The Dark Half

The Dark Half- Book Two
A mile and a half down the road and facing the woods in all its gothic splendor was the ruins of the great Blackvale Lunatic Asylum; built back during the mental health care reform of the 1840’s and 50’s.
BOOK 2
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As far as names are concerned, I credit Stephen King; he used this title for his novel of the same name. I also credit Jack Norworth and Nora Bayes for 'Turn off your Light, Mr. Moon Man', Mamie Smith for Crazy Blues and Celtic Woman for Wolf Song 
Contents[show]
 
 PROLOGUE Edit
December 18th, 1941 
Grace Kane-Karnage gave some careful thought to her appearance before she stalked away from the mirror and out of her bedroom. She’d put on her only ‘good’ set of clothes, really; an elegant black evening dress, slightly tattered black gloves and a string of pearls inherited from her mother, and some VERY uncomfortable high heels that made her footpaws bleed. 
“Felipe had better tell me something soon….” 
Grace muttered, descending down the stairs of the house she’d shared for the past three years with her husband; the Air Pirate Felipe Karnage; scourge of the seven skies. 
 Being married to the wolf, Grace admitted, was never easy but she never LIKED things that were easy; and as she swaggered into the kitchen, she thought more of the situation: Karnage had been dropping hints that they’d be doing something together today; and something classy at that. Indeed, he’d even gone so far as to drop Alice and Leo (now two) at Rosa’s house to play with their far naughtier cousin Elisa, who’d recently turned five. 
Entering the kitchen, Grace froze in the doorway. Karnage was already there; wearing of all things, a suit. (Three years together and Grace still couldn’t get used to the sight of him dressing normally; in anything other than his Captain’s uniform) Upon seeing her, he grinned a bit and swept a concealed object behind his back. 
“What’s een a name? Dat wheech we call a rose by any other name would be just as sweet…” 
Reaching from behind his back, Karnage offered her a bouquet of roses. 
 Grace squealed and then laughed with happiness. She loved her husband even more when he was romantic. 
“I wanted to do something, especial, querida.” 
 “What’s that?” 
He smiled mysteriously. 
“Not telling just yet….But first….” 
He hugged her again and whispered: 
“Dis ees my favorite place.” 
Grace looked around and blinked. 
“What, home?” 
 “No. Weeth you.” 
Grace smiled. 
“You’re so romantic!” 
He shifted on one footpaw and hugged her. Grace hugged him back. 
“As are you, querida. You deed a great job dat one day…” 
Grace figured she knew what he was talking about and swallowed. 
“That day when I….?” 
He nodded. 
“Si!” 
Grace leaned forward slyly and kissed Karnage. He kissed her back passionately. 
“Liberacion de mierda Buena….Good fucking reedance.” 
 “How very appropriate!” 
Grace jokingly chided, and they both laughed. 
 Pausing for thought, she finally asked: 
“So what are these ‘plans’ you’ve been going on about all day?” 
She pauses teasingly. 
“Not more plundering I hope!” 
 “Plundering? Me?” 
Karnage gasped as if in complete shock and gave Grace an innocent face. 
“Oh don’t give me those puppy eyes tonight Felipe! You remind me too much of Leo when you do that.” 
Grace grinned in a parody of viciousness and twisted his unscarred ear. 
“So where are we REALLY going?” 
 “To a cocktail party….” 
He paused to straighten his lapel. 
“I’m only going because it’s with all de crew and….” 
Here Karnage grinned subtly. 
“And what’s a crew without de captain?” 
Grace looks puzzled. 
“Well where is it?” 
 “Judgment Day.” 
“You’re not serious.” 
Grace had not wanted to go to this party from the beginning; but Judgment Day was a secret, rumor-infested nightclub that Karnage’s crew jabbered on about constantly. It was also run by and for Southshire’s elite criminal underground; the likes of which included thieves, conbeasts, murderers and pirates. It was this motley crew that Grace had been indirectly a part of (much to her everlasting shame) for the past three years. Southshire’s underground community was vast and a strong one; and Grace almost shuddered thinking about what could happened if such a group decided to turn them (well, Karnage) in. 
 Trying to put this aside, Grace made her argument: 
“Odd name. But Felipe do we HAVE to go to this cocktail party?! I thought you hardly ever drank!” 
He looked sheepish and crossed the room to the white wooden cabinets with their paint-chipped doors and produced a bottle. 
“I attend de parties but I don’t drink, querida.” 
 “Then what DO you drink?” 
Grace challenged. There was no label on the bottle. 
“Eet’s non-alcoholic. I keep a personal stock of it. White grape juice.” 
Grace suddenly understood. 
“So THAT’s what it is. Well…If one or both of us is sober enough to drive home maybe I’ll come after all. I won’t drink if you won’t either. Deal?” 
She stuck out a paw. 
“Deal.” 
He shook it. 
 Grace meandered towards the door. 
“Say, who’s driving? And if you bust up my Rolls Royce I’ll make sure you buy your own car with every last cent of your own money!” 
 “We’re not taking de Rolls Royce.” 
 “We’re not, are we?” 
Karnage turned and held up the keys to the OTHER vehicle in the Karnage household; a secondhand 1938 Brough Superior SS 100. Hailed during its 1938 debut as the ‘Rolls Royce of motorcycles’ Grace had just had to check it out; and finally bought one for them both in early 1939 and although it was battered, dented and extremely secondhand; Grace loved it. Putting her paws on her hips, she declared: 
“Well, if you’ve been in a state of secrecy all day…Then maybe we CAN have some fun!” 
She smiled mysteriously, and Karnage hugged her roguishly. 
“I’ll be right back, just let me get my coat on; it’s freezing out.” 
Grace promised, and trotted off; but not before yelling: 
“I LOVE RIDING THE BROUGH SUPERIOR EVEN IF THE NEIGHBORS STARE!” 
She came back a minute later clad in a heavy trench coat from her reporting days; beat Karnage out of the door, and with that, they were off! 
 The rising moon cast long shadows over the land…A lone shadow broke away from the others, heading out into the night with one purpose in mind: To make sure Don Felipe Karnage was dead. The shadow was lean and eerily thin; the kind of thin that anorexic teenage females of the next several decades would want to emulate, but could never quite get to; because it was a deathly kind of thin. 
 The owner of that reedy shadow was Ivana Krotz, sometimes misrepresented as "Ivana Cross". She was a slim gray female squirrel with warm amber eyes, and powdery silver fur with a bluish hue. Her sly, knowing face spoke volumes of seduction and promiscuity; almost that of a callous prostitute. But Ivana was certainly no whorehouse female. Far from it. She was known and adored for her cruelty; and although nobody quite knew where she hailed from, she had a good deal of nicknames; among them ‘Beautiful foreigner’, and ‘the Foreign Devil’ 
Ivana was wanted for mercenary and assassin jobs all of the country; but at the moment only one foreign corporate leader was in need of her assistance: Shere Khan; the robber baron CEO of the infamous Khan Industries, based in the city of Cape Suzette. 
A thick brown coat covering her figure and a pair of black shades concealing her famous eyes; Ivana stood hunched over a pay phone in an undisclosed location several miles from Judgment Day. Dropping a few quarters into the phone, she dialed Khan Industries’ number and got a perky secretary. 
“Hello, can you connect me straight to Mr. Khan please? My name is Ivana Krotz and I’m a. . . how shall I put this….Foreign executive of his.” 
“Ohhh, so you’re THAT Miss Krotz! Of course, sugar. I’ll put him on right away!” 
There was a vague blur of static and some yelling in the background. 
“MR. KHAN! YOU GOTTA CALL!” 
And a faint, less-audible: 
“Yes, yes, I know Suzanne. Now move out of the way and let me answer, please. Ivana?” 
The phone had changed paws. Ivana smiled. 
“Yes, that is me, Mr. Khan.”She said in her near-perfect English. “Would you like to review the job with me once more?”She said warmly. 
 Khan smiled on the other line. 
“Of course, Ivana.” 
He purred. 
“How long have you been traveling with that raggedy band of….Air Pirates?” 
“Three months now, Mr. Khan.” 
“Three months….Three months….That’s good. More than enough time to earn their trust. Does Karnage suspect a thing?” 
 “No he does not Mr. Khan.” 
 “Good! Do you remember how you’re going to kill him?” 
 “Yes, I do. I will sneak up on this Karnage-wolf from the side when he suspects least, and shoot him in the heart.”Ivana’s last five words were said in a callous, ice-cold whisper. Even Khan shuddered. 
“Yes, exactly. And remember; try to fix the blow so that it’s GUARANTEED to hit the heart. If you miss by even a fraction of an inch, Ivana, I WILL HAVE YOU SKINNED ALIVE!” 
 “Mr. Khan are you not assuming that I can do far worse to you? You silly, silly Uslandian boy!” 
She chuckled. 
 Khan gulped and took a minute to calm his nerves. 
“Well…er….are you ready, Ivana?” 
“Yes I am .” 
“Good. You know the way to Judgement Day; if not I can arrange for a limousine to….” 
 “No, no. A limousine is too flashy and how do you Uslandians say….mmhmmmm…..Con-spick-yew-us. I will go alone. I will get the job done. Good evening.” 
Ivana Krotz hung up. Shere Khan was so glad she did. 
Judgment Day was a weed-surrounded two-story brick building not too far outside the stereotypical, idyllic brown wood picket fences and ordinary family homes of Southshire. It DID have a parking lot (even though it was located in the middle of a field; near a dirt road leading to the woods. 
The sun had long ago set, it being winter, and some snow was just beginning to fall as Grace and Karnage dismounted the Brough Superior and went in. Little did they know; Ivana Krotz was also waiting and watching. Like a lithe shadow she slipped from her almost-new ’39 Sedan and waited only until the Captain and his wife were inside before creeping up the gray concrete steps herself. 
 The assassin had spied her target, and patted the Enfield No. 2 Mark 1 pistol safely within her coat pocket. Soon, soon its time would come. But only until she waited. 
 ~ 
 The atmosphere of Judgment Day was so casual but wild; Grace liked it instantly, and it could very well have been one of Cape Suzette’s many nightclubs as well (including Louie’s), were all its patrons not crooks and thieves of all sorts. 
A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling in the lobby; which had a dingy tan wallpaper and was occupied only by a faded red velvet couch, a few wobbly-looking chair, and a window on the far left wall. A bored looking zebra sat at the reception desk; smoking a cigarette with some difficulty because of his hooves. 
“Ahh; Mr. and Mrs. Ehhh…..Karnage, is it?” 
 “Si! That ees us.” 
Before Grace could utter a peep, Karnage went to the desk, and Grace soon followed close behind. 
“You had reservations for dinner at six-thirty?” 
 “Si.” 
 “Yes, yes we did.” 
Grace interjected. 
“Then the rest of your party is in the lounge upstairs. Enjoy.” 
 “Catch me if you can.” 
Grace joked, and hurried up the narrow wooden stairs. Karnage laughed and followed after her. 
 After they’d disappeared up to the second floor; Ivana entered and went to the doorbeast. 
“I am in the same party as they were. Six-thirty.” 
Ivana hung up her coat on the rack as Grace and Karnage had done before her; and slinked up the stairs. 
The lounge at Judgment Day, the first room to the right in a spacious hallway; was quite impressive. It had the same beige wallpaper as the lobby; but was much more richly furnished; with abstract and classical paintings from various famous artists decorating the walls; had several huge late 19th-century style windows with lush velvet curtains. It was also furnished with several ornate, circular wooden tables; at most of which sat the canines (with two feline absentees) Grace recognized as the Air Pirates. 
 Karnage immediately went off to banter with his men per usual, and Grace sidled up to Mad Dog; who’d become somewhat of a friend to her in the three years they’d known each other. 
“Hey Mad.” 
She greeted him. 
“Oh Hi Miss First Lady….” 
The sniveling wolf greeted her; blowing his nose on a napkin. Grace rolled her eyes. She’d told Mad Dog repeatedly not to call her First Lady; she wasn’t the president’s wife after all, but he wouldn’t listen, and so First Lady she became. 
“Say, where’s Hal and Melina?” 
Grace asked, since she hadn’t seen the two in months. The two had become a well-known and dynamic couple for the past three years; and with Melina’s shy introverted nature and Hal’s boisterousness and stubborn modesty, they were not quite the ‘perfect’ match as one might suspect; but from what Grace had observed they were a blissfully happy pair. 
“Ohhh….them.” 
Mad Dog lowered his voice to a whisper. 
“Melina got pregnant. Hal’s at home takin’ care of her.” 
That would certainly explain something. 
“Really? How far along is she?!” 
 “Six months, around that. She still lives nearby though….She an’ Hal are gettin’ hitched in May.” 
 “Huh. I never knew that either. If I’m the First Lady why do you always keep me in the dark Mad?” 
Mad Dog just shrugged helplessly. 
“I dunno ma’am. I just do what the Captain says.” 
A waiter arrived with various drinks that had already been ordered; and she immediately requested lemonade on ice. (not wanting to take the risk of even ONE glass of wine) Soon; while drinking the sweet beverage and waiting for dinner, Grace found she needed to pee. 
 Upon finding the female’s bathroom was just down the hall, Grace ran to locate it. 
~ 
 Karnage was taking a break from partying with everyone else. He’d finished dinner early; and was taking a casual smoke on the far side of the room; away from the company of everyone else. 
 He was, to say the least, surprise when the three-month newcomer; Ivana something, the squirrel strutted up to him in a dark red slinky dress, smiling subtly about something-or-other. 
“Captain, may I speak to you?” 
She said in her heavy, odd accent. 
 Karnage finished his cigarette; tossed it in the nearest wastebasket and nodded. 
“Si; as I say, my door is always open sometimes.” 
 “How good. Can we speak… Out there?” Ivana pointed to the burn-scarred wooden door that led to the old fire escape outside. 
Karnage nodded silently, a sly grin affixed on his face. Ivana went ahead of him towards the fire escape and waited in the doorway. Karnage went out on the actual fire escape; a rusted metal ladder system from the turn of the century, and leaned against the metal balcony so that he faced Ivana. 
“So, what ees eet you weesh to be talking about, my foreign follower?” 
Karnage eyed the foreigner carefully. Something about her at this moment made him suspicious but he had no idea why. 
“Oh… There is something I must tell you.” 
 “What ees eet?” 
She grinned mysteriously and chuckled. 
“I am not entirely how you say…. loyal to the end.” 
Karnage gritted his teeth hard he swore as he almost felt one crack. He got the feeling Ivana was playing mindgames with him; that and she definitely wasn’t what she had presented herself as for the past three months. Ivana noticed this. 
“I steel worry about Venazetti and his men.” 
 “I do not work for them if that is why you worry.” Karnage sighed in relief. 
“Bueno.” 
Ivana fiddled with something in the large pocket near her hip. 
“But ehh…I must make one last confession to you, Captain.” 
The Foreign Devil turned to face the wolf with an expression of dark seductiveness. 
“And dat ees?” 
“I do not work for Venazetti. I work for Khan.” 
In a blurring motion, Ivana whipped out her Enfield and shot Karnage dead center in the chest; just below the heart. 
 His entire world a blurring haze of pain, Karnage seemed numb to it at first and was not quite aware he’d been wounded due to shock. Teeth gritted, he got out his own pistol and shot Ivana in the stomach. She gave a screech of pain and fell over in the doorway; dead. 
 Hearing the violence; Mad Dog and several others ran forward to see what had gone on. 
 Karnage had no time to speak with them yet; he was too busy assessing his own wound which he feared was mortal. 
“Damn." 
 Grace had been running her paws under the water when she heard the cracking Bang! Of the twin gunshots. As the instinctive panic tried to take over her, Grace took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. 
 It’s probably just Felipe having a pistol duel. 
 She told herself. 
 It’s fine…. 
Yanking a scented pink towel from the wall holder; Grace dried her sopping forepaws and put her discarded gloves back in her purse. She was not prepared for the screaming and crying that would come next. 
“What the hell…..?”Grace thought aloud. Something had to be wrong! She sprinted down the hallway and flung the lounge door open. A scene of chaos and general disorientation awaited her; with pandemonium and screaming all around, and she ran to find Mad Dog, who was wringing his paws and standing near a table. 
“Ohhhh Miss First Lady…..” 
He gulped. 
“What, was is it Mad?! Tell me before I explode!” 
 “Miss First Lady you don’t wanna know….” 
He shook his head. 
 Grace’s panic and mild anger mounted. 
“What the hell is wrong with you?? OF COURSE I want to know! So please, enlighten me!” 
Mad Dog took a deep breath before muttering in a low voice. 
“The Cap’n’s been shot.” 
The words didn’t register in Grace’s brain at first. This had to be some sick misunderstanding. 
“What…..?” 
“You heard me ma’am! I ain’t kiddin’, honest!” 
 “Well then who the hell did this?” 
 “It was Ivana. Ivana Krotz. Turns out we had a Khannie in our midst; found the insignia on her socks.” 
 “Had?” 
 “She shot the Cap’n in the chest; he shot her in the stomach. I think she croaked real fast.” 
 “Well that’s a good thing I guess but what about Felipe?” 
Mad Dog sighed and indicated the fire escape and the back of the room. 
“Ratchet’s tryin’ t’stop the bleedin’ now but we all know he ain’t no doctor.” 
Grace winced. Her patience was wearing thin but suddenly she seemed powerless to stop her own temper. 
“Well it’s not like we can call an ambulance!” 
Mad Dog sighed. 
“You gotta point there. They’d probably question us.” 
He paused. 
“I think I got an alternative but you gotta listen.” 
Mad Dog glanced nervously towards Ratchet, who it appeared had managed to stop the bleeding of the now-unconscious Karnage. 
“Tell me, please.” 
Lowering his voice to a whisper, Mad Dog said to Grace: 
“Well you know how this lounge is just for crooks like us right?” 
“Right.” 
 “And this is part of the Southshire Underground.” 
“Right…..” 
 “There’s a hospital like this a mile or so down the road; of course it ain’t legal either. It’s in the middle of nowhere, you’d never know it was occupied from the outside. You ain’t gonna like this Miss First Lady but….It used to be a state asylum years ago but they abandoned it now. I know it ain’t legal but I swear it’s safe. That’s where we’re goin’. Are you comin’ or stayin’?” 
Grace took a deep breath. 
“Of course I’ll go.” 
She said firmly. 
“Kay, you want me to take you in my car?” 
 “No thanks; I have a cycle. I’ll just trail you.” 
Grace started to walk off, but Mad Dog grabbed her sleeve, stopping her. 
“Miss First Lady….I dunno if you trust us; not bein’ a real proper criminal or anything but….Uh do you trust us?” 
Grace laughed with as much humor as she could sum up given the situation. 
“Mad I’ve known you and everyone else for three years now! Why the fuck wouldn’t I trust you?” 
 “Yeah, I just must’ve been screwin’ around. See ya.” 
Mad Dog’s words resonated in Grace’s mind however. She still trusted everyone at the moment….But if Ivana was a traitor; then who knew how many more the future would bring? 
 She pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind and went to say a few tearful words of comfort to her wounded mate before they all departed. 
 ~ 
 Grace felt significantly depressed driving the Brough Superior alone instead of with company (namely a certain SOMEONE) But she followed the small group of cars that had driven her fellow canines to Judgment Day out of the tiny parking lot and tried to keep up with them as the dirt road changed into a newly paved one. 
 A mile and a half down the road and facing the woods in all its gothic splendor was the ruins of the great Blackvale Lunatic Asylum; built back during the mental health care reform of the 1840’s and 50’s. 
 It was a towering, four-story structure with smashed-in windows, no front door, and bricks missing in more places than they should have been. The entire east wall was slightly sagging; and the ‘cottages’ where patients of lesser illness were housed had burned down during a fire in the 1910’s. 
Now used as a covert hospital for those twisters-of-the-law who could not seek medical help at a legitimate one; Blackvale now contained a staff of about twenty who had all had medical training at least starting in high school, and their equipment was up-to-date for what they had to make do with. 
 They were more or less rattling around in empty space all the time; Blackvale had been built for as many as 8,000 patients in its glory days, as well as a much larger medical staff. Speaking of its glory days; let’s go back into Blackvale’s early history for a moment. 
Opening in 1848; Blackvale had specialized in all forms of ‘insanity’ whether or not they were true mental illnesses or not. Pregnant teenage females were typically institutionalized for their promiscuity, as well as schizophrenics, BPD’s, or even simply creatures accused of behavior that was not quite ‘normal’ 
Its treatments were even more barbaric; some of which included: Hydrotherapy at freezing temperatures, being locked into a small, heated box for hours; or simply lobotomized (although not popular for decades more; contrary to popular belief, the lobotomy first originated at Blackvale in 1889) 
 There was a high amount of violence among patients and staff; and many female patients aged eleven and older said that they were frequently touched inappropriately by doctors, even while in heat. 
 Even though Pablo Karnage had donated a sum of money to the asylum in 1894; it still closed in 1901 anyway due to lack of funding. By now, 1941 the mediums used to deliver ‘treatment’ from the original hospital were long sold or stolen, and the only real trace of the first Blackvale (besides the furniture) that remains is a large rock with the following words crudely etched into it: 
R.I.P. BLACKVALE 
1848-1901 
 Grace couldn’t help but get a cold chill as she accompanied Mad Dog and the others inside. Sadly; she didn’t catch a glimpse of Karnage, he’d been brought there before she’d been able to arrive. 
 Grace hunkered down in a three-legged velvet-padded chair in what she guessed was now the ER and examined her surroundings carefully. The brown wallpaper was peeling; and a new layer had been splashed over it in places in an attempt to make it look modern and newer. 
 The several chairs were old and losing their stuffing, and Grace stared down at her footpaws for a long time in that room as the delayed shock finally began to set in and she felt….Helplessly numb. 
 A long amount of time passed. Eventually she was half-led half-carried into another room and asked if she knew her blood type. Grace responded dully that it was O positive. (This she knew from doctor’s appointments in the past) It turns out that that was Karnage’s blood type as well; so Grace numbly but very willingly gave up some of her own before staggering back like a walking corpse to the room she’d arrived in and waited. What she was waiting for she didn’t know. 
Time ticked by; and the minute hands on the wall clock seemed to fly in a rotating circle. Every so often somebeast would tell Grace a bit on Karnage before hurrying out. Glumly, she sat in the dark and put it all together to think about and process. 
8:07; he was out of surgery to have the bullet removed. 8:22, stabilized. 8:49, Melina had gone to visit the wolf as he recovered from the anesthetic. 
“That’s nice….” 
Grace muttered as she fell asleep in her chair. Blissfully; her mind allowed her to dream of adolescent females in old-fashioned dresses drinking coffee and chatting casually in a padded cell. Coffee. Grace needed some of that. 
 8:53. A ragged Melina was sitting in the gloomy edifice that was one of Blackvale’s recovery rooms (although it was originally intended as just a bedroom); her dull pink, casual dress was an usual sight in the room; it being devoid of furniture except the bed and one chair, and seemed unusually cold than a December day allowed. Its brownish paint was chipping all over; and the floor was coated in dust. 
 The bed where Karnage lay was a simple hospital bed with a sterile metal headboard and footboard, and although at one point there must once have been straps for restraining unruly patients; these were long since torn away, possibly to help smooth the building’s transition from mental hospital to medical. 
 With a sigh, Melina held his paw and glanced worriedly at the still-unconscious wolf. For a moment it seemed like he stopped breathing; and Melina froze in a total state of panic. A moment later however, he coughed and heaved a ragged breath. 
“C-Captain?” 
Melina whispered. 
 Karnage blinked, moaning groggily. This was the second time he had come to in the small room; but he hadn’t entirely been awake the last time. 
“Where….?” 
He croaked. 
 Melina hesitated. She obviously couldn’t tell him ‘Ohh you’re in a disused insane asylum’ 
 “You’re uh…You’re in the hospital. Part of the Underground.” 
 “Melina? What happened?” 
Karnage’s vision was still coming into focus as he looked at her. 
“Ivana shot you in the chest; she was a traitor. You shot her back and killed her.” 
“Whew….”The wolf closed his eyes and relaxed. 
“They got the bullet out.” 
 “I’m so thankful…..And glad de bitch ees dead.” 
 “Me too.” 
She hugged him gently. Karnage hugged her back. 
“You woke up and had a panic attack though; right before the surgery. Mad Dog called me and told me what happened, and I was able to see you in the operating room for a few minutes.” 
 “Mierda…” 
“You went crazy over Venazetti.” 
 “Damn.” 
Melina looked uncertain and folded her paws in her lap. 
“Should I go on?” 
Karnage nodded. 
“Por favor? I am…. Confuzzled.” 
 “You thought he was still alive and torturing you. A few minutes ago you…Tried to rip out that tube in your nose and I had to calm you down.” 
She indicated a tube of some flexible material that carried oxygen into the wolf’s scarred muzzle. After a moment he understood. 
“Medeecal equeepment? Not…” 
He heaved a long sigh of relief and sank into the pillows. Melina squeezed Karnage’s paw; and he squeezed back. 
“You’re safe.” 
She assured him. 
“Muchas gracias….” 
Again, the wolf gave a small sigh and pulled the blanket more closely around him. 
“Grace wants to see you, too.” 
Melina added. 
“I am looking forward to seeing her….” 
Melina paused. “I forgot to add…I’m due in three months, you know.”She blushed a little bit. 
“Congratulations!” 
Melina still looked a little embarrassed. 
“Uh… Do you know who the father is, though?” 
 “No. I’m sure hee’ll be a great one though.” 
Melina supposed now would be a good a time as other; given her absence the past few months. 
“It’s Hal. We’re getting married.” 
Karnage smiled winsomely. 
 Melina couldn’t help but smile herself. 
“You’ll be at the wedding? It’s in May.” 
 “Si! Weel you need any help?” 
 “Yes; it’s been…the word.” 
He nodded. 
“You’d do it though?” 
Melina asked, looking for confirmation. 
“Si!” 
She hugged him. 
“I hope you get well soon.” 
Karnage returned the hug, managed to sit up, brought Melina’s paw to his mouth and like a gentlebeast; kissed it gently. 
“I weesh all of you de best, Melina.” He smiled warmly. 
“Thank you so very much.” 
Karnage looked Melina in the eye. 
“Usted no es solo mi medic, pero mi querida amiga. Le deseo a usted y su familia todo lo mejor." He translated. "You’re not only my medic but my dear friend. I wish you and your family all the best.” 
Melina rose from her chair. "I wish you and yours the same." 
“Muchas gracias, mi amiga.” 
 “You’re welcome. Grace’ll probably be right in. Goodnight.” 
Melina left the room; and with a yawn, Karnage settled back against the sheets to wait for his wife. 
 Ten minutes after Melina left to go home to Hal; Grace staggered into the room she’d been told her husband was in and looked around. What an eyesore. She thought; noticing the decaying walls and chipping paint, all the while still grateful for having it. 
 Karnage was curled up into a ball on the old-fashioned bed, so still at 
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She whispered, half to herself. 
The wolf muttered something groggily in his sleep before turning over; definitely breathing though. After a while, he blinked. 
“Q-Querida? Ees eet you?” 
 “Yes, it is.” 
Grace breathed, straightening the dirty, coffee-stained lapels of her beloved trench coat. 
“Nunca estoy dejando ir… I’m never letting go.” 
“Me either.” 
Grace went over to the bed and gently kissed him. Karnage kissed her back. 
“Otra mitad de mi corazon…The other half of my heart.” 
Not sure whether to grin with her trademark slyness or out of pure relief; Grace smiled for some reason anyway, and with almost an instinct, held him close to her. 
“You’ll be okay, right?” 
“Si, querida.” 
He hugged her back. 
“So how are you physically?” 
“Eet hurts…I theenk I’m okay otherwise.” 
Grace heaved a sigh of relief at least for that. 
“You refused drugs; didn’t you?” 
She asked, half-expecting to get some brag from Karnage about how clean he was as well, in addition to being dry- with him; you never knew. 
“Si.” 
“Why?” 
He shuddered. 
“They used needles to…Torture me.” 
Oh. That. 
“I….I’m so sorry.” 
Grace felt hugely embarrassed. She’d never known what exactly Luciano diVenazetti’s torture regime had been. 
“I’m glad the son of a bitch is dead…. I hope.” 
 “He’s dead. I shot the bastard.” 
 “Good!” 
She squeezed his paw reassuringly, and Karnage squeezed back. Grace paused after a while. 
“I’m sorry if it seems like I haven’t been there. You know I try right?” 
 “Si.” 
An uncomfortable silence. 
“I love you.” 
She kissed him. 
“Love you too.” 
Karnage kissed her back; passionately. 
 They stayed that way until Grace checked the clock and cursed, knowing visiting hours were now over. They said their good-byes and Grace drove home on the Brough Superior, deposited it in the garage and drove to Rosa’s house in the Rolls Royce because it had space for Alice and Leo in the backseat. 
 Rosa’s house was a fairly nondescript two-story from the early 20’s; and made of brick. She and her deadbeat x-husband, some loan shark named William Hawley, had bought it during their marriage in 1935, and Rosa had been living there ever since even after William walked out on her a year later, shortly after Elisa was born. 
 Going up to the front steps; Grace knocked on the door. 
“Hello? It’s Grace; your sister-in-law!” 
She still felt very awkward in Rosa’s commanding presence; and flinched as the female wolf opened the door. 
Rosa could have been a movie star had she any acting talent: She was very slim and had an hourglass figure; with fur the color of fallen autumn leaves, and tiny pale blue eyes with a slight curve to them. The mint-green blouse and skirt she wore set off that figure; and Rosa wore a dark, emerald-colored scarf and a pearl necklace in addition. 
 There was a calm but forceful, all-business look behind those eyes and Grace knew that she’d have to be careful if she ever wanted to make a peaceful agreement on anything with Rosa Karnage. 
“Hi, Grace! You’re here to pick up Alice and Leo?” 
Grace nodded. 
“Yes I am.” 
 “Come on in. Sorry if the living room’s a bit of a mess; I had a hell of a time trying to get Elisa to go to bed if you’ll excuse my language.” 
 “No, I understand completely.” 
Rosa’s living room was warm; had a threadbare green, oval-shaped carpet on the floor, two cream-colored couches and a radio, as well as a fireplace. Alice and Leo were curled up on both couches, fast asleep. 
 As she gathered up their warm little two-year-old bodies into her arms; Grace turned to Rosa. 
“Rosa? Can I talk to you?” 
 “About?” 
 “It….It’s your brother. He’s been shot.” 
Grace’s voice broke. 
“That’s all I can say right now; but somebody, probably Mad Dog will call you and tell you more. I have to run.” 
Cursing herself for feeling like such a traitor, Grace wiped damp tears from her face as she went to the car with her children resting safely in the back. 
 ~ 
 Time passed. Karnage got out of Blackvale two weeks later; griped and moaned for a while about being grounded as was typical for him. By spring he was in decent shape to fly again but by then he and Grace had other things to deal with. Such as Hal and Melina’s wedding. 
 They were married at Hals’ parents’ old house (A few miles west of Southshire; conveniently) on May 4th, 1942. Attending as a bridesmaid, Grace also got to sneak a peak at Hal and Melina’s first child: Eli Barnhart! A squirming, energetic ball of golden fur, Eli was a gorgeous little kitten with his mother’s narrow figure and jade eyes; and Grace joked 
“If you’re not careful I’ll take him with me!” 
When she cuddled him on her lap at the reception. 
After the wedding was over; while spring was still in full bloom, Grace and Karnage (with their children) all went to Karnageport while the weather was bearable. Grace found herself worrying about her husband but ever since his childhood (and Rosa’s) home burned down when Alice and Leo were born, the pain of visiting his old haunts were lesser. 
 1942 (apart from the war and all) turned out to be a pretty good year; and Grace knew she and Karnage were lucky. They would not have the same good fortune three years in the future. 
 Chapter One Edit
1945 had started as an unremarkable year. The war was still going on overseas in countries like Pierredonia, Japen and Freedonia; but here in Usland really all that was going on was rationing, drives and more rationing and drives. Grace was still unnerved at the thought of having a bomb shelter built into the backyard, but so far they’d never had to use it (not even for drills), but blackouts had been quite frequent; and she’d had to purchase heavy black silk curtains for that exact purpose (even though for her children; the blackouts were a fun game) 
 A slushy winter had come and gone, followed by a mild, breezy spring; and now in July, summer was in full swing; and it was a sweltering July 11th. Leo and Alice’s sixth birthday. Per usual; there was a massive party (although the blackout curtains were drawn to hide from those infamous nosy neighbors) and Karnage had invited the entire crew. It was as almost as overblown an affair as his own birthday; and the wolf fully expected his children to be lavished upon and treated like royalty on their shared special day. 
 Sitting and massaging her high-heeled footpaws; Grace was sitting in the yard and playing crowd control as she always did at parties, scoping through the crowd for familiar faces out of pure habit; even though she knew everyone here. 
 Inside, in the kitchen (most of the year all it seemed the dining room did was collect dust) Alice and Leo’s cake had been brought out, although the cake had mysteriously vanished moments after she’d turned her back on setting it down on the table. (Just like every year since 1942) the cake had been a lot simpler than usual because of sugar rationing; but Grace couldn’t imagine someone eating it THAT quickly- she’d just gone to the living room to get something or other; and upon coming back it was gone. 
 Seeing Karnage drinking some water in a crystal glass; Grace rose, wiped her grass-covered skirt and went to him 
“Where’s the cake? And no; it wasn’t eaten already. There was nobody in the kitchen, I just went out of the room for a second and it was gone.” 
 “I was downstairs weeth Hal een de pool room. I deedn't see anything.” 
“You play pool with Hal?” 
 “Si; I do.” 
 “Sorry for getting off-topic.” 
Grace blushed. 
“I think Leo and Alice took the cake….And I’m going to make sure they pay somehow even if it is their birthday.” 
They chatted briskly for a little more before going their separate ways; Grace dead-set on finding who took the cake, especially if it was her own children, along with a certain troublemaking pair known as Eli Barnhart and Elisa Hawley…. 
