AUTHOR'S NOTE(S):

Welcome to Sierra Foxtrot Adventures, a motley collection of completely random shorts and oneshots set in the
Sierra Foxtrot universe. Full disclosure: if you haven't read Sierra Foxtrot, you're not going to understand a lot of the details, such as why it's not in the future, why there are no spaceships, why these OCs are so prevalent, and why everything is so mind-numbingly, exaggeratedly, painfully stupid and unrealistic. Consider this the dumping ground for my most ridiculous ideas, necessitated by my current decision not to start any new major stories now that my longest ever work is finished.

And remember, if you hate this particular oneshot, don't worry - there won't be a part 2.


McCloud Family Reunion

Timeline: six months after the end of Sierra Foxtrot

Following a short drive from his downtown apartment that he now shared with a special blue vixen, Fox turned his oversized off-road truck into the narrow, sloped driveway belonging to his father and pulled up to the older fox's garage door.

Exhaling, he turned off the engine and looked to his right at Krystal, seated in the passenger's seat next to him. The blue vixen smiled uneasily, unsure of what to expect in the upcoming hours. Every few years, the greater McCloud family arranged for a large get-together in the distant town of Wharton, situated in the foothills of the mighty Western Cornerian Mountains. Thanks to his busy mercenary lifestyle, Fox had blown off previous get-togethers; but with the surprising lull in world turmoil after the defeat of East Fortuna, Fox found himself with more time than usual to pursue leisure activities. Krystal's cultured past brought with it many opportunities to learn about things he had never given much thought to before, such as art, cuisine, travel, and even home decor.

After pausing for a minute, Fox climbed out of his truck and claimed his suitcase from the rear seat. Krystal did the same, and the two walked up to the elder McCloud's front doorstep. Fox did the honor of ringing the doorbell. With his sensitive ears, he picked up on the sound of rustling inside the door. Seconds later, the light tapping of toe-claws rattled across the hardwood floor inside.

The door opened to reveal James, wearing a black sweater and blue jeans. Strangely, though, he only wore a single sock. His headfur looked a bit disheveled, and traces of red coated his face.

Krystal read his surface-level thoughts and giggled. Fox, on the other hand, wondered what she had cued in on.

"Oh hey, you're early," said James. "It would've been nice to know you were going to show up ahead of schedule."

Fox frowned. "I tried calling you a half hour ago to let you know. You didn't answer."

"Oh, really?" asked James. "I must have silenced my phone for some unknown, very unsuspicious reason."

An awkward silence ensued.

"Well, come on in," James added. Mystic and I have our suitcases in the back of my truck already. We can leave whenever you're ready."

Fox led Krystal through the doorway and into the entry foyer. The entry to James's living room stood to the right. From the living room, a feminine shriek echoed through the house. "AAA! Don't look!"

Of course, the woman's panicked overture had the opposite effect, and Fox spun to the right in time to see Mystic struggling to pull a white turtleneck sweater over her otherwise bare torso. However, she stood with her back to him, preventing him from seeing anything too scandalous.

"Come on! Fit!"

After seconds of struggling, Mystic wiggled into the reluctant garment and promptly kicked a discarded brassiere under a nearby couch to prevent Fox from seeing it. Her magenta-furred face took on a reddish property as she turned around and walked into the foyer. She glared at James and then Fox, furious about the latter's unannounced early arrival.

"Um, hi, Mystic," Fox offered.

The magenta vixen returned a single, cold word. "Hello."

Noticing the already-deteriorating state of affairs, James crossed his arms and asked his wife, "Sweetheart, have you met Krystal yet?"

Mystic stared at the blue vixen, surprise written on her features. "Why yes, I have, in fact."

James raised an eyebrow. "What? How?"

"She used to be my boss back when I worked for…"

Krystal panicked, not wanting the details of her previous life to be spilled. So, she turned to James and loudly blurted out, "…Excuse me—where's the lavatory?"

"Where's the laboratory?" James asked, confused. "I don't have one of those."

Krystal smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. "No, you blithering idiot—I meant…whatever. It doesn't matter. I just wanted to wash my hands, that's all."

"Oh, in that case, there's a bathroom down the hall over there." He pointed to the left.

