CHAPTER 17

  Pakos stalked behind the tour group, hood pulled low, trying not to look like he was following them. Which he was. Any court would see this as a parole violation. But, he told himself, he had good reason. This time. He’d followed Niko and his friends on two other outings, and both times, he’d noticed that he wasn’t the only one tailing them.

  A convenient excuse to keep following Niko and watching him.

  Every time you lie to yourself, you lose a little more control, some part of him thought glumly. How many lies until you end up like your father? How many until you do something you can’t take back?

  He wouldn’t be like his father. He was following Niko to protect him, from others worse than Pakos himself. It’s not like he could just tell the mouse. There was no way he or his friends would ever believe Pakos. Same for the police, at least until he had something concrete, preferably something that didn’t incriminate him as well.

  Maybe if he did something good for once, he could hate himself just a little less. Maybe it would give him the push he needed to keep bettering himself. He’d always been this way, after all. Always needed someone else to steer him toward good choices. He’d hoped Niko would fill that role. Before Niko, it was his former partner. Before that…

  I miss you, Mom.

  The SDM team was out in front, leading a crowd of Latians and Moccans, some carried by friends and others transported by hired porters, through Teromod’s Old Town. Unlike most of the rest of the city, these buildings were centuries old; a few were even older. Despite their age, their beauty far outshone the rest of the city.

  Pakos nearly stumbled into the person in front of him, caught up in staring at the tour. Muttering an apology, he glanced up to see a tall Latian bear, scowling at him. Accompanying the bear was a rough-looking gator.

  He recognized these two. He’d seen both tailing the SDM team before. They turned and walked away, but he stood there, frozen, watching them leave. The people on the street around him—some locals, others unrelated tourists also wanting a look at Old Town—parted, complaining of the inconvenience. Drawing attention to him.

  So caught up was he that he almost didn’t notice the fox spot him. The brute practically threw Niko at the girl before sprinting towards him.

  Pakos ran.

  “Wait! Wait!” he yelled breathlessly as they plowed through the sightseeing crowds. “I’m not—I’m not here to cause trouble! Those other guys, they were following you!” The words sounded weak, even to his ears. The fox clearly thought the same, ignoring them and snarling as they ran.

  In the end, Pakos got away. They’d made it over half a mile before a look over his shoulder told him his pursuer had turned back. He stopped to pant, not sure if he was actually the superior runner or if the fox had just decided to return to Niko.

…

  “I’m going to fucking kill him,” Fyche spat. Niko patted Fyche’s cheek from his perch on his partner’s shoulder, trying to calm him.

  Kelsen glanced over at the attendees, who were milling around uncomfortably. Most of them had seen one or more of the videos and posts the SDM team had made about Pakos and the things he’d done, and had a vague concept of the severity of the situation. “Are we going to call the cops?”

  Fyche shared a look with Ralia, and both of their faces fell. They seemed ashamed. “Like before, it probably won’t work,” Ralia said unhappily.

  “Okay,” said Niko. “There’s clearly something you two aren’t telling us. Out with it already.” Kelsen nodded in agreement, looking weary.

  Fyche sighed. “A-all right. Do you remember that councilman from a month or two ago? We did a video on him.”

  Niko crossed his arms. “That super bigoted guy who hated Moccans? Shit, we laughed at him for like, an hour straight. ‘Moccans aren’t sending good people here, they’re sending spies and thieves over! They’re forming a shadow government! They’re leeches and vampires, all of ‘em!” He took a breath, far from done. “They do experiments on Latian babies! They’re puttin’ chemicals in the air that make the damn dogs gay!’ That guy was a fucking nutjob to a ridiculous degree, what about him?” Fyche opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, struggling to form the words. “Oh, don’t fucking tell me...”

  “He has support,” Ralia said, shutting her eyes. “Way more than you’d expect. Again, a lot of it is offline, and when it is online, it’s usually concentrated in the kind of awful places we don’t frequent. Conspiracy forums and anonymous, unmoderated threads where people can say whatever vile things they want without repercussion.”

  “So just, like, idiots and bigots?”

  Ralia shook her head slowly. “No. He’s managed to get a lot of others into his following by playing up the fears people have about Moccans coming here and taking their jobs and diluting Latian cultural identities. And it’s stupid, but it’s a real worry a lot of people have. Moccans are still new and strange, and it’s not like Latians can go to Moccs. Moccans just come here. And there’s a few billion more Moccans than there are Latians...”

