FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

Sometimes things don't go the way you planned. Like when you get to work late because you thought you'd beat traffic. Or when that psycho killer neighbor from across the street you planned to expose turns out to be a nice fella who means well.

Sometimes things go so horribly wrong it's almost not worth earning three million dollars for living through.

A bubbly young woman spoke on the other end of the phone. "Good morning, Mister Reese! As is tradition here at Hunter Killer, we are calling to inform you that a large bounty has been placed on your head. As the best of the best in the assassin business, we believe it's only fair we give our prey knowledge of the bounty placed on them to provide a fair advantage. Have a nice day!"

A blue gecko sat opposite of Reese, clad in a black suit and hat. He took a drag from his cigar and scoffed. "Fair advantage. Now who came up with that? At least ten people are on their way to kill you as we speak. Er, as I speak."

Reeking smog from the man's cigar billowed from the sides of his mouth. A sickly cloud of smoke shrouded his face.

"Well," the man grunted, "as thrilling as this conversation is, I best get going 'fore this gets messy. Hannibal needs me elsewhere. No need to thank me for making the bounty so high, it was easy finding dirt worthy of garnering so much heat. Give those killers the time of their life!"

The lanky man stood and bowed his head to Reese before he left his house. The air freshened as soon as he was gone.

Reese thought about the unknown man a moment longer. He fidgeted and scratched at his seat. It annoyed him that he never knew his name but knew everyone else's. What made him so special? All he ever seemed to do was act as Hannibal's black-throated guard dog and chaperone for test subjects. Why wasn't anyone allowed to know his name?

Dim sunlight filtered through the curtains and washed over his body. He felt empty. Not even the fact that he could die any minute stuck in his mind. He didn't want to run away nor bring the fight to anybody. The only thought fixed in his mind was to follow orders and get results. All he could do was sit and wait.

Two miles away, a rabbit sped through a park on a bike. He smiled and waved at a passing family out for a walk with their daughter skipping ahead and absolutely thrilled to draw on the paths with colorful chalk. A group of people claimed a lush, grassy spot in the center of the park for a golden morning yoga session, including a sexy blue-haired monkey girl he had seen bartending at a popular joint nearby. He wanted to ask her out. Viktor and Valerie. What a pair they could be.

He watched her as she stretched and fixed her glasses to stop them from falling off. In his moment of thirst, he nearly hit an old man and swerved to avoid him. His phone suddenly buzzed in a frenzy. He skidded to a stop and checked out the cause for the commotion. He squinted at his screen to read the message under the sun. His eyes lit up. It was work, and so early, too.

Viktor gleaned the contents of the message, information about a man by the name of Blake Reese: seventy-one years of age, wanted for conspiracy and threatening to leak sensitive information--probably from another business, he assumed. He read further and discovered more details. Sex offender charges, drug charges, and allegedly outing an associate to save his own skin. He thought it wasn't worth the effort to kill this geezer until he saw the price on his head: three million dollars, wanted dead.

He must have really pissed someone the hell off. It had to be Apex that wanted him dead, another high end hit group that stood below Hunter Killer.

Viktor stared in disbelief for a minute and realized the precious time he was wasting. He picked up his bike and made an awkward one-eighty turn.

"Good day, son?" An elderly woman asked.

"Yeah. And it's about to get better."

He took one last look at Valerie and sped home to get geared up.

Five minutes away from Blake Reese, caffeinated chaos ensued.

"I said I quit, dipshit," said a thirty something year old woman behind the counter at a coffee shop. She doused her boss in scalding black coffee as onlookers on the other side watched through their smartphones and tweeted frantically about the situation unfolding. Fucking nosy kids. Even more, she hated her boss, that twenty-two year old fuckwit who acted like he was the best at everything and did God's work ordering her around to serve know-it-all college shitheads riding off daddy's credit card their shitty seasonal lattes with light foam, simple salt toppings, delicate caramel drizzles, vanilla flavoring, almond milk, and more bullshit she couldn't bear to memorize.

"All you little shits come in here every damn day knowing exactly how to piss me off, but you can't figure out what you want to do with your sorry lives!"

Her boss writhed on the ground, holding his face and repeatedly yelling, "My face! You crazy bitch! My face!"

In the corner of the shop, Marcus just couldn't take it anymore. He was dying. Of laughter. His gut hurt as he wheezed and gasped for breath. He wiped his teary eyes and looked at his phone. His laughter stopped. He got up, swiped a breakfast muffin from someone's table when they weren't looking, and slipped through the crowd and groped a college chick while she was distracted by the event. Or was it a dude with long hair? Ass was ass either way.

When he got outside, the woman's crazed yelling was muffled. He couldn't tell what was going on until the crowd split and a chair burst through the front window. Glass rained all over the place and his sides split. Nothing like a good laugh before going to kill someone.

