The werefox groaned as he regained consciousness and felt bruised all over. His green eyes slitted open, eventually focused, and he saw steel chains wrapped around his chest. His limbs felt twisted. Below him his legs were wrapped and twisted with thick shackles, two-inches of solid steel. He raised his head, stopping when it bumped against cold metal, and wiggled his fingers and toes. At both sides, through the thick bars within the cage he sat in, stood a pair of guards armed with rifles.

Ahead stood the red-headed man, ‘Wild Coyote’, sitting before the handcuffed Mr. Tolle, chained to a chair. The werefox’s eyes narrowed, curling his fingers even as Wild Coyote tapped his finger on the table that sat between the two men. Mr. Tolle looked defeated with a face pale facing down and his arms behind his back, while the CIA agent ‘Agent Oserotto’, leaned against the table. On the table were his brown sack and a long slim briefcase.

“A rather clever way of hiding the werefox beyond even the US government and its various agency’s eyes, putting him in a desert of another continent. However, you couldn’t hide all of the traces,” Wild Coyote said, petting the coyote plush sitting on his shoulder. The werefox observed that the ‘sunglasses’ weren’t on his head. “You couldn’t hide the fact that the area he lived in was purchased under your name, which is likely how Colsilium knew where to look. How you or he,” gesturing at the werefox, “dealt with him, I’m still figuring out. But I do have a couple of Greys there looking over the area now. They should be able to find out what happened.”

The werefox glared, his teeth gritting as the metal latched onto his wrists rubbed against the thick bar, which only produced a screeching noise. Everyone else looked up and turned towards the source. Wild Coyote’s expression darkened as he stood up and walked towards the imprisoned werefox.

“So, you’re finally awake,” Wild Coyote said, taking the coyote plush off of his shoulder while petting it. “I was worried that the flashbang would cause some sort of vision loss, but it seemed that you made a full recovery. I’m glad that the genesplicers thought of increased regenerative abilities, especially with someone who has heightened senses.”

The werefox’s muzzle furrowed. “I admit that you tricked us good. You meant for me to be suspicious of the drugged food. You got me to think that the incense was lit up in a hasty attempt to cover up the drugs’ smell, and I didn’t think of the incense bowl itself.”

“The things one can learn from movies,” Wild Coyote said, pulling out his black shades and mulling them over with a chuckle. “Of course, these weren’t perfect since the light could barely be seen from the sides, despite my efforts, and I couldn’t do anything to mute the sound without gaining suspicion.” He put them away again. “Still, it worked even if it took me a while to choke you to unconsciousness.”

The werefox did another deep scan of Wild Coyote, but no matter how deep he delved into him he couldn’t give out a proper estimate of his strength. He wondered how much of that outfit covered up his true strength since he didn’t look that strong. Of course, he also admitted to himself that he doesn’t look muscular either. He even wondered how Wild Coyote got so strong in the first place.

The werefox’s head tilted to the side and his eyes narrowed, where Oserotto reaching into the leather sack and pulling out folded clothes, all being duplicates to the one he wore. She pulled out the Tolkien books with her opening them up, feeling the worn pages with her fingers before putting them aside, shrugging. She reached deep into the sack and pulled out the broken hair clip, raising an eyebrow.

“Do not touch that,” the werefox said, his legs tugging against the bindings. Oserotto gave him a smug grin instead, waving it over as though it was a pet’s toy.

“Why not? You’re our prisoner and this is just trash.” She turned to the trash can but paused when a metallic groan was heard.

“He’s trying to break free!” The right-sided man said, pointing his gun at the werefox.

“At ease,” Wild Coyote said with a raised hand and he turned back to Oserotto. “Agent Oserotto, do what he said. Put them back. Besides, the important stuff is secure here.” He pointed at a long briefcase. “There’s no need to check for any more weapons.”

The werefox blinked at him, folding his left ear to the side, before continuing to tug against the chains more. Oserotto shook her head before putting everything back into the brown sack, including the hair clip. He stopped and relaxed, wondering how much he bent the steel bar in his rage. Wild Coyote approached the werefox, getting within an inch of the cage, and crouched down.

