FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

On the corner of a backstreet bustling with specialty vendors lurked a sprawling fortress, its facade pummeled by the heavy rains of the night cycle. A depravity in itself, the grand establishment lured in all the filth of the underworld from the city and the lands beyond with its outlandish ventures and, for lack of a better word, scenery. Beyond the fluorescent signs and armed bouncers amassed crowds gawking at that night's main-- and complementary-- attraction: an okapi, scantily clad in strappy, black lingerie. The surrounding observers sat entranced by the voluptuous figure, bathed in the strobelights' electric blue glow amidst the otherwise crepuscular vicinity-- all except for one.

"Would you like to try something new, sir? We've got an all new lineup of drinks for the season-- Raspberry Moscow mule, white cran vodka, and just about any flavor of margarita you could dream of..." A plucky waiter inquired of him.

He took a brief glance at the young pale fox, who couldn't have been short of nineteen. He had a soft, sandy coat and curly, blonde shoulder-length hair, from which two long ears sprouted upward. Almost shielded from sight were two round, jade green eyes which somehow still glimmered with an impossible purity, even in this vile pit of libertines.

"Whiskey-- straight. None of that girly shit."

"They're rather good if you ask me, mister," the fox simpered with a shrug. "But if you insist, I'll have it right away."

After a brief glance across the room, it appeared there was nobody of significance in the lobby, and Jannick still hadn't arrived yet, as it seemed. The wolf watched the waiter hurry off into the dark of the club's expanses. The lithe thing was all flats and rounds, from which his uniform hung loosely, and within him was not a single fiber of dominion. From the tip of his slight muzzle to his plush tail, it was a wonder how he managed to fend his way through the city's unforgiving depths. Just as he had assured, it wasn't long until the waiter hurried back. With him, he brought a tray, where a stout glass filled with amber liquor sat upon it.

"Here you are, mister," he said, setting the glass onto the table before them. "Call if you need anything else."

"Wait," the wolf interjected just as the waiter was about to turn tail and dash off to the next guest. "Aren't you a little young to be serving up drinks... here, of all places?"

"No, not at all. You see, as long as I'm not mixing them or drinking them-- which would probably get me in trouble anyway-- I'm hired. And anything outside the lobby is off-limits for me, too," he explained.

"Hmm... Well, you watch your back around these parts, kid."

"Yeah, I do," the fox murmured before leaving at last. He kept his tail low as he approached the next guest.

The wolf turned away, offering the occasional brief glance at the okapi dancer. That wasn't why he was here. He lifted the glass to his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as the malty smoke touched his lips. As he set it back down, he took a moment to scan his surroundings. He glanced over consorts, patrons, and bouncers, not phased in the slightest.

"Hey," whispered a husky voice, beginning like velvet and ending in vocal fry. The warm breath against his ear sending immediate ripples down the wolf's hackles. He nearly drove a fist into the stranger's jaw before he caught himself and turned to look him in the eye.

"Goddamn son of a bitch," Roland hissed. "I told you not to sneak up on me like that."

"Come on, sweetheart. Lighten up a bit, will you? It'll do you good," the dog said with a chuckle as he circled Roland's barstool, not dissimilar from how a predator stalks his prey. He was a lean, unruly German Shepherd with sharp features and a seemingly perpetual smirk. His brown spiked hair was kept up in place with sparing gel, and his deep brown gaze was keen, if not a smidge callow as well. He was young and far too uppity for a Sentinel-- not that Roland minded. German Shepherds were still among the highest ranking dog subcastes, after all.

"Mister Spicer. Let's not draw attention to ourselves, alright? We're not here to have fun like the rest of these scoundrels," he muttered before leaning in close. "We've got a job to do."

"Which is exactly why we should have a little fun while we're here, yeah? I think..." Jannik plopped into the seat beside Roland, snatching the glass out of his loose grip. He took a sip, scrunching up his nose as he swallowed. Plain hard alcohol was not to his tastes. "...we ought to deserve it at this point. Don't you?"

"We'll get a room,'' Roland said. "A room, and that's all. Then, just before dawn, we get this done. From there, it's in and out."

"Fiiiiiine, dad," Jannik groaned, an obnoxious sing-song of his usual uptalk.

"There'll be plenty of fun to be had once we're done with these next few jobs," he said, reassuringly. "Then, we'll finally make it off this junkheap. You just need to be patient, Jan. Maybe lay off on buying new clothes every other day? That'll definitely cut down on expenses."

"You know I've got to stay in style, old timer. How else am I supposed to make an impression when we get to the off-world colonies?" Jannick said with a flourish, whisking his hands down the studded leather jacket that hung from his shoulders. Roland had never seen it before-- it must have been new, or he simply couldn't remember the last time it was worn. Jannick's extensive wardrobe was no laughing matter. You wouldn't catch him wearing the same ensemble on more than two separate occasions per month.

Roland rolled his eyes and sighed. The dog was always moving two steps ahead-- skipping them, rather. It was a contrast to Roland's methodological thinking, but endearing nonetheless. The notion of a future away from everything was beyond enthralling, especially as it felt so close now. He couldn't blame him. "Well, let's focus on getting to the off-world colonies first, okay?"

