FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

1 Beowrok ran inside after Lukiber. Nobody was in the kitchen. He ran up to Lukiber's room to find it empty. Apparently, Lukiber had grabbed his brother and left immediately. Beowrok ran out to the street and saw Lukiber and Frydae several blocks down, running all out. He followed as best he could, but it was difficult. He did not have the sense of smell that Lukiber and his brother had, nor did he have the speed. He tried following them for several miles before he gave up, unable to spot them anywhere in the crowded streets. So he stood, contemplating what to do, he noticed several passers-by staring at him with varying amounts of fear. One man stopped and said, "Hey, man, why don't you just go back where you came from, eh? Go back to hell, man. We don't want your kind here!" Beowrok grabbed the man by his throat and lifted him into the air. As the man struggled, Beowrok looked into his eyes and shouted, "It's not my fault your pope is a fucking douche, and called my kind here! Do you think I want to be here, dealing with shit like you all the time? Fuck no! Now leave me be! I've got some major problems with some of your kind right now, and I don't feel like dealing with you today!" Beowrok threw the man against a bus stop station and ran back towards the apartment without waiting for the cops to show up, knowing that if he waited, Lukiber would have one more breakout to worry him. When he got back home, Beowrok could smell Lukiber, Frydae and surprisingly, Xavier in the air. He opened the door and walked inside with caution, listening hard for any sounds coming from somewhere inside the house. Indeed, there was much shouting for him to hear. Beowrok could hear Xavier shouting obscenities that even Beowrok never used, and angry accusations from all three of them. They seemed to be in the kitchen, so Beowrok decided that the kitchen was a good place to be. As soon as he entered the room, Xavier was on top of him, trying to freeze every inch of him that he could reach, still screaming obscenities. Fortunately, Xavier, being much smaller than Beowrok, could not reach too much of him. Beowrok lifted Xavier off himself and threw him against the opposite wall, where he hit his head and fell to the floor, unconscious. Lukiber was leaning against the door, nursing several wounds on his arms and chest. Frydae saw that Xavier had nearly frozen Beowrok's left arm and immediately ran over to warm it back to normal temperature before frostbite took over. "What the hell happened, Luki? Are you okay? What happened?" Beowrok bombarded. Lukiber made his way over to the table and sat down. He opened his mouth to talk, but before he could say anything, he fell off the chair and sprawled on the floor, unconscious.

2 Xavier was still pounding on the walls for an hour or two after they had thrown him into the basement. "Motherfuckers! You can't fucking do this!" Xavier roared, slamming his fists into the stone walls of the basement. There were dents in the walls and chips of the stones on the floor where he had repeatedly punched the wall. "Let me out!" he raged, "You can't fucking keep me down here!" He started throwing ice around the basement as he bellowed, "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" When he realized nobody was going to come down and talk to him, he stopped and sat down on the floor. The only noise in the room was his wristwatch, ticking off the seconds. After he had counted out over five thousand seconds, he heard the lock click on the door. It was Beowrok. "Hey shit face, I've got your dinner." was all he said as he threw a sandwich at Xavier, and left. Xavier looked at the sandwich on the floor, and thought of his captors eating a nice dinner and almost went into another fit of rage. He picked up the sandwich and looked between the slices of bread. Butter was all he saw. He almost threw the sandwich against the wall, but his hunger took over and he took a bite out of the meagre meal. He wanted to gag at the taste of stale bread, butter and grime from the floor, but ate the rest in three large bites. Beowrok came down again after another five thousand counts of his wristwatch. This time he came with ropes. Lukiber and Frydae were not far behind him. Knowing what was coming, Xavier tried to back away from them. Crystals formed on his fingertips as he prepared to throw as much ice at them as he could. "You won't do this." He growled, "You can't do this!" He saw Lukiber's eyes flash and raise his hand, palm up. As soon as he did, Xavier felt himself lifting up from the floor. Frydae roared next to Lukiber, his hands at his sides sparking to life and flames crawling up his