Chapter 44

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AN: Welcome back and happy new year. Quick recap. Nick and Judy have do deal with a nighthowler planting involving some squirrels, Jack and Skye seemed to be planning to retire from the spy business only to find the long missing Buster Moon is now un-missing... And with this chapter, Mr Fox reconnects with Steven Stinkman to try and get a tv job, while some suspiciously familiar mammals seem to be trailing him. Enjoy!

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"-So," Steven mused, slowly eating his éclair, while wiping himself clean of any debris from Mr Fox's massacred item. "You're saying that you, her husband, don't even know what your wife doesn't want you to do. Am I correct?"

Sucking the last of the rapidly and violently distributed cream and chocolate off his paws, Mr Fox glanced down and nodded. "Of course, which isn't an indictment of any matrimonial issues I might add."

The skunk's eyes narrowed. "Right…"

"Exactly!"

"And you figure this out how?"

"Simple," he smiled. "She doesn't know what she doesn't want either."

Finishing off his éclair, the skunk crossed his paws in front of him. "Ah, I see then."

"Glad you do. In fact, I actually know what she doesn't want more than she doesn't know what she doesn't want."

"And you work that out, how?"

"Because she'll naturally shoot down and be critical of any of my ideas, plans and whatever and then get her way. From dragging us both out of the ranger force where we met, to preemptively doing anything else. Therefore as I know what I want to do before she knows what I want to do, I know what she doesn't want me to do before she does. Ergo, I actually know her better than herself and am a wonderful husband and emotionally intelligent mammal."

The skunk's mouth hung open, his finger joining the dots in front of him for a second or two, paws coming up to his head. "Holy mother fuming stink bombs, the logic checks out."

Mr Fox smiled, bringing his arms around the smaller mammal. "Glad you could agree. Anyhow, the way I see it, as long as the job I get is below a certain level of danger that she purely won't tolerate, and is above a certain level of pure unadulterated pawsomeness slash general impressiveness that she'll feel too guilty holding me back in from, we're all set."

"So… Television job," Steven began to think.

"Uh-hu, I don't know, war reporter sounds good but I think is a little too above the first line. Investigative journalist has a certain pizazz in it… Do young people use pizazz a lot?"

"We know what it means."

"That's not answering the question."

"I, sure! Why not."

"Uh-hu, indeed back in my mere newspaper writing days I was thinking of going into that area of field at the end," the fox said, thinking out loud as he began pacing. "Only, as was natural, some voices of complaint were returned. However, if there were to be open roles for such a thing here at this company, and if I was to be quote-unquote headhunted given my past experience as a columnist and impromptu investigator slash local government infiltrator…"

"-Wait, what!?"

"-Then I am certain that getting such an offer, for such a highly regarded news outlet such as this…" There were a few laughs and sniggers from the nearby crowd, not that it halted Mr Fox. "Then I am certain we would hit that sweet spot in which I would find a fulfilling and engaging career that would more than enable me to show off my natural foxy charm and skills to great admiration and personal self-satisfaction, while also not being too worrying to the missus."

There was a long pause. "So you want me to find you a job here as an investigative journalist."

Mr Fox paused, looking down. "Wasn't that what I just said."

"Well…"

"Note the lack of question mark at the end there."

The skunk paused, scratching a foot paw on the ground. "I mean, it's not like we have an opening for that role."

"Oh."

"Or any news or journalistic role, really."

"Ah."

"More mammals getting their news from the internet and stuff. I mean, we are trying to diversify into other areas."

"I am not necessarily as excited as being classified under quote-unquote 'others' but at this point I guess we're going there anyway."

"That's the spirit!" the skunk chirped. "Anyway, let's see what Mr Lagopus can fit in." And with that, he led Mr Fox off.

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"Who needs Mr Lagopus anyways, am I right?" the smartly dressed red fox smiled. He was standing around, suavely talking to the puma casting director in front of her, her paw taking notes down on her clipboard.

"Well, Foxy, I mean it will go up to him for final approval, and…"

"And can you think of any good reasons for him not approving a suave, intelligent, mammal like myself," he said, eyes slowly closing as he threw a paw back at himself.

"Well," she said, musing along. "There's a lack of television experience…"

"May I ask you a question," Foxy said, finger up as he walked forward. -Before slipping to her side, jumping up on the desk behind her, and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Don't move forward and leave me hanging, it'll probably ruin the experience. -Tell me," he said, paw out and sweeping. "Did all the greats from the olden days have quote-unquote experience?"

"I…" she began.

