“There are signs of a fight here,” a guard said, speaking into a radio. “Whoever they are, they must have heavy weapons because a couple of trees were beaten up good.”

Blondie lurked within the shadows, holding the gear necklace tight. The two guards waved their flashlights around. One almost pointing it at the tree where Blondie hid behind, but he paused. He lowered the light, and only raised it past that tree. He breathed as he let go of the necklace and rubbed his side. He felt bruises forming there with a couple of his ribs cracked.

“One of them got hurt.” The other guard crouched low. “There is blood here and there. But what is this sweet smell?”

Blondie nodded to himself; the smell, sweet like a box containing fruit opened for the first time, hovered around the area. Part of him wondered what caused the smell in the first place before he shook his head, leaning an inch away from the tree. The guards searched around some more, with one picking up Blondie’s hat while the other picked up a small object.

“There’s a strange cowboy hat here,” the second guard said, flipping it over. “Has a couple of holes on the top for some reason.”

“This looks like some kind of tooth,” the first guard said, tilting his head. “But no blood on it.”

The radio crackled before Harris’s voice came from it. “If you find anything, bring them to the garage. Afterward, search the perimeter. They may be hiding nearby.”

The guards glanced at each other before they turned to the house with every light on. Blondie grunted, pushing himself off the tree before he followed. He ducked from tree to tree until he reached the edge, the garage door opening with a slight hum.

There, he waited, sweat forming on his brow, feeling burns in one of his legs. Then, finally, the guards stepped into the garage, passing by a couple of cars and a motorcycle before setting the items on a tool chest. At that point, Blondie got out from behind the tree and hurried to the house, somewhat limping on one of his legs. With more sweat forming, he pressed his back against the wall. His breathing quickened despite the cool night.

The guards stepped out from the garage and closed it. But before it went halfway down, Blondie rolled in. The guards blinked and spun around while reaching for their radio, only to lose interest and shake their heads. The door closed, and Blondie exhaled and relaxed a bit before getting up.

The garage smelled of oil and grease. Blondie furrowed his nose at the stench before he grunted. An orange light shined at the other side of the room, with an up arrow and a down arrow and a gas water heater sitting at the garage’s corner. He felt something click in his mind, but he shook his head before crouching low. He checked underneath the cars, but no one was underneath them. He got up, striding from one side of the place to the next, careful not to brush his tail onto anything until he reached the tool chest.

He picked up and set his hat upon his head, his ears wiggling within the holes. He glanced at the other object the guards brought in. He picked it up. It was smooth and white, triangular and pointy like a shark tooth. Yet, no blood stuck against it and part of him wondered how before pocketing it.

He turned back to the motorcycle with a helmet sitting on the back and approached it. He rubbed his left arm, feeling a sharp pain from it before a slight glint appeared in his eyes. He returned to the tool chest and found some tools. He took as much as he could carry, approaching the motorcycle with a sly grin.

Five minutes later, the motorcycle roared to life, and Blondie got up, satisfied.

Footsteps came from behind, and Blondie threw a screwdriver, impacting the upward-pointing arrow. The garage door rumbled as it opened. He tossed the helmet before hopping onto the motorcycle. He kicked back the steel kickstand while pushing his hat into his head. He twisted the handles and drove forward, ducking underneath the door. He made a turn, driving past a couple of guards sprinting toward the garage. They reaching for their guns, but he had already got plenty of distance.

“So, you’re certain that MFS is behind this?” Vixen asked, leaning on a holographic table.

Coyote nodded and pressed some buttons on the table. It came to life, the device above humming. Articles and pictures appeared on it, with Coyote grabbing onto a few of them before glancing at Jackal. He sat with legs crossed on another chair while reading The Silmarillion, and Coyote sighed. He instead turned to Vixen, who pulled her hair back.

“I already had strong suspicions about them from my research, but your story clinches it. You see, while you were away meeting with Harris, I used the Sciscitatio Bug to look over the news, blogs, and the like on this side of the Atlantic.” Coyote pulled out a bug-like device with a green gem for a moment, the coyote plush on his shoulder bobbing up and down. “The parameters were set to examine news for the last few years regarding controversies involving large organizations and companies.”

“And MFS was repeated multiple times, correct?” Vixen asked. Coyote nodded back. “That’s not proof, though. After all, controversies always hit organizations and companies, no matter how clean they make themselves.”

“Correct. But a pattern struck me and some internet folks who researched it.” Coyote tossed the articles to the center of the table, with it changing every five seconds. “The controversy surrounding MFS is that they were hit by lawsuits for the past couple of years, such as safety violations and illegal purchases, fines by the government, and even the EU trying to break up their monopoly. Yet, time and again, most lawyers, plaintiffs, politicians, and bureaucrats chose to drop their cases and leave MFS alone.”

“Blackmail?” Jackal asked, turning a page.

“Funny that you mention that since there was a news article discussing that possibility, only for it to get deleted and replaced by a public apology.” Coyote shook his head and Vixen rubbed her hair. “And there’s the most disturbing thing about them. Remember, I said most chose to drop cases. The few who don’t tend to suffer from accidents that lead to their deaths. For example, one plaintiff died in her sleep from a gas leak, with the smoke alarm off due to dead batteries. And one lawyer was riding on a private plane, but the landing gear collapsed while landing, causing it to keep moving until it crashed, killing him and the pilots.”

“So, those who battled against MFS tend to either surrender or die,” Vixen said, lowering her head. “Still, all this just makes MFS look more suspicious. No wonder why Harris was interested in investigating them.”