arms. Xavier attempted to keep himself righted in the air as he shot a stream of ice crystals at him. Frydae deflected the ice with a wave of his arm, the flames coating him and creating a shield that melted the crystals. At the same time, Lukiber closed his hand into a fist and Xavier was forced into the foetal position. Held in place and unable to move, he could only watch as Beowrok crouched by Lukiber's feet and launched himself into the air, the rope he had brought with him held out in front of him like an assassin with a length of piano wire. When he was finally on the floor, Lukiber held Xavier's shoulders while Frydae held his arms and legs in place and Beowrok lashed his hands and feet together as tightly as he could. Together, the three of them carried him back up to the kitchen and dropped him in the middle of the floor. "So," Lukiber said, "You wanted to get rid of my brother and I, did you?" Xavier answered with silence. Beowrok hit him in the back of the head; a warning shot. Xavier gave him a poisonous look that Beowrok wholeheartedly returned. Xavier looked back up at Lukiber from his position on the floor and said, "There's nothing you'll get out of me, you bastard. I have my reasons, and they'll remain mine and mine alone." Lukiber gave him a pained look and said, "We'll see. I know that I won't be able to get inside your mind as easily as I did that guard at Richards building, because I taught you how to block that. I won't be able to reason with you, obviously, because you hate the three of us. I won't be able to bribe you, because, and you should have figured this, we're going to kill you, either way. Your display right before we threw you into the basement showed that you do intend on killing us one way or another, and that makes things a hell of a lot more difficult for me, but I'll get what I want." Xavier looked at Frydae and said, "I'll get the most pleasure out of you when you die" Frydae spat in Xavier's face and Beowrok kicked him in the ribs. Lukiber did nothing. "As you can see, we've tied you so that if you try to freeze us, you'll freeze your own feet before anything else, so don't try anything, because it won't work." said Lukiber. Xavier looked back at him and said, "You won't kill me. You've loved me for too long. I'm too much a part of your life for you to kill me." he smiled. "I'm sure you'll see quite the contrary, my friend. There is so much I can and am so willing to do to you now that you have shown your true colours. You know what we do to traitors...or did you look away every time, knowing you were seeing your own eventual fate?" Lukiber said as he moved closer and leaned down to Xavier. As he did so, Xavier saw the damage he had done to Lukiber's body. He had torn him open in several places, including a gash across his left eyebrow. "There's nothing you can do to me that is anywhere near as bad as what the boss will do to you! He'll make sure you get what's coming to you!" Xavier shouted directly into Lukiber's face. Lukiber backed off a little bit and wiped some spittle from under his eye. "So now we're getting somewhere, aren't we?" Lukiber asked with a small smile. "Who's 'the boss'? Or is that classified information we'll have to force out of you?" Frydae, fidgeted and looked hopefully at Lukiber, and Lukiber nodded. He flipped Xavier onto his stomach and moved closer; straddling him, careful to stay away from the hands covered in frost, and put his own hands on Xavier's back. Xavier immediately felt an incredible heat on his back, that was not strong enough to burn, but enough to make him very uncomfortable. Frydae, smiling, moved his head closer to Xavier's ear and said, "We're going to ask you some questions, and every time you don't answer in a way we deem acceptable, it's going to get a little warmer in here...you're not too fond of the heat, are you, buddy?" Xavier lifted his head from the floor and defiantly shouted, "Fuck you!" Lukiber kicked Xavier full in the mouth, hard enough to make him bleed. "You will cooperate!" Lukiber shouted back. Xavier growled a little, but did not say anything more. "That's better," said Lukiber, "Now, tell us, friend, who's your boss?" "An enemy to you." said Xavier, defiantly. Immediately, he felt a surge of heat on his back as Frydae said, "Wrong answer, buddy!" Xavier screamed from the extreme temperature as Lukiber moved closer. As his screams subsided, Beowrok looked at Lukiber and said, quietly, "I don't think we're going to get much out of him, Luki. What if he doesn't talk?" Lukiber pondered this as Xavier whimpered a little on the floor at his feet. Then, an idea struck him and he said, "So, Xavier...what was your plan to get rid of us?" Xavier gave