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Chapter 3

Lou

Not to panic, but I've been abducted by a psychopath. And I might be blind. Probably not, I mean, I just ran through a cloud of mace, but it's still a seriously fucked up sensation.

The fox was dressed like he just left a bondage party, tight black clothes with just his tail, mouth, and ears showing. Now the crazy bastard was sitting on my lap as we fled the police on a dinky little scooter.

"Hey," I shouted directly into his ear. "Do you think you could let me go? I promise I won't say anything."

"Hold on tight. I'm going to make some sharp turns."

It's not like I have a choice. My wrists were tied with a plastic zip tie and he had my arms wrapped around his waist. I might even think it was kinda intimate, if I wasn't scared shitless.

"I said, can you let me-"

"No. I still need you," he cut me off.

My vision was starting to clear giving me the unfortunate chance to witness the crazy fox's equally insane driving.

We pulled out of the side road right in front of a bus. I screamed in unabashed terror as I caught the replay of my life flashing before my eyes. Gotta say, it was more dramatic the first time when psycho-fox had his gun pointed at me.

The steel behemoth bore down on us. My eyes locked with the beaver behind the wheel. We shared a moment of terror, he jerking his wheel and me squeezing the fox for dear life.

"Not so tight!" the fox coughed."Need to breath."

I'm not sure I have control over my body right now. He's driving down the center line of one of the city's busiest streets, weaving in and out of lanes on both sides. Buran street sliced diagonally across most of downtown, right to the highway interchange that let the swarm of commuters escape the concrete wasteland. There was whooping squawk of a cop car. I'm almost grateful!

But the street was packed with traffic. I could see the flashing red and blue reflected on windows we ride by, but there's no way the police could chase us.

"Needed to draw them away from where we were," the fox yapped over his shoulder.

He swerved left before I grasped what he means. I shut my eyes as we zigzag through an intersection. Behind us I hear the crunch of metal and rage filled shouting.

"Sorry," the fox groaned to himself.

We were back on a side street and I took a deep breath. He'd cause at least a few thousand dollars in accidents, and probably had every traffic cop in the city looking for him back there, but at least I was still alive.

***

"I don't suppose it would help if I said please let me go?"

"No. But your politeness is noted. Kudos, citizen. That's becoming a rare trait."

You know what else is becoming a rare trait? Uncheck insanity. Yet I found this fox! I almost had to laugh, I could have gotten this fox the anti-psychotics he needed in less than an hour. Not that it helped me right now.

The air was thick with the smell of frying onions from the east eurasian restaurant we passed. My stomach rumbled, reminding me the last meal I had was from a bottle.

"Where are you taking me?" I blurted out.

"You'll have the rare opportunity to visit The Reckoning's lair."

Ah, hell. This is going to end in a sex dungeon, isn't it? "Look, there's a diner, right over there. We, we could just get a burger and I'll tell you whatever you want to know, I just really-"

"I promise you, Lou," he tilted his head back to look into my eyes. It's back to being weirdly intimate and I looked away. "You're safe with me. I'm one of the good furs."

Call me skeptical, but he was very convincing when he had a fucking gun pointed at me. It was useless to reason so turned my focus to the winding route the fox was leading me on. It took almost ten minutes before I realized we were headed back to where he picked me up.

"Keep your head down," he said. "I'm going to ride right into the back of the van."

We were a block or two away from my corner. Cops had to be all over the place now. If I pulled us both off the scooter and started yelling, would they find me before the psycho pulled out a knife or something?

The question was moot. He drove forward at full speed and I lost my nerve. My eyes clenched along with the rest of me as we neared the back end of a parked white van.

The van doors must have opened automatically, because instead of the concussion inducing brain trauma I expected, we were up a small ramp, bouncing against a web of cargo netting inside. Behind me the door slammed shut. I struggled to get the fox from between my arms, but the sudden darkness had me at a disadvantage. Goat eyes aren't meant for low light like a predator's. We scuffled until something damp and soft came over my nose.

I'd never smelled chloroform before, and I still couldn't tell you what it was like, but I do know it is damn effective. Three breaths and I was out.

***

I came to bound to a chair and inclined to follow my first instincts. "Help! Someone! Hel-" A rough cloth was forced against my mouth, muffling my screams. At least I know it's not dipped in chloroform, as I was still struggling when my captor started to speak.

"Shh! Seriously! My neighbors are rabbits. They're always complaining about noise."

