u/CreditMission

Products for Predators - side stories (2/2)

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Part 3

An aged Venlil lay in bed, the sheets drawn tight around his frail form. His once soot-black wool had faded to a smoky grey, thinning in places he would rather it not. Still, he refused to grow it out to hide it. He had worn a short coat all his life. A matter of pride, of discipline, and of camaraderie among those who bore the flamer. 

Time had bowed him. His knees worn to a stubborn ache, his back permanently bent from cycles hauling fuel through smoke and cinder. Still, it was a mark of pride which he carried without complaint. 

He had protected the herd.

Or so he had believed.

As flame turned to ash, so time pressed ever forward, threatening to leave everything behind.
The world had changed, or so he had heard. Predators as allies. Predators in the streets.
In schools with the pups. In hospitals with the weak and dying.

Sacrilege.

An affront to the herd and its safety.

He would have spat in contempt, had his mouth not been so dry.

But his outrage found no audience. His service earned no encore. His day had waned, with only the night awaiting him.
So here he lay, his fire slowly fading.

He had nothing left to lose. 

And with that, a final ember stirred in his heart.

There was a program for those in his position. With a simple request, he could summon one of these esteemed predators into his room. The thought sent a shock of fear down his tail. He was defenceless. But he stilled himself. 

He had made a living of placing himself between danger and the herd. Even if his fears were realised, it would be a noble death. 

There came a knock at the door.
His ears pricked at the sound, his heart skipping. On reflex his eyes searched for a weapon, but found nothing. This was a hospital room after all. 

He took a breath, stilling his trembling paws in his lap, and beckoned the Human in.

They entered slowly.
Tall and lanky, with a short tuft of sandy hair above a featureless, mirrored visor; and a shirt painted with colours reminiscent of a wild field of the dusk.

“Good paw, my name is Jonathan. How are you feeling today?” 

Despite his expression being indiscernible, his gaze seemed to focus for a moment on the table to the Venlil’s side, and the prestige medal displayed upon it. 

The Venlil let out a satisfied huff.

“Over fifty cycles in the service,” he whistled, paw reaching to caress the cold metal. “In the day and the night. Against shade stalkers and kelach.” 
He drew in a wheezing breath, puffing himself up before gesturing at the predator's face. “You don’t need that thing.”

Reflections danced across the mirrored visor as Jonathan nodded, his hands moving to unclip it. He sat down before removing it fully, angling his gaze just to the left of the Venlil in bed.  

“First exterminator to summon you, huh?” the Venlil chuckled. 

“No,” Jonathan replied, placing the shield in his lap. “I’m happy to talk, that’s why I’m here. But I will leave if you become abusive.”

“Hmph,” the Venlil dismissed him with a flick of his ear. “I’m not so undisciplined.”

Jonathan smiled softly, keeping his mouth closed tight.
“Then we will have a pleasant time.”

The Venlil studied his new guest. Angular nose, small mouth, blue eyes. Not dissimilar to those he had seen on the news. But this one was closer.

“You can look directly at me,” the Venlil prompted. 
Jonathan complied, slowly shifting his gaze to meet him.

“Obedient, aren’t you?” the Venlil whistled.

The Human’s shoulders shook with a chuckle.

“And you’re quite commanding. I can see how you got the medal.”

The Venlil’s ears pricked up at the unexpected praise.

“Silver tongue too. I see how you managed to turn that dumb pup, Tarva.”

Jonathan shrugged.

“That’s just our ambassador. They’re trained for that, I think. Don’t expect so much from me.”

“Hmph.” The Venlil sank into bed, though he kept his favoured eye fixed on his guest.

“Why are you doing this? Why did you come here?” he asked.

“You asked for me.” 

The Venlil flicked his ear in irritation.

“That's not what I meant, predator.”

The Human smiled softly. 

“My name is Jonathan. And may I ask yours?”

The Venlil stared for a moment.

“Kichek.”

“Well, Kichek.” Jonathan leaned back. “To answer your question. I like talking to people like you.”

“You desire to be around death?”

“I- hm… I don't.” The Human ran his hand through his hair, gaze drifting. “I think I need to make peace with it though. It’s been all too close lately.”

“Closer to some than others,” the Venlil chuckled.

“Yes.” Jonathan smiled softly at Kichek. “How do you feel about that?”

The Venlil’s ears rotated as he thought.

“I have used my life well, so I have no regrets.” He flicked his ears forwards emphatically. “Though I fear for my people. They’re stumbling into the night.”

“Because of us?” Jonathan asked softly.

“You predators…” The Venlil scratched at his arm where his fur had failed. “I cannot deny that you are unexpected. You’re not the monster I know. You build a society. You enter into ours.”

His eyes hardened. 

“That makes you worse.” 

“Because we’ll get hungry?” 

“You’ll make us weak.”

Jonathan snorted a laugh, earning a glare from Kichek. 

“Sorry,” he said, covering his mouth. “I don’t think we’re capable of that.”

“You don’t know the damage you are doing,” the Venlil said, measured. “That, at least, is familiar.”

Jonathan’s smile faded.

“You think we are harming you?”

“I know you are.” The Venlil didn’t blink, his eyes fixed on his guest.

“How?” Jonathan lowered his voice, matching Kichek’s tone.

Kichek took a weary breath.

“I’ve heard the news. Our planet. Once called Skalga.” He whistled a shallow laugh. 
“Fitting. We live in hostile lands. A concept I’m sure you understand."

“That is a pretty metal name,” Jonathan agreed. “And yeah, I know the weather gets a bit nasty further from the ring.”