The same distance away, Delores, member of Hunter Killer's cleanup crew, had breakfast with her sweet younger sister and her even sweeter eight year old nephew Florence. The bespectacled brown and white sheep talked on and on about a "super cool" lego set his mommy got him for his birthday last week. He also thanked her again for the five hundred dollars she gave him because she didn't know what children liked these days. However, her sister thought it was best to hold onto it and save it for when he was older. What a cool older sister I am, Delores thought. Plus ten aunt points.

When her phone chimed, she went to the bathroom to check it out.

"What poor bastard needs to die today?" She asked as she shut the door.

She saw the price and considered the outcome. For that much money he had to be dead already, unless there were others killing each other to get to him first. She decided to let someone else handle it and returned to breakfast. She only hoped they didn't call her in to clean up on her day off.

Blake Reese stood over two limp bodies. Or so he thought both were limp until one moved again. A blackbelly ram lied on his side and stared up at him spitefully. He breathed short, painful breaths after having his ribs broken. His leg was broken and his hands were crushed in the shape of crooked fists. The other guy was face down in a puddle of foamy blood. Reese knew he was dead because he stopped gurgling.

He lifted his foot to stomp on the ram's head when a coughing fit of bullets ripped through the air from the kitchen behind him. He moved as soon as he heard the first shot. He counted five shots. All except one missed and ripped into his thigh.

Viktor stood from behind the island in the kitchen, with a bulletproof vest on and a suppressed glock 17 aimed his head. "Who the hell are you? For the price on this guy, you think Blake would opt for better protection than some mouse. Where is he?"

Follow orders. Get results.

Reese ticked and answered. "I am Blake Reese."

He shot toward Viktor at blur speed as his gun coughed four more times. Each shot merely grazed him. He leapt over the island and drop kicked Viktor into the wall with the force of a speeding truck. It happened in slow motion for Reese. He felt each of the rabbit's ribs shatter under his feet.

The back of Viktor's skull slammed into the wall and the entire world rang. A crushing weight stopped him from breathing and getting up. Someone grabbed his head and everything went upside down and turned black.

The injured ram watched from the living room in terror as Viktor's head became a scrambled mess of blood and brains on the marble floor. He made it look so easy.

Reese returned his attention to the ram. Two gunmen suddenly charged in through the front door in all black, ski masks included.

A gunshot cracked and a bullet ripped through Reese's cheek and exited the other side of his face in a geyser of blood and shattered teeth.

One of the gunmen cursed getting there late because of bad traffic as the other pointed out Blake Reese's absence.

"I don't think this is our guy, Marcus," his partner, another feline, said.

"He's Blake's protection! Kill anyone who gets in our way!"

Reese snapped his head at them and retched. "I am Blegch Rheesh," he said, spitting up blood and saliva from his new mouth holes.

Marcus and his partner strafed in opposite directions to surround him. Reese grabbed Viktor's body and used him as a shield. He closed in on Marcus and threw Viktor's body across the living room.

"Oh fuck!"

The body slammed into Marcus' partner and pinned him down.

Marcus fired three rounds into Reese's stomach before he ripped the automatic from his hands. Before the cat could react, the stock of his own gun instantly dropped on his forehead and cracked his skull open. Reese kicked him back into the island. His spine hit the edge of the granite top and bent in the shape of an L.

Reese fired several rounds into his partner trapped and unconscious under Viktor's body. Red mists sprayed as each shot punched through their bodies. He flicked the gun toward Marcus and sent a bullet straight through where he cracked his head open.

The ram coughed up blood and spit a slew of bloody curse words while he crawled away. He knew he wasn't making it out of this alive but his body acted on its own, even with broken ribs and mangled fingers. Even though broken glass cut his arms and lodged under his skin.

Reese got in front of him and peered at him curiously. Blood trickled down his jaw and neck and soiled his clothing. He didn't even act like he got his mouth blown out.

"You should be dead! Fucking monster!"

"I am Blake Reese."

Reese grabbed a vase and pitched it at lightning speed in the direction of the front door. It hit someone in an explosion of glass but they remained on their feet.

The man in the suit said they'd be coming.

He sprinted upstairs as unseen gunmen fired at him. Bursts of bullets tore the walls to pieces. He hit the floor when he reached the top. He tried getting up but his left foot didn't cooperate. He saw that a stray bullet destroyed his ankle. He crawled across the hallway until he came upon a lion with a lever-action shotgun.

A woman's voice sounded off downstairs. "Let 'em fly, Carlyle!"

Reese pushed himself out of the way and narrowly avoided getting his face blown off. He scrambled for the master bedroom as another flurry of pellets exploded through the air and peppered his back. Carlyle grinned and followed.

Three gunmen disappeared upstairs in pursuit of Reese and left the ram on his own. Guns fired in controlled patterns.

It wasn't his business anymore but he felt good about the situation. From the way this group operated, they had to be from Apex. Serious fucking killers. Nothing but predators unlike Hunter Killer. Never did he imagine gunfire could be so therapeutic. Controlled bursts and muffled orders came from upstairs, and fast footsteps stomped from room to room. They had that freak on the run.

