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Adipose City: Two Birds, One Stone

By Psion

All Rights Reserved

Lady Nelson reached over her over-abundant bosom and put her face in her hand as the British red-furred vixen finished reading the latest reports from "Queen Isolde's" latest counter-attacks on Aristo's properties. Unlawful intrusion of company computer networks, impersonating knights, forging an executive's e-signature, unsanctioned attacks on company rivals... Issy's entire outfit would be looking at mass termination of employment at the very least if Nelson or Duke Wellington could successfully trace any of this back to them. Unfortunately it appeared the porcine Big Tool had recruited a very talented Code Wader to her cause, yet another person Nelson found herself quickly desiring to string up by their neck as any attempts to follow the data trail quickly lead to a dead-end. The trail following the forgery of Duke Wellington's signature ended in a server farm maintained by a hacker commune hiding in a Floating Fisheries enclave in the South Pacific, the multiple intrusions that provided Issy's members with false credentials ended at a PanAsian server in Hong Kong.

After the second dead end, Nelson told Bertrand to stop. There were still enough leads to have the French Code Wader sitting in front of a computer for weeks; something the rotund aristocrat was quickly realizing was the point all along. Instead she had him check any computers her knights used daily, down to the onboard one on Pounds' car. Obviously there was something they overlooked, a second backup somewhere, but the leader of the Round Knights was far from stupid. Issy had forced her on a defensive footing, at the moment all Nelson could do was respond. Sure enough, Bertrand's detailed combing of regularly used systems found several anomalies that were documented. Some were left well enough alone, the better to trick that Irish mechanic into thinking she still had one up on "her Titship" as Nelson had heard a few of the Maulers refer to her as over the radio chatter the Round Knights managed to intercept. The edits Issy's hackers made to Bertrand's scripts, the ones that Pounds used to get free product from rival corporations, those were promptly removed along with the entire program from any vehicle Nelson had it installed on. The black-haired vixen was wondering why they were starting to rack up a large bill on their expense account, when she discovered what else Issy made the program do, it almost made her lose her composure. Rig the system to order another shipment from the Big Tool's suppliers every time they ordered something from... that was it!

"Bertrand, did you manage to find Isolde's suppliers from all the additional orders she tricked us into making for her?" Nelson asked as she sat with her noticeably rounder Round Knights for a briefing. All this hearty Irish food was becoming quite addictive... perhaps there was something there, the vixen noted as she called the briefing to order. There would be time to dwell on that mystery later.

"Yes milady, I presumed that would be your next wish after discovering the malware the Maulers planted on our computers." Bertrand replied, the beer-bellied buck clearly felt he needed to redeem himself for the mishap with the coupons. "Most of it appears to be fairly ordinary, coming from our usual ingredient suppliers in the region. There were a few unusual orders but nothing that could be specifically pointed to Isolde... except for a order for over five tons of potatoes from a potato farm in Central Pennsylvania."

"That has to be it!" Sir Bart snarled. Despite claiming to dislike the simplistic fare of O'Maddy's, Nelson couldn't help but notice he seemed to be gaining the most out of all of them since this operation began. The big-bellied wolfhound Steel Chef was now turning almost spherical and pushed his armor's capacity to its limits. "We should go there at once!"

"I believe that call is mine to make Bartholomew." Nelson replied chastising before turning back to Bertrand. As the rest of the knights looked to the Code Wader to continue, the vixen could tell from the buck's expression she wasn't going to like what he had left to say.

"Again milady, I predicted you would want to order a tasting sample so Tallis and Bart could determine if these are indeed Isolde's potatoes so I attempted to order one. I placed an order with Mackenzie Spuds two days ago and I haven't received even an automated confirmation email since then. Curious, I accessed the site's servers remotely... both our order as well as the one placed by Madam Isolde's minions are sitting in queue next to a large backlog building up over the past few weeks."

"Meaning?" Pounds asked impatiently; the black-furred wolf was to the point as always.

"Meaning that, as the Americans say, 'the lights are on but no one's home.' And from what I can tell, the facility has been that way for at least a week." Bertrand explained.

Nelson rubbed her chin in contemplation as she mulled over this bit of information, casting an expectant look at Anvil and Hilda, her two Big Tools. Both of them shook their heads, no this wasn't normal by any stretch of the imagination. "Is Mackenzie one of our facilities?" She asked her Code Wader even though she already suspected the answer.

"No, Mackenize is under contract to Burger World, they normally produce the potatoes for their steak fries."

"So shouldn't they have sent someone to check?"

"My understanding is a Burger World team had been rerouted to investigate the matter."