Krystal let out an indignant huff. "Thank you." She walked towards the restroom even though she had no need to use it, or a need to wash her hands, for that matter.

As Krystal rounded the corner on the left side of the house's entry foyer, James commented, "Well, since we're all ready to hit the road, why don't you two throw your bags in the back of my truck? The reunion's not going to come to us."

"Yeah, about that," Fox replied, concern in his voice. "You're still using your old truck? I wouldn't trust that thing to make it across Corneria City, let alone a three hundred mile trip across the country."

"Oh, nonsense!" James replied with a dismissive hand wave. "It runs fine. I just had the oil changed two days ago."

"And how does that mean anything for reliability?"

"It doesn't," said James, smiling. "Trust me, though—it runs. It'll get us there."

Fox let out a tense breath. "If you say so."

After James retrieved his missing sock from the living room and waited for Krystal to wash her hands, he led Mystic, Krystal, and Fox towards his garage. Upon opening the door to the garage, he pressed a button on an opener nearby and watched as the main garage door creaked open.

Fox turned his attention to the faded red truck parked in the garage. It looked like it had seen better days. Its paint had chipped and oxidized in parts, and three small rust holes dotted the rear quarter panels. The chrome on the wheels had turned to pitted bare metal, and while a vinyl cover stretched over the bed, it looked floppy and ragged. Fox figured he could tear a hole in it by merely applying a bit of pressure with his fist. Shaking his head and questioning his father's judgment, he loaded his suitcase into the bed of the truck, along with Krystal's.

"All right—road trip time," James grinned. He climbed into the driver's seat while the other three piled in after him. Due to the fact that James's truck was the extended cab version, Fox and Krystal were forced to cram themselves into the undersized rear passenger area marked by a soil-stained cloth bench seat. Fox occupied the part of the bench closest to the right rear window; and to his relief, Mystic slid the front seat forward to give him more leg room.

James turned the key in the ignition. The starter groaned and squealed for three seconds straight before the engine finally sputtered to life. A faint clicking sound emanated from the engine bay every half second, and it increased in pace as James shifted into Drive and moved out of the garage.

"This is such a horrible idea," Fox thought to himself.

Ever the telepath, Krystal picked up on his internal musings and leaned into the shoulder of her boyfriend—well, that wasn't quite the correct term, since the two shared reservations about intimacy and serious romance due to the yawning chasm of an age difference between them. Perhaps 'mutual friends' would have been a more accurate term for them? Anyway, Krystal picked up on his thoughts and whispered into his ear, "I have a bad feeling about this trip."

Their concerns went unheeded, as James left his house and driveway behind and pulled onto the street that ran parallel to his property.

After clipping on her seatbelt, Mystic reached into the cupholder to her left and grasped a 32oz. water bottle with a sport lid. She drank it at an alarming rate, implying that some sort of dehydrating activity had taken place before the group's departure.

From the back seat, Krystal smirked and nudged Fox. She whispered into his ear. "I'm glad that poor girl finally had something go right for her."

"What do you mean by that?" Fox whispered back.

"You do realize what they were doing when we drove up, right?"

The reality dawned on Fox. His face flushed. Displeased, he glared at Krystal and said, "You could have sensed that with your telepathy and told me to wait in the truck!"

James looked over his shoulder. "Hey, your whispering is getting a bit loud back there. How about some music?"

Fox shrugged disinterestedly, which of course prompted James to turn on the truck's antiquated stereo that still featured a cassette player and a single CD player that had been a state-of-the-art development when the truck rolled off the assembly line. A generic country song blared from the crappy speakers, instantly bringing a frown to the face of everyone in the car except for James.

Ridin' in my truck down these back roads

Skynyrd and Hank playin' on the radio

Beer in my hand and my girl by my side

When we get home we gonna have a good time, oh yeah

"No," Mystic declared, mashing a button below the radio display panel and changing the channel to a generic Top 40 station. A split second later, the sounds of robotic, autotuned vocals, standard-issue synthesizers, and derivative lyrics indicative of dancing as a metaphor for sex filled the truck's interior. The song completed its second chorus before the bridge began and guest rapper $KITTLE$ started laying down his signature rhymes. Of course, thanks to the song being on "family friendly" Top 40 radio, every originally profane lyric disappeared from the song. This meant that roughly a quarter of the entire lyrical bridge ceased to exist.

