FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

First of all, i don't plan on doing another story about these characters, except maybe back story on Fuller. i will however do a lot more in this universe and expand as i go, if you have questions or would like to set a story in this universe, talk to me and we'll work something out.

i think i will do more with Fuller so that you can see just how mellow he is for most of this story.

This sucker is LONG, take your time though, you might miss something otherwise.

I will not be dictatorial and tell you that you MUST go listen to the song I posted here just for this story but...I strongly strongly STRONGLY! Suggest it. It will give you the feel of the song when it is sung in the story.

Note that the town is Graham Texas.

( ) denotes nick names or acronyms.

All characters and situations between them are copywrited to me and further, are my intellectual property. Any use of them without my express written permission will be prosecuted.

If you wish to use them in any form please obtain my permission first. I am usually pretty easy going about it so don't put your tail between your legs before you ask!

The following contains material of a graphic nature, if you are under the age of consent (whatever that may be in your area) and do NOT have the permission of your parent or guardian do not read this.

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Death they say, is nothing more then the ending of the book of one persons life.

Most people have perfectly normal, accepted endings, a car accident, a disease, old age. Even suicide is accepted in this list.

But these endings are normal, commonplace....boring.

The Fates, you see, have avenues for all our lives to be played out upon; our choices dictate which lanes we travel in, but make no mistake friend, travel in them we do. There are some who are given the opportunity by the fates to... write a few words of there own in their book of life.

Oft times these favored of the fates will choose for them selves an ending filled with bloody execution.

A masterpiece of literature that springs forth from the throats of dieing men. Warrior nations around the world have ever referred to this phenomenon, as a beautiful death.

Now, one might ask them self, what makes a man who can write a page of his own fate choose to write of his own violent death?

I am here to answer that question my friend, but I will do so with a story.

For you see.

Vengeance may be a dish best served cold, but it is a meal that is prepared in the fiery realm of blood soaked Retribution.

____________________________________________________________________

The piper was playing well that day. Playing amazing grace upon his pipes. He was plating so well you would think it the most beautiful sound in the world. But it was not; it was in fact, the saddest sound in the world for it heralded the ending of a life.

As the reverend intoned his sermon, two figures stood at the forefront of a massive crowd of people, both furred and not.

Today they committed the body of Eleanor Freidman to the loving embrace of the earth.

The Texas memorial cemetery was silent as her coffin was lowered down, no one spoke, no one coughed, no one even so much as breathed. Yet all eyes bore tears within their depths. For never was there a sweeter person born upon the face of the earth then Eleanor Freidman.

Twenty seven years ago, on July 12 2012 at 12:12 Central standard time. Every inhabitant of the planet earth was struck unconscious by an unknown force.

12 seconds later when every one woke up again, half the world's population had ceased to exist, not disappeared, but ceased to be altogether. No records, no pictures, save memories of those that knew them.

In their place were now strange, bipedal animal like creatures dubbed Anthropoids, or just (thropes) for short. These creatures simply appeared out of nothingness; with jobs ID's and lives, some even wore wedding rings and had documented proof that they were married to a human, even though they had never met before. They came from a world much like ours and had an understanding of much of our history, as it was theirs as well. Save that their George Washington was a very unlucky beaver.

For the next five years there was pandemonium, countries declared martial law, war, and anything else they could think of to quell the unrest at this development. Things came so close to nuclear conflict that world leaders swore they could feel the burn of radiation on their skin. Unfortunately, these five years of relative political inaction, holding off these thropic people from becoming citizens, giving them rights and accepting them into society. Gave religious fanatics and supremacist groups enough time to organize them selves. After the vicious infighting four groups emerged to claim control of the worlds irrational hatred.

The first was made up of the survivors from a massive exodus from the Southeastern United States. Calling them selves the "Sons of humanity" (the Sons) they were basically a white supremacist, neo Nazi group given free reign and a new ethnic group to hate. They had fled the States by the thousands, making their way to central and then later, South America. The wake of destruction and death they left in their wake dwarfed even that of the 2006 hurricane.

They had gone on a killing spree that lasted 2 years and had enslaved the whole of South and Central America; however, Mexico held firm against their onslaught and became known as the Southern border of the free nations.

Asia was almost instantaneously taken over by the Triads, calling on the people's devotion to Taoism and Buddhism alike to band them together and take control of their countries. They accomplished this by killing the new arrivals, the old governments and enslaving both when they had the chance. The nations that remained free of this were Japan, the unified republic of Korea, the kingdom of Vietnam, and Thailand.

Russia threw up it's wall again, no one in, no one out. They accepted the thropes as people on a governmental level and wished to protect the country from the insanity that over took the land. Unlike the last wall, behind this one no on was mistreated and all were cared for.

The Muslim Faith Alliance (MFA) and the Holy Crusaders of Righteous God (HCRG) contested Eastern Europe, Central Europe and the Middle East. Both laying claim to the Holy Land, and both treating thropes as less then human, killing raping and enslaving.

Rome once again became a power in the land, taking over several small countries including all of Italy. Then called upon what was left of the United Nations to stand beside god and join with them in their campaign to reclaim the holy land from it's heathen and devil spawned captors.

Some agreed, most followed Switzerland's example, and a few opposed them.

What was left of Latin America, the UK, Ireland, the Nordic and Scandinavian states, Spain, Canada and the U.S. came together and formed the Alliance of the Republics (AR).

A year after that one of the ghettos were thropes were being kept was attacked by a Sons air raid, killing hundreds. At this point congress as well as other ruling bodies in the AR recognized furrs as sentient citizens. Granting them all the benefits and responsibilities thereof.

Released form the ghettos, the thropes integrated swiftly into human society. Prejudices remained however and most people of both species, though they lived alongside and worked with each other, segregated themselves from one another.

This was partly the reason it would have been shocking to see this many of both sides clustered around a single grave. Had it not been for the occupant, Eleanor Freidman had taken the appearance of these new creatures in stride, telling many that if god had not wanted them here, then he would not have let them come.

She had befriended many people of both races and was loved by the whole of their large north Texas town. She had moved away from there just two years before, to work on the east coast in Maryland somewhere. Yet she had been back on vacation when she died, meaning all her friends could come to her funeral.

Her skin had been as black as coal, and she had had a smooth west Texas drawl to her speech that had calmed many an argument. Her opinion had been that, in years past the color of her skin had been cause enough for people to despise her, and she would not sink to that level.

At the age of 67 years she should not have died so suddenly, but then again she had not died of natural causes.

Eleanor Freidman had been murdered. The scene had been tagged with the Sons symbol of a white sun blazing against a red backround. It had been found that several known Sons members in the area had left town soon after her murder. The police were doing all they could but could not cross international boundaries easily which made the investigation slow and cumbersome.

Two fur clad figures stood by the graveside, one a large Female white wolf, with raven's wing hair and green eyes. And the other a male white tiger with short cropped brown hair and molten yellow cat slit eyes. They had both flown in from out of state to be here but those who knew them noted a marked absence from the group. The two that stood there had been found as babies five days after the event, curled up in a house around a human baby. The windows had been broken and items were missing from the home. The babies were almost dead from dehydration and exposure, for it was unseasonably cold the year of the even. Police surmised that the human baby's parents had been among those to disappear, and that the house had been robbed because it was empty. And so after processing them all the tiger the wolf and the human were entered into the adoption system.

Many people wished to adopt the human boy, for after his long exposure to the cold his body had begun shutting down, causing him to stop making pigment. This left his hair an extreme shade of platinum blond, and his eyes a piercing blue with a dark blur ring around them, his skin had been unaffected because they had been found in time.

Many families desired him for his odd appearance and tragic story yet when the time came for him to be adopted, always he would refuse and would often bite, scratch and break the fingers of those who tried to force him to go. You see the humans did not wish to adopt the two thropes that had kept him warm and alive in that house, they had been put into the adoption program before the ghettos had been commissioned so were safe from those horrors. Yet the little boy, hardly old enough to walk would not leave them

They had been in that Hel hole for 6 years when Eleanor had come through to find a child to adopt. Her husband had died in the riots and she had always wanted to adopt a child that needed a home. As a police officer her husband had been charged with protecting innocents from the mindless panic of others. And she wished to carry on this fine tradition.

She had been touring the orphanage, (meeting children that were obviously faking an interest in her in the hopes of being picked) when she had spied half a dozen or more human children circling three children, two thropic and one human.

As she watched then others closed in around the them, trying to outnumber them when the three started moving, hitting kicking rolling, these 7 year olds were defending them selves against children twice there age. She asked the attendant about it and he had said for her not to bother her self with the blond boy, he would not leave without the thropes.

She had asked him why she should not bother for she had nothing against furrs. To which the man replied that if it were he, he would not want a filthy animal living in his house.

She had walked out that day with three gloomy children in tow, the attendant had walked out with a black eye.

Now those same 7 year olds were Twenty Seven, and living fairly normal lives. They had been locked in jail more then once in their youth because those who started fights would always walk away worse of then their intended pray, and egos were almost always bruised. The human, whose name was Fuller (full-eR) had even been tried in court once for breaking a man's arm and legs. He had been acquitted when it was discovered that he had been protecting his wolf sister from "unwanted attentions" as the court called it.

The wolf, whose name was Esne (Ess-na) was a police officer in Boston, and part of the Armed Response Counter Assault unit based on the east coast. (ARCA)

She had taken family leave for the next few months, to try and get her head straight. She was not married and had never really had a boyfriend, her brothers were a bit intimidating and when ever she found someone that wasn't a total loser they would "put the fear of the gods" into him and she never heard from that one again afterwords.

The tiger had done like wise with his vacation, he was part of the border militia and had spent the past six months fighting in southern Mexico against the Sons bastards, as well as a new force of Triad muscle that had been asserting it's self over the past year or so. His name was Tony and he had been married to a Jaguar for the last 3 years. He and his wife had been planning on having a baby soon but those plans had been put on hold with his mother dieing.

The third sibling was not there for the funeral and it was obviously upsetting to the other two. He was still in the marines and when they had called to tell him that mom was dead they had been told that he was on a mission of utmost importance. Meaning we don't really know where the fuck he is. They knew that they would have to wait to tell him

When it was determined that they had reached the age of 18, all three had enlisted in the military together, Tony had worked his way to lieutenant in the army, while Esne and Fuller had both gone into the marine corps.

While Esne had ended her four year tour as a First Sergeant, the last time they had heard Fuller had been up for promotion to warrant officer from his current rank of Sergeant Major.

Both of the thropes knew that their brother was in the field somewhere and that he would be back as soon as he could

As they were walking towards the cars to head back to the church for the wake, a short woman in a business suit stepped in front of their path.

"I'm Lisa Halveres from KXAN news, what do you think of the rumors that it was actually a group of thropes that killed your mother not the Sons of Humanity?"

"No comment." Rumbled Tony in his deep base voice.

Undeterred, the reporter kept pace with them until they reached the car.

"What about rumors that your brother was the one who killed her and that he fled to the Sons for amnesty?"

Both thropes clenched their respective paws, Esne wishing that BOTH of them could retract their claws as she accidentally pierced her palm pads.

"I said no comment."

And with that they got into their car and began to drive home.

Once they were out of sight of the reporter Tony, who was in the passenger seat, spun around and started ripping into the seat with his teeth and claws, growling the entire time.

When he was done and the seat no longer looked like something you could sit on, he turned around and sat back down.

"You know what? It's a good thing Fuller aint here, cause if he was you and I both know he wouldn't have put up with her shit."

Esne just nodded her head, she loved her brother very much and he WAS like a brother to her, no matter their respective species. But what she and Tony knew about their brother was that, no matter how he acted, or how much they loved him.

He was undeniably, inarguably and irrevocably insane.

END PROLOUGE.

Fuller both hated and loved duct tape. He loved it for its myriad of uses, from tying some one up to fixing a hole put in just about any substance. He hated it for the residue it left behind and for how painful it was to rip of your skin.

And so it was with some trepidation that he found himself duct taped to the underside of a crane, in the former Czech Republic with his black duffle bag resting on the cross brace in front of him.

He had climbed up here two days ago and taped himself under the walkway to avoid detection, spraying himself with yellow paint during the day and black at night to conceal his presence. He was glad that tonight was the last night of this op, the bag he had been releasing him self in was starting to leak and he did not want to deal with THAT little problem. He was providing extreme long range close fire support to a group of SEALS (no actual seals on the team) that were going to break into an HCRG inquisition base to retrieve civilian and military thropes that were being tortured in order to gain information on the AR's operations in Eastern Europe.

He was armed with an M72 L Tactical Infantry Suppression Cannon. Basically a recoilless rifle that used hyper magnetics to shoot 20mm titanium aluminum rounds at .003 the speed of light. The dramatic decrease in speed at the point of impact caused the round to drop below the speed of sound at the moment it struck the target, creating a massive amount of over pressure, causing the target to disintegrate without any identifying pyrotechnics or heat trails.

It was one of the most advanced and secret small arms weapons the military had at its disposal, the technician had almost gone into apoplexy when Fuller had smudged axel grease on it before the insertion. His other weapons were taped next to his head in case of emergency, but he hoped not to use them on this op.

He looked down at his watch, 2 minuets till the seals would be at a place where he could cover them.

He rested the barrel of the gun on a cross beam and slowed his heart rate and breathing down to a manageable level. In, out, in out, in out. Now that he was calm he put one eye behind the scope and sighted down range, looking for threats. Once he was confident that he had all the targets identified, he checked the windage, even with this amazing rifle, at 1.2 miles he would need to know. After that was accomplished he found the SEAL team waiting behind a building for a guard to pass.

They were now under his protection and nothing upon the face of the earth would get to them while they remained so. He did not know it but the commander of that team had asked for him specifically, he had served with master sergeant Freidman before and knew that if it was he playing guardian angel up top then his men would at least make it to the door unscathed.

The first guard passed and the SEAL team began to move out, they did not se the second guard until they were around the corner, to late to stop him from seeing them.

The newest member of the team was just out of training and went to shoot the guard, but the commander stooped him with a hand signal.

The guard saw them and was raising his gun to fire when his torso seemed to disintegrate with a muffled 'thump'.

Fuller was sliding the next round into the magnetic chamber when he heard a voice come in over his headset.

"This is Knight six oh. Nice shooting Thor one, you got our Asses covered from up there? Over."

Fuller smiled and tapped his subdermal vocalizer, telling it to open a comm chat with that signal.

