AUTHOR'S NOTE(S):

Fun fact: this is the first time I've ever bothered writing in first person. This should be interesting.

Also, remember when I suggested that these stories weren't for people who like lofty narratives? Well, that really applies to this one.

Action Hacker

Timeline: Eight months after the end of Sierra Foxtrot

The months following Fox's dramatic rampage inside Wolf's command base had not been kind to Anthracite Security. In addition to being forced to replace their destroyed attack helicopter, hire new staff to replace the soldiers killed by Fox and his minions, and repair the facilities damaged in the wake of the sudden base invasion, Wolf's PMC lost their most lucrative business contract—supplying contraband armaments and chemical weapons to the East Fortunan rebellion. Wolf correctly attributed the loss of this contract to Fox's meddling.

Inside Wolf's security center that featured a long, wide glass window overlooking a large assembly area on the main floor below, two husky soldiers sat in chairs next to each other, staring at a pair of computer monitors.

"It's almost time for my lunch break," said the first canine, named Liam. "Think you'll be able to handle things while I'm out?"

The second soldier, named Marcel, sneered and rolled his eyes. "Oh, I'm sure I'm perfectly capable of handling this huge steaming pile of nothing without you. Sheesh—if I wasn't afraid the boss or that creepy lizard might drop in, I'd be sawing logs in the corner over there."

Liam sighed in agreement. "I feel you, man. I can't exactly blame the boss for being on edge, though—having his cybersecurity network compromised so quickly has made him really skittish."

Marcel rolled his eyes again. "You know, if he had taken my advice and set up the security protocols I told him to use, none of this BS with Foxfire would have happened. But what did he say? 'It's not that important right now.' Ha—as far as I'm concerned, there was no security network! That creepy blue frog in the wheelchair had instant access to everything."

"You know who that was, right?" asked Liam.

"No. Who?"

"That was Slippy in disguise."

Marcel slammed his fist on his desk. "Dammit! I should've known he'd be back for revenge! Actually, I did expect him to try something, but that disguise was too good! How did he lower his voice like that?"

Liam dropped the tone of his voice an entire octave, but it cracked within seconds. "I have no id….ack!"

"Whatever," Marcel grumbled. "Just hurry up and finish the ammunition order forms so you can eat lunch and give me some time to myself without you yammering in my ear."

"Sure thing, 'buddy'," Liam replied, focusing his eyes on the screen in front of him. He scanned the order form that he had been assembling for the previous half hour, looking to see if any items had been excluded or duplicated. After two minutes, he confirmed the order and clicked the button on the bottom of his secure web page to enter the billing phase of the purchase. Having stored the payment information from previous orders, he rifled through the menus and finalized the transaction.

To his surprise and frustration, an error message occurred.

"Order cancelled – inadequate funds."

"What the hell…?" Liam muttered under his breath.

Noticing his counterpart's confusion, Marcel stood up and moved behind Liam's chair. "What happened?"

"It says we don't have the money to buy this stuff," Liam replied, glancing over his shoulder.

Marcel's eyes focused on the screen instead of Liam's face. "Hang on a second—how were you paying for this?"

"Cryptocoins," said Liam. "They're untraceable, and the value is pretty good right now. I don't know why it won't take my order."

"Let me see this," grumbled Marcel, pushing Liam's chair off to the right and standing in front of the computer screen. His fingers danced across the keyboard as he opened Anthracite Security's live banking program, which displayed the PMC's various forms of held currency, both hard and fiat. He scrolled over to a tab detailing the credit value of digital Cryptocoins held by the company.

K0.00

"Hang on a second."

Baring a canine tooth, he glared at Liam and snapped, "Check this out."

Liam rolled his chair back towards the keyboard and stared at the giant goose-egg that was the PMC's Cryptocoin balance. "What? How is that possible?"

"You don't think a certain black pussycat took that money to buy himself an exotic sports car again, do you?"

Liam stared at the screen with fear in his eyes. "After what Wolf threatened to do to him last time that happened, I don't think he'll ever try it again. Here—let me look at the transaction history." Ignoring Marcel's personal space, he shoved him aside and opened a tab detailing the Cryptocoin account's most recent actions.

"This is madness!" he all but yelled.

"Calm down, twinkletoes," Marcel snapped back. "What's the matter?"

"There are no transactions! The account history just has straight zeros, as if Anthracite never even owned any Cryptocoins!"

Marcel raised a nervous eyebrow. "Uh oh."

"I have a sinking feeling about this," replied Liam, staring at the floor.

