Arc V: Executive Protection

Part 6: World News Tonight

Fox fidgeted on the budget couch in a hospital waiting room back in the metropolis of Abrugarvo. Thanks to it being a busy night, over fifteen people sat in the waiting area. Miyu and Slippy sat to Fox's right, while Vincent and Xavier occupied two small chairs to the left. Notably, Xavier had ditched his wig and fake breasts, electing to represent his birth gender instead. No one in the group said much of anything. In spite of President Vinca's assassination attempt being thwarted, the mission felt like a hollow victory. Sure, they would be paid for their services, but the damages from the mission almost negated the monetary gains. The President's would-be-assassin had yet to be found, leading Fox to wonder if she had managed to survive the fall from the Lake Abrugarvo Bridge and then evade the police search crew sent to find her.

Not only that, but the extent of Rena and Hartmann's injuries deflated both teams. Hospital staff determined that Rena had fractured a bone in her leg, and the sheer amount of blood Hartmann had lost during the pursuit of the nun put him on death's doorstep. Both had been listed as being in stable condition for the time being, but that was not enough to prevent their teammates from worrying about them.

On the waiting room's back wall, a flatscreen television played a live TNN (Titanian News Network) broadcast of the most pressing news from around the world. With nothing else to do and no interest in speaking to his teammates, Fox focused on the screen and listened to the report, which was underpinned by a red banner with white print that read 'Macbeth Weapon Talks Begin.'

Onscreen, a female macaw wearing a news-worthy red jacket announced, "Today, representatives from Corneria, West Fortuna, and Zoness met with officials of the Imperial State of Macbeth to discuss the ongoing sale of weapons to the insurgent West Fortunan rebel forces. The allied countries have threatened to levy crippling sanctions on the Imperial government unless their demands are met. The list of demands includes the immediate and unconditional end of all weapon sales to East Fortuna and the release of Dr. Andross Bowman to the Cornerian Department of Internal Security."

Upon hearing Andross's name, all of the mercenaries' ears perked up.

"Daniel Carrington, the premier of Imperial Macbeth, has repeatedly stated that the demands are unreasonable and represent an attempt at further diminishing his country's influence. He also vehemently declared that Dr. Bowman has never worked with them, and that if he had been aware of his presence, Bowman would have been forcibly removed from the country. Now, for more analysis, I'm going to turn it over to my colleague, Mal Spitzer. Mal? What's your take on this?"

The screen bifurcated, moving the image of the macaw to the left while a slender, middle-aged malamute dog appeared on the right. He wore a basic black suit and thick-rimmed glasses that gave him an intellectual air. "Thank you, Sandy," he said, "The collective discussion about Macbeth's weapons had been going on for months, but this is the first time that Dr. Bowman's name has been brought up. For those of you who aren't familiar with him, he was a former Cornerian scientist who was arrested for 'unethical and disturbing' acts that he conducted as part of his research. Everything I've read confirms that he was exiled to Venom fifteen years ago and died of natural causes there. Premier Carrington may be bluffing when he says that he's never worked with Andross, but at the same time, any evidence that the Cornerian government has for his continued existence is very spurious. I don't believe that they presented any hard evidence to the Imperials, which makes Macbeth much more likely to refuse the deal and continue on with their weapons sales in spite of the sanctions that the other countries are threatening."

Sandy nodded and then presented her co-host with another question. "Mal, if it turns out that Andross was or is working with Macbeth, what does that mean? What were they using him for?"

"If he was being used by them, it may have been to help them develop new weapons. This could include the advanced EMP device used to knock out all the power to Northpoint, Corneria. Keep in mind that in his day, Andross was considered one of the greatest minds of the last century—in history, even. Sure, he had two other brilliant researchers working with him, but he was the driving force behind the bulk of the research credited to him. If Corneria is correct and he's still alive, Macbeth could have other deadly and unconventional weapons at its disposal. I think that's why Corneria, West Fortuna, and Zoness are trying to pressure Macbeth to say something about Andross. He could be a very dangerous man, Sandy."

He added, "Unfortunately, nothing is likely to come of this demand. Macbeth declares that Andross has never been part of their operation, but at the same time, they refuse to release their research papers in the interest of keeping their defense secrets under wraps. This is likely to become little more than a political screaming match, I'm afraid. If Andross is dropped from the terms of the deal, this is much more likely to progress further. Macbeth doesn't have any major allies—in terms of GDP or military spending— so these proposed sanctions would cripple them."

