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Vigilante's Code

by Korpse_Infested_Karnival

(KIK)

_(Author's Note: Well, time now for another installment in The Bermuda Testament. Goodness, did this one take some time. It certainly went at a snails pace, as there were so many spots for possible plot holes to wreck the direction of what's currently going on in story. It's a tad less erotic this time around, but only by a smidgen, in order for the plot to develop a bit more. I certainly think it's far from my best, though I tried as best I could with this one.

As for future updates, if I haven't mentioned, I'll say so now. Check for new installments roughly one to two times every month. And on that note, I hope you enjoy it.

Well, anyway, I hope it's not riddled with too many errors. Point them out if you can!

Keep it lively and gold, YS faithful.

-KIK)_

The sky was bleak. The atmosphere was grim. Sheets of icy, unforgiving rain hampered the street and surrounding obelisk buildings as a cascade of aqueous bullets, the city mourning its lost and gone. Upon one of the scarlet red towers stood a feminine, lithe figure, a well endowed girl with buxom breasts and supple curves, of wavy blond hair and flicking vixen tail, of precise and diligent mind and cunning, predatory eyes.

Fate held the trigger of her Austin M6 with casual grace, crouching low and observing the moistened road below with feigned interest. Her fingers tapped a powerful thigh with anxiety, and her ears flagged and ascended in a range of directions, desperate for a sound, voracious for a hint as to why she was brought here.

It had only been a week ago her family ties came crashing back together, and only a week ago when an epidemic of kidnappings had taken place. Mathias Xaviel, her brother, was reportedly defect from the NIS training academy, Fort September, for roughly the fourth time, and she was the one to pick him up. At the same time, her conscious and dreams were haunted by the far cry of hundreds of lost youth, infant and child vanishing like a somber vapor as once boisterous, echoing streets became as silent as harmonious graves. With one appearance, it seemed a collective did just the reverse, and her mind was set squarely on False Messiah, irregardless of what The Composer had suggested.

So why was she out here? Why was she standing in the frigid rain, having to take cover from the northward deluge? Simple. A few days after Mathias had arrived back at Fort Socrates, a note of most cryptic tenure appeared outside the balcony of her lavish estate. It had, vaguely enough, a red triangle on the right upper corner, with a set date, place, and time, in a somewhat familiar handwriting.

Familiar, for it was that of the Umbrella Man.

The note read thus, but seemed to lack any great significance, as Fate knew the roads and crossings of Junction well.

_"Iota Road 524, Kizer Building

11:00 PM, Thursday

Bring no one. Trust no one."_

It had certainly piqued the collie-vixen's curiosity. The Umbrella Man had been her apparent savior, yet wanted no report of him to the NIS. Now he was contacting her again, requesting to come alone. The suggestion to relinquish her trust in her peers and friends, however, escaped her; she merely assumed it was because he wanted to remain in secret. A vigilante's wish, no doubt.

So now came the moment of truth. The why and where lacked logic. But then again, many things were out of place these days. The only reason she had come in the first place was to get things back in order, Fate assuming that Umbrella was going to somehow inform her of all the bizarre disappearances.

Added to that was. . . something odd with her brother. Mathias had become quite, well, obedient in the past few days. A fire in his eyes seemed to vanish, though there was certainly something. . . stronger about him. Darker, even. When she sent him her good wishes as his new training ensued, her hackles rose and her body tingled in his presence. It didn't feel right, though it didn't feel wrong, either.

All things were simply becoming surreal. Dream like. And dammit, the vixen-hybrid wanted it to be sorted out.

Whatever lay ahead, Fate had decided to come prepared, as well. If it led her closer to False Messiah, she was certain she'd run into a GUNN or Silhouettes. Or both.

In the vast archives and armories the NIS possessed were a varied array of weapons and automobiles. However, there had been a rather untested field of battle suits, a very complex matter of electron responders and a type of super mesh, all interwoven to manifest an attire designed for the ultimate law enforcer. Though, it had barely been employed on aspiring officers, one major reason being it lacked, in other words, prudence.

For Fate, flexibility, agility, and speed, were among her favored qualities, as well as steady trigger finger and one shot accuracy. The suit was indeed those three things, but left very little to the imagination. The hue of twilight-cerulean was skin tight, yet as comfortable as velvet, essentially embracing her feminine form as though it were air. Indeed, the taut mantle of her breast could be seen gently prodding from the meta-mesh, and every groove, curve, and delicate muscle line was highly visible, without conscious or care.

Needless to say, the collie-fox wasn't bothered. She picked it out just for an occasion such as this, finding the source of JUSTICE warranting her seemingly rash choice.

As the rain continued to pulse on, the individual the vulpine-canine had been waiting had yet to show himself. . .

Until a flash of lightning.

Until a shadow within a shadow made entrance.

Until, standing at her side, only led by the beacon of the storm's fury, was the one whom saved her so recently, and the one who may have had the key to finding False Messiah.

The Umbrella Man.

Fate swore under her breath and jolted, only having caught him out of the corner of her yellow eyes. Quite appropriately, he was in his familiar raincoat of satin black, endowed with a matching hat and expanded umbrella. Yet, it was not this attire that gave him such a resounding mark in the memory, it was in fact what wasn't there.

Standing and catching her breath, Fate remembered the face of her savior. Or rather, the 'facelessness' of it.

Umbrella Man had no facial features. No mouth, nor eyes. No nose or ears, lips or teeth, no method of communication that could be used with his pink-toned visage. Merely a blank slate of flesh that embodied mystery and heroism, the blood and mania of a vigilante.

". . .you?" muttered out Fate, uncertain what to say or do.

Umbrella did not move, statuesque in the otherwise jittery insanity of the rainfall.

"We have little time."