"Isn't a team of agents excessive even for Burger World? Shouldn't they just send a single technician?"

"According to their communications milady, they already did. No one has heard from him for three days..."

Pancakes shifted her weight around in the bucket seat as the Pelican VTOL airship flew through the midday sky. A future where everyone was a hundred pounds overweight on average and the pear-shaped husky still had trouble finding a seat wide enough for her big bottom. The spikey-haired canine leader of the Red Maples smiled as she looked at the rest of her team. It may be petty but Pancakes got a small satisfaction from seeing fellow thunder-queen Hotcakes having similar trouble even if the white-furred vixen seemed to be enjoying it somehow. The petite squirrel sniper Short Stack practically looked like a child as she sat in a seat built for a being at least twice her girth. Meanwhile Flapjack grumbled as he tinkered with his minigun to pass the time, the big grizzly bear wasn't a big fan of flying and was less then thrilled to discover the sudden detour meant another hour spent in the air.

"Remind me again why we're visiting a potato farm out in the middle of nowhere boss?" The bear groaned without looking up from his gun.

"Gabriel Newcastle, a Big Tool recently reassigned from a border posting down in Texas, was sent in to investigate this farm after it stopped responding to communications. As of seven hundred this morning, it will have been three days since anyone heard from him. We're here to investigate what's going on and if possible, locate Newcastle."

Flapjack looked like he had more to say to that but at the moment the intercom blared to life with an announcement from the pilot, they had arrived at their destination and would be landing shortly. The Red Maples had enough time for one last equipment check before lumbering to their feet, weapons in hand. Outside, the VTOL descended into a hovering position a foot off the ground. Jumping off and landing with a weighty thud, the four Canadian Burger World agents rose up and fanned out as the Pelican took off to refuel at the nearby State College international airport.

Mackenzie Spuds was like many of the large corporate farms covering the flat fertile valley of central Pennsylvania. A small compound of offices and equipment garages just right off the main road and surrounded by sprawling fields of cropland containing acres upon acres of potato plants. Standing in the main parking lot, black combat boots clopping across the worn asphalt as their weighty and heavily armed owners slowly waddled along, weapons at the ready. Short Stack hung back behind the rest of the squad, cradling her sniper file as her fluffy tail twitching nervously. Even out here they could immediately tell something was wrong; most of the vehicles had claw marks scratched across the windows and there were more common signs of violence. Bullet holes in the concrete exterior walls and the coppery glint of the occasional shell casing on the black pavement told at least part of the story while somewhere out in the corn field maintained by a neighboring farm, a suspicious fluttering of feathery wings could be heard...

"Something is wrong. Shouldn't there be something to tell us who the attackers were? Bullet casings, food wrappers, griefer paint? All the calibers I see are FoJ." Flapjack grunted as he cradled his minigun. Pancakes saw that he was right; there was nothing that identified the attackers as belonging to one of the other corporations or even used firearms at all. What attacked this farm? Some kind of animal? The canine husky didn't know of any that could drive off the workers and cause this much damage.

Hot Cakes looked like she was about to say something but then the vixen's ears twitched and the canines held up their hands for quiet. Somewhere off in the distance, the sound of some sort of guttural clucking could be heard. Meanwhile, a riotous belch echoed from one of the equipment sheds. The white-furred vixen shook her head and started moving her thunderous thighs towards the closer noise, shotgun held at the ready.

Inside the wooden shed was the missing Burger World agent Gabriel Newcastle, the German Shepherd anthro laying on his back as he cradled an empty McStubby shotgun and a blood-stained combat knife that smelled suspiciously of chicken. Desert camo fatigue shirt had ridden up after his latest binge, Gabe's overstuffed white-furred belly swelled upward like a small mountain. The engorged canine's bloated abdomen groaned and churned. Newcastle did his best to smile wordlessly as the four Red Maples gathered around him, the medic Hot Cakes lowering her shotgun to give his stomach a tactile appraisal before they tried to move him.

"What have you been eating big boy?" The vixen teased softly as she gently probed his belly, discovering it crammed full of food as her fingers barely made a dent in the giant dome of his tummy.

The overstuffed combat engineer opened his mouth to speak but only managed another loud belch. Outside, the clucking of chickens suddenly came a lot closer. Regaining control of himself, Gabriel did his best to lean forward and draw his Fat Eagle handgun from its holster before flicked the safety off and falling back over. Bringing up the rear, Short Stack looked the window to get a look at what was coming. Pancakes knew there was trouble when she saw the squirrel blink twice as if she thought she was imagining what she was seeing then promptly slammed the door shut. The husky didn't even have a chance to ask what had thrown the squirrel into motion before the first creature tried to break through the window...

