FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

_The eclipse of my mind protects my soul,

From the harsh and unforgiving rays

Of a burning world that shines out of control,

With Hate and Fear! I suffer and blaze.

But with my living shield with Violet eyes,

I am safe, as the stars that...that..._

The eraser on the end of the pencil bounced against the wrinkled notebook paper as the gray fox vixen tapped it against her desk, struggling to find the word she was searching for. That...what? What do stars do? She considered it a moment longer before straightening slightly and pondering a much more important question. How long have I been working on this? She checked the clock up on the wall across her room just in time to hear it strike the hour. Ding...ding...ding...ding...ding...ding.

Her eyes suddenly widened with horror. "Shit! Shit, shit, shit..." She cursed in English and pushed herself back from her desk, knocking her chair over as she struggled to pick her way across her disaster area of a room to reach her closet. Pulling the doors open, she reached inside and searched through her measly collection of sarcastic t-shirts and sweatshirts for her uniform, muttering now in Japanese. "I can't believe I wasted two hours on that piece of crap!"

Finally, she found the black uniform and extracted it from among the rest of her clothes, already stepping out of her red cargo pants, which she had unbuttoned and unzipped as she searched. Pulling the black pants up over a crimson thong, she quickly buttoned them before grabbing the edges of her t-shirt, maroon with black lettering--"Very Convincing. Can You Fake Smart, Too?"--and stripping it off. She wasn't wearing a bra today, a decision based mainly on the 104? Los Angeles summer, but after considering what the consequences of showing up to her job without one might be, she overruled herself. Knowing that most of her bras were likely to be on her floor, she searched for one on her paws and knees for a moment. "My boobs are going to sweat like bitches..." She found one and gave it a quick scent test, decided it was viable and quickly put it on. Then, she grabbed her black uniform shirt and pulled it on.

She checked herself in the mirror and pushed a few stray stands of her long red headfur back over her ears. She made a face at her reflection when she caught sight of the logo over her left breast. "LazerStorm," it screamed in a collage of six colors, four of which clashed enough to make her nauseous if she stared at them long enough. She couldn't imagine who could have poor enough taste to design something so horrendous. She would be the first to admit that she personally had no fashion or designing sense, but even she was aware that dark yellow did not mix with day-glow green and pink. She shuddered a little before turning away from the mirror and grabbing her keys and wallet off the desk. Stuffing them into her pants pockets, she pulled her door open, kicking aside two other shirts and a tattered notebook. Then, shutting and locking the door behind her, she walked out into the hallway and then out another door into the silence of the early morning.

Breathing the crisp, clean air settling over the university campus, she walked to the parking lot and located her car. She smiled as she laid eyes upon the only physical possession she truly prized. She had fallen in love with it the moment she had first seen it, sitting on the lot alone because the cars on either side of it had been taken already. It had begged her to take it home with her, like an abandoned puppy, and who was she to deny such a pitiful call? She'd purchased it the same hour and immediately started working on making it the car of her dreams. It had come a long way, and looked very different now than it had two years ago when she got it.

She pointed a small remote at it and pressed a button. Three seconds later, the performance-tuned 8V engine roared, and the sleek color-shift black-violet-cerulean 2005 Ferrari F430 Spider came alive. Another button, and the hard convertible top came down. Even though she was late, she still went through her routine. She walked once around the car, making sure that her $1,212,000 baby had survived the night without suffering any damage. Then, she went around it again, this time to revel in the masterpiece that she had been creating for the past two years. She smiled as she listened to the engine purr, ran her fingers across the spoiler, and used her tail to gently buff away a water spot that marred the silver graphic of her nickname painted across the back. On the bumper, underneath the Japanese character, was a vinyl graphic of the English translation she used in the States, "-Razor-." With one final smile of contentment, she hopped over the driver side door and settled into the seat, sliding the laser-cut key into the ignition and turning it before putting her baby into reverse and pulling out of the spot. Then, in a cacophony of burning rubber, a 12,000 watt sound system, and a roaring performance-tuned engine, Ayumi Shimizu headed off to work.