Krystal looked physically hurt. "This is terrible," she moaned. "Is there a classical station in this area?"

Not enjoying the pop collaboration himself, James took the opportunity to turn the radio dial to the nearest classical station. However, because classical music failed to attract enough listeners to pay for the station's ad revenue, the programmers interspersed the antiquated music with a political talk station with a slight—but not overbearing—leftwards bias. In other words, it was about as interesting as watching Uncle Peppy change the oil in his lawn mower. On second thought, scratch that—Peppy tended to work on his lawn equipment while drunk, and hysterical episodes ensued far more regularly than they should have.

To Krystal's dismay, the station's political programming took precedence over classical music at the moment.

"This afternoon, we have special guest Bernard Watkins, minority whip in the Cornerian Assembly's office of foreign affairs, here to talk about the ramifications of Prime Minister Schauer's response to the ongoing East Fortunan refugee crisis. Watkins claims that the Prime Minister's 'hardline' stance towards providing aid to the refugees is unethical and should be challenged at every corner by the Assembly."

Krystal sniffled and looked at the floor of the truck. Only Fox understood why. "Turn it off," she whimpered.

"Well, that got depressing fast," said James, his voice as flat as a dying patient's heartbeat. A moment later, he muted the radio, enveloping the cabin in silence. That is, until Fox pulled a seat of earbuds out of his pocket and connected them to his phone. The thin, tinny sound of death metal music wafted from the incomplete seal around his ear canals.

"Bloody Nora, that is horrid," Krystal remarked, sliding away from Fox and claiming the seat directly behind James.

In the front passenger's seat, Mystic shook her head and frowned. "This is going to be a long trip." She reached for her gargantuan water bottle again and took another gulp.


- § -


After navigating through Corneria City's nightmarish traffic, the four finally made it onto Interstate 5—the longest highway in the entire country of Corneria. The road led straight to their destination, which could have been considered either a blessing or a curse depending on who was driving. While simple in terms of navigation, the drive was mind-numbingly dull.

"Only three and a half more hours of this," Fox thought to himself.

Because no one could agree on the music, the only sounds in the cockpit amounted to road and wind noise from the truck, in addition to the awkward flapping sound of the floppy vinyl cover behind Fox's head. He glanced over his shoulder every few minutes just to make sure that it had not sheared in half and flown away in the breeze.

In the front seat, Mystic's now-empty water bottle sat in one of the cupholders. The magenta vixen's eyes scanned the roadway ahead, nervousness appearing on her face as she did.

In a weak voice, she asked, "James, sweetheart, can we stop somewhere soon?"

"Why would you want to do that?" James asked in response. "We just pulled onto the interstate. We're not even close to Wharton yet."

Mystic pleaded with her eyes and pointed to her water bottle.

James realized what she was implying. "Oh… Well, I've only got a half tank of gas left, so I might as well fill up so we don't have to stop later."

"Thank you."

At the next exit, James pulled onto the exit ramp and announced, "This is the last time we're going to stop, so if you want to grab something inside while I fill up, do it."

The stop took fifteen minutes. While James filled up his truck and Mystic used the restroom, Fox bought a large fruit bar to share with Krystal on the next leg of the trip. After the four piled back into the truck and waited with bated breath as James barely managed to start it, they navigated back towards the interstate and pulled onto it again.

All of two minutes passed before an ominous "Check Engine Light" warning icon appeared in the center of James's tachometer. The vulpine frowned. Now was not the time for this to be happening. He tried hiding the light from the others in the truck, but the subtle 'bong' noise it made when it illuminated clued all of them in on the presence of a mechanical problem. Fox stared a hole through the back of his seat, while Mystic rolled her eyes.

At that point, James happened to look in his driver's-side mirror, only to see his fuel door hanging open and the gas cap dangling against the side of the truck.

He smiled and exhaled. "Don't worry, gang—it's just a loose gas cap. I'll take care of it, and we'll be good to go again."

All three passengers rolled their eyes in unison as James pulled to the side and climbed out of the truck. Despite being on the side of Corneria's largest interstate, he neglected to close his door. The sound of the speeding traffic entered the truck's cabin. Despite it being mildly obnoxious, Fox, Mystic, and Krystal all agreed that it was preferable to the awkward silence that had dominated their road trip thus far.

