The harsh sun beamed down against the red dirt and dry plants. A cow walked down the arroyo, pausing to sniff various plants before moving on to the next one until the tan cow stopped at one of the plants and chewed. The cow ate more of the plant before it twitched its ears, looking up.

The cow huffed a bit, relaxing before it looked back at the plant it was eating and stepped forward. Its left eye looked back, the opposite of where the sound came from, and saw a figure behind a bush, holding onto a shiny object, and realization hit the cow. A click, followed by a loud bang, echoed in its ears before the cow saw and heard no more, collapsing onto the ground.

The werefox stepped out from behind the bush, around 100 feet away, and holstered his Colt Peacemaker .45 LC. He tugged his brown poncho down before sprinting to the fallen cow. In less than three seconds, he reached the dead cow, a hole in its head. He reached over, lifted the cow a bit even as his mind made mental calculations, before lifting it over his shoulders.

“Around 800 pounds, three miles away,” the werefox said to himself, adjusting his hat a bit before bending his knees. “Should be back in thirty minutes.”

The werefox ran, hoping that there was no one around to hear the shot. Of course, in his three years here in the Australian Outback, he had not met another person. Still, he knew that it was a calculated risk, even more so than usual. But with no new calls from Mr. Tolle since that accidental one two days ago, his fear had faded enough to allow himself to hunt once more.

Soon enough, the werefox’s house was within sight and he ran a bit faster, his clothes not even having a drop of sweat on them. He stopped, clutching onto the dead cow’s legs tighter. A truck was parked almost two miles away, which would be bad enough. However, it was Mr. Tolle’s truck itself, with its worn down-down brown paint job and large tires, which caused the werefox’s blood to run cold.

The werefox twitched his ears before he walked forward, his eyes shifting from side to side. His heart remained steady. When he got to the side of the house, he set the dead cow to the side before he leaned his back against the wall. His hand gripped on his revolver before he twisted at the corner.

No one stood in front of the house, yet there was a note on the door.

The werefox’s eyes narrowed, and he crouched low while pulling out his revolver. Below the window he went, silent as a hawk, before he reached up and grabbed the note taped onto the door. He skimmed through the note and his hand-paws shook a little.

It read: They are listening. If your cellphone is on you, put it inside the house and come to me as quickly and quietly as you can. I am in the truck.

Before standing up and opening the door, the werefox pulled the hammer of his revolver. He stepped in and the wind closed the door behind him. Every spot in the kitchen gleamed clean and empty. The werefox pulled his cellphone from his pocket and placed it on the counter. He walked over to the pantry door and pulled it open, but only dried fruits, meats, and pelts were inside. Dusts covered much of the living room, if one could call it as such with its fireplace and chairs, but no one has disturbed it since last winter. He stepped through the bedroom, but the only thing out of place were the clothes within the brown sack from two days ago.

He shook his head a bit before he pushed the hammer forward and hoister the revolver. He went over to the window and opened it without a sound. After a quick jump and squeeze through the window, the werefox landed onto the dirt. He went around the house before he sprinted forward towards the truck. Within five minutes, the werefox got to the dirt-covered truck, with the ground breaking from this sudden stop while his right hand gripped onto the revolver. There wasn’t anyone sitting at the driver or the passenger seat and no one was laying underneath them.

His ears twitched as they heard a sudden clang. He crouched low while pulling out the Colt .45. Silence soon swept over the area as the werefox stepped by the side of the truck, step by step, and his head turning underneath the truck. The only things under the truck were dirt, dust, and oil. He proceeded forward to the back of the truck, keeping his head low. He mulled about it for a second before he leaped up, with him landing at the truck’s back with a man’s legs between his own.

Mr. Tolle, laying within the truck and his eyes wide, held up a written note: Did you put away the cellphone?

The werefox nodded and Mr. Tolle relaxed. “Thank God. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“It almost seemed like you wanted one,” the werefox said, lowering his revolver. “Bringing news about FOXWOOD just two days ago and now you tell me that they’re listening, with this tool being my phone. I have good reason to be paranoid and the fact that you’re here hiding instead of sitting at the driver’s seat doesn’t put me at ease.”

“Sorry.” Mr. Tolle rubbed the back of his shaggy hair. “I was concerned that someone might be watching as well, and I tried not to be noticeable.”

The werefox’s muzzle furrowed. “What’s going on here ?”