The Canadian husky had heard the rumors, had been briefed that there was a grain of truth to them, but to see the mutant chicken dinosaurs everyone had been talking about for herself was still something. As the first one tried to squeeze through the broken window to get at them, the female canine's assault rifle rose and was fired with a controlled panic. Automatic weapons fire tore into the first "death chicken" with an explosion of blood and feathers before chewing into the one right behind it. Briefly distracted by the scent of their wounded cohorts, the other mutant poultry turned to devour their fallen brothers. It was the diversion the four Canadians needed; Pancakes, Flapjack, and Hotcakes all pointed their weapons in the direction of their intruders and started shooting through the thin walls of the shed. The grizzly's minigun echoed with a deafening roar inside the confined equipment room as the hail of bullets "sawed" through the wooden wall, a lengthy "dialog" punctuated by the reports of Pancakes' Boom Boom Betty assault rifle and Hotcakes' McStubby, the wounded squawks on the outside confirming that the corporate agents were hitting their targets. A small cloud of sawdust, plaster, and gunsmoke filled the room as the squawking on the other side finally died down, the fight was finally over.

Relaxing her trigger finger, Pancakes lowered her rifle and listened as the shooting stopped. Her canine nose sniffed the air tentatively as practiced hands went through the process of reloading, triangular ears rising straight up as she listened for more chickens. Their surroundings stank like a butcher's shop, chicken blood oozing through the bullet-riddled wall from targets that had gotten too close. Behind her, Hotcakes and Flapjack grunted as they helped Newcastle to his feet. The German shepherd groaned as his bloated stomach jostled and fell down past his knees, nearly pulling him along with it.

Watching the display briefly and shaking her head, the portly husky put her hand to her earpiece. "This is Maple team, we have completed the objectives. Newcastle is fine and we have... addressed the pest problem that caused Mackenzie Spuds to go silent."

"Understood Maple, the Pelican is refueled and will be taking off shortly. What is the status of the farm?"

"Badly damaged, likely will require several weeks to repair. Staff is missing, status unknown. The pests were GMO vermin that attempted to mob us, Flapjack's minigun took care of most of them."

"Understood, are the genies that attack the property the same as the subjects of Operation Fowl?"

"Unknown. We're going to need some meat freezers to bring a few specimens back to the Adipose City branch office for analysis." She replied before signing off, looking at her teammates and the canine they had just rescued. Fat bellies began to grumble audibly as the four Canadian commandos squeezed out of the shed and looked at the fresh chicken. Perhaps no one would notice if they attempted a little analysis of their own, it would be a shame to let so much good chicken go to waste...

Meanwhile, deep within the foothills of eastern Kentucky, the secret headquarters for Genetic Broiled Chicken buzzed with activity. Doctor Zanders and his loyal team of Burger World defectors oversaw the good southern doctor's heavily automated hatchery. Robotic drones delicately manipulated soft eggs with a pale white shell, plucking them off the main rookery floor before depositing them in isolated incubators. Dozens of the genetically engineered "dino-chickens" that had plagued various corporations on the North American continent clucked about as their dinner shrieked in terror and feebly attempted to escape the rookery. Kidnapped citizens of rival corporations were ruthlessly torn apart by the mad science monstrosities to sate their bestial appetites. The staff of GBC continued on apathetically to the shrieks echoing throughout the facility, it was always difficult to concentrate on work during feeding time.

Overseeing it all from a sturdy, well-cushioned Mobilizer mobile sofa was a mammoth fox animan, the mysterious Dr. Zanders. Lording over his domain like an incredibly fat king, Zanders' immense southerly girth tested the limits of his white Expandex suit and black shoes, his massive belly the final resting place of many failed experiments as the mechanical contrivance creaked ever so slightly in protest of having to constantly cart nearly half a ton of fox around. Stroking his platinum blond goatee as he consulted the latest lab reports on a tablet, the renegade geneticist smiled as he saw the progress that was being made. The idea to cross chicken DNA with fossilized velociraptor genes turned out brilliantly, attempts to create bite-sized "Nuggets" by crossing chickens with the small "Chompy" dinosaurs were showing promise, and his mechanical "Robot Chickens" were effective sentries. It looked like his dream was finally becoming a reality.

