Deep Kopi Luwak Roast

Like a river evening out into peaceful flow after raging rapids, Amy’s life returned to a comfortable routine. Predictable. Controllable. Unassuming. Safe. Boring in all the right ways. Her next heat loomed on the horizon of her calendar, but for a few weeks she could cosplay as a normal person. A normal person who was in no way haunted by every pairing of crimson and ebony she happened to see. No siree.

Sonic was slowly making his move on the handsome white hedgehog, Silver, and Amy was enraptured by his frenetic accounts of his efforts. It was both heartbreaking and endearing to see her best friend so unsure of himself, as if courting Silver was the first thing Sonic had ever wanted to take seriously. Amy helped, however she could, always quick with advice like she knew anything about romance.

A media storm still roiled around Rouge. Her bold policy declaration at an otherwise routine campaign appearance had sent the City into a frenzy. Rouge’s events attracted protesters now and Amy tried her best to weave between the growing tensions to take her pictures. She approached every appearance with a racing heart. She was sure it was due to the extra security and absolutely nothing else.

She worked on herself every night with thoughts of no one running through her head. No one had introduced Rouge at the event, no one had hugged her and posed for photos, and no one’s handsome mug was splashed across the tabloids and conspiracy theory riddled caverns of social media. The disgusting, stupid things they said about no one, when Amy knew no one deserved it. She had missed no one by skipping the event. She did not regret it, and she certainly wasn’t thinking about no one nearly every dark moment of the night.

When unoccupied with work for Rouge, Amy tailed Vector’s ex-convict jackal through the shabbier parts of the city. She’d been confused at first, watching him enter every business on a street one after another, but then Amy remembered a time when she’d done the exact same thing. Looking for a job when no one wanted you around was soul crushing. Amy found herself wishing the next corner store, the next gas station, the next flower shop would be the one for him.

With the extra work from Vector, Amy was determined to make good on her claim to Sonic that she’d fully cover her half of the rent and utilities this month. Her days were filled with normal, boring everyday stuff, and she cherished every second. It wasn’t flashy or exciting, but it was her life, and she was free, if only for a time, to live it exactly however she wanted. Exactly. However. She. Wanted. Right?

The cat alarm clock on her bedside table loudly expressed its displeasure at the current hour. Amy grumbled and rolled over. With practiced accuracy, she reached out and poked the temporal feline on the nose, silencing it for another twenty-four hours. The pink hedgehog lifted herself from her warm sheets and stretched. Waking at this early hour wasn’t strictly necessary, what with her work being rather flexible, but it allowed her to continue a tradition that had begun nearly every morning since she and Sonic moved to the city.

Tying her quills into a messy bun, Amy entered the kitchen dressed in her sleeping shirt and a black pair of leggings. She took down a big container of premixed dry ingredients from the cabinet and pulled two eggs from the refrigerator. She heard Sonic exit his room and enter the shared bathroom across the hall. She deftly whisked the eggs while tipping in just the right amount of the premix.

Setting a skillet on the stovetop, Amy lit the burner and knifed a slab of butter from the dish on the counter into the pan. Sonic took showers like he did everything: quickly, so she didn’t have too much time. She poured part of the batter into the pan, butter sizzling at the sudden intrusion, before fishing a silicon coated spatula from the cluttered utensils drawer.

“Mornin’ Ames!” Sonic entered the living area, working closed the buttons on his shirt. She waved the spatula at him as she returned the greeting. As he slipped into a chair at the passthrough, Amy slid a plate stacked high with fluffy pancakes in front of him. “Looks amazing as always!” Sonic gave her a massive smile before laying into the stack with a ferocity that might convince uninformed observers that the blue hedgehog was chronically starved.

While he ate, Sonic talked about this and that and Amy half-listened as she continued to produce pancakes. She absconded a choice few to a plate on the side for her breakfast and the rest found their way, briefly, in front of her roommate before meeting their timely end. The former track and field star inhaled thrice the amount Amy could stomach but never seemed to gain a kilo. Probably burned plenty of calories keeping his jaw gabbing nonstop.

