“When I hired FOXWOOD to figure out who was on my ship and killed my guard,” Harris said, adjusting his tie, “I never thought that you’ll also give W&J everything we need to take down MFS.”

Coyote nodded, sitting behind a desk. The jet shook with enough force that the table on the desk inched to the edge. He grasped onto the tablet. Harris smiled professionally through the screen, his thick glasses gleaming at the other end. He smiled back and set the tablet back in a steady position before pressing his fingers together. His red hair reflected a shine from the sterile light above.

“It won’t be just you who will fight MFS with lawsuits,” Coyote said. “We sent evidence about what MFS has done to every major European politician, attorney, media, and government agency. Before the week is over, they’ll be nonexistent as a power.”

“And River?” Harris asked, leaning forward. “I always thought she was at the center of this, especially since MFS began this path when she got in charge. But after reading a fraction of what she has done?” He shook his head. “I never imagined.”

“She is under temporary custody in the UK’s FOXWOOD base,” Coyote answered, tapping his fingers together. “We would normally leave her for the authorities to find, but she attempted suicide. So we don’t want her out of our eyes for a moment. I was told that, once they come to arrest her, she’ll be put under suicide watch.”

“Very good,” Harris said, nodding. “And the shark lady who killed Blake Ashley? Have you found her with River?”

Coyote hesitated, glancing to his left for a moment. “She is under our custody, though circumstances make it awkward to fully charge her.” He waited, with Harris frowning back. “The shark lady was also a blackmail victim, with her sister taken hostage by River. Under such circumstances, it doesn’t seem fair to charge her as a willing accomplice.”

“I see,” Harris said, with a hint of sharpness in his voice. “Willing or not, she has accumulated a list of crimes under River.”

“And we understand that,” Coyote said, turning to the left again. “Hence why she is under FOXWOOD’s custody. Her two options will be to either work for us or have a tracker strap on her, where we’ll always know where she is.”

Harris nodded, though not pleased. “I doubt there isn’t anyone who suffered under MFS who’ll forgive her, regardless of how ‘willing’ she is. So perhaps it’s for the best, though I’ll warn you that she’ll likely not be welcome back in the UK or anywhere in Europe. Understand?”

“We understand,” Coyote said, and the screen turned black. “So, what do you think, Sharky?”

Sharon stood at the corner of the room to Coyote’s left. She held her arms crossed and her head down, pressing against her blue midriff shirt. She sighed before she pulled up another chair and sat down on it. She tugged on her blue jeans as though it doesn’t fit quite right. A few seconds passed with her head down, tapping her foot-paw against the floor before she lifted it, her ears twitching.

“I got off easy,” Sharon answered, brushing her hair back. “And I still think that FOXWOOD is being lenient on me.”

Coyote nodded. “Still don’t want to join FOXWOOD?”

“I’ve spent months working as an unwilling spy and assassin,” Sharon answered, shaking her head while lifting her hand-paw, curled as though holding an orb. “I’m not interested in working for another organization that does much of the same stuff.”

“We don’t do assassination work.” Coyote frowned, with the table creaking against his fingers. “We do many things, but assassinating people is not one of them. One of our core ethics is that we won’t shape the future to our liking, whether through force or influence. At worse, we prevent others from trying the same, especially if they seek to dominate.”

“I understand, but it’s still too soon,” Sharon said. For a moment, Coyote thought he imagined blood on her hand-paw. “May I ask you something? It’s something that I’ve been thinking of ever since you showed me the picture of Skyla’s grave, and I noticed my own next to it.”

“Sure.” Coyote lay one of his elbows on the desk, tapping his fingers against it.

“Do I have any right to call myself Sharon, Coyote?” Sharon lowered her ears, with Coyote raising an eyebrow. “For all I know, I could just be a ghost, inhabiting this robotic body and forced to wander around this world as long as it lasts. Or nothing more than data, which carries the digital thoughts of Sharon but not her soul. Perhaps the real Sharon has died, and I’m nothing more than a copy.”

“You ask deep questions, though I’m a scientist, not a philosopher,” Coyote replied, though he rubbed his chin, his eyes unfocused. “It seems that, as technology develops and our understanding of the brain grows, it becomes inevitable that such questions are asked. So, I’ll imagine great debates in the future asking those very questions, along with whether a true artificial intelligence has a soul.”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Sharon said, closing her eyes halfway.