“Just this morning, I checked over my phone,” Mr. Tolle answered while groaning, rolling himself up into a sitting position. “I noticed that the battery was draining a lot faster than usual. I looked over the storage and, for some odd reason, the phone has a couple of extra MBs without any updates all of the sudden and, looking through its download history, it said nothing about any recent downloads. My blood became cold when I realized that my phone downloaded an unknown program without me asking for it. Even a standard virus would try to trick you into downloading it or running it.” He paused, his face becoming pale. “Then, looking over the files, I found it.”

“What is it?” the werefox asked as he squatted down.

“It’s some kind of program that, when I looked for the details about it, was created by FOXWOOD.” Mr. Tolle’s fist pressed against his face. “I haven’t opened it up, but I can guess what it was doing. At least giving out call details and tracking information back to FOXWOOD and, if it can do that, then it could be acting as a listening device for them even without the luxury of a phone call.”

The werefox blinked, with him leaning against the truck’s side itself. “You mean to tell me that, if they can be able to track you and listened in with that program without warning—”

“—then they know exactly where I am as long as I have that phone on me and can hear everything.” Mr. Tolle’s teeth pressed against his lips. “And I wouldn’t be surprised If that program can also be found in your cellphone as well.”

The werefox opened his mouth to speak, about to ask why not destroy the compromised phones so they wouldn’t be tracked, only to stopped himself. The realization that, if they destroyed the phones FOXWOOD would know for sure that their phones were bugged, hit him. There would be a high chance of them acting swift in getting the two before they lost track of them. So, instead he closed his mouth and nodded.

“I am so sorry for all of this,” Mr. Tolle said, shaking his head. “It’s my fault. I got you to hold onto a cellphone for quick contact in case something went wrong. Yet my phone and likely your phone got compromised as well. We failed.”

The werefox’s ears flattened back as his head lowered, his tail still. He stood up again before pulling his hat down, exhaling. He felt that feeling again, that of fear that he thought he lost during the process that made him what he is. He rubbed his chin a bit before humming. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“What do you mean?” Mr. Tolle asked, lifting his head up to the werefox.

“If they know where we are for the last two days, why haven’t they come to get us?”

Mr. Tolle blinked, lowering his hand as he tilted his head. “I don’t know. Perhaps they’re preparing—”

“For what? Even with my enhanced skills, I have my limits.” The werefox leaped off from the truck and, bending his knees, he gripped onto the truck’s back. He grunted and heaved, stretching up his legs as Mr. Tolle gave out a cry, sliding back. The werefox panted, lifting up the truck by three feet for several seconds before lowering it. He climbed back onto the truck again and Mr. Tolle blinked at the sweaty werefox. “Even if FOXWOOD is a small organization, which I doubt, they could send several trucks at me. My katana can pierce through them, but it’s not like I can be able to avoid every shot aimed at me. Heck, they could surround that house and get me that way.”

Mr. Tolle rubbed his chin, his fingers feeling the two-day unshaven hair on it. “I-I honestly do not know. You’re correct. What are they planning?”

The werefox grabbed his poncho and rubbed his muzzle and cheeks with it a bit. “Let’s discuss on what they can know. First off, given that you found this tracking virus on your phone, that gives us a clear idea that they know you’re helping me.”

“Yes.” Mr. Tolle grabbed onto the side of the truck and pulled himself up. “In fact, I wonder.” Mr. Tolle pinched his chin, with the werefox staring at him. “If the virus was planted because they know that I am involved with you, then there’s only one way they could’ve known.”

“And that is?” The werefox took off his hat and rubbed his dirty blond hair.

“They must’ve learned because of that call I had with General Bulhond,” Mr. Tolle answered, his gaze never leaving the werefox. “Of course, I know that the general wouldn’t betray us to them for any reason. So, if they learned about us from the general, then it means that he is also bugged with the same tracking virus.”

“And that call somehow transferred the virus into your phone?” The werefox placed his hat back on.

“That’s impossible. I saw that the general was using another number. In fact, it was a pay phone and those don’t use the internet to make calls. Unless,” Mr. Tolle gripped against the truck. “Unless the general brought the bugged phone with him when he made that call.”

“Even so, it can only hear what the general said, not what you said.” The werefox’s left ear folded to the side. “What did you two said?”

