Misery kept her back to the wall, slowly pushing the door open to the rotten old command post. Her gun was always pointed at the ready, she had no idea what to expect after the light show from within the building. The inside, was much like she expected, tables and chairs tossed about all over the place, collapsed and broken. It almost seemed like a nuclear bomb had gone off and destroyed the entire place and left it colorless and lifeless. Slowly, but surely, the snow leopard continued to move along the wall, her boots softly crunching at the residue that was left on the floor. Occasionally she'd lean around a corner carefully, examining the side rooms to make sure they were empty, continuing to make her way through.
Eventually, Misery found a set of stairs, leading down, slowly making her way down into the basement. Here there were all sorts of pipes and support beams, all of them seeming to go in the most random patterns. Off in the distance, she heard something that made her ear twitch. Were those voices? She carefully moved to a crouched position, still quietly and stealthily moving along. She continued to get closer to the voices, eventually finding a crate to duck down behind that was close enough to listen to the conversation, slowly peeking over it to try to get a look at who was down here.
There were two of them, one of which was completely covered in clothing that hung loosely around its form, making the figure almost seem ghost-like. The other, was standing at a massive height with an armored and padded body suit, wearing a military style beret on its head. It wore full red camouflage and had really ragged hair, from behind at least.
The tall one spoke up with a deep, yet clearly feminine voice, even amongst all the gritty undertones. "Excellent. This place will suit our needs perfectly."
The figure, fully draped in cloth seemed to make a little head bob, speaking in a seemingly shaky, halting sort of voice, "I knew this would serve well for our... purposes. It will take months to get enough troops through. Perhaps, it would be best if we... recruit locally."
Misery continued to listen from the hiding spot, trying to figure out what these two were planning, so that she could report back to the authorities. The snow leopard leans in a bit further,
accidentally knocking a wrench onto the floor. The two figures she was listening to, turned their heads towards her, the taller quickly striding over.
The suited and gloved hand came down and grasped Misery's coat collar. The creature, covered in red fur, with the occasional black paint over in camouflage techniques. Even in the dimly lit basement, there was a tiny glint as the figure's teeth shone from the smirk.
"Looks as if we've found our first recruit."
Friday, December 26, 2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Winter Wasteland, Part 1
A year before Fausk's arrest
The snow leopard was camped outside of a old Russian command post. Misery was completely uncertain what it was ever used for, but she was fairly certain that it hadn't been used since the 1940s. Her superiors had sent her out here on a stakeout, and she was in no position to argue after having screwed up several previous espionage missions.
Regardless, she found herself huddled up in the arctic regions of Russia, bundled up in thick winter, fur lined clothing. Sitting in a run down car, that barely had enough heat to take any chill from the winter weather. She sat, impatiently, sipping at the coffee she had brought along, listening to the constant static from the radio to her superiors.
Such a wasted use of her time, something about strange energy readings, up here, in the middle of no where. She knew, it was obviously just to get her away from them for a while. Misery took another sip from her cup of coffee and slumped down into her seat, folding her arms over her chest. Her eyes slowly started to close for a bit as she decided to try to catch some sleep while she could, not like anything else was going on.
She woke up, not knowing how much time had passed. She looked up at the command post before glancing over to the radio. The static had been replaced with a high pitched whining sound, probably what awoke her. She reached up and pounded on the radio a couple times, and the whine increased in volume. It wasn't long before Misery's eyes were clenched shut and her hands grasped over her ears to try to prevent the sound from continuing to hurt her.
Fumbling with the car door, she eventually pried it open and tumbled out into the snow, kicking and frantically attempting to drag herself away from the car. The sound just seemed to continue growing louder and louder, as if it was everywhere all at once, and not just from the radio speaker. Misery continued to try her best to escape from the sound before collapsing back onto her knees a good 10 feet from the car, clutching her ears as she let out a loud scream, as if trying to counter the sound with her own voice, desperately hoping it would stop.
Suddenly, all at once, it was silent. Misery lifted her head and glanced around warily, unsure of what had happened. Not forgetting her professional demeanor, she quickly extracted her Walther from her thigh holster, keeping it at the ready as she got onto her feet and looked in each direction. Slowly, the snow leopard's footfalls would be approaching the car, frowning a little as the radio had resumed playing the unsettling sound of static.
Right as she was about to reach the car, a bright light shone out from the windows of the command center, all different colors cascading along in dancing patterns, not unlike Aurora Borealis. Misery, staring at the lights, jaw agape, slowly shook her head and pointed the gun towards the building, carefully and slowly making her way toward it, to find out what was going on here.
The snow leopard was camped outside of a old Russian command post. Misery was completely uncertain what it was ever used for, but she was fairly certain that it hadn't been used since the 1940s. Her superiors had sent her out here on a stakeout, and she was in no position to argue after having screwed up several previous espionage missions.
Regardless, she found herself huddled up in the arctic regions of Russia, bundled up in thick winter, fur lined clothing. Sitting in a run down car, that barely had enough heat to take any chill from the winter weather. She sat, impatiently, sipping at the coffee she had brought along, listening to the constant static from the radio to her superiors.
Such a wasted use of her time, something about strange energy readings, up here, in the middle of no where. She knew, it was obviously just to get her away from them for a while. Misery took another sip from her cup of coffee and slumped down into her seat, folding her arms over her chest. Her eyes slowly started to close for a bit as she decided to try to catch some sleep while she could, not like anything else was going on.