After climbing out of the truck, James jogged towards the opened fuel door and clipped the gas cap back on. Slamming the fuel door shut, he rubbed his hands together and turned around. At that very second, a dark gray older model sedan veered too far to the right. Its wheels wandered over the rumblestrip dividing the highway's right lane with the shoulder where James's truck sat with the driver's door ajar.

James flattened himself against the side of his truck as the car came within three feet of hitting him. However, while the speeding vehicle may have missed James, it did not miss his opened door. The car sheared the door clean off its hinges and sent it flying down the shoulder ahead. The damaged car veered back onto the road, but did not stop. In fact, after ruining James's door, it picked up speed.

A hateful scowl appeared on James's muzzle. "You think you can get away with that? Dream on, punk." Determination in his eyes, he leaped back into the driver's seat and floored the gas pedal, startling Fox, Mystic, and Krystal even further. The truck left a pair of black skid marks and two small clouds of smoke in its wake.

Foot to the floor, James picked up speed rapidly. His three vulpine passengers pleaded for him to stop, pick up his door, and call his insurance company, but the roar from the open space where the door had formerly been conveniently drowned out their voices. With his teeth bared, he accelerated to 100 miles per hour, gaining on the fleeing sedan.

The car's driver must have realized that he was being chased, because at the next exit, he darted onto the offramp and sped up the hill towards a right turn that led to a quiet, winding, back road that acted as the connector between two sleepy redneck vistas.

James continued his pursuit. Overtaking a minivan on his right, he swerved onto the exit ramp and drifted through the stop sign at the top of the ramp. The old, front-drive sedan's driver lacked the skills and the testicular fortitude to drive like a manly man, which allowed James to further close the gap. The two-lane road quickly left civilization behind. Sprawling fields full of cotton, flowers, and non-sapient livestock (furries have to get their meat from somewhere, right?) stretched as far as the eye could see on both sides of the road. No other cars came into view. This allowed James to use every inch of asphalt to his advantage. He curved each apex with furious precision, bringing him closer and closer to the back bumper of the would-be escaped hooligan.

When a mere fifty feet separated him from his target, something unexpected happened. The fleeing car's passenger stuck his head out the right window, revealing himself as an orange feline wearing a black hoodie. He held a semi-automatic handgun between his hands.

"Get down!" James shouted.

No sooner had he spoken than the gunman opened fire. A bullet penetrated James's windshield, cleaving through the area where Mystic's head had just been. Three more rounds shattered pieces of the windshield and plinked off the truck's hood. James swerved into the oncoming lane to avoid being hit by more rounds.

"You just gave yourself a death wish, punk," he muttered, reaching for the center console to his right. He popped it open to reveal a snub-nosed sawed-off shotgun, which he snatched up. Wasting no time, he tossed it into his left hand, stuck it out the left side of the truck, and emptied both barrels into the fleeing car. The car's horn sounded a second later, and it did not stop.

A curve appeared in the road ahead, along with two nearby road signs. One read 'Allegro River,' and the other issued a 40 mile per hour speed warning for the upcoming turn.

With the dead driver's head smashing the horn, his passenger reached for the steering wheel and frantically cranked it to the left to make the turn. To his horror, however, his comrade's foot remained on the gas pedal. The gray car entered the corner, but its speed prevented it from holding the road. It skidded off the right side of the curve just as an old concrete bridge came into view. The car bounded across the grass on the right edge of the road, then careened over an embankment. It disappeared from view with a distant splash.

Stunned silence filled the interior of James's truck. Without a word, the vulpine pulled onto the right edge of the bridge. The four looked out the right side window in time to see the fleeing car sink in the river, with no traces of either the dead driver or his cohort.

"Did you just do that?" asked Mystic, fur standing on end.

James nodded grimly and shoved his sawed-off shotgun back into the center console. "All right, then—back to business."

"Uh, yeah," Fox mumbled from the back seat while Krystal clutched him like she would a life preserver in a raging ocean tempest.


- § -


After James's brutal double murder of the people responsible for destroying his truck door, conversation came to a dead halt—not as if conversation was possible with the overwhelming sound of air rushing into the truck's cab through the gaping hole where the driver's side door used to be.