Four young creatures were hidden away in Alice’s bedroom with the blinds pulled down. It was a spacious, wide room with bluish wallpaper containing Alice’s bed, her books, toys, and other such things; as well as a tacky and outdated fuschia carpet covering the floor. Alice and Elisa were sitting on her quilted bed, Eli and Leo on the floor. 
 The four of them had made out like little thieves, sneaking the cake up the stairs from the kitchen but nobody had dared to even lick it yet. Alice was wearing a light, pink cotton sweater and a brown skirt and her glasses as always (she couldn’t see a thing without them) and Elisa (aged eight) was wearing hand-me-down red overalls and a white shirt. Leo looked like a pint-sized businessbeast in his impeccably white shirt and brown pants perfectly tucked in; his black fur already starting to develop the same brown patches as his mother. Eli, who cared little about fashion at three years old; was wearing a little green jacket and matching shorts. 
“This is so boring!” 
Elisa whined. 
“Alice are we ever gonna eat the cake??” 
 “Nah.” 
Alice grinned cunningly. 
“Let’s go show the adults what we took and see what they’ll do. If they tell us to take the cake back we can always hide it and then eat it.” 
 “Well what’s in it for me, Alice? You’re always coming up with these fancy schemes but I never get anything.” 
 “Well….uh….how about we give you extra pieces of the cake? That’s the best I can do.” 
Alice said, her ears drooping slightly. 
 Leo scowled. 
“Okay….” 
On the floor, Eli said nothing. He both feared and adored the older children, but Elisa’s attitude and gritty personality alone mostly cowed him into silence. He had no real part in the plan; he just followed them along. And since the kitten had a reputation of being a tattletale, Alice, Leo and Elisa didn’t hesitate in letting him tag along. 
 Carefully, Alice lifted the cake (plate and all) from the bed, Elisa supporting her. 
“Your plans suck Alice.” 
Leo called from the floor. 
“No they don’t. Yours do!” 
Alice pulled a tongue at Leo before fixing him with a callous glare. 
“Yeah, Leo. Alice is in charge here so you better not tell her what to do.” 
Elisa informed the wolfdog. 
“Well she’s MY sister!” 
 “Yeah and MY cousin! Even if we do fight all the time.” 
Effectively, this shut Leo up but he still gave Eli and the girls a stony glare as they departed Alice’s room. 
“Elisa can you hold the cake for a second? I forgot something on the floor.” 
After handing over the cake to her streetwise cousin, Alice dashed back into her room and saw what was possibly her biggest prize: 
Her father’s cutlass; which she’d managed to pilfer from the living room mantle when no one was looking. She doubted even he knew it was gone yet. 
 Emerging with the very real, non-reproduction sword stuck through her makeshift rope belt, Alice loped out the bedroom, took the cake back from Elisa and the four of them all went down the stairs to show Alice’s parents. 
~ 
“…I swear it was right on the table!” 
Grace was jabbing at the spot where the cake used to be in the kitchen when Eli, Leo, Elisa and Alice came stampeding in; Alice wearing her father’s cutlass strapped to her waist! 
 Grace’s jaw dropped as she saw the ragtag group make their entrance. 
“We did it! We took the cake!” 
Elisa squealed, and stepped forward to reveal Leo was holding it now, begrudgingly. 
“Meh, but she did everything.” 
Elisa indicated the grinning Alice. 
“And uh…Daddy I found your wallet in your room and I…took some change.” 
Karnage turned to face Alice and Leo alone. 
“Stole from your own papa and I deedn’t know eet….” 
He shook his head slowly. 
“I have never been more proud dan I am now!” 
Grace turned to him somewhat-angrily. 
“Felipe did you put them up to this?” 
Alice came to her father’s defense. 
“No, mommy. I did it myself. It was all my own idea. I wanted to do something to make dad proud of me.” 
Wrapping an arm around her squirming brother she said mischievously: 
“Leo didn’t want to do it but when he had a cutlass at his throat….” Grace’s eyes widened. 
“YOU DID WHAT?!” 
 “Your cutlass.” 
Ignoring her mother’s shocked outburst, Alice shakily handed her father his sword back and almost fell over from the weight. 
“Dad!!” 
Leo squealed in fear. 
“She threatened me with the turnips and the sandpaper!” 
Just then, Hal came in; banging the screen door behind him. He scoffed. 
“Leo, she did not!” 
Eli ran to his father’s arms. 
“Daddy!!” 
Hal scooped up Eli’s yellowish form and rubbed his fur tenderly. 
“Ahh, you’re just like your old man! Tough as nails!” 
Alice laughed as Grace swept up the cake and deposited it on the table. 
“Foiled again!” 
Alice turned to her mother. 
“Mom, I just wanted to see if it were possible.” 
Something rattled and shifted on the floor by Alice’s footpaws. It was a small brown burlap bag. She undid the drawstring, revealing it to be full of change. 
“I took this from Leo’s sock drawer!” 
Leo glowered at her. 
Karnage’s jaw dropped. 
“Someone get de camera before you move anything! Dis ees for posterity!” 
Turning to Leo he said 
“And you my son, someday you weel get your first plunder as well.” 
Leo’s face was still molded into a bitter scowl. 
 Grace sighed as she went to get her old camera, a relic of her years in Cape Suzette. She and Karnage both shared different opinions on just about everything, but especially jobs; and more-so on the illegality of his. It’s your children’s birthday. 
Grace reassured herself. 
Just screw around and have some fun. 
 And besides; she loved her husband and on days like this she was too happy to argue. 
~ 
 The party eventually ended with a bang; and all the pirates panicked and fled for home when a police car drove down the street. It was probably just a local officer making his daily rounds, but the Pirates were all too nerve-fried to think anything else, so by five all the cars that had packed onto the street were gone; and dinner came and went. 
 Grace went to bed at eleven-thirty (long after Alice and Leo had gone) and emerged from the shower, crawling into bed. 
“Hey, watch it, I’m naked.” 
Feeling too hot to redress, Grace had remained unclothed. She squealed a bit as she felt Karnage’s leg brush against hers, but they DID kiss. These were the kind of nights she loved. 
 Chapter Two Edit
The news came at 7 on the dot on a foggy Tuesday morning; when Grace still needed a sip or two of coffee to get her out of her own fog area, when someone broadcasted over the radio: 
…We interrupt this broadcast to bring you breaking news from the Usland Embassy: Japen has surrendered. I REPEAT: Japen has surrendered! This war has come to an end. 
 Grace spat out her coffee and roared: 
“YES!!!!!!” 
And in an instant, she was racing back up the stairs towards the bedroom, joy filling her and making her whole body light. Freedonia had already surrendered on Rosa’s birthday the previous May; and now that Japen had done the same, the WAR WAS FINALLY OVER! 
“Felipe! Felipe! The war is over! Japen surrendered!” 
Grace over to the bed and in a brave move, shook the groggy Karnage, who was still muttering nonsense about frosty pep ice cream in his sleep, and believe it or not; sucking a finger like a pup. Grace stifled a giggle as she exclaimed: 
“They surrendered! It’s FINALLY over!” 
Yawning, Karnage hugged her groggily as Grace filled him in. 
Eventually, the wolf was off to celebrate the end of the war the way only he could- by going out to plunder now that the skies were finally safe from something other than himself. Grace had been planning to speak with her husband about his ongoing illegal activities, but as usual she was just too afraid of his reaction. She shoved her fear to the back of her mind and tried to enjoy the day. 
Grace hadn’t felt this happy in forever. She felt like years had been shaved from her actual age- years brought on by the stress and worry that had dominated the past four years of her life. But not today. All of a sudden; the days of rationing, fear of sudden air raids, blackouts, and paranoia in general were GONE. 
 At first, Grace felt inclined to just skip a day from work and make a sandwich. But her inner get-up-and-do-something kind of dog, urged her not to. 
 Come on, Grace! How often is a day like this going to come up?! Take advantage of your situation and seize the day! 
 So Grace asked Alice and Leo (who were soon to start school again) what they wanted to do, and the answer was unanimous: 
“Can we go to the beach? Pleeeeasseeeee?” 
Looking at those expectant faces and pleading eyes, Grace knew she was damned if she could just say no to these children and not feel terrible about it later. 
“Yes. We can go to the beach.” 
Grace said, smiling. 
“YAAAAAAY!” 
 “Thanks mom!” 
Alice and Leo were in the backseat of the Rolls Royce almost at the blink of an eye, and their mother soon found herself behind the wheel and pulling out of the narrow driveway. 
 West Shore, the nearest beach; was just out of town and fifteen minutes away. 
 Grace took a few shortcuts along the road and was able to get there in just over ten. 
 Alice and Leo went racing out of the car and onto the sand. Grace was laughing; it was almost a gamble to catch up with those two. 
 Shielding her eyes from the sun all the while, Grace glanced about at the haven that was West Shore: A massive brick seawall dominated most of the parking lot where she’d parked; and the actual beach was a little bit south, with rolling dunes and bits of sea glass and driftwood abound on the shore. 
 A little farther west there was a playground, and just beyond the seawall there was also a closed-off, private beach for the snobs who came from miles away to look at the scenery and scoff. 
“Leo, Alice! Wait for me! Your old mother has to keep up too, you know.” 
Grace was smiling as she continued to pursue them. 
“What do you guys want to do?” 
Both of them gave this some thought. 
 Leo spoke after a while: 
“Mom can we go play on the rocks for a while; and then beachcomb, go to the playground, and then get ice cream?” 
 “And then the carousel?” 
Alice chimed in hopefully. 
 Grace gave this some thought. On any other day she would have given all these requests a flat out ‘NO!’ but because the war was over, and she just had so much to be happy for; today Grace decided she’d oblige all her children’s wishes just to give them a day to remember and tell their own children. 
“Yes, we can. But only this once. We’re not rich you know…. not entirely.” 
Grace found herself smiling as she watched Alice and Leo both try to climb the rocks on the border near the private beach; only telling them to: 
“Watch your step and don’t go TOO fast!” 
Nonetheless, somehow Alice ended up covered in sand and bruises by the time they were done, and Grace had to clean off her daughter’s scraped knees with a crumpled tissue she’d found in her pocket. 
After that, they went farther down to the shore for beachcombing, and all three found themselves kneeling in the damp surf, getting their paws wet and gritty as they searched for ‘treasures’ in the pliable sand. 
 Nobody found anything; and Alice was a little disappointed. Leo however, seemed more interested in swimming, but Grace told him: 
“Well, you seemed too excited to bring your bathing suit along so I didn’t bother asking. But if you want I’ll let you go up right below your waist. Is that ok Leo?” 
He nodded vigorously. 
“Thanks mom!” 
Grinning, Leo waded out into the surf while Grace and Alice remained. 
“Mommy can you help me make a sand castle?” 
Already Alice was sculpting together mounds of dampened sand with her paws, and Grace could see her daughter had some skill. 
“Sure honey.” 
By the time Leo came back from his wade-in, Grace and Alice’s sandcastle had been partially destroyed by a rogue tide, but Grace reassured her solemn daughter: 
“It’s okay; we can always come back and build another one the next time.” 
And soon, Alice was just as excited about going to the playground as Leo, and with that they headed off. 
 For the next twelve minutes, Grace sat on a narrow bench under a shaded tree and couldn’t help but smile as her children slid down slides, played on the monkey bars, (of course, being no match for a real monkey who showed up) and climbed the old driftwood-carved play structure that had been there who knows how long. 
It was so old, creaky, and had just enough (but not a very big) chance of being dangerous that Grace knew her husband would have a heart attack if he saw his- their- children playing here. 
 Eventually, Alice and Leo tired of the playground, and went headed off to the boardwalk so fast Grace had to sprint to keep up with them. 
 Alice and Leo used fifty cents apiece from their hard-earned chore money to get on the carousel; in which they spent time riding intricately decorated and bright-colored gorilla birds (much prettier than the real things!) while somewhere, cheerful music was played on a record or wind-up music box. 
 After that, Grace paid out of her own pocket and bought Alice and Leo two small ice cream cones, mint for him and strawberry for her. 
“You have no idea how much I love you both.” 
Grace murmured as she sat on the sea wall and hugged both of her children to her. The sea sighed behind them, and Leo snuggled his head in her lap. Alice quietly licked her strawberry ice cream cone; but it was fast melting into a pooling reddish mess. 
“Mommy I’m tired now.” 
Alice whispered, her eyes growing heavy. 
“I know, baby. Do you want to go home?” 
 “Yes.” 
Grace glanced at Leo. 
 He looked oddly bitter but only nodded. 
 As Leo went to the car with Alice in tow, Grace paused to glance at her watch. She almost let out a surprised cry. 11:44! 
Well, I guess time really does fly when you’re having fun! 
 She thought, and turned the car around for home. 
Glancing back at her children, Grace saw that soon they were asleep in the backseat even though it was so early; no doubt exhausted from that long day at the beach. 
“Come on, let’s see if we can beat your father home.” 
Grace murmured half to herself, smiling. 
 The dog winced as a spear of pain went through her stomach. She’d been having those a lot lately; along with the occasional odd mood swing, as well as nausea and cravings for foods she normally hated. All this was enough to give her pause. Just a little. 
Am I…..could I be….? 
She thought, incredulous. Grace hadn’t had the most active sex life in the world after Alice and Leo were born, and until the previous month she’d been too much of a nervous Nellie to ask about having children again, but soon; a vague memory resurfaced of making love on the night of her children’s sixth birthday party, only slightly drunk. 
“Well I’ll be damned….” 
Grace murmured softly, and fondly stroked her stomach. She hoped she was pregnant. If so; then this day had just gotten so much better. Not that it had been bad! No, August 14th, 1945 had been a day of celebration for Grace, and she knew in her heart that this was definitely a day that was going to be marked on the calendar. 
 Chapter Three Edit
Meanwhile, in Old York City (in the eponymous Uslandian state) that was not quite 500 miles from Southshire in the state of Urbandale, Baloo van Bruinwald breathed in the tangy salt air and tried to drown out the sound of chattering military beasts around him. 
“Ahh, it sure feels good to be back!” 
Now 39, Baloo had been pressed into service back in 1943 for the draft and had joined up in the Usland Air Force. 
 For the past two years he’d been stationed overseas in Londinium, the capital city of Anglia following the Freedonian Schwarzerblitz or Operation Black Lightning; which had been the nonstop bombing of the city from 1939-1940. Usland hadn't been involved then (not having joined the war until 1941) but Baloo still got a general sense of fear while in Londinium, and did not usually stay out at night out of fear of new raids. 
 But most of the time there had been little activity in the Anglician side of the war, and Baloo had safely been able to write back to Molly, Kit (now 19), Wildcat and Rebecca back in Usland. And it was Kit who was going to be waiting for him at Grand Intermediate Station to take him back home where he belonged; at Higher for Hire and Cape Suzette! 
 As the gangplank of the tugboat Francine was being lowered, Baloo’s thoughts were on Kit. He’d rarely seen his young Navigator the past almost-three years apart from his leave on holidays, and he could scarcely wait to get in touch with Kit again. 
“Don’t trouble me with troubles man, I’m GONE!" 
Baloo half-sang half-hummed as he wove his way through the throng and glanced up at the sky. It was a typical gray day in Old York, and the skyline was silhouetted impressively against the muggy August sky. 
 Hopelessly lost, Baloo traveled northwest from the docks to Timed Square, the whole city seemed to be rejoicing over the wars end. Confetti was thrown out of apartment windows (and those who had no confetti threw torn newspapers), there was a ticker-tape parade, swing concerts all around, and the returning soldiers and sailors were all returning to nothing less than a heroes’ welcome. 
 Checking his watch, Baloo saw he still had almost half an hour before his train to Cape Suzette would be here. Still some time to horse around in the city some more before heading on home. 
Walking past the famous Frosty Pep ice cream sign in the Square, Baloo’s heart throbbed in his chest. A female black bear wearing a delicate blue sweater over the plain uniform of a military nurse was trotting past him. Her eyes were a cool hazel, and beset with smug confidence. Baloo felt his heart melt; she couldn’t have been any older than thirty-one. 
“Um…Hi, miss.” 
 “Hello.” 
she said shyly. 
“And who’re you?” 
 “Baloo van Bruinwald, ma’am, air force staff sergeant. And who, little miss, might you be?” 
 “Evey Winters, just got back from duty myself.” 
Craning her narrow neck to the ever-constant flow of swing music, Evey grinned. 
“Wanna dance?” 
 “I…I don’t see why not ma’- Evey!” 
Baloo blushed, but he took Evey’s paw in his own and soon they were on their footpaws and doing one of the most popular dances of that era- the Lindy Hop. 
 When the song ended and he planned to continue his walk to the station, Baloo’s blush got even worse as he felt Evey’s mouth over his. A photographer had been passing by at the time, and Baloo and Evey’s kiss was frozen in black-and-white freeze frame. 
 The two of them made their separate ways; and neither Baloo nor Evey had any idea that their picture would soon be plastered on the front cover of Lives Magazine. 
 On the train back to Cape Suzette; Baloo sat next to Kit, who was reading a newspaper. As they chatted, he couldn't help but think Hmm. I wonder what Karnie's doin'.... 
 Francisco diVenazetti was not a dog of patience but he was one of virtue, humility and good looks. Just twenty-four years old, he had a look of cold overconfidence to him; and had dark, rusty reddish-brown fur and blue eyes that were so fragilely pale numerous creatures often asked him if he were blind. Francisco would wave them off good-naturedly and say, “My friend, I can see just as good as you can!” 
Francisco never wore anything less than a suit, and today he wore a navy blue, pinstriped one with matching pants and patent leather shoes. He hummed jovially as he glanced up at the sky. It was a grayish afternoon; and with the threat of rain, most of the creatures celebrating the war’s end had taken their merriment indoors. All the better for him to slip about unnoticed. 
 Paws in his pocket, Francisco hummed an 1890’s tune called ‘Turkey in the straw’ The son of the late Don Luciano diVenazetti; Francisco had been born in 1921 to Luciano and an anonymous wolf prostitute. His handsomeness was more than enough to make young female swoon and sigh, and as his adoring, spoiling father had always told him: “Son, ya get more flies with honey then sugar.” 
Luciano had cherished Francisco and kept him close; and although Francisco had spent the first fourteen years of his life in an orphanage (before being told he was ‘too old’ and to go make his own living, which he had) his father had visited often; always making sure his son was blessed with toys (and later, weapons), books, and good food and clothes even after he started living on his own. It was in this way that Francisco had learned to be a gentlebeast, as well as a Don. And a killer. 
 Francisco stopped walking and unfolded the note his spy had sent him. It had been done ransom-note style, and spelled out with different fonts from magazine and newspaper adds and read: 
 Old subway on Mortimer street. 
“This seems to be it…hhmmm….” 
The stairs Francisco had descended down were brownstone, but coated in layers of mold, dust, and dead insects. Red paint peeled from the otherwise bare concrete walls, and a smell of filth and rot was in the air. Francisco wrinkled his nose but kept going, spurred on as he saw a group of a dozen or so dogs sitting on what had once been a train track (The Mortimer street subway had closed back in 1898) 
“Good afternoon, fellow gentlebeasts!” 
Francisco tried to keep his voice level but low as he jogged up. 
 Several graying, aged heads turned towards him and Francisco exhaled deeply. This was where his agent had told him the remnants of his father’s mob were located. Even if it took him years, he’d have to find a way to get them under his control. 
“What you want, cocky son-of-a-bitch?” 
A brindled Spanish mastiff in his mid-60’s was staring at Francisco. Francisco stared back with his jarringly pale eyes. 
“I have come to resurrect my father Luciano’s failing mafia! Don’t I deserve a warm welcome?” 
The reaction he got was mixed with laughter and worried murmurs. 
“Son of Luciano? As in our old boss? You’re good kid. Real good. What’s your name you punk?” 
“My name….” 
Francisco smiled warmly. 
“Gentlebeasts, my name is Francisco Marco Carmelo DiVenazetti. And I AM Luciano’s son.” 
 “Yeah and I’m your kid brother.” 
The mastiff grunted under his breath. 
“The name’s Alberto. Alberto Bagala and Don to you.” 
 “And why, my good sir, should I answer to a dusty, ancient monstrosity such as yourself?!” 
This set Alberto off. His eyes were alight with rage, but several of his cohorts laughed. 
“Haha, he got you good, Al!” 
Francisco dragged Alberto by the collar of his overcoat and pushed him against the farthest wall. Growling in a vehement voice, he whispered: 
“I have done all that I can to convince you I’m a son of Venazetti. Do you require any more proof, you prehistoric excuse for a Don?” 
 “If you’re Luciano’s son then who’s your mother?” 
“My mother was a prostitute.” 
 “I don’t believe that. The boss never kept romantic relationships with anybody, not even whores.” 
 “So you still don’t believe me?” 
 “No. I don’t.” 
Slowly, Francisco drew a Freedonian-imported Luger from his pocket and pointed it at Alberto’s mouth. Alberto tried to squirm away but soon was mesmerized by the shimmering platinum grip that he could see his reflection in. Francisco whispered callously: 
“Goodnight, you pitiful former Don.” 
And pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Alberto in the mouth, and he gagged; coughing blood and clutching at his throat. Then, he staggeringly backed against the wall, collapsed, and died. 
“Have I convinced you now that I’m my father’s son?” 
Francisco’s melodramatic but handsomely overconfident voice rang out through the tunnels. 
 He got a mixed reception; but most everyone muttered uneasily under their breaths. 
“Well if you can kill old Albert just like that I guess you got our respect.” 
“Good. I’m so glad we’re on friendly relations now!” 
Pausing, Francisco backed against the wall. 
“Does anyone here know the scum who killed my father?” 
 “Uh…Don Felipe Karnage, sir….” 
 “Karnage?! The SCUM!” 
Francisco roared, before continuing coolly. 
“Do tell me more….” 
 “Well, if you want to know about Karnage you can talk to Shere Khan. He’s got spies everywhere….” 
“Excuse me.” 
Francisco ran from the subway and into the graying daylight, scrambling to find a pay phone. He dropped in a couple quarters and dialed Khan Industries’ number. He bickered with some annoying secretaries for a few minutes before FINALLY being put through to Khan himself. 
“Yes, this is Shere Khan, business CEO. And you are?” 
 “Francisco diVenazetti.” 
 “Venazetti….” 
In his office; Khan’s eyes widened like twin orbs. 
“Are you related to a Luciano diVenazetti?” 
 “Yes sir! He was my father!” 
 “Your father Luciano and I have had….a history. Involving Don Felipe Karnage.” 
 “KARNAGE?!” 
 “Er…Yes. What about him?” 
 “The son of a BITCH killed my FATHER!” 
Francisco interjected, struggling to keep calm. 
 Khan remained. He sensed an opportunity here. 
“Mr. DiVenazetti….How would you be interested in working with me, say in tracking down Karnage? I have spies everywhere. He doesn’t even know. I will call you; and as soon as there is an opportunity I will give you the chance to follow him and shoot him. Fatally.” 
 “Well Mr. Khan I happen to have a…..” 
 “Gang? Mob? Criminal underground? Yes, yes, you may bring your little friends along! Come to my office if you want to know more. In fact, come there NOW.” 
Francisco needed no second bidding. He grinned twistedly and hung up the phone. 
 Two days later; August 16th dawned groggy and pale. Grace awoke to find the bed empty beside her and checked the alarm clock. 8:01. 
“I wonder where Felipe is….” 
She thought aloud, yawning. 
“Oh right. We’re leaving today.” 
Following the war’s end; a 12-day trip to Karnageport (where they hadn’t visited since 1942) had been planned, and Grace found herself actually looking forward somewhat. Throwing a robe on over her pajamas, she groggily descended the stairs and wandered into the kitchen, calling. 
“You up, Felipe?” 
And was met with a 
“Si!” 
Upon entering, Grace found Karnage sitting at the oak table (a relic from her house back in Cape Suzette) dressed already and drinking some coffee. 
“Well you’re up early.” 
Pausing, Grace added: 
“We’re leaving today, aren’t we?” 
 “Si, querida.” 
He leaned back in his chair. 
 Noticing she was still groggy and in her pajamas, Karnage added: 
“Take all de time you need.” 
 “Thanks. I doubt even the kids are up yet.” 
Grace paused. 
“How long of a drive is it to Karnageport again? It’s been so long.” 
 “I am theenking….Three hours.” 
Grace sighed. This would not be a fun ride with two six-year-olds along. 
“Damnit. Where will we be staying?” 
Karnage paused, obviously in thought. 
“I know a leetle hotel called de Sunlight Lounge. I’ve stayed dere before….Great food, great service….de windows in de rooms are prisms.” 
Grace sat down and leaned across the table, grinning mischievously as she poured herself a bowl of that wheat cereal Leo was always eating. 
“You think I’ll like it?” 
“Si! Dere’s rainbows all over de walls because of de windows… I was dere when I was…” 
Karnage didn’t finish his sentence but pointed westward up the stairs; where Alice and Leo’s rooms were. Briefly, he let himself become entangled in 1910’s nostalgia (before the decade turned sour on that one September day) and remembered that scorching July in 1911 when he, Rosa, Helena and his parents had stayed at the hotel while a new wing was being added to the house and various other construction/restoration jobs were being done. 
“How old were you?” 
Grace’s words jolted the wolf back to reality. 
“Three I theenk. I’ve stayed dere more den once but that’s de first time I remember… Mi madre…” 
Here Karnage swallowed hard. 
“Was paying for something in de lobby, I was running around chasing rainbows.” 
He smiled wistfully nonetheless.. 
“I think I’ll get dressed and pack early. See you later, my fellow 1910’s kid.” 
They hugged briefly, and Grace breezed out. 
Meanwhile, hours went by. Warm afternoon sun shone on Francisco diVenazetti. He pulled his suit coat more tightly around him and adjusted the black sunglasses around his eyes. His mission was clear and simple: Follow Karnage en route to his birthplace of Karnageport and search whatever car he might be traveling. If possible; shoot Karnage. Fatally. Khan had explained the mission to him last night (He had spies in Southshire; and the idea gave Francisco more than a few cold chills), and all he had to do now was go find Karnage. He’d been told that the wolf would most likely be in a black ’31 Rolls Royce. Well it was time to start searching. (Speaking of which, at some point his men were supposed to search Karnage’s house while he was gone) 
“Let the game begin….” 
Francisco murmured, and climbed into in his own car; a ’30 back Cadillac Imperial, and drove off north. 
Meanwhile, almost at the same time, Grace and Karnage were in the Rolls Royce and had long finished packing and preparing (the suitcases were all packed and sitting in the trunk), and after Alice and Leo had devoured some cereal for breakfast, they were off. 
 Grace had handed the steering wheel over to Karnage (he knew that Karnageport-bound roads far better than she did) and as they pulled out of the driveway, Grace started belting out at the top of her lungs: 
“O solo mio…..Oh sol-to-you-ohhh….” 
Before murmuring to Karnage 
“You’re more contagious than I give you credit for!” 
In the backseat, Alice and Leo were in stitches. Painfully. 
“Moooommmmm…..” 
Leo sobbed, and buried his face between his paws. 
“You’re so old-fashioned!” 
Alice chimed in. 
“Can’t help it.” 
Grace chortled. 
“I’m a 1910’s kid. All part of the nostalgia.” 
Grace threw her head back and continued to belt out classic turn-of-the-century songs until they were well out of Southshire. Oddly, she almost swore a black, old-ish Cadillac was trailing them. Almost. 
 94 minutes into the drive, it was now 11:57. The nearest restaurant turned out to be a 20’s-style diner (probably a converted speakeasy) located on the side of the road, and as Karnage pulled the Rolls Royce to a stop, Grace turned a baleful eye to Leo, ever the backseat driver. 
“Mom do they have sweet potato fries here?” 
 “Leo I have no idea. We’ll just have to wait and see.” 
 “Mommy are we almost to Karnageport?” 
Alice had already leapt out of the car and was tugging on Grace’s skirt. 
“Almost Alice. We’ll keep driving after lunch.” 
Alice squealed in excited, little-girl happiness and ran up the brick steps to the diner. 
“I’m gonna beat you Leo!” 
 “No fair!” 
He hollered, and scrambled to catch up with his sister. 
 Grace smiled and went inside, as did her husband. 
 By the time they were eating in the windowless dining room, Francisco had finally pulled up in the parking lot. A bundle of nerves, he found the Rolls Royce instantly (it was the only one there) and flung open the trunk, hastily searching through the suitcases but finding nothing of interest…..And then he found….IT. 
 Sandwiched between a blouse and worn-out pair of slacks in one of Grace’s suitcase was a necklace with a circular silver pendant. Engraved on the back was: First Anniv. October ’39. A ring that Karnage had given Grace for their first anniversary. Perfect. Simply to test the wolf’s reaction, Francisco slammed the suitcase (and then the trunk) shut. Much to his supreme misfortune; Karnage (and his family) walked out of the diner at that moment. 
 Unable to control himself with the shock of seeing Francisco near the (only somewhat) ajar trunk with Grace’s pendant, Karnage blurted: 
“What de hell are you doing with my wife’s necklace?!” 
 “Don’t you dare come any closer Karnage….” 
Francisco’s voice was an icy snarl. 
 Turning to Grace in his anger, Karnage muttered in a low voice: 
“I’ll keel de bastard and get eet back!” 
Grace’s voice took on a nervous edge as she grabbed her husband’s arm. 
“Felipe please get some sense….that’s what he WANTS you to do! And besides, a necklace you gave me isn’t near as important as YOU are….Please?” 
Grace was fingering her own gun now. 
 Karnage was a stubborn wolf in his anger. He briefly grasped Grace’s paw before edging away and giving Francisco a stony glare. 
“You stay away from my wife.” 
 “I never wanted your wife, damnit.” 
 “Hey, watch your language!” 
Grace yelled curtly, but was ignored by both parties. 
“I know your name for a reason Karnage…in my family…..we don’t forget.” 
Francisco pulled a short-barreled Webley from his pocket and shakily pointed the gun at Karnage. 
“And neither do we een mine!” 
Karnage had his revolver out. 
Grace was shaking in fear. Alice and Leo had looks on their face that couldn’t clearly be defined as shock or quiet awe. Grace lunged forward only to be restrained by Francisco who backhanded her roughly. 
“You stay out of this fight, female.” 
 “Hell if I will.” 
Grace muttered icily and chomped down on his paw and wrist. 
 Karnage meanwhile, gave Grace a ‘get-out-of-the-way’ gesture, and she did so while he pointed his gun at Francisco. The wolf intended to shoot the Dogfather’s son in his chest, but he moved and took some steps back so that the only target was his slightly-extended left forepaw. 
“May you rot een infierna….” 
Karnage pulled the trigger. 
 The bullet only took off Francisco’s furred pinkie; upon which rested the family signet ring. 
 Screeching and roaring with the pain, Francisco leapt into his car and roared off before anyone could even THINK about stopping him. 
 Alice meanwhile, had wandered to look at the pool of blood containing Francisco’s finger and the ring. It was made of solid gold, inlaid in jet-black paint and depicted a gold griffin with ‘do or die’ written below. The family motto. 
“Dad what does D.V. mean?” 
Alice was squinting to read the initials on the ring because of her glasses and general poor eyesight. 
“D.V……” 
Karnage felt a chill run through him and held his gun at the ready, baring his teeth and thinking: 
When are we ever going to be rid of de bastard? He’s haunting mi familia even after death?! Sometimes I wonder if I really AM de word.... 
 The wolf stared at his shaking fist. So long as there was his family; there would also be Luciano's. 
“Who?” 
Leo had eavesdropped. 
Karnage glanced uncertainly at both his children. 
“Dis very bad dog. Before you were born he almost killed your mama and I.” 
Grace gave him not A look. THE look as they got back into the car. Did you have to tell them this young??Not surprisingly, the rest of the drive was spent in silence. 
 Little had happened upon getting to Karnageport. Grace and Karnage went out of their way to act as normal as they could around their children, and upon getting to the hotel, Karnage showed his children the famous prism windows, which they loved. 
 It was now 12:30, and Alice and Leo had long gone to bed in their own room- it adjoined Grace and Karnage’s and had two doors; one leading into their parents’ bedroom next door and another opening into the hallway. The children (not that they’d wanted to) had gone to bed at ten, although Grace and Karnage were still wide awake. 
 Grace, emerging from the bathroom in her pajamas; examined her surroundings for the umpteenth time. It was a quaint but not overly-luxurious hotel room, damp whereas the rest of Karnageport was a living furnace; and with two beds with oddly-patterned quilts and delicately rusting headboards, so that the whole room seemed to be aging gracefully. 
Yawning, Grace staggered onto the bed on the right, where Karnage was sitting, and plopped down on the edge. 
“Got you, querida.” 
He smiled. 
 Grace wrapped an arm around him. 
“Hey.” 
Gently, Grace stroked the top of her husband’s chest and accidentally brushed against the scar where his chest had been cracked open four years ago. 
“Eet doesn’t hurt.” 
Karnage assured her. 
“Eet’s just an annoyance now.” 
They kissed. 
“I’m not even gonna TRY to describe how much I love you.” 
Grace whispered. 
“Can I talk to you about something though? Even if it’s spontaneous and I DO sound like a damn' broken record?” 
 “Si.” 
Damn am I stupid for bringing this up again…. 
“Why did your father do that to Helena?” 
She blurted, and felt stupid the moment she did. 
“He was de word. A sadistic prick who deserved far more dan he got.” 
 “Did you ever try to kill him? You or Helena?” 
“…..Si.” 
Grace felt a slight chill. 
“How?” 
Karnage was silent a moment. 
“De blood eagle.” 
Grace was silent. She didn’t know what a blood eagle was until Karnage brought out his cutlass and motioned with it to demonstrate. 
“She wanted to but never deed.” 
He looked like he was going to say something more but didn’t instead. 