Crossing his arms, Marcel commented, "Well, looks like you'll need to push your lunch back another half hour and head to the boss's office so you can tell him our Cryptocoin account got hacked and all our money is gone."

A look of naked fear appeared in Liam's eyes. "He's going to kill me."

"Probably. Best to get it over with," Marcel replied.

- § -

As much as Liam would have preferred Wolf's office to be located on the extreme perimeter of the sizable command building that also functioned as the base's barracks, it was positioned painfully close to the security center. A mere thirty second walk down a single flight of stairs, around a corner, and through an adjacent left hallway brought him to Wolf's door. Reflecting the lupine's lack of interest in opulence and devotion to the bottom line, it looked no different from any of the other silver metal-fronted doors.

Knowing what would happen if he turned the doorknob without announcing his presence, he rapped on the door with the back of his hand. The metal clanged, alerting the room's occupants of his presence. Through the door, the husky heard a series of rustling noises and a duo of panicked voices.

"Someone's outside! Quick! Zip up!"

The sound of a long zipper being pulled up reached Liam's ears. Then, a wheeled chair rolled across the carpet. At that point, Wolf spoke up from inside the room. His voice indicated deep frustration and anger. "What's the matter this time? Come in!"

Liam swallowed and turned the doorknob to step into Wolf's office. The interior of the room sported red walls, a currently-powered off television screen, and a large, old, wood desk positioned in the center of the floor. Wolf himself sat behind the desk, dressed in his everyday black military fatigues with a large wolf's head emblem on his chest.

A red vixen with long, black hair and a skintight red and black catsuit lounged in a wheeled office chair in the back left corner of the room. She winked at Liam as he entered, prompting him to blush.

"If I remember, she was with Fox when he broke into this base; and she was the one who broke Wolf's back a few months ago. How the hell is she with the boss now?"

Wolf's incensed stare made it clear that he had little interest in answering Liam's mental question. As the husky shuffled towards his superior's desk, Wolf placed his fists on his desk and demanded, "What's the problem, Liam?"

"Sir, the Cryptocoins—they're gone."

Wolf's expression barely changed. His left eyebrow lifted approximately two millimeters. "Gone? You say?"

"The account balance is K0.00. I don't know how this happened!"

"I'm sure," Wolf replied, keeping his voice low and gravelly. "Well, since the nerd squad around here seems to think I'm not the greatest with technology, how about you tell me what you think happened to this money."

"I already told you I don't know how it happened!" Liam protested.

Wolf raised his voice and leaned forward. "I didn't ask you how it happened—I asked what happened to it! So, what happened?"

The panicked husky made an attempt at shifting the blame somewhat. "Um, Marcel and I think someone hacked the account and stole the money."

A sadistic, yet furious and subtle grin graced Wolf's lips. "Tell me, Liam, who was it again who said that buying K2,000,000 worth of Cryptocoins was a good idea?"

Liam shuddered. "It was me, sir."

"That's what I thought. And now that my money is gone, you've only got two options."

Cringe.

Wolf continued, "Either you find that money and get it back, or I send you to Leon's torture dungeon and tell him to get creative."

"No! No! No! Nooooo!" Liam shrieked, clutching his head. "Don't do that to me!"

Wolf cocked his head, a frown on his face. He pointed at his horrified underling. "If you bring me back my money, you'll be safe."

"But I don't have the skills this job needs!"

"Okay then, do you know someone who does?" Wolf asked.

Liam paused for a moment and scratched his head. Then, suddenly, a metaphorical light bulb appeared above his brain. "I know what this job needs."

"What?"

"If you want to get your money back, it's going to take someone with some serious skills—skills you can't find just anywhere. You need… an Action Hacker."

Wolf facepalmed. "A what?"

"An action hacker—and I know the best one in the business. If you're willing to pay him what he asks, I guarantee you'll get your money back," Liam replied, raising a finger in triumph.

"That's great," said Wolf. "But I'm not paying him a cent. That's your responsibility."

Liam suddenly felt like a Lilliputian seconds away from being stomped upon by an iron-footed colossus. "But I can't afford…"

"…To the torture dungeon, then!" Wolf shouted.

With a yelp, Liam stumbled forwards, holding his hands out in front of him. "Okay, okay! I'll hire him myself! I'll let you know when he's ready to start working."

Wolf sighed and looked at Liam out of the top of his good eye. "Good. Bring him in here if you get the chance. I'd like to meet this guy before you send him out to get my money back."