"I mean, Charlie Catlin. If Charlie Catlin had walked through that door and said he could be the greatest film star of all time, to the point of pulling off the greatest Adolf Hirschler take of all time… -Something that the entirely different species and builds makes all the more impressive. -How would you feel if you were the one to turn him down because he didn't have quote-unquote experience?"

There was a long pause before her eyes narrowed. "I mean, that was so long ago there wasn't really anyone with experience. Was there."

"-Also," a zebra assistant pointed out. "Wouldn't they have pulled in a lot of theatre mammals and all that."

Foxy nodded, smiling. "That's an excellent point, that I'm going to completely disregard."

"I…" the large striped equid began.

"-The jury are instructed to disregard that remark," he said, pausing and nodding as a lion standing in the corner brought out a hammer and banged it down with his bandaged-up paw, wincing a little as he put it away. "-Anyway," the dapper dressed fox said. "Ask yourself, what do you really want for this presenter role? Let me answer that for you. A mammal who can talk, who can explain, who can hold an audience and looks good while doing it and walking around."

She nodded, before pausing. "Someone who's good at listening."

"Indeed," he said, nodding his head. "Tell me, is anything on your mind?"

"Huh?" she asked.

He slowly let go, kneeling down a little, patting one of her paws. "Whatever your problems, whatever you want to discuss. I'm here for you. I'm listening."

There was a long pause, the puma beginning to sniff. "I…" she said. "I feel that my effort and talents are wasted… Wasted from being surrounded by an incompetent organisation full of idiots who… who just hold me back!"

"Reverse imposter syndrome," the fox confided, closing his eyes and ducking his head down, bringing it against his paw. "Something all actually good mammals suffer from." She nodded as he comforted her, ignoring the slightly outraged expression of the zebra co-worker, all as the vulpine carried on. "The unbearable weight of massive talent is truly a noble and real burden."

"I know," she sniffed. "And… And when us media guys try to express that by creating our perfect female characters who ARE so much better than everyone else, especially those old established ones, and whose only problem is people tell them that they're not perfect in every way… M-m-mean people on the internet say they're unlikeable!"

"I know," he said softly. "Your insecurities are valid and deserve to be reinforced via affirmation. Isn't that what we all want?"

"Yes!" she sniffed.

"Indeed," he said. "And I will do that."

"Huh?"

"By being your perfect character and showing that we can be perfect and any criticism is just mean man-kits trying to put you down."

"Uh," the zebra said. "Just gonna say that this is all pretty emotionally manipulative and you're being suckered here..."

She pulled up, giving him a glare, before bringing out the paperwork and giving it to the fox. Who signed it right away smiling. A glance at the corner, he saw the nodding approval of his companions, sitting next to the large dressing area.

"Well," she said, smiling as she scanned the document. "Now that's sent off to Mr Lagopus, anything else I can do to help you?"

The fox rubbed his chin. "Now that you mentioned it…"

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"Well, that was all very interesting," Mr Fox mused, as they walked up towards the main offices. "And this talk of quote-unquote expansion. What else are you looking at?"

Steven tilted his head around, thinking. "Well, if you're really looking at expanding your horizons, there was a lot of plans for a streaming service, and a plan to move into kids TV!"

"Okay," Mr Fox said, a slight wave of his paw coming out. Steven though kept on talking.

"I mean in that case, what we're actually thinking of doing is saving money by using the same channel rights and just switching from the news to the kids stuff. It'll be on a different channel on the box, but same bandwidth or something. Technical stuff, but the point is not many mammals watch the news between three and six, so we just take three hours out of there, swap the readers around, and spring on stuff specifically made for kids who've just got out of school!" He turned, his tail waving happily behind him. "There's even a talk about us buying the rights for Power Animals!"

"That sounds highly generic."

"Oh no, but it was pawsome! Tons of lasers and explosions and the mammals were all so cool and active and they went on big world saving adventures and it was crazy and fun and wow!"

He finished off, excited, until his features sagged. "At least until the final season when someone decided to drop some of the best characters, bring on a bunch of new lame ones, and just changed the scripts and everything." He kicked the floor. "And you just know that whoever they bring back to do all this, it won't be as good as before. They'll just be trying to put a new modern spin on it and leave their mark. Huh, new modern stink more like."

There was a long pause, Mr Fox shrugging and carrying on. Steven began jogging after him in short succession. "Oh, as you can guess I really loved it when I was a kit."

"I gathered."

