Transcript of Phone Call to Fox Foundation 09/09/89:

  Fox: I think the Kit City Care Team has a chance.

  Rep: And I think that Garden City is where you’re most needed. Kit City’s heroes are supremely untested. They don’t have your training, or experience. And nothing I’ve seen about them says they have a killing instinct.

  Fox: I have a killing instinct. Maybe that’s enough.

  Rep: the last Supervillain dustup in Detroit took a full Superhero and a Journeyman to stop. Even then, the Steel Legion killed 40 people, most of them civilians. If you can’t get them ready —

  Fox: Hey, it’s me you’re talking to. I’m a team player. I'm Mister Congeniality. I’ll get them on my side, and we’ll get the bad guy.

  Rep: I’m not worried about that, Fox. I’m worried about the rest of them. I just. I don’t want to see what it would look like if —

  Fox: You worry too much K.

  Rep: Honey, that’s all I get paid to do.

  Fox: You get paid?

  Rep: You’re going to miss your flight.

  Fox: Already out the door.

  Red Fox Action Log 40:

  September and its clawing wind scratched leaves across the concrete sidewalk outside the window. Passing foot traffic sent the piles of them scattering, crunching under foot.

  All those people out there, hustling down the crowded sidewalks shoulder to shoulder, it was tempting to see them like sheep, or cattle, some prey animal herded into a chute. But that was wrong. Each one was the hero of their own story, capable of greatness.

  Or the villain in mine.

  Corner window seat, good sight lines — a perfect spot. Away from the bustle at the counter, and quiet enough to talk, insulated from listening ears by the white noise of the other cafe patrons.

  Just by looking, you’d think me cornered, but a fox always has a second exit. Even if the explosive tape in my bag didn’t shatter the entire window behind me, there was always the wrench next to it.

  “Thank you for coming,” started Sniffer Sleuth, the man reputed to have the world’s most acute sense of smell.

  “You’re welcome,” I replied, startled from my observations of the world around me. “I’m grateful to be given a chance to meet.”

  “Finally,” the other man said.

  Barry ‘LazerGunz’ Wallace seemed, by my estimation, to be kind of insufferable.

  For one, he made everyone call him ‘Barry.’ Even if it wasn’t his real name, it felt sacrilegious. A hero shouldn’t have a name other than their Code Name.

  “I just don’t get why you’re here Mr. Red Fox,” he continued, with some amount of derision.

  “You’re basically one of the world’s only hero teams,” I said. “Why wouldn’t I be interested? If I’m going to join, shouldn’t I know more about what you do here in Kit City?”

  I noticed the way Barry ‘LazerGunz’ smiled, like it was his go to response to anything, but also a sign of his constant discomfort at any kind of sincerity.

  “Sure, and I guess it’s good for us to feel out what you bring to the table, too,” Barry said.

  I figured it pretty obvious what I brought to the table, but I let that slide.

  “Anyway,” he barreled ahead. “Why aren’t you suited up? Why be a hero if it’s not to wear a sweet-ass super suit?” he replied, smoothing his already smooth suit down with his hands. A classic one-piece bodysuit kind in orange and yellow, but he had the modern tactical pouches on a belt across the chest, too. His buckle was stamped with a large emblem of a hand making the ‘Finger Gun’ gesture.

  As a Legacy Hero, I could relate to liking the suit, but I didn’t — well, I didn’t preen.

  “It’s very nice,” I lied.

  We sat in a crowded cafe, I with my social stealth gear on, and an Earl Grey steaming between my hands. You didn’t put the full suit on during daylight hours. But I had my vest on under my turtleneck and tactical boots, and my bag had the essential Fox gear. Barry leaned back in his chair with a cup of coffee — a latte, something sweet by the look of the whipped cream on top. Even sitting, he looked trim and tall, but with goofy and boyish features.

  Rick ‘Sniffer Sleuth’ Loyle chimed in from his table next to us.

  “No, he’s right,” the older man said.

  “Thank you, Rick,” Barry said.

  “Honestly, you look great! The orange really brings out the baby blue of your eyes,” Sleuth added. “But I’m sure he meant that it’s just the Kit City Care Team hasn’t had any big wins yet. So why join now?”

  “Let’s just say I feel like this is where I should be."

  “Well, we certainly appreciate it,” Sleuth said. “I’m excited that you've — that a real Journeyman Hero has shown interest!”

  Barry scoffed when he heard ‘Journeyman Hero.’ Technically, we’d both made JH Class. I, because of my accomplishments, and he because of his alarming powerset. But it seemed clear he resented being reminded that we were technically the same rank.

  Sniffer Sleuth smiled. With a bland face just shy of handsome, he made a rather frumpy figure compared to his partner. Only a single black ballistic vest with the emblem of a nose on it in yellow, identified him as a hero. Though, it was clear he was probably only Street Level at best.

  Some research on the Super-net revealed that he’d won a single state Judo tournament in his civilian identity, but no records of where he trained, or what belt he’d mastered. Curious, but not too out of the question for the beginnings of a hero’s career.

