FSE

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Chapter 4

I woke up. Took me a while getting used to the darkness of the room I was in, only lit by a small lamp on the ceiling. Assuming, of course, there was a ceiling, because the room was so terribly dark I couldn't see any walls or anything. I was tied to a chair, with my arms tied to the armrests (sorry about the redundancy), and my legs tied to the chair's legs (sorry about the redundancy again). The people I assumed to be my kidnappers stood before me.

It was a group of men, all of the same height, build and clothing; tuxedo, red tie and gloves. But the strangest thing about their appearance was that they all wore the same green mask, with no holes to see or breathe. The one directly in front of me spoke first.

"Welcome, newfag," he began. "You are now our prisoner. We have spared your life for the moment, but you won't have the pleasure for long. Enjoy it while you have time."

"Who are you?" I asked.

"We cannot tell you. The rules, you know."

"Rules?"

"Rule 1: Do not talk about /b/. Rule 2: Do NOT talk about /b/." He paused, and continued. "We have decided that we were bored, and prepared this little prank for the whole world. You have been selected as a special prisoner, to be retained and tortured right here to see how long until he dies. When you're dead, the woman who was with you will follow."

"The woman?" A terrible thought came to me, and soon I changed my facial expression from puzzlement to earnesty. "Where's Ivory?"

"Ah, so that's her name. Right now she is... somewhere around here. We regret to tell you that you'll never see her, again."

"Why am I here? What do you want from us?" I replied, not changing my attitude for a moment.

"You have been selected as a special prisoner, due to exhibiting a habit we've rarely seen even in people such as you; you're wearing that fox costume all the time and make your friend wear one as well. That makes you special enough that we decide we don't wish to kill you right away."

If there's a thing I hate, it's other people thinking I'm wearing a fox costume, as has happened before, and I let the man know that.

"This is not a costume," I assured. For his answer, the man laughed hysterically.

"Not a costume, you say!" He kept laughing like crazy. "Well, well. It had been a while since we ran into a religious nut like you. How did it happen again? Did a shaman tell you? How painful it is to know you're not in the right body for your soul?"

"Who do you think I am, pal?" I retorted. "The Cat Man? You're very wrong."

"Let's see how wrong we are," he said, got closer to me, and pulled my ears.

"OWW!" I yelled. "What's your big idea, 'newfag'?"

The man seemed genuinely surprised. He hadn't expected to pull my ears and not find a human face under a mask, but a real being...

"..Well. It seems you're more special than we thought at first. We will have to begin... immediately!"

At "immediately", the other guys next to the one talking to me formed a circle around me. They carried a control panel on a small piece of furniture on wheels. Several of them moved the controls, others got closer to watch me. The machinery guys signaled their leader (and indeed, that's what they called him, Leader, so from now on I'll call him that), who then proceeded to explain what they were going to do next.

"You and us are going to play a little game. In fact, that's what we call it: 'The Game'. Would you like to hear the rules?" Before I could tell him I would take no part in any game, he resumed. "They are as follows. First: You are always playing 'The Game'. Which means, from the moment you commit to playing, you cannot stop playing; you will always play, and follow the rules, forever." He interrupted again before I could tell him I wasn't following any rules or playing anything. "Second: Whenever you think about 'The Game', you lose. Third: Losses must be announced. Are you ready?"

As soon as he finished talking, I started babbling as fast as I could: "Listen, mister, I'm not playing anything you tell me to! I'm gonna play when I feel like it and only then--"

"SILENCE! WE BEGIN NOW!"

And they all got closer to keep me watch...

Meanwhile, I thought: "Idiots. They think they can make me do this, like if I was one of them? Even if I thought of that 'Game', I'm not being forced to announce I 'thought of it' under any circumstances, no matter how much they want me to. I'm not playing under these people's rules. No means no! All I gotta do is keep my mouth shut, without announcing my 'loss', and they'll desist. Maybe then I can..."

