FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Being immortal can get quite dull when you've been at it for a few hundred years. I was born close to five hundred years ago from the union of a dragon and wolfkin, don't ask how that worked, and I take heavily from Mother. Tall and built like a warrior, my thick russet brown and grey fur hides powerful muscles. The only things I got from Father were his vivid green eyes, complete with slit pupils, and a pair of sweeping horns roughly six inches long. I could have done without the horns though, they tend to get caught on anything and everything. The immortality however came from a god and he didn't bother to include the receipt.

After becoming a spell-sword for hire, not long after I came of age, one of my first jobs was for a dragon god. Long story short I was nearly killed by a demon halfway through and the god gave me immortality so that I could finish, and so it had an excuse not to pay me. And now here I am, still a spell-sword for hire in a world where technology and modern weaponry are just as popular as spells and familiars. Most of my competition these days comes from hired guns and bodyguards. But there is still plenty to keep me busy; the businessman that wants a streak of bad luck for his rivals, tracking things down that can't be found through modern means, the occasional exorcism, and every now and then there's the odd protection or security gig that's tossed my way. Over the years I've done just about anything and everything. And if the news of even half of it got out... well, there'd be an awful lot of people trying to break down my door to say the least.

As it was there are already plenty of people trying to get revenge on me for one thing or another. Ruining their business, ruining their lives, killing their pet demon as it was rampaging through downtown. It never ceases to amaze me, the kind of things people can get in a bind over. Some days it seems that I get more hate mail than anything else. They're usually a good laugh, all hollow threats or passive-aggressive complaints, but the letter bombs get annoying after a while. Usually takes the rest of the day to scrape myself off the walls and get my office back together. The hired guns are always my favorite though, I never get tired of seeing their expressions when I shrug off a few shots through the head.

Unfortunately things have been rather quiet as of late, the most exciting job I had recently was pulling a cat out of a tree. Admittedly the cat in question was a local sorcerer's escaped experiment and had more claws and other pointy bits then what one would consider healthy, but still... Needless to say this day started much like the rest, me waking up in the cramped little apartment I set up behind my office and finding the mailbox depressingly empty. With a heavy sigh I dressed and headed out into the rain. I wandered the streets for a while, a lot has changed in this place since I moved in a hundred and fifty years ago. Gleaming skyscrapers now towered alongside monolithic temples. The sub-sonic hum of technology merged with the low chants of incantations. On the sidewalks a summoner was arguing with his djinn while a kid and her robotic puppy splashed through a nearby puddle.

As usual I eventually wound up at a grimy little diner on the edge of downtown. The chrome and plastic façade was pitted and worn while the rusting vents spewed out a thin column of greasy smoke. A cracked bell gave a halfhearted ring as I stepped through the door, not that it was needed, the hinges screamed loud enough to wake the dead. I took my usual seat in the corner opposite the door. A single light bulb dangled from a kinked and tangled wire, casting its pallid light over the burned and scarred Formica table. The waitress, a young feline woman that seemed to be about college age, came over. Her smile seemed just a bit too wide and she spoke with a voice full of false cheer. I gave her my usual order and I couldn't help but smile as she walked away. Old Bill, the owner of the place, had stuck with the theme of clinging uniforms and miniskirts for the waitresses. She was new here and clearly hadn't gotten a chance to cut a hole in the skirt for her tail. She tried to be conscious about it, but every now and then a slight twitch would give the whole place quite the show. Not that were many of us here, including myself there was only five people in the joint. It's not a place where you go to socialize, it's where you went when you wanted good meal. While I waited I cast my eyes at the grease stained and tattered calendars that hung from the walls, one for each year the dinner had been open.

Like clockwork my breakfast came; French toast, bacon, and fried eggs. All cooked in a healthy amount of bacon grease. I sat back, fork in one hand while I spread out a newspaper with the other. Other than the weekly column on corporate accidents there really wasn't much worth reading. But it still, it killed time while I ate, and time was certainly something I have plenty of. Soon enough I finished and paid, leaving a generous tip. I nodded to Old Bill as I left, the crazy old bastard insisted that he be the only one to work the kitchen. An impressive feat for a human in his late seventies.

I arrived back at my office, by now the rain had picked up to the point where no one else was in the streets. Personally I don't get why they aren't use to it by now, for the past hundred years the rainy season has been like this. I shook myself off in the doorway and fished around my apartment for a towel and dry clothes. Finally dry, I went to turn on my computer, only to let out a growl when the lights on the case flickered and an unpleasant noise came from inside. A wisp of white smoke rose from the case while I glared at the thing. Some people can combine technology with magic in incredible ways. I certainly wasn't one of those people, whenever I tried to simply use technology it would often end with something catching on fire... usually me. I unplugged the now useless box and waited a few minutes to make sure it wasn't about to burst into flames.