Once upon a time, Doctor Samuel Zanders had a dream; a dream of a time where America belonged to the "Muricans" and not squabbled over by foreign corporations. Not like today with Taco King to the south and everyone from Aristo to Motherland Provisions pushing on both coasts. Even the Great Plains had to contend with a somewhat foreign corporation in the form of the multinational SALAD. Originally one of Burger World's most celebrated research scientists, Zanders once believed that the American megacorporation had the same view of things. Now he realized that couldn't have been further from the truth; for all of its bluster, Burger World was terrified of the idea of a dedicated campaign to drive out all the foreign companies from the United States and Canada. It would be too expensive, they said. There was no real profit there, he was told. Very well then, he'd show them he was right in the end. Sooner or later he'd have to make a move on another, more prominent, corporate property. When that happened he'd make sure the Big Six knew there was a new player in town...

Bazooka Betty was silent as she sat with her team in the Burger World offices in Adipose City. Reports from the Red Maples' skirmish with the dino-chickens had come in before Pancakes and her team finally arrived in Adipose City, their Canadian counterparts staggering in with a slow, lumbering waddle before sitting down across from the American team. Even the normally slender sharpshooter Short Stack carried the proud bulge of a large roast being subjected to a slow digestion in the squirrel's belly. Likewise her more robust team mates... well there was no doubt what happened to the corpses that didn't get frozen for the biology and culinary departments to examine. Just the sound of how badly the reinforced conference chairs creaked when the Canadians sat down and how they all narrowly cleared what was already a fairly wide doorway designed for the indulgent girths of Adipose City told the story.

"Well someone certainly grabbed a bite to eat before getting here." Jennifer Moore smirked and leaned back in her reinforced chair, the ursine tank mistress's prodigious camo-clad rump squished against her chair like a carefully balanced marshmallow.

Flapjack looked like he was about to counter that comment but Pancakes abruptly moved onto the purpose of the meeting before either portly bear could say anything. Clearing her throat and suppressing a violent belch, the husky turned to her feline counter-part. "Do you have any questions about our report?"

"Just one. How did they taste?" Bazooka Betty asked with an appropriately sly smile.

The black and white spiky-haired canine grinned back. "They were delic-URRRRRPPPPPPPPPP!" Pancakes answered with a loud belch as her stomach happily gurgled her poultry prey...

Back in the Round Knight's meeting room, Lady Nelson had called together her team after they had gone over the recovered surveillance footage from Mackenzie Spuds. Bertrand had found his way into the onsite camera system just as the Red Maples landed and rescued the missing Burger World operative. The worrisome video footage confirmed rumors that the busty vixen had been hearing throughout Aristo, that a new gene-modded monster had been attacking corporate farms and ranches throughout the continent. And after the week she had been having dealing with the O'Maddy Maulers, the last thing she needed was the possibility of being told to handle a fight on two fronts at once... Perhaps that was part of the solution.

"Has there been any pattern to these attacks? Any possible suspects?" Nelson began as the rotund Aristo agents sat around the sturdy oaken table.

"Unfortunately not my lady, I have been unable to find anything of substance. Burger World has suffered suspiciously few incidents yet only Al Ain has the logistical network to arrange this many attacks across the entire continent so quickly. Which makes no sense as they appear to have been some of the hardest hit."

"And why has Aristo not encountered these creatures so far?"

"Apparently we already have, just that our regular security forces have been more then adequate for the task and the matter was never really looked into until now. That and we've been distracted lately dealing with a certain miss piggy."

At the mention of Isolde, a thin frown began to form on Nelson's face. Her previous thought began to take shape as she recalled the summary of the week's events. Dissent and distrust among the rank and file, the company framed for unsanctioned attacks on Italiana that the Sicilian corporation may or may not have been smart enough to see through, and then there was that debacle at the grand opening of the new O'Maddy's... Burger World was clearly the real winner of that skirmish. Not only did Betty's appearance bolster Isolde's credibility but it was Burger World company agents and medics that helped the bystanders caught in the shootout between the Maulers and Italiana. While Issy ran, Burger World stayed; Nelson doubted that the Americans wouldn't try to exploit that at a later date regardless of whether the porcine punk was told to flee or not. Right now though, Burger World was content with the media storm circling around Betty's apparent decision to go off the script and very publicly share a burger with this new "Miss O'Maddy" Isolde scraped up from somewhere. A storm Nelson could not avoid as someone in Burger World's IT department had somehow managed to find her email and make sure the vixen received a copy of multiple... imaginative fanfics depicting Bazooka Betty having a lesbian affair with Miss O'Maddy, Lady Nelson having a lesbian affair with Miss O'Maddy, or both vixens having a lesbian affair with Bazooka Betty. As if that wasn't enough insult to injury, this mysterious "P.A." had managed to find a BDSM fanfic with Nelson as a "sub" to Betty's ursine coworker Jennifer Moore. All of which Nelson privately found amusing even if it was clearly written by someone who never had an intimate affair or even basic lessons in creative writing. Still, the others at the conference table were starting to look at her expectantly so back to the matter at hand...

