Most wild animals confined to a cage for an extended period of time are prone to abnormal behaviors without proper enrichment.
Zoe Ryder was no different.
She had only been here a few days, but being stuck in this cage with nothing to do was already driving her fucking crazy.
She stuck her face against the bars and peered around as far as she could. The walls were made of carved stone, with individual cells carved out on either side and fitted with reinforced magitech iron bars. Each cell had a toilet and a bunk. Between the cells was a hall with curved arching ceilings carved directly into the concrete. At the end of the hall was an iron door with horizontal security bars across it.
And that was pretty much it. There was not a single window in sight. Just dim lightbulbs that occasionally flickered.
For the millionth time since she woke up here, she kicked and rattled the iron bars of her enclosure in utter fury. And for the millionth time, the areas where she struck the bars glowed cyan blue as magitech runes flashed across their surface, before fading into seemingly solid metal once again.
“Hey, quit it!” yelled a female voice from a cell down the hall Zoe couldn’t see. “I’m trying to fuckin’ sleep here!”
“Go fuck yourself!” Zoe roared back. “How do you know what time it is anyway?”
“Doesn’t matter, don’t care, fuck off,” came the tired reply.
God damn it, it seemed like she could never get any privacy anywhere—not at home, not at work, and especially not in this godforsaken place, wherever the fuck this was! She felt like she was on display in a fucking zoo!
Zoe plopped herself angrily on her bunk before burying her face in her pillow and screaming in frustration. The magitech shackles she had woken up in days earlier were starting to really dig into her wrists and ankles. The fabric of her plain beige jumpsuit itched at her skin as it clung too tightly to her body. Her mattress might as well have been made of goddamn cardboard for all of the support it gave her.
Still more support than her shitty parents ever gave—that’s for fucking sure.
Zoe pulled her face out of her pillow and brushed away the fringe of her near-white short blonde hair. Another reminder of her stupid fucking family. At least it was a somewhat happy reminder.
Sophie got Mom’s auburn hair, while Zoe got Dad’s blonde locks, albeit in a much lighter shade than his. No one would know that her and Sophie were sisters from the back, but from the front, apart from Zoe’s blue eyes in contrast to Sophie’s hazel ones, the family relation was obvious. At least in terms of their appearance.
Personality-wise, though? They couldn’t be more different.
Oh, sure—Sophie and Zoe had always gotten along growing up. Sophie would help Zoe with her homework to get their parents off of Zoe’s case about skipping school all the time, and Zoe would help Sophie with her fashion so she didn’t look entirely like, well, the hyper-religious shut-in she was.
As her Big Sis, Sophie kept her Little Sis grounded whenever the world got her down or she was bullied in school. Even if she gently scolded Zoe later, Sophie always calmed down their parents whenever Zoe got too wild with her teenage rebellion, whether it was sneaking out of the house or dressing in ‘revealing’ clothes she actually liked.
Sophie even covered for her to their parents when she caught Zoe making out with a girl in her room for the first time.
She never forced Zoe to be as religious as she was—unlike their parents. She actually read the real teachings of Father Sun, rather than mindlessly obeying everything that stupid Bishop Iron-lies said—unlike Mom and Dad. She loved Zoe for who she was, rather than what she did—unlike their … well, y’know.
Big Sis was always Zoe’s biggest cheerleader whenever she doubted herself. In fact, Sophie was probably the only person Zoe knew who treated her like a human being. The only person who cared about her.
“You don’t have to be the best. You just need to be the best you.”
That’s what Big Sis used to say to her growing up.
… But it was hard when her older sister was quite literally the best.
Sophie was the golden child. Sophie was the goody-two-shoes. Sophie always followed the rules. Sophie was the star student. Sophie went on to work for the Church. Sophie became a templar. Sophie could do no wrong.
Sophie was always the good girl in their parents’ eyes.
The way Mom and Dad saw Zoe, on the other hand?
Zoe knew she was never anything to them but a trouble-making, obnoxious, insubordinate mistake.
