Chapter 8

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AN: Meant to post this yesterday... But well yesterday was an interesting day for me. So better late than never, hope you enjoy.

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"Pardon?"

"We both know playing the fool isn't going to work," the wolf huffed, moving in front of her. Down the steps, but her height still giving her the advantage, the wolf looking down at the vixen. "So tell me, what's your game?"

Red tail flicking behind her, Carmelita looked up, eyes narrowing. "What is my game? What is your game?"

"My game is that when I hear that 'the museum of counterfeit' is interested in an unusual item I'm researching, my nose sniffs something that isn't pleasant. And so, I do some research. In the back doors of the internet, I find that the institute has an oddly close relationship with Interpol, nothing official of course, but a definite 'you-brush-my-tail, I'll-brush-yours'."

"And that is a problem, how?" Carmelita asked, dropping her fake accent.

"I don't like mammals working for the big guy," she said, voice clear. "Especially as they often tend to spend their time pushing around the little guy. Or just doing things for themselves, rather than the public good. I'm a physicist, an expert in my field, and the amount of times I've had to deal with defense mammals and shady private contractors sniffing around for something of mine they can plug into a weapon of theirs is far too many. And right now, for all it dresses itself up, your interpol looks and smells no different in my eyes."

Caremlita scoffed, taking off her glasses for good measure. "If you think that, maybe you should have your eyes checked."

"You use a shock pistol, correct?"

"Always keep her on me," Carmelita said, patting her bag.

Clara's eyes narrowed. "Some of the most advanced work and discoveries into unusual electric phenomena, ball lightning and cold temperature plasma were made by the Soeviet union, advances and discoveries that could have advanced our understanding in certain electrical fields by decades at the time. It had the potential of opening up brand new branches of technology, from wireless energy transmission to new forms of material science. Or, it could just be pursued or researched for the sake of new knowledge, for the sake of discovering how these mysterious things work. Instead though, it was used to try and make weapons. And then, when finally declassified and picked up by the west, it was used to try and make weapons. Forty, fifty years of trying, of running the field so dry that those still interested in it are looked at like they're trying to get research grants into advanced chemical photography or something, and that little shock pistol there is now all that's come out of the suits and their meddling. A little zappy gun used for zapping bad guys." She huffed, shaking her head. "For a second, do you even consider what a waste that is?"

"I might," she said, "then I consider just how many very bad mammals I have taken down. Warlords, pirates, mobsters, thieves…"

'I wouldn't be quite so sure on that one. Taking down implies actually hitting yours truly.'

If Carmelita's little thought had shown any surface signs, they were missed by the wolf.

"Don't get me wrong, I like taking down scum of the earth," she said. "But I've read up on interpol, and I don't like what I've heard."

"Which is?"

"Oh, I don't know…" she said, folding her arms in front of her. "Trying to promote 'mentality readjusting devices' 'in the name of aiding reformation.'"

Carmelita's tail bristled. "That was dropped, very quickly…"

"After," Clara cut in, "from what I gather, it was tried to turn a number of mammals into drones," She glared down. "Including, if my sources are right, a major inspector who, at the time, had been set up by a rogue asset."

Red furred paws shaked tightly, the vixen closing her eyes, breathing in, breathing out. "We learnt from our mistakes…"

"When it happened to you," Clara continued, "when it blew up in your face. You didn't listen to the warnings, you didn't listen to those of us who knew how it would be used. To wipe us…" She closed her eyes, breathing in, breathing out. "I've helped a lot of mammals who think, believe, that they are fundamentally wrong, broken, freaks, worse…" Eyes closed, a deep breath in, a shake of her head. "I, briefly, was one of them. And I got through, I got support, I learnt who I really was and have never looked back. But we all knew how that thing of yours would be used, marketed, used to prey on us. We knew that at our weakest, it'd be marketed to us as a way of 'fixing our faults', making us 'normal', and even I admit that…" Her voice caught on the back of her throat. "That I may have been tempted, may have accepted. Tried to 'fix' myself. But all I'd be doing was annihilating who I really was. And this could have been done to millions of innocent mammals, the vast majority against their choice, not that you cared. As long as you could use it to Lupovico mammals into being good rather than offering them support and education. You only stopped when it bit you in the tail."

