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Chapter 15 - Confrontation

"Rut!" I yelled. "Calm down!"

I rolled to my side just as his giant gun went off again. I felt wood splinter along my back and was so thankful we didn't have downstairs neighbors. I got up onto my feet, but Rut was already ahead of me and punched me hard in the face. Blood splattered from my nose as I fell down onto my bed.

"Argh!" I cried out, wiggling my nose. It didn't feel broken, but it hurt like hell. I sat up quickly and glared at Rut who glared right back at me, the gun pointed squarely on my forehead. This close, there was no way I could dodge away.

I'll never forget how insane Rut looked. I use that word without hyperbole, too. His eyes were wide and anger was all you could get from his expression. This was a man who was letting out the darkest side of himself, and the only thing keeping me alive right now was that he still wanted to say something, or do something, to me.

To my amazement, Rut just threw his head back and screamed as loud as he could. It was a long, heavy scream of pure emotion and anger. But when he was done, he staggered backwards and fell down onto the floor, leaning against my meager dresser.

He looked exhausted now. More like his old self but still... different. Something about him was off, like the music he danced to internally was now a half step quicker than it usually was. His eyes darted about quickly and settled back on me. They seemed empty, hollow. I couldn't read his expression as he stared for what seemed like a long time. He didn't lift the gun. He held it for a while and then let it slip, hitting the floor as though it weighed a ton. Rut exhaled and his eyes drooped to half lids.

"Balance," he said, chuckling darkly. "You could have ruined so much, Simon. You've thrown off the balance in our lives. This hasn't happened since... well, not since Chicago."

I wiped my nose with some cloth and sat on the edge of my bed, staring down at Rut. There was nowhere for me to go. If he decided to shoot me, he would probably be too quick to do so. He wanted to talk, so we were going to talk. I pulled my sheet back into my naked lap and stared at him.

"What did Fiz mean when he told me about balance?" I asked, trying to strike up a conversation to keep Rut calm and somber. I swallowed and still tasted blood. "I thought that it meant that you two work very well together. That you get along well as a duo."

"Partially true," Rut said with a sigh. "We're twins, Simon. We've been together since the womb, and in my whole life, I think the longest I've spent away from Fiz was two days. He can drive me up the wall, and he does, but without him around I... don't do well. I get angry easier and quicker. My head refuses to think straight; and things don't process right. It's hard to explain, but my mind is very, very twisted right now."

Tell me about it, I thought wryly, but of course I didn't say that because I still liked being alive, believe it or not. Instead, I asked, "Can you tell me what happened?"

I didn't want to ask if Fiz was alive. I was leaning to the idea that he was. Otherwise, if he were indeed dead, I think I would've been shot already. No, Rut wouldn't have given me a chance to wake up from my sleep, that was for sure.

"And while you're at it," I added, "I'd also like to know why you have a fancy gun like that."

"Hm?" Rut said, lifting his hand up and looking along the silver revolver. With a flick, the chamber opened and out tumbled the casings. In a flash, he had put six new rounds in, spun the damned thing, and clicked it closed. The whole process took mere moments.

"Fiz likes his knives, and I've always been good with guns. You give me a rifle and I can hit just about anything. Fiz and I, we've always had good eyesight. He just likes blades more than anything ranged. I suppose he liked things more... up close and personal."

"But he's the fighter between you two," I said, leading Rut on.

"He is. But it doesn't mean I can't fight, too. When we both go out, I bring my gun. The only thing is that Fiz usually handles things. I haven't had to fire a round in a long time."

I nodded and leaned forward, watching my tired friend slowly blink. He was going to pass out now that his anger had subsided. I glanced to the left of me and saw Avery standing in the doorway to my room and looking worried. I ignored him.

"So what happened? Tell me. I need to know."

Rut took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He had a bullet in his free hand and was rolling it up and down along his fingers, hypnotically, as he collected his thoughts. He glanced up at me and then stopped the roll. "Fine," he said tiredly, "but we have to go see Fiz. Once I'm done, we head out. I need to get him some things."

And he began to recount what had happened earlier that night...

---

The night wasn't anything special. You'd think with the threat of fire, violence, and chaos that there would be some electricity in the air, but no, it was still and quiet. We had gone to Renaldo and showed him the codes we had all worked out. He had been hesitant at first, but when I told him he didn't really have the time to gamble on us being wrong, he got things going.

Runners had been sent out to every gang member in the area, and lackeys had been woken up and told to get their asses on patrols. Renaldo was leaning over the map of the boroughs like you'd expect a general to do and giving out orders. I rolled my eyes and knew it was stupid--we were just regular people who worked together. Maybe some of us had once been soldiers but I seriously doubted it.