"Shit!" Someone yelled.

The gunfire turned erratic. Everyone upstairs fired wildly until it died down to the one wielding the shotgun.

K-BOOM!

A woman screamed in pain and something that sounded like a car crash happened upstairs. A window broke and another damn person screamed.

Good for nothing god damn Apex. Four against one and you lose?

A body tumbled down the stairs followed by a ball bouncing down after it. Wait. That's a head.

If a collapsed lung didn't kill the ram, a heart attack surely would.

Reese lumbered downstairs. He wheezed and breathed slowly, heavily. He dragged another body behind him, holding them by the leg, which twisted the wrong way in his grip. Blood dripped from his fingers and painted the floor as more poured from his stomach. Bullet holes constellated his body with a black (actually red) hole set to the right of his heart. His left eye was a shattered, bloody mess. And he kept moving.

"Dear God, kill me now. Please, for the love of God. Don't let this demon take me," the ram said, hysterically.

Reese dropped the body and lurched toward the kitchen. He opened the pantry and yanked a bear out who was tied and gagged. He brought him into the living room and dropped him beside the ram.

It was the real Blake Reese.

Blake Reese looked in horror at the destruction and death scattered around his once pristine and swanky living room, and at the monster that stood above him. Blood dripped on his face and he pissed his pants. He struggled to escape but to no avail.

"Blake Reese" pointed at the ram then at the real Blake Reese. He opened his mouth to say something when he spasmed and collapsed backwards and crashed through a glass coffee table.

"Fuck you! Stay dead, cocksucker!" The ram screamed.

"Now this is more like it," a new voice said. It sounded raspy and nasty. "Excellent performance, Somnus."

A blue gecko in a black suit and hat ambled through the living room and smiled at the ram. Shells glass crunched under his boots. "Who do you work for, boy?"

"Who are you? Can't this end? Just kill this old fuck and take the money. Let me die here!"

The man laughed and coughed up gunk from his throat. "Money doesn't rule me. But, I'll let you have it if you tell me who you work for."

"Did you set this up? You crazy fucker. When word gets out, you'll be hunted down!"

The gecko laughed again, haahaahaa-ing as his throat rattled with something slimy caught in it. "I'm the monster that lives under the bed of every assassin. You're lucky you're funny. Otherwise I'd kill you right now. Who do you work for?"

The ram was befuddled by his response. He wanted this to end, as much as he didn't want to talk to this psycho. "I work for a man named Parton."

The gecko's face brightened. His smile was evil and had one too many teeth. "Parton... I knew him. He runs a small group of killers. You're brave taking on such a serious job. Strong. Exceptional at not dying..."

He felt like he was being mentally undressed by the unknown man. "W-What the fuck do you want?"

"Results." The gecko looked at Somnus who was dead in the broken remains of the coffee table.

"What's your name, boy?"

"You got to be fucking kidding me."

"Name. Or I break your fucking femurs."

"Avery!"

This pleased him. "Avery," he said, like looking back at a delightful memory. "Let's get along."

He kicked Blake Reese in the kidney and flipped him on his back. He straddled the old bear. He thrashed to get him off, but the gecko was heavier than he looked. His fingertips danced up Blake's chest and latched onto his neck. He strangled him, playing with his breathing, tightening and loosening up all while he made conversation with Avery. He kicked and struggled the whole time.

"I've been around many assassins. The one thing that gets to a lot of them is watching someone die slowly. They're so used to putting a bullet in someone and forgetting about it. Some of them just--Ngh! Don't get the same kick out of it like I do."

Life drained from Blake's eyes after six painful minutes of getting strangled. The look of fear stayed plastered on his face.

"That's another soul polluting hell. Someone will find you eventually. Take this kill as something for your troubles."

He got up and kicked Avery over on his stomach and held him down, putting pressure on his ribs. He croaked and cussed at the gecko. "Don't tell anyone about what you saw today. Do that and you'll receive a reward. Don't do that and I'll find you and show you what degloving is."

Avery nodded to every word he said. Behind him, glass shifted and a long, weak groan came from someone. His heart sank as he saw that monster getting back up.

"It's about time you wake up. Hannibal will be pleased to see the LDS rig working as intended. You're the future of the underworld. Feel okay?"

Somnus clenched his fists and retched a gurgling moan. He fought against the burning, head splitting, shock-inducing pain that fired through every nerve in his body. He breathed short, painful breaths and slumped to one side, unable to keep himself standing, but something else did it for him.

"Our ride is waiting outside."

The unknown man and Somnus left Avery all on his own surrounded by the unnatural disaster that unfolded. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling and laughed. Three million dollars for watching the world's worst hit attempt and making it out alive. He felt unstoppable. If he lived through this, he could live through anything. He never wanted to see any of those freaks again. He planned for his next vacation. With his newly earned windfall he could go anywhere. How about a month in Geneva?