“I confess that, when I checked over your belongings, I was rather surprised by how little you own. Even more so by the books and that hair clip.” Wild Coyote rubbed his chin a bit, ignoring the incoming glare. “And while I can accept that you have those books for entertainment purposes, I’m just baffled by that broken hair clip. Willing to share why?” Silence hovered through the area. “Not much of a talker, eh? No worries, I’m used to quiet ones. I’m just curious.”

“Why do you care?” The werefox asked, lowering his head while staring direct to his eyes, both ears pointing upwards. “You’re nothing more than one of the US government’s stooges.”

Wild Coyote’s hand balled into a fist, and narrowed his deep blue eyes. “FOXWOOD is not, nor will it ever be, affiliated with any government in the world.” He glared back even as the area shook a bit. “We may assist governments if there’s a threat to be stopped, but we will never work under them.”

The werefox turned upwards and he blinked, the ceiling much lower than he expected. “Where are we?”

“We’re in a plane, flying back to FOXWOOD base,” Wild Coyote answered, standing back and turning around while shrugging. “We’ll be taking a pitstop at LA before we finish our journey there.”

The werefox growled, wiggling a bit. “For what? To dissect me? I swear I will rip your head off from those shoulders as soon as I break free from these restraints!”

Wild Coyote stopped, with him looking down as his arms hung loose and his fingers hanging onto that plush. “As I already told you, all that we require from you is a bit of your blood. After that—”

“Then all you’re doing is restarting that project again!” The werefox pressed his arms against the chains until they creaked from the strain. “You’ll be condemning who knows how many to a horrific experiment to recreate me, perhaps by making that machine do more than feed combat-related info! Like making them mindless soldiers willing to slaughter millions if ordered! Is that what you really want?!”

Wild Coyote remained still, the plush moving down bit by bit from his fingers. Then his right hand pressed against his face, inhaling and exhaling, as a tapping noise came ahead, becoming louder. The werefox tilted his head and he saw Oserotto walking forward, stopping beside the FOXWOOD agent and gripping onto his shoulder with an arrogant grin.

“This FOXWOOD agent has been very useful to me and my employer,” she said, her tone dripping like poisoned honey. “Even if he is too moral.”

“Too moral? What are you talking about?” The werefox demanded, ears flattening back.

“That whole blood thing? That’s the bare minimum that he would do for us,” Agent Oserotto replied, her other hand pressing against her hip. “He managed to crack the hard drives that held everything related to Project LONGE, from the chemicals and viruses to the machines and software. He could’ve just handed it all over to us and FOXWOOD would’ve got double pay and your little ‘vacation’ wouldn’t have been disturbed.”

The werefox blinked even as another voice was heard. “That’s impossible.” Everyone turned to the voice’s origin. Mr. Tolle’s pale face turned towards Wild Coyote, biting his lip. “We destroyed everything there, making sure that nothing that could’ve restarted that project remained.”

“That’s only because you didn’t think that Colsilium would’ve kept copies within his own home.” Oserotto gave out a grin that would’ve frozen a heart. “If only he wasn’t mad enough to chase our supersolder instead of starting that project anew. Especially since everything that survived was encrypted, but my boy, Coyote, cracked all of the hard drives wide open. He knows everything that happened.”

Mr. Tolle, if it was possible, became even paler while one of the werefox’s ears unfolded itself and the other pointed to the side. Starting from the head he observed Wild Coyote’s back and right cheek and he couldn’t help but noted that what little he saw on his face was white. His hand curled around the plush and squeezed it hard to the point that it’s surprising that it didn’t burst into a shower of cotton.

“Wild Coyote,” the werefox asked as his head tilted to the side, “what do you want?”