I recognize psycho-fox's voice. And his words have the opposite effect of what he'd intended. I try screaming until my throat is raw and he's got the towel he's trying to shut me up with crammed almost to the back of my mouth.

"Stop it," he almost whines. It's hard to gauge his mood with those ridiculous welding goggles and improvise ski mask, but his sharp muzzle is pinched in a stern frown. "If you insist on being unreasonable, I can get the duct tape and let you scream until you're exhausted."

I'm out of breath anyways. And I don't think even a rabbit could have heard me through the gag. I shut up and focus on where I am. It's dark, a single fluorescent strip sways from exposed rafters, higher than a normal ceiling. Is this a warehouse? The room -what I can see of it in the gloom- looks mostly empty. A few boxes and a metal cabinet are against the far wall. There's an electric hum coming from behind me, I guess a computer, but I can't tell.

"Thank you," the fox breaks my concentration. "I'm going to take the gag away, but please don't start yelling... neither of us will like that."

It sounds ominous and I'm quick to nod. Too many gangster movies and gore flicks have me filling in the blanks for him. He pulled the rag away and I scrape my tongue against my teeth, getting the taste of fabric out.

"There now," the fox smiles.

I don't share his good mood and barely hold my temper in check.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions-"

An understatement.

"-and I'll do what I can to answer them. But I need you to answer mine first. Can you do that?"

Like I have a choice. "Yeah." My voice is scratchy from my futile screaming.

"Great!" He rushes behind me and I can hear a keyboard clacking. He's back in an instant, a more serious look on his muzzle.

"Lou Tanner, alias Moon" he says my name and started to recite my criminal record. It's embarrassing when read all together and he can see my discomfort by the time he gets to the third drunk and disorderly charge.

"I'm sorry, Lou, I just need to be sure you are who you say you are."

I snort. "No one would claim my fucking identity unless they had to."

His ears twitched. "You were saying earlier that you were on that corner all day?"

"Well, since I woke up."

"When was that?" he leaned closer and I catch my reflection in his goggles and look away. I wish this asshole hadn't thrown away my shades.

"I don't know. Noon, maybe. A little before."

He sighs. "Try to remember."

"I don't know."

"Try!" he shouts.

"Fine!" I shout back. "Eleven thirty-three! Does that work for you?"

He backs off. Pacing with his fingers tented over his muzzle. I'm starting to regret my outburst. I'm the one tied to a chair with a crazy fur in front of me.

"Lou," he said softly, "I know this situation is probably... odd for you-"

Nope. I spend most of my days like this. Fucking moron.

"-but believe me, I'm the one trying to help you."

"Then let me go," I said quickly. "Please."

He grabbed the chair by the armrest and pulled me around to face his computer. Or rather, computers. He's got five monitors set up on a long workbench. Several towers are in the shadows underneath. He clicked something and I heard crackling radio static.

"It's the police frequency. I can listen in." I start to open my mouth and he shushes me. "Just listen."

It's standard bullshit like I'd heard on countless TV shows. Codes, sentence fragments, more static clicks. Then I hear what he wanted me to hear.

"Repeat, APB. Male, goat, dark fur. Approximately 5'9, mid twenties. Pentagram on left horn, 'V' on right. Last seen-"

"They're looking for me?" I could imagine they would be. Fleeing the cops usually gets you on a wanted list.

"It's worse than that," the fox pushes my chair closer and brings up a file. "You've become the prime suspect in a series of murders."

"What! But I didn't-"

"I know," the fox pats my shoulder. "I believe you're innocent."

"I am! I have to tell them. You need to let me go." I know I'm in no position to make demands, but I can't do nothing.

The fox bit his lip. "That might not be the wisest course of action."

"The hell it isn't," I snap. "Kidnapping me was wasn't the wisest course of action!"

"Abducting," he corrects me and waves it off. "I've been listening to the police chatter for weeks. They're scared this is going to get blown out of proportion by the media. There's been three killings now, and you are the only lead they have."

Fuck me.

"They're saying they have a witness that'll lock the case." He leans over one of the other monitors. "A male raccoon, but they aren't releasing a name yet. Even in internal documents. I guess they're worried you'll come for him."

"His name's David."

"Oh," he considers this for a moment. "If you know him, he might be able to sow the seeds of doubt in their investigation."

"I doubt it," I groan and my head slumps forward. "I just met him today. I gave him drugs and he gave me a blowjob. Neither one is something he'll admit to." Not that I blame him. David has his own life and I don't want him to fuck it up on my account.