“Exactly.” Coyote typed into the desk. “I also checked the donators of FOXWOOD and searched for possible connections to MFS. Though I still can’t believe the audacity when I found it.” The holograms changed, displaying a list along with faces. It scrolled until it paused on one with a ginger-haired lady with blue-green eyes and angular cheekbones. “You see?”

Vixen widened her eyes, her name being ‘River Hill.’ “What?!” Jackal glanced up from his book for a moment. “She was a donator?!”

“Yes. I was startled as well. She was one of the larger contributors as well. She came in early before dropping off after a while.” Coyote stuffed his hands into his pockets. “That explains why this shark lady is using my prototypes.”

“If she did so.” Jackal turned a page.

“Yes. If.” Vixen sighed before glancing at the clock. “Do you think we should send someone to pick up Blondie? Or at least—”

The door opened with a smash and Coyote and Vixen jumped. They twisted around in confusion at the source to see who it was. Blondie stumbled in, his left arm lowered while limping, with Vixen stepping toward him, shifting her eyes up and down. She helped carry him by the shoulder. He grunted as she took him to a chair, setting him down. She got down to her knees, stern. She rolled up his pants, with five holes on the calf, red with bloodstains.

“Oh no,” Vixen said as Coyote ran around the desk, his face pale. “An infection will form from whatever stabbed you getting into the muscles.” She touched Blondie’s left forearm and he grunted in pain. “A bone fracture there.”

Blondie clenched his right hand-paw into a fist as Vixen grabbed a stand and pushed his leg on it. “Nothing a little healing magic can’t fix, right?”

“Healing magic isn’t something simple like producing water out from the atmosphere or snapping a finger to create a fireball,” Vixen said, her voice stern as she pulled her hair back. “It’s one of the most complex magical arts one can do, with even a tiny mistake causing great damage and even death.” She turned to Coyote. “Get my medical bags ASAP!”

Coyote nodded, sprinting out from the room. Meanwhile, Jackal shifted in the chair, lowering his book. Vixen held up her hand, a small water drop forming above her palm, which swiveled in the air. It split into five before pressing them against Blondie’s leg wounds. He groaned, his toes wiggling. Mucch of the blood was cleaned up, and the injuries looked days old.

“See? Nothing a little—” Blondie blinked, Vixen smacking him on his snout.

“That bit of healing magic was more like an adrenaline shot.” Vixen wagged her finger at him. Coyote sprinted back, carrying a couple of large bags and setting them beside her. She grabbed one, snapping it open and taking out a bottle of paste, which she applied on his leg. “The wounds will revert in a few hours. But your body will be better prepared, especially with these antibiotics.” She wrapped his leg up in bandages. “Now, what other injuries did you undergo outside your arm?”

Blondie rubbed his chest. Vixen nodded before popping open the second medical bag and pulling out a visor. She sat it over her eyes and, looking at him up and down, reached to his vest and shirt and unbuttoned it. Despite the thick fur, the discolored bruising was still somewhat visible, and she nodded, glancing at his hand-paws.

“Two significant fractures on your ribs,” Vixen said, reaching into her first bag and pulling out syringes from it along with alcohol pads. “A fracture on your left forearm. A bruised liver. And hairline fractures on your hand-paws, right arm, and left leg.” She rubbed the alcohol pads on Blondie’s chest, with him wincing, before she injected him with one of the syringes. “This has my healing magic mixed in with medical herbs, stimulating recovery. It won’t be instant, but even the worst bone fractures should mostly be healed by morning.”

“Oh, good.” Blondie rolled his eyes as Vixen rolled up his left arm’s sleeve. She rubbed alcohol pad on it before injecting him with another syringe. His labored breathing eased up as the bruising on his chest receded. Vixen cleaned his other arm before injecting the medicine near his hand-paw. “Still, it could’ve been worse.”

Vixen rolled her eyes.

Coyote got behind Blondie, leaning against the chair he sat against. “What happened?”

Blondie grumbled as Vixen lifted his left leg. She rolled the legging up before cleaning it.

“I got into a fight.”

“I hate to say it, but this is serious,” Coyote said, shaking his head as Vixen injected another syringe content into his left leg. “I never seen you this beaten up before.”

“You should see the other one,” Blondie said, and Vixen smacked his nose again. He sighed. “I knew it. That shark lady came.”

“Her?” Coyote blinked as Jackal lowered his book.

“She was about to sneak into that lawyer’s place, but I stopped her. I have no idea why she was there,” Blondie explained as Vixen applied bandages to him. “I was trying to subdue her, which she took advantage of, which is how I got so wounded. Plus, despite knowing that she is much stronger than she looks, I even underestimated her strength. Still, she didn’t leave unscathed.” He pointed at his pocket and tried to reach for it, but Vixen got there first. She pulled out something small, sharp, and hard while having a triangular shape. “I guess she didn’t expect to fight someone so tough. I knocked out a couple of her teeth and likely did some similar bruising on her chest.”

Vixen blinked even as Coyote leaned forward, with her flipping it over. “You sure this is a tooth?”

Blondie tilted his head even as Coyote picked it up. “I’m pretty sure. Why?”

“Because that isn’t a real tooth,” Coyote said, shining it in the light above. “This is made out of steel.”

“And even if it did come out from her mouth, which I doubt it did—” Vixen took it back, “—there should’ve been blood on it near the bottom. A punch hard enough to knock out even a fake tooth is enough to draw blood.”

“Regardless, I wounded her just as bad.” Blondie shrugged his shoulders. “But I knew I wasn’t in good condition to get away on foot-paw, and I had no way of contacting you. So, I hotwired the lawyer’s motorcycle and drove all the way here.”

“Wait, you hotwired a motorcycle?!” Vixen widened her eyes as Blondie nodded. “How do you even know how to hotwire a vehicle anyways?”

