The Next Rotation - The Universe of Fenris Fox
08 February 2007
Short Story: Fenny & Justin v. Terrorist
Care to guess the score? =;o)

[Primary setting: Earth; our reality, c. 200X A.D.]


One bright summer day, Fenny the Paladinic Kitsune, and Justin the wolf-pup, were visiting the World of Men*.

While walking near the Empire State Building, Fenny noticed a man fiddling with an odd device, through the open rear doors of a large van.

"Hi there," Fenny yerfed. "Whatcha doin' there?"
"Trying to make this thing work," the man said - with a thick accent.
"What is it?"
"A tool, built by the infidels. It's brrrroken."
"Infidels?" Fenny wondered, headscritching.

Suddenly, Justin used the Soul Ball** to privately psion to Fenny, "You see that book by him?"
"Yes," Fenny replied silently.
"I've seen that sign before.. it was at the museum. I think it's what the humans use to warn about radiation."
"Really? I best take a closer look at that thing in his van, then."

Unbeknownst to either the man or the wolf, Fenny used a magical technique - one that he uses to examine matter, before synthesizing a duplicate from his stored energy.

"Uh oh," the fox silently yerfed.
"What is it, Fen?"
"Trouble. But.. I think I remember how to disable one of these. Our civilization had something like this about 1,000 years ago. It's called a nuclear bomb."
"Bomb? How big?"
"Enough to kill just about everything living in half this city."
"We have to stop it, then - you're sworn to protect mortal life!"
"Already ahead of you, Justin."

The fox put a paw behind his back, rubbing two fingerdigits together.
Justin, at that moment, suddenly felt his bag get heavier. "What did you just put in my bag?
"I'll show you later - but the city is safe. Let's go."


II.: Two Hours Later

The man - now alone - stood on top of his van, while screaming like a banshee:


He then pressed a large, red button on the control...

...and waited...

...and waited...

Finally, something happened.

A silly voice recording - set to replay on loop - came from the bomb:

"Bang! Hehe! You're dead!

Bang! Hehe! You're dead!"

Then, a much louder voice:

"POLICE! Get on the ground... he's got a gun!"

This was followed by a very real bang - but not the one the man had hoped for that day.


III.: Back to Fen & Justin

Justin opened his bag. "What are these?"

He looked upon several canisters - each marked with the nuclear trefoil - and a little round disc.

"The cans are the uranium fuel for the bomb - sealed in shielded, strong containers. Don't mess with 'em. You can - in fact, please do - mess with the disc. It's the locking device for the weapon."

"Oh neat! It's got a combination lock here," Justin yipped, beginning to play with the digits - followed swiftly by a click. "It won't move anymore."
"You physically locked it up by entering the wrong code - which is what I hoped for. It's useless now, except to the United States Government - whom we're going to take this stuff back to."
"I wonder what happened to that man? He still thinks he has a bomb."


IV.: Bellevue Hospital, New York City: With Heavy Police Presence

Barely conscious a few hours after major surgery, the would-be radical martyr could be heard mumbling, "That damned infidel.. the infidel with the fur.. I'll never make it to Heaven because of you!"

This was followed by the man screaming:



* World of Men = The one you have your tail(s) plunked in right now. =;o)

** Soul Ball: Kitsune of legend have a small ball, varyingly called a "soul ball," or "star ball." In some stories, it appears to be an ordinary child's toy; in others, it glows with a magical aura. Fenny is no different; however, in the Kitarian Universe, there's a twist - it is a tool of subjugation. Whoever holds Fenny's Soul Ball can force him to do things, or initiate private psionic (i.e., telepathic) conversation, even if the holder is a mortal without psionic powers of their own.
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Assorted writings & artwork of a furry. Sometimes presented from the point-of-view of the author's "fursona" (personal furry): Fenris "Fenny" Fox, the futuristic kitsune.

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