…

"You know, if they're looking for voice actors…"

The red fox did pause for a second. "Are there any exceedingly fantastic and awesome characters I could maybe lend my voice to for a little bit. Perhaps with a linked social media account where I could put witty remarks or…"

"-Mrs Wolford doesn't allow those. Not after Mr Lagopus uh… Well, I guess it was in the news. And the various stock reports of ice cream companies."

"Uh-hu," Mr Fox said. "Well, it did have the feel of more of a side hustle. Or rather side hustle to a side hustle, a side side hustle…"

"Or a side hustle hustle?" The skunk asked, Mr Fox pausing and leaning down, slowly looking into his eyes.

"Uhhhh…"

"Are you related to any Opossums perchance."

"No… Not that I'm aware of. Why?"

"General ability to provide unexpected but oddly insightful comments," the vulpine said, standing up and rubbing his chin.

"Anyway, I mean, if they are rebooting it and are bringing in new voice actors, then I suppose if there's an opening for a character, I could see if I could get you one."

"A minor but highly anticlimactic start," the fox said, as they paused, finding a bunny receptionist waiting at a desk, so buried in her book only her ears could be seen peeking out above the pages.

Steven coughed a bit to try and get her attention, not that it seemed to work. An aside glance to Mr Fox and he spoke. "Uh, we're here to see Mr Lag…"

She spoke out in a voice so nasal that they wondered if her currently hidden-by-a-book nose had been transplanted from an anteater. "Do you have an appointment…"

"Well…" Steven began, before a paw pushed him back.

"We do," Mr Fox agreed.

She slowly turned a page. "Are you Miss Victoria?"

Steven looked up at the now shrugging Mr Fox, giving a dismissive scoff back. There was no way.

"I'm Miss Victoria and so is my friend."

The receptionist slowly turned a page before dropping a paw down to press the intercom. "Mr Lagopus… Miss Victorias are here to see you."

"OHBOYOHBOYOHBOY…" Came an excited response from the other side. "Uh, lemme just…" A few sounds came out. "Okay, send hers in!"

"Okay," the receptionist said, turning another page before gesturing with a thumb. "In you go."

The fox and skunk looked at each other and high-foured, before walking down the corridor. Behind them, the receptionist stayed, looking through her book until, suddenly, her ears shot up. "Wait a minute." She pulled back a page, working at it until it separated out into two, the bunny pushing her paw down to read the pages in between. "I knew I'd missed something."

All as Mr Fox and a gobsmacked Steven Stinkman walked down towards the office in question. "H-h-how…" was all the skunk could say, paws up to his face in a surprisingly uncanny Jackal Chan impression.

Mr Fox smiled. "Simple. Nothing but complete and absolute confidence in the face of an opportunity. If you see a chance, you go for it…"

"Go for… what…?"

"What you really, most absolutely, want right now," the vulpine said. "I mean, if you get the chance, try it. I'm sure it'll work out just fine and I for one will be proud of your success."

"Okay," the skunk said, looking down and trying to limber himself up. Breath in, paws out, fingers out squaring in front of him, he projected confidence before glancing up. "When it comes, I'll be ready."

"Good to know," the fox said, pausing as they turned a corner. All along the corridor were various offices with important sounding names and titles, or at least the acronyms of such, mounted on in bronze lettering. Prog-Ops for Programming Operations, OB Ops for Outside Broadcasting Operators or…

"Ah," Mr Fox said. "This sounds like him. The Broadcasting Under Manager, Mr Lagopus himself!"

There was a long pause, the skunk looking up at the fox. "No, it's a bum."

The fox looked down, then at the three letter title on the door. Paw out, he opened it, finding a skunk's bum staring right back at it him. The door was closed, the fox looking down. "It is a bum."

Steven nodded, "Fun fact…"

"It's your bum."

"You are good."

"And why's it there?"

"Well," the skunk said, as he moved them along, a smug smile on his face. "Let's just say it involved one crazy Christmas party, a spare door, the old sewer riser access room that we saw yonder, and a poor unfortunate elephant sized photocopier."

"Now that's the kind of confidence you need," Mr Fox said, turning as they approached a large door marked D-G. "Now what on earth is behind here?"

"The Director General."

"Okay then," he said, carrying on.

"That's Mr Lagopus' title."

"Right," Mr Fox said, waving the skunk on. "You first."

Breathing in, breathing out, the small black and white mammal steadied himself before knocking on the door.

"Come in…"

Which he did, immediately pausing as he was bathed in pink light, the room awash with the sound of what was known across the world as 'that sexy saxophone song'. And there, in the middle of the room with his ever-white fur, and nothing but his ever-white bar a pair of boxer shorts decorated with pink hearts, was Andy Lagopus.