Once again, Fate's ears flagged, mixture of fox and collie senses binging into overdrive as she paused in disbelief. It was one thing entirely for Umbrella to seemingly have a monopoly on stealth; it was something else for him to actually speak.

Her maw went somewhat slack, black canine lips separating in search of words.

"W-what?" she stuttered, blinking in befuddlement.

"At the strike of midnight, Bang will be here, along with several other Silhouettes," stated Umbrella, with a voice as cold and cryptic as the grave, nails scraping over a wall of ice.

Fate's features shifted abruptly. Okay. He has my attention.

"That building," gestured Umbrella with a point to another brick-built structure below, "is a hive for unwilling victims awaiting shipment to the Cage. The agent there has been amplified with a mind-control virus given by False Messiah, and he's been using it to enslave and train the local populace for Cage,"

Umbrella had the gene hybrid at 'Cage.' She almost didn't believe what he was saying. Every word bit her like a voracious sand gnat and sank in with a subtle, horrifying absolute. It was both overwhelming and painful all at once, to be so close yet be able to find the devil in his harem.

Immediately, she began to launch a volley of questions.

"Wait, so this man has something to do with all the kidnappings? If he's linked to JUSTICE. . . and Cage, then why in the hell are we waiting so close to the mark?" she said, furiously, a new type of venomous hatred brewing with the notion of Cage and what it did in her mind.

"And why did you choose to wait all this time to talk!?" she added, factor upon factor battering her mind in a mental labyrinth conundrum containing only whys with no hows.

"This isn't my voice," responded Umbrella, bare hand touching throat once. "I had to borrow it. But that's not important right now,"

"As for this upper ranking Silhouette, that's what we're here to find out. He's been keeping himself in hiding under the shell of JUSTICE, and it's more than likely he knows why so many children have been taken off the streets," continued the frame of onyx.

"Unfortunately, the Kizer building only becomes active at this hour. Wealthy patrons enter under secrecy to make bid for a personal slave, and the rest are shipped off to Cage with a GUNN overseeing it. In this case, Bang," he intoned darkly, revealing the inhumane monstrosity that was Cage and all it was linked too.

"Though, this agent has been falling outside of what False Messiah normally does. The victims aren't all NIS. . . some are just normal young women abducted from their normal lives,"

Instantly, Fate began to feel sick and numb. She collected Umbrella's words with focus and repeated them within her mind over and over, in disbelief, enraged, offended. Ever since the long lasting 'war' betwixt NIS and False Messiah, the convoluted entity had been trying to break their system. He made examples out of them by slaughtering them on the field with his mindless echelon of zealots, or sent them into the bowels of Hell, otherwise known as the black market slave brothel Cage.

But the NIS agents were willing to suffer and die for what they believed in, become martyrs in the name of peace. Innocent people were an entirely different story. Forced to be violated and commit acts they would never think of doing, all because the essence of JUSTICE was within itself a faulty system built by a common monarchy of genetic thugs.

Fate had always been right. Her instincts knew he was no different. It was simply a matter of stopping him.

"Bastard," she hissed through clenched teeth, ignoring the rain as she eyed the Kizer building with extreme disgust and loathing.

"What are we supposed to do?" she asked, grasping the hilt of her M6 tightly.

The Umbrella Man remained still for a moment, until turning towards the masked structure, giving it a once over irregardless of possessing no retina.

"This Silhouette no doubt has a safe of records. All made to keep tab of fresh bodies going in and out, from locations to buyers to credit card numbers. It's an abundant source of information that can be used to root out hives of Cage and Silhouettes," explained Umbrella.

"However, the agent in charge of this establishment, like all those infected with the mind control virus, can see through each victim and control their every movement. He's taken to keeping a personal harem of girls that are, at the very least, savvy with a rifle," added the anonymous suit of raven black.

He paused, taking in a deep, grating sigh which sounded as though glass shards were cutting his throat, in essence that a painful thought arose in his mind.

"If he even gets the slightest hint that I'm around, he'll obliterate the place and everyone in it, so False Messiah would want. Fate, you have to distract him, only for a while, until I can get the proper codex of information,"

For some reason, the vixen of cream-white and russet chestnut fur shivered, her spine tingling in grave realization. She was watching Umbrella carefully, an instinctual uncertainty claiming part of her mind, feral senses implying delicate warnings to not trust him fully. In fact, this whole thing could've been a trap, for all she knew.

Umbrella noticed her stillness and sudden distance of the self.

"I didn't want it to be this way, but False Messiah has agents well prepared for my intrusions. It has to be done,"

At that, the vulpine-canine immediately became stern, brows narrowing with a slight tinge of pearly fang starting to show.

"Hold it. Before this goes any further, how exactly do you know False Messiah, or have any understanding of JUSTICE?"

There was a sudden, strained pause between the two, only the rain echoing abound and slight shift of far off thunder.

"I want answers. You're not telling me something, and I want to know what," she implied stiffly, crossing arms with indifference ringing across her features.

For a moment, Umbrella said nothing. In fact, it was as though an agitated garble of nearly inaudible noises were vexing his throat, like something was trying to tear its way to freedom. He made several slight guttural grunts before slowly shaking his head, in some kind of unknown defeat.

"I. . . can't. . ." he struggled to utter, tightly clenching the hilt of his black shaded umbrella.

The vixen narrowed her eyes.

"A program. . . keeps me. . . from saying. . . anything. . ." attempted the vigilante, as though each word and phrase was the hardest battle he'd faced in his existence.

Fate blinked, trying to ignore the cold bullets of rain.

"What?" she responded back.

"Long story. . ." continued the Umbrella Man. "I'll. . . try to explain. . . later. . . but first. . ."

Obviously, whatever he wanted to say was getting hindered by this 'program.' At this point, Fate could tell she wouldn't get any answers out of him as of yet. Just as well, it would be more beneficial to focus on this Silhouette. As mentioned by the faceless shadow, time was not on their side.