At that point a client decided to show up. A young feline man, not much older than I was when I started this gig, practically reeking of money. The slender ocelot-tiger hybrid was wearing a custom cut suit under an equality expensive looking raincoat. The wooden shaft of his umbrella was accented with gold and I could see a matching gold tie clip as well as the slender chain of a pocket watch. His hair was styled in the remnants of something that some would have considered popular. I never bother to pay much attention to that crap and besides the rain and wind had done a thorough job of ruining it.

I watched as his eyes wandered through the rest of my dingy office, from the gramophone that was currently humming softly to itself even though there was no record in it to the dust bunnies that were breeding under the filing cabinet. The more he saw the more he looked like he wanted to run. "I wouldn't pick that chair, it likes to bite." I warned him as he went to sit. He ignored me and leapt up a few seconds later with a yelp, rubbing his rear. I gestured to the other chair and he gingerly sat back down. I shoved the remains of my computer into the bin and leaned back, resting my paws on the desk, idly thinking that I'd have to pay a visit to the techno-shaman who sold me the damn thing - he had promised it wouldn't self-combust in the presence of magic. Looks like he was wrong.

"You are Alexander Derleth, correct?" The client asked, his voice had the air of a typical rich kid, spoiled and asinine. I couldn't help but grin, this would be fun.

"If I'm not then he'll be rather pissed when he finds I've been living in the back room."

The young man frowned, "That's hardly anyway to speak to a client."

Some folk have no sense of humor. "Boy, I've been in this business long enough to be the only remaining one of its kind. If you came to me it's because you know there's no one else that can do it."

"Sadly that is correct." He dropped a thick stack of bills onto the desk.

I leaned forward and made a big deal of thumbing through the cash, my eyes widened as I saw it was all hundreds. "Well, you have my attention Boy. Must be a serious issue if you're willing to drop this much as a down payment." For that amount of money I could afford to be serious for a bit.

"It is. I am fairly certain that someone is out to kill me."

I love it when a client is up front.

"And what makes you say that?"

"A rather bizarre series of accidents have occurred over the past few weeks. For example, the production line at my main factory has ground to a halt after one of the machines malfunctioned and sent a piece of sheet metal flying. It took off the tip of my ear." He gestured up at the ear in question and sure enough it was missing the tip. Back at the main offices, my CEO was seriously injured. We were in the parking garage when she was hit by a car..."

"Hardly a bizarre occurrence."

"Let me finish. We were in the elevator at the time. The car just happened to crash through the double door for the landing just as the elevator doors opened, took her leg clean off. The police said it looked like the car had been purposefully guided there, an impressive feat given that it had no driver at the time." He tried to sound passive but I could tell he was rather shaken by the incident. A soft spot for a pretty face I presume or, you know, the attempt on his life.

"Interesting." This definitely sounded like a bad luck charm. Albeit one significantly nastier than others I have seen, or used. Though if that was the case then it was also rather sloppy, having failed its purpose several times now. "And who was it that sent you to me?"

"I had originally hired a sorcerer to try and break the curse. After he failed he told me to come to you."

"I seem to get an awful lot of clients that way."

He frowned. "You are a remarkably arrogant man, Mr. Derleth."

"Why thank you. But back to the business at hand. Can you think of anyone that would want you dead bad enough to go to these kind of lengths to do it?"

"I'm afraid not, while there is a fair amount of competition in my field of business I don't see..."

I cut him off. "This has nothing to do with your business. They want you dead, not your company. By the way, aren't you a bit young to have your own business, hell, when I was your age I was chasing after every gal with two legs and a pulse."

"And given your rather unusual condition I bet you still do." About time I got a decent quip out of him, "But personal matters aside, why target me if not for my company?"

"Simple, magic runs off emotion, in order to toss around the kind of magic that makes people dead, you need to want them dead. And it's much easier to be that angry with a person rather than a faceless corporate entity. Also this kind of curse takes a lot of power to conjure and sustain, not something you average pissed off mage can conjure up."

"Perhaps something you could conjure up then?" If I were the easily offended type I would have found that rather insulting. Instead I took it as a compliment.

"Perhaps, but I haven't had a decent job in weeks. And besides, if someone wants you dead or broken, this is hardly the method I would use." The corners of my muzzle curled up into a wicked grin. The young man shifted uncomfortable in his seat. "Like I said Boy, I've been at this job for a long time."

He was about to respond when I felt an odd tension growing in the air. I held up a hand to silence him. He got the point faster than I though and looked about nervously, as if he were expecting bullets to start flying through the walls at any moment. By now the spell was nearly fully formed. It was a strong one but I was right about it being sloppy, excess energy spilled off it, causing the lights to flicker and something on my client to short out. He yelped for the second time today and hurriedly yanked a smoldering cell phone from his belt. I didn't have enough time to counter the spell completely but I was able to redirect it. As I felt the energies hurtling at my client I muttered a spell of my own. The invisible ball of malice bounced off my ward just inches from my client.