Clara paused, closing her eyes and taking a breath in to steady herself, finger raised up and wagging a bit like a metronome as she steadied herself. "As I say, while I can totally get behind whoomping the odd bad guy, I really don't feel good when it comes to a bunch of mammals going around, acting like the world police or whatever. I don't like suits, I don't like authority, and I really don't like what's going on here right now."

"Then let me assure you," Carmelita said, moving to hold Clara's paws. "I've been burnt hard by self-serving overambitious mammals. I've dealt with being betrayed by my own self-serving two faced prodege. I have lost the love of my life in the service of trying to keep order. To keep, to pardon the expression, the wolves at the door at bay. And yes, we made mistakes. But do not take our… -my misevaluation of a poison as some inherent evil. Many poisons are medicines, and all medicines are poisons. I have spent all this time pursuing justice, seeking to protect the world from threats you do not want to know about…"

"-Please don't put words in my mouth," the wolf hissed, pulling herself back. "I do want to know about them. How can I trust you otherwise?"

Carmelita's tail flicked. "If you want to know why I'm here, why I visited, it is simple. The materials trace on that item picked up a set of compounds and elements only ever traced to some very unique and disturbing technology. That item, whatever its purpose, could very likely be dangerous, especially in the wrong paws. We need to secure it for safekeeping, and research. And the fewer mammals who know the truth, the better."

"Is that so," the wolf asked, voice hushed. "And how do I know you don't plan to turn it into a weapon?"

"We're a police force, not an army."

"That isn't the distinction it used to be," Clara said curtly. "I want to ensure this isn't used for nefarious purposes."

Carmelita rolled her eyes and then trained them on the wolf. "You're not in a position to negotiate."

"Technically I am," she said. "I still have five or so weeks. Who's to say that in that time there isn't a mix up, and it finds its way into a car crusher?"

"For all I know that thing could be some kind of hyper battery, with enough charge left in to power this city for a day, a week, a month, a year… If we find that out, we'll have no qualms about sharing the technology, given how it could solve numerous sustainability issues the world over. But, if you car crush it… Ever seen one of Elon Musk-Ox's cars burning? Lithium ion batteries can explode and destroy themselves. If 'Sylvester' has that much energy still inside… Well, you're the physicist, tell me how big the crater would be?"

Carla seemed shaken for a second, before regaining her composure. "There are many other ways to make sure something 'that dangerous' ends up hidden, where no-one, be they overambitious chancer, government spook, or unscrupulous criminal can find it. At the very least, I could drive it into the desert, attach a bunch of explosives, and kaboom!"

Carmelita kept a straight face. "I know a bluff when I see one."

"So do I," Clara retorted.

"Strike two."

"Are you sure?"

"So what do you want from this?" Carmelita asked. "What is your demand?"

"Simple," the wolf said, breathing out. "I need to ensure that, whatever this is, it isn't misused or taken advantage of. And there is one, one, way to do that."

"And that is?"

"Put me on the team investigating it."

For a second or so, Carmelita felt that her jaw was about to drop to the floor. In the next, she pulled it up tight and felt her fur bristle. "Oh, I see how it is, odiosa lombra." She felt her claws flex at the ends of her paws and inside her boots, if only she could use ol' sparky right now.

'Careful, I think she'll take police brutality as a win state.'

"You know, at first I thought you were rude. Then I thought you were obnoxious. Then I thought you were misguided. Now I know you're unscrupulous," she hissed. "You just want a cushy position and a jump up the ladder."

Clara blinked. "What? No. I have to make sure that this isn't misused, and if this is the only way, then it is the only way."

Despite her anger at the wolf, her claim that she wasn't of the same loaf as a certain tiger did give her enough respite to put a smile on her muzzle. "Welcome to my world. Not fun, is it?"

"No! That's not…" she began, before she let her tail swish behind her. "Welcome to my world too."

The two female canids stared each other down, the seconds ticking on. "This will lead us nowhere," Carmelita said.

"I agree," Clara replied. "But I can wait."

"So can I," the fox said. "How long was it, five weeks?"

"And as I said…"

"I could report that to the museum director," the vixen cut in. "Revealing who I was, dropping all pretense of doing this on the sly and putting more mammals in danger. He won't throw you out or anything, but he might keep a closer eye on you, and it." She crossed her paws. "Checkmate."