Over the raging wind that blasted into the truck and chilled all four vulpines, James looked over his shoulder and shouted, "I'm gonna stop at Red-Mart and get something to fix the door!"

"You should have just picked it up on the road, you pillock!" Krystal shouted, pinning her ears back.

Thanks to the wind noise, James heard nothing except "pillock," the meaning of which he did not know because he had not watched any British telly. Thus, he ignored Krystal and pulled into the highway's right lane. At the next exit, he turned onto a busy avenue flanked on both sides by big-box retail stores, including his intended destination.

The Red-Mart store sported a vast parking lot and a red and white smiley face emblem that hung above the sprawling supercenter's dual automatic entry doors. After turning at the light leading to the left side of the shopping center, James hunted for a parking space until he located a remote slice of pavement a solid two hundred meters from the front doors.

He turned off the engine. "Anyone want to come in with me?"

No one replied.

"All right, then. I guess that's a 'no.' Oh well, I'll be back in fifteen minutes or so."

Fox, Krystal, and Mystic sat in stone dead silence as James climbed out of the truck and walked towards Red-Mart's front door. When he finally exited listening range, all three vulpines let out a collective sigh of relief.

"I am so sorry about all this," Mystic whimpered to Fox. "I thought I was doing you a favor by convincing him to drive instead of you."

A sympathetic look appeared on Krystal's face. "It's okay, Mystic. I'm sure I'd be just as miserable if Fox was driving."

"Hey!" Fox snapped.

"Oh, that's not what I meant," Krystal explained, "What I meant to say was that merely having to share a cramped space with your father makes me want to take that shotgun and off myself."

Fox cringed. "Sorry, Krystal. He can be a bit of an idiot sometimes."

"You don't say," the vixen replied, her expression as hard as steel. "For future reference, next time you have something like this planned, count me out."

"Even holidays, like Christmas?"

Krystal returned a grim nod. "You heard what I said. I would much prefer a relaxing, comfortable holiday alone with you to this," she pointed to the missing driver's door.

Mystic let out a sigh, deciding to pose a question she hoped would not be too personal. "If you don't mind me asking, how are you two doing? If I remember, Fox, you seem to have a problem with the age gap between me and your dad." A trace of sarcasm dripped from her voice. "So, how's that working out for you with her since she's literally five times your age?"

Fox bit his lip, while Krystal frowned. "It's complicated," the blue vixen admitted. "Fox means the world to me, but my age still puts him off. I'm sure he'll come around eventually, but…" She feathered his neck fur. "…For now, we're mostly just friends who live together. I can wait for him, though. I've gotten used to waiting."

Patting Krystal on the shoulder, Fox added, "We've been living together for a few months and we're sharing a bed now, but yeah, she's right. We're learning to trust each other more, but there's still a lot of work left."

"Age is just a number, Fox," Krystal whispered into his ear. "I'm still a girl at heart."

Fox ruffled the fur on the back of her neck and kissed her cheek. "I'm sure you are."

After a brief, awkward lull in the conversation, Krystal directed her attention towards Lilac. "Since you asked me and Fox about it, how are you and James doing? What have you been up to since East Fortuna surrendered?"

The magenta vixen nibbled at one of her claws and replied, "I got a new job at a private cybersecurity company in downtown Corneria City. I guess that makes me the breadwinner in the household." She smiled. "Life's been good since the last time I saw you two. For all of his stupid moments, James is a joy to live with, and…well, let's just say he really knows how to make anything romantic."

"Even getting shot at and murdering two people for hitting his door?" Krystal fired back.

Mystic's face fell. "Well, no. But, you know, I'd probably do the same thing if I was in his position."

Fox raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Hey—they tried to shoot me. I'm not going to take that lying down."

Fox shrugged. "Huh. You might have a point."

A moment later, James returned to the truck, carrying five rolls of duct tape. After opening the plastic wrap holding them together in one unit, he set to work taping over the gap in the bodywork created by the missing door. As the minutes passed, he assembled a door made entirely out of duct tape. To complete his laughable creation, he interlaced strips of the sticky material between the top of the door and the sill, creating a redneck version of a racing window net.

"This isn't what I thought he was going to do at all," Fox grumbled into Krystal's ear.

