Episode 5-2: What A Fox

Las Vegas, Nevada

It's nighttime, letting the Strip's neon light shows dominate the dark skies. The roads are crowded, mobs of people walking all over. Getting around unnoticed should be easy under these conditions. As promised, my stellar strapless black dress and name-brand stilettos give me a guarantee that my face would be the last thing people would look at. I owe it all to my figure.

Clyde has his usual cute little high-end Classic suit with a bow tie. The thing to wear to all formal occasions. We decided to take the multi-functional glasses for this one, and call it a hunch that we'd need them later.

"Okay, there are roughly 62,000 rooms to check-in The Strip alone," Clyde explains, "How do you want to narrow this down?"

"Wha-62,000 rooms!? Why didn't you tell me this before!?"

"We had plenty of time to research the place! Are you telling me that you sat on your ass for the whole trip!?"

Actually, I got entranced with a computer game I found online, but for the sake of professional courtesy, I stay silent.

"Wait," he says, "then what was all that time you spent on the computer?"

"Uh, that was um, simulations and...practice. Firearm practice!"

"Okay, firearm practice on the computer?"

"It was...really realistic." I don't think he believes me. "So, the plan?"

"Well, since I'm the one who did the research, I noticed a pattern. The murders have taken place all around the country, but as the dates get closer to the present, the killer kills closer and closer to Nevada. The last three murders happened in Las Vegas, and what place is there around here to blow off steam after a gory day's work?"

"The Strip! Of course! I'm glad I thought of it!"

"But wait, there's still one more problem."

"Now what!?"

"There's no way of knowing whether the killer is still using your face or not."

"If he is, then he's the most confident bastard I know."

"And if he's not?"

"Let's hope he is."

With such a widespread area, there's no easy way of choosing a starting point to begin our search. Eventually, we settle on a toy spinner we use for a board game to point our direction for us. Archer is coming along too, but he refuses to stay close to us. Stealth was always his strong suit, and he prefers hiding in the shadows rather than in plain sight.

After about an hour of aimless wandering, Clyde had an urge to check a gentleman's club. He calls it a hunch, I call it a break. There was a single bouncer standing in front of the door, having a smoke. When he saw us coming, he immediately put it out.

"Foxy! What are you doing out here?" he asks.

Foxy? Guess he's talking to me, considering my species. Must be another nickname humans like to give us. We've been here just as long as the humans have, and yet there are still people who believe that we shouldn't exist the way we do. Such bad manners!

"Well," I say, "I was looking to get in."

"Of course! Get in, get in."

Oh? I could've sworn I had racist comments inbound, must've read him wrong. I walk in first, then Clyde, and I'm sure Archer already found a way in unnoticed somehow. The place is dark on the inside, and the music pumps a rhythmic beat made for the single purpose of dancing. The patrons were actually a mix of humans and anthros, and the same went for the dancers.

"Hey look, a bar!" Clyde says, his tail wagging furiously.

"No! No drinking tonight!" I say, giving him a small disciplinary pat on the snout. He whimpers slightly and his ears fall flat. I'm starting to think he has a serious problem when I'm not looking.

I survey the club the best I can, given the poor lighting conditions, and was a little spooked to see Archer scanning the crowd through the ventilation system. Clyde and I shuffle through the lusty audience and find a table to sit at. Admittedly, all that walking in heels has gotten to me, welcoming a relaxing sit-down session.

"Well can I at least get a glass of water?" he asks.

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

"What!? Why not? It's just water!"

"Let's not get distracted by trivial needs right now."

"You've got to be-"

"That's enough, Clyde! You're a damn professional, start acting like it!"

As cold as I sound, I mean every word. What Clyde forgets is that this guy is wearing my face. Wearing my face! It's his fault why my friends locked me up in a small room for hours. And then he makes me walk around The Strip in heels! So excuse me if I seem a bit on edge.

"Alright, sorry I asked," he says, slumping in his chair.

Well, now I feel bad, "No, I'm sorry. It's just that...this really sucks, you know?"

"That's not very lady-like of you to say."

