The Nature of the Beast

[Mr_F3]

We are the frayed, we are the torn
We are the beaten and the scorned
And now you've forced the beast to bare its teeth
We'll come in droves like animals
Hungry to reclaim our control
As we fight to bite the bitter hand that feeds

“Doctor Ridgewald.” The words cut through the silence as the ornate fountain pen paused mid-tap.
“Hm? Oh!” The before mentioned Doctor Ridgewald, a handsome man in his late 50s, pulled himself upright in his high-backed leather chair and cleared his throat sheepishly.
“Forgive me for my mental absence. Today has been particularly draining, you understand.” He smiled pleasantly at the scowling ginger-haired young man seated across from him. “Now if you would not mind repeating your question?”
“Well,” the younger man began, folding his arms and crossing his legs, ”seeing as how your mind is fresh back from vacation, I will endeavor to make our discussions more brief. The question, my dear colleague, was of your thoughts (and professional opinion of course) concerning the apolitical and socioeconomic ramifications of my thesis.”
The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “Your…..”
An exasperated sigh escaped the ginger as he uncrossed his rather long legs and leaned forward, “My your attention must have a delightful itinerary. My thesis that I gave to you just last week!” He tossed a gesture toward the polished oak desk just to the right of his elder and the rather thick stack of papers lying in the same spot he had placed them in a week ago.
Ridgewald hummed casually in their direction, “Ah yes, I see. Unfortunately, I have yet to find the time. My duties you understand.” The doctor twirled his pen as he glanced briefly at the writings in question. “Say, what was your thesis called again?”
“The Nature of the Beast,” he formed the words carefully, weighing them before continuing. “It is less of a thesis really and more of a… story. Call it a parable if you will. You might even say it is based on true events whether past or fut-”
“Wunderbar,” Ridgewald’s baritone voice drowned out his own in a blatant display of dismissal, “I will look over it at the first opportunity. As for now, if you do not mind,” he gestured to the clipboard resting on his knee, “I do have patients.”
The words hung in the air for a long moment before the young man stood, forcing a smile as he smoothing his beige suit. “Of course you do, Doctor.” He pulled his coat from the back of the chair and turned toward the door. “I, on the other hand, seem to have a shortage of patience.” He cast a much more genuine smile over his shoulder before turning the brass knob and exiting the study of Doctor Ridgewald.

---

Somewhere in No Man's Landing....

I was the king of this hologram, a prestigious prince perched atop his golden throne. No no, that’s not quite right, is it? No, I was a circus master clothed in scarlet and…. gold, yes lots of gold. Thunderous applause shook the red and white striped tent as I tipped my hat to the adoring audience.
But there was no applause. The red and white tent was replaced by the dark interior of a dingy warehouse. The only audience being cowering autofficers, their uniforms torn and gauntlets smashed, staring about at broken automations scattered here and there; signs of their futile attempt at defense. Oh but any proper audience should be looking at the show. They should all be looking at me.

“Gentlemen!” Every head snapped in my direction as I grinned with pleasure behind the ornate Kitsune mask. “I do apologize for the inconvenience. I can assure you that none of you will be harmed and you will be at liberty to attend to your game in a matter of moments.” I gestured toward the playing card littered table and the overturned chairs situated between the stacks of boxes.
“In the meantime, Mr. Bull, please take care of the cargo.” The hulking silhouette standing just to the right of me stepped forward into the light and I took a moment to appreciate why I had chosen him for this particular job. Standing about 6’5, he moved with a slow grace that betrayed a certain litheness in the giant. The rolled up sleeves of his white shirt bulged around his burly forearms along with the buttons of his beige vest around his barrel chest. The open collar was stained with small dark splotches that left me wondering just how fresh the grisly bovine mask that hid his face was.
A slight nod and a large cleaver appeared in his hand as he moved toward the trembling officers, the realization of his intent suddenly hitting me like a frying pan. “The crates, man!” I nearly shouted, “the boxes! That cargo!”
The beast of a man froze before sheepishly muttering “oh,” the cleaver disappearing into whatever void it had originated. Grabbing two boxes, he headed for the exit and the open sewer grate beyond.
Shaking my head in disbelief, I moved past the horrified officers, tossing an apologetic yet obscured look in their direction before continuing forward eager to see my plans come to fruition.

“Not my best work,” the white coated individual stepped down from his stool, wiping his stained gloves on his equally stained and paint streaked coat, “but certainly not my worst.” I clapped with joy as I examined his masterpiece. “Mr. Cougar, my word!” The slight run of the fresh paint only added to the authenticity of the large golden R painted on a crimson background.
“When I asked for the best artist in the Landing I wasn’t aware I would be getting such a sensationalist!” I clapped the stoic artist on the back as he grunted from behind the snarling mask of dark furred feline. “It wasn’t hard to replicate.” He palmed the torn Resistance patch, holing it out to me.
“Oh you’re too modest!” I took the patch and slipped it into my coat pocket. “Why the feeling in this fine piece of work! You put the ‘heart’ in ‘art,’ my dear colleague. Or is it ‘art’ in ‘heart?’ No matter.” My wrist vibrated causing me to glance down at my Cogsworth Telegraph and the feathered visage that filled the screen. “Mr. Sparrow to Mr. Fox,” the audio crackled due to the nervous hiss of his voice as he whispered the message.
“Ah, Mr. Sparrow! What have you to report?”
“They’re here.”
I started a bit. That was unusually fast. “Very well, proceed.” The screen fizzled to black and I clapped Mr. Cougar loudly on the shoulder in an attempt to gain everyone’s attention. “Time to wrap this up, gentlemen!”