  “The news seems very impressed with your big win,” Barry said. “But I can’t get a read on your powerset. Is it mental, low key, like Painbolter?”

  Painbolter, also JH Rank, was believed by many to have what it took to go Superhero. His takedown of Alphawave and a shopping mall full of mind controlled goons with nothing but a handful of throwing knives last year was already nearing legendary status. The popular theory was that he had some way to shatter mental wards and bindings.

  I tried to smile, maybe diffuse some of the tension.

  “I’m mostly a tech hero,” I said. “I have a grappling hook, smoke bombs, a badge that can help me jump higher. I took a serum that augments my speed and agility. That kind of thing. It’s not flashy, but it gets the job done.”

  “So you’re not making Superhero anytime soon?”

  “It doesn’t seem so. But isn’t that the point of the Care Team? Face S-rank threats with lower level heroes?”

  “Not exactly,” Sleuth cut in. “It’s about flexibility, mentorship, about getting Kit City back on its feet.”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  I gestured to him as if to agree.

  “He’s right,” Barry said, “community building is the cornerstone of the team. And we look good doing it. Do you have any experience with that?”

  “Not yet,” I pivoted. “Think you’re ready for a Supervillain attack?”

  Barry’s eyes narrowed.

  “Oh!” Sniffer Sleuth said, “time to get to work.”

  He stood. Barry stood as well, and put one of his gloved hands on the other. A seam that ran down both gloves suggested they could be ripped off at a moment’s notice. My hand went to my messenger bag full of tools. What had Sleuth seen that my Fox Instincts hadn’t picked up?

  Sleuth put a hand on Barry’s shoulder then pointed to a man outside the cafe. He looked scruffy and unwashed, maybe homeless, and seemed to be hassling a pedestrian on the street.

  “Here we go,” Barry muttered.

  “Hey,” Sleuth said, “this is what it’s all about.”

  “I’ll let you lead,” Barry said quietly.

  I accompanied them out of the cafe.

  As soon as the scruffy-looking man saw them, he swore and began tugging at his hair. The pedestrian escaped. I slung my bag over my shoulder, but hung back.

  “Two-bit,” Sleuth said, “how are you doing today?”

  “I’m doing great Sniffer Sleuth,” the man said. “And LaserGunz.”

  “Hey, Two-bit,” said Barry.

  Barry stood back, between the man and I, but kept his hands folded in front of him.

  “Who’s the other guy?” the maybe-homeless man asked.

  “That’s just Fox,” Sleuth said kindly, “he’s a friend from out of town. So, how is the family doing?”

  The unwashed man eyed me suspiciously. I smiled, and put my hands in my pockets. A disarming gesture if you didn’t know how hard I could kick.

  “I’m not holding, man,” Two-bit said. “Just leave me alone.”

  “Hey,” the frumpy man said with a wide smile, “I’m Sniffer Sleuth, I can smell it.”

  “No, man, I musta walk past somebody who was holding. I’m clean.”

  “You may be clean,” Sleuth said, “but you’re holding, so you won’t be clean later. And that’s not okay for you, or for your niece.”

  “Look,” Two-bit responded, hanging his head a little, “just let me do it just this once, I don’t have enough to sell. I’m just gonna —”

  “How about you come with me?” Sleuth said. “Before others get involved.”

  I assumed he was talking about the cops. Sniffer Sleuth kept a kind smile on his face, and his hands out in front of him, gesturing as he talked. I noticed the collapsible baton on his hip, but he didn’t seem to be worried about keeping his posture ready to use it.

  Was it sloppy, or a gesture of trust?

  “The clinic is just four blocks down,” Sleuth continued. “We’ll walk you.”

  “But they’ll make me —” Two-bit started to say.

  “Once we’re there,” Sleuth continued, “it’s your choice whether you use what you’ve got or not, but I think you should choose the other stuff tonight. You know Wendy has a soccer game this weekend. And you like Carol, right?”

  Four blocks down the road — presumably a safe injection site. I assumed the woman named Carol was a social worker. The thought of all three of us going on a mission to save an addict seemed a tactical mistake. But I was here to watch them, learn their methods as much as find the villain.

  I kept my head on a swivel, and held my tongue.

  “Carol’s usually not there,” the man said.

  “She’s working today,” Sleuth said.

  “And if you come with us,” Barry said slyly, like promising a child candy after they’d been forbidden, “I’ll show you my superpowers.”

  “I've already seen your superpowers,” Two-bit said.

  “Yeah, but they’re dope as hell.”

  The man laughed.

  “They are pretty dope,” he said walking in the direction of the clinic.

  I followed them down the street, trying to look uninteresting.

  A small plastic shopping bag floated across the asphalt. A bright red light streaked from Barry’s finger. The bag turned into a puddle of plastic and smoke, instantly.

  I couldn’t stop myself from feeling a little giddy. I had worked hard to cultivate my abilities and tech, but I couldn’t do anything like that. Somewhere inside me the ten year old that idolized Captain Iron squealed, and pumped his fist.

  I kept my cool though. Maybe cracked a smile.

