FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The cafe hummed with the sort of quiet hum that would lull even the most stress-addled mind. The smell of coffee clung fast to the air, as twenty versions of the same basic brew were ordered, brewed, passed, and sipped in quiet nooks by monsters of differing tastes.

Junga smiled, leaning over the counter as he inhaled the smell of his cafe. With his broad face and large eyes, he almost seemed like a captain of some pirate ship, gazing out over the bow of his ship. Junga leaned back, gripping the countertop gently as he arched his back. His tail bobbed back and forth as he yawned. Three-o'-clock, and he'd only had nine cups. He put a paw to his mouth as he licked his lips, pondering what to brew himself.

After all the orders had been taken care of, Junga glanced around before filling a cup to the brim with a spicy latte with hints of chocomel and tanrish. Tastes of home. Just like he liked it. He brought the steaming cup up to his nose, and sniffed at it loudly before taking it to the back corner of the counter, like a dog hoarding a fresh kill.

Junga growled as he slid a chair over to the corner and turned away from the crowd. A large part of him wanted to mingle with the customers, but not until... His ears fanned about as he noticed the chatter of the television in front of him.

A blonde reporter poised behind her desk as she announced, "Ten years ago this week, our world was ravaged by...." Junga tried to tone her high-pitched voice out, "causing a massive rift between our kind, and... and recently, word of a new threat spreads through the city, whispers of a mysterious Shade and his..." Junga looked up at her slim figure, her ape-like features reminding him of the unfairness of it all.

He muttered under his breath, "...only got that job 'cause you're human enough. Hmph!" Annoyingly, the reporter had the gall to continue talking. That was it...

He snorted. Reaching for the remote, he clicked her off. He put his lips to the cup, blowing it gently as he inhaled its heavenly scent. Layered and deep, with an aftertaste just as bodied and unique as the first sip, few things could compare to the taste of it; Junga's perfect brew - at least for him.

And that was the beautiful thing, really. Monsters from all walks of life, no matter their species, culture, upbringing. They all taste things in different ways. Even something as simple yet elegant as a steaming cup of joe.

A loud bang on the counter brought Junga out of his reverie as Ongmo slammed a small stack of plated down.

"Eh, what?!" he cried out, "Cutting back, he says. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Not very well. Tell me. Did you take up running this place just to satisfy your own caffeine addiction? What're you doing, you sloth? Get to work."

Junga smiled wide, feeling his large lips rub up against his tusks as he tapped his nose with a fat finger. "Gd'old Mo. You always know just how to walk the line between professionalism and annoyance."

Ongmo wiped his tentacle-like claws along the plates, wiping their contents into the trash as he said, "You jungle rat, I tell you for. You might know people, and it might be your fancy ideas that built this place, aye. But you rely on us to keep this old bird ticking."

Junga smiled groggily, turning to him, "Clock, you mean? Keep this old clock ticking? And you know what happened with the clinic."

Ongmo inhaled, the tip of his trunk flaring outwards, "The way you mix spices and beans, boy - you ought've stayed in medicine."

"Yeah, but..."

"You're telling me - No, listen here. The way I see you work customers here, the way you work a crowd and you let some two-faced human tell you you couldn't work no needle 'cause of what you are, what they made you."

Junga exhaled loudly, his thick toes wrapping around the rung at the bottom of his stool, "I just... I didn't come to the city to fight. I came just to make a place for myself. Just focus on the good, y'know? It's not like I would've gotten very far anyways, even monsterside."

Ongmo snorted, stroking his trunk, "Boooy. Do I need to wring you out? Now finish your break now, and get back in here and help me 'fore we get real busy again," he laughed, dispelling the imaginary tension. As always, a few customers had stopped to look at their pretend argument. However, at hearing him laugh, they would return to their business.

A trimly-dressed monster that seemed portions of both otter and crab looked at Ongmo out of the corner of his eye. He raised a claw to his mouth and coughed sarcastically before smoothing out his whiskers, and continuing his meal.