With a sigh of impatience, Fate returned her focus to the Kizer building.

"So what now? You said I have to do something?" queried she, hungering to get a hold of this disgusting agent of JUSTICE and beat him to a bloody pulp. Umbrella remained still for a spell, until regaining his composure.

"Yes," he muttered quietly. "Though this enforcer of False Messiah has an elaborate control of all the slaves, he is still a simple man. His desires and thoughts move through everyone's subconscious, no matter what it is,"

Fate's plush tail flicked in abhorrence.

"So I have to. . ."

"You have to seduce him, by any means necessary," finished Umbrella, in half-heart, understanding that such a thing would be utterly repulsive to the otherwise beautiful hybrid.

Fate kept her arms crossed, lowering her gaze.

"I see," said she, blankly.

"Since his mind works through the slaves, the moment they see you, they'll think you're some kind of helpless bait, and will take you right to him. The moment I locate the proper database, we can pick him apart, but only so long as he's watching you, and not everything else,"

A far off rumble of thunder sounded off in divine praise. All became quite still and focused; Fate saw a goal and had found a piece that would bring her ever closer to False Messiah, to JUSTICE, and to all the inhumanity he had inspired. Whoever Umbrella was, he was here to help, that much he'd made certain, from rescuing her to aiding an aggregation of hapless women.

She smiled wickedly to herself as his last phrase echoed like a gunshot in her subconscious.

Pick him apart.

"Before. . . I do this," said she softly, preparing herself mentally for what was to come, "wouldn't it be easier to call NIS? I think I understand your want for secrecy now; no doubt NIS would label you as a vigilante. . . but why not get them on this? It could be an anonymous tip, or something," suggested the gene-morph in lighter tone.

Once more, the Umbrella Man returned his 'stare' to Fate, saying nothing. If he had any features whatsoever, the vixen would've sworn they would have become more intense; darker.

"Fate. . . remember the note. Trust no one,"

Afterwards, there was little left to say. Fate decided it best to put the cryptic notations manifested by the raincoat wearing man to the side, as a task of far greater importance and necessity was at hand. He had explained that there was an entrance to the backside of the Kizer building that was well hidden, and that she would have to enter through there, as well as supplying her with a 'device' that would nullify any attempts for the Silhouette to try and overthrow Fate's mind or bodily functions.

The last thing he did was relinquish to her, of all things, yet another suit of onyx that was similar to his own, out from a 'pocket' unseen. He had explained that moving inside the structure with her NIS suit would be sure to alert the Silhouette agent to an incoming threat, so better she would infiltrate the stagnant nest in secrecy.

When all was said and done, Umbrella vanished, as quickly as he had come. It was now up to Fate to keep the heretic agent preoccupied until the two could make their final move.

* = = = = *

NIS

* = = = = *

Though it had looked very simple from her topside view, Fate was shown that the Kizer building had its own aggravating series of alleys and misleading paths before the actual entrance could be found. When in fact she did reach the blanch door of gray, there were few, if any, indications that this was actually a nest for inhumane acts and the workings of False Messiah. The only thing that was out of place, in a sense, was a deep, blood red triangle centered on the frame of steel. . . which frankly made no sense to Fate. Other than that, a 'slit' covered by a sheet of iron acted as the door's eye, no doubt where a bouncer of some sort would give the vulpine-canine a once over.

Umbrella had instructed her very briefly. He implied that upon seeing the Bureau Commander, the controlled victims of the blaspheming enslaver would lead her straight to him, so long as Fate played the part of an 'intrigued buyer.' True, most of the patrons handing over their pockets of money and checkbook numbers were male, but Umbrella had also noted some female representatives came in from anonymous black market factions to make a bid too.

The collie-vixen merely had to swagger in, express her interest in meeting the 'master' of the maidens, and the rest would follow suit. As for what Fate would have to do herself to keep the Silhouette busy, that grotesque notion she left to the side.

Still barraged by irritating needles of rain, the lovely NIS operative stepped forward to the opposing steel door, giving it a few quick knocks. Flashes of bright lightning went off in the distance like nature's fireworks while Fate waited, and the sky groaned morbidly as though trying to warn her of an impending danger.

Time played on her patience, a tedious gear that yielded no response from the triangle-plastered door. She was starting to grow fearful that perhaps something had gone wrong, that Umbrella had been caught or they were too late. . . until. . .

The cumbersome slit abruptly slanted open, a loud, rusty 'yelp' reverberating from the door whilst a set of eyes peered through.

Fate was taken aback. What she expected was a stern, aggressive stare that would attempt to impose some kind of intimidation while measuring the hybrid, yet it wasn't that at all. Instead, a feminine sequence of dreamy, entrancing blue iris' watched the raincoat-wearing dog-fox with dominated interest, lacking violent energy or unspoken veiled threats.

It was alluring, enchanting, a way of exciting the patrons for what was to come, no doubt.

The eyes then disappeared, without a word, with a series of cranks and metallic moans coming after. The wrenched with a cacophony of creaks, until opened enough for Fate to make her way through.

"Please, come inside," said a sweet, caramel tone no doubt emerging from the 'guard.'

With anticipation and apprehension, Fate held her breath and stepped inside, feeling as though she'd just entered a sanctity for Lucifer himself.

The vixen hybrid was met with an array of unexpected sights. Firstly, the female that had opened the door was the first example the agent's mind control. A petite, well shaped skunkette held the metal frame long enough for Fate to enter until closing, clothed only in thin strips of garnished pink, for both her womanly mantle and nether region. Matching high heels of light rose accompanied her exposing clothes, and her white, well kept hair was hung back in a ponytail, much like the vixen hybrid's old style.

