FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I awoke to the sounds of my radio-alarm clock broadcasting the weather alert for the city. Normally, I would curse the clock, hit snooze, and roll over for another ten minutes while lamenting the coming of the light. But not this day. This day, four years of college, another four of preperation in high school, eight years of dreaming before that, and enough loving support from my parents to last the entire time would come together.

For athletes, a statement like that would indicate that they were about to win a medal or trophy. A scientist would be about to brag about his Nobel prize or something of that sort, while an author would smile fondly in thinking about his upcoming book prize or publication. For me, however, there was a much better prize than all of that put together. I had always dreamed of keeping people informed about things they would rather look away from, to make them understand the dirty, disgusting truth that they didn't want to confront, and thus, today, my prize was that I was about to take my first big step in that direction.

My name is Derrelki (no suffix given, as us dragon-folk don't bother with those), and I was a Journalist and sometime Computer Programmer. Odd combination, that, but one that worked for me as I planned to start my own Internet Blogsite someday. Still, the first step to that was getting noticed, and I had spent the last two years of college in an Internship at Gates&Bell's WarTimes E-Paper. William Bell and Serri Gates had started it with the intention of ensuring that the Military would be held accountable for things they did and aggressivly reported on everything from troops being mistreated to abuses of power by high ranking military members. Needless to say, they had a few enemies, but I was proud to be able to work for them and their company.

As I got to the buisness of brushing my teeth, the Radio came through louder, overriding the swishing sound of good dental hygine.

"Unusually hot weather today for mid-September, and the Anniversary of the Attacks in Two Thousand One are going to be marked by temperatures of around sixty three degrees. Low tonight at forty-seven with humidity around the upper seventies. Coming to you later today, our story on the plan to put boots on the ground in Ukraine to assist in peacekeeping operations... a foolish move to provoke the Kremlin, or a chance for America to show its willingness to help non-third world contries? More on this after the break!"

I sighed. What, two years now and NATO still can't make up its mind, so we decide to directly provoke Russia? I bet Vladimir will like that..." I thought to myself as I looked up in the mirror above the sink. My scales were well polished today, their lustery black matching my vivid green eyes well. Two rows of pearly white teeth grinned back at me, and my neat tee-shirt and khaki pants, while definetly saying "professional", didn't say "Law-School Dropout" like so many of the other reporters. I loved my job, but the last two years were spent being an Office Bitch for the most part, with tiny fluff pieces such as Military Working Feral Dogs getting promotions, new uniform regulations, and if the new 1.7 Million dollar fighter jets were a good use of taxpayer money.

But today was different. As I worked on munching down my eggs and bacon, I couldnt help but smile. Today, I was getting my first field assignment, and I had been told by one of my supervisors, Mrs. Sharleen, that I would need to travel for it, and that I needed to therefor make sure I had some bags packed and my passport ready. Today, I was going to get my first shot at fieldwork. What would it be? Interviewing an officer? Heck, even if it was reporting on field bathrooms, for once, I would be CREATING the story, not just parroting a story made by someone else!

Thankfully, the ride to work was fairly short. The buses in New York ran on time, and traffic was not all that bad. I had everything I would need on a trip of any length all packed into one luggage case and my suitcase with Laptop, Journal, Camera, Camcorder, and extra batteries for everything involved. I was, however, surprised when I heard a giggle and someone tapped me on the shoulder.

Looking over, a smiling catfolk was looking at me, pushing up a pair of glasses. "Going on a trip?" she asked, looking down at my luggage case. It was not all that big, but it had the tags I would need to find it at the airport, each of them highly distinctive.

Her eyes twinkled at me, and being the young male that I was, I couldn't help but grin bashfully. "Erm... yeah. First field assignment for the paper I work for..."

"Nice!" she said, eyes lingering on the reporter tag I had around my neck. "Gates&Bell? Way I heard, after that smear piece they did on that one officer, the Army isnt happy with you folks. Any idea where you are going?"

