Letting Go

"Arg!" growled Foxy. He glared at the arcade cabinet holding House of the Dead 3 like it had threatened his family. "Curse ye, ya brainless, rottin' curs! I'll get ya back fer this, ye mark my words!"

"Um, sir?"

"What?!" Foxy saw how the young arcade attendant recoiled from him and immediately felt contrite. "Oh, sorry, lass. Gettin' meself all worked up, didn't mean ta snap at ye. Ye'll be wantin' me to quiet down?"

"If you could, yeah. And don't worry about it," she added. "I get a lot worse from some of the people who come in here."

"Well, ya have me apologies anyway. Lubbers like that shouldn't be directin' their troubles at someone who has nothin' ta do with 'em."

"That's customer service for you," she remarked bitterly. Her mouth suddenly clammed shut. "Please don't tell anybody I said that."

Foxy tapped the side of his nose. "Worry not, lass, I've kept all manner-a secrets fer a very long time. Yers is safe with me."

"Thanks. But yeah, feel free to keep on playing. Just keep it down."

"Ya won't have ta worry about that. I'm fresh outta loot anyway." He turned out his pockets for added effect. "I swear, it seems like no matter how quick I am on the draw, the blasted zombies always seem ta get one over on me.

"Well, between you and me…" She glanced around and beckoned him in to listen. "They're designed that way. It's meant to be difficult so people spend more money on trying to beat it."

"Ah, now that's some crafty work. I'd be impressed if it wasn't my money they took."

She laughed, but her expression turned to fear when someone called her name.

"Sally!" A gruff looking man with a thick beard was striding over. "Are you bothering this customer?"

"N-No, sir! Just making sure things were-"

"Very sorry about this, sir," said the man. The name badge he wore said 'Drew' and indicated he was the assistant manager. "She's a new hire, you know how it is. Breaking them in takes forever."

He laughed, but not in a way Foxy would have considered light hearted and jovial. Especially with how much Sally seemed to retreat into herself. Before he could say anything, Drew had placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her away from Foxy but not far enough he couldn't hear what was being said. She tensed visibly at the contact.

"I've told you already about standing around and chatting when there's work to be done!"

"B-But sir, he was making noise a-and I was just telling him to be quiet. A-And it's not that busy, I thought-"

"Well you thought wrong. And you still haven't replaced the ticket numbers on the high value prizes," he added.

"Sorry, sir. I-I just forgot, with everything else I needed to do and there was a r-rush when-"

"Excuses, excuses. If you don't improve, you know what this will mean." He looked back at Foxy and flashed a slimy grin. "Hopeless, am I right, sir?"

Foxy had seen enough. He reached over and plucked Drew's hand from Sally's shoulder, turning the man to face him.

"Aye and how's she goin' ta improve from this?" he asked. "Ya come in here, blusterin' away and makin' her look a fool in front of a complete stranger? Ya really think she's goin' ta get any better, if ya treat her like that?"

"I mean… well, I…" Drew bristled and cleared his throat. "Sir, I don't know who you think you are but-"

"I'll tell ya exactly who I am." Foxy met the man's glare and Drew immediately wilted. "I'm the man who's tellin' ya that's no way ta be treatin' anyone, much less a member-a yer crew." He took the menace out of his voice and adopted a more stern tone. "Ya want her ta improve? Tell her how ta and be patient. No good'll come from throwin' yer weight around like ya are. And never, ever place yer hand on anyone if they're not wantin' it. Understand?"

Drew glanced around and gulped. "Your uh… your feedback has been noted, sir. Thank you."

"Grand! Now, this here's a fine establishment. I'll be makin' regular trips, until I've settled my score with the rotters." He jerked his thumb at the arcade. "I'll be keepin' me ear low ta the ground when I do, just ta be sure that my 'feedback' is bein' followed. Wouldn't want the manager ta be hearin' about this, would we?"

"No please, no!" Drew seemed to realise how loud he was and flushed. He leaned in closer, speaking in a desperate whisper. "I just got promoted and if I don't prove I can do this, I'll get demoted!"

"Ah, I see. Yer first time in a leadership role?" asked Foxy.

Drew nodded glumly. "I worked really hard to get it."

"Then ya can understand the pressure Sally here must be feelin' if yer under similar weight yerself." Foxy smiled kindly. "Don't let it crush ya both. Work tagether and help each other ta manage it. I reckon yer manager will be very pleased if they see how well she's doin' under yer watch."