In essence, the female skunk was a teaser for the entering merchants, leaving something to the imagination but giving immediate visual resignation that this was a place for carnal pleasures and unthinkable indulgences of every sex and sin.

She clutched the hilt of her Austin M6, now grateful that Umbrella had provided her with some sense of cover. Even so distant from what was to be, she could smell the acrid drench of whiskey in the air, the burn of lit cigars suffocating Fate's nostrils, the light tremble of sleazy band music and chattering patrons. The walls themselves were mumbling with an array of secrets, and instantly, there was a discreet, hazy sense that her presence was known, that she was being watched.

Her musings were interrupted by the sultry voice of the female skunk.

"May I take your coat, ma'am?" queried she, shutting the door with a vicious clamp and locking the gears back in place.

Fate turned to face the skunkette, remembering that she more than likely needed it. As much of a sore thumb she would be with the raincoat on, it was better than her NIS mesh suit.

The collie-vixen shook her head quickly. She couldn't help but notice the skunkette was giving her a deep, exploring once over.

"No thank you, dear," she countered softly. Fate had done her share of prostitution and pimp stings in the past; the old talent was recalled without much difficulty. She was careful in her tone though. No doubt keeping a long coat of black on might raise some brows.

"Of course, ma'am," responded the skunkette with a bow. "And what business brings you to The Judge's Garden? Are you here for business with others or are you looking to purchase personal servants?"

Her question was direct, but also very lacking. As a matter of fact, the Bureau Commander took a few moments to analyze it. No questions about personal weapons, for one. That meant the demographic here was either extremely trusted or not threatening whatsoever to the Silhouette. Then there was subtle notation at other business, black market trades outside the Cage. . . meaning the slave market may have been bigger than originally perceived.

The misuse of the words 'personal servants' for slave amused Fate. Umbrella had told her that the heretic agent had his thoughts moving through those he controlled.

So, the bastard is justifying rape. How quaint.

She realized the skunkette was still awaiting her answer, so she snapped to and braced herself.

All right Umbrella Man, I hope you're right.

"Actually, love, I'm here on a little business trip. There's a few deals I want to discuss with your owner. . . maybe even a little partnership?" stated the collie-fox in the most innocent, lustful way she could manage, trying to get a signal across to the 'puppeteer' of this nightmarish escapade.

She bit her tongue on some of the terms used, but noted in relief how the skunk-femme's facial expression began to steadily change.

"Oh, you mean the Judge? Well. . ."

Fate could've sworn something flickered in the skunkette's dull, managed eyes, a far of voice beckoning to her from places unseen. Instinct began to take the dog-fox, and she soon realized her ploy may have worked. The femme skunk cast her gaze elsewhere, licking her chops and fidgeting with fingers, listening to a voice that did not speak.

"I. . . believe he'd be happy to," she uttered slowly, returning her stare to Fate.

The vixen's conscious exclaimed in jubilation. Umbrella was right. It had worked. And now she was on her way to perhaps the biggest find in her career.

With another minute bow, the skunkette gestured to the vulpine-canine for her to follow, beginning to trek down the wood-shielded hall. Making sure that not surprises would jump out at her, Fate took her free paw-hand and grappled the M6, ready to let loose a flurry of molten lead should something go awry.

Like the alley, there was another forest of hallways and individual doors Fate passed while being led by the enslaved girl. None of them were numbered, or had any particular notation to discern one from the other, from color to design. Were they rooms for slaves to be brutalized and service a patron? Were they rooms for guards or entire shelves of information? Or were they simply distractions as they seemed to be pulling off quite well?

Mind games. He's playing mind games, theorized the curvy NIS commander, wondering if the whole mental tapestry was this Judge's "shtick" or not.

Finally, Fate picked up on a whole new sensation: sound. A massive wave of it, too. The wooden framework of the walls engulfing her began to steadily vibrate, growing louder with each passing step, the vixen's ears flagging forward to note it was music. . . and it was past another door beyond. When the skunkette was before this new rectangle-guardian, Fate once again witnessed that same triangular symbol, only this time it was white.

Perhaps there was something larger at work she had yet to comprehend.

Hence this anonymous shape was slid open, the full frontal sound of the music came to impact upon Fate's hearing, along with a barrage of lights, voices, and smells.

She almost didn't hear the skunkette. "Please, this way,"

Inside this place, this new area. . . was a stampede of visual overdose. It was separated into what would be generally a strip club, though larger and more robust, the cliché' pole being centered on several elaborate, neon lit stages while their were tables and chairs set about, a vast magnitude of tuxedo wearing individuals in them.

Laughter and guttural speech were fruitful in the tongues of the patrons, corporate heathens scoping out the merchandise as some made relative scrutiny upon their prospective 'property,' from legs to busts, eyes to manner. Fate was at a sudden standstill as she witnessed the ways of the Cage firsthand.

There were the dancers, the entertainers to keep the mood in a sultry, exotic way, whilst near-nude females gave services to each person looking to make a deal, whether it be serving them drinks, whispering little flirts in their ear, or giving their loins a good fellatio.

Yet posted in some of the corners, behind the barkeep and before unseen entry ways were perhaps the most unusual of the bunch. Some of the girls were. . . armed. Quite well, to be precise. Fate felt her breath go shallow as she noted one lynx Chimera was armed with an AK-67, a somewhat advanced sister rifle to the much loved 47. Others had similar decorum, submachine guns and automatics abound as their dull, manipulated glances flicked over each person with analyzed practice, ready to pounce on the first conceived threat.

Umbrella hadn't been lying. They did in fact look 'savvy' with their weapons. Fate wasn't particularly sure she could handle such a storm of bullets if it came down to that.

Alas, she wasn't left with much time to give everything a proper look. She did notice some of the females were lining up in lusty poses, collars around their neck and price tags attached, property showing off its goods. It sent another eruption of heat through her. She didn't know how long she'd be able to contain herself from cracking this agent's skull to pieces for all that he'd committed.

