The sterile room shined bright, with little shadows on the corner. Coyote slid on thin plastic gloves, a few assistants standing behind him. He inhaled before approaching the shark lady, who lay on a medical bed. A couple of monitors detected that she was in sleep mode and a fan sat across from him. He grabbed a short scissor and cut away at the synthetic skin on her torso. Once her electronics such as computer chips and wirings exposed, he held the skin open with a pair of retractors. He rubbed her skin on the inside and outside and nodded, turning to the assistant holding a notebook.

“Skin is made out of thin rubber,” Coyote said, the assistant writing down the notes. “The exact kind is unknown, but it is designed to replicate shark skin as much as possible.” He turned forward before he mumbled to himself, “I wish Vix was doing this instead.”

Coyote picked up a surgical cloth before applying it to the shark lady, absorbing any coolant fluid that might have leaked. He blasted an air-compressed can at areas the fabric could not reach before he motioned to another assistant. The assistant went around the bed across from him and turned on the fan, aimed at the shark lady. He got to the sliced coolant tubing and spent a couple of minutes of pouring out the remaining coolant. He removed the tube and sat it on a rolling table, where multiple tubes lay. He turned to the note-taking assistant and nodded.

“Remind me about the electronics within her,” Coyote said. The assistant nodded, flipping through his notes.

“The subject has what is assumed to be a positronic brain,” the notebook-holding assistant said, reading through the notes. “Or at least something similar. It’s such an outstanding scientific breakthrough, considering how much processing power, memory space, and data space are needed to be functional. At the barest minimum, the space required for it would be—”

“Skip, please,” Coyote said, waving a hand.

“OK.” The notebook-holding assistant flipped a few pages. “On the back of the subject’s head are a couple of USB ports. Likely for data downloading or transferring, though why the subject didn’t use them during that mission is left unknown. There are two adjustable cords within her wrists and a charging cord at the base of her tail. The battery system, stored in her tail, can allow her to remain on for weeks before it starts to get too low.”

“At the very least, they didn’t slack off on her,” Coyote said. He nodded before returning to the table and comparing the old tube with the new one.

When he found a matching tube, he inserted the new one into the shark lady, sliding it in and applying glue. He picked up a five-gallon coolant bottle and, after opening the intake, poured it in until it was full. He closed it, searched for any remaining coolant, old and new, and smiled in satisfaction at locating none. After replacing his gloves, he gestured to the third assistant. She pushed forward a tray full of long, thin devices with crystals at each end and took away the tubing tray. He removed the retractors and got the skin as close to each other as possible. With sweat forming on his brow, he picked up the rod with a green gem on it and pointed it close to her skin. He pressed its button.

It buzzed as he hovered the rod’s red circle and point end over her, the skin fusing with each other until they were whole. Time ticked by, the shark lady’s skin repaired as though it was never sliced open, and he set the rod down. He replaced it with the one ending with a blue crystal. He gestured to the note-taking assistant before he pressed its button, with it buzzing.

“Coolant system repaired and functional,” Coyote said, with the assistant writing notes. “All stray coolant has been removed. All surrounding electronics suffered no permanent damage thanks to the leakage.”

He hovered the rod over her neck before he paused. “Speaking system off?” He pressed it closer against her neck, raising an eyebrow. “It is.” He replaced the rod with the green one and pressed it against her neck, buzzing for a few seconds. “Voice is on now.”

Coyote shook his head before picking up the blue rod and placing the green one down, continuing his check-up on the shark lady. “Endoskeleton is made out of titanium. The oil system goes all over her body, with an oil filter at her waist, and is designed to drop minimal oil to lubricate the joints. Artificial muscles line all over the body with hydraulics supplanting extra power.” He tipped her over, scanning her back. “Another artificial intelligence located in her back, controlled by a powerful chip. For what purpose, I cannot tell.” He placed her on her back and, pulling open her eye, scanned it. “The eyes held a strong visual sensor, with the brain holding a feedback sensor. The brain also held an EMP shield for defense, along with a body monitor. That positronic brain is a work of beauty. I always wanted to create one but could never get past the blueprint phase. There’s always another thing that I’ve overlooked to make it functional, for example—”

“Um, sir?” The note-taking assistant asked. Coyote twisted around. “You’re repeating yourself back on page two.”

“Oh, so I am.” Coyote chuckled before turning to the shark lady. “I’ve completed all the overview checks and don’t see any issue. So, let’s take her out.”

