“People underestimate Fluffy, because she is small, like a child. But she is terrifying. If she were truly wronged she could snap and bur- No, I’d rather not think about it. Dal Boze!” ~ Dmitri, conversations from the bar

4

Shin pulled up to their hangar, spraying gravel as he slammed the brakes at the last minute like an angry toddler. He was in an utterly foul mood. The black cloud that hung over Shin’s head could trigger an alert from the local weather station, and his scowl could back off a tax collector.

“Dmitri,” He snarled, “Take the gun and fuck off. I’ll be along in a bit.

“Da,” Dmitri agreed, and off he fucked, carrying the six-foot rectangular crate Shin had bled for like it was a sack of wheat. He was more than happy to give his boss a bit of time alone, especially when he was being this large of an asshole.

Shin turned up his radio, punching up the timeless classic ‘Get Low’ from an artist whose name was lost to time. He opened the glove box, reaching into the back and pulling down a false panel. His fingers found his fake IDs, his passport, and finally, what he was after: his emergency brooding cigarettes a pack of Killer Blow Blacks.

Lighting up with the zippo he kept in his left pocket, he took a deep drag on the oily-looking black cigarette, fingers half crushing the gold-wrapped filter. ‘Who the hell does that old bag think she is?’

He’d told everyone that mattered the story of what he’d done but not the details. That had been too raw. By the time he could talk about it he didn’t see any point in doing so. Now that piece of crap Heckler had rolled through town and stirred shit up again. Now, everyone was going to act like it had just happened yesterday and not ten suffering-filled years ago.

Shin pulled out his GFTS card. The Government Freelance Troubleshooter program was a governmental body that spanned all of the major cities and immediately outlying towns. It acted as a licensing agency, a punitive organization, and an advocate for the necessity of their member's services.

The card itself was made of an almost neon orange aerogel and was as thick as three regular business or ID cards. It was emblazoned with the logo of a snarling wolf or the acronym GFT, and his name and ID number were etched into it in black detail—his legal name, to his consternation, and the number 4815-1623-42.

Flipping the card over to the back, he pressed his thumb to a small black patch, and it obligingly pulled up his current stats.

When he was little, he imagined it was like a video game, that you would level up, gain points, and grow stronger. But the stat sheet was merely a breakdown of a person's physical capabilities, not the gateway to some sort of broken leveling system.

Name: Larry Asado, Alias Shin Asado

Age: 26

Species: Modified Human

Height: 5’9

Type: Mundane, Covert

Membership Status: In good standing, 2 infractions

Strength: D7

Intelligence: D9

Dexterity: C1

Physique: D9

Overall rating upper D-Class

The system ranked performance the same way it would husks, but was more precise since it could gather direct biometric data.

There was a very good reason the Asado family spurned most of the advanced technology or magic, even though he could boost himself up a full rank if he chose to employ either. Acquiring magical or technological improvements later in life wasn’t even uncommon in his family; they built themselves up by mundane means to the greatest extent possible first since the augmentation process improved upon what was already there.

He planned to push himself to his absolute limits before he made any changes. But his progress had been stagnating of late. His only significant gains had been his staying power; he could take the beating of a man twice his size and walk it off—years of learning how to take an ass-kicking and still be able to walk it off had paid off.

He shoved the card back in place, fuming. Today had been one constant parade of aggravation and failure after a row. He had to stoop to taking a pity job, He was working for a psychopath, he was robbed, and the last family member that talked to him had shot him in the foot. And worse, she’d made him hurt his baby.

Everything boiled over at once, and he saw red; he slammed his fist into the dashboard five times in rapid succession and screamed inarticulately into the void. As one does.

He threw his head back onto his chair and muttered “”Sorry, baby,” to his car. He’d be fine, he just needed a half an hour to be dramatic.

Shin was good to his friends, but it was wise to stay scarce when he was in a mood like this. But no one had ever accused Fluffy of being wise. So she made a line straight for his retina-searing car and leaped straight over the top of the door into the passenger seat with a plop.

“Hi, Shin!” She chirped.

Shin turned to regard her with a stormy expression, mask around his neck and a lit cigarette in his mouth. “Fluffy,” he warned, “I love you, but right now, I’m in a mood where I could bite the heads off of one of those two-foot-long centipedes that live under the back deck.”