- § -

Four days later…

Just as Wolf leaned back in his office chair, a loud knock echoed through his door's metal surface. With a groan, he yelled, "Come on!"

The door opened, revealing Liam—who looked like he had not slept much in the past 72 hours—and a less-than-tall shiba inu who wore the most basic of black sweaters and a pair of fitted dark blue jeans. Although he did not appear physically extraordinary, the snug fit of his clothes suggested a respectable amount of muscle. However, Wolf's attention drifted to the canine's dark black sunglasses, which he refused to remove even after entering the dimly-lit office.

Wolf sighed and rested his head on his fist. "Liam, who's this?"

"It's the action hacker, sir," Liam replied.

A groan escaped Wolf's mouth. He tried making eye contact with the shiba, but his ultra-dark glasses prevented him from seeing the whites of his eyes. "So," Wolf grumbled, "What makes you think you'll be able to get me my money back?"

In the blink of an eye, the sunglass-wearing canid whipped a tablet computer out of his back pocket and frenetically tapped at the screen while holding the device with his left hand. His digits clacked against the screen with furious intensity. Wolf thought he saw a few stray sparks fly off the tablet. Then, a lamp in the back left corner of the room shut off, followed by the overhead light, and finally, Wolf's laptop computer on the desk in front of him. The room became shrouded in total darkness apart from the white fluorescent light coming in from the hallway outside.

Wolf clenched his fists and shouted, "What the hell? How did you do that?"

The Action Hacker spoke in a confident, raspy voice better suited to an action hero than a tech whiz. "Your electrical controls were easily hacked. Just in the first two minutes of me being in your base, I mapped every outlet in this entire building to my tablet. Shutting them off was child's play." He lowered his glasses for dramatic effect. Wolf still was not able to see his eyes due to the darkness in the room.

"But why is my computer off?" Wolf demanded. "It wasn't even plugged in!"

"That joke of a machine is outdated. I bet it couldn't even run Pumpkin Pie."

"Pumpkin pie? The hell…?"

"It's the plebs' way of saying 'Macrohard OSV.16.3.' Since you obviously didn't update the OS to Service Pack 4, I was able to exploit a weakness in your CPU that put your computer into hard shutdown mode. Hope you didn't have anything important open."

"I hate you already," Wolf muttered under his breath. "What's your name, kid?"

"Doggo Sanchez, Action Hacker for hire. I also do web design on the side."

Wolf covered his muzzle with his hand. "My entire base just got hacked in ten seconds by some guy named 'Doggo.' Just kill me already."

"I can do that, too," said Doggo, slipping his tablet back into his pants pocket and extracting a black semi-auto handgun from an unseen holster somewhere inside his belt line. He pointed it at Wolf.

In an agitated voice, Wolf barked, "Hey! I wasn't being serious…although I almost wish I was."

Doggo returned his weapon to his holster before crossing his arms heroically. "So, before I start hunting down the thief who stole your Cryptocoins, do you suspect anyone in particular?"

Wolf glared at the action hacker. "I thought you were the genius here who was supposed to find that out."

The shiba shrugged. "Anything helps. Do you have any enemies who may have really wanted to put the screws to you?"

"I've got a lot of enemies," Wolf replied. "The first person that comes to mind is Fox McCloud—but he's such a goody two-shoes that he would never do it. I honestly haven't got a clue who stole my cash. All I know is that my Cryptocoins are gone, and I need them back ASAP before their value tanks even more than it already has."

Doggo nodded. "A valid concern. I will work as quickly as possible."

A solemn expression on his muzzle, Wolf pointed to his office door and ordered the canine, "Get going."

As the action hacker departed Wolf's office and entered the hallway outside, the story shifted to first person.

- § -

As I left Anthracite Security's base and got into my Toro Giallo sports car—Action Hacking pays the bills and then some—I thought over all the digital information Wolf's men had shown me. The perpetrator(s) left virtually no trace of their presence in the base's computer system. Granted, that could have been because Wolf's understanding of cybersecurity is apparently just as bad as stereotypical fanfiction Fox McCloud's romantic confidence level.

"Ooh—I less than three you so much, Krystal. I want to bang you, but I'm too bashful because of my emotional scars from undisclosed former romantic wounds!" I whined melodramatically.

I shook my head and closed the gullwing door to my left. As I reached for my starter button, a thought occurred to me. I already knew where to find Wolf's crypto thief—Eladard. Did I really know that for sure? Of course not, but as every good computer sleuth knows, Eladard is home to 91.3% of the world's most talented hackers because the country is politically neutral and therefore is a sweet-ass escape spot for the world's most endangered and dangerous cyber menaces. How did I get that 91.3% figure, you ask? I made it up. Sounds official, don't it?