And with that, the wolf's muzzle twitched as she tried to formulate a response. In the end, she huffed, turning and sitting down next to her, giving her a glance. "The irony hasn't escaped me," she said. "We may well be exactly the same inside, more or less. Want the same good… I just can't bring myself to trust mammals like you, working for your secretive nation hopping, government cosying organisations fully. If one of my friends could vouch for you, then sure…"

For a moment, a thought entered Carmelita's mind. It was suspected, not proven, that an old… acquaintance had moved to the city too. Had she time on her paw, she may well have gone to investigate, check that he was sticking to the right side. And now, given that knowing fully could have given her someone to vouch for her…

Or maybe not, given that he was connected to her, the wolf wanting one of her own friends.

Shaking her head, finding they'd quieted down into an awkward silence, Carmelita stood up, looking at the wolf.

No, Clara was not a Neyla, thankfully. But she all but knew that others like her were out there, and who knew how close they were.

And there was one worse.

In this city.

"Whatever you think of me," she said. "There are mammals many times worse out there right now." She sighed. "I really want to keep people out of this, but given your location right now, that might not be possible.

"You mean they're…"

"I do not know," she said. "But I do know I don't like coincidences. If it comes to it, are you willing to defend that item?"

"I… guess," she said, even managing a faint smile. "Though Kristen might be the one more on the offence."

Carmelita managed to share it, before fading to a serious visage. "We may not like each other, but that has never been an obstacle for me before. I've achieved some incredible things with mammals I've been fighting against, and who are infuriating to the bone."

'Takes two to tango, Inspector Fox.'

"Right, I can imagine… And I still don't like this," Clara said, finger up.

"Wouldn't expect it any other way," Carmelita said, breaking off as her phone beeped. 'Groseria' she mumbled to herself.

"Have to go?" The wolf enquired, an eyebrow rising.

"Yes. And there's probably a zorilla wondering where you went off to."

"Well, this is as stalematey as it gets," she shrugged, standing up.

"Sí," Carm said, turning down. She started down the stairs, only to pause. Something from earlier had only just caught up to her. "You said that apart from the isotopes being manually tampered with, there were no other reasonable explanations… Yet. What else would there be?"

Clara looked down. "You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me."

She paused, only to smile. "Can't you work it out, Inspector?"

The red fox's tail swished behind her.

A smirk grew on her muzzle. "Well, if not, looks like you'll just have to bring me aboard your science team, and I'll share it then. You know, I like it when both sides get what they want."

And with that, she was gone, Carmelita walking off too. "Loba enloquecedora," she muttered under her breath. Then again, she'd asked for it. She could have just stayed quiet at the end, contacted Barkley, and have his team review her credentials. But now, if she made them, she wouldn't be on the team out of a genuine belief she had the moral integrity (and intellectual skill, of course) to handle it. Oh no, she'd be there because she 'hustled a fox'. And Carm had a feeling Clara would never let that go.

Avoidance where possible would almost certainly be a must.

With that, Carm donned her full disguise, passed out the door, and then changed back into her normal self. Breaking into a jog, working off some of the stress, she made her way towards Precinct One.

As long as she didn't bump into another obtuse, smart alec, career climbing, overly ambitious, or rank pulling mammal, she'd be okay.

'If not,' she let the familiar voice in her head muse, her imagining of his voice bringing a small smile back to her muzzle. 'Then TAKE COVER!'

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With a loud grunt, Skye jerked back, the long metal handle she'd been pulling against finally giving way somewhat. With that, she let the wrench slide off and walked over to the underside of the vehicle, twisting out the drainage cap the rest of the way by (gloved) paw. A few drips of oil began coming out, and then a torrent as she pulled the cap out of the way, watching the draining process begin.

It was just a run of the mill ordinary engine tuning job, the kind she could probably do in her sleep.

Not that it was necessarily exciting, hence why, after her painfully early morning she was caffeinated up.

But she'd put in half a day's hard work already, before many mammals even started theirs, and the magic go go juice that had fired up her system was going, going, gone.

Still… She'd done all she could do until everything had drained out, so with that she pulled off her gloves and let her fur breath. She'd gone through stages in her career, first of wearing gloves and trying to avoid getting any oil on her, not that that was ever possible…

Even now, she could see a small smudge by her elbow, probably from glancing something.

It hadn't really taken that long to get used to being covered in the stuff, and using the old technique of washing it off with some petrol and then cleaning that off with a shower.

It turned out that that too had downsides. Mainly the skin of her right paw cracking up so hard it looked like she was suffering from mange.

So, ever since then, back to the gloves it was.

All part of her job, after all. A job she was damn fine at, if she asked herself.