“Not just the climate. There are monsters that hunt, both here and in space. Infection within us that disrupt the herd. We know the threats.”

His voice strengthened.

“And we know what happens when we fail to stand against them.”

He fixed Jonathan with a steely eye. 

“But now, everything is second guessed. You come here, and force us to dismantle that which kept us safe for millenia.”

His claws pressed into his palm. 
“You, who welcomed the very Arxur into your homes, have the gall to lecture us on what we should do.” 

His voice dropped.

“And worst of all, the foolish pups listen.”

Kichek looked at his paws, noticing the marks his claws had left. He drew in a careful breath, then slowly flexed them open.
  
Jonathan nodded slowly.

“It’s a frightening thing,” he said quietly.

Kichek’s ears twitched.

“Dark times ahead,” he flicked them forward.

“Hm.” The corners of Jonathan’s mouth lifted slightly. “I’m less sure about that.”

“Hmph,” Kichek huffed. “No surprise there.”

Jonathan turned his hands over in his lap, thinking. 

“I do understand where you’re coming from,” he said after a moment. “Fearing taint and all that.”

Kichek’s ears angled towards him.

“Oh? And what do you fear, predator? You speak of taint as if you don't wallow in it.”

Jonathan gave a quiet huff of amusement.

“Believe it or not, I used to think we did. That we were…fallen. Corrupted. Bound for fire.”

Kichek leaned forward, ears pricking

“So you, too, believed you should be purged.”

“Not quite.” Jonathan shook his head. “We thought we deserved it.

He paused, scratching lightly at his hair. 

“But we also believed we were redeemed. The cost of our taint already paid.”

Kichek’s ears flicked forward with certainty.
“With blood, no doubt.”

Jonathan winced.

“Yeah… at first. That’s how it was. A life for a life. Justice or something like it.”

He let out a short breath.

“Then it…uh…escalated into God sacrificing himself. Or his son. Depends on how you look at it.”

Kichek let out a dry, choked laugh. 

“The hubris of predators. Sacrificing your own gods to save yourselves.” 

“It made sense in context,” Jonathan said, defensively. Then shook his head. “But that's not the point. 

The Venlil sank back into his pillows, faintly amused. 

“I expected you to argue your merits, Human.”

His tail swayed faintly on the bed.

“Not confess your depravity.”

Jonathan rubbed his temples.

“I’m not trying to convince you,” he said. “I’m trying to show you I get it.”

He glanced up.

“We even referred to ourselves as a herd. Sheep, in our case.”

Kichek’s ears tilted in suspicion. 

“So, are you going to claim you protected the herd as well?” He huffed. “That’s almost insulting.”

“In a way, yeah.” Jonathan shrugged. “And it was important to keep the herd not only safe, but on the right path. The world was dangerous. Against us. Full of things that would lead us astray… leave us vulnerable.”

Jonathan hesitated.

“I was afraid that if we accepted the wrong people. Relaxed our standards. Or tolerated taint. We’d fall. And everything would be lost.”

He let out a long breath, before meeting Kichek’s eye.

“Does that sound familiar?”

Kichek’s ears held forward in thought. 
“You speak of maintaining purity,” he asked. 

“And I speak of rejecting those who would behave…improperly.” Jonathan replied. “Those who become a stumbling block.”

Kichek shifted, bracing his paw against the bedding. 

“That is where we differ, Human.”
His voice roughened. 

“You reject those who do not follow your…principles.”

And his eyes hardened. 
“I remove those who pose a threat.”

His claws pressed into the sheets.

“I ensure the herd remains strong. Unhesitating when danger stands before it.”

He fixed his gaze on Jonathan.

“That is what defines us. And why you being here is a mistake.“

Jonathan nodded softly.

“Because we threaten your unity?”

“Because you teach hesitation.” Kichek cut in. 
His ears locked forward.

“It was never about purity. It’s about recognition.”

He leaned towards Jonathan.
“When the herd can no longer identify the predator in front of their very snout…”

He paused, drawing in a strained breath.

“Even if we accept you Humans, ignore what you are. What do you think happens when the next one comes?”

His gaze burned into Jonathan.
“And they don’t know what to do.”

Jonathan’s gaze dropped briefly to his shoes.

“You guys are truly primed for action, huh,” he mumbled, before looking back up.

A faint smile tugged at his mouth. 

“I have been saved twice by Venlil, you know?” 
He sat up straighter.
“The first was Tarva. You’re surely aware of that.”

“I’d rather she hadn’t.” Kichek grumbled.

“I’d gathered that,” Jonathan chuckled. “But we are here because of her.”

“The second was after. When I had no herd, no purpose. Having just watched my planet get bombed, a second Venlil did not hesitate either. She saw I was in trouble and pulled me to her side. And I’ll tell you something.”
He leaned forward.

“She was someone who I think both of us would have written off as tainted beyond reproach.” He gave a short breath of a laugh.
 “At least I would have before.”

“Predator diseased?” Kichek offered.

“I’m not going to answer that,” he said, lifting his gaze. 

“All I’ll say is this. I thought that people like her would be selfish. Weak. Lacking in morals. Lacking in drive. And I can almost guarantee you wouldn’t like her.”

His tone softened slightly.
“But I was in trouble, and she acted. No hesitation.”

His eyes flicked to the medal, and then back to Kichek.
“You know how hard your people fought. You’ve seen what they can do.” 

“Against our long-term allies,” Kichek rebutted.

“But fierce,” Jonathan replied. “All the same.” 