She woke up, not knowing how much time had passed. She looked up at the command post before glancing over to the radio. The static had been replaced with a high pitched whining sound, probably what awoke her. She reached up and pounded on the radio a couple times, and the whine increased in volume. It wasn't long before Misery's eyes were clenched shut and her hands grasped over her ears to try to prevent the sound from continuing to hurt her.
Fumbling with the car door, she eventually pried it open and tumbled out into the snow, kicking and frantically attempting to drag herself away from the car. The sound just seemed to continue growing louder and louder, as if it was everywhere all at once, and not just from the radio speaker. Misery continued to try her best to escape from the sound before collapsing back onto her knees a good 10 feet from the car, clutching her ears as she let out a loud scream, as if trying to counter the sound with her own voice, desperately hoping it would stop.
Suddenly, all at once, it was silent. Misery lifted her head and glanced around warily, unsure of what had happened. Not forgetting her professional demeanor, she quickly extracted her Walther from her thigh holster, keeping it at the ready as she got onto her feet and looked in each direction. Slowly, the snow leopard's footfalls would be approaching the car, frowning a little as the radio had resumed playing the unsettling sound of static.
Right as she was about to reach the car, a bright light shone out from the windows of the command center, all different colors cascading along in dancing patterns, not unlike Aurora Borealis. Misery, staring at the lights, jaw agape, slowly shook her head and pointed the gun towards the building, carefully and slowly making her way toward it, to find out what was going on here.
Monday, December 22, 2008
A Slight Backtrack
9:51 PM
The loud, small-cannon sounding shot was still ringing in the kitsune's ears. The ambiguously gendered kitsune stood there for a while, eyes closed as it stood over the body of the latest kill, waiting for its ears to stop ringing. They did, eventually, and it slowly pulled a knife out of its boot to start digging deep into the chest cavity, performing open heart autopsy on the latest victim. After opening the corpse up enough, the kitsune dug into the heart and eventually extracted the rare, custom Damascus steel bullet.
The blood washed off easily enough, from the bullet and its hands, down the gutter grates and into the sewer. With clean hands and a clean bullet, the gun returned to a holster under the pirate style coat, while the bullet returned to a bag on the creature's belt. After doing a last quick double check of the scene, the kitsune rounded a corner, tails and silver flowing hair remaining for a second afterward before it too was gone.
The slums had many unsolved murders, almost as if the cops just didn't care about the scum that died here. Perhaps their effort was better suited to more interesting endeavors rather than tracking down every John Doe that ended up as another unidentified corpse. With all the gangs down here, it wasn't entirely uncommon to find bodies.
Unfortunately, for Faryad, bodies with large holes carved out of them were starting to attract a bit bigger attention. For now, however, it was still in the clear. Deciding that it was time to take a break and try to calm itself down, it headed for the nearest bar. The pirate hat turned this way and that with the head of the kitsune as it tried to find a location that was the most beneficial for its current needs.
The Bloody Knuckle seemed like a good enough choice and thus, the kitsune slid in through the doorway. Glancing around at the people, the kitsune opted to sit off in a corner of the bar, away from everyone else. It was amazing, regardless of the fact that the kitsune practically stood out like a sore thumb, no one ever seemed to stare for too long, nor would anyone remember its presence later, benefit of drunks.
The bartender eventually made his way over after serving drinks to the celebrating group of three further down the bar. The kitsune answered in a strange deep voice, which seemed cold, devoid of emotion, "Half rum, half water, pinch of sugar, splash of lemon." The bartender just sort of stared slightly but shook his head and moved off to prepare the drink. The kitsune's attention brought back to the group as the tallest one was hit by the middle one, and yet everyone seemed to just go about their business.
Faryad had to wonder what two foxes and whatever sort of wild mix that third one was would have with each other's company. Regardless, there was something that put the mixed creature in Faryad's sights. The treatment of that female, farthest away from Faryad, it was uncalled for, and the fox already seemed depressed to begin with. Faryad made a note for later and smirked to the bartender, taking the drink quickly and taking a large guzzle.
After a few hours, the bar started clearing out, but everyone seemed to be heading deeper into the bar. The female who had caught Faryad's eye walked towards the exit though and out into the night, and Faryad turn approached shortly afterward. The kitsune ducked out the door into the night, going where ever it felt like, having not paid for its drink. As if that was really a prime concern at the moment. The kitsune was off, answering the call of the night.
The loud, small-cannon sounding shot was still ringing in the kitsune's ears. The ambiguously gendered kitsune stood there for a while, eyes closed as it stood over the body of the latest kill, waiting for its ears to stop ringing. They did, eventually, and it slowly pulled a knife out of its boot to start digging deep into the chest cavity, performing open heart autopsy on the latest victim. After opening the corpse up enough, the kitsune dug into the heart and eventually extracted the rare, custom Damascus steel bullet.
The blood washed off easily enough, from the bullet and its hands, down the gutter grates and into the sewer. With clean hands and a clean bullet, the gun returned to a holster under the pirate style coat, while the bullet returned to a bag on the creature's belt. After doing a last quick double check of the scene, the kitsune rounded a corner, tails and silver flowing hair remaining for a second afterward before it too was gone.
The slums had many unsolved murders, almost as if the cops just didn't care about the scum that died here. Perhaps their effort was better suited to more interesting endeavors rather than tracking down every John Doe that ended up as another unidentified corpse. With all the gangs down here, it wasn't entirely uncommon to find bodies.