As if on cue, a loud double-boom from her phone perked up her ears, and she wandered over to see that a text had arrived. She read through it and smiled.

'She's been making me sit through boring law stuff all morning. We're supposed to be going to the ZPD 'soon'...'

She smiled and texted in. 'I can try being emotional support Foxxo later.'

There was a pause. 'You know what we had this morning?'

She smirked. 'The ol' Jack hammer, yes?'

…

'I'd have imagined something more imaginative from you, Sis''

Her eyes widened and ears flattened back, as she began angrily tapping back in. Only for her sister to beat her to it.

'He was texting in class, naughty naughty.'

'Not one word," Skye warned.

'To whom?' she asked. Followed by a foxxy wink emoji.

Skye held her paws above the screen trembling, before shaking her head and forgetting about it. Yes, her sister could be a pain in the tail and a right tease, if she wanted. But she wasn't the kind to hold things over her. And if this really was a scheme to get her to play along in this spy thing, then Sweetie really needed some better leverage.

A little pun about her private relationship was not going to sway her on that matter, not by a whisker,

A glance back at the car, and she noticed that it was still draining engine oil. It wasn't a large car or vehicle, all the better if it would be, she always had a thing for working on 'the big boys'. Scrambling over or finding her way through the engine blocks of megafauna sized vehicles and trucks, getting lost in complex machines…

No…

Nothing that interesting, it was just that it was less oil coming out, more tar.

Thick, brown, congealed, sticky brown tar.

Skye looked at it and narrowed her eyes. It was worse than she thought, and would take longer than she'd expected for sure. And yes, there was something very satisfying about a simple job she'd done so many times she could just bang it at her own leisure. There was also a lot for jobs that really racked her mind, that made her think, that challenged her.

But this looked like it was going to be none of these, it was going to be a fiddly, awkward, brain dead process.

And with that, the swift fox vixen stepped back, only to pause, keeping a few steps away from the inspection pit behind her.

She froze.

Turning to it, looking down in, she felt her throat dry and her tail curl between her legs. Slowly letting her fifth limb to curl up into her paw, she sat down on the lip, stroking and petting her tail tip while letting her legs hang in. It shouldn't be scary, she could easily climb out of there, and probably leap out…

But back when her leg was in that cast, back when she shoved her caught trolley and it jumped over into it, back when she slid in, her good leg caught in a bunch of wires…

Back when she'd rolled zeroes on all her dice and been stuck there, hanging, unable to get out. Alone, starving, coming to terms that it was all her fault and that this would be the end…

…

Call her a coward, but she didn't want to experience anything like that ever again.

Sweetie was right, in a way. Had it not been for that incident, had she not had that poisoning her mind, had she still been riding high off of her previous adventure…

Then sure, part of her liked the idea of the challenge, of working her mind to the limit, even a little bit of the thrill and danger that this thing offered.

But that had been then, this was now.

Call her a coward, but if she had any shred of choice or agency, she was not going to dance and play at the lip of the pit.

Almost mercifully, she heard the service bell ring from the front and, leaving the treacle imitating oil flowing she headed off. Chances were it was a quick fix or another bread and butter job.

But then again, things could always be surprising, and as she entered the front and saw a large polar bear standing there, it seemed to be tilting in the former's favour.

"Morning," she introduced with a smile.

"Da, Morning," he spoke, his accent betraying him as one of the russian bears that lived in tundratown, as opposed to the mix of other heritages the species often held. "Your website say, you can try and fix anything, try and build anything. Right?"

She smiled. "Always up for the challenge." Indeed, along with vehicles, she was very happy (and advertised as such) to try her paw at anything mechanical and in many cases electrical, from getting an off the shelf rice cooker working again for a few bucks to, for example, repairing a giant stage set at a theatre.

After all, nobody else was doing it, and in terms of keeping things interesting for her, it certainly helped scratch that itch.

And so she looked on, getting especially eager as the bear brought out a massive set of plans. Her head tilted as they were laid out in front of her, a huge mix of electrical components, magnets, on and on it went. Skye couldn't help but let her head tilt, hard, as the bear began giving his explanation.

"A friend of mine wants to start up company, has idea of creating metal-plastic alloy, but wants to use electric system to fuse. I do not understand method, but…"

"I don't understand either," Skye confessed, her tail dropping down in between her legs. "I'm a mechanic first, and yes, I can do electrics. But I'm not a genius at it. This… I'm not sure how it's supposed to work."