  Niko blinked. “So those guys the other night...”

  “Probably some of his fans,” Fyche said bitterly. “And that’s, that’s not the scariest part. There’s a lot of dipshits in law enforcement who listen to that bile.”

  Kelsen shuddered. “So unless we get something irrefutable or get someone important on our side, the cops aren’t going to help us with Pakos or anyone else.” Ralia and Fyche looked away and nodded. “But...that’s not fair! We don’t come here to take anything! We came here because we thought Latia was awesome! Because Moccans and Latians coming together is good! Why...” He trailed off, blinking away angry tears.

  “Absolute bullshit,” muttered Niko. “God fucking damn it. Everywhere I go.”

  There wasn’t much Ralia and Fyche could do other than voice their support.

…

  The four of them uneasily led the attendees to the next event, a traditional Doxen meal at an upscale restaurant. While their participants dined—the Moccans and foreign Latians commenting on the food and the ways it pleased or offended their tastes—the SDM team discussed their next move. After a short debate, they agreed to cancel the museum tour they’d planned; there wasn’t enough security, and their transportation was limited. They would instead move up a future event, a party featuring some traditional games and competitions from Doxen and other Latian countries. It was really only a filler event, but it’d have to do. Some attendees complained, but most were understanding after seeing Pakos earlier.

  Ralia’s parents met them at the hotel, eager to lend a hand with running events. They assisted hired staff with entertaining the SDM guests while the team huddled with Veros to hurriedly re-plan the following day, when the biggest events were planned. In the end, while it was a painful monetary loss, they canceled a few events and rescheduled others in order to minimize the time the guests were low on proper security.

  To Ralia’s amusement and everyone else’s confusion, Veros offered the name of a private security team she apparently had close ties to. “I thought you were a psychiatric social worker,” Kelsen said incredulously.

  Veros gave him a wink. “Honey, that’s my day job.”

  “Wha?...”

  There was some discussion about whether to cancel the following day’s finale—a less formal outdoor cookout and music festival, with more authentic Latian dishes and live musicians. In the end, they decided to keep it, reasoning that they would be vigilant for Pakos; after all, the security team would have his description, and it would be a gated event.

  “I almost hope he shows up,” Fyche said.

  Ralia nodded. “I’d like to have a second round with him myself. Use these new skills and get some payback.” Fyche gave her a concerned look, which she shrugged off.

  They never did get further explanation from Veros.

…

  After overseeing another few events, which seemed sadly disappointing, the five of them headed back to Ralia’s place, bidding Ralia and Veros’ parents farewell for the night. At her apartment, Fyche and Niko settled into the armchair, Ralia lounged on the couch with Kelsen, and Veros sat cross-legged on the floor. She looked up at Ralia with an almost malevolent grin.

  “Oh, no,” Ralia said. “I know that look.”

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Veros’ grin widened. “Oh, come on! It’s been years! And I am so eager to get to know your friends...”

  Kelsen looked between them warily. “What.”

  “She wants to play a dumb, childish game.”

  Veros held up a finger. “An elegant, sophisticated game, revered across educational institutions worldwide.”

  “‘Educational institutions’ implies more than just middle school.”

  Laughing, Veros shrugged. “And high school. And a few times in college. Come on! It’s a great way to break the ice and get to know people. Pretty please?”

  “Hell yes!” Niko said. “What’s it called?”

  “Truth or Consequence!”

  Kelsen blinked. “Like...truth or dare?”

  “No! On Latia, it’s called Truth or Consequence, and it’s better. So there.”

  The wolf shook his head. “Pass.”

  Fyche started to echo Kelsen when Niko turned and pouted, giving him his best puppy-dog eyes. “Please? Just for a bit?”

  “I...ugh. Fine. Just for a bit.”

  The mouse turned to Kelsen next, who was utterly unfazed by the pleading, shining eyes and responded with a raised middle finger. “Come onnnn! Look, if you play, I’ll do an entire campaign of Star Scavengers with you once we’re back on Moccs.”

  Against his better judgment, Kelsen found his interest piqued. “Including the expansions?...”

  “Yes! The whole shebang.”

  Kelsen nodded. “That’s like, ninety hours of content, and I have never gotten you to play the whole way through. Deal.” He glanced at Ralia and Fyche. “You’re witnesses in case he tries to wriggle out of this.”

