To Burn or Not to Burn





Chapter 1:   Guess Who?





This story was inspired by a post I saw of various furries undergoing inanimate transformations. Before I begin, I would like to state that, aside from the original inspiration, this work is completely original. Any and all reposts, spin-offs, and edits, will be done with my permission only. NO EXCEPTIONS!




Taylor is headed home from a long day at work. She is a happy twenty year old vixen. Beautiful to the pickiest of men, and competition for the curviest model, she is kind, thoughtful, and generous. She has never raised her hand against another save in competition, self-defense, or demonstration. She is a MMA Master, a licensed gunslinger, and can operate just about anything with an engine. But alas, she is about to be history. A masked individual stalks her, and despite his size makes no sound. Taylor notices this person. She makes it to her door, planning to whip inside and lock the entrance, but as she brings her key out, she hears a hiss, and feels a sting. The last thing she sees is a hulking figure stooping over her, laughing, reveling in her helplessness. Mercifully she loses consciousness. On January 8th, 2015, the CIA gets an update on a long cold case. The Eraser is back.

        Bill was furious, after two years of loyal service he was being suspended, pending an investigation of a fight. He was also being sent to anger management classes. The tall gryphon had only been defending himself from a drunken associate, he had never been in a fight before, and was a level-headed, calm man. He stomped toward the company therapist's office in a foul mood, an extremely fit twenty-three year old, Bill is the man for any kind of heavy lifting, and he's interning at an engineering company to gain credit for a degree in civil engineering. He is an animated person, but he wasn't a walking atomic bomb. He sighs and opens the door to the therapist's office. He sees a flash of light, and hears the hiss of escaping of escaping gas. Before he can react, he's lifted off his feet, and thrown to the floor. Stunned hurting, the world begins to spin, as everything goes dark. The therapist reports being assaulted by a masked female moments before his session with Bill Gryphon was to begin. The company filed a missing person(s) report. On April 3rd, the CIA added another victim to The Eraser's tally.

The falcon stands with a completely empty look on his face; he reacts to nothing. He does not react to even the most extreme levels of pain, humiliation, or humor. Nothing gets a reaction out of him. It's as if Rob Falcon is out, and the answering machine unplugged. A hooded figure stands before him, behind a one-way mirror, and sighs. He looks at his son and begins to weep, as he has so many times before. He weeps not only because his son has been taken away from him, but because there is no known way to reverse what Eraser did to him. Rob is an average guy, or at least he was. He was an office worker, climbing the corporate ladder of Textiles Panorama Inc. But now he's gone. His father didn't know who to turn to now, no one had been able to help. Then he heard of a fox. A fox named Peter Right, Mr. Falcon's last hope. The FBI informed Mr. Quarrel Falcon that Peter was a special agent, and he was the contactor, not the contacted. The Bureau warned Mr. Falcon that, once Right was involved, there was turning back; he would have to follow the Red Fox until the end. But Quarrel didn't care; he just wanted his son back.

Peter sat in the President's office; the human was methodically reading a report. Peter thought to himself, "Why do I even bother?"
Upon hearing a yawn from his subordinate, the President looked up suspiciously, "You're not listening to a word I'm saying, are you?" he asked. "It's not that sir; I read the brief beforehand, sir." Peter responds. The President huffs, and skips to Case File S-U #54 Section: New Developments. He grumbles under his breath and glances at the strange man sitting before him. He proceeds to read the following.

Investigation S-U #54-A
STATUS: On-going
Unsub #501 aka "The Eraser" is suspected of abducting two more victims. Taylor Fox, and Rob Gryphon, she is described as a female completely covered in clothing. Investigation A is attempting to determine the nature, full limits, and reversal of the technology utilized by Unsub #501, as related to subject Rob Falcon. Progress has not been made, other to determine the effects and extent of said technology's use. Peter Right is asked to assist the investigation, while performing his own.


Investigation S-U #54-B
STATUS: On-going
Unsub #501 is currently unknown. Investigation B is attempting to determine what, who, and where #501 has been, and where she likely to strike next. Unsub #501 is currently the FBI's most wanted.

Investigation S-U #54-C
STATUS: Operation Briefing
Special Agent Peter Right is assigned, by Presidential appointment, to this investigation. Agent Right is to follow any and all leads related to Unsub #501. His mission is to kill or capture this criminal. Failure is not an option. Agent Right is only authorized to disclose information as the President dictates.
END REPORT

The President looks directly into Right's eyes. He sees that the fox is contemplating something. He finally speaks, "Mr. President, what are your orders?" The President had decided on an answer the previous night. "You will disclose as you see fit, but you must not reveal more than is absolutely necessary. Use extreme caution."
"Yes, sir."