"Well since a two-front war destroyed armies even mightier then the knights of Aristo, perhaps we should focus on how we can force these problems to solve or at least confront each other. That should stall them long enough for us to come up with a plan. Sir Bertrand, what other assets do the Maulers possess?"

"The same they had since before our campaign, a few restaurants and a handful of automats scattered around the city. O'Maddy's is still fairly dependent on larger corporations for resupply and there presently appears to be no distribution centers keeping a large stockpile of ingredients in storage in Queen Issy's name." The buck replied dutifully, saying Isolde's nickname with no small amount of sarcasm as he shifted his weight around in his chair to better to support his growing midsection. "If we want to eat into Isolde's bottom line, we would have to continue doing exactly what we were doing before and target her establishments one after another."

"Which we can't because she already countered those tricks. Hmmm... I have an idea, we release a 'confidential' message on an unsecure network expressing concern over the security at several suppliers for our new Irish franchise O'Maddy's."

"Several suppliers that are not Aristo subsidiaries?"

"All of O'Maddy's suppliers whether they are Aristo or not." Nelson corrected. "Isolde will already see through our deception so there is no sense in making it any easier for her. We'll make sure to pass on word to the Knights handling security at our subsidiaries though. R&D is going to want physical specimens for study and I would not be surprised if other corporations are already experimenting with putting these creatures on their menus. We should work on the same. As for little Issy, perhaps a taste of genuine corporate warfare is what she needed all along." The chesty vixen concluded with an approving nod. It was a gamble but at this point they needed to do something less they fall further behind in the battle with Issy.

Thunder had thought about it but was still undecided on whether or not to accept Namul's offer to spy on his current employer. It wasn't something he normally considered doing but this assignment was gradually starting to feel too good to be true. The money they were promised was very good but the pile of questions was getting worrisome especially considering no one had gotten paid yet. It should have been a red flag that he was approached directly for this contract instead of through a handler. Only the Big Six maintained that sort of system and only one of them had his contact information on file somewhere, Burger World. How this client managed to get his contact information without going through an intermediary was quickly becoming a very good question. One he had to put aside as said client had something new for the team of freelancers, a smaller metal cage of what sound like the same sort of genetically modified chickens they had been dumping on PanAsia properties all around New Orleans.

Other then the smaller size and the fact that it sounded like there were a lot of little critters crammed into this particular box, there wasn't a lot different about the cage currently sitting on the table in the freelancers warehouse hideout. Same metal container with air holes cut into the sides so the mutant chickens inside can breath, same remote-controlled lock... wait, where was the remote that was supposed to go with the lock? Thunder wondered as the magnetic lock on the cage clicked ominously and the diminutive creatures inside burst out with a flurry of feathers and teeth. They were indeed like little miniature versions of the same monsters they had been harassing PanAsia with all over Louisiana. And currently they looked eager to make a meal out of Thunder and his two fellow blubber punks. On instinct the black-haired human grabbed a Mega-Spanner and started swatting away the little beasts before they could take a bite out of his thick hips. On second thought, if they wanted to take a bit out of his big ass, then perhaps he should give them more then they could handle.

Swatting away the ones trying to attack him from the front, Thunder leaned back and fell in a control fall on the ones behind him. With a satisfying squawk and crack of chicken bones, several of the mini mutant chickens disappeared beneath his voluminous rump. His two cohorts likewise fought to deal with the sudden change of plans, grabbing firearms or biting back when the dino-chickens bit them. Bert, the big red fox Street Sumo, made his miniature attackers disappear in a flash and snap of pearly vulpine whites as they tried to bite his arms and hands.

In a minute it was over, the three freelancers were still alive. Pretty well cut up from where the critters had gotten through their Tuffweave clothes but still alive. "Message received." Goldie, the portly blond human of the group, said as she reloaded her Fat Eagle pistol and the weapon blew a wisp of gunsmoke.

"We have to get out of here, corpsec had to have heard the gunshots. And we don't want to get caught having to explain why we received a box of these things in a old warehouse." Bert replied, groaning and quickly gathering up his gear before lumbering towards the door with a painful waddle. "Damn if those little bastards don't taste good though."

"Fucker's going to pay for screwing us once we figure out who he is." Goldie grumbled as she disappeared as well.

Thunder sighed as he pulled off the little "nuggets" that had gotten squished against the seat of his Expandex jeans. Every time, every damn time he thought he was going to get ahead and stop essentially working three jobs, something goes sideways. Still, he decided as he munched on the flattened mini-chickens, giving them a satisfying chewing, then consigning them to his stomach with a hard swallow, he concluded that Bert was right about the little bastards making nice little snacks.

