FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

[Author's Note: The last "beautiful killer" is finally introduced. Part 11 will focus mainly on her. I know there's not much action in this one, but this part sets up important future events. Please enjoy.]

Venom: Beautiful Killers. Part 10.

"...could we just start over?"

"...if you've just joined us, it has been reported that Lawrence Kaminski, the chief of staff for California Governor Benton "Eagle" Cartwright, has been found dead in his home in Downtown Los Angeles. The thirty-six year old was found in his bedroom last night by his wife. The cause of death has not been confirmed, pending an autopsy. So far, police say that there has been no sign of foul play. However, Chief of Staff Kaminski is the second member of the Cartwright administration to die this month. Cartwright's personal aide, Cam Morris, was killed in an explosion at the Imbroglio Italian Restaurant last week. A spokeswoman for the administration has denied any connection between--"

Tivoli hits the snooze button on the primitive-looking radio alarm clock. She pulls the covers off herself and stretches; her cavernous yawn shows off a group of healthy, white fangs. As she stands, her right foot bumps into something on the floor. It is her small piece of carryon luggage, the item that contains all of her money. It also contains the only possessions she really owns, mostly clothes. After running away from the motel she had been staying in, it seemed that she was destined to live in her car. After quitting her job at the food pantry, it seemed that the money would stop coming.

Nevertheless, she is waking up in a rather lavish bedroom, complete with a king-sized bed with satin sheets, silk curtains on the windows, and a mini chandelier on the ceiling. It looks like the bedroom of a mansion, so Tivoli probably knows someone important. However, she looks completely out of place in her simple white T-shirt and boxer shorts.

She looks out a window to take in the rising sun. Her face, first stoic, starts beaming. The more of the sun she sees, the more she smiles. After ten minutes, she looks at the radio clock. The time is 6:45 on what should be a perfect Sunday.

After a shower, Tivoli dresses and makes her way to the kitchen. She heads for the refrigerator, where she is greeted by a note, presumably from the homeowner.

"Sorry to run, but there was an emergency at the hospital. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. I have a long day ahead of me, so don't wait up. Make yourself at home, and we'll talk some more when I come back."

She takes the note off the refrigerator door and smiles. "Thanks," she says, helping herself to a couple of eggs.

(Tivoli's obviously begged someone for a place to stay. It is most likely the home of a former coworker from the food pantry she used to work in. I wonder if she even considered staying at Winter's house. At any rate, she looks happy with herself and confident about her future.)

She makes herself a simple breakfast--eggs and toast. It does not take her long before she is out of the house. Dressed in a black tank top, dark blue bicycle shorts, and white tennis shoes, she drives her Jetta out of the double garage and away from the house.

In between songs, the car radio repeats what the alarm clock radio had said earlier. The chief of staff to the governor had died. The news this time was a bit more thorough; there were no signs of forced entry, there was nothing out of place, and his family was out of the house when he died. The police, so far, cannot find any clues that indicate foul play; no marks on the body or fingerprints anywhere; nothing at all.

Tivoli pays no attention to the news and continues on her merry way. After fifteen minutes of driving, she arrives at Griffith Park. By 8 a.m., she is at the park entrance, stretching her arms and legs as part of a premeditated exercise routine. Fifteen minutes later, she is jogging through one of the hiking trails the park is famous for. By the ease and speed of her jog, she is obviously familiar with the park. She jogs straight ahead, too focused on the twists and turns of the trail to be bothered by the luxuriant scenery. Her previously happy face turns all serious--about as serious as it has ever been since her job interview. She is there just to jog...and possibly one other reason.

During her run, she sees a young man, an average-height human, no more than twenty, up ahead. She smiles and slows down. As he walks by, she bends down, presumably to tie her shoes. They aren't untied, of course, but he does not know that as he slows himself down to look at her. She remains doubled over for at least ten seconds, pretty much hoping that he gets a good look at her rear end, which he rather shamelessly is. (She even flicks her tail up over her back; it's clear what her intentions are.) She grunts as she slowly raises herself, then she waves at the young man before continuing on her way.

She does this three more times. Two were humans, and one was a canid. (A coyote, perhaps?) Each time, she gets the attention she is apparently looking for. As she turns around to jog back to her car, she runs into more people and less isolation. For her, it pretty much means fewer opportunities to show off, so she does not stop to bend over on the jog back to the car. At the Jetta, she does five more minutes of stretching before heading back to her temporary home.