And look at you now, Zoe, she could almost hear them say in her mind. Locked up like the wild animal you are.
As if she wasn’t locked up before, she retorted to her imaginary parents. As if being forced to move back home after getting fired for yelling at her manager wasn’t like walking back into a jail cell. At least in this place, wherever she was, she was finally far away from her parents again.
Except … she still wasn’t free from their influence, was she? After all, it was her parents who fucking put her in here, whether they knew it was a prison or not.
Because they found out she was a beastess, a secret she had been hiding from everyone, even Sophie, since she was a teenager. Because they had redoubled their scrutiny when she had moved back home as a compromise while she looked for another job. Because there was nowhere to go or hide like when she was a teenager.
Dear old Mom and Dad had taken away the last of her scraps of freedom, let those paladins restrain her and drug her unconscious, and put her under the Church’s ‘care’ against her will, all because they just couldn’t keep their fuckin’ noses out of their problem child’s personal fucking business!
Well, who were they to tell her what to fucking do, anyway?
Her parents? The Church? Hell, society?!
They can all GET FUCKED.
Her fingernails grew into claws that dug into the thin mattress beneath her, as white fur with black stripes sprouted along her hands and forearms. Her face half-shifted into a feline muzzle as she growled under her breath.
She’s been in cages her whole life. No wonder she’s always been a rebel. But this was the final goddamn straw.
No more half-measures. No more compromises. She didn’t care what it took, even if she had to live on the streets.
The white tigress wanted out, out,OUT!
Bzzt.
A buzzing noise and the grinding of iron broke Zoe out of her rumination. The door at the end of the hall was being unlocked. Someone was coming. Probably just another paladin guard to deliver their food again. Was it really dinner-time already?
Taking a deep breath, Zoe shifted back into her human form before walking over to the magitech iron bars of her cell to peer at who was coming.
No, she was only half-right. There were two paladin guards this time, and neither were carrying food trays. They walked past every other cell and, just as she had dreaded they might, they stopped in front of hers.
This was new.
“Step back from the bars,” one of them barked at her.
With a growl and a glare, Zoe stepped back, keeping her gaze locked squarely on the two guards. One guard pressed a button on a remote control clipped to his belt. Instantly Zoe felt her wrists and ankles pull closer together by what felt like a magnetic force. When she looked down, she saw that holographic chains had manifested between her shackles.
“What the …?”
She gave them a tug. They felt as real as physical chains.
God damn it.
“Walk,” the other guard ordered, as he pointed towards the end of the hall they had arrived from.
With quite literally nothing better to do, Zoe shrugged and walked in front of them down the hall. At six feet tall, she stood taller than one guard but shorter than the other, who had to quicken his pace to keep up with her strides.
They stepped through the door, which locked behind them with another bzzt, and down another much more modern-looking hallway to a set of elevator doors. After scanning their IDs on the magitech sensor, the doors opened with a chime, and Zoe stepped into the bare-bones maintenance elevator, followed by the guards. They turned her around to face the closing metal doors before stepping behind her and pressing the top-most button, the only one without a label.
Zoe checked the display next to the doors for the floor number she had just come from—3B.
Whatever floor they were going to, it was high up.
“So, how’s your day been?” she asked one of the guards with a smirk. “You doin’ anything later, or just this?”
“Quiet.”
Zoe scoffed. Assholes. Can’t even take a joke.
After a minute-long journey upwards, during which Zoe’s ears popped, the elevator finally stopped moving once the display simply showed the letters ‘AB’.
What? But didn’t they just come from the basement?
The first thing Zoe saw when the doors opened was a massive neon sign hanging at the far end of the cavernous room, depicting the Almighty Sun of the Supreme Church. The bright yellow tubes of light that made up its circle and eight pointed rays stood in stark contrast to the crimson red tubes depicting a bishop’s mitre in the center. The neon sun was hanging on the wall above a large wide window, where Zoe could the night skyline of Abraxas’ skyscrapers and streets below.