_"Fiz, Rut," Renaldo said and came up to the two of us. "You two go walk down by the river. That's the most direct road to Crossbell's ugly tower. If he's gonna come here, my bet is that he'll come along that way." _

I wanted to protest. Who could be sure Mordecai would actually do that? How did Renaldo know? In the end, we all had to simply make our best guesses. Even you, Simon, didn't know what the cat was thinking. But we were good little troopers and went on our walk down the road.

We stood along the road at the edge of the Black Sock gang territory, which was really just some small roads leading up to the river. I was leaning against the wall of a building nearby and rolling a toothpick from side to side in my muzzle. Fiz was sitting on a box, upside down with his head hanging down.

"Bored," Fiz said.

_"Me too," I said and smirked down to my twin. "I should have brought a book." _

"Too dark. Bad for eyes." Fiz spoke in his calm, happy voice. At a time like this, when everyone was on edge, his voice was what I relied on to calm my nerves down.

"I'll have a candle," I added.

"Too obvious." My brother sat up, sitting on the edge of the box now and leaning over to look at me. "Good target."

I spat out the toothpick. "Wouldn't that get rid of your boredom?"

Fiz chewed his cheek and thought for a moment and then nodded. "Would, yeah. Okay. Light candle."

"No, Fiz," I sighed, "I don't have a candle. I would have brought one, though, if I knew I was going to be sitting out here bored out of my mind. So that I could read."

"And set fire to things?"

"No, not set fire to things." I grumbled. "You know our family was linked to that big fire in Chicago. We don't do well around fire."

"Like fire," Fiz said playfully. "No problem."

I checked my pocket watch and saw it was getting late. If Mordecai was going to come, I doubted he would make himself known as it got closer to dawn. I jumped off the box and stretched my arms high into the air, letting my back pop. I rolled my neck and looked at Fiz.

"I'm just going to walk down the alley to the street. We'll wait ten more minutes, then we're going back to Renaldo to tell him that Mordecai isn't coming so we can go to bed."

_Fiz gave me the thumbs up so I headed down the alley like I said. It was a little chilly now, the wind was coming in from the river and cutting through my fur and flesh. It made me curl my arms around my arms and shiver. I looked up and down the sleepy road and at the flickering lamp posts. I was usually curled up in bed by now with either a good book or passed out. I blew into my hands and grumbled. _

I even cursed you. "Simon is making me breakfast for all this," I said aloud to no one. I did have another nagging voice in my head--if this translation of Mordecai's notes was incorrect, then he could still become active, we just wouldn't know when until it was too late. Renaldo wouldn't have the whole gang on standby for weeks, or months--we had other things to do than look after Simon's boogeyman.

_That's when I heard a sound I will never forget for the rest of my life. It was Fiz crying out in pain. _

I whirled around and looked back down the dark alley. I couldn't believe my eyes. There, my brother was five feet from something I can only describe as... a creature of the night.

A long black cloak that looked like leathery wings. A horrible fanged mask with red eyes. But the most absurd part of this ensemble was a top hat. This thing was holding a cane with a silver head while his other hand was tucked under the cloak.

Between them was our contact in Crossbell Tower. The cleaner that had been sent to spy on Mordecai and the one who got us those papers. I couldn't tell the species from here, but he lay in a pool of blood and his head was pushed to the side at a horrible angle.

Fiz was standing there, crouched and holding his shoulder. I could see his white sleeve darken with blood. Instantly I felt my legs move without my control, and I was closing in on the two of them.

_I've seen Fiz fight many times, you know. He has always been dangerous with a blade and I can tell when he's not really focused because he knows his opponent isn't worth his time, and then there are the rare times he fights with everything he has. He is a man you never want to be on the other side of in a fight. _

_This was one of those times. _

_I cannot describe how he moves; it would be slower than the actual fight I saw. But believe me when I say that the two of them were performing some kind of wicked dance of sharp implements; Rut had one of his other knives in his usually free hand and Mordecai--or should I refer to him as Spring Heeled Jack while he is in that outfit--was using his cane like a cudgel... and those claws. I saw them glint in the lights and knew they had to be razor sharp, if not blades themselves. _

I heard the damned cat laugh as I neared them. "Simon! I had no idea you could fight! You have been busy these last few years!"

"I'm not Simon," Fiz said with a jovial tone to his voice, his hand holding the blood-stained part of his sleeve, trying to stop the bleeding. "You've got the wrong fox."

It horrified me to hear him speaking in complete sentences.

