FSE

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Chapter One

My introduction to the Guild had plentiful fuel for a perfect storm of cringe-inducing embarrassment. I'd just stepped out of my bathroom, my fur still matted with damp and heavily rumpled from the tips of my tall ears to the end of my long, ringed tail, a towel held loosely around my narrow hips with one paw, intending to head into my bedroom to forage for some clothes, when a green-clad figure came flying through my wall to land in a heap on my sofa.

When I say through my wall, I mean literally through it; not in a huge explosion of bricks, mortar and noise, but in a silent if headlong kind of phasing, like a ghost. A svelte, lithe female coyote (or so I guessed) in a form-fitting, beautifully iridescent emerald green body-suit that only her ears and tail (both a lovely sandy-gold colour) stuck out from, she ran a paw down her muzzle in a manner most frustrated, then curled round to look at me.

Unfortunately for me I'd dropped my towel in the shock of her less than orthodox appearance, and now was frozen in place, only able to stare dumbly at the darker green lenses covering her eyes and wonder if she were shocked, disgusted or amused behind them. Turned out it was none of the above.

She rolled with liquid grace off the sofa and onto her feet, facing me, and lightly bowed her head. "Sorry for intruding, sir," she apologised, her voice a soft yet rich murmur with an appealing tinge of a southern accent. "And for any discomfort I've caused. Supervillains don't usually watch where they throw you."

"N...no problem," I heard myself squeak. "I hope I'm n-not offending or-or discomfiting you with my...er...my..."

"No." The fabric swathing her petite muzzle shifted in a manner that strongly suggested a smile. "Much more suitable things to be offended by than a mere penis, I find."

"Oh. Okay." How echoingly empty-skulled must she have thought me to be by now? "Are you...all right?"

"Fine. Just got caught off guard." She stretched and gently shook her trim body, quite a distracting series of motions, then took a few steps closer. "I'd recommend you stay inside and keep a low profile for a bit longer, sir; Steelhound's _really_not being picky about who he attacks."

"All...all ri-"

A low beeping interrupted me; the coyote girl tapped a paper-thin electronic pad inlaid into the right wrist of her costume then lifted it to her muzzle. "Spirit here."

"Are you all right?" asked a strong male voice with more than a hint of an Estuary accent. "That was a serious whack you took."

"I'm fine." I'm pretty certain she was rolling her eyes. "Took a tumble into someone's flat, gave him a bit of a fright; just making sure he's all right before I rejoin."

"Make it quick - Steelhound's heading for a school."

"What?!" Her tone actually turned a little sharp. "Be right there!" She inclined her head toward me again for just a second, then turned and ran straight for my front wall, diving through it like she was launching herself into the air from a cliff.

Sprinting to my window, completely forgetting my state of undress, I looked outside just in time to watch her soar up and over the block of flats next door, her legs out straight behind her, her arms flat to her sides, her muzzle purposefully pointed ahead. In following her path I also glimpsed a slightly larger, more masculine figure perched atop the building, also clad in bright green, but he was gone before I could get a better look.

With my bedazzling visitor (I'll admit, I was a little taken with her, in spite of barely seeing anything of her) gone and my mind still in a fair fuzz I dropped onto my sofa, dredged up the remote from between the cushions and turned on the TV; hopefully one of the news channels would be carrying some coverage. I was in luck.

"...ing for a school. I repeat, it appears the canine supervillain known as Steelhound is heading for a school. It looks like he's going all-out for collateral damage this time. The Guild are stretched thin trying to deal with the chaos he's already caused, so I'm not sure how they'll..." The reporter, a wiry grey squirrel in a brown suit that looked just a smidge too big for him, trailed off as a shimmering green figure raced over his head, streaking along the street. "That's Spirit! Last we saw she took a punch from Steelhound strong enough to punt her into a building. Just how tough _are_these heroes?"

From how easily she'd shaken the blow off, I could only answer very, but considering what they had to deal with I wasn't at all surprised. A case in point was the squat, stocky bruiser of a bull terrier currently in the process of trying to pulverise a terrified dingo who'd had the great misfortune of being within a hundred feet of him. Time and again his target dodged the swinging, metal-clad fists and feet by inches, but it was obvious they were flagging quickly. I really hoped they had the sense to cut the broadcast should Spirit not get there in time, as I was in no doubt of just how unpleasant a mess Steelhound could make of a person when he was in the mood.