What I didn't know, and found out about much later, was that there was a small piece of green cloth on the back of my head, completely imperceptible to me. Somehow the cloth was reading my brain activity and transmitting it to the other guys' machine, who then interpreted it, being able to know if I was thinking of The Game or not; with this information, they knew if they had to use the device to transmit an electrical impulse to my brain through the cloth, which made me exclaim...

"Damn, I lost!"

At which instant, through another piece of cloth, a red one, the machine gave me a brief, but strong electrical shock.

After a couple times of that, I realized this was their torture method; electrocution through that Game. I'll repeat myself; I had no idea of the pieces of cloth, and even if I did, I was tied up and couldn't take them off, and surely, they would have put it back on anyway. After five shocks, the Leader gave me some parting words, "We do not forgive, we do not forget", left, and told one of his lackeys to watch me.

Seeing their outfits already made me suspect, but hearing them talk and cite those "do not talk about /b/" rules, I was soon sure who those guys were... and where they came from.

They were "Anonymous". Anonymous is the code name for an organization based nowhere less than the Internet, and associated with "4chan", that infamous imageboard they call "The Internet's Asshole", since, excuse my language, that's where the shit comes out of. They are primarily characterized for doing evil things to people with no other purpose than getting a laugh, which is where "the prank" they had "prepared for the world" came from. Amongst their enemies are the rest of the Internet and the Church of Scientology, which I will not discuss again, out of dread for their lawyers. The Anonymous attack, which Ivory and I had witnessed (and which was, maybe, indeed happening all around the world), had not just the purpose of a laugh, but to another one, no doubt quite vile and evil... but, which? And why?

At the beginning I didn't know how long it had been since they'd tied me to the chair. Was it hours, maybe days? I couldn't tell. Every so often, the Leader returned and submitted me to the same torture. The weirdest thing is that my strength didn't seem to be running out at all. How long can a man stand without eating? I wondered. Or a fox? Much more important was to know how more often was I to be electrocuted without dying. Had Anonymous done their deed already? How the Hell did air even get inside the room? Was I in a room?

Not knowing why, I felt like starting a conversation with the guard.

"Greetings," I greeted. "How are you?"

"You shut the fuck up, you monster!" he retorced. "Fucking furfag, can't die soon enough!"

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"You flithy creep, I don't give a shit if you're real. You're scum and they oughtta give you a gun so you would an hero, instead of doing this Game bullshit."

I then realized, no, he didn't like me. And now is the final moment in which I go deeper into a furry subculture aspect, one that, I admit, is mostly our fault.

You see, pals, furries are the most hated group of nerds in the rest of the world, for rehaznos lost to time and history. I'm not just talking "normals" here; even anime fans, trekkies, gamers, role players and similar have nothing for furries but the greatest repulse conceivable by the human or animal mind. They are practically detested in any social circle imaginable, except their own. Perhaps the idea of being fascinated by non-existent humanoid animals is horrifying to others, because they take it for bestiality. Perhaps it's the fact that a big amount of us has some pretty... 'questionable' tastes, to put it nicely. Perhaps for no reason. Perhaps for any other amount of rehaznos, too many to investigate and/or reflect here.

Why do I say it's mostly our fault? Because furries are a pretty vocal minority, making themselves known wherever they go, and causing others to look at them funny. As with the previously mentioned groups, there's the normal ones, and there's the ones on TV, who wear costumes, speak in strange languages, have weird habits, etc. And are the ones who make people think they're all like that. And my guard was apparently on the audience's side, so to speak.

I still wanted to talk to him, so, after choosing my words very carefully, I asked: "I don't think you like my kind very much. Why?"

"You wanna know why? BECAUSE YOU AND YOUR KIND ARE SCUM THAT SHOULD BE WIPED OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH! YOU STOP TALKING TO ME OR I'LL PERSONALLY RIP YOUR GONADS OUT OF YOUR ASS, YOU SON OF A FUCKING BITCH!"