“It wasn’t meant to.” Coyote shrugged before getting up and gazing out the window. The clouds passed by with the jet’s wing brushing against one of them. “Because I don’t have an answer. The most I can say is: instead of worrying about whether you are the true Sharon, a ghost, or a digital copy, you should live your life as before.”

Sharon glanced away before she sighed. “I doubt that there’s anyone who would understand.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Sharon glanced up, with Coyote turning around and exposing his white teeth. “It may be under different circumstances, but Blondie will understand. A lot more than you think. In fact, you could ask him yourself.”

Sharon twitched her tail and spun around, with Blondie leaning by the doorway. She stood up before taking a step back, her tail flinching. The room felt warmer, almost soothing. Blondie shrugged, stepping into the room before patting her on the shoulder.

“You don’t need to ask since I heard just enough,” Blondie said, taking his hat off. “When I woke up in this form, I had no memories of who I was before. The system they used for training overrides any previous memories. The only state in mind where I can recall them is when I’m dreaming, and it’s been a couple of years since I had them, and what bits I remember were flawed shards.

“Sometimes, I wonder if I’m still the same college student before the experiment or if I count as a completely different being. And I wonder if this would be a dream come true or a nightmare for him. I refuse to find out, not because I don’t want them answered, but because I’m afraid. Afraid that this identity I have as ‘Blondie’ is another mask or a legitimate face. So afraid that I—” He paused. He glanced at Coyote, who raised an eyebrow at him. “Never mind. Still, I try not to worry about it and live my life. And you should too.”

Sharon nodded, though she lightened up from the talk. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Blondie pointed his thumb at the door. “We’re arranging a game of poker back in the main area. Want to join?”

“Sure,” Coyote said, grinning as he picked up his coyote plush. Blondie nodded. “What about you?” Sharon jerked her head, confused. He patted her shoulder. “Want to join?”

“Um, I don’t know how to play any poker game.” Sharon glanced away, the jet shaking slightly as its wing passed through another cloud.

“Don’t worry!” Coyote winked at her. Blondie’s fur ruffled as he glared at Coyote. “You can be the dealer. Is that alright with you?”

“Er, sure?” Sharon returned with a nervous grin and followed the other two out of the room.

Hours passed before the jet landed in a forest, where a chunk of it was a landing pad emitting a perception filter wave. It rolled to a stop, with some smoke behind, before part of the pad lowered into the ground. The group remained within the jet as they and the jet lowered. Darkness engulfed them and the top sealed off. The massive elevator stopped with a jerk and electrical lights flooded it.

Two men pushed in a stairway in front of the jet’s door. It opened and Coyote strolled out first, his lab coat swaying with his motions. Jackal and Vixen followed, their footsteps echoing within the area. The trio paused near the center, with multiple red, blue, green, and yellow doors lying all around them. They stepped to the red one and Coyote glanced back for a moment before continuing.

Behind, Blondie, Sharon, and Mr. Tolle stepped down the stairs. Blondie’s poncho fluttering as he walked down. Sharon twisted around as though trapped within another prison. Her black and gray hair swung around as she spun faster. Blondie patted her shoulder, and she relaxed. Blondie pointed at the blue door and nodded. Mr. Tolle joined them and patted both Blondie’s and Sharon’s shoulders. The other trio strolled toward the blue door.

“You know, I would’ve expected that the main FOXWOOD base was somewhere in America,” Sharon said, with sterile lights shining above and white paint covering the walls. “Why build it in Canada, of all places? For the forest?”

“It’s something that I asked Coyote once,” Blondie answered, shrugging while avoiding various people walking through. “From what he told me, this base was built here specifically because there is a stable rift.”

“A rift?” Sharon tapped under her right eye. “What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to explain, but this is what I gleaned from Coyote’s explanation.” Blondie stepped on a moving pad, with the other two following. “This universe is one of many, with barriers of pure darkness preventing them from colliding with each other. How ‘darkness’ does so, I have no idea. And when they discovered the rift’s existence, they find that it acts odd.”

“Define ‘odd’ since I have seen plenty of odd things at the town and city above the base,” Mr. Tolle asked, and Sharon raised an eyebrow at him.

