Chapter 4

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An alarm clock sat ticking, patiently laying on a desk lit by the early morning sun. Above it, on top of the bunk bed and up in the nook of the carved out wood, a shifting figure mumbled below the blankets. A slight cut of light slicing into the room through a gap in the curtains streaked across him and sent him mumbling some more. Paw out, pillow moved over, light blocked.

It didn't last long though as with a huff, the grumpy teen fox got out and pulled himself over the lip of his bed, pouncing down and landing on all fours.

Clad in just a pair of red and white boxer shorts, he stood up again, stretching out and cracking his muscles before finally slamming down the alarm clock out of habit.

Curtains open, face frowning slightly from the assault of light, he gave the clock a glance again and mumbled some more. "Stupid body clock waking me up still tired…"

Still, things did look… Good.

That's what he told himself, holding it closer to his heart. The rains he'd gone to sleep with had stopped, the light of a new day was shining down, it was summer and he had a big, wide, open canvas to do what he wanted with ahead.

And a lot of things he needed to do to.

Today was a big day, so he might as well make the most of what he could of it. Into the tight spiral staircase in one corner of the tree he went and down the steps he climbed, having to force himself not to leap down them two by two as usual.

Not, as he passed a certain door and heard a sound, that it mattered.

Opening the door up, in he went, nose wrinkling slightly as he leant over, looking down at the fussy little black ball of fluff that had also been woken up prematurely. Tiny nose taking a few sniffs in, tiny toothless mouth on a round and shallow stub of a muzzle, tiny long and thin tail wagging about. The little kit mumbled a little, newly opened eyes glancing up at Ash, and the mouth, seemingly set in a permanent cartoon frown by the shape of the furless bits of face around it, pulled out into a wide little smile. "Gu… uh...uh!"

"I'm guessing that's good morning," Ash said, leaning in to pick him up, paw slipping under his neck and bunching up the skin there. The kit's gurgles were silenced, mouth closing, or at least trying to, were it not for the small slip of tongue still poking out the end. Ash paid it no mind, instead pulling the newest member of his family close to his chest, hanging out limbs splaying to the sides and nose burying itself in floof.

Paw down and cradling from below, Ash let go of the scruff and began fussing with the back of the newborn kit's head and tiny ears, smiling a little as a soft purr began to come out. Not really a feline, or for that matter adult vulpine purr. Instead it was an occasional Muwuwuwu...

…

"Muwuwuwu…"

...

"Muwuwuwu…"

…

"Muwuwuwu…"

...

"From what I read, this doesn't provide more comfort than just scruff hanging," Ash said back, moving over to the changing station. "Though some mammals just kept orphan kits hanging twenty hours a day, which did not work."

…

"Muwuwuwu…"

…

"So I'm guessing some of this is beneficial." He broke off as he felt two tiny little paws wiggle and burrow into his fur, finding his skin and, after kneading it, gently holding on. The little pricks of tiny claws were felt through, Ash freezing, tail brushing up behind him. Left ear flicking a bit, sides of his muzzle, top and bottom, working over each other for a second. A little smile flickered over him as he began stroking down the back of his tiny sibling. "I think I understand why this is beneficial."

He paused in his movements, turning back from the changing table and instead sitting in the rocking chair, beginning to move back and forth. "Now I can understand why this is beneficial. For me at least. For you?"

"Muwuwuwu…"

"After growing enough you can rock this too, though it might not be your thing. I don't know…"

"Muwuwuwu…"

"Your lack of clear responses does make gauging things difficult."

"Muwuwuwu…"

"I suppose this shows you're still enjoying all this. But with just a baseline for that, it's not clear by how much."

…

"I'm guessing you haven't developed your ability to taste between good or bad right now."

…

"You still eating my fur seems to confirm that."

…

"I know you have to learn everything, but my fur not tasting good should have come to you by now." He paused his rocking and looked down, eyes narrowing at the trail of slobber forming on his chest. "Why haven't you figured out that this isn't a mammary organ yet?"

…

"Or that a lack of teeth means you can't eat anything that's solid," he said, with an irritated flicker of one ear. "Are you going to just nibble on my fur until it's all gone or what?"

…

Ash kept watching, before bringing up one of his paws and sucking at the fur on his forearm, even trying a few chews.

…

"It's just like when I preen myself," he remarked, pulling back before diving back in with a few tongue licks to sort out some fussed up strands. "I don't know what I was expecting."

