The mountains are a harsh and unforgiving place. Especially in winter. Food is scare and hard to find. As is shelter. Most of the mountains are covered in trees. It’s easy to get turned around and lose your way. The parts that aren’t covered in trees are steep and treacherous. The wind and snow forever tries to blow you over the edge.
They’re unsuitable for large scale logging or mining. The rough terrain prevents all large trade or troop movement besides a few tightly guarded passes. The land to the north is relatively peaceful and they want to keep it that way so the passes are all tightly guarded. The south is a land torn apart. Rife with crime and war. Every day is a fight for life.
There were many factors leading up to the war that screwed up the world. They all came back to greed. The large urban and industry driven areas were hit the hardest. Too many things were based on technology and when that technology went down it all went to hell. Things might have recovered but again greed took over. It was every fur for himself.
Soon the furs with the skills and knowledge to fix it were dead or hiding. By this point police had been overwhelmed or joined the looters. The military was at first locked into wars for the dwindling resources which eventually broke down into a huge brawl. People eventually banded together to try and rebuild their society. Tiny pockets of civilisation in a sea of chaos.
One such pocket is a small cabin in the mountains, protected and hidden by them. One fur lives there. A wolf. His thick, coarse fur is all dark brown apart from a few pale spots marking old scars. This crisp winter morning finds him returning from a hunt dressed in worn cameo gear, not the military colours but a woodland scene printed on clothes. Hunters’ camouflage. He was carrying a bag full of rabbits and an air rifle.
His name is Dark Wolf, seventeen when the world went to hell. He spent two years as a soldier for hire. He was already skilled with his airguns, both rifles and pistols. He carried an engraved .45-70 lever action rifle and a pair of .44 revolvers.
After a year of fighting he’d become a legendary shooter, faster than most and still accurate enough to blow someone’s brains out with either his rifle or revolver. He was a hunter. He would scout. He would infiltrate. He would count and locate targets. He would then wait for the shooting to start and ambush from behind or he would start the shooting and his partners would break in during the confusion. His other role was to track and to that purpose he is one of the few furs who can still use their sense of smell. Along with the other members of the group he had a basic knowledge of medicine, a necessity in their line of work.
He and his partners were among the best at what they did and succeeded at every job except one. Their last job.
Five years down the line Dark Wolf’s skills were being put to better use, survival rather than killing. The land around his cabin has been turned into farmland. A pen was built and chickens eventually found to populate it. He hunted the woods for rabbits and birds with his low-powered air rifles and occasionally took a deer with his .45-70. For the first few years he always kept his revolver ready with him but lately gave up to it.
No one has visited him in the mountains, no one travels that far from the main passes. Until that day. Just as his fingers brushed against the latch of his front door he finally realized what that nagging itch at the back of his head was. Someone had been here, and they’d used a scent mask. That’s why he hadn’t noticed in the first place. He’d only encountered it once before and it had nearly got them all killed.
He was caught off guard. His guns were in the cabin, where the unknown visitor was probably hiding, all he had to hand was his low powered .22. He was likely out-gunned and possibly out-numbered. So he did what any sane, sensible fur would do.
Loaded a magazine and kicked the door open. There were three furs in the room. A tiger, Doberman, and border collie. The collie’s hand drops to the gun resting on the table next to him but he snapped it back as a small chunk of wood splinters from the table. When he looked back at Dark Wolf he had another pellet in the barrel and this time aimed at the collie’s head.
He took a brief moment to get a better look at the other two and his eyes widened in disbelief. He knew them both very well. And he wasn’t sure if he should be happy or dismayed. The tiger was just an inch shorter than Dark Wolf but twice as muscled. He was dressed in jeans, hiking boots and a green military shirt open over a white vest. He had a Glock on his belt and an M4 leaning on the wall next to him.
The Doberman was the opposite in build, tall, thin and all compact muscle like Dark Wolf. He was dressed in kaki combat pants and shirt. He too carried a Glock but a scoped .30-06 bolt action rifle rather than an assault rifle. Back in their truck they both had more guns, the M4 and shotguns were the tiger’s favourites, sniper rifles and handguns the Doberman’s. There was another, probably down guarding the truck, he was a cheetah, tall and athletic, a runner. He used submachine-guns or the Glocks with stupidly long magazines, one in each hand.
The four of them made up the main crew with newer recruits coming and going, it was a dangerous job.
“Hello Wolfy.” Says the tiger cheerfully. He’s four years older than Dark Wolf, now twenty one, but still acts like a child at times. He somehow manages to turn everything into a game. “Long time no see eh?”
For a second Dark Wolf doesn’t answer, “Nightmare? What are you doing here?”
“Visiting you? I thought you’d be happier to see us.”
“We didn’t part on the best of terms. We got fucked good the last time I saw you.”
“Lose once and you back out? That-”
“I lost too much! We were outsmarted. It wasn’t enough for them to stop us they had to show us they meant business. And that got one of my oldest friends killed and her sister raped.”
“We didn’t know. How could we know? I thought you’d want revenge on them.”
“Oh I do. But I want my friends safe more. If I thought I could take them down all in one go... or keep my friends hidden while I took care of it I might just do it. I already have descriptions of the people that did it and I’ve fantasised about having them in front of me many, many times. This isn’t a game, if we lose there’s no second chance. I’m not willing to lose anymore.”
“The world’s not the same. It’s being pulled back together. There are towns and cities again, run by groups of furs. We’ve been hired to protect one. The guys who beat us last time have three towns. Built like fortresses. They own the biggest working gun factory, micro-fusion plant and car factory. If anybody else produces enough to attract notice they shut them down.
“Our employers want us to try and shut one down.”
“You don’t need me for that.”