“In many ways, the same that you want,” Wild Coyote answered, brushing aside Oserotto’s hand and turning around, eyes closed. “While FOXWOOD is an independent organization outside of other nations’ control and recognized as such, we still have a need for money. Since we don’t rely on the governments for pay, we instead get them from private investors and donors. However, some of our projects take years if not decades for them to be fully realized and we feared that the money would dry up. As such, we set up a series of short-term projects and even some jobs that would keep them happy, even if some of the jobs are dirtier than others.” His fingers gripped onto his red hair. “We, especially I, didn’t want this as a focus of FOXWOOD, but we recognized the necessity as long as we can pick and choose which jobs to accept, focusing on those with limited effect.”

The werefox tilted his head a bit. “And you think that restarting that evil project will have a ‘limited’ effect?”

“Of course not, but it was to either delay it for years or even a decade or lose possible investors, which we especially need for our personal project.” Wild Coyote lowered his hand, his eyes opening. “But then, that wasn’t the only reason why we chose to accept this mission.”

“What?”

“Think about it.” Wild Coyote turned to the side and took a couple of steps. “We have here a test subject created for war. One who is meant to be stronger, faster, and sharper than even the best soldier one could train from ground up. Not to mention having instincts and senses that could see through and counter against possible traps. In short, the perfect killing machine.” He rubbed his chin. “Such a thing could drive someone mad.”

“So, what you’re saying is,” the werefox raised one of his eyebrows while tilting his head, “is that you want to make sure I wasn’t going on some kind of killing spree.”

“Exactly,” Wild Coyote said before his tablet beeped and checking it. “And it seems,” he turned one of his eyes towards the werefox, “that the Greys exploring your hiding place found remains of a buried body.”

The area became much colder, with the werefox sitting up even as the left guard pointed his rifle at him. Wild Coyote held up a hand even as he turned back to the tablet and the guard lowered the gun. The sound of screeching metals echoed through the room, from Mr. Tolle tugging against his own restraints. His eyes were wide even as the chains jangle against each other.

“No, you don’t understand!” Mr. Tolle said, his teeth bared. “It’s not as bad as you—”

“We don’t need any explanation from you!” Oserotto said, her voice loud and sharp. “We now have all the reasons to keep our supersoldier after FOXWOOD gets the blood from him. Besides, I don’t listen to traitors like you! As far as I care, you’re nothing more than unneeded luggage that should be tossed out of this plane.”

Wild Coyote turned to Oserotto, gripping onto the tablet, only for the werefox to speak out, “If you dare try to kill my friend, I swear that I won’t let you live.”

“There’s no need to sacrifice yourself for me!” Mr. Tolle responded, shaking even more against the chair. “I’ve committed enough sins, especially against you, to not deserve life for my own.”

“Ah, to hell with his self-loathing of yours.” The werefox pried his arms against the chains around his wrists and chest. “Even though you did help that group that kidnapped and transformed that child into me, you still saved me. You, along with General Bulhond and Dr. Cygne, got me out from that hell. And you got me to a safe location and took care of me. As far as I can tell, I’m the one who owes you instead and I will pay it back, even if it cost me just as it cost Dr. Cygne.”

“Oh, I hate people who are acting like the bigger hero.” Oserotto shook her head while pointing her palms upwards. “Always wasting more time than needed.”

But Wild Coyote was silent, rubbing his chin even as he turned to the werefox, then Mr. Tolle, and back again a few times while raising an eyebrow himself. He took another look at the tablet against before shutting off its screen and pocketing it. Then, turning to the werefox, he crouched low enough that they were facing each other, eye to eye.

“Tell me,” Wild Coyote asked, rubbing one of his ears, “who are you?”

“Huh?” The werefox’s left ear flattened to the side, blinking. “What do you mean? What kind of question is that?”

“Who are you?”

The werefox turned his head to the side, away from the man before him. “If you’re asking for a name, I don’t have one. My former life had a name, but I don’t know it and I don’t want to know it. I have nothing that would answer that question.”

“Would a name, a title, or even a position answers such a question?” Wild Coyote asked while the werefox turned back. “Because all that those tell is about you, not yourself.” He stood up straight, rubbing his wrist. “In fact, any response wouldn’t be sufficient to answer it.”

“What are you talking about?” The werefox’s right ear flattened back.