Spreading her paws out, she scanned over the sheets, trying to make heads or tails of it.

"But you can still build? Friend says it is important part of process…"

"I can get all these components and put them in place," she said quietly. "But when it comes to actually testing it… I can't. I could make a mistake, and you wouldn't be able to work out how or why, I…"

"Said you were open to any challenge, big or small."

"And I am," she said, looking up at him. She noticed what must have been a cross pendant hanging from his neck, the crucifix hidden under his shirt. "But while I love testing my skills, this is in any area I'm not that familiar with. Even if I get help, I'll probably be slow, I'll probably make mistakes…"

"Mistakes can be fixed," he said, leaning down, a nervousness or desperation in his voice. She'd never been good at telling which, and it wasn't getting any better now. "And if you have friend who can help, is good." There was a pause. "I think you are only one in city offering to make system, so I have no choice."

Skye nodded. "Well, I've got a few weeks worth of orders backlogged, so it'll have to be in between them and…" She was broken off as he brought out a large bag of bills, planting them on her desk and spreading them out.

"Half of payment, in advance. Half that down payment, you keep in case it cannot be done."

"And you want it when?" she asked quietly.

He thought for a moment. "End of month, would be nice."

Well, if there were two things Skye wasn't, one was a mammal that punched a gift giving horse in the mouth. This money alone was enough to cover her business for the next few months, and that was including paying someone else to manage her current jobs and any that her regulars had come up. It would also help cover all the parts and any consultants that she needed. "Let me just get a form together and sign the details."

And so, half an hour later, just that had been done.

Because the other thing Skye wasn't was a rube. Yes, she could perfectly understand why a potential startup would want a couple of different companies or suppliers to build parts of their special new machine. Never give anyone the chance to work out what it's for and beat you to the finish line, or even coming in later as a thorn in the side competitor. She could also get why they'd come to someone like her for this rather than doing it in house, they might have their paws working to the bone on other, even more critical, aspects. But there was absolutely not denying that this all had a little smell of rotting fish.

And so at the very least, she made sure that she had all the forms filled in with this bear, every t crossed and i dotted.

"It'll be very interesting to have a go at this," she said, paws on her hips, and feeling just a fair bit out of her depth.

"And appreciated," the bear said. "Good luck, Miss Autumn."

"Thanks for the business, Mr Kozlov," she replied, gathering up her things as she watched him exit her shop. As he did, he shifted his body around and let his crucifix drop out onto the front of his shirt…

Except it wasn't a crucifix, Skye realised. It was more a coppery pendant, kind of like…

"No," she whispered, starting to make her way out after him. He was already in his car though and so she let him go, Judy's necklace still around his neck.

Except Judy had just been looking after it for him, he was that polar bear. The name had felt vaguely familiar, but she hadn't a single clue that he was that mammal.

Shaking her head, she walked back in, gathering up the documents and plans he had left. She wasn't going to just risk leaving them out, given how important they might be for him, so into a hiding space of hers it would go. But not before having a bunch of pictures taken.

She could ask him about his relationship with Judy when he next turned up, but for now she needed to ask some others about this. Again, she was no rube, and the idea that something about this might be illegal didn't escape her. Who knew what its end purpose truly was. As a result, to at least cover her bases, she'd pop in to the ZPD and at least make sure that base was covered. Almost certain to come to nothing anyway, but you never knew.

And then, she'd be going off to a mammal who might actually be able to give her some insight into this electronic enigma. This swift fox may be a damn fine mechanic, but when it came to electronic stuff, that was something that one… very interesting… Honey Badger had the advantage in.

A quick consulting, or a full colab, could well lead somewhere, all while keeping the once troubled mammal's mind off the troublesome stuff.

Skye shook her head. She'd always known she was interesting, but could easily compartmentalise it when it came down to business. Though if she'd have known the full extent of it all, such as dropping down into that bunker, then who knew what might have…

Skye paused, mid walk back to the car in service.

Her paws trembled as her mind clicked into place.

A loud double boom, her fifth favourite engineering sound (and big eared Jack's least favourite text notification sound ever) once more echoed out of her phone, as loud and sudden as it had last been when exploding out in the wild, over the Bay of Biscay a decade and a half ago. She turned to look at the text from Jack, he was finally going with Sweetie to the ZPD.

Skye texted back, she would be meeting them there, it was important.