He exhaled.
“You’ve seen the news. The Federation fall. The Arxur retreat. The Venlil lead. That’s your herd, Kichek.”
He leaned forward.

“And I know for a fact there’s a woman out there who would be the first to step into danger if it meant protecting it.”

His grin returned.

“And I know there are many more like her.”

“Diseased for sure,” Kichek chuffed.

“She might actually take pride in that now.” Jonathan replied. 
“She actually works with rescues from those facilities. And by God, she will fight like all hell should you threaten them.”

Kichek studied the sheets on his bed, then slowly raised his gaze again. 

“I don't trust you.”

“I'm not asking you to trust me.”

Jonathan leaned back in his chair. 

“But don't doubt your people, if you don't mind. I can assure you, the herd is in safe paws. Just as strong as yours.”

“Hmph,” Kichek deflated into his bed. “We shall see.”

“Be at peace, Kichek.”

The room descended into silence. After a long moment Kichek released a tired sigh.

“You may leave, Jonathan.” His eyes narrowed, suddenly weary. “Thank you for visiting me.”

“Any time, Kichek.”

“We won't see each other again,” the Venlil said firmly. “Once is quite enough.”

“Fair. It has been a pleasure to speak with you.” Jonathan stood up, replacing his visor. “I wish you all the best.”

The aged Venlil once again flicked his ears in acknowledgment, before turning away, wrapping the sheets tightly around himself as the Human left.

_________________

Part 4

Tedium.

A black-wooled Venlil sat at a desk, two pads splayed next to a keyboard and screen, her ears tilted forward in forced concentration. Her tail flicked with irritation as she continued to read.

Tone deaf.

“Ugh…” she groaned. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

On one pad she had the website of a local school as she scrolled through its mission statements. Then the staff. The map. The statement again. 

It read as inclusive, making special effort to mention its willingness to accept Human, Gojid, and Krakotyl students — pending interview. 

They were trying. She could see that. 
In their own way, they were trying. 

Then she flicked to their application.

>Good paw.

>We respect your mission in aiding both predators and the recently released diseased, and would like to offer our assistance. In response to the request for community outreach programs, we submit our services as an educational facility. 

>While it is imperative that your residents are welcomed into the herd as they enter society, it is also true that, due to a variety of factors, they may lack certain standards of social etiquette that may serve as a bur in the wool during integration.

>We have staff and facilities dedicated to herd building behaviour and offer these freely for your consideration.

>Please contact us to discuss further.
Thank you,

>Bekril
Principal of Val-5 foundational school

Her paws massaged her crown; dull claws digging into her scalp as she took a deep breath.

With a resolute flick of her ears, she moved her paws to the keyboard.

>Dear Principal Bekril,

>Thank you for your interest in supporting our community integration program.

>At this time, we are managing psychological and social therapy in-house and are not seeking external partners for this area of care. 

>However, we are interested in opportunities that allow our residents to engage with the local community in a supportive, non-corrective capacity. For example: 
- Classes accommodating the specific needs of our residents.
- Music and art nights.
- Volunteer opportunities.

>Great emphasis is placed on involving our residents as they are, and supporting them as they rejoin the herd at their own pace. For further resources, I recommend **The Grafted Tree Project**, a charity that specialises in reintegration support and may be able to provide additional guidance. 

>Again, thank you for your inquiry, it is greatly appreciated. I would be happy to discuss future partnership opportunities should your institution wish to explore alternative forms of community engagement. 

>Kind regards,
Salva
Community Outreach Coordinator
Val-5 Center of Refuge and Rehabilitation. 

She reread it for a fourth time, confident she had removed the venom from the previous drafts.

Professional.
Polite.

With a weary flick of satisfaction, she clicked Send, then opened up the next offer.

Unpaid internships for the recently released to build skills and contribute to the herd

“Get Brahked!” she swore at her screen. 

Realising she had typed that into the reply, she let out a heavy sigh, hitting backspace.

>Dear, Speh-for-brains.

…Yeah. Break time. 

Looking at the clock, it was almost the end of her shift. Stretching her paws, she walked to the vending machine near the foyer door and tapped her pad to it. She punched at the screen until, with a clunk, a can of sprunk dropped into the receptacle, and then quickly, into her paw.

“Just [12 more minutes],” she sighed, resting the cool can against her cheek. “Then fun time… I can do one more.”

Taking another sip, she meandered back towards the reception desk where she was set up. Just as she was about to collapse into the chair, the elevator door slid open. A tan Venlil exited, flicking his tail in muted greeting. 

“Come to enjoy my suffering, Tavrik,” she groaned, returning it.

“Umm…” he eyed her set up, his tail briefly touching his own leg, before being forced into neutral. “I was hoping you’d come with me to check on a resident.” His ears flattened slightly at the request.

“Fuck yes!” She shoved off her chair, sending it slamming under the desk. Within seconds, her computer was logged off, and pads stowed in the drawer.
Head tilted back, she emptied the can before throwing it in the bin.

“I am going insane,” she whistled, a little more pep in her step.

“I don’t like the idea of you getting worse,” Tavrik quipped, a slight smirk to his lip.

“Well, I appreciate the rescue.” She tapped his tail with her own.  “Though we gotta be quick. I got plans.” 

“Going out?” he asked.

“No. Shooting.”

“Oh…” an ear flicked in mock irritation. “Don’t get us raided.”

“Brahk, Tavrik. That was one time. You can drop it now.”

“Or nearly kill someone,” he whistled.

“Brahk, Tavrik. That was one time,” she complained back. 
“...Okay, twice… Stars, Gojid are fragile. So, what's the problem?”

