FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

This story is a collaboration between myself and Antarian_Knight. Comments are always welcome.

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Talon forced himself to remain perfectly still, knowing from experience that even a single movement would tip off his target. It had taken three days to find this perfect location, three days for his target to follow the false trail into his kill zone. Three days of agonized waiting, wondering if his target had out-thought him, or whether he would see through the false trail. But now, it was all paying off. His target was a hybrid between a wolf and a man, and he was a very difficult target to even get close enough to see through a sniper scope. But ever since Talon had gotten the kill order for him, he had been trying to find a way to get around his heightened senses. But then, just when the wolf was entering the small clearing where the dragon sniper had made the trail cross over and over itself, he suddenly paused, crouching, the look on his face seeming almost suspicious. Talon silently swore to himself as the wolf remained crouching, well out of Talon's aim. Now he was facing a dilemma, one that would, like as not, not be improved by waiting it out. If he held still, waiting for the wolf to move into his sights, and he didn't, then all that work would be for nothing, and he would be the one being hunted. But if he moved, he ran the risk of being spotted, even at this distance. Taking a deep breath, Talon decided on a compromise, shifting his aim ever so slightly, widening the space where he could kill his target.

Even as he stopped moving, the wolf got back up to his feet, stalking forward as if seeing something that wasn't quite visible. Carefully restraining the predatory grin that sprang to his lips, the dragon took careful aim on the wolf as he moved into the kill zone. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, the sniper gently squeezed the trigger, going to half pull and steadying his aim for the final kill shot. But just as the rifle fired, the wolf suddenly dropped into a crouch once again, taking him right out of Talon's aim, the shot going right over the wolf's head. In an instant, the wolf was running, making Talon smile grimly. As the wolf approached, running with a speed so great he was blur even the dragon's enhanced senses, the dragon kept his breathing calm. Shifting his aim to compensate for his target's speed, he gently squeezed the precision trigger a second time. With a sharp kick into his shoulder, the silenced sniper rifle spat a round down range, and he saw the wolf stumble as it connected, hitting dead center on his chest. Smiling, the dragon stood up, sure that the target was dead this time. In the past, when they had faced off, he had always missed, missed because the wolf was so quick. But this time he was sure he had done it. Then, as the dragon looked back, expecting to see the wolf on the ground, he realized that something was dreadfully wrong. The wolf was still on his feet, still running towards him, like he hadn't even been hit. Before the dragon could bring his rifle up into firing position, the wolf would be too close, even for a snap shot. Dropping the rifle and drawing his sidearm instead, Talon did what came naturally, snapping off a shot without aiming. His aim was true this time, the dragon's altered physiology allowing him to watch the bullet hit his target, but the wolf was still on his feet, still running.

Before he could fire again, the wolf was on him, a diving tackle knocking the dragon to the ground. On instinct, he kicked out, catching his attacker on the thigh, his claws tearing at the wolf's skin, the momentum of the strike tossing him head over heels. Scrambling to his feet, the dragon turned around, snarling at his foe. Pain crossed the wolf's features as he held a hand to the gash, and Talon grinned in triumph. Even though his foe was meant for hand to hand combat, no one matched a dragon. Then without warning, the wolf's pupils dilated and the pain seemed to vanish, the wolf's lips forming a grin of almost manic pleasure. Moments later, without any warning, a pair of thin blades of a strange material shot from the wolf's wrists, and he stepped in quickly, slashing viciously at the dragon's chest. Dancing back, Talon felt one of the blades score his scales, and he realized that they had to be ceramic, stronger and sharper than steel. If the wolf caught him just right, they might actually pierce his scales. Talon circled the wolf warily, trying to spy a way to get to his dropped sidearm, and it was only after he spotted it, almost directly behind the wolf, that he noticed two craters in the flesh of the wolf's chest.

So, he hadn't missed after all. Both of his shots had hit where he had aimed. But the wolf wasn't hurt, no blood on his chest. Instead, beneath the torn skin, Talon saw only what looked like dark grey cloth, woven into layers. The wolf had armor beneath his skin. Putting that thought out of his mind, Talon tried to find a way to get around his foe and but he knew he was too intelligent to fall for a normal ruse. Returning the wolf's feral grin, he thought back to his briefing, wondering what he was supposed to do now. This was exactly the sort of situation he was supposed to avoid when fighting this enemy. The wolf had been augmented and trained specifically for close quarters and hand to hand fighting in mind, and though Talon had had some hand to hand training, it wasn't nearly as much as his opponent. Then, suddenly, a thought crossed his mind, and he grinned again. Moving quickly, the dragon feinted to the left, then right, watching how the wolf was reacting.

