Inside the headquarters for the Killer Ferret Corps., KFC for short, everything was quiet. Far, far too quiet considering just where it was. Of course, it was also the middle of the night so that could potentially have been the reason. Then again, probably not. The KFC wasn't known for being quiet. Ever.

In that disturbing stillness came a steady thump of footfalls coming down the darkened hallway. Admittedly, the setting was just a little dark and foreboding, maybe lacking in some subtlety, but that should be forgiven as - obvious or not - it did fit what was about to happen.

The footfalls belonged to a young woman. She was dressed in a dark red sweater and every so often a hint of light caught a red sheen in her hair. Her nose twitched slightly, and an ear flicked, a distinctly lupine ear. A bushy tail flicked into view from behind her for just a moment as she continued on. Her jeans were casual, her shoes likewise. To be truthful she had a sort of "girl-next-door" air about her. It was extremely useful, especially when people missed the determined - and occasionally murderous - glint in her eyes.

Her expression was nearly as foreboding as the darkened, silent hallways. Clearly she could think of other places she would rather be. Or perhaps it had something to do with the armful of paperwork and grocery bag full of coffee supplies she was hauling. A soft mutter could be heard trailing after her: "Not just a glorified secretary...don't do coffee... just because I type well..."

Not a happy young woman at all.

Her name was Red and she worked for the KFC. Until two months previous, she had been a field agent, sent out to assess dissasters and determine just how to cover them up. It was part of her job to decide if a clean-up team was going to be needed or if a hush job would do. She was very, very good at taking care of messes.

Except the last one she had been assigned. Everything about that one had gone wrong. She did not feel that it was fair to blame her for not knowing that the tech zombies were going to eat the clean-up crew. She had tried to explain that the disease was running rampant and that an experienced clean-up team was needed. Nobody listened though. Panic over an epidemic was all over the media and it was rather expensive to get hushed and cleaned.

Red got to take the fall within the KFC and so was relegated to office duty at the headquarters. Surrounded by bureaucrats who couldn't use a photocopier without jamming it, typed with two index fingers, and proceeded to call her various names like "sweetheart" or "dear" and request she bring them coffee.

She was better than that! One debacle and she was back at the bottom of the ladder.

To top it all off she had gotten a call on her night off, requesting that she come in for a private meeting. What on earth was going to require a private meeting?

She was also told to pick up some good coffee and a few other supplies.

It was hardly any wonder that she was practically stomping down the hallway to the office door that awaited her, a sliver of light showing through.

Red considered knocking, but what was the point? She was the only other one there. So she pushed the door open, then closed it politely and turned to look at the man behind the desk with a mutinous glare.

"Fine. I'm here. With all the reports everyone had me typing this week, and the coffee. So what gives?"

She probably should have been more polite. Pissing off the boss was the reason she was working at HQ as it was. Then again, she wasn't sure it could get much worse.

"We have a special assignment for you."

The minute the pencil pusher opened her mouth she knew things were going to get worse. A special assignment was rarely a good thing, especially if you were already sitting at the bottom of the ladder.

Red tried to put on a placating expression, trying for a conciliatory smile. "That really isn't necessary, sir."

Before she could think of anything else to say, he laughed. It was fairly maniacal and it made Red cringe. Yes, things were definitely getting worse.

"Oh, but it is. We found something that requires your particular skill set." He said the words with so much relish, so much glee, that she had to wonder just which skill set he was talking about. As she was currently not doing well career-wise and would never willingly become physically involved with such an unpleasant specimen of manhood, she was assuming he was talking about her ability to deal with a crisis. Any other skills were none of his business.

"So you have a crisis that needs dealing with?" She sounded hesitant, and she was. She wanted to believe she was going to get to prove herself to be incredibly competent again. But the old weasel just looked too pleased with himself.

"In a manner of speaking. You have heard of the Fuzzy Militia, I assume?" Red nodded although she was highly considering tendering her resignation right then and there. A good number of the messes she had had to clean up had been caused by that same group of reckless rejects. "It has come to our attention that, despite the number of disasters they caused, having the Fuzzy Militia in jail is actually worse."

"And you want me to do what? The mayor put them in there. Can't he just let them out? What, you want me to break them out of jail?" She snorted in derision at the thought. Right. Like that was something she wanted to have any involvement with.

"Exactly."

At that Red choked. On her own saliva. "Break them... out? Are you crazy?" Not a good idea, to call a superior crazy, but she felt that it fit rather well.

"We have decided that with your unique talents it should be a small matter for you to figure out how to get them out. Once they are out they will be your responsibility. Find a way to infiltrate their organization - I suggest just walking up and introducing yourself - and report back to us. We want to know when a new crisis is brewing and how to head it off. Make yourself useful. Ingratiate yourself. Then help us find a way to get rid of them once and for all."

Red cleared her throat, still staring at the man behind the desk in stunned silence. Was he actually suggesting what she thought he was suggesting? Aside from the part where she was supposed to go join up with that bunch of crazies and hopefully not get killed just because they didn't like her shoes. But the part about maybe just killing off the Militia. That part made her nervous. That seemed... wrong somehow. Sure, it might improve public safety, and decrease the number of buildings demolished. But she didn't think the KFC would condone such actions.

And she wasn't sure she wanted to be the one to bring it about.

Then again...

"Fine. I'll do it." With that she dropped the stack of files on his desk and looked at the bag of coffee. "Where do I put this, and how do I get reimbursed?"

"Consider it a good faith gift for the Kommanda. I am sure their HQ will need some new supplies."

Red glared, having a feeling she was going to be doing exactly the same job with the Militia as she'd come to do at KFC HQ. But worse. She'd heard stories about them. Bad stories.

This was not going to be good.

She paused for just a few seconds more, hoping she would be told it was all a joke. But that didn't happen. So she turned with a swish of her tail and quite promptly stalked back out of the office, slamming the door. Stomped back down the hallway, no longer feeling any sense of oppression from the setting, merely irritation.

Great. Now she had a jail break to plot and initiate. Knowing what she did about the Militia, nothing was going to go as she planned it either. At least she could count on them for maximum destruction.

That thought made her pause a second. Hmmm. Maybe this could be fun afterall. A wicked grin curved her lips. Yes, this might just be very fun.

Assuming they didn't blow her up by accident.

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Author Guidance for This Story

Qrenching my thirst a burst of fresh air red slippery juice a taste thats so rare sunshining in the midle of december i captured your face excuse...

excerpt from apple   by prometheegodoffire