“I know that he said my name at the end, so that must be how they realized my connection with you, so there goes our diversion plan.” Mr. Tolle turned to the lone tree, with its dry leaves hanging on. “And I told him—” His face became pale. “I told him that you wished to return back to the states, back to your former life’s home. And he said just enough about it so that they could’ve known about that plan.”

“And even if it wasn’t enough, we discussed the plan not too long after you got that call from the general. We mentioned that we were going on a ship to head back there.” The werefox rubbed his right ear, frowning. “Heck, we even mentioned a captain friend who’ll assist us. If they figure who that friend is, they’ll soon talk to him. If that bug was planted before then—”

“What should we do?” Mr. Tolle asked, growing even paler.

“First off, we need to get out of here. But as long as that phone is in your house, we can’t find refuge there. We need a new place to stay at.” The werefox hopped off from the truck. “I’ll go back to get what little stuff I wish to keep. Get ready for us to drive out.”

Before Mr. Tolle could utter another word, the werefox sprinted off. The house, ahead of him, was a safe haven for the past three years, despite his incident with Mr. Consilium and that hunter. Yet, within two days, it was safe no longer. His chest felt tight, yet he pushed forward.

Soon, the werefox got to the back of the truck and, as quiet as a mouse, he leaped in through the open window. The brown sack, meant to be filled up with the remaining stuff, was picked up. He stuffed it with any extra clothes he could put into it. He grabbed his katana hanging on the wall, strapping it against his waist, before walking into the kitchen. The bookshelf, with its few books due to his limited tastes, lay there even as he went over and emptied it of books. The last item yet most important item to him, a broken hair clip, was grabbed and stuffed into the bag as well. He skimmed through the room and other rooms before nodding and going back to the bedroom, leaping out through the window.

The werefox’s knees bent low before he sprinted forward once again, back towards the truck. He turned back at the house, no, his former home one last time with its makeshift garden and its brown wooden porch and even the cow he hunted, before facing forward. Soon enough, he approached the truck with Mr. Tolle in the driver’s seat and, with a mighty leap, went over the front of the truck and landed in the back, causing it to shudder. Mr. Tolle turned around with a stunned expression and it wasn’t until the werefox nodded that he turned back, turning the key.

The truck vibrated along with a loud chugging sound before it morphed into a purr. It twisted its wheels before it moved back in a curved fashion and moved forward. The werefox grunted, his arms around the brown sack, before he lay down.

Night crawled above the sky by the time they made it to one of the port cities, with Mr. Tolle concealing both gun and sword within the seats. The werefox lay in the back feeling bare while understanding why it needed to be so when he passed both through the back window. The stars peeked through the darkness of space, though much fewer appeared in the night sky compared to the werefox’s former home. The truck shivered a bit before it stopped, behind at a hotel. He lay still even as Mr. Tolle stepped out from the truck and heard his footsteps to the right. A half-hour passed before footsteps came back and Mr. Tolle came into vision if upside down from the werefox’s perspective.

“OK, I got us a room,” Mr. Tolle said while gesturing for him to lay still just a bit more. “I also chose a specific hotel that accepts pets, so that they won’t question the fur when we leave. The doors to the rooms are also outside so that we can rush you in with less chance of you getting spotted. Just follow my lead. OK?”

“Sounds good to me,” the werefox answered, grabbing onto the brown sack.

The werefox stepped out from the truck as he followed Mr. Tolle to the hotel, which had only two floors. Mr. Tolle hold up an open palm around the corner and the werefox paused, only proceeding when his hand clenched with a thumb pointing up. They rushed up the stairs before the two went to one of the doors and, with a slide of a card, it opened with the werefox entering first.

“Alright,” Mr. Tolle said when he followed inside. “Here’s my plan so far. I’ll be trying to find a pay phone, would use this hotel one but I’m trying not to lay any possible traces to here, to contact my captain friend. I hope that FOXWOOD wouldn’t know who he is, but I am almost certain that they know. When I come back, just know that I’ll be making a specific knocking sound before coming in, like so.” He knocked against the bathroom door, with two knocks first, followed by one, and ending with three knocks. “Sounds good?”

“Yes. I know that he’s your friend,” the werefox said, taking off his hat and poncho and laying them in the closet, “but would he—”

“He wouldn’t. I know him well enough that he wouldn’t,” Mr. Tolle said before shaking his head. “But that wasn’t my concern. If they know about him, they will know what ship he, and thus we, would be on and he doesn’t have the power to stop FOXWOOD from trying to capture us.”