"Roger that Knight six oh, the god of thunder walks with you tonight.

Proceed to objective, don't stop for anything and do not I repeat do NOT engage targets, they are too many for you and your weapons fire will draw them. Over."

There was silence as the leader confirmed that his men had heard the transmission.

"Copy that Thor one, we will not engage hostiles and will proceed to objective. Over."

"Good, don't slow your pace Knight six oh and you'll be fine. Over and out."

As he finished speaking Fuller saw a man wearing the Red Cross with the golden halo of the HCRG lean over the top of a building and aim an anti tank RPG at the square the SEAL team was skirting.

He dropped the man with a round to center mass, causing his body to fall in two pieces down to the street in front of the SEALS.

He finished the breath he had used to fire and the reloaded.

The next twenty or so minuets were passed with him giving the SEALS directions while he kept their presence from being discovered, sometimes firing rounds scant feet above their heads in order to clear the way. By the time they reached the door he was down to his last two rounds.

They were about to breech when he pinged them over the com, they stopped and took up defensive positions around the door, Fuller then pinged the commander twice, then pinged the left ear piece, instructing him to move two paces left. As the commander did this Fuller switched to thermal imaging, the computer in his weapon tapping into the SEAL's equipment and providing him with an accurate look at the inside of the building.

There were two men on either side of the wall, manning heavy zipp gun emplacements that could tare the SEAL team apart. The zipp gun's rocket assisted explosive rounds would be extremely lethal at that proximity; Fuller dialed in the range and took aim at them through the wall.

As he did so he sent a triple ping to the commander, indicating a breech in progress. The commander told his men to be ready and then waited.

Fuller compensated for the wind, Coriolis effect and even the humidity, then fired one shot, and after a moment to realign, the second.

His rounds found their mark, blasting through the wall and killing the guards behind it.

If the SEAL team was surprised that their breeching point was through the wall instead of the door then they showed no sign of it. They rushed into the two gaping holes in the side of the building, leaving his sphere of protection for the moment.

Fuller was out of ammunition so he clipped the advanced weaponry to the cable by his head and slid it down the crane, it landed in a weapon sized mini sub, which promptly sealed itself and disappeared in to the river. It would make it's way down stream and be picked up by an AR base on the other side of the border. He then went about the task of extricating him self from his duct tape prison.

He was about 30 feet off the ground when he heard the sound of automatic fire coming from below him.

"This...ix oh w...fire fro.......aally point...em...hor one....py?"

'His com must have been hit' thought Fuller as he scanned the sight below him.

The SEALS were pinned down in a fountain with the hostages, the way toward better cover and the extraction point was blocked by a three man fire team in position directly under him was blocking the was to the rally point.

As he watched a SEAL took a round in the arm and dropped back into cover. Fuller did not have time to think through what he was going to do, so he just reacted.

Dropping the rest of his gear, he drew his marine issue Tactical Close Combat Sword.

With the advance of technology, came ever more inventive ways of killing people. However, with the leaps and bounds it had gone through in the past twenty years, so to had protection been enhanced, polymers and resins, along with ever more advanced metal combinations proved resistant to the blunt ripping power of bullets. This caused most governments to undergo a drastic redesign of their fighting practices, explosives retained their lethality but almost all military small arms had to be decommissioned or refitted to take the new rounds that were the brain child of an Icelandic gunsmith.

Rounds were no longer called bullets, but slips, for the way they "slipped" through the air. The projectiles of 2039 were shaped much like arrowheads or knife blades, designed to "cut" through armor instead of punching through it. This had also lead to different hand-to-hand training, for if armor can stop bullets cold what good are ones fists?

Recruits were now trained extensively in blade combat, with everything from pocketknives to the latest thing to come out of R and D. the "Motorized Anti Personnel Pollarm" which looked like nothing so much as a chain saw stuck at the end of a poll.

The marines had commissioned a special weapon for their men, based off the ergonomic and biometric design of the Japanese Katana; it was single edged with a back blade at the top three inches on the reverse. At three feet the blade was long enough to be useful but not cumbersome, the first six inches of the blade from the guard were serrated, and the guard itself was formed into a + shape. The hilt was slightly curved away from the wielder if they were to hold it out before them, and the pommel was formed into a gut hook.

It was designed to be both survival tool and efficient killing mechanism.

It was this modern age sword that Fuller gripped as he let go of hid hold on the ladder, dropping the last 25 feet to the top of the building and landing right on top of one of the Crusaders. Fuller saw stars as he lay on top of the body of the fire team captain, knowing that the other two must know he was there, he lashed out with his sword.

The laser sharpened blade cut through flesh and Fuller heard someone scream, rolling away, he opened his eyes to see the indistinct form of the crusader bringing his light zipp gun around to perforate him. Lunging forward, Fuller speared the tip of his sword through the action of the zipp gun, disabling it.

The Crusader went for his arming sword but Fuller was on him and before he knew it his neck was powder. Getting up from the twitching remains that until a moment ago were a fire team, Fuller looked out over the square to see the SEALS running towards him.

He wrenched his sword from the ruined zipp gun and grabbed his rucksack, as a sergeant major he had is choice from a plethora of ballistic and edged weaponry. Yet he would choose two marine issue swords and a semi automatic handgun over most anything other then long-range work. Though he had slips that exploded upon entering the body.

He drew his other sword and ran along the rooftops, clearing the upper levels as the SEALS cleared the low. They made it to the extraction point and were under the surface of the river in their own mini sub in a matter of seconds.

The wounded SEAL would be just fine with some reconstructive surgery but two of the hostages had been killed before they had gotten in the building.

The SEAL team was made up entirely of thropes, most of them predators but Fuller spotted a horse tending to the no-longer hostages. Fuller walked up the main consol where the commander, a smallish but muscled bear, was sitting in one of the chairs.

"Figures" he quipped. "Even if we ARE in a river you Navy swabs are STILL the transportation department."

He plopped himself down in the other chair, put his feet up on the console and said.

"So, take me home Jeeves."

First the captured marines then the SEALS started bursting up over this long standing military joke, but the majority of the sub's occupants did not laugh, they instead turned their heads to glare at him, low growls thrumming through the deck.

The SEALS were immediately on guard, sensing and smelling hostile intent towards the man who had been covering them all night long.

Fuller ignored them and went to the lavatory to wash the grease from his face and hair.

By the time he got back he was shaking from the sudden lack of adrenalin in his system.

The commander knew that this would happen, having fought alongside force recon, scout snipers before. So he was there to lay a steadying hand on Fuller's shoulder. When he walked back into the room he was still wearing his black painted digital camouflage suit. This had no rank insignia on it yet every marine in the sub stood up and saluted as best they could.

The other thropes in the sub grew even more agitated at this, as he was walking through the two room sub back to the control station the highest ranking marine, a black lab master gunnery sergeant, walked up to him and held out his hand.

" Sir Master gunnery sergeant Veckler, It's an honor to meet you sir, if I might ask? Was that you up on the crane tonight?"

"Yes it was gunny, I hope I wasn't THAT obvious. Sergeant Major Freidman by the way, pleasure to meet you."

"Oh I know who you are sir, if your hair didn't give you way your scent would have. You're almost a legend to most of us sir, you do shit most people would hurl from even thinking about. Makes me proud to be in the corps sir, if you don't mind my saying so."

"Just doing what I CAN do gunny, that's all, if I were someone else I would still do the best I could do."

"Be that as it may sir, what you CAN do is quite a lot."

It was then that one of the other prisoners, a rather gaunt looking raccoon, stood up and walked over to where Fuller and the gunny were standing.

"What the hell do you think your doing Frank? Can't you see this guys a human!? You shouldn't be talking to him, not after what they've done to us."

The only thing I see Martin, is a fellow marine who saved our lives today, and if you would get your nose out of your ass you would smell that he is wounded!"

Fuller then realized that the drop had affected him more then he had thought, with the endorphins and adrenalin coursing through his veins he had not noticed.

"Good, then lets just chuck him out and go home, we don't need him anyway, and it'll mean one less human in the world."

At this point the commander walked up to the little raccoon and stared him I the eyes.

"This MARINE saved my life at least once tonight, probably more times, and at the very least I owe him his, but I think I owe him more. Tell me...Martin was it? Have you seen this human treat us in anything other then camaraderie? As anything less then people? No you haven't and from what I've heard about him he doesn't play that kind of stuff as a lie.

So you can try to throw him out, and you'll get the shit beaten out of yourselves, cause even tired beaten and tortured your fellow inmates are soldiers in the United States Marine corps, they won't leave a man behind, and neither will I."

Fuller was touched by this, for not many thropes were willing to believe that he was being truthful in his treatment of them, as evidenced by Martins reaction. He knew though that for the next 5-7 hours they would be cooped up in here and that was bad news for him as well as the others, fighting now was NOT what they needed.

He stood himself up and ignored the protesting in his leg joints.

"Listen my friend, if you have a problem with me whatever, you and I can deal with that Later. But if you push me right now you will most certainly lose your life."

As he said it he drew one of his swords and held it at his side, the still wet blood from the men on the rooftops dripping to the floor.

The raccoon's eyes dilated then shrunk down as small as they would go, he was going to attack, fuller knew it and braced himself.

Right before the raccoon threw himself at Fuller, Fuller jerked his own head slightly causing the thrope to look up and into the man's pale blue eyes.

As he did so, fuller let escape from him he light lilting laugh, chilling in its near innocence. It was almost a barking sound but with no volume, the combination of the laugh the eyes and the empty, ear to ear, teeth bearing smile on his face caused the raccoon to back away in fear.

His manor changed in an instant from bloodthirsty killer to exhausted marine and nodded his head.

"Good, in a few hours we won't ever have to see each other again if that's how you want it."

And with those words he shifted off his chair, leaned back against the wall and promptly fell asleep.

END CHAPTER ONE.

Fuller was awoken by a loud banging on his door. They had made it back down the river and had been transported into Germany, part of the AR.

When they had gotten back the marines had thanked him before going to be debriefed, as had the SEALS and there was much promising to Bar B Q later when they had the time.

He got out of his bunk and opened the door, standing in front of him was a PFC obviously fresh out of basic he was staring at Fuller without saying anything, mouth agape. So Fuller decided to break the spell.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU JUST STANDING AROUND FOR YOU NO GOOD FUCKING EXCUSE FOR A CUM RECEPTACLE!! DO YOU HAVE IMPORTANT IN-FOR-MATION TO RELATE TO ME!?!"

Fuller's sudden out burst caused the Privet to jump a good 3 feet vertical and land saluting and babbling.

"Sir yes sir there's a phone call for you sir have a nice day Sir!"

And with that he ran back down the hall heading to the next person on his list.

Fuller put on his clothes and went to the receiving station to accept his call.

The next few days were a blur for Fuller, that little gimp Martin had complained to one of the paper pushers in Washington and had Fuller put on paid leave pending a psych evaluation to find out if he really was insane. Which was a stupid question; he had joined the marines hadn't he? Didn't that prove you were insane? And then a he was hanging up from the staff rep he had gotten a call from his mother's attorney, informing him of her death.

He had gone to the tarmac after stopping to pick up his cloths and personal side arm. When he got there he found a thrope who owed him a few favors was piloting an old DC10 out to fort Hood Texas then taking it to the bone yard in southern Arizona. He caught a ride and zoned out for most of the trip trip. Remembering things about his mom and trying not to at the same time. He knew that he had missed the funeral by a few days but he was still going to go to her grave and pay his own respects.

Reaching up to clasp a small hammer amulet that hung around his neck, Fuller could not help remembering what his mother, a devout Baptist had said when he had told her of his new religious choice.

He had explained it to her in great detail, even going so far as to tell her the names of his patron gods, the ones who's tenets he would live his life by, and who he would pray to when he had the need.

She had listened, and she had accepted, and he had loved her even more for it.

Now she was dead, murdered, and he had not been able to protect her. This left a sour taste in his mouth and caused him to see gray. He swore, then and there on the plane that he would take revenge on whoever had done this horrible thing. No person would escape the justice that he would rain down upon the guilty, no force on earth would halt his vengeance, and not a single person would escape his wrath.

As he thought this he slammed his head back into the hull plate behind him,

Not. A single. One.

With every thought another slam into the hull plate behind him. On the last one a great boom rocked the entire airplane, causing Fuller to be inadvertently launched to his feet.

Running to the cockpit and bracing himself twice along the way, Fuller went to find out what was going on.

He reached the front area of the plane to see the human pilot passed out and the thrope struggling with the controls.

"What the hel happened?!" he shouted over the sound of the wind rushing through great holes in the side of the old plane.

"Radar says we got two AA boats following us at high speed! Probably those new goddamn hydrofoils, they hit the number two engine, I can't get any altitude and I think Swanson is dead!"

"Holy dumb fuck! Aren't we in U.S air space? Can't we get some motherfuckin zoomies out here to get em off our backs?"

"I already called it in! Close range attack support is 12 minuets out!" screamed the pilot as he dealt with yet another detonation from the rear of the plane.

"We'll be floating scrap in 5!"

Fuller gripped the crash bar above his head as the plane rocked under the newest in Anti Aircraft technology.

Fuller tried to think of what to do, this plane had no mounted weapons and absolutely no way to defend it's self from it's attackers.

Except, that is, for him.

Turning to the pilot with inspiration in his eyes, Fuller asked him.

"Hey, do you have your wide eye pin?" as he asked he was rummaging through the other pilots flight vest, standing back up with a small hypodermic needle in his hand.

The pilot nodded and produced an identical syringe from his own vest. Snatching it, Fuller injected the contents of both under his jaw, and then proceeded to open the bottle of rubbing alcohol that came with his med kit,

Downing the whole 10 ounces in one go, Fuller looked at the now wide eyed pilot.

"Call this in and tell them to get a hospital boat out here or I'm toast!"

Saying this, Fuller broke into a manic smile, tilted his head as his eyes dilated, and laughed. Smashing the "In case of fire" glass, he grabbed the fire axe and a parachute then jumped out of the side hatch.

The pilot sat stunned for a moment, then pulled himself together and called into Air controller he was assigned, explaining the situation and what he had just seen. The response was instantaneous; the operator dispatched two medical boats to intercept them with the equipment they would need to handle levels of medication now inside the unstable Sergeant Major.