Two weeks later Special Agent Peter Right found himself clambering into a taxi driven by Agent Romonov, who was to be Peter's handler, and be assisting Peter throughout the investigation. Romonov smiles, "You look like hammered shit." Peter grunts and says, "You would too, if you haven't had a full night's sleep in two weeks." Romonov nods. "Well, this is just the first stop. I'm going to take you just outside of NYC to the house of Taylor Fox." Peter nodded, and the taxi drove off.

After two hours , at 10 A.M., an unassuming brown Ford Mustang stopped in front of an unassuming house, the mortgage of which was being covered by the Bureau. Peter walked to the front door, and noted the neglected state of the doorstep, leaning closer he saw that no one had been on the property since January. "Must be disconcerting for the neighbors," he remarks to the empty doorway. Peter pulls a LockSmith 3000 out of his coat, and proceeds to open Taylor's front door. The first thing he notices is the dust. He steps in and dons disposable gloves, as well as a surgical mask. He begins building an image of Taylor in his head, after he and Romonov finished cleaning it. He noted the organization of the house, and how each room had been furnished for a specific purpose. The living room was the entertainment hub of the house. It contained one three seat couch, and two recliners. A TV dominated one wall with the couches facing it, and a mid-line 2014 surround system had been installed. Just behind the TV was a hallway, the first door on the left was a computer room. Peter was impressed by how well the vixen had been able to keep the wires from tangling. He booted up the computer, and was greeted by a screen message.

(If you're reading this, then I have been abducted. For the past three weeks, a large person has been watching my house. I have been unable to convince the authorities of the danger this person poses to me. To protect my identity, I have password locked the computer, search my closet for a silver key, then locate the safe within the play.)

Peter continued down the hall, while Romonov searched the kitchen. He quickly found her room, as it was the only one with a bed. He opened her closet, and nearly fainted. Two jaw-dropping vixens were staring at him. The left vixen was clothed in slightly provocative business apparel; she wore a dark blue band in her flowing sea of brunette locks. Her jacket was gray with a white button down underneath, the cut accented her DD breasts. The right one was standing there "in the fur". Peter waited 'til his heart slowed before examining the right one. He memorized every inch of the vixen, noting her red-orange overcoat, and cream white undercoat, he lost himself in her crystal blue eyes, and tasted dark chocolate as he examined her brunette curles. He was a dark red, and light tan with dirty blonde hair. After memorizing her features, he began to comb through her closet, as thoroughly as possible.
Romonov swooned when he saw the sexy babes hanging on the closet's door. He too had read the message, and since his partner was looking for the key, he would look for the safe.
About fifteen minutes later, both agents had found what they were looking for. Peter unlocked the safe, and found an agent's best friend. Every item inside the safe was proof, standing alone, of the vixen's identity. There was also a stack of backup disks for her computer, and a note.
The note reads:
"Dear Investigator:
Within the confines of this safe, you will find everything you need to determine who I am. The password for my computer is *************. I pray that you will be able save me."
That night, in a local restaurant, Peter asked Romonov, "Where's the next stop?"
"Pittsburg."
"That's not too far."
At that moment, Quarrel entered the restaurant, he took one look at the fox and human sharing a table, enjoying their meal, and likely discussing a case, and he immediately knew what they were. He greeted them as he approached, "Are you two agents following up on a recent disappearance?"
Peter responded without skipping a beat, "Yes we are, and who are you?"
"I am Rob Falcon's father, my son was a victim of The Eraser, and he was the first that Eraser erased." The older male said this with a doom-ridden shadow on his face. He looked at Agent Right, and a solitary tear rolled down his cheek. Peter was taken aback by this bird's actions, never had someone approached needing help; he always found them. Romonov spoke up, "Mr. Falcon, I see you need help, but have you tried everything else?" Quarrel nodded emphatically.
Romonov glanced at Peter for approval. Right nodded.
Romonov whispers to the desperate man, "We will help." Falcon perked up, and asked, "Why the furtive whisper my friend?" It was Peter who answered.
"Because, I have 'special' abilities, that are extremely rare, one of them is the ability to sense the intention of someone nearby."
"You've been reading me this whole time?"
"Yes."
"What's our first move, now that we have a victim's father to help us?" Romonov asked.
"We initiate him." Peter responded ominously.