FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Pitch Black is the second arc of The Underground series

Chapter 5 of 22

Embassies of The Underground

"This just doesn't make any Goddamn sense." Alias stated aloud in an agitated voice as he paced the carpet of the living room floor.

"You always said it would only be a matter of time." A feminine voice reminded him. "Which is why we've been city jumping for the past six months since our little fireworks show in Palamont." Jenna, still in her waitress uniform, leaned against the far wall next to the door of their new apartment.

Alias stopped and turned to face her. Taking off his coat, he tossed it aside onto a couch that had been in the apartment since Jenna and Alias had moved in not too long ago.

"But why interrogate an arms dealer?" Alias posed, growing more frustrated by the second. "One of about a thousand I have across the nation!"

"What do you want me to tell you, Alias?" Jenna asked in a sharp tone. "I don't have the slightest idea, and unless you plan on trying to wake Mick up from his near comatose state, there's not a hell of a lot we can do!" She returned Alias's death stare across the room. "Mick did help you after you went rogue." She reminded him.

Alias, taking a deep breath to vent his frustration, nodded. "I know, and I've thought about that. But that was before the shit really hit the fan. Why now? Why here? Why not six months ago in Palamont?"

"Are you for real?" Jenna asked him, her tone still as sharp as ever, but less agitation than before. "You're trying to rationalize the thought process of the son of a bitch who had people abducted to be used against their families, allowed interrogators to gang-rape women to death? Come on, Alias!"

"Xen Hets may be a sick fuck of a stallion, but he's not an idiot." Alias replied, walking slowly over to where Jenna stood. "Hell," Alias said exasperated, "I worked with him long enough. The asshole has a methods to his madness... except for this."

"How do you know it was Hets?" Jenna asked, causing Alias's ears to perk up.

He scowled. "What do you mean?"

Jenna shrugged. "Well, I mean how do you know this has anything to do with us, or Hets, or Palamont. Maybe Mick got involved with some bad people. We're talking about The Underground here, Alias. The Invisible War, and all. God knows I've seen what people here are capable of, even though I'm a..." Jenna paused for a second, looking perplexed. "Shit, what did Abby call me? A Milk Jug?"

An amused smile broke over Alias's muzzle, cutting the tension between the pair of foxes.

"Milk Carton." Alias corrected, still smiling.

"Off topic, totally." Jenna admitted. "But what's that even supposed to mean?"

Alias shrugged. "It's a stupid term that's talking about someone new to The Underground."

"Like a newbie or something?"

Alias nodded. "Only most of the people who come to The Underground are runaways, so their faces got posted on milk cartons... I don't know, it's a stupid thing." He said dismissing the topic. "Speaking of which-"

"I took care of it." Jenna cut him off abruptly.

"Do you even know what I was going to-"

"Yeah." Jenna answered quickly. "Like I said, I took care of it. You don't need to worry about kidnapping charges or even milk cartons for that matter."

Alias watched quietly as Jenna's face took on a somber look. She seemed distracted, like something painful was happening deep in her mind. He stepped toward Jenna, her ears lowered, looking at the floor.

"There's more to this story, isn't there?" He asked her, in such a way that wasn't angry, however still held his dark tone. Alias asked of general care as he looked at the blue vixen who had that faraway look in her eyes.

Toeing the ground, Jenna's eyes remained away from Alias. "There always is."

Alias caught the look in her eye. Hurt and frustration seemed to be growing within the vixen, causing Alias to decide to let it go. Tensions were high enough with Mick's impromptu arrival. Alias was sure Jenna would bring it up if she ever felt the need.

Moving closer to Jenna, Alias placed a paw gently on one of her arms, which were folded across her chest. Her eyes went from the floor to him, only now her eyes had returned to how he normally saw them: full of emotion and care.

"You ok?" He asked her softly.

The vixen didn't reply for a second, looking back at Alias.

"Yeah, fine." She replied finally.

"You're shaking." Alias noted, feeling her arm tremble under his touch. "Cold?"

But Jenna shook her head, looking directly into Alias's eyes. "No." She replied softly. "Not cold..."

The door to the apartment burst open with a loud ruckus; both foxes stepping away from the door in surprise as Abby blew through the doorway.

"So tell me, what happened to that sweet muscle car you won in that bet, Alias?" Abby asked, rubbing the cold out of her arms.

Alias thought back to his old car, which was probably rusting away in some junkyard. "It met an unfortunate demise on an overpass."

"That sucks." Abby replied, shaking her head. "Always liked that car."

Alias sighed. "Yeah, me too."

"Anyway, you're parked around the block." Abby informed Alias, tossing him the keys to an SUV. "Is he ok?" Abby asked, tone changing.

"I shot him up with Item Forty-Nine." Alias replied, looking down a short hallway to his room where Mick slept. "He's going to be down and out for awhile."

"So what's his deal?" Abby asked, looking from Alias to Jenna.

"He's one of my arms dealers." Alias explained. "He was my contact back in Palamont, helped us out a few times."