The music is so loud that I almost didn't hear my phone go off. The screen flashes "Archer," and I hastily answer.

"Archer?"

"Are you two blind!?" he screams, "Look at the fourth dancer from the left!"

I snap my neck to look behind me, and by the Divines, I choke on my own spit for a second. There, spinning around expertly on a pole, was me! I look pretty good as a stripper, but the boobs threw me off completely.

"He is a she!" I cry.

"What?" Clyde asks.

"Hold your fire," Archer orders, "we'll have to snag her when nobody's looking."

"I...ah. Yeah, yes of course. It's..." I can't finish my sentence. It's really distracting watching yourself dance around in skimpy clothing, blowing kisses, and giving seductive winks to make it rain green paper. Wow, she is really flexible!

"She is really flexible," Clyde comments.

"Don't look at her like that, you're basically checking me out!"

"Excuse me, but the last time I checked, you didn't have boobs."

I feel my face burn up. Why am I embarrassed? I feel angry, confused, betrayed, inadequate, and possibly other emotions I can't name on the spot! The weird part is, I think I'm narcissistic now.

Everything about her was undeniably similar to me. The color of her fur, the green eyes, the swaying hips, that damn smirk I do when I feel like being a tease! All of it! It's more than just my looks that's she's stolen, it's my DNA!

"My God," Clyde begins, "now that I see her in person, the resemblance is uncanny!"

I look back at her, then at me with a pocket mirror, "Yeah, except I'm way prettier than her!"

"Look, she's leaving. Maybe her session is over. C'mon, let's cut her off behind the curtains."

As her pink-ribbon tail disappears behind the curtain, we stand up and casually stroll over towards the back of the club. The door leading to the backstage dress rooms is unguarded by some miracle, and we walk right in without hassle. I was expecting to see other dancers and staff members here, but the place is empty. I feel like I should chalk that up to the strange clues list.

I look around the room and notice the runway that leads straight to the stage. The rest of the place is barren, so that means that she somehow vanished into thin air.

"How did she do that?" Clyde asks, spinning around in place.

Suddenly a pair of arms wrap around his neck and attempt to choke him out. Clyde reacts quickly and throws the assailant over his shoulder. My doppelgänger tucks and rolls expertly, and sets off a smoke bomb in the room.

We're a step ahead with our thermal view glasses, and manage to surprise her with how prepared we are. Her ambush fails as she tries to land a knee to my face but only manages to be deflected by the little amount of defensive combat I received. Clyde throws a kick at her, nailing her right in her side, and sending her tumbling to the ground.

She must've realized that we aren't the usual two-bit street brawlers because her next move is an attempt to escape. We can't react quickly enough when she kicks off the wall and pulls herself up into the ventilation system.

"Damn!" we yell in unison.

The banging of her crawling echoes throughout the room, but then it suddenly stops in place. The silence lasts for one second before more aggressive noises ring out. It sounds like she was coming back to where she pushed herself up from. Almost like she was being pushed back.

She falls right through the hole, landing on her back with a heavy thud. It obviously stuns her, but she wastes no time trying to stand back up. Clyde moves faster and pins her to the floor.

"Troy, now!" Clyde shouts.

I pull out the Barbiturates tranquilizer we had prepared and steadily plunge the syringe into her leg. She was out within the second. Archer drops from the vents, cracking his knuckles and brushing his clothes off.

"You should've seen her face when she rounded the corner. I think I spooked her good," he jokes.

*** *** ***

We bring her back to the RV and properly restrain her to a chair with thick rope. The dose I'd given her was heavy in chemicals, but minuscule in the amount. An hour passes, and she groggily moans and groans, complaining about the worst headache she had ever experienced. Her eyes lazily inspect her new surroundings before fixing them on Clyde and I.

"Wow, what a wild ride," she says. I guess she had a good trip with the sedatives. "You guys are the most talented hitmen I've ever had the pleasure of meeting."

"We're not hitmen, lady," I say. She looks at me like it was the first time she had even noticed me.

"Whoa, nice mask! Looks exactly like my face! How did you do that?"

"Wha- YOUR FACE!?"

