Here is my first fanfic in an upcoming series. Due to graphicness I may not post the whole thing but if anyone is interested the whole, developing story so far is posted elsewhere for your reading needs. Comment all you want but please no flaming. (such things make me feel like a complete idiot! D:)

Chapter One

Grace Marina Kane should have been used to her daily routine; having been doing it over and over for the past five years like clockwork. At various early points at every morning she woke up, dragged herself out of bed and swept a sleep-wearied eye around her bedroom.

It always was the same: Blue paneled wallpaper, with a sickly hint of yellow daisies that Grace had had to repaint upon moving in back in ’25. At the northernmost end of the room there was her mirrored dresser; over which was draped a tattered red velvet curtain (for decoration only); and scattered about the surface were several crappy romance novels she’d picked up at the dime store, and Grace’s college diploma hung imperiously over the mirror; standing as a testament back to the old days where the very IDEA of females going to college was bizarre and obscene.

It was the morning of September 8th, 1938 and Grace was going through her morning business as usual. Yawning, she staggered blearily out of bed and approached the mirror, gazing exhaustedly at her gaunt complexion. Working full-time as a journalist was taxing and Grace was not exempt from that unspoken mar.

At age thirty she did not look quite young as she was; a pretty German shepherd with brown-black fur and the hazel eyes that everyone had always said were so pretty; but there was something ragged and exhausted now about her complexion, and Grace muttered a

“Damn I hate this job.”

As she splashed water onto her face with the nearby pitcher.

The previous day Grace had been assigned another one of those dreaded prison interviews; although Max Cavanaugh, her boss, (an arrogant old wreck of a ferret) had persuaded her into a 9:00 interview with the legendary Felipe Karnage, the infamous air robber (er excuse me, PIRATE!) who had recently been arrested following the emergency landing of his plane into a rocky gulch.

Chewing her claws in anticipation, Grace shed her pajamas, changing into a khaki-colored jacket and matching skirt, stuffing her tiny pistol into her sleeve as she always did.

“This had better go well.”

She muttered, examining her reflection in the mirror. Grace straightened the crumpled shoulder of her dress suit, made sure she didn’t look TOO hung-over, and promptly left the house for the cold edifice that was the Cape Suzette County Jail.

Grace walked. She could have taken the public bus but did not; as walking actually took less time given the proximity of the prison from her house. Upon arriving she was greeted by a burned-out looking possum Grace assumed was the secretary; who took a drag on her fat cigar and said.

“What ya here for sweetie?”

“My name’s Grace Kane; I’m a journalist for the Envoy.”

Briefly, she flashed a photo of herself with a release that Max had signed. The secretary nodded her consent.

“Ahh so yer that Miz Kane. The warden’ll be right there sweet’eart.”

Grace thanked the secretary and walked out of what she guessed was termed the lobby. The adjoining room led into the cell-block; a narrow corridor lined with cell upon cell, and was deathly quiet for a place where criminals were kept.

Every so often somebeast would whistle or play a somber note on a scratchy harmonica, but that would only momentarily add to the gloomy, sterile atmosphere. After what seemed like forever, another door to her left opened and an arrogant-looking heavyset tabby cat in a business suit strutted out; the warden.

He told Grace his name but embarrassingly, she forgot right away.

“Er…I’m here to see a Felipe Karnage.”

The warden’s face turned to stone.

“What?”

“Karnage….Damned pest. You paparazzi just love him, you know that? I get beasts coming in here under the guise of wantin’ to deliver ‘is airplane magazines!”

“I won’t be long.”

Grace assured him, doing her best to look sweetly innocent.

The warden gave her a once-over, but then nodded his submission.

“Back in half an hour.”

That was an order and not a question.

“Yes sir. Where is Karnage?”

The warden jabbed a meaty paw towards the end of the block.

“He’s been pushin’ solitary confinement since Monday. Tried to file his way out, clever insect; I’ll give him that. Due to his fame, Karnage was never consolidated t’begin with. He did not exercise, eat or work with the other prisoners and certainly does not now; not even in the chain-gang. I’ll tell you, if Karnage is going to get out of my prison alive he’ll certainly have to earn it.”

Grace did not listen to the warden’s fervent rant much longer; by then she was already halfway down the cellblock, and theoretically halfway to Karnage.