"My word…she's gorgeous."

Jean-Pierre leaned over the shoulder of his assistant as they watched the digital photographs appear on the computer screen in front of them. The photographer continued snapping pictures of the black avian in front of him wearing a gray tanktop and skinny jeans that she wore to the office that day. She also had a pair of large-framed sunglasses that she was given as a test product. From the corner of her eye in between the flashes, she could see Jean-Pierre and his assistant gawking at the computer screen, and she smiled to herself on the inside, not wanting to break her hard-edged, stoic face.

The assistant, a thin black feline, spoke with a thick Russian accent, "Every picture is perfect. There hasn't been one yet that we couldn't publish right now."

The arctic fox didn't break his stare on the screen as he said, "And this isn't even a real set. Plastic backdrop, ambient light, and she's still taking amazing photographs."

The feline turned to face him from her seat at the computer. "Jean, this one is special. I can't remember the last time I saw photographs this stunning. Where the hell did you find her?"

"I met her at the club this past weekend. Said she was in town on business."

"Business you say? Hmm…if it's not the modeling business, she's in the wrong career."

Jean-Pierre smiled to her and said, "And you know the beautiful thing about it? She's unsigned. She's all ours unless she signs on with an agent."

The feline replied, "But of course. I take it you're going to assign her to the new Éthéré campaign? You have no other projects before that, no?"

"Yes indeed. I'll certainly use her in the show and also the subsequent print advertisements. That is of course assuming she makes the headliner I'm expecting her to be."

The black feline turned slowly to him again, skepticism on her face. "Headliner you say? You're going to use an unsigned, amateur model to headline your biggest campaign of the year? Are you mad?"

Jean-Pierre chuckled lightly. "My dear Nadiya, forgive me, but I've been at this a bit longer than yourself. I know talent when I see it, and she has plenty of it. We'll just see if she can handle it."

Nadiya returned to the computer and shook her head a bit. "You certainly have more guts than I do."

Jean-Pierre laughed before saying, "And that, my dear, is why I create things like Éthéré. It's going to be huge, just you watch."

The arctic fox turned to walk away while Nadiya continued to observe the flawless photographs in front of her. Just then, the photographer snapped his hundredth frame, marking the end of the photoshoot.

Beginning to disassemble his camera, the small red fox walked up to Zoe who was finding a place to return her borrowed glasses.

He said, "Thank you. That was an excellent photoshoot."

Zoe shifted her eyes a bit in confusion. "Well…I should be thanking you as opposed to the other way around I suppose. You took your own time to shoot an amateur like me," she said with a light laugh.

The fox chuckled in return. "No, thank you for these shots. They're the best I've ever taken."

Zoe smiled. "Well I'm sure it wasn't me in front of the camera that made that happen."

The photographer tersely answered, "No it most certainly was. I've never seen anything like that. These will be the shining highlight of my portfolio, and I thank you for it."

She was both surprised and very flattered. "Well…you're welcome," she said before smiling awkwardly.

The photographer pulled a business card form his pocket, handing it to the avian. "I'm no big-shot, but if you need more headshots or something, please give me a call. I'd love to work with you again."

Zoe was a bit taken aback at the sudden interest in her. She slowly pocketed the card and smiled at the fox. "Thanks…I'll hold on to that."

The photographer nodded and turned on his heel, leaving the set. Zoe turned her attention to the black feline she met just earlier that day who was still clicking way at the remote computer to the side of the set. She walked over, standing on the opposite side of the desk from where Nadiya sat.

The tall avian put her hands on her hips, then sighed before saying, "So, how'd I do?"

Not moving her hand on which her head rested, Nadiya shifted her eyes up to meet Zoe's. She said, "Not bad…not bad at all…here, come take a look."

The avian moved to the other side of the desk, taking a look at the digital photos of herself cycling through the screen. Silently, she and Nadiya analyzed each snapshot, until the seated feline, still not moving in her seat, asked, "Are you sure you've never done this before? These are not amateur photographs."

Zoe replied, "What do you mean?"