“Oh, he’s just talking nonsense.” Oserotto rubbed her forehead while shaking her head. “In any case, I’ll throw this traitor out of this plain and watch him splash into the ocean below us.”

The werefox’s face turned white, tugging against the binding chains, while the CIA agent walked toward the other prisoner. Wild Coyote shook his head while groaning, rubbing his temples as metallic screeching became louder. Oserotto grabbed Mr. Tolle’s shoulder, with him flinching and his hands curled into fists. Then, with a mighty tug, the werefox popped the chains against his chest and wrists with a massive crack even as both guards pointed their rifles at him, with the chains falling onto the ground and his wrists still shackled.

“Wait!” Wild Coyote yelled while standing up and everyone stopped, him at the center of attention. He waved his hand at the two soldiers and they lowered their guns. Oserotto stood still, her hand removed from Mr. Tolle while her face drained of blood. The werefox turned towards Wild Coyote and he blinked, noticing a smile forming on his face while cracking his fingers. “It seems that we can resolve this conflict after all.

“When I saw your weapons, I couldn’t help but noticed that one of them is a katana.” Wild Coyote rubbed his red hair, feeling every strand. “As such, I have a suggestion. While we can stop at LA for refueling, we have enough fuel in this jet to take us as far as Denver, Colorado. We can land at any place within that range and, once we landed, we can have ourselves a duel.”

The room became colder while every eye looked at Wild Coyote, still grinning, as a loud slamming noise came from behind. A hand gripped on his shoulder and tugged him around until he saw no one but Oserotto. Her face, red and glaring, burned at his face before she slapped it.

“What sort of insane idea is that?” Oserotto demanded, her voice high and screeching.

“I’m just noting an easy way out from this,” Wild Coyote said, not caring that the right side of his face was red, before turning back to the wide eyed werefox. “If I win, I get a bit of your blood. If you win, I will forfeit that chance. Either case, I will make sure that she won’t gain custody of you. You’ll be free to go wherever you choose and everyone involved with keeping you hidden will have all charges cleared.”

The werefox remained still, waiting for some kind of jest, but none came. “And how can I be sure that you’ll keep your word?”

Wild Coyote smiled, moved to the cage while pulling out a key, and opened it. He stepped in and, grabbing onto the werefox’s shackles he grabbed another key and opened them, letting them drop. He took hold of the werefox’s right hand and shook it.

“I swear that, as an agent of FOXWOOD, I will keep my word.” Their eyes met and remained steady for several seconds. “Agree?”

The werefox waited a few more seconds before nodding. “Then take us to someplace near Phoenix, Arizona.”

“Done.” Wild Coyote grinned as he set the coyote plush down before the werefox’s feet-paws, giving it one last pat. He stepped out of the cage, letting it hang open, before another slap impacted his face.

“You’re risking everything!” Oserotton said, grabbing his neck and letting her nails sink into his skin. “You can’t guarantee that you’ll win the duel, quite the opposite in fact! Are you trying to betray us at our moment of victory?!”

Wild Coyote closed his eyes before grabbing her wrist and pulling it away. “If you want to call it that, yes.” He let go before walking over to the restrained Mr. Tolle and, unlocked his cuffs as well. “I must say, Tolle,” he spoke near his ear, “your friend likely sees you like a father. From that, I can see that the blood on you has been washed clean.”

Mr. Tolle blinked for a few seconds before he stood up and rushed to the werefox. He stepped into the cage and knelt down beside the werefox, rubbing his shoulders, as they both relaxed. Wild Coyote smiled, rubbing his chin before stepping away through a door even as a fuming Oserotto followed.

“Why are you doing this?” Agent Oserotto demanded, her heels slamming against the floor. “You and FOXWOOD are offered 200 million for this mission and you’re throwing it all away. And for what? Honor? Morality? Those don’t fly in a world such as this.”