Anyway, Eladard was a solid 600 miles away from southern Katina where I was at the moment, but not for long, because I was about to head south. I could have taken a plane and shortened the trip, but why fly when you can drive? Driving is fun. Flying ends up with you getting wedged into a 15-inch seat next to a literal hippopotamus and having peanut butter spread in your hair by the 2-year-old in the seat behind you. Sure—I've got the cash to fly first class, but that ain't no fun. Besides, the roads near the Katina/Eladard border are some of the best in the world.

I sped out of the base with tires smoking and raced south towards my distant destination. As I crossed the large lake in front of the military complex via Wolf's drawbridge, another thought occurred to me. The hack job on Wolf's system was poetry in motion—it was so flawless. There was no digital trace of anything. Every detail looked official; and to the untrained eye who had no idea Wolf's cryptos had been stolen, nothing would have seemed amiss.

I stroked my muzzle after shifting into third. I'd heard of one enigmatic hacker—well, they're all enigmatic. One doesn't exactly want to broadcast their shadowy cyber awesomeness to the world because it tends to have, shall we say, repercussions. Whatever. What I'm trying to say is that the perfection of the hack in Wolf's base made me think of one hacker in particular. I'd heard stories of him for months now. He seemed to come out of nowhere, making a name for himself for his daring and high-profile digital heists of valuable data from the Red Group and Vision Engineering—both high-profile military contractors who normally sell to Macbeth and her allies. The data was sold on the black market for a small fortune.

The hacker I had in mind was called 'Kizutsuita.' That's what he's called on the Dark Web, at least. That's an Eladardian handle if I ever heard one. It only confirms that I'm headed to the right place. I've got a good contact in downtown Eladard who I think can point me in the right direction. According to what I've heard, no one has ever seen Kizutsuita in person. He supposedly never leaves his home. I can't exactly blame him. A lot of people probably want him dead.

This guy is going to be hard to track down, but if anyone can do it, I can. Some of my buddies think Kizutsuita is the best in the world right now, and it would be a feather in my metaphorical cap if I could find him and get that money back. Then I could get paid and take an awesome vacation to Isla del Friggin' Awesome and surround myself with topless babes while I sip margaritas on the beach. Now that's motivation right there.

- § -

Five hours and forty-eight minutes later—lol, do the math on that—I arrived in Eladard. My sweet Toro Giallo's carbon ceramic disk brakes suck in urban traffic, so I left it in my downtown apartment's parking deck and got on my motorcycle. It was a beautiful night in Eladard. The crickets were chirping and the sound of distant J-Pop music echoed through the streets from the open-air stadium near the center of town. This town is weird, and that's why I love it. It's also a tax haven and all my hacker buddies live here too, but let's be realistic—I just crash here because it's so dang charming.

A quick drive through the overcrowded Eladardian streets and a jaunt down a dingy one-lane road into a rundown part of town brought me to the front doors of the Wasted Barrel, a bar owned by my friend Bernie. The bar sucks pretty bad, but it's k because it's really just a front for Bernie's money laundering operation. What? You thought I got rich legally? Pfft. Yeah, right.

I parked my bike and armed the security system before I headed for the front door. What? A security system for a bike, you say? Yep, I got one. There's a tiny wad of C-4 under the seat that goes boom if the engine starts without the key or if the wheels move while it's parked. Bike theft is a problem around these parts, so this is my third one in two months. It's not a big deal, though—I buy 'em used, and bikes are cheap.

Leaving my bike in the parking lot and walking towards the Wasted Barrel's creaky double front doors, I pulled the right of the two panels open. A mortifying squeaking sound singed my ears and gave my skin a fingernails-on-a-chalkboard sensation. Undaunted, I entered the bar. Inside, three avian patrons sat on bar stools in front of the sparsely-populated taps. A single yellow-dyed lupine woman occupied a booth on the right side of the room. That was about the extent of the customer base. Bernie—who, true to his name, was a massive St. Bernard—noticed me from behind the bar and subtly waved as I moved towards him.

Traces of dirt covered his fur and his black t-shirt, reminding me that he had never been the cleanest individual. It mattered not, however. His disheveled appearance belied a herculean intellect and computer hacking skills matched only by yours truly.

Approaching the bar, I said, "Evening, my dude."

