What had it been, he asked himself from the safety of his mind. The fox's gaze seemed inescapable, constantly searching him for new clues on how to read and manipulate him. Marcus glanced at the dash towards the clock, four hours? His tired mind tried to do the match. No, hardly three.

"Midtown," the vixen whispered in his ear softly.

Her proximity sent a shiver down his spine. If he didn't know better he could feel her whiskers on his ear. Slowly he turned his gaze, stopping when he got lost in the soft blue abyss of the orbs staring back at him, their vertically elongated pupil still probing into what felt like his soul. Fiona was kneeling on the passenger seat, knuckles resting on the center council where she balanced the weight of her slender form so she could lean in closer than he cared for. Marcus was doing his best to show her he wasn't afraid, but at this point he wasn't fooling anyone, including himself.

"Please," Fiona continued with a sly smirk.

"What's in it for me?"

Never do anything for free, the kid reminded himself of the words his grandfather had told him hundreds of times growing up, and as best he could tell, he didn't owe the fox anything.

The fox folded her arms, somewhat surprised at his resistance, "What do you want?"

Money was the easy answer, but this was a rare opportunity, one most people wouldn't see for its true value.

"A favor," he replied readily.

"What kind?" her voice grew skeptical.

It was the next best thing from getting a favor from an actual mob boss, with the added benefit of being able to lord it over her.

"I don't know yet," he was equally quick to reply, "part of me just wants the satisfaction of you owing me one."

Two can play this game.

"Fine. I'll owe you one," the fox shrugged as if it wasn't that big of a deal.

It was Marcus' turn to search her for clues. He did not consider himself an expert on reading Mobian expressions, but the tone in her voice seemed genuine enough for him to at least turn the key.

"Midtown's a big place," he proclaimed as he slid the shifter into gear.

"You know the diner on the corner of 8th?"

"Sure, who doesn't?"

She nodded forward as if to command him.

Not exactly the talkative type.

With a sigh, Marcus took his foot of the break.

Kings was well out of the way of the rest of the city, but it did have the odd advantage of being quieter. Marcus floated between lights, often the only car for several blocks. He couldn't help but steal an occasional glance at the creature next to him. There was little doubt she was aware of his intermittent stare, but he didn't care, Mobians were foreign to him, especially this one.

"You know," Fiona began, breaking the tiny bubble of silence between them, "you smell almost as bad as you look right now."

Marcus rolled his eyes as he readied some quip about wet dogs, wondering if that would be too offensive for a fox. As much as he wanted keep up the banter, he didn't feel the need hit below the belt.

"Dish washer, right?" the vixen continued.

The kid nodded in reply, "what gave it away?"

"You mean aside from that apron that smells of mildew from never being properly dried or cleaned? Your hands, they're still a bit red up just past your wrist from constantly dipping them in sink filled with hot water."

Marcus met her eyes momentarily before returning them forward.

"So, am I right?

He had noticed the redness on his hands plenty of times, but in the pale moonlight of an almost overcast night his out stretched hand appeared to be the same bland pale color as the rest of his arm. With quick glance at the road, Marcus angled his chin down and did his best to inhale deeply thru his nose. There wasn't much to take in, maybe just a few hints the lavender that laced into the soap he had been using earlier.

The fox giggled at him, "you're very strange, Marcus."

Yeah… I'm the strange one here…

"You're very… observant," he countered as reached behind his back to undo the knot holding the apron's waistband.

"You need to be when you do what I do."

After pulling the neck strap over his head, Marcus wadded it up into a ball.

"Like how you spotted the hit man?" he asked as he tossed the stale garment out his window.

"Sure," she shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. "Guys that are packing heat always have tells, because they're trying to keep it a secret. Most of them walk a certain way, favor one side of their body of the other, keep their jacket zipped or buttoned when it shouldn't be. There's a million ways to spot someone with a gun, but the first step is to spot the person with secret. What's your secret, Marcus?"

The kid wasn't entirely sure, there were several, but nothing noteworthy. Marcus was beginning to wonder if she had latched onto something about him that was now driving her curiosity.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," he said with a smile.

The vixen grinned, letting her canines hang well below her lip, "now I'm starting to see what Ixis sees."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know, but it seems you don't want to share," the fox answered before pausing. "What's driving you?"

Marcus remained silent while he focused on piloting the car down the quiet city streets. He wasn't sure how to explain that to her. It was as simple as it was complicated.

"Ixis is strangely attracted to individuals who have a purity in their motivations," she continued. "A lot of the people who work for him have an absolute commitment to something that he can leverage for his own gain."

"So you're saying he's using me?"

"Are you getting what you want?"

"I don't really know yet… maybe?"

"So, if you do, then it's mutually beneficial, or at least I know it is for me."

"Why? What do you get?"

"What do I get?" the vixen snorted. "How many Mobians do you see in Capital city these days? Do you have any idea how difficult it is for someone like me to call this place home? You might take it for granted that you can pick yourself up and move here, but I don't and never will."

Marcus had never recalled sharing with her that he had moved here, further unsettling his nerves.

"So you get a nice pay check," Marcus sighed.