Fiz is many things but he is a man who never wastes time with words. The choppy way in which he talks is normal. But when he speaks like everyday folks, he is not operating like normal--this is when all pretense and fun are discarded and all he cares about is his opponent.

_Do you remember one of the first things I told you when we invited you to live with us, Simon? It was this: if Fiz ever speaks to you in a full sentence, you'd best run for the hills or try your best to make him happy. You will be lucky to see tomorrow if you do not. _

Well, back to what happened next. I heard the monster mumble something to himself, probably in shock and confusion, then stop moving after he blocked a slash from Fiz. What followed was the most blood curdling wail of anger and frustration I had ever heard; this man, this monster, was a new kind of enraged.

"HOW DARE YOU!" the figure screamed and quickly advanced on Fiz, moving with a blur and a slash with his claws. This monster was overpowering Fiz now. I watched my twin back up more and more into the bricks, too focused to even notice I had come close.

Neither of them had even noticed me draw my revolver.

_I had it up and level with the two of them, breathing calmly and slowly even if my heart was hammering. I remembered all my lessons, all my training, and I knew that any kind of anxiety would make me miss. I had to be focused and ready. _

The problem was they were so close now that, even with a careful shot, I could still hit Fiz. Shooting my brother was not an option. I had to wait until there was an opening.

_"You are NOT my Simon!" the monster--whom I could identify from his voice as Mordecai--screamed, slashing so hard against the bricks that he left grooves in them. He spun and smacked Fiz in the face with the head of his cane. "You! You imposter!" _

"I'm better looking than Simon," Fiz said with a wry grin. "And a complete black fox. He's got that patch over his eye, remember? It makes him look funny."

I could tell what Fiz was doing, and it was working. Mordecai seemed to become enraged that someone was talking poorly about you, Simon. His blows became quicker, faster, deadlier. Fiz got cut left and right but never anything dangerous.

"Simon is mine, and you will not have him, you Pretender!" I heard him say between his blows. "Yes... that is a good title for you. Pretender. A fake Simon, a simulacrum at best. But you have told me something valuable, my dear Pretender." Mordecai got close and slashed Fiz across his side and up across his chest.

_"You know Simon." _

I screamed and fired.

The bullet winged the side of that hellish mask and sent it lifting up on his head. Mordecai turned to me, and I could see the caracal's face, revealed now that I shot the mask off his head, distorted into a glare of evil so pronounced.

With great speed--much greater than I could react--the caracal threw his cane at me. The head of the cane came into contact with my revolver, knocking it out of my hand. The revolver fell a few feet from me, and while my attention was drawn to it, Mordecai dashed toward me.

And the next thing I knew, my vision was engulfed in darkness and I felt a sharp pain at the back of my head. Mordecai had grabbed my face and pushed me backwards until my head hit the wall behind me.

I must have blacked out for a second, because when I could focus again, he was already back to Fiz, who was gasping in pain as Mordecai held him up with one hand. The entire world was spinning around me from getting hit on my head, and it was all I could do to not collapse.

"The Pretender has a friend," the caracal said to me. "Family? Twin? The opposite of my Simon in everything from color to personality--Alternate. That is your title, you filth. You knave. You dare shoot at me?"

He had Fiz close now. He turned around slowly so that my twin's back was facing me and I could see the caracal's face. He was grinning from ear to ear. "Watch what I do to people who get in my way, Alternate."

Another heavy downward slash of his clawed hand and Fiz screamed in true pain. I was forced to watch, helpless, as my brother struggled to slash at Mordecai with his knife. Mordecai must have been surprised by how much Fiz could attack even with all those wounds, for the cat hissed and held his arm after being cut.

"You won't live a day with those injuries!" I heard him say "I've severed at least two arteries. Enjoy watching your brother die, Alternate. I'll come for you when I need more."

With those words, the damned monster turned and ran into the darkness. By this time, I recovered enough to grab my gun from the ground, and I fired a round. But I knew that I hit nothing. I had something else to focus on anyway.

---

My head swam after listening to Rut's story. My friends, these two who had taken me in when I had nobody, who had put up with my moping and worrying and chronic insomnia... had suffered a lot, and all because of me? Because I got them involved in this?

Was... was Fiz dying?

I almost lost it right then and there, but Avery was in my line of sight, standing next to Rut. He shook his head and pointed down at the white fox.

"Now put some pants on," Rut said to me. "You have someone to thank."

It turned out that Rut had taken Fiz to Renaldo's club. The hospitals, being what they were, would have probably not done a good enough job on Fiz, or worse, called the coppers. As much as I valued Nickel's new partnership with us, I still wanted to keep him in case of an emergency.