“You know the answer just as well as I do,” Coyote replied, stopping before a window. Outside of the plane was a sea of white clouds from one end to the other. “FOXWOOD isn’t meant to shift the global landscape. Just to protect it from threats the regular folks don’t have a clue about. And we only accepted his mission reluctantly.” He turned around, and Oserotto took a step back. “And if this is a way where we can back ourselves out from this, so be it. Besides, there’s still a chance that I’ll win the duel. Remember that.”

Coyote turned back and walked down the hallway, hands in pocket, before pausing, hearing Agent Oserotto cry out to him.

“And you just confirmed that, during the supersoldier’s stay at that little house of his, he killed a man.” Agent Oserotto said in a low tone. “And we saw that he killed multiple people in that video. What makes you think he won’t kill you when he gets the chance?”

Coyote rubbed his chin for a few seconds before turning back to her. “Because I know that, despite what that evidence suggests, he is not a killer. He kills, yes, but I saw that he took no joy from it.”

“How can you be so sure?” Agent Oserotto’s face was distorted, slamming a fist against the wall. “Aren’t you just letting yourself get cut in half?”

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friend.” Coyote pulled out the table and looking into its black mirror. “I have faith in him, that he will not cut me down.”

Agent Oserotto seethed for a few seconds more, but another look from Coyote caused her to take a step back and walk to the opposite end of the hallway. Coyote put the tablet away, stepped towards the window, and he hummed to himself. The clouds dissipated upon contact of the jet’s wings before reforming. He couldn’t help but smiled at the beauty of the sight. He stepped away, hands in pockets while going to the cockpit.

The jet changed course and, within several hours, it landed in Phoenix, Arizona, with several vans driving in to pick up its occupants on the runway. Wild Coyote stepped out of the jet followed by the werefox, with the cold breeze almost ripping his hat off until he pressed it against his head. A pair of guards followed, still holding rifles though no longer pointing them at the werefox. Oserotto walked out, coldly and stiffly. Finally, Mr. Tolle came out, carrying out the brown leather sack with one hand and the steel briefcase with the other, his face firm.

Several other people stepped out of the plane as well, who Wild Coyote all referred to as Greys, and they all climbed into the vans, with Wild Coyote, the werefox, Oserotto, Mr. Tolle, and the two guards inside one. It drove on for miles, with the other vans following and with the passengers not speaking. Mr. Tolle snapped open the case, which held the werefox’s katana and revolver within as promised, and he closed it with a sigh. Oserotto held up a smartphone, tapping on it with a thoughtful expression before nodding and putting it away. The werefox leaned against the window, the scenery turning from a mess of buildings and roads into a sea of brown dirt.

A half-hour passed before all of the vehicles stopped and everyone stepped out into a brown land with only a couple of abandoned buildings nearby. There were several cactuses and when the werefox touched a bush its branch snapped. Several of these Greys stepped around the area, some looking through binoculars, while the werefox felt a poke on his shoulder and, turning around, he saw Mr. Tolle.

“For this duel,” he said, lifting the case and opening it up, “you’ll need it.”

The werefox nodded before grabbing the katana. “Thank you.”

Mr. Tolle smiled before closing the case and stepping away, with the werefox noticing that several of the Greys were circling around him and Wild Coyote, each one with a gun ready. The werefox nodded at Wild Coyote as he unsheathed his katana. He pointed it downwards and the two eyes’ met.

“You said that you wished for a duel with our swords,” the werefox said, pulling his poncho back. “But I don’t see your own.”

“Because I haven’t materialized them yet,” Wild Coyote responded before spreading his arms out.

Soon, four lasers shot out from Wild Coyote’s bracelets, with him emitting a wide grin and a pair of blue outlines appeared around his hands. The lasers went from one end of the outline to the other, never leaving the boundaries of those outlines, some disappearing only to shoot out again at another area. The werefox took a step back, almost dropping his katana as the outlines became more solid by the second, with them turning silver and having a cold reflection on its surfaces. Soon, the lasers stopped, with Wild Coyote holding onto a pair of massive swords, one half the length and width of the other, and he slammed the single-edged tips against the ground, which shook.

“That’s impossible,” the werefox said, his teeth bared. “There’s no way those swords are real.”

