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Hey-lo, and welcome to another new story of mine (no, I have no shame in the use of this title). This is a dark spin on a babyfur story with real-world elements (with an evil member of Big Pharma being the Big Bad), so please pay attention to the content warnings on the tags. About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. So, with all of that said, do enjoy~ - Chapter One: Jealousy, Rage, and a Gilded Cage - Archer Dove was furious. That…bitch had broken the heart of the wrong man! Charmaine Dryden, a.k.a., the bitch who broke his heart. A top FBI special agent along with him (with him holding seniority as a senior special agent), beautiful platinum-blonde hair in a bun, sky-blue eyes, a towering 6’5” without heels (he was still taller at 6’7”), huge hips, ass, and tits to match her size. He had asked her out. “Married to my job,” she said. “Not interested in dating,” she said. “I would like to remain friends only,” she said. Bullshit! No woman could resist his charm! Every single one of them fell for him the moment they saw him. But he didn’t want them. He wanted her. And she dismissed him. Rejected him. Publicly humiliated him. He was strong, masculine, handsome, a talented shot, amazing in the sheets, everything a woman could want! Why did she reject his advances? Was she threatened by him? Of course, in her twisted little mind, a supposed “independent woman” would be threatened by a strong man. The horror of having a man tell her what to do! Unlike that fucking cuck friend of hers, Veil. She probably fucking pegged him and took it up the ass from the higher-ups, probably a bit of both at the same time. Dove smirked through his anger. Speaking of pegs, he had a plan to destroy her foolish pride and knock her down a peg or two. He’d have her no matter what, one way or another. Humiliate her a bit, have her fail miserably at her assignment, get her fired. And he’d be there to save the day for her, and she’d respect his authority. All he had to do was get a fall guy, and Shadrach Veil fit perfectly, the nerdy little nobody, stuck playing his stupid D&D games on his computer on FBI business, while the real men fought on the front lines with their guns drawn. He hated everything about that fucking geek, from his oversized horn-rimmed glasses covering his mud-brown eyes and baggy clothes two sizes too big for a weaselly 5’3” frame (probably why he was a fucking cuckold), to his nasally voice and twice-broken nose, all the way to his long (to the length of feminine) brown hair and messy brown beard that could probably hide a bird’s nest in it. Yeah, he had absolutely no issues with throwing the blame on Veil with his plan. The computer expert had his…sordid little past that should’ve disqualified him from the FBI, anyway. Dove tried to get him fired once before, but failed. He would say publicly it wasn’t personal between them, but privately? It most certainly was. It had been simple to get Veil’s computer password; as a supervisory special agent in the FBI, Dove had that power and oversight. It had been done in such a way that nobody would even remember he asked. From there, it was simple to hack into the nerd’s computer while he was away on his hour-long self-defense classes that the FBI all but demanded he get after he had his ass saved by Charmaine for the third consecutive time in the field (what a pussy, having to get saved by a woman!), see where Charmaine was going, where she had gone undercover…and burn her. Dove smirked, his green eyes showing cruelty at his little game. Charmaine wanted to fuck with Big Pharma, the biggest pharmaceutical company out there: MVF, based in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Technically, the name was Belgian: Mensheid Voorop Farma, standing for “Humanity First Pharma”, but “MVF” simply rolled off the tongue easier for most Americans. It was worth multi-billions, which, to him, at least, was more money than anyone could ever know what to do with. They made new treatments for cancer, stem cell research, shit that got grants up the ass. She had gone undercover as a scientist, apparently had a big enough brain for it, and had somehow managed to worm her way into the middle rankings (probably by sleeping with someone). Why she did it didn’t concern him an iota and what they “supposedly” did concerned him even less; let the rest of the FBI deal with the embarrassment of trying to deal with the fallout from her and “Veil”. It had been a simple matter from there to call them - from Veil’s phone, of course; it had been no easy feat to steal it and have him think he lost it. The security guard, some woman with a Dutch name and South African dialect - he didn’t