I shook my head. I hadn't been told. "Not a clue. Probably some lame starter job, but anything to get out into the field!"

My enthusiasm was fully genuine. All the greatest reporters and journalists reported live or quickly from the field. The freshest stories, the newest details, getting to sway public opinion first on important issues! This was my dream, to make sure people knew the truth about... well, anything really.

The rest of the bus ride passed quickly with her asking me a few more questions before tapping away on her phone. As the bus slid through traffic lanes, the familiar view of the building I worked at came into view, and I pulled on the buzzer to let the driver know it was my stop.

Inside, the building was as quiet as usual. For a fairly large journalism studio, we had a small staff of only around fourty people, most of whom were interns from the same college I had graduated from, and hoping for the same thing I was: The coveted Fieldwork,

"Mister Bell will see you anytime, sweetheart" the vixen secretary, Patricia, stated, smiling up at me from behind her half-moon glasses while she tapped away blindly on her computer. I have no idea how she managed it, but she could look straight at you with her milky eyes despite not seeing you. The glasses was a constant source of amusement for people, as she had stopped needing them several years ago when her cataracts finally rendered her blind. Her specialized keyboard allowed her to keep working on typing, and over fifty years at this desk (Both for Bell and Gates, and the people who owned this place before them) meant she knew the database program by memory better than any ten other people.

"Thanks!" I said, unable to help the twitching of my tail. Ensuring both of my wings were arranged right, that my crest-ridge was not popping up, and that everything was neat and in place. It was, thankfully, as I approached the office (Or as we termed it, the Shark Pool.

Mr Bell, MA, was sitting behind his desk. As usual, the Humidifier rendered the room murky and damp, and I could feel water beading on my head as he turned to me, smiling his wide grin with a large number of sharp teeth. Despite the Sharkmorphs reputation, he was actually the nicer of the two senior partners located at this company.

"Derellki! My boy!" he said, beaming. "Take a seat son! I have good news for you! I bet you are wondering why I called you here..." he said, trailing off and looking at me expectantly.

It was an old game, but one that he expected played. He knew that I was well aware of why I was here, but I was expected to play into his flair for the.... not quite dramatic, but what one would expect in a story or a television sit-com.

"I... Was hoping you could tell me, sir" I stated carefully. He was nice enough if you played along, but one misstep and I would feel the toe of his boot up my posterior for the next year and a half. Rumor had it that Mike, the Lemurfolk who worked in the IT department, walked funny for that exact reason, although we were pretty sure it was just a rumor.

Pretty sure.

"You are here because a unique opportunity has come up for our company, and when I saw the request, I thought to myself that there was no one better suited for the job than our newest Field Agent!"

As per my role, I looked surprised. "But sir, I wasn't aware we had any new field agents!"

This was a total lie of course, as my last pay stub had reflected the promotion last week... the cause of my excitement.

"Well, I didn't tell you yet, but Gates and I had been talking, and agreed that despite how new you were here, you have a lot of promise as a journalist. Thus, we have decided that you will be..." he said, trailing off.

At this point, my heart was actually pounding as I waited for the assignment. "What, sir?"

"The United States Department of Defense, in this case the United States Army, has seen fit to finally respond to my repeated requests to enforce transparency and allow us to embed a journalist into an Armed Force unit! You will be reporting to Captain Gabrielle, the first Female Infantry Batallion Commander in the Army Rangers! What is more, you will be going overseas to report on them in Iraq and Afghanistan between missions taken against the Islamic State! How's THAT son?"

For a moment, my heart stopped. Then it stayed stopped. After what felt like ten minutes of me trying to piece together what I had just been told, it clicked.

For most, the idea that they would be going into a part of the world currently controlled by a group of religious extremists that were, in fact, SO EXTREME that OTHER TERRORIST GROUPS would refuse association with them, and did in fact publicly decapitate or immolate JOURNALISTS, would be an reason to instantly "nope" the hell out.

For me, it was a dream.