And with that, she began gathering her things. The car re-tuning could wait for now, this was something far more important. And as she walked past the pit, she couldn't help but look in.

Strangely enough, she didn't feel scared anymore.

Worried? Yes.

But scared?

It was strange. She'd been thrown into the cold pool and gotten over the shock, even if she was still shivering.

She was no longer dancing on the edge of the pit.

She and everyone else were already in it, and had been for who knew how long.

And in such a case, what was there to do, other than start fighting your way out?

Well she wasn't a therapist, so if there was how the cuss would she know?

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"It's a strange feeling, you know…."

"Uh-hu."

"I think that, more than anything, I feel this odd sense of powerlessness."

"Powerlessness?"

"Yes," the fox said, eyes cast on the ceiling up above, nodding and gesticulating with his paws. "That when you choose to go one way, the world doesn't go that way anymore. When I was younger, before… I knew that if I fixed my sights in any direction, I could move that way. I was in control of my life, my destiny."

"And that's not true anymore?"

"Doesn't feel true," he said, "even though I try my hardest to make it so. But now, when I try to go certain ways, my efforts all seem for naught."

"But surely there's some control over your life that you can exert? You are a sentient mammal."

"Indeed I am."

"So I guess all the little choices you make in a day can still have an effect."

The fox, reclined back on his chair, sighed. "It's more… how do you put it… You're fixed on a track, going along at a pace others have set, whatever you try to change it ending up failing. Just on and on you go, bigger, larger, far less stylish and cool mammals able to plant a foot in your way, stopping you in your tracks. Try moving to the side, they move to the side. Try to use your foxy wits and cunning to get your way, they just…" He flipped his paws around in front of him before clapping. "It just doesn't work, and you're left there, standing alone. Ever had that sense?"

"No, not really…"

"Are you sure?"

"Well, I know I'm not alone for a start."

"How so?"

"Well, you're here talking to me, for one."

…

"I don't think that counts."

…

"I don't see why it doesn't."

"Well, in that case who else is there? Giving you this sense that you're not stuck alone..."

"Well, there's a certain young member of the Fox family..."

…

"Okay, I walked into that one, but these are still pretty low standards."

"They make me happy, so I guess they're good ones."

"And mine aren't?"

"Well, they landed you here… So I guess not."

A paw rose up. "I'm not sure this pathway will lead anywhere, I say we go back."

"Oh, uhhh…. Right then," the listening mammal fumbled. "About higher standards, what's that one about needing to be cool and less cool mammals getting in your way. That one sounds new and potentially worrisome."

"And with that, I think we're onto something!" the red fox said, standing up and looking down. "I said I could trust you Kylie, and what do you know, I was right and you were confidence-ially misplaced. We're making progress."

"Why thanks," the opossum smiled, as Mr Fox sat back down on the pull out seat in his underground office. Kylie, requested to run through some of Mr Fox's highly secret and deeply worrying issues of self confidence, had been more than happy to oblige, even if lacking in some himself. A failed degree in ethics, as he'd argued (due to the ethical implications of not making it clear), was not a psychology degree, or a substitution for such. In any case, it seemed like he had some measure of success in this, and so carried on. "So… About the coolness…"

"Yes, quote-unquote cooleness," Mr Fox sighed. "You know, I never used to care about it, holding the belief that being cool was greatly inferior to having mammals appreciate you and believe you are fantastic and awesome in every way. Cuss, even saying it now, it feels greatly superior. And, while not mutually exclusive, they are also not permanently linked, so I paid it no mind if I was uncool, as long as I was fantastic and awe inspiring and people turned their head and looked at me and thought… Holy cuss, look at him doing that, pulling it off, making like a fox who's foxy to a foxed up level. Follow what I'm bringing out?"

"Sort of…" Kylie mused. "Then again, maybe you've just been used to one causing the other until now."

"And that would cause a problem, how?"

"Well, getting used to being viewed as cool, along with fantastic and awe inspiring, only now the cool has gone and you realise you need it, which expresses itself in unusual ways."

"Such as this… listless feeling."

"Yes," Kylie said, pen coming up to his mouth.

"Are you sure?"

"When I said yes I meant it in an unsure way, so yes."

"So you're unsure about whether you're unsure…"

"I mean I don't know," the opossum said, chewing the end a bit. "But I guess I'm content with it. You're not though."