"Fair warning, my face will get you in some serious trouble. Not the smartest thing to do if you're looking to commit identity fraud,"

The nerve of this girl, trying to pass off that I'm the impostor! I was here first. "Listen, I-"

"And if you were going to steal a face, why not pick one of your own gender?"

I'm stunned, she sees through my disguise. "How did you-?"

"Your Adam's Apple is showing, sweetie."

I clear my throat, "Well that's embarrassing," I say, dropping the woman's voice.

Clyde finally decides to intervene, "We've got plenty of questions to ask, but there's one I can't wait for. Who are you working with?"

She rolls her eyes, "What are you, a cliché movie interrogator? Seriously, you can't expect me to spill my secrets just like that. Not without a little G-rated tickle torture first."

"C'mon, throw a tired dog a bone here."

"Sorry Fido, you're barking up the wrong tree thinking that I would cave so easily."

"Fido? Don't make me turn you into a chew toy!"

"Go ahead and try it. You can't break me. It's obvious that you've bitten off more than you can chew."

"Look, today has been ruff, and I'm in no mood for games."

"Then stick a leash on it and sit!"

"Would you please stop that!?"

"You getting hot under the collar there?"

"I- Are you- This is-", Clyde stutters, struggling to find the words for someone like this.

"What's that Lassie? Timmy fell down the well!?"

Clyde pulls his fist back to nail a haymaker right in her face, but I grab his arm before he could launch it.

"Whoa, whoa! Stop!" I yell.

He looks back at me, "She's really annoying!"

I pull him back and make him stand behind me, "Stay!"

He shoots me a dirty look but obeys nonetheless. I turn back to my clone, who had a smug look on her face.

"Wait," she says, "I just thought of another one! If you two are partners, does that make you The Fox and the Hound?"

I keep my serious face on, but then a little snicker comes out. That last one was really funny. "Okay, that's enough. You've committed murders on camera purposefully using my face. Why?"

"Your face? How good of a liar are you?"

"What's the point of it!? I'm already notorious to the bad guys, so why let the public in on it too?"

She seems genuinely confused, "Okay, I really don't know what you're talking about."

"Lying now won't help you."

"I was just following orders!"

"Orders?"

She sighs, "Look, you actually seem like you've got no idea either, which puts you in the same boat as me. My employment gave me targets to eliminate, and the main objective was to do it on camera. I don't know why they wanted me to show my face, but that was the job."

"I see, and how long have you been doing this job?"

"All my life."

"And the face?"

"I was born with it."

"That's one hell of a coincidence. Who were your parents?"

"You want my life story or something!?" she snaps. I guess the subject of her parents is a touchy one. Unexpectedly, she answers quickly, "My mom died during birth, and my dad wasn't there for me. I don't know how that information helps you though."

Suddenly, Archer walks in holding a piece of paper. He pushes past Clyde hastily and stops right in front of me, "Troy, I found out how she has your face!"

"Dude!" I yell, "You just gave my real name away!"

"Actually, that's the clue!" He looks at my clone, "Troy Hearth is his name."

Her smooth expression changed dramatically to one of who just found out a big secret. Her mouth hung open as she processed this new information that apparently solved all of life's riddles.

"Hearth!?" she screams, her expression twisting up to show hate-incarnate. My last name wasn't common, which probably means that she's heard it before.

"Um, yeah. Family name and all," I say. I'm unsure of what Archer is leading on to.

"Family!? That name is the name of the man who chose to cut me out of his life! I was put in an orphanage because of him!"

Suddenly it becomes extremely obvious. Her face, her fur color, her eyes, her attitude, even her sense of humor. It wasn't by sheer coincidence, it's actual DNA! Different mothers, but the same father. Born by the rare chance of inhabiting dear old Dad's genes. He never spoke of another woman besides Mom.

"Troy," Archer whispers, "Her governed name is Lula Foxy, and she's your half-sister."

Author's Note:

The character, Lula Foxy, was provided by @LoveLiveDieSmiling44. Thank you for allowing me the privilege of using her for this episode. Also, I am extremely sorry for the dog puns. I couldn't help it...