“Not need, I want you for it though. And I thought you might like the opportunity to get back at them. We can protect your friends, move them into our city. Plus, they want us to get as much information as we can before leaving to try and start up their own factories and shit. You’re best with computers.”
“What’s the pay?”
“Five hundred k each in jewellery or cash for each place hit, another five hundred for the information.”
“Twelve mil total? If I join. Is cash any good anymore?”
“Most places.”
“I need to think about it.”
“Sure. Can we bring the truck up? There’s only us and Yaf here.”
“Why not? You can spend the night. I’ll tell you in the morning.”
“Thanks, I wasn’t looking forward to another night in the tent.”
“Go on then.”
“We’ll leave Joey here,” Nightmare nods at the collie, “to keep you company.”
They left to get Yaf. Dark Wolf tended to the fire before heading to his bedroom to change. The collie, Joey, was sat in the same position when Dark Wolf re-entered the living room, now dressed only in a pair of jeans. Joey turned away, a blush just showing under the white fur. Dark Wolf can’t help but think him cute.
“You hungry?” Asked Dark Wolf while he picked up the bag of rabbits by the open door.
“Um... Barely eaten all day.”
“Rabbit fine by you?”
“Yes... thank you. Rabbit’s fine.”
Dark Wolf placed a plate of rabbit meat and some vegetables in front of Joey and sat across from him with his own meal. “My turn. How come you’re working as a hired gun? You don’t seem the type.”
“Well... my family was killed. Nightmare saved me... I didn’t know what else to do so I stayed with him. I have nothing left.”
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“You shouldn’t be with him. He’ll get you killed.”
“No... he won’t.”
“Yes he will. I ran with him long enough. He’d take on most anybody who could shoot straight. More often than not they got killed. I saw it happen more often than I care to remember. You should leave the next time you reach a town.”
“What for? I don’t have any money. I’ll just be another homeless bum. How long would I last?”
“I can give you some money. I don’t have much use for it.”
“Why do you care about me? I heard that you only cared for yourself. That you’d kill a fur just for looking at you wrong.”
“Yes, and how many people are willing to test it? Since I got that reputation only three furs tried it. I winged them all, said the misses was down to drink. It’s a bluff, the worse furs think I am the fewer will test it. Got the idea from a book. I’m actually quite a nice guy, I’m just not all that good with other furs.”
“That why you live out here?”
“Sort of. It’s quiet but even I get lonely sometimes.”
“Don’t you have any family?”
“They live across the ocean. Haven’t heard much from them lately.”
“Do you... is there any-anybody special?”
“Who’d be interested in someone like me? I was a geek before, spent too much time on the computer or hidden away here or my dad’s land in Scotland. . After I was a killer. Never really developed any social skills or had much chance to meet anyone.”
“You still might if you get out of here once in a while.”
“Maybe. What about you, anybody special?”
“No. My family was all I had left. Then I lost them, now all I have is the one who saved me.”
“I still want you to quit. It’s a dangerous life.”
“What else would I do? I don’t have anything else.”
“Worst comes to worst you labour on a farm or a plant for food and a bed. But at least you don’t risk you life every day. One second slow, move at the wrong time, miss seeing something, anything can get you killed. You don’t just have to worry about your own life. You have to worry about all your companions, even if you don’t care for them you need them, especially those who’re in charge and paying your wages. And on top of all that, you’ll worry every time you pull the trigger. ‘Does he have family, kids, a wife?’ Are you prepared for all that?”
Before Joey could answer Dark Wolf picked up the empty plates and went into the kitchen to wash up. Joey followed him to offer his help. The kitchen was long and narrow and well lit by a large window. A worktop takes up most of the outer wall with a wood burning stove and boiler in the middle and a big cupboard in the far corner. The other wall has shelves full of jars and pots, another cupboard and a door leading to a dining room/ second kitchen with a gas cooker and Dark Wolf’s bedroom, a door at the far end of the kitchen led to the bathroom.
Dark Wolf was stood by the sink up to the elbow in steaming water. A beat up red kettle was heating up on the stove. “You can dry, towel’s above the Rayburn.” The next fifteen minutes were spent in silence barring Dark Wolf telling Joey where to put stuff. Joey noted that he didn’t seem to know where half the stuff in his own kitchen went. Afterwards Dark Wolf directed Joey back to the living room while he made nettle tea, he’d ran out of tea bags a few weeks before.
By the time the truck pulled up to the cabin it was dark. The cabin was lit only by the fires and candles despite the solar batteries and, once common, micro-fusion generator out back. Joey was asleep with a half empty glass in front of him. Dark Wolf was sat in front of the table with a bottle of mead in front of him and an array of guns being cleaned.
His usual set up, a Browning .45-70 lever-action rifle, his signature pair of black finished Smith and Wesson .44 magnum revolvers with “Dark Wolf” engraved on the barrels. There’s also an AK-47 and two silver 1911s for when he feels like a change of pace. Joey’s M4 was on the table freshly cleaned and oiled.
Dark Wolf filled four glasses and pushed them towards his conscious visitors. “If you guys pick up strays you should teach them the job better.”
“If you take care of your gun it’ll take care of you?” Muttered Comando in a mocking imitation of Dark Wolf.
“Why have you still got him?”
“Why not? It’s one more gun isn’t it?” Said Nightmare.
“One more life to throw away.”
“If he can’t take care of him-”
“If you hire him you need to make sure he can. He’s just a fucking kid, he’s got his whole life in front of him.”
“It was his choice to stay.”
“He doesn’t think he has any other choice.”
“You going to come along then?” Asked Nightmare in an attempt to change the subject.
“Sure why not? Change of scenery probably do me good. I’ll get someone in the village to house sit for me.”
“Village?”
“Just a bit north, nice quiet little eco community, they’re doing pretty well in all this. Tell me everything you know about our targets and our employers.”