Distracted, the pink-adorned skunkette had to gather Fate's attention once more.

"Follow me miss, he's just upstairs," intoned she, almost nigh audible through the suggestive-swing roaring through the dark complex.

Somewhat reluctantly, Fate followed. Her yellow iris' were still glued to the scene before her, the obsession that was part of her career in a frenzy as it found itself at the heart of darkness. After years of spending time over false leads and traps, NIS paperwork and the very notion that False Messiah may in fact have been a lying concept, she'd finally discovered hard, physical evidence.

And yet, Umbrella didn't want her speaking with NIS on the matter. Why, dear God, why? What wasn't he telling her? Was he himself but another trap?

As she continued following the scantily clad skunkette, she imagined multitudinous possibilities for the raincoat baring vigilante to keep this info away from her. She had never felt in danger when in his presence. . . in fact, she even felt safe, as if embraced in a vortex of black that knew all and could stop all. Yet the secrecy and the cryptic notation to trust no one had her at ends with her instincts. There was obviously something in place she had yet to realize.

Fate was then met with a long flight of stairs that led her away from the noise and bustle of what was happening below. As she went on behind the skunkette, she noticed the degree of things in terms of quality were becoming better.

In fact, as soon as the two reached the final top step, the last door itself was carved with deep, decorated garnishing, ornate etchings crafted masterfully with seamless combinations of oak and silver. The knob itself glistened as a glass chandelier would, the Chimera hybrid wondering if it was made of pure diamond.

On the last plateau of wood, the lovely skunk female opened the door gracefully with an additional bow of her head. Readying herself, Fate recalled Umbrella had given her something to protect against the agent's mind control, shuffling inside the raincoat's pocket to find a slick, brown collar.

"He'll be expecting you, miss," she cooed, allowing Fate to walk past. The NIS enforce uttered a gentle thank you and went past the yew threshold, slipping on the chestnut leather neck-piece and knowing full well it was as if stepping into the jaws of hell.

The room was lavish. Absolutely stunning. Set almost like an old world chamber, it retained the decorum of some type of exuberant studied, shelves of dusty, aged manuscripts and books being hefted by solid oak frames, busts of marble lined in perfect precision with the heads of renowned philosophers. The ceiling itself was yet another vast painting, a commission no doubt, a picture of a vineyard set with multiple figures engulfed in the essence of mother nature. The floor was covered by an extravagant rug, and their were leather chairs here and there peeled from the finest animal skins, all and all a representation of status and wealth, whether or not it was deserving.

She wasn't even aware of him, until he spoke.

"Ah, there you are. I was eagerly awaiting your arrival the moment you stepped into my comfortable home,"

Fate turned her head to the left to witness what she thought wasn't possible. Blinking, she saw Lock. Yes, the black furred Doberman from nearly a week ago, of same height and physical masculinity, the canine whom had paired up with his lackey Scrap and essentially raped her. Only this time, he wasn't in a false NIS uniform, he was in more that of a business suit, save without the jacket, oiled shoes paired with deep navy blue trousers and white buttoned shirt.

But it couldn't have been! The vixen had literally watched his head burst open from gunpoint, dead in a pool of his own blood.

She tried to keep surprise and horror from her visage, peering closely at this apparent lookalike. Wait, no, there was something different, she was wrong. It wasn't Lock. There was a river of silver fur she barely made out on the back of his neck. . . and she was positive the black dog she'd met before had none of that.

"So how do you like it, from what you've seen?" started he in query, "Very formidable place. Enormous profit to be made, aligned with a superior intelligence, given powers beyond the physical, all for simply swearing allegiance to a vengeful tyrant."

His voice was cold and rich, unlike Lock's, which was more like a pool of warm oil.

"No need to say anything, my sweet," he continued. "I know why you're here. After all, meeting a powerful figure such as myself is common in the market these days. Many of my patrons have been trying to do that for months, but you," bragged the Doberman, giving Fate's body a voracious look, "I have made an exception for,"

The tawny vixen shook herself free of her physical and mental paralysis.

"How did you guess?" she asked lamely, figuring this agent had know idea she was aware of his abilities.

Judge, as he apparently was called, grinned smugly.

"Powers, as I said, powers. My lovely girl, you have neigh idea what I'm capable of," he brandished, outright trying to make himself stronger than he was. Fate was glad she at least had him at that disadvantage.

"And I'm sure you'll be surprised to know that I was in fact aware of your. . . interest. Such a pretty girl coming at my doorstop in the guise of a meeting. Pray tell, was that your true reason?" probed Judge, eyes of a rather shimmering hazel trying to pierce Fate's mind, no doubt.

She would have to work fast to keep him from catching on. If he realized he was being blocked. . .

"Then I suppose I should be humbled at your. . . powers, Judge," she replied coolly, softening her eyes and relaxing her figure, able to dodge his query.

He chuckled warmly and slowly took a seat on one of the fine leather chairs, gesturing with a free-paw hand for Fate to do the same. Keeping a steady, sultry calm about her, she did as offered, opening up part of the raincoat to let her slim, busty figure show, the skin-tight suit mesh allowing for pleasing bounces and detail to her bodies' prizes.

"Please, refer to me as Keep. I merely retain that title to hold a fair level of anonymity amongst my customers, and to assure dominance of my slaves. In fact, Judge is a rather common term with my brethren with similar prowess of the mind," he gloated, obviously infatuated with the idea of having total manipulation over some one.

The NIS vixen was obviously disgusted, but she showed no hint of it upon her face. She merely smiled, crossing her legs.

"All right then, Keep. You don't mind if I take this off, do you?" queried she, tugging at the onyx hued rain tethers.