  Ralia sighed. “Okay, I guess we’re doing this. God. Ground rule: if anyone feels too uncomfortable, we stop. Fair?”

  “Yep!”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yes.”

  Veros rubbed her paws together. “Then the game begins! Here, we’ll spin this soda bottle.” She placed it on the floor, and gave it a whirl. It stopped, pointing at Fyche. “Ooh! We have a winner!”

  “Um...” Fyche cast around before settling on Veros. “What’s your favorite color?”

  Niko booed, and Veros rolled her eyes. “Dude. You’re not really getting into the spirit of the game, but fine, it’s blue. Here, you spin now.”

  Niko was next, though the angle the bottle landed at prompted a quick exchange of how to address Moccans being so much smaller and therefore less likely to be chosen, and clarification of the ‘zones’ each player occupied. He turned to Kelsen with an absolutely diabolical smile. “Kelsen,” he said, his sweet tone threatening. “Tell us the most embarrassing pet name Ralia has ever called you.”

  Kelsen paled. “No...”

  “Out with it! I know you two have been holding out on me! Say it, or you get...consequence! I will show even less mercy with your task than this simple question.”

  Swallowing, Kelsen spoke in monotone. “‘M… my… itsy… bitsy.. . teeny… fluffy… w-widdle… snuggle...’” He coughed, then whispered. “‘...Kins.’”

  Niko roared with laughter, collapsing against Fyche, as Veros held her sides, gasping for breath. Ralia tried and failed to suppress a giggle, for which Kelsen gave her a look of utter betrayal.

  She clamped her mouth shut and spun for him. This time, she herself was the winner. “Aha!” Ralia exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Veros. “This was your idea; time for revenge! Tell everyone what happened during the Young Love dance.”

  Rather than rage, Veros gave Ralia a round of applause. “Ohh, good move! Okay, so...” She launched into a tale of how she’d had two prospective dates, and somehow ended up promising to accompany both to the dance. Of course, everything that could have gone wrong went wrong, culminating in her being utterly embarrassed in front of the entire senior class with a thoroughly ruined dress and even worse reputation. Somehow, she seemed proud of this, rather than ashamed. “We never did get the cheese sauce out of the bust. Had to trash the whole thing.”

  “Good God,” Fyche muttered.

  Kelsen was next to be chosen. He steepled his fingers, glaring at Niko. “Now it’s time for my revenge! Give Fyche a big ol’ kiss, loverboy!”

  Niko scoffed. “Uh, yeah, okay, threaten me with a good time why don’t you. Babe?”

  Fyche looked around the room. “Uh...”

  “You don’t have to,” Kelsen said quickly. “We can stop the game right here. After Niko’s consequence.”

  Seeming to steel himself, Fyche leaned over and kissed Niko, to everyone’s surprise. Veros gave them a thumbs up.

  The bottle ended up pointing at Veros next. “Okay, Fyche, I’ve got a juicy one for you. Would you rather have sex with your boyfriend in your dad’s body, or your dad in your boyfriend’s body?”

  “Veros!” Ralia said. “I cannot believe you! That’s completely inappropriate!”

  “It’s funny! It’s supposed to be fucked up!”

  Niko looked over at Fyche. “Babe, you good?...”

  Fyche sniffed. “It’s difficult to answer. Necrophilia is generally frowned upon.”

  Veros cackled at the response, her laughter dying out as she realized the others weren’t laughing. Ralia smacked her on the arm and half dragged her to her feet, simmering.

  “So, uh, I think we’re done with that game,” Niko said.

  “Agreed,” said Kelsen.

  Ralia pulled Veros to the door, ignoring her protests. “I still can’t understand for the life of me how you work with people on a daily basis when you’re so socially inept.”

  Veros’ humor had completely passed. She seemed to sense she’d crossed a line, and let Ralia usher her out the door. “Hey, uh, Fyche...sorry, okay?”

  He shrugged, and Ralia shut the door.

...

  Fyche was withdrawn for the rest of the evening. Niko stayed as close as possible, half hugging, half rubbing his cheek. Ralia assured him she and Veros were very sorry, and Veros would not say anything like that again. Both kept asking if there was anything he needed, was he okay, how could they help? What would he like to do? What would make him feel better?