"So," Mr Fox breathed out. "What I'm actually trying to be is cool, the trouble is that being cool is inversely proportional to how hard you try or care, so I can't try to be cool because then I'll just be less cool!"

"Well I mean, I guess you're subconsciously acting to improve your coolness," Kylie offered, weakly.

"Am I? How?"

"Well, picking up new forms of oddly worded and grammatically interesting rephrases of common sayings to incorporate into your normal lingo, most likely borrowed from younger and cooler mammals you encounter… Or maybe not."

"Or maybe provide an example?" Foxy asked, curiously.

"Rather than the more common 'Do you understand me', you used 'Follow what I'm bringing out.' Which has the same meaning but relies more on metaphors and stuff…"

And with that, Mr Fox's eyes widened. "I did. I must have heard it somewhere and my brain, not thinking, slipped it in."

"So that's good," Kylie summarised, noting down in big letters 'that's good'.

"No, it isn't good." The opossum, amending his note with a large 'but it actually isn't' on the end, nodded and listened on. "Now that track I talked about isn't just fixed. It's fixed, on an iceberg! Drifting in the ocean. And while I'm stuck being carried this way and that, big wolves bumping my kits around and awe inspiring them with things strictly the same but truthfully inferior to what I've done, everything is also drifting off in ways I don't understand and control. And, by the state of my current musings, with a risk of spectacularly flipping over."

"So what you're saying is that the wolves you mentioned are far cooler than you, and so you don't like wolves."

…

"I'd like a second opinion," Mr Fox huffed. "You said you weren't alone because of a young member of the Fox family, so, young member of the Fox family, what do you think?"

Next to Kylie, lying on a blanket, Rowan burbled a little before, limbs straining, he rolled over onto his stomach, a surprised babble coming out of his mouth.

"Did he just roll?" Mr Fox asked.

"I… don't think that's a confirmation either way or…"

"That was your first roll of many, little fox," he said, slinking out from his chair and lying next to his youngest son. "And, you'll be happy to know…" He rolled him onto his front, producing a surprised little squeal. "That many of those…" Onto his back again, a burble that sounded a lot like an attempted laugh coming out. "Are going to happen…" He picked up Rowan's feet and began spinning him around, his stubby face widening with joy. "Right now!"

The tiny kit was left squealing and giggling, especially as Mr Fox lent in, pulled up his clothes, and blew a raspberry on his stomach. A wet one was returned from the mouth of his son, tongue remaining part stuck out as he finished his contribution to the discussion.

Mr Fox too receded, back to the couch. "Now in terms of a previous point, I'd argue most people there would consider that highly fantastic, but not at all cool. Arguably the opposite to those of the species canis lupus, who I have no problem with what so ever."

Finishing writing down 'Wolf Envy' on his pad and underlining it, Kylie looked up. "So, you prove yourself cooler than the wolves, now what?"

"I think we're getting distracted with the wolves here."

"It's just… You're unambiguously bringing them up, a lot."

"Well maybe that's because wolves are a metaphor," Mr Fox spoke, paw up. "A metaphor for this odd state I find myself in today. One, where I, the one who traditionally leads this operation and whose antics, moral plot, consideration and actions are generally the driving force of events…"

"So… A main character, so to speak."

"If you like… -Finds himself relegated. Put back. Almost as if whoever is leading this endeavour found more interest in others and views them as the ones most worthy of change, of directing their fate, resulting in me, said former centre of attention, just being a prop that gets dragged along as part of the course."

"This is getting metaphysical…" Kylie muttered. "I fear peeps-chilli flashbacks."

"Moreover," Mr Fox said, turning to face his opossum partner in crime. "I fear that, whereas before, allowances were made in order to 'quote-unquote' give me things to do. Now… The need for me has passed, which at best results in me being ignored. At worst, it involves me being used as, say, a source of jokes and humour."

"I think you're thinking too much into this."

"But am I?" He asked. "After all, how come I am now stuck in a potentially misleading-at-first therapy session, that could initially be assumed to be my nephew's, only to be hilariously revealed to be us together in my basement office? Why are we even here?"

"Because… -You asked me to be?" Kylie suggested. "I really think you're overthinking this. I'm just letting it happen, and I feel okay."

"But do you?"

"I'm… Yes."

"Yes, as in you're not sure?"

…

"Yes…"

"So you're not sure you're not sure?"

"Yes."

"So you're not sure you're not sure you're not sure?" Mr Fox stood up. "Kylie old friend, I'm beginning to worry something is seriously wrong with you."