"Doggo!" he fired back. "What brings you back here again?"

I gave him a knowing look. "I think you can figure that out."

Bernie took a deep breath and shifted an eyebrow. "Ah, business, I see. Meet me in the back in a minute. I've got to clean up a spill back here."

I smiled. If anyone could help me trace the location of Kizutsuita, it was my pal behind the bar. Trying not to draw undue attention to my actions, I scooted past the drunken patrons at the bar and avoided making eye contact with the yellow wolf lady sitting by herself at one of the bar's ratty, soiled booths. Anyone unfortunate enough to get on the bad side of the Kitanai Sagashi Warrior Clan knew better than to so much as interact with any of their members.

When I reached the back of the building, Bernie opened a door leading to the area behind the bar and led me down a short, rotting hallway that smelled of fermenting bleu cheese. It couldn't have been normal cheese—bleu cheese was so much worse in every imaginable way. The 'cheese'—if you dare call it that—is so rank that the mere scent of it has the power to send my stomach into convulsions. I vividly recall one time at a burger joint that I used to frequent, I was mistakenly given a bleu cheese peppercorn burger that incited in me the urge to vomit on the spot. The projectile emulsion ended up on the waitress, whom I was attempting to flirt with. Needless to say, that ship sailed, hit a rock in the harbor, and sank instantly. I never went back to that place again, but the horror of the satanic cheese remained lodged irreparably in my brain.

It was all I could do not to barf on the floor as Bernie led me into his secret back office, illuminated only by a single yellow overhead fixture that looked like it came from a clearance sale twenty years ago. After we had both entered, Bernie locked the door behind me. My large friend walked around his desk, positioned near the back of the room next to a boarded-up window. This allowed me to survey the room. In the back left corner, piles of packaged drugs and stacks of paper money greeted my eyes. Bernie was no law-abiding citizen, but he was not a bad person, either. As far as I knew, he never actually used the drugs—he only sold them…although I happened to notice a used hypodermic needle near the stacks of white-wrapped substances…

Bernie distracted me by posing a question. "So, Doggo buddy, what brings you here? You must need my help digging something up."

My fuzzy ears stood up. "Yes," I replied, "I've been hired to steal back a butt ton of Cryptocoins that I'm pretty sure were taken by the Kizutsuita."

Upon hearing the shadowy hacker's name, Bernie's eyes flew wide. "The Kizutsuita," he all but gasped, "Doggo—that's one hell of a target. You know that no one even knows who he is, right?"

I smirked and adjusted my sunglasses, even though it was almost midnight. Cue Corey Hart.

"I know," I replied. "But I'm getting paid a pretty penny to deal with him."

"How do you even know it was him who stole the cryptos?" asked Bernie, wondering how I could have possibly been so astute. Apparently, my five years of friendship with him had not been enough to properly demonstrate my cerebral superiority and intuition that was sharper than the edge of the rusting nail I stepped on a year ago. That dang thing almost killed me. I had to get a giant needle jabbed in my arm, and it hurt like hell. Needles. Shiver. The thought makes my fur poof and my skin crawl. It's why I never got into drugs. By the way, don't do drugs, kids. They bad.

I had only one response for my friend. "I know it was him. The hack was so clean, and the hacker's goal matches up with the Kizutsuita's previous jobs. I guess it could have been someone else, but I'm almost positive it was him."

"If you don't mind me probing," said Bernie, leaning forward in his creaky office chair, "Who are you working for this time?"

I crossed my arms like a badass. "Anthracite Security."

"Interesting," my friend replied. He stroked his chin. "Did you ever notice that the Kizutsuita's hacks have all been against enemies of Corneria? Of course, we don't actually know it was him who did those because the work was so clean; but it's a safe guess because his work is too clean."

I smiled. "Ironic, isn't it? Now that you mention it, though, you're right—all of the Kizutsuita's hacks have been targeting Macbeth-based firms and people who work with them. What does that tell you, though?"

Bernie shrugged. "Nothing, but it does create a pattern. Maybe you're right—maybe Kizutsuita did hack your client. But even if he did, what do you want me to do about it?"

"I want your help tracking down his location," I declared, moving towards Bernie's desk.

"Why on Lylat would you do that?"

I raised an index finger. "Simple. As awesome as I am, I know my hacking skills aren't good enough for me to be able to get those cryptos back from him electronically. I've got to play to my strengths here. The only way I'm going to complete my job is if I can find Kizutsuita and 'convince' him to return the cash—physically."

