HUMAN PROBLEMS.VIR DAY -26. He woke up at seven. It felt late to him but it felt as refreshing as the icy cold shower he took at seven-ten. He toweled off and got into a new black t-shirt and a new pair of blue jeans secured with a belt. He would have liked to go for a run like he often did, but his desk Sergeant had been instructed by Captain Miller to not let him leave with any of his gear, PT or otherwise. So he left the dreary hotel room at eight and headed in the general direction of the truck he had parked out on the street. He turned in his key at the front desk and passed two men standing by the information desk. They were both human. They were both staring at him. It might have been his size. He was seven feet three inches tall and over three-hundred pounds. No, that’s not it. He stopped and stared back at them. Both of them were nothing much. Together they might have weighed as much as him, but even then his strength would still be more than quadruple of theirs combined. They were both white; almost like milk. They might have been five feet six inches tall and one-hundred-thirty pounds apiece, but even then von Ackerman had his doubts. He designated them Archie and Jughead. “The fuck you lookin’ at, faggot?” said Jughead. Nope, that is definitively not why they’re looking… Von Ackerman huffed, shook his head and continued walking, trying not to chuckle. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going, faggot?” Grumpy… Von Ackerman kept on walking, his patience infinite with a human out of his element. “He said ‘where the fuck do you think you’re going, faggot?’” Archie chimed in. Von Ackerman stopped at the door, his hand on the handle, and turned around to face the two humans. “Oh, me?” He asked,” I just figured I’d go get you two a map because you don’t seem to have a fucking clue where you two are. But if you want me to stay here then by all means I can describe this place for you.” where are we?” said Jughead. Von Ackerman smiled,” We’re in a building,” he said,” in the most densely furry country in the world. You don’t have any support here, and it would be wise of you to look around before you start shit.” He pushed the door open and began to walk to his faithful, tortured truck. Humans were not one of his favorite creatures, they ranked right next to arachnids in his opinion, and he liked them less than the tiny daddy long leg that had crawled on him as a baby in his crib that had given him that fear. He was about halfway to his truck when he heard something whispering through the air. He turned around in time to deflect a glass beer-bottle from hitting him in the head. It bounced off to the left and broke on the ground, the pieces skittering away like ants. Grumpy… “You think you’re some hot shit don’t you?” said Jughead. They had followed him out and escalated the conflict from some rude remarks to blatant safety violation. But not for von Ackerman, no, he wasn’t concerned with himself, he was rather sad that the two fools had chosen to take a tour of the hospital by way of broken noses and cheek bones. They had seemed to add two new men to their ranks, still not enough to fight von Ackerman with the intension of hurting him, but they seemed willing to take that risk. Grumpy… and dumb… He was still overly patient and made no attempt to fight back, which angered the humans to the point of no return. And von Ackerman liked a human who was angry and stupid… because then it made everything simpler. “I’m curious,” he said,” what makes you think that you all can beat me?” I’ll bet it’s the ‘strength in numbers’ routine… “Strength in numbers, pal,” said Archie. He began sizing the new additions up. Both of them were maybe two-hundred pounds and six feet even; a little tougher than the other two but still nothing that he couldn’t handle. He had fought on worse terms before, on school yards, in front of the soda shop, even in his own back yard, but he had always had the unfair advantage of strength and size coupled with patience and massive brainpower. He could think faster than most people and he understood the mechanics of the body about as well as a doctor so that during a fight everything seemed to slow down and he could find his enemy’s weakness, exploit it, and make him suffer for it. He designated them Bob and Bill. But he knew that if he made a mistake it would be his three-hundred-five pounds to their cumulative six-hundred-sixty or so. Come on Dom, I would like to avoid a fight on my leave… Just then a sleek blood-red car bumped up into the lot and pulled alongside him. There was a woman at the wheel. She rolled down the driver’s side window. “Hello Johan,” she said with a smile,” how may I help you today?” She was the fox of many men’s dreams. Foxes were the most common type of Fur throughout the world to the point that one might become sick of them, but Dominique Khole Fieseler was not one of those foxes. She was six feet one inch tall, and she said she weighed in at one-hundred-thirty pounds or so, but von Ackerman was always too embarrassed to ask her. She had long blonde hair and bright blue eyes and her fur was a bright orange, almost vermilion, color. It seemed like every time they met she had some new piece of information to share with him or a new story to tell. She was a senior grade Second Luftennant about to be promoted to a First Luftennant. “Picking fights with humans again?” Johan chuckled,” they’re picking a fight with me,” he corrected. Archie snickered,” oh wow, your girlfriend here to rescue you, Faggot?” Johan gave them the bird for that one. The group, to which he had given the designation The Stooges, started to move around the car’s front end and planted themselves firmly in front of Johan, a mere ten feet away. Johan closed the distance to eight feet. “Before I destroy you four I have to warn you.” He said. “Don’t bother,” said Bob,” there’s four of us an only one of you.” Bill dared to step a little closer. Big mistake, pal. Johan stepped forward and smashed Bill’s face with a massive straight hook delivered from his dominate left hand, and Bill fell over in a vertical heap to the concrete breaking his skull open as his two-hundred pound bulk fell to the ground. The others took a step back. “Now there’s only three of you,” he said. Archie, Jughead, and Bob were stunned. They hadn’t counted on a Fur being able to fight. They were the typical, stereotype, racist humans, who thought that they wre superior just because they were humans. They were all calculating the odds of survival if they chose to stay and fight. Too slow… let me help you there… Johan stepped in again and delivered a similar straight hook into the mouth of Bob, and, in much the same way as Bill, he fell to the ground, cracking his skull in the process. Odds of survival had just dipped into single digits and Archie had just realized it. He tried to throw a right hook, aiming at Johan’s chin, but Johan caught it in his left hand and snapped it right, breaking Archie’s wrist badly. Archie cradled his wrist in his hand and shot an accusing glance at Johan. Johan opened the passenger door of the car and slid in. “Take me somewhere, Dom,” he said,” before these assholes’ jolliness makes me all teary eyed.”