particularly recall or care - was quite intrigued by his description of Charmaine’s false identity down to its entirety. She got him talking to her boss, the CEO of the company, the founder, a shockingly young Belgian man by the name of Augustijn Van der Aart. From his voice, Van der Aart sounded like he was in his early forties. To be that young and rich…well, at least he wasn’t more handsome than Dove was. The CEO sounded very interested in his proof, seemed to believe him, but Dove refused payment. “Too easy to trace,” the FBI agent said. And the only payment he wanted was Charmaine getting what she deserved. And now, all that remained…was to wait. - Augustijn Van der Aart was not surprised to hear the news from the man named “Veil”; just the person he expected the news to be about. The founder of MVF had long since known that there was a mole somewhere fairly high in his organization; such was the case when one was into the things he was. He had not expected it to be the woman known as Catherine Darden. She was fairly high in sciences, and she had earned every bit of it. From everything he heard about her, this woman (whom he now knew to be Charmaine Dryden) seemed to be an ideal candidate to be promoted to the mid-levels: smart as a whip with a personality to match, an ideal aptitude for company work, driven - all things Van der Aart admired in a woman. However, he had no tolerance for moles (to him, they were not really much different than rats), no tolerance for the FBI being in his business - and thankfully, this FBI agent’s selfishness and pettiness (he could tell even from the phone that the man had probably been rejected by her, and to be honest, he could certainly see why; Veil seemed extraordinarily toxic.) gave him a perfect opportunity for his latest test run. Apparently, he had covered Dryden’s tracks from the FBI well. Nobody in the Bureau knew where she had gone specifically, just that she was deep undercover. He had looked up her familial records: both parents had died when she was young, an orphan without any siblings, not even a spouse. Perfect for his line of…specimens. Nobody to miss her, nobody who would give a shit if she disappeared. He had called up his chief security officer, Margaretha Roijakkers, and his head scientist, Deborah Leblanc, to his office to discuss the matter discreetly. His chief security officer was a white South African woman born in an upper-class family, a driven woman with a vicious cruel streak that unnerved even him…but she was undoubtedly, unquestionably loyal to him after he saved her from a very long imprisonment for mass murder and crimes against humanity in her home country, and for allowing her sadism to be unchecked and hidden from the law. His head scientist, a Belgian like himself, had made all of his dreams possible. She was driven, ambitious, and at the same time, cared less about the subjects than one would an ant they had stepped on. All the “volunteers” were mere statistics, mere stepping stones to her rise, and yet she was also loyal to him for giving her a job after science groups had spat on her…and because he indulged her perverted fantasies about her work - so long as she kept it to her work. He discussed things with both women, neither interrupting until he had finished discussing the situation. Then Roijakkers brushed a loose strand of short blonde hair out of eyes as blue as sapphires, yet dead like the many Black men she had murdered and buried. “So, how do you want to play this?” she asked. “I’ve looked at her file; she’s very quick with a gun and knife, and if we tip her off, we’re finished.” “Well, you stated it succinctly, Margarethe,” Van der Aart said, steepling his long fingers, his green eyes never leaving the desk of papers, his bald head gleaming in the light. “We can’t let her leave here, and we can’t tip her off. Deborah, is there room for another subject?” Leblanc’s blue eyes lit up like a Christmas tree as she panted excitedly, her long blonde hair tickling her heaving chest. Roijakkers, for her part, looked annoyed at her colleague. “I could easily use another test subject!” the scientist said, her glasses askew. “And if the FBI finds out?” Roijakkers asked. “Then we’ve ruined our entire operation.” “The FBI doesn’t know she’s here at the moment,” he said calmly. “I expect Veil to turn on us again; if he’s turned on the FBI, he’ll turn on anyone. His cooperation is simple: to him, he wants her, and he thinks he can have her no matter what she thinks about him. But if we simply kill her or fire her, we risk having everything crumble. Making her disappear and paying off or blackmailing Veil? Definitely the best option - and our science works perfectly in that regard.” “I could