"They might have been working him to get to us." Jenna chimed in. "We don't know yet."

Alias saw Abby's face contort in confusion. "So when you said Jenna was in trouble, you really meant it."

Alias walked over to the closet, and looked on the top shelf where he kept his extra magazines for his pistols. Already loaded, Alias placed them into his extra holsters and readied both his black guns.

"Shitty nine's..." Alias mumbled to himself. Graefenburg had taught him that he needed something with more punch. If Mick pulled through this maybe he could get him some forty-fives. He turned to the girls. "It's a long story, Abby." He told her. "Right now, I need to find out if who I think was responsible for this had a paw in it." Alias knew who he needed to talk to in order to find out.

"Abby, do you think you can stay here?" Alias asked. "If he starts freaking out again, it might take the two of you to calm him down."

Abby nodded. "Of course."

Alias turned his attention to Jenna. "You remember where everything is?"

"Pistols in the pantry, sniper rifle in your room, shotty in the coat closet, MP5's under the kitchen table." She recited from memory.

Alias nodded. "Good. This shouldn't take more than a couple of hours."

"Who are you going to see?" Jenna asked as Alias opened the door to the hallway.

"Someone who can give me answers." He replied. "Don't open this door for anyone but me." He commanded, and shut the door behind him.

If Xen Hets were truly behind this, it could be both good and bad for Alias. The bad news was that Alias knew how difficult it would be going up against a crime lord of Hets's proportion. Given, the Alliance was nonexistent now, but that didn't mean Hets didn't have funds and resources outside what that organization offered. Alias always assumed that the Alliance was simply a convenient way to maintain control without having to worry about turf wars in The Underground. The good news, however, was that having worked with Hets so long, he knew who he could go to if he was trying anything. The Alliance had smaller cells in other cities, almost like Underground embassies. Alias knew the person who had been in charge of the one in Arcadia. As he started up the black SUV that he commandeered from The Lazarus Institute, Alias knew if he was still in town they needed to have a little chat.

He felt a little guilty leaving the girls alone at the apartment, but Alias needed to know what he was dealing with. Maybe Jenna was right. Maybe Mick had fallen in with the wrong crowd and this was the end result. Alias knew that would make things much simpler. But Mick's words still echoed through his head. Maybe he had just been speaking nonsense, but Alias didn't want to wait around to find out. If someone was coming for him, he wanted to know. Alias had elected not to tell Jenna or Abby what Mick had said. There was no point getting them worked up over what could be nothing.

The Lazarus Institute, a front for the notorious Alliance Hets was involved with, had been located downtown in the urban sprawl that was Palamont. The plaza itself had been a key figure in the city's skyline. Looking at his surroundings passing by, Alias was far from that glamorous downtown setting. This was The Underground; a lucrative, and dangerous black market ranging anywhere from arms deals, drugs, information trade, and anything else controlled or otherwise. It had been rumored to generate more revenue in a quarter than some small countries did in a year. Small wonder why organizations such as The Alliance tried to control the trade. It was a shady place on the fringe of reality, and to most, didn't exist at all. Laws weren't the same here and regular societal rules didn't apply. Down here on the edge of society, there were no rules, no law, and no limits.

Alias, along with many others, was a product of this place. The streets of the cities had been his teacher, tormentor, lover and nemesis. In his early days in The Underground, life was an everyday struggle just to survive. He had tried to describe it to others before, but words seemed to fail him. The cold fact was, Alias couldn't remember anything before he was on the streets of The Underground. The only way he could even come close to describing his lack of memory was it was like the first few minutes after one blacks out from drinking. There's the acceptance of the world around you; that slow process of coming back online. Then there's the confusion of how you got there, and what happened in the time you missed out on. The difference was unlike when memories usually flood back into your head that moment had never come to Alias. This of course was quickly followed by the initial fear and frustration at everything because of the part of you life your missed. It was like the strangest from of selective amnesia because before long he found he could do things that were... unnatural to say the least. He had a set of skills that no one should have; abilities that kept him alive when he should have died many times over. Some may look at it as a gift, but in truth it worried him. Who exactly had he been before he took up this life? Moreover, what had caused his change and why? It didn't take long for the young black fox to figure out what he had been, judging by his abilities. It hadn't been long after that Alias took up the trade of being a mercenary; namely a hitman. And he was good at what he did.

And the rest, they say, is history. Alias thought to himself.

It still left many questions that would haunt the fox. Images like broken shards of glass lingered, but they made no sense, only furthering his confusion and frustration. The most frustrating thing was that he knew the answers lurked in the dark recesses of his mind. However, like creatures who fear the daylight, they refused to show themselves.

After about fifteen minutes, he carefully navigated the black SUV down a narrow alley and parked. The black fox slid out of the car, and pulled his flat black pistol from his holster. A bullet was already in the chamber, and he knew that soon he would need it. Walking over to a door in the alleyway, Alias knocked on the wooden surface.

Presently, a peephole slid open, revealing a set of threatening eyes looking back at him.

