FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The ursine squinted in the gloom of the hotel bar. He took off his dark glasses, clicking them closed and tucking them in an inner pocket of his black trenchcoat. Since it was a very cool spring in the city this year, not many would notice that he appeared a bit overdressed.

He selected a stool able to support the weight of a well built brown bear like himself and pulled it up to the bar. It was still a little early, and his contact wouldn't be here for a bit. So the bear decided to indulge himself.

"Gimmie a beer," he said to the equine tending the bar. The mule diverted his attention from the boxing match playing on the tube to give the bear a pint of what was on tap. Done, he slid the drink down the bar into the waiting paw of the bear. Taking a pull of the cool draught, the ursine decided to direct his attention to the match between the kangaroo and the stallion that was enrapturing the bartender. If there was one thing he knew about boxing, it was always bet on the 'roo. He was interrupted from his viewing by a debonair voice. "Excuse me sir. Do you have the time?"

When the bear turned, he saw that it was a gray fox in a dark blue business suit that had addressed him. Hmm... that could be his client.

"What happened to your watch, sir?"

"It broke," was the immediate response. As the bear had hoped.

"You really ought to buy a Rolex, like myself."

"Casio is good enough for my needs."

"I suppose so. Shall we take this to a booth?"

"By all means."

The pair headed off for a dark corner of the hotel bar, the ursine still bringing along his drink. He took the seat that afford him the best view of the doorway. "Are you a cop?"

The fox on the other side of the booth looked a bit shocked. "Um, no. Why would we be talking if I was part of the police?"

"Are you wearing a wire?"

"NO!"

"Excellent," said the bear, eyeing a pair of cheetah that had come through the door. "You see, if you were, you would have just blown any case you might have been trying to make against me. I could always claim entrapment from this point on, and most likely get off." He returned to his brew when he saw the pair of cats head to the pool table. "Well, now that the formalities are out of the way, how about some introductions. My name is Arcturus, but you can just call me Arty."

"Okay, Arty," replied the fox as he smoothed over the sleeves of his suit. "My name is Karl Chapman. And you come highly recommended."

"Well, people in my line of work strive for perfection. Who would you like me to kill?" asked the assassin, before taking another pull of his glass.

"My wife. She's a flirtatious little thing, and I've grown tired of her. I also have reason to believe that she's been sleeping with my business partner."

Arty grunted. That was a common reason for wanting someone rubbed out. "What makes you think that?"

"When you come home from a business trip early to find his car in your driveway and hear 'David, David, oh David, go faster. Harder David, harder!' coming from upstairs, it leaves little room for doubt."

Arty couldn't argue with that. "If I may ask, why her and not your partner?"

"Because he owes me ten grand, and I don't know jack about running the business. Besides, I grew up with him. I couldn't very well kill my best friend, could I?"

Well, not everyone that Arty met was entirely on the level. "Do you have a picture?"

The fox opened his briefcase and withdrew an 8X10 color glossy. "Here, just as your agency instructed. Her name is Shauna."

Arty growled in a lustfully approving manner at what he saw. The photo was of a red fox vixen dressed to the nines. The bear's deep set eyes roved over the pic, taking in the lovely curve of her legs, the sheen of her vermilion fur and the perk of her ample cleavage. His Mr. Chapman had selected an excellent mate. Her eyes were a deep green, and the dress that she wore showed off a great deal of the white of the underside of her pelt. Not to mention her lush, full tail...

He was just thinking of what the rest of her must look like when the fox across the table snapped him back to his current situation. "When will you be able to do it?"

Arty tucked the picture into his trench coat. "Does she work?"

"No. I make enough to support both of us. Besides... this way she has more time for her... indulgences."

Arty proceeded to ask more questions about his wife. Stuff like her habits, her favorite places to go, her car, her friends, and other pertinent information on the vixen. Karl provided it all in a cool, calm fashion.

Satisfied, the hitman grimaced and drained the last of his draft. "It'll be soon Mr. Chapman. You can count on that."

***************************************

Since he was on the trail of an adulteress, he decided to check for her outside the partner's house first. Yup, sure enough, as Arty drove down the suburb, he saw that there were two cars in the driveway, one of them fit the description and license numbers of the wife.

