FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"They think I'm CRAAAAAZYYY~" Singing to herself, Whitefire washed the few dishes left in the sink and put them away, then leaned against the counter, going through a few of the letters she'd gotten, requesting commissions from her. Mostly to perform a theft of some valuable, but once in a while she'd get one offering her money to kill a certain target.

She sighed, feeling too lazy at the moment to actually answer back. "I wish they'd just send an e-mail or something..." She picked one randomly out of the stack and opened it with a claw, unfolded it, and slowly began to read it.

Suddenly her eyes narrowed and she gripped the paper a bit tighter, her claws ripping it slightly.

W.Z.T.,

I have need of assistance in a certain matter, of which I will explain below as clearly as I can.

Your objective will be to gain information from a wealthy scientist of the name Ralone Stalin Bolshakov. He was given an invitation to attend a party of a well known aristocrat in your area. He accepted, and is traveling from Russia on the first flight he can get. Considering him, it would most likely be some sort of new jet he'd invented.

Dress formally.

Do not worry about your safety. The anonymous aristocrat has his home well guarded, and will not allow even the police force in without invitation.

Your invitation is in the envelope with the letter. Don't lose it.

Ralone has been experimenting on DNA and supposedly he has gained information that would greatly profit my organization. He is bringing this information with him to share it with the aristocrat.

Make sure you get it before the aristocrat does.

One of my closely trusted clients will be waiting outside when you are through. Take the information to him. He will be waiting at the gate to the courtyard to give you your payment if you have the information.

I know you don't accept a cheap commission, so I am offering 25,000 for your work.

Address: 352 TripleCrown Ave.

Date of party: May 12th

Time: 10:00 A.M

Information on the Russian:

Name: Ralone Stalin Bolshakov

Height: 6' 8"

Age: 25 yrs.

Species: Feline

Breed: Russian Blue/ Korat mix (he has white markings on his muzzle and tail tip since he is not a pure bred)

Relations: Unknown

Status: Single

Warning: Very intuitive and careful. Very anti-social. Very dangerous.

The amount of money being offered was hardly what convinced her. 25,000? How pathetic is that. If they think that is a good sum of money they are definitely in a desperate situation. But the money wasn't much of an interest to her. It was the job! This was the most interesting request she'd gotten in a matter of months.

With quick fingers, Whitefire folded the letter and put it in her pocket, looking in the envelope again to take out the invitation. It was small, and the writing was in a very small, tight cursive, but she could make out her name. She put that in her pocket as well.

She looked at the clock, suddenly remembering the date. "Oh man....it's today!" But it was only 8:15.....she still had time to get ready.

Running to her room, she quickly changed, taking her shorts and tank-top off to put on a long red, strapless dress. In front of the mirror in her room she straightened out her fur and added a bit of eyeliner to her eyes, and large, golden loop earrings. She studied herself for a moment, then nodded and went to one of her dresser drawers, pulling out a Sedyukov pistol and a long curved knife with a strap.

She proceeded to strapping the knife to her leg. Her dress would hide it easily. She grabbed the gun, made sure it was loaded, and hid it carefully in her bra. She looked in the mirror again to make sure it wasn't showing, then grabbed her purse and her wallet, and grabbed the invitation out of her shorts, which had been thrown onto her bed. She grabbed an extra pistol and hid it in her purse, along with her wallet and invitation.

Feeling excited, she dashed out the door, almost forgetting to lock it. When she was out of the tunnel, out of the alleyway, and onto a main road, she hailed a cab.

"352 TripleCrown Avenue please."

"Alright missy. That's almost across town, so it'll be about a 30 minute drive." A black wolf sat in the driver's seat, looking back at her through the mirror.

"That's fine."

He pulled the car away from the curve and began the drive. "So," he said, "Going on a date eh?"

She set her jaw, already annoyed. "No, I am not." This was going to be a longer drive than necessary.

