Chapter 6
Trouble:

Swifteye was in disbelief with the whole night. Everything was happening all at once. Never had he gained two suspects in less than thirty minutes. It was all very overwhelming. Now he had another problem to deal with, besides Mr. Diggar. Who was this ferret? How did she know his name? And why was she wearing Kimsi’s jacket. A twitch of annoyance at her nerve flickered through his body. She stood smiling deviously at him, as if taunting him, and daring him to guess who she was. Mr. Diggar by his side was looking from one face to another, clearly quite worried. It appeared that he believed they both knew each other and possibly had a rivalry. Swifteye had to admit that his expression probably looked that way, but he hadn’t the slightest clue as to who this ferret was. There was no use for wasting time, Robrile’s life could be at steak. "I’m a full time detective ma’am I don’t have time for this. Let’s end this game now by you telling me who you are and why the heck you’re wearing a victim’s jacket.” he said fiercely. The ferret seemed taken slightly aback by the strict remark, but she soon retaliated with another grin. “Now now, let’s not get hasty. Look back Swift. Look far back, to your early years. Your young years, your amature years. Who am I?” she gave another nasty grin. Swifteye cracked his knuckles with impatience. “I don’t have time for this-” he started. “Think.” the ferret broke in. Swifteye sighed and thought very briefly, but to no avail. giving up almost instantly he scowled. “Look ma’am, your under arrest or temporary watch for the possession of a jacket that is not only yours but that of a slain victim.” he unlocked his second to last pair of handcuffs, amazing himself that he had actually proven himself wrong, thinking that he’d never need to carry so many. As he advanced on the recent suspect, she backed away. He held out his arms to clamp the cuffs, but like lightening, the ferret smacked his hand away, knocking the cuffs to the ground, sliding and sending sparks. Swifteye had seen no movement. It was a fighting style that requires extremely high skill and sometimes meditation. It was incredible to witness and nearly impossible to combat with. Also it made him freeze every muscle except his brain, where a switch had been flipped. There was something very familiar about that attack. The ferret saw it in his eyes and returned her grin. “Way way back Swift, to when you barely knew what you were doing. To when you had a different office, had a different city that you were assigned to, to when....you had a different partner.....” the ferret trailed off. Swifteye’s blood went cold and his fur stood on end. The switch had been flipped, that was for sure. It all came back to him now, like water flowing out of a broken dam and into a lake that was his mind. “Son of a kit fox....” he whispered dryly. Mr. Diggar scratched his forehead, very nervous at this point, but ignored by both others. “Furtandra Ferretil. Fuzzy Furta, dear mother of god.” Swifteye said in disbelief. “Greetings partner.” the ferret said. Indeed Swifteye was in shock. He now knew who this animal was and knew very well. Long long ago, when Swifteye had just acquired a job in his dream as a master mind detective, in the city of Metrock, miles away from where he now stood. He was assigned an office, and a very small office if he remembered correctly, in a building at the edge of town. He was very young and still learning. But very fast. Very very fast. That was what made him such a good detective. He was able to acquire brand new information, and absorb it so quickly and photographicly, that it was nearly immediately placed as common sense. So automatically each clue he found was linked to the next. So, the city hired him. After a few months on the job, he decided that he was in need of a partner, or sidekick to do his dirty work while he got down to the straight facts. The police suggested a certain person that was one of their own police men, or woman rather. A ferret, skilled in the martial arts, and thriving to know the art of detectivetry. Swifteye recruited her at once. This was that ferret. Swifteye recalled it like the very back of his hand, as if it were yesterday. She was very rebellious and liked to act as if she were in charge, quite the opposite of Robrile, she was not easy to push around. He had never liked her much. One fateful day, after she had been strictly told off by Swifteye for blowing their cover at a city bank, she had run off. Swifteye tracked her down as if she were just another case, following the clues she left to her exact location. She would not stand for his discrimination. She was very naive if he remembered correctly and very impatient. With ease, he found her, in an abandoned alley, her gun pointed straight at the head of two hoodlum dobermans. Her eyes were wet and swollen with rage and