"What did you expect? For him to buy a new door? I'm sure those are easy to find around these parts."

"Ooh, snarky—I like it," Fox replied.

"I'm only this way because I'm properly angry," said Krystal, crossing her arms.

"Well then, is there something I can do to make you feel better?"

Krystal glared at Fox with frustration in her eyes. "I would absolutely adore a full-body massage once we get to your family's retreat, but I know you're going to say 'no' because it bothers you to do anything sensual with me."

Fox scratched the back of his head. "Well, you can't exactly blame me. After all, if I had a living great-great grandmother and she asked me to do what you're suggesting, I'd probably throw up. On second thought, no—I'd definitely throw up."

"Fox, your bloody hypothetical grandmum is a wrinkly old hag. I'm not. If you hadn't figured out my secret, you'd still think I was 22, and your beautiful, rugged hands would be all over me when we got to the retreat. Come on! By now, you should have realized that there's nothing different about me other than the number of times this planet's gone around the sun with me on it."

Stroking his muzzle, Fox murmured, "Well, when you say it like that…"

"Jackpot," thought Krystal.

A moment later, Mystic opened her door and climbed out to allow James to straddle his way back into the driver's seat thanks to the fact that his new duct tape door could not open. When the older vulpine had claimed his seat, Mystic jumped back in and closed her door.

"We're late now. We'd better hurry up," said James, reaching for his key and sliding it in the ignition. He turned it. The starter whirred and groaned for five seconds, spinning more and more slowly with every revolution. The engine seemed on the brink of turning over, but it held firm and remained off. After seven seconds, the starter gave up with a clicking sound, leaving the truck's interior silent in its wake.

Mystic, Fox, and Krystal gave James a collective death stare.

"Oops. Looks like the battery bit the dust. No matter, though—I'll head back into the store and get a new one."

Once again, Mystic opened her door and got out to allow James to exit and head back into Red-Mart. As the red vulpine walked back towards the sliding front doors, Fox looked out his window at the wall of black clouds on the horizon and asked, "Was it supposed to rain today?"


- § -


After thirty minutes spent buying a new battery and installing it, James navigated his way back onto the interstate, aiming to make up lost time. All the while, the dark clouds on the horizon moved in, blocking out the sun and turning the formerly bright day into a dreary episode filled with unwanted precipitation. As the truck meandered into the highway's central lane, raindrops descended from the heavens. At first, the rain amounted to nothing more than a faint sprinkling.

However, as the minutes passed, the rainstorm picked up steam and morphed into a bona fide deluge. Even with James's windshield wipers on full blast, the view ahead became obscured. Nearby cars flashed their hazard lights, partially to warn other drivers and partially to increase their own visibility to the traffic around them.

Above the sound of the pounding rain, Fox thought he heard something else. So did Krystal. In unison, they looked behind them at the old bedcover as it flopped in the driving rain and the howling wind. Just then, a mighty wind whipped up and slipped under the side of the bedcover through a tiny gap between it and the truck's frame. The vinyl fabric billowed in the wind like a sail before it sheared apart with a horrific tearing sound that James heard through his redneck racing net, which, needless to say, did nothing to keep the rain off his left arm.

The ruined bedcover took flight in the breeze and soared into traffic. A minivan ran over it seconds later, although thankfully it did no damage—to the minivan, that is.

Horror etched onto their faces, Fox and Krystal stared at the four suitcases in the now-exposed truck bed as the rain bombarded them.

"Oh no! All my clothes are going to be soaked! I have things in there that will be ruined!" Krystal moaned.

James gritted his teeth. At the same time, a devious glint appeared in his eyes. "I have a solution," he said, raising his right index finger. "If I drive fast enough, the rain will go right over the bed, and the suitcases won't get wet."

Fox, Mystic, and Krystal stared aghast at him. To their collective dismay, the older vulpine seemed oblivious to their disapproval. Finding an open spot in the slow-moving traffic, he darted into the open left lane and pushed the gas pedal to the floor.

"Here we go!"

Instinctively, Fox and Krystal sandwiched themselves together and embraced one another, realizing that the end was near. In spite of the diluvian torrent assaulting the highway, James topped eighty miles an hour. He gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, his trademark smirk plastered on his lips.


