FSE

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So, decided to finally get around to posting the story I've been working on. It pretty much covers most of my main Roleplay character's backstory. So to anyone interested, enjoy?

(((Before we start the first chapter, there are a few things I really do want to elaborate and explain before we begin. But feel free to skip this all...seriously, like, skip this all if you want. I'm only including it here to give a bit of insight why this story is being written the way it is. )))

The first thing readers will notice is the time line. The story opens up in early 2001, days after Osama Bin Laden uses a dirty bomb assembled by the Chinese Republic to destroy a majority of New York and Los Angeles in the middle of the nigh- oh, I'm sorry, I should have mentioned, this is an alternate history. Because a majority of his story takes place in the early 2020s and beyond, I decided to split the timeline of the story from our own, at the date of the 9/11 terrorist attacks. If this offends you? I'm sorry, but I wanted to choose a date that was heavily ingrained in the current generation's mindset, in a place close to the events of the story but also close in time. I wanted to write about a culture that I know, that I grew up with, not write about what America would have been 90 years after WW2 if we had nuked the Russians instead of the Japanese! I guess what I'm trying to say is I wanted to choose a large scale event, that hit close to home for ME, to change the time line. So I'll say it once more and let it be done. If it offends you? I'm sorry, I hope it hasn't ruined this story for you.

Next? Tek L War is both my fursona, and not. Unlike most furs, I do not identify with my fursona in the least, he's a bigoted, close minded, overly violent sociopath who's only true end lies in self-destruction. In minor ways? He reflects me. Tastes in clothing and movies, a love for 'E-sports' and a borderline sexual addiction that he isn't fully willing to come to terms with. I harbor no illusions about myself, I do not think that in the real world that I'm sort of goth badass who has perfect aim with a gun. However, Tek the character DOES harbor these illusions.

This story contains campy and over the top events and dialogue played straight face. In his world, Tek has convinced himself that he's the main character, he spits out shitty one liners and sees other people as expendable because he thinks in the end everything will work out for him. So please, I know it sounds pathetic to ask of the reader but don't see his actions as some egotistical power fantasy, Tek L War is a character who embodies what he views are the tropes of a badass, the personality points of an anti-hero. I harbor no illusions that he is a pathetic, selfish, horrible person. He exists to tell a story, a story of crime and ego driven violence, of what happens when a broken home shatters someone's potential and pure chance throws them back at the world like a roaring monster.

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Fuck me...I didn't think it was going to end like this. Fifty fucking years of life brought down in one god damn fucking second. Countless days of training and exerting myself, studying the world around me, living like a homeless fuck wondering when that next meal would come, years wasted in another fucking country working for a god damn government in a war that didn't even matter. Well fuck that! This isn't how it'll end- this...oh Jesus this is really how it's about to end isn't it? The fucking police clearing the god damn room, Venin looking down from my god damn balcony, Selina in back no doubt fucking some idiot without a clue about this? This is how it all ends!? Well fuckers, it's been fucking fun. Goodbye Maggy, goodbye little brother, and goodbye Selina, you stupid fucked up bitch.

Now, come on god. Show me what the fuck you got, bring it you fucking bit--

WAR

"Hello Southern California! This is Marry Smith with your daily morning wake up call! Today we'll be experiencing minor showers and hopefully a bit of sun-shine at the end of our sing-songy day! In recent news, the president has vowed to track down Osama Bin Laden no matter where in the world he runs. The cleanup effort of New York city continues despite the grim destruction affecting the greater metro area, and workers will work around the clock for the foreseen future! Over here in our backyard emergence rescuers are still attempting to decontaminate a majority of the affected areas, and estimate a minimum of four months before primary safety checks will be performed. To everyone who has been affected by this tragedy, the station's own heart felt condolences go out to you all, and we ask that in this time of suffering that no one act out on fear! That's just what these monsters would like! Show them some American pride! Now, enjoy some tunes SoCal!"

As the broadcaster's overly cheery voice faded away to the sound of the latest pop song, the Grayback house was just starting to come alive. Settled in a quiet San Diego suburb, the two story house found itself huddled between two ranch houses, with a matching model directly across from it. It was almost a picture perfect home really, a young couple with their two year old son, just starting to speak his first few words. A kind of life you would expect to see in a Halmark gift card, or at the ending of a romantic comedy.

Well, in most cases that's where you'd expect to see a scene like this, but this family? No, things were different for this family. No smile lay on either parent's face as they both looked to each other, their offspring happily munching away with handful of cereal, with only the sound of a generic factory produced pop song to keep the silence from setting in.