Bernie paused and looked away from me for a moment. He glanced at his nearby computer screen, deep in thought. Then, he spoke. "I think that's your best shot, Doggo."

"All right," I replied, a stupid smile plastered on my lips. "Let's get cracking. Maybe we can find more of what we need on the Dark Web."

"To the Dark Web!" Bernie announced. With that, he reached for his computer keyboard and entered a portal to a realm of digital chaos.

- § -

Two hours later…

"That was surprisingly easy," I commented, reading through the information I and Bernie had retrieved through our network of associates on the Dark Web.

In little time, we had managed to exploit a leak in the credit reporting system for a courier company responsible for delivering groceries and essential toiletries to homes and apartments. The leak revealed the transaction histories of their multi-thousand clients—and revealed one recurring client who ordered with alarming frequency. Every order contained the same items: noodles, toilet paper, toothpaste, raw seafood, and five packs of energy drinks. Sometimes different items would appear on this one particular credit card statement, but the "Big Five" were always consistent.

Bernie looked at me out of the corner of his eyes. "I think we may have found our guy."

I glanced at the computer screen and noticed the name attached to the credit card account that had been making these purchases—someone named 'Miyoshi Urena.'

"Actually, I think Kizutsuita is a girl," I suggested.

Bernie shrugged. "Well, you've got the address now, so go get 'em, buddy! Man, my pals aren't going to believe it when they found out you took down Kizutsuita singlehandedly."

I blushed, but only a little bit, because blushing heavily is a sign of weakness; and I have no known weaknesses save for the aforementioned needles and bleu cheese. "I couldn't have done it without you, Bernie. I'll catch up with you after I deal with the Kizutsuita."

"Sounds like a plan, Doggo."

- § -

I walked out of the Wasted Barrel and turned the corner around the side of the building, ready to fire up my bike and ride to the other side of town, where Kizutsuita's crappy apartment was. To my horror, I rounded the corner only to find a scrawny gray cat with a hoodie trying to tamper with my ride. Sprinting towards him with hands outstretched, I shouted "Nooooo!" in slow motion.

It was no use. The bike went boom-boom, and he went die-die. I shielded my head with my arms to prevent my beautiful eyes from being lacerated by flying metal and kitty chunks as a small explosion ripped a pothole in the parking lot.

I sighed and brushed off my clothes. "I guess I'll have to borrow Bernie's car again," I thought before I walked back into the bar.

Several minutes later, I emerged from Bernie's metaphorical bunghole with his keys in hand. Luckily, his car had not been damaged in the blast created by my bike exploding into a million pieces. He parked it in the last spot in the parking lot, near a rickety wooden fence that looked ready to fall over onto it. I hit the unlock button on Bernie's key fob and stepped towards the brown turd that I would be driving for the next twenty minutes. No, really—Bernie's fifteen-year-old sedan car was shaped like a streamlined bar of soap and painted in the most fecal shade of brown known to furry.

Lamenting my fate, I opened the door and dropped into the driver's seat. As I brushed aside a few balled-up fast food wrappers and started the engine, the overpowering scent of cheese puffs consumed my olfactory receptors. I cringed. Apart from the crippling allure of Jen and Gary's ice cream, nothing threatened my rippling pecs and six-pack abs like cheese puffs did. Once you start eating them, it is impossible to stop until the entire bag has been consumed—and after that, the only course of action available is to make a beeline for the closest mini-mart and pick up a second bag, preferably the family sized version.

I wished I had a clothespin for my nose, but alas—I did not. Being forced to smell my nemesis for the duration of the trip motivated me to drive faster and more aggressively. I did not fear dinging the car, because after all, it already sported numerous dents, including a bowl-shaped depression in the roof that I knew I had to ask Bernie about at some point.

After driving for twenty minutes and resisting the urge to stop at every gas station along the way to buy cheese puffs, I reached the high-rise apartment complex where Kizutsuita allegedly lived. Granted, I had little proof that the enigmatic hacker truly resided here, but it was my best bet. At the worst, all that would happen was that the apartment's resident would look at me funny after I knocked on their door. I could deal with that.

As I walked away from Bernie's car and entered the massive, rotating staircase leading to the penultimate 27th floor where I intended to stop, I thought about what I would do if the Kizutsuita was to answer the door. I had no idea what he—or she—looked like, and it was not as if I could ask them "Are you Kizutsuita?" No one in their right mind would say 'yes' to that question. I fondled my muzzle a bit too suggestively as I ascended the stairs, uncertain of my next move.