His rose-holding smile quickly vanished as his legs kicked him into the back of his chaise long, tail up between his legs. "YOU'RE NOT MISS VICTORIAS!"

"N-no," the skunk said, eyes wide, before shaking his head. "Wait, I know what I should be…" He stood ramrod straight, before very much relaxing. Leaning against the door frame with the crook of his elbow, he gave his tail a flutter before moving his glasses slowly down to the tip of his nose. "I'm Steven Stinkman."

"And your mother owns my tail, I… Uhh…. I'll give you anything! Uh, money, new promotions, your hearts desire!"

"Anything you say?" the skunk said, standing up and beginning to shake. Behind him, Mr Fox glanced over, pumping his fist and firing a salute.

"Anything," the arctic fox said.

"Bring back Power Mammals for the kits service! Same old writers! Same old voice actors! Same old everything!"

"Consider it done!" the arctic fox barked out, Steven nodding before walking out, closing the door behind him with a solid thunk, both paws thrusting out into the air.

"YES! WE GOT WHAT WE CAME…" His voice trailed off as he slowly looked up at a slightly proud, if a little disappointed Mr Fox. The skunk facepawed. "Stupid… Stupid… Stupid…"

Mr Fox walked by. "I mean, good throw, alternative aim," he said, adjusting his tie. "Now watch the master at work."

In he walked, pausing as he saw the arctic fox dressed in his professional blue suit, sitting behind a desk and looking at some reports. The red vulpine walked back out, and then back in again, mouth opening a bit as the scene remained the same. "Uhhh…"

The arctic fox looked up. "I believe I'm waiting for a Miss Victorias at the moment, Mr…"

Mr Fox grumbled. "Dammit, he stopped me using that one."

Adjusting the papers, the white furred vulpine smiled. "Yes I did. Anything else to add?"

"Did you really change that fast?"

"Admit it," he smiled, paw and then finger coming up. "You're impressed."

"Admittedly so," Mr Fox agreed. "Anyway, my name is Mr Fox, alias Foxy, but Mr Fox is the usual for this kind of context. Some put a Frederick, Freddy or…" He shivered a little. "Fred, in between those, but I think we can all agree that a last name basis has a certain prestige. -Anyway, I'm…"

"Looking for a TV presenting role?"

Mr Fox blinked. "Indeed," he said, finding himself a seat. "And I'd like to thank you for selecting me."

"Indeed," the smaller fox nodded. "From what I gather from my underlings you were highly charismatic, persuasive and emotionally supportive. And, with your back record of newspaper clippings and experience in the field, I'm certain that you'll be the perfect presenter for our 'motorbike-tour presenter goes through the travel guide and talks to mammals along the way' program."

"That's certainly a very wordy title for this genre."

"In the industry they're generally referred to as Porkillo clones, but being outside the industry…"

"Not anymore," Mr Fox said. "I am now the presenter for your quote-unquote 'porkillo' clone. And, given that the twist this time is it's on a bike, let me say that I am highly qualified. Even more than you would expect."

"In what way?"

"Well, I already have the bike," the red fox smiled.

"Oh that's perfect!" the arctic one agreed. "And as far as I gather, trains, non-motor bikes and automobiles have already been covered anyhow, and after that one incident we do not talk about, aeroplanes are well out."

"What about helicopters?"

"Can you fly a helicopter?"

"No."

"Motorbikes it is," Mr Lagopus said. "Anyway, we've also bolted a bunch of street food and outback cooking as it were in, separating it out from the rest. But, I think we're all set. And with your ability to spin a tale and capture the screen, I think you'll be the perfect presenter for this job."

"That never was in any doubt," Mr Fox said, standing up and shaking the other fox's paw.

"Indeed. Thanks for coming up to me after signing on."

"Well, I actually came up here to double sign on," Mr Fox said. "Mind just printing out your foolproof contract and…"

"No need," the arctic fox said, turning around. Mr Fox's left ear flickered a bit, wondering if the arctic fox might clock his rather major leap in logic here or not. Thankfully though, he was going over and picking out the exact contract that would make it too late for that and… "Here you are, I'd say sign here, but you already have."

Mr Fox brought out a pen and looked down, pausing, seeing his name written squarely on the dotted line. "So I have." He put the pen down and leant forward, shaking Mr Lagopus' paw. "Glad to be onboard."

"Glad for you to be onboard too!"

And with that, he waved the red fox off. "And, if you see a vixens by the name of Miss Victorias, send them in."

"Will do," Mr Fox said, closing the door behind him and looking… Concerned.