Unfortunately, for Faryad, bodies with large holes carved out of them were starting to attract a bit bigger attention. For now, however, it was still in the clear. Deciding that it was time to take a break and try to calm itself down, it headed for the nearest bar. The pirate hat turned this way and that with the head of the kitsune as it tried to find a location that was the most beneficial for its current needs.
The Bloody Knuckle seemed like a good enough choice and thus, the kitsune slid in through the doorway. Glancing around at the people, the kitsune opted to sit off in a corner of the bar, away from everyone else. It was amazing, regardless of the fact that the kitsune practically stood out like a sore thumb, no one ever seemed to stare for too long, nor would anyone remember its presence later, benefit of drunks.
The bartender eventually made his way over after serving drinks to the celebrating group of three further down the bar. The kitsune answered in a strange deep voice, which seemed cold, devoid of emotion, "Half rum, half water, pinch of sugar, splash of lemon." The bartender just sort of stared slightly but shook his head and moved off to prepare the drink. The kitsune's attention brought back to the group as the tallest one was hit by the middle one, and yet everyone seemed to just go about their business.
Faryad had to wonder what two foxes and whatever sort of wild mix that third one was would have with each other's company. Regardless, there was something that put the mixed creature in Faryad's sights. The treatment of that female, farthest away from Faryad, it was uncalled for, and the fox already seemed depressed to begin with. Faryad made a note for later and smirked to the bartender, taking the drink quickly and taking a large guzzle.
After a few hours, the bar started clearing out, but everyone seemed to be heading deeper into the bar. The female who had caught Faryad's eye walked towards the exit though and out into the night, and Faryad turn approached shortly afterward. The kitsune ducked out the door into the night, going where ever it felt like, having not paid for its drink. As if that was really a prime concern at the moment. The kitsune was off, answering the call of the night.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Not an Average Day
1:22 AM
The three had gotten quite drunk by now, but the night wasn't over, for Roth and Tesla at least. Fausk on the other hand had excused herself from watching the late night after hours fist fighting in the basement of the Bloody Knuckle. Usually, she didn't mind watching, but tonight, she just wasn't in the mood. Something was weighing heavily on her mind still, and she just couldn't shake it.
Instead, she got permission to crash at Roth's place, it was much closer than the auto garage, about a block away. Not to mention, with the cold chill of the air, it'd be nice tonight to sleep in an actual building. So, Fausk found herself back outside, bundled up and shivering slightly as she made her way down the block towards the apartment.
The street was deathly silent, opposed to the hustle and bustle there was formerly. It was almost haunting that even though everyone around here were so active, everyone shuts down at around the same time, or at least clears off the streets. At least she wouldn't be distracted, stumbling towards Roth's place, trying to keep her eyes as focused as possible on where she was headed.
She finally rounded the corner of the block and smiled a bit to herself as she saw the apartment complex, as run down and ragged as it was; she knew it to be a nice, comfortable place. Carefully, she made her way up the stairs and held on to the rail with a death grip, still unsteadily making her way along. She seemed to keep glancing at the doors until she finally found Roth's apartment, number 216.
The faux fox was leaning heavily against the door by the handle, prying open the bag that typically doubled as a belt. It was far too large for her, and acted more like a low hanging sling, the bag resting against her thigh. Regardless, this is mostly what she carried everything in, including heavy tools. She dug around within the bag for a while before she felt the keyring and pulled it out. Her keyring was mostly empty, only having the key for the padlock to her garage, and the two keys to get in to Roth's apartment.
After a good 10 minutes fiddling with trying to get the correct keys into the correct locks, she finally stumbled her way inside and shut the door behind her, locking it once again. She pressed her back up against the door and just slid down it, rubbing her forehead some as she groaned to herself. It felt so good to be here though, it was the only place that had ever felt like home to her. Roth had been the only one to ever care about her, and so, it was comforting to know she could always have him to lean on.
Carefully, she lifted herself up off the floor and stumbled over to Roth's bedroom. Snagging a blanket from off his bed she made her way back to the sofa. Taking off her sweatshirt and makeshift half shirt, that was torn in most places, and tossing them to the floor, she lazily flopped onto the couch, pulling the blanket over the top of her. She was still wearing her gray sports bra, never wanting to give Roth the impression that she wanted more from their relationship. She was more than happy to just be best friends with him. Lazily, she kicked off her shoes and pried off her socks and just laid there in a heap on the couch. Her eyes, very heavy from sleep, slowly drifted shut.
* * *
A few hours later, a loud banging on the door snapped Fausk back to consciousness. She grumbled and covered her head, starting to feel the effects of her hangover. More than likely, it was just some people heading over to hire Roth to 'teach someone some manners'.
A second knock, seeming more loud and furious this time, the loud noises pounding at Fausk's skull from the wonderful side effects of drinking. The irritated faux fox just continued to groan and hold at her head while trying to cover up more with the blanket.
However, instead of a knock, this time the door seemed to blast off it's hinges with the associated sound of a thunderous boom. The groggy Fausk sat up and stared in horror as she watched the door splinter some and tumble to the floor ahead of her. Shortly afterward a full S.W.A.T. team was pointing all their weapons at her, as she of course threw her hands up.
A German shepherd stepped up from the back, wearing mostly plain clothes as he flashed a badge and cleared his throat, "Fausk DaSilva?" The frightened Fausk could only nod, and even that was only barely. The German shepherd stepped forward and quickly started to handcuff her, pulling her arms down behind her back, "You have the right to remain silent."