Junga looked back at his companion with a smile, his tail wagging softly. He gulped down the last, sweet portion of his brew and scratched his chest, reaching up through his shirt, past his round belly to where the itch lay hidden. Afterwards, he smoothed out his shirt, the dull hum of the cafe eliciting memories, memories he'd avoided for some time.

The red t-shirt with the yellow star reminded him of his Grumpaw. He'd always talked about what life was like, in the old days. War, and fighting, and weird-ass machines and shit, as he'd put it so often. This shirt had held up surprisingly well through the years. Grumpaw had said it was from one of his favorite teller-vision shows, though as a cub, Junga hadn't held much interest in that sort of thing.

Junga looked up suddenly, realizing that his thoughts were drifting again. He huffed, scratching at the base of his horns as he stood up. He really did have to get back to work. The evening rush would....

Junga paused as a mole-like monster waddled over to where he stood by the back of the serving counter. The mole-man peered at Junga for a moment before dropping a small plate on the table. Junga chortled to himself as he saw what was on it. A hamburger. One of hers.

"My lady," the mole-man said, his star-shaped nose waggling its fingers through the air, "My lady have me send this to you. Says she misses you. Says her father away for weekend."

Junga laughed, taking the plate, "No kidding! Thanks, bud," he smirked down at the diminutive creature. The mole-man grumbled and scampered away, his long tail trailing behind him. Junga's eyes widened as he watched him go. He turned to Ongmo, who let out a sigh, tapping the counter with his claws.

"Did you hear that?!" Junga said, clapping his paws together.

Ongmo stroked his trunk again, his ears flapping ere he hodded, "Aye. Go ahead. I'll handle you here."

Junga threw his paws in the air and pranced through the swinging door which separated the serving counter from the rest of the cafe. He ran towards the small hall that connected his cafe and the grill nextdoor. Already, images of her ran through his mind.

His claws rapped loudly on the linoleum as he raced to the other side. He sniffed for a moment, smelling something strange in the air. Then, he stormed through the saloon-style swinging double doors which opened into the Calico Grill, except... No. No. Something was wrong.

The front door hung open, the evening sun streaming in. Elsewhere, though, it was alarmingly dark. No, no.. more than dark. The grill was usually inviting, but now, now everything, everywhere was black. An acrid smell clung to the air as the wind howled through the open entrance. The designer tables, the grill, the lounge - everything was covered in a layer of black ash.

"The HELL?" Junga growled, looking around. "Margarett?! MARGARETT, what happened?"

His voice echoed hollowly. Suddenly, motion caught his eye as something moved amongst the ash. The charred remains of one of the chairs shifted as a thin shape rose from the ground with a cough. Junga rushed over to them, his hands shaking.

"Mr. Crake!" Junga said, "Are you okay? What.... what happened here?"

The old cat groaned, taking Junga's hand as he helped him stand. His bald tail twitched as he brushed the ashes from his wrinkled skin. He let out a hiss as he back spasmed. He wrapped a paw around the blackened remains of a table as he tried to steady himself. Eventually, they subsided, and a strange look came over his face as he looked deep into Junga's eyes.

Shaking then, he retrieved something from his pocket. The metal coin glimmered brightly, in contrast to the blackened ruins of the Calico.

"Take this, young son," he said, pressing it into Junga's paw.

"But... I don't understand. What is this...? What is happening? Is your daughter okay?" Junga glanced down at it, trying to make out the design, but before he could look at it, the cat-man groaned.

"Damned monsters took'er," Crake said, his ears twitching.

Junga's ears laid back against his head, and his legs wobbled. Not her. Anything but that.

"Monsters? Who? TELL ME! Is she alright?!"

Crikes shook his head softly as he said, "Tell your people to run. Close down. Get out of sight... They'll be back. I can feel it. They never strike just once. Always have to... OOF!" his back spasmed again, "Always have to finish... the job. AAAAH!"

"WHO?!" Junga growled in frustration, "Who will be back?!"

The old cat narrowed his eyes, his lips drawing back as he hissed.

"The Shade."