All three assistances nodded and they disconnected the sensors from the shark lady. They pushed her out of the room, with Coyote following. They went through the hallway, with people walking around them and a couple nervous, but Coyote ignored them.

They approached a room with a pair of guards in front of it, who opened the door for them. Within was a lone bed, with the assistants lifting her from the gurney to the other. Coyote reached for her tail. He opened it up and a power cord rolled out. He grabbed it and plugged it into the outlet.

“That’ll keep her alive,” Coyote said as the note-taking assistant handed his notebook to him. He reviewed it as he and the others left the room. The two guards closed the door and locked it.

Blondie woke up with a gasp. He flung himself forward, pushing the paper-like blue blanket off his chest. He blinked, rubbing against his bare chest before he rubbed his unbruised and uncut face. Memories came to him of the shark lady slamming her fists on his face, enough that much of what he could see was red. He sat there, scratching his head..

“I used some of my healing magic on you,” a voice said beside him. He turned around and saw Vixen standing there. She leaned against a cabinet next to his clothes. “Though even I underestimated how quick you healed. Even your bone fractures from last night, almost twenty-four hours ago, healed. Must be because of how you were created.”

“Must be,” Blondie said, his ears flattened back before he turned away. “So, that shark lady? Is she OK?”

“Coyote did surgery on her,” Vixen answered while pulling her hair back. “He has far more experience in electronics and machinery than I do, though I suggested a few things. After all, she was made to look like an anthropomorphic shark and likely held some design similarities.”

Blondie nodded as Vixen approached and pused back some of the hair that covered his right eye. He flinched. He pulled himself off, letting the blanket cover him as he reached for his clothes. Vixen tilting her head at him, confused. He rubbed at a shirt, cleaned of blood and coolant fluids, and went in one of its pockets but found nothing. He let gasped, searching each pocket and pulling them inside out. His movements became more frantic with each one examined. He then glanced at the bookcase and relaxed, the broken hairclip laying there. He reached for it and picked it up, raising it to eye level.

“I could’ve intervened,” Vixen said, with Blondie turning around at her. “Coyote’s combat abilities are more focused on battling multiple opponents at once rather than on one on one. I could’ve intervened, especially after grabbing your katana. But I sensed that you want to do it alone.” Blondie nodded at her. “Why? And even after she smashed your face, why do you want us to help her? It would’ve been more pragmatic to hack into her files anyway.”

Blondie sighed, lowering the hairclip. “When I look at her, I see a reflection of myself. That of someone I could’ve been if I didn’t have someone who helped me.” He fidgeted with the hairclip between his fingers. “The first person I saw when I was reborn was the head of that project, Dr. Cygne. But she saw me as someone more than a weapon and helped me escape. And gave her life in the process.”

“So, you want to give that same kind of compassion that saved you,” Vixen said. Blondie nodded and placed the hairclip back into its pocket. “Though I’m afraid it might have backfired. For all we know, she could’ve been created as a robot all along.”

“She wasn’t. I can tell.” Blondie rubbed his cheek. “She was a human. Or at least an anthropomorphic being like myself.”

Vixen glanced away. “Maybe. We don’t know. Though Coyote did tell me something that he discovered when examining her.” Blondie turned his head toward her with his eyebrow raised. “Her capacity to speak was disabled, likely by her creators.”

“So, she was mute?” Blondie blinked before he rubbed against a metal cabinet, tapping his claw against it. “When I first encountered her, when I tried to get her to talk, all she did instead was tap against a tree. But she must’ve used morse code or something similar to communicate, but I missed that.” He squeezed the cabinet, the metal bending against his grip. “If I was smarter, then maybe this wouldn’t happen.”

Vixen reached over and rubbed his shoulder. “What’s done is done. Besides, you didn’t know.”

Vixen tugged against his shoulder and Blondie followed with some reluctance. He sat on the gurney again and he sighed. She checked his face, pulling back his eyelids to check his eyes. She sagged her shoulders and turned away. She reached to her left forearm and squeezed it. Blondie blinked and tilted his head. Vixen sighed.

“I don’t know why,” Vixen said, wiping her face. “But maybe you can help. At least it’ll release a heavy load from his chest. Coyote is baffled, and Jackal has been increasingly sour. The last time Coyote called Jackal Jack, he—” She paused before she shook her head. “And Fox, no, Daren is in trouble, and I don’t know what is going on.”

Blondie flicked his ears, leaning forward. “I knew something was wrong, but I wasn’t sure what and why. And Thunder Jackal really doesn’t want me to know.”