Grace felt her eyes droop, and she wanted to escape the awkward-ish mood anyway. 
“I think I’m going to bed now. Sorry if I caused anything at all.” 
“Okay, querida. And you deedn’t.” 
They hugged. 
“I’m de happiest and de luckiest wolf in the world.” 
He kissed her. 
 They said their good-nights and went to bed. Grace still felt terrible. 
Little did they know that a tiny shadow in the hallway had been listening. Leo had been standing outside his parents’ bedroom door, wearing pale grayish (non-footed) pajamas with a biplane motif, and clutching the tiny red toy truck he’d had for years and years since his first birthday. He had also eavesdropped on an earlier conversation about his aunt Helena’s being molested. Such things were not for six-year-olds to hear…..But Leo suddenly wanted to know more. 
Grace and Karnage slept in the same bed that night, but Grace couldn’t sleep. She woke up at about 1:47 that night, and blinked groggily, rubbing at her eyes. 
“Felipe?” 
She mumbled. 
“You still awake in there?” 
She was aware of her husband’s presence in the bed but could not quite feel his body brush against hers, so in the inky black it was as though Grace was isolated in her own private universe alone. 
“Si.” 
A soft voice whispered. 
 Grace smiled faintly. 
“Hey.” 
Karnage kissed her. 
“Hola, mi amor.” 
Lovingly, Grace kissed him back. 
“Look,” 
She said seriously after they were done. 
“I’m sorry I blurted out that crap about Helena earlier. That’s my biggest flaw, I can never keep my damned mouth shut.” 
 “I should never have mentioned eet Grace….I’m sorry. Eet was my fault.” 
His words did not entirely reassure her. 
 After a time, Grace sat up. 
“You didn’t mention her, I did. Or did you mean talk about her in general?” 
Were she not so groggy, Grace would have been confused. 
“Mi familia…. Dey tried to make eet seem like she never exeested….” 
 “How?” 
 “Dey got reed of almost everytheeng she owned….Dey never spoke of her.” 
He wept silently. 
 Grace tried her best but felt it truly wasn’t enough. 
“I’m still sorry.” 
They hugged. 
“Look, are you ok?” 
She asked straightforwardly. 
“I mees her….I felt as though she stopped me dat one day….” 
Grace thought for a moment. 
“Even if I didn’t do anything today….Can we try to forget today ever happened and just move on for now? Please??” 
 “Si.” 
Karnage sighed and slapped himself in the temple. 
“All dat talking to myself…..Karnage you estupido!” 
Grace gave him as playful a slap on the shoulder as she could muster, and was barely on target given the darkness. 
“Nah, you aren’t, not half as bad as me anyway.” 
He laughed, but hugged her as he did. 
 Grace hugged back. 
“Night.” 
She settled back against the lace-trimmed pillows with their very 1910’s embroidering. 
“Buenas noches, mi amor.” 
They kissed for a moment before drifting off in sleep. 
 Chapter Four Edit
It was in the wee hours of the day on August 17th, 1945, that Francisco diVenazetti called Shere Khan’s private home phone number from a hotel in an undisclosed location. Shere Khan had trusted diVenazetti with his phone number and he firmly hoped the dog would be reliable. His prayers were answered as the phone rant, with Francisco on the other line, saying: 
“Hello, is this the Shere Khan residence?” 
At that very moment, Khan was sprawled on a luxurious fuchsia chaise lounge in a dark purple bathrobe, delicately eating caviar from a ceramic Depression-era bowl. 
“Indeed it is. Francisco?” 
 “Yes.” 
 “How did the job go?” 
Francisco paused. 
“It went very well enough Mr. Khan. What are my next orders?” 
 “Search Karnage’s house. I will give you the address only once, so listen very carefully.” 
Francisco leaned into the receiver carefully. 
“189 Bluebrook Avenue. I repeat; 189, Bluebrook Avenue.” 
Francisco got out a notepad and jotted down the address. 
“And what town is it located in?” 
 “Southshire. Take a team, and head west.” 
 “Thank you very much.” 
 “My pleasure.” 
Francisco hung up and began to prepare. 
 Eventually, dawn came; bathing the town of Southshire in gray, cobalt, black, and shades of dullish red. Francisco (along with a team of eight) had returned to Southshire. As they emerged from the parked limousine on the curb, Francisco kept reading and reareading the scrap of paper on which he’d written the address: 
 189 Bluebrook Avenue 
“Hmm; seems like an elegant place.” 
Francisco murmured, half to himself. 
 He had also been told that the house was a circa-1920’s two story colonial, with granite steps at the front. Upon finding it, Francisco approached the steps and heaved a nervous sigh. 
“Here we are….” 
Francisco approached the door and tried the knob. He should have known better, but the optimist in him said that maybe the Karnages had forgotten to lock before leaving on their vacation. Francisco’s optimistic side was of course, wrong. 
“We go in through….The basement windows.” 
Francisco indicated the basement visible from where they stood, and the narrow window into it. 
“One at a time, carefully now.” 
Francisco carefully opened the dusty window and lowered himself through it, leaping onto the bare wooden floor. 
 The basement was little more than an all-purpose room in which various old newspaper photographs and miscellaneous junk-filled boxes were crammed from ceiling to floor. Francisco snorted distastefully but waited for his comrades. 
“All right, gentlebeasts….” 
He said when everyone got in. 
“I don’t think there is anything in this basement except for garbage. So we will go upstairs. Split up; look for anything that might be valuable- but might not be noticeable- and is at least small enough to carry. If you have a suitcase, put it in there. As for you, Chicken Fat….You’re coming with me.” 
Francisco turned suavely to face a bulldog/terrier mix with nondescript, brownish fur everyone called Chicken Fat; due to the popular rumor that as a young adult he’d walked around biting the heads off of live chickens. 
“Yes, my Dogfather?” 
Chicken Fat knelt. 
“And I repeat myself: You’re coming with me.” 
 “Sorry boss. I wasn’t listen’.” 
 “You had better be this time.” 
“Yeah, I will. Scout’s honor.” 
 “Very good.” 
Together, Francisco and Chicken Fat departed up the stairs, eventually choosing to go to the second floor. 
 Standing in the carpeted hallway; Francisco narrowed his eyes and looked at the choices of doors they had (all of them open) 
 One led to Grace and Karnage’s shared (master) bedroom; the other to Alice’s, one to Leo’s, a bathroom, what had once been the nursery but now converted into a guest bedroom (although guests were rare), and one other door that had a tiny brass padlock on it. Having no locksmiths with him, Francisco did not bother to decipher the mystery of that door and yanked Chicken Fat’s arm, dragging him towards the master. 
 An ordinary if not spacious blue wallpapered room awaited them. Wide, square-ish windows were to the left and right side of it, as well as a wide, mahogany-paneled bed (an artifact of Grace’s Cape Suzette days) with a simple but rose-patterned quilt covering it. 
 To the far right side of the room was Grace’s dresser and her partially dented wardrobe, as well as a multicolored, art-deco box where she kept her sporadic pieces of jewelry. 
To the left side there was another dresser (this one Karnage’s) with a tin statuette of an 18th century galleon resting upon it; as well as a rapier mounted on the wall. Immediately, Francisco (having an intense love of jewelry) Went to the left and Chicken Fat went to the right. 
“This sure is a nice place boss!” 
He commented, stuffing the tin galleon in his pants pocket. 
There was no comment from Francisco. He was busily searching through Grace’s jewelry box and had found, so far, a string of pearls, an old ring with an imitation diamond in it; and a noveau-looking pair of earrings she hadn’t worn since 1928. There was also a silver bracelet with a charm shaped like a crescent moon on it, and a heart-shaped locket that was strangely empty. That was all. 
 Slipping the locket over his own neck and pocketing the rest, Francisco carefully placed the jewelry box back on the dresser top and moved slightly to the left to the dresser, examining his reflection in Grace’s mirror, which lay discarded next to a tiny black-and-white photograph of a pint-sized Alice sitting in her mother’s lap. It was signed Alice n’ me in Grace’s offbeat cursive, and dated May, ’41. 
 Brushing it aside, Francisco was just starting to look at the top of the dresser for more objects of value, but stepped aside as Chicken Fat took over. 
Instead of searching the top of the dresser however, he popped open one of the oaken drawers, and, lustfully held up a delicate turquoise pair of Grace’s panties. 
“Can I take her panties Francisco? Can I?” 
 “Chicken Fat!” 
Francisco glared at the deranged mutt scathingly, and backhanded him with a black-gloved paw. 
“You have a filthy mind. Put that back in the drawer.” 
 “Aww okay…” 
Chicken Fat looked downcast but put the panties back. 
 An hour later; Francisco, Chicken Fat, and the other six members of the party were done searching the Karnage household. They left with five pieces of jewelry, a statue of a galleon, two antique family photographs, and two small daggers. They could have taken more, but given the circumstances chose not to. And besides, nobody would ever notice. Hopefully not; anyway. 
 By the time the dogs disappeared into the limo with Francisco at the wheel, they were already racing off into the blazing August morning, and all trace of their presence in Southshire was all but gone on the sickly breeze. 
 Chapter Five Edit
The remainder of the month of August flew by under the Karnageport sun. Grace frolicked like the overeager college girl she once was; walking long and hard into the natural temple that was the pine forest; once staying out until dinnertime. At the hotel, she ate meals like grilled tuna with a fine sauce for dinner every night, before bashing the radio soaps as always and retiring to bed by 10:44. 
 She and Karnage would frequently do things with the children as well; every Sunday they’d drive somewhere (even if they already had during the week), and do something local, like swim. Greenwell’s Pond, the local pond; was a popular meeting place for local ‘snobs’ (as tourists were called), most of whom were lizards come to get some sun from Karnageport’s infamous heat (97 is normal there in the summer) Karnage, Leo and Alice would go gallivanting into the pond, and after a while Grace got agonizingly bored sitting there on the shore in her bathing suit, smashing gnats and mosquitoes with a rolled-up newspaper. 
 Leaving her little campsite behind, Grace had declared “CLEAR THE WAY I’M GOING IN!” and leapt with a loud screech into the water. After dogpaddling (no pun intended!) at the shoreline for several minutes, Grace waded in deeper and gone to sit on a rock, to get some sun with her dark fur. The top portion of it was slick with moss however, and after a few minutes Grace lost her footing and hurtled into the deep end with a Splash! A barely-decent swimmer; Grace could just barely do anything above a dogpaddle, let alone hold her own on the deep end of the pond. 
 Voicing a muted plea for help as she struggled to keep afloat in the water, Karnage found Grace and they emerged (as their children still playfought in the water, although most of the fighting was done by Alice) onto the shore, soaking wet but grinning victoriously, with Grace smiling sheepishly 
“I survived Greenwell’s Pond!” 
The snobs had all laughed, but it was so worth it. 
A little later in the month, after that, they’d all eaten lunch on a mossy knoll in the woods called Deadbeast’s Curve where, Karnage explained, stock car racing had been all the rage at the turn of the century. He’d certainly gotten up Alice’s interest; as she wanted to know if anyone had actually died there. The answer, surprisingly, was no; but many creatures had badly wrecked their cars and given up the sport because of the challenge of dodging the mighty curve. 
 The day after that; they mostly just wandered around town and Karnage talked a little about his pre-1916 nostalgia. He also tried to explain to Grace the very complex and extremely old Karnageport social Food Chain; a Darwinian and imperialistic hierarchy dating back to 1776 that included the Karnages at the top (well of course!) and non-sentient beings such as dirt and moss at the bottom. 
 Children even received grades in school based on their family’s background, and Grace commented, “I knew you could never be a legitimate straight-A student.” Karnageport itself, as Grace was learning now, was an odd mixture of a wild-west town and a post-prohibition slum. Even now, its remaining upper class and local storefronts relied heavily on the family that twisted its laws to do well themselves, although a group of elderly pro-prohibition voles described the town in the 1920’s as “A mixture of corruption, alcohol, jazz and sex.” 
All Grace saw was dust. Now; August 28th was finally here, and they were due home. None of them were aware that an ill-timed blast from the past was coming…. 
“Who’s driving?” 
Grace asked mildly as she and Karnage prepared to enter the Rolls Royce; the kids already in the backseat. 
“I’ll do it, querida.” 
They got in the car. “You wanna go anywhere?” 
Karnage gulped. 
“I am wanting to go to….An old place.” 
Grace winced and eyed Alice and Leo, sitting in the backseat. Leo was sprawled towards the right, licking a piece of lime rock candy, with Alice parallel to him and sitting on her knees; a look of sheer boredom on her face. 
“Um….Where?” 
Grace nervously squealed as they were driving out of Karnageport. She timidly turned a head towards the backseat. 
“Mi familia’s casa.” 
Grace, who knew enough of Karnage’s Spanish; knew that he meant ‘my family’s house’ and winced. What was left of it anyway. 
“Uh, Felipe, can you pull over?” 
Karnage brought the car to a stop on a peaceful dirt road in between two lush meadows. 
“Why do you want to go back there?!” 
Grace gasped in a blatantly surprised whisper. 
“El hijo de puta no necesita un marcador, el esta ardiendo en el infierno.” 
Karnage lowered his voice even further, to a vehement, pain-choked snarl. 
 Grace’s eyes widened in horror. She hoped she’d misunderstood. 
“Did you say what I thought you said….?!” 
 “Si. De son of a bitch doesn’t need a marker; he’s burning in hell! Desecrate a grave….Someone lying dere doesn’t need to be remembered…..” 
It was a miracle the kids never heard. 
“And how are you going to do that?” 
 “I’ll turn de culo’s stone over and smash eet.” 
Karnage growled, his eyes blazing with years of repressed hate. 
 Grace glanced backwards. 
“What about the kids?” 
Karnage cringed. 
“I’m furious with their….Grandfather.” 
How dare they have a memorial to honor heem? He never honored anyone een hees life! 
 Karnage thought bitterly as he remembered the funeral that had intermixed with his and Grace’s wedding; reflecting on the fact that Pablo had been given a tombstone at all- he had vehemently refused against such a thing only to be outvoted by distant members of the family; especially those from Espiana, the vague, faraway country across the ocean from which some of the fraternity had immigrated to Usland from. But that is another story completely. As Karnage slammed the door and stormed up the road, Grace turned to Alice and Leo in the backseat. 
“Leo, Alice, your father and I have to do something personal for a while. It’s gonna be hot in the car; so you probably should wait out there in the shade.” 
Grace pointed to a bent-over willow tree on the right side of the road, which at least offered some shelter from the blazing Karnageport summer. 
“Ok mom.” 
Alice sauntered off. 
“Okay.” 
With the car vacated and parked by the road, Grace scrambled to catch up with her husband. 
 The dirt road was incredibly dusty, and as her sandal-clad paws scraped against the ground; the silhouette of a burned structure grew nearer and nearer, and the erratic throbbing of Grace’s heart only got louder. 
As she got closer, Grace could see it was a disturbing mixture of burned wood, stone, and shattered colored glass (from stained windows no doubt); and she could make out burned, twisted lumps of what had probably once been furniture; as well as what seemed to be ruined chunks of an oil painting. Karnage was nowhere to be seen. Grace got cold chills. 
“Felipe?” 
No answer. 
“Damnit…” 
Grace thought aloud, and ran to find her husband, instinctively guessing to where he would be: The graveyard. 
Vaugely remembering it had been behind the house, Grace ran behind the partially-upright, charred south wall and glanced ahead at the lush meadow beyond. 
 As she remembered it, the family graveyard was situated still behind the house, in a jungle of crabgrass, various weeds, kudzu, and mildew; the actual grass starting to die in places even though it was summer, although it was lush and green in others. The only tree in sight was a decaying willow tree, and Grace instinctively ran to Karnage as she saw him standing near one of the stones at the back and muttering what sounded like a string of Spanish curses. 
 Grace wanted to ask why he’d just ran off on her, but the feeling of vauge annoyance died as soon as she saw the look of callous hate building in her husband’s eyes as he glared icily at his father’s stone, which was plain, unadorned, soapstone; and read: 
 PABLO BARTON KARNAGE 
 Born: March 4th, 1870 
 Died: October 29th, 1938 
“Maybe I should have stayed with---" 
Grace quietly interjected; seeing Karnage’s very personal rage. He just shook his head silently; fists clenched, and took a few steps back. Aiming a powerful kick at the headstone, Karnage just managed to remove the top, and with it his father’s name. The rest of the stone fell into a sloppy pool of dampening mud. Quietly, the wolf turned it over so that the grave marker rested in the mud inscription-first. His cutlass tip rested upon the stone. 
 Grace nervously eyed Karnage. His eyes had taken on a glassy, unfocused look; and he’d emotionally gone elsewhere due to the raging torrent of emotions in his mind. 
“Felipe? Felipe are you all right?” 
Grace whispered, half to herself. No response. Grace turned as she heard the sound of smaller footpaws crunching on the dying grass. The children. 
“Alice, Leo?!” 
She called, seeking them out. 
“You were supposed to wait in the sha---“ 
Grace paused midsentence as she saw her children. Seeing their father on the tombstone, with his unfocused stare of hate and also depression, Alice was trembling, Leo maybe a bit less. But they were both visibly in a state of shock. 
 Alice began to suck on her paw; a habit she’d apparently broken at age three. 
“Dad…Daddy….Why?” 
She choked, a small tear landing on the sole of her pitch-black mary-jane. 
Leo seemed to fade into the background and wandered among the graves in an odd fashion. Alice, however, did not. 
“I’m sorry dad…” 
She whispered in a barely audible voice, and sank her small teeth into his leg. Hard. The jolt of the shock was enough to snap Karnage out of his pseudo-catatonia. 
“ALICE!” 
He yelped. 
“Alice why did you bite your father?!” 
Grace blustered, not sure whether to be angry or surprised or both. Alice stared at her footpaws and brushed some grass from her skirt. 
“Mommy…I was trying to help Dad!” 
Suddenly they all realized- Alice had simply been attempting to get Karnage out of his state of vast shock. 
Breathing hard, Grace looked behind her. Leo had been wandering among the graves the entire time. He exhaled raggedly. 
“I’m sorry.” 
Grace was almost disturbed at her son’s passive (and dare she think so…) possibly even uncaring behavior that gave her cold chills. Not much was said on the way home. 
Grace, Karnage, Alice and Leo eventually got on the road again but not till Karnage paid his respects to a certain someone…..His mother. The wolf knelt at her graveside, carefully brushing a tall shoot of crabgrass that had been obscuring her name: 
 THERESA ABANO KARNAGE 
 Born: February 20th, 1877 
 Died: September 9th, 1916 
~ Beauty can never die quite as easily as innocence ~ 
“Madre…” 
He whispered. 
“I mees you. I am feeling like you stopped me….dat day. Weethout dat I would never have met de other half of my heart.” 
Silently, he risked a backward glance to Grace. 
 Alice came over and put a paw on the top of the rain-faded headstone, which was decorated with a motif of stone roses. 
“Grandma…I feel like I know you from dad’s stories. I love you.” 
Grace, too shy to come any further, stood at a distance watching them and thinking: 
Oh Mrs. Karnage- well, Theresa, thank you so much for your son Felipe. 
A dull, cool breeze blew through the graveyard then. Maybe it was just the heat getting to him (or maybe something a little more) but Karnage thought he heard his mother’s voice in the wind: 
Felipe…my baby… I DID stop you. It’s not your time. I’m so happy for you all. 
 Karnage sighed wistfully but also, happily. 
I love you, Felipe. Never forget that. Death can’t stop love. It never will. 
 And then, all was silent. Silence pierced only by Grace’s cry of: 
“Leo?! Leo where are you??” 
No answer. 
“I’M RIGHT HERE MOM!” 
Leo had been playing near the foundation. There was a sly but mischievously innocent grin on his face and his clothes were streaked with soot. 
“Get over here you little troublemaker…” 
Grace sighed and went to lecture her son for his behavior; playing in the ruins of a burned building WAS dangerous, after all. Again, she was disturbed by Leo’s nonchalant behavior of this whole experience. But surely he was just being a typical six-year-old…..Right? 
It was shortly after dinner by the time Grace and Karnage got home. Grace, (before unpacking) decided she wanted to have a few words with her husband in regards to the incident at the graveyard. The two of them were sitting in rickety basement chairs now; glasses of lemonade between the two of them, Grace holding her face under her paws. 
“What happened to you at the graveyard??” 
She blurted. 
 Karnage stared at the floor. 
“I…I went into shock.” 
 “Over what?” 
Grace asked; even though she figured she knew. 
“Dey gave dat murdering hijo de puta de mierda a gravestone…” 
 “Damn, I’m so sorry.” 
Grace offered her paw. 
“…He doesn’t deserve to be remembered for de theengs he deed.” 
Karnage wept openly. 
“I…I know. And I’m sorry if I’m not offering much comfort; but look, Felipe, that’s the best I can do for us both.” 
She paused. 
“It’s bad enough that I dated and slept with my sixteen-year-old cousin! And… Hell, I was seventeen years old then. I wanted to get laid and I was so stupid I did it. With him.” 
Grace let out a low, embarrassed squeal and clamped her muzzle shut right then and there. 
 Karnage gave Grace a look with an expression she couldn’t discern; but hugged her anyway. 
“I love you so much even if I was….A little dirty.” 
Grace was still so embarrassed about letting out her secret, now she hiccupped. 
“Eet doesn’t matter to me. I am never wanting to let go.” 
 “R….Really?” 
 “Never.” 
Just because they could, they kissed. There was a pause. 
“I’m sorry for scaring de kids.” 
Karnage confessed. 
“I’m…..Confuzzled.” 
He sobbed again. 
“You want to do something to get your mind off of this?” 
Grace asked concernedly. 
“Si.” 
Karnage smiled passionately at her and they kissed again. 
“You wanna just stay down here?” 
 “For a while I theenk… I’m happiest weeth you.” 
 “So am I.” 
Blatantly out of nowhere, Grace gave her husband a mild but playful slap across the muzzle. His brow furrowing, he stared at her, puzzled. 
“What een infierna was dat for, Grace?? Why deed you smack my eencredibly handsome face?” 
 “I wanted to!” 
She admitted. 
“To hell with it.” 
They kissed again. 
 ~ 
 Time passed. Grace ate some cookies with beer, and Karnage went to the living room to listen to (believe it or not) the adventures of Danger Woman, now in its eighth season on air, with Alice and Leo, who always hogged the radio in the evening. 
Then, the wolf and the dog gravitated towards their bedroom to unpack at last. Karnage was first in the door; and no sooner had he entered than an alarmed screech issued from his throat. 
“Grace! We’ve been robbed! Dey could still be in de house!” 
Grace’s head was spinning already. 
“Felipe?! What the hell is going on here?” 
 “Mi abuelo’s rapier and my statue…Are gone! I don’t know if dat’s all dat was taken…But watch de children.” 
Calling the police was of course, out of the question; given how paranoid Karnage was of them. Even Grace knew it was that obvious, so she didn’t dare ask. 
“Grace, get your gun.” 
“Right here. I still carry it around.” 
Grace yanked her revolver from within her sleeve. 
 Karnage raced back into the bedroom, and Grace followed him. The room was a mess: There were claw marks in the walls; the bedsheets were disorganized and pulled back, and chest drawers had been pulled open and some of them were lying on the floor. Karnage knelt on the floor, breathing raggedly as he removed a section of carpet by the foot of the bed, revealing a loose piece of wood, concealing something Alice and Leo would never think to look for. 
 Yanking it off, Karnage fished out his own gun from the space and attached it to his belt, checking to make sure it was loaded. It was. 
“I know Alice can use my cutlass.” 
He muttered, half to himself. 
“Geeve eet to her, tell her to use eet well.” 
Grace flinched. 
“Are you sure?” 
 “Si, if we meet de pejendo’s responsible for dees in here…” 
Karnage’s voice trailed off. 
The wolf flinched as he heard light footpaws on the stairs. 
“Alice?” 
Grace called hesitantly. She knew how to identify her daughter’s step because it was lighter and significantly more careful than Leo’s, but wouldn’t know if it was Alice for sure till she got a voice response. 
“Mommy?” 
Alice’s voice echoed from the landing. 
“Grace….” 
Karnage yanked Grace’s sleeve. 
“Breeng her een and tell her.” 
Karnage sat shakily down on the bed, gun in one paw and cutlass in the other. Grace ran to find her daughter and explain what was going on. As soon as they could find him they’d tell Leo as well. 
 ~ 
 After ninety panicked minutes of searching; the robber (or robbers) never were found, and everyone went to bed early. Grace was so exhausted that her plans to tell Karnage of her likely pregnancy were cast aside and forgotten. 
Meanwhile, the next morning, in Cape Suzette; it happened to be August 29th, and Rebecca’s birthday. Kit, Baloo, and Wildcat had trekked across town to Molly and Rebecca’s apartment for the occasion; and Baloo’s nerves were shot as he went up in the elevator with Kit on his left side and Wildcat on his right. 
“You ok papa bear?” 
Kit asked concernedly, tugging at Baloo’s sleeve. Baloo swallowed. 
“Um….Yeah, Little Britches.” 
He forced a smile, but part of it was sincere, since there WAS something nostalgic about calling a nineteen, almost-twenty year old little britches. Speaking of which; Baloo still couldn’t believe how much Kit had grown up during the war. He was a lot taller now obviously, had more muscle in his arms and legs (which said that he’d been working out somehow) but the mischievous gleam in his eyes would certainly be there till the end of time. 
 The elevator dinged as it went up and Baloo kept his eyes on the floor numbers. 
“I hope Rebecca likes my present…” 
Wildcat gulped. 
 He clutched a plain, packaged box in his arms. It was a dog-eared manual entitled Air Pirate Evasion made easy and was a paperback edition of a book newly released the previous year. 
“Yeah, I bet she will Wildcat. What’d you get her again, Kit?” 
 “Ahh, just some flowers. Violets; her favorite.” 
Kit shrugged and shifted the lace-wrapped bouquet from paw to paw. 
 Baloo sighed and glanced at what he held in his own paws: A thinly-concealed jar of strawberry jam. 
 Now, the elevator clanged to a stop; and with a slight rattle, the doors opened at floor five. Baloo still remembered Rebecca’s apartment number: 688. 
 Baloo, Wildcat and Kit marched up to the door; and Wildcat rang the bell. 
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY REBECCA!” 
They all chorused (well, Baloo said Beckers) 
“Aww, how nice of you!” 
Rebecca beamed as she opened the door. Instead of her usual maroon sweater and purple slacks; today she was wearing a delicate pink housedress with a darker red sash. She was still very much the birthday girl, even at now thirty-four years old. 
 They all shuffled inside; and in Rebecca’s newly modeled kitchen, the table had been set with a red tablecloth and some candles. Taking the gifts and setting them aside for later; Rebecca took a chocolate cake from the counter, which clearly was homemade. 
“Molly made this for me.” 
She smiled. 
 Baloo gave a low whistle. 
“She must be a regular first-rate chef then, Beckers!” 
Rebecca nodded and put the cake on the table. 
“Can we eat the cake now? Pleeease??” 
Wildcat begged, but Kit rolled his eyes. 
“Wildcat, we gotta wait. I’m assuming we gotta sing happy birthday to Rebecca first. Right?” 
Rebecca again nodded her confirmation. 
“Yup.” 
 “Say, Becky, where do you keep the candles?” 
Baloo had wandered over to the counter and was pawing through the cabinets. Rebecca DID wince a little even now. 
“They should be in the blue packet on the top shelf.” 
 “Found ‘em.” 
Taking ten candles from the packet, Baloo placed them in the cake and fished around in his pockets for the matchbook he’d brought along. Finding it, Baloo (in tandem with Kit and Wildcat) sat down. 
 Lighting the candles, Baloo leaned back in his chair and smiled. He couldn’t help but held Rebecca’s paw in his own, as she sat next to him, but soon she let go; and Kit, Baloo and Wildcat serenaded her with the birthday song. 
 As Rebecca was furiously blowing out her candles, Molly appeared in the doorway. 
“Hey guys! I miss anything?” 
She smiled slyly. 
 Kit took off his Navigator’s cap (He’d gotten a new one since outgrowing the last but still kept the first one safely in his room) and bowed goofily to Molly as she entered. 
“No, Molly!” 
Rebecca laughed as Molly dragged over a chair and sat down. Out of all the creatures he’d seen infrequently because of the war, Molly would have to be one of the most-changed. Now thirteen years old, she was an adolescent female bear with naturally golden fur, a sly but still innocent smile, and overlong strands of fur that threatened to hang in front of her eyes. Despite becoming a teenager; Molly’s initially brave, selfless personality remained. Although (Baloo noted) these days she could be a bit nicer to her mother. 
 Looking pretty in a dark red dress in a necklace of jet beads, Molly smiled at her mother and started to cut herself a slab of cake but Rebecca interveneted. 
“Molly Elizabeth Cunningham! Have you eaten breakfast yet??” 
Molly started wistfully at her plate and sighed. 
“No mom.” 
 “Then go see if we have any pancakes left. Remember; it IS the most important meal of the day.” 
Molly went to go serve herself breakfast while Kit, Wildcat, Baloo and Rebecca remained at the table devouring the cake. When the time came for presents; a look of blatant surprise flashed across Rebecca’s face as she tore the wrapping from Baloo’s jam jar. 
“Baloo!” 
 “Like it Beckers?” 
He chortled, and slapped his knee. 
“I just got you that as a gag. Remember that time I got away with hidin’ a real ruby in some jam?” 
Kit laughed. 
“We really fooled Karnage that time!” 
Karnage. 
 Baloo shuddered instinctively. He didn’t know why the wolf was suddenly dominating his thoughts in an almost supernatural way, but he was. Perhaps Karnage had died in the seven-year gap between their last meetings. As much as they disliked each other, Baloo hoped this was not the case. 
“Don’t give me that look Baloo!” 
Rebecca smacked him playfully on the shoulder. 
“Are you still thinking about that lecherous Miss Winters who you got on the cover of Lives Magazine with?” 
 “Her name was Evey!” 
Baloo stood up defiantly and stamped his footpaw. 
“And she was cute!” 
Kit rolled his eyes. Some things would never change. 
Meanwhile, as morning faded to afternoon; Francisco was lounging in a Cape Suzette hotel room when the phone rang. Stretching from his bed, he rose and got it. 
“Hello?” 
 “This is Francisco diVenazetti, am I correct?” 
Shere Khan’s voice purred. 
 Francisco gulped. He hadn’t contacted Khan in a month since the mission. 
“Yes it is. Mr. Khan?” 
 “Yes. Why have you not contacted me Mr. DiVenazetti?” 
 “I was on vacation overseas; in Thembria.” 
 “You like to vacation in a communist nation, Mr. DiVenazetti?” 
Khan raised an eyebrow on the other line. 
“Or do you just want to hide from me?” 
 “N-no!” 
A note of fear entered Francisco’s voice. “Absolutely not Mr. Khan!” 
“So where have you been?” 
Silence. 
“Mr. DiVenazetti you are trying my patience now. Are you evading my question perhaps?” 
 “No. No I am not.” 
 “Then why don’t you come to my office?” 
 “Why must I?” 
 “Well….How did your mission go?” 
More silence. 
“Not so well, I’m assuming?” 
Khan chuckled. 
“I made sure my spies were trailing you the whole time; in the red chevy. Come here NOW or I will send someone to fetch you.” 
Khan hung up. 
Seeing as he had no choice, Francisco made the long voyage to the Khan Tower and as he entered the lobby, was met by three suited male lions with what seemed to be guns concealed in their belt holstered. 
“Are you Mr. DiVenazetti?” 
One of them asked. 
 Francisco nodded. 
“I am.” 
 “Mr. Khan wants to see you.” 
 “I know. He told me by phone.” 
Francisco flinched as he was half-led half-dragged to the elevator in the center of the room and steel handcuffs were slapped on his wrists. 
 They went all the way to the top; and when the elevator reached Khan’s office, Francisco was shoved out. 
“A pretty sight, isn’t it?” 
Khan smiled as Francisco was led, handcuffed into the office. The tiger himself sat calmly at his desk. He indicated Chicken’s corpse, lying prostrate on the floor, a pool of blood emerging from a bullet hole in his cranium. 
“He was executed before you.” 
“EXECUTED?!!!” 
Francisco snarled as the guards pushed him into the wall. 
“Yes. Any last words, Francisco?” 
Francisco stared at the carpeted floor, fists clenched, teeth bared. A low, anguished howl rose up in his throat 
“KHHHHHAAAAAANNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” 
He went silent and fell to the floor as the bullet ricocheted into his chest, striking the heart. An instant, perfect kill. Blood spewed from Francisco’s still-open mouth as his lustrous eyes continued to stare blankly at the ceiling. 
 Shere Khan smiled callously. 
“Next time there will be no more blunderers…..” 
No passerby lived or breathed to see that stunning fatal shot to Francisco’s narrow chest. It was concealed safely behind the enclave of Shere Khan’s auburn office drapes. Striding to Francisco’s corpse, Khan trifled with the dog’s coat pockets for a few minutes before pulling out a crumpled scrap of paper. It read: 
 Plan: Kidnap Leo Karnage(?) 
Kidnap Leo Karnage?! Khan smiled. What better a way to manipulate Karnage than through his son? Still grinning eerily, Khan indicated his guards to leave and sat down at his desk to think. 
A beautiful late-summer morning was unfolding as Grace woke up at no later than 10:24. Groggily turning her head to the left, she glanced out the window. The sky was a brightly-painted turqoiuse; the clouds silky and fragile, drifting idly across their natural canvas. Moaning groggily with the dull pains in her stomach, Grace curled into a ball as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to recall what had happened earlier that morning…. 
 ~ Four hours previous ~ 
The tiny black letters on the alarm clock read 6:58. Grace awoke, Karnage snoring beside her in the bed, with a feeling of warm bile in her throat. It was one she vaguely recognized from painful days of 24-hour-colds and stomach bugs as a child; but one she could still peripherally remember urgently. Throwing back the bedsheet, Grace staggered out of bed, out of the room and into the hallway, hoping fervently she could make it to the bathroom. 