The slightly sweet grassy smell from the wind coming in off the plains was ruined by the nasty musky smell of Shin’s favorite brand of cigarettes.

“Okay,” She nodded along, “Are you telling me to go away?”

“I’m telling you to go away.”

“Mmm, I guess that's okay. But you have to tell me what happened first.” She held her hands up, triumphantly displaying Captain Morsel in all his long resplendence.

“God damn it, Fluffy. I’m trying to be alone with my thoughts here.” He took Captain Morsel, and set him on his shoulder where he obligingly wound himself around Shin’s neck with the soft whisper of his scaly belly on Shin’s shirt collar.

“You’re pouting.”

“I am not pouting! I’m brooding. It’s different, more dignified.”

Fluffy lifted her left arm as if to look for something underneath it, perhaps some evidence of dignity. Finding none, she glanced around the car. “Are you sure? Because I don’t see any dignity in here, it looks like you’re pouting and smoking those nasty cigarettes again. Didn’t you quit a year ago?”

“Fluffy,” Shin inhaled sharply. I have had a day. I need to smoke this coffin nail, arrange a meeting with Jack, go get our groceries, prepare the John Denver, and take a nap—in that order.”

Fluffy searched his face for a moment, then shook her head. “No.”

“What do you mean no?” Shin demanded, taking another pull on his cigarette.

“I mean, I’m not going away until you tell me what happened,” she insisted, folding her arms across her chest.

Shin tried to stare her down, quiet for a long moment. His green-flecked golden eyes contracted to points as he tried to bore into her own more metallic gold eyes. But Fluffy was one of the most stubborn creatures Shin had ever met when she wanted to be. Eventually, he swore and broke eye contact.

“Do you promise to leave me alone if I tell you what happened?” He asked with a sigh. He rubbed his handsome, special little man under his chin, earning a rumbling purr from the creature.

“Nope,” she said, shaking her head. You’re going to tell me what happened, eat, and then get some sleep while we handle the prep work.”

“Fluffy, we don’t have time for that.” He insisted.

“Spill it,” Fluffy insisted, “Or I’ll have Malis pry it out of you.”

Shin made a face like he’d just sucked a lemon dry. “You wouldn’t dare sick that thirsty hoe.”

“Yeah, I would.” She replied matter of factly.

And so, smoking his insufferable hipster cigarettes that smelled like burnt tires and horse manure, Shin laid out his day. His whole day, was not just the most recent altercation with the irate old bat that shot him in the foot, but even unloading the mugging.

Fluffy listened, nodded where appropriate, and occasionally asked questions to clarify, but she kept him going and prodded him along. At one point, she made him hand over his tablet, unrolled it, and sent a message to Jack for him. He was so emotionally drained that he didn’t even protest; he just stroked the bumpy pickle-like hide of Morsel.

When he was finished, eyes red-rimmed and wheezing slightly from his asthma, he put his mask back on, partially dislodging his friendly scaly scarf. “Like I said, between cannibal cockroaches, biker punks, and family members best left unnamed stirring up shit? It’s been a day.”

“Come on, Shin.” Fluffy opened the door on her side, hopping out. “It’ll all be better when we get some food into you.”

Numbly, Shin followed, locking his car and putting the top up. He followed without protest; after letting everything out, he had no fight left in him.

“It’s not fair, Fluffy,” He told her somewhere along the way. “I’ve spent ten years paying for one horrible mistake. And no matter what I do to earn respect, so I can get jobs that pay you what you deserve, something always comes along and kicks me in the rocks.”

At some point, he sat down in his room, and a mug of thick, hearty MRE soup with enough calories to fatten up a pig was placed in his hand. He didn’t quite remember the whole trip from the car to his room in the John Denver or where Morsel had gone, but couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I know, Shin,” Fluffy told him softly, turning down the lights for him. “People don’t see how hard you work; they just see what they’d rather see because it’s easier than trying to understand what they’re looking at. Or at least that’s what Mom says.”

“Your mom is pretty smart,” Shin replied, sipping his soup. Captain Morsel recoiled at the odor of the soup, then leaned in for a lick of the rim.

“Get some sleep, Shin. We’ve got this.” Fluffy assured him.

“What did I do to deserve a friend as good as you?” Shin asked, genuinely puzzled, Captain Morself walking the top half of his body up his master's head unnoticed.