For he was now unstable physically as well as mentally, the "wide eye pins" as they were called, were inventions for the air force. A complex cocktail of Epinephrine (synthetic adrenalin) and manufactured Endorphins, it was designed to increase a pilot's response time by 100% and allow the pilot to remain in a state of combat readiness for extended periods of time.

However, the amounts contained in these pins were just shy of being a lethal dose, taking two at the same time would be fatal if not treated within 30 minuets. But in the mean time Fuller would be operating at 200% speed, his brain would shut down all nonessential functions such as digestion, memory access, and a whole number of other things one's body devotes "brain power" to unconsciously.

The endorphins would block out his pain receptors entirely for about three minuets, but the affect would slowly taper off as the drug was assimilated into his system. As the pilot fought to keep his plane in the air, he couldn't help but wonder what had been going through the crazy human's mind.

Fuller loved this feeling, falling through the air with nothing holding you up, nothing to catch you, just the open sea below you and the air whistling past your head.

As he looked down he saw the two trailing boats firing up at the old plane, hoping to bring it down for some reason or another.

Fuller was beyond the point of caring, he had downed the alcohol to thin his blood and constrict the veins to keep the effects of the pins localized, giving him a better chance of living, but in truth, the most effective thing they had done was to abolish his inhibitions and let him be "free."

Laughing a short, barking laugh, he directed himself towards the two boats, aiming for the one on his right. Cracking a smile at the opportunity to release his anger over his mother's murder, Fuller waited until he was about 100 feet above the surface before pulling the cord.

He splashed down ahead of the boats, which were far too busy with the plane to avoid him in time. He braced himself for what was to happen next, the pain of his fast landing on his already abused joints was slowly filtering up to his brain.

But the next thing he did dwarfed that by an incalculable amount, flipping the fire axe around so the spike was facing forward, he waited until the boat was passing him the launched it out, hooking into the hull and jerking him along for the ride.

Fuller felt his shoulder tare out of its socket, the ball joint separating and muscle ripping, only the unmarred skin of his arm kept attached it now.

This did not matter though, what mattered was that the force of his interception had vaulted him up and onto the deck of the small hydrofoil ship.

The four man crew were shocked to see the marine fly up into their boat, wearing the face of a demon with his arm hanging almost a complete 360 degrees from it's normal position.

They only had a few moments in which to observe him however, for he acted as soon as he had identified the locations of the crewmembers. Lashing out, he caught one of them in the neck, causing him to fall of the back of the boat. Fuller was on the second one before he had time to draw his side arm, jabbing his fingers through the man's eyes and into his brain, the marine then snatched his handgun from it's holster, firing detonation slips into the last of the gun crew. As he looked up a hail of gunfire began to work it's way towards him from the steering deck above. Rolling aside, Fuller ran up the stairs and peppered the door with slips, when he was out of ammunition he kicked in the door to find the man charging at him with his arming sword raised.

The marine ducked low and twisted his body, bringing his himself around to face the same direction as the Crusader, putting his shoulder under the mans elbow, he grabbed his wrist at the top and stood up while pulling down hard in the arm.

The result was a sickening 'pop' as the joint and arm broke in tandem, the man started to scream but Fuller continued the move, leaning forward and arcing his back, flipping the man over and knocking the wind out of him.

Pulling the knife from the man's belt, Fuller brought it up and pressed it into the man's chest, between his ribs, and through his heart.

As he did this the man tried to scream again but Fuller put his head close to the dyeing man's and shushed him, murmuring and giggling, telling him to be quiet and the pain would all go away.

Only when the light was gone completely from his eyes did the Sergeant Major get to his feet again.

Looking across at the other boat just in time, he saw it become engulfed in a raging fireball then explode into numerous tiny pieces.

He then looked in front of himself and saw two boats with the blue caduceus that represented the medial corps since the HCRG had taken back the crimson cross as their symbol.

Fuller felt unsatisfied, these people had put up hardly any fight at all! He wanted to rip and rend, tare and slash! He knew this to be an effect of the drugs now pumping through his system, but he could not help it, they had released him from the cage he created in order to contain his battle crazed insanity.

The military knew quite well that he was insane, that was what made him an asset in the field, anything to get the job done and no remorse afterward.

But that was not true, he felt remorse, he felt it on a deep, soul consuming level but only three people had seen him show it, and one of them had just been murdered. Fuller passed out then, the chemical cocktail in his blood becoming too much for him. The last thing he saw was a paramedic running up the stairs to get to him.

Esne sat by her brother's bed, she had been here for the past three days, hopping he would be all right. They had transferred him over to the hospital in Dallas a few days after he was recovered just of the coast of Rhode Island. The bio reconstruction facilities here were among the best in the world and Fuller had had a smooth operation, which had successfully repaired his destroyed shoulder.

He had been medicated into an artificial coma to prevent him from hurting himself or the doctors during his stay at the facility.

The military kept in depth records on those they deemed "Suitable for Extreme Martial Application" in other words the mentally unstable and violent that served their country.

She remembered the first night he had woken the orphanage with his screaming. His eyes had been so wide she could not see any white in them.

At the age of five he had learned enough speech to communicate his dreams to others.

"Blood, blood, blood I make it come out of them, sometimes they hit me and I taste it, it tastes different when it comes from the ari...aret...artery. Not like when you scrape your finger, it's heavier, filled with more memories."

He had tried to tell their social worker but she had ignored him, saying they were naught but bad dreams.

He had gotten worse for a long time, never sleeping, babbling to himself sometimes and scaring people with his cold, emotionless stare. He became increasingly violent towards the children who were cruel to his siblings. One night a particularly large human was found at the bottom of a stairwell with a broken arm, it was not discovered until later that he had hit Tony with a baseball bat earlier that day. But all that had changed when Eleanor had adopted them; she had been kind and held him when he awoke in the middle of the night.

Gradually Esne had seen him wall away the side of him that scared people, he laughed his barking laugh less, he did not scream in the nights as much, and she stopped seeing that manic, ear to ear smile coupled with it's cold lifeless eyes.

By their twelfth birthday Fuller seemed to be everything a normal teenage human was supposed to be. He still got into fights at school, mostly while standing up for his brother and sister. These instances became less and less frequent as Tony hit his growth spurt and Fuller started taking all the hand-to-hand combat classes he could find in the north Texas area.

He would ever be a somber child, but he stopped scaring the daylights out of people, and it was all because of the kindness Eleanor Freidman had shown him.

Now that kindness had been taken away and she did not know how the Marine would take it.

Seeing him twitch in his sleep she recognized the signs that his dreams were troubled. When they had been growing up, Eleanor had sung beautiful songs to them whilst they were falling asleep. One in particular had always calmed Fuller down. It was this son Esne sung in the hospital, hoping it would help her brother.

Of all the money ere I had, I spent it in good company,

And all the harm I've ever done, alas it falls to none but me.

And all that I've done for want of wit, the memory now I can't recall.

So fill to me the parting glass, good night and joy be to you all.

If I had money enough to spend, and leisure time to sit awhile.

There is a fair maid in this town, that surly had me heart beguiled,

Her rosy cheeks, and ruby lips, I hope she had me heart enthralled.

So fill to me the parting glass, goodnight and joy be to you all.

Of all the comrades ere I had, they are sorry for my going away.

And all the sweet hearts ere I had, they'd wish me one more day to stay.

But since it fell, into my lot, that I should die and you should not.

I gently rise and softly call, goodnight and joy be to you all.

Of all the money ere I had, I spent it in good company,

And all the harm I've ever done, alas it falls to none but me.

And all that I've done for want of wit, the memory now I can't recall.

So fill to me the parting glass, good night and joy be to you all.

Esne thought he calmed down a bit after that, but it might be wishful thinking.

She sat down next to him on the bed, staring at his furless face.

She was amazed sometimes at how attracted she was to him; he was not of her species yet his presence lit a fire in her belly.

She knew that he did not feel the same about her; she thought sometimes that he was incapable of feeling that kind of affection. But Esne made due with the love and care he showed her as a sibling, that would be enough...it would have to be.

A click at the door made her turn her head sharply, but it was only Tony, bringing her dinner. It looked like Chinese take out again, groaning she took hers and stared at it dubiously, she was not enamored with the prospect of another bout of food poisoning.

Just when they were sitting down at the coffee table to start eating, a noise from behind Fuller's curtain made them both jump to see what was happing.

His monitoring devices read that he was going into cardiac arrest, panicking, the two siblings called the doctor in to help them. Unfortunately this ailment originated in the heart, and was not so easily repaired.

Fuller stood on the banks of a large river, but he did not face the river he faced the grassy plains that spread out away from it. Standing on those plains was every man he had ever killed, staring at him accusingly. He ignored them, life could not be life without death, yes he felt remorse for what he did, but it was not the business of the dead to know that, especially considering the things most of them had done while alive.

He scanned the crowd in front of him, searching for a clue as to why he was here. He then felt a soft hand on his shoulder and knew right away who it belonged to.

"Hi mom, how's things?"

"Other then being dead? I'm just peachy darlin thanks fer askin."

Fuller shuddered at hearing that familiar smooth drawl again, it had been two years since he had heard it last and he had missed it more then words can describe.

"What's going on mom? Why am I here, why are YOU here for that matter?"

I can't tell you that right now baby, I just came here to give you some advice, and depending on yer answer, some help.

Revenge is a terrible thing Fuller, it only pleases the living and makes more people dead. You know that I don't want it, I would rather have you live the rest of yer life peacefully and watch you become a dad. I know you want it, you want it so bad you can taste inbetween your teeth, but I am here to tell ya, if you do it, If you go after the ones who killed me you WILL die, aint no two ways about it son. The path to your revenge is slicked with your own blood, and a long path it is."

"You know me mom, this aint the kind of thing I can let go, sides, killing the people who killed you might make life better for others. I won't kid myself into thinking that's why I'm doing it but I will keep that hope with me."

"You always were a damn foolish boy, but that's why I care for ya so much.

You're an artist baby, but damn me if all your art aint made in hues of red, you just decided to paint your Mona Lisa, now all you need are your tools. I think you can find most of them on your own but what I am going to help you with I doubt you would think of. I already gave you a beautiful set of brushes, now go and get them."

Fuller made as if to turn but stopped before the motion was complete.

"Mom? Think I could get a hug afore I go?"

She smiled, making the laugh lines around her eyes and mouth to crinkle.

"Course baby doll."

And he embraced her, holding her close and inhaling the smell of pine that permeated her being.

"I love you mom."

"Love you to baby, but don't worry over much, I'll be seein you again soon enough."

And then Fuller was no longer holding her, and he was no longer standing by the river, he was on a battlefield, hills and forest stood behind him and a raging conflagration of a conflict was taking place before him.

Before he could get his bearings he saw a man charge at him, wearing steel banded armor with a red cloak and red horse hair plumed helm he looked o be a roman commander.

Fuller did a compass pace, sliding his rear foot behind him and swiveling 90 degrees, avoiding the spear charge and cutting the man down with the sword in his hand at the same time.

He did not have to puzzle over why he found himself on an ancient roman battlefield; this was the topic of his dreams.

Always he found himself on one field of combat or other, fighting killing...dieing, wounding and being wounded. He felt all the pain; he had been since the age of 5. This was the reason for his mental condition. He had never told anyone about the contents of his dreams, not even Eleanor.

How does one explain the taste of arterial blood to someone who has not them selves tasted it?

How does one explain the feeling of death? That feeling, right at the end where there is so much fear, it feels like it ought to swallow you up?

How does one explain the feeling of human flesh parting under a blade, or being crushed by the force of a blow?

How does one then go on to explain the feeling of a man's life leaving his body whilst still attached to the end of ones sword?

How does one explain the knowledge that, the light fading from a man's eyes, the screams of innocent women and then the cries of orphaned children are their doing, and that they become branded onto ones very soul?

No one would believe him when he was 5, for what could a 5 year old know of such things?

Fuller was interrupted from his musings by a sudden pain in his throat; fierce and horrible it felt as though there was an eel trying to escape from his lungs.

The lack of oxygen caused him to blackout...

And awaken inside a hospital room with a tube being removed from his mouth.

Sitting up (and scaring the doctors scrubless) Fuller swung his feet out away from the bed and stood up. The doctors tried to stop him but he waved them of, instead walking over to where his siblings sat.

"I suppose you checked me in here?"

They nodded their heads.

"Am I all fixed up?"

Again they nodded their heads, despite the protestations from the physicians.

"Well then lets blow this pop stand! Get me checked out and then we can catch up on each other on the way home."

Smiling at his abruptness, Tony got up to go check his wayward brother out of the hospital.

Fuller then turned to look at his older sister. (They had taken age tests at the age of 15 and she was older by about 3 days, a fact she NEVER let him forget.)

"So what? You don't have a hug for your sick brother?"

Esne laughed, even if he was insane he still knew how to break tension like a pro.

Walking around the table, she strode up to him and embraced him with her long graceful arms. He put his arms around her and held her for a bit, knowing that she and Tony had been worried about him. He may not posses their sense of smell but he after growing up with them he could read them better then they could themselves.

When Esne pulled back from the hug he was expecting her to explain what had happened and where he was. But instead he got a thwap on the head and a scolding.

"There aint nothing wrong with you now save for a busted head, I swear boy. Jumping out of airplanes? Injecting your self with that shit they give the zoomies? What the heck were you thinking! You could have been a splatter of red paint on the front of that boat just as easily as landing on it."

"Hey hey calm down girl, you know that's the kind of stuff I do for a living right? Last week I spent two days taped to the underside of a crane in HCRG territory. Jumping out of a plane was nothing."

"Don't remind me ok? I had enough of that when I was in the corps, I don't need a play by play from you."

"Yeah yeah yeah, hey is that Chinese food? Thanks I'm starved!"

He said, his attention being snagged by the food on the table.

As he sat down to eat Esne contemplated telling him to stop feeding his face so they could leave, but she knew that it would take awhile for them to cut through the red tape of discharging a patient early. And besides that, from the looks of things if she interrupted now she might just lose a paw in the frenzy.

Even though she was distressed at her brother's cavalier attitude towards his own safety she had to admit that she had missed his spontaneity somewhat.

When Tony walked back into the room about half of the food was gone and Esne was shaking her head in dismay.

Tony told them that Fuller had been discharged from the hospital "under duress," meaning any complications that arose from his early departure were in no way the military's or hospital's fault.

Fuller gladly signed a waver to this affect and after buying some temporary clothes in the gift shop they made for Tony's rental car.

