FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

At the tone, the magnet train's doors swished open on a bustling cityscape. Warm paper cup in hand, Nicole plunged into another workday. A bit of a bright spot tapping along on block heeled shoes among the plodding crowds. White and pink nurse's uniform fit snugly to the slim, perky hourglass of her frame. A bouquet of red locks held back by a headband and still fragrant from the shower.

Across the noisy street there stood a long, square building. Bland concrete walls painted in a familiar red and white color scheme, with pokeball designs over two metal-shuttered entryways. Sunlight slipped through the bars over the windows to glint as another day dawned on the Saffron Pokemon SuperCenter. Found only in the big cities, these establishments aimed to serve all trainer needs in one place.

Nicole's workplace served as big top to the circus playing out on the street. She passed alleys, catching brief glimpses of daily life playing out. Pokemon and crackhead battles. An Abra sitting atop a dumpster staring at odd, arcane graffiti depicting a trio of eyes. A Bulbasaur napping among potted plants set out on a fire escape. There was the trashcan overflowing with bubbling Grimers that she always stepped wide around. At last she slipped into the center.

Inside a wall to wall row of stations waited, where trainers lined up to heal their pokemon. Each attendant was walled in by shelves of items also sold here. Behind the counters, workers wheeled racks of pokeballs to and from the buzzing machines lining the back wall, all of which were becoming more duct tape than metal over the years.

"Hello! Welcome to our Pokemon Center! We can heal your pokemon to perfect health!" Was the traditional greeting.

"WHAT'CHU NEED, FAM?" Was the standard here. Nicole stuck with a simple hello.

Her hands worked swiftly, nails clacking on pokeballs as she transferred them to and from racks then switched back to peppering the register's keypad. Potions and pokeballs plucked from the shelves and packed in bags. In the background, janitors in coveralls pushed wide brooms to and fro over shiny floors locked in the struggle of Sisyphus. Trainers stood grudgingly waiting. Meanwhile from high on the wall, the clock lorded over customers and workers alike.

During a lull in activity, Nicole sipped the last of her coffee and watched a young man amble up to the counter next to her. Manned by Mike, a rotund, bearded and bespectacled man.

"Y'all still buy these nuggets up in here?" The customer asked.

"Nigga, this a lump of tinfoil," Mike boomed in response, "Fuck outta here. Get your life together, fool!"

The shiny wad of foil was tossed at the retreating scammer.

On the other side, Nicole's shelves rattled as June-Belle clocked in. The large woman hailed from the trailer park and was done with customers several decades ago. Her first customer approached- a hiker.

"Hi, I need some carbos for my-"

"Does this look like the pharmacy?" Gusted over the trainer.

June-Belle's breath smelled like corn chips, feet and burning onions. Any time she went on a rant, half the sales floor was caught in collateral smell.

"I don't really need the attitude thanks," The hiker replied.

"And I don't need no bullshit! I ain't been sat down two seconds and y'all already on my last nerve!"

Long, talon-like nails pointed threateningly at the trainer and he backed up a step, despite being red in the face with anger.

"Hey, you don't like your job? I'll help you with that. I'm going straight to the manager!"

"Come back next week and tell me how it went, sugar. I'll be sittin' right here,"

At last it was break time. The chaos was muffled in the back hallway, replaced by rattling steam pipes and muffled talking behind the doors of management. Through a storeroom and out the open bay door would lead to a decrepit, weed-choked yard. Not much to look at but that was a good thing- not a customer in sight.

Coworkers lined the wall, smoking, slurping on drinks or merely staring into space. Just like that guy dressed in black who always blocked the gate to the construction yard across the street. Rumor was that he had been defeated by some kid and had not been seen haunting the area since. Puffing on a smoke, Nicole spaced out and her mind wandered through distant honking, sirens, cars, up to the pokemon flying high over the skyline.

Eventually Nicole would have to come back down to reality. The others had already filtered back into the building. And when she turned her back on the daylight, a second shadow joined hers on the floor. An old man stood there clad in a suit and hat, with a bushy gray moustache.

The simple "Greetings" he gave her in such a polite, calm manner. Definitely not a customer. Maybe looking for directions?

"Oh hey! Can I help you with something?"

"Certainly. By taking this,"

A hand extended with a pokeball cradled in his palm.

"A pokemon? I don't think I can. I'm not really a trainer,"

His moustache shifted, filtering a soft murmur of amusement.

"Oh he's already trained. I can assure you of that. Just needs a good home,"

She hesitantly palmed the pokeball but did not lift it from his grasp.

"Why give it away though?"

"Same reason I would give away an ill fitting hat. He just isn't right for me but maybe for you,"

"Um...I'll see if we can find somebody for him then,"

"You have my thanks, lass,"

When she took the pokeball, he tipped his hat, spun on a heel and absconded. As the day progressed, the encounter shifted to the back of her mind then slipped away. She didn't even think of it again until she was halfway home on the train and felt the pokeball tucked in her pocket.