Blondie reached behind his head and rubbed two of his fingers against it; a metallic flash came from it for a moment.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s OK,” Blondie said before he leaned himself forward. But Vixen pushed him back onto the chair and tilted his head. “Anything wrong?”

“You should minimalize moving as much as possible.” Vixen removed her visors and sitting into her second medical bag. “And if you insist on moving, the only place for you is the bed. I’ll check on you tomorrow morning to see how you recover.”

“I was hoping to practice shooting tomorrow.”

Vixen wagged her finger at him.

“I can’t risk having you aggravate any of your injuries. The fact that you managed to get here with such injuries is a miracle in and of itself, but don’t push your luck.” Vixen closed her medical boxes before tossing the waste into the trash. She picked up the bag, her eyes on Blondie’s. “Sit here until I return. Coyote, make sure he does so.”

Blondie grunted, but he nodded. Vixen turned away, satisfied. Coyote nodded as well, setting his hand on Blondie’s shoulder. He tightened his grip after Vixen stepped out of the room. Blondie sighed, leaning back on the chair, his eyes half closed.

“Is she always like this in doctor mode?” Blondie asked.

“Oh, definitely.” Coyote chuckled. “There are multiple times when Star Fox suffered from some kind of injury, even if it’s just a light cut, and she always dragged him onto a chair to check him out. For example, when he came back after testing with the TF prototype, back when it was Project Oncoming Storm, as soon as he mentioned that his back slammed against a wall during a surprise battle, she placed him in chiropractic treatment for a week.”

“I see.” Blondie adjusted his hat. “And she’ll check him out as soon as he returns?”

“Very likely. Star Fox tends to attract trouble.” Coyote’s cheeky grin faded when Jackal grunted.

Blondie raised an eyebrow, but Vixen came back and leaned against the door. “Bedtime for you. And don’t move out of that bed until I check on you in the morning.”

Blondie opened his mouth, but Coyote pulled him up. He closed his mouth, his ears flattened to the side. Jackal shrugged before getting up and set his book under his arm. Coyote dragged Blondie out with Vixen ahead of them. Jackal followed at a distance, his eyes narrow. The hallway lights shone bright on the four lonely agents.

They approached a room with Blondie’s name a minute later. Vixen held it open, and Coyote and Blondie stepped in. The door closed behind him, and after staring at Coyote, Blondie sighed and removed his vest and shirt. He unbuckled his gun holster, the revolver still hung within. He stuffed it into a safe, locking it up.

“And she treated Solid Fox no differently?” Blondie asked, even as he shifted from side to side.

“Of course!” Coyote chuckled, crossing his arms as Blondie removed his jeans. “And Vixen isn’t afraid of applying force. After all, he hasn’t beaten her in an arm-wrestling contest.”

Morning came, with Blondie feeling somewhat stiff on his left forearm and chest. He held up his revolver down a range. Sun shined down upon him and Mr. Tolle, who stood behind him with binoculars hanging around his neck. The field stretched as far as five hundred feet, ending with a dirt mound at the other side and tall wooden walls at either end.

“You sure about this?” Mr. Tolle asked, raising his eyebrow at a wooden target in a shape of a human, sitting around one hundred fifty feet away.

Blondie nodded, adjusting his aim so the revolver pointed above the target. He pulled on the revolver’s hammer before firing it, with smoke flying out from the barrel. He pulled the hammer again, the revolver’s cylinder shifting before firing again. He repeated it until all six shots were fired. He placed the gun on one of the three tables. Mr. Tolle raised his binoculars, gazing down at them. His jaws dropped as low as possible.

“All six shots hit the forehead dead-on,” Mr. Tolle said before shaking his head. “And I thought the max for a Colt SAA was a hundred feet.”

“Technically, the drop-off point is a hundred sixty-five feet,” Blondie said as he opened the revolver’s gate and, after half-cocking it, pushed the empty cartridges out with the ejector rod. “Overall, it depends on the shooter’s skill as much on the gun itself.” He reached for the ammo box before his ears twitched and glanced at the side. “As you can see with his skills.”

Mr. Tolle lowered his binoculars before turning around. Jackal walked down the steps while wearing his armorsuit. He carried a targeting post under one arm, and a long carrying case with another. He turned to Mr. Tolle and Blondie before nodding, approaching another table, and setting the case on top. There he waited, his steely sky-blue eyes on Blondie’s green.

“Range is clear.” Blondie tipped his hat to Jackal. He nodded and walked down the range, carrying the targeting post. Blondie turned to Mr. Tolle, having a sly smile before he chuckled. “You’re in for a treat.”

Mr. Tolle blinked, Jackal walking down the range ever farther, going past Blondie’s target. He kept walking until he set his post at the other end of the field, the targeting post lying on the dirt mound. He drew a dot the size of a dime on it. He then walked back, his overcoat fluttering in the breeze. Mr. Tolle raised his binocular against his eyes, pressing them closer while watching him.

“Is he pulling our leg here?” Mr. Tolle asked, turning from Jackal to Blondie and back again. “There’s no way he’ll be able to hit that mark.”

Blondie gave a dry chuckle as Mr. Tolle pulled on his messy hair, Jackal returning seconds later. Jackal unlatched the case, opened it up, and pulled out a long rifle, a Ruger Precision Rifle with an open-sight modification instead of a scope. Mr. Tolle’s right eye squinted even as Jackal took out a box of .338 Lapua Mag and loaded it into the magazine. He snapped it into the rifle and, after adjusting his sight, he crouched low.

