FSE

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CHAPTER 7

Eldora Resort, West of Denver, Colorado

0842 Hours, August 19** th ***, 2052*

John awoke the following morning on the white and black linoleum floor of the bathroom and let out a low groan. His head pounded as if it were the doors of a great citadel being assaulted by a battering ram. His eyes stung bitterly and he kept them screwed shut and lay there for a moment. Outside the bathroom John could hear the shuffling of feet on flooring and knew that at least two of the others were up. He was in no rush to join them and tried to get back to sleep.

The skittering of nails on linoleum preceded Romulus's arrival. John was about to open his eyes and see where the wolf was but a wet tongue across his brow stopped him. He recoiled lazily from the pup's greeting. "Uhh.. Romulus... stop it... stop it Romulus!" His exhausted order was answered by a small keening as the small animal muzzled his neck. It soon grew to be more annoying than the licking.

Sighing, John rolled over onto his stomach and managed to get his hands under him. He tried to push up to no avail. He opened his eyes, the dim lighting of the overhead light proving very bright indeed. John quickly closed them again. After waiting a few seconds, he tried again. This time he made it to his feet and leaned heavily on the sink, his eyes burning as he looked himself over in the mirror.

Putting it bluntly, John looked like shit. A new bruise had developed on his right cheekbone, the edges had turned green while the centre was a sickly yellow. John's hair was plastered to his head and was a mess. His hair had gotten longer than he usually liked to keep it and a beard had slowly started to develop along his jaw. His shirt was now stained with more than a few spots where some grease or drink had spilled. He coughed to clear his phlegm-thick throat and instantly regretted it.

The shudder that passed through his head overtook all of his concentration as his brain felt as if it had become loose and shook about violently. John blinked a few times, one hand on his head and the other on the marble counter top, as he sought to somehow alleviate the pain. Eventually the pain stopped mercifully, only to start up again as Romulus let out an anxious yelp. He ran about John's legs before jumping up at him and attempting to get some attention from the hung-over man.

John pushed Romulus away from him and the young wolf seemed to take the hint. Giving up a final, parting yelp he ran from the room, his thumping gallop heard by John as he went to pester somebody else. Huffing a breath, he turned his attention to the medicine cabinet.

He grasped around the edge of the mirrored cabinet and pulled lightly. The cabinet opened noiselessly, a fact John was glad to note, and revealed the multitude of pills and hygiene products behind it. He halfheartedly rummaged through the various bottles of household drugs before he managed to find a largely-untapped resource of acetaminophen. He dug out two small, round pills and stuffed them greedily in his mouth before turning on the tap, gulping them down with a mouthful of tap water. The relief to come would be by no means instant, but John was glad that the deserted condo had some painkillers after a few years if disuse.

"Oh, so you're awake. Enjoy your rest, drunkie?" came Sasha's voice from the doorway. John didn't turn to look at her, far too tired to deal with a verbal battle of wits. His response was sarcastic, clipped, and short.

"Yeah. It was wonderful."

"Good. Owen just left for the resort. He wants you to help him scout a two kilometre perimeter around the town in half an hour." she responded, changing the topic. John groaned mightily.

"Seriously?" Sasha flashed a small smile.

"No. Just wanted to see the look on your face when I said that."

"Thank God. I honestly think I would have died out there if I had to do that." John smiled.

"By the look of it, you just might have." grinned Sasha, her face distorting into a picture of disgust as she took notice of his smell for the first time. Her muzzle crinkled up, small waves crossing the top of her muzzle and her lips retracted slightly to reveal the faint outline of sharp teeth. "You look like shit. Almost smell like it too. Owen said he doesn't care what you do today, but take it from me; have a shower. Like, sooner rather than later."

"Gee, thanks." hissed John. Sasha's right ear flicked in amusement, her circular piercings jangling slightly.

"No problem." She left him there and went to her own devices, her digitigrade legs folding her co-opted jeans in odd places as she moved. Her tail poked from a knife slit cut in the posterior and John smiled as he saw Romulus eyeing it with rapt attention from under a chair, mischief his one intent.

John stole one last look at himself in the mirror before turning on the shower with a hiss of pressurized water. Flowing water was something he had not had in a very long time, it seemed. As he undressed, he found that a lot had changed since the start of the 'revolution'. His life had gone from an easy one with all the privileges and rights of a 21st century North American citizen, complete with a life he knew others would kill to have. He knew they would kill for it because he had seen it happen around him at least once a week for the past two years. He was now living off of scrounged supplies, finding running water a luxury, caring for a wolf cub, and had become a part of a special forces squad gone rogue trying to overthrow a hold on a people that had been created as slaves. Yeah, his life had changed alright.

He stepped into the steadily-warming water and let it wash away any worries, instead thinking of the bed he was going to climb into once he got out. He almost stumbled as his eyes closed and he grabbed the handle next to him to stop from falling over. Okay, he thought, better not concentrate __THAT_ hard..._

**

Sasha gently kicked the frustratingly persistent pup away from her tail again as she sat in front of a chess game she had found in a cupboard. She had laid it out on the table that she had almost subconsciously cleaned of beer and dishes. She sat on the white side and thought of her next move. She moved a knight in a small 'L' and took out a black pawn. She hit the timer.

