Beastess

The writing was on the wall for Ripley Belladonna.

Snake Mandrake was dead.

Pluto Sebastian might as well be dead.

… And she could be next.

After Syd had told her Snake died, Ripley had needed some time to think about what the fuck to do next. But thinking about it made her uncomfortable. It wasn’t in her nature to sit still and think.

Cheetahs like to run.

So she ran.

Every night, after completing her duties as Beta of the Pack of Abraxas East, Ripley would travel by foot across every corner of Abraxas and all of its outskirts. Night after night she would leap from rooftop to rooftop. Dodging, climbing, weaving around traffic, running laps around the city, until she was too exhausted to think.

She could outrun her memories of dating Syd.

She could outrun her memories of all the beastesses she helped hand over to the archbishop.

Hell, she could even outrun her hornier thoughts about that new beastess—that new trans beastess—Lexi.

… But she couldn’t outrun what she knew she needed to do.

It took her about a week after she heard about Snake’s death to admit to herself that she needed to quit before she got killed next. When she finally contacted Archbishop Steele—with an encrypted email, because she wasn’t stupid enough to waltz right into the Arch-Cathedral—their meeting was arranged for another week from then.

That week had passed, and tonight was finally the night. The night of the new moon.

Mother Moon wasn’t gonna have her back on this one, huh? Whatever.

It didn’t matter anyway. In this old subway tunnel she was waiting around in, where the archbishop agreed to meet her, there was no way to see the sky at all during the meeting. Long abandoned to rot by the megacity’s public transit department in favor of newer lines, the tunnel had no lighting to speak of. In the dim light of the lantern she had brought, Ripley could see the concrete walls were covered in soot with the occasional graffiti from previous urban explorers.

Abandon Hope, All Ye Who Enter Here, one nearby read.

The writing was on the wall, even in this tunnel.

Real subtle.

With nothing to do but wait, the antsy cheetah beastess paced back and forth with her arms crossed as her mind wandered, with each stride of her long lanky legs kicking up dust.

The fact that Snake had been killed by a beastess was bad enough. But the conclusion she had arrived at in that alleyway two weeks ago, that Snake was probably killed by that tigress templar? The same one she saw kidnap Mac?

That thought terrified her.

Goddess above, what else was that fucking archbishop capable of? Were there other beastesses hiding in the templars? Or did he have something else up his sleeve, just in case Ripley fell out of line?

Maybe he’d sic that gigantic polar bear woman on her.

Ripley raised one of her arms and brushed the bionic magitech implant on the back of her neck, which extended down her spine and connected to the exposed metal plate on her head. The magitech’s runic circuitry instantly lit up at her touch, a brief eerie green glow alongside the lantern’s pale white, and she felt a small tingle run through her muscles and nerves that made the hair on her limbs stand on end with static electricity.

Her wild magic already made her fast. This implant made her lightning fast. And she’d been conserving her energy lately after running herself ragged last week, so her magitech could recharge, just in case.

Yeah. Yeah!

What the fuck was she thinking? She had nothing to worry about! She was Ripley fuckin’ Belladonna! Even if Steele brought his ‘pet’, or hell, paladins armed with silver bullets, she was fuckin’ untouchable.

Besides … she had already helped a team of paladins take down that polar bear beastess once. She knew what Tanya was capable of—strong as hell, but slow.

Archbishop Steele usually wanted her to track down beastesses without ties to the Four Packs, which was fine by Ripley, because it let her operate under the noses of the High Beastesses without attracting their attention. However, he had requested a particularly rare kind of ‘pet’ about a year ago—a bear beastess. And unfortunately, the only ones she knew of in Abraxas were in the Pack of Abraxas North, so it was up to Ripley to set the bear trap. She had arranged the meeting by sending messages to PAN, posing as a buyer specifically to lure one of them in.

And it went off without a hitch! Hell, she had even dealt swiftly with the only snag in her plan. She had seen Tanya’s sister approaching, activated her implant, grabbed a nearby templar’s blade, and in the blink of an eye intercepted and disarmed her—literally.

