Chasing Her Tail Ch 01

Come Hell or High Water

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The thud of a stray plasma bolt stung his fur as it impacted the wall behind him. Fox Mccloud pressed himself to the alloy bulwark, trusting his makeshift cover. Another two shots charred the hallway next to his leg. As he readied his blaster, a soothing, female voice came into his head.

"One on your left, fox, and two on your right. The one on the left is nervous."

Mccloud smiled, now feeling confident. There was a pause in the gunfire: two seconds, three seconds, four. On five he dashed forward, quickly but quietly. His gun was raised to his shoulder, sights on the intersection ahead. As he approached, he hugged the left wall, aiming for the pair around the corner. He inched around the angle, until he found the glint of a rifle. Fox squeezed the trigger, causing his target to grunt in pain and collapse. the other hostile froze, for just an instant. long enough to delay his aim. Fox cycled his bolt-rifle, before boring a hole in the mans head. Mccloud cycled, then pressed off the wall, cutting the angle left to find their third. He stood in the middle of the hallway, His aim unsteady and off-target. His bolt flew, and missed. Fox shot and saw the man crumple. The intersection went still. The vulpine scanned the crossroad before putting a fresh round into each corpse. Satisfied, he shifted back behind the corner and activated his comm.

"Krystal, did you manage to locate our target?"

He heard a gentle scoff enter his thoughts.

"It's a bit hard to reach through a dozen layers of metal and save your fur at the same time, love. Think I've hit my limit here, changing locations."

The male half-smiled, his eyes flicking to the side before pressing on down the left path.

//////

Krystal drew herself back from the ether and rose from her sitting position. She frowned, still deep in frustration. Finding their VIP was proving more difficult than she expected. The facility was big, and she had counted at least 15 lives within her range. She could tell their location, and depending on how close they were, their emotional state. Being a living radar kept her busy, but telepathy required her entire focus. She was essentially flinging her mind at a vague ball of emotion that couldn't respond. Reading their thoughts was the natural solution but physical contact wasn't practical in a combat zone. The feedback was hard for her to manage, anyway.

Krystal sighed and shook her head, before creeping out of her hiding spot. Her job was to find the target. If she wanted to do a complete search, she'd have to go lower, into the depths of the base.

While on the move her focus was split, reducing the range of her awareness. Still, the vixen relied on her far-sight to avoid hostiles as she went. Fox and the others were drawing a lot of attention, making it easier to slip past the hurried soldiers.

The blue vixen entered a stairwell and started to descend: two levels, three, four. After six or so, she stopped and felt her ears perk up. There was a sudden, unpleasant sensation in the back of her head. It was like a mystic wind that carried the fumes of a garbage fire. It forced itself on her far-sight. Wincing, she went further down, hoping that the odd discomfort would fade. It only intensified. As she went lower, the sensation of acrid, burnt waste filled her more and more. Finally, she decided she had gone far enough, and tried to probe the hallway on her current level. She squinted, mentally, into the space but it was like trying to see through a smokescreen. The young psychic had never experienced anything like it. She recalled one time, where she had tried to compete with peppy in a drinking game but that didn't really compare.

Stepping out into the hall, she was forced to look with her eyes. It was clear, and the passage seemed like any other in the facility, sleek and well lit. Krystal pressed on, forced to move much slower now. Not only was her psychic awareness crippled, her mind felt like it was being fumigated. She felt a silent hum in her earpiece, a comm notification. She welcomed the distraction, putting her hand up to her ear and opening the channel.

"Krystal. Update?"

It was Falco's voice. Apparently he hadn't been paying attention earlier.

"Working on it. I ran into some kind of weird interference, so it might be awhile."

The falcon clicked his tongue.

"Aight, well, just so you know, and our wonderful leader can back me up on this, I do not do well in enclosed spaces! I really, truly, have no idea why Slippy was given aerial support on this op, instead of me, ya know? He loves stooping and getting his hands dirty. He'd love these tiny rat trap walkways!"

Krystal pursed her lips and was about to respond when she felt a rush through the smoke. It was coming up from the other side of the wall. The fox dug her heel into the flooring and pivoted into an alcove, barely hiding herself before a patrol passed her. Two riflemen and a technician. She watched them run down the hall, the technician's plasma lathe jostling on his back. It was an older model, reeking of fuel and burnt grease. After a few agonizing seconds, they vanished deeper into the base. Krystal felt the urge to swear, loudly. Toggling her comm again she found Fox trying to placate his wingman.