Once inside, Grace needed to lean on the wall to support herself, and for a terrifying instant feared she wouldn’t reach the toilet. Kneeling over the toilet with her head bowed, Grace violently heaved until all three of her meals yesterday were a sticky, congealing mess within the bowl. Panting and gasping, Grace wiped an oozing strand of bile on the back of her paw and limped to the mirror. 
Not normally a vain dog, Grace was simply checking now to make sure she didn’t appear to be sick physically. She looked dead. There were darker circles of fur around her eyes; (as well as a look of crazed disorientation), and a smeared mask of greenish slime around her muzzle. The eerie sight itself almost made the half-awake Grace throw up again, so she staggered back and curled up on the rug. 
The brewing of an early-morning thunderstorm and the dull, barely audible thump of Grace’s body hitting the floor awakened Karnage from his usually heavy sleep. Unconsciously, he turned over and sought out with his paws the warmth of Grace beside him; just as he’d done every night for the past seven years. Except this time, Grace wasn’t there. 
Torture by Venazetti had made Karnage a paranoid and haunted beast. Waking up at barely seven in the morning was more than enough to shoot a bottleful of adrenaline through his veins, and all that he needed to neurotically worry over Grace; without even stopping to think of where she might be first. And then of course, there had been the dull thump of her down the hall. 
A feeling of terror suddenly washed over the wolf. GRACE!! Terror charging every nerve and sinew in his body, Felipe Karnage charged down the hallway like a bat out of hell, screaming at the top of his lungs “GRACE!!!” 
Heart still pounding; the look of a deranged madbeast slowly faded from Karnage’s eyes as he saw Grace, sitting up on the bathroom floor, looking groggy, bile coating her sleek muzzle. The wolf knelt on the floor and gathered her into his arms; relieved that she probably couldn’t notice his crazed appearance- or if she could, was polite enough not to say so. 
“I’m ok….” 
She assured him drowsily, burping and then clamping an embarrassed paw over her muzzle. 
“I….I think I might be pregnant again though.” 
The last of the obsessional gleam fading from his eyes, Karnage laughed; both out of happiness and relief, glad he was able to laugh at himself (well, not entirely; being the great dread pirate Don Karnage, after all!!) 
“I think I’m about a month and a half along, but I don’t know, I haven’t gotten any testing done yet.” 
Grace continued, and yawned, closing one eye. 
“I….I’m so thankful.” 
Karnage breathed. 
“So am I.” 
They didn’t kiss, but Grace wiped some vomit off her snout and smiled with weary eyes. 
“Ugh…Can you help me get back to our room?” 
She moaned after a while, getting to her footpaws. Grace shakily stood for a few moments but started cussing when her legs wouldn’t support her. Karnage picked her up and heaved her into his arms gently; which wasn’t easy. 
“I’m so tired…” 
She croaked. 
“Eet’s okay, querida.” 
He murmured, and ran a paw through her dampened fur. It was no surprise that Grace nodded off as soon as they got to the bedroom door. 
Karnage gently laid her on the bed, took Grace’s forest green slippers off (she’d gone to bed too exhausted to take them off; and while sick taking them off had been the LAST thing on her mind), and drew the rumpled bedsheet around her before crawling into bed, eventually falling asleep with his arm protectively around her shoulder. 
 Now, Grace yawned and glanced to her right to see if Karnage was awake. It turned out he was, so she yawned and said 
“Hi.” 
Her husband smiled lovingly at her, unable to tear his gaze from her face. 
“I had no idea you were awake.” 
Grace sat up, adjusted her collar and rubbed at her sore eyes. He nodded silently. 
“What?” 
She laughed a bit. 
“I can’t help eet, querida. I’m looking at an angel from heaven.” 
Grace was well aware how ragged her journalism years had made her, and just laughed aloud. 
“Oh Felipe I’m not THAT pretty!!” 
 “You are to me. You always have been.” 
Grace blushed crimson. 
“I mean eet, Grace.” 
They kissed. 
 After that, she paused. 
“So are you still worried about….Yesterday?” 
Grace glanced at her empty jewelry box which she’d moved to the nightstand, a reminder of what had occurred, and sighed. 
“Si. I am not knowing what to do….After you slept, I spent almost all of last night pacing de house weeth my pistol.” 
Grace winced. 
“Did the kids wake up?” 
 “Alice deed. She came to me weeth my cutlass again and offered to take up watch. I hugged her and told her I was guarding de house. She refused to go back to her own bed.” 
Hearing a faint rustling, Grace looked around. Alice (who it turned out had slept on the floor of her parents’ bedroom out of fear of the house being attacked again) had crawled across the bed in light flannel pajamas and smiled shyly at her parents, brownish-red fur gleaming in the morning sunlight. 
“I love you, daddy.” 
She hugged her father, and Grace smiled, but felt momentarily embarrassed over her and Karnage’s still-bedraggled appearance (what with their creased pajamas and vaguely bloodshot eyes), even though she knew her daughter was far too young to really care. 
“Alice! Hey baby! Can you give your father and I time to get out of bed before we go downstairs and have breakfast?” 
 “Hi mommy!” 
Alice scrambled to sit next to her mother on Grace’s side of the bed, and paused. 
“Sorry if I’m being a pain.” 
 “Baby, you’re not. Your father and I will be down in a minute; can you wait for us in the kitchen? Ohh and please don’t wake your brother.” 
 “Sure!” 
Alice scrambled to the other side of the bedroom, shakily picked up her father’s cutlass from where it lay on her pillow on the floor, saluted him with it and darted out of the room with the sword in her paw. 
 After their daughter had hurried down the stairs to wait for her parents, Grace turned to Karnage. 
“You don’t mind that she uses your sword all the time?” 
She smiled a bit. 
“Not a beet. I know it’s probably de word but I’ve taught her fencing weeth eet. Not weeth a partner, just showing her de moves. She can copy my moves perfectly.” Grace shrugged and said: 
“Well, so long as you make sure she doesn’t accidentally hurt somebody or herself with it….Fine by me.” 
 “Dose were de two rules I set, querida.” 
Karnage assured her. 
“No hurting herself, no accidentally hurting someone else.” 
Not wanting to worry her about their situation even further; Karnage did not tell his wife he had also started to teach their daughter about self-defense. Grace herself sighed in relief, then paused. 
“So what are we going to do to make sure nobody’s in the house today?” 
 “Keep watch. I’m not going back to sleep, querida.” 
 “And neither am I.” 
A few minutes later, the two of them rose from bed and so began the day. 
 ~ 
 After breakfast, with all the stealth and secrecy of a covert spy, Alice ran upstairs, crept into her parents’ bedroom, yanking the phone off its table and gathering it into her arms, running back to her room to call Elisa. She didn’t want to be stuck inside all day today; least of all when it was such a beautiful day out. 
 Drawing her blinds, Alice sat down on a chair and dialed her cousin’s phone number, instead getting her aunt Rosa. 
“Hi!” 
Alice said in her most grown-up, Grace-ish voice possible. 
“Grace, is that REALLY you?” 
Darn. Foiled! 
 Alice thought, but didn’t speak aloud. 
“Actually no. This is Alice. Can I speak to Elisa?” 
Rosa sighed. 
“Yes. Wait a moment while I put her on.” 
There was noise in the background, and Alice could hear footpaws as Rosa departed and the phone changed paws. 
“Alice? Why are you calling?” 
There was blatant annoyance in Elisa’s voice. 
“Well excuse me Miss Stick-in-the-Mud; I just wanted to come over!” 
 “Now is a REAL swell time, Alice. I’m grounded!” 
Alice had only been punished occasionally, and grounded only once. 
“Why?” 
Elisa winced on her end of the line. 
“That brother of yours and I were playing baseball by ourselves yesterday; he threw a baseball through old-man-what’s-his-name’s window and then told everybody I did it! Now I’m grounded for a week. I tried to tell mom that school starts in less than a week and that nobody else is grounded but she wouldn’t listen.” 
She sighed. 
“I’m really sorry Elisa. That must be hard.” 
Alice could genuinely sympathize with her cousin, however she found Leo’s actions bizarre to say the least. 
“But can I still come over? Pleeeasseee?” 
“Well…..” 
Elisa lowered her voice to a dangerous whisper. 
“Yes. But we have to tell my mother that we’re going for a walk.” 
 “But where ARE we going Elisa?” 
“Someplace secret. I’ll tell you when you get over.” 
Alice squealed in excitement and hung up the phone. 
 Chapter Six Edit
Alice changed out of her pajamas and into a plaid skirt and blue sweater before returning to her bedroom. Taking a deep breath, Alice went to the windowsill and threw the window open, squeezing her narrow, still-small body through and out the frame. There was an empty trellis just below the sill, and with shaking paws, Alice gripped the wood with all four of her paws and began to shakily climb down; flinching at the summer heat. 
 Finally, she reached the bottom of the frame and hit the emerald grass with a tiny Oompf! Rising and shaking dust and grass off her fur and clothes, Alice padded out of the yard and out to the driveway; taking care to run as fast as she could before her parents or Leo (especially Leo) saw. 
 Running down the block or so to Rosa’s house, a winded Alice ran up to the maple door and banged on it a few times before Elisa answered. 
“Hi Alice!” 
She exclaimed, then dropped her voice to a whisper. 
“Wanna go to my yard and talk?” 
 “Sure.” 
Alice giggled. 
 Acting like spies like this was fun; even if it meant they could get in trouble if caught, that just raised the stakes even higher, and Alice Karnage and Elisa Hawley were two danger-loving girls. 
 Elisa’s yard was full of weeds, dead grass, and a fast-decaying garden with a small stone fountain, some chive plants, and some wild grass. Sitting down on the damp, mossy soil, Alice studied her cousin’s face. 
“So where are we going?” 
 “A place. Down the road; maybe another mile. They say it used to be a looney bin.” 
Elisa whispered, and Alice’s excitement reached its peak; her heart thudding in her ribs. 
“Well, I know a place that’s even MORE secret. So secret I’m not even allowed to tell!” 
Alice boasted. This said-place was the Urbandale State Forest, about three miles northeast. Buried deep beneath the earth in a series of subterranean tunnels and paw-dug dens was Karnage’s aircraft, the Iron Vulture. Alice’s father had taken great pains to conceal it as well as he had, and had bragged quite a bit about how nobody would be looking for the dread pirate Don Karnage underground. Nonetheless, Karnage had trusted Alice with that; one of his greatest secrets, and the wolf’s daughter wouldn’t have revealed that secret to the world. 
“Huh. That’s somethin’.” 
Elisa muttered, clearly slightly jealous, but soon recovering. 
“Anyway…So are we goin’ or not?” 
 “Well of course!” 
Alice was on her footpaws. 
“I told my mom we were just takin’ a walk. I think she bought it.” 
Elisa reassured Alice, speaking around her paw. 
“I’ll tell you more when we get there.” 
 “Okay.” 
And with that, they took off out of the yard. 
 ~ 
 Elisa and Alice spent the next twelve or so minutes half-running half-jogging out of town and down the road. Eventually the paved road turned to soft dirt, and the well-cut backyards and family homes turned to soft, rolling meadows, ragged fields and crystalline summer skies of post-suburbia. 
“That’s Judgment Day, where all the crooks hang out.” 
Elisa pointed to the gloomy-looking nightclub as they passed it, and Alice shuddered involuntarily. 
“It’s kinda creepy looking, Elisa.” 
“Yeah, I know. I don’t like the looks of it much myself.” 
After a while, Judgement Day grew small behind them and Alice and Elisa stood face to face in front of the grand skeleton of Blackvale Lunatic Asylum. Nearly all its windows were shattered now (the others boarded up), and there appeared to be no sign of life. 
“So what are we doing here Elisa?” 
Alice studied the grand building with a practiced eye, taking it all in. Elisa began to pace. 
“Well….I want you to go in on….A dare.” 
 “A dare? A dare to what?” 
Alice was always one for dares. She turned to Elisa, instantly interested. 
“Um….. I uh….Need some time to think.” 
Elisa turned her windblown head to the east, tapping a footpaw against the soft soil, deep in thought; almost entranced. When Elisa turned around, there was a bold grin on her face as she declared: 
“Your dare is to go through to Blackvale’s attic… Without screaming.” 
 “Oh….Okay.” 
All the life drained out of Alice. The dares she was used to involved daring acts of the extreme; like climbing to the tops of lampposts or stealing money from your parents’ wallets while their backs were turned. In short; she was used to stunts, and not scares. 
“I thought I just had to climb to the top of the roof or something.” 
Alice was blushing now and privately criticizing herself for her stupidity. 
 That was SO DUMB. I should have known Elisa would have asked me something like this! Alice you are SO STUPID!!!! 
 Alice winced and clutched her temple. Elisa grinned at her. 
“Whatsa matter? Can’t handle a few ghosts and goblins, Little Miss daredevil?” 
 “Of course I can!” 
 “Then why’dja look so scared?” 
 “I wasn’t scared.” 
 “Yeah you were!” 
 “Shut up Elisa.” 
Alice muttered, staring at her footpaws. 
“Let’s just get this over with ok? Things like running to there, or climbing to the top of this, or stealing this without getting caught are baby dares….I….I can handle this. I can do it.” 
Alice exhaled slowly, trying to keep up a calm composure. 
“Well if you say so….” 
 “And you’re not the boss of me Elisa. So stop grinning like you run the universe.” 
Elisa looked blatantly surprised, but said nothing. 
“Ok, let’s get this over with.” 
She muttered under her breath after a while, and led Alice to the dust-coated brick steps by her arm. 
“Yoohoo…Anybody home?” 
Elisa flung the creaky door open and called into the velvet abyss. Alice’s stomach churned at the eerie sight of what awaited them, but she swallowed hard and forced herself to stay calm. 
“Elisa you screwball!” 
Alice tried to keep her voice lighthearted, and punched her cousin in the arm. 
“Hey…” 
Elisa gave her a bit of a glare but kept going. 
 Alice gave her weak eyes time to adjust to the gloom of Blackvale’s entry hall, fixing her glasses so that they balanced over her eyes and wouldn’t fall off and break. 
 The lobby had a musky, earthy smell to it; and light seeped in through a few smashed windows. Some old-fashioned furniture could be viewed peripherally; a moth-eaten maroon settee, a handsome brown leather ottoman with fading brass legs, a marble fireplace with a hooked bass mounted above its hearth, and a vandalized portrait of a beautiful leopard in a black dress. 
 Apart from a smiley face that had been drawn on said portrait; the lobby of Blackvale looked more like an old-fashioned hotel than an insane asylum, (and unaware to the two cousins; a covert medical facility) 
“Come on….This way.” 
Once again, Elisa grabbed Alice’s arm and started to lead her out of the lobby but not before the wolfdog noticed something curious: A note on brown butcher paper discarded on the window sill with the small lettering: 
Gone. Will be back after labor day. 
“That’s weird.” 
Alice commented, and showed Elisa the note. 
“Huh. I almost wonder if the ghosts wrote it.” 
This crack had clearly been intended to frighten Alice, but she tried not to fall for it and moved on. Elisa led Alice down a narrow hallway with terribly old-fashioned turquoise paint-chipped walls decorated with a white fleur-de-lis pattern, and into a small dayroom with a knitted brown shag rug, several rocking chairs, and what certainly looked like children’s toys scattered across the floor. Wide, shattered windows let in sun and cast shadows over the carpeting. Elisa shuddered. 
“I think this used to be a dayroom of some sorts where they’d let the patients hang out.” 
 “Elisa, how do you know so much about Blackvale anyway?” 
Alice was getting curious. 
“Ohh, I got dared to come in here a couple times last year; on this same day too. Not my walk in the park cuz.” 
An arching, sloped set of mahogany stairs led someplace upward. Neither of the cousins knew that everything they would see from the staircase onward was the world of old Blackvale; undisturbed, unfettered, and unexplored. Nobody was brave enough to venture up those creaking attic stairs…At least; nobody on the current medical staff. 
 Alice kept glancing behind her on the way up, but stopped after a while as she knew this gave Elisa pleasure, and continued to walk with her head held high. After ten minutes….They reached the attic. Elisa didn’t even flinch, and Alice mimicked her attitude as best she could. 
 The attic however, was stocked to the ceiling with disturbing tokens of the asylum’s heyday: Pickled fetuses of varying species were preserved in formaldehyde jars, and there were several dictionary-thick books lined up on shelves with titles like Cerebral anatomy of the common madbeast and Clinical dissection: A guide for the student. 
 Hung up on racks, there were a few decaying straitjackets with the word SPARE carefully stitched into them in block lettering. Then there were the copper and metal muzzles with their thick leather straps; rusty syringes in small rusting cases, and eerily of all: A wooden, 1890’s, government-issue electric chair. 
 For a moment, Alice was terrified Elisa would grin and say “Sit in the chair.” But she did not. And miraculously; Alice was able to keep a straight face the whole time as they walked past the electric chair. As the cousins neared the end of the attic, scrawled writing became clear on the walls; ancient messages like 
 I AM BAD 
 Or 
 SOMEBODY LET ME OUT OF HERE!!!! 
 And even: 
 I want to die. 
 The writing was scrawled in what appeared to be the finest of black pencil, and yet oddly it stood out. Alice felt cold chills run down her spine as Elisa walked her past the writing, and then the chair again, and back to the shelf where the fetuses were. Hanging on the wall above the shelf was a magnificent charcoal portrait of a small kitten’s face and shoulders. His fur was jet black, and his one eye seemed malformed. A tacked-on caption labeled: Self-portrait of Leon Roy Badgett ; Apr. 1901. Cyclopic. Deformed. Born; Jan. ’97. Mother is feeble-minded and prone to fits. 
“Ahh. Poor kid. Wondered if he was a crazy.” 
Elisa mused aloud. 
 They were nearing the stairs now, and Alice felt a spurt of sympathy for-four-year-old Leon (apparently an artistic prodigy) wherever he might be now. 
 Eventually, they descended back into the lobby. 
“So…We go home now?” 
Elisa started to say, but then let out a terrible scream as the floorboards splintered beneath their footpaws with a jarring Craaaacckkkkk and Alice and Elisa found themselves submerged in a gloomy netherworld of dark. 
 Involuntarily, Alice whimpered in the dark, immeadietly clamping a paw over her muzzle afterwards. Too late. Elisa heard. 
“What’s the matter Alice? Chickening out after all?” 
 “I’m not a coward, Elisa!” 
Alice growled. 
“And I can’t BELIEVE you’re still talking about this! Can’t we just shut up, work together and try and find a way out?” 
 “All right….But your dad is a crook.” 
Alice’s heart skipped a beat. Of course she didn’t know the truth about her father’s occupation yet; but obviously, she was still deeply outraged at Elisa’s sullen remark. 
“My dad, Elisa, is not a crook. That’d be like saying your dad was a deadbeat. So like I said; can we PLEASE stop fighting? Please Elisa?” 
Alice sighed in ragged exasperation. 
“Okay.” 
Elisa heaved one herself. 
“Let’s get out of here.” 
 “See, was that so bad?” 
I swear Elisa, you’re so weird. 
 Alice thought, but didn’t dare say so aloud. 
“OW!” 
 “Are you ok Elisa??” 
Alice followed her cousin’s voice. 
“Yeah….I ran into a wall by accident. My nose is bleedin’.” 
Alice groped in the dark and put her paw on top of Elisa’s. 
“I think I got a tissue…” 
Yanking it from her pocket, Alice handed Elisa the tissue. She jammed it into her bleeding nose and they continued onward. 
 "Smells like something burned in here...." 
 Elisa muttered, coughing dryly. 
 Alice said nothing, still holding on to Elisa's paw, depending on her like they were both deaf and blind. 
 A smell of smoke registered in Alice's nostrils, and she cringed involuntarily. 
 "OW!!!!" 
 Alice yelped, tripping over a sharp object and falling forward, her footpaw sliced. 
 "Alice? Are you ok?" 
"Yeah, I think I tripped on a piece of glass though.....Ow...." 
 Shakily regaining her footing, Alice groped for Elisa's paw and they continued, seeing a faint light in the distance. 
 "I think I can make out one of the windows." 
 Alice gasped, and staggered towards it, Elisa walking in tandem with her. Sure enough; a grimy, dead-bug covered and broken-open basement window loomed in front of them. Alice slipped through it, and Elisa followed. 
 "I'm NEVER doing that again!" 
 ALice vowed, stamping a footpaw. 
 "Whew! Me either." 
 Elisa mopped at her brow and examined the sky. 
 "Elisa can we have a permanent truce? Please?" 
Alice smiled shyly. 
 "Okay I guess....." 
 Elisa muttered. 
 "And go take care of your footpaw. My mom and your folks can't know!" 
"Got it." 
 They split up then, and ran for home. 
Meanwhile, in Cape Suzette, a jackal was riding an elevator. Norman Abbington was not a jackal to be toyed with. Tall and arrogant with a broad back and shoulders; he first entered the world on October 18th, 1893 making him a full fifteen years older than Felipe Karnage, (and in Abbington’s own opinion) hopefully fifteen times smarter. Becoming head of the Usland’s CBI (Civil Bureau of Investigation) back in 1928, Abbington took his job damn seriously which was more than he could say for everyone else. 
 The jackal stared impatiently at his watch as the gilded cage elevator soared higher and higher through the Khan Towers; stopping at the 30th and top floor, which housed Shere Khan’s office. 
“Mr. Khan?” 
 “Ahh, Mr. Abbington!” 
Shere Khan was not sitting at his mahogany-and-rosewood desk; but rather hunched over an artificial pond off to the left, where four silver fish with beady crimson eyes swam hungrily. The tiger was smiling mysteriously as he opened a rusty tin labeled Sardines and dropped the tiny pickled fishes in the water. The piranhas swarmed around the meat, each one fighting to devour it in their tiny jaws and needle teeth. Abbington couldn’t help but gawk at the odd spectacle. Khan noticed, and his smile widened. 
“Admiring my piranhas; are you? Yes, they certainly are little cannibals!” 
He discarded the empty tin in the wastebasket. 
“Yes, I saw.” 
 “Now, what have you come to talk to me about?” 
 “I’d like to speak to you regarding a Felipe Karnage.” 
Khan stared at Abbington like he’d seen a ghost; but momentarily regained his cold smile and took a seat at his desk. 
“Karnage? ….How interesting; have a seat. I insist.” 
Abbington pulled up a rose-wood chair with a dull fuchsia cushion and sat. 
“I could never refuse an offer from the head of the CBI. What would you like to know, Mr. Abbington?” 
 “Everything you do, sir.” 
 “A tricky question.” 
Khan paused to scribble a signature on a waiting paper. 
“But I’ll have you know I DO know Karnage’s current whereabouts.” 
Abbington’s heart began to throb in his chest. “Abbington; the case is dead!” His colleagues had told him when he’d expressed interest in Karnage, also adding: “And it has been for seven years. You should focus on something else.” 
But Abbington was not one to be bossed around, and such attitude had brought him here. So he took a deep breath and asked: 
“Then can you tell me?” 
“I’m afraid not. First you must do something for me…” 
Abbington leaned forward in his chair. 
“And that is?” 
 “That’s not for you to know at this time, Mr. Abbington. I think I’ll give you a call and tell you later tonight. But first….” 
Khan fiddled with the bedlam of papers on his desk. 
“I’d like you to have this.” 
He handed Abbington a nearly-bare manila folder. It was labeled: KROTZ. 
“I assembled this myself in my spare time. You should read it….Make sure that if you send a beast after Karnage, they won’t suffer the same mistakes as she did….” 
The smile on Khan’s face was sly, and almost perverse. Feeling uncomfortable, Abbington rose. 
“Thank you for all your time, Mr. Khan but I must be going.” 
 “And I understand. Good day.” 
Riding in the elevator again; Abbington peered through the first page in the file. It was a neat, typewritten paper with a ripped black-and-white photo of a seductive-looking young squirrel on it. The file read: 
Name: Ivana Marya Krotz 
 Place of Birth: Lobolsk, Thembria 
 Date of birth: August 27th, 1913 
 Date of death: December 18th, 1941 
 Cause of death: Gunshot wound to stomach 
 Suicide?: No 
Abbington's stomach churned as he strained to read the fine print at the top of the next page. 
Inflictor of wound: Felipe Alejandro Karnage (b. 1908) 
 It was high noon by the time a winded Alice staggered through the screen door. 
“I’m back mom!” 
She called. 
“Where’s Leo?” 
Craning her neck into the kitchen, Alice peered around. 
 Grace, who had set aside some sweet corn on the table, turned to greet her daughter. 
“Alice, where were you?? And honestly, you should know Leo’s in his treehouse.” 
 “Right.” 
Alice rolled her eyes. Leo’s most private domain was indeed the treehouse he’d gotten for his fifth birthday last year. Karnage had certainly spared no exaggerated expense in giving his only son a treehouse fit for a prince, built by Ratchet; with stolen supplies. He and Ratchet had designed the building to look like an old-fashioned biplane) 
“Alice, please answer my question. What were you doing?” 
“I was with Elisa. We uh…Played at her house for a bit and then we took a walk. To the park.” 
It was only now that Grace looked to the floor and realized her daughter was barefoot and tracking blood all over the floor. 
“….Why are you barefoot? Alice, give me an answer. I don’t have all day you know.” 
 “I forgot my shoes. Sorry mom.” 
 “Uh-huh….And what did you step on?” 
Grace was rummaging around for things to clean Alice’s footpaw with. 
 Alice hesitated. 
“….A piece of glass. Or metal.” 
 “Was it rusty?” 
 “I don’t know.” 
 “Alice, what do you mean you don’t know??” 
Grace was wincing as she took a bottle of iodine from the cupboard. 
“Excuse my language, Alice, but this stuff hurts like hell. I hope you can handle it better than I have though.” 
Grace unscrewed the bottle and dipped a q-stick into the liquid iodine. Alice got onto a chair, and suddenly remembered the feel of the sharp objected she’d stepped on- it was smooth and cool; not jagged and rough, the way a rusted piece would have felt. 
“Mommy? I remember now. What I stepped on I mean….It wasn’t rusted.” 
Grace heaved a sigh of relief. 
“Thank goodness. I would have hated to have taken you downtown to the doctor’s office for a tetanus shot- well, you and me both.” 
Grace shuddered; extremely phobic of doctors. 
“Hold still, baby, while I put the iodine on.” 
Grace took the now liquid-coated tip and rubbed it over Alice’s cut. She winced, and Grace grabbed her daughter’s paw with her free one and gave it a gentle squeeze. 
“Hang on, I’ll get you a bandaid.” 
Grace slipped out of the room and returned a minute later with a cardboard box of adhesive bandages, putting one over Alice’s drying wound. 
“Alice, is there any reason why you just ran out like that?” 
 “No. I was just…In a hurry, that’s all.” 
Grace wasn’t convinced. 
“In a hurry enough that you didn’t even bring your shoes?” 
 “Um…..Yeah.” 
Seeing the nervousness, Grace softened her tone and spoke completely non-condescendingly. 
“Alice, I’m not mad at you. I just want to know where you were.” 
Grace was silent for a moment, cursing herself that she’d probably come off as an asshole to her daughter; which was blatantly unintended. 
“Please?” 
She added. 
 Alice sniffed. 
“I….I was someplace secret. I can’t say where.” 
Secret?! 
 Grace’s heart skipped a beat. 
“Alice, baby, please tell me you didn’t tell anyone about….The Vulture.” 
 “I didn’t.” 
Alice paused. 
“But mommy I went to Blackvale!” 
Grace mopped her brow with a sigh. 
“Alice, let’s wait till your father comes home before we talk about this anymore. I’m sorry if I acted out or anything; and I’d rather be alone. Maybe you should go see if Danger Woman is on.” 
 “Okay!” 
And on that note, Alice was racing into the living room to get to the radio before Leo did. 
Leo sat sprawled on the floor of his treehouse; watching pale rays of sunlight creep in through the clear window frame. The young wolfdog lay on his belly, scribbling florid poetry with colored crayons on yellow notepad paper. Leo wrote about things that no other 6-year-old would write about; or even KNOW about to begin with: 
What is love? Roses in a garden, blooming crimson. Perfect azure sky. Beautiful laughter on a warm summer day; the cool grass, the humid heat. Desire, it racks us like a cloud of guilt and plenty. What is real and what is not? I only know the taste of your mouth on mine. 
Smiling thoughtfully, he underlined it twice and signed the poem: 
 Don Leo, Aug. 1945 
 Leo’s careful script was not the sloppy scrawl of most other creatures his age, but neither was it the painstaking, not-quite-right cursive he would learn in school that fall. Hearing a familiar, upbeat humming, Leo froze and got to his paws and knees. He ran to the window and pressed his face against the glass, looking down. 
 His father was crossing the street and coming up the drive! Leo was suddenly ablaze with emotion. Throwing open the window sash, he called: “Dad?! Hi Dad!” 
Before Karnage even had time to react, Leo was climbing down the wooden ladder and running to meet him. Even in his extremely introverted nature; it seemed his father was the only one he wanted to please. 
“Leo!” 
Karnage swept his son up in a hug; finally back from a long day of plundering (although air piracy had become less profitable since Usland joined the war in December of 1941) 
“I meesed you! How have theengs been?” 
Leo snorted; looking amazingly like his mother, rounded ears in all. 
“Boring. I was writing all day.” 
He indicated the crumpled scrap of paper in his right paw where the poem was written. Karnage scanned it for a moment, clearly impressed (of course; only to a REASONABLE degree, being himself) 
“Leo, I’m going to smooth thees and frame eet! You’re a great writer!” 
Leo looked shy. 
“Really dad?” 
“Si! One of de best I’ve ever seen!” 
Karnage was not lying. 
“We should get dees one published somehow.” 
 “Thanks dad….And I uh, I missed you.” 
Karnage hugged his son. 
“I meesed you too, my boy, so much.... You, your sister, your mother…” 
 “And now you’re back!” 
A longtime habit, Leo seized the nearest pebble in the gravel drive and kicked it with a footpaw. 
“How’s your mama been?” 
Karnage jokingly asked Leo as he kicked the stone. 
“Herself.” 
They both had a laugh briefly, and then Leo darted back into the inner universe within his treehouse, happily content with scribbling out florid and very developed poetry with the unsteady writing paw of a child. 
 About ten minutes later; Alice was sitting on a rough wooden stool, swinging her footpaws idly. She flinched as Karnage entered; her father already having had a conversation with Grace about what their daughter had been doing. Grace herself, feeling upset about Alice’s actions; had gone on a walk in the hopes of getting out some stress. 
“Alice?” 
Karnage froze at the center of the room. 
“Yeah?” 
Alice looked up. 
“She told me what happened.” 
Alice was more than certain that ‘she’ was Grace. 
“I’m sorry dad…” 
She hung her head. 
“I’m just glad you weren’t hurt, or worse….! But I’ve let you down.” 
Alice didn’t attempt to lie about her having been with Elisa. 
“How?” 
 “I’ve failed you; I haveen’t been here….I’m so sorry.” 
“No you haven’t, dad.” 
Alice got down from the stool and hugged her father. 
“Could you tell me de truth? You WERE weeth Elisa, weren’t you?” 
Alice knew what her father as asking. She sighed. 
“Yes dad, I was with her….” 
Karnage looked visibly upset by this and shook his head. 
“What are you going to do? Talk to her yourself?” 
His daughter inquired, curiously. 
“Si.” 
 “I’m still sorry dad.” 
Alice looked downcast and shuffled her footpaws. 
“Alice….” 
Karnage told her honestly. 
“I’m very deesappointed een you for thees.” 
Alice glanced up at him with a child’s fear. 
“But you still love me right?” 
She asked in a breathless voice. 
“Always.” 
Alice glanced towards the living room. 
“Can we, uh, listen to Danger Woman now?” 
 “Si!” 
They raced each other to the living room, a sign that whatever animosity there had been between Karnage and his daughter would not be long in dissolving. 
 Time went by, and meanwhile, miles away, a slow dusk was settling over the harbor city of Cape Suzette. Baloo, Kit and Wildcat were staying over at Rebecca’s apartment for dinner; and a party that would stretch well into the mid-evening. It was now 7:02, and dinner had long been served and eaten. Baloo had maneuvered his bulky form in front of the radio to sleep off the massive supper he’d just devoured. The bear flinched as Kit appeared and turned the radio off. 
Baloo bolted upright like a nervous colt. 
“Whydja do that Little Britches?!” 
He protested, and scrambled to turn the radio back on. 
“I just wanted to talk to you Papa Bear.” 
Kit smiled and settled onto the green, moth-eaten sofa beside Baloo. 
“What about?” 
Baloo leaned into the couch, tossing aside an uncomfortable throw pillow that had been propped behind his back. 
“The war.” 
“What about it?” 
“Well, I got drafted, you know.” 
Baloo turned to Kit with a look of blatant shock. 
“Drafted? In what branch?” 
“The army.” 
“Little Britches, I never knew you were in the army….” 
 “It was last year.” 
Kit rolled up the sleeve of his thin corduroy pants to reveal a thin scar running down the bottom of his right leg, stopping above his footpaw. 
“I got stationed in Pierredonia, when they were storming the beaches. Got shot in the leg right there.” 
He indicated the scar grimly. 
“The army doctors said it’s a miracle I can walk without a limp.” 
 “Did the shell go all the way…?” 
Kit gingerly pulled his pant-leg back up and shook his head. 
“No. It barely pierced the bone.” 
There was a slight pause. 
 Then Kit smiled mysteriously and said: 
“But they said I can still fly. So I’m still your navigator.” 
 “Oh Little Britches you’d always HAVE been my navigator no matter what! I promise.” 
“I know.” 
The younger bear hugged Baloo, and they embraced for a moment, before Baloo said: 
“You know, one time I was stationed down in Freedonia. Never liked that place. Too militaristic. I met a second-cousin down there I never even knew I had. Wilhelm von Bruinwald.” 