Nadiya continued clicking through the frames as she spoke, "Look at these. You gave us everything in these pictures. Profile, straight-on, three-quarter, editorial, catalog, and you never lost your light once."

There was an awkward silence. "Umm…so I take it I did well then?"

Nadiya quickly answered, "Yes, very well indeed. But new models always find one pose and stick with it, because they think it's best. It takes time for a girl to start working out of the box and give different poses. But you gave us everything here. It's…quite fascinating, really."

Not sure how to answer, Zoe replied, "Maybe I'm just a natural? Who knows, but I'm quite flattered."

Still not breaking her gaze from the screen, Nadiya said, "Perhaps. But Jean-Pierre seems to agree with you. He told me just before he left that he would like you to headline his new campaign."

Slightly taken aback, the new model replied, "Headline? Is that…as serious as it sounds?"

"Yes indeed. You'll be the face of most of the print ads, billboards, and not to mention the main attraction at the fashion show at the end of the month."

Zoe was stunned. She never expected such news after only one shoot with the designer. After another awkward silence, she said, "Wow…that's…not what I expected to hear."

Nadiya scoffed a bit, "Yes, you're not the only one."

The avian answered after a moment's thought, "You seem less than thrilled about this."

Nadiya finally turned her chair about to face her. "It's nothing personal, but I think it's a foolish move. You've just finished your first photoshoot, and now he wants you to be the face of his biggest campaign of the year. He's never even seen you on the runway. Don't tell me that's not odd to you."

Zoe shifted her stance uneasily, not saying anything.

"My boss tends to lose sight of things when he sees a fresh new model, especially one who has a lot of potential. You have to understand that my paycheck is directly related to his success. I don't want to see this campaign go south because of his occasional quixotic thought process."

The avian nodded in acknowledgement. "I see…I can't say I blame you at all."

Nadiya closed her eyes and shrugged slowly. "But it's not my decision. I just keep his calendar and make his phone calls. But I must warn you…" she trailed off, musing over her words. "There is another model he's hired. Chantal. She's a bit…vocal, if you understand me."

Zoe put her hands on her hips and asked, "What, she work for him too?"

"Not exactly. She works for an independent agent, but Jean-Pierre has taken a liking to her and her rising popularity in the city. She was informally promised his next campaign…"

"And now he's given that campaign to me…"

The feline nodded. "Exactly. So I warn you, Chantal is going to…be rather upset, to put it politely."

Zoe questioned, "And to put it impolitely?"

"She's going to try and claw your throat out."

The avian was harshly taken aback. "Excuse me?"

Nadiya laughed a bit before saying, "Don't worry, I don't think she'd actually try and murder you. But expect her to get in your face quite a bit. She's this rich, snobby bitch who's used to always getting what she wants. She's going to be furious about losing the campaign."

"Well…I appreciate the concern." She turned to look at the clock on the wall. "If there's nothing else though, I really must be going."

The seated feline nodded. "But of course. We'll be in touch."

As Zoe turned on her heel to walk out the door, Nadiya moved back to the computer screen, looking once again through all of the photographs taken just minutes ago.

Bernard sat alone in his house that was now occupied by the six mercenaries. He was on his laptop in the ground floor kitchen, intently studying the screen in front of him. The front door slammed shut, and he averted his eyes up to see a black avian walking into the kitchen.

"Hey," she simply stated, heading for the fridge.

"Hello. How'd it go?"

Zoe sighed as she smiled, taking a bottle of water out of the fridge. "Couldn't have been better. I played dumb, and they totally bought that I was an amateur. Told me I was amazing, and then the dude named me the face of his next campaign."

Bernard sat back in his chair, folding his arms. "My word. Is that…normal?"

She sat down at the table opposite of him, opening up the bottle. "No, not at all. Back on Corneria you had to work with someone several times before they'd even consider making you a headliner. Even for me being the sensation I was, no one would give you that kind of job that quickly."

The calico raised his eyebrows. "Impressive. You must have really made an impression on him," he said while returning his eyes to the laptop in front of him.

"Guess so," Zoe replied, taking a sip of her drink. "Where is everyone by the way?"