"-eah but Falco, you're great in the pit, and you're taller than all of us! I can feel my joints for days after a full sortie, and this is worse for you? Come on."

"There's this beautiful thing called the stars, Fox. The sky? Really helps keep things in perspective for an ace pilot! Look, Krystal, honey, It's fine. Take your time, no rush, don't stress yourself. Just let me know as soon as you find our broad because I swear to god, I quit after we're done here."

The blue vixen rolled her eyes and dropped her hand without responding. She eyed the passage to the left, where the patrol had been going. It was moving in the opposite direction from the others. Perhaps their target was closer than she first thought. Trusting her intuition, she decided to tail them.

Krystal moved through the metal labyrinth, keeping her distance and following the smell of the lathe. She turned corner after corner, careful not to proceed too quickly. The blue vixen made her way, corridor to corridor, until the smell of fuel began to stagnate. Peaking over the edge and into the next hall, Krystal felt her eyes widen. There were three corpses strewn in front of her. They were messy, haphazard kills that had left blood on the wall in large smears. Krystal drew her sidearm and approached. As she got closer, she could tell that they were her patrol. The technician in question was pinned to the wall and missing his head. The flesh around the injury was cauterized, with the shaft of his plasma cutter lodged through his stomach. The riflemen were worse.

The fox curled her lip, feeling physical disgust mingle with her psychic discomfort. The latter had been growing steadily, the cloud of fumes turning acidic, stinging her mind. She had a sinking feeling the bodies were related. Krystal made her way to the end of the hall, and pressed herself flat, just before the corner. There was a deep breath, to calm herself. No use complaining about it. She rolled off her shoulder and into the new passage. Two more bodies lay directly ahead, at the intersection of a door and a left turn. The entrance was slightly ajar, with one of the corpse-legs wedged inside. The fox could just barely make out the sounds of hushed conversation.

She raised her gun and crept toward the doorway, keeping her grip loose and steady, just like she'd been trained. She inched forward, on the right-side wall, staying on the side of the door. Once she reached the intersection, she glanced down the left turn. Clear and clean. Her stance shifted as she prepared to breach. For the first time since leaving the stairwell, the psychic Cerinian reached out with her mind, desperate to gather any information she could. A wave of searing nausea made her recoil. It oozed out of the room, layer over layer, like a furnace burning filth. The soldier forced herself to stay submerged for a few moments, stiffening as if holding her breath. Through the smog she could see a masked presence. It bore through the thick veil, flickering with an obnoxious red glare. Next to it, so faint and dim that it could've been her imagination, was a potential other. Krystal grit her teeth and stepped in.

The room showed itself empty. Krystal stood, just past the doorway and moved her eyes from left to right. There were modules lining the far wall, with control panels embedded in them. The right side had lockers and the left empty chairs. In the center of the room was a single, large table, solid underneath. Above it was an air vent. The fox cleared her throat and tried her best to sound level and patient.

"I know you're here. Come out slowly, with your hands visible."

She waited a moment, then started her sweep. She began near the chairs, facing the table with her gun arm half extended. Thanks to her short probe, she suspected they were hiding near the center.

"There are two of you, hiding behind the table. I won't ask again."

Krystal steadied herself, leaning into the angle as she moved to inspect the far side of the obstruction.

"Hey, hi! Don't fucking shoot!"

With uncanny speed, a liquorish-colored blur shot up from where Krystal had pointed her gun. It was lanky and awkward, with horns on its head and skin like red, abused leather. It held a person, and a knife. Krystal, caught off-guard, quickly levied her weapon at the creature. She took in its strange appearance and then it's captive. Her eyes couldn't decide who to inspect more.

"I said hi dammit, don't just sit there like a retard."

Krystal soured as she heard his voice again. It was like gasoline on the garbage-fire.

"What are you and who is your friend?"

Even as she asked the question, realization began to dawn. The captive was a woman, mammalian, older, with raven hair and amber fur. She was dressed in a lavish, silk ensemble with Its hem around her knee and its sleeves cut to ribbons. Her necklace glinted in the dim light, its insignia was all Krystal needed. She was Aulene Audere, their VIP.