Parking down the block a ways, he adjusted the seat and settled into a comfortable slouch to watch the rear view mirror. Tearing open a bag of pork rinds, he settled in to wait. He idly hoped that his fur would serve to keep him warm in case he had to sit there a while.

But Arty didn't have to wait long. Within about twenty minutes, the front door to the house opened and out came the wife and her paramour. They paused and exchanged a passionate kiss on the stoop, her arms roving over the jackal's body. Arty licked his lips and crinkled up the bag. Well, time to earn his keep.

He waited till Shauna had driven past him before pulling out. He trailed her for about twenty minutes, all the time keeping well back to not tip her off. Eventually she pulled into a local No Frills. Arty followed in right behind here.

Ah, what the hell? he thought pulling into a parking place. This was just about as good a place as any. He made a quick inspection of the building, and noted where the loading bays were located. Arty also noticed the fact that there were no other people around, and that he would have to move quick if he was to catch the vixen.

The ursine assassin got out of the car, and tossed on a pair of aviator shades, as he made his way quickly across the parking lot with its melting snow. He straightened his well worn leather jacket and tightened up his gloves just as he reached the lineup of carts. Shauna was just getting one herself.

"Excuse me," said Arty as he shouldered his way next to her. He smiled in apology to her. She looked up and smiled back. That was all he needed. With a silent swiftness, Arty wrapped one massive paw around her larynx, and maneuvered in back of her to wrap another around her waist. Before she knew what was happening, the huge ursine was hauling her behind the grocery store. She struggled against him, but his grip was too strong. He eventually managed to lug her behind a corner that hid the dumpsters and loading bays from the public.

Finally the vixen managed to wriggle free, but Arty was prepared for this and threw her into a nearby dumpster. As Shauna tried to get up, the hitman fell on her, wrapping his large paws around her throat. She continued to struggle against him, kicking and scratching with her claws. But that was why Arty had chosen that old jacket. She could do her worst and it wouldn't show.

But try as she might, Shauna couldn't keep it up against the massive bear for very long. Throughout it all she gagged and gasped for air, but could not get any past Arty's vice-like grip. The bear stood there, confidently throttling his victim. The struggle continued this way for almost a minute, before the vixen finally went limp. Her tongue protruded from her mouth, her eyes were rolled back in her head, and her luscious tail hung limp behind her.

Arty continued to squeeze for another minute, eventually getting a satisfying cracking and popping of her vertebrate. He then lifted her limp body onto his shoulder and made his way over the nearest dumpster. The lid to it creaked loudly on its frozen hinges as he struggled to lift it. Eventually he got it up, and deposited his burden. Straightening his glasses, he dusted the snow from his paws and prepared to leave to collect his pay.

But the sound of the small steel back door to the grocery store being opened waylaid all thoughts of this. Arty was too far to make it around the corner before the young coyote that came out of it had spotted him. From the look of things, the 'yote had stepped out for a smoke, or so the pack of Players in his paw signaled.

"Hey, what are you doing back here?" he asked, striding over to Arty. The bear could see by his nametag that he was called Mike and that he worked in produce. "I hope you're not throwing shit away, because that dumpster is for store use only."

"Oh, no. Nothing like that," said Arty, thinking quickly of how to rid himself of the coyote. In his business, witnesses were a no-no. "Um, I actually found something. Come here and look."

"What is it?" asked Mike as he stuck the smoke into his cheek fur below his ear and strode over to Arty.

"Just look." Mike obliged, and as soon as he was in reach, Arty grabbed him by the neck and smashed Mike's head against the side of the bin. The produce boy was left stunned, allowing Arty to wrap his paws around his neck and strangle him just like he had done to Shauna.

Unlike the vixen though, Mike couldn't put up as much of a fight, caught from behind as he was. Mostly he made little gagging and choking noises, his feet flailing in the air as Arty lifted him clear off the ground. He also clawed mercilessly at Arty's paws and wound up giving the bear one nasty cut. Unfortunately for him the pain only caused Arty to squeeze harder.

When he had finally felt the young 'yote stop kicking and struggling, Arty gave his larynx one more good squeeze and let him fall to the cold snow. He really hated when that happened. Hell, since boy had been a witness, he HAD to kill him. He couldn't even charge Chapman for the service!

