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If you don't like guys, girls, furres, sex or love, violence (Not in yiff) or if you're too young (18, 21 in some places, just ask the police "Hey, am I allowed to read sexy bisexual furre stories on the net?") or any of that, CLOSE TEH WINDOW NOWS! All characters are copyright me, Shinkada, and are used with my permission, with the exception of Coda, who is copyrighted to Coro, and used with his permission, and Venter, who is copyrighted to Max, and likewise used with his permission. This story is a bit mushy at times, so if you don't want lurve, buzz off. Anyone who bugs me "OMG MORE YIFF PLOX" will get castrated by Okhami himself. I put in enough of it already to get you off AT LEAST once per every few chapters. If you're still not satisfied take a cold shower. ***'s represent a change of scenery or time. ---'s represent a non-critical yiff scene, fan service to shut up the wailing masses. Please, sit back, relax, and enjoy the story without whining about it. It's a good story. I like it. A sidenote; if you'd like to write a story set in the same universe as this, by all means, feel free. As long as you give me credit for it, as long as you inform me that you're going to do it via e-mail ([email protected]), and as long as you don't try and mess with my, Coro's, or Max's character/s, I don't mind. In fact if someone good writes a story I'd be quite honoured. Just make sure you tell me first, and don't mess anything up. I'll be making a few 'Gaiden' chapters myself, little off-branches in the story, perhaps mini-sections in between bits of the main storyline of unrelated furres and their stories. I've already got a few in mind, but I want to really get the main storyline set up before I do that. The gaidens will mostly be fap material, or sad little tragic bits that I wouldn't be able to do with Okhami himself due to certain complications that happen to the characters of said gaidens (Sickness, depression, personalities, death), so if you need some quick relief, it's best to just skip to a gaiden. They won't have any spoilers, so feel free to just skip to them, or if they're not your think, skip them entirely. (Note: I took a break for a week, 'cus... Um... I felt like it. Better than pushing out some crappy rushed story that I didn't feel like writing. This chapter's a little short, since, well, I couldn't think of any more to put in, and padding sucks. I still like it just as much as the others, though. Next story, probably in a week, maybe a little less, will continue right where Ch4 left off, and trust me, the story is REALLY going to pick up now! If you can guess what happens before the end I'll give you a cameo. ;P) -Shinkada * * *

LiQUID METAL

• * * ***CHAPTER G1: What the Past Holds*** "I swear to you man, that woman had a magic cunt. MAGIC! The way it held you!" Grant couldn't help but laugh at the discussion of his newest and crudest classmates, but rolled his eyes nonetheless and continued on with his food. He was in the school cafeteria, enjoying a normal lunch on a normal day, with his normal friends. Taking a small, rodent bite out of his sandwich, he continued on with his overdue homework, laughing at the conversations of his friends occasionally. "Oi, Ralf, two negatives make a positive right?" "You know the saying. 'Two wrongs make a right.'" A small grin as he marked in the final answer. "Done, finally." "Aw c'mon Grant, how long does it take you? You slack way more than us yet you act like you're top shit." "That's because I -AM- top shit. Just wait 'till I'm famous in the Top 10 music charts! I'll school all your asses," Grant said, using his fork to poke at the air and make out his point while the others burst into laughter. However, happiness rarely lasts. The school burst into flames. Grant was lucky; the only one who dived under the table in time, only to watch as the charred corpses of his classmates fell, burning, to the ground; most writhing in agony just long enough to permanently engrave it into the mouse's mind. *** "Captain Grant, Sir! The West side can't hold out much longer! We need some troops over there!" "We can't spare any more troops. Go motivate them, whatever it takes to make them fight harder." 'March 14, 2007. 0406. The Drake forces are elites. To watch them fight is breathtaking, but I don't exactly have the time for that. Each of them seems just as skilled as one of our own Captains; they only have a single Captain on the field, and he hasn't fought yet. Most of our higher-ranks are fending off two, or even three Drakes at once... We're rapidly becoming outnumbered. Very few of them have fallen. Our forces are tired, hungry; these Draconic bastards don't seem to even sleep. We're in trouble this time.' Sighing, Grant closed off his audio log, still contemplating what to do with the situation. The Drake forces had shown that they weren't going down. Not now. Not with so few troops. All around him, gaps were opening; soon the Drakes would swarm them. Only a few more kills and most of the Allied troops (Most furre species, in this time) would have about 3 Drakes to take on, each; then it was practically over. While contemplating both any method of escape for his team, and praying to He who Grant worshipped, the most beautiful sound in existance hit his large, furry ears; engines. Plasma engines. A few troops fell as they foolishly looked to the sky to see the aircraft landing. But instead of a huge array of battlesuit-wearing Fury-units, a single