 “Oh really? What was he like?” 
 “He was a corporal in the Freedonian army. Real strict; cocky. Thought he could order me around and he was right about five years younger!” 
Baloo laughed raucously and slapped his knee at the very idea. 
“I wish I’d had old Beckers there to iron him out!” 
 “I’ll bet.” 
Kit rolled his eyes. 
“Well, ah, now that we’re back together things’ll be normal, right Little Britches?” 
Baloo glanced to Kit. 
“Yeah.” 
Kit quietly adjusted the collar of his shirt; deep in thought. He certainly hoped so. 
Back in Southshire; the remaining hours of evening faded to 10:00. Karnage, sick of procrastinating, decided he was finally going to pay a visit to Rosa, specifically to talk about what had transpired between their daughters. Not bothering to take the car or the Brough, the wolf traipsed down the moonlit streets, thinking (but not daring to say) a multitude of angry curses, eventually letting a few loose. It wasn’t like anybody heard. 
 Peripherally remembering where Rosa’s house was and its number, Karnage rapped on the door. Rosa meanwhile, was sitting in an armchair with a novel and a cigarette; Elisa already in bed. She flinched as she heard the knocking. She already had her secretarial job to deal with in daytime hours, and did not take likely to being interrupted to her nighttime lounging. 
“Who is it??” 
She didn’t look up from her reading. 
“Felipe.” 
Rosa froze. She blew out her cigarette, tossed her book aside and begrudgingly dragged her slipper-clad footpaws to the door. The female wolf, clad in a floral pink satin bathrobe stared like a deer in headlights at Karnage, who was glaring at her with a look that could certainly kill, especially given his own dreams of omnipotence. “Where een de fucking hell ees Elisa?” 
Rosa stomped a footpaw. 
“She went to bed half an hour ago so you’ll have to talk to me.” 
 “Elisa went to Blackvale.” 
 “I know that, and she took Alice with her.” 
“WHY, MALDITO SEA?!?” 
Karnage roared. 
 Meekly, Rosa took a few steps back, not sure how long she could stomach being the target of his rage. 
“I didn’t know! I thought they were just taking a walk!” 
 “CONDENAR AL INFIERNO!” 
Damn it to hell. For a second Rosa thought to yell something back in Spanish (given that both of them had been raised bilingual) but thought better of it. 
“For goodness’ sake Felipe! If you’re going to come in here at ten at night and scream at me for something I didn’t do….Just go take a powder!” 
Her last phrase was a popular slang term at the time that meant ‘to leave’ and that’s exactly what Karnage did. The other wolf turned and left, muttering under his breath 
“I am needing a dreenk. A HARD dreenk.” 
And anyone with half a brain knew the only time Karnage got drunk was when he was really, really pissed off. For once, he allowed himself to drink at a cheap, shady bar (even though his gilded ego screamed at him not to) and staggered out an hour later, very drunk. 
 By the time Karnage got home, an upset Grace (whom he had argued with) had long gone to bed. Changing into some decent, non alcohol-stained clothes, the wolf glanced bitterly at the curled-up, sleeping Grace before trying to get some rest himself. 
And when Karnage finally DID sleep, he saw Helena. Beautiful and young; possibly no more than eighteen, she danced in the warm, sunlit meadow, the sun shining on her pristinely-white fur. Not the dirty white that it had turned to in her final years. The dirty, bloody white that covered her in the final days, where she would wander half-naked through corridors, unresponsive and wearing just her chemise and drawers, which were also filthy and had the look of being slept in for day after day; which they had been. But not here. Helena was innocent, and white, and forever virginal, and the sun was elevated in the azure blue sky, and the grass soft and lush. But Helena was wearing a skimpy, black dress that only flappers had worn in the 1920’s. She had never dressed that way; refused to. Only Rosa had. 
Nonetheless, Helena threw her head back and began to sing in a melodious, alto voice: 
I am your voice on the wind. And I…. You call out my name. Listen my child and look to me. I am the voice of your history. Be not afraid come follow me. Answer my calling and set you free…..I am your voice in the wind and the pouring rain, I am the voice of your hunger and pain. I am the voice that always is calling you, I am the voice and I will remain. 
I am the voice in the fields when the sun is gone, dance on the leaves when the autumn winds glow. How do I sleep through all the cold winter long, and I am the voice that in springtime will grow. I am the voice of the past that will always be filled with my sorrow, and blood, and my fears. I am the voice of the future! Bring me your peace, bring me your peace and mountains, they will hear. 
I am the voice of the wind in the pouring rain, I am the voice of your hunger and pain. I am the voice of the future, I am the voice and I will remain. I am the voice….I am the voice!!!!! 
Then, Helena’s voice faded out into nothing, the way autumn weakly faded into roaring winter. She danced (or maybe, FLEW) out of the field then, laughing like a mischievous nymph, into the shelter of the pines. 
The soft blue afternoon faded into luscious pink sunset; before morphing into the bruised indigo-violet of evening, and finally night. The meadow nad forest were bathed in abysmal black, and a silence fell that seemed to last for eons. 
Suddenly, the silence was shattered by the hacking parry of a sword. A masculine voice began a taunting, primal chant of name after name: 
Adrian. Adalina. Justine. Armada. Amalia. Hector. Willow. Simon. Gabrielle. Diego. Livvy. Pablo. Theresa. Rubin. Garcia. Helena. Rosa……You. 
Now the sound of a clanging blade grew louder and more jarring; and black powder was spilled over a portrait of a bluish-gray wolf in a purple 18th century waistcoat while a snake hissed. The voice continued to speak echoingly: 
Your great-great-great grandfather, Felipe, Adrian Karnage was born into bloody sin. Masquerading as a privateer to con the Espian government, Adrian was in actuality one of the greatest pirates of the 18th century and sent thousand screaming to watery graves. And yet coming from a wealthy, good-blooded family never satisfied him. Old Adrian did his time at the whorehouse even though he had a harem of female admirers to satisfy him sexually. In 1773 he went against all of their wishes and married an eyeless feebleminded prostitute, Adalina a wolf such as himself; but one who had no legal name or family to speak of. In ’75 Adrian and a pregnant Adalina decided to lay down their roots in Usland, which was an Anglician colony then. Remember? Our dear Karnageport, son? In Usland Adrian and Adalina’s first child was born in ’76, Justine, followed by Amalia and Armada in 1777 and Hector, the precious male in 1781. All were healthy mentally and physically. Hector, Amalia, Armada and Justine all married. That’s why you have your cousins…. 
When Hector married Willow Luftson in 1810 they had one child a year later, Simon. Do you know why Simon was a family disgrace Felipe? He did not follow the family’s legacy in blood! Did not want to kill, did not want to fight, did not lust for females or for money. And I think that made him weak. Insecure. Nevertheless, Simon married in 1844 to an upper-class wolf named Gabrielle Montignac; as was expected of him. Why did you not find a society girl yourself? In 1865 their son Diego fell for Livvy Vivian Barton. Crazy Livvy. The schizophrenic, asylum girl with hell in her eyes; and on her mind. They loved each other so much you know. And Livvy is where the pure red comes from….. And then in 1870 I came along! Oh Felipe I had such a glorious childhood, you simply have no idea; such a romp. My parents and I traveled all over the country all over the world in search of blood, gold, and fortune. We summered in the most respectable and finest cities of the world and in Karnageport we lived like gods! 
In 1884 I began to develop a taste for the females, but they did not like my affection back, pity. When dear old mom and dad found out they had me committed to a sanatorium till ’86. Oh I assure you I hadn’t changed a bit. Just enough to know to mind my tendencies in the face of family and friends. And in public as well…..And then in the summer of 1895 I met your mother. Sweet Theresa. Espian blood, and only eighteen. I lusted for her; and she was so innocent she thought she loved me back. That was also the year I found dear little Luciano to play with. 
The first time I made love to Theresa she said it was the best day of her life. Her exact words, son! In 1898 we tried for children, but she miscarried again and again till early 1904 when YOUR BITCH, YOUR CUNT OF A SISTER WAS BORN! I had to get your mother taken care of; but not before she gave me you and Rosa. 
The shadows parted, to reveal to pulsating, flickering yellow eyes; gaping jaws, a foamy mouth, and a flicking, sausage-y tongue. Then, in a horrible, grossly-articulated moment the mouth open and said in a drawling, grating screech 
“You’re playing with the big boys now….Come and face your dark half…..Son…” 
Fade to crimson. 
 Chapter Seven Edit
Karnage woke from the dream; a silent cry bursting in his throat but never uttered. He shakily raised his head from the pillow to look at his sleeping wife. Grace was muttering nonsense about tuna fish in her sleep, and smacked her lips unconsciously, a puddle of drool spreading across the pillow. 
 Karnage carefully eased himself from the bed, so as not to wake her, and opened a tiny, dust-coated hidden drawer in the nightstand. At the bottom was a fading brass key with a dull pink ribbon around it. Karnage stuffed it in his pocket, closed the drawer, and crept out of the room on tippaw, easing into the hallway feeling around the wall, his night vision being poor. 
 Finally, his paw met the cold steel of the padlock. Victory. Breathing raggedly, Karnage inserted the key into the lock. It opened with a dull click. Carefully easing the door open so it wouldn’t squeal, Karnage crawled inside what had been intended as a large hall closet. 
The space was so cramped barely two adult creatures could stand side by side.Flicking the light switch, the wolf got down on his knees and clasped his paws together, breathing in the faint scent of what appeared to be powdered sugar. Mounted on a round little wooden stool was an old, framed photograph of Helena at age twenty-two. She looked significantly depressed. 
Set on both sides of the photo were two tiny bottles of root beer; Helena’s favorite drink. Karnage had purchased them especially for the furnishing of this memorial; a downgraded and miniaturized version of the one he already had aboard the Iron Vulture. 
“I mees you Lena….” 
He murmured, breathing in that oddly nostalgic smell of powdered sweetness. 
Here, in his shrunken, bejeweled memory palace, Karnage adored his older sister (all the while surrounded by her memory) once more. 
 He missed her. And was enshrining her nearly enough? No. No it wasn’t. 
“You died because of me…” 
Karnage breathed, eyeing Helena’s picture once again, with tears. In the past few years he had been a failure; to his crew, to Rosa, and especially Leo, Alice and Grace. Too jaded and deeply distressed to even begin to consider his wife and children, Karnage sighed as he pictured his revolver in his mind’s eye. He knew what he had to do. 
 ~ 
 Grace flinched as the alarm clock rang. She glanced at the time. 1:38. Dull pains shot through her stomach as she looked around and realized that her husband was not beside her; nor was he in the bathroom. The same fear Karnage must have felt for her now coursing through her own blood, Grace sat up in bed, dull pains coursing through her abdomen, cursing. 
“Felipe?” 
She called uncertainly, staring into the gloom. 
Out in the hallway, Karnage froze, hurriedly locking up the shrine. 
“I’m here, querida!” 
He called back, a hint of nervousness betraying him. 
“Where?” 
Grace staggered out of bed and into the hall, the cramps continuing. Seeing her husband in the pitch-dark hallway, standing nervously over that one locked closet door, Grace gave him a suspicious once-over. 
“What the hell are you doing?” 
She blurted, unable to control her honest tongue. 
“I have my own way of….Grieving for her.” 
Karnage bit his tongue. 
“Helena?” 
 “Si.” 
Karnage winced, clutching his temple. 
“I need to go for…a long walk, querida. Take care of de kids.” 
Karnage rose and placed his cutlass near Alice’s door so that it would be there when she woke up. Turning to Grace, he forced a nervous smile. She wasn’t buying it. 
“Felipe, no. I wasn’t thinking when I said ‘what the hell are you doing’ And how do I know you’re REALLY taking a walk?” 
Her mind flashed back to those two times in the fall of 1938 when Karnage had attempted suicide, and she gulped. 
“I’ll be back later.” 
He assured her, trying to stay calm. 
“Well I’m still sorry.” 
Grace hung her head. 
“Eet’s not your fault. Eet’s mine.” 
His fault that he couldn’t save Lena. 
“If you insist.” 
Grace hurriedly kissed the wolf on both cheeks. He kissed her back once. 
“Tu es mi Corazon, querida.” 
He whispered breathlessly. 
“I, I’m going back to bed.” 
Grace stammered, gasping as the cramps worsened, but then gradually eased off. 
“Okay, querida.” 
 “Goodnight.” 
 “Buenas noches.” 
Grace stumbled back to the bedroom, hoping to get some sleep. 
 Karnage lingered in the hallway until he was absolutely certain Grace was asleep. Then; he knelt on the carpeted floor for that one false spot, and carefully took his gun from the trapdoor and replacing it. 
 The wolf closed the bedroom door gently behind Grace and sat on the landing, trembling and staring at the barrel of the gun. He wasn’t even sure anymore who the devil on his left shoulder and the angel on his right was. 
 Gasping for breath, Karnage positioned the gun between his eyes, intending to pull the trigger, but dropped the weapon before he could. Helena, pallid and ghostly watched him from the shadows, wearing a bloody and dirt-stained chemise and drawers. She giggled. 
“You’re a coward!” 
Then, like a devilish night wind, Helena disappeared on the summer breeze. Putting his face between his paws, Karnage gritted his teeth and wondered if Helena was his angel or his demon. 
Abbington had been dozing fitfully in his bedroom when the phone rang. It took him several seconds to become aware of this; a heavy sleeper. It was somewhere late night or very early morning when he awoke, judging by the shafts of black creeping in through the slanted blinds (Abbington always slept with his bedroom lights on, having a terrible fear of the dark) 
“Hello? This is Norman Abbington….” 
He slurred, reaching for the telephone on his bedside table. 
“Ahh, hello Mr. Director. So I see I’ve caught you awake….I’m sorry to have caught you at such an unfortunate hour, but you see I have a very long and very…demanding workday here at Khan industries. Can you meet me at my estate uptown?” 
 “Where is it?” 
Abbington rummaged through the drawer of his solid ebony nightstand and produced a pad and pencil. Khan rattled off the street; and the jackal hurriedly wrote it down. 
“Thank you, sir.” 
 “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Abbington. I hope to see you soon.” 
The silkiness in Khan’s voice was barely audible as he quietly hung up. Abbington however, glanced down at his creased pajama shirt and boxers with a sneer of distaste, and hurried off to change into clothes more appropriate for meeting with the head of a million-dollar corporation, stuffing the address into his pocket when he did. 
 Just as the CBI director was about to leave home and hail a cab uptown, his phone rang AGAIN. Getting slightly annoyed, Abbington answered (now fully awake) 
“Hello?” 
There was blaring static, and the sound of cars in the background. Abbington flinched. He instantly recognized the voice that would reply: 
“Norman?” 
It was sleazy, young, gravelly, and very intoxicated. Abbington would recognize that voice anywhere: His prodigy and top agent; a 36-year-old silver fox named Liam Alexander Porter. Although he had a stable home life with his wife Virginia, Porter also had a drinking problem, and frequently could be seen in dark corners of his basement, typing out graphic poetry and short stories with his dusty typewriter. Those who knew Porter said he was part madbeast, part genius, and part pure cypher. Abbington agreed with this logic wholeheartedly, but he would never admit this aloud to his #1 student. 
“Oh. Hello Ports!” 
Abbington was simply trying to jab at Porter, knowing he hated any form of nickname bestowed upon him. 
“Do not call me Ports! I detest that!” 
Porter growled in his signature old-fashioned speech. 
“I know.” 
Abbington rolled his eyes. 
“So where the hell are you, Porter? And why are you calling me?” 
 “At present I am outside a bar on Main Street; using the appropriate pay phone. Do you want to drink with me?” 
Abbington hesitated. Main Street was one of the blocks he’d have to cross to get uptown, and Khan would probably give him plenty of time in advance. So a drink with his buddy Ports for old time sake was not completely out of the question. 
“I’ll be right there. What bar?” 
“The….Rusty duck.” 
Porter slurred. 
“Thanks. I’ll see you.” 
 “Good evening.” 
Porter hung up. 
 ~ 
 Abbington hailed a cab and walked to Main Street. By then it was starting to drizzle, a welcome sight in Cape Suzette’s summer heat. Abbington stuck to himself on the left side of the street, passing by the pay phone he thought Porter may have called him from, and stared up at the visage that was the Rusty Duck: A former speakeasy, it was a hulking brownstone building built at the turn of the century, and was not aging well. A whitewashed sign at the mahogany-and-brass door read: OPEN! And listed their Wednesday hours. (Abbington was under the assumption that it was either still August 29th, or somebody had forgotten to change the sign) Nonetheless, he pushed open the door and entered. 
“Abbington! Over here!” 
And there Abbington saw Porter, at the center of the bar, sitting on a stool in front of the slick mahogany counter, slurping a beer and burping drowsily. The jackal winced. Porter was not a pretty sight while drunk. 
“Coming!” 
He called, and ran to sit beside the fox. 
 Liam Porter was broad-shouldered, stocky and somber of face, with dispassionate brown eyes that gleamed cold like polished bronze. Now that he was drunk as he was, they were coated with a dull, crystalline glaze, and there was a slump in his shoulders and neck. His naturally bluish-silver fur was well groomed, and he was dressed in a khaki suit with a beer-stained, off-white shirt; and a loose forest green tie. His pants were a little old-fashioned, and his shoes seemed more from the 20’s. 
“So, Porter, how art thou?” 
Abbington quipped in an offhanded attempt to mimic the fox’s speech. Porter did not approve, and glared, taking a long drink. 
“I shall have another!” 
He said, and triumphantly raised a ring finger when the bartender asked him if he would have what would be his tenth drink. When asked if he wanted anything, Abbington said he would have champagne. 
 While waiting for his drink, the jackal decided to lean across the glossy counter and talk business with Porter. 
“You know, before I go any further you’re gonna have a real nasty hangover in the morning.” 
Porter did not respond. 
“Anyway, on with business. Right now I’m working with believe it or not, Shere Khan.” 
 “Shere Khan?!” 
Porter stopped drinking and stared at Abbington with bulging eyes. 
“The one and the same. Does the name Don Karnage ring a bell to you Porter?” 
The fox nodded mutely. 
“Indeed it does.” 
He said in a hushed stage whisper. 
“Now what I have here, is an opportunity to not only turn in Karnage, but get in quite the reward- at least, that’s what Shere Khan has been hinting at, if I go along with his orders. Would you be interested in….sharing the reward money?” 
A million possibilities flashed through Porter’s head. Abbington grinned. 
“…….Yes.” 
He breathed. 
“So, you wanna go with me to Khan’s place then?” 
 “Indeed I will.” 
 “Y’see, Porter, the deal only gets better if you stick with me.” 
Here Porter just rolled his eyes, but got up and paid for them both. 
“Do we walk? Or take a cab?” 
 “Nah, walk. We’re not that far from uptown.” 
Porter wiped some alcohol off his muzzle, and started muttering lines from his latest poem under his breath. Abbington wasn’t sure if he liked the sly grin on his face or not. But whatever. That was Porter for you. 
 So Abbington and Porter continued their journey uptown, but not before Abbington spent a decent amount of time getting Porter (mostly) sober, which was not easy. Eventually though, they were strolling through Cape Suzette’s infamously pricey historic district, and then onwards to the generally upscale part of town before reaching….The Khan estate. Abbington felt dazed just standing outside of it. A hulking brownstone eyesore; it was designed with an arrogant gothic architecture in mind, with semi oval-shaped, black glass windows, a spiraling gray shingled roof, and a stylish oaken door with two tiger’s head knockers. 
The manor had been residence to the whole family of misers and robber barons since the 1830’s. 
“The history certainly shows.” 
Abbington muttered as he glanced up at it. 
“Beautiful architecture, Norman. The 1830’s was such a beautiful time in Cape Suzette, I’ve heard.” 
 “Apparently so.” 
 “I assume we go in now.” 
Porter straightened his lapels and took a few awkward steps forward, still slightly tipsy. 
“Hey, easy there, Ports.” 
Abbington reached to steady the fox. He dodged his higher-up’s paw easily and shot him an icy glare. 
 Porter beat the jackal to the steps, commandeered the knocker, and rapped on the door twice with gusto just as Abbington came rushing up to join them. 
A decrepit old squirrel in a wheelchair, (apparently the butler) got the door for them. Staring at the prospective visitors queerly, he paused a moment to polish his delicate spectacles, and then said in a croaking voice: 
“So, visitors. You’ve come to see Mr. Khan?” 
 “Yes, yes we have.” 
Abbington said briskly, shoving in front of Porter, trying to make a good impression on the servant, so as not to alarm him. (As Porter still looked a little intoxicated) 
“Enter.” 
“Thank you sir.” 
Porter said graciously, bowing like a gentlebeast. The butler wheeled himself over to the door, opened it wider so they could enter, and Porter eased in, with Abbington fast in his wake. 
 Abbington gave himself a moment to take in the entry hall of Khan’s mansion. It was not very remarkable, but it featured a narrow, jutting set of mahogany stairs that led up to a second floor, with what seemed to be a parlor and a dining room parallel to it. The wallpaper was grossly old-fashioned; and a gaudy blue color. Abbington secretly found this humorous, having assumed a rich beast like Shere Khan would have wanted a more extravagant-looking front room at least. 
“Oh, my word. Visitors!” 
The butler called, picking a little brass bell up from a nearby table and ringing it vigorously. 
“Excellent. You’ve shown them in?” 
Shere Khan’s voice echoed from somewhere. 
“Indeed I have.” 
 “Very good. I will be in my drawing room.” 
The butler disappeared into the parlor to the left, and it seemed Porter and Abbington were on their own. 
 Abbington darted up the stairs and followed the sound of Khan’s voice to its source, while Porter followed behind him. 
 Khan’s drawing room turned out to be little more than a sitting room. It had lush medium-green wallpaper, with matching moldings. A red velvet antique fainting couch was set aside against the left wall, alongside it a maple table with a ledger labeled: STOCKS: FIRST, SECOND QUARTER on it. Abbington was not surprised- Khan had been one of the few business CEOs to stay afloat back during the Depression; it seemed everyone else had been losing it all and losing it fast. 
The windows were done sash-style, and the carpet was the cover of dark wine. A bookshelf partially blocked one of the windows, and Khan himself was seated at a maple rolltop desk, smiling enigmatically as the two CBI representatives entered. 
“Hello, gentlebeasts. So I see you’ve finally decided to arrive. How are you both?” 
 “Quite well.” 
Porter smiled cordially. 
“Fine.” 
Abbington answered himself, sitting down on the couch. Porter preferred to stand, and did. 
“Let’s get straight to business, shall we?” 
Khan prompted. 
“Yes please!” 
Abbington gratefully responded. 
 No comment from Porter, who was zealously going through the books on the shelf. 
“So how did you first get involved with Karnage?” 
Abbington inquired. 
Khan shrugged. 
“I was unfortunate enough to make a few….Bad deals with him several years ago. All of which I infinitely regret. He is now my utmost enemy. You’re aware of his…Gruesome deeds, I would assume?” 
 “Most certainly.” 
 “Now Mr. Abbington, Mr. Ahh….” 
 “Porter. Liam Alexander Porter.” 
Porter called eloquently from his bookshelf. 
“Mr. Abbington, Mr. Porter, I am in dire need of somebeast to hunt down Karnage and turn him in to the authorities. Would either of you be willing? The reward is quiet sufficient I would hope….” 
Porter stepped forward. 
“And how much will you offer?” 
Khan smiled slyly. 
“Would five grand be too much?” 
“We shall do it!” 
 “We’ll do it!” 
Abbington and Porter both cried in unison. 
“Very well. Both of you may leave now if you see fit.” 
Khan continued. 
“I will continue to brief you on the details of your mission over the course of today. In the meantime…. Enjoy the remainder of your evening, and hopefully get a good night’s sleep.” 
He chuckled briefly at Porter. 
“Goodnight men.” 
 “Good evening.” 
 “Good night.” 
Abbington left the room first, but Porter lingered. 
“Mr. Khan?” 
 “Yes?” 
“I do not trust you.” 
And with that, the fox scampered out. Even while Abbington himself was currently debating whether or not they should trust Khan, the tiger did not yet know this yet. All he knew now was that he’d reeled in Abbington and Porter (he was sure the fox’s insecurities could easily be dealt with, with a few little magic tricks here and there) to a t. Hook, line and sinker. 
Dawn came in crimson, peach and lesser lavender. Shafts of amber glow crept from the windows and onto Grace’s pillow as she rested, half-asleep beside her husband. Karnage lay with his back to her, licking his right paw out of habit and sobbing quietly. Hearing the noise, Grace yawned and stretched. 
“Felipe?” 
Karnage tried to silence himself but failed. 
“Felipe what’s wrong?” 
More awake, Grace wiped morning drool off her muzzle and struggled into a sitting position against the headboard. 
“Mierda…” 
He cursed. 
“I’m so-sorry. I was not meaning to keep you awake….” 
The wolf stammered, continuing. 
“You weren’t. Is everything ok?” 
Now that she was awake, Grace’s voice was heavy with concern. 
“No. I made you a promise….A long time ago.” 
Grace strained to remember and felt like an idiot when she couldn’t. 
“What, what was it?” 
 “Uh…..” 
 “What, that you’d never, uh…leave me?” 
 “Si.” 
 “What happened?” 
Grace wrapped an arm around his shoulder. 
“I thought about…..” 
Karnage’s voice trailed off ominously and he cried. 
“Querida, help me por favor….” 
He muttered through his sobs. 
 Grace forced herself now, to ask: 
“What were you doing last night?” 
The wolf curled into a fetal position on the bed. 
“I had a gun een my paws…..Help me…..” 
“H-how?” 
Grace felt like an idiot who could do nothing, and a powerless one at that. She was not pitying herself at all, simply outraged at herself for her incompetence. 
“Could you please…Get Melina? Tell her….Eet’s an emergency. Eet’s vida y muerde.” 
Grace kissed him quickly. 
“I will.” 
Upon finding the phone book collecting dust beneath the bed, Grace scrambled to the phone and shakily dialed. 
 Melina Davidson Barnhart was out of the room when the phone rang; she was in her bedroom at the time, wincing as she put iodine on a rug-burned elbow. 
“Melina, phone!” 
Hal’s rough voice carried up to her from the living room (He was home sick today with a lingering summer virus) 
“I’ll be right there Hal!” 
The panther yelled, and flew down the stairs, clad in a delicate yellow housedress, with her paws jammed into the pockets as she thought. Jobs were a bit sporadic in Southshire, and Melina had been in and out of work the past seven years because of this; her current job of all things being, a night secretary at a business office downtown, and it was often difficult to work AND raise her three-year-old son. 
 Entering the kitchen, she saw Eli sitting on the floor and playing some imaginary game with his toy trains, cowboy action figures, and army tanks, and had to smile. In the living room, Hal was sprawled on the couch with the phone, looking alarmed as he muttered reassuring words into the receiver. 
“It’s for you.” 
A look of fear flashed across his face as he handed Melina the phone. 
“Hello? Hello?” 
At first, there was nothing but static, but soon a frantic, familiar voice rasped 
“Melina?” 
Melina embarrassingly wondered if she sounded like a terrified but happy schoolgirl as she whispered: 
“G-Grace?” 
More static. 
“Grace, tell me you’re not calling about…..?!” 
Melina’s pulse throbbed, and her breath heaved. 
“Melina it’s a matter of uh… Vida y muerde. Look, I have to go, but come to my house. Please.” 
The line went dead. 
 Hal shakily rose from the couch and joined his trembling, sheet-pale wife. 
“Melina, Melina what’s wrong honey?” 
He worriedly put an arm around her shoulder. 
“K-K-Karnage……suicidal….AGAIN…. emergency!” 
 “Again, whaddya mean again?” 
Hal’s eyes widened in shock but he already thought he knew. He was well-aware of the mysterious throat wound Karnage had gotten in the fall of 1938, but had known better than to ask, thinking “It ain’t your business, stay out of it.” There had been quite a lot of negative, nervous gossip about it for a while but Hal, not wanting to start trouble had stayed out of that. Ironically, for a while Hal had had quite a backstabbing relationship with the wolf, and even before they’d had a more distant interaction, the cat had joked with the most intelligent company he could find in their dorms that maybe Karnage was some kind of shadow or cipher; a creature of the darkness, mysterious, elegant, unknown. 
“Hell, maybe someday he’ll just disappear!” 
He had roared at the time, slapping his knee and gasping with the humor of it. 
Then, cold beer (chilled in a bucket of ice) had been passed around, and they’d all drank to another successful day of plundering. That had been July of 1937, Hal’s first summer as an Air Pirate, and it was a day now he wouldn’t forget. Feeling irredeemably ashamed for what he’d said and done, Hal just shook his head and held up a paw for Melina to continue. 
“Hal, really, I have an emergency with Captain Karnage and his family! I have to go!” 
More like a cheetah than a panther, Melina was out of the living room and bounding through the kitchen. Hal went after her, wincing a little as he did. 
“Look, Melina I don’t care, if it’s this bad just go, okay? Even if I’m sick I’ll stay home and take care of Eli. You got my word.” 
 “Thank you Harold…Thank you so much….” 
Melina wept openly. 
 Hal swallowed. He knew it was big when Melina called him by his full name. 
“I’ll see you hon.” 
They hugged, neither being concerned about Hal’s possible contagiousness (although it soon became known that he wasn’t contagious after all), and Melina blew her husband a hasty kiss before running out onto the sidewalk. 
 Now alone, Hal trudged back to the kitchen where Eli was standing on the floor, a look of a child’s confusion on his face. 
“Daddy why did mommy leave?” 
 “Ahh, mommy’s busy right now. She’ll be back later. C’mon champ, you wanna play with these?” 
He held up one of Eli’s little wooden toy cars. The kitten squealed happily. 
“Okay daddy!” 
With Eli, life was simple. He just needed someone to play with him, love him, and put him to bed every night and that was all it took for him to be happy. As he sat down on the kitchen floor and played car racing with his son, Hal bitterly wished things could be the same for him again. 
 ~ 
Just over ten minutes later, Melina ran up to the front steps and banged on the door. It was flung open almost immediately by Grace. Because she and Hal were both traditionally early risers, and there was still plenty of morning left, it was jarring to Melina to see Grace still in her pajamas; especially as frazzled and disoriented as she looked- the dog’s fur seemed to jut out at odd angles, and there was a look of harrowed fear in her eyes, but given the circumstances it was very appropriate. 
“Grace? Take me to your husband.” 
Melina blurted embarrassedly, unable to control herself. 
“Come on. Felipe’s upstairs, I just stepped away for a minute to get the door.” 
Hurriedly, Grace ushered Melina in and followed her up the stairs to the second floor. They walked in frightened silence to the bedroom, where Grace quietly knocked on the closed door. 
A muttered answer was received, and Grace cautiously eased the door open, breathing raggedly. 
 Karnage was sitting on the side of the bed quietly, the bed sheets messy and rolled back, revolver in his mouth, and a finger on the trigger. 
“FELIPE!” 
Grace screamed, and she and Melina ran to him (though at this point it was a miracle, thankfully, that Alice and Leo were still asleep) 
 Grace was gasping now, and her heart was throbbing in her chest. She almost felt paralyzed as Melina kept going forward. Grace forced herself to move on and sat on Karnage’s right side with Melina on his left. 
“Captain….. I’m here….Please, give me the gun…Please.” 
Before Grace could act, Karnage slowly withdrew the gun by himself. 
“Melina….I asked for you…” 
 “Yes, I know you did.” 
 “Felipe, listen to her….” 
Grace urged, breathing raggedly. 
 Melina extended a shaking paw for the gun. Karnage’s paws shook as he turned it over. Melina took a few heaving breaths as she unloaded it. 
 Grace was standing now and weeping softly. 
I’m such a damned incompetent I doubt I can save my own husband! 
 She thought ashamedly, but didn’t say. Grace collapsed to the floor, a shivering heap of dark fur, and passed out. 
 Chapter Eight Edit
Grace woke slowly with leaden eyelids. There was a vague pain her stomach, but soon it faded just as quickly as she could acknowledge it was there. As soon as her vision cleared, Grace saw she was in the guest bedroom, in the solid rock maple bed she’d had since 1925 when moving to Cape Suzette for school. The analog clock mounted on the wall declared it was 10:13 (am of course) Turning her head and sitting up, Grace acknowledged the bland, slate-gray wallpaper covering the walls and tried to remember what it was like before. 
 Then it came to her. Grace vividly remembered sitting on her knees beside a bucket of paint in June of 1939 (By then she was well aware her pregnancy was coming to an end), immersed in her own hope for the future and healthy children as she carefully painted fairy tale characters and fanciful beings onto the wall with a very unprofessional artist’s paw. This was where the kids had lived for the first two and a half years of their life; until their parents considered them old enough for separate bedrooms, and then, less than a year later, the cribs were sold (although now Grace was beginning to wish she’d kept at least one) 
 When the nursery was converted into a guest bedroom (But it seemed now that it would return to its original use for a while), it had been a team effort, and Grace and Karnage had painted it over together, although she constantly heard her husband muttering under his breath how all that gray paint was ruining his magnificent fur! 
Karnage. Suddenly realizing she’d been distracting herself with this random, archived memory, Grace flinched as the door was carefully eased open and a shy-looking Melina entered, carrying a faded green duffel bag, the kind you take on distant camping trips. Except a sword handle protruded from the center of this bag, and Grace knew from the rattling of wood and steel at the bottom that it also contained daggers and guns as well. 
“Grace?” 
 “Yeah?” 
Grace shakily got off the bed but soon regained her footing. 
“As you can see, I’ve put anything that could be used as a weapon right now in here.” 
 “Where are you taking those?” 
Grace felt guilty almost the second a slight note of hostility crept into her tone. 
“Please forgive me for invading your privacy… I had to search through all your drawers and closets.” 
Grace mouthed the word ‘carpet’ 
Melina nodded wordlessly. 
“Your husband told me while I was looking. But I want to keep him safe as much as you do. I’ll keep them in storage at my house for you.” 