* * *

When the cab driver finally pulled up in front of the mansion, Whitefire almost didn't pay him. She handed him his money, but muttered, "Nosey mutt..." loud enough for him to hear as she began to walk up to the courtyard gate. She was stopped by a guard, who asked for her invitation. She quietly took it out of her purse and handed it to them.

One of the guards inspected it for a moment, making her nervous, but he handed it back to her and waved her through. "Granted clearance."

She passed the gate and walked down the long pathway through the courtyard to the door of the mansion, which was large even by her standards. It had beautifully carved pillars on either side, and as she passed through the doors, there were carvings lined along the walls of the hallway, and paintings hung high. I need to get myself a place like this....

The hallway soon opened up into a huge room with vaulted ceilings and she stopped for a second, searching among the mingling of people for a certain Russian scientist. He must have an accent...maybe I can find him more easily considering...

She slowly walked up to a pair of greyhounds talking, interrupting them politely. "Excuse me, gentlemen, but is Mr. Bolshakov here?"

One of them answered with a nod. "Yes, he came in about a minute or two ago."

The other finished. "He is over there, the one sitting in the arm chair." The dog pointed across the room to a grumpy looking, silvery cat.

Whitefire thanked them and began making her way across the room to the cat. Before she was even halfway to him, though, he stood up, looking at her with piercing blue eyes. He gave a quick nod to her and met her halfway.

"Looking for me, I assume?" His voice was deep and gruff, and he rolled his 'R' a bit as he spoke. Well, it's definitely him....but how could he tell I was looking for him? He wore carefully ironed black pants, black shoes, a black tie, and a dark purple shirt, which cuffs were the same color. His hair was slicked back carefully, and he looked down at her with intelligent eyes. He's going to be a hard one to crack...

She gave a smile. "Yes, I was, Mr. Bolshakov."

He took her hand softly and gave it a kiss. "Please, call me Ralone." he said, a smile flashing across his face for a moment. "And may I ask who the beautiful lady is?"

She blushed slightly. I hadn't expected him to be so charming."Whitefire Zilaco Tequilla."

The Russian's ears pricked at the name. "Beautiful name, as well."

"Thank you."

"A dance while we talk?"

"Of course."

He linked his arm to hers and quietly walked out of the main mingle to a room with polished marble floors. The lights were a bit low, and there weren't too many people. Ralone began a slow, easy dance so they could talk without too much distraction.

Whitefire didn't speak for a moment, as she was studying him, looking for any signs of papers hidden in his shirt. Unless he memorized it all.....I wouldn't be very surprised.

The Russian's deep voice broke into her thoughts. "You wanted to speak with me?"

She opened her mouth slightly, nodding. "Yes...." I didn't really plan this through... "I've heard much about you and your success as a scientist."

"Ah, trying to get money, then?" He growled.

She frowned, meeting his eyes sternly. "Not at all. I've got more than enough money."

The Russian grinned a little. "I was just teasing. But, I would like to know why you're carrying one of the best Russian pistols made."

Her eyes widened. She knew her purse was closed, so it must be..... "You are suddenly a bit too tall for my liking."

"And you are suddenly a bit too interesting to pass up. Let's go outside for a moment."

They stopped dancing and went out a side door to the large courtyard, walking along one of the many pathways into neatly trimmed hedges of different colored roses.

"So," Ralone said calmly. "Would you mind answering my question about the gun?"

Whitefire growled at him slightly. "It's for protection."

"Hmmm..." he thought for a moment. "Well, I have to say that I'm quite proud you find a Sedyukov the right kind of protection."

"You Russian's are quite experienced in making extraordinary weaponry."

"I'll take that as a complement."

They became silent for a minute or two as they walked, but Whitefire was thinking. He is very blunt.....maybe I should just ask him. "I would like to know the information you've brought. It must be interesting, hm?"

The Russian stopped walking. "And how would you know about this, Ms. Tequilla?" His voice became slightly strained.

She looked up at him, smiling a bit. "You can't think I would believe you came here, all the way from Russia, just to come to this party, did you?"