The three had gotten quite drunk by now, but the night wasn't over, for Roth and Tesla at least. Fausk on the other hand had excused herself from watching the late night after hours fist fighting in the basement of the Bloody Knuckle. Usually, she didn't mind watching, but tonight, she just wasn't in the mood. Something was weighing heavily on her mind still, and she just couldn't shake it.
Instead, she got permission to crash at Roth's place, it was much closer than the auto garage, about a block away. Not to mention, with the cold chill of the air, it'd be nice tonight to sleep in an actual building. So, Fausk found herself back outside, bundled up and shivering slightly as she made her way down the block towards the apartment.
The street was deathly silent, opposed to the hustle and bustle there was formerly. It was almost haunting that even though everyone around here were so active, everyone shuts down at around the same time, or at least clears off the streets. At least she wouldn't be distracted, stumbling towards Roth's place, trying to keep her eyes as focused as possible on where she was headed.
She finally rounded the corner of the block and smiled a bit to herself as she saw the apartment complex, as run down and ragged as it was; she knew it to be a nice, comfortable place. Carefully, she made her way up the stairs and held on to the rail with a death grip, still unsteadily making her way along. She seemed to keep glancing at the doors until she finally found Roth's apartment, number 216.
The faux fox was leaning heavily against the door by the handle, prying open the bag that typically doubled as a belt. It was far too large for her, and acted more like a low hanging sling, the bag resting against her thigh. Regardless, this is mostly what she carried everything in, including heavy tools. She dug around within the bag for a while before she felt the keyring and pulled it out. Her keyring was mostly empty, only having the key for the padlock to her garage, and the two keys to get in to Roth's apartment.
After a good 10 minutes fiddling with trying to get the correct keys into the correct locks, she finally stumbled her way inside and shut the door behind her, locking it once again. She pressed her back up against the door and just slid down it, rubbing her forehead some as she groaned to herself. It felt so good to be here though, it was the only place that had ever felt like home to her. Roth had been the only one to ever care about her, and so, it was comforting to know she could always have him to lean on.
Carefully, she lifted herself up off the floor and stumbled over to Roth's bedroom. Snagging a blanket from off his bed she made her way back to the sofa. Taking off her sweatshirt and makeshift half shirt, that was torn in most places, and tossing them to the floor, she lazily flopped onto the couch, pulling the blanket over the top of her. She was still wearing her gray sports bra, never wanting to give Roth the impression that she wanted more from their relationship. She was more than happy to just be best friends with him. Lazily, she kicked off her shoes and pried off her socks and just laid there in a heap on the couch. Her eyes, very heavy from sleep, slowly drifted shut.
* * *
A few hours later, a loud banging on the door snapped Fausk back to consciousness. She grumbled and covered her head, starting to feel the effects of her hangover. More than likely, it was just some people heading over to hire Roth to 'teach someone some manners'.
A second knock, seeming more loud and furious this time, the loud noises pounding at Fausk's skull from the wonderful side effects of drinking. The irritated faux fox just continued to groan and hold at her head while trying to cover up more with the blanket.
However, instead of a knock, this time the door seemed to blast off it's hinges with the associated sound of a thunderous boom. The groggy Fausk sat up and stared in horror as she watched the door splinter some and tumble to the floor ahead of her. Shortly afterward a full S.W.A.T. team was pointing all their weapons at her, as she of course threw her hands up.
A German shepherd stepped up from the back, wearing mostly plain clothes as he flashed a badge and cleared his throat, "Fausk DaSilva?" The frightened Fausk could only nod, and even that was only barely. The German shepherd stepped forward and quickly started to handcuff her, pulling her arms down behind her back, "You have the right to remain silent."
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
A Day in the Life of Fausk, Part 4
9:57 PM
The faux fox slowly steps through into the bar, and immediately was grabbed from behind. A gruff voice growled out to her, "Hey, miss, you're far too young to be in here!"
Fausk grunted at the sudden grasp at her, reaching up to grasp at the hands around her, "Get your hands off me, I know the owner here!" Almost instantly, the hands released her and she turned around and her already frustrated and disappointed face became even more cross, ears flattening even more as her scowl narrowed and she glared at the figure behind her, "Tesla!"
The wild dog/wild cat hybrid just tilted his head upward and laughed a bit as he pushed past her towards the bar, "Cat's got claws." All that got was her stiff, evil eye glare to follow him. Tesla walked over to the fox sitting at the bar and sat to his left, giving him a half hug, with one arm, before putting both arms on the bar counter.
Roth shook his head some and rolled his eyes, taking another shot of alcohol before he turns to look at Fausk and waves her over, "Come on, kiddo. Gotta celebrate tonight, no grumpy guys allowed." He turned back to the bar and put both of his arms over the top of it, leaning heavily against it.
Tesla just smirked and glanced back over his shoulder, just smirking a bit as the faux fox slowly moved up and sat down to Roth's right. "Well, since we're all here now, I guess I'll start the celebrations off right." The cocky creature stood up and held his glass high, "What better place to celebrate a bouncer's birthday, than at the bar where he works, with free drinks for him and his friends!" Tesla laughed again and just downed his most recent drink and sat back down, setting the glass back down.
Fausk, seeming not to be in the best mood for celebrating, simply pulled her sweatshirt tighter around her, keeping her arms folded over her chest, but she seemed less pissed off now, and more depressed. Roth, downing another shot, glanced over at her and just put an arm around her now, leaning in close, "Hey, y'know, I was only kidding this morning, I'm not gonna kick you out or anything, you've got nothing to worry about." Fausk nodded quietly and just looked down at her feet.