The macaw on the left side of the television screen nodded, then said, "Thank you, Mal." Then, the image of the malamute disappeared, allowing Sandy's image to fill the entire screen again. She continued, "Our next breaking story: violence erupts at an Iris Vinca rally earlier today. The sitting President was fired on by an assassin while delivering a speech to the general public at the Historic Abrugarvo Auditorium. The shooter missed the President, but she hit and mortally wounded President Vinca's Secret Service chief, Beverly Few. The President's staff reportedly warned President Vinca that the venue was unsecure and that there was a strong chance that someone would try to assassinate her, but she chose not to cancel the rally. Details on the shooter are limited. City police officials claim that the shooter attempted to disguise herself—or himself—as a nun. Unfortunately, no one has any information on the shooter's appearance.

Another developing story also comes from the rally. Ten attendees reported being attacked and slashed by one of the Cornerian mercenary soldiers hired to supplement the Secret Service at the rally. Reportedly, the mercenary forced her way through the fleeing crowd by slashing through them with a pair of pizz…wait, is this some kind of joke, like that racist airline crash story from a few years ago?"

From offscreen, one of the show's producers replied, "No, Sandy—this is real."

"Okay…" Sandy muttered. "Sorry about that. As I was saying, the mercenary slashed through the fleeing crowd with a pair of pizza cutters. All ten victims of the attack were admitted to the nearest hospital. Two are listed as stable, four are in critical condition, and four of them died. We'll keep you posted as this story continues to develop."

The broadcast then transitioned to a commercial break, leaving Fox and his teammates to stare at each other in horror and disbelief. Eyes wide, Miyu asked, "Did…did Rena really do that?"

Fox said nothing. Instead, he averted his eyes, covered his face with his palm, and groaned loudly enough for several of the other patients in the waiting room to stare at him. "That's it. That's it for her," he grumbled. "You see? This is why I was uncomfortable about us representing Corneria at the rally."

"She did technically save the President, though," Slippy suggested.

Visibly unhappy, Fox turned to the frog and asked, "If I saved the world from annihilation but destroyed Corneria City, killed tens of thousands of people, and caused trillions in property damage, would that still make me a hero?"

"That's pretty much what happens at the end of every superhero movie ever created, so yeah, it would."

Fox shrugged. "Huh. Point made."

A moment later, a squirrel nurse emerged from a nearby hallway and approached Fox. "You can see your friend now, if you'd like." Then, she turned to Xavier and Vincent and added, "You too."

The members of both teams stood up and followed the nurse into the nearby hallway, where they boarded an elevator and rode it up several floors until they reached one of the levels dedicated to allowing recovering patients to rest.

"This way," said the nurse, leading the teams out of the elevator and turning right. Near the end of the hallway, the squirrel stopped and pointed to the two doors on the left. Hartmann occupied the first, and Rena rested in the second one, closest to the edge of the building.

While Vincent and Xavier shuffled into the first room, Fox held up his hand and motioned for Miyu and Slippy to stay in the hallway. Then, he walked up to Rena's door and opened it. Heavy thoughts weighed on his mind. In spite of her quick thinking that prevented President Vinca from being assassinated, he knew that he could not allow her pizza wheel murder spree to go unpunished. Heck, he figured that the Titanian authorities already had plans for her. That made his decision that much easier for him to make.

"I guess it was bound to happen at some point," thought Fox. "I'm just sad that it had to happen now."

He stepped into the darkened room and looked at Rena, tucked underneath a blanket on her hospital bed and dressed in a standard-issue medical gown that he knew she hated wearing. Upon seeing her senpai, Rena allowed herself a shallow smile that vanished the instant she perceived the displeasure written all over his face. "Fox, what's wrong?" she asked.

Fox avoided eye contact with the yellow vixen and stroked his muzzle with his hand as a way of trying to make his upcoming declaration less painful. He knew it was useless. "Rena, I found out what happened earlier at the rally, and I…man—I don't know how to say this. It hurts so much. I just…"

"Spit it out, senpai," Rena snapped. "I don't have time for sentimental crap."

Hardening his expression, Fox clenched his fists and declared, "Okay, then. Rena, you're fi…"

Suddenly, the door opened behind him. Whoever had opened said door flipped the lights on the instant he set foot in the room, drowning out Fox's statement in the process. Fox spun on his heels to find out who had barged in without making himself known. He came face to face with a tall ragdoll cat with brown patches overlying his silky white fur. He wore a simple button-down shirt and black dress pants, and he looked to be around seventy.

"Oh, hello there. I hope I didn't intrude on anything," the feline remarked in an airy voice that sounded like it could become the brunt of a parody with virtually no effort. He gave Fox a crooked smirk that seemed disturbingly jovial, then he approached Rena's bedside and held out his hand to her. "Hi—I'm Wilson Vinca, President Vinca's husband."