  His powers seemed to require little effort for such an intense projection. Why was he with someone like Sniffer Slueth?

  I let them head into the clinic while I stayed on the street, and collected my thoughts. The low grade anxiety of Fox Instinct told me that something was up, but no matter where I looked, I couldn't find the source of the danger.

  I pulled out my phone, a new Rextex Handy-flip phone, and checked my messages. I’d messaged the Quick Response Team to see if I couldn’t get a run-by from Carla Quick. Didn’t look like I’d gotten the attention of a human yet.

  RF_0_X: This is Red Fox. I have an important tip for Ms. Quick

  Response Team Auto: Thank you for contacting our Quick Report Messaging System. We currently have all QR Agents busy with other tips. If you have something to report please post it here, and we will get back to you if needed.

  RF_0_X: Kit City is under imminent threat of a Supervillain attack. I currently lack evidence on where exactly it will be located. Can we get a run-by to share and assess?

  Response Team Auto: thank you for your tip. Currently, all remaining agents are busy. Please add any additional information you deem necessary.

  RF_0_X: I can’t share more over an unsecured line.

  Response Team Auto: your tip has been logged 9/12/0089. Your Confirmation Number is XXRT-459-652.

  That last message giving me a confirmation number was new. So, at least I have something to reference in follow ups.

  Carla Quick was, for all intents and purposes, the only remaining fully public Superhero. Bronze Boy IV and Gem Girl were talked about in hushed whispers, but neither had officially announced their returns.

  Classic heroes had a team to support them, like a knight or a racecar driver, someone to maintain their suits and comb through their intel. Carla Quick had the Quick Corp sponsoring her, and she had hundreds of agents in the Quick Response Team, armed with high end laser pistols that she could drop anywhere at a moment’s notice. Anything from convenience store robberies, to a Supervillain attack could have a QR team drop in and handle it. They were highly trained, and well armed. Quick herself seemed to only show up for longer than a second when a hurricane hit, or a building fire needed to be cleared.

  I could have reached out too rashly. I didn’t have any hard evidence, but my handler assured me that she was trying to track some down. The Foundation’s intel was usually solid.

  But how could Carla Quick know that? Journeyman Heroes were still pretty small time compared to her.

  There was that pang, the Fox Instinct warning me of something. I couldn’t find the source.

  “Hey,” Sleuth said upon exiting the clinic, annoyance creeping into his voice for the first time.

  “Yes?”

  “What were you doing out here?” he asked. “If you’re gonna be part of the team, you can’t hang around like that.”

  “Didn’t think you needed me inside,” I said, truthfully. “Out here, I can scout for possible counter-surveillance.”

  When I had a team, we always had one Fox in reserve for just that reason. It had helped us out of a bind several times. When I had a team, that is. Most people didn’t notice that the Red Fox had three different heights. Made us more mysterious, seem like we could be anywhere.

  I frowned at the unwelcome memory.

  “Counter-surveillance?” Barry chimed in. “Why would we need to worry about that?”

  “If you have people interested in joining,” I explained, placing a hand on my chest for emphasis, “you’ve got enemies.”

  Sniffer Sleuth’s eyes cut to Barry. I registered a look of surprise or interest from the Journeyman Hero I couldn’t quite place.

  “We don’t have enemies,” Sleuth said.

  “We all have enemies,” I said in a low voice. “Besides, I’m not sure that guy was even worth our time.”

  I surprised myself with my callousness. I didn’t know I’d felt that way til I said it. But I’d spent the last year or so fighting some real nasty folk. This all seemed… well, it seemed sort of like a waste of time.

  Sleuth scoffed. Barry gave him a sympathetic look.

  “Look,” Sniffer Sleuth continued, “that guy is the only uncle his little five-year-old niece has, and she adores him. He freezes to death out here, that kid's gonna have her life changed forever. You can lose a house. Maybe you get a new one. But you don’t get people back.”

  “Hmm,” I said, “You may be right.”

  “Come on, Barry,” Sleuth said, “let’s head back to Headquarters.”

  A scream split the air.

  “HELP! Please someone HELP!”

  A woman, young, in distress. Or. Wait. The Instinct again throbbed in my chest, but something else lurked behind it. Something sharper than anxiety.

  Imminent threat.

  “Gloves off,” Sleuth said.

  Barry tore his gloves off, and his hands glowed softly.

  I pulled out the Fox Badge, and slapped it on my chest. I didn’t start the cadence yet.

  “Help!” came the voice again.

  “The alley,” I said.

  “Gunpowder,” Sleuth warned. “Gasoline.”

  Damn. I hated guns. But if you let a little gunfire stop you from hero work, you were in the wrong profession.

  We ran around the corner.

  The woman wore a black leather jacket, and fit a helmet on her head. She mounted her motorcycle.

  “Good luck, cutie,” she said, before speeding past.

  Down the alley, five men with pistols turned the corner. There. That was the source of the danger.

  “It’s a trap,” I said, pulling my mask and fitting it over my face.

  “No shit,” Barry said.