Finished with his snack and discreetly heading out after his former cohorts, the waddling human Big Tool ambled into an alley out of sight and pulled out his smart phone. Dialing up the number Namul had given him; he called up the PanAsia leopardess and put the phone to his ear.

"Hello Namul? Yes this is Thunder, how much were you offering for information about my latest employer again? Yes, I've decided to accept your offer. No, I don't think there will be any complications, my client had recently decided to terminate my contract, almost terminated me as well. What? Is Soy there? It's okay, it's okay, I'm fine. I'll explain everything when I meet you face to face. Where do you want me to meet you? Your local headquarters? Okay, I'll be there soon." The freelancer responded as he hung up. Maybe he could turn this into one of his better days yet....

"This is not going to be one of my better days." Penelope Autumns grumbled as the equine Code Wader sat at her desk, munching on her second Burger World deluxe as she stared into her multi-monitor setup; the light from the screens reflecting on her glasses as Bazooka Betty sat on the other side of her desk in Penny's messy office.

"You said you had something?" The feline heavyweight asked as she looked at her coworker's office. Coding and IT textbooks were arranged haphazardly next to tech magazines on her bookshelves, a poster for one of the blond mare's favorite strategy games hung in the corner.

"A couple of things, not sure if a few of them are related, but nothing good. Put together a search program to filter the news networks and social media for certain keywords related to those things the board want us to go hunting and got a couple of interesting hits. Also been looking into some unusual network activity my friends in IT tipped me off to." The pot-bellied hacker replied as she looked up from her screens.

"So what did you find?"

"Well, the good news, the only good news really, is that I think I figured out a way to track Doctor Zanders' movements. The first piece of bad news is how I found that. The weird activity my friends told me about? Zanders and his defectors managed to trick the company network into thinking they never left. They've been logging on and using our virtual Rolodex to contact the freelancers we have on a semi-permanent retainer. Good news there is that I know who he's been contacting and when, that could give us a place to start. Bad news is that it's been pretty much everyone on the dex, worse news is that according to the conversations going on in the online chatrooms I know a few of them use, he's been royally screwing over the ones he did hire; defaulting on contractual payments and even trying to kill the hired help in a few cases. No word on whether we'll end up taking the fall for that."

"If we do, we better get comfortable working without any freelancer assistance. Burger World's reputation would be next to worthless in the shadow games if no one trusts us not to kill them when the job's done."

"Oh well, more hazard pay for us I guess. I could use some extra spending money to upgrade my gaming rig."

Betty was significantly less thrilled with the possibility the company's virtual Rolodex may be next to worthless. It took Burger World years to cultivate that list of contact data so they could hire mercenaries without having to work through a middleman. That alone was a loss that could easily be worth well into the millions. "What else have you found? You said your search program turned up a few things."

"Well, there's a increase in missing persons reports, mostly among non-Burger World companies. I hope it's not related to our current mission, the implications are enough to make me throw up and I just ate."

"If they are related... I will take great pleasure eating as many as those feathery little monsters as I can without exploding when we raid Zanders' research laboratory. You'll have to roll me out of there." Betty replied darkly. Even in this age of adipose, there were some things that just weren't done and it was sounding suspiciously like Zanders may have just done one of those things.

"Okay then..." Penny replied with a long drawn-out pause, not entirely sure what to say to that. "Anyway, yeah most of what the program turned up looks like garbage, I need better search parameters if I want to find anything more concrete. But despite that I did turn up one thing that the board should see... Are you familiar with the webTV show 'Guerrilla Gourmet Cooking' on U-Tube?"

"Isn't that the cooking show run by that naïve activist with the motto 'Eat the Planet!'?"

"Yep, and wait till you see this week's episode." Penny replied with a cynical grin as she turned one of her monitors around for Betty and began to play a video file for her.

The episode began with a close-up of a grill igniting with a satisfying whoosh of flame as a voiceover shouted "Eat the Planet!" in the background. The intro immediately cut to a full body shot of chef and show host BeeDeeDee Cloudbottom walking along in a deciduous forest somewhere unknown with a magazine-fed compound crossbow drawn and readied. The black-haired cougar aniwoman smiled as she looked at the camera and regarded the audience with a wink of her brown eyes before she continued to waddle along. Thunderous hips swayed like a slow metronome as the Native American huntress's jutting camo-clad rump bounced in time with the beat of her heavy stride. Ba-Donka-Donk Cloudbottom, so nice the viewer has to acknowledge it twice, Betty decided with a catty smirk as she watched the hunter amble along cradling a high-tech crossbow. Then the feline Steel Chef continued her voiceover narration and Betty's face fell.