"I suppose not..." he huffed slightly. "You know, I've taken a bit of a liking to you. I like an intelligent woman."

"So, does this mean you're going to tell me the information?" She tried to hide her excitement.

"No," he said with a smile, his blue eyes flashing mischievously. "I'm going to ask you on a date." Whitefire groaned, making the Russian laugh. "What, you don't like that?"

Whitefire gave him an orange glare. "I'm fine with you asking, I just am disappointed that you wont tell me."

"Why are you so eager to know?"

"It just interests me."

"Oh really?" The Russian shook his head. "I'm not sure I believe you...." He suddenly stopped talking and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her close.

"What are y-" She was cut off as he covered her mouth with his hand.

"Shh...." he whispered, his mouth next to her ear. "There's someone watching us from the top of the courtyard wall."

Whitefire gave a small nod, but stiffened as she felt his hand move slowly up to her chest. A growl rose from her throat.

"Calm down, I'm getting your gun." He didn't look away from the wall behind her as one of his fingers pulled the pistol out carefully and put it in his pocket. "They've gone for the moment....but I'm sure they'll be back." He looked down at her. "Sorry."

She frowned. "Just don't do it again."

Ralone suddenly grabbed her again, pulling her to him as bullets shredded the hedge where she'd been standing.

Her face twisted into a snarl. So...this whole assignment was a trap? A smile suddenly replaced the snarl. "Very well..." She shoved herself away from Ralone and snarled up at the shooter. "Let's play." Though, I have to say, they did a good job of creating a false commission. And the pay! That was the killer. They purposefully offer too little, to make it sound like their business was losing money.

She snatched the gun from her purse, but hid it behind her back. "What are you waiting for?! Shoot me you blithering idiot!" The sniper had gone behind the wall again.

Ralone pulled his gun out as well. "So...you know these people?"

"In a way. I just found out they sent me a fake commission." she growled, and started jogging toward the wall.

"A commission....for what endeavor?" The Russian frowned a little bit as he kept pace with her.

"Getting that info from you, of course." They got to the wall and pressed themselves against it, looking up.

"Well, you certainly have your own way of getting someone to talk. I was on the verge of telling you before they started shooting."

She looked at him with wide eyes. "Really? To me I didn't seem to be getting anywhere."

They became silent as the shooter's head appeared over the top edge of the wall above them, and Whitefire whipped her gun out, a silencer quieting the shot of the pistol.

The gunman's machine gun fell to the ground at their feet, but the man hung limp over the wall.

"Good shot."

"Yeah." Whitefire put her pistol back in the purse and snatched the other out of Ralone's hand, gave him a glare, and shoved it back in her dress, making sure it wasn't visible to anyone- beside Ralone, that is. "Well, time for me to leave, I suppose."

The Russian's ears straightened. "Is that date still in place?"

She snorted, laughing. "Yes. My home, possibly? It's quite in need of some use."

"My pleasure."

Her orange eyes narrowed. "Though, I'm sure, you can keep my location disclosed?"

He paused, then smiled. "Of course. When, exactly?"

She nodded briskly. "Now."

"What?"

"My schedule's a bit tight."

Ralone's look of surprise brightened into an amused smile. " Very well."

They slowly walked to the courtyard gate, where someone was trying to discreetly solicit. Sly eyes met hers and she suddenly stopped, walking toward them. "Waiting for me?"

They nodded. "Did you get the intel?"

"Nope."

Their eyes widened as Ralone came up behind her, frowning. "So, the commission wasn't a fake?"

"How interesting...." She shrugged, grinning. "I guess not! But now I'm just wondering who the gunman was..."

The man looked wide-eyed at them for a moment, then started running down the sidewalk.

"Ahah! That's right, run, fool!" Ralone shouted, then smiled and looked down at Whitefire. "Let's take my car."

Of course, she wasn't terribly surprised to find that his car was a sleek black GT-9R sports car.