“Two things that they find odd.” Blondie stepped onward, not even holding onto the handrail. “One is that it doesn’t grow or shrink in size, just is. The other is that, rather than leaking darkness, it instead emits light.”

“Then doesn’t that nullify this theory of ‘darkness’ barriers?” Sharon asked, crossing her arms.

“Coyote said it isn’t a scientific theory, but a law.” Blondie shook his head. “Regardless, this rift being an exception is why FOXWOOD built this base here: to monitor it.”

The three stepped off the moving pad, with Blondie approaching a door at the end of this pathway. It slid open and they stepped through, with loads more people walking to and from this section. Plenty of them glanced at Sharon and she lowered her ears, saddened. Mr. Tolle reached up and rubbed her shoulder. She sighed and gave him a small smile.

A half-hour of walking passed before Blondie stepped into an elevator much smaller than the one before. “So glad that they finally installed this here.”

Sharon flattened one of her ears and raised the opposite eyebrow before stepping in. Mr. Tolle followed and just pulled his foot in when the door closed. Blondie pressed a button, and a glowed appeared around it before it moved upward; the three felt a tug beneath their feet. Sharon glanced at her wrist as though it wore a watch around it when a minute passed, and she frowned. The minutes counted down before the elevator stopped and the doors slid open.

“That took forever,” Sharon said, stepping out of the elevator with Blondie and Mr. Tolle following. “How long was that lift ride anyways?”

“A mile and a half, or just under two and a half kilometers,” Blondie answered. Ahead stood a ring of stairs and a single file stair going up thirty steps, the ceiling low. He went to the stairs, climbing them before opening a door at the end. When Sharon caught up, she found herself in a hotel room. Mr. Tolle followed, closing the door behind them, the placement no less weird than a closet.

“Huh? A hotel? That’s a front for one of the entrances?” Sharon asked, a pair of beds before her, neat and clean.

“Yes. Reminds me of a quote.” Blondie entered another room, a similar size form before, with a couch and TV. “I believe it goes like, ‘It pays to be obvious, especially if you have a reputation for subtlety.’”

“Interesting.” Sharon rubbed her hand-paw against the wallpaper before catching up with Blondie, who already stepped into the hallway. “What do you guys mean by this area being ‘odd?’”

Blondie kept silent, his head low while striding down the hallway, soon reaching the main lobby. He stepped aside with a sly grin on his face and a shine behind his green eyes. Sharon gasped, her eyes widening as she watched through the glass doors. Walking outside, up and down the sidewalks white as a gull’s feather, were multiple kinds of people and anthros. A feral orange kitsune ran down the street, a white fire on his back, while an otter with an inky tail ran after him, shaking his fist. The ground shook a bit, with two large and paunchy creatures walking alongside each other. The left being a gryphon with brown feathers and fur and a blue ring on the tail. The right being a fuzzy blue dragon with an orange mane and a slight glow from the mouth. They made plenty of folks feel small in their presence.

“And those are just the tip of the iceberg,” Blondie said, with Sharon shaking her head off from a trance. “It was surprising to me too.”

“I guess being an anthro gynoid shark wouldn’t be the weird being to see,” Sharon said, rubbing the back of her head as though she was blushing. “Though I never imagine anything like this. How could FOXWOOD hide all of this?”

“That’s the funny thing,” Mr. Tolle said as an anthro fox wearing a knight armor sprinted down the sidewalk, his sword bursting in flames. “According to this region’s history, it’s been like this for over a hundred years, long before FOXWOOD’s existance.” Sharon flinched, squinting one of her eyes. “How they kept it a secret, I can’t tell.”

Blondie nodded, and the door rang open, a lady stepping in. Sharon turned around; the lady had a glowing blue gem around her neck, at least two heads shorter than Blondie. Her hair shone golden in the light, her eyes as blue as the sky above, and her smile wide. Blondie lifted his head, a calming aura all around, and the lady nodded and shook hands with Sharon.

“I am known as Lovely Vixen,” the lady said, nodding. “I’ve been assigned to be your parole officer, as commanded by the commander.” Blondie opened his mouth to speak, but a gaze from her silenced him. “Don’t worry. At worst, I’ll observe her to ensure she doesn’t use her new gifts for evil.”