She swivelled the small game board around on the turntable base and faced it from the side of the black army. Sasha thought for a moment before taking out a white bishop with the right-hand rook. She hit the timer and flipped it again, manoeuvring her queen to put the black king in check. She stopped the timer. Was she being biased? No, she decided, both sides were on almost equal footing. She hit the timer to start it again. Left bishop claims knight. Pawn takes rook. Check. Queen takes offending pawn. The timer ticked every time she tapped it to switch sides.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Soon it was down to the final half-dozen or so pieces. The white king was trapped on the far side of the board in its original position, the final black bishop preventing it from advancing. The white rook to its left was soon to be attacked by the queen diagonally, also still unmoved from its place of origin. The other pieces were at a stalemate, but it wouldn't last: a black pawn was close to interrupting the delicate game of cat-and-mouse, and its presence was both irritating and pleasing seeing as she was the de-facto leader for both sides.

"Castle the king." came a voice from behind her. She had been too wrapped up in her small game to notice Owen's entry. He was carrying a few bags of miscellaneous supplies and foodstuffs from the resort below and had stopped in the entry to watch her play.

The door was still open and he held it so with one hand. A welcome breeze ushered in all the scents of summer from outside and blew about the open-concept room. Sasha could smell pine needles and warm grass as she looked back at the game board. "Castle?"

"Yeah," said Owen as he walked in and set the bags on the kitchen counter, closing the door with the heel of his foot. It clicked shut and once again the stillness of the air was absolute. Owen shook his head and smiled as he opened the window to the side of the table, once more letting in the summer air. "Move the white king two squares left and the rook three right. It'll move you a few spots from the check area. Well, as long as you haven't moved the two pieces."

Sasha looked puzzled. "You can do that?"

Owen smiled as he pulled out the wood chair opposite her and sat down. He wore a white t-shirt and a pair of cargo pants, his fit form being shown by the sleeveless shirt. "Here, watch." He quickly moved the two carved figurines and the game was instantly back into a state of relative equilibrium. "May I?" he asked, gesturing slightly at the white side of the board.

She flicked an ear and nodded her assent. He hit the timer.

Tick.

"You never told me about that move before." She said as she pulled her queen back. "Kind of an unfair advantage."

Tick.

Owen smiled. "Maybe, but a good commander never gives away all of his secrets. It pays sometimes to have a trump card."

Sasha frowned. "I still say it's unfair."

He laughed. "All is fair in love and war, mon beau renarde."

She snorted. "So it would seem."

Owen took her queen. She blinked. She hadn't seen that final pawn when she had taken her fingers off her piece, and Owen had made her pay for it.

Owen hit the timer. "That was a bad foul up. You would have to be distracted to make that move. So, what's on your mind?"

She didn't answer him at first as she studied the board carefully. She moved her bishop to take the pawn, no other really useful moves available. Her hand hit the timer timidly, afraid that she had messed up again. "Nothing. Just thinking."

He moved the rook again without a second thought on the game. "Well, if you're thinking, that means there is something there to think about. My question still stands."

Tick, went the timer.

She leaned back from the game temporarily. She seemed to think about what to say before letting her troubles come to the fore like bubbles rising to the surface of a body of water. "I think I'm just getting used to being inactive after so much fighting and planning. I... Well, my life was, is, nothing else really."

He nodded, thinking he understood exactly what she meant. He picked up the finely tooled chunk of wood that was the white queen. War was hell and it took a lot to get used to. Despite that, the hardest part about war is adjusting to its absence when it was over. Many people had gone insane over countless years after returning from war, sometimes with terrible endings. Owen thought that it was because war was simple, relatively thinking. You essentially kill the others that had been branded as 'bad' before they kill you first. Normal life, on the other hand, was more difficult. You have to delicately balance relationships and try not to step on anybody's toes. If you were lucky, you performed the same routine every day and made money to spend on bigger, better things. The hardest part, Owen thought, was that you had to make your own decisions. The military gave orders that were expected to be followed. Society, almost opposite from that, gave a set of rules and guidelines, but there were no laws as to what to do. Completely like her poor, captured queen that he now twirled in his hands as he watched her pore over the game board, Sasha was now finding herself without direct orders and without cause.

He frowned at the insight, placing the white queen back on the table near the other taken pieces. Sasha still hadn't moved anything on the chessboard. The timer dinged, her time up. Owen pushed his final pawn to the far side of the board, plucking it from its white square and resurrecting his queen in its place. Sasha was now at a severe disadvantage. She shook her head and reached to knock over her king. It clattered to the wood board with a dull knocking, her white-furred hand flicking and rolling it about where it lay. Sasha looked more bored than defeated. "How do you live with it?" she asked, her violet eyes glimmering in the light that came in through the window. The wind blew her hair out of her eyes and her coat pulsed in light waves across her arms, the exposed tuft of fur under her neck flowing lightly in the wind.

Owen mulled over the question, kicking his feet up onto the table and leaning the chair back. "I don't really know. I guess it never really thought about it. Just try and stay busy."

She licked her chops quickly and let out a slow breath. "I don't know if I will ever get used to living for myself."

Owen almost fell over, the two airborne legs of the hair hammering the floor as they made a hard landing. He had totally misjudged the question. "Oh, I thought you meant... never mind. Well, I suppose it takes some getting used to. When I moved out, it took me a month to get properly organized. After that, though, I was fine as long as I remembered to buy toilet paper. You'll get used to it."

"Even when you freed me, I didn't think so much about what I would do next. I was just glad to be free. But after two years of running, fighting, killing... And now having some free time... It just puts everything into perspective. Now that my life is my own... I actually find myself wondering if it's a good thing."

"Hey, don't say that! It might be a little confusing now, but I guarantee that it's better than living under that idiot you called master." he growled, "My blood boils just thinking about him..."