Hoo, I don't think I chose my words carefully one bit. For who knows what reason, the guy seemed to have gotten a serious amount of stress by launching such profanity my way, so after a while of heavy breathing, he articulated:

"Uh, excuse me, uh, I have a terrible impulse control problem. But..." Breathed heavily some more. "I still hate you."

"Really? Wouldn't have ever known," I sarcastically replied. "Hey, ignoring what I am and what you are for a while... what are you guys planning?"

"Can't tell. Rules 1 and 2 clearly state: 'Do not talk about /b/'. If you ask me, they have no right to do that -wish I could go myself and tell the world what's going to happen to it. But I can't."

"Work is murder, huh?"

"Yeah, more or less."

"Uh, I'm curious... how much do you really detest my kind? Doesn't look to be enough not to talk to me, and such."

"Oh, a lot..." He stopped himself for a bit, as if trying to remember why he hated us. "Let's say I hate them so much... if one of them asked me a favor, I'd give them the exact opposite of what they asked, just to piss them off. It's a rule of life and I NEVER break it."

And suddenly I was improvising again. Was there any chance for me to use what he'd just told me... against him?

"Never?" I asked.

"Never.I have plenty of acquaintances who know how much I take that personal rule to heart. If they got word that I broke it, they'd ridicule me..."

You just ridiculed yourself, idiot, I thought. Soon I saw myself escaping from that chair...

"Tell me, if, furfag that I am, I asked you a favor right now, would you give me the exact opposite of what I asked? Just to know if you're being serious; I like people with strong convictions."

"Yes, I would..." he answered, after spending some time thinking it.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Good." And this time, I did choose my words carefully. "Do me a favor and DON'T untie me."

"HA!I knew you were gonna ask for that! You really thought I was gonna untie you? You think I'm that stupid? You stay the fuck there!"

"What did you say?" asked I, looking at him maliciously.

"I SAID I'M NOT UNTYING YOU! YOU'RE GONNA STAY THERE UNTIL YOU ROT!"

"I can't hear you..."

"I SAID! I'M NOT! GOING! TO....." And he stopped. Too late, he realized he'd violated his own, so-important rule. "Oh, no!"

"That's right. You did it. And as soon as those loons are back to torture me, I'm telling them."

"NO! No, please, no! You wouldn't!"

Suddenly he looked like he'd never tried to play tough macho on me a couple minutes ago. I even pitied him...

"Yes!"

"No! Please, no! You can't do this to me! You shouldn't have done this to me! You're a talking fox!"

"Exactly. Don't you read Aesop? There goes your so-called 'reputation'".

Desperate and anguished, he began screaming in anguish and begging not to tell anything. Eventually, a bit sad about having unbalanced his little brain, I said:

"Alright, alright... Deep down I like you, even if you're a shameless troll, and I promise I won't say a thing, under one condition."

"I don't give a shit, I'll do it! I'll do anything!"

"Untie me. Now."

"Alright, alright!"

And he did, in a rush, desperate to keep his hardcore anti-furry facade when at best he was a more or less civilizad anti-furry. Spent, he leaned on the chair's armrests once I had taken my arms off of them. And in between nervous huffs, he realizad his second mistake...

"Oh, no, no, NOOOOO!"

"Bad move, clown!"

And, drawing from strengths I didn't know I had, I kicked him square in the testicles. He took a hand to his crotch and soon fell like a rock, completely deprived. I jumped off the chair.

I began searching him, looking for something that could help me escape the room. I found some kind of walkie-talkie with a screen, the only thing on him. Possibly used to comunicate with his superiors and find his bearings in the terribly dark place. I noticed something strange on his back, which I had seen the other Anonymous wear, and which, upon taking it off of him, turned out to be an odd sort of weapon, connected to a backpack.

I wore it. Using the walkie-talkie's screen, I found the exit. And now, armed, oriented and free, I was set to find Ivory, find out what Anonymous was plotting and, with any luck, put a stop to it...