Jackal squinted down the sights before firing, the rifle recoiling against his shoulder. He pulled the bolt handle back, the cartridge flying out in the air, and pushed it forward before firing it again. Soon, he fired ten shots before setting the rifle down, making sure it was pointed forward while removing his hands from it. He turned to Mr. Tolle, who blinked before raising his binoculars and looking down the range.

Mr. Tolle’s face paled, and Blondie gave a small yet knowing smile. “Y-you hit all ten shots in that dot target directly. In fact, it looked as though it was just one shot instead of ten!”

“That’s Thunder Jackal, alright.” Blondie tipped his hat at Jackal again. “Though that’s nothing compared to some of the other targets he uses as practice, especially when timed.”

Mr. Tolle’s face paled more. Blondie wiggled his ears and tapped Mr. Tolle’s shoulders before pointing behind, hearing more footsteps. The two turned around. Coyote and Vixen walking into the shooting range as Jackal still loaded his magazine. Blondie nodded to Coyote. He smiled while pressing a coyote plush under his arm. Vixen sighed, shaking her head while grabbing Blondie’s left forearm.

“Couldn’t help but practice after all?” Vixen asked, feeling his arm.

“You gave me a clean bill of health.” Blondie shrugged as Jackal snapped the magazine back into the rifle. “And I want to keep my skills up.”

“There are worse things you can do.” Vixen rolled her eyes before she let go of Blondie. “But I’m afraid that we need you.”

“Vixen talked with River Hill, and she agreed to invite us to check out one of their research buildings.” Coyote shifted around. Blondie nodded and took out the gear necklace from his pocket. “We both agreed that she agreed too easily for comfort.”

“So, you want me to search that building?” Blondie asked, setting the necklace over his neck.

“Partly. We don’t want you to get too deep, after all.” Vixen paused, with Jackal firing more shots from his rifle. “They’ll expect two; all they’ll see is two.”

“Which grants me more freedom.” Blondie rubbed his chin. “Very well.” He turned to Mr. Tolle while reloading his revolver. “Duty calls. But I’m sure you’ll be entertained by Thunder Jackal’s shooting.”

“I’m sure I will.” Mr. Tolle raised his binoculars and glanced down the range. “Are you sure that target isn’t rigged? I can see only one hole, and I don’t think it got bigger!”

Jackal unloaded his magazine, not saying a word.

Sharon sat in the dark room, her arms crossed as her eyes shifted away from the door. The clock ticked, the only sound in the room. Her tail twitched as her grip tightened against her arms. Shadows passed, and the light blocked underneath the door with some pausing before moving on. Sharon twisted her mouth, turning her head away.

The door swung open and River Hill stepped in with a smile. She pulled out the chair across from Sharon and sat on it. Sharon flicked an ear, still facing away as River placed down a folder on the table. Sharon placed one of her arms on the table, her pink claw rubbing its surface.

“I hope the repairs are satisfactory,” River said, her voice dripping with honey. Sharon nodded. “However—” River’s smile shifted into a smirk as she opened the folder, “—your failure last night resulted in a couple of FOXWOOD agents coming to visit me.”

Sharon tapped her claw on the table.

“I am aware that you got surprised twice now. It’s such a pity since we worked so hard on you.” River’s tone drooled on. “You were made to be the best, and any failures resulted because of you.”

Sharon clenched her teeth, trying not to pierce her claw through the table.

“Besides, I’ve observed that battle from the previous night.” River pulled out a paper from her folder and tapped it. “You held back. You let yourself listen to that REA leftover instead of trying to finish him off.”

Sharon’s snout furrowed, and she tapped on the table again.

“Oh yes, he is. Disappeared when the lab they created him in blew up.” River shook her head, shifting between the paperwork. “A pity. He would’ve been a better asset than you.”

Sharon lowered her eyes halfway before tapping her claw against the table. River frowned and narrowed her eyes.

“I know what I said back then. I still believe in them now.” River raised a piece of paper as Sharon hid a smirk on her face. “The labs are planning on the next edition for a revision. You’ll be an excellent basis for your successor.”

Sharon shrugged, tapping on the table once more.

“Ah, yes. I haven’t forgotten. Those FOXWOOD agents will be here by noon to check on the labs, but it’s clear to me that they know you are my enforcer.” River placed the paper back into the folder as Sharon turned to her. “Oh yes, I agreed to let them come in. But you must deal with them. If you succeed, I may reconsider forbidding you from meeting her.”

Sharon nodded, shifting her eyes away as River chuckled. She raised a photo and glancd at it. She smirked at the picture, setting it back into the folder before closing it. Sharon flinched, shifting her hand to the folder by a millimeter. River removed the folder from the table, placing it under her arm.

“Even though it was your fault that you and she are in such conditions, I did promise you that you’ll meet her again.” River smirked as Sharon’s ears flattened back. “But, as I said, I may reconsider if you dealt with those FOXWOOD agents.” She paused before adding. “An accident while leaving would be such a pity.”

Blondie held open a book, Mistborn: The Final Empire, and read through it despite the bumps. Coyote drove a black van, with Vixen sitting beside him and the coyote plush lying between them. To the left was a cliff that went down over two hundred feet, with only grass blocking the way. Outside a few stray trees, there was nothing more than signposts and grass along the gravel road. Blondie’s katana, lying next to him, slid as Coyote made a sharp turn, the screen between him and Vixen displaying a GPS map.

Minutes later, at the highest point, was a large, white building with multiple windows on the walls. It stretched to the fourth floor, with a couple of guards pacing at the roof. Blondie lowered his book. A memory of a similar building came to him, one where he was made, and he grimaced. He clenched the van handle tight until it snapped. He sighed, the pieces falling from his fingers.“

"Doing alright there?” Vixen asked, turning around as she brushed back her hair, her rounded ears exposed for a moment.