The last one they had had was under Esne's name and she had insisted that if Tony was going to be rough on the upholstery then HE would be paying the damages.

As they left the Air Force hospital they had to pass by the Marine Corps section of the base. Telling Tony to stop for a moment, Fuller climbed out of the car and went to the Quarter Masters office.

He walked in to the requester's waiting room; sitting behind the bulletproof glass was the Black Labrador Sergeant that Fuller had met during the rescue opp.

" Well I'll be, what the hell are you doin here Gunny?"

The Sergeant raised his head from the magazine he had been reading, seeing who was addressing him he cracked a smile and responded.

" Well fuck me! Goddamn small world huh? I got put on light the duty roster, psychological issues and such, they don't say so but I figure punching out that self righteous bastard that reported you might have some odd to do with it. Anyway what are you doing here?"

Fuller barked a laugh at this, picturing the look on the blustery raccoon's face at getting slugged.

"Thankee much, but I would've gotten to him eventually. I just got out of the bone cutters place actually; I stopped by to check out a set of fatigues and a dress uniform if you have them? Mine are still back overseas."

"Yeah sure hold on and I'll get you some of the new ones, say you wouldn't happen to be the stupid fuck that jumped out of a perfectly good airplane are you?"

Said the Sergeant as he brought a new package of cloths down of the clothes shelf.

Fuller just smiled at him as he handed out the clothes.

"Well if I was I bet they would have told me not to divulge that kind of information to anybody sitting behind a desk."

"Yeah I just bet, now you bring these back once you leave to go back on assignment hear?"

"Damn, and I was planning on burning them and tossing em in the river. Oh well, can't have everything in life now can we?"

"Yeah right, say why do you need the dressies any way?"

Fuller lost his joking attitude instantly.

"I have to go to a funeral."

The Sergeant, sensing a touchy subject, did not push the issue farther.

After signing the clothes out of the office, Fuller ran back out to the car and got in, suffering the annoyed glares of his adopted siblings all the while.

They left the base and drove the 2-hour trip West out to their old town. After arriving there was still light so it was decided that they would go and visit Eleanor's grave that very evening.

Fuller dressed in his formals, lacking any of his campaign ribbons or medals. He did not care, he would not have worn them even if he had them, he would not anyway but most especially not to his mother's grave.

After Tony and Esne had dressed them selves more appropriately, (a blazer and slacks for Tony and an ankle length pleated skirt with a hole for her tail and over coat for Esne) they piled in the car and headed over to the church cemetery.

The two Thropes went to pay respects first, knowing that Fuller would want a privet moment with his mother like they had at the funeral.

The battle toughened marine, who had been around the globe and done things that broke the minds of other men, felt tears slide down his cheek as he squatted down by the head stone of his mother's grave.

He stayed there for quite a while, thinking on all that she had said to him while he was passed out.

It did not matter if she had been real or if it was a dream, she had raised valid points and he would be a fool to discount them out of hand

After the sun had set and the light was beginning to fade, Fuller came to a decision.

"Mother, vengeance may only be for the living, but by my breath I am still alive, so I intend to claim it."

So saying he climbed to his feet ad walked back to the car. He did not know if it was intuition or pessimism that made him think it, but for some reason he could have sworn that this was the first, and last time he would ever visit his mother's grave.

Instead of driving back to the air force base, which was just south of Dallas and about 2 hours if there was no traffic. They decided to stay in the old ranch house. The family that now operated the ranch in Eleanor's name had looked after it. Though they did not live there they would keep it in good shape and stocked up with dry foods just in case Eleanor or her kids came for a vacation as they were want to do.

After unloading their things (a particularly easy task in Fuller's case) they all sat down at the old cedar table in the dining room.

After they had a supper of box macaroni and veleta cheese, Fuller started speaking.

"You guys have the next few weeks off right?"

They replied in the affirmative.

"I just wanted to let you know what I'll be doing until my psych evaluation comes back. I'm going to find out who killed mom, I need to know who did, if for no other reason then my own peace of mind, even if I can't do anything about it.

I just wanted you to know, that way you could avoid getting caught up in anything by accident. I don't figure that anybody I find is going to be happy to see me ya know?"

They both set their silverware down, staring a their brother.

"The police said that the suspects fled the country, it's not like we can follow them. Anyway she was only back here for a few days rest, who would plan on killing her when she came back home?"

Said Tony, somewhat skeptically.

Fuller had thought about this, it had to have been someone who had been watching her, waiting for a chance to make his or her move. It did not occur to him that this was a random killing; Eleanor was to well loved by too many people for someone from around here to risk having her death on his or her hands.

And the inconsistency of low ranking Sons agents hopping a Lear jet the day after the killing was not lost on him either.

He mentioned this to them, commenting on the fact that someone had to have known about it, this town was fairly big but not so much that NO ONE would have heard about someone new showing up just before or right after her killing.

His voice hitched a bit at talking about her like that but they did not mention it.

"I don't think that this was something random, at least if it isn't then I don't want to accept it with out trying to find out if it was or not."

And with that Fuller left the table and went to his room.

He spent most of the night awake, contemplating his course of action. He would have to talk to the police and find out the names of those they had interviewed.

Then he rolled over in the bed that had been to small for him for most of his life, and tried to keep the memories out of his conscious mind.

Fuller dreamed, he knew they were dreams yet not dreams. He k new that he was called Fuller, 27 year old marine of the United States of America, in the year 2037. Yet he knew as well that he was called Nicoveus Velorum, a Roman citizen and Phalanx Lieutenant in the 7th legion.

He was Cyrano Esperenza, the son of a don from Madrid and duelist for hire in the city of Cordoba.

He was Ragnar Svensson, a Jarl from Norway, sea captain and red raider, taking villages all along the Irish coast.

He was Eddie McIntosh from New Jersey, fighting in France during WWI.

He was Gunner Thomson.

He was Phillip Smyth.

He was Beuford Finch.

He was.

He was.

He was.

He was.

He was.

...He did not know.

He did not know who he was.

He did not know!

Fuller shot up in bed, sweating profusely. He had not had such a bad night since his 16th birthday.

He knew that he had refrained from screaming; there were no concerned faces peering through his door.

He sat back against his headboard, still feeling the memories and the voices that were his yet not his. They were scratching and howling at the inside of his skull, trying to get out trying to get free from his control.

Why did this happen to him? Why was he like this? Why was he plagued with voices from the past?

He had gone to a councilor early in his school life and had been told that schizophrenic tendencies. He had never thought so, they never told him to do things, they just clamored to be heard and listened too. Creating a cacophony of pleas that caused him physical pain.

The doctor had told him that those were characteristics of schizophrenia, had given up trying to explain to the women just what was happening inside his head.

Though, truth be told, he did not really know himself.

He was glad that he had gained enough control over himself so as not to wake the whole house with is dreams.

Lying back down, Fuller attempted to get some rest before he had to awaken the next day. Hoping for a reprieve from the dreams that plagued his troubled mind.

The siblings spent the next week in different ways.

Tony was very subdued; he would often take nature hikes or merely sit on the roof of the house and paint what he saw. He was quite an artist and many had pressed him to become a professional painter but he had demurred, stating that if it became a job he would loose its sense of freedom.

Esne spent her time in town, reacquainting herself with old friends and reminiscing about life when they were young.

She was disturbed to see that many thropes and humans actively shunned each other's company, segregating and ostracizing in equal measure.

What had happened to this town? When she had left to join the corps things had never been this bad. She said as much to the dinner owner while she enjoyed an old fashion strawberry malt.

The old human, who's face resembled nothing so much as a wrinkled piece of leather, just shook his head and related the source of the civil unrest.

It seemed that accusations over Eleanor's death had been flying back and forth between both camps.

Some people were saying that it was Sons agents and others that it had been disgruntled thropes attempting to make a point out of her death.

There was a small minority that thought that it had been nothing more then a mugging gone wrong but they were disregarded in turn.

It was amazing to the wolf that so many friends and neighbors would turn so hatful of one another; especially when the cause for the grief was the death of a woman who advocated inter species friendship and trust.

As she walked back down the street to her car, she began to think on her erstwhile brother.

It had been a week since he was released from the hospital yet she had seen neither hide nor hair of him in all that time. He was constantly arriving home late and leaving early. She could not help but be concerned for his safety and well being. She knew that he was having nightmares again; she could smell the fear on his pillows after he left.

At some point in time he had learned to control his bodily reactions enough to be able to hide fear scent from the noses of thropes, this was a good thing during missions with the corps, but it made it hell for friendly thropes like herself to understand what he was thinking.

She stopped walking and realized that she had been going in the direction; her car was parked back the other way.

Turning around and starting again her thoughts turned into memories.

There were times when she wished that she had not been adopted with Fuller, then there would be a chance that they could have a relationship together.

But then she would think on the bond that the three of them shared from those 5 long days spent huddling together for warmth and security.

She wouldn't have that with him and she could not conceive of a world without it.

Esne sighed, remembering the day she had fallen in love with her brother.

She had turned 16 the week before, along with Fuller and Tony. Although she did not think on that part of it much, her sweet 16 was to take place on the first of the next month and she was a very impatient wolf.

She had been lying down on the football stadium bleachers when a group of humans had come walking by.

Looking up her skirt and spying the lacy panties she was wearing they had sauntered over. Making lewd comments and "wolf whistling" all the while.

They had gotten increasingly lewd and suggestive to the point that she had reached into her purse for the can of mace.

It was at this point that Fuller had arrived on the scene. In retrospect the high school jocks would probably not have acted on any of the crass suggestions they had propositioned, but at the time unrest between thropes and humans was still very high and rape was not an uncommon thing to hear about in the larger towns.

At age 16 Fuller was defiantly NOT the picture of grim death he was today, though he had even then had his regulation 21/2 inch platinum hair, pimples and a retainer tended to ruin the image of fear. However what he did have was a reputation, 4 years of learning in different combat schools had given him an extreme advantage in any unarmed contest.

The quintessential jocks had fled, although they had described it as an encounter that was "not worth their time."

After he was sure they were gone Fuller had run up to Esne and begun checking her all over, peering into her eyes and feeling her arms and making sure her tail was unbent.

This had embarrassed her greatly, but when she said so he had ignored her.

He had asked her if she was hurt, to which she had replied that she was not. He had shaken his head and put his arm around her shoulder, hugging her close to him.

"Sis" he had said. "You're going to start taking these classes with me. No two ways about it ok? If you don't my grade point is going to plummet because I'm going to be worried bout you all the time, so if you don't want to for you, do it for me."

She had laughed at the intended corniness of his line but agreed that she would take the classes. Two years later she had joined the marines with him and they had served alongside each other in many different theaters.

She had learned many things about warfare and combat in general, becoming more proficient then the vast majority of her fellow marines. She did not however, posses that little spark of madness that makes great warriors into champions. Not like Fuller, so she had accepted her discharge papers and joined the police force. She was ever thankful for the fact that Post Event police force wages were quite high and as a result she was well set off. She had gone into the dating scene, always chaperoned just to be safe, yet she had never found anyone who made her feel the way Fuller did.

All those who came before her seemed...soft by comparison. Her friends had told her not to judge them by standers applying to the Marine Corps but she could not help it. She came to the conclusion one day that she would never love anyone as much as she did her brother, but she knew that there would be no romance in that relationship so she continued to look for someone who could at least make her happy.

Esne had yet to find that person, but being a true optimist she still held forth hope.

She had always wanted romance in a relationship, not just mindless screwing, so it was with no little trepidation that she found herself a 27 year old who had never lain with a man. Enduring scorn and pity from her friends in equal measure, she sometimes felt like finding a one night stand and getting it over with. She never did of course, being far to romantic in mindset to do anything of the sort, but she still had the feelings.

This was a remembrance filled night for Esne. She found herself thinking about her first heat, which had taken place when she was 16. Remembering how Tony had had to stay with some friends for the week and how miserable she had been at school.

She also remembered how kind Fuller and Eleanor had been, not being affected by her heat scent they had kept her company and attempted to take her mind off her extreme sexual urges.

Of course Fuller had failed at this horribly, his male presence driving her mad with lust at times. She had endured it for fear of hurting his feelings. The only positive thing to come of that hellish week was a new habit that Fuller had formed during the more intense bouts of cramping.

He had been sitting on the couch one evening and she had sat next to him by reflex.

When she had made pain noises his hand had fallen to rest atop her head, inbetween her up standing ears. He had spent the next hour talking with her and petting and scratching her head, rubbing her fuzzy ears between his fingers.

It had felt wonderful and after the pain had passed she had said so.

He had asked if it upset her, for there were many thropes who resented that kind of physical contact, for they felt that it implied that they were lower life forms, merely animals that walked on their back legs.

She had assured him that the way he did it conveyed nothing but brotherly affection, which was true. Yet she imagined that there was more to his touches and caresses.

Regardless he had admitted that it made him feel like he was doing something for her. And so it had become his habit to, when she sat next to him, stroke her head and ears, scratching through her long black hair to reach the fur and skin beneath.

It was lost in these pleasant memories that she missed the footsteps from behind her, did not hear the clicking of a mechanism, or the soft 'phoot' it made as it fired.

She did however feel the impact of the projectile hitting her in the ass. Spinning around snarling she caught the vague outline of men rushing towards her before everything went hazy and she passed out.

Esne awoke to bright light and harsh voices. The first thing she did was test her bonds, she was strapped down to a table with wide leather belts at her legs, arms, neck and tail.

She had been stripped of her clothes and was naked before the eyes of her captors. He legs were secured to the legs of the table, causing her to bend back at the waist.

The next thing she did was to ask them what they wanted with her. A man whose voice bore a thick South American accent answered her.

"Pendeha chica, you is here to send a message eh? We gonna fuck you up good then give you back to your brother to tell him to stop asking questions understand? You is OURS for the next two days and there aint nothing your badass self can do bout it."

She was starting to panic but ruthlessly shut that emotion down, shut all of them down as she heard the sound of zippers being lowered.

Se felt the head of the first man's member thrust into her brutally in what was to be the first in a string of rapes.

She screamed out as he tore past her virginity, blood oozing down her leg to drip onto the floor. She was not aroused at all, the penetration rough and painful. He started to pound into her, his hips slamming into hers with bruising force.

When the man came to climax and had shot his load into her body, he pulled out of her and told the next one in line to lube up first; she was dry as a bone.

This continued until Esne lost all track of time, she could not escape her bonds and she was losing to much blood from her torn vagina, her body had not had a chance to adjust to the things being forced into it.

