FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I always had a name and, perhaps even more extraordinarily, two eyes resting on my face. It wasn't like I had a particular role- what job would possibly fall to the second child of a middle-class family? And yet still, while I was no more than an average kid, I received all the respect and fear the position of One-with-Duties typically boasted.

I absolutely despised it.

The other children played together so cheerfully, had so much fun. They made up names to call one another for the day until they inevitably forgot each other after they parted, but what was the fun in naming someone whose name was already known by the entire town? Someone born with all the things that placed him on a level above them, with eyes that purposefully slandered him as a cold leader for them to serve?

Talking to the adults was scarcely different than playing with the other kids- they always mindlessly went along with what I said. Sometimes I even heard them talking about me, saying that I was unnatural, a mistake. But they were still nothing more than extras, pawns, in the game. Yes, I was an actor who had never received his script; it was both the greatest and loneliest gift the Country of Clovers could ever afford me. I wished it hadn't.

Naturally my seclusion led me to seek my own form of entertainment. I tried simple things at first: burying myself in books, studying the countries of Hearts and Diamonds, painting, writing poetry- anything to keep my mind busy. Nothing changed, however; I found that the isolated feelings I had had turned into anger and a definite hatred of my peers.

I turned to violence. Hurting others was fun, and it didn't matter to me at all how it affected them. They were unimportant, part of a niche meant to exist and nothing more. However, as I grew up the novelty of going around and instigating random fights wore off.

For a while I stopped entirely, focusing mostly on school work, but the faceless beings around me had gotten older as well. Even the extras can have enemies, as I had come to learn, and soon the youths who had once ostracized me because of my face now cowardly asked me to fight their battles.

I made a new game out of these requests, taking bribes from my classmates to start duels between the school lectures destined to be quickly forgotten, receiving payment to give out brutal beatings whether the target deserved it or not. Wonderland became a perfect heaven for me, the One-with-Duties who served only himself. Before I realized it I was an adult, yet still the calls continued coming.

Things like "Someone bumped into me in the street." "Someone stepped on my tail." "Someone groped me in the bar." Petty complaints fueled by a desire to see others hurt became my source of income.

And then, a new fun began.

I made enough money from my 'specialty service' and other odd jobs to make a simple living for myself, just like the rest of the people of the nameless town. I surely didn't need the money, save for monthly payments on the flat I rented, because I could easily take on anyone in the village in a fight over the goods I needed, but what was I to do with the money but spend it? Some days I would feel particularly extravagant and would buy trivial things- expensive foods, drugs, and occasionally the time of a pretty young woman. I took up smoking, too, though I never quite acquired a taste for the "top-of-the-line" cigars I purchased.

My new addiction to luxury started costing more than I could keep up with, though, and I became desperate. I couldn't stay where I was, but as I drifted I began to realize that my hometown had given me false judgment of my abilities and stealing was no longer an option.. I didn't enjoy the time I spent in prison after one particular incident, either, and despite my extreme desire to grab the goods and run I forced myself to start seeking out any sort of job I could. I quickly found one of my favorite sort, but it was different than its many predecessors.

In fact, I found myself between two long-term rivals who had just overstepped a personal boundary between one another, and one of them was willing to pay more than I could've imagined to see his enemy dead. In spite of my violent nature I had never killed anyone before, but as I shook on the deal and accepted the thirty percent down-payment we'd agreed on I felt an excited shiver run down my spine.

I used the cash to buy a box of cigarettes and the finest knife I could find. It wasn't long before I stood in front of the bar were my objective sat, completely unaware that right outside his killer was enjoying his last smoke as a street-rat for hire. When I identified him I calmly approached the drunken faceless, my breathing soft and rapid as my clock ticked loudly in my chest. There he was, the first man I would ever take the life of.

I'd never experienced such a rush like that, the burst of adrenaline as my body prepared to fight like I'd done before felt so different now. Before that day I had never used a knife, but as I slid the sharpened metal into the man's flesh I discovered a new desire to increase my collection. There was some sort of despicable pleasure in watching his warm blood pouring out of his still body, staining the fabric of his suit and pooling up on the dirty pastel tiles below. Maybe it was because I knew that the man sitting next to him and the young woman tending the bar would likely never forget that gruesome sight. Whatever it was, I loved it. That moment ended my petty career in street-fighting--now I was an assassin.

"Assassin, I like that," I whispered to myself, the word rolling off my tongue like honey. My exploit went rewarded as promised, funding my purchase of a new knife, another pack of my favorite cigarettes, and my stay at the finest hotel in town with who, after a few drinks, I was sure was the prettiest woman in town.

Less than a week passed before I, who had become quite infamous already, was hired once more. Cash poured in, all of the pleasures it afforded me not even comparable to the animal satisfaction of going in for the kill. I had a coat tailor-made that could conceal my new array of blades and the homemade poisons I learned how to mix- they were perfect for slowly killing my faceless adversaries on those days when I felt particularly sadistic. When my fame first began I was known simply as the cold blooded assassin or something similar, but soon everyone knew the name Gray Ringmarc in that city. They knew my face, and now they knew my signature outfit. I was a wanted man, and that was exactly how I liked it. Just like when I was a kid, they all knew my name. But now they had a reason.

I loved being recognized the most short of killing- day or night, on a hunt or otherwise. So I got myself a new tattoo, a logo so to speak, of a lizard, right on my neck where I administered the killing blow on my victims. It became my symbol, the sign of the master assassin.