She finally spoke up, "Mr. Bristow showed up again today." Roth nodded quietly and just ordered another couple shots making sure that Fausk got one as well. She grabbed the shot and downed it almost before the bartender set it down. Underage drinking wasn't anything different in the slums down here, so no one paid any mind. Not that they wanted to answer to Roth either, not that he was the owner, just the bouncer no one wanted to mess with.
"He's a customer, Fausk, those lingering feelings of recognition are nothing, it's just that deja vu feeling you get. Probably because he comes around every week." Roth, trying his best to console her.
Tesla leaned over towards the conversation, already seeming rather drunk, "Yeah, he's a stalker, he's coming to get you Fausk!"
Roth grumbled and turned back to Tesla and punched him square in the jaw, causing more laughter from Tesla who just shook his head and downed a couple more shots, too drunk to notice the pain at the moment. The charcoal fox sighed and just looked back at Fausk and ruffled her hair, "Celebration, no sad faces, we can talk about it more tomorrow." He smirks and takes another shot of his own.
Fausk nodded a bit, as the next shot came over, clinking the glass against Roth's shot glass gently, holding it close to her mouth, "Happy birthday, Roth."
The faux fox slowly steps through into the bar, and immediately was grabbed from behind. A gruff voice growled out to her, "Hey, miss, you're far too young to be in here!"
Fausk grunted at the sudden grasp at her, reaching up to grasp at the hands around her, "Get your hands off me, I know the owner here!" Almost instantly, the hands released her and she turned around and her already frustrated and disappointed face became even more cross, ears flattening even more as her scowl narrowed and she glared at the figure behind her, "Tesla!"
The wild dog/wild cat hybrid just tilted his head upward and laughed a bit as he pushed past her towards the bar, "Cat's got claws." All that got was her stiff, evil eye glare to follow him. Tesla walked over to the fox sitting at the bar and sat to his left, giving him a half hug, with one arm, before putting both arms on the bar counter.
Roth shook his head some and rolled his eyes, taking another shot of alcohol before he turns to look at Fausk and waves her over, "Come on, kiddo. Gotta celebrate tonight, no grumpy guys allowed." He turned back to the bar and put both of his arms over the top of it, leaning heavily against it.
Tesla just smirked and glanced back over his shoulder, just smirking a bit as the faux fox slowly moved up and sat down to Roth's right. "Well, since we're all here now, I guess I'll start the celebrations off right." The cocky creature stood up and held his glass high, "What better place to celebrate a bouncer's birthday, than at the bar where he works, with free drinks for him and his friends!" Tesla laughed again and just downed his most recent drink and sat back down, setting the glass back down.
Fausk, seeming not to be in the best mood for celebrating, simply pulled her sweatshirt tighter around her, keeping her arms folded over her chest, but she seemed less pissed off now, and more depressed. Roth, downing another shot, glanced over at her and just put an arm around her now, leaning in close, "Hey, y'know, I was only kidding this morning, I'm not gonna kick you out or anything, you've got nothing to worry about." Fausk nodded quietly and just looked down at her feet.
She finally spoke up, "Mr. Bristow showed up again today." Roth nodded quietly and just ordered another couple shots making sure that Fausk got one as well. She grabbed the shot and downed it almost before the bartender set it down. Underage drinking wasn't anything different in the slums down here, so no one paid any mind. Not that they wanted to answer to Roth either, not that he was the owner, just the bouncer no one wanted to mess with.
"He's a customer, Fausk, those lingering feelings of recognition are nothing, it's just that deja vu feeling you get. Probably because he comes around every week." Roth, trying his best to console her.
Tesla leaned over towards the conversation, already seeming rather drunk, "Yeah, he's a stalker, he's coming to get you Fausk!"
Roth grumbled and turned back to Tesla and punched him square in the jaw, causing more laughter from Tesla who just shook his head and downed a couple more shots, too drunk to notice the pain at the moment. The charcoal fox sighed and just looked back at Fausk and ruffled her hair, "Celebration, no sad faces, we can talk about it more tomorrow." He smirks and takes another shot of his own.
Fausk nodded a bit, as the next shot came over, clinking the glass against Roth's shot glass gently, holding it close to her mouth, "Happy birthday, Roth."
Monday, December 15, 2008
A Day in the Life of Fausk, Part 3
9:47 PM
The rest of Fausk's day was as uneventful as ever. Between playing a few songs, and working some more on some of her various inventions or projects, the time flew by as much as it could. Long after the sun had set, Fausk pulled a sweatshirt over her head and grabbed the padlock and key off of her work bench. She moved outside the garage and closed the door, dropping the hinge over the loop bolted into the concrete, and then putting the padlock in place and keeping it secured. Tucking the key away in her pocket she slowly sighed and moved down the alley out to the street.
Ah, the neighborhood, such a wonderful place. Trash blowing down the streets in the wind, bums huddled around bins of burning garbage, broken down and busted cars here and there. It almost seemed like some sort of post apocalyptic nightmare. Until you saw normal cars driving down the road, their windows up, obviously lost. Plenty of people walking about in matching colors, all the buildings covered with graffiti, and the occasional cop car rushing past with its lights and siren wailing.