Minuets seemed like days and hours felt like little independent eternities all their own. After what seemed like the entire length of existence Esne began to pass out, the last thing she heard was a resounding, earth shaking crash.

END Chapter 2.

Fuller was exhausted; he had spent the last week piecing together what had happened to his mother the night of her death.

He had been to the police and the privet investigators. He had found out that she had been gunned down as she walked to her car after leaving her nighttime swimming at the local membership gym.

This information he had just come across to day, he had also found out that the night manager of the gym would be on duty tonight.

As he climbed into bed early in the morning, he heard Esne leave to go meet some friends at the dinner.

After that he fell into a deep sleep, knowing that tonight he would pursue his last lead.

Waking up at 7:23, Fuller got dressed in a pair of jeans an under shirt with a plaid button down over it. A sudden impulse made him strap his K-bar survival knife to his belt.

His years in the military had taught him to listen to these impulses and he did not plan to stop paying attention now.

Walking outside he found Tony sitting on the roof again, painting the sunset as likely as not. After making sure he knew that Fuller was leaving to go into town, the Marine hopped into the small rental car and drove to the gym.

After parking the car across the street, he walked into the building.

As he rounded the corner of the hallway and saw the night manager sitting behind his desk, speaking hurriedly over the phone with someone.

He was obviously nervous and was fidgeting like a corps in its death throes, he looked to be in his mid 60's and he was not in the best of health.

When the man looked up Fuller did his best to smile pleasantly. The man's eyes fair bulged from his face; he choked and hung up the phone. Concerned for the elderly man Fuller opened his mouth to inquire as to his health; before he could utter a sentence he was interrupted by a shout and a flung telephone.

Ducking the erstwhile communication device, fuller looked up to see the man leap over the desk and make for the back door.

Knowing that innocent men hardly ever run, the Marine jumped at the chance to chase and release some of his pent up frustrations.

Jumping up from his crouching position, he proceeded pursue of the older man.

Bursting through the swinging door, he just barely saw an object hurtling towards the side of his head.

Knocking what turned out to be a piece of wood out of the man's hand, Fuller crossed wrists with him, brought them up high twisted, and brought them back down with a spin. Trapping the arm behind the man and pinning him against the wall.

"Seems as though you don't want to talk with me mister, well I hate to burst your bubble but you're going to tell me everything I want to know."

"I don't know anything about anything! Let me go or I'll call the police!"

"I think your telling me false tales mister, so lets go inside and have a little chat."

It only took Fuller a few minuets to tie the man to a steam pipe in the old building's basement, go back to the supply closet and retrieve a few cleaning agents and return.

He was preparing a few concoctions to dull pain from the cleaning supplies when he felt his eyes searching for the nametag pinned to the manager's vest.

"Never learn the names of those you work on, that way it stays professional."

Fuller heard these words spoken in his head, they sounded familiar but he did not pursue why, now was not the time to have a crisis of identity. He pasted his face into a dead mask of inactivity; he had learned that this intimidated those about to be interrogated far more then rage or politeness.

"So are you paying attention? All these things I have with me are designed to allow me to cause ever increasing amounts of agony upon your body. I would prefer not to do it that way but if you do not answer my questions truthfully and completely I will be forced to resort to more crude measures.

"I aint got nothing to tell! I didn't do anything to that lady; I told the cops that you fuck face! Just let me go!"

Fuller said nothing for a moment.

"I didn't say anything about a lady or the cops."

The man stopped struggling for a moment then looked at the murderous expression on the young marine's face.

"Oh fuck."

"Yes, that about sums it up. So, are you going to talk to me or are we going to become better acquainted?"

"I'm telling you man! I don't know nothing!"

Fuller just nodded his head and continued preparing, once he was done he jabbed a needle into the man's thigh, injecting him with a large dose of ethyl alcohol. This constricted the blood vessels in his leg and if nothing was done about it soon the flesh would die and the limb would be lost.

He calmly informed the man of this, whereupon he started to cry, babbling and trying to tell Fuller all that he knew.

Fuller learned that it had indeed been Sons of Humanity agents that had killed his mother; they had paid the manager to call a phone number when she was walking out the front doors of the gym. They had paid him more to lock said doors when she was through, cutting off any escape.

Fuller was furious, though none would know it by looking at him. He wanted to kill this man right here with his bare hands. But he refrained, this man had not ordered his mother's death, nor had he pulled the trigger.

He was getting up to call the police and an ambulance when the man continued talking. He told of the Sons anger at his persistent questions around town. They were going to send him a message, paying their trusted man yet again; they had him call the phone when he saw the "Wolf Bitch" come into town by herself. They were planning on showing her what happened to "nosy bitches."

He had done so and watched as just last night they had shot her with a sleep dart and thrown her body into the back of a van.

Fuller's blood ran cold, the voices and memories in his head stopped clamoring, an eerie seemed silence to pervade the room as he squatted down next to the man.

"Where" he asked calmly. "Are they taking her?"

The man clamped his jaw shut, realizing that he had said too much.

Fuller nodded his head, reached down to his belt and unsheathed his K-bar.

Holding it in front of the manager's face, he then brought it down slowly to rest the point on the human's thigh.

Grabbing the other's attention and holding it with his eyes, Fuller smiled, and while doing so increased the amount of pressure he put on the point.

Never once breaking eye contact, he slowly, oh so slowly eased the knife into the man's thigh. There was no blood; the vessels had been cut off for sometime now. This allowed the manager to feel every tendon, muscle and vein that was severed by the knife's passing.

By the time the tip of the knife hit bone, the manager was shrieking like a trapped mouse, screaming and thrashing and crying.

But Fuller didn't care; he jerked the blade downward and split the femur bone in twain.

The screams had now left the human register, but there were thropes in the area that heard all to clearly the agony induced wails emanating from the gym.

Fuller stopped when the bone was completely halved in the middle.

'Revenge' he thought. 'Is for the living, and I am most certainly among that number.'

He twisted the knife and heard the satisfyingly grisly sound of bones separating.

He never lost his smile, and his gaze never broke away from his subject's eyes.

"Where are they taking her?" he asked as though he was inquiring about the weather.

Fuller just barely made out the name Bill Penkoff. Bill was the local hardware store owner, it was no secret that he hated thropes, but he would be closing shop soon and Fuller was not about to waste time by tracking him down.

He withdrew the knife from the leg flesh and eased it into the captive's chest, slowly he thrust it into his heart, lying the manager on his back he cupped his hands on either side of the dieing man's head and laid down on top of him, whispering into his ear.

"Oh how your eyes plead with me not to kill you, but my friend you are already dead, there is no science in this world that will save you from such a wound.

I will give you one gift though, before you die. I will stay here so that you shall not die alone or in the dark.

But my friend do not look upon my face, do not make the face of your killer the last thing you see in life. Instead let your memory take your sight back in time to a happier place. A place filled with joy and contentment, a time when you held nothing but laughter in your soul, a time when the world was not as cruel as I am."

By the time he had finished speaking the manager was dead, a far away look in his eyes and a horrible wound in his chest. Fuller had felt it through the knife hilt, every time the heart had tried to beat it had shaken and just before his last words to the dieing man it had shaken it's last.

Fuller got to his feet and retrieved his knife, wiping it clean on the dead man's vest.

Turning, he calmly walked out the door, got in his car and drove to the bank.

The area that he needed to access was open 24/7 and it would take no more then a few moments to complete his business.

Taking a billfold from his pocket and opening it up, he retrieved a small key from within its depths, printed on the key were the numbers 2-20-2-37.

Only he and his mother knew that the number corresponded to safety deposit boxes held within this very bank.

Running back to the 2nd row and then running down to the 20th set of boxes, Fuller inserted the key into box number 37 on the 2nd row down.

He turned the key and the entire box unlatched from the wall; it was about a foot and a half wide and exactly 4 feet 2 inches long. Hefting it from it's resting place, Fuller set it down on the conveniently placed table designed for just such and occasion.

Turning the key once more the lid of the metal box sprang open to reveal it's prized contents.

Inside was a plastic vacuum sealed package, Fuller ripped open the container and pulled forth what was, in his opinion, the epitome of martial perfection.

The first to see the outside world was a sword, much like the marine standard issue save that it's single edged blade had no curve to it, it was based more along the lines of the Ninjat_, similar to the Wakazashi it was longer the short sword and shorter then the long sword. It had the same + shaped guard and long curved out hilt with gut hook, it's blade had an almost imperceptible curve to it, in fact if you did not look at it up close you would say it was a straight blade.

It fit into is left palm perfectly and it's balance was 1/8th the length of the tang, perfect for quick edge and point control.

The next item to appear was somewhat less orthodox. Fuller's hand encircled the 3-foot long haft of an axe, its blade started at the last 4 inches and jutted forward to 1 1/2 feet. The blade curved downward into a vaguely sickle like shape and backward towards the haft, it all ended in a wicked looking point.

The backside of the blade was dominated by a 3-inch spike that was angled at 45 degrees back down the haft. The last things to come out of the lock box were a matching set of knives, 10 inches long each; they were modeled after the European "Seax" knife. They were single blade knives with straight edges that came to the classic "Tanto" point the end, the guards only extended out on the blade sides in order to protect the users fingers.

All this was set on a Kevlar harness that had the short blades riding just to the back side of his thighs, the hilts angled slightly downward, being held in place with a weak magnet set into the sheaths. The axe head rode on his right hip and the sword hilt protruded just above his right shoulder with the blade lying straight down the right side of his back.

As Fuller strapped himself into the harness he felt a momentary bout of sentimentality overcome him.

His mother had had these blades commissioned for him when he had been accepted into the Scout Sniper training program. She had given them to him on his 25th birthday, saying that she hoped that if he ever had to use them they would save his life.

Well he knew that tonight they would end lives and he was somewhat saddened by the thought of such works of art becoming stained with the blood of foul and evil men.

However, he rationalized that the spilling of such blood was the best way he could gratify such unparalleled tools of combat.

As he ran back to his car he noticed that no matter how much they sparkled up close, the blades did not shine in the moonlight.

He did not fully understand all the properties these weapons possessed.

They had been crafted from a metal that was part of the platinum grouping of metals, Fuller could never remember it's exact name. but he did know that it had been discovered in the later days of the 20th century, it had been exceedingly rare for it was not native to the planet, the only deposits having been brought to earth by extraterrestrial debris, asteroids, comets and the like.

Experiments had shown that, after reaching 3870 degrees F, and allowed to cool off; it became completely static on a molecular level. That is, it's molecules could no longer be agitated enough to allow it to be manipulated, the metal quite literally became unbreakable.

It had been written off for any practical use as it was far to rare to be an efficient building material.

But, 7 years ago an Icelandic man, in association with scientists from all over the world invented a process to artificially manufacture this remarkable metal. It was still unearthly expensive but now some of the more affluent countries were armoring their state vehicles with the light but strong substance.

If he remembered correctly the nickname for this metal was "Silversteel" as an allusion to it's platinum based origins and it's innovation sparking qualities.

Putting such distracting thoughts from his head, Fuller got into his car and sped across half the town, weaving and winding his way through residential and business areas alike to arrive at his destination in heart stopping record time.

As he arrived he saw the owner of the hardware store locking up his shop while whistling to himself a merry little tune.

Opening his door, the enraged marine got out and walked up behind the erstwhile citizen.

Placing one of his Seaxs against the back of the owner's skull, Fuller spoke to him in a voice filled with detachment and insanity in equal measure.

"Hello, you have 5 seconds to tell me where my sister is before I start taking bits off of you."

"How did you find me? You have to know I won't tell you anything. I won't squeal like som-AHHHHHH!"

Fuller had kept the count in his head and when it reached 5 he had struck the left ear from the head of this annoying man.

"I know you are stalling, I do not know nor do I care what you are waiting for. No matter what it is know that you will die before I cease to draw breath. If however you tell me what I want to know I will leave here this very instant, and never again visit your store."

"You don't have the fucking stones dog fucker!"

Fuller took the first to fingers from the traitor's right hand.

When the whimpering and screaming subsided he asked his question again.

"VINCENT"S PLACE OK!? They are at Vincent's place, the "Chicken Coop" it's a hoochie bar down by the airport! Now please just leave me alone!"

The marine simply said "Of course" and took a step back.

As the owner started to turn around Fuller's hand snapped to the hilt jutting over his shoulder, snapping that blade out in a classic cross body cut that caught the vile human in the neck. The finely honed blade easily parted flesh and muscle to slide between the vertebrae, the drawing motion that Fuller integrated into his cut allowed the sword to cut through the nerves and cartilage. This allowed a single sword stroke to cleave Bill's head from his shoulders, the severed head fell to the ground and rolled it's eyes up to stare at Fuller.

He squatted down and looked it straight in the eyes.

"I am a man of my word, I will now leave here and never return to visit your store again."

Saying this he stood up and began to whistle a merry little tune as he wiped his blades off in the grass got in his car and drove towards the airport.

As he was opening the door after a relatively short drive, the sudden impulse to say something struck his mind.

He opened his mouth and said to no one in particular.

"Soft, let us see what boon fortune hath to spill upon the endeavors of one whose heart is filled with blackest vengeance as mine own."

As he walked towards the door he made sure his weapons were properly seated in their respective places.

He knew that the men on the other side most likely had firearms but there was nothing he could do about that at the moment, his own side arm was resting at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.

Fuller walked in the door of the establishment, bearing with him a cloud of rage and madness that was palpable within the tiny confines of the old strip joint.

Seeing that his sister was not out here he started walking towards the only privet lounge in the place.

Halfway there, his progress was interrupted by a large bull, the bouncer began speaking in rapid fire Spanish and gesturing to Fuller to leave the establishment.

Fuller brought a fist into the bull's throat and quickly struck an open handed blow to the tip of his muzzle.

There were many differences between a thrope and a human, but there were things they had in common as well.

One of those being the fact that if someone strikes you in the correct spot on the nose, they shatter your nasal bone and drive it back through the muscle and fascia into the brain, thus killing you instantly.

As the bovine bouncer toppled over Fuller found that the bar had been vacated with all available speed. Knowing that police would soon arrive, the marine walked up to the door and kicked it in.

What greeted his eyes was far worse then all of his dreams put together.

The first thing he saw was his sister, strapped to a table and in the process of being brutally raped by a Mexican wild dog.