And of course, the panther planned to do so in places where Eli’s curious wanderings would never take him. 
“Please, for all of our sake just do it.” 
Grace sighed. 
“I will.” 
Melina vowed solemnly. 
“Can’t even take care of my own husband….” 
Grace muttered under her breath, remembering her unspoken words from before. 
Melina hugged her, and all was silent until Alice entered, in white pajamas with a fragile pattern of dark fuchsia flowers. She was far too young to understand the situation; but had woken up 20 minutes before because a fly had landed on her muzzle. 
 Melina hadn’t wanted to tell Alice the full story, but didn’t want to sugarcoat it for her either, so she simply told the young wolfdog that all the weapons were being taken out of the house. She was carrying her father’s cutlass, the very last weapon (the sword in the bag had been Diego’s rapier), in a rarely-seen sheath over her left shoulder. 
“Melina, don’t forget this!” 
She tugged on the panther’s skirt with urgency. 
“I can put it in your car myself.” 
Grace smiled and went to her daughter. 
“You go do that, baby.” 
She hugged Alice. 
 Grace waited until Alice had gone to drop off the sword before turning to Melina once again. 
“….Do you think I’m a good wife?” 
She asked honestly, doubting her own abilities. 
“I’m not trying to wade around in this damned self-pity, and I already have enough….But….Sometimes I doubt myself.” 
 “I do, Grace!” 
 “Why do you think that?” 
 “You love your family more than anything!” 
Grace knew Melina was right. Acknowledging this, she said: 
“You know….You’re really right about that.” 
She smiled shyly. 
 They hugged briefly. 
“So…How is Felipe?” 
 “He’s still unconscious” 
Grace gulped. 
“Can we be alone together?” 
 “Yes, Grace.” 
 “Thank you.” 
Melina smiled a bit, though lightly under the circumstances. 
“You’re welcome, my friend. Captain Karnage isn’t just my captain, he’s one of my closest friends. So are you.” 
She said, sincerely. They talked for a few minutes more before Melina left, respectfully leaving Grace to her own business. Grace meanwhile, went into her and Karnage’s bedroom in silence. 
The wolf was sitting in bed, unmoving. His eyes were glazed and unfocused. Had she not known any better Grace might have accused him of being drunk. But now, fighting back tears, Grace went beside him. Karnage whimpered. 
“I know we’re doing de right thing.” 
 “I know.” 
Grace quietly murmured, half to herself. She kissed him tearfully. 
“I don’t ever want to lose you.” 
She added moments later. 
“De other half of my heart…Querida I’m sorry. I needed help.” 
 “I…I know you did. But how long will you be like this? Tell me honestly.” 
Karnage found himself unable to give her anything resembling a direct answer. 
“I….I am confuzzled.” 
He said simply, partly frustrated, partly exasperated with his own actions. The wolf hugged Grace then, crying. Grace hugged him back, crawling over from the other side of the bed and going limp in his arms. 
“I’ll take care of the kids, ok?” 
 “Okay.” 
Karnage kissed her. 
Grace laid her head in his lap for a moment and both were silent. Eventually, they curled up together in an odd fashion mostly resembling two overlapping c’s. And it wasn’t even 11 yet. 
Abbington awoke late, around 10:30, to his telephone ringing. He cussed, half-asleep but answered anyway. 
“Norman Abbington of the CBI. This would be?” 
 “Porter.” 
Abbington scowled. 
“What now Ports?” 
 “I am at the Rusty Duck once again. I have just been dismissed due to lack of funding.” 
 “So you were thrown out because you ran out of money?” 
 “Correct.” 
This was a typical situation for Porter to be in. Abbington heaved a sigh. 
“And why are you calling me?” 
 “I have found something that is most interesting if you could simply meet me here. Please?” 
 “Porter, is it something REALLY important?” 
Porter was REALLY getting excited now. Abbington blinked and tried to figure out why. 
“Yes! Oh yes I swear it is. Good day Norman.” 
 “Yeah good day to you too Ports.” 
With a sigh, Abbington hung up. Seeing as he had gone to bed fully clothed last night and saw no need to change into a new suit and pants, he simply put on a new tie instead and glanced at the August calendar mounted on his wall. He had no real tasks to oversee at the CBI headquarters at the moment, so it seemed he was stuck with Porter this month. Amazing. 
 With a sigh, Abbington trudged off to see what it was Porter was so eager to show him. 
Porter had changed into a plain brown suit and matching pants since the events of that dusk, but it had done him little good- his current clothes were also torn and stained with alcohol. He sat on a wooden bench outside the Rusty Duck, a moody expression on his face, face in his paws. A crumpled piece of paper was clutched between his paws, and the fox’s face lit up as Abbington sat beside him. 
“What do you have there, Ports?” 
Porter gave Abbington his trademark glare but continued anyway. 
“It is…That particular object I mentioned to you over the telephone. I hope you’ll find it interesting; I found it at the top of the trash can.” 
Porter slowly unfolded the paper. It was very wrinkled, and covered with grease stains and ripped around the edges. It was a more modern version of posters for wanted outlaws of the bygone days of the old west, and at the center was a fairly recent-looking photograph of Don Karnage, and the wolf’s face was the living epitome of suave, yet lawless arrogance. Abbington did not pay much attention to the rest of the poster (which had a 1937 date), because just above Karnage’s name were a few choice words in a bold typeface. These were: 
 WANTED, DEAD OR ALIVE 
 20,000 
 Abbington gave a low whistle. 
“20,000? So that’d be 70,000 total if we bring in Karnage! But Ports, are you really suggesting that we try and kill him? Then you must be really nuts.” 
 “I am not suggesting either. But either one would work.” 
 “Right, right…..” 
70,000 dollars was an astronomical amount of money, and Abbington had no idea what he’d ever do with that much as they trudged uptown to Khan’s office once again while Abbington concocted new ways of attempting to get Porter to stay partially sober. 
In the dream, Grace recalled the evening clearly. It had been a humid August evening earlier this summer, Karnageport had been baking in the mid-90’s, and she’d been sitting alone on the docks above the local Damien River, which fed into the distant and frigid Alaric Ocean, specifically at a snobbish yacht club across the street from the hotel (shortly after Alice and Leo had gone to bed). Gazing down at the murky grayish water with its undertones of blue and green, Grace was only mildly started as Karnage joined her on the rough wooden surface. 
Grace had felt self-conscious in her tattered, Cape Suzette-era cocktail dress, and her string of fading pearls rattled as she moved over. After taking one last moment to stare into the dancing lights of snobs partying at the small restaurant across the causeway, Grace burst into a jubilant smile and kissed her husband passionately, after which they burst into a spontaneous duet of Go Hide your Face Mr. Moonbeast, a popular song from 1911 by Nora Bates and Jack Norwich: 
“When the moon is shining yellow, and a girl is with her fellow, both are getting nice and mellow…It’s a surprise to find if the moon-beast should discover, sweethearts meeting undercover. Can you blame that girl and lover if they say turn off that light? Turn off your light Mr. Moon-beast, go and hide your face behind the clouds! Can’t you see the couples want to spoon, man? Two is company and three’s a crowd!” 
They’d howled out in unison, then both had burst out laughing. 
“I might be a little tipsy.” 
Grace warned afterward, and hiccupped, still managing to look not TOO awful in the summer moonlight. In the end, they’d kissed again. 
 Surprisingly, all of this had actually happened and had not been a dream, so why Grace had dreamed of that particular night, she did not know. 
“This sure as hell is a strange pregnancy….” 
She mused aloud (recalling her mood swings and strange new tastes in food), wincing and clamping a paw over her mouth as soon as the words escaped her mouth. 
“Sorry.” 
She sighed and winced at Karnage, next to her, who seemed to be half-asleep. He whimpered. 
“Felipe?” Grace gave him a worried look. 
 No answer. The wolf just moved over in bed a little and Grace doubted herself, wondering if he was still asleep after all. 
 Raising her voice a little, she asked: 
“As dumb a question as this is are you still…..?” 
Karnage shuddered and hugged Grace tightly. 
“I am not going to fail you or de keeds.” 
Grace’s mouth was still dry as she said the words: 
“So you’re not going to uh….?” 
Her voice trailed off embarrassingly. 
 Karnage kissed her, hugging her back. 
“No. I swear.” 
Grace kissed him back without a word, and in an instant soon the two left the stuffy, moderately-humid bedroom to continue their conversation in the privacy of the (thankfully cooler and airier) downstairs. 
 As they sat on the pale pink, dust-collecting sofa, Grace glanced nervously at Karnage. “Can I talk to you about something?” 
He smiled nervously. 
“Si, querida! Anything.” 
“What made you change your mind about….?” 
Karnage suddenly lost his nerve, unable to keep up his mirage any longer. Tears beaded in his eyes and he went to his knees on the floor, crying quietly. Grace got down beside him, gasping a little in shame. 
“Felipe I’m sorry! Forgive me please….” 
“No. I’m sorry! I realized eet would keel mi familia too, eef I deed eet…..” 
Karnage sobbed, covering his face in his paws. Slowly, Grace licked the side of his muzzle like a puppy. The wolf hugged Grace to him, shaking violently. 
“I still shouldn’t have said that.” 
“But I’m right, querida….” 
Grace offered silence as her agreement. When she finally spoke, she said in a low, frightened whisper: 
“Don’t ever leave me….Please.” 
She looked to Karnage with pleading, scared eyes. 
“I’m a survivor….I know de pain….I was not theenking…” 
“I forgive you.” Grace said, very honestly. 
Karnage pulled Grace into a tight hug and cried on her shoulder, unable to stop shaking, even as Grace gently ran her paws over his fur. 
“Mi familia es mi vida… ?Como pude incluso creo de lastimar a todos ustedes como que?! Lo siento….Lo siento… 
(My family ees my life… How could I even theenk of hurting you all like dat?! I’m sorry….I’m so sorry…) 
“It’s ok, it’s ok…I forgive you…” 
Grace laid herself in his arms. 
Karnage was still trembling as he hugged Grace close. “I know why your family named you Grace…” 
His words trailed off but he continued. 
“You’re an angel from heaven, one of de most precious.” 
In the dusty silence of the suburban living room, they kissed. 
Chapter NineEdit
Not long afterward, in the silent dustiness of the basement, Karnage had quietly requested Melina’s presence. The wolf was standing, half-submerged in soft darkness, his back against the wall, pressed against a flimsy wooden shelf. 
 Melina (at first being visible only thanks to her greenish eyes) descended the stairs into the neutral shadows, gripping the rail as she did. Even at twenty-nine, Melina still had the air of a shy, lost little girl as she called uncertainly into the gloom: “Captain Karnage? You wanted to talk to me?” 
 “Si!” 
Karnage hugged Melina, who had since become his chief medical officer in the seven years they’d known each other. 
“What about?” 
“I’m so thankful for you and Hal!” 
Melina smiled shyly. “Any reason in particular?” 
Karnage cleared his throat. “Melina…De times een de past you you’ve saved my life…..You’re a meeracle worker.” Karnage started sobbing and hugged her close. “Muchas gracias.” 
Melina lowered her voice uncertainly. “Are you still thinking about….What would have happened to Grace and the kids? Or am I prying?” 
“Si.” 
“Which one, thinking about it?” Melina pressed. 
“Si!” Karnage hugged Melina one more time, and she did the same. 
“I….I understand, having a son of my own.” 
Karnage studied her expression with a grim, subtle curiosity, but it was not without its somewhat nervous, aloof tone. “Melina….” He paused. “Have you ever….?” 
Melina froze. She hoped Karnage wasn’t going to ask what she thought he was. “Have I ever what, Captain?” She answered, trying to stay as calm as possible. 
"Have you ever thought about. . .Leaving? And de only thing stopping you was your familia?” Melina could easily tell by the nervousness in Karnage’s voice and the subtle tremble in his whole body that he wasn’t merely talking about exiting the house to walk in the park, but rather, suicide and the grim consequences that went along with it. 
Gulping, she said, speaking honestly: “Yes….Yes I have.” After a long, painfully deathlike pause, Melina asked hesitantly: “Captain may I ask you something?” 
“Si.” 
Melina paused, and did not force the question in any way. “Have you ever considered yourself evil?” 
Karnage himself paused, clearly thinking of the past. 
“More dan once. . . Not outwardly, but on de eenside. . .” 
“Why?” 
“Eet’s confuzzling. De time weeth de lightning gun. . .” 
“What about it?” 
“I never keeled anyone, I was targeting unoccupied buildings.” 
Describing Melina’s reaction as surprise would be putting it mildly. “If you never killed anyone then what was your intent?” 
Karnage swallowed. “My eentent…Was to show dem…..What WE were capable of.” 
So it had only been a show of power; and one that could have gone very awry if not carefully planned and executed (which it had been), and Melina wondered why she hadn’t expected anything less from Karnage. Wondering why he had been so hesitant at first, Melina finally asked: “But have you ever wanted to kill?” 
Here Karnage didn’t pause or cringe at all, only look slightly regretful, however ambiguous it may have been. “Only mi padre. And myself.” Karnage’s last two words were barely whispered. 
Melina’s look was that of fierce loyalty as she glanced the wolf in the eye. “It’ll all work out. I’ll do everything I can, Captain.” 
Karnage turned away to glance at the light emanating (emnatating, spelling error caught 2/22/19) from the great beyond at the top of the dust-coated basement stairs. “Muchas gracias, mi amiga.” And like any other mysterious being, Karnage was soon up the stairs, disappearing into the well-lit upstairs, leaving Melina alone with her puzzled, mysterious thoughts. 
 Grace, meanwhile, was once again sitting on the good couch in the living room, with Leo next to her and Alice sitting on the floor. Both children were tense, but Alice especially, and Leo seemed eerily passive compared to her. 
“I…I want to talk to you both about something.” She wrung her paws out of habit. 
"What, mommy?" Alice shifted uncomfortably on the carpet. 
"Did somebody die?" Leo crowed, looking eerily enthusiastic. 
“Leo!” Grace scolded, with a little more force than she’d intended, and winced. She really wasn’t herself today, but given the circumstances that was acceptable. She swallowed and tried to think of the best thing to tell her children but without sugarcoating it or talking down to them. That was one thing she’d vowed never to do as a parent, so Grace closed her eyes, took a deep breath and said: “Your father…..Tried to join your grandmother today.” 
Alice froze where she was, a look of raw shock and horror emerging on her face. “I’m going to my room.” And with that, she tore out of the living room. 
Grace got off the couch and was in hot pursuit of her daughter. “Alice?? Alice are you okay?” 
Ironically, Karnage saw none of them running- he was outside having a smoke (in the vain hope that it’d at least be a distraction) at the time. 
So Grace was alone as she followed her children, but found herself strangely lethargic and lacking stamina, cursing under her breath as she tried to keep up. 
In her room, Alice had flung herself on the bed and was sobbing uncontrollably, her wooden, painted toy sword beside her. 
“Alice?” Leo entered, the picture of calm. “Why have you got that sword?” 
Alice cringed. She still liked to carry the sword (which she’d gotten for her birthday this year) around like a security blanket although she was aware that apparently only babies did that, thanks to Leo’s teasing. “I’d make sure not to hurt myself, even if babies just carry their toy around. What’s it to you?” 
Leo scrambled up beside her and wiped her eyes. “I’m only doing this because I have to.” 
Alice was puzzled by his remark and would not know for years later what he had meant, but no matter. 
By the time Grace had entered moments later, both children were sitting on the bed and trembling; Leo even had a perfectly-timed expression of fear as he clung to Alice out of the blue. 
Gathering them both into her arms, Grace sighed and held Leo and Alice close to her. “What am I ever going to do with you kids?” And with that, she cried herself. 
Abbington and Porter were roughly halfway to Khan Towers by now, and neither were saying much of anything. Trying to pass the time, Abbington attempted to make some casual talk. 
“So, Ports, where’d you grow up?” 
 “Here.” 
Was Porter’s sullen reply. Abbington could not say the same of himself, having grown up here in the state of Old York, but rather in the eponoymous city of the same name rather than Cape Suzette. 
“Oh.” 
Porter kicked a pebble; it skidded off the curb an into a gutter. He paused to straighten his lapel. 
“My mother died when I was….Not of an age to be remembering her, and my father died at around the same time. Or possibly not. I do not recall. I had a brother, Wallace but he died around…A decade and eight years ago. And, you recall when I joined the Civil Bureau of Investigation and then of course I write the magazine poetry on the side….It is difficult Abbington, but perhaps you would not know.” 
 “Yeah, I guess I wouldn’t.” 
Abbington jammed his paws into his pocket and was silent. He guessed he really didn’t know after all; having been the only child of a middle-class family, and had gone to all the best schools (college included!) and hadn’t even really tried as he’d gone through the various ranks of the CBI. The uncomfortable silence continued to plague them both until they reached the infamous office building and were given permission to enter Khan’s office. 
Khan was sitting at his desk and had just finished up feeding his piranhas when Abbington and Porter entered. 
“Gentlebeasts, gentlebeasts, please sit down.” 
He indicated two fuschia lounge chairs, and they did. 
“Now, your mission will be to find Karnage and bring him to the authorities. You may also do the same for Grace Kane, his wife, in the case of aiding an abetting a fugitive outlaw. Come to think of it, in that case, they both are fugitives. Anyhow, my spies have collected their data and left the area, so this may be of great interest to you both.” 
Khan handed over a thick manila folder with the words TOWN OF SOUTHSHIRE carefully written on it. 
“This is where Karnage is currently living; read the whole thing over carefully. I will give you several days of preparation to search for him, and I heavily recommend one or both of you go to complete the task. Dismissed.” 
Abbington and Porter silently both knew it was better to leave by themselves rather than have Khan call some executive and have them formally thrown out. In the elevator down, an awkward silence reigned once again. Abbington gulped and finally asked: 
“So….Are we going together or is one of us going alone?” 
Porter did not hesitate. 
“Together. Abbington you are a fine teacher, and I have learned much from you….I don’t think I could ever go without your guidance. And that is not flattery.” 
“Thank you.” 
No response from Porter, and the resumed silence gave Abbington more time to think. No, he probably couldn’t take on the mission alone, without the offbeat, melodramatic but nonetheless humorous presence of his very best pupil. 
 Karnage had wandered out onto the porch. Taking one last drag on his cigarette, he set it down in the nearest ashtray and collapsed into a chair, covering his face with his paws and weeping. “I can’t let Grace see me like dees....” 
The wolf lowered one paw, putting it around his neck as though it were a noose and tightening his grip. He closed his eyes. “Eet would be.....so easy....I’m not loco.. Eet’s my fault... I failed dem . . . ” 
He froze as Leo entered the porch. 
“Dad?” 
Leo studied him curiously. 
Karnage slowly lowered his paw. 
“Leo I’m so sorry....I am not knowing what to do...” 
“Dad what happened earlier?” 
Leo took a few steps forward and sat on the nearest chair, across from his father’s. 
Karnage did not even attempt conspiracy. 
“I...I’ve attempted on my life....Suicido.” 
Leo looked a little frightened, but less than one would think. 
“Why?” 
Karnage sighed. 
“I lost someone I loved dearly.....to eet. You never got to meet your aunt.” 
Because he had already heard his parents talking about Helena, Leo tried hard to feign surprise and put on an air of innocence. 
“I didn’t know I had two aunts.” 
Even at this age, he was a flawless actor. 
“You deed once.” 
Leo swallowed. “What was her name?” 
“Helena.” Karnage sobbed the name. 
“Was she abused?” Leo blurted, almost accidentally blowing his cover. He blushed. 
“Si. But how deed you come to be knowing that?” 
“I guessed.” Leo forced a nervous smile. “H…How did she die?” 
Karnage glanced uncertainly at his son, not quite understanding why he suddenly looked so nervous and unsure of himself, but thought better and decided not to bother Leo if it was personal. Continuing, he said: 
“Su tia completado suicido. Disparo a si misma." He translated. "Your aunt completed suicide. She shot herself. . ." "I couldn’t help her.” 
Leo rose and weakly hugged his father. Karnage returned it. 
“Leo…Because of eet. . . I’ve attempted. De pain. . .never leaves. . . All eet leaves ees a permanent wound. Dere are three theengs keeping me here: Mi tesoros.” 
Karnage chose not to say so aloud at the moment, but his treasures just happened to be Grace, and their children (in fact, it soon would be four!) Gently, Karnage hugged his son again. For once, Leo spoke sincerely: 
“I love you dad.” 
Karnage gave a long sigh of regret for all he’d done. 
“Mis tesoros son mi familia.” 
Father and son sat across from each other for a while, neither speaking, before time passed, and both parted. If only Karnage knew how much Leo REALLY knew about his long-gone, deceased aunt Helena….. 
Eventually, Melina left. Grace and Karnage had unanimously agreed that the weapons be returned to the household whenever he was of stable mind once again, and that was that. The remainder of the day crawled by; Grace and Karnage both went to bed by 11:30, but Karnage eventually wandered out to pace the hallway late into the night. When at last he was asleep, Grace remained restless. 
 Eventually, she wandered downstairs into the living room and pawed through her aging record collection until she found what she was looking for: A recording of a 1920 song called ‘Crazy Blues’ by Maggie Smythe and her Jazz Cats. This was what she always listened to when she was stressed or upset, if she even had the time to, so Grace took careful time to sing along with the lyrics: 
“I can’t sleep at night. I can’t eat a bite. ‘Cause the male I love, he don’t treat me right! He makes me feel so blue. I don’t know what to do. Sometimes I sit and sigh, and then begin to cry. ‘Cause my best friend said his last goodbye. There’s a change in the ocean, change in the deep blue sea, my baby. I’ll tell you folks, there ain’t no change in me!” 
By the time she stopped playing records and went to bed, it was 6 am. 
 ~ 
 The following morning, in Cape Suzette, Porter had just left Abbington’s house after reading the Southshire file with him. Attached to the front of the file there had been a letter. It read: 
Dear gentlebeasts,
I am not quite sure if I informed you or not, so I will now: A plan had been in development for a brief time to ransom Karnage’s son Leo. However, this would most likely be too risky an expenditure for you both. I am sure you are both law abiding-creatures, but this would only make you look like lawless mercenaries and so I have wisely omitted it altogether. Please take time to read over the file. I hope it is sufficient for your needs. 
 Cordially, Shere Khan 
P.S: It would benefit greatly if you spoke to the local residents about Karnage and his family before making the arrest (but do not state your true objective); and I would like for you to be as careful as possible when doing it. The last attempt did not go so well, but best of luck to you nonetheless. 
 The file turned out to be extremely thick and filled with photos, newspaper clippings and plenty of public information. They learned that it was in the state of Urbandale, and located along the eastern coastline, where there were plenty of beaches; and seemed like an idyllic hiding place for the likes of Karnage. There were also lists of hotels in or around the neighborhood, and in the end they both settled on two separate rooms at one a few blocks from Karnage’s house, called the Black Diamond. They took a train out of Cape Suzette; and didn’t get to Southshire around six hours later. A hired car met them at the station and dropped them off at the hotel, which turned out to be the FIRST hotel in Southshire and built back in 1898 with a nice, gothic structure to it. 
 The lobby was a large, dome-shaped room with a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, a pale pink carpet patterned with water lilies, and the walls all seemed to be solid mahogany. After they both were done checking in, Abbington strolled over to the window and glanced out at the scenery beyond, giving a low whistle. 
“Welcome to middle-class suburbia!” 
Porter shoved him aside so he could get a look himself, and smiled enigmatically. 
“I myself would quite like to vacation here.” 
 “Yeah, so would I. You bring much?” 
 “Merely this.” 
Porter indicated his battered green suitcase, and shook his head. 
“Yeah, well let’s both go unpack I guess. What room’d you get?” 
 “234.” 
 “I got 239. See you later.” 
 “Afternoon.” 
After unpacking, they met again in Porter’s room to go over their plan on how to present themselves in Southshire- (Abbington had had to check himself in under a false name, but since Porter wasn’t particularly well-known in Urbandale, he was allowed to enter ‘as himself’) Porter’s room had a single bed, a radio, a few plants, a couch (as well as a chipping blue wallpaper) but that was it, however it WAS fairly nice. At the moment Abbington was sprawled on the couch engrossed in a newspaper but managed to converse with Porter at the same time. 
“So, Ports, how are we gonna handle this one?” 
He asked casually. 
 Porter gritted his teeth. 
 I shall not lose my temper in front of Abbington. I shall not lose my temper in front of Abbington. 
 So he ended up, rather calmly, saying: 
“We cannot pretend to be from the census- the last one was five years ago and there shall not be another until 1950.” 
Damnit. 
 Abbington winced; unable to believe he’d forgotten this. 
“Well, maybe we can interview some residents and say we’re doing a survey of SOME sort.” 
 “That survey being?” 
Porter regarded him with amusement, as though certain that Abbington couldn’t possibly come up with better ideas than he could. 
“Maybe how they feel about living in Southshire, and about the Karnages? Ports, we’re only going to interview a handful of creatures; it’s not like they’ll know.” 
Porter gave this some thought before exclaiming 
“Capital!” 
And so, in earnest, the interviews began. Abbington and Porter conducted them casually, as they walked the streets, and it turns out there were quite a few suspicious, belligerent neighbors who were willing to donate information about the Karnages: In the point of view of said residents, Karnage and his wife seemed like a strange couple whenever they went out in public due to being bizarrely secretive, especially about what Karnage did for a living. They also seemed extremely reclusive, if not overly-protective (in view of some) of their two children. Abbington carefully recorded this down on a notepad before going back to meet Porter at the hotel. It turned out he had similar findings. 
 They had wine together before going back to their respective bedrooms, and so it seemed, the mission had begun. 
 It was not till they got back to the hotel lobby when Porter began to get nervous. There was a nervous tremor in his forepaws, and his teeth were chattering, and there was a look of abject fear in his eyes. As they entered the lobby, Abbington regarded Porter with casual worry. 
“Hey, you all right?” 
 “No….I believe we….Misplaced something.” 
 “What?” 
Porter was digging through the oversized leather satchel he’d been carrying with him during the interviews. 
“I….I think I disremembered one of our profiles.” 
Abbington thought back, swallowing hard. After the interviews had been done, they’d had time to rest briefly and create two extremely makeshift profiles of Grace and Karnage, even though most of it was largely guesswork. Still, if Porter had lost one, they were SCREWED! 
“Which one did you lose?” 
Porter had finished going through his satchel. 
“Grace’s.” 
-
Abbington muttered dryly. 
“Do you remember where?” 
Porter sighed. 
“I do not.” 
 “It….It’s ok; we can always go make another. I think I remember enough.” 
Abbington started to veer off down the hall towards his room, but Porter grabbed him on the shoulder and turned him around first. 
“Do we make our move tonight?” 
The fox’s voice was a low, solemn hiss. 
 Abbington nodded grimly. 
“Yes. We do. Get your ammo ready.” 
 “I shall.” 
And with that, the two hurried back to their separate hotel rooms to ready their guns for the arrest. Just in case. 
 Alice, meanwhile, was sitting on the sidewalk in front of her house, bored. It was a cooler day, and partially cloudy as well. She was annoyed that school would be back in soon, but was happy that the war was over, at least. (even though she was still too young to fully understand why the war had occurred, but that would come with time) At least that also meant no more blackouts, which had gotten boring really fast. In the haze of the summer day, Alice blinked surprisingly as a torn sheet of notepaper drifted towards her on the breeze. Curious, she got up and grabbed it. 
 Flipping it over, she was shocked to notice her mother’s NAME on the paper (Abbington and Porter’s profile), along with a slew of other information as well. Scrawled at the bottom were the names 
 L. Porter and N. Abbington, Civil Bureau of Investigation. 
 And instinctively, Alice knew, through fine-tuned gut instinct that she HAD to tell her parents. She didn’t quite know what, but she had a feeling that something was very wrong. 
“Daddy?” 
Alice wandered onto the porch, where Karnage sat alone. The profile was still clutched tightly in her paw. 
“Hola, Alicia.” 
He said, addressing her by her Spanish name. The wolf managed a dejected smile. 
“Are you okay?” 
Alice went to him. 
“I’m so sorry….For everything I’ve done…” 
Karnage sobbed, speaking of the suicide attempt. 
“It’s ok, daddy…I love you.” 
Alice hugged him gently, and Karnage pulled his daughter onto the chair next to his. 
“Daddy? Can I ask you something?” 
Alice squirmed, suddenly looking nervous as she clutched at her paper. 
“Si!” 
Alice showed her father the profile. Just below Abbington and Porter’s signatures there was a scrawled order: Karnage and his mate (profiled here) are wanted dead or alive by order of the Civil Bureau of Investigation. 
 Karnage’s eyes widened in horror. 
“Alice…We are going eento hiding! NOW!” 
Alice looked visibly terrified. 
“Why?” 
 “Alicia….” 
He swallowed hard. 
“I’ve been de capitan of de Air Pirates seence….Before you were born.” 
“Is that why….?” 
“Si.” 
Alice paused. 
“Daddy? That makes you bad, doesn’t it….” 
Karnage paused even longer in answering. His manner of suave, dashing arrogance was largely a front to distance himself from most of his crew. But still, the wolf’s mind flashed back to the one time eight years ago when he’d let his stubbornness go TOO far, when he had ordered Kit, his former protégé, to be thrown off the Iron Vulture, and then, as though that hadn’t been enough; he’d shot at the bridge that the Sea Duck had been hiding under. Almost immediately afterwards, Karnage (shocked that he hadn’t been thinking) and that he’d done something SO STUPID, had almost jumped off the Vulture’s beak. 
 Only a sheer amount of nervous self-assurance had convinced him not to, and after that, it had been back to shooting weak shots (Ratchet, who fired the actual gun 99% of the time had been baffled by his captain’s two orders, as abstract as they had seemed, that had been given to him earlier in the evening) at abandoned buildings all night. Finished with his brief but painful reminiscence, Karnage turned to his daughter once again, and spoke the truth. 
“Your abuelita….Was a pirate….I took eet up een her memoria… Dat’s de only reason.” 
 “Really?” 
 “Si!” 
 “Daddy is everything going to be ok?” 
Alice asked worriedly. 
“I am hoping….” 
Karnage hugged her once before rising. 
“I have to go talk to your mama.” And with that, he was gone. 
 Chapter Ten Edit
Grace, meanwhile, was sitting in the living room playing records as late-morning sunlight came in through the windows. She drew the curtains as Karnage entered, and before she could even greet her husband he said abruptly: 
“Grace, I know of a place de kids would be safe.” 
 “Safe? Why?” 
Baffled, Grace rose from her chair and turned off the record player. 
“Eef dey’re after us…De words on dis paper read ‘dead or alive’ I’m assuming whoever’s sent after us weel try to keel us. I am not wanting our bambinos hurt!” 
 “Show me.” 
He showed Grace the profile with her name on it, and for a moment she thought she’d black out from the sheer horror of it. 
“What do we do?” 
 “I don’t know…..” 
Frustrated with being unable to think, Grace sat down and massaged her temple. 
Pausing, she quipped: 
“Well, where do YOU want to take the kids?” 
 “I was theenking Higher for Hire.” 
Grace stared at the wolf in disbelief. 
“WHAT?!?!??!?!” 
 “Eet’s de last place dey would expect!” 
 “But I thought you and Baloo were enemies….Though correct me if I’m wrong.” 
She said, adding the last bit for good measure. 
 Karnage shook his head. 
“Dere ees a time when enemies must temporarily put at rest. Now ees such a time.” 
The wolf silently hoped he was making the right decision. Besides, the last time they’d seen each other (seven years ago) he and Baloo had been not quite enemies yet not quite friends though hopefully that state would still be in place by the time they got to Cape Suzette. 
Continuing, he added: 
“Eet’ll be hard because…Senora Cunningham’ll probably pull a gun on me as soon as I step through de door. I don’t want any shooting. Esta es una situcacion de emergencia.” 
This is an emergency situation. 
 Grace herself gave this all some thought. 
“All right but remember….I’m counting on you.” 
She turned to face Karnage, and then walked up to him, solemnly laying a paw on his shoulder. 
“Si, I know.” 
 “But…..Where will you and me be staying?” 
Karnage knew of an isolated island apparently just west of Karnageport (But supposedly hidden); called Thunder Island that had been one of his ancestor Adrian’s old haunts, where apparently he’d buried treasure. Karnage himself had doubts of whether the island existed, so he did not mention it to Grace, and instead mentioned what they’d most likely be doing during the entire escape: 
“We’ll be….Motel hopping for a few nights. And een case we get into a firefight….” 
Here he sighed. “We weel be needing our weapons, yes-no?” 
 “Yeah, and I need my revolver.” 
 “Dey’re probably tracing our phone lines….”Karnage grimaced. “I’m going to see Melina.” “I’ll do it.”Grace kissed him unexpectedly. 
“Muchas gracias.” 
“You’re welcome.” 
Twelve minutes later, Grace knocked at the Barnhardt's door, and when Melina Barnhardt answered, Grace didn’t miss a beat in getting straight to the point. Clearing her throat, she said in a voice of forced calm: 
“Hi, can I get our weapons back?” 
 “I know, we’re getting them now.” 
Being psychic, Melina had expected Grace’s initial question. Giving the dog a brief hug, she darted back into the house. Minutes later, Hal emerged carrying a hefty burlap sack with both paws, a rattling sound came from within. 
“Be careful, Grace. I loaded all your guns.” 
Leaning back to within the house where Eli was taking a nap, Hal felt his stomach churn. 
“Say, are your kids all right?” 
Grace forced a nervous smile. 
“Yeah… They’ll be fine.” 
At this time, Melina emerged carrying a smaller bag containing dagger and swords. 
“Good luck.” 
Grace hugged both felines, and soon found herself returning home. Karnage was wandering around the kitchen, leaning on the counter when she entered and deposited the bags on the floor. 
“Felipe…Don’t lie: Can I trust you with all this?” 
She indicated the sharp objects and blunted handles that just barely managed to poke out of the bags. 