Not missing a beat, Rena ignored Mr. Vinca's handshake and pointed towards the opened hospital room door. "If you're her husband, then who's she?"

Mr. Vinca turned around and looked at a young, busty shiba inu leaning against the wall in the hallway outside the room. Blushing, he replied, "She's my 'acquaintance,' if you get my drift."

Rena and Fox responded with a deadpan silence.

"What?" Mr. Vinca shrugged, as if nothing was amiss. "It's not like Iris is going to give me any. Might as well play the field while you still can, I say."

More silence.

"Anyhow," Mr. Vinca continued, "My wife and I would like to thank you for saving her life back at the rally. We—and all of Titania—owe you a huge round of applause. I'm sure we can squeeze a bit more money into your checkbooks for that." He winked, then pulled something from behind his back. "And I'd also like to give this to you as a token of our appreciation."

Mr. Vinca handed Rena a twelve inch tall green box with a clear plastic front that displayed an action figure of President Vinca. Noticeably, the figure looked more youthful and pleasant than President Vinca actually did. On the bottom corner of the box, below the chrome font that read 'Iris Vinca,' were two signatures. Both looked more like scribbles than autographs, but Rena assumed that both the President and her husband had signed the box. Not that it meant anything to her at all.

"Wow. Thanks," she said, flatly.

"You're very welcome," Mr. Vinca replied. "Pretty ladies like you deserve a gift or two now and then." He gave her a suggestive wink before turning around and walking out of the room.

Trying not to barf on her bedspread, Rena made an attempt at expunging the inexplicable sour taste in her mouth. When that failed, she shook her head a few times and then looked at Fox. "So, what were you saying earlier?"

Fox sighed. "Never mind. Apparently the Vincas love you. What did the doctors say about your leg?"

"They said I had a fractured fibula. They did surgery on it and put me in a cast." She let out a long, drawn-out sigh and then finished, "They said I couldn't walk on it for at least six weeks."

Genuine sorrow filled Fox's voice. "I'm sorry about that. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not really…although I haven't seen Slippy use his wheelchair lately. Do you think you could ask him to let me have it?"

Shaking his head in mock disbelief, Fox replied, "I don't even want to think about the kind of mods you would do to that thing if you got your hands on it. Sure—I'll ask him."

"Very good, senpai," Rena smirked. "Now, if you'll help me up, let's get out of here." She held out her hand and attempted to sit up in bed.

Fox balked. "Whoa—not so fast! You've still got to recover from your surgery."

"I'm fine, Fox. They patched up all my injuries. I can leave whenever you're ready."

"Well, if you say so…"

He moved towards Rena, only to be interrupted by the door opening behind him. Frustrated by a second intrusion, he turned around and noticed Xavier standing in the doorway. "Hey, Fox—Hartmann wants to talk to you."

"Okay. What's this about?" Fox asked.

"He'll explain it. Come into the next room."

Fox turned and followed the feline out of Rena's room, turning off the light switch on the way out. With the room shrouded in darkness yet again, Rena shuffled beneath her bedsheets. However, when she stopped moving, the faint rustle of clothing emanated from the back right corner of the room. She let out a quiet gasp and looked for the source of the noise.

"Boo," said a hooded figure, suddenly standing next to Rena's bedside.

Rena shrieked and pulled her covers up to her muzzle, much like a frightened child would. She stared at the phantom, feeling helpless and trapped thanks to her injured leg. Then, the figure lowered its hood and set Rena at ease. It was merely Lucas.

"What the fark was that?" Rena snapped. "You almost made me soil the bed!"

Lucas gave the yellow vixen a dismissive hand wave. "Relax. You'll get used to it eventually."

"If my leg hadn't been in a cast, you would have gotten kicked in the face."

"But your leg was in a cast, and I knew that. So, you might say that I planned it out perfectly."

Rena rolled her eyes and exhaled an angry sigh. "What's this really about, Lucas? I know you didn't hide out in my hospital room—which is creepy, by the way—just to scare me."

"You're right, I didn't," Lucas answered. "I came to say goodbye. My work here is as done as it can be, and now it's time for me to move onto my next target."

"And your target is what? A dealership where you can get a motorcycle with a sidecar so that I can actually aim at Rafa next time?"

"Very funny," said Lucas, "But no—I'm heading to the International Archives in Zoness to do some digging on Rafa's family. You know, the Ortegas. They may have had one of the largest fortunes in history; and if Rafa has access to any of it, that information could be useful. I can update you on what I find if you'd like that."