Giving Mr. Cougar’s shoulder a final pat, I continued my path down the stacks of boxes and crates until I reached the kneeling individual surrounded by glass bottles, bits of wire, and metal.
“How goes it?” I questioned as the individual stood and turned, a cylindrical glass canister flying at me. Snagging it out of the air, I turned it over in my hands delightedly.
“CS gas.” Mr. Badger slipped on his invention, a long thick glove with canisters strapped up the arm. A lever-controlled system allowed the canisters to be ‘fired’ by a simple twist of the wrist.
I glanced up at the black and white striped fur that covered his features. “CS?”
“Tear gas. Should keep the Imps off our tail. Not only does the human body react rather negatively to the compound, but it also provides a thick wall of fog.”
“Excellent!” I clapped before tossing the canister into the air. The shot was good as the glass container shattered in the approximate center of the room. I watched the thick white smoke take shape into a wall of fog before glancing back at a speechless Mr. Badger. “May I suggest that we run?”

---

A bit of an explanation

Welcome to my first attempt at a role play.
The Nature of the Beast is heavily inspired by Animal Farm by George Orwell. The story will follow a group of individuals (those who choose to take part in this story) who must explore their true nature whether that be order or chaos. Choose to join Mr. Fox & the Anarchists or to fight them. When the fuse is lit, what is the nature of your beast?

[Eerie_Coppernight]

The only sound was the whistling of wind through cracks in the ice above my head. The Snowmoorian Frost Roses filled the air with their peculiarly minty scent. The irregular dusting of snow on the frozen earth was patterned with the marks of fox paws.

The fox, or vixen, in question was resting her fluffy, white, head on my knee. She seemed to be taking a somewhat lazy interest in the project spread out on the portable crafting table in my lap. I rubbed her head affectionately.

I declare, Moonlie, you are getting rather plump. I think your prey is too easily caught."

As if to prove my point, one of the furry scorpions particular to the Snowmoors scurried across my vision. Moonlie's mouth gaped open in an animal grin and she shuffled up onto her front paws, one of which was mechanical. I admired my handiwork for a moment. Moonlie had lost the original leg in an encounter with a Scorpiston. Bringing her here, to this secret garden near the Great Engine, seemed to be the best thing to do. She would never thrive in civilized society, but the wild Snowmoors were not exactly kind to amputee vixens.

"Well, fuzzy, that's the final touch. Are you ready to see me turn into a vixen?"

Moonlie said nothing, she was a vixen of few words. However, she did laugh as if she thought the notion of a human becoming an animal to be the most ridiculous thing in the world. I couldn't help but chuckle along with her, fox laughter is contagious.

I put the crafting table aside and rose to my feet. My creation cascaded down like the waterfall that sang nearby, and just as white. With a little difficulty, I attached it to the other half of the device worn under my dress, a series of sensors that went up my back like a second spine and ended at my head in a strange array of brainwave sensors. With the ports connected, I fastened the stabilizing belt around my waste. The Aether receptacle glowed violet in the silvery metal.

"Now for a test."

Moonlie cocked her head as the device began to move. It rose, fell, and curved around with an almost natural grace. I couldn't help but grin, I had a tail. It was a beautiful tail covered in a sheath of white fur. I brought it up to my nose and inhaled deeply. The perfume had been a good idea. It smelled like vanilla cheesecake.

"Now for the rest."

My costume was already completely white, accented with fur. The large skirt offered many hidden pockets, and it swished magnificently over my water resistant, white boots. The white gloves concealed tiny claws that would be useful for climbing and cutting. I pulled up the hood with the fox ears I had attached earlier and placed the buds in my human ears. Now, I would have enhanced hearing to my advantage, as well as the ability to listen in on short-wave frequencies. The entire costume was of Aetherized fabric which was difficult to see when Fog was around, water resistant, and an unspeakable pain to cut.

Next was a white, full-face, vixen mask. I fastened it around my head and tested the dial that would switch to night vision. It worked like a charm. Last, but not least, was a glittering gold device that fastened around my neck like a choker. The Aether receptacle was full and glowing. I had debated whether or not to bring it on this venture, but decided I might need it while on the hunt.

"Now, Moonlie, let's see what those anarchists are up to."

Moonlie was diving headfirst into a snowbank and seemed annoyed at being interrupted. I turned my mind back to the task at hand.

A league of extraordinary gentlemen were tearing up No Man's Landing in animal masks. So far, they had only attacked Imperials, which seemed good for the Resistance. I was all for letting them run about, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, after all. Still, the Metalheart family didn't see it my way. The Anarchists made them and other Resistors nervous. They wanted to know who these Anarchists were and what they wanted. There had been a new mission on the Beacon bulletin board offering an extravagant reward to any Resistor who could find out anything about the Anarchists.