a light chuckle, but said nothing. Frydae braced himself against Xavier's back, readying another heat wave. Lukiber looked at his brother and shook his head. He grabbed Xavier by the horns and wrenched his head around so they could look eye to eye. "Xavier...I asked you a question. You know that when I ask questions, I expect answers." Lukiber let go of Xavier's horns and nodded at his brother. Frydae let out a blast of heat so fierce that they smelled burning fabric, fur and flesh. Once the screams of their prisoner had died down, Lukiber asked him again, what his plans were. "I was going to wait until you left with the big oaf, and get your retarded brother to follow me out somewhere and kill him. When you got back, I was going to say that he was taken while we were out doing something together. I was going to stay behind, say I was ill, and wait for you to get back. Then call you up to my room and poison you. Not enough to kill you, no, my boss would be upset if you died. I would poison you enough to make sure you don't leave the house for a while. When the oaf went out to get you something, because we all know he would do anything for you, I would call Rich-" he stopped with a look of huge disbelief on his face and looked frantically between everyone's faces. Lukiber backed away from Xavier. "You were working for him?" Lukiber stormed. He rushed forward and kicked Xavier in the mouth again. Xavier spat out wads of phlegm flecked with blood and opened his mouth to speak in time for Beowrok's cloven hoof to come careening into the orifice. "You fucking bastard!" Beowrok screamed, "Did you have anything to do with Malice?" Xavier only spit out several broken teeth and laughed, and continued to do so even as Frydae pushed enough heat into him to light him on fire. After the interrogation, Beowrok threw Xavier; still tied up, still laughing; back down into the basement, all the while protesting to Lukiber that they should kill him instead. Stone-faced and arms crossed, Lukiber shook his head. "Keep him alive for now. He may still be of use."

3 Elsewhere in the city, Malice was as close to death as he had ever come before and knew that he did not have much time left. Day in and day out, through tortures ranging from fire to ice, blinding and suffocation, he tried repeatedly to make a psychic connection with his brother. Malice had been moved from his dank cell, which was underground, he found out, to another location. He had been bound, gagged and blindfolded prior to being moved, though this was not needed; he had succumbed to pneumonia from the moisture in the cold air underground. Once in the new location, paramedics had treated him with several different hospitalities and medications to keep him as healthy as needed, which, unfortunately for him, was not very healthy at all. The new location was white. The room was larger than the underground cell and it was completely empty except for a one-way mirror. Even though he was forced to lie on the floor, he was glad that he wasn't chained to a chair anymore. On an especially cold morning, at seven o'clock, a man entering his cell woke him. The man was wearing a black business suit and a look of deep contempt. His hair was mildly short, black and had an unnaturally straight part through the middle. He had a very neat presentation of himself, but he had obviously gone through some sever stress; his eyes had bags under them, and though he had a very professional look about himself, he had a wary look behind his eyes that screamed 'panic'. This must be Richards, thought Malice. The supposed Richards looked down at Malice and said, "So, you're the one. Indeed...I recognize you. Gave me quite a nasty look, didn't you? Just like that one you're giving me now, actually. Yes, we'll teach you to behave towards your superiors." "Fu...fuck...you...." Malice said, in a hoarse whisper. He had lost his voice a long time ago from the illness residing in his veins. "Yes, I thought you'd say that." Richards said, "We'll teach you, though. Yes, we'll teach you, and you'll learn fast enough. If you want to live for much longer, anyway, you'll learn. You know you're dying, right, boy? Yes, quite close to it, if you ask me." Malice studied Richards through the veil of his illness. He was British, and very intelligent. He seemed to be unnaturally calm, his eyes being the only exception. Regaining some strength upon waking, Malice lifted his head, looked directly into Richards eyes and said, "Superior...my ass...you'll burn...with...the rest of them...." Richards smiled politely and chuckled as he said, "Oh, I'll burn? I think not, boy. No, I think it is you who's going to burn, if you don't start showing some