Rena shrugged. "Huh. Sure."

"One more thing," Lucas added, reaching into his pocket and producing a tiny, yellow sticky note with a ten-digit number on it. He handed the note to Rena, who stared blankly at it.

Then, Rena narrowed her eyes and asked, "Really? You're giving me your phone number? I'll admit that's really cute, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to burst your bubble. Thing is, I'm taken."

Lucas raised a bewildered eyebrow. "What? By who?"

"First off, it's 'by whom,' even though nobody says that in conversation. Second, I'm taken by me," Rena explained. "Oh—and before you let that train of thought leave the station and start picturing me in a masturbatory fantasy, I'll have you know that I'm not into that, either. Okay…well, maybe a little bit. A girl's got to do what a girl's got to do."

"I…wasn't picturing that at all, but I am now," Lucas replied, confusion in his voice. "Thanks for the visual."

Rena frowned. "You're welcome, pervert."

In response, Lucas chuckled and stepped closer to Rena. "Oh relax. We'll keep it strictly platonic. Call me if you get lonely and want to talk." Although he expected Rena to punch him, he ruffled her hair with his hand and then knelt down to kiss her hand before she realized what had happened—which was saying something considering the speed of her reflexes.

Stunned, Rena fell speechless, reduced to a silent watcher as Lucas turned and exited the room. He closed the door behind him, leaving Rena alone with her thoughts in the dark room. At first, anger filled her body. She clenched her fists and bared her teeth at his audacity. However, as the seconds turned into minutes, her anger slowly faded, only to be replaced by a contented form of happiness that caused a faint smile to materialize on her lips. She looked at Lucas's sticky note and smirked. Then, she shook her head and leaned back into the pillows at the head of her hospital cot.

- § -

Meanwhile, Fox entered the room where Hartmann rested. A medical station replete with multiple fluid bags and IV tubes stood to the right of his bed, and two different wires wove their way into his left arm. From his mere appearance, he looked tired, hurt, and even broken in a way. In the previously-bloody patches that covered his fur, his natural silver and black coloration ate away at the beige accents that had been painted over it. Unable to lift his arm, he whispered, "Come here, Fox."

Fox obeyed and stopped next to his bedside. "You look…terrible," he gasped. "Are you going to be okay?"

The husky nodded. "I think so. I've survived worse things than this before. Listen, Fox—there's something I wanted to tell you, along with Xav and Vince. I hate to do it, but after what happened today, I realized that I've got to change something. And that," he paused, "…Means that I'm retiring. Vincent, Xavier—you two can keep running Onyx if you want; but from now on, count me out. I've been thinking about it for a while, and I've decided that I think it's time for me to unwind, find another cute husky to marry, and start a family."

Xavier's eyes opened wide. "B…b…but you can't! We need you for the boss battle on the train in Arc IX! Without you, we won't stand a chance!"

Letting out a frustrated groan, Hartmann shook his head. "Thanks for the spoiler alert, Xav. How many arcs does this thing have, anyway?"

"Hmm…" Xavier mused, scratching his chin. "Ten, I think. That means this is the halfway point, which also means that The Oasis will look short compared to this when it's over."

A low rumble emanated from Hartmann's throat. Aggression in his eyes, he spat, "Fine. I'll stay the course. But I swear, K.S. Reynard, that if you kill me off before I get the chance to see my own child's eyes, I will haunt your nightmares just like Scarlet haunts Elarix's for what he did to her in his story, also known as 'the death of writing as an art form.'"

Being the strong, silent type, K.S. Reynard said nothing in return, partially because that would be weird and/or creepy.

"Hey Xav," Hartmann added, "What happens in Arcs VII and VIII?"

"Well, Arc VII is the one where they try to get Pe…"

Fox waved his hands and stomped towards Xavier, shouting over his spoilers and demanding, "Stop it! We'll get there when we get there! Hartmann, is there anything else you wanted to tell me?"

Hartmann responded with a devious grin. "I want to tell you what happens in Arc VI."

"Oh great. What happens then?" Fox sulked.

"Before we came here, we did some more digging. We may have found the East Fortunans' main financier. We followed some previous leads to a few projects hosted by the Red Group, based in Eledard. The projects were heavily encrypted and secured by insane firewalls, but we did manage to extract the name of the contract holder. It's likely that she's related to Rafa, simply by her last name."

Fox cocked his head. "She? What's her name? Did you find anything else other than that?"

"Her name is Christina Ortega, and unfortunately, no—we did not find anything else on her. Nothing useful, at least. You know, there are at least fifty people out there with that exact same name. We don't know which one of them she is, what species she is, or even what she looks like."