She could tell she hit home, as Keep's brow raised and a slight lick of the chops could be seen.

"Be my guest, Ms. . .?"

The dog-fox began to tug at the jacket, but was quick to respond. Any moment less and he might catch on to her charade.

"Xaviel, my dear," said she, without concern of him knowing her name. "I'm quite thrilled to make your acquaintance," added the gene-morph sultrily.

"So I understand, but it's not that startling," he countered, pausing a moment to see Fate's exposed form.

Instantaneously, his voracious lust began to flood all perceptions within his conscious. Hazel iris' locked on to Fate's ample bosom, two supple, delicious mounds prodding the thin mesh suit like tiny mice attempting to escape a tent of silk. He began to imagine nibbling upon those hot pink mantles and having his palms over her sumptuous thighs, grasping her bountiful bum, consuming all of her. Oh, how the thought of her soft mouth lapping at his shaft began to make him quiver, as the greed to possess every woman he observed became his bane.

"Indeed, there are so many whom are flattered by my very presence. My work and quality of it earn me a great deal of respect throughout the market of Cage,"

The collie-fox held her breath at that word. She merely needed him to spit out just a few secrets. . .

"In fact," went on Keep with a gesture in the air, "let me show you an example of such. She's my pride and joy, really. She's got the perfect mouth. Hot and tight, too, just what the market demands,"

Keeping her wolfish yellow eyes trained on the black canine, so as not to be surprised or taken off guard, the dog-fox gripped her Austin M6, using her curvaceous legs to apply distraction She didn't like the concept of not knowing what was to come.

Judge Keep whistled sharply, and threw his retina to the darker shadow of the luxurious room. On precise cue, a new figure, with sudden lithe and beautiful grace stepped forward, and the Bureau Commander was shocked that her acute senses hadn't picked up on the scent.

She was the pristine image of hourglass curves. Sauntering out of the dark, a pair of blooming, jade iris' looked out from a deletable face and smile, set with purple lipstick and a smile made for the heavens, slim rodent ears trained on Keep and the newcomer.. A radiant, violet fur gave off a halo of pink and red as she stepped into the light, swinging her bountiful rump and hips as she did, a ruffled tail swishing in pleasant demeanor as she did so.

Fate gasped.

The uniform said it all, albeit one of mocking similarity. A mixture of black and purple was the hue of the rodent's (or more specifically, a chinchilla) outfit, and to the horror of the Bureau Commander, it was indeed a skimpy, exposing version of an NIS suit. A ridiculously short cut skirt barely kept her loins out of visibility, and the topmost part of the uniform held a lax bust that showed far too much cleavage to be considered prudent. White stripe marks akin to NIS enforcer clothing were still there, but instead of the classic international security symbol, there was a red heart, along with syntax Fate wasn't able to make out.

She strut forth proudly with hands on her hips, giving Keep a sultry look and lick of the lips.

"This, Ms. Xaviel, is Vortex. I find the name to be quite fitting. Fits perfectly with the fur and eyes. . ." mused the twilight hued canine.

Fate was aghast with terror. This. . . girl. . . she looked so familiar. A few months ago Fate remembered a rodent agent whom had gone missing. They had declared her legally dead after no trace of the chinchilla was found. To see her, resurrected in this. . . state. . . was it really true? Was it really her underneath all that?

"Now. Allow me to demonstrate how well I've got her trained. Vortex, assume the position."

Giggling, she nodded. "Yes, master,"

Quick to oblige, lowering herself and jutting out that fine, supple rump of hers, Keep grinning in satisfaction. She gave a silent giggle, lifting her ruffled tail, giving a wiggle of the hips to coax the ash-striped Doberman onward. As though testing a set of property, he quickly snatched down her panties to reveal the entrance to her slick inner thighs, using one of his burly digits to trace the outside of her sensitive lips. Vortex squeaked, rotating her hips along with the finger's direction, moaning sharply as he teased her by pressing his index even deeper inter her vaginal walls.

"Oh master, please. . ." whined Vortex, trying to press her legs towards Keep. He grunted, giving her a mild slap on the buttocks.

"No. You wait until I'm ready," he shot back, beginning to unfold the skirt half of Vortex's uniform. Keep cast Fate a leery gaze, smiling.

"She begs me often," he explained, grasping one of the chinchilla's haunches and roughly groping it. He then doubled his motions by leaving her nether lips and using both palms to assail her rump, making sure the feeling was dominating and intense.

"She still needs some work, but she's an excellent little slut. I'm going to sell all the others, eventually, but this one," continued he, beginning to undo the buttons of her topmost uniform, "is my personal slave,"

With a wry look at the vixen, Keep used his head to gesture her to come to him. Fate did little to resist, though she was burning inside with volcanic hate. In order to avoid suspicion, she unfortunately had to leave the M6 on the chair, hidden under the grace of her jacket. Lord knew, however, that she would blow his head off the second she was close enough, the hybrid hoping that Umbrella would be finished soon.

"Here, I want to show you," said Keep, pulling up the violet rodent's collar with gusto. "Slave, give our guest a good working. Do a good job like a good bitch and I might let you sleep with me tonight."

Vortex giggled, as though this was some type of grand achievement, and Fate could only pity the poor girl. When Keep directed Fate to stand directly before Vortex, the vulpine-canine wasn't that surprised when two gentle hands instantly went to her succulent mounds, fondling the mountains of her axis and flicking her digits over those hidden, tight nipples.

There was a tiny zipper at the neck point of the fine mesh suit, which the rosy-pink chinchilla found with ease, pulling it downward so that the collie-fox's heavenly mantle burst out, no longer at the mercy of her tether's grasp.

All the while, Keep had unzipped his trousers and let them fall to his legs, taking a moment to idolize Fate's breasts.

"My goodness, don't you have quite the bosom?" stated he in 'compliment.' Fate attempted a smile.