Shooting glares between each other for a moment, the brute of the two finally spoke up, his voice low with a small bit of anger lining the bottom of each word. "Jenny." He started. "I really don't know what to tell you-"

"You don't know what to tell me!?" he was cut off before his first sentence could even come to a close, with a loud snap coming out of his mate like a serpent from its hole. As she snapped at him, her entire frame shook, arms shivering and bright gray fur rippling over her entire frame, jowls pulling up only but an inch or two, trying her best to not only show her anger to her mate, but to hide it from the little one sitting up in his booster seat, to avoid his wide eyes darting back and forth from picking up on even the smallest hint of anger or rage.

"You know, when you first started talking about this shi- STUFF." A sharp correction, desperately trying not to break down in a torrent of obscenity in front of her child. "I figured that maybe you wanted to see other people. Or invite another person to our bed, or even full on leave me! But THIS?" she demanded, arms crossed under her bosom, brow furrowing as her ears pinned down. "You're going to get yourself KILLED Jonathan. Not hurt, not injured, and you're not going to have a good time. You're going to go out there, and come back either in a body bag, or changed like your father did! Sitting in the back yard for six hours a day staring off into space, only to burst out screaming whenever someone so much as moves his beer!"

The longer her words went on, the louder they were getting, and now that small child was looking to her just as intently as his father, but with a touch less bit of fear. "Listen, if you need to assert some alpha-male fantasy cra- crud. Then please, please, just go out to some sleazy bar, and find some skank to drag back here and break my heart with. I'll get over THAT in time! I'll get over you pretending to be Mr. Stud-Muffin with some little vixen that will bend over for anyone with a Johnson bigger than his thumb, but I will NOT just sit here as you go to kill yourself!"

"Jenny." Started the husband, his own ears now laying flat, a look of sorrow crossing his face. "Really, babe, I am not like that! This isn't something I want to do because I need to feel superior-"

"Then don't do it you moron!" interrupted the she-wolf yet again.

With a loud sigh, Jonathan leaned over the table and pressed both of his hands to his face, ignoring the small cub beside him that was now jabbing at his side with a spoon, milk now splotched all over the boy's ebony fur, matting it and standing out against the bright white liquid. "Jenny. Please just listen to me! I know it won't be the easiest thing in the world but you have to see this from my eyes! These attacks kille-"

"YES I KNOW." Now the female's voice had jumped up, causing both father and son to jump back for a moment, looking at her as if turning away would spell their death, or making a single sound would bring the wrath of god down upon them. "They killed your brother. Listen, I loved Jeremy. He was a great guy! So was your sister, and your parents- but I can't watch you run off to fight in some stupid war! I can't just sit by the sides as you enlist for a country that doesn't even really CARE about our kind!"

Pacing back and forth around the kitchen, Jenny couldn't decide exactly how to react. Grab something and hit him? Scream until she keeled over from lack of oxygen? No, none of that seemed like a smart idea, and it would just traumatize the pup. So in the end, she just kept going. "You will NOT do this! You will not screw over your family for something so damn stupid! I will not sit here as you go to a damn war! There won't be an obedient little bitch sitting at home waiting for you in six years' time when you come back with half of your damn face missing! If you leave-" desperation was sitting in now as her rant went on, the hypothetical argument her husband was putting out rushing through her mind. "If you leave then we're through! The second you go through that door then you're through! Understood? Either you forget about the war or you stay here with me and Gabriel!"

"No." He'd say. There was no anger or rage, no disappointment or sorrow, just a firm, flat no.

"Wait- what? So-"

"No. I will not sit here as the people who killed my entire family plan to hurt MORE of the country. In no way will I let some bastard sitting on a throne of dead civilians collaborate with a bunch of murders in caves who just attacked six major cities! I wi-"

In the blink of an eye, Jenny felt everything around her shatter. The rest of his words were lost as every noise around her became static, and her eyes lost any focus. Each pump of her heart sent a deafening boom through that hollowed out place she once called her mind as tears began to brim and trickle down her maw. "I-" she tried to start out, but quickly shut up as reality continued to set in.

Their home, their child, their future...and he was leaving it for a war. A damned war! Jenny couldn't even bring herself to scream, couldn't bring her fists up as her eyes refocused and she attempted to watch her husband's lips, desperately trying to figure out what he was saying, hearing only the odd deep hum or two, like one heard after being shellshocked. It wasn't till his speech was almost over, that her ears finally adjusted, her mind finally settled enough to catch what he was saying.

