FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

1

Rhykard Dean, sitting Indian-style on his well-made dorm room bed, cleared his throat out of awkwardness as his shirtless roommate dropped his cargo shorts and snapped the elastic band of his new, Atlas the Superdog underwear with glee. The toned, blue-black furred wolf was used to seeing guys undress--hell, in the gym locker room it was a past time of his--but he still felt a burst of heat ignite his cheeks as he did all he could to keep his eyes from roving over the 99.9% naked form of Seth. The leopard was his roommate for God's sake; his best friend. It was weird. But, also, it was incredibly, incredibly pleasant, and that made it all the more difficult not to stare.

The cat, leaner than Rhykard but well-cut, swayed his hips and flexed his ass-cheeks while turning and snickering. His steely blue eyes were bright through his black bangs; his orange-yellow fur seemed to glow. He was pleased as punch. For underwear. Rhy's amalgamation of embarrassment, lust, and utter disbelief was evident in his cocked eyebrow and blushing cheeks. Seth just snickered all the more as he read his roommate like a book.

"Come on, you have to admit they're nice. Don't look so confused. I mean--," he ran a paw down the curves of his sides, "Even _you_have to agree. And so comfy!"

Rhy just grunted and swallowed, rubbing his knees softly. "Why are you showing me again?"

Seth almost frowned. His hip cocked and his tail lashed about his bare feet. "Because I thought you'd appreciate them, my friend. And you know you enjoy the strip-tease."

Seth was right, of course. He knew Rhy too well. The wolf did appreciate them, appreciate the sight of his friend (in a painfully platonic sort of way) but--to him--they were just underwear. Still, he rubbed the back of his head and flicked his ears, intently seeking something about the skimpy attire to compliment.

"Well," he said. "The Atlas symbol is cool. They're his official brand, right?"

He knew it was stupid to ask that question. He peered around Seth's half of the room and took in all of the Atlas memorabilia he'd put up when the two had settled in. Official memorabilia. Posters, figurines, action figures, plush toys, a framed and autographed photo (the cat's pride and joy), etcetera, etcetera. For a twenty-something year old college student, Seth took his fanboyish nature to an extreme. Rhy thought the bedspread with the superdog standing triumphantly with a sparkling grin from the center was a bit much. He then, once again, glanced at Seth's super-undies and realized that boundary had been pushed a bit further still.

The cat sneered and rolled his eyes. "Of _course_they're official!" He then squealed and Rhy flinched at the girlish sound. "They're even made from the same material as his supersuit! Can you believe it!?"

Rhy's brow beetled and he smirked. "So, like..." He laughed. He couldn't help it. His tail thwacked against his bed and ruffled the comforter. "...you're pretty much bulletproof down there, huh?"

A growl rumbled out of Seth's mouth, his cheeks flushing. For the first time, he seemed to feel self-conscious since dropping his shorts, and he quickly reached down and yanked them back up. He nearly popped the button off in his furious haste.

"Shuttup!" he barked, tail a metronome of yellow-orange and hazy black spots. He then appeared to be legitimately angry. "Don't mock my hero, man."

Rhy held his thick paws up defensively, lips curling down and eyes softening pensively. "I'm not, I'm not! I'd never do that. I know how much you look up to him." Seth calmed, shuffling his feet and sitting on his own bed. The wolf noted how upset the cat looked at losing some self-control and grinned when his roomy peered back at him. "I mean, who doesn't look up to him, ya'know? He's our city's founding super."

Seth nodded with a remorseful smile across his face. "He's the coolest."

"The best," Rhy heartily agreed.

Atlas, the flight-capable, super strong, super fast, super invulnerable, and super hunky German shepherd was Bellemont City's icon and (now retired) protector. In the 1970's he was at his peak while leading his team, the Sentinels, and watching over the south-western portion of the eastern seaboard with steely determination and a since of unbending justice and morality. The dog was counted as America's most powerful super alongside the arcane powerhouse that was Magus (a tabby-cat Archmage who patrolled the western seaboard), and they're combined reputations alone deterred many a titanic struggle with foreign super-villains (and local ones alike). Atlas led the pack, and none dared bring trouble within a 200 mile radius of his presumed location. Supposedly, he can hear across that distance with ease. And he could be wherever he was needed in the blink of an eye.