“Yes,” Blondie answered, raising his book once more.

Vixen exhaled, facing forward while shaking her head. “It’s not wise to lie to a doctor. I’m just fearful for you, that’s all.”

Blondie nodded as Coyote pulled to the front. A gate stood before the van with tall walls surrounding it. He stopped the van before the gate, with two screens on both sides of the entrance, the gate shuttering from the wind. He lowered the van window and waited, sticking his head out. The screens flickered on and a man wearing a bullet-proof vest and helmet appeared on them,

“Identify yourselves and your reasons for going to MFS Research Facility ENG6.”

“I go by Wild Coyote, and this is my companion, Silver Vixen.” Coyote leaned forward. “We are two members of the Trickster Brigade of FOXWOOD and we asked if we could visit one of MFS’s facilities.”

The guard muted himself before talking with someone out of frame. Blondie raised an eyebrow. Coyote tapped on the wheel in a rhythmic pattern, going from pinky to index fingers. Vixen meanwhile rubbed the side of her face. The stream unmuted.

“I got word that you can come in,” the guard said. “Be warned that any weapons found on you will be confiscated until the end of your trip.”

“That’s reasonable to me,” Coyote said.

Blondie shook his head.

The screens turned black and reflected a dark reflection of them and the van. The gates rumbled, shaking as they slid open. Coyote and Vixen unbuckled their hoisters and firearms. They handed the guns to Blondie, who popped open a compartment under the seats and slid them in. He hesitated for a moment before grabbing his katana and stuffing it in before shutting the chamber.

Once the gates slid open, Coyote drove the van in with the ground transiting from gravel to pavement. The parking lot held a lot of cars, trucks, and vans to the point where there’s only a few left. He glanced around, parking it far from the building, and stopped the engine. The three unbuckled themselves as Blondie reached for the gear necklace, adjusting the perception filter to its highest level.

Coyote nodded to Vixen and patted the coyote plush sitting on the emergency breaks. The two stepped out, their coats waving behind them. Blondie waited a few seconds, rubbing his revolver handle hidden underneath his poncho. He got out, following the two as the MFS building’s doors opened. A red-haired lady walked out, her hair tied in a ponytail. Four guards flanked by her as she sneered at them, her green-blue eyes shining in the light. Coyote and Vixen walked over to them, Blondie crossing his arms underneath his poncho.

“Why, hello, Wild Coyote and Silver Vixen,” the red-haired lady said, her voice sweet yet holding a bit of poison. “I must say, I’m so intrigued as to why FOXWOOD wants to visit us.”

Coyote shifted to Vixen, who answered. “We’re sorry for the inconvenience, River Hill. Some nights ago, an incident occurred regarding a lawyer, Harris Jackson of W&J. An anthropomorphic shark snuck into his ship and hacked his data using FOXWOOD’s prototypes, but was found out and escaped, killing a guard in the process.”

“And you think we at MFS have something to do with it?” River asked. Vixen nodded. River grinned, her angular face becoming more so. “Why, that sounds utterly ridiculous. Why would we have anything to do with the incident?”

Coyote stuffed his hands into his pockets. “It’s only a hunch. But we must investigate the incident at every possible angle.”

“Intriguing,” River said, sneering at them. “Still, might as well show you around, though I can assure you that we don’t have any sharks here, whether they’re from the sea, air, or ground.”

Coyote and Vixen nodded while shifted their eyes as each other. River turned around, leading away as a couple of her guards disengaged and flanked the two. Coyote and Vixen glanced at each other before following, heading to the building. Blondie followed, shifting his eyes all around. No other person lay eye on him.

They all stepped inside the building, the cool air conditioning blowing down. River spread her arms out, making a grand speech about the history of MFS. Blondie ignored her words, instead glancing at the white walls. The lights above shone hot, but the marble floor felt cool to his large feet-paws. Spotting a hallway entrance, he broke away from the group and snuck in.

Blondie stuffed his hand-paws into his pockets, glancing all around before he spotted a security camera. He paused, somewhat tempted to sneak past it. He gazed further, hallway lined with security cameras. Each camera pointed at a door. He shook his head and rubbed the gear necklace as a couple of people in lab coats, each holding onto a clipboard, walked opposite him. They didn’t cast a glance at him and instead opened a door. They slipped in, clicking and whirling sounds coming from it.

Blondie raised an eyebrow before he strode to the door. It closed when he got there, and he planted his back against the wall. A minute passed before a lady walked out, her lab coat fluttering behind as more smacking sounds came through. Blondie leaned his head out, tilting it as he raised an eyebrow.

Within this large room, enough to fit fifty people, were fifteen people, five of them wearing robotic exoskeletons. A wire connected the exoskeleton into the back of their head with a slight glow from the rings on the hip and neck. One man wearing it fought against five unarmored men at once, able to fight them all, blocking and countering as though on instinct. Another man lifted three thousand pounds, the exoskeleton whirling fast as a lab guy wrote notes. The door closed when Blondie glanced at the third guy sprinting from one end of the room to the other in seconds.

Blondie rubbed his left side, remembering last night coming to him, but he shook his head. So instead, he went back to walking down a hallway, rubbing the back of his head where the metal implant remained. More people walked up and down the hallway, ignoring him without giving him a second glance, and Blondie rubbed the gear necklace.

He paused, the hallway branching out with a pair of signs hanging above one end. He blinked at it; the sign said Living Quarters, and part of him felt tempted to check it out. Instead, he twisted his neck, raising his foot-paw towards it. He paused and, after a moment of thought, walked away. A couple of people rushed out from behind, each with a red face.

