The werefox curled up within a dark place, feeling tight with his limbs only having an inch-sized movement space. He could break free from the tough case encompassing him, but he resisted the urge and instead pressed his black nose against a small opening. Between his arms and legs he held onto his Colt Peacemaker and his high-frequency katana, which helped calm him. He felt some bumps and a shake while he lowered his head, with a new constant motion around him.

“Here is your room, Mr. Tolle,” the werefox heard coming from outside as the case he was in stopped. “The captain managed to secure a two-person room for yourself and your eccentric guest.”

“Tell him I said, ‘Thank you,’ alright?” Mr. Tolle said.

There was a clicking noise and the werefox felt the case in motion again. Soon, he found himself laying on his side before he heard another clicking noise and a thud along with footsteps, muffled somewhat and going all around him. He heard a shudder and a clack and then light poured around his body. He wiggled a bit and tugged his hat and poncho before getting up, his large feet-paws leaving the extra-large luggage case.

“How was it in there?” The werefox turned, seeing Mr. Tolle. “Not too rough, I hope?”

“Tolerable” the werefox replied, snapping on the gun belt and holster around his waist and buckling his katana at the opposite hip. “So, we’ve boarded the ship?”

“Yes, we have.” Mr. Tolle walked back a bit before sitting on a couch. “It’ll take a while for the ship to leave port, but for now all we can do is wait.”

The werefox nodded, then stretched and turned around the room. This room was large, larger than the hotel room the two stayed in. At one corner of the room was a wooden chair and desk, with a table lamp resting on it. The light-brown couch was set against the light blue wall, facing a large flat-screen TV. A small glass table sat between them. Right near the bathroom door, which was opposite of the closet door and with the entrance door in between them, was a small table with a brass bowl and several brown stick-like objects on it. He turned to the other side of the room and his green eyes saw another door which he guessed was the bedroom.

The werefox stepped around the area, his green eyes skimming while his feet-paws rubbed against the thick white carpet. He approached the closet door and opened it up but no one hid within, only hangers hanging empty. He turned around to the bathroom door and slid it open. It was painted white, which would made it difficult for someone to hide inside. Still, he checked and didn’t find anything but the sink, toilet, and shower. He grunted a bit before approaching the bedroom doors, the final set, and opened it. Within were a pair of massive beds and another TV on a TV shelf, but no other person. Just the two of them.

He sighed again before walking to the couch, sitting on one of its arms. “This place is clear.”

Mr. Tolle nodded. “I checked as well. I didn’t mention it to you because I know you wouldn't be satisfied until you checked for yourself.”

“I see.” The werefox rubbed his jawline. “Did anyone act 'off' to you?”

Mr. Tolle paled a bit which the werefox caught before he turned his head downwards to the carpet. “Yes. Every crew member who heard my name gave me a hard look as I walked by. And the one who directed me to his room was sweating. They know.”

The werefox nodded before he closed his eyes, feeling that same thick air that was touched with dread. A thought came to him as he rubbed his katana’s Saba, feeling its cold steel exterior. Soon enough, he opened his eyes, gazing out with determination.

“That means that I need to be ready for them,” the werefox said, standing up as he pulled up his poncho so that it exposed his front and weapons. He walked over to the other side of the room and, pressing his back against it, crossed his arms. “Perhaps you should’ve gotten a weapon as well.”

Mr. Tolle turned his head towards the werefox and gave an exhausted smile. “Given my pitiable skills with a gun and a sword, I’m afraid that I’ll just be in your way if it ever comes to a fight.”

The werefox shrugged before closing his eyes, his ears twitching. He heard footsteps which made a clicking noise, like from high heels, before they paused in front of the door. His eyes opened up just before a knock came at the door, causing Mr. Tolle to jump. Then, in an instant, the werefox leaped up and stuffed himself into a closet, leaving the door open just enough to see through a crack. Mr. Tolle get up and walked to the side as another knock came and the door ticked opened again.

“Good day, Mr. Tolle. I heard that you and your friend are the captain’s guest of the journey?” A lady’s voice said.

“Why yes, of course,” Mr. Tolle said in response. “Though I don’t recall asking for an attendant.”

“The captain himself sent me here,” the attendant replied. “He thought that you and your friend might be hungry during your long drive over here. So, he sent me to bring you some foods.” There was a pause. “May I come in and leave the food out for you?”

“There’s an east wind coming, I believe,” Mr. Tolle said and the werefox tensed up, gripping his revolver. “But sure, you may come in.”

“Strange. I thought that the weather reports said that the wind is blowing north.” The cart made a rolling sound before it muffled against the carpet, though the werefox could still hear what sounded like glass clinking. The werefox looked out through the door crack and saw a lady in a uniform with black hair, tied into a bun, walking by while pushing a food cart. He took a whiff of the food and he frowned before his ears twitched, hearing a snapping sound and his nose now smelling a sweet smell. “OK. I’ll leave you to your meal.”