The werefox nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

“There is one sacrifice I want you to make, though.” Mr. Tolle grimaced as he went to his pocket and pulled out a few small bottles. He handed them over to the werefox, who read out ‘shampoo’ on the label. “I asked the front for some spares. While you don’t smell that awful, it’ll be far more noticeable in a public place such as this. I want you to wash yourself as much as possible so that we don’t get any room service people getting curious about this room.”

The werefox blinked before he nodded. “That makes sense to me.”

“And while I’m out there making a call, I’ll also be taking your clothes to get washed,” Mr. Tolle said and the werefox shrugged, taking the brown sack to the side and putting it down. He reached within and pulled out the books he brought before surrendering the sack to the man. He gestured that the clothes that the werefox was wearing should also be taken to be washed and he nodded, stepping into the bathroom and stripping off his clothes before giving them to the man.

Soon, the werefox begun his long shower, rubbing the shampoo from his dirty blond hair to the tip of his feet-paws and tail. Dirt felt off from his fur and down the drain along with what few loose furs along the way as he rubbed his body all over. An hour passed before the water stopped, with the werefox stepping out from the shower and tossing an empty small bottle into the trash.

The werefox wiped away the water stuck against his fur with a towel, ignoring the urge to shake himself, before he wiped away the perspiration from the mirror. His fur was much whiter and his dirty blond hair was much less dirtier in the reflection and he nodded. The mirror flickered a bit, the mirror displaying a naked human with his hair and eyes instead who gave out a sly grin, and he stumbled onto the floor. He panted as he got back up, the mirror returning to reflecting to what he is instead of what he was. He shook his head before walking out.

He stepped through the single bedroom with its two beds, but Mr. Tolle hadn’t returned it seemed. He shrugged, opening the closet’s door and noticing that the man also took the hat and poncho. In their place was a black bathrobe that he grabbed and put on, feeling its warmth against his fur. He sat down on one of the two beds before reaching out for The Return of the King.

He got to the fourth chapter when he heard footsteps and he twitched, every muscle ready for a fight. There was a pause until he heard a series of knocks, two knocks, one, and finally three. The werefox relaxed and the door swung opened, with Mr. Tolle coming in with not only the brown sack but also a few other bags. His expression was twisted, as if in pain, and the werefox tilted his head.

“Bad news,” Mr. Tolle said, letting the door closed behind him. “I managed to contact my friend and he did confirm that he was contacted by FOXWOOD.”

The werefox nodded. “I thought that might be the case. Anything else?”

“My friend did tell them to, well, to screw themselves, but it’s pretty clear that he has no power to stop them from boarding his ship.” Mr. Tolle placed the bags onto the werefox’s bed before sitting on his own, pressing both palms against his face. “We’re trapped.”

“Why not try to get us a flight out of here?” The werefox closed the book. “I could just hide in a case or crate and my body should be able to handle the tough conditions.”

“For how long?” Mr. Tolle asked, gripping onto his dishevel hair. “Even if you’re willing to go to Sydney at the other side of the continent, it’ll still take around fourteen hours to go from there to LA. Even a body like yours will eventually succumb to the lack of oxygen. Besides, airport security will take any threats they see, even in jest, seriously. Even a bribe won’t sway them. You will be found out sooner or later.”

The werefox nodded. “So, our only way out is through a ship. But we don’t have one, it’s out of your price range, and stealing one that is capable of sailing through the Pacific would attract far more attention.”

Mr. Tolle lowered his hands, giving out a despaired cry. “And there’s only so many places within Australia that won’t attract attention. We got nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. FOXWOOD has us pinned good.”

The werefox turned to the book’s cover with its green ring and golden wings and tree along with elvish writing. “I confess that I underestimated FOXWOOD. If they weren’t hunting me, I would happily shake hands with whoever planned this.”

“Now is not the time to be praising your enemies.” Mr. Tolle slammed his fist against the mattress. “Unless you’re thinking of going to FOXWOOD’s open arms.”

The werefox inhaled a bit before he felt something clicked in his head. “Why not?”

“Huh?” Mr. Tolle’s expression turned into confusion.

“I said that I would be ready if they do catch us in the ship. It seems that they’ll catch up there, and so I’ll be ready for them.” The werefox stood up before walking a few steps away. “We proceed as planned.”