**

Cherry Hills, Denver, Colorado

2100 hours, March 3** rd ***, 2049*

"This the place?" asked Owen as he pulled the car over to the curb. The upper-class residential district was all trees and sweeping lawns, exotic vehicles and even more exotic fashions prevalent throughout. The sidewalks were bare of the regular passerby, suiting the gated-community feel. Large houses were spaced relatively far from each other and seemed more like estates than actual houses.

The house that they had stopped in front of was two-storey modern in style. Entire walls were created from auto-opaque glass and the ceiling was a flattened with only the slightest peak in it for rain and snow deflection. It was placed a good distance back from the pristine, tree-sheltered sidewalk and unfiltered sunlight shone on its white walls and extensive, precisely-groomed lawn. Sasha, then going by Daystar, seemed to cringe from it as she looked it over. "Yeah. This is home..." She tried to say it happily, but it caught in her throat.

Lily let out a small whine from the backseat, one ear still bandaged from the night before. "They are going to kill us... And when they find out that Mark is dead..." She let that hang dead in the air.

"Don't worry, nothing is going to happen. We are just going to inform them that you no longer belong to them, then we will go." Reassured Owen adjusting his shirt and brushing off a piece of lint.

"Why do we have to do this?" asked Sasha, her breathing starting to become more shallow and rapid. Her violet eyes were frantic and her ears were swivelling about her. She was nervous. "We should leave..."

"No. If you want to come with me and gain your freedom, you have to learn how to stand up for yourselves." began Owen Smith, keeping his voice level and calm in an effort to keep the other two from freaking out. "Besides, I'm here if things get too heated."

"Do you have to stay in the car though?" asked Lily timidly in his ear, her head poking up over top of the console between the seats.

Owen looked at them both, they, in turn, looked back expectantly like dogs waiting for a treat. Owen smiled at that. "It is up to you two to face your demons alone, I'm afraid."

That didn't help, instead making Lily slump over onto the console. Sasha chewed her lower lip nervously and broke eye contact, the green sparks of light backlit by a field of violet turning to the house and nose twitching slightly.

"What if I stood on the sidewalk? Would that make you feel better?" Owen sighed. Lily scratched at her ear, interred as it was by a protective wrapping of clean white gauze.

"Sort of..."

Owen frowned, shrugging as he unclasped his seat belt. "Okay. I'll be waiting outside then." He opened the car door after waiting for a vehicle to pass by on the street. He stepped outside and breathed in the smell of freshly-trimmed grass and finely-grown gardens composed of lilacs, tulips, daisies, roses, and numerous other scented flowers and bushes.

He waited for the other two for a few moments. Nothing happened, so he tapped on the hood of the car, gesturing through the driver's window for them to hurry up. The vehicle rocked slightly as they disembarked and stepped into he shade given off by the immense and ancient willow that Owen had parked under before the house's walk.

Both wore clothes borrowed from Owen's doctor friend, Mary, who had seen to their wounds and helped clean them up a bit. They both had a more than a few bruises and cuts from the park, but they looked infinitely better than they had before. Sasha wore a simple but elegantly patterned t-shirt over her own khakis while Lily had a blue blouse over a co-opted pair of jean shorts with a hole cut for her tail. Each of them were timid and on edge as seemingly countless situations ran through their heads.

It was Sasha who started up the walk first, Lily following her older sister after a moment's pause. They approached the blue front door, determination set in their faces. Sadly, it vanished as a middle-aged man threw the door open and began a tirade of insults, orders, questions, and hot air. Owen couldn't hear much from where he stood leaning against the tree, but he saw the way they flinched as if the words had been hot lead exploding from the barrel of a gun and embedding themselves into their flesh. Then Sasha straightened up and tried defiance where placation had failed.

For a moment, the man stopped yelling. Then he smacked her across the muzzle, eliciting a sharp yelp of pain. She fell to the cement step on her hands and knees. The man showed no mercy, kicking her full in the gut. Lily tried to help, springing between the two, but she was knocked backwards by a powerful shove. He made to kick Sasha again, but was stopped as Owen interjected.

"You lay one more hand on her, and YOU will be on the step receiving a beating." He hissed vehemently as he approached the offender. Behind the man, Owen could see that the raucous had drawn the attention of the rest of the sisters' surrogate family. The man's wife, along with two younger children, gathered beyond the door frame as the bald man rounded on Owen. He paused, perturbed by the man who now stood at the base of the step. Sasha looked up at Owen, a grain of hope in her eyes. The man stepped down from the porch, drawing level with him.

"Is that a threat?" he said quietly.

"No," responded Owen, his voice as cold as the arctic tundra during a harsh winter, "it's a promise."

"Who are you, anyways?" hissed the man venomously, "Who are YOU thinking you can just show up here and tell me what not to do? This is my property, my house, my slaves!"

Owen clenched his fist at the final word. He did not take that one well. "I hate to inform you sir, but they are no longer your SLAVES. In fact, in a short while, you will set them free."

The man laughed.

"Is that so?" he sneered, "Now why would I do that?"

"To avoid a humiliatingly short ass kicking." said Owen, glaring hatefully at the man.

"I don't think I like your tone." said the man.

"Look, this will end one of two ways. You let them leave and go back inside to your family. Or, you can let them free and go to a hospital. Your choice." grinned Owen.

The man's face contorted in rage. He looked at the two morphs with contempt before glancing back at his family. They all stared wide-eyed back, anticipating the worst. Finally, he saw reason and turned back to Owen, an evil smile flitting across his thin mouth. "Fine. I'll let them go. IF you buy them from me."

The vixens regarded Owen with renewed desperation, their pure-white ears folding back slightly.