Once Sonic finished, they traded places. Amy ate while Sonic packed his lunch. Three chilidogs. Everyday the same thing. Three chilidogs. Certainly not Amy’s cup of tea, but she had to admit that Sonic made a mean chili after years of practice. Each component went into separate containers to be assembled in the perfect ratio later. In the past, he’d joked about using a highly sensitive laboratory scale to make sure each of dogs were exactly the same. At least, Amy thought Sonic had been joking.

His hands’ occupation left his mouth free to talk, or rather, in the case of this morning, complain about work. “And I totally calibrated the assay machine doing the immunosorbent tests. I showed Dr. Prower my access logs and everything, but he didn’t believe me. Said that it was impossible the ELISA results were accurate. I got pissed as shit because I totally did them right. Not my fault this shit we’re testing is wack. So, anyway, now I’ve got to babysit a bunch of techs from the machine vendor coming in to do a full overhaul and calibration. Super lame.”

“That sounds frustrating.” Amy drug a piece of pancake through a glob of strawberry jam.

“It blows major donkey wang, I tell you what. Though, there’s a ‘Silver’-lining.” He grinned as he zipped up his lunch bag. “A certain someone has to observe the whole process because the client is fucking pissed about the delay.”

Amy smirked teasingly and made an elongated, undulating ooOOooOOoo noise like they were still in middle school. “Sonic and Silver, sittin’ in’a la-bra-tor-y, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” She sang, stirring her tea. “First comes love, then comes marriage, next comes a pink slip because exchanging bodily fluids in the lab violates safety policies.” She deadpanned.

Sonic cracked up, howling the whole way out the front door.

Amy finished her breakfast and tidied the kitchen. She took a quick shower, not bothering to do anything with her face or hair. Not like she wanted anyone to see her today. Amy lined up the three different deodorizers she used every day. One was a standard scent neutralizer, another specifically targeted Omega pheromones, and the final one was an activated enzyme that consumed any organic compounds that escaped the first two. Amy wanted to smell like a void, a vacuum. An empty depression where a scent was supposed to be.

Amy spent the rest of the morning piddling around the apartment. Cleaning the bathroom. Responding to requests for touch-ups from Rouge’s media team. Doom scrolling the latest rabid discourse about the election on Flutter. Gaggling no one’s name to see what they were up to. Catching up on that show on Petflix her cousin seemed obsessed with. Eventually an alarm went off on her phone. Time to go to work.

She dressed, choosing a drab ensemble. A dark navy knit sweater, old grey jeans, and one of Sonic’s beat up maroon hoodies from goodness knows when. The emblem for their high school was cracked and peeling on the back and right breast. She completed the disarming disguise with a black scent mask. The final look was unassuming, shady, and androgenous as long as no one noticed the back quill vents were suspiciously empty. Not a bit of pink to be seen with the hood up.

Her camera fit securely in the hoodie’s pouch pocket if the telephoto lens was detached. Amy hadn’t needed the full set up yet, being able to get away with her phone’s zoom, but she carried it just in case. Double checking memory cards and spare batteries, she slipped her phone and wallet into an inner pocket. She strapped her taser securely to her waistband and covered it with the bulk of the hoodie’s hem. Lastly, she grabbed her backpack and slipped her laptop inside. Good to have it if she got a chance to work on photo touch ups.

The Omega bus was running its ‘reduced’ schedule again and after skipping several previous Beta buses, Amy gave up and boarded. She found her favorite spot by the window. Her eye slipped lazily over the landscape of the passing city. Drought conditions remain, a temporary roadside sign declared, Conserve water. Take shorter showers. An electronic billboard advertised a payday lender. Cheetah Loans! Get money FAST!

Liam Null, Amy’s target, currently resided in a halfway house a few transfers north. It was a quiet and unappealing part of the city. Gentrification would consume the area eventually, once the capitalists ran dry of healthier prey, sucking everything flavorful and noteworthy from the marrow of its bones. But for now, the way things had been were the way things would remain. Elderly on fixed incomes and working-class families struggling to make rent and pay school fees.