"No, I don't. What I get is the ability to be feared. Most people run when they see me. Even a hint of my presence and they're backing away tail between their legs. My guess is your new enough to not know any better because otherwise I doubt you would be as nice to me as you have been."

So that's how she figured that out.

"I mean, aren't most people afraid of Mobians anyway? No offense or anything, you are scary."

Fiona chuckled, "People are only afraid of us because the news says Mobians will hurt them."

"Are you going to hurt me?"

"I have better things to do."

"So then why should I be scared… why should anyone be scared of you?"

"You don't get it," she said thru a yawn, "but you will. It's not just me they're afraid of, it's the man I represent. And pretty soon that will extend to you too. Just wait, you'll see it in their eyes, the fear. They all worry that one wrong word to you could earn them the ire of the most famous crime lord this city has ever seen. Friends, family, won't matter. They'll see him when they look at you. I would be lying if I said it doesn't get lonely, but I almost prefer it that way now."

Is that why she's become so talkative? Is she lonely? Marcus longed to ask, but was still a bit timid about testing the boundaries of this new friendship.

Gently depressing the break, the kid brought the car to a stop at the opposite corner. He eyed the annoying red neon sign before speaking up, "You hungry?"

"Not really," the fox lamented.

"What do you want with a diner then?"

"The atmosphere," she smiled back at him before opening her door.

Marcus realized he had missed an opportunity to better understand his newest coworker. Rather than stew on the regret he rolled down the window and called after her, "Fiona!"

She stopped and waited her ears twitching, eagerly anticipating whatever words that might follow. "What drives you?" he asked.

Marcus couldn't help but wonder what unadulterated emotion was at the heart of her determination, the one Ixis sought to harness and make his own. How hard had this feeling driven her to overcome every odd, every adversity to succeed in place that practically demanded she fail?

"That's easy she replied," her tail wagging as if she had anticipated the question, "revenge."

The kid gulped as he watched her shadow melt into flickering light of the crimson neon sign hosted prominently above the diner.

It's like she has a red shadow, the kid mused to himself as he turned off the car.

He couldn't help but feel this was an odd place to come, let alone in the middle of the night. After all the talk of how unaccepting of her kind this city was, Fiona had decided to wander into one of the considerably more human parts of town. Unless she knew someone in there, Marcus could only assume she was looking for trouble.

In an attempt to put his own observation skills to work, the kid affixed his eyes to the vixen for any clues he could glean through the storefront windows. There wasn't much to take in. The fox had found a seat at the counter, her arms crossed as she leaned over a fresh cup of coffee. There were plenty of stares batted her way, but none that dared to linger more than a few seconds.

Did she really make me drive her across the city so she could get a cup of coffee, Marcus sighed before sinking into the cushy leather of his driver's seat.

Even his old job rarely saw him up this late. It was pushing three in the morning, and he had to be up and ready to work in just a few hours. Without much resistance, his eyelids grew heavy, and his previously keen attention to detail began to wane. It wasn't until the sound of a car door snapping shut jolted him from his groggy state did he regain his alertness.

Marcus had expected to find a fox in the seat next to him, grinning all the way to her pointy ears with the smug satisfaction of having snuck up on him again. Instead he found nothing. It didn't take his wondering eyes long to stumble across a man in his side mirror.

Business looking men in long coats were not an unusual site in this part of the city, or at least they weren't during more normal hours. This time of night, the attire made him alarmingly suspicious. Pausing outside of his car to check his appearance in a windows reflection, the man unfolded his collar into a high cowl, further obscuring his face.

First identify the person with the secret, Marcus reminded himself. This guy definitely has a secret.

Rather than sit around and watch, he felt obligated to give Fiona a heads up. Somehow Marcus doubted this was a coincidence. Grabbing the keys before exiting his own vehicle, the kid nodded a friendly smile at the stranger before burying his hands in his pocket and making a light dash for the diner. The stains on his white shirt and checkered pants would make him look like a cook that was late for their night shift.

The bell above the door jingled as he entered the warmer more fragrant air. Unlike the kitchen he worked in, he could tell these people knew how to cook. The famous smells of night time delicatessen filled his nostrils begging him to try what he suspected was pecan pie.

Ignoring his desires, he took a seat at the counter a couple stools down from Fiona. The look on her face suggested she wasn't amused, but he did his best to ignore that as he subtly motioned towards the door. Offering little more than a roll of the eyes, the fox went back to staring at her reflection in the black coffee before her.

"Keep your wits about you, boy," a gruff man dressed not so dissimilarly than himself said as he put an empty cup and saucer in front of him, "they bite."

The kid took a moment to look over his shoulder at the mysterious man who had just entered. He was still as much of an enigma as he had been outside.

"I'm not worried just so long as it doesn't get hair in my food," Marcus replied loudly enough for everyone to hear.

He had little doubt that would have produced a scowl on the vixen's face, but was entirely too scared to look. Marcus needed to people to believe he didn't know her, and so far he suspected it was working.

The man nodded, "what'll it be then?"

"Just the coffee for now."