…

"What are you even expecting, huh?"

…

"I'd say from the smell it was obvious, but this fur thing really makes me think you're too dumb to even work that part out. Come on then." And with that, he gripped the scruff once more and stood up, making his way to the changing station, for real this time.

"You know you don't have to," a voice came in. Ash turned around to see his mother there, standing in the door, a smile on her muzzle.

Ash raised an eyebrow. "What, you don't think I can?"

"That's distinctly different to what I just said, isn't it," she said, letting a bit of sass come into her voice.

"And that's assuming I don't get subtext," he said, backing up. A slight wine came from his chest, and he made sure to hold the kit's scruff just a bit tighter.

Felicity sighed. "There's nothing intended by it," she reassured him. "Just that, as we agreed, we'd expect you to help but not to take the lion's share."

"And I'm not."

"Today is Friday."

"We agreed I'd handle Fridays."

"Friday nights, along with Saturday nights, with your father and I sharing the rest of the school nights on an alternating basis so as to avoid repeated sleep deprivation," she pointed out. "And so your schoolwork wouldn't be affected."

"It's summer now," Ash reminded her. "The interrupting school argument doesn't work anymore."

She rolled her eyes. "I suppose I shouldn't be complaining about this," she smiled. "Go ahead."

And with that Ash made his way over to the changing table. Kit down on the dry section, fussing his stomach with one paw to keep him occupied, he moved over to the wash basin section and ran the little shower head, making sure the water was pleasantly warm. And with that, off came the autumn-leaf-printed onesie, and into the mucky business the teenage fox went.

Felicity watched as her son dealt with it, using the washing section to clean out the fur, drying it out, and then dressing up her newest kit in some clean clothes. "Thanks Ash," she said softly, "I hope you don't take it the wrong way, but you'll struggle to do the next bit."

"I know…" he groaned, bringing the kit over, Felicity slipping her nightgown off of one shoulder and taking over.

Ash stood by, making sure his head was pointed in a distinctly different direction, as the kit nestled into his mother's chest and began feeding.

…

"You don't need to be conscious about me being self conscious," she said, "because I'm not."

"Maybe you should be conscious about my self conscious…"

"Now you're just making me self conscious," she said, pausing as the nursing kit gasped slightly, jiggling about. "And the kit too. That's a lot to put on someone so young, isn't it?"

…

"I'm good," he said, if anything taking a step further away and pointing his gaze further up into the corner… Something made much harder by the physical lack of corners in this room.

Felicity just let him be, boys being boys and all that… Not, she mused from experience, they were always like that.

"He is lucky to have you as his bigger brother, you know," she said softly, leaning in to kiss the crown of his head. "Aren't you little Rowan? Aren't you… Even though he wanted a little sister, he's being an exceedingly helpful big brother to his little one, isn't he?"

"I didn't want a little sister," Ash clarified, briefly turning around. "I was just pointing out that he could just as likely have been a she. Turned out he wasn't, but I was just clarifying the point." He frowned a little. "I don't need you reading stuff into everything I say."

"I believe that's assuming I don't understand subtext," she reminded him.

The end of his nose twitched from side to side. "There wasn't any subtext there…"

"Neither was there from me earlier," she said, letting a smile grow on her muzzle. "If you read subtext into me I can read subtext into you. The only subtext is that I love the both of you equally."

"I guess we'll agree that neither of us was inferring anything then," he mumbled.

"That seems wise," she said, pausing as Rowan mumbled a little. Pulling him off, she guided him down one and let him carry on. "I'd also say it would be wise not to push yourself too hard." A look of concern grew across her muzzle. "As I said, helping out is expected but not above a fair share, and not when it interferes with the important things in your life."

"I woke up early anyway," Ash said, "I was going downstairs when I thought I'd help out."

"Well thanks," she said softly, a look of concern growing on her face. "But need I remind you that in the summer you'll still have important days?"

"Yes…" Ash moaned a little.

"And isn't today one of those days?" she stressed.

Ash paused, sighing. "Yes, I know…"

"Your cousin needs your help as much as your baby brother," she stressed, looking off into the distance. "Most likely more, in fact. Much more. Probably quite a little bit."

"Well I'll be there for him," he said defiantly, broken off as Rowan let out a little cry.

"Oh hush, hush, hush," his mother calmed him, his brother coming in and holding one of his tiny little paws. Or rather, letting a tiny formed paw grasp around one of his paw pads.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"No need," she said gently as Rowan squirmed some more, letting go of her. "Going for thirds?" she asked, moving him down again. He quickly began suckling once more. "There, you get used to it pretty quickly."