The fox is quiet again. I can feel judgement even if I'm afraid to look. I just sat there staring at my legs. Suddenly he ran a claw through the tape that's got my arm secured.

"Lou. I know it might be hard to believe, but I'm not without sympathy." He frees my other arm and moves behind me to untie the ropes.

"So you're letting me go?" I asked hopefully.

"I'm asking you to trust me like I'm trusting you. Give me a couple of days and I'll catch this killer. If you turn yourself in they'll force a confession and the case will be closed."

I'm surprised the decision comes so easily to me. "Ok."

"Ok?" It surprises him too, apparently.

"Yeah. What do I have to lose?" I started to delicately remove the shredded tape, wincing every time my fur is pulled out. "Mind if I ask you something?"

His ears perk up. "Not at all."

"What's the deal with," I motion to him, "all of that?"

His ears sag. "I'm the Reckoning... I fight crime... You've never heard of me? Th-the local paper did a story about amateur crime fighters. It was mostly negative, but they mention me... towards the end."

I shrug apologetically.

The Reckoning sighs. "Well, I haven't been doing it for all that long."

Great. This is the fur I'm counting on.

***

Chapter 4

Casey

Why did I let Lou, a known criminal (more or less), free in my lair? Well, we real life superheroes take our wisdom where we can find it. Often times this means using comic books as training manuals. And I've read more than enough story arcs to know about the moral precipice you risk falling over when you lose all faith in furkind's natural goodness and start forcing them to do what's in their best interest.

If Lou really wanted to leave, I could have knocked him out again and left him somewhere nice. But thankfully he's giving me a chance. I need to prove myself on something more than petty theft. Catching a serial killer and clearing the name of an innocent fur is just what I needed.

"What can I do?" Lou's still sitting behind me in the chair, rubbing his wrists.

"I keep a supply of burner phones on the bottom shelf of that cabinet. I can't allow you to call anyone, but if you want to check, they might come with some preinstalled games."

"That's not what I meant. If you're going to find this killer, I want to help. I'm the one with his ass on the line."

He has a point. But he's also a drug pusher. What would Dark Bat do?

"Come here." I lead him to a monitor on the end. "This is patched into the NAPD's dispatch. If you want to help, watch what the dispatchers log. Tell me if they issue any bulletins or there are any new reports of stabbings."

He looked at the screen, a real time digital blotter that kept a record of the city's chaos. "What about shootings?"

Good, he's thinking, I thought I lost him. I shook my head. "No. I've built a profile of our killer. Shooting isn't his style."

He nodded with a subdued mixture of interest and worry. We worked silently for a while. He kept his eyes glued to the screen, I listened to the radio transmissions and did what I could to scour social media for clues. My profile hypothesized this killer would want recognition, he would be watching for it. And so I would be watching the watchers.

"This is weird," he said out of nowhere.

"You see something?" Nothing was mentioned over the radio.

"No... I just mean this whole thing."

Yeah. I get that more often than you'd think. "I'm not the only fur doing this, you know." I came off a little defensive "There's a bear in Emerald Harbor that goes by Sargent Justice."

Lou raised his eyebrows. "Seriously? This bear dress up and does the whole super hero thing too?"

"Well... he doesn't wear a cape." We're friends on MuzzelBook. I, uh, chatted with him a few times hoping one thing might lead to another. Don't judge. The life of a vigilante can get kinda lonely.

Lou didn't snort at least. "And you really don't see this as strange? Spending your evenings beating up furs in back alleys?"

"No stranger than selling pot to pups." The ebb and flow of adrenaline was surging again. He was scared and cornered. I shouldn't have given into his passive aggressiveness.

"They're old enough. And don't start. You aimed a gun at me!"

"Nonlethal rounds," I countered.

"How was I supposed to know?"

"That's kinda the point!" We were both standing, glaring at each other.

His shoulders slumped and he looked away. "Sorry. I'm just..."

"Scared," I offered.

"No!" He collapsed into the chair and dropped his head forward on the desk. "Yeah. I guess I am."

It's the protector in me that led me to pull my chair closer to him. I didn't want any fur to suffer. "It's going to be alright." I put my arm across his shoulders. He tensed for a moment before relaxing.

"No it's not. But thanks for saying that."

I cannot abide pessimism. "Lou. Look at me."

His head turned and his horn clacked on the table. The tide was going out of his spirit again. I put my head down, facing him so we could see eye to eye, even if he was reluctant to make eye contact. "Lou, you are not a killer and I promise you, I will not let you slip through the cracks of justice."