“He’s deep into this. We can tell.” Vixen pulled her hair back. “And when I mandated medical leave for Daren, I wanted to come. But I was afraid.”

“Wait. Start from the beginning.” Blondie got up and rubbed her shoulders. She spun around. “What is going on with him?”

“For starters, I’m sure you noticed that we don’t have that many anthro wolves within FOXWOOD, right?” Vixen asked as she touched his left forearm. “It’s not out of distaste but because Daren can’t stare at them.”

“What do you mean?” Blondie tilted his head, his right ear flattened to the side.

“He doesn’t explain, or rather, can’t explain.” Vixen tugged on her hair, spinning the golden strands around her finger. “All I know is what I and others witnessed. Namely, even getting near wolves causes physical pain, specifically in his left forearm. That pain seemed to intensify when he gets closer to staring at them; in fact, he freaked out the one time he stared into one directly as though stabbed. And he rubbed his left forearm when he got near as though it could help relieve the pain. That was the standard until not too long after we finished the TF.”

“The TF?”

“It’s short for Time Fox, the culmination of Project Oncoming Storm,” Vixen answered, with Blonding having a blank expression. “To give the basic details, the TF is a ‘ship’ that can allow travel through the multiverse. And though the name said it could theoretically travel through time, the core power is used to generate light to travel between universes instead.

“During one such travel, we met a young lady, a half-fox, half-wolf hybrid named June, and after Daren saved her life, she wanted to travel with us. Jackal was fully against it, and Daren was hesitant. But I insisted on it.” Blondie raised an eyebrow at her. “Before you ask, I saw her hero-worshipping was more than that, but I know Daren too much. I insisted on her coming because I saw that the wolf effect was weaker with her, likely due to being a hybrid, and I figured that constant contact could help fix whatever has been triggering that reaction.”

Blondie sighed, rubbing his forehead while shaking his head. “Let me guess: It didn’t go so well.”

“That obvious?” Vixen sighed as she spun over to the metal cabinet. She rubbed the part that Blondie crumbled up. “At first, it wasn’t too bad. But, as time went on, Daren’s conditions escalated. He became much harsher, much more hesitant to help out though he always will eventually, and he’s been losing that sense of cheer that even the long years he went through didn’t stamp out. He then began wrapping his left forearm with bandages, with it increasing as time went on. The last time I saw him, his entire left forearm was covered, and I resisted my attempts to check it out. In fact, the thing that convinced me to put him on that leave was when he forgoes being in his anthro form.”

“So, that’s why you and the others are human,” Blondie said, rubbing his chin while nodding.

“Human-like in the case of Daren and I,” Vixen said, with Blondie raising an eyebrow. “Still, it doesn’t change the fact that Daren is in some kind of trouble, and I can sense that he wants help, but something is stopping him.”

Blondie nodded. “So, what did you think was the reason for him not staring at wolves?”

“I wasn’t sure at first. I mean, it could’ve been past trauma of some kind, but it was a low chance and has too many holes, especially since, if there was an animal that should’ve triggered it, it would’ve been raccoons, not wolves.” Vixen spun around once more. “The leading theory I had, which has grown more, is that it’s some kind of curse. What kind, I don’t know. I know dozens of curses that can be cast on an Athrú, but none matches the symptoms, and Daren discouraged me from looking deeper. So, I am completely lost on how to help, and Coyote is too.”

“And Thunder Jackal?” Blondie twitched his tail.

Vixen lowered her head. “Jackal and Daren, well, they knew each other for a long time, a couple of years before I met either of them. Daren had his first changes around that point and accidentally gave the Athrú blessing to Jackal, something that I helped them control.” She giggled in reminiscence for a couple of seconds before she drooped. “But they are reluctant to explain their meeting for some reason, no matter how many years passed.”

“Then Thunder Jackal knows the truth about this.” Blondie waited until Vixen nodded. “But why can’t either of them explain?”

“I think ‘won’t’ is the better term to describe Jackal’s part in this.” Vixen pulled her hair back, rubbing every last strand of her blond hair. “I know it sounds odd, but I feel that Jackal could always reveal the truth whenever he wants to but refuses to. Coyote and I confronted him not too long after Daren was sent out, and we argued for hours, but Jackal refused to tell and walked away.”

The two became silent. Blondie grabbed onto Vixen’s shoulders and rubbed them. Vixen lifted up her head before reaching up and touching his hand-paws. They stood for minutes until she nodded at him in understanding, and he smiled slightly. She broke free and picked up Blondie’s clothes, handing them back to him. She stepped out of the room, her head higher as though a heavy weight had been lifted.