confusion, the dogs had their hands held high, realizing that she was actually ready to shoot. Swifteye had never realized how much she had loathed his orders and hid her rage inside of her. He didn’t and still did not understand fully why she would not listen to others. It was impossible to tell her what to do. He realized then about just how much she had held back during all his teachings. Now look what he had done. The instant he advanced to calm her, she spun, aiming the gun at him now instead. “I’ve listened to you for the last time fox. I’ve had enough. I’m the boss here and I was the hero of this town until you came along!” she said through an unstable voice. “You act as if your teaching me! As if I’m your student! Well, I’m not fox and I’ve put up with your shit for the last time!” Furtandra was about to split, he could see that. But he could not allow it. “Look, put the gun down, you don’t have to listen to me anymore. You can be the hero.” he said calmly. “No! No curse you! I won’t!” she had said and taken a shot. Swifteye had been skilled in this category and dove from harms way cursing at her ignorance. After standing and trying to clam her again, Furtandra had taken three more shots. On the ground and rolling, Swifteye’s expert eyes caught sight of the hoodlum dogs, one pulling a rifle from its jacket. Stopping his roll, he threw out his hand. “Furta! Duck!” he cried. But it was too late, the doberman had shot her thrice in the back and had run off before he could stop them. The rest was all a blur to him after that, partially of grief, partially of the one shot wound he had taken from Furta when he had cried out to her. He was hospitalized for a week and vaguely remembered the mayor of the city coming in and telling him that Furta’s funeral would be held the following Sunday. Swifteye never went. He was hot on the trial of the two dogs. A year later, he caught them and jailed them for ten years. By now they’d be back on the streets. After that, he had figured Furta was long gone. But then there she was, standing before him, watching with a grin as the memories flowed back into him. “How the devil did you-? But your-! You were shot!” he stammered. Furtandra grinned broadly. Swifteye suddenly felt a shiver rattle down his spine as he realized and remembered just how vengeful she had been. He gulped, reaching for his own gun if it came down to it. “Furta, I didn’t shoot you back then. it was the dogs-” “I know, Swift.” she interrupted calmly. “But they did shoot you right?” he asked. She stayed silent. he frowned for a moment, trying to pull it together. How had she lived? “You shot me. And your wearing Kimsi’s coat. I don’t know how you lived or how you avoided being buried, but I don’t have time for this. Robrile may be in trouble. I’m sorry Furta, but your still under arrest.” Swifteye said, seeing the rage flicker briefly in Furta’s eyes at the order. “Not on my watch! I’ll-” she said with a scowl and stopping abruptly, her eyes growing. Suddenly, Swifteye caught her reaching for his gun. Drawing his with lightening speed, but not accuracy, the gun flipped from his hand after catching on his coat. It clattered to the ground. Just as Furta’s gun was raised, Mr. Diggar zipped from nowhere and clamped the cuffs that had been smacked away onto her karate fast arms. She had not seen him coming, or she would have easily swiped them away. Her gun slipped from her cuffed hands in surprise. Her eyes grew wide, as Mr. Diggar’s grin did. “No wait! I wasn’t drawing on you, there’s someone-!” she started. Swifteye shook his head with disbelief, but came to his senses quickly. “Tell it to the judge, Furta! Nice work Mr. Diggar, but sucking up won’t drop your charges. Your both under custody.” he said with an ordering voice. Both Mr. Diggar and Furta looked outraged with the fox, but he ignored them both. Secretly, he felt high gratitude and respect for Mr. Diggar, but laws were laws. Swifteye picked up his gun from the ground. “Swift, when I get out of these-” Furta boiled with fury. Swifteye ignored her again and grabbed for another pair of cuffs. He snapped it around her ankles, causing her to scowl with utter loathing. “Hop.” he ordered her calmly. “Dang it Swift, I’m not a criminal. I didn’t come for revenge!” she cried. Swifteye ignored her for the third time and yanked both their cuffed arms to follow. Mr. Diggar and Furtandra hopped and scurried beside him, furious at their captures and curious as to what was to happen of them. But Swifteye had not a care. He went on as though the odd event had never taken place. He had but two things on his mind, finding Robrile and finding that otter! * * * Robrile clutched his arm in pain as he sat up. This pain was so unbearable, his eye sight was flooded with fog and tears. It felt like one million tiny little needles were slowly scraping away at his flesh from the inside