At this point he was going to need a few more anyway. The morning was getting closer and closer while the prospect of sleep seemed to slip out of his grasp all together.

The cloaked man ducked into the booth at the far corner of the restaurant, his eyes darting from side to side.

This guy sticks out like a sore thumb…

Whatever his business was here, he wasn't fooling anyone with his outfit and shift behavior.

It wasn't long before Fiona swiveled out of her seat and sauntered over to him. Marcus could only barely make out her ask, "this seat taken?" through the wry smile on her face.

Wait… what? She knows him?

The kid had chosen his seat poorly. He couldn't manage to make out single word in their whispered conversation.

Maybe I shouldn't be here, Marcus finally decided, I have no idea what's going on.

His only concern was to give Fiona the courtesy of a heads up. Now it looked as if that was less than necessary. When Marcus finally decided to reach for his wallet is when the commotion began. It was the other four men. Each of them were now standing, approaching the booth in the far corner, hands buried in their pockets. Marcus had never even thought to check them for secrets.

Were they waiting here all night for her? Or maybe for this other guy?

It was subtle, the twitch in the fox's ear. Even with her back to them, Marcus suspected she was aware of their presence. Her posture stiffened, and for the first time in minutes her speech was audible again, "Really? This is how you're going to play me?"

The cloaked man put his hands up as if to suggest he had no idea what was going on, but from the look on her face, Fiona wasn't buying it.

"What's this guy to you?" she snarled at the cloaked man. "To any of you?" she turned towards the others.

No one spared any time drawing their guns and pointing them in the fox's direction.

"Damn it," the gruff man from behind the counter muttered under his breath, "not again."

"This happen a lot?" Marcus joked.

"More than you would know," he sighed before retreating to the kitchen.

"Look, fellas," Fiona began, "I'm thinking some of you are new and maybe you're not too aware of who I am, and more importantly who I represent."

No one budged.

"Are we going to have to do this the hard way?"

The fox was a magician of sorts. She had people looking one way while she was moving another. Marcus, even with his better vantage point had never seen her remove the pistol from her waistband. By the time anyone else realized anything had happened, two of the four men were on the ground screaming in pain.

Damn, she's a badass, Marcus concluded.

When the other two went to return fire, they had trouble zeroing in on their target that had been sitting only a moment prior. Fiona had capitalized on their concern for their friends, leaping from her seat and planting her boot firmly into the nearest man's face. He spun around twice before hitting the restaurant floor unconscious, his gun tumbling out of his hand, sliding across the floor before arriving at Marcus' feet.

His mind raced with questions about what he should do next. Thankfully, Fiona was already in the process of taking the fourth man out of the fight with a bullet to his left knee cap.

"I told you all," the vixen sighed as she walked between the men kicking away their guns as they lay there bleeding between heavy breaths. "And quit your wining, you're all fine, just a little worse for wear."

Approaching one of the first two that she had shot, the fox placed her boot on the man's injured shoulder, "Where is he?"

"I don't know shit," he responded, wincing through the pain as she pressed down harder.

"Of course, you don't," Fiona frowned as she turned towards the next man.

Marcus was curious about this person she was looking for, but he was even more curious about the cloaked figure. The man had sat their silently through everything. However, he had since buried his hands in his pocket. When the vixen turned her back to him as she approached the third man, he produced his own gun.

Coward, Marcus thought as he contemplated the type of man that would shoot someone in the back.

At some point in his internal monologue he must have picked up the pistol at his feet, because he was now staring down it as he trained the sights on the man just over Fiona's shoulder. The look on her face was one of concern, and if he didn't know better betrayal. It wasn't until he pulled the trigger that she understood.

"Not bad, kid," she lamented looking over her shoulder.

The cloaked man was wriggling, holding a hand to his stomach. Fiona reached into the booth and pulled the man out by his collar.

"Why did you have to go and do something stupid?" she asked, tossing away his gun.

The distant wail of sirens caused the vixen's ears to twitch again.

"Gary!" she called out.

"What?" he answered angrily from the kitchen.

"You know damn well what."

"How many times have I told you not use my establishment for your charades."

"You're no fun, Gary!" the fox shouted back at him before tossing the man to the ground.

"Come on, kid," Fiona began as she made her way towards the door, "we need to get out of here."

That much was true, but then again, she didn't need his help to disappear. As soon as she walked out the door the fox's silhouette vanished into the crimson light.

How in the…

Ignoring her illusions, the kid turned back towards his still warm cup of coffee, "Hey, uh, Gary?"

The same brusque man as before appeared, all be it somewhat timidly.

"Any chance I could get a to-go cup for this?"

Reluctantly, the man reached under the counter and produced a small foam cup with a lid.

"Thanks," the kid replied before switching his coffee into the new container.

The sirens were growing louder now, just a couple of blocks away. Before swiveling himself off the bar chair, Marcus took a loud sip from his poor excuse for a mug.

"Maybe next time you guys will run when you see a red shadow?" Marcus suggested as he too made his way to the door. The fox was something else altogether. Something people should rightly be afraid of. "Just a thought anyway," the kid shrugged as the bell above his head jingled the sound of his exit.