furre walked out. A fox, but only barely recognizable from the clothes he was wearing. Classic red fur adorned him, but most of it was covered by flowing black robes that gave away almost nothing of his figure, and a low black hood that covered most of his face. The only thing not black on his form, was his red muzzle, and glowing blue eyes. Grant simply stared at the cavalry, disbelieving. Approaching him, the fox gave a mock salute. "They send one unit? We're here on the frontline of the Drake invasion and they send a single unit?!" Grant was just about ready to behead the fox and then take his own life to spare torture from the Drakes. "Calm down, Captain... The situation is now under control..," the fox simply replied, his voice softer than expected; he had the voice of a bard. And then, in an instant, he was gone. Dissapeared right before Grant's wide, shocked eyes. Looking around, eyes darting every which way, trying to see what happened to the fox; before spotting him, amongst the troops, directly in front of Grant. Darting between furres, between blades, the fox instantly took down one dragon... Another... Another... Another... Grant couldn't believe his eyes. They'd been fighting here for weeks now, and now, a single fox was darting in between his ranks and slaying every single Drake that got in his way in a single slash. His speed was mind boggling; he was moving significantly faster than a furre's body should even allow. He was breaking the limits of muscle and thought operation. In only a mere minute, the entire Drake force was down, and Grant's entire force was collapsed, either from injury or exhaustion, falling unconscious the moment they weren't in danger. While this made Grant proud, his attention was on the black-robed fox slowly approaching him from one end of the fort. Grant couldn't even see the fox's paws, they were covered by his robes, a blade protruding from one sleeve. He stopped in front of Grant, staring him down, those eerily glowing eyes scanning over the mouse's form. Grant was just wearing a standard desert camo uniform; pretty plain compared to the sinister-looking fox. Slowly, the fox's blade drew back into his sleeve, and immediately after, the same arm moved up; the robe slid back, revealing a paw, nothing else. He was offering it to Grant. "Lance Corporal James R. Drake, first succesful participant of the LiM Project, at your service Sir." *** "Captain Grant. Your command on the field was second to none. You held out against an elite force that, by all rights, you should have lost against the Drake force about a day earlier. Your ability to create morale and trust within your ranks is amazing, your troops all respect you more than anyone else, your force is one of the best we have thanks to your training, and your battle plans rarely fail. Due to your performance evaluation and your time spent in the military, I have decided that you will be promoted; to General of the Army." Grant was dumbstruck. Speechless. He'd had a lot of surprises lately, but he'd just been boosted a good 10 ranks at once, almost completely out of the blue. He didn't even notice his own paw reaching out to accept the sigil of General of the Army, the croud (primarily his own force) roaring behind him in congratulations. The Emperor smirked a little, whiskers twitching a little, as he saluted Grant. Once again, without even noticing his actions, Grant saluted back, before stepping aside. "And finally, Lance Corporal Drake. We knew from the beginning that the LiM Project would have some great results, but you've surpassed expectations infinately. You took down an entire elite Drake squad, practically on your own, and you did it fast enough to save thousands of lives of Grant's force; so the decision was unanimous. So, you'll be promoted to the highest offensive rank attainable; General of the Field. Congratulations." Another roar erupted from the croud as Drake smiled, taking the sigil, saluting the Emperor before shaking his paw firmly with a vulpine grin. Drake turned, saluting the croud, eliciting another roar and a fair few laughs, before the salute was returned. Drake shot a grin at Grant, who was still trying to compose himself, and a sly wink, which only Drake and the Emperor seemed to catch. *** The war was far from over. The drakes were amazingly numerous, their force was huge; they did have an entire solar system to themselves, afterall, of which most planets were occupied. Yet, one by one, Grant and Drake were sent to each front. Drake was a Field General for a reason; while he was easily the best fighter in the entire army, perhaps in existance due to the secrative LiM Project, his tactics were far from perfect. They weren't horriffic, but they weren't at military standards. So while Drake took out the troops, Grant did the planning. Since Drake's introduction into the force, they'd barely lost a single furre. But, as life is, not everything was perfect. It seemed to Grant that, after each fight, after each conference, after each meal, he found himself staring at Drake more and more. His personality, looks, style, humour... Grant knew what was happening right off the bat. He was rapidly falling for the fox. The only problem was, the military wasn't quite 'evolved' enough in that respect (as Grant liked to tell himself). Gay partnerships were still outlawed, and anyone caught found in an intergender relationship would be kicked from the army immediately. So, Grant held himself back. More and more he realized that he needed to