The wound didn't seem to be hindering the wolf at all, despite the blood that stained his leg fur red. Instead, he allowed the dragon to move around him, waiting him out. But the feints had had more than one purpose. Suddenly, the dragon whirled around, moving as fast as he could. Before the wolf could react to the surprise move, the dragon swept his tail right through the wolf's legs, the tip curled up to lash against the wound like a whip. Even though the wolf didn't seem feel the pain, the muscle was still damaged and the wolf's leg buckled under the impact. Before the wolf could recover, Talon dove for his gun, his hand closing on it, his finger finding the trigger in a second. Whirling around, grinning in triumph he brought the gun into firing position and froze.

The muzzle of the gun was flush with the wolf's temple, Talon's scaly finger half-pulling the trigger. But he hesitated to fire, something stopping him. Well, two things really. First, the dragon could feel the point of one of the wolf's ceramic blades up against his neck, digging up under one of the layers of scales, ready to stab. Second, barely visible under the wolf's fur, on the side of his neck, was what looked like a black tattoo, an ID tag almost like a barcode. What gave him pause about that was that he, Talon, had the same sort of thing tattooed on his own neck. Both of them stood stock still for a few moments longer, then, surprised, Talon lowered the pistol, backing slowly away from his opponent. There was only one reason that he could think of that the wolf would have had that mark. The only explanation was that they had been made by the same people. Apparently, the wolf had the same thought, for he stepped back as well, the ceramic blades retracting back into his arms.

Their makers had lied, lied to them both...

The dragon's first thought was, 'No. This can't be.' But no matter how much he hated it, no matter how much he wanted to deny it, the facts were plain as day; they had been played. Still looking at the silver-grey wolf, Talon removed the magazine from his sidearm and worked the slide, removing the round from the chamber; something that was now second nature. As the red dragon looked at the wolf, he began to understand things about him; stress level, injuries, heart rate. When coupled with his sense of smell, an almost complete medical record was laid out before him; diet, health and fitness, things that seemed to be in the green for the most part, despite the bodily damage that had been dealt.

The neural lace implanted in Talon's skull came to life and began to relay a message, 'What are you waiting for? He is your target. Kill him. Kill him now!' The urgency of the mental message gave the dragon a heavy feeling in his gut. And yet, even as the weight settled in, he pushed it aside and sent back a single, one-word reply.

'Hold.'

'What was that, soldier?' The neural lace buzzed, 'You were given a direct order! Complete your objective!'

'I repeat: hold. Something doesn't feel right.'

He continued to stare the wolf down, occasionally tilting his head this way and that as he tried to observe different things about the one he had been trained to hate. He saw the dogtags nestled within the fur around the wolf's neck and felt his own as they rested upon his chest. They each stared down at each other's tags for long moments; nothing was said between them. And then, with their eyes going wide, they both started to remember...

The small boy slowly woke up with a clouded mind and blurred vision that took a few moments to clear away. It took him a little while after his eyesight and brain started focusing to realize that he was strapped to a metal table with arm and foot braces made from the same material. Soon, his vision had fully cleared and the boy began to look curiously about the claustrophobic, white room. The poor kid felt strange, as if he wasn't himself or like he had the wrong body; he felt displaced, which was odd, considering that he had absolutely no recollection of anything prior to waking up on the table. the child had no idea who he was or where he was. One could even go so far as to say that he didn't even know he existed. He just was. And, that is exactly what it seemed to be. Even more disturbing was that the boy felt as though he shouldn't have even been able to notice those certain self-perceptions. After all, he was only ten years old...

He laid there for quite some time, understanding what he could see and feel- which seemed to be everything around him- until an extremely bright light turned on, accompanied by a loud thudding sound not unlike that of stadium lights being flipped on. It hurt his suddenly sensitive eyes and the front of his head began to throb in dulled pain as a result. As the kid's poor assaulted eyes tried to readjust to the their harsh treatment, he became acutely aware of the light's electric buzzing filling his ears. And, as he began to ponder and understand the light and its accompanying buzz, a metallic voice scratched out from the old-looking speaker on the wall next to the single, narrow door that led out of the room. "Hello, Subject 1276, and welcome to the world."

The child looked puzzlingly at the speaker for a few moments, briefly wondering if the voice was referring to him. But such thoughts were confirmed by what it said next, "I hope you had a nice hibernation."

'Hibernation?' he thought, 'Am I some sort of animal, or something?' Subject 1276 then began to ponder himself again; his mental capacities far exceeding the average range of thoughts that his supposed age group usually possessed. 'What am I? Where am I? Who am I?' All of those thoughts and more scrolled through his young mind. Until then, he had been content with his silence. But he could bear it no more. Thus, the boy opened his mouth for words for the first time in years, perhaps even for the very first time.