out. Blood soaked his paw and his entire arm, his fur matted where the blood had dried and then been covered again several times over. He had been shot, with a magnum if he thought right. But no ordinary magnum. A magnum with incredible power which amazed him that he was still alive. It appeared that the bullet had gone through his arm and out the other. It certainly felt that way. But to his astonishment, it had been bandaged up and treated very well if he would guess. His vision restored slowly but fast enough for him to realize where he was before he could fully see. An alley. A very dark alley. And by the darkness, he could tell that it was way past midnight. He had been unconscious for at least an hour. The question was, who shot him, and where were they? He could hardly think through the blinding torment of his wound. He staggered slowly to get to his feet. What was to happen next? Where was he to go? He wasn’t even sure if he recognized this part of Camdom. Robrile brushed himself off, wincing at the sharp pain in his arm. He swore then that he’d pound the “bloody bloke” who shot him if he ever found him. But right now, he was worried about Swifteye, although he knew he was the worried for, and Swift would be worried about him instead of the other way around. So what was really important then was getting back home and out of this eerie part of town. Robrile pocketed his hands and strode down the alley, looking uneasily up at the black buildings. They seemed to threaten him to stay where he had been, warning him not to step any further. He looked away from them hastily. He tried to keep a steady stare ahead, not glaring around at anything. He knew he should be looking for clues and Swift would scold him for not doing so, but he had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling. If he lived to tell it, this would be information enough. He soon realized he needed medical attention fast. So he sped up his pace. Probably not the best choice. An instant before it happened, and at perfectly horrible timing with a sharp pain in his arm, he heard two trotting footsteps up behind him. If his arm had not suddenly been disturbed, he would have spun around like Swifteye had taught him. But the stalker seemed to have been waiting for that. Two muscular arms reached around his neck in a tight headlock. They were covered with a leather jacket, long armed, and leather gloves, black. Instantly, three forths of his air supply was cut off. His face under his fur turned red and he was helpless. A heavy whisper, gender neutral and impossible to here any form of voice spoke. “I would appreciate it if you stayed where I had put you, friend.” the figure said hoarsely. Robrile tried to say his usual witty remark to annoy the enemy (this was his talent), but his throat already felt as if it were being flattened and crunched into nothing. So the figure continued to speak. “You and your friend know too much now. I can’t let you go any further.” Robrile swallowed hard, or tried to at least. How was he to get out of this one? Swifteye was always there to save him. But what now? He then felt the terrifying touch of a gun barrel to the right side of his skull. It was very hard and very cold. He could not stretch his head enough to see what it was, but he figured that his must be what shot the thorned bullet into Kimsi. This must be what shot him in the arm. He heard the trigger being touched and the gun being cocked. All he could do was shut his eyes and wait for it to happen- “I don’ think so pal!” cried a familiar voice from behind. Robrile’s eyes shot open, just a split second before he felt the figure who had him in the head lock get kicked hard n the back. The arms let go of his neck, and Robrile hopped away, just as the loudest gunshot he had ever heard blasted through the night. The leather coated figure, staggered forward for a second, then regained its balance and took off, without looking behind itself. It took the gun along. Robrile started to chase after the figure, but a hand landed on his shoulder. Slowly, he turned to face the otter, who was watching the figure as well. He shook his head. “Don’t bother. You’ll only get hurt.” he replied. Robrile rubbed his neck with a pondering frown, not entirely letting it sink in that the otter had saved him, or that it was actually the otter that they had just cuffed. “What was that thing?” Robrile asked. But the otter didn’t answer. He had strode over to the spot on the ground where the gun had shot. There was a flawlessly dug hole, a perfect circle, that dug so deep into the pure clay brick, that the bullet was out of eye sight. Robrile’s jaw dropped. “Is that the bullet?” he asked. The otter nodded, scratching his left arm which had a tattoo of a knife on it. “Stay away from this area I’m warning you. You n’ yer fox buddy don’t belong here. Stay out o’ our territory and we’ll stay