"I guess he does," Ash agreed.

"I was talking about you too," she smirked.

His eyes widened and ears fell back, tail drooping as he glanced away. His mother's eyes just half lidded. "If that's really how you feel…"

Grumbling, he stood up, jostling behind her just a bit so that he could see his brother, just not where he was feeding from. It didn't matter that much anyway as, with a little wail, the baby let go. "I think he's full now," she said, wiping his mouth and resting him over her shoulder, tapping his back lightly over and over.

A definite grump came over his expression, something Ash felt somewhat gratified in seeing for some reason, though a slight curiosity piqued him. "I don't see him turning red yet," he said, looking at the downy black fur still covering his brother. "What if he isn't a red fox."

"Then he has a melanistic mutation," she said, grasping his little tail and looking at the tip. "Though not complete, there's some white here. So he might be a silverfox. Not like your cousin, who's a platinum fox called Silverfox, but a silver fox with the surname fox."

"Right," Ash nodded along.

"But you know what I think?"

"What?"

"That he's not going to burp," she said, picking him up by his scruff to carry him along. Not before gently rubbing her nose on his though. "And also," she carried on. "When you were this small, you were also black all over. A month or two from now we'll notice on russet fur, then realise he's covered in them. And before you know it, his ears will be pointing up, and he'll start running about on all fours."

"Right," he said, sounding unsure.

"I happen to speak from experience," she reminded him. "Now come on, as I said before, you have a big day today." She trailed off. "Or rather, your cousin has…"

Ash stood up straight. "I'll be there for him."

She looked down and nodding at him solemnly. "I know you will be," she said, paw on his shoulder. "I know just how much he wanted to leave all this mess behind us... " She grimaced. "But here it keeps rolling, sucking him back in. He'll be scared, and feel alone, and however mature and brave he is… Up in that courtroom, with all those eyes on him, he'll need to know that those who care for him are standing next to him."

"He will," Ash said resolutely. "I'll make sure he never forgets it."

His mother smiled. "That he will," she said, looking out of the window. "I just hope he's sleeping well right now. Today isn't going to be peaceful for him, or any of us. I'd rather he not have to suffer more of this day than he has to."

Ash nodded. "His body clock might disagree."

His mother shook her head. "Hopefully we're the only ones who it chose to disagree with this early."

As it turned out, they weren't, or even the ones it mistreated the most.

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"Coffee…"

…

"Coffee…"

"Need any help with that?"

Glancing lethargically to her side, Skye could have easily raised an eyebrow at Jack, the hare standing in naught but his jumbo-sized-carrot print boxers. Her favourite of his, for sure, not that she was in quite the mood right now. It was very early in the morning, really not that long since the meeting with her sister, after which she'd returned home. Jack slipped in later in the night, and now seemingly up and at it again. Unlike her. "I know I'm a dead vix walking," she mumbled, "and that you're still high on your helping drive… But c'mon, I can fix my own coffee."

"I... -could fetch the milk!"

"You do that Jack," she sighed, waiting for her homemade induction kettle to boil. She'd heard that coffee was best made with water ten-c below the boiling a standard kettle would reach, so one long day on a whim she'd tried bodging together a plastic jug, an immersion heater and a thermometer and… hey presto, it worked for her expresso.

She smiled, that was one of Jack's. The hare was currently pouring her usual amount of milk into her other custom made heating device. The white stuff into a little metal jug, little metal jug into an induction heating rig, and thermometer into the milk. He flicked the switch, the milk slowly making its journey to the optimal temperature too, as Skye got a filter ready, poured in her powder, and got the perfectly heated water in place, doing its job.

"Do you know what I admire about you," he said, looking up.

"I don't have the brainpower right now to guess," she muttured.

"You pursue perfection to such a degree, you'll make your own inventions just for one single function."

"The milk thing is also great for hot coco."

"Two dual functions!"

She slumped down, elbow on worktop, head resting on paw, looking him over. "What you up to?"

"Nuthin'" he said, innocently enough.

Her eyes, if possible, seemingly narrowed even further. "Then why you up at stupid O'clock?"

"I'm excited!" he said, smiling. "Secret agent Jack, first day!" He jumped into an action pose, kicking off a few kicks and the odd punch. "Besides," he carried on, raising a finger at her. "Why you up at stupid O'clock."