"Who am I?" Those three simple questioning words earned a laugh from the metal sound-maker.

"You are Subject 1276, a creation of man and woman made better." The voice seemed anxious for some reason, even spiteful for a reason the boy would never know. But what he did know was that the voice from the speaker belonged to a man, an older man that he thought sounded trustworthy. But another question bubbled up from inside him.

"Who are you?" Again, a simple and innocent question that was all that the subject asked. Short, sweet, to the point; something he soon learned he had a knack for. Again, laughter came form the sound device, but it sounded a little more forgiving this time.

"Archer. Director Wickham T. Archer." The speaker replied. Yet, that didn't satisfy 1276 very much. So he tossed a request out to the metal thing on the wall.

"Let me see you."

"As you wish," came the reply. Soon, the doorknob adjacent to the speaker turned. The child heard every pin and tumbler inside working and moving to undo the incisor-like latch. Though that shouldn't have been the case. A man stepped inside wearing a deep greenish military suit with medals of all kinds adorning his shoulders. The boy looked at him and began to understand things, things no one else could. Even at the rough distance of twenty feet, he could see into his pores and even slightly see the imperfections and groups of muscle strands in his irises. Subject 1276 began to smell the man's odor and could tell that he had been stressed to the point of perspiration prior to stepping inside the room. Just what it was that had caused the stress, the boy didn't know at the time; nor would he find out for sure until a year or two later. But it held some resemblance to the scent of wet dog.

"Why am I here?" Subject 1276 asked, and the man grinned.

"You are here because we made you better and so that you could have a chance to help the world," he stroked his brown and only slightly greying hair backward. "You are here because you are special..."

More than a few months passed and the child, known only as Subject 1276, changed as people came in and did things to him. Most of the time, they knocked the poor kid out when they began whatever "work" they did on him. Though, most of the time, he only remembered them sticking him with needles filled with a funny-looking liquid. All the while, Director Archer was present with the other people dressed in lab coats; watching and directing their actions For the most part, the child didn't mind. But, when the itching started, it was unbearable. They injected him all over his body with the strange chemicals. And almost every time after the shots, the injection sites would flare up in a hideous rash that would take hours to wane; the worst part being that he was usually restrained and unable to itch the offending spots. But other days were better. On some days, Subject 1276 was released and allowed to move about freely, only to be sat in front of a desk and given a booklet of paper containing tests that not only seemed pointless, but ridiculously hard as well!

On other days, Subject 1276 was taken out of the room and into this giant arena-looking place. It had huge vaulted ceilings and an actual wildlife environment. The first time he had been taken there, he hadn't been given anything to drink at all. They dropped him in the middle of the arena; only giving him a knife, and only one command. Survive.

The child was stuck in the artificial wilderness for days. On the first day, he had found a door. After pulling with all his might, he quickly found that it was locked tight. He slowly began to pace back and forth, wondering just what he was going to do. It seemed that he couldn't get out, so he decided to not to be in a rush; to be patient and gather information. Finally decided, he sat down and tried to understand all that he could see and otherwise perceive, like he had so many times in months passed when he was given a test or some other task that seemed impossible. Sitting cross-legged in a small clearing, the small boy closed his eyes and concentrated in an attempt to calm himself a little more. He wasn't scared; more excited than anything else, considering that it was the first time not being stuck inside a small room.

The boy opened his eyes and immediately saw berries that he somehow knew were edable. That was what he saw. With his ultra-sensitive ears, he began to pick out noises made by various kinds of animals; from the most silent of insects, to the loudest of birds. Some of those birds though, they seemed to make his ears throb in slight twinges of pain.

He began to perceive things with his skin as well; he felt the slight movements of air as differing kinetic energies changed the air pressures and required particles to fill or vacate the affected space. But he didn't exactly know that that was the cause of what he felt with his flesh; he just knew that it was there and acknowledged it. His nose came to life and the boy seemed to nearly jump when he began to smell things; all kinds of things. He could smell the fresh grass underneath him, not like the aftermath of a lawn mower, more like after a drizzle of rain in the Spring. But then again, did he really know what "Spring" was? He had never truly seen the light of day. All he knew was from information he had been told; or somehow been in possession of already.