"Hey." Alias said in a dangerously carefree tone. "What's happening?"

The person behind the door didn't even have time to answer as Alias's boot met the door. A splintering sound echoed down the alley, as the door broke free from its hinges and flattened the poor bastard behind it. Giving little regard to the sap under the door, Alias simply walked over it, hearing a painful groan from underneath.

Hearing the commotion, a stoat whipped around the corner. It didn't take him more than a second to realize Alias wasn't supposed to be there. He took a swing at the black fox, who dodged it nimbly. Catching the stoat by the forearm, Alias pulled him forward, and at the same time drove his elbow backward, directly into his nose. As he made contact with the stoat, he felt the cartilage crush under the force. The stoat sprawled out backwards onto the ground.

Walking into an open common room, a second henchman, a rat, came running at Alias. He, unlike his buddy, was a slightly more skilled fighter. Alias jumped back as a foot made an attempt to connect with his face. Dropping down on his back, Alias sent his own foot directly into the rat's solar plexus, causing him to double over. Wasting no time, the fox spun him around so his back was facing him and grabbed the rat forcefully by his hair, pulling him up straight.

Quickly curling his arm around the rat's neck, keeping him in a chokehold, Alias grabbed his gun with his free paw. Before the rat could even struggle, Alias sounded off two rounds in some kind of dog who had come to join the fight. Alias double tapped him in the chest, cutting the canine down as his blood pooled around him.

"What the fuck is going on here?" An agitated voice yelled out.

Alias whipped his gun in the direction of the voice. He held the rat steady, hardly leaving him enough room to breathe. Alias lined his site up on a middle aged, heavy set, groundhog, dressed in a button down shirt and slacks. Seeing the desperate situation his man was in the groundhog slowly raised his paws, showing no resistance.

The groundhog's face then grew confused. "Mr. Dunkelheit?" He asked the black fox. "What the hell are you doing here? Why the hell are you beating up my men?"

Alias's paw gripped the rat by the hair once more, and in one fluid motion smashed his face against the brick wall. The rat collapsed to the ground in an unconscious heap.

"I think we need to have a little talk, Edgar." Alias growled, pointing his gun at the groundhog.

"You know I do have a cell phone..."

"Don't get cute." Alias cut him off. "I need some answers."

"Hell, don't we all!" The groundhog scoffed. "Why don't you put the gun down, and we can talk about this?"

"Someone I know is now a walking skeleton! Did you guys have a paw in it?"

He scowled from across the room, paws still in the air. "The Alliance? Mr. Dunkelheit, th-that went under months ago!" He stammered.

"Yeah, no shit!" He snarled. "But Xen Hets is very much alive! Do you know where the slimy son of a bitch is?"

"No, I just-"

A deafening bang reverberated throughout the room and small pieces of the wall exploded next to Edgar's head. He jumped at both the sound and the bullet that buried itself in the brick, dropping to the ground in shock.

"Jesus Christ!" He screamed. "I-I'm telling you the truth! No one has seen or heard from him in months! When The Alliance folded, he just dropped off the face of the Earth! He just vanished that night!"

"So, you're telling me he's not contracted you to do any funny business? Nothing to do with a mink?"

"No!"

Alias pulled the hammer back on his pistol.

"I'd tell you if I knew! I don't work with the Alliance anymore! I go where the money is, and they don't have it! They don't even exist anymore!" Edgar wailed. "Hets wouldn't go through old Alliance channels anyway!"

This caught the fox off guard. It didn't make sense.

"Why not? You guys had connections out the ass."

"Most of the Alliance thought he was a traitor! Blew Lazarus Plaza to get away with a bunch of cash!" He explained, taking slow breaths to calm his heart down.

Alias couldn't say he was displeased to hear that. That could work out very well for him if those of the Alliance that were left thought Hets was the bad guy and not Alias.

Edgar paused for a moment before continuing. "They wouldn't kill him, he has too many friends who have big names. But if he ever popped up again, they'd want answers!"

Jenna's words rose to the surface of Alias's mind. What if this wasn't Hets? Just from a logical point a view before, and talking with Edgar, it was sounding more and more like Hets maybe didn't have anything to do with what happened to Mick. Alias himself had said it; it didn't make any sense for Hets to be involved.

Alias slowly released the hammer on his pistol, and lowered it.

"You better pray to God I don't find you if you're lying." Alias threatened, to which Edgar shook his head that he wasn't.

Alias spun around on his heels, trenchcoat spinning elegantly with him as he turned. The black fox took a couple of steps to the door, then turned in a black flash, pistol at shoulder level.

Three bullets hit Edgar; two in his chest and one through the forehead. The obese groundhog slid down the wall, leaving a crimson streak of blood along the brick surface. From Edgar's paw, a desert eagle fell to the ground in a clatter. His dead eyes stared back at the fox, as smoke wafted gracefully from the barrel of Alias's gun. Edgar couldn't even get the damn thing cocked before Alias had put him down.

Dumbass, Alias thought coldly, and I was going to let you live.