"On previous episodes, I showed you how to hunt, butcher, and eat the monsters the megacorporations bred to attack each others' ranches. Things like neo-wolves and cougars, creatures specifically engineered to attack genetically modified cattle, chickens, or the chimeras bred by SALAD. Today, I'm taking you on perhaps my most important hunt ever. You've all heard the rumors, there's something new in the world of GMO predators; strange avian-like creatures in the swamps of Louisiana and even as far north as the forests of the Jersey Pine Barrens where we are now. Creatures bred with seemingly one specific target in mind, us." The voiceover explained as Cloudbottom motioned for the camera drone hovering behind her shoulder to halt and dropped into a crouching squat. The camera panned and refocused on what got her attention, a trio of "dino-chickens" appearing out of the underbrush.

BeeDeeDee quietly raised her crossbow up against her shoulder and took aim, lining up a crossbow bolt with the head of the pack alpha and letting fly. The creature squawked in agony as the cougar's projectile had found its mark. Surprisingly deft hands drew back a second bolt as the creatures squawked about in a panic, trying to track where the attacker was coming from. Twice more her aim rang true, nailing the rest of the pack with carbon fiber crossbow bolts, and five minutes later she waddled away back to her camp with three fresh kills slung over her shoulder and the camera drone following behind her.

Having just eaten, Penny skipped over the part of the video where Cloudbottom went through the process of butchering the engineered chickens, picking up again back in the cougar's sparse kitchen where, clad in a tank-top, camo pants, and a apron with the words "Apex Predator" notarized across it, she began to make "Chicken Three Ways" with the three carcasses; broiling one, roasting another, and deep frying the third. As the three chickens cooked and cooled, the survivalist Steel Chef switched narration styles and began to talk directly to the camera as she explained the method of each and how ideally it should be prepared. "Normally, I would also be showing you how to prepare side dishes but since I need to focus on making sure this new meat is cooked properly, I will be doing something I normally don't do, use pre-made sides." She explained academically as she set a table full of chicken and all the appropriate sides; three different kinds of potatoes, mashed, baked, and French fries, prepackaged greens and carrots, and canned gravy for the mashed potatoes and roasted chicken.

"However..." She began with a coy smile. "I'm pretty sure those of you that skipped straight to this part aren't bothered by that in the slightest." The cougar woman with the black haired braids said with a knowing twinkle in her eyes as she finished prepping the table and sitting down at a sturdy bench. The hovering robotic camera gave viewers a long look at Cloudbottom's cloud-soft bottom as it squished and spread out against the thick, polished oaken bench before floating into a perfect profile shot as the gluttonous freelancer started to eat.

Eating at a slow, methodical pace, she tore the roasted dino-chicken apart with a knife and fork. Pausing only to indulge in a few choice sides, the first carcass was soon reduced to nothing but greasy bones. The first third down, Cloudbottom took a moment to lean back and let out a loud belch, showing the camera her chubby belly as it grew tight with a round bulge. The brown-eyed show host took a second to give her stomach a light pat before continuing on with the broiled chicken and its respective sides. In the span of fifteen minutes, the second chicken and sides were reduced to bones and empty plates as the cougar woman shoveled forkfuls of meat and sides into her industrious mouth, chewing and swallowing like a regular on the eating contest circuit. Her stomach continued to groan and stretch as it bloated up with more food, forming a tight lump that sagged down to her knees as she moved onto the final course, the fried GMO chicken with a huge side of fries. It almost looked like she wouldn't be able to finish yet somehow she did, stuffing herself with three chickens and a whole host of sides; her abdomen ballooned out like a giant over-inflated beach ball as she leaned back and savored her devoured meal with another, louder, celebratory belch.

"Ohhhh... URRRRRRP!!! Well there you have it." Cloudbottom began with a belch and a yawn. "Three of the big, scary bird monsters right here." She continued condescendingly, giving her tightly stretched gut a hard slap for emphasis. "Now you know how to -URRRRP!- hunt and prepare these delicious dinosaur creatures. Good luck, good hunting, and remember, eat the planet!" The cougar smiled and winked, signing off.

Bazooka Betty leaned back into her chair in the conference room her team was sharing with the Red Maples. She had just finished watching the episode with the other Burger World agents, turning away from the monitor to gauge their reactions. Overall the mood was not particularly positive, this latest development meant that keeping these things a secret from the public at large had just gone out the window. The males were of course trying hard to avoid looking particularly intrigued by Cloudbottom's display of gluttony but that was as expected as it was irrelevant.