"Woah," Steven said, wiping his brow. "I mean, I thought I was good. But that, you didn't just hustle him to sign you on. You hustled him so well, he'd already signed you on!"

"I know," Mr Fox said, scratching his head.

"Right, now…" The skunk began, only to pause, looking up. "Uhhhh… Anything the matter?"

"Dare I say it," Mr Fox began, looking down. "But I have the feeling that was too quote-unquote impressive and fantastic, even for me."

Steven raised a finger. "Maybe it just seems that way due to interacting with someone with a slight penchant for… Well, you know."

"A below the baseline modifier," Mr Fox mused, scratching his chin. "Is that a theme around here?"

"My mother likes hiring mammals with what she says are intellectual disadvantages."

"That's uniquely altruistic and innovatively charitable for a business leader."

The skunk nodded. "She says it makes them easier to manage and control, and any plotters against her quickly out themselves due to their relative incompetence."

"That's either excellent business strategy, or horrific trust-issue based paranoia."

"Hey," the skunk said, paws up. "It works."

"Highly strategic and coldly calculated then," he surmised. "But as for it being the result of my causality defying success back then?" He scratched his chin. "Maybe, but I doubt even with that I can break the linear flow of time. Mr Stinkman, there's something smelly going on here and… -No, it isn't you, no need to roll your eyes. Nor is it any escaping gasses coming from a very loose valve behind your overly large rear end… -I was of course referring to the giant picture in the BUM room, so no need to look angry and embarrassed at a potential rubbing in of a trauma induced medical condition."

"Right, right," the skunk said, brushing himself down before putting a finger up. "And just to let you know, even when not referring to the BUM room, that wouldn't be the case either. I take preventative precautions."

"To prevent pitifully pongy performance?"

"...Okay, that was a good one."

"Thanks for the compliment," Mr Fox said, stepping forward as he sniffed the air. "Sans a regular Opossum, would you be interested in being my sidekick for this next bit?"

"Well," Steven said, shrugging. "Guess I'm already in that role for the last little bit, so…"

"That's the spirit," the fox said, paws on hips. "Something strange is going on here, and we're going to get to the bottom of it."

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The receptionist raised her ears slightly as Mr Fox and Steven walked past her. "Did you find your meeting with Mr Lagopus invigorating Miss Victorias?" She asked, as the two mammals jogged towards the lift.

Mr Fox slid to a halt, turning around and smiling. "Indeed we did. Would you be able to direct us to the production offices where a certain interview for a quote-unquote Porkillo clone would be being produced, or…"

"Room A113," she said, the two nodding and running over to the lift.

Steven pressed the button and looked up to Mr Fox, scratching his head. "Why is it always that room?"

Mr Fox shrugged. "Who knows. Something mysteriously deigned by a higher power?"

Steven rubbed his chin. "I mean, that's sounding a bit… theological?"

The vulpine shrugged. "Just pondering out loud. Not necessarily required to be taken seriously, though most of the time it's certainly appropriate."

"Right," the skunk mused. "Though of course any real reason behind it must be super world changingly important and notable, right?"

"Uh-hu, of course," Mr Fox agreed, as with a ping the lift reached the floor. They both stepped out of the way as a smartly dressed arctic fox vixen, likewise still in her winter coat thanks to the effects of some kind of hormonal pill, walked out. In they went, pressing the button to go down.

"Good," Steven agreed, chuckling. "I don't think I'd cope if it was some kind of cheapcosmic in-joke or anything."

Mr Fox gave him a concerned look as the doors closed. "Well…"

All as the vixen reporter came to the desk, brushing herself down and giving a smile at the receptionist. "I heard Mr Lagopus wanted to see me."

There was a soft rustle as the page of the bunnies book was turned over. "Name?"

Her ears flicked back as her tone dropped from coy to dropped. "Miss Victoria," she said, "we've met before."

"I've met Miss Victorias before…"

"Huh?"

"And that's why I know you're an imposter."

"Wait, what!?"

"You see despite my appearances I am highly perceptive and highly intelligent. For instance, recognising that you can't be Miss Victorias for a very simple reason."

Miss Victoria just cast down half lidded eyes at the stone etched face printed on the paperback book. "Which is?"

"There's only one of you." And with that, she pressed a button, a loud call ringing out.

"SILENT ALARM ACTIVATED! SILENT ALARM ACTIVATED! SECURITY TO EXECUTIVES CORRIDOR! SECURITY TO EXECUTIVES CORRIDOR!"