And yet, there was something else, something even newer than the obvious improvements in his perceptive senses. Something in his head suddenly felt weighted. No, that wasn't right. What was it? It felt heavy, yet it didn't. The ghostly weight turned to pain all too quickly. Then, a slight sinking feeling hit his stomach. On instinct, he began to stand, only to double over onto his hands and knees. It took only a second more for the symptoms to bear their full fruit. Opening his mouth, the child began to gag, his small body shifting forward slightly as his insides tried to push out insubstantial matter. But, that soon wasn't the case. Subject 1276 started to feel the intense sting of a sour liquid running up his esophagus. The got worse and only served to make the ten year old gag harder. For a moment, it just seemed to linger at the very top of his throat before spilling out onto the ground. It didn't take long for it to burn his mouth as the liquid made its exit trip past his teeth. He sat there for a moment longer, not wishing to look at what he just spilled out onto the ground. However, he couldn't escape the rancid stench that began to diffuse itself through the air. He suddenly realized why that had just happened to him. He needed water.

He tried to listen for the sound of running water. After a few minutes of strained ears, there it was. The gentle trickle and rush of a small stream close by. Where was it. Where! Water, it was suddenly the most important thing in his mind as he developed a case of cottonmouth. His legs were weak, hardly up to the task of supporting even his light weight as he tried to make a mad dash toward the sound of running water. He suddenly felt close to weightlessness as his legs began to give out under him. He fell, again this time almost on his face. He tried to get up and keep going, but his arms failed him too. The poor boy flopped back down to the ground. He couldn't make it; couldn't keep going in motion. The world started to spin and the kid felt as though he would hurl once more. And, just as that thought ran through his young mind, his eyes closed and he drifted unwillingly toward unconsciousness.

He awoke slowly the next morning, laying on his back. Slowly, his vision returned from the black realm of slumber as his eyelids reluctantly slid open, revealing the high, vaulted ceiling of the nature room. He turned his head to the side only to find a pair of leaves sitting there next to him. One held a small pile of the berries he had found earlier, the other was stiffly curved and held a little water- like a cup. Instantly, the kid was curious, he hadn't collected any berries, had he? No, definitely not! And the water...how did the water get there? Gradually, his heart rate went up, right alongside his growing concerns that there was someone, or worse, something in the room with him. That is when the sinking feeling in his gut began anew. But he knew he wasn't going to throw up again. How could he? It was bad the night before. Then, a steady concern filled his mind from somewhere within. It carried knowledge, knowledge and a feeling- not unlike what a hunted animal would feel when stalked by a predator; he was being watched.

Subject 1276 looked around. He saw nothing, but the feeling persisted. Again, he looked about, still nothing. Something felt wrong, horribly wrong. But what was it? He...oww...his stomach growled. Those berries looked good. Momentarily forgetting his feeling of being watched, he reached for the berries. His mouth watered just from the sight alone! Greedily, he scooped some up in a fist and shoved them into his mouth. Like a gluten, he stuffed his mouth, trying to sate the horrible beast that was hunger in one of its most primal forms. Then, he saw the water; it didn't last all of two seconds more as he quickly gulped it down. As the cool liquid ran down his parched and acid-burned throat, his mind became clearer, allowing him to realize just how much of an effect the episode the previous night had on him. He might as well have been an ant in terms of brain power. But, he still felt a little dehydrated, the scratchy feeling running down the inside of his neck wasn't helping much either to comfort him.

The sound of the creek returned to his ears a moment later and he turned his head in that direction almost automatically. Still uneasy, he slowly got up and stumbled in that direction. A whole minute was all it took for the poor kid to reach the bank of the small stream. If someone could see him, they would have thought that he was ready to dive into the shallow brook- which he just about did. But, there were a few reasons why he did not. Aside from the shallowness of the stream, his eyes spotted something. Normally, it wouldn't have been much of a deal had it been normal sized. What he was eye-locked with was a footprint. Not just any footprint though; it looked like it belonged to a large dog or something. By the looks of it, the owner of the feet that made the prints was a little bigger than it should have been. His nose caught the scent of wet dog, like the first time he had met Director Archer. To top it all off, the feeling of being watched returned full force. But why? Who was watching him? Where were they? Something made a sound off to his left and the kid faced the direction of the sound. Slowly, the boy peered down and spotted the knife the pokey needle people had given him; It was fastened to his right leg. In a smooth and delicate motion, he unsheathed it. He listened, but heard nothing but the small slice of nature.

