FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The fact that there had been FBI and CIA agents after her for years, and maybe a few assassins and mercenaries in the mix should have made her just a bit worried, but of course at the moment she was too distracted to think about that. She had made a little trouble at a bar a few minutes ago and now she was running. Not that she wouldn't love a good fight, but she usually liked it to be under her own terms, and in a more.....comfortable place.

So she was leading them down the street. Breathing through her teeth, she began to get her feet into their own rhythm, breathing with it. She glanced to the side and noticed they were now using a car, catching up to her with ease. Oh, come on. No fair. But she shrugged it off, smiling to herself as she ran. More fun for me, I suppose. With a skip and a hop, she landed right in front of one of the black cars and the people inside slammed on the brakes, sure that they were going to hit her.

The white cat sighed. They aren't even mad enough to run me over. How boring.

The black car screeched to a halt an inch away from her, but her orange eyes didn't even blink, watching silently as the big orange retriever she'd cheated the poker money from stepped angrily out of the car, slamming the door. "What the hell did you do that for?!"

She grinned. "Wait, which thing are you talking about? Me stealing your money, or the fact that I just purposefully put myself in front of your car?"

The retriever growled. "Does it matter? They were both irritating and idiotic." He now stood next to her, and she had to put a crick in her neck just trying to meet his brown eyes.

"I'd like to think of it as sneaky and psychotic. It sounds more intelligent."

The dog's face began to look a bit strained. "Just give me the money back and I'll leave you alone." He stuck his hand out, gesturing for her to hand it over.

Her eyes widened. "What?!" As if this was a strange thing to ask of her. "Give it back? If I did that my reputation would practically crumble!"

The orange dog suddenly looked confused. "You are making absolutely no sense... who the hell are you?"

The white cat paused as he asked his question, then slowly, ever so slowly, she began to smile. The smile almost twisted up into a snarl, the whites of her eyes showing slightly. "I am the only bad-ass outlaw in this country that hasn't tried to hide her identity with fake names." She paused, showing her teeth. "I've got enemies on every corner of this town- of this city- of this country." Her ears pricked as she heard sirens a few blocks away. "And those are probably for me."

The dog was quickly getting a sinking feeling in his stomach as her face suddenly became all too familiar. He glanced up at a store front across the street and immediately saw a poster out for this cat's arrest. Her face was plastered over every window, wall, pole, web-page, and TV screen he'd ever seen, and he hadn't recognized her until too late. Whitefire Zilaco Tequilla.

"Would you like your money back now?"

The dog looked down at her, his breathing quickening as the flashing lights from police cars came around the corner and she still didn't break her gaze away from him. "Y-yes." He could hardly speak.

She shrugged and he let out a sighed of relief as she pulled out what he thought was money from her pocket, but then snapped his teeth shut in fear as she cocked the gun that was suddenly in her hand. "Don't move."

Turning to the police with a twisted grin, she pointed the gun at the retriever's head. "IN YOUR FACE." she yelled at them, and pulled the trigger. It had a silencer, so they happened to hear her next comment over the sirens. "Forgive the pun." she laughed, kicking the dead body of the retriever away from her feet. "You're a bit too late, as usual."

As machine guns shattered the glass of the car's windshield, she ducked and ran, her mouth wide open and her teeth showing in laughter. "HAHA!! The idiots!"

Wings suddenly appeared on her back and she shot upward, flying low over the buildings and quickly out of their reach. She'd probably feel bad later. Maybe.

The noise and lights of the police cars soon faded and she perched herself carefully on a telephone wire stretched between two houses, just above an alleyway. She put her wings away, balancing easily as she practically skipped across the wire and onto the next house's roof and let herself drop down to the ground after swinging from the rain gutter. Humming quietly to herself, she straightened her clothes out a bit and walked happily down the alleyway to the closest grated gutter and pulled the iron bars up, slipping down into a tunnel and closing it again. Her feet splashed through the still water until she came to a cement door and pulled out a key, unlocking it and stepping into a softly lit underground living-room.

Soft carpet, leather furniture, and pillows- so many pillows. To her left was a short hallway to the kitchen, which, of course, had marble counters. The silverware was actual silver, and the wine glasses just happened to be diamond.

Past the kitchen was the dining room. A long oak wood table with about twelve chairs around it sat directly under the golden chandelier.

Whitefire wiped her feet on the first step by the door and walked to her own room, which had many more expensive belongings, including a king sized bed with pillows and blankets you could practically drown in. There were about three other extra rooms exactly like her own.

Why did she need all this? She didn't. But with all the money she had, there was too much of it to just let it sit there. She felt like it was her way of giving back to the community. Giving money to the businesses, keeping many of them open with an anonymous buyer.

She laughed at herself, taking the money she'd stolen out of her pocket and carefully counted the coins, wrapping them and packing them together in tens. The paper money she coordinated by amount. All of this at her desk in her room.

When she'd finished counting- though she didn't actually care how much it really was- it amounted to 551 dollars and 12 cents. "Wow, good poker game." she chuckled to herself and left the room, going to the living-room again. She almost turned to the kitchen, but decided against it. "I'll just end up drinking too much wine..." So, instead, she crashed on the couch, grabbing the TV remote and turning on the news.

Breaking news. It was about her.

Smiling, she closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep to the tragic story of an innocent retriever. Another victim of Whitefire Zilaco Tequilla.