"You've got me there," he chucked, running a hand through his dark hair. "Deal."

Roland raised an eyebrow. If this short explanation was all it took to convince Jan to take on his tightened budgeting plan, he would have given him this talk much sooner. However, by the look of the dog's narrowed gaze, Roland suspected something ulterior to his sudden capitulation.

"So, about that room..." Jannick purred, a cheek nestled into his palm and grin spread wide across his face.

"I'll take care of it." Roland rose from his seat, smoothing his clothes and combing a few stray locks from his eyes. He swiftly navigated a path through the busy lobby. All around him shuffled masses of feliforms, caniforms, and the occasional raptor or reptile. Some were preoccupied with the merchandise, others waiting impatiently for the date that would never show. They all had their own purposes for attendance, as Roland had his.

"Nice to see you again, stranger," chirped a tall, lanky African wild dog. His hooded gaze and coy smile always suggested an air of sly mischief. On either side of his black, middle-parted fringes sprouted a pair of huge ears, reminiscent of satellite dishes. Amari was a smooth-talker in the moments he did choose to speak, but even greater was his ability to eavesdrop and nearly disappear into any given backdrop. It was part of the job-- clerical services and staff in general were always to be at arm's reach, yet invisible until said services were explicitly required of them. As desirable of an ally he may have been, to trust Amari was to take a gamble with the fate of your secrets, for there was not a single employee at the The Empyrean more worthy of the rumored information broker status.

"Amari," Roland smiled, giving the desk clerk's delicate hand a brief shake. "I'm looking for a room... preferably on one of the higher levels. One bed, a nice wide window, and nothing else matters."

"Nothing else?" Amari echoed, curious. "Not what I was expecting from a Vanguard. Now don't get me wrong, friend-- being choosy is a good thing. Customer is always right, especially customers like you."

"Nothing else," Roland said plainly. He paused, carefully continuing with hopes to minimize possible suspicion, "I don't have the energy for an adventure tonight... but why don't you surprise me?"

"Hmm... sixty-three thirty-seven should accommodate the two of you. Usually Vanguards only, but you're always welcome to bring the shepherd along. Nice big window, perfect for... exhibition," Amari grinned. He punched in some keys on the screen behind his desk. "Pass, please."

Roland unbuttoned his jacket, slipping a hand inside to retrieve his room pass. Different locations in The Empyrean were restricted by membership status, which was typically determined by caste. The Vanguard already had access to every floor, every club, every expo, and every pageant not restricted to donors, although he hadn't yet been to the vast majority of them.

"Are you sure you don't want to upgrade?" Amari asked, taking the rectangular card from Roland's hand. "It's worth it, you know."

"I'm on a budget, Amari," Roland grumbled. "...But maybe give it a few months? We'll see."

"As you wish," the wild dog simpered. He swiped the card across the screen as the computer emitted a quiet beep before handing it back.

Roland offered his brief thanks, then made his way back through the darkness to his seat with Jannick. The dog was slouched over the table with lids heavy, waiting less-than-patiently for his partner's return. He nearly leapt to his feat at the sight of him, spirits clearly revitalized.

"So...?" Jannick pressed, failing to hide his anticipation. His flagged tail was always an obvious tell, though he was typically easy to read by first glance, regardless.

"Sixty-third floor. It's close enough," the wolf said lowly.

"Awesome!" He chirped, Roland pressing a finger to his lips with a sharp glare immediately after. "Oh, right-- sorry. Awesome."

He took the dog by the hand, leading him across the lobby, down the neon-lit hall, and into an elevator. The control panel and the interior accents offered a vibrant chartreuse glow to illuminate one another's features. Roland could make out the curve of Jannick's ears, the tufts of fur that sprouted from his cheeks, and his honey brown eyes-- which now shone green. Even in the solitude of the rising elevator, Roland only dared to speak above a whisper.

"We're so close now, Jan. It's only a matter of hours before we put this plan in action," he breathed, taking both of the dog's hands in his own.

"I can almost see it," Jannick mused aloud, his voice uncharacteristically soft and dreamy. "Upsilon Apotheosa and its golden cornfields... have you ever even seen a cornfield before?"

"Not that I can recall..." Roland replied, trailing his fingers gently through the fluff of the dog's cheeks. Jannick's hands seemed to tremble within his as they scaled the floors-- or perhaps the trembling was his own. In the moment, it was impossible to tell.

"...but we can visit them, together," he continued, leaning in as he pressed a fleeting kiss to his lips. Jannick's grip tightened on him as he pressed forward, closing the distance between them again. When Roland broke away once more, the elevator had slowed to a halt, its doors sliding open with a hiss.

The two walked down the wing of endless doors with bated breath. It felt as if they had walked down the same corridor a thousand times until finally, the number sixty-three thirty-seven had revealed itself beside its respective entry. Roland retrieved the pass which he had pocketed again earlier, sweeping it across the scanner. The lock clicked open, and with the flicker of a dim, fluorescent red light, they stepped inside.