Owen took a deep breath through his nose. He considered laying waste to the man, but a small voice inside him stopped that thought and replaced it with reason. When he answered, his voice was projected through gritted teeth. "How much?"

"Seventy thousand each. A hundred-forty." said the man, his mind set now more to business than anger. "Do we have a deal?" He offered his hand to Owen to shake.

The Expeditor batted it aside, not wanting to notice what he was doing in any sort of grim finality. "Yeah. We have a deal. Cash transfer okay?" Owen pulled a small tablet from his front pocket, thumbing it on and drawing up one of his fake money depositories onscreen. "I want the ownership papers too. The hard copies"

"Ooh, that'll be another forty thousand for those." Owen looked at the man slowly. His stare proved more than enough to break the man's will. "Fine. They're in with a hundred-sixty."

"Sounds good. We don't want a legal problem, do we?" Owen offered the man the tablet so he could key in his own bank information.

The man took it with a grin, tapping in his 14-digit code and hitting the 'enter' key. He handed it back. "Angelina," he said, calling over his shoulder to his wife, "Could you be so kind as to fetch the papers? They're in the safe." She complied, disappearing from view.

One of the children broke from the doorway and hugged his father about the legs. "Daddy?" he asked, "Does this mean that Two and Three won't live with us any more?"

The father looked down at the boy and answered matter-of-factly. "Yes. This man is taking them now."

The boy looked crushed. "But I don't want them to go, they're my friends! Tell him they're not for sale!"

In an instant, Owen almost felt bad for what he was doing, and not because he was purchasing slaves. The father peeled the boy's small arms from his legs slowly and crouched next to him. "Two and Three need to go now. It's unavoidable. Say goodbye then head inside; I'll be in shortly. That goes for you too, Matilda."

The child ran to where Sasha was slouched over sitting on the step, nursing her wounds. He hugged her, trying to avoid where his father had kicked her. "Goodbye Two... I'll miss you..."

Sasha wrapped one arm around the lad, giving a gentle squeeze. "I'll miss you too Chris. You be good, okay?"

The boy looked up at her with a tears building in his blue eyes. "Okay. I'll be good..."

With that, Sasha let go and the boy went to hug Lily. "Goodbye, Three." he choked as they embraced. Lily said nothing, merely flashing him a small smile. The boy disengaged quickly, running into the house after pushing past his sister. She didn't look very impressed. She merely frowned and retreated inside.

"He's a good kid." Owen sighed.

The compliment was well placed it seemed, because the man nodded. "Yeah. He is. Foolish sometimes, but still a better man than I." The man looked sullen. Owen felt a pang of remorse, but still stood his ground.

"Are we done here?"

Cindy came out from inside and handed the man a sheaf of papers. "Yeah," he said as he passed them on to Owen, "We are. Now get out of here, all of you." The two furs practically jumped up with barely-restrained joy as they came to halt behind Owen, almost hiding from the man.

Owen looked through the papers to make sure that they were all in order. They were. They also revealed that he had overpaid. He didn't care: sometimes violence wasn't the answer. Besides, he practically had a blank cheque for the mission anyways. "Take care of yourself, sir. And tell your boy I'm sorry." said Owen as they parted ways with the ex-owner of the two vixens. The man said nothing as they piled into the car and took off, merely watching as they disappeared from view.

Inside the car, the two sisters were eyeing the papers that Owen had placed on the console with mixed emotions. Owen knew what they were thinking. They weren't free; they had only switched owners. He pulled the car over with a sigh just out of view of the house behind a blue crossover. He grabbed the papers and stared at them as he gripped them in his hands.

The two pieces of paper were trimmed in an ornate red regalia and composed of thicker stock than normal office paper. On them were the gene-codes and designations relevant to the two morphs typed up in flowing script. Owen first looked at Sasha's, the script in the centre of the bordered page infused with malice.

GENE PROJECT PROOF OF OWNERSHIP

This document entitles the bearer to the ownership of the gene project that the following gene-code and information pertains to:

Serial:RBI2029.739.02A

DNA Registry: 78333-64292-34541-36913-18364CAF

Species make-up: Canine, Arctic Fox (Alopex Lagopus)

Eye Color: Violet w. Green specks

Fur pattern: White coat, no variations on extremities or main body.

Leg Stance: Digitigrade, paw-footed

Registered ID: Two

City/State: Denver, Colorado

ZIP: R9K 8T3

This document is legal and binding in the United States of America, where it was issued, and in any other country in which the presence of gene projects is permitted. This document is not to be copied or destroyed.

There were a couple of signatures, one of the previous owner, and dates on the bottom of the document. An embossed gold-coloured seal was printed on its lower right edge with the industry's name, Roc Biomedical Incorporated, in pressed letters around the middle; a security measure to ensure that the document was wholly legal. Lily's was almost identical, only the DNA registry, eye colour, and registered ID being slightly different. Their very lives were controlled entirely by these papers. The one who possessed them possessed the two furs completely. Owen was about to change that. "Everybody out," he smiled as he stepped out of the vehicle again, "C'mon."

The two vixens looked at each other worriedly before complying and removing themselves from their seats. They joined Owen where he sat on a bench outside, a gaggle of children playing a game of soccer in a field behind him. He held the ownership papers in one hand and was digging about in a pocket for something. Not finding what he wanted in the first pocket, he gestured the others over as his hand withdrew. They sat down beside him, the tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. Owen found that he hated being a 'master'.