Ripley dryly chuckled to herself, which echoed off the cavernous walls of the subway tunnel. Thank Goddess that Meg didn’t recognize her that night. That could have given the whole game away.

… The game.

Fuck. Right. The deal she wanted out of. The reason for this meeting.

Selling out a fellow pack was low, even for Ripley … but she had made a deal with Steele. Her pack, the Pack of Abraxas East, would be safe, he assured her, so long as she helped with his operation.

It was for the greater good. Even if she had to get Tanya captured. Even if she had to rat out Mac to the Church. And even if—she would never admit to anyone—she’d been having nightmares of women and animals trapped in cages ever since she agreed to this whole deal in the first place.

It was for the greater good. Or so she thought at the time.

And now Snake and Pluto were both out of the picture.

Ripley wanted out before she got taken out.

… Goddess above, what was taking that asshole so fuckin’ long?!

Oh. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Down at the other end of the subway tunnel a few specks of light cut through the darkness, resolving their blurry shapes into lanterns as they approached. In the dim glow Ripley immediately recognized Archbishop Steele—short, wiry, and balding, with his twitchy fingers covered in bejeweled rings that glinted in the lantern light. Behind him followed two paladins in full uniform—navy blue double-breasted jackets, black pants, black boots, greaves, gauntlets, shoulder guards, and helmets—each armed with a magitech blade on one hip and a pistol on the other. The last figure was unmistakably Tanya, who was a good foot taller than Ripley and towered over everyone else in the tunnel. She was dressed in a beige jumpsuit with a blindfold over her eyes and holographic magitech shackles keeping her wrists and ankles bound. The archbishop led her down the tunnel with a leash attached to a collar around her thick neck.

Heh. So Solomon had brought his favorite pet after all. This’ll be fun.

“Well, Miss Belladonna,” the archbishop said as he and his entourage came to a stop in front of her, “care to inform me what was so important to you to discuss in-person? I’m a very busy man, as you surely know.”

“Busy with what, Solomon?” Ripley countered. “Hosting parties with your rich friends? Or fucking your ‘pets’ after work?”

The archbishop smirked.

“It’s a shame I can’t put that mouth of yours to a better use,” he said. “And I’ll have you know that networking is quite necessary in my duties as an archbishop. If I am to govern this depraved city properly, I must be in touch with the most elite in Abraxas—those who stand to influence my citizens the most. People like Genevieve Andromeda, people like … well, Pluto is currently out of commission, but others like him!”

That was a load of bullshit, and Ripley knew it. The real reason that the archbishop was currying favor with the wealthy of Abraxas was simple—public support for the Supreme Church had been declining for years now, and the archbishop was scrambling for any influence he can get. Domestic corporations like Gnosis Industries and Lady Luck Casino, international mega-corps, and criminal organizations like the Four Packs of Abraxas and the Mandrake family had all but consolidated economic and social power within the city. The Church may control the government, but they’d been struggling to control public sentiment too. Hell, as feared as beastesses are, they were still more favorably seen than the moralizing policies of the Supreme Church.

Anything could be the last straw for the people of Abraxas. The paladins had already had issues with spontaneous riots in Shadow Town and elsewhere in the city over the years. Exposing a sex scandal within the Church would be like igniting a powder keg in a dynamite factory, and there were several corporate entities who would jump at the chance to fill the power vacuum. No wonder the archbishop wanted Mac captured.

“Oh, I’m sure they help you so much,” Ripley said. “Help you buy more jewels for your fingers and cars for your garage, that is.”

“Miss Belladonna,” the archbishop hissed, “did you call this meeting purely to insult me and waste my time? Or will you tell me just what the hell you want already?”

Ripley shrugged and crossed her arms casually.

“Fine, here’s what I want—I want out of our deal.”

The archbishop was stunned. He blinked a few times, then let out a squeaky chuckle.

“Oh, my dear …” Archbishop Steele said, “… that’s not how this works.”

“You’re acting as if you have any leverage in this,” Ripley said, looking at her fingernails in the lantern light.