The light of the neon sun was joined by dim orange sconces attached to pillars on either side of the chamber, which flickered with a fake flame effect, and a couple of chandeliers hanging down with equally fake candles. Despite the light coming through the window and the neon sun, the ceiling above appeared to stretch into infinite darkness, with the light of the ‘candles’ barely reaching halfway up the walls.
The inside of this chamber was an eerie combination of simultaneously modern and ancient design. Everything was shiny gold and silver, a bit too ornate, a bit too gaudy. It felt like walking into an old church from hundreds of years ago given the elaborate chandeliers and oil paintings on the walls … and yet there were computer monitors, sleek modern furnishings, and magitech devices residing on various tables and shelves, next to books that had to be older than her grandparents.
As the guards pushed her forward into the room and forced her to walk towards the other end, Zoe could tell now exactly where she was. She had seen this building countless times walking around Abraxas. Given the neon sun and the viewpoint from the window … it was unmistakeable.
She was in the Arch-Cathedral of Abraxas.
Which meant that the man seated at the stately carved wooden desk in front of the window she was now approaching, with his elbows propping up his arms and his interlaced fingers failing to hide the eager grin on his face, could only be one person.
“Good evening, Zoe,” the man behind the desk said with a squeaky voice as the paladin guards stopped Zoe in her tracks. “I’m so happy to finally meet you. Do you know who I am?”
She knew exactly who he was. Everyone in Abraxas knew who he was.
Probably because he was such a widely hated piece of shit.
This man was none other than the head of church and state for the megacity of Abraxas …
“… You’re Archbishop Steele,” Zoe finally muttered.
“Correct,” the archbishop replied with all of the condescension of a schoolmaster praising a pupil.
Archbishop Solomon Steele was short yet wiry, with a balding crown of salt-and-pepper gray hair. He was restless and twitchy in his movements, like he had a coiled-up spring inside of him that needed to expel energy at all times. In his younger years, he had ascended through the ranks of the paladins to become a bishop, but it was only a few years ago that he been appointed Archbishop of Abraxas by Patriarch Ozias himself. Probably because he had served so long as a bishop outside of the city, he was seen as a bumbling self-serving outsider by the citizens of Abraxas who wasted taxpayer money on frivolous luxuries and parties.
Zoe had only seen him on posters and on television before. Never in person. And now here he was, adjusting the gold rings on one of his trembling fingers and running his eyes up and down her too-tight beige jumpsuit, barely containing his apparent excitement at meeting her.
What a perv.
With a wave of his bejeweled hand, the archbishop dismissed the guards, who turned around and exited via the elevator.
“Don’t get any bright ideas, missy,” Archbishop Steele said coldly. His smile turned to a stern frown as he took a sip of liquor from the lowball glass on his desk. “We’re not alone in here.”
He snapped his fingers. From the shadows in one corner of the room, next to the curtains hanging by the large window, a towering figure emerged with rumbling footsteps.
Taking her place next to the archbishop was one of the largest women Zoe had ever seen.
“This is Titania, but most call her Tanya,” the archbishop said, his smile returning. “Say hello, my sweet Tanya!”
“… Hello,” the gigantic woman muttered softly.
Zoe’s eyes nearly bulged out of her sockets in fear. This woman had to be eight feet tall, at the very least, and her chubby yet powerful body looked like she was born to crush boulders with her bare hands, or carry livestock over her shoulder on a country farm without breaking a sweat. Her beige jumpsuit only barely fit over her titanic curves and bulging muscles—clearly the biggest size was still too small for her, and so the sleeves were cut off and the pants were more like tight shorts on her. She too had shackles on her wrists and ankles, but hers were strangely free of chains.
Just like Zoe, Tanya’s hair was bleach blonde, and Zoe was almost jealous of how unkempt and shaggy it was compared to Zoe’s pixie cut. It kinda made her look cool, like she was some massive rocker chick who could win over an audience with a well-played guitar lick.