Blondie rolled his eyes before walking onward, with two people in polo shirts and black pants stepping into a secure room. Curiosity overwhelmed him and he strode in behind them, the chamber having monitors on the wall. The two typed into the computers, with the monitor shifting video footage from one part of the building to another. Blondie tilted his head, with one of his ears flattened to the side.

“Here are those two agents with the boss,” one of the two people said, the screen showing Coyote and Vixen following River into a room. “Looks like she’s showing them the supercomputer room.”

“Uh-huh,” the other said before glancing at the other monitors. “Do you still feel curious about those second-floor rooms?” He typed into the keyboard, showing the entrances to them. “Only River and a few others go into them, after all.”

“No, and it’ll be wiser not to get curious,” the first one said, shaking her head. “The last coworker I had who got interested in them got fired.”

“That doesn’t make me any less curious,” the second one said, shrugging. “After all, we got cameras for every part of the building except those rooms.”

“Then pretend they don’t exist.” The first one stretched before reaching for the side, grasping nothing but air. “Darn. I forgot my tea. Always one thing.” She rubbed her forehead. “Keep an eye out, OK?”

“Sure thing,” the second one said, though he relaxed on his chair as the first one got up.

Blondie flattened his right ear to the side and raised an eyebrow at those unknown rooms. He shooked his head before slinking away. The lady of the two opened the door, with Blondie sliding out before the door closed. He rubbed the back of his head, those rooms burning in his mind, as multiple people walked past him.

“OK, remember,” Blondie said, whispering to himself. “The flooring arrangement in this country goes with the ground floor first, then the first floor. So, the rooms they were talking about are two floors above me.”

He glanced at the ceiling, feeling tempted to go and check out those rooms, before glancing at the gear necklace. Instead, Blondie lifted it up and checked the back of it. The device glowed nine, the highest setting. He inhaled closing his eyes as the mental image of him checking out those rooms. His guts tightened as he imagined the security cameras there.

“It’s best not to push my luck,” Blondie said before walking down the hallway. “Still, this filter seemed to work even with security cameras, so maybe. But not now.”

Blondie tugged his hair a bit before walking onward, returning to the entrance. He blinked, checking the clock on the wall at 12:47 PM, and tilted his head. A ding came, and he twisted around, a few people getting out from an elevator, and a couple going in. The temptation returned, and he took a step in that direction, but the doors closed, and he paused, stepping back. Those rooms still burned in his mind, curiosity flooding over him.

All too soon, River came in, leading Coyote and Vixen back into the entrance hall, flanked by guards. She held a wide grid, spreading her arms out as Vixen half-closed her eyes, her cheeks red. Coyote and Vixen shook hands with River before leaving, with Blondie following behind them.

“I hope you’re satisfied with your trip,” River said, her smile reaching her eyes. “And, if you still have doubts, you’re always welcome to return.”

“Keep it in, Vix,” Coyote said, with Blondie tilting his head. “Nice and easy.”

Soon, the group stopped before the van, with Blondie adjusting the gear’s level down before Coyote held his arms back. Vixen and Blondie stopped, with Blondie flattening his ears back, before Coyote reached into his pocket, pulling out a long rod with a screen on it. He waved it at each door lock, then at the back, before ending it at the engine door, giving out a low whistle each time. He checked the screen before nodding with satisfaction.

“Sorry,” Coyote said as he opened the door. Vixen and Blondie followed in. “I have to check. I wouldn’t put it past them to tamper with the van in some way, like a bomb.”

“What is that?” Blondie asked, rubbing into his ears before slamming his palm against them.

“Oh, this?” Coyote handed the device to Blondie, and he held it. “This device, connected with this vehicle, detects if anything other than my key unlocked the doors. That way, even my hacking devices would still trigger it. It can also detect if a bolt was cut open, which is useful if we suspect a tripwire trap.”

“And it detects nothing?” Blondie asked, handing it back.

“Nope.” Coyote reached up to the GPS screen and tapped on it, with it displaying details. “No leaks in the gas, oil, or anything. Hmm.” He rubbed his chin. “Front two tires are low on air, but that isn’t a problem. Everything is good.”

“That’s good,” Vixen said, rubbing her forehead. “Now, shall we head out?”

Coyote nodded, inserting the key into the ignition, with the van roaring to life. He reversed the van before driving it forward to the gate. He waited a couple of seconds before it slid open. Seconds later, the van left the pavement, rolling onto gravel as the gate shut behind them.

Vixen sighed, shaking her head. “I never want to talk with her again.”

Coyote nodded, rubbing the back of his head. “You got the lucky end here, Blondie. That River doesn’t know when to shut up. Though I must admit that she is good at insulting us without telling us anything other than the basics of what they’re working on.”

“I see,” Blondie said as he picked up his book. However, he felt the fur on the back of his head standing up. “Did she show you their exoskeleton system? I saw a room demonstrating their skills.”

“Now that you mention it, we saw their blueprints of it,” Coyote said, rubbing his chin. “Though I didn’t think they would’ve created it.”

“I kept myself from talking back at her about it,” Vixen said with a sigh. “She talked about how amazing they are, that they can increase a person’s skill, speed, and strength to a superhuman level. I wanted to ask if they protect the wearer from getting shot.”

Coyote laughed. “That would’ve made her mad.”

Blondie nodded, tugging on his ear. “Though when I saw them testing their combat skills, some of those moves seemed like the ones that shark lady pulled off.” He shook his head. “But I know she wasn’t wearing them at the time.”

“Interesting,” Coyote said, rubbing his chin. “Anything else you witnessed?”