Not making eye contact and still looking at the computer, he replied, "They went to check out the city. Just trying to get a feel for the place I suppose."

"I see…" Zoe replied, "And may I ask what's so interesting that you're looking at?"

"I'm looking up what I can on that Jean-Pierre guy you met the other night. The internet is a beautiful thing."

The avian laughed a bit. "Anything interesting?"

"Not especially. Question though, what was your impression of his office? I mean like based on what you did in Corneria, what did you think?"

Zoe folded her arms, resting her elbows on the table while searching her memories. "Well…it was a pretty nice office I guess. He had equipment on scene to do a low budget shoot, which most people don't have. If I had to guess I'd say he was a pretty solid designer. Maybe not the biggest name around but big enough."

Bernard thought over her words. "See that's funny…because from what I'm seeing here, his work never gained any popularity. He's just some guy who churns off clothing lines that don't impress anyone."

Zoe's eyes widened a bit in surprise. "Huh…he certainly doesn't carry himself that way. The way he was talking about his next campaign, he thought it was going to be the next huge thing to hit the fashion world."

Bernard chuckled a bit. "So he thinks he's hot shit, does he? That's just funny. Well I suppose we know where he got the money to fuel his nice office. Explains why he's selling weapons on the side at least."

Zoe laughed in return. "Yeah I guess. Not that I suppose it really matters though."

Bernard shrugged. "Maybe it does. I mean you need to get in deep with the guy right? Well right now you only know him as a designer, and you need to get to know his other side."

Zoe looked at him, eyes slightly squinted. "I'm not sure I follow you."

Bernard smiled. "Well…you said he makes himself seem bigger than he is, right? Hit him where it hurts. He's obviously not the greatest designer, so you know he has to be supplementing himself somehow. Tell him you want in or you'll take him down."

Zoe shook her head a bit. "Whoa…let's not get ahead of ourselves. I just met the guy two days ago. I don't even know him like that."

Bernard replied, "I'm not saying go after him right now. You have time. Get close to him, and then see what you can do. He obviously really likes you already."

Zoe laughed. "Well…no denying that I guess." Bernard just shrugged in response. She continued, "Sounds like a good enough plan I guess. We'll just see how the campaign goes and take it from there."

Bernard shut his laptop and stood up from the table. "Forgive me if I'm anxious to get this over with. If you recall, I have a rather serious vendetta going here. And if there's anything I've learned dealing with the underground in this city, it's that you need to take care of your problems as soon as they show up."

Without another word, Bernard left the room, leaving Zoe to muse over his seemingly overdramatic words.

A thin otter was slowly crawling through the dark on his elbows towards the street, leaving a trail of blood in the alley as he did. The shoulder of his black jacket was slowly becoming saturated with the blood running down his face from a gash on his temple. His leg screamed in pain, the bone clearly broken clean through. He gazed up to the street, gasping for breath, hoping, praying that someone would walk by and see his deadly plight through the cover of the night and call for help.

"Oh no, you're not getting away that easily," said the deep, ominous voice from behind him. Suddenly, the assailant's foot slammed in between his shoulder blades, painfully pinning him down to the cold concrete. The butt of the gun slammed into his head another countless time, forcing more blood into his head and out his gushing wound even faster. His face was pressed by his own weight to the grimy, cold floor of the alley, the otter unable to lift his head with his own strength.

Suddenly, the pressure on his ribcage was lifted along with the crushing stomp, and the assailant flipped him over onto his back. The otter was becoming delirious from the gratuitous blood loss, and his vision was a bit hazy along with his mind as a whole. He could sense the mysterious person in front of him crouching down, but he was too weak to fight back or protest in anyway. Still unsure of who was attacking him, he channeled his strength into focusing his vision on the person who was now no more than a foot away from his face. Even though it was dark, once his vision was centered enough, he immediately recognized the canine in front of him.

Wolf pulled a lighter from his pocket, lighting the cigarette that was now in his mouth. He blew a plume of smoke right in the face of the beaten otter on the ground below him.

He said, "So…are you finished being a problem yet?"