“What? You insubordinate little—”

“Snake is dead, Pluto had a recent appen-dick-tomy,” Ripley said, counting on her fingers, “and you expect me to think you’ll uphold your promise to keep me and my pack safe? You’re out of your mind, Solomon.”

“It’s you who has no leverage here, Miss Belladonna.” He tugged briefly on Tanya’s leash, which caused the blindfolded bear woman to stand up straighter. In turn, both paladins behind him placed their hands on their gun holsters, ready to draw if needed.

With a quick glance at both Tanya and the paladins, Ripley doubled over in laughter.

“Oh, you think I’ll rat you out?” Ripley said, wiping away a tear and catching her breath. “Believe me, I’m not stupid enough to snitch and end up like those two idiots.”

She walked slowly right up to the archbishop, and stared down at him, almost two feet taller than he was. Her amber eyes glowed in the dark, lighting up occasionally with red sparks from the wild magic inside her, matching the faint green glow of her implants. With a crazed smile on her face, she licked her fangs slowly and cracked the knuckles of one hand with the palm of her other.

The archbishop met her gaze. Ripley could tell he was especially staring at the scar over her eye. She could see the briefest flicker of fear flash across his face.

How pathetic.

“But as for you … you need me, Solomon. You need me to be your eyes and ears in the underground, looking for new beastesses to snatch up for you before the Four Packs can get to them first. Just like you needed Snake for the manpower and silver bullets to help capture them. Just like you needed Pluto for funding, for the bribes you paid to those paladins who helped capture your precious pet polar bear there. And now you’re running out of options. You’re desperate to keep your little ‘operation’ afloat. So c’mon—convince me not to walk away right now.”

Fidgeting with the rings on his fingers, Archbishop Steele hopped from one foot to the other, considering his options. He glanced back at his two paladin bodyguards for guidance, but both merely shrugged back at him. Finally, after a snort of frustration, he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“Fine,” he said, almost childishly. “If I must lay out everything for you, then I shall.”

“I’m all ears,” Ripley said as she took a step back.

“You know as well as I do what the Supreme Church’s official position is on heathenry. These filthy pagan animals—present company excluded, of course—must be subjugated at all costs. This is why I have enlisted all of the bishops in Abraxas under my command, particularly Bishop Ironside and his templars, to help enforce our policies. Beastesses are too dangerous to be allowed to roam freely throughout our city—spreading their sinful ways, corrupting the youth, and threatening the safety of the people of Abraxas. They are an affront to Father Sun and His holy mission! No offense.”

“Offense taken,” Ripley spat. “Some of those ‘filthy pagan animals’ are my pack-mates. You’re zero for one so far, Solomon.”

After grumbling to himself for a moment, the archbishop cleared his throat.

“I must begrudgingly admit that there may be some use for your kind, after all.” Archbishop Steele gestured to the gigantic blindfolded and shackled woman next to him. “Upon her ‘reprogramming’ after her first and only failed escape attempt, my sweet Tanya here disclosed to me that her mother—the current ‘alpha’ of her crime syndicate in northern Abraxas—is also a beastess! Now, beastesses are infertile, as we all know, but while she does not seem to remember the real name of her ‘Mama’, I believe my sweet Tanya’s story just the same. It seems that my sweet Tanya is living proof that beastesses do have the capability to reproduce, but only if impregnated prior to their first transformation—in other words, impregnated before the end of puberty. I’ll admit that my tastes may be … divergent … but as a man of God, I would not debase myself that far.”

Oh good, thought Ripley as she rolled her eyes. Goddess forbid that a covert rapist and sex trafficker be a pedophile too.

“My top magitech scientist, Presbyter Talbot, has been experimenting on the wild magic of that meddlesome ‘beta’ we captured about a year ago,” Archbishop Steele continued. “You know, the one you tipped us off to? The one who was this close to finding enough evidence to expose our whole operation? She has been a most … uncooperative test subject, John has told me, but he has learned much from her about the relationship between beastess anatomy and wild magic—possibly enough to reverse their infertility.”