“I also snuck into their security room,” Blondie answered, with Vixen raising a brow. “Though I never saw so many security monitors in one room. Same with cameras, especially since that would’ve drained any storage they have.”

“Funny thing you mentioned that,” Vixen said, turning around. “While River didn’t show us any of their computers, she mentioned that she invested money in projects regarding computer data storage. She claimed that the labs managed to create storages that can contain a hundred petabytes.”

Blondie let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot.”

“A lot is an understatement,” Coyote said, shaking his head. “Still, see any suspicious areas?”

Blondie nodded, tilting his hat back. “The two security members mentioned that, on the third floor, a few rooms are heavily restricted. Only River and a few others are allowed in them, and anyone who asks too many questions get fired.” He held the gear necklace. “I was tempted to sneak into there, but I felt torn if I would succeed or not, and you two came back anyways.”

Coyote nodded. “There’s always a next time, though I am thankful we inadvertently stopped you. After all, we do have an idea on the MO on that shark lady.” Blondie tilted his head, his eyebrow raised. “Oh, right. You came after we discussed it, and it slipped all of our minds when you came in injured. Let me explain.

“Assuming that MFS is involved in this, which I’m near certain they are, they sent her to one of their targets, who are those who impeded on them in such ways, such as a bureaucrat holding up red tape or someone filing a lawsuit. She finds anything incriminating about them to blackmail them with, and she sends the information to MFS. If she succeeds, they’ll approach and blackmail them to submission. If she can’t find anything, they’ll send her to cause an accident that would’ve killed them.”

The word accident rang in Blondie’s ears. “And that’s why you thought they might’ve tampered with the van?”

“Exactly,” Coyote answered, turning along with the road.

Blondie nodded, and he closed his eyes. He remembered about last night’s fight with the shark lady. It was so clear that it was as though he returned to it. The battle played out in his head, each punching or kicking the other before he paused and reversed the fight. Finally, he got to the point where the shark lady approached the house, them facing the garage door before he pulled her back.

Blondie, in his head, skipped ahead to after the fight, where he snuck into the garage just as the two guards left it. The memory played out before it paused, the gas water tank visible, and the memory shifted into mist, reforming into the garage, but with the shark lady sneaking in. She approached the gas line and caused a leak, with the gas filling up the house. She stepped out of the garage, and a minute later, the place exploded in flames.

The vision ended with Blondie snapping open his eyes before he shifted to the screen. It displayed the GPS map with them near a cliff. “Stop the van.”

“Huh?” Coyote blinked, glancing back. “What—”

But Blondie reached forward, grabbing behind the coyote plush and onto the emergency brake, yanking it back. The van screeched, kicking away gravel as the wheels stopped, inertia propelling it forward. Coyote reached for Blondie’s hand, but a loud pop came from outside, the van losing control. Coyote yelped, turning the wheels as the van went to the cliff edge, turning it left to right until another loud pop came, and he gripped the wheel.

The van groaned, slowing yet coming closer to the cliff turn by the foot, and Coyote gritted his teeth. Vixen swung open her door, and water formed over her hand, which solidified into an arrow. She slammed it against the ground, gritting her teeth as she groaned. Rocks scattered all around with a streak left behind. The van slowed, inching forward before it stopped. Vixen sighed before turning forward, the bumper a couple of inches over the cliff.

She pushed herself back into the van. “One of the front tires popped.”

“What?!” Coyote unbuckled himself before getting out, careful not to fall off even as his eyes widened in horror. “Same here!”

Blondie grimaced as he unbuckled himself, getting out of the van. “Just in time. Another second, and we would’ve flown off the cliff.”

Vixen got out of the van, her face white. “They did sabotage us! But why didn’t your system and device detect it?”

Coyote slid on rubber gloves before he poked into the front van tire, which was falling apart. “Someone injected a strong acid that degrades rubber. It must’ve happened while we were inside.” He took off the gloves, with one of the fingers on it dissolving a few seconds later. “And I was looking for mechanical faults with the engine, not the tires. After all, a bit of low air is normal.”

“Yeah.” Blondie leaned against the van. “Though I should’ve realized what that shark lady was doing last night sooner. I thought she was going for more data extraction or a direct kill. But when you mentioned that she must’ve caused deadly accidents, it made me rethink why she was going in by the garage, and I realized what accident she would’ve caused.”

Vixen nodded as Coyote stepped around the van, the breeze causing their lab coats to flutter. “Thank goodness we invited you to FOXWOOD.”

Blondie nodded, his ears twitched, the fur on the back of his head standing up. He exhaled, footsteps coming toward them from a distance. He pushed off the van, reaching for his revolver even as Coyote and Vixen blinked in confusion. The footsteps became louder, with Blondie lifting it out from the holster as a part of the grass flickered for a moment.

At that point, the anthro shark lady appeared, pulling back the hoodie on her overcoat and shifting with multiple green and brown splotches. It turned black as she pulled out her knife, tossing it toward Blondie’s head. He ducked with the blade inches above his head. The blade smashed through the windows behind him as he raised his revolver. She swung her leg, crashing her foot-paw against his hand and knocking the gun away.

Blondie grunted, flexing his fingers before he clenched them into a fist, swinging it at the shark lady. She ducked and instead charged toward Coyote, her fingers splayed out as Coyote swung his fist back. Blondie sprinted and grabbed her tail before tossing her away with a yank. Coyote blinked before turning to Vixen, who opened her mouth. The shark lady twisted around, sliding on the gravel before she stopped with one of her hands-paws dug into the ground. She lifted her head, glaring at Blondie.