"Who, this? Beats me! We hit it off so well I forgot to ask, ain't that funny? She couldn't keep her hands to herself."

The gremlin fanned a sharp smile, sliding his eyes to the woman he had his knife pressed to. Aulene was pleading with the blue vixen silently, never moving an inch, stiff as death. Her captor's gaze shifted back to Krystal as he looked her up and down.

"So, judging by the dumb look on your face, I guess you want a piece too, huh?"

Krystal narrowed her gaze and planted her feet, gun trained on the obnoxious goon's face. Her head was pounding. Her ears flicked with visible agitation. The sooner she shut this thing up, the better. She was getting ready to take her chances.

"Just try it, bitch. She'll be a sticky puddle before you finish squeezing."

As he spoke, the creature began backing up, towards the lockers behind him. Under normal circumstances, Krystal would've tried to talk him down, reading his emotions or even thoughts. None of those were options, though, with her head spinning inside mental miasma. It made her short-tempered and trigger-happy, violent.

"How about this, then. You let her go and I only have to shoot you in the legs. Preferable to the alternative, I imagine."

There was a wheeze, followed by a small sputtering laugh. The red, leather balloon scrunched his face up and pursed his lips.

""Preferable to the alternative, I imagine." God, fuck off, i'm not getting my head popped for this job, especially not by some hoity-toity British cunt. Do you have any idea how many people I had to eviscerate to even get in here? Now I have to sit through tea-time with her majesty the queen!? I'm not getting paid enou-"

Krystal snarled and pulled the trigger. A pale green flash exploded outward, followed by a pellet of plasma. Time seemed to slow down for the vixen, as if she were watching her bullet fly. It careened through the air, the energy crackling with potential. She knew it was off. The charge made contact but It slammed into the shoulder, instead of the head. The hostage-taker flinched and cussed, cutting his monologue short. In one fluid instant, he turned and leaped toward the lockers, captive over his shoulder. The fox was already in motion, legs moving on instinct. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she tried to close the distance. A red light bloomed, beyond her quarry. It spread out, into a flickering canvas on the wall. The membrane squirmed like vibrant liquid, already disturbed as the target began to slip through. Krystal flung herself after him, the unnatural maw already snapping closed. In the blink of an eye, all of them had disappeared.

//////

The garbage-fire was wonderful. That sensation was like heaven, she had been so wrong. Krystal twitched and jolted in place, feeling a jackhammer in her head. Her eyes creaked open and saw an upside-down world. She shifted in place before realizing her head was hanging, just off the ground. The vixen righted herself, pressing off the soft, soggy pile she was laying on. As the disgruntled girl came up, she took her first conscious breath and gagged.

It was like a physical manifestation of her psychic discomfort. Her cheeks puffed out, then she hunched over, and puked. After expelling her last two meals, she felt slightly better. The memory of her discomfort had voided her stomach, but jogged her memory. That scrunched, sun-burnt face floated through her imagination. He had opened a portal, or something, and she jumped in after him. The vixen groaned and lifted her head again, looking around. There was a garish red-tint to everything. From the bricks to the concrete under her feet, to the strange mound of wetness that she had woken up on. Everything glowed and made her head spin.

She was in some kind of alley, sandwiched between two dilapidated buildings. She looked up and saw a red sky. She looked to the right and saw movement in the distance. Leaning against the brick, she scooted her way towards the exit, needing to know where exactly she had found herself.

Lurching out into the open, Krystal felt the color in her face drain. She had been expecting people, or at least knowable creatures but everywhere she looked there was a strange horror. Winged jaws that spat on passers, chromatic shadows that ran up your leg. She saw more gremlins, like the one she shot. They milled around, assaulting each other and cackling. The street was littered with filth and gore. The psychic felt a disgusting pulse all around her, like a sewage pump into her mind.