But then a sound came from the right! Quickly, the boy turned. Suddenly, nothing, wait...No! There was something! He saw a shadow! A blur. Not much, but it was something. Another sound, again to the left! He turned, but again saw nothing; not even the shadow, nor a disturbance of the foliage. Another, sound, farther to the left. This time, as he turned, time seemed to slow down. That is when he saw it. There it was!!!! It was a figure shrouded within the shadow itself. It was about his size and fast, very fast. Unable to contain himself any longer, the boy immediately broke into a sprint in the opposite direction. Whatever it was that he saw, he didn't care. He just wanted away from it. He didn't go two steps before he realized his mistake. The shadow had turned the boy's back to the stream, a stream that had been lost in the moment; its presence completely forgotten. With a splash, he fell into the water, soaking his front. Letting go of the knife, Subject 1276 sprang back onto his feet, thanks to a dose of adrenaline coursing through him. He was scared out of his wits and only had enough room in his mind for one command. Run, get away.

The small boy ran and ran. Every time he stopped to take a rest, he heard noises of the underbrush shifting about. It was enough to spook him into running further into the jungle of the nature room. At last, his legs could no longer support his weight. With a yelp of surprise, Subject 1276 fell into a heap mid stride; tumbling over himself a few times as his momentum continued on. 'Oh no!' he thought as he laid there on his side, 'I'm dead meat! I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead!'

The boy began to cry softly, accepting his presumed fate. Why were the scientists so mean to him? What did he do? He had never been admonished or punished for doing something wrong. But alas, after a few minutes of laying on the ground and wallowing in dispair, it became clear that death wasn't coming for him. At least not yet, it seemed. Cautiously, the child looked around, hearing only the chirps of birds and the trill of crickets. Nearby, a katydid performed its namesake call from under the protection of a dark shadow. He saw nothing but trees and bushes. One of the trees looked easy enough to climb and was a little taller than some of the others. And what was more, it looked like apples of some sort grew within its canopy. But he couldn't move, not just yet. No, he was beat; he couldn't move no matter how much he wanted. On the upside, though, his surroundings were a little more different. He began to stare at and understand the new kinds of trees and shrubs, catagorizing and filing them away. He looked at the grass. It was the same grass as before, nothing new to understa- wait a minute...there was something different about the way the grass stood in certain spots. As the boy looked closer, he began to get the feeling that something big and square and heavy had sat there. Tilting his toward the ceiling, he could make out the shape of a small square. He stated at it intently, trying to understand, only to run into failure. It was simply too far up to examine correctly; yet he still looked at it. It seemed important, regardless.

Eventually, as more crickets and katydids joined the cocophony of sound, the boy's strengh returned to him. Slowly, he sat upright and stretched his arms up and then to the sides. He looked again at the tree he had stared at before; there was fruit at the top, deliscious-looking fruit. Immediately decided, the boy got to his feet and slowly moved toward the tree's trunk. With one hand, he grabbed a low-hanging branch and braced a foot against the tree base. His other hand soon joined the first as his second foot was propped above its mate. With a small heave, Subject 1276 pulled himself onto the underside of the tree limb, wrapping his legs around it in the process. He hung there for only a second, gathering his strength. Soon, he began rocking from side to side, slowly building a little momentum with each shift of movement. He built just a little more and then pulled himself closer to the tree. The rough tree bark scratched and tore at his skin, drawing a little blood in a few places as he swung himself onto the top of the tree branch. He stayed there and didn't move, a little amazed at himself for knowing what he was doing.

The boy inched closer to the main trunk and used its supple support as he stood unsteadily on the branch's girth. There were more branches now, some followed each other in a staircase fashion; albeit spaced so that it would require more acrobatics. The boy let out a sigh. Why him?

After a half hour or so of climbing, Subject 1276 found himself sitting high in the tree and eating its fruit. The fruit was heavenly: sweet and tangy. There was also a slight bitter taste to it. After eating his fill, the boy smile in contentment and closed his eyes. Sleep followed quickly.

•••

"Release him again." said the old man.

"But, sir!" exclaimed an underling, "The last time was highly traumatic for 1276. The next time cou-"

"I don't have time for excuses, Corporal. I need results!" The aging man's voice held a powerful threatening tone in it.

"B-but..." The operator stammered, unable to really form an argument due to a small element of fear.

"Do it, or I'll have you killed for mutinous insubordination." The threat came out at last and was no longer contained in tone of voice.

The operator let out a resigned sigh, "Yes sir." He pushed a button, raising a trap door somewhere in the bio dome arena.

•••

It was the third day and the boy awoke from his dreams in the same sitting position he had dozed off in. Carefully, he let himself down to the ground, looking for some berries to eat. After spending half and hour gathering the food, the boy quickly ate. Half way through his meal, the feeling of being watched washed over him again but vanished just a fast. It didn't come back and allowed the kid to finish eating. However, when the boy was doing his calming ritual later in the day, the feeling returned ten fold and accompanied by the sound of a twig snapping from behind...