be with Drake, and the more he realized it, the more he was forced to deny it. This continued for months. The war was rapidly ending as Drake cut down more and more soldiers. The final battle was ready to be staged. All of the remaining Drake Generals had assembled on one of the outer planets of the Drake system. The Emperor had been forwarded a note reading, simply, "The final battle will be held on OX-99F. You furres have named it Koris. Beat us there, and we will surrender." The Emperor, confident with his skills, had just sent two furres. *** "You know you can do this, Drake." "Of course. Simple as catching a mouse." Grant blinked a bit, forcing back the blush that threatened to emerge from his cheeks, and went back to the map, ranting on about some weird and overly complex strategy. Drake drummed his pads on his knee for only a moment, before pouncing over the table, knocking the plans over in the movement, and pinning Grant to the ground. The mouse's eyes were threatening to burst out of his head as fantasies immediately forced their way out of the back of his mind and right into the front. "We both know what we want, Grant. You may be an excellent General but you're a bit of a grunt when it comes to signs." Grant was about to protest before those vulpine lips hit his. The feeling of, after so many months, finally being allowed this feeling - Even if it was only for this one day - Was bliss embodied. As the fox parted from him and stood up to walk towards the Drake force, all's Grant could do is stare. Just before Drake was out of earshot, he managed to yell, "COME BACK TO ME DAMN IT!" Drake just gave a thumbsup and continued walking. Grant stared a moment longer, before burying his head in his furry arms. Not out of concern for Drake; he knew this mission would be a walk for him. But for how they would hide themselves. *** The battle was a fair bit worse than Drake had anticipated. There were exactly 20 enemy units, all top rank, each with a different weapon, except for one drake who had no weapon out. The General approached him, looking down on the fox. "So. One Drake against twenty drake and you're still confident." Drake simply rolled his eyes at the pun as a blade emerged from each of his sleeves. The leader took a flying leap backwards, using his wings to glide, before spinning and pointing at Drake, yelling, "KILL HIM!" The enemy forces were amazingly synchronized. Each of them used their weapon to it's maximum potential. Just as Drake had a heavy axe blocked from the front and a longsword from the side, a heavily curved blade would arc between the bodies of two drakes and head right for the fox's gut. Forced to jump out of the way, the process would repeat itself with different weapons. 'I'm getting nowhere...' Drake muttered to himself, before giving up with the subtlety. Just as the third blade, the same curved blade as the first time, flew towards his stomach, a blade tore through Drake's own robe, knocked the other sword out of the way, and impaled one drake directly in the gut. The 18 other drakes leapt back, while the 19th fell to the ground. Vital organs punctured, he was instantly dead. The blade that had emerged from Drake's side not a moment earlier was now gone, leaving nothing but a tear in his robes to proove it's existance. Snarling, the drakes leapt in again, only to be met with the same conclusion. Another downed, Drake took the incentive and leapt at another, getting through a weak defense in a little over a second and slashing his head clean off. Another drake dashed at him from behind, only to have a broadsword emerge from Drake's upper back and impale his neck. By now, the remaining Generals were ready to cry 'Witch!' and fly as fast and far as they could, but in a final move, Drake cried out as 15 small knives erupted from his robes, flying out of him, and impaling all the remaining Generals; except the leader. The fifteen small blades slowly melted into what appeared to be liquid mercury, and flowed across the ground like droplets, slipping under the robes that covered Drake's footpaws. He stared at the enemy drake, a bit alarmed at how unimpressed the opposition looked, but kept up the strong front. "So... A shifter, is it?," the drake asked, raising a scaled brow. Drake shrugged back. "In a way." With a slight nod, the drake grinned, and charged the fox, just as the drake reached behind him and literally pulled off his tail, which quickly formed into a scythe. *** The battle lasted for hours. It was evening when Drake had first approached the drake encampment, and now, the sun of dawn was breaking over the dusty mountains in the backdrop. The flat field, made bumpy by 19 corpses, made for a completely even fighting ground. The drake General wasn't a drake at all, but a dragon; also, of course, a shapeshifter. Every time the other would have a blade emerge from beneath their clothes, it would instantly be countered with another. They were almost perfectly matched. However, Drake also had the stamina that came with the LiM Project. While the dragon had a lot, his was normal for a living creature. Drake, on the other hand, as of the LiM Project, was far from normal in all aspects. Sleeping, eating, taking a break, had all become nothing more than something that Drake's teammates did that held him back. In the end, the dragon collapsed, having tired himself so much he was coughing blood, whereas Drake hadn't broken a sweat. "You... You're good..," the dragon muttered between blood, eyes threatening to close from