Her eyes were open and staring, dilated to the point that no white could be seen around their edges, there was foam upon her lips and it was apparent that she had been heavily drugged.

There were three thropes in the room and 2 humans. Fuller suspected the thropes were among those who would do anything for enough money, while the humans were most likely the ringleaders of the bunch. He had heard of some non-humans being brought into the lower ranks of the Sons organization but he did not know if that was true.

There were several objects around the room, some with drying blood upon them and others soaked in spent semen, they had obviously been used to cause as much pain as possible to his sister's abused vaginal opening.

He did not know if there was more to see, for all this was taken in during a split second of time.

Those who were not abusing his sister turned at his unexpected entry.

The one closest to Fuller did not even have enough time to pose a query as to his presence; Fuller severed his tracheae with a draw cut from his sword, drawing the blade down his shoulder then sweeping it up at an angle to hit the neck.

The second to fall, a human, had just enough time to start a desperate grab for one of the guns that sat on a table by the other door, before Fuller's bearded axe struck him in the back, it's keen edge cutting several inches into the bone and slicing through most of the spinal cord.

The last two in a position to fight had given up on the firearms and had instead gone for the martial weapons stacked on their side of the room. One, a tiger, held a machete, the favored weapon of the low-income criminal. While the human held what looked to be an HCRG arming sword, a double edged weapon, it was considered a "Hand-and-a half" sword.

Based in design off of the European single handed long swords from the 1200's, it could be a formidable weapon in open combat.

In the close quarters and obstacle ridden environment they now found themselves however, it would be at an extreme disadvantage.

Seeing that the wild dog was pulling out of his sibling's abused snatch, Fuller decided that he would not play around with the first two as Esne might need medical aid.

Shifting his Ninjat_ to his fight hand, Fuller grabbed one of the guns from the table and shot the tiger in the head.

The speed of his assault still had them reeling and the death of his partner did not help in easing the last human's fears.

As he tried to decide n his next course of action, Fuller vaulted the table and rolled past the dog to come up in a crouch in front of the human, his blade extended through the intestines of the rapist and kidnapper.

Twisting the sword around and ripping it away from the spine, he disemboweled the man and turned in one single movement.

Up till now Fuller had had the element of surprise on his side, but the dog was now holding up a saber, taking a classic stance and keeping his guard relaxed.

'Oh, we have someone who knows what he's doing.' Thought Fuller dispassionately.

'All to the better then, I won't feel bad about cleaving his hands from his body.'

And so they sized each other up, Fuller taking a two-handed grip on his sword instead of drawing a Seax to complement his blade, as the Ninjat_ was shorter then the saber.

While the dog opted for the single handed grip with the off hand on the hip, ready for grappling moves should the need arise.

Fuller held his own blade just below shoulder height with his right elbow out to the right and the left held close to his body.

When Fuller didn't initiate the attack the dog began to taunt him, attempting to goad him into a mistake.

" Kay passÇ gringo? You pissed cause we fucked your women? No, she your sister eh? You probably wanted first go at her but you too late now gringo, she loose like a whore now, we fucked her so good."

Normally Fuller would have tuned out this banter, but at this moment he was having a little trouble concentrating.

The memories, the people, the things inside his head, his bones, his blood were scratching biting and gnawing trying to escape from the prison of his flesh.

Fuller lost his vision just as the Hispanic canine started into a thrust aimed at his face.

From out of the darkness that was now his world Fuller saw something approaching him.

As it came with in range of his diminished sight, the marine saw that the thing approaching him was in fact a perfect simile of himself.

The mirror image stopped with the toes of it's combat boots touching Fuller's.

It opened it's mouth and began to speak with thousands upon thousands different voices, all of them echoing breathily around Fuller until he thought he couldn't stand it.

"Why won't you let us out? All we want to do is play. We are you, we are your memories from the past, we could help you if you would only let us out."

"No, no not yet, you will not escape yet, I will not let you, I will not. Now leave. Me. BE!"

Fuller roared the last words, shaking the darkness with his anger.

His double merely smirked and said.

"We will not stop you know, we will always be in here, straining at your very blood, attempting to free our selves of this unenlightened prison you call a mind.

And one day, you will call out to us for aid and we shall answer that call most readily.

Know that marine, we WILL answer your summons."

And with that Fuller was abruptly facing the point of an oncoming saber.

Releasing his sword with the left arm, he brought it up in front of hi in an arc, hitting the flat of the blade and deflecting it away from his head.

This movement however left him off balance and the dog lowered his shoulder and bull rushed into Fuller's chest.

The young human tried to catch his footing but slipped on one of the sperm covered table legs that were strewn about the room.

Falling to his back, the Ninjat_ flying from his grip Fuller rolled out from under the follow up strike of the saber.

As he rolled his hand came to rest on the haft of his axe, still embedded in the spinal column of the now dead male.

Continuing his rolling motion, Fuller grabbed the haft and wrenched it out of the sucking flesh on the man's back. Before the dog could intercept the strike, the back spike of the weapon pierced the back of his knee, slicing through the tendons and disabling the leg.

The dog went to his right knee, intending to fight from that position, but as he brought his guard back up Fuller brought the butt of the haft around into his face, stunning him.

The dog never fully regained his senses, for Fuller fell upon him like he was wounded pray, as indeed he was.

The Mexican dog's last breaths were wracked with extreme amounts of pain, gurgling through his own blood while watching through the great, morbid butterfly wings that used to be his rib cage as his heart beat one last pitiful time.

After the loathsome dog's breath had finished rattling from his throat, Fuller untied Esne and gently tried to wake her.

He became concerned, as she did not respond to his gentle urgings, and he did not know with what she had been injected.

Finally he roused her, the light green eyes opening to once again allow him to gaze upon them.

She tried to open her mouth to speak but found her mouth to be too dry foe speech, Fuller went and found an unopened bottle of water and gave it to her.

He then went about finding something to clean her up with.

He returned to the little back room with her old clothes and a few towels to clean the mess from her thighs and fur.

As she was sitting up to clean her self off she cringed in pain, complaining of an ache in her belly.

Fuller had combat medical training and thought it best to check her over before they moved her.

His motions were lent speed though, as he knew that the police would soon be arriving.

He pressed his hands to her stomach and felt around for anything out of place.

He immediately found a hard lump just below her belly button. Pressing on it lightly caused Esne to groan in pain. Knowing what she had just been through Fuller had a good idea what was causing this.

"Sis? I need you to hold your self open down there ok? They came in you too much and it is hurting you on the inside. I am going to gently push above the womb and force it all out ok? Just hold yourself open."

Esne knew what he was doing; she had done the same thing with harem thropes who had been rescued from oppressive dictators around the world.

Blushing with the fur on her face standing out on end, Esne reached down to her vagina and spread her self with her fingers. This simple action caused great pain to blossom from her abused neathers.

Fuller gently began to push the cum out of his sister's womb, she was in intense pain as the fluid started to dribble out of her snatch.

After no more seed flowed from her Fuller gave her the clothes she had been wearing and asked if she could walk.

She responded that she could, and he told her to drive herself t the hospital to get medical treatment. She stopped trying to wipe the dried ejaculate from her fur when he said this.

"But what about you?" she queried.

"I need to find out where these ass sucking mother fuckers came from, AND who's paying their bill."

The hospital was only a few blocks away and Fuller could walk there when he was done searching through the dead men's personal effects.

Before Esne walked out the door she snagged one of the guns still sitting on the table. Soldiers on all sides might have armor that stopped all non-propulsion assisted bullets. But most criminals could not afford such expensive protection.

Esne made it to the hospital and checked herself in. she had severe trauma to her vaginal tract and there was some internal bleeding in her abdomen.

With the advances of modern medicine however, she could undergo an outpatient procedure to repair all this damage. With pain blocking meds she could walk out of here this very night feeling as though nothing had happened.

As she was preparing to go into surgery, Fuller was searching through the pockets of the men he had slain.

It was not until he reached the pants of the First human that he found anything of interest.

Inside the wallet there was one plain ticket from Havana Cuba, to Port-au-Prince Haiti.

Haiti had been in AR territory until last year, when the Sons had launched a massive missile strike that had decimated most of the major cities. The only positive thing about this was that it had depleted almost all of the Sons ICBM stock.

The Cuban coast facing the United States was bombed daily to insure that no large offensives could be launched from that sector.

The opposite side however was left untouched and life went on as normally as possible.

'So' Fuller thought. 'I guess I'm going to take a trip to Haiti. But first I need to visit someone.'

Leaving the Hoochi bar, Fuller started to walk towards the Hospital; once he was there it was not difficult to find out which room his sister was being prepared in.

When he stuck his head in the room she was already going under from the medication.

He was about to leave when he felt a paw on his lower back.

Turning around he found her eyes to be open and staring at him.

Kneeling down, he brought her paw up to his cheek and rubbed his face along the soft fur there.

"I'm so sorry I didn't make it sooner, I should have known something like this would happen and I did what I did anyway! Can you forgive me? WILL you forgive me?"

"There is nothing to forgive Brother, you found me and did what you could, I'm just embarrassed that I did not get a chance at em."

"You would have taken em out in half the time sis."

Esne smiled and began to fall asleep, the drugs in her system beginning to take affect.

"Don't do anything without me ok? I want to be there when those bastards burn."

Fuller thought about denying her for a moment, telling her to stay here where thropes were not ostracized or more often then not, enslaved and killed.

But looking at her lying there he could not make himself leave knowing he would not bring her with him.

She had just as big a debt to settle as he did, and had just as much right to see that debt paid in full.

Fuller made a decision then, he would bring her with him and they would find those responsible. They would kill their friends, and kill their families. Finally, when there was no one left to kill they would watch as the life drained out of their bodies and they, whoever they were, breathed their last.

Fuller found himself speaking to his slumbering wolf sister, he found himself explaining to her his dreams.

He had never done this before, never told anyone the true nature of his mind, yet he now found that the words came spilling from his mouth.

His fears, his suspicions, his hopes, everything he felt about his dreams and how they affected his life was laid out before her supine form.

He spent the rest of the time before her surgery sitting there talking with her, but when the nurses came and wheeled her out he knew that there were things that needed to be done ere she awoke,

Taking his keys from the side table, he crammed himself into the little car once again, made sure it had a full tank, and then drove back to Fort Hood. The fort had expanded considerably since the event, becoming split three ways between the Air Force, Army and Marine Corps.

The normally two hour drive was completed in under an hour and a half, after several traffic stops during which Fuller had to flash his Marine ID to avoid a ticketing.

When he arrived on base he did not go to the commissar's office to report in, in fact he did his utmost to avoid any detection at all.

Arriving at the quartermaster's office, he got out and walked inside, after checking for recorder devices and anything else that could capture his image.

Walking up to the counter he was relieved to see that the Labrador gunnery sergeant had the late shift this evening.

"Evening gunny."

The sergeant looked at the clock behind him then at the blood covered sergeant major standing before him.

"I think you mean good morning. What's so important you came to see me at this ungodly hour?"

"Gunny, I need a favor."

The gunny sergeant groaned and leaned back in his chair for a moment."

"Is this a 'I'll owe you a case of beer favor,' a 'I'll owe you big when I get back,' favor?

Or is it a ' do it for me because I aint coming back and you won't ever have to see my ugly face again.' Kind of favor?"

Fuller smiled.

"Who said anything about being ugly?"

The gunnery sergeant let loose such a stream of epitaphs it was a wonder there was any paint left on the walls, and got up from his chair.

"Well what the hell do you need?"

"I need you to let me into the contraband weapons vault, they never do anything with them and I have a powerful need at the moment."

The other marine looked over Fuller's harness. Taking in the grim look set on the face of the sergeant major.

"Ok, but there are some things in there you can't take with you."

Fuller nodded his head in acceptance.

As the gunny went about opening the weapons locker, Fuller tried to suppress the memories from making their presence know through pain.

Once the door was open Fuller thought that there should have been MUCH higher security on the locking mechanism.

Inside were stored a good portion of the weapons that filtered through the military's possession in this area of the world.

Fuller felt like a child in a candy store, the sergeant asked him what he was looking for and he snapped out of his daze.

"I need a long gun, something accurate with good penetration at 3/4 of a mile.

I also need two handguns, fairly small but with good utility, an over sized ammo capacity, and good FPS. Reloading might get a bit difficult so the ammo capacity is a must"

"Well I can't give you any long guns that fire slips, but I do have something here that might fit your bill."

He said as he hoisted a rifle with an over sized barrel off one of the racks.

"This is the Z 25 Mk III, it was a bullet firing prototype in production before slips were brought onto the market. It fires a duel phase projectile that, upon reaching a certain distance predetermined by the range finder in the scope, separates with jet assisted force, pushing the projectile back up over the speed of sound.

After that the bullet is jet assisted and fin stabilized.

The system was put out of commission because of the expensiveness of its ammunition.

Lucky for you we happen to have a box right here, 32 rounds is all you get.

It breaks down into three component parts, the stock, the receiver/action, and barrel.

So, think that'll work for you?"

Fuller was practically drooling over his newfound toy, next to the M72 L Tactical Infantry Suppression Cannon; this was the most advanced piece of long-range weaponry he had ever seen.

What made it even more desirable to him was the fact that it did not rely heavily on computers to assist it's firing; it would have to be his skill behind a shot that guided it to its target.

Taking a nondescript duffle bag out from under the racks, the gunny showed Fuller how to break down and assemble the weapon, afterwards storing it safely in the duffle bag and setting the ammunition pouch down alongside it.

Hefting the duffle, Fuller followed the Gunny to the handgun section of the room.

"We just got these in today, haven't even cataloged em yet, if you take em off my hands you would be doing me a favor."

Fuller was looking at a matching set of pistols, dull silver gray with nothing special about them as far as he could see. The gunny took one and opened its breach, showing Fuller the complex web of circuitry contained within the small weapon.

"One of our boys took these of a dead MFA general down south in the arctic, you know how propellants gum up down there right? Well seems this guy thought he would have a big advantage if he could still fire after every one else was defrosting their guns. I'm told the look of surprise on his face when his head parted his shoulders was quite amusing.

Anyway, these run off of hyper magnetics, they fire well and accurately up to 100 yards, after that it goes down hill. They have been designed to fire slips and as the slip leaves the gun accelerate it with the magnets.

My suggestion is that you use a 0.1 slip or thinner, that way your piercing power is maximized."

Fuller took the guns and set one in the armpit holster of his harness, laying the other in the duffle alongside the long gun.