 Karnage went through the bags a moment and nodded. 
“Si, querida. De only ones I’ll use dem on dose who are trying to harm us.” 
 “Thanks.” 
Deciding she’d go through the weapons herself later, and that she could indeed trust Karnage, Grace entered the living room where Alice was sitting on the floor playing with her sword idly, and Leo was on the couch trying to do elaborate tricks with his bright green yo-yo. Both froze as their mother entered, but continued playing with their toys. 
“Uh…How would you kids like to go to Cape Suzette for a while?” 
Alice stopped caressing her swordtip and Leo stopped bouncing his yo-yo. Now both were COMPLETELY still. 
 Alice got up. 
“Daddy said something about hiding earlier and something about his piracy…. Mom, what in the FUCK is going on? Tell me the truth!” 
Grace stared, slack-jawed at her daughter; Leo having roughly the same reaction, his yo-yo falling off the couch and hitting the carpet. If Grace said THAT as a six-year-old, she’d have been backhanded and told to rinse her mouth out. Still incredulous her daughter had used such words, the dog asked honestly: 
“Alice…..Where the hell did you learn that word?” 
Alice just shrugged like it was no big deal. 
“I learned it from watching you, mommy. And more too.” 
Grace let out a long sigh and slapped herself on the temple. 
 Suddenly feeling uneasy, Grace asked: 
“Alice…. You never listened into anything your father and I were talking that you shouldn’t have heard, right? And I mean worse than swearing.” 
Alice was completely honest when she shook her head and said 
“No mommy.” 
Grace sighed in relief. The last thing she needed to know was that her daughter had heard of the late-night conversation back at the hotel in Karnageport. Feeling slightly guilty, Grace said: 
“I’m sorry if I invaded your privacy.” 
 “It’s ok… I’m sorry too.” 
They hugged briefly while Leo stared at his footpaws. 
 A moment later, Alice leaned against the wall, looking embarrassed with herself for causing a scene. 
“Look….Your father and I want you to stay with an old….Aquaintance of his named Baloo. You probably already know of him from all the stories your father always tells. Anyway; he lives in Cape Suzette and runs a company there….And I want you both to be good and not misbehave TOO much. Do I make myself clear?” 
 “Yeah mom.” 
 “Okay mom.” 
Time passed. Grace hastily wrote and mailed a letter to the principal of Leo and Alice’s school explaining they would be absent for a while due to a family emergency. She sincerely hoped it sounded convincing enough. Half an hour later once everyone had packed (And the weapons were stored in the trunk of the car, within their bags), Grace had asked Karnage if he was really confident enough to let their children stay with Baloo given his past relationship with the bear. 
 The wolf merely shrugged and said: 
“Let biplanes be biplanes.” 
And that was that. 
 The drive to Cape Suzette was long and arduous; but roughly five hours later they finally got there. Grace had found it difficult to adjust as the rolling fields of Urbandale gave way to the eastern shores of Old York state and the road to Cape Suzette. Grace found it a bit strange seeing the city she had lived for thirteen years after nearly a decade; as it hadn’t changed a bit. 
 The K-Cape Station was still standing, so without a doubt Broadcast Sally was still up there broadcasting away. The hotels and apartment complexes were still up as well; and as they briefly passed Grace’s old house, she couldn’t help but wonder who was living there now, and hoped they weren’t a complete slob, but then again she could be one at times herself. 
 That thought aside, an uneasy feeling had settled over the four creatures in the Rolls Royce, and Grace instinctively tightened her grip on the steering wheel. The children had stopped playing the yellow car game (yellow car, I win!) hours ago (Though even that had been half-hearted play at best given the situation), and Leo it seemed had fallen asleep, his head lolled against the leather seating as Grace had turned back over to check on them. Alice however, was wide-awake and looking bored as was typical, though there was marked sadness in her eyes as well. 
 Returning to driving, Grace cast a nervous eye at Karnage. He too was silent but apart from that seemed relatively fine under the circumstances; but maybe that was being overly-optimistic. Also reflecting on the fact that his piracy was the reason for their trip; Grace thought about it briefly- That was a subject she and Karnage had compromised on (They had instantly, unanimously agreed that Alice and Leo wouldn’t know about Helena till high school), and he told the children stories about his pre-Grace piracy days in vague detail. 
 However, as they pulled up in front of Higher for Hire (The only reason the police hadn’t seen them is because over half the force was investigating a heavily armed robbery incident, though in this case it was a miracle indeed) Grace turned around again as a whimpering emerged from the backseat… 
Alice had looked out the window, seen the gunnery towers, and recalled how close her father had gotten to being shot down by them. 
This was one of the few major details of his piracy that Karnage had told his children of, but Alice was shuddering anyway. 
“All right…We’re here.” 
Grace swallowed hard and got out. 
 Leo yawned and staggered out, Alice following suit. There was still a look of abject fear on her face and she ran to her father. 
“Daddy…The cliff gunners…” 
She managed to get out; pointing to the artillery on the horizon. 
“You don’t have to worry about dem hurting me. I’m only here in Cape Suzette to make sure you and your brother get to safety.” 
Karnage assured her, but Alice stuck closely beside him as they walked down the curb just in front of the entrance. Noticing his daughter’s visible (and silent) panic, the wolf kept talking gently to her all the while. 
“Dey won’t hurt me. I swear eet.” 
Alice took a breath. 
“Okay daddy.” 
She clutched his paw in her own. 
 Grace whispered to her husband 
“Is she okay….?” 
Karnage’s voice was just barely audible; like Grace’s. 
“Si. I am hoping so.” 
Leo just strolled casually on like this was absolutely no concern of his. Grace would have been puzzled, but there wasn’t any time to react. 
Alice, stopped however and turned to face both her parents, taking a deep breath: 
“Mom? Daddy…I love you both.” 
“I love you too, baby.” 
Grace answered tearfully. 
“And so do I, mi pequeno tesoro.” 
And with that, they all went inside. 
 As soon as they entered, all seemed idle in Higher for Higher. Baloo had entered into the front hall from the stairs (though it seemed he’d been arguing with Rebecca, who had yet to emerge from the ramshackle second floor) 
 Seeing the four canines standing wordlessly in the doorway, Baloo gave them an odd look (not yet knowing why they were looking so blatantly terrified) 
“Well, welcome to Higher for Hire how may I…..” 
Baloo froze. His voice trailed off as he got a good look at Karnage’s face and saw the old notch in his ear. 
“Karnie, what’re you doin’ here? And Miss Kane are you….?” 
Grace cringed and swallowed hard. 
“Yeah….Uh…We’ve been married seven years; long story short.” 
Rebecca came down from the stairs, but stopped as she stared, wide-eyed and shocked. 
“Captain Karnage? What in the HELL is going on, don’t tell me this is another of your tricks!” 
Alice was trembling, and Leo was staring at his footpaws, but both children were obviously nervous when they stepped aside. 
 Grace began to pace nervously, teeth chattering, uncertain of what to say or do and all the while scolding herself for it. 
 Karnage meanwhile, looked through tears at his shaking children and fell to his knees in front of Baloo and Rebecca. 
“Mi bambinos….Leo and Alicia….Senora Cunningham I need help por favor! Eet’s life and death! Leeterally!” 
Pausing, he added: 
“Grace and I….Are on de run. We’re on de run for our lives!” 
 “Yeah and I’m….Uh…..” 
Grace blushed and indicated her stomach. Karnage rose, put a nervous arm around her and they continued to stare in fear and wait for a reaction from Rebecca and Baloo. 
“You’re running with a baby…?” 
 “Well in our case it’s not like we have a choice!”Grace sighed. 
"Take care of our most precious treasures for us, por favor! Guard dem weeth your lives!" Karnage's voice broke. 
Still looking shocked, Baloo said to Rebecca: 
“Beckers I think Karnie’s askin’ us….” 
 “If it’s jewels, gold, or more cargo I don’t want any part of it.” 
Rebecca folded her arms. 
 Alice came over, remembering Baloo (and everyone else at Higher for Hire) and his name from her father’s stories. 
“I’m Alice Karnage but my daddy calls me Alicia; Leo’s my brother. Can I tell you something, Mr. Von Bruinwald?” 
She whispered to Baloo, confirming his heavy suspicions. He nodded slowly and turned back to Rebecca. 
“He means his children, Becky.” 
 “His…” 
Rebecca’s gun fell to the floor with a clatter. She hugged Karnage, and he let her do it. 
 Grace stepped forward. 
“Look, you take good care of our kids okay?” 
 “We’ll do our best ma’am, that’s a promise.” 
Baloo sighed a little, his mind just about to explode from the suddenness of it all. 
 Shrugging off Rebecca’s embrace, Karnage turned to Grace 
“Querida are you ready to be….?” 
“Yeah, I am. Are you?” 
----
She wiped a tear with the back of her paw roughly. 
“Si.” 
 “Er…De time has come for us to be going.” 
Karnage was struggling not to cry as he went back to the doorway. So was Grace. 
“Daddy!” 
Alice ran to him before he left. 
“You have your swords?” 
 “Si!” 
From both the sheaths attached to his belt, Karnage drew both his cutlass and rapier and saluted his daughter with them. Through a fine haze of tears, Alice did the same before disappearing up the stairs, still crying. 
“I… I’ll miss you both.” 
Leo stared at his parents with a mixed reaction as he spoke, and disappeared upstairs as well. 
Moments later, Kit emerged. 
“Who were…?” 
Baloo shook his head. 
“You just missed a run-in with old Karnie.” 
 “Damn….” 
Kit sighed and went back to his room. 
 As Grace and Karnage left Higher for Hire,supporting each other as they did, Grace suddenly gasped. A spasm of pain struck her like a tidal wave, or more accurately, a sudden thunderbolt, and she had to lean against the back of the car for support. 
“Querida! Are you all right?!” 
 “I’m fine, Felipe.” 
She forced an exhausted smile. 
 And with that, they dragged themselves into the car and got the hell out of Cape Suzette before someone noticed. And then, just like that, they were gone beyond the lights and urban bustle of the city and back into rural Old York once more. 
 Grace’s mysterious pains faded away by the time they were in the car, and as Cape Suzette grew more distant, she dared herself to think about a topic that embarrassed her greatly: Physical appearance. 
 Grace tried many times to convince herself she wasn’t vain; (In fact, she was simply a plain dog, with a broad, angular face, somewhat-muscled, scarred body, and one footpaw that was significantly smaller than the other) and tried often not to let her husband’s praise go to her head. Because Grace was simply not perfect: She REALLY couldn’t dance, couldn’t swim, drank like a fish when she felt inclined, and had a tendency to be an embarrassingly messy eater; among other things additionally. A pang of undeniable sadness puncturing her as she thought of her children and her ongoing pregnancy, Grace just sighed and turned her attention back to the steering wheel. 
----------------------------------------
 Eventually, she and Karnage checked into a dingy, roadside motel under false names just to be safe, into a cramped, miniscule room that seemed no bigger than a cardboard box. Grace had not bothered to unpack the few sets of plain, everyday clothes she had. Besides, she thought, that's how I always dress anyway. It had been decided that they were only staying the night before further moving on to another hotel, or some other, hopefully more safe and permanent destination, though Grace doubted it. Glancing at Karnage, who sat in a three-legged chair by the window, she called tentatively: 
“Felipe?” 
She sighed raggedly. 
“I miss the kids already.” 
They hugged briefly, before going to the one bed to sit down. 
“Baloo’s de only one I could trust to leave dem with.” 
 “Really?” 
 “Si! We’ve been adversaries, but I’ve never weeshed heem dead. I’ve said theengs I deedn’t mean….” 
His voice trailed off. 
 Grace paused herself. 
“Can I ask you something though?” 
She asked sincerely. 
“Si, querida.” 
 “Do you ever consider yourself to be self-pitying?” 
This was a question Karnage could easily answer. 
“No. Just self-loathing.” 
Grace swallowed hard. 
“Why?” 
 “I’ve come close to keeling others een de past. When I’m angry I get…. I hate to say it, but I get de word.” 
“But you never pity yourself?” 
“Never pity. I ordered Keet to be thrown off de beak of de Vulture one time I was so angry…” 
Grace’s eyes widened. She silently gestured for him to continue. 
 Karnage just shuddered, covering his face with his paws. 
“I couldn’t believe dat order had come from me! I almost jumped off de beak afterwards. Een de end eet was Baloo who rescued Keet.” 
The wolf shook his head slowly. 
 Grace waited a long time before speaking again, laying a paw on his shoulder. 
“So, do you get….Afraid of yourself when you’re that angry?” 
 “Si, eet feels like dere’s two wolves een me if I’m making any sense…..” 
She paused slowly, wondering later why she would ask the question. 
“….Like your father?” 
Karnage just nodded, clearing his throat and adding: 
“…Sometimes I need to go off alone, so I can theenk…” 
Here he almost broke down sobbing. 
“I’ve always been terrified of becoming like heem.” 
“Felipe… I know you have your flaws, but… So do I. And because I love you I don’t care.” 
“I don’t see any flaws when I look at you, querida.” 
Grace blushed heavily, as she always did when Karnage complimented her like this, but they kissed anyway. 
 After a while, Karnage put an ear to her stomach, lightheartedly talking to the baby. 
“Your mama and papa love you, leetle one. We always weel. We’ll keep you safe.” 
While they were on the subject of her pregnancy, Grace brought it up. 
“You want to talk about baby names?” 
“Si!” 
 “Before we do though…. I have something else on my mind.” 
Karnage bit at his fingers. 
“Where are we going to stay after this?” 
They both knew that they couldn’t stay in hotels like this forever, and Karnage sighed. 
“Have you heard of…Thunder Island?” 
Grace answered honestly: “No. What about it?” 
“Eet’s an island apparently west of Karnageport.” 
“Do you know how to find it?” 
 “Eef I had Baloo’s navigator weeth me I’d be able to.” 
Here he looked wistful. 
“Well, can we still look together, if that’s possible?” 
Grace suggested. 
“Si! Adrian Karnage hid out dere.” 
He added. 
“Uh, your ancestor?” 
Grace guessed. 
“Si.” 
Karnage neglected to mention his Pablo-related dream, still too embarrassed to confess that he, a grown wolf could be frightened by something as simple as a single nightmare. (Though he would rather not acknowledge what Helena’s eerie shade had been that one time on the landing.) 
“Did he leave any treasure or anything of that sort on the island?” 
Karange just nodded, already recalling the time where a most frustrated Pablo, apparently, had tried during the 1890’s to find the treasure; only finding out later that the whole thing was an elaborate joke set up by Adrian for future descendants before his death. 
“But I’m not going there to look for treasure, I’m trying to keep my most important treasure safe.” 
“When do we leave?” 
Grace began pacing the room. 
“Tomorrow?” 
 “Sure.” 
Then, she added after a while: 
“Wanna talk about baby names now?” 
Karnage felt a little more positive at the idea. 
“Si, mi tesoro.” 
Grace began to think. 
“Uh….Theresa Sarah for a girl?” 
She suggested, for both of their mothers. 
“I love eet!” 
Grace smiled a little. 
“You have anything for a boy, though?” 
 “Daniel Kane Karnage.” 
Grace liked the name immediately. 
“For my father…..Sure, why not?” 
The mood now lightened, she dared to tickle Karnage. He let out a bleat of laughter and tickled her back. Grace squealed and snuggled in his arms. 
“I love you.” 
 “Ti amo, querida.” 
Tired, Grace curled up, spoon fashion next to the wolf. She sighed a little, though mostly out of exhaustion. He wrapped an arm around her. 
“The other half of my heart…..” 
They were both in bed by nine. 
 Somewhere in the later hours of evening, Karnage was awoken by what seemed to be a loud, dripping noise in the hallway. Half-awake and exhausted, he staggered out to see what was going on. 
 The wolf’s brain didn’t quite register what was going on at first. Hunched over a few feet away, was none other than Pablo’s walking corpse. A living monstrosity, Pablo Karnage’s face was frozen in an eerie death grin, and when he tried to smile, maggots and writhing worms just crawled through the putrefying gaps in his jaw and muzzle. Pieces of him seemed to rot away and fall off as he took feeble staggering steps around, and a large burgundy cloak covered much of his body, including most of his chest. 
“Hello, son….” he said in a voice like nails being scratched over a blackboard. 
 Karnage froze in fear, breathing raggedly. 
“P-Padre!?”he choked, feeling embarrassingly childish. “Go away! I am not wanting anytheeng to do weeth you!” 
 “Felipe, it’s not that simple!” 
Pablo’s slick front paw, (part of which was torn away, revealing yellow bone) grabbed his son and pinned him against the wall. 
“I’ve come to teach you a few….Lessons. What’s the matter, can’t take a few hints from your old man?” 
 “I am not wanting to learn ANYTHEENG from you, you culo, you BASTARD!” 
Karnage sank his teeth into Pablo’s paw. The decomposing wolf yowled in pain, and several of his teeth fell out before turning to dust on the floor. What seemed to be off-white pus oozed from his bitten paw. 
“I have some things to show you Felipe….And you’re going to look.” 
Karnage snarled viciously as Pablo forced his head forward. 
Sweeping his cloak aside, Pablo revealed three tiny, lupine skeletons crouching beside his footpaws. 
“Who….Who are dey?” 
Pablo grinned; the gap caused by his missing teeth very evident. 
“Why they’re your half sisters, Felipe! Emmaline, Ann-Marie and Sasha….Though I can’t quite remember which is which. In 1894 I went to their mothers’ houses, and I smothered them all in their cradles….”He laughed hoarsely, a sound like sandpaper being rubbed over dull rocks. “Nobody ever knew!” 
Karnage lunged viciously at his father, but Pablo grabbed his wrist and restrained him. 
“Not so fast, son….I’m not done yet!” 
An eerie, malicious smile curled upon his lips. 
Grabbing Karnage’s skull between his finger tips, he raked his claws down the wolf’s eyes. Karnage yelped in pain, and forced himself to stay calm. 
“No more naughtiness….I could hurt you much worse and worse the more you react, Felipe, son.” 
So Karnage gritted his teeth and forced himself now, to watch what Pablo showed him. 
“In 1894, I started pursuing more….Romantic interests with both my mistresses, Elizabeth Channing and Lauretta Viliers. Elizabeth Channing was a wolfdog of….Questionable origin, but Lauretta…… Was a little diamond.” 
An image appeared in midair of a very young female jack rusell terrier, with auburn-and-white fur, a flowing lavender dress, and a shy, quiet smile. But then, it disappeared. 
“Lovely Lauretta. In 1894, in December, I made false, parallel engagements to both before breaking them off two weeks later.. Elizabeth did not care, but oh, Felipe….Lauretta DID! She was pregnant by me at the time, you know. And on April 16th, 1895….Our SON was born.” 
Here Pablo scowled. 
“Ahh yes, Floyd Viliers Karnage. YOUR BROTHER!” 
Karnage let out a choked gasp as Pablo showed him an image of a muscular, homely older male dog; with a broad, lupine face but with folded terrier ears. Karnage knew this dog, in fact, knew the name; after a few minutes to recall. He had met Floyd very briefly in 1918, when he’d been introduced as a cousin, and that was all that had occurred. Karnage, Rosa and Helena had all been told that Floyd was a cousin of theirs, and at the time none had doubted that what Pablo had said about Floyd was anything other than the truth; even though by then they hated their father passionately anyway. 
“I…..I was not knowing he was my brother.” 
Pablo chuckled. 
“Of course you didn’t! Fool!” 
Karnage felt a torrent of hate being unleashed within him as he lunged at his father. 
“Eet’s not about Floyd! Eef you weren’t dead already I’d….” 
Karnage’s voice trailed off as he found himself lunging at empty air, though Pablo’s voice seemed to trail off from somewhere distant. Shuddering, Karnage raced back to the room and slammed the door behind him. Embarrassment or not, he’d definitely be talking to Grace about this in the morning. 
 Chapter Eleven Edit
At around the same time at Higher for Hire, things were not going well either. The work day had dragged by; hasty introductions had been made between Karnage’s children and the creatures employed at the shipping business. Kit in particular had an uneasy relationship with Leo; upon meeting, the wolfdog gave him a curious but stony glare, to which Kit inquired “So you're Karnage’s son, huh?” To which Leo replied “Yeah. What’s it to you?” 
And that had been the rocky end of that conversation; and many times Kit had to force himself so as not to say something offensive (intentionally or not) in front of Leo about the things his father had done to their business during the years of 1937-1938. Nonetheless, eventually Kit and Baloo went out on their usual cargo run(s). Molly went with them and Rebecca stayed at the office and filed some papers. At around 9, Rebecca and Molly were getting ready to go home; Kit and Baloo mostly milled around some more and begrudgingly finished up what Rebecca hadn't, while Alice and Leo preferred to stay in their shared bedroom for the time being, an empty storage room off the hallway before eventually saying their goodnights and going to bed early. 
 Only a few minutes later, Kit was awakened by the faint sound of sobbing out in the hallway. Rubbing his eyes, he got out of bed to see what it was. Alice was sitting with her back against the wall and her face in her paws, crying. 
“Alice? Are you all right?” 
Kit blushed at how awkward he sounded, and took a step back. 
“Mi familia….” she whispered. “Vida y muerde. We’re….We were running from the CBI.” 
Kit shuddered a little, remembering Leo had told them the same thing earlier and a lot of discussion had ensued. Nonetheless, he felt sympathy for the dejected Alice and sat down next to her with a paw on her shoulder. Alice, although quiet, seemed to accept his support. 
 Meanwhile, a nervous Rebecca was pacing the entry hall. The introductions earlier today hadn’t gone over so well, and in actuality she was secretly scared to death that Kit would get some scatterbrained idea to enact revenge on Leo and Alice for their father’s crimes. 
“Kit, you’d better not be ----” 
Rebecca froze mid-step as she passed Kit’s open bedroom door. . .He was gone! 
“Kit??” 
Running to the end of the hallway, Rebecca froze in her tracks as she saw Kit, sitting on the floor and attempting to calm down a weeping Alice. The bear just shook her head in wonder and, not wanting to interrupt the two, went downstairs to gather her things and leave. 
 The next morning, Alice was up by 8 am, Leo not too long afterwards. Baloo, Kit and Wildcat were ALL up before they were, traditionally early risers. Breakfast was a hasty affair, and Rebecca and Molly had just gotten in while Alice picked at the waffle on her cracked ceramic plate, using precious little maple syrup from the half-empty bottle that was being passed around the table at random intervals. The wolfdog was still feeling so awkward and out of place, she really didn’t have any appetite anyway and mostly just picked at her food; eating little, whereas Leo was devouring his. 
Most everyone else was the same; especially Kit. Feeling the general tension around the breakfast table, he pushed his plate in and said to Rebecca, 
“Mrs. Cunningham…..Mom…. I can’t eat right now. I’m sorry.” 
Rebecca’s jaw dropped, and Baloo was agape as well. This was the first time Kit had ever called Rebecca ‘mom’, even though he’d gladly accepted Baloo as a father figure years ago. Alice, meanwhile, felt somewhat nauseous at the mentioning of anyone’s parents, due to the fact that her own were currently far away and doing who knows what. 
“I…I’m going to my room.” 
She announced, and hurried up the stairs. 
“Alice!” 
With a surprising, seemingly sincere amount of compassion, Leo ran after her. Baloo heaved a ragged sigh and played with his hat for a moment. 
“Those poor kids. I really feel bad for them; but it seemed like Karnie did a damn good job of raising ‘em.” 
 “I wonder where they are now,”Molly commented from her chair, heaving a sigh as well. 
This evoked no comment from Rebecca, who for lack of a better term, simply looked stressed all over and was trying to calm herself with a cup of black coffee. Cold. 
 Meanwhile, by the time Leo got into his and Alice’s room, Alice was pawing through the clothes she’d packed in her suitcase and pulled out her wooden sword from where it was buried at the bottom, caressing it with a slight sigh. In an extremely rare turn of events; Leo actually felt bad for insulting his sister and calling her a baby for taking the sword wherever she went. 
“Alice….Alice I’m sorry I called you a baby.” 
Leo was sobbing as he hugged Alice. 
“No, it’s all right. I forgive you, Leo.” 
Alice was beginning to wipe away her tears. 
“Really?” 
Alice smiled a bit. 
“Of course, you’re my brother!” 
Eventually, they both came out of the storage room feeling a lot better, and with their heads held high, even though it was slightly tainted with worry over their parents who were fine…..At the moment. 
 Meanwhile, at around the same time, Grace and Karnage were waking in their hotel room. Karnage was fully awake, though Grace still had some time before she’d completely come around. Not wanting to disturb his wife’s sleep, Karnage simply lay perfectly still and tried to remember the dream he’d had the other night. Unfortunately, he still remembered it perfectly. In addition to being as terrifying as it was; it didn’t quite make sense! But eventually, he simply lost all ability to control himself and began whimpering. 
“Felipe?” 
Grace rubbed at her eyes and sat up. 
Karnage mumbled something she couldn’t quite make out, but eventually managed to gasp: 
“…Eet was a nightmare….Pablo…Pablo Karnage.” 
Even now Karnage still refused to attach any sort of fatherly, paternal meaning to Pablo’s name. 
 Grace ran a paw through her fur. “What was it about?” 
Karnage didn’t restrain himself this time. 
“He showed me….Familia….I never knew I had…He murdered dem! Dat culo was no father of mine!” 
Grace was confused. “But if you never knew you had them in real life…?” 
Karnage himself was struggling to remember where he’d heard all this. 
“I never knew dey eexeested! But one name he said….Was familiar. Floyd Viliers Karnage….De culo had me believing he was my cousin!” Karnage’s voice was bitter. “He had all of us believing it!” 
Grace paused a minute, thinking. 
“Are you SURE you’re not remembering this from somewhere? As in, maybe it was just stuck in your subconscious mind and crap.” 
This was the best advice she could offer; using some recollections from her psychology class in college. 
 Karnage forced himself to continue: 
“Dat might be de case, querida…..” 
Grace hugged him gently. 
“Can you try to remember?” 
He sighed, almost unable to go on; but the whole thing was vaguely clear to him now: It had taken a while to remember, but he was peripherally able to remember an outdoor family gathering in 1923 where an extremely drunken Pablo rambling away about his early life, and then his sexual experiences in the 1880’s and 90’s even mentioning Lauretta, Elizabeth, Floyd and his three illegitimate daughters as well. And as for the long family history Pablo had mentioned during the first memory? Karnage had already long-remembered all of that being told to him during his early childhood. 
 Continuing, he said: 
“I am remembering one theeng…. Dere was dees family reunion years ago, but he had me believing he was my COUSIN! And he called Helena words I’d never use!!! He slandered her memory!” 
 “And Pablo…” 
Karnage bared his teeth as he continued. 
“Dat hijo de puta mentioned not just Helena, but his three illegitimate daughters, AND Floyd at a family reunion! And why am I remembering now?!” 
The wolf sighed and rubbed at his forehead, terribly burdened by all these painful just-regained memories. 
“You want to just talk about something else then?” 
Grace asked him gently. 
 Karnage wanted nothing more to do. 
“Si!” 
Grace paused a long time before thinking about what she wanted to discuss. 
“Well….When are we going to Karnageport? Are we leaving today?” 
 “As soon as you feel ready.” 
“Okay.” 
And eventually, Grace got up to make sure the few belongings she’d been able to fit in her suitcase, including a few fresh sets of clothes and her favorite, though very cheap softback novels, were all packed. 
 It didn’t take Karnage long to make sure everything he’d brought to the room was in his suitcase. He checked his pistol to make sure it was loaded (which it was), and gripped his cutlass so tightly there was a brief loss of blood to his forepaw. Grace, meanwhile, was already done packing; but noticed her husband’s tension. 
“You done?” 
 “Si…..” 
He shuddered a little. 
“I’m scared, querida.” 
 “Scared of what?” 
Grace picked up her suitcase and went to him. 
 Karnage just shook his head, dismissing the subject. Grace, however, was still uneasy. 
“You all right, Felipe?” 
He sighed and laid a paw on her shoulder. 
“Grace, I know Baloo and Rebecca weel take care of our bambinos. I know dey’re taking care of dem now.” 
He began to pace anxiously. 
“I’ve been theenking… One of de reasons I chose Baloo and Rebecca ees they’re a wonderful mama and papa.” 
 “And?” 
Karnage shuddered and covered his face with his paws. Again, Grace asked if he was okay. 
 He answered: 
“Baloo and Rebecca weel take care of our bambinos eef we don’t…. Eef we don’t…..” 
 “If we don’t come back?” 
Grace finished for him, softly. Tears sprang to her eyes. 
“I deedn’t want to mention eet. I shouldn’t have…. Dat was….. Estupido.” 
Grace tried her best to comfort the wolf. 
“It’s all right… I….. I… You know, I worry about the same things. Really.” 
They held each other. In the end, it was nearly an hour before the couple could pull themselves together, check out, and drive to Karnageport. 
Grace gazed uncertainly up at the structure of the Karnageport Public Library. This was where they would be looking for maps of Thunder Island; and if not other nearby islands they could escape to. A brass plaque to the left of the door proclaimed that it had opened in 1850, and the three-story sandstone building certainly looked its age. Glancing back to the car parked on the curb, Grace then glanced back at her husband. 
“So, this is it…?” 
 “Si.” 
Grace impatiently waited on the damp granite steps while Karnage explained that he needed to check out a particular book for a long period of time (He tried to make it as broad as possible, given the currently-ambiguous time period it seemed they’d be on the run), and Rachel Viliers (Sister of Lauretta) and Karnageport’s one librarian was happy to oblige his request- anything for one of the gods of Karnageport. Several minutes later, the wolf emerged, and without a word they hurried in to look for the map. 
The first room containing books; behind a small paneled door off the lobby, had a peeling green wallpaper and vaguely smelled like mold and drying glue. There were several embossed mahogany shelves containing books of all manner, and Grace immediately went to work looking for any sort of book that mentioned atlases or maps in its title or illustrations, and Karnage did the same on the other side of the room. 
“You find anything?” 
Grace asked breathlessly after a while. 
Karnage glanced wincingly at the small mountain of discarded books he’d created on the floor. 
“I have to be looking een de wrong place…” 
He muttered, and continued searching. 
 Grace paused to take a short break. 
“What happened?” 
“I found books dat reference other books, all on eet….” 
Both of them obviously knew ‘it’ was Thunder Island. 
“And?” 
 “Dey all refer to a large atlas…Eet’s maps de familia put together een de past!” 
 “Did it at least USED to be here?” 
Grace had resumed looking through the shelves and arrived at one of the last, containing mostly medical dictionaries and fading encyclopedias. Pushing an anatomy book and one on psychology aside, Grace yanked out an eerily fake-looking book, and suddenly a tiny piece of wall flipped over to reveal a paneled wooden door painted to resemble the rest of the wall. 
“What the fuck….” 
Grace breathed, and placed aside the book she’d pulled out, which actually was a cleverly disguised block of wood! Gingerly, Grace opened the panel with its little wooden doorknob, revealing a dictionary-thick book with a cover that once must have been red but now had been reduced to a dusty pink. 
 Hearing the strange grinding noise produced by the turning panel, he ran to her, at first thinking there’d been some sort of strange accident, but then the wolf’s eyes fell on the book. ISLANDS OF OLD YORK; AN ATLAS BY ADRIAN KARNAGE. 
Adrian. 
“Where deed you…?” 
Karnage muttered more to himself, as Grace rapidly indicated the panel he’d turned his back from and therefore hadn’t seen at first. 
 As the wolf opened the book, Grace looked with him. 
“Does it have a map of…?” 
No sooner than Grace had said that, than he flipped towards roughly halfway through the atlas to reveal a beautifully detailed pen-and-ink sketch of Thunder Island, with instructions on the next page on how to get there. 
“How far out is it?” 
Grace squinted to read the fine print on how to reach the island, but couldn’t. 
“Five miles eexactly.” 
Five miles. 
“When can we get there? Now?” 
 “Si, we leave today, querida. Right now.” 
 “That’s fine with me!!” 
And with that, they were on their way out. 
“I’ll do whatever eet takes to keep mi tesoros safe.” 
And not five minutes later, they were on their way to Thunder Island. In the car, Grace was more than happy to let Karnage do the driving; while she read through the atlas once again. Interestingly enough, the first page contained a letter by Justine Karnage and dated 1851: 
 To my future descendants: On this day, July 28th, 1851, I have hidden this atlas within the walls of the newly-constructed public library. I hope that it will prove useful to you in times of geographical desperation, and it is also my request that you keep the book within the competent paws of the family. Thank you. 
Yours in bloodline, Justine Elizabeth Karnage 
By the time Grace finished reading through the more interesting parts of the atlas (complete with Adrian, and later on Justine and Hector’s meticulous notes), they had already driven the five miles to Thunder Island, through a tiny, muddy patch of forest, where they hid the car in a hidden gully before trekking into a foggy beyond. 
“Are we almost there?” 
Grace called into the pale, transparent mist. 
“Si, querida!” 
Karnage squeezed her paw reassuringly. 
 Eventually though, a thin silhouette of the island became visible through the steamy fog. 
“We’ve found eet, querida!” 
Karnage exclaimed excidetly, and ran ahead, Grace in hot pursuit. 
 Grace winced. There was something important that had slipped her mind and she felt incredibly dumb for forgetting it. 
“Yeah, but how are we going to get there? It’s not like there were any planes around, and if I recall there aren’t any good boats back at Karnageport.” 
Grace was right, but Karnage however, suddenly remembered something: Whenever his parents and Helena (Rosa hadn’t been born yet; as the island had been abandoned since the summer of 1905) had gone to Thunder Island, they had done so in a small, unnamed rowboat just big enough to hold a handful or so of large canines and maybe some baggage. Explaining the boat’s hopeful, apparent presence to Grace, Karnage led her further to the unnamed lake on which the island was located (They were now well beyond the fog) and to a rickety wooden dock where the rowboat still sat, bobbing feebly in the cobalt water, still just barely tied up with a rotting coil of rope. 