Finally, he found what he wanted in his other pocket next to his personal tablet. He pulled the rectangular silver box and flipped it over in his free hand a few times. Owen admired the chrome surface of the Zippo for a moment before flicking back the lid, lighting it, and flicking it closed again. He cleared his throat and checked the papers over again before handing them to their respective charges, the vixens taking them with more than a little confusion. "What are you going to do?" asked Lily from the left side of the bench. Her hands shook as she looked down at the paper.

"It's not what I am going to do," he grinned, "it's what YOU are going to do. Here, take this." Owen passed the Zippo to Lily, who took it hesitantly.

"You want us to burn these?"

Owen nodded in affirmation. "Yes."

Lily's jaw trembled slightly at the thought and she swallowed audibly. She opened the lighter and rolled her thumb over the wheel without pressing on it. Her eyes quivered as she rolled her thumb again, this time making a flame spring to life. The fire flickered in a slight gust of wind and the smell of lighter fluid wafted about in the humid air. Though it was the middle of the day, Owen swore he could see the glimmer of the flame in her eyes as she drew her hands together.

Just before the flame could lick tantalizingly at the document, Sasha's hand flew out and stopped her short. "This isn't right! We can't do this! Do you know how much trouble we'll get in if our mas-" She cut herself off, her voice cracking as she realized what she had been about to say. She let go of Lily's wayward hand and stared blankly at her feet.

"Go ahead." urged Owen, ignoring Sasha's remark. Lily cast one more look over to the other two before letting the shimmering flame touch the paper's edge. The document combusted quickly, the edge crinkling and smouldering before becoming only ash, the black flakes dissolving and falling to the sidewalk. Lily played the flames across the page after closing the lighter, rotating it so that it was generating quite the remarkably fast-growing fire. She dropped the remnants to the ground and watched as the final little bit of it was incinerated, never to plague her again. She smiled at Owen.

"That felt good. Thank you."

He took the lighter from Lily's hand and offered it to Sasha. She didn't take it.

"If it makes you feel better," sighed Owen, "I order you to burn that sheet of paper. Freedom is hardly ever so easily achieved..." She was unconvinced. He tried another route. "It's either you do it, or I will. I will not be the owner of anybody, and this little transaction has made me feel terrible. It must be set right."

Sasha took the lighter from his outstretched hand and he smiled encouragingly. Her right ear flicked, a hoop earring swaying wildly before it and her ear settled. She took a deep breath as she lit the Zippo and once more the smell of naphtha permeated the space about the trio. Sighing slightly, she quickly lit her ownership rights and the flame once more went about its cleansing work.

When the final ashes had blown away, Owen stood over the two furs where they sat, an air of victory draped about them like the cape of a triumphant crusader returning to his home. They stood up quickly, their misery seemingly gone along with the two pages of government-issued oppression. "Well," began Owen, glad that they had committed to their freedom, "what do you two want to do first with your new-found freedom?"

"I don't know," said Sasha, a thin smile on her lips and her tail swayed slightly, betraying her new-found happiness, "What do you want to do, sis?" Lily shrugged, a little disappointing thought occurring to her.

"We don't really have any money..." Owen nodded at her vocalization.

"We'll see about that later. For now though, it's my treat. Anything you want to do, just name it and I'll make it happen."

"I thought you needed to save the world." said Sasha smartly, "Don't you think that you should be focusing on that rather than helping us?"

"The world can wait a moment. Today is yours and I'm up for anything." He shrugged. "And I could use a break."

"Anything?" echoed Lily, an evil smile splitting her muzzle. Owen acted fast to rectify the situation.

"Within reason." he nodded. As they set about talking to each other, drawing up plans for the day, Owen watched the children kick the soccer ball around on the grass field. One of them, a dark-haired, olive-skinned boy, scored a goal and the others either shouted happily or complained about fairness, depending on which team they were a part of. "Besides," he said under his breath, "Even the little things count now."

**

Denver, Colorado

2000 hours, October 28** th ***, 2050*

Owen opened the rear door to the car, playing the role of the polite gentleman and offering his hand after stepping out and turning around. His tie chafed at his neck, and he couldn't wait to tear the damned thing off. It felt like a noose. But he had to make a good impression. At least his partner for the evening didn't seem to be having any trouble at any rate.

Sasha stepped from the vehicle with a subtle grace, her digitigrade legs sweeping out from the leather seat and her hand clutching his in a gentle grip as she stood up.

"Thank you, Owen." she smiled warmly, her eyes sparking with vibrant brilliance and her tail giving a small wag. He could tell she was loving this treatment.

She was dressed, like him, in formal attire. A simple, form-hugging black dress, which contrasted wonderfully with her white fur, fell to just below the knee and rose up her body to show off her lithe and elegant features. She wore a simple silver necklace around her furred neck and she and Angie had gone all-out with her shoulder-length platinum hair, straightening it and styling it so that it framed her canine head beautifully.

Owen smiled. She did look nice this evening. He kind of felt under dressed, his simple black suit not really something that could be considered eye-catching. But that was good, in a way. Owen didn't want to draw too much attention to himself.

"No trouble at all, Sasha." Owen said as he bowed slightly.

They were about to make their entrance into a gene project activists meeting hosted at one of the downtown restaurants. The entire place had been rented out for the gathering, and the funding was said to have come from 'generous supporters'. In actuality, Owen had funded practically the entire affair, using his connections in the UN to procure the necessary funds. He had 'handed it off' to a small ring of people that he trusted and whom he had performed meticulous background checks on. They were all clear, and he had subsequently started building up the small pro-fur organization around them. It was one of their number that greeted them as they pushed through the brass-handled doors and into the restaurant from the chilly air outside.