That was what had prompted Project: Huntress. I'd figured if these fellows wanted to dress up as animals, I would play along. I had long admired foxes, so a vixen I would be. If these Anarchists were friendly towards the Resistance, they might welcome the sight of a fellow beast. If not,.....I fastened my whip-dagger sheath around my waist below the tail support. The black leather glistened while the rest of me glowed. I smiled to myself, I looked like the moon.

Opening my Aethermeter, I selected Lukas' workshop as my destination. A shipment of shiny-new automatons was arriving in town tonight attended, it was rumored, by a big shot from the Fogworks. No hunter would be able to resist such tempting prey.

[Mr_F3]

“We’re late.” Mr. Cougar hissed.
“Fashionably.” I flipped open the intricate bronze pocket watch clasped in my gloved hand. My companion snorted, glancing over my shoulder at its shattered glass face. “Does that thing even work?”
I gasped, flicking what was left of the chain at him defiantly. “How dare. And yes it works… sort of.”

Slipping the ancient watch back into my breast pocket, I gazed up at the large full moon that hung in all its silver glory over the Landing. It seemed as though I could reach out and touch it. It felt as close as the cobblestones beneath our boots and as far as the rest of our associates moving our recently acquired cargo through the sewers below.
I slipped my hands into my coat pockets, enjoying the cool night breeze that rustled my hair and tugged at my coat sleeves. Tonight had been easy, a bit too easy for my taste. That’s when the moon began to move.
Wait, no…. I continued my casual stroll squinting at the spot the movement had taken place. Not the moon itself but rather something in front of the moon. The vague outline of a pale-clad figure began to take shape, something watching. I chuckled, it was about time.
"You know, Mr. Cougar," I tapped my porcelain chin, "I believe we are late."
His steps faltered. "Wha-"
"Well don't just stand there, man, let's go!" I turned and took off down an alleyway that twisted and turned in the direction of the Docks.

---

I collapsed breathless behind a large stack of crates that I could only hope obscured us from view of the docks.
"Now you're late." The flickering light of a match illuminated the somehow smug features of a snarling cougar as the one bearing its namesake lit a cigarette.
I swallowed hard, desperately trying to slow my racing heart and refrain from sucking in air like a beached whale. "Y'know those are actual death sticks," I half-whispered and half gasped across to my feline friend as he blew a cloud of smoke into the night air.
"That's kind of the point." He pulled himself into a kneeling position, flicking the still glowing embers of his cancer stick into the alley. "I'm trying to speed this stuff up."
I shrugged, "Understandable, have a nice day."
Stepping over my prone figure, he rounded the stack of crates and crept toward the docks for a better viewpoint. His steps shuffled to a stop in surprise as he crouched into position. "That can't be right..."
"What?" I hissed, crawling after him.
"I thought you said there were no other ships scheduled for arrival tonight?"
"There weren't. It's called thorough research."
"Well so much for your research." Mr. Cougar gestured toward the docks and the transport ship, proudly flying Imperial colors, docked next to our small oil schooner. "Now what?"
Rocking back and forth on my heels, I clapped an agitated Mr. Cougar lightly on the shoulder. "Relax, my friend. When the universe closes a door, you just have to learn to plant dynamite and blow it to heck."

[Eerie_Coppernight]

I flattened myself against the housetop, my white costume blending in with the moonlit, metal roof. The Imperial ship was docking unknown to the sleeping town. They always delivered automatons under cover of night these days due to various difficulties with unloading openly. My mind wandered back to a warehouse of shiny, new, automatons covered in corrosive glue and feathers. A crooked smile turned distorted my lips. That had been a fun night.

The giant claw unloaded crates ranging from the size of a garbage can to the size of a cow. I eyed the largest ones suspiciously. Did they need that many Lashers already?

Tearing my eyes from the cargo, I took stock of the situation. There were about a dozen Pacifiers guarding the perimeter, three Troubleshooters for every Pacifier, and one Technomite for every five Troubleshooters. I frowned, they were not taking any chances with this load.

With the press of a button, I activated the night vision in my mask. I swept the area and grinned. The wild animals were here. A small, slight fellow was on nearby rooftop with his back to me and a rifle in his hands. He was concealed by the shadow of a brick chimney, but I saw him still. There were other shapes in the shadows, about five or six counting the sniper. If the reports were to be believed, that was all of the Anarchists.

"Move quickly, we don't want to take all night."

The sudden bark of a voice startled me. I focused back on the crates and found something new. A large, undeniably fat man was standing among the crates looking imperious. His uniform was unmistakable, an Autofficer, and one of importance too. I focused in on him and made a mocking smile. Even for a simple job like this, he couldn't resist wearing every medal he could. The tilt of his nose gave an indication that he thought this work beneath him. His bearing showed he knew he was destined for greatness.

"Step lively," he called again, "this isn't a bally picnic."

"Sir," a female voice interjected, "we are moving as fast as we can."

It was the Bramble of No Man's Landing, Autofficer Renia Sharpgaze, an ex-model with a heart as ugly as her face was beautiful. As the former winner of Miss Aethasia three years running, she was a stunner. However, her beauty seemed to have little noticeable effect on the fat newcomer. Perhaps it was the bad light, the moon was only half.

"Then I would like you to move a little faster," he scolded

I turned my eyes back to the fox in the shadows and noticed that something was happening. I settled onto the roof and waited. All there was to do now was enjoy the show.