“And what good would that do?” Ripley asked, dreading the answer.

“Let me ask you this, Miss Belladonna—how did we, as humans, domesticate the wild wolf into man’s best friend? We selectively bred the most obedient specimens over time. My theory is that if most beastesses refuse to be tamed out of their sinful ways, even in captivity … then I will simply find the ones who I can break the easiest—like my sweet Tanya here—and breed more docile ones, with my superior, holier DNA as their genetic salvation. This is why I need you. I need you to find me more obedient pets like my sweet Tanya, and find Presbyter Talbot more test subjects like that ‘beta’. I am confident that the future of the Church—dare I say, the future of civilization itself—lies in taming the wild natures of these beast women … for good.”

Um.

What?

What the fuck?

Ripley simply stared at the grinning archbishop, her jaw agape.

“… You’re one sick fuck, you know that, right?”

Archbishop Steele dropped his smile instantly. His face turned red as he gritted his teeth.

“The words of an ingrate. Do you not see my vision? Do you not see how, with your help, we can work together to create a better world?”

“A ‘better world’? Are you fuckin’ kidding me? That sounds more like hell on earth!”

“Heaven always seems like hell to a sinner. Something pagans like you will never understand without—”

“Listen up, asshole,” Ripley interrupted. “I took your deal because you promised to protect the Pack of Abraxas East, my pack, my family, from your fucking Church and your fuckin’ paladin tin soldiers. I’m not some hippie-ass freedom fighter like those mongrels in the other packs. I protect my own, full stop. You leave my pack alone, and I’ll do your dirty work—that was the deal.

“But clearly you don’t see my people as ‘people’ at all. You see beastesses as nothing more than animals—as fuckin’ breeding stock! You don’t give a shit about protecting my pack. You don’t even care enough to honor your deals either. Hell, Snake’s dead because of you. Yeah, that’s right—I figured it out. You ordered a hit on him to keep him from blabbing, didn’t you? News flash—he was only gonna snitch because you kept adding more and more jobs for him, while you were too busy to pay the man! Dude’s been complaining to me all year long about how you’ve been putting off your payments to him, all while you keep throwing your fancy fuckin’ parties and buying more fancy fuckin’ cars! So why the ever-loving fuck should I trust you to keep your word? What’s to stop your paladins from attacking my pack tomorrow? Nothing, that’s what.”

The cheetah beastess took a few more steps back, snorted loudly, and spat a wad of saliva and mucus onto the ground in front of the archbishop.

“I’m not gonna snitch, but I’m done working with you,” she said. “In fact, now that I think about it … I should never have taken your deal in the first place! Fuck you, Solomon. I can protect my pack just fine without the help of you and your fuckin’ pigs. The deal’s off.”

Archbishop Steele clenched and unclenched his fists in anger, the rings of his fingers pressing deep grooves into his palms. He sputtered incoherently as his face turned various shades of purple. Just when Ripley thought the twitchy little man was about to explode, he suddenly calmed down and chuckled, the color returning to his face.

“Very well, Miss Belladonna. Have it your way.”

He tugged Tanya’s leash twice, which forced her to kneel down far enough that he could remove her blindfold. By pressing a button on a remote attached to his belt, he deactivated her holographic shackles. The archbishop pointed directly at Ripley.

“My sweet Tanya—capture her.”

No surprise. Ripley figured he wouldn’t take this well.

The cheetah woman tensed her core and crouched, anticipating an attack at any moment from the collared polar bear beastess.

But instead …

… Nothing happened.

Tanya just stood there. Staring at Ripley.

Um.

Okay, this was starting to kinda creep her out.

The archbishop commanded, as he tugged the leash a bit, “My sweet Tanya … Capture. Her. Now.”

But Tanya didn’t budge. Did she short-circuit or something?

As he let loose an exasperated grunt, Archbishop Steele released the leash and pressed a few more buttons on his remote. Immediately the holographic shackles appeared again, accompanied by a loud buzzing noise. Tanya cried out as if she had just gotten the wind knocked out of her. She fell to the ground instantly, convulsing for a few seconds, before the buzzing stopped and she lay there trying to catch her breath.