"Ah, Mr. Smith," said Cyrus Xyvian, one of the few in the group who Owen could confess to see as a friend. He was dressed in a tuxedo, this meeting centred on the higher-class members of the activist group. Owen would have liked to include the more normal members who had come to see things the way that he did, but he knew that a lot of those present would think rather lowly of that. Kind of ironic, he figured, seeing as how the group was all for equality. But people are fickle. "Glad you could finally join us."

"Cyrus! Glad you could come!" smiled Owen, reaching forward to shake his offered hand. The man was in his late forties, recently retired from military service as a Lieutenant. It showed in his stiff demeanour and sturdy grip, something that Owen would have picked up on instantly even if he hadn't known Cyrus before. "Are the others all here?"

"Most of them, yes." nodded Cyrus. "And Sasha, I see you are as gorgeous as ever." He gave a small bow to the fur, who chuckled lightly.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Xyvian."

Owen didn't know how to feel about that.

"That's wonderful news." Cyrus smiled.

"Well, the rest are around the bar area should you need them." offered Cyrus as he turned back to Owen. His green eyes blinked slowly. "But if you ask me, it's more fun without them."

Owen laughed, a quiet sound. "I can imagine."

"Well, I need to make a trip to the washroom." said Cyrus, effectively excusing himself from the duo and heading to the back of the restaurant.

The building was lavished in reds and browns, the lights not dim enough to hinder movement but enough to set a pleasant atmosphere. Booths seemed to be the dominant table type, with only a few stand-alone tables set up near the windows to their right, through which could be seen the bustling street. People, both fur and human, were dispersed haphazardly throughout and mingled with each other amiably. It looked like it was going well.

"I don't know why you dragged me to this thing." muttered Sasha under her breath. Owen caught a whiff of her favourite perfume as she leaned in close to say it.

"Because," he whispered back, "you need to loosen up a bit."

Sasha fixed him with a stare that said she wasn't quite amused, one ear flicking in annoyance. "I need to loosen up?"

A smile tugged at his lip. "Yeah. You've been working too hard lately. You need some time to relax, to enjoy yourself." The slowly made their way towards the bar area, a large section with television monitors and beer taps set out almost in sequence, talking as they went.

"This coming from a guy who, just the other day, killed three men." she hissed.

"This coming from a guy who considers you his friend." Owen countered. Sasha more or less shut up then, not quite having something to respond with. In honestly, Owen really did count her as a friend, a good one. But he couldn't help but wish for a bit more. He had kind of meant this to be a date by any other name, and he wondered if Sasha knew of his ulterior motive.

Maybe. She was incredibly good with strategy, Owen having realized this when they had picked up a chess board and started playing just for something to do one day. Since then, he had taken every opportunity to test her skills and mindset. He had quickly found them both rather extraordinary. Marcus had joked that she could give Owen quite the run for his money. Owen had to admit that he agreed. But if she had noticed, she had stayed quiet about it.

"Ah, Owen, glad to see you!" said one of the men clustered in front of the bar. Owen recognized him as Seth Harreldson, a banker from Aurora. A slightly perturbed-looking waitress finished pouring him a drink, and he took it in a quick hand. Seth was a heavy-set man, easily over two hundred pounds, and was the kind of company that Owen usually noticed enjoyed hanging around the loftier circles of society.

"Seth, nice to see you." Owen smiled before Seth introduced him to the other two people currently seated with him.

"This is Hank Gurner," he gestured to a rakish man in his late thirties that stood off to his right, quiet and reserved, "a reporter with D5."

Owen shook his offered hand and said a quick 'hello'.

"And this is Rosario Amaya, a reporter doing a documentary on the mistreatment of gene projects." The woman was dark-haired and her cheekbones spoke of a noble character.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Smith." she said as she nodded her head slightly, her Hispanic accent coming across as only a faint echo in her voice. For some reason, Owen couldn't help but be reminded of a cat watching a target with interest as he took notice of the way she looked around. Her hazel eyes were attentive and quick to search for details, quickly sizing both him and Sasha up. Owen grinned inwardly. She was definitely the right person to be making a documentary.

"A pleasure." returned Owen with a single nod of his head.

"Now," interrupted Seth, his wide arms sweeping out into an all-encompassing gesture, "we are all here. We can get down to business."

They ended up doing just that over a few friendly drinks, the company present in Owen and Sasha's immediate vicinity changing from time to time. Rosario and Hank both left, making their own separate excuses for doing so quite polite, and were replaced by a pair of rich supporters who owned property near to Sasha's old home. Owen thought he saw a hint of recognition flash behind their eyes as they met Sasha, but they made no mention of having previously met, so he let it be.

They soon left to be replaced by a trio of journalists who asked him a few questions concerning the gathering and the group that he was 'a part of'. Owen saw the 'hidden' recorders that they tried to stop themselves from giving away, and had played up the group quite well, in his opinion. Two of them had left seemingly content, but another had looked a bit more frustrated than happy. Good. He had given their friends what they had needed, and denied their enemies anything to use against them later.

After they left, a couple, a young man and a rabbit gene project, much to Owen's rather pleasant surprise, trotted up and made their acquaintance. Seth left to do something that Owen didn't quite catch, and they were left alone with them. They had shared quite a few words, actually, and Owen couldn't help but notice that Sasha was asking as many questions as he was. It got rather awkward when Henry, the younger man, asked one of his own.

"So are you two a couple as well?" The question had caught Owen off guard, and he had no immediate answer. Sasha moved quickly.

"Yes." Owen had to fight hard to keep an expression of confusion from cropping up on his face. Sasha continued. "We've only been seeing each other for a couple of weeks now, though."