"-So, yeah, there. Jenny, I love you, you're my universe, my queen, and I want nothing more than to see our son grow up. But if I don't do this, then my family died for nothing, and my son will have to live in a constant fear that these bastards will be back! Please, I don't want it to end on this note, I want THIS to be my home when I come back, but I need to go, even if you don't want me to-"

Finally, Jenny worked up the willpower to cut him off. "Go." She'd whisper, her voice shaking now. "Go and get your things. Just go and in list...or whatever the hell you're planning to do, ok!? Take your pants, your shirts, your damned shit stained boxers, whatever you need and go, and don't you dare come back here!" Now the anger was settling in, overwhelming the she-wolf as she stared down her lover. "If we really mean so little to you then you're not welcome back here ever again Jonathan. Do you understand me? I don't care if you see our son, but as far as I'm concerned? I want you out of here. Go to your stupid war and die in it for all I care! See what happens when everything you had is lost because you stuck your head up from behind a rock at the wrong time! See if I give a flying fuck what happens to you!"

With a heavy sigh, Jonathan's heavy frame lifted from behind the table, a look of agony sliding over his face as he looked to his wife, his voice coming out in a whisper. "You don't mean that- Jenny, come on, I know it isn't easy bu-"

"No." retorted Jenny, a scorn mixed into her words. "No, you said you had to avenge them, so go, get out of here."

"I-" he tried again.

"GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE RIGHT NOW."

Screaming at the top of her lungs, Jenny jammed her finger at the door and just continued on, even as the man slunk away. "GET OUT. YOU STUPID FUCKING BLOOD HUNGRY ASSHOLE. I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN. UNDERSTOOD? JUST GO DIE OUT THERE." It felt like her heart had ruptured, like the end to her entire life had come in one single swoop, and she only calmed once she opened her eyes and realized the only person left to hear her yelling, was the young child in his booster seat. Of course, the image just got a loud sob out of Jenny as she dropped to her knees, listening to the sound of the closet door being slammed shut, and their drawers getting yanked open.

Minutes later she could hear Jonathan pounding down the stairs, the edge of his suitcase hitting the wooden steps one at a time, letting her track every single movement of the man, even as they slowed and he got closer to the door. But it stopped before the final step, before the door, as if he had a moment of reluctance, which only set her off more. "GET OUT NOW." She screamed, a mournful wail lacing through her voice as she wrapped her arms around herself, flinching when the front door finally slammed shut.

Twenty minutes ago, she had woken up to the feeling of his hand on her face and small little words of love. Two weeks ago they had talked about how they couldn't wait to have a second child, a playmate for Gabriel. One year ago, she had proudly held onto his hand as they walked into their very own home for the first time, their son asleep in his father's arms. Yet in a single moment, because of a few words, all of that had been torn from her. Her future was sinking as her memories burned, lost in a torrent of grief and agony, acting as nothing but fuel for the tears now streaming down her face, dampening the scarf wrapped around her neck.

As it all blinded her, she didn't even notice the small sound of tapping in the room, followed by high pitched grunts of frustration. During the whole ordeal, Gabriel had gotten- concerned, to say the least. Well, as concerned as a two year old could, after all, he couldn't emphasize or even comprehend what had just happened, but he understood that his mother wasn't acting herself. So he thrashed wildly in his chair, tail swinging back and forth behind him as he threw his fat little body back and forth...before he sent his chair toppling to the side.

The sound of the high-chair crashing on the ground awoke her from that dark abyss of depression, with his wails of pain thrusting her body forward. She crossed the floor with the speed of a cobra, her arms lashing out to wrap around the now sobbing little bundle of fur, to pull him from that plastic death trap and press his head against her bosom. "Oh no- no no no." she'd whimper out, shaking her head. "Oh no baby- are you ok?" For a brief moment, she forgot her agony, forgot that her mate was gone, taken away from her by a mistress that didn't even have a body to take to bed, or a voice to share affection with. The child's silence only continued to battle her sorrow, instead pulling a limitless fear from her heart as she looked him over, releasing him from her breast to inspect him, to peer for any marks.

In the end, all she found was a small gash along his left shoulder, nothing deep, and just a bit of blood seeping out. So she'd hoist her son up to the kitchen sink, placing his diaper clad daredevil ass on the counter, hosing it down before looking down to him. "You listen to me." She whispered. "You never do that again! For crying out loud Gabriel you could have killed yourself!"

Of course, Gabriel just stared at her. All HE understood was that his shoulder hurt, and made him want to cry. But his mother's sudden change in mood was enough to keep his on tears at bay. "Killed?" he questioned. There was no high pitch to his voice however, no happy chirping or natural baby squeal to his voice. What came out instead sounded like the boy had swallowed a razor, a deep, guttural, throaty growl interlacing through the single word as he spoke it, coming across more like feral wolf struggling to speak, then a creature that had long since left behind the forests.

When he got no response, he just spoke again. "No killed!" there was a cheery tone to that marred voice, a childlike optimism still sounding through the vocals of a dog, accompanying words that he didn't even properly understand.

"No baby." His mother now whispered, unwrapping her tear stained bandana around his shoulder, giving it a few firm tugs before lowering him back to the ground. "No baby-doll. No one will ever kill you."

And she was right for 48 years.