"You'll have to give me a moment to suck on them once I'm done with her," Keep went on, applying a mild slap on Vortex's buttocks.

Perhaps Fate would have found yet another reason to despise him further, yet an abrupt, delightful sensation overtook her. Vortex had used her gentle hands to massage and toy with the vixen's supple mounds, twisting with great delicacy at her shimmering nipples, pressing the budding bust together and forward. Lost in this sudden wave of physical ecstasy, the dog-fox's maw went agape, her head twitching upwards as skilled digits and touches sent her into an array of physical euphoria.

Keep marveled at the skill of his slave, viciously stimulated as his burning mast engorged with floods of blood and hardened to a solid pike of onyx flesh. Licking his chops yet again, he positioned himself carefully before the violet chinchilla's glistening womanhood, prodding it with the tip of his canine endowment. Vortex responded with a timid slurry of squeaks, as explosive neurons stormed through her delightful frame with but just a simple touch.

Secretly, he was sure to make the fox a slave just as he did with the rodent.

Before fate could realize, she herself was becoming increasingly aroused. Her own vixenhood began to swelter with heat, an intoxicating estrus mingling with the scents of both the Doberman and chinchilla. The constant attention received from the lavish rodent sent spires of heat rummaging about her body, and Fate soon realized she would need to sate her own lusts very soon.

A quick cry from Vortex signified she had been penetrated. A moistened cock-shaft plunged deep within the chinchilla, slick with the slave girl's ripe nectar, allowing for the easiest of entries. At the same time, the Bureau Commander could take no more, allowing free paw-hand to travel down the opening of her fine mesh suit (now relaxing its tense grip), fingers tracing over her needing clit.

Keep was quick to indulge in his greed for pleasure. Well lubricated, canine-shaft wet and wanting, he began his slow, steady piston motions of momentous thrusts into the hungry inner hips of Vortex, each time causing the controlled NIS agent to moan and whine, filling the room with the echoes of her shameful sexual appetite.

Every thrust he applied caused the chinchilla's delicious bosom to bounce at gravity's teases, nipples soaked with dewy drops of girlish honey. Her musk began to fill the room in sync with her crashing hips, tongue hanging out whilst the Doberman toyed with her sides and nipples at his own dispense.

For some strange, ill conceived reason, Fate was no longer concerned with the destiny of this girl. Or any of the other slaves, for that matter. As the rhythmic pounding of Keep's loins into his 'property' went on, the vixen hybrid found herself drowning in a pool of desire, conscious suffocating with carnal dreams as she began to indulge herself quite quickly.

Some part of her felt frightened. Was Keep breaking through the 'shield' the Umbrella Man had given her, swamping her with thoughts not the vixen's own? But neigh, as she started to realize. . . it was merely a dark and sinister desire within herself. Some fragment of the dog-fox was indeed aroused by the sounds, the touches of Vortex, the idea that she was dominated and would submit to whatever command given.

Keep chuckled with mirth as he soon orgasmed within Vortex, knowing full well that he was taking advantage of her, pouring his hot seed into her demanding pussy. Fate, for whatever reason or the other, had given way to the primordial element of herself, and had become damp with the honey of her erotic fantasy.

In fact, the dark root itself appeared to have been planted. The abuse, the enjoyment, the power, the control, how a sudden hunger quickly built within her. It was all engulfing, a decadent tidal wave that washed away every valiant code she stood for and every NIS doctrine, until leaving her in a shadow of a wicked spell. It was like she didn't care, as if Fate would toss away all things and all people for herself, learn this power, command her own harem, becoming part of False Messiah. . .

A hoarse, abrupt choking sound caught her attention. Everything stopped. Vortex's touches, Keep's laughing, Fate's thinking. She removed her fingers quickly from the smoldering corridor in her nether region, stepping backward and realizing what had nearly come over her. Her gaze came to, and she saw, in surprise, the figure that had led her to this place of evil and sin.

The Umbrella Man, the crying dead echo made manifest, had arrived. One mighty hand was gripped coldly onto the skull of the Doberman, his eyes wide with sheer horror, a stream of shimmering metal crossed over the canine's neck. For whatever reason, the enslaved NIS agent had pulled off her master's shaft and steadily collapsed to the ground, eyes of jade green growing hazy as she became nothing more than a crumpled puddle of violet and rose.

This was how Umbrella accomplished things. Able to transfer himself through the immaterial of the natural plain, a vaporous shadow moving in and out of walls. The Umbrella Man wasn't just an anti-hero trying to destroy JUSTICE with a revolver, nay, he was a hybrid unto his own with powers far beyond any lesser minion serving False Messiah.

Fate, brashly attempting to compose herself, zipped her mesh uniform back, face littered with heat and sweat. She was too kept up in her current state to care how or when the rogue raincoat wearing man had appeared.

Realizing the situation at hand, she retrieved her Austin M6 and attempted to hold it steady, reeling from the darkness that had abruptly unleashed itself from the furnace of her soul. Umbrella was indifferent (or so the vixen hybrid assumed).

The cryptic, icy tone that was like a cemetery dirge uttered out, filling the once steamy room with an eerie chill.

"You'd be wise not to move, this virgin metal hasn't had the pleasure of tasting blood," threatened the vigilante, Keep squirming in the process.

"No doubt you're trying to reach your slaves for help," continued the rogue agent, "but I'll tell you now, it will do no good. I'm aware of False Messiah's workings and how to negate some of his lesser given powers,"

Keep blanched, no doubt terrified, cut off from what he protected himself with. If he tried to scream, then the blade would no doubt rip across his neck, and it was unlikely his patrons would hear him from below anyway.

"Fate,"stated Umbrella bluntly, turning his faceless visage to the collie-fox.