Fausk was used to it though, she'd been living here in the slums for most of her life. She simply made her way down the streets, keeping her head down and moving throughout the bustling streets of people. Everyone seemed to leave her alone, as if she was protected by some sort of invisible shield. Of course, the truth was a bit more mundane. Everyone knew about the creatures she hung out with, and that's what kept her safe from problems. Word travels fast in the slums, and having connections is what keeps you alive. Her connection was a mid level one, but enough that no one wanted to mess with it.
Quickly she jogged across a street, no crosswalks or traffic lights, at least not ones that worked anymore, and the government of course had much better places to spend the money on. Probably more protection for those snooty high rise mansions on the coast. As far as she, and pretty much everyone else that lived in the slums, were concerned they weren't even on the map anymore. The government probably just had a large gray block on the grid where they were, it was a shock they even got electricity down here.
A gunshot sounded, echoing across the streets, but some of the noise of the traffic and sirens drown it mostly out. Even if it had been heard, people would have just ignored it anyway. It was none of their business and they had no reason to step in and attempt to help, such an act would be foolish anyway. It was hard to even tell what sort of gun it was, it made such a unique sound. Completely unlike the popular models of handguns around here, it almost seemed more like a cannon, though not quite as loud.
Fausk just shook her head, she had been walking for a while now, a good five or six blocks and had just about made it to the edge of the slums. She wasn't leaving, no one ever got to leave once they moved in here, it's too hard to make enough money to get out and get a new start. No, she was heading to the Bloody Knuckle bar, the only seemingly neutral gray area where people from the rest of the city would come, and people from the slums enjoyed hanging out.
The faux fox took a deep breath and pushed the door open to head inside.
The rest of Fausk's day was as uneventful as ever. Between playing a few songs, and working some more on some of her various inventions or projects, the time flew by as much as it could. Long after the sun had set, Fausk pulled a sweatshirt over her head and grabbed the padlock and key off of her work bench. She moved outside the garage and closed the door, dropping the hinge over the loop bolted into the concrete, and then putting the padlock in place and keeping it secured. Tucking the key away in her pocket she slowly sighed and moved down the alley out to the street.
Ah, the neighborhood, such a wonderful place. Trash blowing down the streets in the wind, bums huddled around bins of burning garbage, broken down and busted cars here and there. It almost seemed like some sort of post apocalyptic nightmare. Until you saw normal cars driving down the road, their windows up, obviously lost. Plenty of people walking about in matching colors, all the buildings covered with graffiti, and the occasional cop car rushing past with its lights and siren wailing.
Fausk was used to it though, she'd been living here in the slums for most of her life. She simply made her way down the streets, keeping her head down and moving throughout the bustling streets of people. Everyone seemed to leave her alone, as if she was protected by some sort of invisible shield. Of course, the truth was a bit more mundane. Everyone knew about the creatures she hung out with, and that's what kept her safe from problems. Word travels fast in the slums, and having connections is what keeps you alive. Her connection was a mid level one, but enough that no one wanted to mess with it.
Quickly she jogged across a street, no crosswalks or traffic lights, at least not ones that worked anymore, and the government of course had much better places to spend the money on. Probably more protection for those snooty high rise mansions on the coast. As far as she, and pretty much everyone else that lived in the slums, were concerned they weren't even on the map anymore. The government probably just had a large gray block on the grid where they were, it was a shock they even got electricity down here.
A gunshot sounded, echoing across the streets, but some of the noise of the traffic and sirens drown it mostly out. Even if it had been heard, people would have just ignored it anyway. It was none of their business and they had no reason to step in and attempt to help, such an act would be foolish anyway. It was hard to even tell what sort of gun it was, it made such a unique sound. Completely unlike the popular models of handguns around here, it almost seemed more like a cannon, though not quite as loud.
Fausk just shook her head, she had been walking for a while now, a good five or six blocks and had just about made it to the edge of the slums. She wasn't leaving, no one ever got to leave once they moved in here, it's too hard to make enough money to get out and get a new start. No, she was heading to the Bloody Knuckle bar, the only seemingly neutral gray area where people from the rest of the city would come, and people from the slums enjoyed hanging out.
The faux fox took a deep breath and pushed the door open to head inside.
Friday, December 12, 2008
A Day in the Life of Fausk, Part 2
1:54 PM
Fausk's day was entirely uneventful, as usual. She sat at her work bench, fiddling with various projects, switching between them. Sipping at the Dr. Pepper avidly when her ear perked and swiveled towards the sound of a rather beat up car puttering down the alleyway. Fausk stood up and snagged the hankerchief off her carpenter pant-style loop, wiping the residue of various fluids off her fingers as she moved just outside the garage, leaning back against the wall.
The elderly wolf just continued to carefully navigate down the alley, taking time to give a friendly smile and wave to Fausk as he turned his 1972 Dodge Charger into the garage, carefully shutting it off and getting out of the car, just as Fausk turned back around the corner and into the garage.
"Well, Mr. Bristow, it's lovely to see you, yet again. More 'car troubles'?" Fausk smirked, slowly walking closer to him.
The wolf seemed as though he was trying too hard to hold back a smile, gently rubbing the back of his head with a hand, looking back over at the car, not meeting her gaze. "Well, uh, yeah. It sounds to me like there's something wrong with the engine."
Fausk, not believing him for a second just sighed and smiled slightly, opening the car door and slowly scooting into it, sitting down and rolling the window down. She started the car, leaning out the window partially, while the wolf leaned down against the window, so they were both at the same level. The car engine revved a few times and Fausk just sighed and chuckled, shutting the car off and looking up at him, "There's absolutely nothing wrong with your engine."