The vixen looked around, before throwing up her paws and marching away. All as the bunny scrolled through another page. "They said I was an idiot even before I installed that." Slowly, she hooked another page with her claws and flicked it over. "Who's laughing now, huh?"

There was a ping as the vixen slammed the elevator button, pausing as she saw who was inside before stepping in. All as three pairs of feet walked out. The first, far smaller one, paused as they reached the reception desk. The bunny, flicking a page, spoke out. "Back so soon Miss Victorias?"

"Just here to give something back to Mr Lagopus," the fox said, smiling.

She nodded, pausing. "I see there's three of you now. While you can have any healthy body numbers and I'm sure everyone finds you lovely either way, if I were yous I'd lay just a little off the fast food."

.

With a ping, the elevator door opened on a floor lower down, a panicked skunk running out, desperately sucking on his inhaler. Mr Fox followed, with a slightly concerned look as he raised a finger. "I guess I shouldn't have existentialised you there, huh?"

With another sudden gag on the inhaler, Steven Stinkman withdrew it and choked out his response. "Y-y-you THINK!?"

The vulpine frowned. "One, don't sound like my wife. What works for her doesn't for you. Two, yes I do."

With that, they walked over to a large annex with the words 'New Programming' overhead. And a familiar desk with a paperback reading bunny in front. Mr Fox blinked, before holding up his paw and whispering down at the skunk. "There's two of them? That explains our ability to confuse them earlier."

"Oh no," Steven said, shaking his head. "There's two dozen." The fox jerked up, eyes wide, ramrod straight, tail frizzing behind him, all as the skunk looked up to him with a raised eyebrow. "You okay?"

Relaxing just as quickly, Mr Fox brushed himself down and smiled. "Just having a quote-unquote moment there."

"Payback for existentialising me," the skunk smirked, Mr Fox brushing him aside.

"I think you'll find I'm existentialise-proof, thank you very much." And with that, he walked up to the reception and smiled. "Ahem, I've just gone to see Mr Lagopus and I'd like to go back to the people in charge of the quote-unquote 'Porkillo clone' to double check some things."

There was a pause, before an alarm began ringing out.

"SILENT ALARM ACTIVATED! SILENT ALARM ACTIVATED! SECURITY TO NEW PROGRAMMING!"

Mr Fox blinked before throwing his arms out. "WHAT WAS THAT FOR?"

"You're obviously an imposters," she said, in the exact same voice as the previous one. "For a start, there's only two of yous."

He groaned, turning down to Steven. "Why does this company even employ them?"

The skunk threw his paws out. "We got them with the building, okay?"

Looking around, Mr Fox turned and raced off, dragging the skunk behind him. "I mean really, are they all like that?"

"I mean that one in particular tends to be a lot faster and sharper than the rest," the panicking skunk went, taking another huff of his inhaler for good measure.

"And what are you panicking for? Isn't your mother the owner of this company or something?"

"Yeah, but I don't want to have to rely on her for everything! I'm my own independent mammal."

"Okay, I completely understand that," Mr Fox said, pausing as he reached a door. A few confirmatory sniffs and his ears rose. "Now wait here, and if you get bored you can play on my phone."

He handed it over and went in, the skunk bristling slightly. "You didn't even unlock it!"

.

Inside, Mr Fox smiled as he walked over to the confused members of staff waiting there. A puma put down her clipboard. "Hi. Again?"

"Yes, just me this time," Mr Fox smiled. "Sorry, I think I just had some memory loss from interacting with that secretary…"

All levels of confusion or scepticism in the puma or any of her staff vanished in an instant. "Sure, how can I help you! I'll do anything, really, after all you did for me."

"Exceedingly generous, as is expected from a perfect mammal like yourself," he said, the big cat's conviction visibly intensifying. "Can you just go over what happened in here and what I planned to do next?"

"Well," she said, rubbing her paw on her chin. "You and your lion and tiger friend popped in, you immediately saying you were here for an audition. We hosted it, were very impressed, you proved yourself to be an excellent and insightful presenter and un-unmatchable and deeply empathetic and emotionally intelligent mammal. And so I signed you on."

"Uh-hu," Mr Fox nodded. "Yeah. And my lion and tiger friend, I think they dropped something. Where were they all this time?"

"Oh," a zebra said, pointing towards a drawn curtain. "Waiting patiently behind there."

Mr Fox raised a finger before racing off, slipping behind the curtain and finding not much there… Apart from a small hatchway in the wall. Locked with an allen-key lock, the fox carefully pinched it with his claws and gave it a few twists, opening it up. All as the zebra walked over.

"Hey, why are you looking in the main riser?"