out of yers. Yer lucky I escaped from yer pal as fast as I did. `Knew there’d be trouble.” The otter flicked its ear ring, which was solid ruby, and then took off in the opposite direction of the figure. Robrile was left standing alone, confused and in pain. What malicious and merciless gun could carry so much power to do that much damage. Robrile then looked down to his arm. He had been extremely fortunate that the bullet had barely missed his bone. Otherwise he was sure he’d have a perfect hole just like in the alley road. Why had the otter saved him? Why hadn’t he gone after him? Had they misjudged the tough appearance of the mammal? Wasn’t he the one who attacked them first? Robrile began to ask himself a cache of questions, unsure about all of them. He sat to think, like Swifteye had always told him too, for just a second. But then, he heard something bang. It sounded like a gun, but not the one the dark figure had been carrying. Either way, he understood now that the otter was right. Somehow, Robrile had ended up in the bad part of the city. The very bad part. Where gunshots are probably common. This must be where the otter lives. Perhaps it was just his nature to attack anyone who came through a back ally. Like a nervous reaction. It was then that Robrile decided it might be best to listen to the beasts advice. He broke into a run, north, which always went straight to the city. He used the bright North Star to direct his path. * * * “What was that?” Mr. Diggar screamed. Swifteye had heard it too. A gunshot. Well that wasn’t exactly unusual, they were nearing the bad part of the city. But that shot was very different than a normal gun. Much more powerful..... “Swift, I’m telling you I didn’t do anything!” Furtandra was repeatedly saying. Swifteye hushed her down so he could think. Could the shot have anything to do with Robrile? He had to find out. Swifteye retrieved his revolver and took off in a run, nearly dragging along Furta and Mr. Diggar. He ignored their complaints and ordered them to keep up. Poor Mr. Diggar was not built for running. He tripped over his own feet and fell backward with a cry, taking Swifteye with them, as they were cuffed together. Swifteye cursed at his stupidity as he stumbled to his feet. “I’m on the trail of something, why must you be so clumsy?” he demanded as he spun around. But Mr. Diggar was not there. He had suddenly disappeared within a second’s time. “Blast! What now?” he hollard through the buildings. “Did you see where he went?” Swifteye asked the ferret. Furta shook her head, her face fixed on the hand cuff that dangled on Swifteye’s wrist. There was a smoking hole blasted through the keyhole and the cuff had clicked right open. But he hadn’t felt it. How long had it been that way? Either way, Mr. Diggar had escaped. All he had now was the ferret. Swifteye scowled at her presence and squinted through the buildings. “Well, there’s no use going after him, I’ll never find him, it’s too dark in that part of the city. I’ll call for a search tomorrow morning. Now we must find my real partner!” Swifteye growled at Furta on the word real. The ferret did not seem at all concerned with Swifteye’s insults, her eyes were racing around the buildings, apparently wondering where Mr. Diggar had gone as well. That look seemed very familiar to Swifteye. As he studied it, it took him a while to realize that he was using that very same look at that moment. When he studied things, in a pondering way... “Look I am sure we will find your partner, I’ll bet he’s already safe somewhere. It is past midnight, must we search this long?” she asked irritably. Swifteye licked his lips, trying to remain his calm detective’s attitude. For a while, it had been sliding form his grasp. When he got in those moods, it was impossible to solve things. “Yes.” he said and turned around to search further for any other sounds. Not to mention it often blew his cover. Now he had yet another suspect lost from his captivity. And that only made the mole store owner more likely of the crime. He had to keep a close watch on Furta. He could not loose another. Swifteye and Furta travelled in search for Robrile for another half an hour, entirely uneventful. Swifteye figured he may be in the back allys (this was the bad part of the city), but it was far too dangerous in there at this time a night. At last, with a mumbled curse, Swifteye gave in. He would simply have to wait until morning. Robrile had to be somewhere out there, but Swifteye had a bad feeling he wasn’t in one piece. He would rest on it and regain his positive attitude. A cranky mind would never work correctly. Swifteye took Furta to his own house and locked her in one of the three temporary cell prisons that he had had installed a year earlier. He warned her not to sneak off firmly, and then scurried off to bed.

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