He then looked at the boxes and crates of ammo that were stacked under the gun racks.

Choosing one marked 0.05, meaning .5 millimeters wide. Fuller took out 4 of the 20 round packages, making sure to secure them in the duffle.

He turned to the gunny who had been watching him.

"You have any decent long blades in here?"

The gunny brought his hands out from behind his back, revealing a freshly minted marine close combat sword.

"You're packing for two huh? YOU obviously don't need anything in the way of cutting implements.

Well whatever the hell your up to, if you can get away without blowing the crap out of these bring em back to me ok?"

"You got it gunny."

And with that Fuller took his bag and walked back out into the night.

As the gunnery sergeant sat back down in his chair, he couldn't help think to him self.

"I sure as hell pity the poor fool that pissed that man off."

END CHAPTER 3

Fuller hated this ship, if one could even call it a ship and not a dish tub with a propeller.

Being in the marines had exposed him to a wide variety of old, decrepit and oft times leaky vessels.

But he had to admit that this one took the cake, there were places were he swore up and down he could see patches over patches over patches.

This is, as you might expect, a foreboding sign when one is on a ship in the middle of the Caribbean sea. It had taken two days for Esne to recover enough to be allowed out of the hospital; Tony had stayed with her that entire time making sure she was well cared for. He had been reluctant to let either of them go on this journey but after much debating he had agreed that he could not stop them from coming.

Fuller in the mean time had been calling in as many favors as he could. Finally one of his old Force Recon buddies that was in the CIA had come through, finding a CIA monitoring boat headed to Port-au-Prince that very week.

He had even gone so far as to get official sanctions for assassination draw up for both Fuller and Esne. These documents would allow any AR facility on foreign ground to give them asylum after an assassination without fear of being extradited.

They were two days out from Haiti, and after two weeks of Hel Fuller was almost begging for those old, port inn houses that did not threaten to sink every time he fell asleep.

Esne faired no better, though they were both more then proficient swimmers, the idea of waking up under water did not appeal to either of them.

It was 3:00 o'clock in the morning and he had just gotten back from a walk around the upper deck; Esne had left a note saying she was in the medical quarters having her exam. The captain wanted to make sure they were fit to be inserted into the port before getting any closer then he had too.

Fuller had just fallen asleep when Esne came bursting back into the room.

He was up in a flash, one of the magnetic pistols firmly grasped in his hand, the other he had given to Esne to carry.

Seeing that it was just his sister he lay back down and tried to get back to sleep.

"Hey Fuller?"

"Groan?"

"Do you have any sleeping pills or something?"

"Grunt."

"Cause I need something to put me to sleep RIGHT NOW."

"Mumble, Grumph, Marf."

"Wakethefuckup!"

And she promptly flipped the single mattress Fuller had draped himself over, spilling him onto the box springs below.

"What the fucking hel Esne! Just go through my bag and see! What's wrong with you today?"

The fur around her face bristled like she was about to unleash a tirade on him, but suddenly she seemed to deflate a bit. Sitting down on her bed she put her head in her hands.

I'm sorry, I just got some good new and some bad news from the doctor.

The good news is I'm not pregnant, and the bad news is I'm starting my heat cycle right now."

Fuller had not even considered that she might have been pregnant; the surgery she had to repair her damaged body would have killed any fertilized eggs.

It took him a moment to understand why her heat cycle was a bad thing at the moment.

He knew a great deal about thropic anatomy, and he knew that heat cycles were different from their regular monthly periods.

Extreme sexual activeness being one among many symptoms, he remembered going camping four or five times a year as a teenager to allow Esne to satisfy her urges by her self.

She would be randy as hel for the next few days, and if she were not satisfied her body would emit a pheromone that drew other thropes of a similar type to her.

"Well ok, do you want me to move into one of the other rooms? I don't...want to get in your way you know?"

"Thanks sweet heart, but your not a thrope so you don't have our smell, regular human doesn't get me excited."

'Your normal smell gets me excited, god why can't you love me like I love you?'

She thought to her self privately.

"Well this is bad timing huh? Your still not supposed to have any... activity down there are you?"

"Nope actually, doctor told me I was fine, but after what happened I'm not just going to go jump some guys bones because I'm horny."

"You know? I think this falls into the category of conversations I never thought we'd have."

She shook her head lightly, starting to pant softly due to her extreme arousal and the effort of holding it back.

"Hey, now that you mention them, I bet I do have some knock out pills around here somewhere."

He said, rummaging through his bags looking for the aforementioned medication.

As he bent over his bags the sheet he was under slipped from his body. Ha paid this no mind but it left his scared and muscled back in plain view, causing the small bit of control Esne had left to be shredded into tiny pieces.

Fuller stood up with a sound of success, holding a bottle of low strength sleeping drops. Turning around he was just in time to see a white blur connect with his mid section.

Thinking for a wild moment that he was under attack, Fuller was about to bash the person over the head when he found that it was his sister.

She was hugging him around the chest, panting and moaning at the same time.

"Esne what's wrong!? Are you ok, do you need to go to the doctor?"

"Noooooooo." She almost wailed out.

"Then by the gods what is wrong?"

"I am in love with you! Ever since high school! I never planned on telling you but this is unbearable, I want to jump your bones so bad my fingers ache for it. I know you think it's horrible, I'm you sister after all but I can't help it."

Esne drew breath to continue her hormone driven confession, when the air was forced from her lungs by one of the largest hugs she had ever received.

She looked up into eyes that held madness, but also an equal measure of love.

"Sweat heart, I love you too, I never said anything because, well, I'm not a sane man. You deserve someone who does not wake up at night screaming. I can't be that man for you I'm sorry, I wish I could but I can't.

Do you want me to leave the room tonight?"

She replied in somewhat of a daze.

"No, please stay, your being here helps a lot."

He nodded and handed her the pills.

"I'm sorry dear heart, I do love you but I can't bind you to myself. Try to get some sleep, we need to get ready tomorrow."

As he said this he laid down on his bed, rolling over to face the wall and try to shut the memories from his hearing.

Esne looked at the bottle and dropped it out the porthole. Seeing that he was not going to talk to her tonight, she laid down on her own bed, facing the same direction as him, and watched his shoulders rise and fall with the steady rhythm of his breath.

She knew not how long she had been asleep when she was awoken by his cries. There were not so much screams as they were wails, like the sound of a tortured soul given voice to it's agonies after a thousand years of silence.

She opened her eyes to see Fuller, bolt upright in bed with his eyes open.

Hands clenched out before him and blood running down his wrists where his fingernails had pierced the skin.

She got up carefully, knowing she needed to wake him from this terror that now held his mind captive.

Fuller was standing in blood, it fell from the sky and seeped up from the ground.

He was soaked in it and wherever he touched he left smears of it behind,

Blood covered his path and he reveled in it, this was the blood of his foes, those who had sought to cause him and his harm.

He saw Esne, standing on the front porch of a house, smiling at him with her wolf teeth. She looked so beautiful there, like a painter's muse brought to life and given flesh and form. He walked up the pathway to the house. Smiling all the way, expecting the warm embrace of his sister, and true love.

When he reached out his arms for her, instead of a soft embrace his hands found there way around her throat, leaving bloody marks on her green shirt.

She did nothing but smile as his hands tightened of their own accord.

Why couldn't he stop? He had to stop!

Her face was turning purple now, lack of oxygen causing the discoloration.

Yet still she smiled at him, her eyes blank with the endless stare of death and still she smiled at him.

His hands sprung from her throat and he knelt at her side.

His own face looked up at him from Esne's body, smiling the manic smile that meant death for all those who saw it. He had never seen himself do that and he had to admit, it was terrifying.

"All things you touch turn to blood, ever has it been thus, and ever will it be so!"

Said his not face from its position on the ground.

The next thing Fuller knew he was awake with soft befurred arms wrapped around his waist.

Looking over he saw the crystals at the back of Esne's eyes flash him a greeting.

He would not let the blood touch her, not that which he spilled, he knew she had her own demons to deal with but she would NOT deal with his.

Then again, no longer was he going to decline his loving affection for his one time sister.

He leaned his head down and rested his forehead against hers.

Looking deep into her eyes he found that there was steel there, but also love.

'The eyes are the portals to the soul' he thought.

'I wonder what strange architecture one might find with in my own?'

"Esne, I love you, so much at times I really don't know what to do with myself.

Would you maybe consider going out to dinner with me when we get home?"

She looked at him for a moment, and then threw back her head and laugh, the pressure from her hug causing a slight twinge from his still healing shoulder.

"You mean like on a date? Silly man, I've known you for all our lives, I already know I want you."

Fuller thought about this for a moment before answering.

"Alright" he said. And not one other word was spoken the rest of the night.

Esne kissed him, mashing her lips to his and letting loose a moan at finally fulfilling her pent up desires with the man she loved.

Her heat made her impatient and when the kiss was broken she shed her already wet cotton panties and her green tank top, getting down on her hands and knees as instinct dictated.

When Fuller took his time taking off his pants, Esne growled low in her throat, pushing her rear up and into his face, her women hood mere inches from his nose.

He grabbed her by her buttocks and held her down with one arm while he freed him self of his pants with the other, not bothering with his boxer-briefs, he simply pulled himself through the slit I the front designed for those emergency situations.

He knew that, in her heat, Esne wanted to be fucked, hard, to have all her sexual desires met in a whirlwind of passion. He also knew that, afterwards she would wish that their first time had been a loving and tender affair.

So he compromised, flipping her over onto her back, he pinned her arms under his hands, holding her in place lest she try to speed anything along.

He started with her ears; he had always found them attractive, soft fuzzy things that you could rub your cheek on forever without tiring of it.

He did exactly that, rubbing his cheek along the outside of one of the appendages.

He then gently nibbled on the very edge of her ear, causing her to moan and writhe.

After a few moments of this treatment, he stopped and blew on the little hairs on the inside of the ear. This action elicited another moan and greater writhing from his soon to be lover.

He repeated this treatment all the way down her body, going at an agonizingly slow pace. By the time he got to her breasts she was panting and straining at his hold, her eyes begged him to hurry but her body did not.

He gently laid kisses along the furry breasts he had been attracted to since puberty.

Once, during a period in study hall, one of his friends had shown him a porno magazine with thropes in it.

One of the pictures had been of a female wolf, laying on her back with what appeared to be an anteater on top of her. The male had had his tongue inside on of the wolf's nipples, and the wolf had had an expression of ecstasy painted across her face.

He had scoffed at this, dismissing it as the creation of an over sexed Photoshop junky.

A few months later they had learned that a canine thrope's breasts, when the entered heat, became much more sensitive, not to mention pliable. It had something to do with the mammary glands beginning to produce hormones needed for the possible baby get enough nutrition from the mothers milk.

All Fuller knew was that it felt good for female wolves, and he wanted his sister turned lover to feel as good as possible.

Releasing her hands, her gently cupped one of her medium sized breasts. Her aureoles were indeed larger then they should be, and the nipples them selves were swollen but soft to the touch.

Using his finger, Fuller held open the very tip of her left nipple, bending his head; he started to lick and suck around it, making sure to cover his tongue with saliva.

After a few minuets of this teasing, just as Esne was beginning to get impatient, Fuller slipped the very tip of his tongue into her nipple.

She screamed at this, and at first Fuller thought it was n pain, but then he noticed the huge smile on her face and the warm patch on his stomach that indicated sexual fluids.

He was glad he could make her feel this good, but he had even more plans for this night.

After wiggling his tongue around inside her a bit, he removed it and replaced it with his left pinky finger.

Keeping her breast stimulated, he worked his way down her stomach; a fair bit quicker now that he was starting to feel his own needs creeping up on him.

He was determined to giver as much pleasure as possible before they actually had sex.

This, to him, was making love.

He would not have had their first time together to be any other way.

Eventually he reached her vagina; her clit was a little mound at the apex of her sex.

He opened his mouth and lightly scraped his teeth across the sensitive flesh, causing her to buck up into his finger and mouth.

Many more minuets of this foreplay ensued, but finally Fuller could no longer hold his desire for the gorgeous wolf before him any longer.

He leaned forward, his face awash with her juices, and kissed her.

She knew what was happening and flipped her self over, forgetting for a moment that his finger was buried up to the second knuckle in her teat.

As she flipped at caused this finger to be sucked out rather shockingly, Esne screamed as her 4th orgasm so far over took her, spraying lubricant over her thighs and Fuller's

Fuller paid this no mind; she was still floating from her last release when he gently thrust his 7 1/2 inches into her already slicked passage.

They rocked against each other in wild passion as they inflicted levels of pleasure on the other that they had never before felt.

Bucking and moaning, Fuller leaned forward to start rubbing at her breasts from behind.

This sent her over the edge, causing her to climax hard, which in turn triggered his own ejaculation.

Esne, caught up in the feelings of orgasm and heat, positively purred at the feeling of his sperm painting the insides of her womb and tunnel.

They were not concerned about pregnancy, only 1 in 1,000 thropic eggs was viable with human seed, there were certainly half breeds out there but they were extremely rare.

Fuller fell onto his back on the small bed, pulling her over the top of him to lie belly to belly with his love on top.

"So...how...did...I do?"

He panted between breaths.

Giving into an impulse, Esne leaned forward and began to lick his face with her tongue. Once she was satisfied that he was clean, she smiled and said.

"You were great dear heart, but I don't think we can do that again before we get back home, I need to be able to walk right?"

END CHAPTER 4

Fuller hated bugs more then duct tape residue. At least with the tape you can clean it off later.

The bugs just never left you alone, always biting and itching and generally making a nuisance out of them selves.

He was on the up slope of the small mountain range just south of the city of Port-au-Prince.

They had been here for the past two weeks, the last 10 days of which had been spent staking this place out. He had been wedged between these two rocks for 4 days and he REALLY hoped that who ever it was would show up soon.

The CIA had tracked down the purchaser of the plane ticket Fuller had found in the dead man's pocket.

That man just happened to live in a small compound just out side the city proper. The very same compound Fuller now stalked with predator's eyes.

None of the guards knew that he had gazed down the barrel of the Z 25 mk III, sighting them and ranging their patrol patterns so as to make for faster response time should the need arise. The very thought of their ignorance caused little voices in his head to jitter madly with glee.

He had wanted to go down there the first day and kill all the compound's occupants, the CIA whoever found out that a major player in the Sons organization was paying them a visit in the next couple of days.

So they had waited...and waited...and waited some more.