When Sharon woke up, she rubbed against her side. She snapped open her eyes as she pushed herself up. The lights above glowed bright, the walls reflecting white as her last memory played out before her. It showcased her side being sliced open and her punching Blondie until she overheated. When she pulled up the blue medical shirt, she blinked, her side whole as though it was never cut, and a diagnosis check confirmed the cooling system’s functionality. She unplugged herself from the wall with the energy topped off.

The lone door swung open and a pair of guards wielding large rifles stepped in. Sharon remained on the bed, uncertain, and one of the guards gestured for her to the door. She paused for a few seconds, waiting for suggestions. One popped up suggesting that she should submit for now, and she got up.

She turned to the door. A wheelchair lay there, having large and thick clamps around the arms, legs, waist, and for her tail on the back. She considered until she sat on it. The guards activated each clamp, pulling on her tail so that the clamp fit around it. Sharon tugged against it and it didn’t budge a single millimeter.

At that point, one of the guards pushed her down the hallway. She forced herself to relaxed despite her powerlessness. She glanced around, with no other person about and with the white walls glaring back. She was pushed into another room, somewhat larger and having a lone table. The guard pushed her in front of it, with her arms and legs underneath the tabletop. As the guard left, a popup appeared before her, and she nodded. Then, with a quick snap, she tugged until her wrist popped, and she compressed her hand-paw, with it slipping through the restraint.

Footsteps came from outside, and Sharon frowned. She pressed her hand-paw back through, though she wiggled it so that it was somewhat in it.

The door swung open, and Sharon flinched. The red-headed man stepped in, her memory picture cross-referencing him as the van driver. Behind him was Blondie, and she clenched her other fist tight. On command, her combat videos with him played out, the leading one being where she smashed his face in. Though rather than his face covered in bandages and bruises, he was as though never injured. She raised an eyebrow, her internal clock showed that it could not be more than twelve hours.

The two sat before her, with the red-haired man giving her a cheeky smile. “I hope that your rest was satisfactory.” Sharon remained silent, with her glaring at him. “Hey, I saved your life, so don’t you glare at me.” She tapped her fingernail against the clamps but stopped when the man chuckled at her. “Morse code, huh? You don’t need that anymore. Your speaking system is activated, so you can talk.”

Sharon tilted her head, the menu popping up and confirming what he said was true. “I see.”

“Isn’t that fantastic?” The red-haired man asked, shining a grin at her. “I am Wild Coyote, and you met my friend, Blondie,” Blondie nodded while tipping his hat to her. “I must say, you’re a dangerous fighter. I didn’t think Blondie could bleed until he fought you. Twice, even.” Blondie squinted one of his eyes at Coyote. “We’re here to get answers from you.”

Sharon sighed, turning her head aside. “Why are you asking me? You know what I really am underneath this skin.” Her lips twisted for a moment. “You could’ve downloaded all of my data from my drive.”

“You’re right. I could’ve. I could’ve reprogrammed you, so you’ll be willing to share information.” Coyote pulled a bug-shaped device out from his pocket and sat it on a table, with Sharon scanning it. “But I’m willing to be diplomatic, for my friend’s sake.” He patted Blondie on his shoulder, who sighed and shook his head. “He wanted to give you a chance to talk first.”

Sharon closed her eyes halfway, tilting her head to the side. “And if I don’t?”

Coyote shuffled in his seat before answering, “We can always use forceful means.” He poked the bug-shaped device, with it standing up on all six. “It is already programmed to hunt down and download specific information from your drives. All we need to do is plug this into the port on your head’s back.” Sharon wiggled her halfway-out hand-paw as Blondie raised an eyebrow at her. “But we can guess in the meantime. Do you work for MFS?”

Sharon sighed, leaning back. “I cannot say yes or no.”

“Uh-huh.” Coyote pulled out a notebook and wrote on it; Sharon followed the hand stroke with the program suggesting that he wrote ‘Yes.’ “And you work for them as a spy and assassin?”

Sharon clutched her other hand-paw tight. “No more than what I’m ordered to.”

“Does that include Blake Ashley, the guard you killed?” Coyote asked, Sharon giving a sharp inhale. “That was his name before you broke his neck.”

“My algorithm suggested that was the best course of action to take him down,” Sharon answered, her ears lowering by a centimeter. “But I underestimated my kick’s power.”

“Algorithm?” Blondie leaned forward, and Sharon twitched her eye at him. “What do you mean?”