At long last, I reached the 27th floor. Kizutsuita's room was number 2708—the last door on the left. The dark, dingy hallway at the top of the stairs ended in an open-air overlook of the sprawling city's sixth sector, best known as the place where the outcasts of Eladardian society went to find cheap housing and shelter.

I approached the door. In front of it, evidence of the Kizutsuita's presence presented itself to me in the form of a giant pile of spam mail, brochures, and unwanted newspapers. I smiled to myself. My fears were for nothing. I had found my target. It was true— Kizutsuita never left his (or her) apartment, and I was about to complete my mission and get paid a lot of real money.

Summoning my all-but-limitless courage, I marched up to the door and knocked on it commandingly. Then, thanks to a bit of quick thinking, I blurted out "Delivery!" in hopes that it would inspire the shadowy hermit to open the door, after which I would strike like a samurai and incapacitate my foe in mere seconds.

The shout-out did the trick, and the door opened. In the doorway stood a short-ish vixen of a frail build. Her body lacked the feminine assets men such as myself liked, but she seemed overwhelmingly athletic. She covered herself from head to toe in dark gray cloth wrappings that hugged her form tightly while not showing even an inch of fur. Even her presumably-fluffy tail was shrouded in fabric; as was her head. Only two tiny openings allowed me to see her ice-blue eyes that radiated suspicion and surprise. Clearly, she recognized that I was not here to deliver her groceries.

I gave her no time to slam the door. Leaping forward, I shouted, "Hand over the Cryptocoins!" As I lunged towards her with fists at the ready, the story shifted back to third person.

- § -

Kizutsuita jumped to the side the instant Doggo charged her and kicked the back of his left leg as he reached her. His knee buckled, and he faceplanted onto the gray carpet inside the apartment. Kizutsuita prepared to jump onto his back and place him in a chokehold, but the shiba rolled over in the blink of an eye and stood up with cartoonish speed.

The two fighters sized each other up, fists held at the ready in front of them.

"I see you're an action hacker, too," said Doggo, his eyes still obscured by his pitch black shades.

Kizutsuita replied in a gruff voice that managed to sound too similar to that of an angry anime girl. "There can be only one."

In spite of the enigmatic vixen's murderous implication, Doggo offered her an olive branch. "It doesn't have to be this way. I just need you to hand over those Cryptocoins you stole from Anthracite Security."

Kizutsuita's long, pointy ears—also gently wrapped in fabric—poked up a little higher than before. "I don't have them anymore."

Doggo's spirits deflated like a punctured party balloon. "What?! Why?"

Kizutsuita opened her hands and snapped, "Do I look stupid to you? The value is crashing by the day! They won't be worth anything soon! I had to get rid of them!"

"Okay then—hand over the real money you exchanged them for."

"No. Fark off. Get out of my apartment, you fraud. I'm the original action hacker."

"Fake news," Doggo retorted.

"No. You're fake news. Fark off."

"Why do you keep saying that?"

"Better question: why are you not leaving?"

Doggo tightened his fists and prepared for a fight. "Because I've got a job to do, and I'm not leaving until every last credit you stole is returned to its rightful owner."

Kizutsuita rolled her eyes. "I vowed to change my ways when I finished my training a few months ago, but I think I'm going to make an exception for you. Get ready to die."

"You just made your last mistake," Doggo confidently asserted.

The instant he spoke, he reached for his hidden holster and whipped out his handgun. He took aim at Kizutsuita, but she sprinted towards him so quickly that he had no chance to fire it. The vixen swiped it out of his hands with a violent karate chop; then, when his attention drifted to his suddenly-absent weapon, she uppercut him in the chin.

The shiba stumbled backwards and hit the wall behind him. Yet still, he refused to allow the shadowy hacker to get the better of him. He lashed out with a panicked yet focused side kick. Kizutsuita jumped back and avoided the attack, but it allowed Doggo to regain his composure and move towards her, all while reclaiming his fighting stance. She matched him. The two circled in a small area between a gray couch in the main living area and the sparsely-decorated kitchen behind it.

After a five-second lapse in the fight, Kizutsuita hurled a trio of quick punches at the shiba. He blocked them with little effort. What he did not predict, however, was his enemy taking advantage of her insane reflexes and launching into a back hook kick with speed that should not have been possible. He jumped to the side, but that back of the vixen's foot slammed into his shoulder and forced him off his balance.