"So..." Pancakes began. "How many hits has she gotten for this episode?" The spiky-haired husky Big Tool asked as she sat in her chair uncomfortably, clearly grateful Betty was in charge of the overall investigation and therefore the one that had to explain this to the executive board. The chair creaked loudly in protest, the three or four entire raptors chickens she devoured outside of State College having long since completed their journey to the Canadian mechanic's low-hanging gut and considerable hindquarters. Cloudbottom wasn't going to be the only one crushing scales from eating these things.

"Her normal viewership has jumped from a quarter of a million views to over a million views with this episode. I've looked into the bump and found that a viral marketing script had latched onto the upload. Not unusual but I don't recognize the origin point, according to the IP address, it comes from a PEC bunker in central Australia... that Queensland Confectionaries cleaned out months ago in a very public victory." Penny replied.

"Couldn't she have just bought one to boost her views?" Hotcakes asked, the vulpine medic politely trying to contribute to the conversation despite not having a background in computers.

"Possible but not likely. Using one subtly requires a stronger background in IT then Cloudbottom possesses and her show is proud about being a one woman operation." The chubby mare answered dismissively.

"How are we so sure about that four-eyes." Moore continued to probe, the ursine Road Hog smirking at her colleague.

"Because like, we trained her." Spoons interjected, causing everyone else sitting at the table to turn their heads and stare at the bubbly blond Steel Chef. The valley girl canine aniwoman looked back at everyone with a confused look on her face. "What?"

"We trained her?" Flapjack asked, the big bear sounding less concerned that a freelancer potentially possessed trade secrets and more disappointed that Cloudbottom's majestic cougar ass was no longer Burger World property.

Jennifer Moore blinked and winced as she tried to think, the ursine tank mistress was too busy trying to recall was Spoons was talking about to reach for the obvious joke about flapjacks and Canadian bacon. "Oooh, wasn't she part of your graduating class in the BW Culinary Corps? Or was she part of Gracie Davis's class?" Tank Ass asked as it finally dawned on her.

"I don't remember, but she was one of us. Graduated then fulfilled her initial employment contract working as a private chef for some suit down in Texas before she seemingly disappeared."

"And now she's using what we taught her against us. Isn't she?" Samantha Fisherman interjected, giving Betty a questioning look.

"Yes and no..." Betty replied. "Corporate has ignored her as her activities have been limited and often help us more then they hurt us. Research and Product Development have nicked some of her recipes and turned them into seasonal specials on more then one occasion. Plus her ass has become the final resting place of a few particularly unpleasant predator species that thankfully never made it past the prototyping stage before someone let them out in the wild." The overstuffed tabby cat explained.

"So how does this help us except by letting us know how little time we have?"

"It doesn't. It only tells us that whatever we do, we have to do it soon. Does anyone have any other leads?" Betty responded, bringing things back to the matter at hand. The team really needed to find a way to narrow things down and soon...

Deep within GBC's hidden Kentucky headquarters, Doctor Zanders was having a celebratory lunch when the opportunity was brought to his attention. Already his plans were going well; the freelancers he had hired through his old Burger World channels were all double-crossed and likely blaming it on his old employer, that gullible anti-corporate twat had been successfully goaded into showing off the diversity of his creations when prepared, and research into the creation of a larger, meatier species of his special chickens was starting to bear fruit. And then one of his Code Waders made him aware of something so laughably wonderful the vulpine geneticist tilted his head back and let out a deep, wobbly chortle that jiggled his entire immobile body like was a giant ball of gelatin.

Oh those Aristo flops, all that caviar salt must have dried out their brains if they thought he'd fall for this. Security problems at "their" new franchise O'Maddy's, really? His IT team had multiple backdoors into Burger World's corporate network, he knew about Isolde's attempt at a coup from within Aristo and the recently heated exchange of civil disobedience. Or at least he knew as much about it as Burger World did, which was enough to paint the sequence of events in broad, general strokes. Still, the Irish pig and her motley band of hooligans made a very tempting target, removing them would create a power vacuum he could easily squeeze GBC's growing bulk into. The only question was did she make a tempting enough target to risk taking pressure off of Aristo holdings in Adipose City? O'Maddy's was easy prey, hardly large enough to stand up to him if his new franchise started throwing its weight around, but they were currently preoccupied with a foe that could defeat him easily. Oh decisions, decisions... Regardless, if he was going to expand his guerrilla campaign into Adipose City itself then he needed to see about expanding his staff so his team of beast handlers was properly taken care of. Better to access the rolodex again and see who was available in the area....