Details on Liam had been trickling in from Vector. There wasn’t much to be found on the guy as it turned out. Much of the details of his trial were sealed. No family to speak of. Bound to an Omega, but said partner was nowhere to be found. Knowing the Alpha was already bound left Amy relieved. Even if he caught her scent, the draw wouldn’t be anything above mild curiosity. The most important part was that his Voice would have shifted long ago, matching up with his Omega and losing potency over others.

Did some digging, Vector had texted, and found the target used to be in some sort of ‘squad’. Military cosplay crap. Code name ‘Infinite’. What kind of edgelord shit is that, right? Liam was twenty-two when he began his thirty-year sentence. Not much younger than Amy was now. The moniker sounded like a gamer tag Sonic would snidely quip about while he played with his online friends.

The means of Liam’s early release were interesting; in the way a deep, dark sinkhole or empty elevator shaft was. Seemingly from nowhere, he recently gained a very potent legal team who orchestrated a nearly unprecedented early release. Loping twenty years off a sentence took some doing.

After that discovery, Vector said he stopped digging. “Money is fucking with other money over this guy.” He told her on a phone call. “Us shit-eating ameba need to just pretend the leviathans aren’t eating our whole universe on the daily.” Amy couldn’t argue with that. “Follow the prick and cash the checks until I tell you to stop. Don’t get close. Remember, this fucker went away for attempted murder in the first degree. No firearm kicker, so tooth and claw shit.”

Amy leaned against the bus window and scrolled through her phone.

The OO forums burned with renewed fervor for Rouge, declaring her the champion of the downtrodden. The political discourse infected unrelated threads and the moderators struggled to keep the discussion contained and civil. Disputes were breaking out. Who do you care is running? You’ll just vote the way your Alpha tells you like a good, little Omega*. User was banned for this post.***

Amy had a fresh message from Orion. What do you think about this? he asked, attaching a link. Amy wasn’t surprised to find an article about Rouge loaded. Kinda funny the Alphas are starting to eat their own. Inevitable, really.

Amy hadn’t divulged to Orion her affiliation with Rouge, nor would she. The less of her pasted across the web the better. I think the exposure for Omega issues could be good. She typed out a reply, It’s really easy for people to forget or ignore us. I bet the average Beta doesn’t even know who Drago Wolfe is.

Rouge’s declaration to dismantle Wolfe v. City captivated the public discourse.

The online reaction had been a divisive spectrum from Rouge being the paragon of justice that the City needed, to disgust over the focus on Omega issues that election had taken, to how Rouge was an Omega-less, fake-Alpha, race traitor fascist who was just distracting from her ties to international weapons and drug smuggling. Still, Amy preferred the obvious lies over the questions of ‘do we really want a mayor who ruts and PMSs regularly?’

And then there were all the usual ‘step on me, mommy’-flavored comments that seemed to pop up faster than could be flagged for deletion or reported by the PR team, but Amy had gotten fairly blind to those by now. There was one gentleman in particular who offered increasing amounts of money for pictures of Rouge’s bare feet. The man’s tenacity and audacity had garnered him his own population of supporters. The internet was a wild place.

Geoffrey St. John, Rouge’s opponent, responded predictably. How dare Rouge disrespect the intelligence of the hard-working taxpayers of the City by distracting them from the real issues? The economy left by Mayor Jewel was in shambles and Rouge wanted to talk about undermining the judicial system? Sounded like Rouge had a chip on her shoulder from her time at the DA’s office. Leave it to the Alpha to make the election all about issues that only concerned her. And doesn’t she look tired?

Thanks to the internet miasma, Amy learned about a whole new group, the Alpha Rights Activists. Though they were more a spectrum than a cohesive group, their general opinion was that, actually, Alphas were the ones whose rights were getting restricted by any alleged ‘reforms’. Amy had asked Rouge about the ARAs and she rolled her eyes. “When you’ve been at the top of the pyramid for so long, suddenly getting less than everything feels like oppression.” She clicked her tongue. “Ignore them. I only want the votes of useful idiots.”

Wolfe v. City, though. Amy still couldn’t quite believe it. Sure, Rouge had brought up her detestation for that legal precedent plenty behind closed doors, especially when she was few beers down, but to actually promise to obliterate it? Amy felt a flutter in her chest and along her spine. It was the feeling that had led her to initially volunteer for Rouge’s campaign.