Except, y’know, she was here instead. And there was no way this giant woman had any charisma going for her at the moment. She looked … sullen. Distant. Defeated.
Zoe’s initial fear turned to pity as she looked into Tanya’s eyes.
“My sweet Tanya will make sure no funny business goes on during this intake meeting,” Archbishop Steele piped up. “She knows as well as anyone what happens if you defy me or try to escape. She tried it herself once—once—but just look at her now!”
Zoe did look at Tanya, more closely. And as she did, Zoe noticed something else about her, something none of the other captives in the other cells had—a collar around her neck. A magitech collar, which didn’t match her shackles. A collar sporting the cyan ankh of Gnosis Industries.
What did they do to her after she escaped? Give her a shock collar or something?
“She follows my orders, without question. She will protect me, without question. And trust me,” he said with a chuckle, “when she sets her mind to something, my sweet Tanya can bear-ly hold herself back.”
Ah. So she’s a beastess too. Yeah, being a bear suits her, Zoe thought.
Are the other … captives, or whatever … also beastesses? Will Zoe end up like Tanya if she stays here long enough?
“All right, what the fuck is going on?” Zoe demanded, finally at her wit’s end. “My parents gave me the impression they were sending me to some sort of Church-run beastess rehab, or a nunnery, or therapy, or, or, or something … not this fucked-up prison under your goddamn cathedral! Are you running some sort of secret sick zoo here for beastesses or something? I always knew you were royally fucked in the head since I first saw you on TV, but this takes the cake, you piece of sh—”
With a single pointing gesture by the archbishop to command her, Tanya leaped over the desk and grabbed Zoe by the throat, raising her high into the air before she could utter another word.
“SILENCE, HEATHEN!” Archbishop Steele screeched in that whiny, high-pitched squeak of his.
Tanya grew and half-shifted as Zoe was raised higher and higher off the ground, her entire throat in the grasp of this were-bear woman’s claws as she struggled to draw a breath. Her holographic chains rattled as she pulled desperately against Tanya’s tightening grip, squinting her eyes from the strain of it. The ripping sounds of the seams of Tanya’s jumpsuit punctuated her roars and growls of blind fury. Her gigantic biceps and forearms were covered in snow-white fur, which matched the white fur covering her ursine muzzle, save for a coal-black nose.
A polar bear beastess, then. Probably the most dangerous of bears.
Zoe tried to shift into her tiger form and fight back. She sprouted her claws and slashed haphazardly, still squinting and gasping for air as her throat closed, desperately trying to fend off her captor as the were-bear woman’s grip only tightened further and further—
Until, suddenly, she stopped squeezing.
Zoe’s claws had struck metal. And Tanya had fallen silent.
Opening her watery eyes and taking a deep breath, Zoe saw that some of the runic circuitry on Tanya’s collar had been slashed away, replaced by claw marks that gouged the metal.
Her gaze met Tanya’s. Both beastesses slowed down the pace of their breathing.
With Tanya’s back to the archbishop, only Zoe could see her changing expression. Tanya’s eyes were neither dull and blank, nor angry and glaring like a moment ago.
They were wide open. And intensely focused on Zoe.
In the corners of her eyes … barely glistening …
Were those … tears?
Something was off.
“Put her down, my sweet Tanya,” the archbishop said, collecting himself. Tanya abruptly dropped Zoe like a kid who was done playing with a doll. Thankfully, Zoe landed into a crouching roll and caught herself just in time, although now her ankles and her throat hurt now. She coughed and sputtered on her side on the floor, as Tanya stepped back around the desk robotically to join the archbishop’s side, her face blank and unreadable once more.
“You. Are. A. Bratty. One,” the archbishop muttered. Then he cackled. “Good. I like when my pets fight back. Makes it more fun to break them into submission.”
… Pets?
Zoe looked at Tanya. A thousand-yard stare. Not present. Utterly broken. Collared.
She switched her gaze to Archbishop Steele.
He was looking at Tanya. Looking at her body. Feeling up her body. Hungrily.