“You can’t be serious.” Mr. Tolle stood up as well, tilting his head at the other while his foot slammed against the carpet, muffling the sound. “You’re openly saying that we should be walking into their trap. Do you honestly think you’ll be able to fight through it regardless?”

“I honestly don’t know if I’ll be able to fight off their trap.” The werefox’s fingers went between the blinds and widened it, showing him the few stars in the sky. “But that has the best chance of succeeding in my goal of going to the states.”

“I-I do try to understand why you wanted to go back to the states, but I really don’t.” Mr. Tolle rubbed his closed eyes. “Why do you feel your dreams are compelling you to returned to the states? What do you want?”

“I-I don’t know what I want.” The werefox closed his eyes. “To be honest, I’ve been feeling empty. Though I try gardening and even some hunting, it doesn’t feel like I’ve been living a life so much as drifting through it. It’s been gnawing on me for the past year and I feel as though those dreams are just a manifestation of that emptiness. Though you and the others have taken the teenage boy’s life by turning him into me, I feel just as guilty as well for it.” He shook his head. “After all, what dreams and desires did he had? Did he wanted to be in the military or be something artistic like a painter or a writer? Did he wish to be a programmer or does he want nothing more than working for the local store? Whatever dreams and desire he had are gone and the one who has taken his place is doing nothing but squandering that life.”

Mr. Tolle stood silent for a few seconds. “I never knew how empty you feel. All I wanted was to take you out from a life that you don’t want, which is to be a test subject and soldier to the US government. Those people didn’t care about the lives they’re planning to destroy if they succeeded. But it seemed as though, in my and the others’ process of saving you, we neglected to replace it with something meaningful. For that, I am sorry.”

“There’s little else you could’ve done.” The werefox opened his eyes, looking at the transparent reflection on the glass. “All I know is, is that the boy whose life has been stolen away is looking back at me. That’s why I wish to return to the boy’s home.”

“Not just to fulfill the boy’s final desire, but also to find out what you want in life? And you won’t stop until you satisfy both?” Mr. Tolle asked and waited until the werefox nodded back. “That sounds like a good thing for me. Even though you’re asking for us to run into danger head on, I’ll be with you until the end.”

The werefox turned to Mr. Tolle and he smiled, causing the man to blink. “Thank you.”

“N-no problem.” Mr. Tolle shook his head a bit before sitting down.

“Is there a problem?” The werefox asked, tilting his head at the man.

“Sorry. I think this is the first time I ever seen you smile before.”

Coyote leaned back onto his chair, his feet planted onto the holographic table as he hugged his coyote plush close. A song about making a birdhouse in his soul played on his phone, sitting on the table. Across from him was a series of reports that he and Vix were supposed to be going through together, but because of this messy week kept piling up. He heard a knock and, with a shrug, he stopped the song and got up, walking to the door and opening it, letting a glaring Agent Oserotto in.

“Any reason why you locked me out of this room?” Agent Oserotto demanded while lowering one hand so that it was pressing against her hip. “I doubt that whatever it is that you’re doing here is important enough to warrant it.”

“I was listening to a song,” Coyote answered with a shrug while closing the door. “Some of my best ideas were because of a song, though none would come up this time.”

“Of course someone like you would ignore a lady just to listen to some music.” Agent Oserotto shook her head while raising her other hand to inspect her palm and nails. “How goes the progress on tracking them?”

“Bad news on that front.” Coyote rubbed his two-day old stubby chin. “In the past two days since I showed you the tracking information, we’ve lost track of them.”

The CIA agent blinked, turning to Coyote as her face reddened. “Excuse me?”

“For the first few days, Tolle was walking around with his phone, often taking to other people with it on him.” Coyote pulled out his tablet and, when the screen woke up, he pulled up the tracking reports and showed them to Agent Oserotto. “But since yesterday, it’s been left in his home without a word. The same has happened with the werefox’s own phone. As such, I have to conclude that they, or at least Tolle, discovered that we implanted tracking and listening viruses to their phones and, in an attempt to lose our lead, abandoned their phones.”

“So, you’re saying that you managed to lose them?” Agent Oserotto’s face became redder while glaring at the tablet’s screen. “Such incompetent—”

“It was always a calculated risk,” Coyote said calmly while turning the screen off and putting the tablet away. “And besides, we did find out useful information from their talk. For example, we did figure out who is this ‘captain friend’ they mentioned.”

