“Yes,” Herc said, a deadly look in his eyes. “I just can’t stand to see 
innocent animals being tortured. As you know, I’m a strict vegan.” 


Lightning stopped shooting from the amulet, and the barn became 
dark once more. The giant ferret dropped the regular-sized ferret to 
the ground, where it began to jerk and convulse and screech in 
agony. 


“Look,” Troy breathed. “It’s growing bigger!” 


He was right. As the two agents watched, the ferret began to bulge 
and swell in size, so that within a minute it was as big as a person. 
At last it stopped growing and fell silent, still breathing but twitching 
feebly on the ground. The cultist nearest the ferret stepped up to it 
and removed his robe, revealing his fully-nude body; two large 
cultists approached with bottles of oil and began greasing up the 
man with their hands until his skin was slick and shiny with reflected 
firelight. 


Next, the two cultists knelt down by the ferret on the ground and 
pulled its mouth open; with their help, the naked man began forcing 
himself, feet first, into the ferret’s mouth. The process took several 
minutes, the naked man slowly disappearing, inch by inch, inside the 
ferret, their two bodies combining, becoming one. When it was over, 
the man/ferret slowly got to its feet and let out a chilling roar of 
triumph, while the remaining cultists continued to chant. 


“My God,” Troy said, stunned. “We had it all wrong. They’re not 
ferrets, they're...” 


“Furries,” Herc finished for him. His eyes took on a faraway haunted 
look. “Now it all makes sense, why | thought this looked so familiar.” 


“You mean...you’ve dealt with them before?” 


Herc nodded grimly. “They're called the Fur Clan. They’re furries, 
dedicated to making the most realistic fursuits ever. Living fursuits. 
And it looks like they finally succeeded.” 


“How come I’ve never heard of them before?” 


“You probably don’t have the clearance. They were my last 
assignment before | asked to be transferred to Site-19.” 


“So they’re dangerous?” 


Herc’s mysterious eyes grew dark with remembered pain. “They 
took out my whole task force, | was the only survivor. I...never 
forgave myself for that, for letting my friends down. The nightmares 
still wake me up at night. Sometimes | think I’m cursed, that | attract 
death.” 


“Then we have to stop them,” Troy said sympathetically, “so you can 
finally put your demons to rest.” 


Herc looked up at him with a determined expression. “No. This is 
something | have to do myself. You see the ferret with the glowing 
amulet? That’s their high priest, HuskyLove MuttShadow. | didn’t 
recognize him at first with his new fursuit, but he’s the one who gave 
me this,” he said, pointing to the jagged scar across his eye. “You 
could say we have...Unfinished Business.” 


“You're my best friend, Herc,” Troy said, “I’m not letting you face 
them alone!” 


“You have to. | need you to get outside the city limits and warn the 
O5, tell them they have to firebomb this whole town. We can’t let this 
thing spread any further.” 


“What about you?” Troy asked, his throat tightening with emotion. 


“I’m going to make sure they never hurt another ferret again.” 


Chapter 5 


The chanting around him louder than ever, High Priest HuskyLove 
MuttShadow was about to reach inside the cage by the fire to grab 
another one of the small ferrets, when suddenly all hell broke loose. 


Without warning, gunfire erupted from the cornfield, killing the 
cultists around him with deadly, sniper-like precision; the shots 
seemed to be coming from every direction at once — HuskyLove 
estimated at least twenty shooters. The ceremonial circle broke 
apart as the remaining cultists fled the scene - only then did the 
shooter reveal himself, stepping out from among the cornstalks, 
starkly lit in the glow of the bonfire’s flames: firing two AK-47s at the 
same time, he began to effortlessly pick off the fleeing cultists from a 
distance. HuskyLove felt his ferret jaw drop — how could a single 
man have done all this? Then he saw the man’s face, recognized 
the fedora, the scar across his eye... 


Of course, he thought. Who else could be behind this? 


One of his AK-47s clicking empty, Herc tossed it to the ground and 
walked up to the high priest, aiming his remaining weapon at the 
man/ferret's large, fur-covered head. “Sorry to break up your little 
party,” Herc said. 


“Agent Herc Leroc,” HuskyLove said, his long mouth stretching into 
a toothy smile. “I see you got my invitation.” 


“So this was a trap, then. Why?” 


“| wanted you to see how far along we’d come since the last time we 
faced each other. | knew that if | turned an entire town into giant 
ferrets, I'd catch the Foundation’s attention, and that they’d have to 
send their best agent to investigate. Though | admit | still hadn't 
decided whether | was going to kill you... or turn you into one of us.” 


“It's over, HuskyLove. | just killed most of your followers, and the 


Foundation will be here in a few hours to carpet-bomb this place 
back to the Stone Age.” 