Luckily for the hysterical dingo and my sensitive stomach a lithe green form swept him up and out of the supervillain's reach, depositing him on a balcony a safe distance away. At least, it seemed safe, until a very irate bull terrier tore a chunk of metal from a car and hurled it at them both. Taking a second to glance around Spirit grabbed the dingo and bundled him through the doors of the balcony and inside the hotel it was a part of, then let the projectile pass clean through her, to ricochet off the wall behind her and careen into the back of a van, buckling its doors and shattering its rear windows. Lastly she dived down onto the street to stand right in the way of Steelhound, legs planted firm and wide, arms up and ready.

"Looks like Spirit's blocking his path!" the reporter abruptly piped up, apparently having not trusted himself to speak for the last couple of minutes. "Here's hoping she's got a plan up her sleeve!"

At first it didn't seem she did, for she just stood and watched as he stomped his way toward her, flexing and swinging his thick arms. He'd gotten within ten feet of her before she finally reacted, first with just a slight tensing of her posture, then by bounding forward, ducking and weaving past his punches and jumping up to slam a thunder-crack of a spinning kick across his muzzle.

Most people, normal, everyday people, would have ended up lying in a daze on the floor, trying to collect their scattered teeth after a hit like that, but Steelhound, even though his head did snap quite violently to one side, only teetered back a few steps, briefly disorientated. It was enough time for two powerful paws to grab his metal-swathed ones and pound them into the sides of his head with a_clang_ like a bell being dropped from a church tower. Again, whereas most normal people's skulls would have been thoroughly pulped by such an impact, it just knocked him unconscious, his eyes rolling up as he keeled over with a thump and a sizeable cloud of dust.

His subduer, a tall, quite imposing and actually rather regal tigress in a similar body-suit to Spirit's, except sleeveless, baggier and plain green instead of that lovely iridescence, and with only a curving green mask covering her broad face, stooped to pick the supervillain up, draping him over a shoulder and walking away. The coyote, looking even more elfin in comparison, fell in step by her side, and was it my imagination or had she developed something of a limp?

No, she was definitely favouring her left leg just a touch. Did she hurt it when punched through my wall, or when dealing out that impressive example of a kick? Both, maybe? I shook my head, turning off the TV, forcing myself to forget about it and her - after all, it wasn't likely I'd ever run into her again, now was it?

Oh, how spectacularly wrong I was.

It was eight days later, early on a grey, overcast, somewhat blustery morning as I made my way to my workplace, scratching at the horribly itchy polo shirt and flannel trousers that constituted my uniform, when she came crashing back into my life. Again, quite literally.

The only warning I had was a thump and a gasp somewhere above the alley I was walking along (a small shortcut I frequently employed, as I often ended up running late) before a familiar shimmering green form plummeted down toward me, ricocheting off a wall or two then hitting the ground hard a few feet ahead. She gave a faint groan and fell still, sprawled on her stomach with limbs akimbo.

I dropped to my knees and reached out toward Spirit, concern for the coyote girl's well-being overriding my shock, only to see her body-suit dissolve into thin air, leaving her as stark naked as I'd been in our first encounter. The irony was not lost on me, even as my eyes widened.

A quick glance up and down the alley showed no-one coming, normal person, green superhero or raging supervillain, so I took a deep breath and reached for her again. Carefully I arranged Spirit on her right side, in the recovery position, ensuring she could breath (never did I believe I'd be so deeply thankful for the first aid course my boss forced all his staff to take) and then sat back, looking her over.

I'll make no bones about it at all - I found her beautiful. Sandy-gold fur that shaded darker (with a seasoning of brindled grey) on her back and lighter on her chest and stomach swathed a slim, trim figure that was a symphony of subtle curves. Unfortunately this work of living art was currently blemished by bruises and scrapes and cuts, obviously a result of whatever battle she'd been engaged in. Fortunately, I had the means and the motivation to do something about it, even if it did end up in awkwardness should she come round while I was working.

Leaning over her I was relieved to find she was breathing well, so I got started, pressing my hands to bruises on her left shoulder and arm. It usually took a few seconds for the warm energy to build and disperse, but for some reason it happened almost instantaneously this time, so I could move pretty quickly. In rapid succession I dealt with both of her arms (noting as I did so that the - now broken - pad on her right wrist was actually affixed to the fur somehow, and not a part of that strange disappearing body-suit at all) and the single scrape on her right shin, worked through the many bruises scattered down her back, the heavy one covering most of her stomach, and a whisker-thin cut across the top of her collarbone. On reaching a particularly nasty-looking blend of bruise and cut on her left hip I found myself wondering if someone had used her as a furry tetherball.