have the formula ready by today!” Leblanc said. “Ooh, do give me the order, Sir, and I’ll have her in chains, ready for her dosage, oh, yes, I will!” “We’d have to keep her as a lab rat for the rest of her life, much like the others,” the South African said coldly, trying - and failing - to ignore her colleague all but orgasming out of ecstasy. “If she’s ever freed, she’ll talk, and people will listen.” Van der Aart smiled. It was not the warm, well-meaning smile that most were accustomed to seeing at work; the malice behind it was as deadly as a pit viper, unnerving even the psychopathic sadist that was his chief of security. “Then we see to it that she’s never able to talk again.” - Charmaine Dryden was preparing for another day at work undercover at MVF. The science team was nice for the most part (even if Dr. Leblanc was absolutely creepy as hell), work was fun and she was able to do it easily. Even the vast majority of security she saw was easygoing, even if the things the FBI had on the head of security painted her as the Devil in heels. She stretched her arms out, as sharply dressed as a scientist could be: lab coat, a white blouse, black slacks, and casual flats. Normally not her style (she wouldn’t be caught dead in a skirt, dress, or heels; that just wasn’t her), but that was okay. She was just eager to get the day started, especially with what she had seen yesterday after digging through MVF’s security camera files (with a huge amount of thanks to Shadrach for teaching her basic computer hacking skills). Many odd specimens, both human and animal. Small, probably children or around that age. It was very limited information, and she needed more info, needed to know what, exactly, she was dealing with, but what she did know was that the FBI - and Dove, in particular, much as she was extremely annoyed at his constant flirtation towards her - was right to send her on this mission: whatever MVF was doing couldn’t be good for humanity, as much as they proclaimed the origin of their own name to be. Then a voice blared on the intercom, obviously one of Van der Aart’s secretaries. “Can I request Miss Darden to the CEO’s office in terms of a promotion?” the pleasant feminine voice said. “Again, Miss Darden to the office of the CEO for a promotion.” The scientists crowded around Charmaine excitedly, some of them giving her fistbumps, others shaking her hand, and still others clapping her on the back, and for a moment, she truly regretted having to burn these men and women. Perhaps when this was all over, she’d try to convince the FBI to give them jobs somewhere - at least, those who were innocent of any crimes. She walked over to the elevator, feeling naked without a gun or knife on her. MVF had stringent policies about weapons, and even better detectors that could pick up the smallest trace of a weapon. If I need to, I can just get a weapon from a security guard? But they have no reason to suspect me, right? Nobody knows I’m FBI…right? Charmaine knew that it was a possibility that someone had caught her snooping around. A small possibility, but not too small to fully ignore; after all, mob families had given out promotions to lull targets into complacency before killing them. Just stick to the act. You are Catherine Darden, a normal scientist getting a promotion. Stick to the act, and you’ll be fine. She was used to acting; this was far from the first undercover mission she had undertaken. She was in the drama club in high school, and this wasn’t much different; all she had to do was get into character - and it was easy getting into character for this Michigan girl, born in Detroit’s tough streets (Fiskhorn, if one wanted to be specific), orphaned at a young age, doing everything to survive in the various foster homes. That was where Charmaine met Shadrach Veil. They had become inseparable, like siblings, even though they looked completely different and had different interests. They had both worked hard to become the people they were because nobody expected anything from them…and when she had been selected to the FBI (mainly because she was an expert sharpshooter in college marksmanship, but also because of her abilities as someone who could go into any role needed), she had insisted that they hire him as well, despite…his history. Charmaine was lost in thoughts as the elevator stopped at the top floor, the office of Augustijn Van der Aart. She opened the door nervously, seeing the man himself greet her with a warm smile. Then she felt the prick of something behind her neck and immediately collapsed, her muscles no longer supporting her, a whirlwind of nonsensical thoughts forming a cacophony in her brain before everything went completely black. - Hope y'all enjoyed~