The otter didn't know how to respond. He was still caught in the surprise of who was in front of him, and didn't yet even begin to wonder what he was doing in the city.

Wolf moved within a few inches and softly said, "Now I'm only going to say this once. You're going to tell me what I need to know, and then I'm going to simply walk out of this alley, with you alive. If not, then I'm going to kill you, and leave your cold, lifeless corpse in this alley to be dinner for all the rats running around. It's up to you."

The otter only responded with coarse, labored breaths. Wolf continued, "I need you to tell me where I can find all those motherfuckers from your old posse. I have a score to settle, which you should very well know if you've recognized me yet." The otter had his eyes closed, but he was still clearly in pain. "I'll give you a moment to collect yourself," Wolf said tersely before taking a drag from his cigarette.

The canine thought a moment himself about what he was doing. Here he was, leaning over a guy who he'd just beaten to within an inch of his life, nonchalantly having a smoke while his victim bled out in a dirty alley. Sure he had killed before; it was his job. But never before had he done something like this for reasons so personal.

"Time's up," Wolf said before placing the gun to the otter's wounded temple. "Scream and I kill you." With his non-gun hand, he placed the lit end of the cigarette against the otter's neck, listening to the fur and skin singe beneath the ember. Wolf pushed his weight down on the otter's torso, keeping him still as he grunted and writhed in excruciating pain. Wolf held it there until the soft light went dim, when he removed the cigarette and closely examined it.

"Huh, you put out my cigarette. You're gonna owe me a pack, you know that." The otter, still without a word, just winced in pain, still breathing heavily.

Through a groan, the otter said, "What the fuck do you want?"

"Ahh, he speaks. For a second there I thought I might have broken you completely," Wolf said with a light laugh. "And I already told you what I want. Now I'm just waiting on you to tell me."

"You've got to be kidding me," the otter said, still breathing heavily, "I haven't seen those people in years, man. I wouldn't even begin to know where to find them."

"Well you better try a little harder than that, because I have a whole list of people I can burn through to find them. I just found you first. I have absolutely no problem killing you here and now, and then just moving on to the next one."

The otter was visibly frustrated. "It's been years, man. All those people got out a long time ago, just like me. What makes you think you're going to find them so easy?"

Wolf replied, "Oh, don't you worry about that. I have my ways. Just understand that I have no problems killing you right here and now if you can't help me."

The otter shook his head. "I got out of that world a long time ago, I swear to god. I can't help you, even if I wanted to. I promise you, I haven't talked to any of them in years. They could be anywhere on the planet for all I know."

Wolf lost his patience, and whipped the gun across the otter's face, forcing him to spit up more blood to join the collecting pool on the ground. He raised his voice a bit. "Look at me. Fucking look at me! Do I look like I'm fuckin' around here? Huh? I have no problem killing you right now and hunting down the next of your piece of shit little partners, so if you don't tell me what I need to know right now, I swear to god this bullet is going right through your skull and out the other side, painting a lovely little mural of your blood and brain matter on the floor of this alley," he said while he forced the point of the gun into the otter's forehead.

His words hung in the air as the otter's terrified eyes stared back into the personification of rage and vengeance. "I don't know, I seriously don't know. I'd tell you in a heartbeat but I seriously lost contact with all of them years ago. I'm sorry, I'm so god damned sorry."

There was a thick, tangible silence that held in the air while Wolf stared death at the otter beneath him. He slowly stood up, gun still pointed at his victim's head.

"That's not the answer I was looking for." The canine never broke eye contact as he slowly pulled a silencer out of his coat pocket and quickly attached it to the barrel of his gun. "See you in hell."

Those were his only words before a barely audible shot was fired. The otter's death was instant, as the newly formed hole in between his eyes spilled fresh blood down the crevices of his face and began to pool on the ground with the rest of the blood spilled that night.

Without another breath, Wolf stepped over the warm corpse and out into the deserted city street, packing away his warm gun as he did. A wailing siren far off in the distance was the only thing to be heard in the otherwise lifeless night, as Wolf disappeared into the dense shadows in the depths of Bayeux.