“Are you sure, Blondie?” Wild Coyote asked, smirking before tossing the smaller of the two swords at him. “Catch it and see.”

The werefox blinked before he grabbed hold of it with his left hand and the sword’s mass tipped back, with its edge an inch away from his poncho. He leaned it forward and flipped it around before swinging it against the dry bush. It made several snapping noises, with the branches flying above and its ends cleaned, and the sword kept on swinging. He twisted his wrist and it stopped a foot away from himself, his eyes wide at the real sword. He nodded before tossing the sword back to Wild Coyote, who caught it with no effort.

“OK. It is real,” the werefox said, turning to Mr. Tolle and seeing his surprised face. “How did FOXWOOD—”

“It’s a long story which involved developing nuclear reactors the size of walnuts and figuring out a way to convert energy into matter,” Wild Coyote replied, lifting the larger of the two swords so that it rests against his shoulders. “What do you think?”

“Must say, when I heard that FOXWOOD was involved with creating science fiction stuff, I thought that was just a joke, but now I’m impressed.” The werefox lifted up his katana and gripped near the tip with the other hand-paw. On its surface was his own reflection. “Less so with your swords, even if they are sharp. At that size and mass, there’s no way anyone could effectively wield them. The balance is nonexistent.”

“Are you sure about that?” Wild Coyote asked, slamming the massive sword against the ground. “Shall we begin?”

The werefox stared at the swords and Wild Coyote wielding them before he turned back at his own sword, his right hand holding its grip. A cold breeze blew by, wiggling his hat and shaking his poncho. A pair of birds sat nearby, sitting on a cactus and chirping away, and a coyote howl echoed through the desert. The werefox nodded at Wild Coyote before he tossed his sword to the ground a few feet away.

Wild Coyote blinked at that for a few seconds before he realized the werefox’s hard gaze, and he nodded as well, knowing what to do. He tossed his own swords to the ground, each making a massive thud, and he pressed his hands against his hips. His own gaze steeled itself as he stared back, with the werefox’s right arm hung loose.

Together, they stood for what seemed like an eternity, never averting their gaze away from the other. They heard a lady’s voice, cutting into the circle, but it faded the deeper it went. There was some idle chatting from the others standing around, with one looking over a gun, but the sounds faded so that not even the werefox could hear them. Wild Coyote twitched his fingers for a second and the wind stopped blowing, but no heat came from the sunlight. Yet the coldness of the area faded. Soon, even the sounds of birds’ chirping and coyotes’ howling stopped, as if the world as put on hold.

Wild Coyote tilted his head to the side, looking over the werefox from head to toe, and his fingers twitched again. But the werefox stood still, almost like a statue, while staring back with his hand-paw steady. Then, in a quick instant, Wild Coyote lunged over to his swords and grabbed them, lifting them up and charging forward. But during that first half-second, the werefox bent down and, grabbing onto his katana, he charged forward.

Their swords swung against each other and they rang, piercing through the silence, with the two staring at each other for a few seconds before leaping back, the massive swords having a gaping wound on their surface. But the bracelets activated again, and the lasers slid against the swords and the large cuts were gone in a second. Wild Coyote spun around in a charge, edges facing forward, and the werefox raised his katana against it. With every blow, the werefox slid back against his will, the ground breaking against his feet-paws, and he gritted his teeth.

Soon, the werefox leaped over Wild Coyote and swung his sword, only for it to meet the smaller of the two swords. The katana lifted him up, slicing through the other sword’s tip until it became an arrow shape, and he continued his jump. Wild Coyote spun around, with the lasers fixing the damage to the small sword, before charging with the large sword above his head.

The werefox flipped his katana so its edge faced away, and he pressed his other hand against the blade near the tip. The curved blade met the massive sword and the ground shook, with the werefox stumbling back, his back stressed and his joints aching. The smaller of the two swords jabbed forward to the werefox’s chest, but he dodged to the side, the blade rubbing against the poncho and piercing it. Wild Coyote grinned madly even as he leaped to the side, avoiding a katana’s slash. The werefox’s muzzle furrowed, jumping back when Wild Coyote bent his arms around himself.