[Mr_F3]

"It won't work."
I glanced up from my diorama of carefully constructed trash, irritated by the interruption. "Oh is that so, you fraudulent frayed-tailed feline? And why ever not??"
"There are 55 autos, not '16 automations and 3 dwarves'," the cool and matter-of-fact answer came.
I groaned and buried my smooth ivory face in my hands. "This mask is so difficult to see out of, how am I supposed to know how many dwarves there are? I won't be fooled, Cougar, not again!"
I waited for a nonexistent reply before straightening and aiming a kick at the miniature model of the docks sculpted from newspapers and oil cans, all of my hard work once again becoming garbage strewn across the cobblestones. "Oh well, where would we even get a giant propeller anyways."
Keeping low, I crept into position next to Cougar and peered over the boxes at the fresh figures. Four individuals, all dressed in Imperial uniforms, stood in the center of the automation perimeter surveying their newly arrived cargo.
The large one, yes he was the Belle of this particular Ball. Beside him, standing with the ever so subtle stoop of a subordinate officer, was a slight of a girl. Even in the pale moonlight, it was perfectly clear her beauty had no rival but yet her authority did. Two other uniformed individuals stood just behind their commanding officers. Cadets.

My thoughts were once again interrupted by the low voice of Mr. Cougar. "What's the plan, Fox? We're outgunned and outmanned."
"But more importantly," I readjusted my mask and patted Cougar's shoulder in reassurance, "we're not outclassed."
With that, I stood and stepped from my hiding spot as I spoke loud enough for the officers and any other busybodies creeping around my stage to hear. "I surrender."

I could almost see the exclamation points that must have exploded in their brains as all four Imps spun on their heals.
A nearby Troubleshooter made a clumsy attempt to stop me but I easily sidestepped it and entered the parameter. In an instant, the female autofficer's hand flashed to her gauntlet as nearly a dozen guns leveled on my immediate location.
"Halt!" Her voice range with authority but a tinge of something else. Fear. Ah good, we were on the right track. "You are interfering with Imperial business. Place your hands above your head and state your int-"
With a wave of his pudgy hand, the rather large officer silenced her confirming my suspicions of his rank. "That's quite enough, Sharpgaze." He spoke with a slight nasal whine to his voice, one that would make a dog cry.
The overweight officer lumbered closer, a puzzled look on his face as he studied the slender Kitsune in a green suit.
"Surely this isn't the fabled terrorist attack," he chuckled, casting a disbelieving glance at a very tense Officer Sharpgaze. Finding no reflection of his amusement he sobered slightly, reclaiming his superior air. "State your intentions, citizen."
"Certainly, officer." I nodded, pressing my gloved palms together in a prayerful fashion. "My intention is to dominate your attentions and stall while my associates finish procuring our recently stolen merchandise. After which we will commandeer your ship and sail out of the harbor with both your cargo and your dignity."
The fat man started, his chubby cheeks bouncing with surprise before a crooked snarling grin spread over his face. "Are you armed?"
I shrugged, "of course I am, I have these." In a fluid motion, I extended both arms toward the smug Imperial and pointed my index fingers toward him, sticking my thumbs in the air. His demeaning air was quickly replaced with confusion as he stared down the barrels of my finger guns. "Here's how this is going to go," I squinted down the length of my fingers, "we will be taking your ship and you will remain here and practice your explanation of how you failed. Now, do step aside if you will."

Silence hung in the air until a high-pitched chuckle escaped the officer's lips as all uncertainty seemed to melt away. Clapping his pudgy hands together in a mocking fashion, he finally spoke in a dramatically articulate tone, "bravo, my foxy friend, your mask does not mislead. A simply stunning performance, I must say. And I should know, you see before I was stationed in this godforsaken dump of a town I was quite well known in Evercity for my acting prowess. I performed in all the greats including Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet (I was Romeo of course), even some of the more abstract works such as Riders to the Sea and the Duchess of Padua."
He flicked a bit of dust from his sleeve as he spoke. "But you, you have potential. It's a shame really. Perhaps you can perform for your cellmates." He pressed a lever on his gauntlet as a Pacifier whirred to life and stepped towards me. Calmly I turned. leveling my right index finger on the mechanical creature and dropped my thumb. Shards of glass and metal peppered my mask and suit as a large hole exploded in the center of the Pacifier's chest.
With a gasp, Officer Sharpgaze flicked a lever on her own gauntlet. Leveling my left finger on the approaching Troubleshooter, I dropped my thumb as another large hole was blown in its midsection.
I spun and pointed both fingers at a very white-faced autofficer who was now sweating profusely. "How did you...."
"How's that for a performance?"
Officer Sharpgaze, seemingly of quicker wit than my overstuffed friend, finally spoke with a vehemence I had not expected. "It was just that, a performance. You can't stop us. We are Imperials."
"But I can," a familiar voice spoke from behind the two officers. The moon glinted off of metal and the man's eyes widened as the barrel of a pistol was pressed against the back of his head.
Blowing imaginary smoke from my fingertips, I slid them into imaginary holsters grinning at the familiar voice. "You took your hecking sweet time."
"Yes well, you seemed to have things nicely under control." The bronzed handsome face of Mr. Wolf peered out from between the two autofficers, an Imperial cap perched precariously atop his raven black hair. "Or should I say Sparrow had things under control."
I slipped my hands into my coat pockets and glanced up toward the rooftops and the shrouded figure clutching a rifle nestled behind a chimney. "Yes, I'm surprised he didn't miss or take my head off for that matter."
Mr. Wolf nodded, "well he's been practicing. Plus automations aren't exactly small targets. Where are the others?"
"Oh they will be along shortly." I pressed a small red button on the side of my Cogsworthy Telegraph.
"Good. As for you," he gestured to the silent but seething Imperials, "please remove your gauntlets and toss them toward Mr. Fox or else Officer Blackheap might lose his head."
A quick glance was shared between the two before complying and sending their gauntlets skittering across the cobblestones toward me. The heel of my boot made short work of the devices as Wolf forced the officers including the second trembling cadet to their knees.
Blackheap... why did the name sound familiar?
"We have about 15 minutes before the automations activate their patrol function," Wolf said, tossing me a stack of papers tied together with brown string.
I turned the package over in my hands. "What is this?"
Wolf shrugged, "Not sure but it has to be worth something."
"Aright, fantastic." I dropped the papers on top of a nearby crate and stooped to pick it up, grunting under the surprising weight of the wooden box.
"You stay here and keep an eye on the Imps. I'll start moving the cargo." Wolf sighed, brushing past me and scooping up the crate.
I turned and once again pointed my index finger at my old chap, Blackheap; my thumb raised in the air. Boy, I love it when a plan comes together.

