He made his way in and changed back to normal. Before going inside, he noticed that Doris’ place was dark. He decided to go over real quick and see what was up.
Fox looked into the window and found the living room totally empty, as if no one had ever lived there. He went around to the back and slipped in through the sliding door. The lock mechanism was broken and Doris never bothered getting it fixed. Fox looked around the kitchen and it, too, was empty.
“Doris?” he called out.
No answer. He called again. Nothing. He looked around the one-story home and still nothing. Doris was gone. He should be mad, but he wasn’t. He kinda figured she had lied to him. He sighed sadly and hoped she was alright wherever she was now. He left the home and headed back over to the hell hole that was his foster home.
He looked back at Doris’ home. “Mahalo Doris, for everything. A hui hou.”
He went back across the street to do what he came to do. Fox packed up what little possessions and clothes he had into the boxes he’d saved while he bounced around, then sealed them up. He took them downstairs carefully one by one, even though there were only three he didn’t want to wind up back in the hospital.
Fox considered taking the truck, but he didn’t trust it. He then remembered there was a four-wheeler that Mike kept gassed up in the garage.
He went to the garage and saw the four-wheeler. He praised whatever deity is in the sky for it having the key in the ignition. Fox placed the boxes on the back of the vehicle and made sure they were secure. He went back in and grabbed his backpack and duffel bag, then got on the four-wheeler.
Fox didn’t worry about getting caught as people rode ATVs and go-karts up and down the streets all the time. Plus, he was only going ten minutes away. He started the thing up and headed for home. He parked the vehicle in the garage he hadn’t been in yet.
“Dayum. If I had known there was a ’67 Impala in here, I would’ve been ridin’ in style,” Fox said with a whistle.
After admiring his new car, he brought his stuff inside slowly one by one as he did at Mikes. By the time he brought his last box in, he was tired and hurting. He set the box down in the den with the others and took in a shaking deep breath.
Fox decided it was time for lunch and a nap. He grabbed his meds and cooked himself some ramen noodles Samantha had brought for him.
“I know I shouldn’t trust this but my medicine says to take with food and I’m too tired to head back out,” Fox said to himself.
Cyanide growled, not liking the idea of Fox eating something from that woman.
“I know bud, but if I take it without food I could get sick. I’d rather risk it than spend the night awake in pain.”
Cyanide huffed in reluctant agreement. It didn’t want Fox to get sick; the boy was just beginning to heal. The creature wished it could heal Fox but it didn’t have healing abilities. Fox never gave the being any, in the comics. Now that he was real, it wasn’t sure. Cyanide was created as a natural speed healer if it got hurt, although if it was in a pinch and needed healing fast, it could always use its ink to heal. The problem with that is that it took a lot of energy that the creature would need in battle.
Theoretically, Cyanide could heal Fox or Fox could heal himself with the ink, but it would take the energy they both need, and right now Fox needed all he could get.
After Fox finished his lunch and took his medicine. He looked at the winding staircase at the end of the hallway and snorted.
“Don’t think I can make it upstairs right now. The couch sounds like a death sentence but it’ll do for now,” he muttered tiredly.
Fox made his way to the living room and settled on the long furniture. He pulled the afghan from the back and snuggled underneath it. He let the medicine wash over him, and he fell into blissful darkness.
Elsewhere-The Warehouse District
A black SUV pulled into the warehouse district. Two people got out of the vehicle and walked up to a warehouse. The man unlocked the door and opened it, allowing the woman to walk in. The warehouse reeked of dead fish and salt. The waves outside crashed against the docks and made an echo inside. Most of the metal of the old building was rusted and weathered. It was falling apart, but would have to do for now.
Samantha entered the warehouse and wrinkled her nose at the smell. Warehouses gave her the creeps.
“A bit cliché don’t you think mate?” she asked with a snarl.
“It’s the best we can do for now, plus this place is close to my girl’s old place.”
Samantha looked at him, surprised, “Really? So we’re near Fox? How far away?”
“Like, fifteen minutes out.”
“Geez,” she scoffed.
“Islands. Everything’s close and within walking distance,” Maddox pointed out.
“True. All right, so how are we playing this?” Samantha asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
“You’re going to gain his trust back, because I know that creature has probably already filled his head with lies and Fox won’t trust you.”
“Right. So I gain his trust back and lure him here. How?”
“A fake kidnapping, of course,” Maddox said all too casually.
“Will that even work? This creature is probably smart.” Samantha raised her eyebrows.
“Oh it’s smart, but it’s not the creature we’re trying to lure.”
Samantha nodded. There was one more question on her mind that she needed to be sure of.
“Are you sure, and I mean absolutely sure, that Fox is even alive? Last I heard he was circling the drain.”
“I’m positive. I went to the hospital he was taken to. He was in a coma for two weeks and then discharged this morning,” Maddox said with certainty.
“What about the blood? Is his blood even blood?”
“He’s able to disguise his blood as ink and vice versa. I can’t really explain it,” Maddox said unsure. “At least I think he can.”
“Maybe being bound to the creature naturally turned his blood,” Samantha theorized. “Interesting. Important question. When?”
“After your graduation. So, the Monday after,” Maddox said.
Samantha nodded and left. She had some planning of her own to do. From what little time she had spent with Fox, she knew he was strong-minded. He wouldn’t be easy to sway, but she had to. This was her mission, not his.
‘The last of her organization will finally be extinct. Revenge is a dish best served cold after all,’ she snarled in her thoughts.