Wild Coyote spun again, with each blade ranging against the katana with every blow, and the werefox stumbled back. The werefox then leaped five feet back before charging, his blade low. Wild Coyote stopped and stabbed his massive sword at him.

The werefox grinned.

Wild Coyote grunted, wondering what his opponent saw that he doesn’t. The answer hit him while trying to pull his sword back, only for the werefox to leap up and landed on its spine. He swung his smaller sword, only for the werefox to leap again, over his head. He swallowed, closing his eyes and hearing a rip on his back.

Time began to move forward again, with the sounds of clicking all around the two, with pistols and rifles pointing at the werefox. He stood back, lowering his katana with its edge shining in the sunlight. Wild Coyote dropped his swords even as the gaping hold on his back fluttered outwards from the wind, with cries of outrage all around them, but it was soon silenced by the sound of clapping. Wild Coyote spun around, having a massive grin on his face, and each Grey could see that his skin was unbroken.

“Excellent show there, Blondie,” Wild Coyote said, stopping his claps and his eyes opened. “And do not worry, everyone. I am unharmed. In fact, I’m far better than that.” He extended his right hand to the werefox. “That was a wonderful duel.”

The werefox blinked, turning from the hand to the face and back again before he grabbed it, shaking it. “So then—”

“Yes, I will not accept a bit of your blood,” Wild Coyote said, pressing his left hand with the shake as the Greys around them lowered their weapons. “It’ll hurt FOXWOOD’s wallet, but we’ll manage. We must.” He lowered his head. “I do wonder what would’ve happened if he did this instead.”

The werefox flattened his left ear for a second before shrugging, soon letting go of the hand and sheathing his katana. The Greys all around them put away their weapons, even uncocking them and activating safeties, before giving him a nod. He felt a hand clasping against his shoulder and, spinning around, Mr. Tolle stood smiling before him. He raised his arm over the werefox and pulled him into a hug.

“I knew you’d win,” Mr. Tolle said before letting go of the werefox. He turned to Wild Coyote and nodded at him.

However, Wild Coyote wasn’t paying attention, instead rubbing the back of his red hair and watching Oserotto walking to one of the vans, not even slamming her heels against the dirt. He frowned, Oserotto swinging open one of the van doors entering inside, with its engine roaring to life. It soon speeded away, fading into the horizon.

The werefox stepped beside Wild Coyote, the dirt trail getting farther from them by the second. “She’s really angry at you. I can’t blame her, to be honest.”

“Perhaps,” Wild Coyote said, soon rubbing his chin as he tilted his head.

“Is there anything wrong?” The werefox’s tail twitched behind him.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Wild Coyote said as he pulled out his phone. “I dealt with her for the past several days and she spent it all insulting me for any failings, real or otherwise. This is the biggest failure I gave her, and she just left without a comment. In fact, she looked calm. Why?”

“Perhaps she got so angry that she warped back to being calm,” Mr. Tolle said, standing behind them. The dust trail soon fading away from the werefox’s sights and he frowned, realizing that she was going fast.

“That might be, but—” Wild Coyote’s phone rang, shaking against his fingers, and he blinked down at it with a puzzled expression. He pressed the green button and pressed it against his ear even as the werefox looked away. “Commander? This is a surprise. Did anything happen?” He waited and his face paled. “What? But I haven’t taken the werefox’s blood at all. In fact, I promised that—” He stopped, and his eyes widened. “Wait. Are you sure?”

Mr. Tolle leaned forward to Wild Coyote. “What’s going on?”

Wild Coyote waved away Mr. Tolle without looking. “Because I was personally offered that amount, but I rejected it since the requirement would be those hard—” He stopped, lowering his phone, and his face became white. The ground shook, a circle of cracks forming beneath Wild Coyote. The werefox and Mr. Tolle stumbled back, surprised at the sudden earthquake before both of their eyes widened, the cracks forming nowhere else but around Wild Coyote. He pressed the phone against his ear and, in a harsher tone, he said, “Commander, I need someone to go to my third lab room and check on the hard drives. The computer there should also have a sheet that tells details about which hard drive is which and, if there is, which one. Wild Coyote out.”