- § -


The remaining miles went by like a blur as James raced down the waterlogged interstate and exited in Wharton. Because the family retreat was situated outside the Wharton city limits, only a series of back roads separated him and his terrified passengers from their destination. Rooster tails flew from the tires as James rounded the final corner leading to the McCloud family's rented plot of land.

At long last, their destination appeared on the right side of the road. A large, open green field separated the road from a long, brick-coated building that marked the main dining hall where the majority of the McCloud family was scheduled to eat lunch. Behind a line of trees near the dining hall, the outlines of numerous campers and RV's came into view. The group's home away from home resided in one of the rented estate's guest apartment complexes, but James had other things to focus on at the moment.

Namely, turning into the retreat complex.

Still carrying too much speed, James cranked the wheel to the right and slammed on the brakes. In the process, he hydroplaned over a large puddle on the right side of the road and missed the gravel entry road. The truck skidded past the entry and bounded onto the grassy field in front of the dining hall. Grass chunks flew from the tires as it bounced over a depression in the ground. The violent impact sent the back of the truck airborne and rotated the entire vehicle to the right. In the chaos, one of the suitcases in the truck bed flying. It soared over the edge of the truck and hit the ground with so much force that it burst open, scattering clothes on the wet ground.

James's truck finally came to a stop in the center of the field, a trail of grassy carnage in its shadow. After pausing to collect himself, he pushed the gas pedal and turned back towards the gravel driveway that he had meant to turn onto in the first place.

The truck refused to move; and as he focused his ears, he noticed a distinct lack of engine noise.

"That's not good."

He turned the key off, then tried cranking the engine again. The starter moaned and whined, but the motor refused to turn over. It dawned on him a moment later why.

"The engine's seized," he stated in a flat tone of voice.

"I thought you just had the oil changed," Fox commented.

James looked past Mystic out his right side window and noticed a pool of black liquid mixed in with the shredded grass leading back to the road. "Looks like that bump broke something and made it leak out."

Krystal decided she had experienced enough misery in the back seat. Fists clenched, she yelled, "Get me out of here! Mystic, open the bloody door!"

The magenta vixen leaped into action and threw open her door, allowing Fox to open the right side rear half-door and let himself and Krystal out. The soggy grass soaked through their shoes almost immediately, but Krystal's attention drifted elsewhere—specifically to the jettisoned suitcase and the clothing scattered around it.

"My clothes!" she yelped, sprinting towards the suitcase and collecting various feminine garments, all of which bore traces of mud. Cursing under her breath, she shoved them back into her suitcase and forced the top of it shut with her bare hands. She picked it up and carried it with an arm over the broken front zipper, cognizant of the fact that by picking it up, she had slathered the front of her light blue dress with mud.

She walked up to Fox while he, Mystic, and James claimed their waterlogged suitcases from the bed of the truck. Sheer hatred permeated her body. She glared at James with a look that could have killed lesser men; and her stare made it clear to him that she was holding back the urge to punch him in the face.

For once, James acted bashful and scratched the back of his head, much like Fox did. To deflect from Krystal's rage and the fact that his truck had broken down in the middle of the retreat's central field after shredding the grass to pieces, he glanced at the dining hall and said, "Let's see if there's still anyone in there. We can put our suitcases outside the door for now. No one's going to steal them. After all, it's all family here!"

Fox glanced at his watch and noticed the time—2:34 PM. Lunch had been scheduled for noon, and he deemed it unlikely that many people would loiter in the dining hall for two and a half hours. However, he did not feel like causing his father's ego to be deflated any more than it already had been. So, with bags in hand, the four trudged towards the dining hall. Upon reaching the overhang that marked the building's front door, they placed their bags against the side of the brick building while James opened the door and peered inside. To his dismay, not a soul stirred inside the dining hall. Crumbs, drink spills, and used plates littered the tables, implying that lunch had ended mere minutes earlier.

He hung his head and looked at Mystic out of the corner of his eye. "Well, at least we can check into our rooms. We'll have a good time yet. Come on, Mystic."

The magenta vixen grabbed her suitcase and turned to follow her husband, but before she moved away, she whispered, "I'm sorry" to both Fox and Krystal. Then, she and James rounded the corner of the dining hall and disappeared from view.