Hope.

The People of the City and Confederated Providences v. Drago Wolfe was a decades old case, from a ‘different time’. Drago Wolfe, an Alpha, was arraigned on charges of Manslaughter in the First Degree for the death of his Omega. His lawyers argued that the charges be changed to Involuntary Rut-Induced Homicide, despite evidence that the defendant was between ruts during the events in question. The court rejected the motion and preceded as initially charged.

The case was open and shut. The coroner’s report was graphic. The witness accounts were heart breaking. A history of violence was irrefutable given the extensive record of domestic disputes, even in an era where domestic violence wasn’t even a thing yet. The Omega’s death was both inevitable and unnoteworthy. Nearly identical cases cluttered the bench docket.

However, at jury selection, by some fluke of statistics, zero Alphas and seven Omegas were selected to sit in judgement. After arguments, the verdict came back within the hour. Guilty on all charges. Maximum sentence recommended. Drago was a danger to society. He didn’t regret his actions and would likely reoffend.

While Drago rotted in a maximum-security Alpha prison, the appeal filtered through the courts, carried by a claim for a mistrial. The Supreme Court overturned the original verdict and granted a retrial, citing that Drago had not been tried before an impartial jury of his peers.

The second time around the fucker walked.

From that moment on, though it wasn’t enshrined in law or official doctrine, all juries would have at least one of each of the three second-genders. The rate of guilty verdicts for Alpha on Omega violence plummeted until only the clearest cases made it past grand juries.

While Alpha conviction rates of fellow Alpha remained artificially high for non-violent crimes (the prevailing theory was that Alphas subconsciously sought dominance over all other Alphas to some degree), conviction rates for violent crimes, especially those committed against Omegas, were near zero. The explanations were myriad, but the general idea was that, in this specific case, solidarity overrode both competition and the low-grade affinity an Alphas had for all Omegas because the Omega in question was dead and therefore unbreedable.

More damaging, Wolfe v. City established the legal precedent that Omegas were not peers to Alphas. That the separation of the two was both legal and correct.

Overnight Omegas became explicitly second-class citizens. The case became the foundation for countless policies restricting Omega access to spaces, to services, to travel. Separate Buses, separate bathrooms, requisite escort. The red O with black slash. The blue O with black A.

Every Omega was told the same thing by the government that claimed to represent them: You can’t be here alone. You can’t be here at all. You should be home. Out of sight. Out of mind. Quiet and pregnant and submissive. The world is for your betters, for your Alpha. You were meant to be on your knees with your head pressed into the dirt.

The ‘dated’ explanation for the doctrine was Omega inferiority.

The modern explanation was for their ‘protection.’

No matter the why, then and now, the walls remained.

But now Rouge claimed to have a sledgehammer and the City was losing its goddamned mind.

Amy transferred buses. After trying for a while, Liam had finally found a job. He was the second shift watchman for a nondescript warehouse near the City limits. Amy wasn’t sure how he’d gotten the position, given his ‘feet on the ground’ approach, but maybe he finally figured out how to use his phone.

Smartphones had been around for longer than ten years, Amy was pretty sure, but the jackal still stared at his dated model like he was in his eighties, squinting at the screen and slowly jabbing it with a single finger. Amy’s confusion had morphed into secondhand embarrassment before settling on sympathy. He probably wasn’t allowed a phone in prison and now every part of life required a device of some kind.

Technology wasn’t the only thing the attempted murderer struggled to adjust to. Amy spotted him covering his nose and grimacing frequently. She recognized the behavior, the reaction to olfactory overstimulation, but it was bizarre to see an Alpha doing it. Any time Liam passed by a crowd, his muzzle crinkled in disgust. “Just get a scent mask.” Amy mumbled, her finger holding down the shutter button.

Amy closed out of yet another article about Rouge as her bus got stuck in traffic. Her brow furrowed. All the new posts in the ‘In Memoriam’ thread were heart attacks. That…seemed strange. What were the odds? Why wasn’t this in the news? She sent a new message to Orion. What were you saying about a bad batch of suppressants?

The reply came quickly. The Starline pharma stuff is shit. Stop taking it.

