lingerie company had just launched a campaign with a model named Fox, and Lola was getting tired of looking at females much more developed than her wearing underwear that she could never afford.

So when the alert went off on the Canadian agency's name and she flipped over to the site concerned she at first assumed that it was another advertisement. She was a split second away from deleting the entry when she noticed something different about the page. Remembering that well-organized terrorists and savvy criminal gangs could hide messages in seemingly innocent sites she examined this one closer, clicking on several of the tabs and jumping back and forth between pages.

"Well I'll be damned." She said out loud. "This is interesting." She checked a few more pages as her paws flew on the keyboard. Five minutes later she had finished her report. She then added a standard distribution list and hit 'send'. The report would be in her boss's inbox and that of several other agencies in seconds, but since it wasn't urgent it would most likely not be read until morning. Lola decided to take a break and go to the lunch room for a bite before searching some more.

The email arrived at F.O.X. less than a half a second after it made it to the American addressees, the distance from Washington to Ottawa being moderately long in internet terms. It was directed to the mailbox of the Duty Officer. The Duty Officer glanced at it, noted the low priority, and flagged it for follow up by the analyst that dealt with cyber security issues. That analyst was Kain Algorath, and he would not see the report for some time.

The FOX Academy series:

Book I - The New Breed

Book II - The Werewolf of Odessa

Book II.5 - The Love who Spied Me

Book III - The Curse of the Yellow Monkey

Book IV - Wait for No One

Book V - Dawn of Vengeance

Book VI - Unnatural Selection

Kain Algorath © Marcus X Light

Ophelia Cassidy Sommer © Devil Kitty

Joel Grigori © Joel the Lemur

Geno © Coyotek

Dongo Fett © Dongo Fett

Zachary Ember © EmberWolf

Grey Muzzle © Grey Muzzle