He stumbled and crashed into a cheap metal coffee table next to the vixen's couch. The poorly made piece of furniture buckled under his weight, causing one of its frame pieces to break loose and spear him in the abdomen. Doggo let out a canine squeak and gasped as the sensation of wet blood trickled through his black shirt.

Fighting through the pain, he pushed himself up. To his dismay, before he could rise to his feet, Kizutsuita raced towards him and slammed into his stomach with a low, flying side kick. His spine buckled, and he folded back into the wreckage of the coffee table. His head smashed into the gray couch's left arm and gave him instant whiplash. A throbbing pain rifled through his skull, adding to the agony he felt from his abdominal stab wound. Seeing stars, he clawed his way back to his feet, expecting the Kizutsuita to hit him yet again.

To his surprise, she did not. Rather, she darted into the kitchen and disappeared behind the sink. The sound of drawers opening and silverware rattling filled the air. For a moment, he wondered if he had slipped into a hallucination. However, seconds later, she reemerged into the living room, holding a rounded cutting implement in her dominant left hand.

"Is that a…pizza wheel?"

The vixen advanced towards him, ready to strike. Doggo had fought armed opponents many times before, however. Her pizza wheel did not scare him. If anything, it took away her ability to strike with her fists and provided him with a sudden advantage.

Ignoring his wobbly vision, bleeding stomach, and splitting headache, he stepped towards his foe and hurled a right roundhouse kick at her. With seemingly no effort whatsoever, Kizutsuita kicked her left leg out and blocked his leg with hers. The unexpected parry knocked Doggo off balance; and he fell to the floor in a split. The horrifying sound of his jeans ripping prompted the vixen's ears to spike.

"You call that a roundhouse kick?" Kizutsuita taunted, "I'll show you a roundhouse kick."

While Doggo grappled with an overextended tendon in his right leg that no longer wanted to work, the vixen backed up until her shoulder blade touched the far right edge of the kitchen counter behind her. Then, she sprinted at top speed towards the shiba and shifted her weight onto her right leg. Using the momentum from her dash to build power, she whipped her left leg forwards and around for a roundhouse of her own.

The impact of her foot smashed into Doggo's side with so much force that it knocked him clean off his feet and sent him flying across the living room towards the massive panoramic window that looked out over the city of Eladard. Due to safety concerns and regulations, the window was composed of nigh-unbreakable Plexiglas. However, it did nothing to end Doggo's flight.

He crashed through the window with a bloodcurdling scream and flew out of the high-rise building. He flailed about, helpless to prevent himself from plummeting over two hundred feet to his inevitable demise.

Kizutsuita was not finished.

She juggled her pizza wheel in her left hand, then wound up and hurled it through the break in the window. Seconds later, Doggo's screams fell silent as the pizza wheel ripped his head from his neck. His bifurcated cranium soared through the air before it slammed into a sidewalk and exploded in front of a homeless badger who happened to be out and about. The vagrant screamed and flailed his arms about, sprinting into traffic and causing two nearby cars to collide at an intersection.

Back inside the apartment, Kizutsuita took a series of deep breaths to calm herself. Then, she ripped the cloth off her muzzle and head and sprinted into her bathroom, where she turned on a set of vanity lights and gazed into her mirror. A hideous sight greeted her. Traces of faded, light red fur jutted out from significant patches of bare skin, some of which bore unsightly burn marks. The left side of her muzzle had been damaged to the point where her teeth and gums were constantly visible.

As she stared at her own grotesque appearance, she smiled and pumped her fist while resisting the urge to cry tears of joy. "Fark yes! Now I finally have the money to pay for that experimental fur replacement surgery! I will be beautiful again! And then…"

She smirked.

"…I'll be coming for you, my senpai!"

- § -

Several days later…

"What do you mean, he's dead?!" Wolf yelled, his ears flat against his skull.

His tail between his legs, Liam whimpered, "He's not answering my calls. I can't get any updates on anything. This isn't like him at all! He promised me he'd be done by now!"

A single tooth poked out from Wolf's mouth as he tapped a pencil on his desk to stave off his building rage. He raised his head and stared at his underling. "Well, you know what this means."

Liam cringed.

"To the torture dungeon!"

A second later, Wolf's office door opened, and a lanky chameleon wearing an overly tight navy blue bodysuit waltzed in. A savage, demented grin coated his lips. "Ooh—I think I'll torture you a bit before I kill you!" he exulted, placing his hands a bit too fondly on Liam's shoulders.

The husky glanced at Leon out of the corner of his eye, then looked back to Wolf.

"No—No—NOOOOOOOO!"