"Oh, so this is the main riser?" Mr Fox asked, looking back. "That's really interesting. What exactly makes it the main one?"

The equid blinked a few times before throwing his hooves towards it. "I don't know! It's the main one!?"

The puma walked up to him. "You see, this is what we were talking about back before."

He gave an equid snort as Mr Fox carried on with his investigation. "Hmmm," he mused, leaning in. "Not the kind of response I can work with as the presenter of your future quote-unquote Porkillo clone. Fortunately, and likely a key selling point as to what I bring above and beyond all existing versions, I think I can extrapolate what went on here."

"You can?" the zebra asked, looking down and peering in.

"Yup," Mr Fox said, pointing on. "While I was being an excellent auditioner, my two slightly deceitful partners were doing slightly deceitful things behind all of our backs." The pair gasped. "Just like you," Mr Fox nodded. "Even I can feel and suffer the string of betrayal."

The puma nodded. "He's so relatable," she whispered into the ear of her colleague, as he gave a big nasal snort.

"Either way," Mr Fox carried on. "The two duplicitous mammals bridged across those down sewer pipes and the ruminant-waste-methane-offtake pipe there, quite concerningly accidentally pushing that lever valve there closed. This will mean that high amounts of sewage gas will be building up in your system, though fortunately any already alluded to emergency vents will likely be able to take care of it. Anyway, that was all in aid of reaching over to those large fibre optic cables over there and, it appears, doing quote-unquote stuff to them. You see the issue."

"No," the zebra said. "I don't have night vision."

"Okay, well you get the issue."

"No."

Mr Fox leant out, stroking his chin. "May I ask where that riser goes?"

"I don't know! The roof?"

"And what's on the roof?"

"-Roof stuff! Those little spinny things that look like chefs hats but are spirals and are on the tops of buildings. Those big ducts that come out and curve down. Those trolleys that scary leopard and his window cleaning crew use. The main transmitter. Andy Lagopus' executive jacuzzi. Murana Wolford's 'GET BACK TO WORK' alarm speaker placed directly next to Andy Lagopus' executive…"

"Hang on, wait a second," Mr Fox interrupted. "Reverse back a second."

"… -agoups' executive…"

"Scratch that," the fox cut in.

The equid paused, trying to work out how he could do that before he just raised his hooves to the side of his head, a frustrated look on his face. Fortunately, the puma walked up next to him. "Sorry, we're all pretty tired. The coffee machine has broken."

"It's always been broken," the zebra nodded. "We keep trying to ask about getting it fixed, but it has to go through the secretary. And she always starts going on about how talking about a need for coffee is passive aggressive speciesism against lagomorphs and small mammals…"

"We don't know how long we can go on," the puma confessed, claws dragging down her cheeks.

"Understandable," the fox agreed. "Anyway, you said there was a transmitter up on the roof?"

"Yes," she said, "though why that'd be important I don't know. Especially when compared to listening to all our problems and validating them like you did before."

"It's not like it even hits all of the city," the zebra added.

The fox nodded, only to pause and think, his eyes widening. "Where would one go if you wanted to?"

She opened her mouth to speak. "Wait a second, is something up here?"

"I cannot confirm or deny that," Mr Fox said, stepping up and to the side. "So instead I'll just extricate myself."

And with that he raced off, leaving the confused zebra behind. The puma looked at him and crossed her paws. "Way to be speciesist, Karen."

"My name's Dave."

.

Outside, Mr Fox slipped out, pausing as he saw Steven, tongue askew out the side of his mouth, working hard on a Ewebix cube. "Come on, come… Oh, you're done."

"Not quite yet," he said. "I have a sneaking suspicion that they're doing something sneaky with the broadcasting capabilities of this network."

Steven's eyes widened.

"-And have also inadvertently closed a valve on the main methane vent stack while doing so."

The skunk looked on concerned. "Wouldn't that cause a build-up of explosive and highly noxious gas?"

"It would, but I presume there's a safety valve."

The skunk paused before smiling. "Oh yeah," he said, giving two finger guns. "And it ain't on my floor."

"Right," Mr Fox agreed, leading them off, past the still blaring SILENT ALARM ACTIVATED. "So, presuming you'd want to mess with all the broadcasting, as well as the outgoing cables and the one up to the antenna, is there anywhere else you'd want to go to?"

"Well, there's our streaming and social media centre. Most of our news goes through that now anyhow."

"Right, and where's that?"

The skunk smiled as he was about to give the answer, only for him to freeze, a nervous laugh breaking out. "Well, funnily enough, it's on the same floor as Mr Lagopus' office!"