"More of a rugby ball, actually," her pretty voice informed me.

"Oh, righ...guh..." Of course I froze up; it's the only way I know how to react when horribly embarrassed, and that I certainly was on realising that not only had I spoken my thoughts out loud, but moreover the superheroine I was helping was awake to see me placing my paws all over her completely naked body. "I'm...uh...uh..."

"Healing me. I know." She showed me a warm, surprisingly trusting smile that I swear caused my heart to forget how to beat for a second. "I think my hip needs a little more attention."

"Oh, uh...yeah..." Mind only half-functioning I resumed my efforts as best I could, clearing up the remaining damage, then sat back, unable to look at her, instead carrying out a detailed examination of my shoes. "That should...um...be it..."

"Not quite." One of her small, soft paws took one of mine up, placing it against her cheek. "One last cut."

I couldn't help looking up at that, and found myself hypnotised by the most vivid yellow-amber eyes I'd ever seen, set in an open, delicate face; suddenly I realised she had another superpower besides flight and intangibility - that of reducing lonely, awkward ringtails to pools of fuzzy, dreamy, helpless mush.

When she pulled my paw away from her now healed cheek, and set to regarding it much like a quietly curious child, running her digits over my pads and fur, all I could do was stare at her, wondering if I hadn't hit my own head and was currently in a blissful dream world. It didn't seem possible that such a marvellous being had fallen into my life.

She looked up, and on seeing my deeply dazed state her eyes danced with mirth. "I'm not a goddess, you know."

"On that, many people beg to differ," a chirpy local accent chipped in, as a rush of wind died down. "Looks like you fell into some luck."

"Definitely." Spirit released my paw and got to her feet, turning to hug the thin but strong greyhound now standing behind her, a gesture he unhesitatingly returned. "We got them, yet?"

"No, that's the other reason I'm here; gonna need all of us." He gave her a nuzzle, cradling her to his green sleeveless gymnast-style leotard (female gymnast, that is; a curious choice, but it did actually work very well for him) like she were made of china. "You good to go?"

"Perfectly." She kissed the side of his muzzle. "Well, once you give me a new suit, that is."

"Oh, yeah!" He reached behind himself to fish in a compact backpack he wore, quickly producing another pad, which he passed to her. As she swapped it with the broken one on her wrist, and that iridescent suit rippled back over her body, he favoured me with a grateful grin, the eyes in his number-eight mask bright. "We owe you one, mate."

"No...uh...no problem," I assured him, even as my ears and my hopes drooped; although, said hopes were pretty ludicrous, to be honest. In a choice between me and a superhero I'd pick the hero, too. "Glad to be able to help. I'm...uh...running late for work, so I'll just..."

My attempt to sidle past and away was interrupted by a shimmering paw catching my shoulder. "But I haven't thanked you yet."

"Oh, no nee..." The sensation of her lips brushing my cheek, even if only for a whispering instant was more than enough to crash my poor brain again. Does not compute...

"Many thanks..." She paused. "What's your name?"

"Simon Green, Tech Support; how may I help you?" I parroted, before I could stop myself. Groaning, I clapped a paw to my face; saying that was pretty much instinct I'd done it so often, and what a world-class pillock it must have now made me look.

The two heroes, however, just laughed lightly. The greyhound patted my shoulder sympathetically. "Know your pain, mate. Tell you about it some other time."

"Other time?" Did that mean what I thought it meant...?

"We'll meet again," Spirit told me, a smile I was tempted to label coy and knowing twitching her lips. She looped her arms around the neck of her fellow hero, who in turn linked his under her bottom and lifted her up, settling her against his chest. "Just keep your eyes open."

Then, with another rush of wind, they were gone, leaving me to stand in the empty alley and ask myself exactly what they meant.

I mean, it was mad enough I'd had two run-ins with them, especially one so soon after the other, so surely it couldn't happen a third time...

Oh, how very, very, very wrong I was...

Two days later I left work an hour early, mainly because I'd left work permanently; I'd been fired. Too often late getting to the offices in the morning, and not a good enough attitude whilst on the job, according to my boss, who gave me the news with a lot more relish than I would have thought appropriate.