"Could you just open 'er up and take a look for me?" The elderly wolf was smiling by this point, no longer trying to hide it. He opened the door for her, and she stepped back out and shut the door behind her, moving over to the front and popping the hood. She leaned over the front of the car, resting her chin on top of her hand, elbow resting against the top of the grill. Her tail swished from side to side while the wolf looked over at her and just leaned against the roof, near the door. "So? Anything wrong in there?" He asked, seeming to act worried.
Fausk shook her head and carefully closed the hood of the car, "Your car is in tip top shape, and has been since you first came here and I actually did fix it." She smirks a bit and just sticks out her tongue at him, "I pride myself on my work, Mr. Bristow."
The wolf nodded and carefully pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a fifty, "Well, lemme give you this for wasting your time then."
Fausk just shook her head some and put her hands up defensively by her chest, "No, I didn't do a thing, if anything I wasted some of your gas by revving the engine."
Mr. Bristow simply stood his ground, keeping the fifty extended to her, keeping silent for a while before he simply looked up at her, seeming to look on with slightly worried eyes, "Please." That was all he was able to muster. Fausk, reluctantly reached forward and took the fifty and nodded softly, biting at her lower lip gently as she walked back over to the tackle box, opened it, and dropped the money inside. The wolf just quietly got back into his car and started it up, seeming to keep his head down. Fausk did the same, hanging her head over the tackle box as she kept it shut, just listening while the car pulled out of the garage and headed back down the alley.
Fausk sat back down, but this time, didn't feel much like working.
Fausk's day was entirely uneventful, as usual. She sat at her work bench, fiddling with various projects, switching between them. Sipping at the Dr. Pepper avidly when her ear perked and swiveled towards the sound of a rather beat up car puttering down the alleyway. Fausk stood up and snagged the hankerchief off her carpenter pant-style loop, wiping the residue of various fluids off her fingers as she moved just outside the garage, leaning back against the wall.
The elderly wolf just continued to carefully navigate down the alley, taking time to give a friendly smile and wave to Fausk as he turned his 1972 Dodge Charger into the garage, carefully shutting it off and getting out of the car, just as Fausk turned back around the corner and into the garage.
"Well, Mr. Bristow, it's lovely to see you, yet again. More 'car troubles'?" Fausk smirked, slowly walking closer to him.
The wolf seemed as though he was trying too hard to hold back a smile, gently rubbing the back of his head with a hand, looking back over at the car, not meeting her gaze. "Well, uh, yeah. It sounds to me like there's something wrong with the engine."
Fausk, not believing him for a second just sighed and smiled slightly, opening the car door and slowly scooting into it, sitting down and rolling the window down. She started the car, leaning out the window partially, while the wolf leaned down against the window, so they were both at the same level. The car engine revved a few times and Fausk just sighed and chuckled, shutting the car off and looking up at him, "There's absolutely nothing wrong with your engine."
"Could you just open 'er up and take a look for me?" The elderly wolf was smiling by this point, no longer trying to hide it. He opened the door for her, and she stepped back out and shut the door behind her, moving over to the front and popping the hood. She leaned over the front of the car, resting her chin on top of her hand, elbow resting against the top of the grill. Her tail swished from side to side while the wolf looked over at her and just leaned against the roof, near the door. "So? Anything wrong in there?" He asked, seeming to act worried.
Fausk shook her head and carefully closed the hood of the car, "Your car is in tip top shape, and has been since you first came here and I actually did fix it." She smirks a bit and just sticks out her tongue at him, "I pride myself on my work, Mr. Bristow."
The wolf nodded and carefully pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a fifty, "Well, lemme give you this for wasting your time then."
Fausk just shook her head some and put her hands up defensively by her chest, "No, I didn't do a thing, if anything I wasted some of your gas by revving the engine."
Mr. Bristow simply stood his ground, keeping the fifty extended to her, keeping silent for a while before he simply looked up at her, seeming to look on with slightly worried eyes, "Please." That was all he was able to muster. Fausk, reluctantly reached forward and took the fifty and nodded softly, biting at her lower lip gently as she walked back over to the tackle box, opened it, and dropped the money inside. The wolf just quietly got back into his car and started it up, seeming to keep his head down. Fausk did the same, hanging her head over the tackle box as she kept it shut, just listening while the car pulled out of the garage and headed back down the alley.
Fausk sat back down, but this time, didn't feel much like working.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
A Day in the Life of Fausk, Part 1
9:16 A.M.
Traffic, the droning sound of cars, occasional rare honk, tires screeching. With it, comes the eventual awakening of the faux fox. Fausk blinked her eyes slowly awake, still wearing her clothes from the previous day. Carefully, she rolled out from under the work shelf, her cot having been placed directly below it to save space. A single one car garage that almost seemed more like a storage shed, with its metal roll up garage door. On the various shelves were all sorts of tools and miscellaneous parts taken from junkyards to build the various mechanical parts that she uses, both herself, and in the cars that she repairs. Apart from that, there was just a large oil stain in the middle of the garage. Despite not having a very well situated garage, there were a few customers.
Fausk surveyed the garage sleepily, adjusting her clothing before she slowly moved to the garage door and opened it. The light poured in, causing her to squint and grunt sleepily, quickly putting a hand up to cover over her eyes. As if perfectly timed, she looked to the right and left and smirked out the corner of her mouth as the charcoal fox rounded the corner and started down the alley with a cup of coffee and a 20 oz. Dr Pepper.