[Eerie_Coppernight]

I smiled behind my white mask as the fox stepped from the shadows like an actor claiming the spotlight. He certainly knew how to draw attention, I'll give him credit for that. The tableau made for a fascinating one. If it were a painting, I'd call it, "The Fox and the Hounds". The master criminal standing in the moonlight surrounded by the forces of justice. Every eye upon him and completely unaware of his colleagues in the shadows. I smiled with satisfaction as the scene ended. The fox and his fellows began reloading the ship to take it and it's cargo wherever they pleased while Autofficers and automatons stood helpless.

It was true, I thought, that great sinners and great saints were cut from the same cloth. This Mr. Fox would make a Resistor to cause Lucky to tear his hair in frustration. That is, if he was open to joining. The Resistance welcomed everyone, but that didn't mean they couldn't be rubbed the wrong way.

I slipped across the rooftops keeping a ridge between me and the Anarchists as often as I could. It would not do to be seen, not just yet. As soon as I was close enough, I dropped behind a pile of crates just as the bull came on deck burdened with more crates. He came close enough for me to touch him before setting down his load. I froze where I crouched and scarcely dared to breathe. Soon he was gone, off to perform some duty dictated by his master. I let out a breath and waited.

I did not have to wait long. With all the animals working together, the crates were back on board in no time. The ship cast off and rose into the night sky leaving the Imperials staring indignantly up at it. I waited until we were high enough that those on the ground would not hear us, then I emerged from my hiding place clapping slowly.

"Bravo, Monsieur Fox. Quite the performance you gave back there.

[Mr_F3]

A very nearly dropped the ornate Kitsune mask as the smooth calm voice broke the silence of the small below deck office I had claimed for my own. I cast a quick glance at the smooth wooden ceiling wondering for a moment if Providence had found a voice before placing the disembodied words behind me to my left.
I spun to face the unknown speaker, my hand flying to my face ensuring that my dark lensed glasses obscured my eyes. "I don't give autographs," I prayed my voice did not betray the quickness of my pulse as I smiled a bit peakedly at the furry white individual. "But just out of curiosity... how did you get backstage?"

[Eerie_Coppernight]

I stepped into the light of a porthole taking full advantage of the soft moonlight streaming through it. Now it was my turn for the spotlight.

"I have come to make a proposition. Doubtless you have heard of the Resistance."

"I have," he answered with an undeniable note of sarcastic teasing. I internally groaned over Alexander's insistence on recruitment posters plastered all over town.

"Well, then you've probably guessed why I am here. I think a man of your talents would be a wonderful addition to the organization. You obviously have experience with driving Imperials mad. What do you say?"

[Mr_F3]

"They couldn't afford me," I slipped the Kitsune mask into the top drawer of the polished oak desk and slid it shut before taking a seat in the large padded leather chair.
Spinning in a circle, I chuckled with glee before abruptly stopping myself and once again facing the silver intruder. "So, did you only come here to recruit me? Do you have the little beret and patch to welcome me?" I adjusted my glasses with a wide grin.

[Eerie_Coppernight]

I smiled slightly beneath the mask, he was playing as foxes are wont to do.

"You might as well join the Resistance since everyone thinks you're a part of it."

I tossed a newspaper onto the desk. The headline announced the previous attack of the Anarchists. 'Resistance Dons The Mask', read the black letters across the page. The article featured several exclusive interviews, all of them calling the terrorists 'Resistors'. It didn't stop at the front page. With inflammatory language typical of newspapers, the writers and editors denounced this "menagerie of outrage" that did as they pleased in No Man's Landing.

"Civilians are saying that the streets are no longer safe, not that they use them anyway."

[Mr_F3]

I looked over the articles with delight. It had been far too long since I had graced the front page.
"Alright," I finally slid the newspaper back toward our guest and rested my folded hands on the desk's shiny face, "you've convinced me. Resistance members, we shall be."

