Fox tiptoed into the house and tried to quietly make his way upstairs, but was caught. He flinched when he heard that dreaded voice calling him.
“Fox! Where the fuck have you been boy?”
“Like you care!” he shouted back.
“Don’t you talk back to me!” Mike yelled, getting close to screaming as he stormed into the front hall.
“I wasn’t talking back. This is talking back. I was telling the truth.”
“Your mouth is going to get you killed, boy,” his foster father snarled.
“You think so? I think it’ll be my saving grace,” Fox said with a smirk.
“Fucking smartass. We need to chat so shut up and listen,” he growled.
Fox stared at Mike. He motioned for him to speak.
“You’re turning eighteen soon,” Mike said.
“Brilliant deduction Mike. What gave that away?”
“Cut the attitude before I beat it out of ya!” Mike threatened.
Fox rolled his eyes and motioned for him to continue once more, but didn’t promise to hold his tongue.
“You know what happens when you turn eighteen?” Mike asked with a growl.
“I can finally get away from you,” Fox said.
“Boy, you are pissing me off! Just shut the fuck up and listen!”
Fox crossed his arms and showed Mike he’s not afraid. He knew it got under Mike’s skin but he couldn’t care less at this point. He just wanted to pack up and get the hell out of there.
“When you turn eighteen, you leave. When you leave the check I get from the state leaves with you.”
“So, I can’t let that happen. You’re not leaving,” Mike said darkly.
“The fuck I’m not!”
“You belong to me boy! You hear!? You ain’t leaving!” Mike yelled in a red hot rage.
Fox bolted up the stairs, not making it halfway before being grabbed from behind by his backpack, which was torn off of him and both were thrown down the stairs. Fox groaned and got up slowly but was knocked back down when Mike punched him in the face. He got up again and managed to evade Mike when he lunged at him. Mike crashed into the kitchen table with a loud CRACK! Seeing the man stunned and laying on the broken table, Fox took his chance and ran up the stairs.
He made it to his sisters’ door and sensed something off. He opened the door and found something he never thought he’d see. Mike never touched Alice; he’d verbally abused her, but never hit her.
“Alice?” Fox asked, his voice a near whisper and shaking with horror.
Alice was covered in blood. She was battered and bruised, but the worst was that she was sliced up. Mike killed his own daughter.
“No. Oh, Alice,” Fox said through tears. He clenched his eyes shut trying not to let the tears fall, but failed. “I’m so sorry, Alice. I should’ve been here.”
He choked, fighting back sobs. He couldn’t hold it in. He cried. After a moment he let out a scream of pain and anger. His skin was turning black and melting off to reveal bones.
“Little bastard! You want to fight? Get back here and fight me like a man!” Mike screamed.
Fox snarled viciously. His left hand was now a large skeletal wolf’s paw. He heard Mike coming up the stairs and stopped at the door.
“Ah. Little bitch decided to defend you and wouldn’t back down. I finally got annoyed with her and her shit so I sent her to be with her mother. They can rot in Hell together,” Mike said with a mix of pride, triumph, and annoyance.
“It’s not Hell they’ll be going to,” Fox and Cyanide said in unison.
Mike looked at Fox scared, confused, but mostly with rage, “Fucking punk!”
Fox/Cyanide laughed together like a madman. Fox/Cyanide turned around and looked at Mike, gaining satisfaction to see the man looking so scared of him. One half of his face was melted off revealing his skull underneath, his skin was black and ink-like, and was melting off the rest of him. He seemed more wolf-like than human.
“The fuck are you?” Mike asked fearfully.
Fox/Cyanide took his skeletal wolf paw and stabbed Mike. He yanked his claws free of the now-dead bastard then flicked away the heart that he managed to take out. He turned to Alice once more as he started to return to normal. He sighed sadly as he believed if he were here, he could’ve saved her or at least tried.
“She’d still be alive if it weren’t for me,” Fox said tearfully.
Cyanide said nothing. Not even a growl. In the comics, Cyanide didn’t have much empathy, but then again in the comics, he was not fused to a human.
Fox went to say something more when he heard a sound. It was Cyanide growling.
“What’s up?” Fox asked.
Before anyone said anything, Fox heard a loud CRASH! The window shattered. He felt a white-hot pain in his stomach and his shirt was getting wet. He looked down and saw blood blossoming out across the cloth. With a shaky hand, he lifted up the fabric to reveal a bullet wound.
“F-fuck...need m-my phone…” Fox panted.
Fox painstakingly made his way to the stairs where he actually debated with himself and Cyanide if he could make it.
“Fuck...I-I can’t…” he gasped.
"You’re going to have to if you don’t want to die!” Cyanide growled.
“W-why can’t w-we j-just transform?” Fox panted in pain.
"I could cause more damage to the wound. Just go slow.”
Fox did exactly as Cyanide said. He slowly made his way down until a wave of dizziness hit him and he fell down the last three steps. He screamed in pain and let loose a few tears.
Fox managed to open his eyes once more and spotted his backpack where it landed during the fight. The object got thrown to the right of him where the front hall was. He gathered just enough strength to army crawl toward it. When he got close enough he opened the bag and felt around for his phone. He pulled it out and dialed 9-1-1 and tried to speak.
"9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” the male dispatcher asked.
“H-help me,” Fox pleaded weakly, fading fast.
"What’s the problem, sir?” the dispatcher asked calmly.
“I-I was s-shot...my s-sister...k-killed...p-please...h -help…” Fox gasped out.
"I’ve got your location and police and EMTs are on their way. I want you to try and stay awake for me, all right? What’s your name?” the dispatcher replied.
"Hold on for me Fox. Don’t you dare pass out on me!” the dispatcher exclaimed.
“S-so...c-cold…” Fox whispered.
If the man said something, Fox didn’t hear it. Everything sounded as though it was underwater. His vision wasn’t blurry anymore, but near black. He couldn’t breathe. He was cold and sleepy. He could faintly hear Cyanide barking at him. He closed his eyes and let the darkness take him under into sweet oblivion.