"My body clock hates me," she mumbled. "Sometimes it wants to wake up at stupid O'clock. And when I wake up at stupid O'clock, I may be tired as cuss, but I ain't gonna get back to sleep. So, seize the day… Whatever latin thing that is in… dead poets, whatever."

"Carpe Diem!"

"After I wake myself up," she huffed, looking at the coffee, managing a little smile. "Oooooh, halfway there…"

"Ah-a, livin' on a prayer," Jack sang, managing to pull a laugh from the vixen.

.

"So…." he began. "Ant hills…" Her eyes began widening. "And paint?"

…

"Do tell."

"No."

"Please…."

"No. Change of subject."

"Okay," he agreed. "Why you no wanna secret agent with me and your sister?"

…

"Clever. Well done," she sighed. "Want the long or the short?"

"Well, we've got time," he said.

"Uh-hu… So, Sweetie, my sister. Or, when being her career minded self, Lt Vixen. She too was cursed by the odd surname. Must be a red fox thing."

"Yeah. Say, what is it with red foxes and having surnames that are their species, or gender synonyms?"

"Beats me, Jackrabbit."

"Ahem," he clarified, puffing himself up. "That's clustercussed Tehuantepec hare and random bunny hybrid, I'll have you know."

"Right," she nodded. "Anyhow, do you know why she goes by that old name, in her career? Not the one she was raised with?"

"No…"

"Doesn't want her achievements to be from nepotism or riding on my father's name or… anything like that," she said, pausing as a click rang out. "Oh thank god." With that she began mixing her perfectly heated coffee with her perfectly heated milk, stirring in a spoonful of brown sugar as she talked. "Which is odd, as she's ambitious. She's… a lot of red fox stereotypes, but tamed, mastered, driven forward. No way for evil, but maybe not good… either. I'm not sure." Up her cup went, her nose taking a deep, deep inhale. "She saw that ladder, and she's there to climb it. Up and up and up."

"Wait, what…" Jack began, his ears dropping down. "So what, she's… using me… gonna dump me."

"Oh no," Skye shook her head, taking her cup and leading into her lounge. "She's much too smart for that. 'Worst enemy is the one you make yourself'. Did Dad… Did he talk about how she rigged a school election?"

"No. Do that. Now. Please."

Sitting down on the couch, taking another reviving inhale of her precious brew, Skye flashed a smile. "I'm guessing my father explained how he transferred from the military to education."

"While making me feel like I was communing with the ghost of Ronald Lee Ermine? Yes."

"Who…" she began, before shaking her head. "Forget it."

"I won't for movie night!"

"Anyway," she continued. "He was not the kind to teach at one school and send his kits to another. No matter how crappy said school was. And believe me, it was a dump. But he was certain that he'd make up for what his kits missed out on, and he'd keep them out of any trouble."

There was a long pause.

"Is it surprising that I didn't have many friends there?"

"With context, I guess not."

"Uh-hu, always saying I was 'acting like I was above their level' or 'thinking I was better than them' or 'acting like prey.'"

"Acting like prey?"

"Even if it mainly fed in from the worst pred neighbourhood in the city, there were plenty of prey there. And they and the preds were both equally trashy."

"So you're not contesting the 'above their level' and 'better than them'. Right?"

"When they go around snorting fizz candy, boasting about how many girls they've got pregnant, or in said girls' case having bitch fights and cyberbullying campaigns based on whether their babies wear pawpers or bearhuggies… No, no I'm not." She broke off into a long yawn, before taking a gentle sip of her coffee, skimming off the cooler top foam with her tongue. "They made something like fur-chan look like a bastion of civilised debate and logical thinking."

"Probably couldn't find a flag put right in front of them for four years, right?."

"Yup," she said, "There were a pawful of mammals who weren't… dumpster fires. Nick back then was one with a slightly odd smell and occasional whiff of smoke which I guess was quite good."

"I don't think he'll like that analogy."

"Well today he's all cleaned and polished and recycled into a speedboat or something. Anyway, trying to make sure that at least some of the better students didn't wise up and flee, they tried to introduce a 'gifted' lounge. You got a high enough set of scores overall, you got in during breaks and stuff. Had some drinks machines, they'd even pulled a few arcade games off a scrapheap somewhere. Yes, you were still in a dump, but you were the king of the dump. That's the logic. I'm not complaining, I can thank that place for my social life. Us lucky few even began doing it up, bringing our own stuff in, making it really nice. Trouble is, the rest of the students, sitting around on hard plastic chairs or crowding in the yard at lunch, were not happy. They wanted that too. And if they couldn't all have that tiny room, then no-one could."