As she drove, Ayumi had time, as usual, to reflect. The sixteen speaker sound system poured a constant stream of pulsing techno music into the air rushing through the convertible's cockpit, and since it had no words worth recognizing, it was good music to just sit and think to. This was the time of day that she usually wrote her best poetry. It started as an idea, floating around in her head, and by the time she got to work, it had gained enough substance to become an actual poem, which she would write down on a notepad she kept in her pocket. But today, she had something else on her mind.

Today was December 1st, 2007, the anniversary of her escape. It had only been one year since she had left home, but already, Ayumi was starting to forget things about her former life. Once upon a time, she had been Ayumi Saruwatari, heiress to the massive Saruwatari business empire. As a budding poet, she had naturally wanted none of it, but members of the Saruwatari family didn't simply leave the family business. Thus, shortly after her nineteenth birthday, she had run away.

She still remembered her last day, too. She could still recreate the exact moment she announced that she didn't want to continue the family business, and that she wanted to write poetry for a living instead. Her mother had been sitting on the couch in front of the TV. Her father had been on the phone, as usual, and didn't actually hear Ayumi's declaration at first. When he actually put the damn thing away and listened, his first reaction had been exactly what she'd predicted. "The hell you are." Her mother had echoed the sentiment, and a horrific argument had followed, during which Ayumi had finally vented all her pent-up frustrations at her parents in one long, screaming rant. The result of the discussion was that her father had silenced Ayumi the only way he'd ever learned how.

Fifteen minutes later, sitting in her room and crying, the salty tears stinging the open cuts on her face, Ayumi had finalized her decision to leave. She had packed a suitcase, putting into it only those things that she absolutely needed and the few things that she actually wanted to keep. Then, she had left by way of the front door, not that it mattered; the house was big enough that she could have evaded her parents any of a dozen different ways, if necessary. Waving to the family's valet, she had waited on the curb for a minute while he brought her baby, ?, 'Dan,' around. When he arrived, she had covertly asked him for all the extra keys and remotes to the car. Confused, but in no place to question or refuse, he handed her the only two extra sets. Then, she climbed into the Ferrari and drove away.

Ayumi went to the nearest bank and immediately emptied her joint checking account into a new account under her own name. This had taken a little bit of acting and a couple of white lies, but eventually, she had convinced the teller that the signature on the transfer slip was her father's. It occurred to her that what she was doing was a crime so serious that if she were caught-and she would definitely be caught-she could never return to Japan, or she would face a severe penalty. This suited Ayumi just fine, though; she didn't intend to return.

Back in the present, the grey vixen shook her head and sniffed a little. No matter how long ago it had been, the memories of that day still stung now and again. It wasn't that she missed her parents that much; she'd never really formed any real connection with them. It was everything else she'd left behind. Her ring, her friends, however few of them she had had...she did miss a few of the household servants, the ones she'd gotten attached to, anyway, but she still talked to them occasionally, over the phone, by email, and she even received birthday and Christmas gifts from many of them. Maybe someday, she'd invite them to come out and visit her. Visiting them was...out of the question.

She was suddenly pulled from her reverie by a discordant honk. She was sitting at a stoplight, and the honk had come from the right side of her car. One quick glance brought a grin to her face. Sitting next to Ayumi's $1,212,000 car was another car, one that wouldn't return even $1,212 to its owner. It was a dark green 1986 Volvo. It had numerous rust spots and filthy hubcaps. One of the rear windows was broken, with spider web cracks running through the glass, and after a few moments, the acrid smell of a poorly maintained engine wheezing through the exhaust reached her sensitive nose. As she looked over, the front left window rolled down, and a red fox vixen with blonde headfur with crimson streaks was leaning out of it, grinning at Ayumi from behind a pair of mirrored sunglasses.