Sharon hesitated before she asked in return, “Why do you want to know?”

“My friend is curious,” Coyote explained, pressing his fingers together. “And, to be frank, I’m curious as well. Why would a fantastic fighter like you need assistance from an algorithm?”

Sharon growled, her ears folding back. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere. You’re just making me talk, so I’ll let something slip.”

“Huh. So that’s how the game is played. Thank you.” Coyote grinned as Sharon blinked. “Let’s cut to the chase. We know what you do and who you’re working for, don’t deny that it was MFS, and know how skilled you are. But why would you do something like this? Because that’s what you are created for?”

“I’m—” Sharon stopped, with Blondie raising an eyebrow. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean?” Blondie asked, his tail jerking from behind. “You can’t what?”

“I-I just can’t!” Sharon tugged against her restraints. “I doubt you’ll understand anyways!”

“What do you think, Blondie?” Coyote patted the bug-shaped device even as Sharon cringed at it.

“A lot more than she believes,” Blondie answered, having a sly grin. “For a moment, when I saw her machinery, I wondered if I was wrong about her being a former human. And then you smashed my face, making it a bloody mess.” Sharon remained frozen, twisting her lips. “And then hearing you talk confirmed what I thought. You are a former human, or at least once a flesh and blood anthro shark, and MFS did make you into a machine.”

Sharon sighed, shifting away. “And you ‘confirmed’ that how?”

Blondie reached to the side and pulled up his sheathed katana, placing it on the table. “A logical machine, after tackling me, would’ve grabbed my sword and sliced off my head. You saw how strong and sharp the blade is, after all.” Sharon blinked, the memory of the event playing in her head, with him dropping his katana to the ground. “You wouldn’t punch me in the face again and again, especially with limited time due to your coolant leaking out unless you were blinded by rage. But, even here, you proved yourself to be much more emotional to be a mere robot.”

Sharon flattened her ears back. “That doesn’t—”

The door crashed open against the wall, and a blond-haired lady rushed in. She held onto a tablet as tight as her face. The others looked away as Sharon slipped her hand-paw out from the restraint, snapping it back into place. Blondie glanced at her, with Sharon keeping still, a text appearing before her about the damage to her wrist.

“We got a video call,” the blond-haired lady said, setting the tablet on the table. “And it’s from River Hill.”

Sharon blinked as Blondie nodded, getting up and striding over to the room’s corner. Coyote twitched his eyebrows before he pressed onto the screen. River’s voice came through its speaker at once, and Sharon clutched her hand-paws tight.

“Why, hello, Wild Coyote and Silver Vixen,” River said, her voice dripping with honey. “I must say, you FOXWOOD lot has proven to be quite tenacious. And here you are, with my Sharon.” Coyote glanced at Sharon, who tapped against the restraint. “Don’t you know it’s wrong to steal other’s property?”

Coyote chuckled before he replied, “I’m afraid we don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sharon tapped against the restraints louder as River replied. “I can hear her tapping just fine. Who else would make such beautiful tapping? It was such a brilliant move to leave her mute.”

Vixen leaned forward over the tablet, glaring at the screen. “You consider that to be brilliant?”

“Oh, yes. Because it symbolized my sweet connection to her.” River laughed, with Sharon’s tapping becoming frantic. “Still, Sharon hasn’t been pulling her weight as of late. She caused such a disturbance on that ship, failed not one but two assassinations, and got herself captured. It’s just pathetic! I should leave her with you to rot, but my heart is too large to let that happen.”

Coyote frowned, furrowing his nose. “I hate to be someone you hate if this is how you treat someone you like.”

“Oh, those tend to be the ones that die,” River said with a wide grin as Sharon tapped harder. “I want my Sharon back within twenty-four hours.”

“And why should we?” Vixen asked, crossing her arms. “You don’t have any leverage against us.”

“Oh, I know that.” River broadened her grin. “But that was for her. Because she knows what will happen to her dear little sister if she doesn’t escape. Twenty-four hours.”

As the call ended, Coyote and Vixen turned to each other, and Sharon shouted, “Skyla!”

“So, that’s your sister’s name?” Blondie asked, with Sharon blinking. He stood behind her, holding her shoulder, the one with the freed hand-paw. She flinched, wigging her ears in surprise before she nodded. “Well?”

Coyote and Vixen sat down across from Sharon, with Vixen pressing her gloved hands together. “Might as well explain everything, Sharon.”

Sharon sighed, her ears drooping forward.