Then came the day when I began to refuse work, because there was nothing new, nothing different, nothing special about the assignment. The only satisfaction I got was from the cigarettes I purchased with the money I'd collected.

So, I left the city, memories of my kills, and a trail of broken-hearted lovers behind, returning to my nomadic lifestyle. It didn't occur to me how luxurious my life had become until I began on my journey through the dense forest that made up a majority of the Country of Clovers, and when my rations ran out I thoroughly regretted it- I never learned how to prepare food thanks to my dependency on the fancy restaurants and women to cook it for me. I was driven on by hunger and the painful desire to smoke, though fortunately the forest had its few comforts.

Something about how the squirrels gracefully leaped from tree to tree and the way that a little rabbit managed to escape the cunning fox brought me a certain happiness very unlike what came from dispatching my adversaries. In fact, it was almost better- but I didn't have time to sit around and play among the trees if I wanted to survive and I quickly forgot about it.

Surprisingly, the only sign of civilization I saw in days wasn't a town or a road; it was a customer.

"You, you're an assassin, aren't you?" the faceless woman asked anxiously.

"Yes." I was thoroughly satisfied to be recognized in a situation like that.

"I want you to do something for me, just name your price and I swear I'll pay you." She sounded desperate, and for a minute I counted off zeroes in my head, but I realized that in my condition having only more money to carry around was going to be the end of me. "Take me to the nearest town and we'll talk." I said finally.

She nodded, looking around nervously. "Whatever you want. Come on, hurry."

After I'd gorged myself thoroughly and stocked up on tobacco, the faceless filled me in on the details of my assignment. Originally the fact alone that she had offered me a name was incentive enough to take the job--after all that meant that I was after none other than a role-holder-but as she told me more I became truly anxious to begin my hunt.

"And where might I find this Nightmare?" I asked finally, already envisioning myself taking down someone truly worthy of fighting.

"Clover Tower, near where I ran into you."

"Good. I'll be back here in three cycles to collect my pay." With that I stood up and began on my way, practically drooling over the mission. As she had said, when I returned to the forest it wasn't long before I came across the towering building she mentioned. It was seemingly unguarded--in fact, I walked right in through the front door for a lack of a more creative entrance--but I was quickly surrounded by men wielding a variety of guns. It was nothing new for me, and it wasn't long before I had vanquished all of them, keeping my favorite knife in my hand as I prepared myself to explore the halls.

"My, you've made such a mess of the place..." I turned in a circle, searching for the voice's owner. "Up here."

I followed it, failing to suppress a gasp when I met the eye of a levitating One-with-Duties. 'Nightmare Gottschalk? This must be him,' I declared mentally. 'Alright, prepare to die.'

"I'm afraid I don't have time for dying today, Mister Ringmarc."

"I like your attitu--wait, how did you-!" No, I shouldn't have been surprised; he knew my name. I should have been honored.

"That bothersome woman sent an assassin?" he muttered, ignoring me. I furiously threw a knife at him, but moments later I found it stuck in the wall beside me.

"How--!"

"How did I throw that back? I'm a demon, of course, didn't you know that?" I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my head, my ears ringing like crazy. Everything in my body told me to let out a scream, but I refused to humiliate myself any further and muffled my agonized gasp. "It is quite a shame you turned out this way; a role-holder with your abilities would make a perfect servant."

"Ser...vant?" I choked out, all of my effort directed toward controlling my pain. "Are you... stupid or something?"

'But if it means I get to live...'

"Oh? But that's not what you're really thinking." I felt the pain ease up a bit. "You'd rather serve someone stronger than you than die, wouldn't you?"

"It doesn't matter whether or not I die." "Alright then, let's make a deal; if I beat you, you'll serve me. And of course, if you win you get this tower."

I was never one to back out of a challenge- I was confident I could win, even then when all odds were stacked against me. As stupid as it was, I braced myself for a fight.

He faced me on the ground, but no matter what I did he always made the first move, as though he knew what I would do as well as I did. He deflected my attacks effortlessly and disarmed me with every attempt I made to strike, soon having discarded each weapon I had brought.

I was unarmed, too slow, and between that realization and the excruciating echo in my ears I felt it- I died that day, at the hands of the merciful demon of the Country of Clovers.

"I guess I win then?" Nightmare grinned with satisfaction, but instead of defeat I felt nothing but admiration.

"And I suppose that about sums it up," I said with a sigh, the memories of my past practically unbearable. I certainly wasn't proud of what I'd done, and admitting everything to Alice was even more difficult than I would've thought.

The Outsider said nothing, contributing to my discomfort. I didn't want her to hate me for what stupid things I'd done in the past, especially since I'd come to enjoy her company so much. "Alice?" I asked after her silence became too much to bear.

"But, how did you end up like you are now?" she said finally, her aqua eyes wide. "I mean, you're so... gentle and caring."

"I suppose I have Master Nightmare to thank for that. If it weren't for him I might still be like that." She came closer to me to examine the knife I was holding, making my face heat up. "I-I'm just glad that things worked out like they did for me."

Alice smiled, surprising me with a quick kiss on the cheek. "I am too. Thank you for telling me all of that, Gray."

Throughout my life I'd always thought I'd found true happiness- in money, in taking life, and in serving my master. But now I realized there was so much more to it. Mercenary, assassin, servant. Whatever the case, my life was far from over, and at that moment I saw that there was still at least one more pleasure I had yet to explore.