But that was life. Sometimes you got the bear, sometimes the bear got you. He opened the lid to the dumpster, seeing the limp body of his previous victim. Well, at least she would have some company now. Reaching down, he grabbed the produce boy under the arms and heaved him over the brim.

The screech of the door once more snapped Arty back to his situation. He looked out from the dumpster lid to see the form of a rat in a cheap suit standing in the doorway. Probably a manager or something. What was it with this place anyway?!

"Mike! Where are you Mike? I need you inside for something." Then he noticed the bear next to the garbage bins. "What the hell are you doing nosing around my dumpsters?" snapped the rat.

Arty looked from the rat to the bodies and back to the rat. Might as well play it innocent until he could get close enough to do the job. "Um, I found something I think you should see."

"What's that?"

"You... you've got to see this."

Grumbling, the rat walked over. When he saw the bodies, he almost lost his lunch. "Who did this...?" he whispered. He never got an answer as Arty wrapped his iron grip around the rodent's neck and squeezed the life out of him. When done, the rat joined the other two and Arty finally headed off to collect his very well earned pay.

***************************************

"I'm glad to see your services came as advertised," Karl commented.

"We aim to please, when we don't aim for the head," Arty quipped as he sipped at another brew and nursed his hand. It still stung from where the coyote had managed to scratch him.

The gray fox and the large brown bear were sharing the same booth in the same hotel where they had initially met. They were in close to the same booth as well, though Arty still watched the door from his seat in the corner. It was two days after the murders, and was the first chance that the pair had to meet.

"And now that she's out of your life," continued Arty, "I'd appreciate my payment."

"But of course." The fox reached into his jacket and withdrew an envelope the was a few centimeters thick. "I think you'll find it all in order."

The bear hefted the brown manila bundle, testing the weight. Satisfied that it felt right, he stowed it in his trenchcoat. He got up to take his leave of the fox.

"Not going to count it?" asked Karl upon seeing Arty get up.

Arty paused and glared down at the small gray fox. "No, I trust you in this."

"If you say so. Oh, will you be staying here long? I might actually have some other work for you in a few days."

"I'll be in town for another day or so, but if you want to do any more business, go through my contact." That satisfied the fox and he bid the hitman farewell.

Karl watched the bear lumber out of the bar. He waited until Arty had gone out of sight, then reached into his jacket and withdrew from an inner pocket a cell phone. The fox licked his lips and pressed the power button, followed by a short sequence of numbers. As soon as it started to dial he placed it next to his ear.

"Hello, police? Yes, I'd like to report a murderer."

***************************************

Arty stepped from the shower, feeling quite invigorated. It was not something that he indulged in often, what with his thick fur coat and all, but he felt that he had earned it. So what if it had taken him nearly an hour to blow dry it all? The hot air had felt very relaxing as well.

Next on the assassin's agenda was the mini-bar, which his pillaged mercilessly. After all, he did have that nice fat payment from the fox in the bar. Speaking of which, he decided that it would be a good idea to make sure that indeed the vulpine hadn't decided to rip him off.

Setting down his whisky on the rocks, he picked the envelope from where he had tossed it on the room's small table. He opened it to reveal a one dollar bill on top of a thick stack. Arty snorted and removed the elastic. Who ever heard of hiring a hitman for a buck?

Apparently Mr. Chapman. Arty's jaw fell open and his blood boiled as he shuffled through the stack of blank pieces of paper. Oh, he was going to kill the fox for this! Long, slow, and excruciatingly painful! He would rip the fox's balls off, and feed them to him! Then he would really go to work on him.

Arty was in a blind rage as he stormed from the hotel room, and thus didn't see the pair of policemen who had come for him. His first indication was when one of them slammed him up against the wall.

"What the fu--?!" cried Arty.

"You're under arrest," growled the tiger as he twisted the bear's arm behind his back. Arty tried to fight him off, but both the tiger's own considerable bulk and Arty's prone position prevented that. "Jason," growled the tiger to his lupine partner. "Cuff this guy and read him his rights."

"Sure, Zach," replied the wolf as he took out a pair of heavy-duty cuffs and put them on the struggling brown bear. "You have the right to remain silent..."

Arty chose to wave that right, and never really got to hear the other ones, as his loud, and often very colorful and inventive cursing drowned out the wolf as he was hauled away.

The headline in the paper the next day read: "Arty Chokes Three for $1 at No Frills."

Th'End