Rut didn't talk to me the whole walk over. Hell, he almost ran, but I told him he needed to walk normally, especially with that gun under his vest. If he got stopped, he could be arrested. After all, he had shot at me, and I'm certain someone had heard it--the question was whether or not they had told the police.

When we got to the club, Rut ran up all the way to the top floor. There were a few foxes and even a couple tigers. I guess the lines of gangs blurred when there was a territorial war going on.

Rut pushed into a room with big open windows that let in the breeze from outside. It was actually a beautiful day. I followed along closely behind.

On a bed in the corner was Fiz. I saw his clothes in a pile on the floor, some bloodied, some ripped. There was also a cart with various bandages, gauze, rags, pots of water, and needles. He had needed stitches, I guess.

There was a small man leaning over the stripped down black fox, checking him over and pushing on his chest. He wore a sweater and sleeping pants. He must have been yanked out of bed at dawn by someone in the gang. It was a mole, of all people. I hadn't seen one in years. He even wore large spectacles that made his eyes the size of grapefruits. He was grumbling to himself and stepped back when Rut rushed over and grabbed Fiz's hand.

"Fiz!" he said, dropping to his knees. "Oh god, Fiz! Are you okay?"

"Bah!" the mole said and shoved Rut backwards, checking some of the bandages on Fiz's chest. "He's fine. Boy is made of metal, I swear. He got stitches along his chest and side, but he'll be fine. No major artery cut, not a lot of blood loss, but still! He is bedridden for two weeks! At least!"

Renaldo came in, looking tired. When he saw me, he gave me a nod but remained quiet. The mole looked down at the sleeping Fiz and huffed.

"I'll be back tomorrow to check on him. Give him plenty of rest and food. Don't let him do anything stupid like try to touch his toes. The sutures may come out. Now if you'll excuse me..."

"Thank you, Doctor Harold," Renaldo said, touching the mole on his back who promptly smacked it away.

"You can thank me by paying me double! Sewing up your boys. Pah! You're lucky I was friends with your pa, Renaldo." We were treated to the sound of a very grumpy and tired mole muttering away and down the steps.

Rut was back kneeling next to his brother. I felt bad. My actions had put him there. Someone had gotten hurt for me yet again. I wanted to slink away, or worse, wondered why I didn't catch one of those bullets Rut had fired at me in the face. I was about to slip out when the sleeping Fiz opened his eyes and looked around the room.

"Gone?" he said.

"Fiz!" Rut shouted and hugged his twin, who winced at the hug.

"Fiz fine, Fiz fine!" the black vulpine winced. "New scars. Is okay." He groaned a little and noticed me standing by the door. His face lit up. "Simon!"

I stepped over to the bed. "Hey... I didn't think... I mean I didn't... I'm sorry--"

"Sorry for?" Fiz said, sounding genuinely confused.

"Well, for you getting hurt," I said, looking him over.

"Wounds. All the time," the black fox said with a hand wave. The hand he had yanked free from Rut. "Never stay hurt. Always better. Rut take care. Rut good nurse."

The white fox chuckled. I couldn't see his face directly, since he was still facing Fiz, but I saw him raise his arm and wipe it across his eyes. There was some moisture on the fur of his arm when he placed his hand back on his brother's.

"There's a reason why I'm a pretty good medic," Rut said in his usual tone of being falsely annoyed at Fiz. They were already slipping back into their comfortable roles with one another. I saw the stress actually melt from Rut. He had been so wound up and on edge, but now he looked like he always did: tired, aware, but also relaxed.

"You were fighting him pretty hard," Rut said quietly. "You sure it's okay to be so... relaxed?"

"Mordecai is a good fighter," Fiz said quietly. A complete sentence. "If he had marked you as his target instead of me, you'd have died. He only let you live because he wanted you to watch me bleed to death." And then, to my surprise, he grinned. "But I didn't, and I want to fight him again."

"What? No!" Rut shouted, frowning at Fiz. "You aren't going anywhere near him. We're done with this mess. It's too risky, too dangerous."

"Fiz help Simon," Fiz said simply, settling back in his pillow, his tone back to normal. "Abandon friend. Not Fiz."

"But you could die!" His brother's voice had both anger and exasperation.

The black fox shook his head. "Won't die. Too soon. Oh!" Fiz's eyes lit up as he looked at me and grinned wider. "Have a surprise."

Fiz lifted his other hand from under the sheet, coming with a long pole. It was black and lacquered and looked quite old. The head on the end was that of a snarling feline. I had seen this thing... many years ago, in London. It was the cane that belonged to none other than Mordecai himself. The cat went everywhere with it. And now it belonged to Fiz.

"New cane," Fiz said, admiring Mordecai's cane. "Now mine."