"Yeah I… I guess you're right," Drew murmured. He shook Foxy's hand when he held it out. "Thank you, sir. Sorry for the bother."

"No bother at all!" Foxy patted his shoulder. "We all gotta pull ourselves along in this daft old world, eh?"

Drew nodded and left rather awkwardly, though he seemed to carry himself with less anxiety. Sally looked elated and was beaming at Foxy.

"Sir, you are the best!" she cried. "I'll be honest, didn't know what to think with the whole pirate thing you've got going on but thank you! Thank you so much!"

"My pleasure, lass!" He shook her hand as well. "Ye just have yerself a fantastic day, y'hear?"

He waved a cheery goodbye and strode out of the arcade. He took a deep breath, inhaling the sea air which drifted on the wind. The sun shone brightly down on the sea, which he could see clearly from atop the hill the marina was built upon. The way the light reflected off the bobbing waves, beaming down on the multitude of homes and businesses of the surrounding area, was a sight to behold. One that could easily be on a postcard.

It was something of a different feel, compared to when he'd last come. For one thing, he was on his own. While he greatly enjoyed the company of others, he very much wanted to experience this for himself. Just for a change. Besides, he wasn't totally alone. With so many people out and about, who knows who he might bump into and perhaps forge a new friendship? That might be wishful thinking on his part, but you never knew.

A hand went into the pocket of the long coat he wore. He hadn't been entirely honest back at the arcade. He did have more money, courtesy of Mike when he'd asked for it, on the promise he'd find a way to pay him back. The lad said not to worry about it. Foxy pulled out his remaining amount, around thirty dollars. He could have gone and split a note for some more quarters to attempt the zombie assault again, but decided not to. After all, he didn't want to spend all of his money at once. Not when he had something in particular he wanted to do.

"Daddy! Daddy, my balloon!"

Underneath the fedora hat which covered them, his fox ears twitched at the sound of a child in distress. His eyes found the source of the noise. A young boy with his father, reaching desperately for a balloon which looked to be snagged on part of a drainpipe of a building. The boy looked to be on the verge of tears while his father looked exasperated.

"I told you to keep a hold of it, Thomas," he said, trying to pull his son away from the scene.

"I'm sorry, daddy! Please, get it back! Please!"

"I can't, son. I'm sorry but there's no way for me to get up there. Come on, it's just a balloon."

"But dad!"

Foxy couldn't let this stand. An upset child, on his watch? Not a chance.

"Stand aside there!" he declared. "I'll fetch that wayward scallywag!"

He had to be careful how he did this. Couldn't make it look too extraordinary. He took a running jump onto a closed dumpster. Looking around, he spotted a series of windowsills leading up. He grabbed hold of it, hauling himself up like it was a ladder. He spied the drainage pipe, but knew it wouldn't be able take his weight if he tried. There had to be another way…

He saw how close he was. The balloon was just out of reach, but the wind would occasionally blow it in his direction. He knew he could reach it if he jumped, but then he'd have nothing hold onto. Then he saw a street light, directly across from him. He scanned the distance. Looked like he had just enough space to close it. Or maybe he didn't.

Well, he was in this situation now. Time to deal with it.

Foxy waited until the wind shifted. He watched the balloon like a, well, like a fox. The timing had to be just perfect. Just needed it a little bit closer…

There! With a bound of his legs, he jumped. He stretched his arm as far as it would go, reaching for the string. The wind suddenly blew it out of his reach. His stomach lurched. He wasn't going to get it. But it blew it back again. He closed his hand around the string.

He couldn't celebrate yet though, the street light was coming up on him. He opened his arms wide, looking like he was going to hug it. But he started to fall, still short of his target. He willed his other hand to reach, feeling like it would wrench out of his socket. He couldn't get his body around it but he might just…

With a clang, his hand grasped the pole. With a hearty yell, he slid down it like a bizarre firefighter. It slowed his fall just enough that he landed back down to earth with only a slight stumble. His ears picked up a few cheers and claps, not just from Thomas and his father but a few other people who'd witnessed it.

"Thank ye, thank ye all," he said, waving his hand modestly. "Nothin' to it, all in a day's work."

"That was incredible!" cried the father, staring in amazement. "Do you do that parkour stuff or something?"