“I’m not sure,” Fluffy replied with a shrug, then grinned maliciously “But it had to have been in a previous life because you’re kind of a jerk in this one.”

Shin just nodded along, not really hearing her anymore as Fluffy closed the door.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

* * *

The Novapol Group’s transport, the John Denver, was parked under her four-story tall hangar. enjoying the tender, loving care of one of her most fervent supporters.

When Shin started the Novapol group, he bought the hundred-year-old beast from a wrecker. Over the next two years, a big chunk of his earnings paid for repairing it and converting it into a mobile base. Rather than having a stationary center of operations, his team could simply park at rental lots and have their command center with them when they traveled.

She was a modified long-haul cargo vehicle. She had two massive cargo hulls. They were thirty meters long. They were joined at the front center by a pair of arms, the arms were connected to the ship's central lift engine. Slapped on the front of that was the cockpit section. It was a two-story tall armored glass half-bubble with seating for three.

The ship was originally a regular Super Big Rig designed with room for extra crew space. Security for long runs outside of the outer safe zones was absolutely essential; nobody wanted to get robbed by outlaws, ambushed by a pack of angry newt men, or eaten by Husks. So, there was room for two extra hands. Even fringe runners needed supplies and John Denver and her kind kept them well stocked.

At rest, the vessel was shaped like an H, giving the cockpit poor visibility but a smaller silhouette. When in transit, the arms swung the pods out diagonally in a more V-like shape. The cockpit lowered in flight to see underneath as well.

A pair of flexible enclosed walkways linked the two cargo containers to the cockpit. These walkways were tall enough even for Dmitri to pass through without trouble. Each cargo pod had been converted to a mixture of living space, crew facilities, and storage.

After a wild mission, Shin installed two security cells. They kept debtors, runaways, and other violent passengers from being problematic.

Fluffy had hooked the fuel probe up to the ship, which was the limit of her technical expertise. Afterwards she enthusiastically set about pressure washing her while she filled up. She’d spent the last hour and a half washing the road dust off of the old girl. She'd had to start from the scaffolding level to ensure she didn’t have to deal with ‘the dripping nasties'. When you start from the bottom, dirt from the top could run down and ruin your work.

She'd sent the others into town with a list of supplies to buy. Judging from the sound of crunching gravel on the other side of the aluminum wall of the hangar? They’d just returned.

She was wearing a dirty, soaking-wet gray T-shirt over a sports bra and jeans cut to fit her large, fuzzy bottom. Honesty Virtue—Fluffy Cake—smiled up at the ugly ship. She looked a little bit like a drowned rat.

The tiny woman placed her hand on her hips, nodding in satisfaction at a job well done.

“She’s just as enchanting as ever,” Malis announced. Her heavy boot steps announcing her presence before her character assassination of their trusty vessel.

“Hey, now!” Fluffy replied in mock pearl-clutching outrage, “All girls are beautiful, and John Denver is no exception.”

“Onyo koidish,” Terimalis said dismissively, roughly translated as 'whatever you say.' She walked past Fluffy while carrying an absurdly large armful of groceries. “lower the ramp, little bug.”

“Not a bug,” Fluffy countered, taking a fob from her pocket. “Cute as a bug's ear, sure. But still not a bug.”

Terimalis simply looked at her, expectantly.

“Maybe you should have stayed with the circus, instead,” Fluffy suggested.

Terimalis let one of the bags of groceries hit Fluffy in the side of the head.

“Oww! Hey!” Fluffy stepped back, rubbing the spot the bag had banged into her. “That’s not how you treat an employee with seniority.”

“I must digress,” Malis countered. “That’s how I treat everyone who keeps me burdened with bags of bananas and buttermilk.”

“And that’s why nobody likes Dokkleshee,” Dmitri declared. He pushed up beside them with a large cart loaded with the rest of the supplies, mostly canned goods.

“Don’t be ludicrous, everyone loves us,” Terimalis countered. “They must henceforth let us into their hearts.”

The ramp reached the ground with an audible clunk, and Terimalis wasted no time marching up into the cargo hold.

“Hmph, I think she means people need to let them into their pants,” Dmitri suggested with a grin.

“Gross, Dmitri,” Fluffy said, voice quavering in disgust. “Thank you for making me think of Malis taking their pants off. Probably forever.”

Dmitri simply laughed and pushed his load up the ramp after the departed engineer.