“You sure this is safe?” 
Grace swallowed. As the incident at Greenwell’s pond had testified; she was a very poor swimmer, and the thought of what would happen if she fell overboard in this gave her more than just a few cold shivers. 
“Si, eet’s teakwood; one of de hardest woods known.” 
Grace took a nervous breath. 
“Just give me a second; I need to run and get our things.” 
When she came back with their suitcases and weapons (which soon were squeezed beneath the wooden seats), Karnage untied the rope and started rowing. Grace took her time to glance around and admire the breathtaking scenery leading up to the island. Thunder Island itself; was not a particularly large island, nor was it in a very large lake, but the island was just big enough to house a rocky beach, gothic-structured, two-story vacation house, a tiny pine forest, and on the other side of the island; a small cave where Pablo Karnage had tried and failed to find Adrian’s treasure, which had turned out to be an elaborate hoax anyway. Though it had been abandoned by the family for quite a while; in 1871 Livvy and Diego Karnage ‘discovered’ the island, and knew it was their special place to summer, and host parties to entertain their friends as well, and in 1873 their ‘cottage’ (Though actually the size of an average middle-class house, if not bigger!) was finally completed, and during their time on the island Diego and Livvy were known as a truly generous and passionate couple who stretched their necks out to give friends and family a good time. Tragically, in August of 1895 it was the same island that brought about their demise as well; and while taking their favorite rowboat (The couple had three and was fond of naming theirs), the Harvest Moon out, a violent storm (which the island is already famous for) occurred, and they drowned. Diego and Livvy’s only direct heir, their son, Pablo, sold his parents’ boats to locals to earn simple money, though starting in 1896, he and his wife Theresa began summering on Thunder Island as well, although finally stopped during 1905; when their vacation home remained abandoned since. And that is a brief history of Thunder Island. 
 It took about fourteen minutes for Grace and Karnage to get ashore, and because there seemed to no longer be a dock on the beach, they had to haul the boat onto dry land, then taking their belongings and went up to the tan-painted, polychrome-style house that Livvy had always called Lexbay Hall. 
 The door wasn’t locked, so they were able to get in easily enough; and the first room they entered (The parlor) was a now grossly-outdated sitting room, with soft, frail pink wallpaper with lighter stripes with crimson roses in between them. An empty basalt fireplace heaped with ash, and what seemed to be an old photograph album (Called ‘Lexbay Memories’) lay abandoned on the table. 
 Several open doors led into other rooms and hallways; and an unstable-looking set of stairs led up to the second floor (And also, the attic) 
“Wait before going up de stairs; I want to check de condition..” 
Karnage cautioned Grace as he tested the first few steps. 
“All right.” 
Grace sat down on the pale pink, mahogany-armed sofa and began browsing through the photo album, which started out with pictures of a jubilant looking Livvy and Diego generally horsing around, like posing ridiculously for the camera or just playing with their swords. Then, as time went by; (Interestingly, Pablo appeared less and less in photographs as he got older) it was just pictures of Pablo and Theresa, the last one being dated August, 1905, and upon flipping the picture over, Grace saw it was a photograph of Helena at around 19 months, in a dark-colored dress with an angelic smile. 
“Felipe?? I….I found a baby picture of Helena in here.” 
“What?!” 
Karnage emerged from the bottom of the stairs and held the photograph like it was a valuable jewel. 
“I found it in here…” 
Karnage shook his head. 
“What happened to Helena was my fault…” 
 “I know and I’m sorry I brought this up.” 
“Eet was not you, querida, eet was me.” 
Grace gasped as she suddenly felt nauseous and weak, with a dizzying pain lacing through her side. 
“I need to lie down. I’m sorry….I must sound like a coward for bailing out on you but I think I need some sleep.” 
“Eet’s okay, querida….” 
He sighed and safely deposited Helena’s picture where it belonged; with the other bygone tokens of life at Lexbay Hall. 
“The hell are we going to do, Porter?” 
Abbington sighed as he paced the floor of his hotel room so hard he wondered why he wasn’t making permanent grooves in the carpet. They’d gone in to make their proposed arrest (having had to resort to going through a basement window) and arrived to an empty house… Abbington remembered flinging the top of the basement door open, pistol at the ready and yelling, 
“FREEZE! CBI!” 
His passionate battle cry hung and faded away on the empty air. 
“At-hem….” 
A slightly disgruntled Porter materialized beside Abbington and tapped his shoulder angrily. 
“Abbington I believe that was my line!” 
Abbington none too gently shook him off. 
“Screw you, Porter! I had it first!” 
But then, as soon as the creatures stopped talking, the eerie silence returned; this time more pronounced. Abbington never admitted it aloud afterwards, but he WAS scared. Carefully searching all the rooms in the ordinary, two-story house, there was plenty of furniture around; and even clothes still in drawers, and in what appeared to be the childrens’ bedrooms, there were plenty of books and toys scattered around. The display of a single moment frozen in time was eerie, as though its residents had been an extreme hurry to leave (which, Abbington and Porter didn’t know for certain, but they had been!), and in doing so had left the house exactly as it was, but….Frozen. 
Then, feeling humiliated and embarrassed, Porter and Abbington had trudged back to the hotel to discuss what the hell had been going on, which they’d been doing on and off for the past entire DAY! Meanwhile, both Abbington and Porter leapt up in surprise as the phone rang. 
“I shall get it.” 
Porter nervously went over to the phone and picked it up. 
“Good day?” 
The nervousness was blatantly evident in his voice. 
On the other end of the line in Cape Suzette, Shere Khan smiled. 
“Greetings, Mr. Porter.” 
He purred darkly. 
“How goes your mission?” 
For once, Porter was at an utter loss for words. 
“It uh….Why, it uh….” 
Khan just laughed. 
“Not so well?” 
 “N-n—No?” 
Porter winced at how foppish he sounded just now. THAT was embarrassing. 
“And why not?” 
Khan’s voice took on a sharp, darkening edge. 
“Mr. Khan, Abbington and I proceeded to the Karnage residence…..But they were not in the vicinity. We searched every room!” 
“WHAT?!” 
“It was not our fault!” 
“I never said that it was, Mr. Porter, calm yourself.” 
Abbington winced himself, feeling sympathy for his partner for being the target of Khan’s wrath. But eventually, Porter did take a few moments to shakily regain control, reminding himself he could not look like such a fool while under scrutiny by the likes of Shere Khan. 
“Now, Mr. Porter, if your partner is in the vicinity I would like to remind you both that unless you bring in Karnage and his mate, you will suffer certain shall I say….Punishments gleaned from the books of Don Luciano diVenazetti.” 
Porter gulped. He did not like the sly chuckle in (incomplete line?)
“But Mr. Khan, we cannot find Karnage if cannot see him- or even know for a fact where he is.” 
“That’s where, this one time, I will assist you, Mr. Porter… Now, Karnage’s family has certain…Connections in this part of the country that go back a handful of centuries. I’m not at liberty to say where exactly; but he is out of state, specifically in Old York. Information will be scarce, but I know you talented gentlebeasts can handle it. Good day Mr. Porter.” 
 “Good day, Mr. Khan.” 
And with that, Khan hung up. 
 Abbington sighed dejectedly. 
“Well it looks like we got ourselves a hell of a search don’t we?” 
Porter shrugged. 
“I do not know! We may, or perhaps…We may not. That is simply how it functions.” 
Fifteen minutes later, they were all packed and headed back to Cape Suzette by train. 
 Meanwhile, at Higher for Hire, Baloo was just about ready for another day of work (Perhaps due to teenage self-isolation, Molly offered to stay behind today). Humming, he eased himself out of the main office and called to Rebecca: 
“Haha, see you later Beckers! I’m gone!” 
Rebecca rolled her eyes and continued looking at stocks. 
 On his way out the door, to the Sea Duck, Baloo flinched in surprise as Kit appeared. 
“Whoa, little Britches! Watch where you’re goin’. I didn’t see you there!” 
“Yeah, sorry Papa bear. I just wanted to talk to you.” 
“What about?” 
Kit lowered his voice and looked first to make sure they were alone. 
“Karnage’s kids.” 
 “What, you got a grudge against them already? They’re only six!” 
Kit sighed. 
“No, it’s not really that but…..” 
He grappled for the right words. 
“You know what? Never mind, forget it. Let’s get to work.” 
Baloo still eyed him with a look of concern. 
“Whatever you say…” 
And with that, they trudged off into the Sea Duck. After having completed their usual rituals in getting the plane started and off the ground, Kit finally grilled Baloo on what they were doing. 
“Let’s see…Nothin’ much. Just a shipment of oh…Half a dozen tiki torches for Louie’s new place.” 
Kit made a face, picturing the small, isolated bar/lounge that was grossly out-of-place in the obsidian waters of Old York state, but still an excellent tourist spot in the summer; built on a small neighboring island after the original building had been destroyed during the war. 
“I thought he had enough by now.” 
“That’s what he says every time!” 
There was a brief laugh between the two, and they were off. 
 After a while, however, faint voices could be heard from the cargo hold: 
“Ow, you’re sitting on my tail! Can you move over a little?” 
“Sorry Alice, I can’t. There’s not enough room!” 
“Well, this was your idea to come, and I think it sucks.” 
“You think all my ideas suck. Jerk.” 
Snorting laughter. A sneeze. 
 Baloo and Kit exchanged equal looks of bewilderment. 
“Well I’ll be…” 
Tying up his controls so that the Duck was temporarily on autopilot, Baloo flung the door to the cargo hold open to see what was going on. 
 Crouching in the shadows among narrow wooden crates containing the torches (which had already been packed that dawn), were the trembling, cautious forms of Alice and Leo. 
“What are you kids doing in here?!” 
Baloo was not quite sure which he was more of, surprised, angry, or upset. 
“We’re trying to keep you safe!!” 
“I’m sorry, it was my idea.” 
Leo sighed. 
 Alice was pleasantly surprised; at home it was usually Leo who put the blame on her for reasons she could not decipher. 
“We…We were just curious, mister!” 
He added, shaking. 
“About what?” 
Alice looked visibly embarrassed. 
“I’ve really never been on a plane before, and neither has Leo.” 
She stared at her footpaws. It was true; Alice had not been on any airborne vehicle since a brief visit to the Iron Vulture with Leo when they were three, and Grace had raised so much hell about it that that had been their ONLY visit thus far. 
 Baloo stared at them curiously, thinking to himself: 
 An Air Pirate’s children who’ve never flown before?! This really is a strange, strange world…. 
Clearing his throat, he said: 
“Tell ya what, I’ll let both of you fly; but that’s because Kit and I only have one delivery to make today. And after that it’s straight back to the office.” 
Baloo immediately felt awful for scolding two children that weren’t even his that way, but he halfheartedly assured himself that you HAD to discipline them that way, before untying his controls and whispering to Kit: 
“Look, I’ll tell you later.” 
“Whatever.” 
There being only two seats in the cockpit, Alice and Leo remained sitting in the hold rather than being tossed around in front, and the remainder of the short flight to the nightclub was spent in bitter silence. 
 An hour after they’d found what they were looking for, Abbington and Porter staggered, breathlessly down the steps of Cape Suzette’s East Branch Public Library. 
“Porter, I don’t know about you but that was some creepy shit!” 
Abbington gasped. 
 Porter just shuddered. 
“I found the contents of that file to be quite disturbing myself, Abbington.” 
“Disturbing?! That’s puttin’ it mildly!” 
Abbington, visibly flustered, lit himself a cigarette while he tried to process what they’d seen and read on the Karnages inside the library. They had learned that there was a town about 400 miles north called Karnageport where the family had heavy influence, and; gruesomeness aside, that was where Abbington and Porter had planned to be going. 
 Trying his best to change the subject, Abbington asked: 
“Porter….You don’t mind going to Karnageport, do you?” 
Porter sighed. 
“I detest the thought of traveling further, but if it means we can finish the case….” 
There was only two words on their mind: The money. 
 Without a word, eventually they went their separate ways to make plans on the trip to Karnageport, both hoping that what they were looking for would be there. 
Around noon, Grace woke up on the couch as slanted beams of sunlight shot through the sitting room’s broad, unusually oval-shaped windows. 
“Felipe?” 
She yawned and sat up, noting that thankfully her nausea was gone. 
“Querida?” 
Karnage had been looking through the photo album and sitting on the floor by the fireplace, but he discarded it on the floor and went to Grace. 
“Hi.” 
“Hola, querida!” 
He sat down on the very edge of the couch, and Grace, grinning slyly, lunged forward and tickled the wolf when he least expected it. Karnage yelped, jumped a little, but then Grace stood, and they both hugged. 
 A few minutes passed, and Grace was now serious. 
“Can we talk?” 
 “Si!” 
Grace paused before saying what she was going to, dreading the question as she asked it: 
“Felipe….What if we’re still running by the time it’s my due date?” 
Grace swallowed hard, only recently having learned her due date as being April 2nd, 1946. Seven entire months away. 
“Won’t a baby….Slow us down, I mean?” 
Karnage paused himself before answering. 
“Dey’re looking for two, not three. Having de child could actually help.” 
Grace didn’t want to press the issue further. She could see Karnage was trying extremely hard to stay positive and hell, so was she. 
 Sitting back down on the couch, Grace sighed. 
“I hope that by the time I’m due all this crap will be over.” 
“So do I.” 
As Karnage sat next to her, Grace just laid her head on his shoulder, and he held her close. They were silent for a while, but then she said: 
“I’m going to take the boat to Karnageport to get something for lunch.” 
She said, noting that her watch said 12:02. 
“Don’t worry, I’ll be safe.” 
Smiling enigmatically, Grace went back out onto the beach to board the rowboat. Alone, Karnage sat down once again by the fireplace and began to look through the photograph album once more. 
 Chapter Twelve Edit
The next day, Abbington and Porter finally got to Karnageport. The ride up had not been too pleasant but that’s another story entirely. Upon getting there, they casually asked some locals if they knew anything about Grace and Karnage, whom as it turned out had visited earlier during the summer. Most residents didn’t tell them much, but the local gossips however, were all too willing. 
 Both agents deemed it an overall loss however, as they really didn’t get that much information on the two at all, nor had anyone implied where Karnage and Grace possibly might be. So, they’d gone (Abbington this time all too willingly) to Karnageport’s oldest and most popular saloon, the Drunk Vixen. 
 Drumming his claws on the counter while waiting for a bartender to appear, Abbington asked Porter: 
“Being a fox….You find the name of this place offensive?” 
Porter just shrugged dismissively. 
“I am not female, so it is grossly irrelevant and does not pertain to me.” 
Abbington glanced up a framed black-and-white photograph on the wall of an intoxicated looking white fox standing outside the saloon. 
“If that’s who they named this bar after….She must have been quite the drag queen.” 
He scowled in disgust, and Porter shuddered in similar revulsion. 
Moments later, a black cat with a torn left ear, wearing a white shirt and a burgundy apron emerged from the back room. 
“If you’re wondering that ain’t THE drunk vixen. That picture there’s Hacksaw Charlie; our town drunk.” 
He snickered. 
“He was always gettin’ tossed out the front window here when he couldn’t pay for his drinks. Died back in 1911 when he was so drunk he thought he could fly.” 
Abbington was slightly disturbed. 
“I assume you are the bartender?” 
Porter, obviously no stranger to establishments like this, leaned across the counter and stared at the cat with a cold, suspicious eye. 
“Yes, I am. The name’s Barnabas Matheson, and I’ve been bartender here for nineteen years now. What can I be gettin’ you gentlebeasts?” 
It just so happened Porter and Abbington were the only patrons at the bar at the moment, and Abbington felt very self-conscious because of this. He swallowed hard. 
“Just some white wine for me. Nothing too strong.” 
Porter paused before saying: 
“I’ll just have some red.” 
While Matheson made their drinks, the rough-around-the-edges cat asked them both: 
“You gentlebeasts from here?” 
“Yeah, we come from Cape Suzette.” 
Matheson looked visibly surprised. 
“That’s quite a long way north. Any reason you’re visiting?” 
Porter remained silent, but Abbington spoke instead: 
“We’re here to apprehend a well-known criminal and his wife, Don Felipe Karnage.” 
Matheson now handed both of them their drinks. Porter started on his immediately while Abbington was more reluctant. 
“Karnage?” 
The cat snorted. 
“Well you’re certainly in the right place for them, let me tell you. I think I might know of a place worth searching….” 
Porter stopped drinking to exchange glances with a suddenly-ecstatic Abbington. 
“What place?” 
They asked in unison. (Though Porter said “What locale?”) 
“A little place just west of town called….Thunder Island." 
 It took half an hour, but Abbington and Porter barely managed to find Thunder Island, however they DID manage to drag their small rented motorboat ashore. 
“All right, I see a house.” 
Abbington called, jogging further up the shore. 
“Let’s check it out.” 
Porter soon caught up. 
“I do not see why we shouldn’t.” 
A quick inspection of what seemed to be a lavish but abandoned vacation home showed some signs of recent residence, including muddy pawprints on the floor. 
“Shit!” 
Abbington cursed when they’d found nothing. 
“Let’s go back outside, they must be somewhere.” 
“If you so insist…” 
Porter sighed, beginning to have his doubts. 
 As they returned to the beach, Porter froze as the distant sound of footpaws could be heard, but it gradually got a little louder until suddenly it was very near. 
“Abbington…..” 
He squeaked, and tugged on his mentor’s shoulder. 
 Abbington spun around. 
“What, Porter?” 
 “I see them!” 
Sure enough, Porter turned Abbington so that he faced the small section of knotty pine forest, and sure enough, both canines in question (who must have been out on a walk) could be seen emerging from the darkness of the woods. They froze in their tracks as they saw Abbington and Porter, staring at them with hardened eyes. 
“All right….You’re under arrest by the Civil Bureau of Investigation, both of you!” 
Abbington snapped, and shakily removed his gun from his holster. 
Breathing raggedly, Grace closed her eyes and took a deep, nervous breath. She was well aware what her own charges were: Aiding and abetting a wanted felon. 
 Taking a deep breath, she said firmly and passionately: 
“NO. FUCKING. WAY!” 
Grace lunged at both CBI agents, but Karnage managed to flimsily restrain his wife by taking her by the shoulder, gritting his teeth in pure rage. 
Porter, as much as this would embarrass him later (due to his typical gentlebeastly attitude) felt an intense need to insult someone, specifically Grace. 
“Excellent language!” 
He sneered in her direction. 
“HEY!” 
Grace was clearly outraged, and put her paws on her hips. 
 Abbington cringed. 
 Karnage’s eyes were blazing with hate. He turned to face Porter, not going to tolerate this any longer: “I’d keep dat tongue steel eef I were you! NO ONE eensults my wife, fox. So, you had better apologize to her. I mean it…..NOW!” 
 “I’m s-sorry.” 
Porter stammered, and took a few cautious steps back. He shot Abbington a fearful glance. 
Even though he hadn’t even done anything, Abbington wanted to make this arrest as easy as possible, so for once he complied, if only to pacify Karnage’s ongoing wrath. 
“Miss Kane…..Mrs. Karnage.” 
He turned to Grace, struggling not to pant nervously. 
“I’m a father myself….I’d never say what Porter did to my own wife….” 
True; sometimes he wanted to. Diane was a hack of a coyote (Like Karnage, Porter was also in a mixed-species marriage), and they fought sometimes, but he really and truly loved her, and even if he was an infamous criminal Abbington could understand why Karnage would feel the same of his own wife. 
“Felipe….” 
Grace nudged her husband nervously as he wrapped an arm around her. She understood his anger (hell, she felt the same) but she didn’t want this to get out of hand. Porter quietly started to draw his revolver from his pocket, all the while Abbington silently shook his head, but the fox would not comply. Because he knew he was a lousy shot, Porter took aim as best he could and shot Karnage in the arm; it was the best he could do to hope the wolf would bleed to death. 
Karnage reflexively took a limping step back and let out a shattering cry of pain, blood spurting from the wound and trickling down his left arm. 
“You bastards!” 
Grace roared. 
“YOU IDIOT!” 
Abbington screamed, and Porter just glared at him icily. 
Suddenly, Karnage’s alpha male instincts were in full tilt. 
 No one hurts MY wife and leeves! 
 Were the thoughts going through his head. 
 Grace took a step forward, and said to Porter (while angered and upset at being so helpless even if it was due to her pregnancy) 
“Don’t shoot. I’m pregnant.” 
Felipe please please don’t fuck this up…. 
She prayed silently. 
 Karnage aimed his own gun at Porter’s chest, and just as he squeezed the trigger, Abbington leapt in front of the fox. The bullet just barely missed the heart (similarly to the fashion Karnage had once been shot) 
A raw, primal pain exploding in his chest, Abbington whimpered and thought to himself: 
 Porter you sorry, sorry bastard this better have been worth it…. 
Before he disappeared into the slimy black of unconsciousness. 
“Abbington!” 
Porter dropped to his knees beside the jackal on the ground and, tearing a large piece from his own shirt and applied pressure to the gruesome wound. He couldn’t make himself look at Karnage. 
 Grace, fighting back tears, had already (But barely) managed to stop the bleeding on her husband’s arm. Karnage was crying, and he shook his head. 
“Dat was….Estupido. What all of us deed. Enough keeling. Enough hurt.” 
Porter nodded. 
“I….What I did was….Emotionally malformed.” 
There was fear and upset in his eyes. 
“I…..If that satisfies you, I will stop pursuing the case. The rest of the CBI does not know of this venture. If….If Abbington lives, I will request that he do the same.” 
Karnage nodded grimly. 
“We weel be going.” 
Porter sighed exhaustedly for all that he’d caused as he heaved the unconscious Abbington into his arms and lowered him into the boat. And with that, the two parties (Grace and Karnage went back to Lexbay to get their things first) went to their respective boats and emerged from the mystery and wonder of Thunder Island, and back to the regular world. 
 Epilogue Edit
Karnage and Abbington both had their wounds treated at Karnageport’s one hospital, which, though small; was fairly modern and blessedly competent. It turned out that the bullet had broken his arm, the wolf would need to have his arm in a cast for a month, which wasn’t fun. The good news however, was though the injury wasn’t in any way life-threatening, and recovery would be imminent after the cast was removed. 
 Abbington on the other hand, was not faring so well. Being almost 52 years old and generally lax about his health, he’d have to spend two weeks in the hospital, and then two weeks of bed rest following (Even though Karnage, being younger and generally more supple had been able to get around a little after two weeks upon suffering his similar gunshot injury back in 1941), much to his outrage. 
 However, he begrudgingly agreed when Porter told him they were going to drop their plan; and sent out a telegraph to Khan saying so. Khan was outraged when he found out what the fox and the jackal had done, but he opted not to pursue any form of action against them. He WAS CEO of Khan Industries after all, and therefore had bigger fish to fry. (Khan would die mysteriously on New Year's Day 1946 at a cocktail party, uttering the words "DAMN THAT WOLF!" before slumping over on the table dead) 
In a week and a half, Karnage was out of the hospital with his broken arm, (Which still hurt terribly), and he and Grace drove back to Cape Suzette to pick their children up. The moment Baloo (who’d been loitering around the docks, admittedly) saw the wolf, he ran inside yelling (But only to a certain point, so as not to alert the authorities) 
“KARNIE’S BACK!” 
And in moments, Grace and Karnage were reunited with their ecstatic children (Who of course, wouldn’t stop asking about their father’s cast) and when they eventually left, Baloo began to pace for a moment, shook his head slowly and said more to himself more than anybeast else: 
“I never thought I’d say this…..But I think I’m really gonna miss Karnie.” 
On the ride home, Alice and Leo simply couldn’t stop talking about all the fun they’d still managed to have in Cape Suzette, despite the situation being what it had been. Grace and Karnage were relieved that at least their children had been able to have a good time and still be children during a time that really and truly tested them. (And indeed, their stay in Cape Suzette hadn’t been without its frequent low points, at times too) 
But then, it was back to Southshire and back, finally to normalcy, though Alice and Leo had mixed feelings about starting school, especially now that they’d started later than everyone else. In early October when his cast was removed, but because his left arm was still weak and difficult to move, he decided to give himself more time to recover before resuming piracy. 
But by the end of the month, Karnage’s arm finally healed, and only a puckered scar served to remind him of the incident on Thunder Island. Then, he went back to plundering though it was significantly less than what he’d done before the war, and now, out of sheer paranoia there was also a great amount of caution involved as well. 
And what of Abbington and his own recovery, you may ask? After his excruciatingly boring two weeks of bed rest, he briefly returned to his career at the CBI headquarters before taking a look at his job and realizing now was definitely as good a time as any to retire; seeing as he suddenly took much less joy in it. 
 So, Abbington discussed with Porter how HE would like to lead the CBI in his place. The fox was overjoyed, and gladly took over the position while Abbington devoted his time to life at home, trying to create at least a somewhat-better relationship with Diane. 
Back in Southshire, as far as Grace’s pregnancy was concerned, things were going extremely well; and around early December she started feeling kicks. However, on Thursday, December 13th, Grace was at work when she suddenly felt extreme stomach pain, a fever, and an overall feeling of weakness. Puzzled, but figuring it was just a bug, Grace requested to take the remainder of the day off, and this was granted. 
 On the walk home, she generally felt better and the pain had lessened significantly. She briefly questioned if she was possibly having a miscarriage but tried to force this thought out of her mind, also remembering that most miscarriages occurred very early in pregnancies, but here she was; five months along! 
 Nonetheless, a tiny sliver of doubt began to waver and grow in the darkest corners of Grace’s mind as she got home, so she decided to distract herself by making a light lunch. After eating, the cramps returned, and worse than ever; and Grace felt a nauseatingly thick, warm slime coat the bottom of her panties. 
She staggered into the downstairs bathroom to see what the hell was happening, completely forgetting to close the door. Breathing raggedly and with a nervous gasp as she stripped her lower body and found her underwear to be coated with a thick, crimson slime. Able to yank her underwear back on with shaking paws, Grace tried to pull her skirt back up but just fell to her knees on the ground before she collapsed altogether, splayed out on the little green carpet. 
“Shit….shit….SHIT!” 
A miscarriage. She had a sick feeling deep in her heart this was definitely a miscarriage. Grace would have forced herself to crawl to the nearest phone to call a doctor, an ambulance, anybody; but it was too late, and she felt herself slowly tilting into a cold and unfeeling abyss. 
Grace didn’t know how much time had passed, but it had been 11:19 when she’d gotten home and made lunch, and she was reasonably sure the children were still in school. Her prediction was proved wrong however, when she could faintly hear them pestering Karnage if they could play outside, especially now that it was starting to snow. 
He said yes, but first they had to get their homework done. Alice disappeared into her room to do that, whereas Leo hurried off towards the living room, not passing by the bathroom (which was in a hallway) as he did. 
“Querida? 
Grace gasped, hearing the trademark sound of her husband’s boots as he veered off from the kitchen at a sprint. Karnage froze in his tracks as he saw his wife, curled in a perfect pool of rose red, a tiny beast still attached to her from the umbilical cord, with a slightly-gaping muzzle, vaguely webbed paws, outstretched reedy limbs, sunken eyes, with reddish-colored skin that would have been fur the same color as its father, sister and aunt’s. It was male. 
“Felipe?” 
Grace blinked as Karnage knelt beside her, not even thinking as he tore off a piece of his coat and used it to stop the bleeding, which had started once again. 
“Querida, DON’T MOVE!” 
“I….I’m sorry.”Grace muttered, dazed. 
“Eet’s not….Your fault….WHERE’S DE DAMNED PHONE?!”He roared into the background. 
 Somewhere in the background, Leo had darted into the kitchen carrying the telephone in his arms. He deposited it onto the table. 
“It’s right here dad!” 
Karnage swallowed and took a deep breath as he said to his son: 
“Call an ambulance.” 
Leo started dialing the emergency number and flinched moments later. 
“Okay, it’s ringing!” 
 “I’ll be right back, querida.” 
Karnage promised her, and went to tell the operator what was wrong. By the time the ambulance came, Grace was unconscious once again. Before taking the Rolls Royce to visit Grace in the hospital, Karnage gathered both his children and solemnly told them that they wouldn’t be getting a little brother or sister anymore. Alice was visibly upset, but Leo on the other hand, took it all in stride, which unnerved his father. Before driving out to visit Grace, Karnage raggedly called Melina and told her to please look after his children while he was out, it was an emergency. 
By the time Karnage showed up, the ER was empty and eerily silent. He settled down in an uncomfortable chair to wait. Eventually someone told him that Grace’s umbilical cord had been cut, she'd passed the afterbirth, and that the bleeding was under control, so she could now have visitors. 
In a plain, blue-wallpapered room that was empty save for a bed and a nightstand, Grace sat, in nondescript hospital pajamas, rocking the baby in her arms wordlessly, the stillborn child looking much less gruesome now that he was clean, and wrapped in a thin blanket that was as white and seemingly endless as the snow beginning to fall outside. 
 Grace was weeping softly as she thought. Alice and Leo, at birth had at first been mewling furless little things that Grace had fallen so deeply in love with the minute she’d held them; and it had been such a delight to watch them grow older, develop their senses, fur; and eventually learn to walk, crawl, and finally talk. This never would never happen now with her second pregnancy. 
“What was de name we had decided for heem….?” 
Karnage asked quietly, breaking the silence. 
Even though it had been so long since they’d picked baby names, Grace still remembered. 
“Daniel Kane Karnage.” 
She breathed. 
“You…..You can hold him.” 
Grace sobbed afresh as she handed Daniel to her husband, who laid a paw on her shoulder. 
Karnage didn’t speak, but he thought silently: 
 Papa and mama love you. You never came to us, little treasure…..We love you. 
Felipe kissed his son's tiny head, sobbing brokenly, unable to find the welcome release of tears he desperately needed. 
We always will…. You were our little angel and always will be. 
After several minutes, Karnage couldn’t take it anymore and wept, handing the dead child back to Grace. The two held each other for what seemed like eons, until Grace finally fell asleep. 
 ~ 
Two days later, Grace came home from the hospital (She’d been kept just to make sure the bleeding was under control and no more complications would set in) to a silent household. Alice was visibly depressed at what had transpired, but Leo was his normal self as usual, but he rarely spoke anyway. 
The funeral was to be held December 23rd, Alice and Leo’s last day of school before winter break, though it would be held while they were still in class. Grace kept to the bedroom, and on that evening, Karnage had just been getting ready for bed himself when he saw Grace, standing in the room, putting aside a very dusty bottle of painkillers she’d been taking for back pain during her first pregnancy. 
A cluster of pills sat in her paw, un-swallowed. When Grace saw Karnage staring at her in horror, she gave him a look resembling a child who’d been caught stealing from a candy store. 
“I’m sorry!” 
She choked, and dropped the pills before collapsing on the bed, crying and sobbing Daniel’s name. They held each other for the longest time before Karnage quietly picked up the pills and flushed them down the toilet. Grace didn’t care, she clung to her husband like he was her lifeline and that was how they stayed all night. 
As the days leading up to Daniel’s tiny funeral came and went, Karnage had visibly been shaped by the tragedy in a very lasting way. He decided that it was finally time for him to stop procrastinating and end his piracy career. For real. He of course made a lengthy speech in front of his crew in an even lengthier ceremony on February 10th, 1946, his 38th birthday, and left Mad Dog permanently in charge. 
After that, Karnage began looking into a career as a lawyer of all things; which required a high school education. The wolf had sporadically attended high school from 1922 to 1926 and DID manage to graduate, so at least that was one thing he wouldn’t have to repeat. In the summer of 1946, (Karnage had decided he was going to try for college that fall) Grace and Karnage were somewhat-recovered from the loss of Daniel, and were visiting a state park several miles out of Karnageport with Rosa and Elisa, watching the sea. 
Rosa sat on a sun-warmed slab of granite. She paid little attention to her surroundings, as beautiful as they were: The granite cliffs were mostly grayish, but fraught with streaks of pale blue and reddish-brown, and hardy mountain plants poked their heads between the jagged cracks betwixt the rocks. 
The surface of the rock she sat on was covered with mint-green, flaky algae, and what appeared to be wild fruits that had been trod on by passing footpaws. Rosa sighed and let a breeze blow past her, not bothering to fan herself with whatever was on paw. Every family has a stubborn asshole (as Grace said), and Rosa was more than certain she was this family’s. She flinched as her brother joined her on the rocks and sat beside her. 
 They talked for a while, and when Helena eventually, inevitably came up, and Rosa told Karnage: 
“Felipe, it’s ok, it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have saved Helena any more than I could. She wanted out and….Hell, I don’t blame her.” 
She buried her face in her paws, and for the longest time, brother and sister sat in silence, gazing out at the dark sea, whose every wave seemed to glisten with a miniature diamond. Something had changed between them, something neither wanted to mention. Reconciled. 
“Good luck with college.” 
Rosa told him, sincerely. 
“Gracias.” 
And with that, in the glorious Old York afternoon, they went their separate ways. 
 Two years passed. 
 February 12th, 1948 
 Karnage stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror longer than was typical, even for him. He had turned 40 two days ago and felt his age, especially now that the twentieth anniversary of the thing he dreaded most was finally here. 
 He flinched, as he could almost SEE Helena’s reflection in the mirror. She was indeterminate of age, but still very, very young, but there seemed to be happiness in her bright eyes. Clearly and slowly, she mouthed the words 
‘Move on’ 
Karnage sighed, as he knew he should have done that years ago and felt terribly guilty for it. 
“Do I have to?” 
He asked Helena. 
The reflection of his sister nodded. 
Karnage took a deep breath, and it was unnerving
 because he could almost HEAR Helena say ‘I love you’ 
Karnage didn’t turn back to see if the reflection was still there or not. Suddenly he felt more than ready to move on; and to do things with his life, especially now that he was in college. And so, for the first time in years, Karnage felt sure of himself and ready when he finally turned and walked away from the ghost in the mirror.
Category:Dogfather