[Eerie_Coppernight]

I was completely stunned.

I was now more thankful than ever that I had chosen to wear a full-face mask. It hid my utter astonishment. Arrogant refusal, I was prepared for. Scornful laughter, I had expected. Acceptance had never even crossed my mind. I forced myself to take a deep breath and continued calmly.

"Very well, I shall inform the leaders of your acceptance. I expect you will inform the others of your decision."

What was I saying, I had no idea what to expect from this fox.

With that, I activated the Map of Aethasia and Aetherstepped to Lukas' Workshop. As soon as the tingling sensation left my body, I removed the mask and permitted myself to stagger under the sheer improbability of what had just happened.

"He accepted, he actually accepted. I thought he'd laugh at me, but he didn't. He accepted. He joined the Resistance."

I leaned against one of the brass supports and sank to the floor. There was only one thing to do now.

"How am I going to tell the Metalhearts about this?"

[Mr_F3]

I watched, hands folded, as our furry new friend vanished in a swirl of Aether. The only sign of her presence being a tuft of white fur that drifted to the cabin floor as the door was swept open causing me to start slightly.
"We need to talk, Fox." a rather somber-looking Wolf entered my office, closing the door firmly behind him.
"Oh hello, Mr. Wolf," I scooted my new chair up to the desk and leaned back in a relaxed fashion, "what has gotten your tail in a twist?"
He rolled his eyes as he finished tearing the Imperial insignia from his shoulder and tossed it across the room. "I think we screwed up."
"Oh, is that so?"
"Yes, that's so." The solemn individual took a side seat on the desk and continued to speak. "I know you don't think it's possible but I believe we may have taken a particularly dangerous snake by the tail. That particularly fat Imp you humiliated-- Officer Quinton Bartholomew Blackheap."
"Oh yes, the one that looked like a raccoon." I grinned at the image of said officer sporting ears and a fluffy tail.
"Yes." Wolf's tone carried more than a hint of frustration. He isn't just a high-ranking Autofficer." Wolf pulled a bundle of papers from his uniform jacket and placed them firmly in front of me.
Thumbing through them it didn't take me long to come across the rather lengthy name along with the title 'new district overseer.'
"So he gets a haughty title along with a haughty name." I shuffled the papers and laid them aside.
"The title itself is of no concern." Wolf tapped the papers with a finger, "if you had bothered to read through the documents you would have found that Officer Blackheap is here to replace Officer Renia Sharpgaze and take command as overseer of the No Man's Landing area."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning you just humiliated and robbed the most powerful Imperial in this part of Aethasia."

[Eerie_Coppernight]

The dull thud a the other end of my communicator almost made me laugh. I had just delivered the news of our new recruit to Hanna Brassheart and asked for the reward. Her response, as far as I could tell, was to fall out of her chair.

When she had sorted myself out, I held the communicator in my lap and only half-listened to the tirade that faded in and out of hearing. She was pacing, and I didn't blame her. The Resistance wasn't used to being dealt wild cards. All the current and past Resistors were as mild as hens compared to this latest edition. We hardly knew how to play wild cards, much less how to hold them.

I shook my head as Hanna continued to pace. I did not regret what I had done, but poor Hanna had enough on her plate as it was. To hear that the ringleader of the gang giving Resistors a bad name had become one of us was almost more than she could handle.

"Are you finished, dear?"

The long sigh from the other end told me she was.

"Well, what would you like me to do?"

When I shut off my communicator, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Keep him occupied, I could do that. I had perhaps a hundred different ways of doing that, and the fortunate Mr. Fox would be the beneficiary of them all.

My head whirled with plans as I made my way to the writing desk in my bedroom. This would do, for now. Later on, I might pass the most desperately dangerous of missions to the fantastic Mr. Fox. For now, I only had to give him something to play with. I sat at the desk and began to write. When it was finished, I took a lump of blue wax and a heating element. Into the dripped wax, I pressed a seal that left the image of a fox sitting on a crescent moon. He would know what it meant, if he was clever.

---

Note: Puzzles and codes will be appearing from here on out. If you solve them before Faetrix can, you have my full permission to rub it in his face. Post your answers in the Riddles topic.

I float in the sky above.
I flow in the ground beneath.
I compose a great amount of you.
What am I?

In the sky, I bring forth life.
Underground, I cause great strife.
Set in stone, I form a knife.
What am I?

[Mr_F3]

I grasped the rusted handle and heaved upwards, the dented and fog corroded sheet metal groaning and creaking in protest as the door slid upwards.
I held onto the handle until I was forced onto my tiptoes and released my hold. "Gentlemen," I clapped excitedly as I stepped into the dark interior, gesturing around me, "welcome to our new business."
"Our what?" Mr. Cougar stepped into the run-down warehouse I had procured in the back alleys of the Business District. The rest followed, Mr. Bull ducking slightly to enter as they glanced around our new home. Crates overflowing with junk were stacked here and there, trash and moldy food lay scattered across the cracked stone floor. It appeared as if a community of rats had thrown their annual party in this very room. A small back room had been walled off in the back of the small warehouse and a tale-tale rug placed neatly against the wall assured me that there was more to the building than meet the eye.