His ears flattened again.
“A Venlil, Parva. Former facility inmate. Hasn’t been seen by anyone in a paw.”

Her ears flattened as well.
“That’s not good. They haven’t left?”

His ears flicked back.
“No one saw him go. Just need to check his apartment first. Though he didn’t respond to the bell.”

“Well, shid. I had plans, Tavrik!”

“I can get someone else. Or I can just take over if he’s…you know. I just don’t want to find him by myself.”

She pulled out her pad and opened the message app.

>S: Might be held up. Bring the green bag by the kitchen counter. Don’t look inside.

“I’m with you.” She groaned. “Hopefully just asleep, right?”

“Right.”

It wasn’t long before they stood before a door in a dim hallway, the door whistle sounding from within.

But no answer.

She rapped her knuckles against the door. 

“Hey Parva! It’s Salva and Tavrik from reception. Are you okay?”

She pressed her ear against the door, but heard nothing.

“If you don’t answer, we’re going to come in and check on you, alright?”

Again she heard nothing.

She looked at Tavrik, dipping her ears.

“Here we go, I guess.”

She tapped her pad against the door lock, causing it to flash up a message.

>> This is a private residence. All access is strictly monitored.
> Reason for entry: 

From a drop down menu, she selected: “Emergency - Welfare check”.

The pad flashed again, requesting her paw print, which she gave.

The door clicked as it unlocked.

Pushing the door open, they were greeted by a dark apartment with only slivers of light cutting through the blind.

“Hey, Parva!” Tavrik called out, moving towards the bedroom.

Salva approached the bathroom door, giving it a knock.

“Hey, Parva. I’m coming in, okay.”

She didn’t wait, opening the door.

In the bath was a soggy form of a grey Venlil, still, mouth just above the water.

“Brahk! Tavrik! Bathroom!” she shouted, seeing the Venlil's ears flinch at her voice.

“Hey, Parva. Sorry to interrupt, but we haven’t seen you in a while. Are you having a nice bath?” She moved towards him, crouching down. The water was cloudy, but thankfully held no trace of orange.

Tavrik arrived at the door, sighing a query with his tail. She signaled calm.

The sodden Venlil looked at her with a glassy eye.

“I…don’t want to go back… I’m scared.”

Salva gently gripped his shoulder.

“That’s okay, Parva, you ain’t going anywhere. Did you take any medicine recently?”

He turned to face her slightly.

“Just the…tablets…on the kitchen table.”

Tavrik left immediately.

“How many? More than usual?”

His ears flopped back.
“No… just one this paw. They said they’d make me feel better. But I was scared. I don’t like medicine.”

He began to shake. Salva moved a paw to support his face above the water.

“That’s okay. Are they making you sleepy? Or dizzy?”

“...I don’t know. I don’t want any more.”

Tavrik returned, holding a blister pack in his paws.

“Only one is missing, looks like he has enough for five paw. Standard anti-anxiety.”

“Might need something different.”

“Yeah, I’ll book him an urgent appointment when we’re done,” he said, flicking his ears forward. 

She turned back to Parva.

“Well. If you don't want the tablets, then we won't have any more, okay?”

“I don't need to take them?”

“If they don't help you feel better, then you shouldn't. But we'll talk with your doctor first, okay?” Tavrik added.

The tension drained from Parva, letting him sink a little deeper into the bath. 

“Did you not want to take the medicine?” Salva asked, stroking his shoulder.

His ears flapped back.
“I've…taken so many before…but these ones…I couldn't.”

His ears pinned to his head.

“But, I don't want to be scared any more. And they said they'd help with that a bit.”

“That's okay. It's not nice being scared, is it?”

“They said I was free now.” His paws covered his eyes. “I want to be free.”

“What makes you feel like you're not free?” She asked.

He sat still for a moment, thinking, before opening his mouth. 

“I want to leave my room.”
He breathed.
“I want to go outside.”

“But every time I open the door. I don't.”

His body began to shake again. 

“And I miss being safe…in the facility. But I don't want to. I hate that place. I want to be free.”

“So you took the medicine hoping it would let you leave?”

His ears flopped forward.

“And you were so brave, doing something despite the fear. But sometimes we need a little more help, and that's okay. So-”
She moved carefully down his arm, clasping his paw in her own.

“Let's get you clean, get you dry, and we can try stepping out the door together.”

He stares at his reflection in the murky water, before taking a shaky breath.

“Don't let me get taken again.”

“I won't. You're in a building full of angry Venlil and Humans. If you think you're scared, you should have seen the last exterminator who stepped foot in this place,” she whistles to herself.

“Salva, that's not as comforting as you make it sound,” Tavrik chastised as he tapped on his pad. 

“Hey, he should at least be afraid of the right things. Like me, if someone threatens my pack!” 

She turned back to the bath.

“And you're in my pack, Parva. You don't have to do anything. But I'll protect you. And not just me. That guy's pretty scary when he's angry too.” Her tail gestures at her colleague.

“Oi…” he placed his pad on a table before moving next to Salva. “But she's right. We'll be with you as far as you want to go. So let's get you out of the bath and go from there.”

Parva took several deep breaths.

“Okay…” he steadied himself with his hands on the side of the bath.
“I can get out by myself.”

The two Venlil took a step back as, with a grunt, Parva pushed himself up, water cascading from his short fur.

His arms shook as he rose, though with hesitant paws, he stepped out.

“I-I can dry myself too,” he spoke softly.

“Okay. We'll wait in the other room,” Salva signed >take care< and, following Tavrik, left the room and shut the door, leaning against the wall next to it. The sound of blowers soon started.