"I... Over Seas?"

"Pack your bags! Your flight is in fifteen hours!"

And like that, my first adventure had began.

2:35 AM, Forward Operating Base Bravo

United States NATO-Held Territory

20 Miles from ISIS-Held Ramadi, Iraq

I was miserable. Four flights, two delays, and three days from getting my new assignment, I was sitting in a room with seventeen new soldiers, twelve civilian specialists, and an irritated Colonel.

"For the LAST TIME, NONE of you is to go beyond the fence! This is not just an order so we can keep track of you, this is because outside of that fence, there are people that want to kill you because they are bat-shit crazy! Civilians, you are here for simple tasks. Technicians, supply liasons, and local translators are to report to their stations on time, check in with the Commanding Officer or Non-Commissioned Officer of the current shift, and remain until such time as you are dismissed. Then you will report to either your habitation quarters, also called your Barracks, or to the Recreation Area. At all times you are to stay out of the way of any military personel, be they a simple Private or a four star general. Now, which one of you is.... Derrelki?

I raised my hand, a bit nervous and more than a bit tired. "Here..." I said, before remembering the fifteen hour lecture... or debriefing as they had called it, that I had received as a crash course in military protocol and terminology, and added a "Sir" to the end of my statement.

The Dog-morph nodded. "Rest of you, get to the Habitation Quarters, get signed in, and show up at oh-nine-hundred local time for the rest of your training. Derrelki, stay behind" he said as a female in a Captain's uniform walked in, the twin silver bars on her shoulders displaying her rank. She was a bright red fox-morph, with eyes like steel and a long orange stripe down the back of her head and seemingly running all the way to her tail.

I remained in my spot until the Colonel came over, looking me in the eye. "Derrelki, you are the WarTimes journalist, are you not?"

I nodded once again. "Y-yes sir."

"This here," he said, indicating the Captain to his left, "Is Captain Gabriella Prowler. She commands Charlie Company, a detachment on loan from the 75th Rangers. Currently, there are only two squads on base with a third and fourth to arrive next month, but she and her men...and women... are here to help secure sections of Ramadi that the Iraqi Security are having trouble with. Captain, he is all yours."

With that, he left, not sparing me a second glace as I tried not to yawn. The Captain, on the other hand, was red eyed and looked at me suddenly. "So... you are the civvy" she said, and suddenly her attitude hardened.

"ON YOUR FEET!" She shouted, and after a moments hesitation, she reached down and yanked me up. "Let's get a few things straight! You do what I say, when I say to do it! You do not ask questions unless I say you can! I may have to babysit your ass, but that does NOT mean I have to like it! You are my package for two weeks, and I will endure the same as I have for everything else! I am the first woman to hold a major command posting in a United States Special Forces unit in an Active Combat Zone officially on record, and I will NOT have my record tainted my a smear job, is that UNDERSTOOD?"

My heart stood still. The formerly indifferent attitude was gone, replaced by steel edged hardness and a cold fury that started in her eyes and ended with a pit of ice in my stomach. I could not help but nod jerkily. "Y-yes... Captain!"

After a moment, she gave a curt nod. "I will be availible for my required interview at seventeen-hundred tomorrow. In one week, you will have your one and only assignment embedded with us in the field. That will be a short mission to move in and eliminate an enemy VIP holed up in a former police station, if all goes well. Until that time, you will spend a MINIMUM of eight hours a day being drilled in our communications methods including hand signals, as well as reciving rifle training, learning to properly use a Radio and body armor, and you will take a fifteen hour class on security protocalls. My unit, while not a true Special Forces Commando unit, is meant to undertake rapid strikes against enemy weak points. For now, that is all you need to know. If you get in the way of our daily operations, I will not hesitate to sideline you... or worse. Are...We...Clear?" She said, punctuating her last sentence with pulling me closer. At my shaky nod, she let go of my collar.

As she turned to leave, I sank back down to my desk. What the HELL had I agreed to?