With Fox's father and stepmother out of earshot, Krystal sighed. Her ears and tail fell, as did her expression. "Damn it to blazes," she muttered under her breath. "I knew I shouldn't have come here. I don't know anyone else in your family anyway; and it's going to be so hard to explain our relationship to them."

Fox's eyes softened. "It's okay, Krystal," he replied, moving towards her and drawing her in for a gentle embrace. "I'll make it up to you. When we check into our room, I'll give you that massage you asked for."

The blue vixen patted him on the back. "I appreciate that, Fox. I know this isn't your fault."

The sound of approaching boots shattered Fox and Krystal's intimate moment. The two separated in the blink of an eye and turned towards the left corner of the dining hall in time for a familiar red vixen to appear.

Scarlet wore a weather-appropriate waterproof catsuit with an attached hood and shiny black texture that accentuated her enviable physique. A smile crossed her lips as she sized up Fox and Krystal.

"Hey cousin!" she blurted out, darting towards him and giving him a quick hug, which she punctuated with a quick kiss on the lips.

Fox broke away from her and took a rapid step back. "Whoa, hey! You can't do that! We're not together anymore!"

"I don't see why that's a problem," Scarlet replied with her sultry, carefree voice. "You've still got a special place in my heart."

"That's great," Fox grumbled, crossing his arms, "…But I'm with Krystal now."

Krystal frowned and glared at the red vixen. Having already suffered enough on the road trip to the retreat she had little enthusiasm for, she had no desire to interact with Fox's bodacious ex who also had a mildly disturbing distant blood relationship to him.

Scarlet smiled. "Aw…you two are so cute together. Really, I'm happy for you. No hard feelings at all."

Fox raised an eyebrow, although his voice expressed a hint of gratitude. "Really?"

"Yeah!" said Scarlet, a gleam in her eyes. "After what you and Hartmann told me on the plane in East Fortuna, I realized you were both right. I needed a real relationship, not just a month of lascivious, sensuous love-making."

Krystal rolled her eyes.

Ignoring the Cerinian, Scarlet motioned to her left, around the corner of the building. "So, I got in touch with a sexy hunk that I used to know and apologized for a few broken bones. One thing led to another, and now I'm in the longest, most satisfying relationship of my life."

"That's great, Scarlet. You've got me curious now. I want to meet the man who managed to keep you in a long-term relationship. He must be quite a guy."

"Oh, he most certainly is," said Scarlet, glancing around the corner as another set of boots clapped against the concrete ground. The vixen turned towards the approaching man and called out, "Hey, hot stuff, someone wants to see you. I think you might have met him before."

"Huh?" a gruff voice grunted from behind the corner.

Fox watched in anticipation as Scarlet's newfound lover approached. He wondered what kind of man he was, considering that maintaining a stable relationship with Scarlet could have been considered an expert-level exploit requiring a combination of cunning, wit, sex appeal, and the willingness to engage in some level of psychopathic behavior. Clearly, whoever this man was, he possessed every one of these skills.

Two seconds later, Wolf O'Donnell rounded the corner and stood next to Scarlet. Like the vixen, he wore waterproof rain gear, although obviously not as suggestive as hers. Despite Scarlet standing six feet tall with her boots, Wolf still edged her out in terms of height. His one functioning eye widened in surprise upon seeing Fox, but it quickly narrowed in anger.

Fox locked eyes with his arch-rival, stunned by the sudden turn of events. Unable to comprehend the fact that his ex was now dating his worst living enemy, he glared at Scarlet and muttered, "Fuck."

Scarlet smirked and whispered into Wolf's ear. "You know, that's a great idea. What else is there to do on a rainy day like this one?"

"Heh," Wolf chuckled. "Works for me." Taking Scarlet by the hand, he turned towards the corner of the building. However, before he left, he waved to Fox with his free hand and grinned deviously at him. "Catch you later, pup."

Fox stood in stunned silence as Wolf and Scarlet walked away. Suddenly, he felt in complete agreement with Krystal. He did not want to be here anymore. As the rain picked up once again, he looked in the direction of his home with a wistful, longing stare.

"Fox, are you okay?" Krystal asked him, concern in her voice.

Fox kept his focus on the distant horizon, never once making eye contact with the blue vixen. "We're getting out of here."