"That's convenient. And now I expect you'll explain the reason for the obvious nervous expression."

"Well," the skunk began, twitching his paws together. "You know how I was excited that any implications of that safety valve being potentially required were not on my floor?"

"…It's on the same floor we're going to, isn't it."

The skunk nodded.

"Right," Mr Fox said, pressing the button at the lift.

"Yes, it's actually the one behind my bum."

"D-don't make it that obvious," the Fox exclaimed as the door opened. In they walked, pressing the button.

"I thought it was obvious at this point anyway."

"Yes," Mr Fox groaned as the door closed. "But that doesn't mean you need to spell it out for everyone. Ever heard of treating the audience with respect?"

"This is ZNN."

"…Okay, that one was on me."

.

.

"You know it's rude for you two to sneak off like that without saying goodbye," the rabbit secretary said from behind her book as Mr Fox and Steven walked on past there.

"-Also, flaunting losing one of your bodies, when any number of them is perfectly healthy, is sure to boost morale for everyone else. Especially mammals with eating disorders. You're very considerate you know."

She flicked over a page. "Some basic social decency would be nice."

There was a pause, before she reached down under her desk.

"SILENT ALARM ACTIVATED! SILENT ALARM ACTIVATED! SECURITY TO EXECUTIVES CORRIDOR! SECURITY TO EXECUTIVES CORRIDOR!"

"Cussing cuss heads."

.

.

"So does anything actually happen when that alarm goes off!" Mr Fox asked, jogging along as he sniffed out what was becoming an increasingly familiar scent trail.

"No," Steven wheezed.

"So it's just for show."

"Well it is now."

"So it wasn't once?"

"Uh…" he began, before heaving a breath from his inhaler. "Hu…"

"What changed?"

"Overuse induced apathy."

"Understandable," Mr Fox said, pausing as they reached a door. "SAS-MC. Is this it?"

"Yes," Steven said, knocking on the door. "Streaming and social media centre. What else would it be?"

"Something where the hyphen would make more sense?" the fox shrugged, pausing as the skunk reached up to the door and opened it up. In they walked, into a bask of warmth from the various running servers, all absent of workers. Only empty chairs and desks were left, scattered around the place. "Dear god, what happened here?"

Steven walked in, taking his cap off and holding it over his chest. "Work from home."

"Oh," Mr Fox said, shaking from his sombre mood and walking over to a mug that had been left there. A sniff and he winced, moving it away from him. "It seems they left in a hurry."

"I remember the great stampede of tech mammals to this day," the skunk agreed, walking over to a bunch of servers. Adjusting his glasses, looking over them all, he shrugged. "And I have no P-U how any of this works."

"Do they?"

"I don't even know who 'they' are," the skunk protested. "For all I know they're just a figment of your imagination."

"No…" the fox said, tapping his foot on the floor. "From years of combatting the dangerous imaginary operative known as the boogey-mammal, on the behest of my oldest kit when he was younger, and presumably in the future for my youngest kit when he is older, I can tell you this is very much a different and actually real interloper we are facing."

"Right, so what would he do in here?" Steven mused, looking in at the various usb ports on the backs of the servers. He paused, noticing that one set, usually covered by a pair of plastic covers, had had them removed. "Uploading a virus?"

"You know," Mr Fox said. "This and that down there is why printed media should not be treated as quote-unquote dead. None of that…" He shook his paw dismissively at the devices. "Weird complex computer and hacker stuff."

"Right," the skunk shrugged. "Should we, uh, tell Mr Lagopus."

"And how would he be able to undo this thing we don't even know has been done?"

Steven paused for a second before throwing his paws up in the air. "I don't know! Run to my mother begging for help? The important thing is it isn't me doing it."

"Well, better than nothing."

"Uh-hu," he said, pausing as he looked around. "If this is the same layout as that other floor then… Shortcut!"

He raced off, Mr Fox following him to a vent in the wall, the skunk pulling it off and bounding in. Mr Fox followed along. "We both know there's no tactical advantages to this, other than it looking cooler."

"I…" the skunk mumbled.

"That being reason enough in and of it itself."

"Yeah, naturally," he said, smiling as they reached the other side. Steven put his paws on the grate and tried to push, before slipping to his side to let Mr Fox have his go.

The older, larger, stronger mammal pushed the grate out of the way and turned to help Steven out. He then turned, and found himself looking into a mirror.

A mirror showing his reflection, almost nose to nose with him, and behind that a very large, very scary, very familiar pair of big cats. A lion and a tiger, both of them ready to strike.