Wild Coyote hung up, putting the phone away before picking up his larger sword and slamming it against the ground until only the hilt was exposed. The ground shook harder, with Mr. Tolle stumbling back, but the werefox walked over to Wild Coyote’s side, holding onto his hat while a pair of birds flew overhead. Wild Coyote knelt down, panting even as he gripped onto the hilt tighter. Soon, he breathed in and out and, with a spread of his arms, lasers from his bracelets shot out at both swords, with them fading away.

“I need to head back to the jet,” Wild Coyote said, standing up as colors returned to his face. He pointed at several of the Greys. “Follow Agent Oserotto and capture her.” They nodded and rushed over to the vans, zooming away with two remaining. He turned to both Mr. Tolle and werefox. “I’ll leave you with a driver and an extra to take you to your destination.”

“What is happening?” Mr. Tolle asked, gripping onto his tie. “How did your rage shatter the ground? And, from the sound of it, that CIA agent did something behind your back.”

“She might have.” Wild Coyote’s fists balled. “The payment went through, despite the fact that I was about to call the commander about its failure. In fact, the payment was doubled.”

“Doubled?” The werefox’s ears flattened back. “Didn’t she offered that in exchange for those hard drives?”

“Exactly.” Wild Coyote’s knuckles whitened. “But I kept an eye on her and those hard drives whenever they were in the same room. So, how could she—” His expression hardened. “Of course. That ‘accident’ with the files. I looked away from her and those drives so I can pick them up, even warning her way from them. That must be when—” He stopped before he let out a feral scream. “She played me like a puppet!”

Wild Coyote stormed away, with a few of the remaining Greys following him, getting into the vans and, with a turn, they drove away, leaving one van left. The werefox and Mr. Tolle stood there for several seconds, with the werefox’s hat flying off and Mr. Tolle tugging onto his hair. The werefox felt a poke on his shoulder and, when he turned, he saw one of the two remaining Greys, the ones who were guarding against him during that flight, and saw him holding the hat. The Grey returned it to him, giving out a small smile.

“In any case,” the werefox said, putting the hat back on, “shall we head over to my former life’s home?”

“Very well,” Mr. Tolle said with a shrug and the four headed over to the remaining van.

The van drove into the city, passing by many streets along the way, with the werefox sitting on the passenger seat, a dream-like expression on his face while leaning against the window. His eyes flickered at each street name, and his stomach tightened. The buildings shrunk in height as they left the downtown and into the suburban, with the area becoming greener with plant-life and wider in the process. A reflective ghost appeared on the glass’ surface, but it was not his own and instead the human with his hair and eyes again. He didn’t lean back, no longer feeling fear from that sight anymore.

Soon, the van stopped in front of a house, painted blue and brown, and the werefox gripped on the door handle. The human reflection was still on the glass, but he focused past it. Several minutes passed, with him hearing some voices and even feeling a poke on his shoulder, but he didn’t respond. The Grey driver turned the key, only for the werefox to grab his shoulder until he stopped.

A man stepped out, with graying black hair and thick glasses, looking at the van with its one-sided viewing glass, and the werefox flinched. He looked over the man, from his too-loose pale clothing to his green eyes, and he felt a pain in his heart. His reflection turned his head to the man, giving out a boyish grin and a way even as a tear fell down his cheek. The reflection turned back to the werefox and nodded. His face changed, covering in white fur, with his mouth and nose stretching out into a muzzle while his ears became triangular and moved upwards, filling the holes in the hat. When the werefox rubbed his own cheek, he felt a tear on it as well and he understood.

“Good-bye, dad,” the werefox said in a far younger voice, enough that Mr. Tolle gasped. “I hope that you recovered from that day.” He lowered his head, wiping away the tear with his poncho, and when he spoke it was his regular voice. “Let’s head back to the jet.”