Ayumi turned down her stereo system so she could only barely hear it and leaned over her door; the Ferrari was a Japanese model, so the wheel was on the right side of the car. "Ohayou, Murasaki!"

The other vixen grinned. "Ohayou. So, what do you think? Will today be the day?"

Ayumi pretended to think while she pulled the Ferrari out of gear and revved the engine a few times, the fiberglass body rumbling around the powerful machine and bucking from the incredible torque. "I dunno. Dan's feeling pretty fast today. You think you can get Kame up to...oh, say, forty-five?"

Murasaki Kagatsu revved her own car, the engine making a few nasty clanking noises and spitting blue smoke from the tattered muffler. "Oh, I'm feeling good today. I think he can take you."

Ayumi giggled. "Well, I guess we'll see, huh?" The light for the crossroad changed to yellow. Ayumi and her opponent both started inching forward a little. Then, the crossroad light turned red, and Ayumi's light turned green. She immediately dropped the car into gear and floored the accelerator. The Ferrari's 630 horses leapt into action, and the Spider was through the intersection before the Volvo even started rolling.

Ayumi kept driving the beast long enough to reach sixty-five mph, then let off the gas and let the car begin to decelerate on its own, even as the 8V engine begged her to keep going. Looking in her rearview mirror, she watched the Volvo slowly creep up on her, and after fifteen seconds or so, the much smaller and uglier car sailed past her at about thirty mph, at which point she gently put the gas back on and followed. She grinned when she saw the character painted on the Volvo's trunk. A few months ago, she and Murasaki had found themselves with nothing else to do, and so to prevent the catastrophes that usually resulted from the duo's boredom, they had discussed names for Murasaki's car. The only name that they felt both accurately described the car and would look good as a character without being too difficult to reproduce was 'Kame,' 'Turtle.' So, having decided on a name, Murasaki had gone and found a can of white paint, and together, they had painted the car's name on the back bumper of the Volvo, in the same place where Ayumi's name was on her car. Ayumi's car's name, was scrawled on the hood. She was looking through her windshield at a decidedly awkward-looking white kanji character. The two of them had laughed so hard when they had done it that they decided it didn't matter how badly it was done. No one but them would understand it anyway.

Ayumi continued staring at the character all the way to the LazerStorm building. There, she pulled into the spot next to her friend's car and got out, hopping over the driver's side door. She closed the top and locked the doors, engaging the anti-theft system. Murasaki walked around the front of her car and stood on the sidewalk, her paws on her hips, waiting for Ayumi. "Are you done yet?"

Ayumi maintained a somber expression. "It is very important that I follow my routine. Otherwise, I might forget something, and that would be disastrous."

Murasaki rolled her eyes. "Since, you know, if Dan were stolen, it would be impossible for you to find him again."

Ayumi shrugged. "You never know. What if they disable the anti-theft?"

Murasaki snorted. "Right. Because it's common knowledge that all car thieves will think to disable a Lo-Jack, a GPS tracker, OnStar, an ignition interface immobilizer, and an anti-theft webcam."

"They might!" Ayumi protested.

Murasaki shook her head. "I doubt it. Of course, this is assuming that they somehow manage to get through the glass and steel armor plating you call a car body."

"It's fiberglass." Ayumi put her keys back in her pocket. "And besides, it's better to be safe than sorry."

The other vixen chuckled. "Oh, I agree. Besides, having your car next to mine almost guarantees that anyone looking to steal a car won't even see my little Kame."

"So what're you complaining about?"

"I'm not complaining, I'm just saying..." she continued talking as the pair went to the back entrance to the building. As they entered, they waved at a fellow employee before getting their nametags off of the board just inside the door and pinning them to their matching black uniforms.

Ayumi frowned down at herself. "I love how amazingly colorful these uniforms are."

Murasaki nodded. "Oh, yes. About as stimulating as history, hm?"

"If that. We don't have to wear anything special to our history classes." Both vixens giggled.