Tavrik tapped away at his pad as they waited. 
“Good job, Tavrik.” Salva signed appreciation.

“Thank you for your help.” He returned the sign. “I’m glad it worked out okay.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, wearily. “Probably still need to do an incident report though…maaan!”

“Already done,” he waved his pad briefly before returning to typing. “Thought I’d start while it's fresh. You’re copied in.”

“MVV right here!” she bounced over, playfully swatting his side with her tail. “Thanks a lot!” 

“Ow…” he whistled softly, though didn’t drop focus. “I’m thinking we’ll probably need to increase welfare checks for a bit. I’ve requested an urgent psychiatric appointment too… Don’t know if we can do much more…”

“I’ll invite him along to the shoot. Get him out and about…if he wants to ofcourse.”

Tavrik’s ears flicked back.

“You’re off the clock. Go have fun.”

“Eh, the more the merrier,” she whistled. “We already have Kayun’s gal as an audience, what's one more?”

His ears dropped slightly, before raising to neutral.

“Thankyou,” he murmured. 

“Really laying it on thick today, huh.”

He hesitated briefly, before padding over and smacking her with his tail.
She burst out in laughter as he returned to his task.

The sound of the blowers ceased, and Parva soon emerged, his wool tended into a soft coat.

“Oooh, handsome,” Salva whistled. “You have a fine coat, sir.”

Parva’s ears pinned slightly, a slight bloom on his snout.

“Th-thankyou. I do try and take care of it. Honest.”

“It shows. Now, I’m about to meet up with some friends if you want to show it off to them.”

His tail began to coil around his leg.

“I- um… Not…I don’t-”

Salva padded up to him, placing a paw on his shoulder.

“Parva. I know it’s hard,” she said softly. “And I can tell them you’re having a challenging time too, so there’s no pressure. We’ll just go upstairs, show off the results of your wool care, then come back.” 

She stepped back, giving him space.

“We’ll be shooting a video though, so if you want to watch, give us an audience, that’s great too. And then we can go from there.” She held out a paw.

“Let’s go outside. Together. Just one hallway and into another room.”

With a hesitant paw he reached out, gently placing it in Salva’s, who’s fingers closed over it.

“Lead the way, Tavrik!” 

The tan Venlil looked between the two of them, before wordlessly turning and heading towards the door.

With measured footsteps, Salva followed after.

“No pausing, alright?” She squeezed his fingers. “Just stick with me.”

Parva weakly flicked his ears forward, his favoured eye on the approaching doorway, dim light spilling in from the hall.

Three steps. Two steps. One step.
And four paws crossed the threshold.

“And onward we go!” shouted Salva, picking up the pace, Tavrik padding beside.

“Have a good rest of paw, Tavrik!” she said, signing goodbye with her tail.

“You too, Salva.” He returned the flick before heading in the opposite direction.

Salva turned her attention to Parva.

“So, there’s going to be four others there. Two Gojid, a Venlil and a Human. I’ll introduce you, and then we can leave. Or you can sit and watch. Up to you.”

His ears flicked forward with a little more vigour.

“Thank you. This isn’t so hard, I think I’d like to stay. Maybe.”

“Great! We’ll be a bit loud, but you’ll have Shilobah as company. She’s a nice woman who recently moved from the cradle. I find her really grounding when I have bad days, so I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with her.”

“You have them too? Uh…bad days.”

“Sure! Sometimes angry. Sometimes I just cry. We’ve all been through a lot of speh recently, hey.”

“But…” he paused, tail wrapping around his leg. “I’ve been rescued. I know I should be happy.”

“Yeah, but now you have to heal, and that can be fucking agony. It doesn’t just go away.”

She pauses at a door, the lock beeping.

“But it gets better, especially when we have help. So, you ready?”

Parva shook his head, steadying his posture.

“Yes,” he states cleanly.

“Then let’s have some fun.”

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u/CreditMission — 8 days ago

Products for Predators - side stories (1/2)

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Howdy. Just 4 short stories following my cast members. Part 3 gets a little religiousy, but hopefully not too bad.

__________
Part 1

An alarm chimed as the blinds opened, letting in the light of the ever-present sun.

Two wool-covered legs protruded from beneath a desk, soft grey marked with the occasional white swirl. The wool thinned toward the ankle, darkening to black paws with toes spread, then clenched in a stretch.

With an awkward shuffle, he extracted himself from the confined space and pulled himself upright. He yawned, stretching, twisting left, then right, before bracing his paws on the desk. A slow wave rolled down his back, vertebrae clicking, ending with a flick of his tail. Satisfied, he crouched again and rolled up the utilitarian bedroll, tucking it neatly out of the way. 

His hand found his brush as he stumbled towards his full-length mirror, standing in the only clear space his room had to offer. Even then, he had to nudge his dress-form to the side, the voluminous skirt he had been working on leaving little room otherwise.

Once his fur was properly tamed, the brush was returned to its dedicated hook, and he squeezed between the two racks in the center of his room, both becoming overwhelmed with his past fashion creations. 

I really should sell a few.

He sighed inwardly. Commissions were one thing, they belonged to the client. But these belonged to him. He knew their every flaw, each one a testament to his growing skill. It would be a shame to see them go. Still, he couldn’t fit a third rack.

He shook his head. A problem for another time. 

He had a full paw and needed to get started.

From the rack on his left, he selected a short pink dress of simple construction, made from hard-wearing fabric and edged with dark black to stand out against his light grey wool. Over it went a white apron, trimmed with frills to soften the harsher lines of the main piece. Work clothes, with style.