“Sounds good, though I do have one question.” Mr. Tolle’s voice became serious. “Why are you carrying a concealed gun?”

Silence hovered over the area while it felt colder, even to the werefox. He pulled his revolver out and bent his knees, not letting the lady leave his gaze. Her body flinched a bit before she took a step back.

“You’re sharp-eyed, aren't you, Mr. Tolle? I can see why you managed to rise through both the FBI and CIA,” she said while raising her hand to her chest. “It’s almost a shame that you have to throw it all away.”

The werefox swung open the door and, with a click of the hammer, he pointed the gun at her head. The ‘attendant’ flinched again, pausing as she turned her head just enough for one of her yellow eyes to look at him. He grabbed her shoulder, forced her around, and pulled out a pistol, a Diamondback DB9, from under her coat. He shoved her onto the couch on her back, still pointing a gun at her, yet her expression changed little throughout.

Mr. Tolle walked over to the werefox and, accepting the pistol, said, “OK. Now what should we do?”

The werefox’s ears twitched and he turned, a fury of footsteps happening outside of the door. Despite that, he still held his aim at the ‘attendant’, his expression cold. He sniffed and he frowned, head turning at the food tray and noting that she only brought enough foods for one. Even with the white smoke from those sticks, lit up and within the brass bowl while having a sweet cinnamon smell to it, didn’t hid the added ingredient to the foods.

“Now we wait for them to negotiate with us.”

Wild Coyote leaned back against the white wood wall, rubbing the side of his smartphone. The display on it read out 9:43 AM. The coyote plush he was carrying on top of his right shoulder, sat with frozen gaze looking forward as he turned the screen off. He hummed as he got up, with an echo of footsteps running towards him. Soon, a man in a dark gray uniform came up and stood in front of Coyote.

“Sir!” he said, somewhat panting between words as he raised his hand up over his head in a salute. “Agent Oserotto of the CIA went into the target room. She has come into contact with them and has been taken hostage, despite following your orders. We have surrounded the room, but we haven’t breached the door. And they hadn’t given any demands when I left.”

Coyote nodded as he put his smartphone into his white lab coat’s pocket and instead pulled out a pair of black shades, putting them on top of his forehead. “Very well. Time for my part . Good work, Grey.”

“It’s Greyhound, sir. Greyhound 307,” the Grey said as Coyote chuckled to himself.

The werefox stared at the door, as still as a statue, while still pointing his gun at the ‘attendant’. She moved an inch but froze when the revolver shifted a bit in response. The werefox’s ears twitched. Mr. Tolle stood by, his head covered in cold sweat even as he glared at the lady before them.

Then footsteps, coming from heavy boots, echoed into the werefox’s ears as his eyes narrowed at the door. The doorknob twisted open before the door opened up and a man stepped inside. The werefox tilted his head, trying to calculate the capabilities of the man before him. The other man reached down to his right thigh, and, with a couple of clicks, removed his holster strapped to it along with the S&M 44 Magnum Model 629 with a long barrel. The man put it on the carpet d before sliding it to the two. That alone suggested that the white lab coat hid his true strength that his gun hinted at.

The werefox frowned a bit, finding the skintight armorsuit the man wore underneath that lab coat until it clicked, and he frowned. It’s just like the one he used to wore in that facility. Sure, there wasn’t an unusual addition like the tunic-like design over the waist, but its skintight design, along with its armored layers, was just like the one the werefox threw away. Attached to his wrists were a pair of thick bracelets with a steel surface, though the werefox noted there were four holes on them. His green eyes met the man’s deep blue eyes before noticing the coyote plush on his shoulder and black shades over his forehead.

“I am a FOXWOOD agent as part of the subdivision Trickster Brigade, codename Wild Coyote,” the man said while lowering the shades over his eyes, black enough that not even an outline could be seen through the glass.

“A pleasure to meet you,” the werefox said, though his tone was joyless and flat. “I heard that FOXWOOD was brought in to capture me. I’m guessing that you’re in charge of that?”

“I am, as ordered by my commander,” Wild Coyote said, taking a step forward while keeping his palms exposed to them. “We were paid by the US government to capture you.”

“I’m sure that you were all thrilled to get the chance of capturing someone like myself, who was ruined by that same government.” The werefox glared at the FOXWOOD agent. “What about her? Is she also a part of FOXWOOD?”

“Agent Oserotto? No, she’s a CIA agent brought in as a liaison between FOXWOOD and that person from the US government,” Coyote answered, giving out a shrug. “So then,” he lowered his arms, “what do you want?”

“What do I want?” The werefox hesitated a bit. “A peaceful passage back to the house my former human life lived in. Then, to live free without any more attempts at capturing me.”