Taking a break, Skye took a nice full sip from her coffee, sighing contently. "It really started the year after I'd left. Coming home from my apprenticeship, after soaping out all the grease in my fur and having dinner, Sweetie would fill me in on the ongoing drama. Some jock or whatever, one of the most popular guys on the football team, broke his leg after barging a mammal out of the way of an oncoming bus. Not gonna lie, amazing thing he did, he threw away his greatest passion and a potential future to save someone else's. Buuuut… I'm guessing he was at a bit of a loss for what to do after that. However, after being touted around the school as a hero, and an example for others, I guessed he liked the idea of popularist politics. So, he entered the school president competition. He'd have got it anyway, but he wanted more. Now, again, to try and put in the idea these kids could change things if they tried, whoever got in did have the chance to make some changes. And this mammal wanted everyone to love him, and so amongst all the things he suggested, you know what he said?"

"Get rid of the poindexter lounge?"

"Well, open it up for all," she said. "Which was pointless given how tiny it was. Now, a few teachers suggested he opened up this large storeroom and they could all do it up to be their space. But no, he said that those sneering elitist teachers pets who look down on the real students were to lose their throne and that was what counted. My father bluntly telling him to put more effort into his schoolwork did not go down well. A two week suspension later, he returned even more popular. The school staff kind of realised that they couldn't just get rid of the token powers the student president got, lest you dissolude everyone completely. So, they advised those in the lounge to note up their own things, and be prepared to move them out if he won."

"But he didn't win, right?"

"Oh my sister made sure of it," she said, taking a sip from her drink. "She initially explained her position nicely, argued, and said that if he wanted to take away their little haven, it wouldn't end nicely for him. He could be just as popular and loved, without doing it. After calling her a dumb know it all who thought she was better than him, and how he couldn't wait to dance with his team in their formerly little club, she surmised that this meant war. She worked out who was most likely to beat this guy in the election, then 'bribed' the other four or five or so to drop out."

"Bribe how?"

"She's the daughter of a teacher. She claimed she had secret information about the next set of tests. She provided them some, they found out it was mostly right, they dropped out, she shared some for the next tests. -Now wipe that look off your muzzle, she didn't steal them or copy them. Being a highly motivated student, she'd studied past papers and made an educated guess on what was coming up next. Presented on a highly stylized professional document, they took it hook line and sinker."

"She did the old Dirk Genetly!"

"Yup, -I guess," she said. "Her guy would still lose big. And so she also went to the heads of the various cliques, pulling the same deal on them. They told their diligent, compliant, sad, sad followers how to vote, most followed through. The margins still worried her, so she began the misinformation campaign. A stash of the least popular sports team's stuff was slipped into his locker. She then faked a bunch of love letters to the three biggest gossips in the school, who were there, and promptly arguing with him, when it fell out. After that, his treachery became the newest thing, right around the time of the election. Which he lost. Just. She made sure to rub it in, before retreating to the lounge once more, joined with a few very happy mammals who'd got in thanks to her help on the tests."

"She followed through?"

"Never throw away a good ally, as she'd say," Skye surmised. "And as I say, if she wants something, she'll get it. She wanted to keep her elite little club out of their grubby paws, she played them off each other like a fiddle and got just that."

"And she works for the US intelligence community," Jack said, an ear flagging. "I can sense everyone south of the Mexigat border shivering in bed right now."

Skye paid it no mind, carrying on. "Anyway, I hope that paints the level of her ambition, and how she'll play mammals to get what she wants. As she said, she worked up the army chain of command quickly. All on her own, no help from any last name there."

"And so… it's this morality thing that's got you not joining in right now?"

"Huh? Oh no, as I say, she's morally neutral at worst, just ambitious as cuss. I still love her deeply. But right now?" She sighed. "She's launching herself into something huge, something she admits will include incredibly dangerous mammals. I don't think she could have undersold that. And she'll be cutting through, battling against them, chopping and changing. I'm confident she'll get through… I'm confident she'll look after you, and me if I join, just…" She took a breath in, scratching her head. "It's… It's just above my level. It's above what I want to do." She sighed. "I'm a mechanic, Jack. I don't do people, not well, anyway. And all this talk about spy stuff, and action, and drama? Where will it end? I just feel so over my head thinking about it."

