Deadly Like a Fox (Reboot)

Ch. 1: Origins

The black cat pulled up a chair and sat directly in front of Rane, crossing her legs and laying her gun across her lap. "Alright, I'm listening." Rane hesitated. "Where should I start?" The cat scowled. "From the beginning." Rane gave her a confused look. "You mean the very beginning?" The cat nods. "Why that far back? Why do you even care?" The cat woman gave a small smirk and a light chuckle, but her scowl never left her face. "Let's just say I'm a firm believer in the old saying, "Know your enemy". Besides, I think it only fair to give you an opportunity to explain yourself before I end your miserable life. Oh, and don't expect me to change my mind after you've finished your story. I'm pretty dead set on going through with this."

Rane sighed. Her only hope of getting out of this and saving her family was to stall for time. If she could do that for long enough, maybe, just maybe, they would all live through this predicament. "Like I said, this will be a long story, so you better get comfortable. It all began when I was around five years old..."


30 Years ago...


I honestly have no memory of my biological parents. For the first five years of my life, I grew up in an orphanage. One day, another fox woman came in, looking for a child to adopt. She said that she and her husband had been trying to have one of their own for a long while, but it just wasn't working out. To my overwhelming joy, she chose me, saying something about how I reminded her of herself at that age. I thought that for once, fate had smiled on me, and I was finally going to have a family of my own.

Well, that feeling didn't last long, because when she brought me home, my new father was less than pleased to meet me. He would never admit to it, but I'm pretty sure it was from a combination of him wanting a son, and his lack of an ability to have one that was his own blood. But that wasn't the worst of it. The worst of it was that he was a heavy drinker and a compulsive gambler. Pretty much any money he made, he lost in a game of cards or spent on booze the same day he'd get his paycheck. What my adoptive mother saw in that waste of life, I'll never know.

Needless to say, his drinking and gambling was the source of many an argument for them. One night, I could hear them screaming at each other from my room. Then I heard a loud slap, some moments of silence, and then the front door slamming. I cried myself to sleep that night, not finding out what had happened until the next morning. The sack of shit that my mother had called a husband had smacked her hard across the face, and rather than fighting back she left. To try and calm herself down or get help, I did not know. I never saw her again after that, because that very night she had been headed down the highway when a tractor trailer lost control and hit her head on. My only comfort when I found out what had happened, was that she'd died on impact. No pain or suffering.


Now I was left alone living with my adoptive father, who had started drinking even heavier than before, and had become physically abusive towards me. He was always careful to not leave marks, but still hit hard enough for it to hurt. For ten years I was stuck in that home that I once called my sanctuary. Now, it was my prison. On multiple occasions I tried running away, but he'd just call the cops and have them bring me back. When I told them he beat me, I could never prove it, so they couldn't do anything about it.

One night, he comes up to my room and tells me that we're going for a ride. He drives me to this shady bar in a not so good part of the city, drops me off, and speeds away. I found out later that his gambling problems had caused him to owe a lot of money to some underworld types. When he couldn't pay up, he gave them me instead.

At first I was terrified, but it turned out to be a turning point in my life. See, the bar was a hangout of the local mafia. The boss of the place was actually very nice to me, and took me under his wing. He put me to work serving drinks to his associates, and told me that if any of them gave me shit or tried to harass me in any way, to let him know and he'd be sure to make them regret it.

About three years later, not long after my eighteenth birthday in fact, he calls me into his office. Tells me he has a special task for me that I might be interested in. Turns out my adoptive father still owed him quite a lot of money, and had no way to pay it back. "I won't sugarcoat this." He said "Your old man needs to be made an example of. I know how he treated you all those years you lived with him. I think it's about time karma caught up with him, don't you?" I don't think I need to tell you what my answer was.

By this point, I had become rather physically attractive. Not bragging, just saying. So the boss had gotten me this red velvet dress especially for this occasion, a premium make up set, and some of that really expensive perfume. I put it all on and had my hair done all nice, ending up looking like some old fashioned movie star from Hollywood.

The plan was I'd wait at the back of the bar where my dad would pickle himself every Saturday night like clockwork. Once he was drunk enough to not recognize me, I approached him and asked if he'd like to come meet some friends of mine for a good time. He of course agreed, and I lead him down the street to an alleyway. There, two of the boss's guys were waiting for us. Then all at once we jump him, beating the piss out of him before they hand me a plastic bag. I slip it over his head and pull it tight until he stops breathing.

We loaded him into the trunk of a car we had parked at the end of the alley. We drive to the big bridge that leads outside of town, weigh down the body with cinder blocks, and just before we tossed him over, I give him a final goodbye of "Good riddance, you drunken bastard."

The boss was so happy for me when I had told him how the hit went, and to be perfectly honest, so was I. My dad was a terrible man, who made everybody who knew him miserable. As far as I was concerned, the world was a better place without him, if only a little.

Anyway, about a week later, the boss tells says a letter has arrived for me. I open it in the privacy of my room, and all it says is to come to the subway station at 10AM the next day, and to burn the letter after I read it. Obviously, I was suspicious.Could have been a trap for all I knew. I decided to check it out the following morning anyway, and that was when my life would be changed forever."