Fully dressed, he pushed deeper into the room,  towards his bed-turned-temporary storage/work space. Several kitchen-related gadgets sat atop it, needed for the video shoot later this paw, along with a spare camera, just in case. After checking everything was still accounted for, he divided the items between a tail satchel and shoulder bag, then set them together by the door.

Entering the living room, he found the house awake, but empty. His personal bowl sat covered on the kitchen counter, a salad skewer laid neatly across the top. Opening it revealed pieces of stringfruit tossed with greens, coated in some form of Terran citrus dressing for that exotic flavour. 

He ate it while standing, having allotted a bare minimum of time for eating. Then, after a quick clean up, he padded downstairs.

The lights were still off in the front of the family store, but the sounds of activity could be heard from the kitchen out back.

“Good waking, Chek,” Salva’s father, Salara, greeted without looking up as he filled tarts with a greeol marmalade. Ipsom flour complementing the silvering highlights of his otherwise jet-black coat. 

“Good paw,” Chek replied, flicking a query.

Without breaking his rhythm, Salara’s tail snapped about the kitchen

“That strayu is ready for the forge. Then I need the jam in the fridge to be piped into those rolls.” 

Chek flicked an affirmative as he donned a more robust apron, and set to work. Words were unnecessary as they moved around each other with practised ease, a well-rehearsed dance. Completed pastries slid into the shop display moments before their workspace was claimed by the next batch. 

The squeak of worn brakes came from the front, followed by a woman of a stocky build, wool only a few shades lighter than her husband. She was hunched over, carrying a large sack of flour on her back. 

“Take the sack truck, Pavlova!” Salara scolded, bapping her with his tail as she lumbered past.

Her ears flopped to the side before giving a lazy flick forward as she entered the pantry, grunting as she deposited her load. She disappeared deeper into it, then emerged with a clatter of wheels on tiles as she pulled the small trolley behind her.

“Good waking, Chek,” she nuzzled his cheek as she passed. His tail found hers, tufts briefly touching before she hurried back out the front.

“Do you mind giving her a paw,” Salara asked. “I can finish up here.” 

Chek flicked the affirmative as he finished coating the last piece of spongecake with desiccated coconut. After washing his paws, he took the tray out to the front of the shop and slid it into the display cabinet before heading outside.

Pavlova was wrestling with another sack of flour as she attempted to slide it from the cargo bike to the sack truck.

“By the time I've lifted it, I may as well just carry it inside,” she grumbled. 

Chek quickly supported one end of the sack, allowing her to slide her paws to the other. With a small puff of white, it was dropped onto the truck. 

“Or you could just ask for help,” Chek sighed as they picked up the next one.

“You two were busy. And it's just a bit of flour.”

“I love moving flour,” Chek stated firmly. “It's my favourite pastime.”

Pavlova whistled a laugh.

“Oh, forgive my selfishness.”

“Forgiven.”

Another puff of flour as they dropped another sack.

“Normally I'd have help anyway, but all my other children have deserted me.” Her ears flopped down in exaggerated despair. “Particularly the strong one. He's proven quite the asset.”

“Don't work him too hard. He's always complaining about his back.”

“Humans are so fragile,” she chuckled. “I blame that night-lost Federation and their deceptive marketing.”

“That is their crime,” Chek replied.

“Brahking monsters, my tail! Biggest letdown of the century. Where is the lad, anyway?”

“Hospital.”

“Oh. Did he knock his soft little noggin? The poor dear.”

Chek flicked his ears back.
“Volunteering.”

“Oh,” she tilted her head as they set down another sack. “I suppose that’s a fair excuse. My pups are so outstanding.”

“He has been claimed,” Chek sighed, bending down to pick up the last of the flour.

“My daughter claimed him,” she huffed. “It would be silly to fight it. Time has long since passed for that.”

Chek let out a low whistle. 
“She plans to bind his tail.”

“Oh, she does, does she? That will… be interesting. It will be difficult to make a vyalkit.”

“If he grows it out, he can weave it into a plait,” Chek stated. “Even if it can’t be spun.”

“Cute,” Pavlova put her paw to her mouth. “Growing out his fur like a sunscorched. I’ll keep my eye on him.” Her tail tapped Chek on the back.

“How are you feeling about this?” she asked, voice a little softer.

Chek pondered for a moment, before flicking his ears resolutely.

“Good. I like Jonathan.” His tail swayed gently behind him. “I’m glad he’s a Human.”

"Of course you are,” she grunted as they both began pulling the truck. “She couldn’t have found a normal mate. That would be asking too much.” 

“He’s quite normal,” Chek replied.

“Really?” she asked, an ear bent. Chek flicked his ears forward in response.

“Well, I guess I need to give up on pups though,” she sighed. “Can’t see that happening.”

“I could tell them to try harder,” Chek replied, the truck bouncing over the threshold.

Pavlova whistled a laugh.

“I’m sure they’d love that.”

With a clatter, they proceeded onto the kitchen tiles.

“I can help from here, Chek,” Salara offered. “If you wouldn’t mind opening the store.”

Chek flicked his ears in affirmation before removing his apron and tossing it in the linen tub. His paws brushed at his clothes to remove any wayward flour as he padded towards the front of the door to turn on the sign, indicating start of business.

The claw was proceeding calmly with a steady influx of customers; Humans certainly over-represented considering their recent arrival on the scene. His family’s decision to welcome them in early, coupled with Salva’s constant advertisement at the shelter, ensured a constant stream of enthusiastic patrons with a rather poor hold on their credits. 