"Fox, what in Aethasia are you one about?" Mr. Badger adjusted his spectacles, his slightly pudgy cheeks jiggling in annoyance.
"Right, well, as you can see I found and purchased a fine location for a brand new business!' I smiled widely in excitement. "This will be the site of our brand new shipping business!"
Silence hung thick in the air as my five dear compatriates stared at me and then at each other.
Suddenly a snarl erupted from Mr. Cougar as he stalked across the room toward me. "Do you have rocks in your head, Fox, or are you simply an idiot?" His thin ashen face stopped a mere inch from my own as he glowered over me. I had only seen his gray eyes up close once before and the expression in them had not grown on me in the least. "You promised me money, you promised us all money." He waved a gloved hand at the spectators standing silently around. "Where is it, Fox," Cougar practically growled as he leaned in closer; his breath carrying the sickly sweet smell of nicotine causing me to choke slightly. "Where's my money?"

"You'll get your money," I purred as I adjusted my glasses, "but there is so much more to life than money. Like experience and.. and vodka." I flinched preparing for a punch that never came. Instead, Cougar simply stared. His narrow colorless eyes nearly piercing my dark spectacles with a look I was not familiar with. A chill ran over me as I suddenly felt as I'm sure a rabbit feels as it stares into the eyes of a dog.
Without a word, the furious feline turned on his heel and began to walk in an unhurried manner toward the door. he paused, reaching into his jacket pocket before turning and sending his namesake's mask soaring across the room and landing at my feet.
"I will return for my money, Fox," the clear precision in his voice gave me his word as he stepped out into the street and disappeared into the shadows of an alleyway opposite of the warehouse.

Silence reigned. I stood staring after him until a movement to my right caused me to glance at Mr. Sparrow, a spindly nervous man, who began to walk towards the exit. "Sorry," he smiled sadly before stepping out into the street and jogging after the late Mr. Cougar.
I inhaled sharply, shoving my hands into my pockets. "Anyone else?" I turned to face the three remaining Anarchists.
Mr. Bull stood rigidly, his arms folded causing the rolled-up sleeves of his off-white shirt to bulge around his massive forearms.
Mr. Wolf, perched on a stack of crates to my right, sat picking at his fingernails with a rather large knife seemingly unaware of the recent events.
Mr. Badger reclined in a rickety wooden chair, a book casually propped on his crossed legs. He glanced up briefly, pushing his spectacles up on the bridge of his nose before returning to his reading.

A slight grin formed on my lips which I quickly wiped away and shoved my hands deep into my pockets. "Well then, if none of you plan on relocating I suppose we should get this little establishment up and running. For now, I will run down to.., oh what is that place called again, the Beacon and see about getting a sign printed up."

Turning to exit I found myself face to face with a large cheery face framed with wild brown hair and sideburns. "'Ello, guv," a deep voice boomed in my ears causing me to stumble back.
"Holy guacamole, I didn't like that," I exclaimed, trying my best to gather my wits.
"I do apologize for scarin' ya, sir," the stocky individual, clothed in a dark green uniform with a worn leather satchel slung over one shoulder, beamed.
My hand flew to my face, ensuring the position of my glasses. "Y'know it isn't very polite to sneak up on persons like that."
The gent's smile grew wider as he shoved his burly hand into his satchel. "I am sorry, gov, I dint' mean to scare ya none. I only came 'ere to deliver this 'ere letter." He shoved a somewhat crumpled envelope toward me which I took rather gingerly and nodded. "Well... thank you I suppose."
"Don't mention it!" the lanky postman gave a short salute and stepped out into the street.
I stared after him until the odd gent disappeared around a corner and turned my attention to the brown envelope in my hands. "Fan mail already?"
Slipping a thumb into the fold of the envelope, I tore it open and slid the single sheet of paper from its depths. My eyes skimmed over the beautiful cursive lines as a grin caressed my lips. "Someone fancies themselves a literary mastermind do they?"
My attention fell to the barely dry wax at the bottom of the page as I became aware of a presence over my left shoulder. "Anything interesting?" Mr. Wolf mouthed the words I had already read. "Water," he finally said confidently.
"Of course, any chipmunk could figure that out. But what of the other one?"
Wolf was silent for a moment. "Eh... a tree?"
"You're 100% right and 100% wrong. A tree fits the description all right but hardly fits the theme."
"Theme?"
"Well of course." I tapped my finger against the first riddle. "If the first is water then the second is fire."
Wolf sighed, "I don't s'pose you would care to explain how you gather that?"
'Of course not," I turned to face my waiting companion, "but I will. You see, the sun above brings forth life. Deep underground lava churns causing volcanos and other natural catastrophes which are the very definition of strife. And, as you should know, Obsidian is practically perfect for making arrowheads and other razor-sharp blades. Obsidian also happens to result from cooling lava."

I tucked the letter back into the brown envelope and held it toward a contemplative Wolf. "It is rather easy for anyone who isn't a small rodent." Wolf took the envelope and I motioned toward the back room. "You should find some fresh envelopes in the back. If you would be so kind as to put our friend Quinton the Coon's name on the envelope and give it to the funny postman when you see him. I believe an anonymous letter from a secret admirer will brighten his day." I gave Wolf a gentle pat on his tanned chiseled jaw before stepping out into the street and setting out for the small print shop down by the docks.