While I could say I wouldn't miss the uniforms, or my boss (may his smug, overbearing badger face be pounded flat by his own clipboard) I'd certainly miss a job I genuinely enjoyed, some colleagues I'd grown honestly fond of, and the little coffee shop round the corner. I'd built up quite a good little life through it, and now...gone. Worst of all, no way was I going to get any good references from the place, so finding a new job was going to be really difficult, not least in the short time I had before my meagre funds ran out.

If I didn't find fresh employment I'd be out of my flat in less than two months, so I felt pretty justified in my depthless despair as I trudged home through the pouring, freezing rain. By the time I got to my front door I was so utterly sodden you could probably have wrung a decent bath out of me, shivering so violently it was a job to get my key in the hole, and so miserable I was honestly considering marching straight to my window, opening it, and throwing myself out of it.

It was probably a good thing, therefore, that on stepping inside I saw a quartet of green-clad superheroes sitting on my sofa and armchair, all smiling a warm welcome. I reacted the only way I could under the circumstances - I fainted clean away.

On coming round I was surprised to discover I was now devoid of my probably ruined uniform and sharing my armchair with a certain svelte coyote, who was currently rubbing my fur and skin with a huge towel wrapped around my trembling form. Her remarkable suit was down to her neck, meaning I could clearly see the concern colouring her face.

"What could have gone so wrong for you to get yourself into such a dreadful state, Simon?" she asked, a surprising level of emotion in her voice. "You're lucky you haven't gotten hypothermia."

"Lost my job. Fired. Likely be homeless soon, too." It suddenly got through to my addled mind that not only was she pressed quite tight against me, but in the places where a towel wasn't between us I didn't feel the smoothness of her suit, but fur. How did that work? "Life gone right down the tubes..."

"Fired?" Now she looked horrified. "Please don't say it was because of me. I couldn't..."

"No." I shook my head. "Not you. Kept showing up late, and didn't toady up to the boss enough. All my fault. Don't know what I'm going to do now..."

"Actually," that strong male voice with the London accent I'd heard over Spirit's communicator a week and a half ago responded, "that's what we're here to talk to you about."

"What?" Shock set my head snapping upright, my disbelieving eyes fixing on him. "You don't...you can't..."

A tall (though not nearly as tall as the tigress next to him) and quite strongly-built otter with dark and glossy fur and a disarming smile, his garb a short, sleeveless top that ended inches above his navel and a thick, knee-length skirt, both in the standard Guild green, along with a pair of swooping, tapering goggles over his eyes, he carried the calm air of a leader. "Spirit has been singing your praises, Mr Green. She's pretty taken with you, it seems."

"What?" Okay, now my incredulity was at breaking point.

"This is in spite of your apparently impressive ability to short-circuit your own brain." His ever-broad smile turned wry for a moment. "She thinks you have a lot of potential. Streak is inclined to agree. If two of my friends start thinking so highly of someone I start taking notice."

"But...but...you only met me twice..."

"More than enough," the coyote told me, lightly nuzzling my ear as she dried my shoulder. "There's just something about you."

"Do you realise you saved quite a few lives two days ago?" the tigress asked, quietly. She had a fairly strong oriental accent - possibly Thai, I guessed - and quite a precise way of speaking, but shot through with subtle life and tone. "Spirit rescued several people from a building no one else could have gotten in to but her; without you healing her..."

"Really?" I looked at the coyote; she nodded. "Well, damn..."

"Feels good, doesn't it?" The otter continued, not having missed how the corners of my mouth twitched upwards. "How would you like to feel that...pretty much every day? Spirit and Streak think you'll fit in very well indeed, and I'm strongly inclined to agree..."

"Thank you, TK!" the coyote cheered.

"Which just leaves your input, Wayu." He rested a paw on the tigress' broad thigh. "What do you make of Mr Green?"

She didn't answer at first, regarding me intently enough that I wanted to shy away, her ears and trim whiskers twitching ever-so-slightly, but otherwise giving no hint of her thoughts. "I think," she eventually told us, a small but distinct smile creasing her muzzle, "he has the potential to be a great asset to the team, in many ways...and a greater friend; if he wants to be."

"Which brings us to the crux of the matter." TK shifted to the edge of the sofa and leaned forward, extending his right paw toward me. "Mr Green, you are formally invited to become a member of the Guild. Do you accept?"

I laughed, a kind of erratic, high-pitched, mad giggle, the only way I could think of to express the maelstrom of emotions inside me at that moment, most of them giddy ones, then caught hold of his paw as firmly as possible and gave the only reply I could.

"Yes. Yes. Yes."