Now he snorted. But it was a good natured snort. "Do you rehearse this, or does it come natural?"

I smile. "Years of comic book geekery."

***

I wish I had better news for Lou the next morning. Lou was still asleep. He'd curled up in the corner, using his overstuffed coat as a pillow.

The police confirmed Lou's identity around dawn. Fingerprints and a surprisingly large amount of, um, DNA were left at the scene. The raccoon, David, was released into his parents custody but his involvement was still being kept quiet, thank goodness.

The local morning news shows reported the latest killing. If I knew the police, there would be a press conference around noon. Right now they would be raiding Lou's last known address. When they fail to find him, they'll put his name out to the public so it looks like they're doing something.

I looked at the time. An hour until class. I needed to leave behind The Reckoning and go back to being Casey Jiggs again.

"Lou?" I shook him by the shoulder. "Lou?" He woke with a jolt. "I've got to leave for a few hours. Can I trust you to stay put?" It was for his own good, but last night I'd already inserted a tracker into the lining of his coat... just in case.

"Where," his mouth was dry, "where are you going?"

"I have to take care of some things. Will you trust me and just wait here?"

He stood up and stretched his shoulder with a popping noise. "Sure." He started toward the computers.

"They're looking for you," I said. I thought it might be better to hear it from me than to read it himself. He didn't say anything. I guess it didn't come as a surprise. I had to do something to keep his spirits up. "Lou. We'll get you out of this mess."

He kept watching the screen.

Before I left I showed him where I keep a supply of power bars and bottled water. I also took off my goggles. He didn't react. Not that I was hoping for anything, but I'd kind of wanted him to see it as a show of trust. Sure, green is a common color for fox eyes, but he could have at least given me smile... not that I was looking for one.

***

I hopped off the bus and popped open my second energy drink. One day I would have to catch up on my sleep, but this was not that day. My fur was an absolute mess from wearing the mask and tight clothes so long. Thankfully this was a college campus so my slovenly, sleep deprived look went unnoticed as ran through the crowd, lugging an overstuffed backpack over my shoulder.

I had a lecture hall to get to and then I'd put in an hour at the gym. Keeping my double life a secret was going well. So far I only came off as slightly antisocial but my grades were impeccable.

The sprint to my class was part parkour and part gymnastics. If anyone actually paid attention to this particular scruffy fur, they might be impressed, I thought as I leapt over a bike rack to get past a group of activists stopping everyone to sign a petition. My backpack's momentum carried me into a half roll. I came up without spilling a drop of my drink.

I was just hitting my stride when I turned the corner and nearly face planted.

"Casey!" called out a familiar deep voice.

My front leg stopped before my back knew what it was doing. They tangled and I barely avoided looking any stupider than an uncoordinated attempt at tackling a hedge.

"Casey, dude, you alright?"

Mike jogged over while I pulled myself out of the bush. Let me tell you about Mike. He's a solid slab of antelope. Sent from heaven just to torment me for sins I must have committed in a past life. He was majoring in sports psychology and oblivious cockteasery. The way he was poured into that tracksuit, it just scrambled my... thinking thing.

"Casey," he chuckled and picked a twig out of my hair. "You ok? Didn't hurt yourself, did'ya?"

"Um, uh, nah." God, why?

His squared nose wiggled when he did that chuckle of his. I bet he didn't even know what it did to me and anything else with two eyes and a sexdrive. "Good. You gotta slow down, at least until I finish my first semester of sports med."

He ruffled my already mussed hair. Anyone else would be flat on their back and in sever pain. I'm not that kind of fox. But Mike? Mike could bend me over in the middle of the quad and stick carrots in me if it struck his fancy. He put his arm around me and I nearly melted.

"Thought I was going to be late," he said guiding towards the class I could no longer remember. "Let's sit together. I've been having some trouble with last week's readings. Maybe you can take a look at my notes and tell me if I'm missing something."

"Uhhh, y-yeah." Let me just remember how to read.

"Thanks, Cas."

He gave my shoulder a squeeze. I brought my hand to my lips but my energy drink was gone. I glanced back accusingly at the bush I'd plowed into.

"Oh, you're coming to the gym after class too, right?"

"Hah! Yeah, Mike!" I don't know why I laughed. All heroes have their weakness. Mine happens to be big beefy jock furs. Not the worst weakness to have, as long as Mike wasn't some kind of a supervillain on the weekends... or a serial killer.