  After watching this go on for some time, Kelsen lost his patience. “Okay, you both need to shut up and knock it off.” Both looked at him in bewilderment, but he ignored them. “Fyche, let’s take a walk.” Further confusing them, Fyche nodded and stood up, offering Kelsen his paw and placing the wolf in his jacket pocket.

  “But...”

  Kelsen forestalled Ralia’s complaint. “We’ll stay inside the complex.”

  The two of them walked the halls of Ralia’s apartment complex for a while, occasionally going up and down flights of stairs at random. Kelsen said nothing, allowing Fyche to go as he wished. Eventually, Fyche stopped in the middle of the hall. “Well? When are you going to ask how I’m feeling? Try to console me like I’m a little kid?”

Kelsen kept his eyes looking straight ahead. “Do you want me to?”

  “No!” Fyche took a deep breath. “No, I don’t. I just want to be alone for a minute.”

  “I get it.” Kelsen glanced up at him momentarily. “Have some alone time. I’ll just...be here.”

  Fyche stared at the back of the wolf’s head, puzzled. “What do you...” He trailed off, and let the silence stretch. Soon, he started walking again, stalking through the halls of the apartment complex.

  After another while, Fyche sat down at the bottom of a stairwell. He took Kelsen out of his pocket, setting him on his shoulder. “Okay, maybe I do wanna talk,” he mumbled, staring down at the floor. “I just don’t want to be fussed over like I’m a child.”

  “Fine with me,” Kelsen said, sitting down.

  “It’s just—I’ve been on my own for years now. I have a steady job. I don’t rely on anyone for support. I don’t need Ralia to mother me like some unfortunate orphan. And—I was in a bad relationship, fine. But I survived. I got out on my own. I didn’t need anyone’s help. I don’t need Niko to coddle me like I’ll fall apart any goddamn second.” Kelsen nodded, not saying anything. Fyche started gesturing with his hands, speaking faster. “Look—I—I shouldn’t need to justify myself! I don’t need a parent! I don’t need a crutch, I don’t need a hero to show up and save me! I don’t need anyone!”

  Kelsen remained silent, prompting Fyche to turn to him angrily, tears in his eyes. “Why aren’t you saying anything?!”

  Kelsen met his gaze. “What do you want me to say?”

  “I...” Fyche looked away again. “I don’t know! I don’t know what I want. I...I shouldn’t have to feel like this!”

  “Like what?” Kelsen asked softly.

  Fyche shut his eyes. “I don’t know. It’s all screwed up in my head. I’m not mad at Veros. I’m mad at Ralia! At...at Niko! Or...no. At myself. I don’t know. I’m so confused.”

  “Why would you be mad at them?”

  Fyche slammed a fist into the wall. “Because it’s not fair!”

  “...What isn’t fair?”

  “That...” Fyche spoke haltingly, trying to piece it together himself. “That Ralia got a perfect life, with parents and a sister who love her, and she doesn’t feel like shit all the time, and have to think about people and opportunities she’s lost, and cry herself to sleep every other night! And Niko is so happy and confident...even though he’s seen bad shit, he got past it somehow, and it doesn’t bring him down all the time, he’s not dragging this huge fucking weight around. They...they like who they are. They’re satisfied with their lives. And...and now they’re in mine, and it’s not fair that they’re in it now, when I needed them then!” A sob wracked his body, and he started to cry.

  Kelsen leaned in, hugging him as best he could. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I do get it, a bit. Our lives would have been easier if we’d met the right people at the right time. I think about it too, how my life might have gone in so many other directions if I had. I wish we’d all met a lot sooner. But...all we can do is hold tight to what we have now, and focus on where our lives can go from here. Together.” He was surprised to find Fyche’s paw come up, holding him close as the fox continued to sob, letting all the emotion out.

  A few minutes later, Ralia answered the knock at her door to find the two of them standing there, Fyche’s eyes still watery and bloodshot. He offered no explanation, simply giving her and Niko each a hug before excusing himself to wash his face in the bathroom.

  “Dude, what happened?” asked Niko.

  Shaking his head, Kelsen flopped down on the couch. “That’s something you should ask Fyche about. Once he’s had some time.”

  “I...” Niko sighed. “No, you’re right. I trust you guys to tell me if it’s something I need to know.” He rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Ugh. Once he gets back, we should go to bed. We need to be rested up for tomorrow.”