"Hmm…" Fox mused. "What does this have to do with Arc VI?"

Hartmann explained, "If you're feeling up to it, I'm sure you could find a way into the Red Group's operation and at least get an idea of what Rafa and his cronies are cooking up. We were going to try it ourselves after this operation, but as you can see, I'm not in any shape to do that. If you want this, I'm going to leave it open for you."

Fox took a step back and stroked his muzzle, tapping his foot on the floor at the same time. "I don't know about this," he cautioned, "The last time I tried to infiltrate a corporate military complex, I got captured by a clone of Darth Vader and got hit over the head with an unobtanium staff. And then Scarlet blew up. Fond memories."

"Well, I'm sure you've learned from your experience," Hartmann suggested. "Besides, you've got some real brainpower on your side now. I'm sure with a mixture of good intel, some social engineering, and a bit of electronic know-how, you could make something happen."

"Yeah, maybe, but would anything really change if I passed this up?"

"Very possibly," Hartmann answered. "You see, the Red Group and its main facilities are located in Eledard, a politically neutral country that won't allow Corneria to investigate the Red Group's affairs if something unusual shows up. As a freelance mercenary, however…"

"I see," Fox mumbled, rubbing his muzzle. "I'll think about it. When you're well enough, pass all the info you've got to me, okay?"

"Will do," said Hartmann. "Oh—and one more thing, Fox. When you see Scarlet again, can you give her a kiss for me?"

Fox rolled his eyes. "Sure. As if that present you helped me buy for her wasn't enough. Thanks for helping me with that, by the way. She's going to go crazy when she sees it."

"Not a problem, Fox. You know how much I love that vixen."

While turning to leave the room, Fox glanced over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes. "You'd better not be sending her any photos, Bruno. She's mine—for now at least."

"Oh relax," Hartmann replied with a cavalier hand wave.

- § -

Stepping out into the hallway, Fox looked at Miyu and Slippy, who had leaned against the back wall close to where Mr. Vinca's youthful 'acquaintance' had previously been standing. He turned to re-enter Rena's room to help her out of bed, but he stopped when he happened to look the right and saw his father approaching him.

The elder vulpine held out his hand and called out, "Fox, hold on."

Fox crossed his arms and shuffled down the hallway towards his father while trying to hide the fact that he had started to grate on his nerves of late. "What is it, Dad?"

"I have something to tell you," James replied, moving to within three feet of Fox and talking into his ear in a way that prevented Slippy and Miyu from hearing him. "I just came back from visiting Mystic in the room on the other end of the hall, and…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…" Fox interrupted. "What happened to her?"

"Well, she was in the audience at the rally—like I said she'd be—and when the gunshot went off and turned the audience into a panicked mob, it triggered a PTSD episode from her childhood. She got trampled on the floor of the auditorium and almost died."

Despite the fact that he did not like Mystic particularly much, Fox felt intense guilt for her injury occurring under his watch. "Oh my word…is she okay?"

"She's doing all right now," James answered, letting out a relieved sigh. "She has a few bruises, but nothing major. But I have to tell you, when I saw what happened to her, it made me realize that I had to make some changes for her sake." He paused. "And that's why I'm quitting the team. You can call me if you need any advice, but from here on out, I'm going to leave you alone and take care of Mystic."

Fox tried to look unaffected, although his thoughts suggested otherwise. "Yes! There is a god after all! I can't believe it! He's finally going to leave!"

Of course, since broadcasting his internal exuberance would have been impolite, he forced himself to hold a straight face and clapped his father on the shoulder. "I'm sorry to hear that, but you have to do what you have to do. I wish the best for you two—really."

"Aw, thanks, son," James replied. "I'll make sure you get the best seat at our wedding. It won't be that far off, you know."

Suddenly, Fox felt ill. The thought of his father marrying a woman five years his (Fox's) junior and…um…taking the necessary steps for the conception of a vulpine child with her threatened to make him lose his lunch—which he technically hadn't eaten due to the sudden turn of events at the rally. Nevertheless, the terror of losing it in front of his father and teammates forced him to look around for a restroom or even an open trash can.

Seeing neither in the immediate vicinity, he darted back into Rena's room, raced towards a tiny trash bin in the back corner, and threw up into it.

Horrified, Rena shrieked, "Ew! What the fark, Senpai?!"

AUTHOR'S NOTE(S):

Finally, the Executive Protection arc is over. I've got some ideas for where I want the next chapter to go, and several of them are hilarious. Stay posted for more.

Also, you can see the results of your poll votes in James's response. I personally wanted Fox to fire him, but you picked the least painful option.