Lustfully.
… No.
FUCK, no, no, NO!
This isn’t real.
This isn’t happening.
This is NOT, FUCKING, HAPPENING—
Zoe broke down into tears. Big, choking sobs wracked her body as the reality of her situation—her future—pummeled her body over and over.
She would never get out of this cage.
She might never ever see the outside world ever again.
And fucking goddammit it all, she would never see Big Sis again!
She was going to be nothing but this fucking asshole’s …
Nothing but his …
Just his …
…
Zoe vomited on the carpet.
“Eugh!” The archbishop recoiled in disgust. “I can see we’re getting nowhere with this meeting. Pity, I was hoping you would hear me out, but I think you get the idea. You’ll come around. My pets always do.”
Archbishop Steele stood up and looked out the window at the bustling nightlife of Abraxas below, fidgeting with one of his many rings.
“If only I could have every beastess in the city in the palm of my hands …” he mused. “If only they weren’t so good at hiding from me … Alas, I’ll take whatever pets I can get.”
Stepping around the desk and crouching down in front of her, his spindly fingers pulled at Zoe’s face to look up at him.
“Especially when they’re handed to me by their parents on a silver fucking platter.”
He flashed a devilish grin with his yellowing teeth.
And pulled her in closer.
And closer.
Their lips touched. Pressed against each other like a car accident.
His foul, slimy tongue forced its way into her mouth.
His breath was putrid.
Strong liquor. Stale coffee. Cigarettes. A hint of acetone.
To call it a kiss would be like calling rotten meat a filling meal—technically correct, but it would make you sick.
Zoe gagged as she wrenched her face away, dry-heaving and shaking.
The archbishop threw her back down, into the puddle of her own stomach contents on the carpet, and stood up. He pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his robes to clean off his hands.
“Wipe her down and take her back to her cell, my sweet Tanya,” he said with a wave of his hand as he walked back over to his desk, “and when you’re done, clean up this mess before it stains my rug.”
Zoe didn’t have the energy, mentally or physically, to resist as Tanya grabbed a towel from a nearby cabinet, cleaned off her face and body, and effortlessly scooped Zoe up to carry her back to the elevator.
As the sliding doors closed and Zoe lay there in Tanya’s surprisingly gentle arms, she could feel wet, salty tears started flowing again down her face.
What the hell was she supposed to do? How was she gonna get out of—
A large thumb stroked away a tear from her cheek.
Zoe looked up at Tanya, shocked. The huge bear beastess was looking down at her, but quickly looked away, stoically, back at the doors.
“… I’m sorry,” Tanya whispered.
Silence after that for the whole ride back down. Silence as Tanya met with the guards at floor 3B. Silence as they walked Tanya to Zoe’s cell, where she was gently set down on her bunk as they locked her cell again and made her holographic shackles disappear with a press of a button.
Zoe was caged once more, but as she lay there on the thin mattress for God knows how long, she thought about what she needed to do to survive this.
The white tigress had been thrown into a pit of despair, and she almost lost herself there.
Almost forgot that she’s Zoe fuckin’ Ryder. And Zoe fuckin’ Ryder never gives up.
If this tiger was going to claw her way out of this pit, she needed a handhold, a ledge, something to cling to.
That something … was that big strong polar bear woman.
She had very little information to go on, sure.
She knew Tanya was loyal to the archbishop. She knew Tanya was defeated. She knew Tanya was broken.
But that meant she could be un-broken, right?
Zoe may have just found a bear-shaped crack in the foundations of this place, a crack she could widen if she could somehow get through to the real Tanya underneath.
Her fangs grew sharper as she smiled for the first time since she had been put down in this hellhole.
Her claws pierced the mattress.
Her black-and-white striped tail swished eagerly back and forth.
She purred quietly to herself.
The purr of a predator all too eager to commence the chase.
Yeah.
… Zoe’s gonna make that asshole archbishop fuckin’ regret adopting this kitty as a pet.