"But didn't you love doing what you did for Kris."

"Yes," she said, "but… But think about where that started. And where it ended up." She broke off to drink the bulk of her coffee, as Jack mused on.

"I'm guessing we didn't imagine an evil lion and tiger when we started it."

"No," Skye agreed. "It started out as helping our friend, do a Sweetie to that damned Asshole. It ended with an evil tiger making us believe one of our friends was dead. And now she wants to start at a level miles above where we ended last time. So just how deep in it might we end up this time?"

Jack shrugged. "I don't know. Fighting an eldritch god?"

The vixen guffawed, then sighed. "The point is, I fear that even if I'm supporting from the back, I'll end up way above my head, and that scares me Jack." Her ears went down and she sighed. "Call me a coward," she began. "But I spent three or so days having to come… having to come to terms with my death… Coming to terms that I'd messed up, and I was going to die alone, in pain… Hurting so many, and there'd be nothing after. Nothing. However much I hope it's not true, I can't help but know it is. I wasn't ready Jack, and I'm not now. I can't… I…"

She was broken off as he slipped onto her lap, his chin and head resting in the fluff of her chest. Her paw came up and held him tight, petting and stroking along the crown of his head, working down his ears. She took a breath in and exhaled, a small smile growing on her muzzle as she destressed. "Thanks Jack," she whispered.

A paw and finger came up. "Emotional support bunny, reporting for duty."

"Awww," she cooed, stroking him some more. "And you're doing an excellent job, aren't you? My widdle Jacky wacky…" She gave him a kiss.

"Ahem," he murmured. "While I love being the recipient of love and affection, when it comes to that last nickname…? No. No."

Skye couldn't help but chuckle. "I know, it was so corny I felt like a cob."

"So was that."

"Face up."

"Huh?" he asked, pointing his head up, and receiving a nose on nose boop for his effort.

"What can I say," she said, taking her coffee cup and taking a sip. "Must be an effect of rebooting myself for the day." She gave his back a scritch, watching as he arced it up to meet her claws, before carrying on. "I'm not going to stop you, you know that. You want to work for her, work for her. Just understand that I don't want to."

"I will," he said, moving his body and pointing to a particular region of his back, that was all too eager to receive attention. "Though I'll miss having special agent Skye backing me up on this adventure."

She raised her paw and opened her mouth, only to pause, think, settle into a mirthful smile. "I'm glad I had my last adventure," she said, giving his back a little flurry with her claws. "But I think that itch has been scratched. And, do you know what I realised after my time… in the pit?"

"No…"

"That you shouldn't take the little things for granted. This coffee for instance, it's warm and milky but not too milky and sweet and tasty and just delicious. And music, listening to music is just so good. As is being with my family, my mother and father, and my sister. And being with you?" She pulled him up and nuzzled his cheek. "That's super good too. In fact, I'd say it's its own wonderful adventure by itself."

"Something I concur," he chirped, moving up to kiss her on the lips.

She moved down and gave him a lick, then a nip on the cheeks, and Jack, smirking, came in for a lip on lip kiss. Their two muzzles locked together, the two exploring each other's mouths for a second, breaking off to share a long gaze, then embracing once again. Longer this time, tighter, more grip, more action. Skye's paws working along his back, cradling him tight and feeling the curves of his body, were matched with Jack's feeling their way under her light sleep top, through the contours of her chest. With one swift movement, she stood up, holding him with one paw on his rear, fingers around his tail, the other holding his head in tight.

"Tell me," he said, breaking off for a second, his paws hanging on her shoulders and feet playfully pulling down at and feeling their way into her boyshorts. He gave a look at his own undergarment as she twitched and fussed and buckled a little from it all. "Was it the carrot prints?"

"Oh it's something of that shape down there…" she huffed, tail bristling and shaking behind her. "C'mon," she said, making her way swiftly along. "Guess I'm going back to bed this morning after all!"

And so in they went, Jack pumping his fists in the air before pulling the door closed behind them.

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"You are worthless…"

'No…'

"You are worthless and worth nothing…"

'No…'

"You have never done anything right in your life…"

'Yes I have…' she hissed. Lies.

"You are weak…"

'I am holding out, still…'

"Pathetic."

'Stick a muzzle on it you perra tigre azul…'

"Everything you worked for is gone…"

'I can build it up, again.'

"Every triumph or yours shall become mine."