"Ah, you're already up, this time! Usually you've got me standing out here banging on the door." Roth snarkily remarked.
Fausk just rolled her eyes and responded, "I smelled you coming today." With a quick push she rolled the garage door the rest of the way up so that it would stay, slowly walking down the alley to meet him, and snagging the Dr. Pepper from him, quickly twisting it open, taking a sip, hoping to wake herself up.
The charcoal fox just continued on past her, heading into the garage and sitting down on the metal folding chair, setting down his coffee and carefully sliding out a metal tackle box and popping it open, sifting through the random assortment of dollars and cents. He cleared his throat taking out a large amount of it, sifting through and counting it. The fox's gaze drifted back to the female who was sitting on the edge of the cot, hanging her head. Roth just frowned a bit, "You're still not making a profit, Fausk. I know the location's not that good, but you simply must stop driving away the few customers that do arrive."
He was met with a glare from her, "It's not my fault they all sit there and argue with me about my expertise! They think just because I'm not an authorized mechanic that they can push me around and get their service for free. And I'm not even overcharging the dirtbags!" She was on her feet by now, and she turned and kicked at the cot, just listening to the metal clatter seemed to prove at least somewhat satisfying.
Roth just made his way over and tucked a hundred dollar bill into her pant pocket, the rest of the money making it into his own pocket, "Hey, I know it's rough, but you gotta learn to tolerate all the retards out there. Just be glad I don't kick you back out on the street where I found you, 'kay, Fausk?" She simply turned back towards him and nodded a bit, but kept silent. "Chin up, kiddo." She hated when he called her that, but didn't seem to show any distaste towards it, even going so far as to smirk to him. He smirked back and just tapped at her shoulder before heading back towards the alley, turning back to look at her, "See ya at 10 tonight, right?"
Fausk nodded again and folded her arms over her chest, "Yeah, yeah... gotta celebrate how much of a dick you are!"
Roth laughed and pointed at her, indignantly, "Wouldn't have it any other way." He waved and made his way down the alley, vanishing around the corner and out of sight.
She watched him go and shook her head, moving over to her work desk and shutting the tackle box, returning it to its spot while she pulled out one of her previous projects and set about to work.
Traffic, the droning sound of cars, occasional rare honk, tires screeching. With it, comes the eventual awakening of the faux fox. Fausk blinked her eyes slowly awake, still wearing her clothes from the previous day. Carefully, she rolled out from under the work shelf, her cot having been placed directly below it to save space. A single one car garage that almost seemed more like a storage shed, with its metal roll up garage door. On the various shelves were all sorts of tools and miscellaneous parts taken from junkyards to build the various mechanical parts that she uses, both herself, and in the cars that she repairs. Apart from that, there was just a large oil stain in the middle of the garage. Despite not having a very well situated garage, there were a few customers.
Fausk surveyed the garage sleepily, adjusting her clothing before she slowly moved to the garage door and opened it. The light poured in, causing her to squint and grunt sleepily, quickly putting a hand up to cover over her eyes. As if perfectly timed, she looked to the right and left and smirked out the corner of her mouth as the charcoal fox rounded the corner and started down the alley with a cup of coffee and a 20 oz. Dr Pepper.
"Ah, you're already up, this time! Usually you've got me standing out here banging on the door." Roth snarkily remarked.
Fausk just rolled her eyes and responded, "I smelled you coming today." With a quick push she rolled the garage door the rest of the way up so that it would stay, slowly walking down the alley to meet him, and snagging the Dr. Pepper from him, quickly twisting it open, taking a sip, hoping to wake herself up.
The charcoal fox just continued on past her, heading into the garage and sitting down on the metal folding chair, setting down his coffee and carefully sliding out a metal tackle box and popping it open, sifting through the random assortment of dollars and cents. He cleared his throat taking out a large amount of it, sifting through and counting it. The fox's gaze drifted back to the female who was sitting on the edge of the cot, hanging her head. Roth just frowned a bit, "You're still not making a profit, Fausk. I know the location's not that good, but you simply must stop driving away the few customers that do arrive."
He was met with a glare from her, "It's not my fault they all sit there and argue with me about my expertise! They think just because I'm not an authorized mechanic that they can push me around and get their service for free. And I'm not even overcharging the dirtbags!" She was on her feet by now, and she turned and kicked at the cot, just listening to the metal clatter seemed to prove at least somewhat satisfying.
Roth just made his way over and tucked a hundred dollar bill into her pant pocket, the rest of the money making it into his own pocket, "Hey, I know it's rough, but you gotta learn to tolerate all the retards out there. Just be glad I don't kick you back out on the street where I found you, 'kay, Fausk?" She simply turned back towards him and nodded a bit, but kept silent. "Chin up, kiddo." She hated when he called her that, but didn't seem to show any distaste towards it, even going so far as to smirk to him. He smirked back and just tapped at her shoulder before heading back towards the alley, turning back to look at her, "See ya at 10 tonight, right?"
Fausk nodded again and folded her arms over her chest, "Yeah, yeah... gotta celebrate how much of a dick you are!"
Roth laughed and pointed at her, indignantly, "Wouldn't have it any other way." He waved and made his way down the alley, vanishing around the corner and out of sight.
She watched him go and shook her head, moving over to her work desk and shutting the tackle box, returning it to its spot while she pulled out one of her previous projects and set about to work.
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