But, even supers are beset by age, and in 2000 Atlas was in the forefront of an assault led by his nemesis--who was aptly named Nemesis, believe it or not--and took a direct blast from the villain's nullifying energy beams, as well as energy blasts from the entire collective of enemies (numbering into the hundreds). They'd all ganged up on Atlas, right over the skyline of Bellemont (Masonport, back then) knowing full well what he was capable of, wanting to end him once and for all. And they came damn-well close, too. He'd never suffered such a defeat.

The city was destroyed, and Atlas was unconscious for weeks. Luckily, the supers that banded together had evacuated the inhabitants, so no one was killed. Well, no normal people were killed. A lot of supers died, villains too, and the battle was recorded as the bloodiest super-battle in American history. But the good guys won, if winning was even an option or possibility. It ultimately became a battle royal and fight for survival. No one celebrated the outcome; no one celebrates it now. Atlas, when he awoke, could hardly live with himself when the death count was released. He was never the same, and, even now, people believe he still hasn't fully recovered. His leadership position was taken over by a fellow teammate, Red Corona, up until the Sentinels disbanded and went solo to cover the US more evenly. Or, like Atlas, they retired. If heros do in fact retire. Rhy didn't imagine that to be possible. You were a hero until you died, no matter if you buried the mask and suit in the black of your closet. It was a mindset and way of life. Hero's didn't just go away. Atlas didn't either. He helped to rebuild Masonport, to give his city's people a new start, and--in gratitude and honor of him--they declared the new city to be called Bellemont after Atlas dropped his moniker and revealed his real name: Raymond Belle. He was elected mayor, too, and is still in office looking the same as he did forty years ago, albeit a bit white around the muzzle. He keeps his powers off most of the time as well, rarely having any need for them.

The university that Rhy and Seth attended--League College--sprung up a few years after Mayor Belle took over, when other supers put away their capes and settled down, declaring that the future generations were what they'd been fighting to protect, and those generations deserved a super education so eventually they could succeed the heroes of old. It wasn't like Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters or anything, though. The students were normal, as far as Rhy could tell. Power's hardly manifested anymore these days. No one understood why, but some believed that the extraordinary abilities (many genetic and inheritable, some magical, some passed on through family heirlooms and artifacts) were being bred out of the population or removed. The age of the supers was dying down.

Times had changed. The focus had left what major super villain was doing what and what super team was going to beat the shit out of them, and instead everyone focused on the nation as a whole. The constant clashes between good and evil were tearing the country (the world even) to tattered pieces, and humankind was growing tired of putting things back together. Hell, no government could afford it anymore. So, almost as if it was universally understood, when the heroes began to settle, the villains too put away their alter egos. The major ones that didn't (who were hell-bent on world destruction or ruling the planet no matter what) were taken down by the last active-duty heroes and either locked away in Negate-Zone prisons or, as a last resort...terminated.

There were still supers around in the US, of course. Most were hidden, just trying to live a normal life; but the remaining few that were active (a squad of thirty or more old-timers and neophytes alike called the Vigils) were almost on constant alert for any signs of trouble. Villains of Nemesis' caliber rarely popped out of the woodwork anymore, so the Vigils spent most of their time aiding police forces and disaster relief aids all across the country, preventing what they could and protecting all in their power. Rhy admired the heroes for their duty, but...he sort of missed the glam and pomp of the old days. Not that he was around for the old days, but his mother was, and she'd raised him on stories of the fantastic and epic, the "Stop, villain!" tales and near god-like accomplishments of those with powers.

Rhy's childhood revolved around heroes. His father died when he was just a pup, so he hadn't had anyone to look up to but the super-strong men of society. He didn't mind. He always imagined that his father wasn't dead, but a hero in disguise who'd had to leave his wife and child behind in order to protect their identities from falling into maniacal hands of an arch nemesis. Even now, as a twenty year-old adult, he held onto that hope, mostly just to keep a grasp on an aspect of his receding childhood. Seth, on the other hand, had never let go of his childhood. He was much like Rhy in his adoration of supers, but...well.

The underwear told all.

After Seth had plucked back up and put on a shirt, he and Rhy stuffed their wallets and phones into their respective pockets and ventured out of their dorm into the heart of League College's campus.

The two had a class to attend, the first meeting since school had just started back up. The wolf brought his backpack (he always did) with his laptop, a notebook, pencils and a sketchpad if an artistic streak hit him. He loved to draw. Comics especially. You grow up with super heroes and it's only a given that you'll draw them in your spare time. Seth brought only a bottle of water and a granola bar which he stuck into the cargo pocket of his shorts. Rhy thought it odd to be going to class with nothing to take notes with, but Seth just waved the concern off.