“Fairly unambitious. Is that all you really want?” Wild Coyote asked and the werefox nodded at him. “Of course, we have ourselves in a tough spot.” He emitted a cheeky grin. “Especially since I have twenty FOXWOOD soldiers waiting just outside the door, with guns ready, at my command. But I won’t give it as long as Agent Oserotto is in danger. And besides, capturing you is only a side effect of that official’s demand. What he or she wants,” his hand pointed at his left lab coat pocket, “is a bit of your blood to study from. So that they can reverse engineer and rediscover the process that transformed you.”

“As long as there’s a tiny bit of chance of that evil project getting restarted,” the werefox glared even more, “I won’t give you even the smallest drop of blood. And besides, I caught on to what you were planning with this CIA agent here, even without my dear friend, Mr. Tolle, spotting the gun on her.”

“Friend?” Wild Coyote tilted his head, rubbing it against the coyote plush. “Tolle is the reason why you became that project’s test subject in the first place.”

There was a pause that lasted for a few seconds before the werefox said one word: “So?”

“That man himself kidnapped you, allowing you to get stuffed into a liquid tube with a wire tapped into your brain and changing your body and mind until you became the perfect weapon.” The red-haired man tilted his head to the opposite direction. “I wouldn’t call anyone like that a friend, especially since even you think that project was evil.”

The werefox flicked a quick glance at Mr. Tolle, who had a pained expression written all over his face, before his muzzle furrowed at Wild Coyote. “I knew the truth. I overheard General Bulhond say it when I was in that facility and Mr. Tolle explained everything else about it when they helped me escape. I also have seen the heavy regret he carries over what he did and he did everything he could, even fighting off sickness, so that my hidden home was as comfortable as possible. So please, spare me any attempt at distracting me, because I see through your game.

“Even without the fact that your agent brought in just enough food for one person when she knew there was two, I smelled something different about it. Some kind of drug, which is most likely a sleeping drug. She did her best to cover it up by lighting up those three incense sticks, but the drug got to my nose first. Of course, even if this silly fool carried a lit candlestick along, I still would’ve smelled it."

Wild Coyote gave out a shrug, with his palms pointed upwards, before stepping to the side. “I must say, I’m rather impressed by your sense of loyalty. Of course, Blondie can be trustworthy to those who earned his trust.”

“Blondie?” The werefox’s left ear folded to the side.

Wild Coyoe turned his head towards the werefox, rubbing his chin before chuckling. “Don’t watch movies much? Then again, given on what details I found out about your hiding location, I would be surprised that you have electrical power at all. A shame, really. You’re missing out.”

The werefox grunted, frowning with both ears folded back. “In any case, will you accept the deal? I can assure you that she will live.”

“Hmm. To accept or not to accept. That is the question.” Wild Coyote raised his hands so he could face them. “Of course, the answer is no.” He didn’t flinch when the werefox’s finger tightened on the trigger. “Still, I doubt that the CIA and Agent Oserotto’s boss would be happy if I let her die, even if it meant that I captured you two. And I’m sure that I’ll get an earful from my commander for that.”

“You’re doing nothing but stalling,” Mr. Tolle said, pointing the small gun at Wild Coyote. “What are you trying to do? We disabled your plan with the drug, so it can’t be that. Did you call for outside help? Prepared for a trap as soon as we stepped out from this room? As long as we have Oserotto, you have to obey us.”

The werefox tilted his head to the side, his stomach tightening with fear. But what could be triggering it? He deeply scanned Wild Coyote standing before him with a cocky grin and he realized that the sunglasses weren’t just tinted but blackened. Not only that, but the sides were set up so that no light could shine in from the side. In fact, though he knew that there were types of shades that dampened the sunlight, he wondered how does this agent see through those glasses? They look black and thick enough to block everything.

“What are those glasses?” The werefox asked, more to himself than to Wild Coyote.

“Oh, these?” Wild Coyote pointed at his glasses. “These are, in fact, the true keys to the puzzle. And to be honest, I’m disappointed after what I observed from you two.” His hand rose up and grabbed onto the coyote plush before carrying it under his arm and petting it. “I thought you would’ve seen through it.”

“What are you talking about?” Mr. Tolle demanded as he blinked. “We figured out your game and not only did we disable it but we also used it to our advantage.”

“Exactly. Unless.” The werefox paused for a few seconds before his eyes widened. “Unless the drugged food wasn’t the trap—”

An explosion happened before him, with a bright white light blocking every view he had and coming from the brass bowl. He heard a ringing noise, like a low hum, that drowned out every other sound while he stumbled back and landed on something behind him, which made a crashing sound. He felt a massive force gripping onto his revolver, ripping it out of his hand, then he felt a rip from his left where his katana hung. What felt like a pair of hands gripped around his throat, lifting him up while his feet-paws hung loose below. His hands moved to pry off the other’s hands, but the grip was strong, far stronger than even he could rip off. He choked and groaned, stammering out words before his white vision became black and he thought no more.