After another piece of toast and another quick shower, the ocelot enters the spacious living room. She is dressed in nothing more than a decadent-looking red towel, covering everything between her chest and knees. The living room, while large, is also loaded. It is furnished with two ottomans and two chaises, all as red as the towel is. There is a large chandelier in the center of the roof, a grand piano by the front door, and a white, plush carpet covering every inch of the floor. Tivoli makes it a point to run the threads of the carpeting between her toes, as if they were blades of grass.

Since the room is new to her, she takes her time exploring. She nods her head, appreciating her handsome surroundings, then sits on one of the chaises. She notices the television in front of her. It is a 55-inch, "LCD, LED, HDTV," with the added bonus of 3D technology. The glasses are nowhere to be seen. She laughs at it as she leaves her seat to get a better look. Below it, she notices a Blu-Ray player. Next to it is a combination DVD-VHS player.

"Oh yeah!" she yells. Quickly, she runs out of the living room and up the stairs. Minutes later, she returns, dressed in the clothes she wore when she awakened. In her left hand is one of the video cassettes given to her by her soon-to-be employer.

The chairs make a large semi-circle in front of the television. Tivoli can watch the tape comfortably while sitting on any one of them. She chooses, however, to sit on the carpeted floor. The video cassette is unlabeled, just like the others, and it looks years old. The picture is fuzzy and snowy, and Tivoli has trouble locating the tracking function on the remote control. Once she finds it and adjusts the picture, a couple of minutes had passed; the tape is well into its task. Determined, the ocelot presses rewind, then plays the tape from the beginning.

On screen is the door to Vivian Cross' office. In front of it is a small, brown leather chair. Tivoli recognizes the area as the place she sat as she was interviewed by the chief. The chair is different, but everything else is the same. There is a timestamp on the bottom left hand corner of the screen. The date says "Apr. 1, 2012."

"Okay, you can come in now."

Tivoli chuckles, recognizing Vivian's voice. She scoots herself further away from the television until her back is to the ottoman directly in front of it. On screen, the door opens and a dog walks in.

"Take a seat right there," Vivian says. The dog looks around him before seeing the leather chair. He sits down, giving a slightly embarrassed laugh.

"Tell me your name for the record."

"Is this being taped?" The dog has an accent that makes Tivoli raise her eyebrows.

"Yes it is."

"Oh. Okay then. My name is Rory. I'm a dingo, and I'm--"

"Louder, please."

Rory chuckles. "Sorry. I'm Rory and I'm from Brisbane."

"Brisbane?"

"That's right; Brisbane, Australia. Awesome surf, great food, three hundred days of sunshine! Brisbane."

"Sounds nice. So that there's no confusion, can you tell us exactly why you're here? Are you going to work for the lending company?"

"Um...no. I'm here for--"

"Who recommended you then?"

Rory shifts in his seat. "Oh, um...the lion did. Sorry, I've forgotten his name."

"Ah. Excellent." From the video, Tivoli can hear the sound of Vivian, still off-screen, writing something down on a piece of paper. "So, what do you know of your future workplace? What have you been told?"

The dingo clears his throat loudly. "Well, I'm part of a group of 'foreign furs,' um...that's what we call ourselves...who got together to form a team and challenge a local group of loudmouth humans in a game of handball. Um...no offense meant."

"None taken."

"Anyway, the lion was among us, and it was his idea to start the group, with him, me, and three others. In time, the both of us became friends. He'd tell me about his work every so often in between handball games. After about a month of telling me the ins and outs of his job, I decided...what the hell? I need the cash."

"The lion told you all that, just like that, did he?"

"Yeah." Suddenly, Rory stops smiling. "Something wrong, ma'am?"

"Oh, it's not much. It's just that I thought Greenleaves had more sense than to talk about work outside of work."

"Oh, don't worry, ma'am. He may have told me everything, but I've kept it a secret. I haven't told anyone, and I'm gonna keep my mouth shut. Besides, with a guy as big as he is, it's not so surprising for him to have anger issues. When he told me he killed people, I thought it was part of his nature. Then when he told me that it was a living, and that he hunted criminals, I thought I could do it too. Thanks for reminding me of his name, by the way. He doesn't like to give it out. That's why I couldn't remember."