“Thank you,” Sharon said, nodding.

Lovely Vixen handed her a thick envelope. “This contains the address to your new home and various paperwork that’ll allow you to get a job. That way, you can get back on your feet as fast as possible. I’ll lead you over there.”

Sharon nodded and twitched her tail. Lovely Vixen nodded back and stepped out the front doors. The soothing feeling left when Lovely Vixen did as though her body radiated it and got blocked by glass. Blondie sighed and took a step away, only for Sharon to grab against his poncho. Their green and yellow eyes observed each other, seconds feeling like hours to them.

“Thank you for saving me from that witch,” Sharon said.

“It’s no problem. I—”

Sharon leaned forward, their lips locked against each other. Blondie felt his heart beating faster, his tail fluffing up before it swayed behind him without his consent. Behind, Mr. Tolle turned around, rubbing his eyebrows while hiding his grin. Then, all too soon, she pulled herself away and stepped through the glass doors. She followed the other with a wide smile with her tail swaying behind her.

Blondie remained standing there, frozen as though turned into a statue until Mr. Tolle patted his shoulder. “Huh?”

“If I was a romantic guy, I would say that she is into you,” Mr. Tolle said, rubbing one of Blondie’s ears. “And I think that you enjoy it.”

“Hey! She did it as thanks. No more.” Blondie stormed out, pushing his poncho up to hide his blushing cheeks, but Mr. Tolle smirked at Blondie’s wagging tail. “And stop that, tail!”

Hours passed before Blondie stepped into a lab with no dust on any of the shelves, desk, or machinery. He stepped to one of the shelves, where plastic bins of various sizes dominated them, with white labels such as ‘Launch Loop’ or ‘Matter-Energy Conversion’ on each one. Invariably, he spotted the smallest of them at matchbox size with the tag ‘Only use if L returns’ on it. He felt drawn to it to see what it was.

Instead, he walked to the computer desk, Coyote sitting before it with headphones over his ears. Multiple monitors lay either on the desk or screwed onto the wall. He tapped his foot before he picked up a pencil, writing on a blue notebook next to the rightmost monitor. Then, leaning back, he spotted Blondie and pressed the spacebar, gesturing him closer.

Blondie nodded, standing beside him while glancing at the centermost monitor, his right eyebrow raised. “What’s that? Some kind of video game?”

“Yup!” Coyote spun around with a slight grin on his face and a coyote plush on his lap. “It’s a playthrough footage of a game, Xenoblade Chronicles X, which intrigues me.”

“Huh. Never heard of it.” Blondie crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow. The video player paused during a cutscene. “Hmm. Japanese. It’ll take me some time to translate it. Though I’m more confused by that fuzzball bouncing in a middle of a battlefield.”

“That’s a Nopon.” Coyote chuckled, though there was a strain in it. “Annoying at times, funny in others. I couldn’t wait until it releases in four months, so I’m watching a Japanese playthrough. I’m near the end of chapter five if you’re wondering.”

Blondie felt something click in him. “That paper that fell out during that flight. Is that from this game?”

“Um, yeah.” Coyote blushed while rubbing the back of his head. “It’s the battle theme’s lyrics. And believe me, it sounds much better once you hear it.”

“I see,” Blondie said, his voice dragging and with his eyes half-closed. “Still, I came for another purpose.” Coyote pulled off his headphones and nodded. “Vixen told me about Fox.” The room felt colder, with Coyote’s grin fading. “About his bandaged arm, wolves and this June, and Fox’s sour attitude. Anything you can add to help me understand what is going on?”

Coyote kept silent for several seconds. “There’s a good quote that applies. ‘Understanding is a three-edged sword.’ Ever heard of it?” Blondie shook his head before rubbing his chin. “I don’t understand any more than Vix does, and she knows Star Fox more than I do. And I don’t understand how a quirk could develop such fractures. Everyone is on edge, especially Jackal, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Blondie nodded, pacing around with his foot-paws silent. “There is one thing that’s sticking with me. Vixen said that Fox ‘can’t’ while Jackal ‘won’t.’ Care to elaborate?”

Coyote sighed, the shined on his eyes gone. “It’s a long story, but here’s the core detail. Vix and I believe that Jackal got Star Fox into a promise pact, making it so that Star Fox can’t reveal their secret, willing or unwilling. I’m sure that Star Fox allows Jackal to be free from that chain, allowing him to annul it whenever.”