Blondie leaped forward, charging at the shark lady while holding his left hand-paw back. He swung his fist, but she twisted back, raising her knee at his exposed armpit. But he blocked it, grunting as he forced her down, with her grabbing onto his shoulders and dragging her down with him. Blondie punched her chest as he fell on top of her. She gritted her teeth before pushing him off, pulling out another knife. She rolled up, swinging it at his stomach. He rolled away, the blade piercing through the ground instead. He got up with his hat knocked off and he frowned. He charged again, swinging his fist back.

Coyote winced, the ground beneath him shaking before it stopped, and he shook his head. “I can’t. I might hit Blondie as well. You?”

Vixen shook her head. “No good. They’re too fast, and Blondie kept getting into my line of fire.”

At that point, Blondie swung his fist at her shoulder, and the shark lady grit her teeth. She knocked it aside before turning her knife at his face, the knife slicing below his left eye. He grunted, blood dripping from the wound, and swung his leg toward her side. She caught the kick, twisting him around, and he flattened his ears back. He flipped forward, flinging the shark lady over his head before landing on top of her.

Blondie felt the blood dripped down, with them landing on the shark lady. She barred her teeth before knocking him off and rolled away. She got up and sprinted forward, jabbing her knife. The blade ripped through his poncho as he leaped back. His muzzle furrowed as he glared. He charged and caught her knife hand-paw’s wrist, squeezing it tight. Her hold remained, and he punched her in the face a few times. She remained unfazed, licking her lips and slamming her forehead against his chest. Blondie gasped, stumbling back while letting go.

“And they’re moving all over the place,” Coyote said, clenching his fist tight. “How can—”

“Wait!” Vixen ran into the van, reaching in as Coyote blinked. She got onto her belly, opened the hidden compartment, and grabbed Blondie’s high-frequency katana by the sheath. She ran out, sprinting toward the battle before swinging the katana back. “Blondie! Catch!”

Vixen tossed the katana over even as Blondie turned to the side in confusion, one of his ears folded. A slight grin formed on his muzzle, with him catching it and gripping onto the handle and sheath, pulling it out. The shark lady sprinted forward, grabbing onto the katana and pushing the sheath back in while jabbing her knife against his head. He grunted, leaning back with the knife hanging over his nose as he yanked on the katana. Her grip held, and she pushed forward. Blondie fell on his back, and she landed on top of him.

Blondie released one of his hand-paws from the katana, the one holding onto the sheath, and grabbed the shark lady’s knife hand-paw. The shark lady pressed forward, the knife inching closer against his neck. He leaned back, grinding his teeth. He slammed his knee against her crotch, but she didn’t flinch, and he grunted in confusion. He slammed his feet-paws against the ground and, with a heave, pushed himself forward. She stumbled back and off him, pulling off the katana’s sheath.

The shark lady dropped the sheath, digging her foot-paw into the ground before she charged forward. Blondie sprinted as well, though he winced, closing his eyes as he swung, The shark lady raising her knife against it. The katana sliced through the knife as though it was butter. He sprinted past her, his blade also cutting into her side and gashing it open.

At once, a sweet smell flooded the area. Blondie opened his eyes and turning back, his ears folded forward. He blinked, green fluids flowing out from the shark lady’s wound. Her eyes widened in horror as sparks flew out from the side. A bit of the armorsuit and the ‘skin’ slid down, exposing steel, plastic, and some wiring.

“W-what?” Blondie stood straight, lowering his katana even as the shark lady stumbled. “What are you?”

The shark lady twisted back, her lips curled into a snarl. She leaped, knocking him on his back as he dropped his katana. Blondie bent forward, but she slammed her knee against his chest. She tossed the katana away before she slammed her fists against his face. Drool and blood splattered out with each hit; her fists soaked with them as she kept punching.

Coyote and Vixen blinked before running toward them, the shark lady continuing to punch Blondie’s face repeatedly. She breathed and heaved, slamming her fist again and again. Meanwhile, more green fluids flowing out from her side, drenching their clothes with the fluids and blood. Bruises and cuts formed on Blondie’s face, with him gasping. Her punches slowed as the seconds passed. She panted, leaning forward with her nose against Blondie’s own, clenching against the grass for a second. It ended when Coyote grabbed her by the shoulders, tossing her back. Vixen winced, the shark lady wiggling against the ground away from them. Vixen pressed her against the ground, flinching at the heat the shark lady emitted.

“So, she was a robot all along?” Vixen asked as Coyote stepped over to her, kneeling down beside her. “But what’s with all this heat? Did Blondie hit something vital?”

Coyote pulled on another set of gloves before he touched the green fluids, pressing it against his face and sniffing it. “It’s a coolant of some kind.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rod-like device. The rod held a blue crystal on one end and two red circles over a pointed dot. He pointed it at her and pressed a button on it. It buzzed, almost like a bees swarm. He grimaced, glancing at the device. “She’s fading fast. Though I’m tempted to let her die and then extract—”

“No,” Blondie said, his voice weak even as he struggled to push his bloody head up. “Keep her alive.”

Vixen sighed before she got up, striding over to Blondie and checking his wounds. “Don’t try to talk.”

Coyote turned back from Blondie to the shark lady. He sighed. “I’m not sure if we can save her, but we can try.” He pulled out his smartphone, pushed a few buttons on the screen, and said, “This is Wild Coyote. Our van was sabotaged while returning from our trip to the MFS’s research facility and that shark lady attacked afterward. We need an emergency pickup for both Blondie and that shark lady. Bring coolant as well. I’ll send over the coordinates.”

Blondie sighed as darkness overtook him, with Vixen sprinting back to the van and the smell of blood and coolant overwhelmed his senses.