Enough force bled through to knock him off his chair. As he was getting up there was a deafening crash from just outside the office. My client let out a rather pathetic squeal and dove under the chair. His fur stood on end and his ears went flat, I couldn't help but to chuckle as I looked down at him as I passed on my way to the door. I stuck my head outside and immediately saw the source of the commotion. An automated delivery truck had broken loose from its programed rout and crashed headlong into the empty office a few doors down the row. Ain't that a pisser, probably going to drive my insurance and rent up.

"Well Boy, I hope you packed your bags. We're going on vacation." I called back to him, closing the door and shaking off the rain.

"Wh-What?" he stammered, untangling himself from the chair legs. All traces of his former pretentiousness had vanished. I guess it's hard to keep your composure when the person you'd taken for a fool simply brushed aside a spell that's nearly killed you yet again. Or it was, you know, the whole someone made yet another attempt on his life thing. Personally I've gotten used to that by now.

I took a moment to gather some equipment. A series of four silver rings, two for each hand, carried a series of defensive spells that would protect my knuckles and hands in a fight. They did little for anything else though, after all what life without a bit of pain? The only other thing I grabbed was my sword, a classic bastard sword, the heavy blade etched with a series of runes that allowed me to use it as a channel for spells. I gave the blade a quick once over to make sure it wasn't cracked or chipped. "If someone's trying this hard to kill you with magic then there's only one spot in this city that's really safe. Also with you there I don't have to worry about you getting under foot while I sort this out." I told him.

"And where would that be?" He asked. I could tell from his tone that he had gotten at least some of his composure back.

"Now that would be telling." I chided. "Besides, what's life without a few surprises?"

"I've had enough of those for one day, thank you."

"Well no point in keeping you waiting then." I told him as we stepped out into the rain.

The back of my client's car was nicer than my apartment. Lots of hardwood and leather had been stuffed into the small cabin, thin light strips rand along the edge of the floor by the doors, and what seemed to be either a mini-fridge or wine cooler was hidden in the center console. As I climbed in I felt something tug at one of my horns followed immediately by the sound of the roof lining tearing. My client winced and gave me a rather despairing look. I would have glanced up to see the damage but that would have buried my horns in the leather bound headrest. Instead I just shrugged, "Doubt that'll cost much to fix." The young man glared at me but I had a feeling this would be the least of the problems he'll have with the car by the end of this case. Between the fact that cars weren't really built for people like me and the fact that this one was stuffed with the latest technology, it would be interesting to see how long it would last with me in it.

"By the way Boy, you still haven't given me your name." I was lounging back in my seat with one paw up on the back of the passenger seat. In contrast my client was very stiff and seemed very much like he would rather be anywhere else.

"You can call me Mr. Ward." His voice was rather curt, probably because the wine cooler just shorted out.

"Very well, Boy."

He sighed, "Can you at least be serious long enough to tell my driver where we're going?"

I told him. He gave me another odd look but gave instructions to the driver. The ride was uneventful at best. A spell like what was targeting my client would take a lot of energy, more so given the rain, so there was no need to worry about that for at least a few hours. The car held up fairly well. The only other thing that broke was the GPS, it now thought we were somewhere in the Old Country. The only other vehicles we saw were the automated transports. They would appear out of the rain and glide past us, the soft thrumming of their engines muffled by the rain. Seconds later they would vanish back into the dark streets, it was all rather surreal. Eventually the car glided to a halt.

"So tell me again why we're taking the subway rather than driving the whole way?" Mr. Ward muttered as I lead him down into the station.

"It's the easiest way to get to where we're going." I don't think he appreciated the answer.

Fortunately we weren't waiting long. Less than five minutes after we arrived one of the trains pulled up to the platform. I stepped in and flopped onto one of the seats, leaning back I felt my horns scrape against the window. Mr. Ward glanced at the grimy fake leather bound bench and raised an eyebrow in disgust. He barely had time to grab one of the hanging straps before the train jerked into motion. I looked about the carriage. It was practically empty, only a few others were sprawled shamelessly about. Most of them wore thick misshapen coats and seemed be trying rather hard to not draw attention to themselves. Probably going the same way as us then.

"What the hell is that?" whispered Mr. Ward glancing at one of the more outlandish looking lumps.

"Just someone on their way home."

"Please tell me that's not the same place we're going."

"It most likely is."

He moaned. "You're still not going to tell me where that is are you?"

"You really want to know?"

"Yes."

I gave him another wicked smile. "We're going passed the end of the line, Boy."

"What?"

I didn't answer as we passed through station after station. Not long until we get there now.