Tivoli nods. "Don't talk about work outside of work," she whispers. She continues to say it to herself, over and over again. Suddenly, she stands and bolts, disappearing from the living room. Vivian keeps the interview going.

"Have you met Ted?"

"Oh yes. He interviewed me before telling me to come over to this office. He's got a good head on his shoulders."

"Don't forget that he's responsible for your pay, so don't hit him with that 'loudmouth' line."

"No problem." Rory laughs.

Tivoli returns with a pen and a notebook. She returns to her place in front of the television and writes on it. Vivian and Rory are still talking, but Tivoli intensely records the phrase she has been repeating to herself. She yawns loudly while she writes. After reading what was written, she turns back to the television, ready to take more notes.

"I assume Ted gave you the tour?"

"Yes, he did."

"You know where to go, and when to go there?"

"Yes, ma'am--front door when we first come in and the back door during working hours. Working hours are between eight and five."

Tivoli smiles and shakes her head. "That's nine to five, my friend." She lies on the floor, on her belly, and writes some more. This time, she writes Rory's name and species. Later in the interview, Vivian asks him to describe himself. Tivoli copies everything the dingo says. When she is done, she has a short bio of a future co-worker. "Nice to meet you," she says softly.

Fifteen minutes later, the interview is coming to an end. During that time, Vivian Cross gave Rory the reassuring treatment the ocelot received a couple of days ago. Tivoli watches with understanding and contentment. She most likely sees Rory as an equal. At the end, Vivian says, "All right. I'm satisfied. The only problem is Greenleaves. It's time for him to know when to stop talking. Maybe I'll bring it up during the next morning meeting. Now remember, you take the next couple of days off. That's mandatory. Get your affairs in order, set up a new bank account, and get prepared for the future."

"Thank you very much."

"So, give me your name, address, and phone number, and this will be done."

Tivoli copies down Rory's address and phone numbers. He even gives out his e-mail address. The ocelot yawns again, then smiles at the information she put on the paper. She waits patiently as the tape flickers, then another anthro appears on screen, sitting on the chair Rory once occupied. The timestamp at the bottom of the screen now says "July 8, 2012."

A muscular, spotted feline is sitting at the desk. His fur, outside of the spots, is a brilliant whitish-yellow. He is wearing a three-piece suit with a red bow tie. It seems to barely fit him; the outline of his biceps is visible. He stares at the camera menacingly, but smiles as Vivian greets him. Tivoli leans back on the ottoman and watches intently.

"I have your stats here, but tell me your name again for the record."

"My name is Loiola. That's with an I, not a Y."

"I see that. Continue."

"I'm a leopard. Specifically, I'm a Caucasian leopard. My great-grandparents emigrated from Russia more than a hundred years ago. They are pretty much responsible for the influx of our leopard culture all over the Los Angeles area. If you see a leopard walking down the street you live on, chances are it's because of them. I'm proud of that fact, just like I'm proud of them."

"Whoa. Take it easy, He-Man. Don't try to impress me. Just answer the questions as simply as you can."

Tivoli laughs, taking more of a liking to Vivian than ever before.

"Sorry, Mrs. Cross. Just wanted you to know that I'm fit for the job. Considering I'm going to do muscle-work, I thought you'd need the best specimen possible."

"This is more than just 'muscle-work,' my friend. Do you have the relevant tool for the job?"

The leopard nods. "I own a .38 special, among other assorted firearms."

"Stop. That's good enough. If you have an arsenal of weapons, I don't want to know about it. Now, who's your sponsor?"

Loiola's face takes on a bewildered appearance. He scratches his chin. "Sponsor?"

"Who recommended you to us?"

"Oh, right. Hoeness, the German shepherd."

"How do you know each other?"

"We've known each other since we were seniors in high school...."

Tivoli gets comfortable, folding her arms and stretching her legs. She watches as Loiola goes through his history with Hoeness, his family history, his partiality towards violence, and his temperament. He also discusses the way he heard of the job he is interviewing for. The interview is a bit more formal and businesslike than the last one. Rory just looked and sounded more fun than the leopard does. The ocelot yawns a couple of more times as she watches.

"You've already seen some of the workers. What do you think of them?"

"Well, I must say that's a fine collection of specimens you have there. I especially like the two wolves in your employ. Are they, like, the alpha males that I will be working under?"

"No, you'll be working under humans; all five of them. About the wolves, let's call them...the elder statesmen. They are a couple of the originals."