HuskyLove's whiskers twitched with amusement. “Well, I'll admit you 
fared better than I’d anticipated, but you haven't beaten me, Leroc. 
You think this puny little town was the end game?" The high priest 
chuckled. "This was just a test run. I'll start over elsewhere, in a 
metropolis this time, maybe New York, or Tokyo. From there I'll have 
a whole country in no time, and then... the world." 


“Not on my watch,” Herc said as he pressed the trigger of his AK-47 
— but the weapon clicked empty. He tossed it aside, his eyes 
narrowing. “I guess we'll have to do this old-school! style, then.” 


The two opponents faced each other, their silhouettes outlined by 
the gigantic fire behind them. HuskyLove cracked his neck and 
knuckles menacingly, while Herc assumed an imposing martial arts 
stance belonging to the unique style of muay-thai/krav-maga/kung-fu 
he had developed during his street-fighting days in Bangkok. 


Then HuskyLove rushed at Herc, and the final fight was underway. 


Troy was almost at the city limits — he should be coming within 
cellphone range any time, now. 


He’d heard the gunshots, watched Herc take down the cultists; now, 
looking back from the top of the hill where he stood, Troy could see 
his friend fighting for his life against the high priest of the man/ 
ferrets, his movements graceful, lightning-quick, Bruce Lee-like in 
the glow of the bonfire. 


And yet it wasn't enough. 


His opponent was simply too big, too strong to take down; as Troy 
watched, Herc performed a devastating kick/punch combination 
attack, repeatedly striking the giant ferret in the chest and abdomen 
with his fists, then delivering a perfect roundhouse kick to his head - 
astonishingly, though, his opponent barely seemed to register the 
blows: instead, leaping forward, he swung at Herc with his razor- 
sharp claws, mauling him across the chest; as Herc screamed and 


stumbled back, the man/ferret grabbed him and threw him several 
feet through the air, sending him crashing through the side of the 
barn. He then followed in after him, stepping through the gaping hole 
in the wall and disappearing from Troy's view. 


Troy fought an urge to go back and help Herc - no, he told himself. 
The mission had to come first. He had to trust that his friend could 
take care of himself. He turned around - the hardest thing he'd ever 
had to do - and resumed running for the city limits. 


Inside the barn, Herc was in bad shape. 


His chest and arms were covered in claw marks, and a deep cut ran 
along his cheek, bleeding down his face and onto his torn t-shirt. 
HuskyLove was stronger than he could have imagined - his living 
fursuit must be giving him superhuman powers. 


The high priest swung at him again with his massive claws, and 
Herc jumped on a nearby ladder to avoid the blow, climbing up to 
the barn’s second floor. On the ground floor below him, he could see 
a complex machine that pulsed with an eerie red light. This had to 
be what was responsible for transforming the ferrets, he thought - 
the machine must be able to bend reality somehow, and HuskyLove 
was controlling it with his amulet... 


Before Herc could think any further HuskyLove jumped up from the 
floor below, nearly ripping into him with his claws. Herc fell back, 
desperate — he knew he would not survive this, but he had to at 
least try to take the high priest down with him. 


He had to end the madness. 


A plan formed in his mind, and he moved closer to the edge of the 
balcony that overlooked the floor below, where the machine was. 
HuskyLove came after him, smiling savagely, certain he had already 
won. Faster than lightning, he struck, his claws slicing into the flesh 
of Herc's arm and shoulder. Herc screamed out in pain, his fedora 
falling to the floor below, but then, gritting his teeth, he leapt up and 
caught hold of a wooden beam above his head - taking advantage of 
HuskyLove’s momentary unbalance, he kicked him in the chest with 


both feet as hard as he could. 
The man/ferret stumbled backward, falling over the railing. 


"DAMN YOU HERC LEROQOOQOOOOOCCCCCCC!" he yelled as he 
plummeted to his doom. "DAAAAAAAMN YYYYYOOO-" 


He crashed into the huge machine below, shattering it under his 
weight. Red lighting began to arc from the amulet, coursing through 
the high priest's body, causing him to shriek in agony as he was 
burned alive from the inside out. 


"AAAaaaahhhHHH! aaaAAAAAHHH! AAAaaaaAAAAAHHH ahhh!" 


The broken machine began to pulsate with insane light, a horrible 
metallic screeching emanating from within its depths. As 
HuskyLove’s fursuit caught fire, the air inside the barn began to 
distort, and Herc felt time slow down, then move faster, then slow 
down again. 


Then the amulet exploded and a red shockwave of blinding light 
struck Herc in the chest. 


Troy felt the earth rumble under his feet just before an immense 
flash of red light lit up the night sky — a second later the barn 
exploded into a million pieces. 


His heart stopped. 


He fell to his knees. 