"It's the first class. We won't be doing anything but looking over the syllabus and introducing ourselves," he'd said.

Rhy'd just shrugged and stuck an extra notebook and pencil into his bag, just in case Seth's bounding confidence came back to bite him on that taught ass.

The two made their way along the slate-rock sidewalks, admiring the white and red azaleas that bloomed in the school's numerous flower beds, the oak and poplar trees that lazed between the buildings and shaded students doing their homework or relaxing from stress. It was late August so the weather was mild, but a refreshing breeze constantly wound like a stream through the campus, ruffling Rhy's cheek fur and causing Seth to sigh in appreciation.

"Silverlight Hall, right?" Seth asked as he ducked around two obvious freshman with a campus map stuck to their faces. "Lecture hall 101?"

"Mmhmm," Rhy grunted. He then grunted as Seth, his ears bobbing, jabbed him in the shoulder with a knuckle.

The leopard grinned from spotted cheek to cheek. "Are you excited? You've got to be excited. I'm sooo excited!"

Rhy chuckled. Of course he was excited. The class they were headed to was Hero History 101, right up the wolf's alley of interests, but to make things all the more amazing?

Their professor was an ex hero.

Skinwalker--the Skinwalker--_was going to be teaching them about freaking _heroes!

A doctor, Skinwalker (going by his actual name, Kendall Conway), agreed to teach the course after Mayor Belle had a heart to heart with him over how "the younger generation was forgetting their heritage and forgetting the selfless heroes and growing up in a world with hardly any left." Conway, of course, was vastly proud of his heritage and accomplishments and didn't want his many friends (most of them gone) to vanish from the minds of the people. But, not only did the class fulfill a history requirement, it peeked into the old battles gone by, zeroed in on specific heroes and specific fights, into the schemes and minds of super villains that enacted them. And it helped pave the way for what Rhy truly, truly wanted to do with his life.

Law enforcement: Super-crime level. Detective Rhycard Dean, agent of the SCBI.

Well, that and he was going to get to meet an actual super!

Rhy tried to suppress his Seth-like squeal of giddiness, but it still escaped his maw. Hell, he even danced a happy jig with the leopard as they went, tails flapping from side to side like parade flags.

"I thought I'd be nervous," the wolf said. He clapped his paws against his cheeks, noting they were still flushed. Warm, too. Probably just adrenaline or something.

"Hell, I'm not! This is going to be amazing! Maybe I can..." The leopard gasped. Rhy eyed him cautiously, knowing an explosion of emotion was about to come. What kind of emotion, though, he'd have to--"MAYBE I CAN GET HIS AUTOGRAPH. A PICTURE EVEN. OHMYGAWD I'M SO NERVOUS."

Rhy just shook his head, brushing some obsidian-blue hair from his eyes. Then he gasped himself as a pain, like a biting spider, flared on the back of his neck. He clapped a paw there, expecting to squash something, but when he pulled it back there was nothing. Nothing but the pain that was already beginning to fade. Then it was gone.

Seth cocked an eyebrow at him. "You alright? Nerves finally getting to you, too?"

Rhy gingerly felt the back of his neck again. Still nothing there. No bump or blood, no smooshed little spider corpse tangled in the fur of his mane.

"No, I'm--" His head swam for an instant, throwing off his equilibrium and making him totter. He regained his composure, though, laughing the dizzy spell off as nothing. Maybe the heat. The sun was high overhead. The breeze soothed his clammy forehead. He felt alright. He smiled at Seth. "I'm fine."

The cat watched him silently for a minute or two, and then just shrugged. He ran ahead a ways pumping his fists and babbling "SO EXCITED," the water bottle and granola swinging heavy in his pocket and pulling down his shorts. The band of his Atlas underwear was showing over the back.

Rhy laughed and shrugged his backpack into a more comfy spot on his shoulders. He was starting to sweat, but--otherwise--he felt okay. Nothing to worry about.

Then his ears flicked to a sound, a voice, so quiet that it barely registered to him. It was like the breath-like breeze had whispered to him just three, sheepish little words. He peered around, brows raised, and found no one within earshot. Seth had even disappeared somewhere up ahead.

The wolf stood for a moment more, and when he heard nothing else he continued on, his ears flicking in every direction and eyes staring forward but turned inward on himself as he thought. Goose pimples raised all across his flesh and, for some reason, his fur hackled. He immediately brushed it down and breathed though something like panic began to well up inside his chest.

It comes. That's what he'd heard.

It comes soon.