Fluffy examined her work one more time before closing the ramp after them. She turned to depart, heading up the sidewalk towards their rented office two blocks up the street. To her surprise, a lone figure occupied the driveway of the office. They leaned on a parked car, trying to look aloof and failing miserably.

Fluffy sighed. She had known this was coming as soon as they made a supply run to town. It was very probable someone else had been tipped off that they had money. 'Had' was the key word, and she dreaded dealing with the people from whom they owed money. But talking with surly collectors was inevitable when Shin was indisposed.

“Nice little haul you got from the trade authority,” the tall man with limp, greasy black hair said, stroking his unshaven chin.

“Hello, Pavel,” Fluffy deadpanned as she trudged up to him. It's good to see you.”

If there was anyone she was not expecting to see today, it was Pavel Plavsky, the town's only oral surgeon. A man whose name was far too alliterative for Fluffy’s tastes. Malis found him delightful for the same reason.

She knew Shin had taken a small loan from the man, but she would have expected angry letters rather than pulling up to their hangar. Dentists weren’t known for their rash decisions.

“I’d say it’s good to see you too, but I find myself too puzzled to appreciate your company.”

“Puzzled?” Fluffy raised an eyebrow.

Being adopted and raised by a human had made interpreting human turns of phrase easier for Fluffy. But unless she knew someone well, it was hard for her to tell if they were being literal or whimsical. Especially since she’d essentially been feral beforehand,

She’d only ever met two other of her people - The Noctulum - and they’d seemed to be even worse at it than she was. Not to mention a little bit… Crazy.

“I look at all that food, and I think… ‘Huh, that’s funny, Shin has money for all those groceries and no money for paying his debts.’ But that can’t be right, can it?” He glared at Fluffy.

“We only received half of a payment for a job,” Fluffy replied, carefully reciting the script Shin had given her. “All debts have been addressed in order of accrual. We reserved only mission funds, with the remainder to be completed within two and a half weeks.”

Fluffy was not stupid, but that string of words had an impressively large number of syllables from her.

“Is that so,” Pavel asked, glowering down at Fluffy.

“Yep!” She said, smiling cheerfully. She made herself genuinely feel the cheer by imagining him going away with that explanation, and maybe dying in a fire.

“I don’t think that’s going to be good enough,” Pavel's hand strayed towards a pocket, “I know that slick-talking whoreson has something set aside for a rainy day.”

“It looks pretty sunny out today, though, don’t you think? I can let him know you dropped by and pass along a message, if you like.”

That’s when the gun came out. He pulled a standard, clip-fed slug-thrower from his pocket. Its make was indeterminate. It was freshly oiled and had probably never been used. “I’ve got a better idea.”

“I'm pretty sure you don’t,” Fluffy’s smile grew. Her mouth opened in a grin to reveal her shark-like teeth. The smile was intended cheerfully but came across as murderous. “We don’t have anything to pay you with right now. I’d be happy to make you a cup of tea while we wait for Shin to wake up from his nap and explain it himself.”

“Or,” he countered. “You can come with me, and we’ll see if he feels like coughing up my money when I send him one of his girl's cute little toes in a box.”

Fluffy’s smile evaporated. Her toes were cute; he was right about that. But the direction the conversation was going was decidedly not. And she and Shin were not a thing.

"Pavel," Fluffy said, making a horrified and disgusted face after a few connections formed in her brain. You're a dentist. You could have threatened to pull out my teeth. That would have been awful enough, but you went right to toes?!”

Pavel lifted the gun, thumbing off the safety, his face turning red, “You think you’re cute?!” He snarled.

“Yes?” She asked, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

Pavel aimed to the side and shot a round into the walkway. Fluffy flinched slightly, only because a piece of shrapnel clipped one of her ears.

“Get in the car.” He hissed.

Fluffy narrowed her eyes. “No.”

“What do you mean no?!” Pavel clenched.

“It’s a reply to a request or demand,” Fluffy explained. She used and heard the word so often she assumed it was universally understood. “A response in the negative?”

Fluffy had been isolated for a very long time during her formative years. As such, she'd never learned to identify the rhetorical nature of some questions.

“I know what no means,” He hissed, and shook with fury, “But why do you think you have a choice?”

“Because I’m more dangerous than that gun,” Fluffy said, slowly shaking her head. “You’d need to get the drop on me for that to work.