"Uh aye, all the time!" said Foxy, having no idea what that meant. He knelt down to Thomas's level. "I think this belongs ta ye, me young lad."

Thomas frowned at him. "Why do you talk like a pirate?"

"Thomas, that's rude," hissed his father. "This man just did all of that to get your balloon back."

"No worries, it's a fair question. I'll let ya in on a secret, lad: it's 'cause I am one," he stage-whispered.

"But pirates aren't real."

"Then how'd I manage ta steal this back, eh?" He held out the balloon. "Now lad, I'll give this back to ye on one condition: ya keep a tight hold of it. Sometimes, if ya lose somethin', ya won't always get it back. Remember that, alright?"

Thomas nodded, though Foxy had a feeling he may not have fully understood the meaning behind his words. Still, he was definitely pleased to have it back and thanked Foxy before leaving with his dad. Foxy allowed himself to feel proud, then remembered what Goldie had said about not drawing attention to himself. He shrugged, however. Strange things happened every day. What was one more?

As he made his way closer to where the shore met the sea, he spotted another familiar sight. It was the Salty Clam, the bar he and Mike had stopped off at. Deciding to see if the barman still remembered him, he made for it but stopped when he reached the door. The sound of raised voices met his ears. A moment later, it suddenly burst open and he only just leaped back in time.

About half a dozen men spilled out. All of them were engaged in some manner of grapple or fist fight. A cacophony of yelling and jeers made it impossible for Foxy to tell what had started this brawl. The only voice he could make out was McAlister, the barman, calling for them to break it up or he'd call the cops. The man's eyes found Foxy and flashed with recognition. Foxy flashed him an easy smile and strode towards the brawlers.

"ALRIGHT THEN!" he bellowed over the din. "ANYONE STILL THROWIN' A PUNCH IN THE NEXT FIVE SECONDS WILL HAVE ME TA ANSWER TA, SO STOW IT!"

His voice was so loud and carried so much that most of them actually stopped fighting, just to see who had spoken. One of the men didn't seem to care and directed his ire at Foxy. He charged, but Foxy easily side-stepped him and stuck his leg out, causing him to trip and fall.

Two more lowered their shoulders and tackled him, but his synthetic strength meant he barely moved, despite their combined efforts. All it took was slight resistance on his part and they fell backwards. Another man threw a punch at his face, but Foxy caught it. He pulled him in, lifted him by the lapel of his shirt and laid him atop the two men who had just fallen. They tried to stand, but Foxy planted his foot on his back and kept them there.

"I said enough!" he barked. "Ye've all gotten it outta yer systems now, fine! But if ya keep this up, somebody's goin' ta get hurt!" The man he'd tripped tried to get another shot in. Foxy didn't even turn around as he tripped him again, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and hoisting him up. "Now, ya either get back inside and settle whatever scores ya have like men or ye can clear off!"

Whether it was due to Foxy's interference or just having a moment to stop and think, the group seemed to have lost their bluster. Those still on their feet drifted away, including the ones Foxy let stand up again when he was sure there wasn't going to be any more trouble. A couple of them slouched back inside, under McAlister's watchful glare. It became a jovial chortle when Foxy approached.

"A peacekeeper as well as a storyteller," he remarked. "Those kids must get quite a show."

"Ya remember me?"

"Hard to forget a man like yourself, Foxy. Besides, in my line of work, my customers are regular but infrequent, so it does well to have a long memory," he added. "Thanks for clearing that up. Happens every so often."

"Only ta be expected. Stayin' out at sea must take its toll."

"That and the drink which works up the fervour," he agreed. "On that note, I think you've earned yourself a tot of rum. On the house."

"Very generous-a ya, sir. Can't stay long mind, I got somethin' in mind I'm tryin' ta get ta."

McAlister nodded, but didn't ask any questions. The two of them spent a good few minutes with Foxy at the bar, catching up and swapping stories. As they did, Foxy found the thought crossing his mind that he wouldn't mind owning a place like this. Seemed like it was good work, providing relief and an ear to listen, if someone needed it.

When he was done, it was back on his original voyage where he finally made it to the docks. He stopped and inhaled the air deeply into his body, gazing out across the water. He wondered if that lad Robbie was out there. He was hoping to have run into him while he was here and while that would be nice, Foxy was content to imagine that he was out there. Just living his own life, as he was.