"Oh, really?" asked the rabbit fur, Felicia, her large ears perking up a bit. "Well, Henry and I have been dating for what, two years now?"

"Yeah." confirmed Henry. "Quite a while."

"Time flies when you're having fun." grinned Owen as he regained a bit of his composure.

Felicia and Henry laughed, and Owen noticed Sasha move a bit closer to him. "It sure does." Henry agreed.

After a while of bantering, the couple split off to join some others in conversation. Owen turned to Sasha.

"A couple now, eh?" he snickered.

"Yeah, I guess so." she smiled back, an ear twitching in place of a wink as she took up her drink, a strawberry daiquiri, from the bar and looking out at the rest of the establishment. Some people, led by the couple that had just left their company, were moving some tables aside in the middle of the floor and clearing space to do something.

Owen could tell that Sasha was starting to get bored, and he couldn't blame her. But being an Expeditor was about more than just shooting things. There was a more constructive aspect to it as well. And, unfortunately, that aspect was rather dull. Something that he didn't think that she had realized when she had joined up.

"Bored?" he asked.

Sasha turned to face him, one brow raised in a 'what do you think?' look. Owen nodded his head. "Me too."

"We could just-" Sasha started, but was stopped from completing her thought as a voice came on over the restaurant's intercom.

"Hello everyone, and thank you for coming!" Owen recognized Seth's lazy drawl easily. "Let us start off this little meeting with a throwback to older times. I hope that everybody knows how to dance."

That said, Seth's voice was replaced by a slow rhythm, a take on classical music by some more recent artist.

Owen laughed at the small event, not having expected this in the least. Especially not from Seth. Sasha's tail thudded silently off the metal of her seat and she laughed as well.

"Now isn't this a surprise." she sighed, amused at the change in atmosphere provided by the flabby banker.

"Yeah... Well, do you want to dance?" he asked.

"Uhh.... Not really," she shrugged, "I don't know how."

"That makes two of us." smiled Owen. He looked over at the cleared area as Sasha laughed. Henry, who was twirling Felicia, gave him a wink and a head-gesture that said 'come on'. "Besides, if you want this 'couple' cover to work, we need to look the part."

Owen took a step towards the impromptu dance floor, expecting Sasha to follow. When she didn't, he turned and tugged at an arm. "Come on, you! You can't be any worse than I am."

She allowed herself to be dragged to her feet, her tail tucking in close to her legs in embarrassment as Owen hauled her into the centre of the carpeted area. A good few people were dancing with joyous abandon, and those that weren't were gathering around in a small circle. She almost fell over in her shoes as Owen took her hands. Owen caught her and snickered softly. "Just take them off; I doubt anybody will care. Besides, I'm unbalanced enough for the both of us."

"Fine," she relented, kicking off her shoes to one side of the floor and letting her feet feel the carpet, "now what?"

"Well, we can try dancing, I guess." winked Owen, his grey eyes full of life. He pulled her a bit tighter and started moving back and forth slowly and in time to the music that drifted from the intercom speaker overhead. Sasha giggled at his lame remark.

"I suppose that would be the right thing to do right now." she said. She followed his lead, slowly getting into the music that wafted around them. He laughed after a few seconds as he noticed that her tail was wagging again, it's white form setting a tempo of its own.

"What's so funny?" she asked with a frown.

"Enjoying yourself?" Owen asked.

"Enjoying my- oh. Hehe, I get it. I guess I am." she admitted. Her tail did a lazy brush-up against his leg. "Are you?" she asked.

"Yeah." he admitted. They continued like this until the song ended, and then decided to have a break. They returned to the bar, and Owen heard a small voice in the back of his head saying 'Ask her!' over an over again. He cleared his throat as a tumbler of whiskey was placed in front of him. He took a small sip of the liquid courage and looked over at her.

Sasha was busying herself with munching down on the red cherry that had come with her won drink, almost oblivious to him. Finally, he took a deep breath.

"Sasha?"

"Yes?"

"Would you ever... I mean, would you like to-"

"Wasn't that sweet." smiled Marcus as he came up to the two from behind, giving Owen a hearty slap on the back. "Almost envy you Owen, she's quite the dancer."

The large wolf fur had entered the restaurant a few minutes before during the time when Owen and Sasha had been dancing. The sight of his commander and one of the newly-initiated sisters getting close like that had been something that he hadn't expected to see. He just had to go and say something.

"Hello, Marcus." grinned Sasha, gesturing to a seat next to her. Owen was deflated, and he his a sigh. "Enjoying yourself?"

"No," he admitted as he took the vacant stool near Owen instead of the offered one, "I'm not one much for dancing."

"I'm sorry, Owen," Sasha said as she remembered that he was asking her something, "what was it you were going to ask me?"

Owen flashed a small smile. "Oh, it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

**

"A lot has changed since then." said Sasha, now seated in an armchair and looking out the window at the receding hill that stretched out towards the mountain resort town below. The game had been packed up a while ago and Owen lay sprawled on the couch, Romulus, once again sleeping, lay on his chest in a twitching ball. He stroked the small ball of fur's head softly, paying special attention to the area behind the ears. Romulus must have enjoyed it because he he stretched out languidly, his eyes opening slightly before closing as he once more came to be still.

Owen sighed and looked over to her. The light created a soft glow about her as it reflected and refracted off of the fur of her exposed arms and head. He wondered for a moment if she was getting hot underneath all of that fur. "Yeah. I guess so."