Her features somewhat jumped, as though she were being admonished for some petty crime. In fact, she was embarrassed, like a schoolgirl who'd answered a question wrong, or a child whom had gone against the wishes of their parents. Ashamed, the NIS commander was, for she'd let a sinister diseased take hold, a sexual voracity that was revolting, a very hypocrisy to what the Chimera hybrid had vowed to stop.

"I came as quickly as possible. I found the codex of information that we need, but it's been encrypted in a slur of dead data and locked codes," explained the raincoat bearing killer. For a moment, Fate wasn't sure what he was talking about, so dizzy from the aura of the last situation.

"The. . . data? Oh," she muttered in reply, brushing a frock of blond hair out of her eye.

"If all holds well, then it should hold locations of hundreds Cage hives and hideouts. More opportunities to lead us straight to False Messiah,"

At that, though in a deadlock grip and with his trousers down, Keep could only laugh.

"W-what? Are you kidding? You. . . you really expect to find the great leader of JUSTICE?" hoarsely spat the Doberman, still struggling under Umbrella's grip.

"I don't. . . I don't know who the hell you are. . . but you're arrogance will get you no where. . . the NIS is but the first institution to fall,"

A primal rage that had long been part of Fate woke again from its doused slumber. She was once again able to picture all those who suffered under Cage and died at the hands of False Messiah's delusions, and realized she had underestimated his consorts. It was time to be strong again, and pull the information out of this "Judge," for the good of all things, the nation, the people, and peace itself.

The vulpine-canine rushed forward and suddenly lodged her fist into Keep's stomach, causing him to growl out in pain.

"You sick fuck," she hissed, "I don't care where the hell your master is, I swear to you I'll find him. And when I do, I'll do to him what I'm about to do now,"

Gasping, the onyx furred canine raised his head, watching the tawny girl with fear and morbid curiosity.

"Fate, we don't have time for this. Bang is going to be here soon," warned the featureless anti-hero.

Fate ignored him, grabbing Judge Keep by the neck with the pressure-gauge pistol trained to his cheek. The barrel of ominous steel hit its mark, Keep immediately trying to scurry away.

"Where the hell are all the kids? Where have you been taking them?" she questioned in a low, growling tone, a controlled hate tempering her voice.

"W-what? Kids? Don't know what the hell you're on abo-"

Another fist slammed into his rib cage, the Doberman sputtering and a droplet of blood forming from his maw. He gasped for air, trying to get the vixen to bear mercy.

"I swear to God, I don't know!" begged he, "I had nothing to do with them!"

"But you know what I'm talking about?" Fate shot back. Shivering, the midnight furred canine merely shook his head.

"Y-yes. . . b-but it wasn't me! I swear, I swear! This wasn't even something False Messiah made me aware of! I only took slaves from the streets!"

The vixen hybrid paused, until raking her claw and fist across Keep's features, causing him to groan in considerable pain.

"How many NIS did you take?"

Keep was gasping frantically now, still with icy fear, Umbrella retaining the knife blade at his neck.

"J-just the one, I swear!" repeated Keep, "the rest were random people, completely outside of False Messiah's request! That's it, I p-promise!"

The vixen cocked the pistol. Keep whimpered under the threat of being shot, Umbrella grunting as if in agreement.

"Do it," grunted the vigilante. The Doberman shook his head furiously and tried to fight back, sputtering a dreadful entourage of arguments to try and appeal this decision. The hybrid Chimera, however, would have none of it.

"You're useless to me. I'll find your deluded leader on my own."

The echo of molten lead bursting through skull penetrated the near silence of the chamber. Umbrella had stepped out of the way to watch drops of crimson fluid splatter the wall, coupled with whatever innards making up Keep's head. The lifeless corpse collapsed to the ground, and Fate sighed heavily, uncertain.

Her eyes returned to the only person whom seemed to be the guiding light in all this.

"What now?" she asked, half-heartedly.

"It's safe to call the NIS now. The information won't fall in their hands. However, I have to distract Bang and whatever else is coming this way, otherwise, no one can do anything for these slaves,"

The vixen looked down at the broken ex-NIS, pitying the poor chinchilla.

"The moment I've cracked the codex, I'll send you a drive containing everything on it. Until then, lay low. Tell no one of what happened this night. Be patient, and I swear to you Faith, I'll explain everything,"

The tawny collie-fox sighed, both relieved and baffled at what she had seen. She had waited years for the answers. A little bit more time couldn't hurt.

She lowered herself, taking a gentle paw hand and brushing Vortex's face. Though it looked as though the violet rodent girl was unconscious, a sheet of tears could be seen matting her cheek. In empathy, Fate lifted the no longer enslaved woman and held her in embrace, whispering kind things to comfort Vortex.

"Shhh. . . it's gonna' be okay. . ." she soothed in hushed tones.

"Faith. Fate. I have to leave. But remember what I've told you: Trust no one." stated Umbrella cryptically. Before he could once again dissipate, the vixen stopped him.

"Wait. . . I just wanted to know. How did Keep never catch on that he wasn't affecting me? What did the collar do?"

Umbrella half turned his faceless head to respond.

"The collar is full of static memory. His thoughts get intercepted by the collar, and are thrown back to him in an obscure, dizzying kind of sense. In other words, he thought he was controlling you, but he was slowly beginning to lose touch with reality,"

With that, in what was like a cloud of shadows and smoke, Umbrella vaporized, disappearing to wherever it was he was off to. Fate herself looked about, and located an emergency exit, quietly making preparations to get Vortex to her Athlon.

As far as all the others, it was up to the NIS now. She didn't question why Umbrella didn't want the NIS getting their hands on the codex, mayhaps it would be put in a suffocating lockdown, unusable to anyone.

Yet still. Why did he want her to trust no one?

Was this the path of becoming a vigilante?

= END =

(KIK)