“I know you’re one of those transforming freaks,” He sneered. “As long as I don’t give you time to do that stupid Henshift thing you’re just an ordinary kid.”

“First of all, the word is Henshin. It’s classy and beautiful, like me,” She tapped her breast bone, “And second, I don’t need to transform to do magic, it just makes .”

“Last chance.” Pavel sighted her center of mass, then down towards her legs for a less lethal shot.

“It sure was,” Fluffy said irritably. She snapped her fingers and then held her hand upraised with fingers curled. The action summoned a ball of ruby-red flame the size of a small dog, the shockwave of its igniting blowing her hair around like it was caught in a tornado, and instantly drying her clothes.

Pavel stared in shock, too stunned to speak. Not many people this far to the south knew what Fluffy’s species even was or how dangerous they could be. Only about a dozen people knew she was a genuine Soul Brand on top of that. And most people were too stupid to understand an unsubstantiated human with a gun was no threat to one.

Fluffy started to breathe hard, but not in exhaustion; she was getting annoyed and started to wring her hands. “If you’re done being a horse’s patoot, I’ll still make you that cup of-”

Pavel dove for his gun, grabbed it, and began firing wildly in a desperate panic. Anyone who had never seen combat magic in person usually freaked out a little, so this was understandable.

The hail of bullets were sucked into the fireball where they were vaporized by the burning singularity with a loud hiss.

When he clicked on empty, she shook out her cramped fingers and blustered. “For a dentist, you’re… You’re a very rude man,” she chided, wrinkling her nose. “Are-are you at least done with your piss baby temper tantrum?!” She then cringed at her crude use of language.

Pavel desperately fumbled at a pocket while he ejected the clip from his weapon.

“No, of course not.” Fluffy sighed and snapped her fingers again. A spark shot from between her thumb and index finger and struck Pavel’s gun like a miniature comet.

Pavel screamed as his gun turned red hot. It burned his hand with a sizzle Fluffy could hear from twenty feet away. He fell to the ground, desperately bashing his hand on the ground until the gun was dislodged. A few charred bits of Pavel's hand were still stuck to the gun.

“Ugh, gross,” Fluffy’s face screwed up in nausea, “I gave you a chance, mister.”

“King’s balls, Fluffy,” Dmitri said. He approached from the side, having kept his distance from the fireworks he knew were coming. “He’s the only dentist in town! Where am I supposed to take my little one for her braces?!”

Fluffy shook herself like a wet dog, a small cloud of ashes dislodging from her hair. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking about your teeth.”

“Obviously not. What do you want me to do with this asshole?” He looked over Fluffy’s shoulder and gestured an all-clear.

Fluffy dusted the soot off of her hands, making a face as she frantically scrubbed. “Take his dumb butt to the emergency room, I don’t think he’s going to bother us again today.

“You could have just waited for us to arrive and administer justice,” Terimalis suggested. She took in Pavel as the burly man loaded him into the back seat of his car.

“She’s a little monster!” Pavel screamed petulantly from the back seat of his car. His rant was cut off when Dmitri wheeled the vehicle around and gunned it for the local hospital.

“Yeah, I probably could have,” Fluffy agreed, “But he was talking about doing creepy things to my feet.”

Termilas made a sound halfway between a gag and a sigh “Perhaps that is for the best; I’d have just shot him in his own felonious foot.”

“This is why Shin wants to leave tonight,” Fluffy wiped her sooty hands on her hips. “We paid everyone we could without going broke. But a few people further down the list must have heard we’d started paying out. And they’re getting a little…” Fluffy screwed up her expression trying to find the right word.

“Thirsty for the watery blood of the willful Asado clan scion?” Terimalis suggested.

“Grumpy,” Fluffy corrected.

“Gratuitously grumpy.” Terimalis agreed noncommittally.

“I think we need to leave as soon as Shin wakes up,” Fluffy suggested. “Or someone who’s actually dangerous will come looking for trouble.”

“I’ll go artfully arouse Shin,” she suggested.

“Maybe don’t phrase it that way.”

“You know,” Terimalis steepled her fingers. “For a moment there, you looked pretty cool and collected instead of like a small pink preteen,” she admitted.

“Thanks, I think?”

“Kind of like a large, angry bug. Ablaze.”

“Malis?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”