"I'm…" The opossum began to fidget nervously, staring off into the distance.

"What are you thinking right now?"

.

…

…

"Hmmm," Mr Fox thought, waving his paw in front of the opossum. "Spiral eyes. Never a good sign."

"Huh?" Kylie muttered, shaking too again. "I mean, as long as we're happy with our position, that's okay."

"But I'm not, are you?"

"Uhhhh…"

"I mean, if I'm just someone who life has skipped over to focus on those it deems more interesting, now deeming that I'm not even worthy of the occasional obligatory scrap, then what does that make you? My sidekick, my trusty companion, he who follows me as a loyal and brave partner in arms. If I am now but an individual tied to this ongoing process like a ball and chain, then what are you? A ball on chain of the ball on chain, or dare I say an unchained ball that rolls along as if you had a chain because you have never considered anything more, and are thus consigned to this fate forever? I mean, how does that make you feel?"

Kylie just stood straight, stared blankly ahead, and tilted off his chair and landing on the ground with a rigid thud.

"Kylie!"

Rowan, watching on, made a happy gurgling sound before bending his spine back, throwing his paws out, and jerking himself into an opossum like position to lie in.

Mr Fox, picking up his trusty companion, paused as he saw it. "Nice, cute, now Kylie…" Down on the recliner chair he went, Mr Fox moving over to his drawers. "Smelling salts, smelling salts!" he panicked, frantically pulling out the drawers and searching. "I don't have any, I…"

A slight murmuring pulled him away. "Kylie, can you hear me?"

Blinking, pulling his tongue back in, the opossum settled down. "Yes…"

"Are you okay?"

"I dreamed of chilli."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"It was a terrible no, but okay."

"Kylie, Kylie," he soothed, patting the opossum's head. "Now do you see the conundrum we're in?"

"I think I'll say yes."

"A very wise choice," Mr Fox surmised, sitting down on the chair again. "So, what can we do about this powerlessness we are feeling? This malaise with our seeming position in life?

He strained his mind, unsure. "Have long winded and seemingly nonsensical comic psychology discussions?"

"Hmmmm, interesting start," Mr Fox said, writing it down.

"Ba-baaaa-phhhhhhhh…." Rowan muttered.

"Hmmmm, interesting follow up," Mr Fox said, writing it down.

"I don't really feel qualified to answer these things."

"And why not?" Mr Fox asked. "Is this another layer of this issue?"

"No, it's just I'm in the chair, I feel I should be the one asking questions."

"Ah, apologies," Mr Fox said. "To betray your trust when you came to me like this, how could I. Now, the normal response would be to embrace and be active in those close to you, involving yourselves in their lives and them in yours. Now, I've already learnt this and taken it on board. Haven't I widdle Rowan. Haven't I…?"

"Bah! Aaaaaaa…"

"Who's Daddy has no qualms about engaging himself with his newborn kit?"

"A, ahhhhh."

"As suspected," Mr Fox surmised, writing it down. "So, what next? Where do you feel that you're lacking or held back?"

"That your… and therefore my… antics, schemes, and other adventures have dried up into an often token goose or present hunt?" He shrugged. "I don't know. I feel small, lost, confused, issues of self doubt and confusion howling at my mind…"

"Metaphorical wolves, this is serious!" Mr Fox jotted down. "But… the thing you said before. Our careers, our adventures. All these other mammals, striking out, aiming to do what they do best to improve the world in the most fantastic and cool way possible. Maybe that's our solution!"

"Okay…? Where do we start."

"Hmmmm," he mused. "Well, I'm a writer who's dabbled in reporting. That's journalism. Of which investigative journalism is a part. And the one most open to wild antics, potential big news and surprises. So, to surmise, how about we go out and grab ourselves the biggest scoop possible! Never forgetting our families and loved ones of course."

"And I assist you in finding the biggest scoop possible, never forgetting your families and loved ones. Of course!"

"Kylie," Mr Fox said, paw out. "We're back in business."

The opossum shook it, smiling. Said smile then fading… "So… when do we start?"

"Right now!"

"Where do we start… What will the scoop be…"

"Hmmm," he mused. "Somewhere is some juicy information, within lots of non-juicy that we need to sort through in order to find it. So we need someone with lots of info and ideally a higher than normal chance of having some juicy stuff in there!" He crossed his paws and smiled. "Kylie, I have a cunning plan."