respect. Yes, if you know what's good for you, you'll show me some civility. I'm the one who brought you here, and I can take you out easier than you think." Richards walked around the room, examining the cell. Apparently, he approved, because he kept nodding his head after everything he looked at. After about ten minutes of roaming around the cell, he looked back at Malice and said, "You do know why you're here, don't you boy?" Malice did not respond. He did not even look at the man. "I asked you a question, boy!" said Richards, losing all civility. "And when I ask you a question, I daresay, I expect an answer!" Malice cringed a little at this; he had heard this statement and several others just like it in the last few weeks, every one of them followed quickly by considerable pain. Richards saw him cringe and mistook it for fear of Richards himself. "There's really no reason to be afraid of me, boy." His anger was quickly replaced with an almost bipolar calm. "I won't hurt you. Yes, I'll not lay a finger on your handsome head, but if you continue to show me disrespect, I'll have your guards tear that hair out bit by bit. Yes, by the looks of it, they've already done quite a number on you. I can tell them to stop, if you want me to, you know. Yes, I can end all your pain right here and now, if you would only ask me...." Richards said. He crouched down next to Malice's supine form. "Beg me to let it stop, boy." Malice was tempted to crawl over to the man and do just that. He wanted to grab him by the ankles and scream for the pain to stop, but he saw the lump under Richards' jacket on his left side and decided not to. Richards waited for a response from Malice for another ten minutes before saying, "If you help me, I can make all the pain go away. Yes, I can even set you free, if you want me to, boy. All you have to do is help me. Would you help me?" Malice kept an eye on the bulge under Richards' jacket and still said nothing. Richards noticed his eyes on his jacket. "Oh, boy, you don't have to worry about this thing here," and he pulled the gun from its holster, opened the chamber and showed it to Malice. It was empty. "You really have no reason to dislike me, boy-" he started, but Malice cut him off. "You...brought me here...I-...I have...every reason to-...to hate you..." Malice said as strongly as he could. Richards put on a mask of mock pity and said, "Oh, no, boy! You brought yourself here! Yes, the day you looked so cross at me! You do remember, don't you, boy?" and he laughed. "Just help me, boy, and you can set yourself free! That's all it takes, boy! Just help me and you're free to go!" Richards crooned with a smile. "Just tell me where I can find your friend and you'll be outside breathing sweet, fresh air in no time!" Malice closed his eyes, mustered all of his strength and rolled over, away from Richards. All of his instincts screamed at him for turning his back on an enemy, but he no longer cared. "I see..." said Richards. "You won't help me. I could get you into a hospital and pay all of your bills, even, if you tell me where your friend is. We really didn't even need you to begin with, though. We would have preferred your brother. You weren't close, were you? You and your friend? Always questioning him, always improving on his ideas and seeing him hate you for it. No, you weren't close...So, tell me where he is, boy, and everything will be better for you!" Malice felt a surge of hatred and confusion as Richards spouted these truths. He also felt a familiar tickle in the back of his mind; apparently, his surge of emotion had finally established that psychic connection with his brother he had failed to produce on his own. Malice? Is that you? Malice heard his brother yelling in his mind, but he sounded as though he was very far away. Yes, Beowrok, it's me...Richards has me in a cell, I'm sick, and I'm so close to dying...it hurts...It hurts a lot... He felt his brother's pain, relief and fear all at once, and realized he should not have said that he was close to dying. Malice, I need you to listen to me...do not let this connection break. At least for an hour...I can hear you, but it is VERY weak. I can try to-- A hand slapping him across the face cut the connection. "Didn't I tell you to show me some respect, boy?" Malice heard Richards scream. In his rage, Malice found the strength to stand up. As he did so, he realized how small Richards was, just as Richards realized just how large Malice was. This was good for Malice. Richards backed away from Malice and screamed for sedatives. The guards obliged. The next thing Malice knew was the sound of scuffling feet behind him and a sharp pain in the back of his neck. Then he knew only sleep.