Sasha pushed herself up out of the chair and made for the fridge. The temperature control of the refrigerator hummed to life as she pulled the door open. She looked around inside before giving a slight huff and closing the door again, nothing catching her eye. "Hungry?" asked Owen, who was once more lavishing his new pet with affection.

"Not really," she shrugged, "more bored than anything. It's not like we can go do something out on the town any more. And you said your old house was like this place?"

Owen smiled, thinking fondly about his home far to the northeast of where they were now staying. "Yeah, almost." he replied, "A lot less boring though. At least I had satellite. That lump of junk won't pick up anything any more. Not without any signals, anyways." He pointed at the large screen set into the far wall, the television dark and useless.

"I never really watched a lot of TV..."said Sasha, who was now rummaging through the cupboards, "It was just something we didn't do." Owen knew it was because she had not been allowed to watch it, but he didn't want to tease her.

"You didn't miss much. It was more of a time killer than anything else."

Sasha whooped in victory as she dragged a granola bar from a box Owen had thrown in the cupboard after their short game of chess. He smiled. He had guessed that she'd find them sooner or later. Owen didn't care much for them but she seemed almost addicted to the granola, coconut, oat, and chocolate creations. She lounged back into her chair once more and tore viciously at the wrapper. Her bite only managed to rip off a small chunk of the chocolate-coated snack. "What the hell?" she growled, "Damned things are stale!" Owen chuckled.

"Well," he said, "It's been two years since packaging, I bet. Maybe more if they were left-overs from the previous year's sales."

She frowned, her powerful canine jaws clacking and crunching together as she slowly but surely ground away at the piece in her mouth. "Well, it's better than that gruel at the station." She bit off another small piece and rolled it to the other side of her mouth. "Actually, they're not bad. A little bit chewy, but not bad."

"I doubt I could eat those now," sighed Owen, "my jaw would probably shatter."

"Probably. Oh well, more for me." grinned Sasha as she swallowed loudly.

"Whatever. Every dog has her day." This drew a look of mock annoyance from her and she bit off another, slightly larger chunk of the granola bar. She was about to reply with something smart when the door to the one of the bedrooms flung open and Lily hurried from her room towards the bathroom. The door slammed with a wall-shuddering crash and the duo in the living room heard Lily gagging up the past night's dinner. Romulus jumped upright immediately and sought shelter under the couch as Owen and Sasha exchanged glances. Owen smiled and Sasha shook her head, turning back to her snack.

A few moments later, John burst from his own room and almost hit the bathroom door moving at a fast pace. He clenched at his stomach with white hands. "Damn it! Who's in there? I need in!" A slight shuffling could be heard on the other side of the door.

"Occupied!" came the choked reply from inside the washroom.

"OCCUPIED!?! No, you don't understand! This is an emergency!" shouted John as he knocked on the door. His face was literally green.

"Then go outside!" gasped Lily in between hacking gags.

John looked as if he was going to argue, but he gagged slightly and it stopped him short. He practically ran for the door muttering under his breath. "Oh shit oh shit ohshitohshit!!! How is there anything left in me!?!?" The door closed behind him and Sasha watched him run to the bush line some twenty meters away. He reached them after his headlong rush and doubled over. She decided to turn away after he did so, not wanting to see him hurl a lung. Romulus, who had taken the opportunity to close in on her tail from under his hiding spot, stopped, caught in the act. His tail drew up underneath him as she went to grab him, but he darted away from her hands and disappeared back under the couch.

"That little bugger..." she hissed as she drew her tail about her lap and stroked it absently.

Owen watched her for a moment as her trimmed black claws slid through the multiple layers of thick fur and worked through small tangles and the beginnings of knots. She stopped and went back to the middle of the constantly-harassed appendage before raking them through it again. It was a slow, steady, obvious tell that he had come to associate with her. She caught him staring and waved at him slightly. He snapped out of his stupor and shook himself. He hadn't meant to stare. He heaved himself upright so that he was in a sitting position on the right side of the leather couch. "Tail chasing aside, I think he likes you."

"That makes two hopeless romantics." she sighed.

"Oh, I doubt that he's hopeless." smiled Owen. Sasha smiled back at him.

"I hate to admit it, but I think you were right. He did seem to get used to us fast."

"Yeah," nodded Owen, "He seems highly impressionable. Not really all that surprising, really."

"Now all you need is to find a female wolf and you can have your own set of lupine warhounds at your disposal." she laughed.

"I've already got a pack of warhounds. Only the ones I currently have can hold guns." he said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Huh. I suppose so." Her tail flicked slightly.

Lily practically fell out of the bathroom, the sound of the toilet running hissing through the room as she made to upright herself.

"Ughh.... That's the last time I drink..." Owen laughed derisively.

"That's the first time you drank. Quitter."

"Yeah," she retorted, "I only saw you grab one. Only one. Pussy."

"Well, I guess I'm the one laughing now, seeing as how I'm not sick in the slightest, eh?" Sasha snorted at Owen's final comment.

"Whatever, Canuck. I-I'm going back to bed... G'night..." she muttered. Her piece said, she turned and staggered back to her bedroom. Snoring penetrated the silence as she once again fell back to sleep.

John entered the room a moment later, one arm wiping spittle from his cheek and the other holding him up against the wall. Romulus ran over to him and started sniffing about eagerly, trying to place the odd scent of vomit that now permeated the air. He snorted as John kicked him away lightly towards Sasha. "Go get that tail, boy..."

The wolf followed John's finger and spotted the tip of Sasha's tail when it moved on her lap. A look of annoyance struck her as the little canine once again resumed his hunt. "Oh, come on! You've got to be kidding me..."