“I know. And you tried to contact him, which is a stupid mistake,” Agent Oserotto said, rubbing her hair bun. “Not to mention your refusal to retain him.”

“I knew it was a risky move, but I thought that he would cooperate with us.” Coyote felt a slight headache before he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “After all, he’s engaging in criminal activities since he is smuggling criminals between national borders which is a serious offense. Not to mention that he did the same thing three years ago with the same two criminals. We offered to clear the charges against him if he would surrender the two to us.” He opened his eyes and lowered his hands. “He told us to, well, screw off, but at least it confirmed our theory.”

“It’s still such a fooli— ACK!”

Coyote twitched and he clutched his fists, hearing various papers fall onto the ground, and he turned around. Agent Oserotto stood at the other end, having an almost comedic horrified expression at the mess she caused. His face turned white as he walked around, seeing several reports and folders mixed together, and her bending down to the floor.

Coyote raised a hand. “Stop. I will clean this up.”

“But—”

“What you knocked over are many top-secret projects that I and Vix have been working on. I don’t need any outsiders looking through them, especially someone from the CIA.” He cast a grim glare at her. “Is. That. Clear?”

“Crystal,” Agent Oserotto said before swallowing, her fearfulness more natural even as she walked past him as fast as her heels could allow.

“Good.” Coyote bent down and got to his knees, sliding along the steel floor. “This is going to take me a while. Just be thankful that I’m choosing to be nice because you’re a lady. The last guy who pulled this stunt to get our secrets spent a couple of days in our cell, being used as Vix’s test subject.”

“I thank you for being merciful.” The clicking of her heels became fainter with every step. “However, all this is still a foolish mistake. After all, you’re letting them know that their exit route is compromised.”

“Even so, I know they’ll still take it.” Coyote reached out for more papers before placing them on one side. “All other routes are blocked for them. I told you why yesterday, which is why I took the risk of talking to the captain.”

“So, you’re betting on still capturing them even though they’ll know that it’s a trap?” Agent Oserotto gave out a grunt and a wheeze. “Don’t you know how foolish that is?”

“Yes, I know that is a risky move.” Coyote picked up a piece of paper and putting it in its respective folder one by one. “But it’s a risk I’m willing to take. I know what room they’ll be in for the trip. The biggest risk I could think of if he brought any weapons along. That is illegal, especially in Australia, but, given that they’re already going to be engaging in illegal activities, it’s still a strong possibility. Heck, they could pull a hostage move on us, which would be very dangerous.”

Agent Oserotto’s heels clicked on the floor louder with every step. “And I do hope that you figured out how to counter that, yes?”

“Actually, no,” Coyote said as he put the final paperwork into a folder. “I really doubt that he let his skills deteriorate when there’s a possible threat looming in the background and there are a few areas where I outclass him, like a strength and invention competition. But I’m confident in my plans to get them without a casualty.” Coyote lifted up the reports and put them on the table, Agent Oserotto at the other side of the table with sweat beads on her forehead. “Scary, I know.”

“What? Oh, yes.” Agent Oserotto pulled out a handkerchief and rubbed it against her brow. “You’re making a lot of risky moves. No matter how clever you think you are, you can screw up just as easily as the next guy.”

Coyote nodded before he sighed, sitting down. “Believe me, I know. Though you may not see on that shelf back there,” he pointed at that shelf with various tools and paperwork sticking out while hearing an inhale from the CIA agent, “many of them are as much about my failures as they are about my successes. Though I wish the rest of the Trickster Brigade are available. They help me prevent my mistakes turn into major disaster.” He shook his head. “I need to clear my thoughts.” He pulled out his smartphone, unlocked it, and went to the music app. “I need to listen to music again. Let’s see what random will give—oh jeez, not in the mood.”

Agent Oserotto blinked at the music being played, one that sounded like it’s from a keyboard synthesizer. “Isn’t that the song Firefly?”

“It’s not called Firefly. It’s Fireflies. Plural.” Coyote pressed the digital pause button and rubbed his face with his palm. “Firefly is a science fiction TV show that has a sequel movie called Sere—” He paused, blinking for a few seconds. Agent Oserotto tilted her head, with Coyote lowering his hands and facing the smartphone screen for half a minute. She took a step forward, only to jump back when Coyote turned on the table’s hologram system. “Could it be? Let me double check.”