Trying to distract herself, she craned her neck, following the buildings upward. They towered to a fault, all ending at the same height. Beyond was an ocean of red, with a silver sphere cut out. Krystal paused, taking in what she thought was a moon. It turned as she watched, sprouting tiny appendages and pulling itself slowly across the sky. She shuddered. An explosion ripped its way through the stagnant air, on the other side of the street, tearing her gaze back to the ground floor. There were a number of gremlins darting out of a burning building. They seemed to be carrying luggage. Krystal watched them scatter for a moment, before sucking in the putrid air and chasing after one. She was getting the hell out of here, but first she had to find that prick.

The pavement stretched and wobbled as Krystal ran after her tail. The little cretin was fast, she could barely keep up with it at full sprint. Part of her worried that she wasn't keeping a low-profile but she could tell this place didn't attend a weak spectacle. The red arrow darted to the left, into another alley-crack and the blue hunter dashed after him. It took a frantic path through the web of alleys. Left, right, right, as well as up and down as it traversed the glowing brick and mortar. Krystal lost sight of him several times. Her psychic awareness was worse than useless here. Any attempt at reaching out hindered more than it helped. Luckily, there was a constant clatter of knocked over cans and spilled loot for her to follow. After a few minutes of clamoring through the back-ways she managed to catch up to her perpetrator. He wasn't alone.

Somehow, the entire pack had found their way to a single spot, after scattering back at the explosion. They bustled and yammered, mostly complaining about how much their feet hurt. In the center of the gang was a much taller, more imposing figure. Krystal froze in plain sight. It looked nothing like the gremlins. It towered over the creatures, with broad shoulders and a slim waist. It seemed to radiate in place, like a disembodied heart that was pumping black shade. The underlings started unloading their pillage for this ringleader, but its eyes were already fixed on her. Two indigo slits of light, that swelled large as it starred. She saw its phantom face shift, one brow raised in curiosity.

"Boys, do shut up. We have a guest."

The voice boomed soft through the alley, like it came from a velvet megaphone. The gremlins all stopped and turned in unison. Their eyes were glaring daggers at her. Krystal opened her mouth a few times but couldn't decide what to say. The phantom shrunk, slightly, as it stepped forward. He became male. His face was flat, like porcelain. Gone were the indigo lights, replaced with deep jewels. He was naked from the waist up, with royal, purple fur framing his chiseled cobalt muscles. His jaw relaxed as he spoke at her.

"Do you have business with us, miss? Lost?"

The male smiled slightly, not able to hide it. He drew closer as Krystal held her ground and replied.

"I'm looking for someone. Like them."

The fox gestured at the red urchins, all bristling at her presence. Their ringleader felt his brow shoot up before he could reattach his poker face.

"Like....them. You mean an imp? What circle are you from?"

The large male circled the fox, making her anxious. She could feel his gaze start to undress her. Imps. Circle? She had no idea how to reply. The psychic desperately needed information and it seemed like this one could give it to her. She had to give him something. The truth came to mind.

"I don't know. I'm new to this place. If you help me, I'm sure I can return the favor."

The vixen felt the truth flow out of her, a feeling of reluctant need pushing it past her lips. The furred man scoffed and then chuckled in surprise.

"I see. Well, my dear, It took courage to admit that. My trust is expensive but perhaps we can find an...understanding?"

Krystal watched the man move in front of her as he punctuated his question. His chest was inches from her face. The vixen felt her cheeks blush, a strange warmth calming her nerves. Her eyes widened as she realized, for the first time, that her discomfort was gone.

She hadn't felt it since his approach. No acrid smell, no smothering miasma. She felt clear and refreshed, miraculously. As she basked in the relief, she felt his hand come to rest on her shoulder. Perfect. The blue fox looked up and immediately projected herself into his mind, feeling steady and able. Her awareness sank into another alien ocean.

As Krystal dove in, an oddity struck her. Somehow he felt less full, less broad, than she was used to. Things that should have been, weren't. Trying to acclimate herself, she pulled on a fractal of memory that had rushed forward. It dispersed around her, like a school of fish. Faint sensations came and went, echoing in his psyche. Why was it all so detached? Where was the current of his self? Krystal frowned, and then rose, hearing the distant tide of conscious thoughts. The waves grew louder and louder as she closed the ethereal distance. The pressure of his mind started to weigh on her presence. Something was wrong. As the muffled thunder started to hammer through her projection, she finally felt it. The current. It slammed into her being, sweeping her up and away. She heard his velvet voice.