"I like them."

"Word of advice--make friends with them. From what the executives tell me, they get the best marks."

Loiola asks about the work environment, then he asks about payment. Vivian then gives him the obligatory "take the next couple of days off" speech. Because the leopard was very inquisitive, this interview takes almost twenty minutes. Through it all, Tivoli watches patiently. It would probably be more accurate to say that she is bored with this interview. Just like Rory, Loiola gives a short bio. This time however, she writes nothing down.

The interview is so basic that once Loiola stands and says thank you, Tivoli does not show any excitement for the next interview. Seconds later, the picture on the screen flickers again. The tape inside the VHS emits a buzzing sound, exposing how old the cassette is. A new interviewee is sitting on the chair. This time, there is no timestamp on the bottom of the screen, possibly indicating a new camcorder was used.

_Sitting in the interview chair is a being with smooth, reddish-brown skin, a round head, and deep, black hair. He straightens his necktie, which bisects a cleanly-pressed, buttoned up, white cotton shirt. He is the most proper-looking interviewee yet. _

"Tell me your name and species, for the record."

"Do I give my full name?"

Vivian coughs, then says, "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"Stefano. I'm a salamander. More accurately speaking, I'm a hellbender."

"Where are you from?"

"I am a native of Boca Raton, Florida. I've lived there all my life, except for four years in college, and the past month, of course."

"As you probably know, we have openings for lenders in this company. Just so there's no confusion, are you here for that job, or have you talked to Ted?"

"I'm here for his...'side project,' ma'am. I heard about it from Shiloh, the wolf who vouches for me."

"Mmm...Shiloh doesn't tell me about his past acquaintances. I'm curious. How did you meet him?"

"I know him through his brother, Seneca. I met him while I was working in Key Largo. At the time, I was working for the beach patrol. While I was doing my regular duties, we were all on the lookout for a group of criminals who were using the Florida Keys for their hideout. When I first met him, Seneca was snooping around the beach, possibly stalking someone. He told me he was a conservationist collecting samples--a poor cover story. I asked him why, and he wouldn't elucidate. Needless to say, I was suspicious of him and told him in no uncertain terms to buzz off. Later that night, off duty, I spotted him again, sneaking away from a party and into the same beach." Stefano wipes his brow with his left hand, acting as if making a confession. "Against my better judgment, I went after him alone. By the time I caught up to him, we were half a mile away from the party. Before I could call for backup, he spotted me. While I struggled to detain him, we were attacked from behind. I was shot in the left arm and in the back. Seneca was shot in the left leg. We were lying there on the sand, bleeding all over the place, when I heard the assailant on his cellphone. From the conversation, I figured out he was one of the criminals we had been searching for."

"Seneca got shot?" Vivian sounds worried. "Shiloh's never told me that."

"Apparently, he was unaffected, because when the felon got off the phone and came to finish us off, the wolf had run away. I couldn't do any such thing. The damn bullet had me pretty much immobilized; I tried to crawl away, on my back. I was surely about to die when Seneca came out of nowhere and slammed himself into the--"

"Hold it. If this ends in a death, keep that information to yourself. Just tell me how you know Shiloh."

Stefano takes a breath. "I was in the hospital for a long time, recuperating. I had given a statement about what happened that night on the beach. In the process, I implicated the wolf. That made Seneca a 'person of interest,' which prevented him from leaving Key Largo. Anyway, one night, two weeks after the shooting, these two gray wolves visit me in my hospital room. Shiloh introduced himself and Seneca. That was the first day I knew their names. Shiloh told me everything. Seneca was after the same person I was. The criminal was Seneca's mark, and he was worth a lot of money."

Vivian raises her voice. "This is the first time I'm hearing of this. Why would Shiloh just disclose that information to a cop?"

"Don't be mad at him, ma'am. Shiloh was shrewd. He told me who they worked for and how much money they made so far that year. Just like that, he offered me the same job. I could go with them to L.A., work with them, hunt criminals, and make the kind of money they were making. In exchange, I tell the police that Seneca was just a lowly conservationist who just happened to be there the night I was shot...."

Tivoli has fallen asleep. She has probably been that way for the last couple of minutes. It is doubtful that she heard even half of what Stefano was saying. Her head is on the ottoman and her hands are limp at her sides_._ She is simply cute and peaceful, with the weight of tomorrow's decision nowhere in sight. While she snores softly, Stefano is finishing his story.