“What are you—” She stopped when Coyote raised an open palm at her while he pressed more buttons, with a video appearing before them and playing for the two. The video played a green and black video of their target in his fighting test. “Huh. So, that’s the recovered fight our supersoldier had. It’s amazing that he managed to do all that in the dark.”

“It’s not merely dark,” Coyote said, pulling out more digital reports and displaying them. “It’s pitch black. His sights are enhanced enough that he can still see though the darkness without a bit of light. Same goes for his smell, taste, and hearing.”

“Of course. After all, such supersoldiers with enhanced senses can be very useful for tracking targets, fighting in the dark, and hearing incoming threats.” Agent Oserotto shrugged while rubbing her back. “In short—”

“—it’s his biggest weakness.” Coyote’s expression changed, showing that was trying but failing not to smile, with Agent Oserotto blinking at him. “I know how to beat him. I know how to beat him!” He jumped a bit before grabbing Agent Oserotto by the wrist. “Come on, now. It’s time to head over to Australia.”

“Wait, what? What are you talking about?” Agent Oserotto felt a massive tug, with Coyote dragging her to the door. “You haven’t made a plan yet!”

“I just did, which I will explain along the way there,” Coyote said, opening the door. “It’s a long trip over to Australia, so there’s plenty of—GAH!”

Coyote’s body collided with another, with the other man falling back with a thud and a clank. Agent Oserotto stepped forward, trying to pry his fingers off while glaring at him and the other man, her lips showing wrinkles. This man was dressed in the same armorsuit as Wild Coyote, aside from it being dark blue and having a dark blue overcoat over it, not unlike the white lab coat Coyote wore. He shook his head a bit with his dark-blond hair shaking along before his green eyes looked up at Coyote’s own deep blue eyes, his hand holding onto a metal suitcase.

“Oops. Sorry about that, Brer Fox,” Coyote said, letting go Agent Oserotto’s wrist before rubbing the back of his head. “You need help up?”

“Nah, I’m good.” The other agent stood up while rubbing his chest, his fingers touching a blue crystal necklace that seemed to have a slight glow to it. “I was coming back from that job you asked me to do—”

“Ah! So, how was Mr. Medicus and his assistant? I hope that it wasn’t too difficult.” Coyote clasped a hand over Brer Fox’s shoulder. “And I also hope that they were understanding that I wasn’t able to help them out.”

“They were, don’t worry.” Brer Fox nodded. “And it took us a while to subdue that threat, but we succeeded. In any case, as I was saying, I was coming back when one of the lab assistants handed me this briefcase,” he lifted it up, the case having a cold reflection on its surface, “and asked me to give it to you. Said that it’s the finished version of that invention from Project Star Trek.”

“Oh! And what convenient timing since we were on our way out.” Coyote grinned as he clicked open the suitcase. Agent Oserotto tilted her head into the contents and she raised an eyebrow, seeing a pair of bracelet-like devices one inch wide and thick, with a thumb-sized bump on one end. Coyote snapped them open before wrapping them around his wrists with a click, grinning even wider. “Now I won’t need to carry my swords everywhere I go.”

“A-hem.” Agent Oserotto crossed her arms while squinting. “While I’m sure that’s a cute little toy you got there, but I’m afraid—”

“Oh, you’re correct. In any case, see you in a few days, Brer Fox!” Coyote let go of Brer Fox before walking down the hallway, with Agent Oserotto huffing and her heels clicking against the floor. “Sorry about that.”

Agent Oserotto cast a glance at the other agent before facing ahead towards Coyote’s back. “Forgive me for asking, but who is he? And what were you talking about?”

“Ah. That would be Brave Fox or, as I like to call him, Brer Fox.” Coyote answered while leading her through the hallway. “He’s the leader of the other Brigade we have here, the Lycan Brigade. I’m sure you remember what I told you about them, right?”

“Of course,” Agent Oserotto said, rubbing her chin. Then, in a lower voice, she said, “So, he met Adam.”

“You said something?”

“Nothing of importance,” Agent Oserotto said while shaking her head.

“As for what we were talking about,” Coyote said with a shrug, “it was a personal favor to a friend. Nothing related to FOXWOOD at all. I wanted to help, but just as I was about to, I was called in to work on this case instead.”

“I see. Still, I don’t know what your plan is to capture that supersoldier and that traitor.”

One of Coyote’s eyes looked back at the agent, keenly gleaming. “To begin, how much do you know about movies?”