'And then I'll take them back.'

"So your only chance is to submit to me."

'¡Ve a depilarte los bigotes, gatita!'

No response was heard at first. Instead, it just went on. The whispers, the ideas crawling into her mind, only to be swatted away firm. Yet, as exhaustion crept in, still they came back. Them, nothing but them, whispering in from the fully lit shadows in this… place. There was just light in front of her, casting into her eyes, and nothing else.

Nothing, except…

"I said I wan-ned to tawlk to her! I don't care if it breaks the program. You jus' star' it up again!"

And then the lights faded, the instruments pulled back, and Carmelita blinked. Her painfully strained eyes, built for work at night, suddenly seemed phobic of their strength, stuck unadjusted and leaving what she could see a mix of indecipherable blacks and cloying bright lights. Oh, and of course, her…

"I see you're up an' up, inspector!" the cockney voice sang, in what until so very recently the vixen had regarded as a cute and affectionate sound to have at her back. As of very recently, it had become the most annoying sound in the world. Teeth grit, a full on gekker suppressed in her throat, she writhed against the cold hard restraints holding her paws in place and turned up…

And looked into the punchably smug looking face staring down. "I would ask what the gata dragged in, but the answer is herself, Neyla."

She looked wounded. "Not using my law-ful rank!?"

"Well," she hissed. "I don't think constable fits you anymore, does it? Shorten it down to the first three letters, then we are getting somewhere."

She spat it out, only for the blue dyed felid to… giggle…? "Awwww, Carmy. I guess a brow-ken clock is right once-un-a-while… I ain't a Constable no more…" And with that, she brought out a new badge. This time, the chained up vixen couldn't help but gekker at her, earning a burning ice-cut of a slap instead. "Captain Neyla," she sung again. "Promoted due to extraordinary conduct in rootin' out corruption in tha' force. Arrestin' now disgraced former inspector Carmelita, for her illicit affair with thief Sly Cooper… Oh! An' getting' 'im and his hippo friend too, ay!"

"And when this gets to the trial I will show them that your fur is died the wrong colour. It should be yellow like the backstabbing coward you are!"

"Awwww, the things you say," the tiger giggled. She leant down, clawed finger out, planted on the tip of the vixen's muzzle. "Shhhh…."

The vixen stared blankly at it for a second, before darting forward and snapping at it, sadly missing… Just. Neyla, stepping back, raised her clawed paw for a swipe down, only to pause. Think. "Hmmmm, no. You're too block headed for a simple bit of pain to work." And with that she pulled back, behind where Carmelita could see her. The captive fox could hear a chair grating, feel the bulk of the tiger sitting down, waited. "I mean, this kind a' torture is far better!"

"Listening to your voice?" Carm asked. "Si."

"Awwww, I thought you like it, Carm!"

"Back when you were my 'loyal' partner, yes…" she breathed out. "I took you under my arm, I saw your talent and helped you on your way! For justice! For the law! After everything I did for you, we did together, you…" She closed her eyes and breathed in, hissing. "I have fought against evil mammals before Neyla, and they have had a thousand times more reason to be that way than you. You are the worst kind of person on this planet, and you will get what you deserve."

"What I deserve?" she asked, her voice quiet. "I'll tell you what I deserve." Her bulk shifted again and a paw came down. Carm was helpless as it grabbed her muzzle vice tight and pressed it closed… Letting her hiss out. "I deserve the recognition I am due. I deserve my life outta the gutter, and without any of the cheap little bits of charity the like of you shower me with. Under your wing?" She scoffed. "Naw, I was your lil' pet project! Your cute widdle prodejy who you could point at and say, I trained her. She's there cussa me. Well!" She exclaimed. "-I don't think so! I'm gonna climb up and up and up, and it ain't gonna be because anyone cleared the way. Oh no. I'm gonna be the one clawing up that ladda! And I don't just not care who I toss down from it. Cor, I look forward to seeing them scream as they plummet! The more they achieved, the more proud they were, the better!" She leant in, making sure Carm could see her, and smiled. "And you, you with your rep and the praise you get and your storied career an' all that? Oh, seein' you now is delicious. Us girls gotta cat fight to rise to the top, and as you can see, I'm a lot more qualified than you ever were! An' when this is all ova?"

She gave a chuckle.