Fuller was no stranger to the waiting game, his STAY training made sure of that, but Esne was still antsy.

She was concealed in the over growth close to the compound wall, ready to spring into action if there was a need

He had given her both of the sidearms. For, while he may be a good shot with close range weapons, she was unmatched. He had his blades, a long gun, his love returned his feelings, and revenge would be served soon. All was right with the world.

Fuller heard the distant "thwupa thwupa thwupa" of a helicopter running low up the side of the mountain.

Looking out of the corner of his eyes to avoid moving is head, Fuller saw a "little bird" three man helicopter streak past his rocks and slow down enough to come in for a landing in the compound. He pinged Esne over the comm., not willing to risk a breach this late in the game.

He trained his weapons long, netting covered barrel on the unidentified teko.

As he watched several mercenaries climbed out of the small cockpit, followed by a rather rotund man in a suit.

As Fuller watched tem walk towards the housing part of the complex, he could not shake the feeling that he knew the older man from somewhere.

Then it hit him. That was the secretary of thropic affairs, the man in charge of making sure that thropes rights were not abrogated in any way shape or form.

He was also the man that Eleanor Freidman had gone back east to work for.

If fuller had not had the gun in his hands he would have voiced his rage at this fact, the little pieces of the puzzle were slotting together.

Eleanor would probably have been learning of this man's crooked dealings.

Exposing him would have meant, at the very least loosing the office and public outcast or at worst, death by hanging due to treason.

He had called up his Sons contacts and told them to kill her in a way that did not lead back to him. There was something he wanted to keep secret that she was going to expose. Reason told him to wait, to find out what it was that could be important enough to take the life of his mother.

Fuller didn't listen though; at this point he heard nothing but the chittering of voices bouncing around in his head.

Hw checked the range of the helipad on his notebook, just over 3/4 of a mile.

Well within the Functional range of the rifle and his skill with the long gun.

Lining up his shot with the corrupt politician's center of mass, fuller slowed his breathing. In and out it went, slow and steady like the tide.

Finally, on an out breath he squeezed the trigger of the weapon, reveling in the solid blow back and kick that emanated from the large gun.

Keeping his eyes trained on the politician, Fuller saw him drop some papers, bending over to retrieve them just as the projectile went into it's second phase, blasting over his head and slamming into one of the guards high on his right side.

It did not have the sheer ruining power of the of the magnetic accelerator cannon, but it still knocked the guard over backwards with a good sized section of his shoulder missing.

The politician was thrown to the ground by his guards; people began shouting at each other and gesticulating wildly.

Fuller cursed inside his head; outwardly he showed no sign of being upset at the outcome.

As he clicked back a bit on the scope, he saw a section of the jungle jump forward and start to scale the wall.

The guards were looking back to their posts now and the figure of Esne would soon be spotted if he did not put them down.

They made it easy for him, sky lining themselves on top of the concrete wall; they must not have heard the shouts of sniper from those inside the compound.

He sighted on the one closest to where Esne was climbing. He waited until the very last moment, when the guard tensed and began to shout.

Fuller's shot took him high in the chest, the rocket propelled and fin stabilized bullet shattering his breastbone and exiting his back in a bloody shower.

This of course alerted the rest of the guards that something was not right.

The top of the wall was plated in anti ballistics armor, sheets of overlapping metal that were designed to stop bullets and slips fired from small arms.

Fuller did not consider this weapon anything less then a light cannon and therefore was not constricted by such limitations.

As the guards ducked down below the level of the protection, Fuller tracked where he estimated them to be.

When he saw the tip of a rifle peek above the edge of the wall he fired just under the lip of the wall.

A spray of blood and bone rewarded this as a head was detonated from within by the armor-piercing projectile.

By this time Esne had reached the top of the wall, bringing her handguns into play and decimating those guards still on top of the wall.

As she dealt with them, Fuller turned his attention to those pouring from the compound's barracks, no more then twenty in all but enough to pose serious threat in close quarters combat.

It took them a good 10 minuets to deal with the last of the guards on the out side, a virtual eternity in the time measured by a gun battle.

Fuller had three rounds left in his rifle but no targets, so he slung the weapon over his back and grabbed a hold on the zipp line they had set up earlier in the week.

After a quick and harrowing ride through the jungle treetops, fuller arrived at the gate and waited for a few moments, crouched by one of the guardhouses.

When he had discarded his ghillie suit and loosened his blades in their sheaths, the gate ground open and Esne walked out, her white fur painted with leafy camouflage patterns.

"Come on! There are only a few of them inside, but others are heading our way right now. We have to hurry and get this bastard before he can get away."

Fuller nodded, proceeding forward in a crouching run. When he reached one of the windows he pointed to his eyes, then Esne made a fist and then a two fingered chopping motion towards the window.

Understanding the message, Esne climbed up on his shoulders, peering in the window and searching for anything untoward.

She flung her self back and away as a hail of gunfire blasted out of the glass.

Fuller did not have time for these petty inconveniences. Running over to a dead guard, his blood still leaking slowly onto the ground, he grabbed the grenades off of the harness.

Pulling the pins on all of them, Fuller chucked them into the window.

A moment later there was a string of detonations, followed by the sound of men screaming. Vaulting them selves up and onto the window, they saw 4 men lying on the floor, leaking fluids from multiple perforations.

The pungent stink of voided bowels met sensitive nostrils as they ran down the corridor.

Fuller was overjoyed, soon vengeance would be claimed and not only that, the voices were content, they had been wailing at him since that night on the boat.

Declaiming the foolishness of his actions, what right did he, a mentally damaged marine, have to offer her? She was beautiful and vibrant, despite her childhood and more recently, her rape.

He shook these thoughts from his head, they were silent now and that was all that mattered.

As they descended a set of stairs toward the underground complex, Fuller found himself wondering if this was how normal people lived.

No memories that were theirs yet not theirs, no voices that issued from their mouths and yet were not their own voices.

It must be absolute bliss, he thought. To live thus, never waking in the morning to wonder what heir name was that morning.

These thoughts were forced from his head as they came to a cross roads, looking at each other and nodding. Fuller took the right fork and Esne took the left.

Some minuets later, Fuller heard the distinctive "Whine pop" of Esne's magnetic weapons.

Smiling to himself, he continued searching doors and rooms for any sign of the soon to be dead politician.

Bursting into one room, Fuller found the commander of the Sons 5th infantry division holding one of the magnetic pistols to Esne's head, the aforementioned politician was standing behind a table with an antique Lugar pointed at Fuller's head.

"Just step back boy, no need for anybody else to die here. you know who I am don't you?"

"Let her go and I promise to kill you quickly."

"Now I hardly think your in any position to be making statements like that. Drop that fucking cannon and you blades, now!"

Fuller complied, but as he unhooked his harness he palmed on of the seax knives, holding it along the backside of his arm.

"Your going to die boy, you've caused me to much trouble not to kill you, but if you cooperate by implicating your self in that black bitch's death, I'll let this cute puppy here go. You'd have to be crazy to risk the life of the one you love, just for the sake of revenge"

Fuller did not hear him, he heard nothing any more, he was lost in a sea of blackness, this place had never even conceived that there was such a thing as the light.

It pressed in on him from all sides, squeezing, suffocating.

Why was he here?

What had he done?

Where was this place?

Why was there no light?

He had to get out of this place!

He needed to help Esne!

He was needed by her!

He had to get back!

He must get back!

"Hello brother, why so sad?

Fuller turned his head and came face to face with an abomination.

From the neck down it looked like him, dressed in jungle fatigues and combat gear.

An empty weapons harness swung from it's muscled shoulders.

But from the neck up it was the stuff of nightmares.

It had a vaguely human shaped head, but its face seemed to be made of putty.

It flowed and changed with every passing second, the voice changing with it. Sometimes male others female, it never stayed in one form for more then a few seconds.

"What are you?!" he said, unconsciously taking a step back and laying a hand to hilt that was not there.

"We are you, or rather, we am every you there has ever been, all the lives you lived are folded into our being. We know every thing about you for we live inside you, waiting to be set free"

"It was you all this time? Making me think and dream those things?"

The figure cocked its head in confusion for a split second then smiled and replied in the affirmative. Had he imagined the hesitation? He did not have enough time to ponder it.

"Why are you here now?"

"Why little brother! We are here to help you! We can kill those two scheming rats before they can hurt us!"

"What about Esne?"

"Of course of course, the girls will be freed. All you have to do is agree, and we will take control of the body and kill them yes?

Lets shake on it huh? Seal the deal yes?"

It said, extending one of it's hands toward Fuller.

He was about to raise his own, when a voice inside his head screamed at him no.

"What?!" he said, turning a complete circle before looking back at the ugly and impatient creature made from him self.

There was a loud banging and the darkness seemed to birth yet another of his clones.

"This thing is not us, it has been trying o take control of you since you crossed over the bridge as a child!

It is a hate from the elder times of our world, the face stealer they call it, your world calls him many names but he is known to many!

If he should regain the realm of the living the damage he would cause is in calculable."

"He IS the reason you are mind touched, we fight him in side your spirit and body all the day and night long.

You hear parts of both of us speak to you at all times; we are the source of your memories, and the voices you hear.

You must trust us, do not shake his hand!"

Fuller stood looking at these two, very much afraid, he was not sure what to do.

Then, an idea came to him, one he was sure would solve his currant dilemma.

"I would like a cup of tea."

Instantly the one with the shifting face had a cup of tea in its hands and was holding out for him to take.

While the other was looking at him with an expression of consternation on their face.

"What are you talking about? How can you drink tea at a time like this?"

"I can't, that's the point." Said Fuller. He then slammed the teacup into the shifting things currant face. It stumbled back clutching at the scalding tea.

"I'm just mad all the time aren't I?" Fuller asked the true representation of him self.

"Yes we are."

"You told me that you would be there for me when I needed you, well I need you now, will you help me?"

He smiled and said.

"Of course, that is what we are here for."

The next thing he saw was blinding light.

Esne watched as Fuller talked with the corrupt man, watched as he started to take of his weapons harness. She even saw him palm the knife.

She had to focus her mind on what she saw because the general was whispering all the depraved things he was going to do to her when Fuller was dead.

As the politician continued to speak, informing Fuller of his impending death, she saw her love's eyes widen and loose focus.

Not a moment later he looked up with his eyes even more dilated, almost hiding the whites of his eyes.

He cocked his head and smiled.

"Didn't you know Mr. secretary? I AM crazy!"

And with that he flung the knife at Esne's captor.

She ducked just in time, throwing the general's head into the path of the blade.

It split his eye and delved down into his brain.

She grabbed the magnetic pistol and leaped to her feet, ready to help her man kill the hated secretary.

She found him on the floor with his human teeth wrapped around the politician's throat.

"Stop! I'm a double agent! I was here to lure out the Sons northern general!"

"I don't care."

"I work for the government! You can't kill me!"

"Yes I can."

"What I'm doing here could save thousands of thropes lives!"

"I don't care."

"Why are you doing this? Tell me WHY?!"

"...Revenge."

And with that closed his teeth, biting down through flesh and jerked his head back, tearing out the human's throat.

The older man kept trying to breath through his ravaged trachea.

They watched him as he began to die, Fuller leaned over and put his face in front of the dying man's eyes.

"Wait for me, on the other side. Your reckoning is far from over."

Fuller kicked his gun away and strapped his harness back on. After finding everything useful in the room they stopped one more time to look down at the figure lying on the floor.

"We still don't know why he had her killed."

Esne said, walking up beside the silent Fuller.

"I have his appointment book, lets go home and have a little chat with some of his friends, what do ya say?"

"Sounds like a plane dear heart."

And with that they ran out of the building, thinking to take the helicopter away from here.

As they got out they found the helicopter gone, and a large group of Sons regular soldiers crowding t the gate.

They turned and ran up and over the wall, never once looking back they ran into the jungle.

Esne secretly finding the fact that Fuller had used his teeth to kill the human both appropriate, and very arousing.

Fuller took a deep breath of the Texas air, he knew that no matter how long he lived he would never come to find air that tasted as much of home as this.

The were just walking out of the airport in Dallas, it had been two weeks since the corrupt politician had been found slain in the compound by Haiti officials.

They claimed that it was the work of saboteurs but no one believed the press, why had such a high-ranking person been in Haiti in the first place?

An official investigation had been launched into all of his resent activities. Another was looking into the death of Eleanor Freidman. They had found this out while on the boat back over to Mexico. There they had gotten on this flight and had relaxed in peace the rest of the way home.

Most of their time was spent in the jungle those first days, waiting for an attempt to get back into Port-au-Prince.

But this was behind them now and both were looking forward to seeing Tony again and relaxing on the rest of their leave time.

Fuller was so preoccupied with these thoughts, and enjoying the newfound knowledge about his insanity. That he failed to notice where he was walking.

He heard Esne scream and turned to see a look of horror on her face.

It was then that he noticed the yellow and black silhouette of a taxi speeding toward him. The last thing he saw was the shocked face of the driver before the cab hit him with bone crunching force

END CHAPTER 5 AND MAIN STORY.

Epilogue.

Esne stood in the rain, it seemed as if the rain was mocking her, laughing at the solemnity of this occasion.

She stood in the Texas memorial cemetery, looking at one of the fresher grave stones. It was all very organized and proper. She stood in the A-H section, on row F for the last name.

She had to concentrate her mind on other things besides the reason for her coming here.

It was difficult, the person in the grave below her had been killed for virtually no reason and such things always gave her a twist in the stomach.

But this was worse; the person in this grave was close to her heart, how do people stand loosing someone they love?

She didn't know, she wished that she did but she just didn't know.

She stood there in the rain, the soft strains of a Celtic melody running through her head.

After a while she let her hand rub the defined swell to her belly, she was close now, and that made it even worse, the graves occupant would never the life that had been growing inside her.

She felt tears slipping down her cheeks, the doctor would be upset with her for upsetting her self this close to her due date.

She felt a loving hand land on her shoulder, gently turning her around and leading her back to the car.

Standing over a grave does not bring back the ones we love. But it does, oft times give us peace.

END.

So that's it, I am tired, this is LONG. And I SOMEHOW made it into a cliffhanger. I don't want to change it but I am sympathetic to your plight.

If you want to know what happened say so in a comment and I will send you a PM with the ending summery.

Tell me what you think and I hope you enjoyed it!

To tired to edit, if you see something tell me and I will edit it, I am lazy.