Epilogue 
Three weeks later 


Agent Troy Lament watched the people disperse after the 
ceremony, moving down the graveyard path on their way back to 
their cars. The Director of Site-19 had been in attendance, as well 
as all the O5s, and Herc had been posthumously awarded the 
Foundation Medal of Bravery, First Class (his fourth one) — but what 


difference did it make, Troy thought. His best friend was still gone. 


He stared at the grave, fighting back tears — of course, it wasn’t 
really a grave, since there was no body. After the town had been 
contained and carpet-bombed and the remaining cultists killed off, 
efforts had been made to recover Agent Leroc’s body, but only 
HuskyLove’s charred, mangled corpse had been found in the debris 
of the barn. 


Sometimes at night, Troy dreamed that his friend was still alive 
somewhere, that he’d somehow managed to survive the explosion. 
But he knew that couldn’t be, that it was just make-believe, fantasy. 
He had to face it, hard as it was: his friend was dead, the best friend 
he’d ever had, even better than Sandlemyer. 


Wiping a tear from his face, he turned around and walked away from 
the grave. 


THE END? 


Where Do Story Arcs Go When They Die? 


| don't remember how it all started. | don't remember what | was 
doing, where | was, or any of that stuff everyone tells you they 
remember. The first | knew anything was wrong was when | showed 
up at the office, and the entire building was missing. 


| guess it was common knowledge by then. | hadn't been paying 
attention to the news, or to my Facebook wall. The new Saints Row 
game had just come out, and well, | Kinda got sucked in. No one 
else seemed to think it was that big of a deal, a whole building, just 
gone. The only one left was a man with a generic name tag reading 
‘Fred,’ and he just seemed to be there to make sure no one fell in 
the hole. 


“What happened here?” | asked him. He just kind of shrugged at me, 
like | should know. | couldn't shake the feeling that he shouldn't be 
here, that none of us should be here... and yet... 


“The story isn't written.” Fred offered. “The writer couldn't make it fit.” 


| stared at him, trying to make sense of the words. | felt like there 
should have been something more. Something bigger. An alien 
invasion? No, too cliché. An escaped- The thought died half formed, 
even more cliché then the one before. “I don't understand.” | told 
him. | stared down the block, looking at all the missing buildings. 
The longer | looked, the more seemed to be missing. If | squinted, | 
could make out the bare bones of an idea, the shape of something 
larger... 


“It won't help.” Fred interjected. “This isn't a full story. Heck, from the 
little bits and pieces I've seen float past, it wasn't even supposed to 
be just one story. | mean, look.” He pointed upwards, where | could 
see a rough sketch of a giant machine hovering.- No, that wasn't 
right. The machine shouldn't be anywhere near here. And why 
would there be a giant metal castle floating next to it? “Someone 
was trying to tie a whole bunch of ideas together. Kind of like an 


origin, but-” He shrugged again. “In reverse? An ending story. This is 
the aftermath.” 


| shook my head, and stepped away from him. “No, that's not right, it 
won't work! This entire mess is too complicated! It started out as 
such a simple idea, didn't it?” | looked at the people walking past, all 
of them ignoring me. As | turned to watch them go, | noticed that 
they were all the same from behind, empty, hollow shells. Not truly 
formed people, just approximations of such. “A man shows up ata 
work that is no longer there. Why not? What happened to it? Where 
is my office?” | turned back to Fred, my eyes drifting across an old 
man as | did so. He, at least, seemed real. Who was he to have 
been? My father, my boss, the secret agent who finally stopped my 
diabolical plans for world domination? 


“Why am | holding a gun?” Fred shook his head at me, his gaze 
locked on the old man. 


“You've had it this whole time. | don't think you're a very well thought 
out protagonist. The entire story seems to be collapsing around 
you.” Even so, he stepped away from me, out of range of my wildly 
flailing weapon. “You're kind of jerky too. Like the writer knew what 
actions he wanted you to take, but doesn't bother to mention you 
taking them until he feels it matters.” 


The old man was looking at me, sadly, | thought, as he moved 
closer to Fred. | felt my mind split, part of it wanting me to save 
things, to protect my family, the other half cackling in glee that no 
one would ever know | was the one who had destroyed everything. 
“| don't understand!” | called out... but the two men didn't seem to 
care. 


“We can't talk here.” Fred said to the old man. “We're too open to 
Narrative Causality. This... I'm not sure this is a real story anyways. 
It feels off. Wrong. Or maybe it's just me being too active.” The old 
man nodded at him, and, without speaking, managed to ask Fred 
where they should meet. 


“Stop ignoring me!” | yelled, my hand bathed in the ancient flames of 
Kaliop. “Stop acting like I'm a bad story! This is real!” 


“To you.” Fred said, sadly. “We're just passing through.” He 
regarded the old man again, then nodded. “All right. Let's head over 
to the end. A new story will be there soon, | think we can sneak in 
under a cut. We'll be more protected there.” The old man ignored 
me completely, as he walked away.