Though this small bakery on the corner wasn’t the most esteemed maker of strayu, it was his home. It had pained him to see it suffer in the recent economic crisis.

Now, Looking out at the shelves filled with both traditional strayu loaves, as well as creations blending Terran and Venlil creativity, filled him with a joy shared by his adoptive family.

“36 credits,” Chek said to a dark grey Venlil, Garen from memory. A frequent customer, completely unphased by the group of three fidgeting Humans waiting next in line.

“Thank you, Chek,” he replied, tapping his pad on the counter to pay.

Chek dipped his ears in respect as he handed over the box of assorted pastries, signing goodbye with his tail, before directing his ears at the aforementioned Humans as they pushed their tray in front of him containing almost one of everything.

“Do you want them in a box, or bagged individually?”

“Bags please,” the tallest one spoke quickly.

Chek flicked his ears forward, retrieving a clean pair of tongs and began packing the confections.

“Two jam tarts, one sugar glazed strayu, one shadeberry sweetroll, six glazed doughnuts.”
One by one he placed them in a larger carry bag.
“That will be 30 credits.”

The tall one fidgeted again as their companions snickered.

“And how much for this?” he said, pointing at Chek’s chest.

Chek tilted his ears in thought briefly, before speaking.

“240 credits.”

“240 credits?” the Human repeated, mouth open. Chek flicked an ear forward.

“It’s a simple design, but the fabric is robust, and it's still a custom piece. But I can make you one.”

The Human stared at him.

“Make me one?” he voiced.

“The dress.” Chek clarified, his head tilting in confusion.

“Oh…um…thanks…” The Human stumbled over their words, face blushing as their friends laughed. “Uh…maybe another time…” they mumbled, tapping their pad on the counter to pay.

Chek dipped his ears again in respect, handing the bag over. 

“Thank you for your patronage.”

“T-thank you,” he stuttered.

“Sorry about him,” one of the other Humans chimed in, bumping the first violently.

Chek waved a polite dismissal with his tail.

“That is okay. Enjoy your food.”

The group left laughing, leaving Chek wondering if he missed a joke. Humans were exciting, but could still be quite weird with what they found comedic.

Though he didn’t have time to dwell as his attention shifted to the next customer. 

__________

Part 2

In the corner of a kitchen sat a Gojid, his tawny fur shifting over taut muscle as his paws moved with precision and speed. Through cycles of training, they had been honed to their craft. Given a sharp blade, he could slice a Mel root into a ribbon within minutes. Twelve tails in length was his record, and not far from his average. As such, the bowl in front of him filled steadily with delicate ribbons of root vegetables.

Though in his paws rested not a knife, but a peculiar piece of metal jutting from the vegetable itself. A bizarre tool, designed specifically for spiralling them. But only cylindrical ones, of a certain width. Any deviation from those perfect dimensions led to it sticking, slipping, or snapping the ribbon prematurely. 

Truly a most useless kitchen appliance.

So why, in the back of a well-regarded restaurant, did such a device sit in the paws of its equally respected head chef, a quarter claw past his shift?

Simply because he found it marvelous. 

To the point that its product garnished nearly every one of his dishes.

Granted, he had only owned it for a few paws now, and had already broken one. But that was part of their charm, no?

The frivolity. The whimsy. 

The notion of someone, cucumber in hand, designing a device capable of cutting it only one particular way. 

It was that which endeared him to the predators. Or at least softened their image in his mind. It was difficult to maintain the caricature of bloodthirsty villainy when they produced such things.

As he finished his final carrot, he looked with satisfaction upon the bucket of rich amber curls; enough to supply the next few claws of demand. He covered it with a lid and slid it into the cold room, then wiped his paws on his apron. 

Rolling his shoulders, he twisted from side to side, easing the tension that had built from sitting for too long, before heading into the kitchen.

The atmosphere buzzed with activity, a slight shock after the recent seclusion. The mingling scents of cooking vegetables, spices and oils revitalized teased at his nose, drawing him forward; though he took care to avoid the dashing Venlil and Humans as they worked.

He had been apprehensive about hiring Humans, the idea of giving predators knives and cookware a recipe for disaster. But, as was often the case, it had proven a boon. New recipes. New techniques. An unrivaled enthusiasm to learn from his culinary experience; one that flowed both ways. He and his more tenured staff were equally eager to explore this new “vegan” cuisine from abroad. 

Well, those who hadn’t left.

But that was many paws ago, and he had no regrets. 

“Leaving, Chef?” his sous chef growled, hands never still.

“You don’t need any help, do you?” Kayun asked, fiddling with his paws.

“If you don’t escape now, you’ll be stuck until after the rush. Go.” 

Kayun bobbed his head in gratitude. “Thank you.”

“Have a good paw, Chef.” 

Heeding the advice, he padded over to where he had stashed his knives, tucking the small rolled parcel under his arm before continuing to the office. 

Closing the door cut off the sounds from the kitchen immediately, calm descending on the office.
With precise movements, he unrolled the knives across the desk, took his place on a stool, and retrieved a whetstone. The steady rhythm of blade on stone became the only noise that permeated the room as the tension slipped from his form. The work claw was drawing to a close for him, and all that was left was to assure his tools would be ready when next needed. 

And to appreciate the gift from his Human staff. 

The knife in his paw was of alien design: a wide, straight-backed blade tapering to a point, its sides adorned with organic swirls in the metal. 

Fascinating. And once again, characteristic of Humanity’s flair for the ornate.