"There's gonna be a little role reversal between you and me! You are gonna be my precious lil' project, the corrupt cop brought back inta the fold… With the help of our generous Countessa's new criminal rehabilitation system here." She moved, grabbing the device and moving it back in front of the captive vixen. Two ghastly eyes, that stared. "You know, I read your notes on the project, your widdle reaction to the outline. Or rather, your rebuke to the detractors. Those critics sayin' it should be destroyed, how mental adjustment like this could be used by tyrants to turn protestors into loyalists… Or how if used to let kiddie fiddlers fix 'emselves in the head before ever offending, it could also be used by bigots for complete successful conversation therapy… And you noted back…" She then put on her best, objectively awful, Carmelita impression. 'While there'f a po-ten-tal fu baaad, it iz in-calllculabli smol fen com-pared tu fe' chance fe' complete, fuwpooth, rehabilitath'ion.'"

Carm's eyes closed and she stayed herself, as her former police partner laughed. "Well, bet you're feelin' stupid now!" she hissed. "And when this is ova, an' you are nuthin' more than a dumb maid desperate for any whisker of approval I give, I bet you'll think back… and hate yourself for ever, ever, underestimating me."

And with that, she threw Carm's head back, the tiger walking in front and pulling a lever on the machine. The orange glow awakened, the captive vixen closing her eyes and staying her breath... "Countessa! Stick in something real' embarrassin', like makin' her suck her thum' or somein'! And get it right this time! The last crook you did took half this time, and she ain't even dented!"

"So…" Carmelita managed, the tiger blinking back in shock. "Not going to plan I see?"

She growled, and then smashed the device, screaming at the captor out of view. "TURN IT ON WHY DON'T YA!"

And then the humming began, the world faded, the whispers began snaking their way into her mind… And the beeping…

The beeping…

…

Beep.

…

Beep.

…

Beep.

.

A paw came down on the alarm as the vixen got up, rubbing her head. One of those dreams…

No.

Memories.

Even though she'd been granted a ring-tailed rescuer not long after. Even though nothing of that now thoroughly destroyed 'rehabilitation enhancing experiment' seemed to have stuck with her…

Bar how she relived it every now and again.

The best part of two decades later, and there was still a shadow of that mind manipulation turning up once and a while. Oddly enough, she hadn't actually remembered that taunting interlude at the time, probably hidden between the sessions… It only chose to resurface, consistently, in the years after. Few knew about it, Carmelita long assessing that the lasting effects were limited to the odd resurfacing memory, the potential self-damaging effects never showing up. She'd held her own and hadn't let them in and, it seemed, they'd bounced off and slided down with the years.

Well, maybe except…

Pausing, she observed her thumb.

Dry.

It had been a giggle at first, coming from the partner in her bed years later. In both senses of the word, and a mammal who, had Neyla been alive to see it, would have probably been killed from the irony. Her 'reformed' Sly, smile curling up on his long, thin muzzle, claw coming out to tap her own paw, resting near her mouth. "My, Carmelita. Dedicated as always. Even when resting, you take the mission statement of sleeping like a baby to the next level."

She'd tried to laugh it off, only for him to see through.

He'd pressed, eventually asking for a sit down conversation about how she studied her paws intensely after waking up in the weeks after. He'd hugged her and said it was all okay after she'd recounted her experience in Prague, before he and Bentley had managed to reach her.

The next year, sleep wasn't that fun, given the anti-claw-biting polish she now applied, both on her thumb claws and the pad itself, to make herself kick the kittish practice she'd subconsciously been engaging in for the last five years or whatever. But, after a last gag long ago, and three more years of uneventful application, she felt that the only successful slight that tiger had managed to make stick was now, too, consigned to the past with her.

It made her all the more glad that both thumbs were bone dry.

To even give that tigra an ounce of satisfaction…

Carm didn't care that she was growling. She could think of no animal, no living creature, that was a worse type than her. And she'd got everything she deserved for it, her greed and ego making her think that she could pull the same stunts on the only thing that was a worse type than her.

But not before managing to hurt and harm, wound and injure. The very mammal who had bravely been behind her freedom, Sly's freedom, permanently lost part of his not long after. Her real last laugh. Her revenge, at those who dared spoil her crusade of ego.

She looked out the window.

Zootopia.

A new day…

She still felt a bit off, given the time difference, and fully locking on through today would probably take a few coffees, and some pushing through. But she'd do it. Years later, it was her who still stood strong, working the good cause. And she had a lot of work today, and no tolerance for any new wannabe Neyla's that she might bump into on the way.