Easy for him to say. Amy had checked the price of her old brand now that it wasn’t covered by Public Insurance. At the cadence she needed for her frequent heats, she was looking at nearly a hundred rings a week. Maybe she could afford it if she stopped eating. If she went off her suppressants without an alternative, there was no deodorizer on the planet that could cover her scent.

At the rate the bus was crawling through traffic, Liam would be well into the first hour of his shift. Amy intentionally took a circuitous route to avoid being on the same bus as him too many times and today it was biting her in the ass. In previous tailing sessions, she’d watched him count out change for the fare under the smoldering glare of the bus driver who was no doubt wondering why the jackal didn’t just tap his phone against the reader like everyone else.

The bus rolled by a Kraken Koffee branch and, before Amy could look away, the stupid red and black color scheme drug up unwanted thoughts from the depths she kept trying to drown them. “REJOICE MORTALS!” the marquee read, “PUMPKIN SPICE RETURNS ON THE TIDE!” She bit the inside of her cheek and opened the latest A/O pairing app she was trying.

Finding a viable partner that wasn’t a bot, scammer, or certified creep was a Sisyphean effort with the added indignity of the boulder running her over every time it rolled back down the slope. You don’t have to be doing this! The giant rock taunted as it pressed her into the dirt. Still, she’d resolved to redouble her efforts to find an Alpha to replace Sonic every time the very much unwanted fantasies of certain hedgehog reared inside her.

Amy was on her third app. AO Cupid was overrun with bots so badly that she wasn’t sure the few connections she had made had actual people on the other side. Stumble seemed a bit better because it required both the Omega and Alpha to ‘like’ one another’s profile before messaging could begin. Amy spent several days uncertain about what to put on her profile.

Sonic was no help. “You just put the goods in your profile pic and some random bullshit in the text box. Like, you like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain. Shit like that. I’ve got a humble brag about how short my refractory period is on mine, but that might not work for you.”

Amy had snorted. “Does Silver know about that?”

Sonic blushed and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “W-well, I want to date Silver, so, like…” His traveling gaze finally returned to her face and beheld the flat, unamusement there. “Uh, I mean, don’t listen to me, Ames. I’m full of shit, you know that.”

Amy watched some videos on taking a good profile picture and immediately hated the one she posted. It didn’t end up mattering much because most of her matches ‘liked’ her just so they could leave disgusting comments in her inbox. Damn, girl, yur oooold. Fucking you is community service. 25? wtf is wrong with you? Prob cobwebs up there and shit. Ill do you a favor and claim you, but I don’t want to see that face unless your ass is in the air. Don’t worry pink, ill have you pregnant and barefoot in a hot sec.

eBond was pay to play, which did put a damper on the spam and scams. The lowest plan wasn’t that bad, and with the work from Vector, she could afford it for a few weeks at least. So far Amy had encountered much less vitriol, but the entitlement was still quite high.

Amy thought about quitting the whole business multiple times. But every time Sonic waxed poetic about Silver, her conviction renewed. If she tried long enough she might meet someone nice, someone she’d actually make a connection with…but all she really needed was a willing dick. As her heat drew closer, she worried she might need to swallow her pride and commit to enduring a night with the least offensive creep. At least she had a new memory to visit when she didn’t want to in the now.

Luckily, a recent pairing seemed to be baring some fruit. Their chat log wasn’t that long yet, but the non-binary sound engineer seemed nice if a bit dorky. He - wait, no! - they were cute in their picture, with their goofy smile. Almost like an introverted Sonic to be honest.

A text alert chimed. Speak of the devil.

[Blue Blur]: free on sat? I might have asked Silver to hang but then fumbled like a newb and said it wasn’t a date date and like bring a friend. Now he says his roommate is gonna come. Can you help me out?

TO [Blue Blur]: Sure, I’ll keep that mean ole’ roommate off your back

[Blue Blur]: 👍 Yur the best Ames

A thought struck Amy. She typed it out and pressed send before she let her doubts swallow her conviction.

TO [Blue Blur]: Can heat suppressants cause heart attacks?