exhaustion. "Yeah... You're good yourself," Drake returned, respect for the dragon due to their even skills on the field. "Promise... That your people won't destroy mine, or invade..." A last request, from a Warrior. "I'll make sure of it. All's we want is your mercury. Your people will remain safe." The dragon nodded, before one of his wings morphed into a curved blade, and slashed into his own back. His breathing stopped. "Had we met anywhere else, had our leaders been more willing to bargain, we would have been friends. Your family will miss you. Your friends will miss you. Remember that nothing on the field is permanent, and remember that no sacrifice will ever be in vain. You did your job soldier. You did it well." Drake then made the sign of a fairly obscure religion after giving his own speech of respect, before turning and heading back to his love. *** When Drake returned, there were no words. Four months of pent up passion, lust and love was instantly let loose. Torn clothes scattered the ground, a bit of pain still in Grant's eyes from the initial thrust; they weren't counting on their privacy being cut so short. 'Shit,' the Emperor thought to himself. 'Those idiots just couldn't hold back...' While the Emperor was opposed to gay relationships in the military, almost the entire rest of the military was. To change that law would be to lose their support. And a country without military support was as good as toast. The high-ranked figures around him began to curse and yell at what the satellite showed, and the Secretary of Defense instantly picked up a phone to order them back. *** "I... Raped him, sir." The audience went silent in shock. "I couldn't contain my lust for him any longer... So I raped him..." "Is this true, Grant?" "I..," the mouse mumbled, dumbstruck. A pleading look from Drake made him unable to deny him. "... Yes. It's true." The audience again went silent. "Grant, I hereby dismiss all charges originally laid upon you. You will remain General of the Army. Drake, normally you'd be not only removed from the army on terms like these, but also put into prison for life. But considering your rank and your unrivaled skill, I will instead be demoting you. You will be dropped down to Captain, and will teach your skills with a blade at one of our best military schools, until it's decided you're fit to continue field work. Be thankful you lowly worm that I don't shoot you myself." Grant and Drake were able to have one last moment, paws clasped, after a small pay off to the soldier who drove the vehicle. Teary eyes, they parted, a deep sigh emitting from both of them as they parted ways. The last hour had been chaotic for Grant. He couldn't even remember what had happened. They had been rushed back home, only to be seperated, Drake demoted incredibly, and their relationship next to ruined. It seemed like minutes ago that they were in each others arms for the first and maybe last time. The pain finally broke out of Grant's hard-trained body. Despite years of training to resist torture, tears still flowed from him at losing his first love. It's true that pain makes you stronger, but for that one hour or so after losing Drake, Grant was shattered. The next few years of his life were spent doing nothing but training, fighting to get his mind off of Drake, and hardening himself even more. *** Drake was at home, exercising, as usual. Training. Both him and Grant had similar motives; exercise helped them get their minds off each other. Until there was a knock at the door. A large package with a number of holes in it. Drake raised a brow and looked at the delivery furre. A mouse. Drake closed his eyes in slight pain for a moment. "Sorry to interrupt you sir. This note came with it," said the shy mouse, handing out a note for the shirtless, fairly buff fox. 'So someone finally killed me, huh? Good to know there ARE things stronger than me. Hopefully I died in even combat and not with some lame, cheap trick. Anywho, my wife has enough hatchlings to look after. I request that the child she is currently pregnant with be given to the one who bests me, so that my last child, son or daughter, will grow up stronger than me. That's my final wish. If the soldier declines, send it back to the wife. But I think anyone who could beat me would be honourable enough to fill out a last wish.' Drake laughed at the obvious pity story. The dragon was harder than that. Drake could almost see the sly smirk as he read the letter. He reached out for the binder and signed, before taking the box inside and closing the door. 'So... A father now, huh?' Drake said to himself, opening the aired-out box. Inside sat the most adorable hatchling Drake had ever seen. Normally he despised children, but this one had something about them. A tiny black drake. 'Female,' Drake noted to himself. He searched through the box, careful not to wake the sleeping girl, and found a list of advised foods for a drake, where to get said food, and a fair wad of money to support her. "I can't call her Drake, she'll get teased too much... Um..," the fox mumbled to himself, thinking seriously. "... Alex. Alexia Grant," Drake said with a grin. The drakeling woke up, and stared up at Drake for a moment. They matched gazes and the girl seemed to know exactly what had happened. She giggled softly, giving a small grin with teeth that, for a newborn, made Drake gulp a little, before giggling again and rolling over to go back to sleep. Drake blinked, before putting on his coat to go shop for supplies.