Well, Ripley thought, she’s definitely short-circuited now.

“What’s the matter, Solomon?” Ripley sneered. “Can’t control your pets? I thought you said she was one of the more obedient ones!”

Archbishop Steele rolled his eyes. He snapped his fingers, and on his command the two paladin guards behind him drew their weapons—a pistol in one hand, and a magitech blade in the other.

“Let’s see how well you deal with silver bullets, Miss Belladonna,” the archbishop hissed. “Surrender now, or my guards will be forced to engage.”

Ripley brushed her ghost-white hair back, exposing the shaved side of her head and the magitech plate there that was embedded into her skull. The runes carved into it glowed and pulsed bright green and partially illuminated the soot-covered walls of the subway tunnel around them. The green light flowed from the plate like a river down the implants lining her spine. She could feel the surge of power—a stream of cooling water at first, like a cold shower, which gradually grew warmer as the magitech’s energy saturated her nervous system and muscles.

She arched her back, yowling and growling through the bared fangs of her feline muzzle, as her lean muscles stretched and expanded in size. A cheetah tail burst from the base of her spine, coated in black-spotted yellow fur, with the end of it looking like it had been dipped in ink. On all fours, with her limbs becoming covered in spotted fur as well, she dug freshly-sprouted claws into the rotting wood of the subway’s railroad ties beneath her.

The half-shifted cheetah beastess assumed a stance like she was at a starting line of a race, and grinned maniacally as she taunted the archbishop and his crew.

“Catch me if you can.”

The paladin guards raised their guns.

Cocked the hammers.

Took aim.

Closed one eye each.

Inhaled.

Pulled the triggers.

And—

… the … silver … bullets …

… left … their … barrels …

… at … top … speed …

… towards … the … cheetah …

… but … to … Ripley …

… the … bullets … just …

… s l o w l y …

… f l o a t e d …

… a l o n g …

… like … sideways … drops …

… of … maple … syrup …

… through … the … air.

Cheetahs like to run.

So she ran.

Ripley pumped her muscles hard, bouncing off of the walls and propelling herself away from the paladins with as much effort as she could muster.

The effects of her implant, even at full charge, depleted quickly—relatively speaking, since time was a bit hard to estimate in this state—so she needed to use it as efficiently as possible if she didn’t want to overload her nervous system.

She nimbly sidestepped the sluggish bullets, which had finally caught up to her, and let them pass.

Two more followed by the time she was halfway down the tunnel, which she avoided with a quick jump to the ceiling.

She used her momentum to swing forward off of a low-hanging girder and continue her sprint.

Her implants left a glowing trail of green light behind her with every movement, like a zig-zag of dazzling neon.

It made it easy to see in the dark.

Almost there.

Her muscles ached.

Her implants burned her skin.

Her nerves were on fire.

Almost there.

Almost there!

C’MON!

FASTER!

FASTER!!

She—finally—came—

—to—a—halt—

—at—the—entrance—

—of—the—tunnel—

—with—depleted—implants—

—as—the—world—

—lurched—back—into—

—motion—and—caught—

—up—with—her.

Ripley ducked to one side and panted heavily.

Her stomach flipped over inside her.

Nausea. A fuckin’ big wave this time.

Fight it. Fight it!

She squinted her eyes shut.

Dry heaved.

…

It passed.

She opened her eyes.

She was okay.

She did it. She had quit the deal.

It was done.

Finally. Goddess above.

Gathering herself, she shifted back to her human form and prepared to ascend the restricted access stairwell towards the moonless night sky above. But as she grabbed the handrail and took her first step, her ears picked up on a squeaky voice echoing down the abandoned subway tunnel, as if emerging from the center of the earth.

“Good riddance, Miss Belladonna! You and your pack no longer have sanctuary with the Church! You pagan! You heathen! You—you—you animal! You will burn in hell for your sins!”

Ripley cackled and yelled back down the tunnel.

“I’ll see you there, Solomon!”