[Blue Blur]: Uh, totes a real weird question there, Amy. But yeah, its on the list of side effects

Amy was about to reply when she realized she was at her stop! Her hand shot up to pull the cord. The driver slammed on the brakes. “I’m so sorry!” She called as she exited. The bull snorted at her and shut the doors a bit aggressively behind her.

She looked at her phone and grimaced. She had several new texts from Sonic in such a short span of time.

[Blue Blur]: are u ok?

[Blue Blur]: ames?

[Blue Blur]: r u OK amy? If you think your havin a hrtattk call EMS!!!!!

Amy quickly typed out a reply as she started walking.

TO [Blue Blur]: No no, I’m fine!

[Blue Blur]: where ru rn? home? shud I cum home????

TO [Blue Blur]: No! Sorry, I’m fine, I promise. I’m just curious.

[Blue Blur]: givving me a fuken myocardial infarction over here amy god damn

TO [Blue Blur]: I’m sorry…I know it was a weird question. But…can you look up the probability of a heart attack for those new suppressants? The ones with the colorful box?

[Blue Blur]: Amy. Look, I told you I’m not supposed to talk about work stuff. Dr. Prower is getting hella pissy about security all of a sudden. You can check the label database on the Dept o Helth website. All the clinical trial info is there.

Amy frowned. The light changed for the intersection she had been waiting at and she crossed and entered the riverside park. Sonic was working on some suppressant testing for Kintobor Life Sciences. The same KLS who used to make her suppressants before the public insurance changed to the new Starline ones. She sighed at not having made the connection before now. Of course, Sonic would be working on the Starline drugs.

TO [Blue Blur]: Okay, thankyou. Sorry again.

[Blue Blur]: I got to go. See u @ home

The warehouse Liam worked at was hem by the Redrum river on one side. The flow was tiny given current conditions but could be tumultuous in wetter time. Conveniently, a long city park ran along the other side, utilizing the flood plain. From a wooden bench facing the river, Amy could just get a shot of the security booth through the thick trees lining both sides of the riverbank, thanks to the double punch of defoliations from the progressing autumn and ongoing drought.

The setup was strangely perfect. If anyone asked, she could claim to be an amateur artist taking photographs of the river and color changing foliage over time for a project. It wasn’t even that much of a lie as the long hours of sitting and watching had given her plenty of time to appreciate the quiet beauty of the place. So, she took some extra pictures and edited them on her laptop. Never a bad time to fluff her portfolio.

Today she strolled through the park at a lazy pace, enjoying the serenity of the afternoon. Amy passed the foot bridge over the river that accessed the road the warehouse sat along. The massive building was nondescript to an aggressive degree. Tall, grey, and angular, no emblems blazed on its blank faces. Trucks rarely went in or out and those that did were blank as well or generic carriers doing contract work.

The beauty of the tableau swirled around her and Amy smiled.

Then she froze.

Ahead, Amy saw her bench and perched on the wooden seat was a red coffee cup.

Her brow furrowed, alarms inside her coiling, ready to blare. That was weird. This spot wasn’t particularly close to anything of note and the nearest trash can was about a quarter mile behind her. It was just a coffee cup, right? Still…something deep in her brain stem told her not to trust.

Amy slowly approached the bench. Maybe someone had left the coffee cup sometime that morning? The idea did nothing to settle her unease. She turned in place, scanning the trees. She was alone save for the gently falling leaves. The warehouse stood still in the background. The light was on in the guardhouse, but Amy couldn’t see into it at this distance without her zoom lens.

She swallowed and lowered onto the bench. As her angle changed, she saw something was written on the cup. The name of the person who ordered it most likely. Amy glanced around again and, seeing nothing, reached for the cup. Pressing her fingers into the plastic top, she rotated it until the name could be read.

Miss Stalker

Amy shot to her feet, her heart pounding hard against her sternum. The cup and its boldly scribbled accusation remained on the bench. She fumbled at her side, trying to free the taser from its pouch, as she backed away.

“Well, hold on.” Amy spun, white hot adrenaline flooding her veins. The black and white jackal leaned against a tree just off the path, chimeric eyes gazing lazily at her. “You’re not even going to take the coffee with you?”