"Once I left the hospital, I left the police force and came here to L.A. The transition was uncomfortable, to put it mildly. But I think I've assimilated quite well."

"Very good. So, how'd the interview with Ted go?"

"It was all right. He was rather thorough."

"So what did you learn?"

"In at eight, out before nine, and payments in the evenings. I can live with that regimen. And the instincts I had on the police force are still intact. I can do this job without leaving a trace...."

The telephone rings, shocking Tivoli awake. She springs to her feet, dropping the remote control that was in her lap. As she looks around, it rings again. "It's not for me," she says. The ocelot waits patiently for the ringing to stop. Either the answering machine would answer or the caller would give up and go away.

Five rings later, a panicked Tivoli decides to look for it. The loud tones from the telephone beat down on her, as if she did something wrong. She looks all over the living room, following the noise, before finding it hanging next to the door in the kitchen. "Hello!" Her breathing slows and she smiles upon hearing the caller. "Hi, Karen. Sorry I took so long. I didn't know whether or not to answer the phone." She laughs. "Well, I'm only a guest in this house."

The telephone is cordless, so Tivoli takes it to the living room. "Thanks, once again, for taking me in. I don't like sleeping in my car. It's just...a bad experience. You didn't have to check up on me...."

Meanwhile, Vivian actually comes into view and shakes Stefano's hand. They talk a little while longer before she opens the door for him.

"Well, like I said last night, I'll be out of your house as soon as the job situation comes through. You should know the interview went well, and my hopes are high." Tivoli laughs and listens as Karen speaks. Pressing the phone tightly to her right ear, she sits on one of the chaises.

A couple of minutes later, after a few more kind words, she hangs up and picks up the remote control. She walks to the television, about to turn it off. Then, the tape sputters one more time. Suddenly, a different person is sitting on the interview chair, staring at an off-screen Vivian Cross. It's a female.

"Now, tell me your name, for the record."

Tivoli stares wide-eyed at the chief's new guest. She looks like a fox, except she has a shorter muzzle. Her face is a soft white, with red streaks flowing from her eyes down to her chin. They form a circle around her nose and mouth. Her white whiskers decorate those streaks, creating a lovely, striped pattern. Her small, soft ears stick up from the top of her head. By the way Tivoli is staring, it seems that she's never seen anything like it in her entire life.

Unfortunately, the camera is out of focus for this interview, so the picture on the screen lacks the definition needed to really appreciate the good looks of Vivian's new interviewee. The ocelot moves closer to the television.

The stranger mumbles her response. "M-Mieri. My name is...." She exhales shakily and turns her head away for a couple of seconds. "My name is Mieri." She again faces the interviewer and smiles shyly.

"Something wrong?"

"No. I'm fine."

"Okay. Then tell me...what exactly are you?"

"Yeah," Tivoli says, keenly. "What have we got here?"

"I'm a red panda. Um...I just want you to know that despite the name, you shouldn't think of me as cute and cuddly, or anything like a panda bear!"

Vivian sighs. "First of all, you look absolutely gorgeous, though I'd never say cuddly. Secondly, you don't have to yell. Besides, what would you like to be referred by, if not a red panda?"

Mieri looks down and chuckles, acting as shy as a first grader. "I've always been partial to 'firefox' myself." She laughs. "I've been called that before, and I like it. It sounds more regal and more...forceful."

"It sounds copyrighted," says Vivian, chuckling softly.

The red panda answers with a scowl, and turns her head away once again.

Tivoli laughs at the little joke and moves even closer to the television.

"Are you all right? Would you like some water?"

Mieri shakes her head. "I'm just fine."

"Then why do you look so nervous? Have you never gone through an interview before?"

"I'm really sorry. I didn't think that I would work for someone like...." Embarrassed, she clears her throat. "What I mean to say is...I didn't think yours was an ethnic-owned business."

"I'm Black, not ethnic."

That response must have been an angry one, because it causes the red panda to look up at the ceiling and cover her face with her hands. "Screwed up again."

"What was that?"

She quickly puts her hands down. "Nothing. Um...look, could we just start over?"

Tivoli nervously watches as Mieri leans forward, practically begging for a breather.

"Fine. I agree; let's start over, but let me get you a glass of water. You're going to need it."