As I journeyed along two things seemed to stroll in and take a seat within the depths of my mind. One particularly mild thought was that our Resistance involved vixen friend seemed to have far more of an agenda than simple recruitment. Oh no, this silvery individual had something I knew all too well. Curiosity. I hummed thoughtfully. Perhaps our new friend wasn't as dull as the rest. Perhaps they were at least entertaining. Perhaps... well perhaps the moon is made of cheese. On a more important note, how in the rickety raddling rickets did that postmaster fellow know where I was?

[Eerie_Coppernight]

The musical jingle of my communicator tore me away from The Murders in the Rue Morgue. I set the book down and answered it.

"Bonjour?"

On the other end, as far as I could tell, were most of the Resistance leaders. They had apparently been discussing the recruitment of Mr. Fox. I waited as patiently as I could through the long and grandiose speech that, in essence, named me as the new agent's handler. At this news, I sat up sharply.

"Handle him? You really think anyone can handle him? You might get close with a professional fire-eater, but you could never handle him."

They merely answered that this was my problem and hung up. I laid back in the red velveteen armchair with a sigh. I had come to the Beacon basement to relax after a long night on the rooftops, but that call had undone everything Edgar Allen Poe had done for my relaxation. I tucked away the book with a sigh and smoothed my signature blue and black figure skater gown. Perhaps some fresh air would settle my ruffled feathers. Speaking of feathers, I mustn't leave my hat behind.

Hat on head, I swept up the long, dark stairs that led to the Beacon office. Just as I was about to press the hidden catch, I heard Irving's voice.

"Sure, I can print that for you, govner. How soon will you need it?"

"As soon as you can manage it," said a familiar, patronizing voice. I froze. It was a voice I recognized; and the last time I heard it, it had come from behind a fox mask. Taking the cork out of the peephole, I strained my eye for a glimpse of Mr. Fox.

It was a view from behind, which told me little new. All I saw was his flame-colored hair and nothing of his face. I muttered under my breath in frustration and waited.

I did not have to wait long. The gentleman gave instructions on where to deliver his order, a warehouse on the seedier side of the Business District. I took a pad and pencil and scribbled it down. Irving, the helpful lad, repeated it back to the slightly impatient Fox which allowed me to ensure I got it right. Just as I pocketed the paper and pencil, my quarry turned on his heel like an actor leaving the stage. As he reached the door, I briefly considered following him. I thought of the address I had written down and banished the idea.

Instead, I hurried back down the stairs. He had a base now, one that we knew of anyway. A base meant something to put in it, a place for plans to be discussed, a place for his cronies to congregate. I thought of the enormous man in the bull mask and frowned. The Resistance wanted me to "handle" this carnival of animals, they never said I had to do it alone. I turned on my communicator hoping I was making the right choice.

"@Elizabeth_Newroad, this is Eerie Coppernight. I want you to meet me at my house tonight and bring that little project with you."

[Elizabeth_Newroad]

I smiled with satisfaction as I gazed at my project. It was beautiful. After several years of hard work, I had finally perfected it. There were still a few things that needed fixing, of course, but I couldn't wait to test this thing out.

Just at that moment, my communicator rang. I answered it, only to hear an old friend's voice. She delivered her message and hung up dramatically. I chuckled to myself and settled into a comfy chair. I had a few hours to spend before I was supposed to meet Eerie, so I may as well read something to pass the time.

A few books later, I gently packed up my project and pulled on a black cloak. Tucking the package protectively under my arm, I headed into the dreary weather. Eventually I found her house and knocked on the door.

"Miss Coppernight? I hope I'm not too late."

[Eerie_Coppernight]

I heard the knock on the door just as I had sealed the finished letter. I gave a half-smile, my courier had arrived. I pocketed the letter and opened the door. I opened the door to a sky just beginning to rain and a girl who desperately did not want to get soaked.

"Miss Coppernight? I hope I'm not too late."

I gave another half-smile. "Come in, my dear. I suppose you're wondering why you're here."

She nodded enthusiastically and stepped across the threshold. I shut the door quickly and guided her into the parlor. She plopped down in one of the armchairs by the blazing hearth while I seated myself across from her.

"First of all," said I putting the tips of my fingers together, "How has Project: Platypus held up so far?"

[Elizabeth_Newroad]

I plopped into the chair and grinned at Eerie, barely containing my excitement. "Project Platypus is going very well, actually." I carefully took out the package and placed in on the table beside me, "I just put the finishing touches on it earlier today."

I straightened in my seat and looked at Eerie. Her face gave away nothing, as usual, and I was dying to know why she called me here. My brain was working on overdrive, trying to think of plausible explanations for why she would need my help.

"Okay, I really want to know. Why am I here?"

[Eerie_Coppernight]

I took out the letter and the slip of paper with the address.

"I need you to put it on and deliver this to a very dangerous person. That's why I asked you to bring your suite. This will be the first in a series of things I will ask of you involving this person. Are you willing?"

Mademoiselle Newroad was incredulous She glanced at the address and attempted to peak inside the letter. I watched her coolly. Finally, she raised an eyebrow quizzically and asked, "Who exactly is this "dangerous person?"

I gazed into the fire with a smile.

"He is Mr. Fox, the leader of the Anarchists that have caused so much trouble recently."