His eyes scanned the docks while he walked. The ships bobbing on the gentle waters. The occasional yell from their sailors. The warehouses looming nearby like sentinels. The memory of last time he was in there drifted back to him and he paused for a moment. So much had happened since then. Some good, some bad but through it all, he was still here. That made him happy.

Foxy finally found what was looking for. Mike had told him that there were boat tours which went out a little ways from the bay. It wasn't exactly manning the deck of his own vessel, but he'd take it. He checked the money again. He definitely had enough for a ticket and grinned, making for it. It was then his eyes drifted past where the boat was docked and saw something else.

He spotted someone at the end of the pier. He seemed vaguely familiar, enough that Foxy felt drawn to go and see him. As he got closer, he could see more detail. The man's tattered long hair blew faintly in the breeze, staring out over the sea. His clothes were creased and worn. There was an unwashed smell that Foxy could detect from him, but he was able to ignore it.

He knew the man's name. He'd worked on the front desk at Freddy's and had helped Goldie when they'd been captured by Sid. Nobody had really seen or heard from him since it all happened. If Foxy's knowledge of the man was correct, he could understand why. He'd seen him briefly when it was all over. He had a look in his eyes Foxy knew all too well.

"Ahoy Brad," he greeted.

"Huh?" He blinked like he'd just woken from a dream. "Oh, hey Foxy dude. How long you been there?"

"Not long. Ya doin' alright there, lad?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Just… thinking."

"Hmm." They stood next to each other in silence. "Not sure if I said, but ya really helped us from the situation we were in. Thank ye."

"It's fine. I-I didn't do much. Goldie and Susie and Jeremy did all the legwork."

"Aye, but yer contribution was still valuable. Goldie wouldn't have had anywhere ta go if ye hadn't taken her and they wouldn't have gotten inside where we were locked up without yer technical skills. Ya saved us."

He nodded absently. "Yeah. Nice to know I did one good thing in my life."

"I'd wager it's more'n one. Just the rest can be brought down by all the bad things. That sound about right?"

Brad nodded shortly. He bowed his head and Foxy saw his shoulders start to shake. He stepped closer to the man, hearing his wracked sobs.

"I… I killed them," he whispered. "I-I killed those kids, man."

"Lad, no. No, that wasn't ye. That Gordon fella, colludin' with that bilge rat Fritz and that snake Hawthorne did that."

"But I did." He turned to Foxy, but didn't look at him. "I-If I hadn't done what I did to Gordon, he wouldn't have… he wouldn't… my fault, it's all my fault. I-I tried to make up for it, worked for Freddy's, t-tried to suppress their secrets but I could never… never forget…"

Foxy placed a hand on his shoulder. Brad's head pressed against his chest and Foxy pulled him into a hug. He didn't say anything, just held him. When the sobs began to die down, he drew back so that he could look Brad in the face.

"That isn't on ye, lad. That was all on him and his masters. They'll get what's comin' to 'em, but that's not meant fer ye."

"That's not what Susie thinks. It's why I never told her, because I knew she'd never…" he muttered. "I-I don't blame her. It's what I deserve."

"Aye, it feels like that," said Foxy. "But lemme ask ya this: are ya sorry fer what happened?"

"More than I've felt about anything, man."

"Then that's what matters. Ta be fair ta the lass, she has a lot on her plate and she's tryin' ta deal with it all. Give her time, she'll come around."

"I hope so. She was, like, one of my only friends. Nobody else wanted to be, after what I…" He trailed off. "Since then, I don't really keep friends easily. She was the only one who…"

"Give her time," Foxy said again. "Until then, ya can't force it. Try and focus on what ye can do fer yerself in the meantime, ta do better."

"I… I'm not sure about that…"

"Neither was I." He didn't need to say why. They both knew what he meant. "But I'll tell ya somethin' I've learned over the past few months. It's not yer mistakes that make ya who ya are. It's how ya pick yerself up after 'em and I'll tell ya this: it helps when ye've got someone ta help ya up."

Brad looked up at Foxy like he could hardly believe what he'd just said. Foxy only smiled and patted his shoulder.

"I was just about ta go and take a lil' boat ride. Wouldn't mind some friendly company, if ya fancy it?"

Brad was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. Sounds good, dude."

With that, the two men walked off the end of the pier. The sounds of the waves hitting against the stone followed them as they went.