Yet it was no inferior tool. The handle was larger, better suited to his paw than those of Venlil design, its fit and weight rivalled only by those imported from the cradle. Those, however, remained under lock and key due to their sudden rarity, so he appreciated that he now had a serviceable replacement. 

His task complete, he rolled his knives securely back in their pack and placed them in the safe with his other collection. Overcautious, perhaps, the chances of them being stolen were thankfully low. But one could not be too cautious these days. Enough had already been lost.

He then opened his bag, ensuring he hadn’t forgotten anything. Of primary importance was a duplicate of the spiralizer tool, still in its packaging, as well as a much larger device for cooking batter in a rudimentary grid like pattern. Placing his pad alongside them, he hoisted the bag onto his shoulder and made for the door.

“Chef!” A dusky Venlil whistled at him.

“Rylo?” Kayun slowed, sighing a query with his arm. 

“Next meal,” Rylo piped, holding out an insulated bag.

“Oh, thank you,” Kayun flicked his stubby ears forward as he took the gift. “Have a nice paw.”

Rylo signed farewell, as well as the other nearby Venlil, Kayun again responding with an arm sign.

The trip home was leisurely, he had no commitments until the next claw. 

Pulling out his pad, he informed the group that he would be bringing dinner, to much excitement. He then began towards a brewery outlet for some drinks. It was nice to have a Human in the group now. They seemed to have more of an appreciation for drinks that weren’t a fire hazard. This could be a dangerous planet for the unaware drinker.

Speaking of which.

Entering the store, the first to catch his eye was another Gojid, a more frequent occurrence since the cradle evacuation. This particular Gojid held a bottle in his hand, a pad to the label, and a scowl on his forehead. Kayun hurried over.

“May I direct you to some less aggressive options?” Kayun asked, offering his paw to take a bottle which would have likely been the Gojid’s last. 

The Gojid’s ears pricked up at his voice.

“Oh, um…yes.” They hesitantly placed the bottle in his paw.

“If it's in venscript, stay clear,” Kayun explained, walking deeper into the shop.

“They don’t have anything I can read,” the Gojid mumbled, their posture collapsing slightly.

Kayun paused, turning back and placing a paw on their shoulder.

“We’ll find something nice.”

He pulled the Gojid beside him and continued, soon finding the area with more varied scripts.

“These are Terran imports, so are a lot softer. Do you know what you want to drink?”

“Um…” the Gojid played with their paws. “Do they make things from fruit?”

Kayun flicked his ears forward. 
“They do, these are fermented from small berries.” He picked up a dark bottle he was quite familiar with. 
“Quite a robust, earthy flavour, but you can still taste the fruit. You can use it in cooking too, though I would pick a different bottle for that.”

The Gojid held out his hand, taking the offered bottle and studying the label.

“There are different flavours and colours, but all on this shelf are made from the same fruit.” He gestured at a large array of bottles.
“You can ask for Terran [wine].”

“Thank you,” the Gojid bowed. 

“You're most welcome,” Kayun flicked his ears forward as he copied the bow.

“My name is Kayun. I own a restaurant near here.” He quickly retrieved his pad, offering it to tap. “If you ever want a feed, ask for me, it'll be my treat.”

“Thank you, Kayun. I am Beulin,” he stumbled, quickly producing his own pad. “I…might do that.” He bowed again, a little deeper, before heading for the counter.

Kayun watched him go, before tucking a second bottle under his arm, hooking a pack of cans with a claw and likewise heading for the front of the store. He should have something for everyone now.

His bag now, considerably heavier, he moved with a little more purpose towards home. The brisk walk warmed his muscles, even as the twilight breeze cut through his fur. As he felt his heart rate elevate he settled into a satisfying pace to maintain it. He had to weave around a herd every now and then, dipping his ears in apology, but he had no desire to slow to their pace.

It wasn’t long before he was at his apartment, his legs burning as he trudged up the stairs, and then into his front door.

Shilobah was quick to greet him, almost as if waiting, taking his shopping from his paws as he entered. Without a word, her sandy form disappeared into the kitchen, leaving him to set his shoulder bag aside and wash his paws. 

“You don’t need to unpack anything,” he projected. “I’m taking it to the shoot.”

He was unsure if she heard him, but she appeared at the door, walking with purpose towards him.

Opening his arms, there was a satisfying thump as she collided into him, her paws wrapping around his side, as she buried her face in his chest.

“Welcome home, dear.” Her deep voice was muffled, but he felt her thrum in his arms. He tightened his hold, bringing a paw to her head.

“Hard day?” he asked.

There was a pause, before she raised her ears a little and clumsily twitched them towards him. He pressed them down gently with his paw, stroking towards her back. 
She looked up at him, her eyes slightly bloodshot.

“How was work?” she asked, her voice betraying her struggle.

“Busy,” he answered. “I might need more staff, but can’t fit them in the kitchen.”

She reached up with a paw, touching his cheek.

“Too successful for your own good.”

“Hmm,” he likewise cupped her cheek. “Thank you. Everyone’s working so well together. Much better than I feared. And they even packed dinner for us.”

“That’s nice of them,” she leaned against him.

“I was going to bring it tonight, if you are still okay to come with me.”

With a gentle push, she parted from him, her paws capturing his.

“I’m coming. It will be good to get out,” she huffed. “But…until then. Can we stay together for a bit?”

“Of course. For as long as you need.”

Sidling close, he pulled her gently towards the kitchen.

“Could do with some tea though.”

“I still have some barachem left,” she said softly. “Infused with spiritwood.”

Kayun let out a soft chuckle. 

“An excellent choice.” 

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