"Imagine, then, if you didn't have to wear anything special at all, because you didn't have a job anymore?" The giggles stopped instantly at the sound of their supervisor's voice. They both turned to see the older male ocelot walking towards them, looking at his watch and clucking his tongue. "Since that's where you're headed with talk like that."

Ayumi feigned concern. "Oh, no, Mr. Faller. Please don't fire us. We need these jobs."

Murasaki nodded and grabbed the male's left arm. "Yes, please, Mr. Faller! Take pity on us, for we are but humble peons among your workforce."

Ayumi took it a step further. Grabbing his other arm, she said in Japanese, "We'll do anything, even offer you sexual favors!" Then, she switched back to English. "Just don't fire us!"

Bryce Faller rolled his eyes and shook both females off. "Whatever. I have no idea what you said, but I'm sure it was insulting and possibly illegal. You're both five minutes late, though. What do you intend to do to make it up, hm?"

Murasaki released the ocelot and straightened her nametag again. "Same thing we always do. We'll empty the ticket eaters."

Bryce raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Well, this time, make sure you do it as soon as they fill up. I got five complaints last week alone saying that the ticket eaters were all full, and people had to flood the counter to get their tickets counted."

Ayumi nodded solemnly. "Yes, but you see, Mr. Faller, last week, our jobs weren't on the line. Now, since you've threatened to fire us, we're going to hover around them until they fill up and empty them immediately."

"The hell you are." Bryce glanced at his PDA. "You'll both be busy doing other things. Mura, you've got entrance duty again-"

Murasaki's face was immediately indignant. "Why? I've had entrance for the past two weeks!"

Bryce didn't look up as he answered. "Because everyone says you're the best. You actually put effort into the delivery, and you can give the spiel faster and more accurately than anyone else. You're on entrance."

Murasaki muttered in Japanese. "See how the thespians get shafted? I put effort into my delivery, and I get punished like this."

"Ayumi, you've got station two." He looked up at her. "And please try not to scare anyone away today."

Ayumi was indignant. "Oh, it's my fault that all our patrons are ten years old and afraid of anyone with sharp teeth."

Bryce put his PDA away. "They're not all ten, and your teeth are not what scare them. However, your suggestions that the lasers can kill and that the games are death matches do."

Ayumi grinned. "I'm just trying to spice things up a little."

Bryce glared at her. "We don't need spice, we need customers. Make sure we get them, and that we keep them, alright?"

"Yoroshii."

Bryce shook his head and turned to walk away. "Damn polyglots..."

Both females laughed. Bryce was one of Ayumi and Murasaki's friends, but of course, he was also their boss, so it was necessary to put up the facade of strife in order to protect the three friends from accusations of favoritism. Murasaki was convinced it was working. Ayumi knew better. But so far, no one had complained, so it hadn't become an issue yet.

"I can't believe I have to do entrance again." Murasaki stood with her paws on her hips and shook her head. "You have no idea how awful it is to have to repeat the same stupid essay of information a hundred times a day."

"No," Ayumi started walking towards the front desk, and Murasaki followed, "but then, you don't know how awful it is to hear these little brats ask you for the same handles over and over again, or how irritating it is when they get mad at me for telling them someone else has already taken the one they want."

"It can't be that bad."

Ayumi snorted. "It is. If one more of those little cretins asks me for the callsign Zion, I will yank them across the counter and stuff them into a drawer." Zion was the name of a popular children's movie character. He was a space traveler who fought against the forces of evil and always prevailed. Ayumi hated him. His story was nothing like real life, and she despised the movie's suggestion that no matter how bad things got, justice always prevailed, and the good guys always won. Ayumi knew from personal experience that the bad guys often got rewarded for their evil deeds, while the good guys ended up losing everything.

Murasaki giggled and shook her head. "You take everything too seriously, saiai. You need to learn to relax." Murasaki ruffled Ayumi's headfur a little and left to take her place inside the insertion chamber. "I'll see you in six hours."

"Good luck, Mura."