“Weird,” Blondie said before rubbing half of his face.

“I don’t know. Whatever happened must’ve been significant, or else they wouldn’t have done this.” Coyote got up, rushing over for one of the bins, it saying ‘Dragon Containment.’ He pulled out a rod with three rings on one end and a red sphere on the other before handing it to Blondie. “I’m sure you want to question Jackal yourself, so take this in case he loses his temper.”

“But it’s for dragons.”

“I know.” Coyote rubbed his chest as though reminded of an old pain before he shook his head. “Good luck.”

Blondie opened his mouth, but Coyote had already turned around, sitting on the chair with headphones over his ears once more. He sighed, tucking the rod under his vest before striding to the door. The L container caught his eye once, with curiosity tugging against him. He shook his head and ignored it, walking onward with his tail still.

Multiple bombs, disarmed with bullets, lay upon the ground when Blondie stepped into a firing range. Jackal crouched with his Ruger Precision Rifle with his expression frozen like steel. An inch away from the concrete cover was a four-way steel seal, open and with sensors ready to trigger upon sensing an explosion. Two hundred yards away was a bomb ticking on a table and, after Jackal breathed in and out, squeezed the trigger and fired, the .338 round ripping through without triggering it, disabled.

Jackal lowered his rifle onto the concrete cover before turning around, with Blondie approaching. His expression was neutral with little emotion displayed. An electrical twinge came to Blondie’s tail with it puffing up. He ignored the pain and, pulling his Colt Peacemaker .45 LC with LC out, he sat it on the other concrete cover.

“Vixen told me about Fox,” Blondie said. A flash of anger came from Jackal for a moment. “And Coyote collaborated with what she knew.”

“Why?” Jackal twitched his fingers.

“They are worried about their dear friend and don’t have anyone else to turn to.” Blondie squinted his eyes at Jackal. “And I’m here for them. So, tell me what is up with Fox’s bandaged arm, wolves, and this secret past you two have.”

“Why?”

Blondie’s fur fluttered, with part of his dirty blond hairfur covering one of his eyes.

“Why?” Blondie glanced at Jackal’s rifle. “Because I want to help.”

“Why?” Jackal stepped forward. An electrical shock came to the back of Blondie’s head as though it’s an extension of Jackal’s rage. “You are not one of uss. You never faced him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Blondie approached as well, breathing easy. “All I know is this secret keeping isn’t helping. Tell the truth, Ash.”

For several seconds, Jackal kept silent until a flash of gold appeared on his left arm. It spiraled around, with the tips shaped like fox tails, and he lifted his arm up. Blondie resisted flinching even as Jackal rubbed one of the spirals around his arm,

“Promise must be kept.” Jackal shook his head. “I won’t let it be broken after sso many yearss.”

Minutes passed, and the room felt hot as though it were tossed into a volcano. Wind gusted within and around the two, becoming harder by the second. Blondie’s poncho fluttered, and he held onto his hat. Sparks emitted from the floor and the ceiling, sometimes meeting each other. The two stepped closer until their eyes were a fraction of an inch away from touching each other, their wills challenging the other.

Blondie sighed, turning away. “Have it your way.” Jackal sighed as though exhausted with the wind and the electricity fading. “However, this I give as a warning since I can feel that it’ll go bad: ‘yet no oath or bond is laid upon you to go further than you will For you do not yet know the strength of your hearts, and you cannot foresee what each may meet upon the road.’”

Jackal frowned, clenching his fists tight. “The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring.” He was careful not to lisp. “Book two, chapter three.”

“And I’m sure you know who Elrond was thinking about when he said that,” Blondie said, taking his revolver before storming out of the room.

Jackal said nothing, turning to his left forearm, with the golden spirals still around it. He swallowed and a bit of the spirals fractured. He frowned and shook his head. The fractures healed before the spirals disappeared. Instead, he glared at the door and, with a grunt, swung his fist at it. Deep cuts ripped through the steel door, with his wind razor thin, before he turned back to his rifle and changed the magazine.

“No,” Jackal whispered. “I’ll keep it up for you. Becausse I have hope, and the hope that the passt remained buried.”