The Black Dot

People fear the unknown around them. Most people will toast a cold one to that sentiment. It’s become a hackneyed theory that might as well be fact. Vulpecula didn’t fear the unknown, however. Or, at least, not the unknown around him. Because, simply put, he knew the unknown. 

The unknown was filled with groups like The Shock, groups that would induce the kind of fear to make someone like Comet Fowley amputate his own hand to purge himself from their wrath. 

Vulpecula Noel made a toast to that, sipping from the glass bottle that shook around in his hands. 

Purging oneself from The Shock only welcomed a reckoning from someone else. Every door closed was a door open to another, meaner monster. 

Alcohol had such a delectable taste to it, and one that The Fox Detent had since, invariably, acquired. Not at One Step Back, his pub of choice, however. In-fact, it’d been many weeks since he’d tossed one back with his lizard friend Red. 

“To The Gave!” Vulpecula mumbled to himself, though, with no emotion behind it, raising his half-empty glass of alcohol to the heavens, even though it, The Devil, he made a toast with. Or, who he wanted to make a toast against. 

V made a proclamation the very night he met Red. The same day of the events that befell him in the Alo Cemetery, he promised not to follow his father’s footsteps through the darkness. The very darkness that consumed his father, that led his mother astray, rendering her absentee in her son’s life forever after. That night, he vowed to avoid the underbellies of a world propped up and perpetuated by plain badness and cruelty. That night, Vulpecula made a promise to live. 

It took seconds of searching amongst the contents of a once cleanly assorted hotel room, now, horrid, to realize his fatal flaw was he didn’t know how to live. 

Horrid was not an understatement, but a statement of fact. 

The room was neat and tidy as he arrived, spotless when he left the hotel key on the hook by the door, and immaculate when he hung his scarf on the rack beside that. Through time and exertion, the former Fox Detective’s sloppiness prevailed, however. Strewn about were empty beer cans and used Styrofoam plates, and a vast, surprisingly definitive collection of DVDs he’d bought, blowing through his own inheritance. Happy stories, the silly ones, like animations where humans were given animal characteristics, walking and talking and frolicking about like it was no big deal, those were his favorite. They were simple and ignorant. 

In the days after the morbid happenstances in the Alo Cemetery, V made himself accustom to One Step Back, visiting his dearest friend Red daily. The therapeutic gain of his companionship, however, had diminishing returns when the nightmares began to worsen. The dark thoughts were always certain to target the ones he loved. The machete that split through the camel’s back was one he had about Apus. 

He’d wake up yelling in the night, and, at last, decided it best to exile himself from Lacerta and Apus. 

Nay, Vulpecula did not fear the unknown around him. He feared the unknown that was inside of him. For, inside of him, the Gray Fox continues its eternal journey through the pitch-black cave of his psyche, and he did so without the light and with a broken compass. 

V’s thoughts became mangled and depleted as his mind deteriorated. It was no longer the household of cognitive thought, but, rather, a house after moving day. A house being moved from, that is. Empty, with only the residual ghost of what once inhabited it, the only things left were the appliances the old homeowners left. The instinctual needs, like the need for sustenance and the need for alcohol to keep the monsters at bay. 

It was an everyday mission, his only mission, to provide for himself, only the bare minimum. After all, it was what he deserved. 

His own man now, apparently, the newly alcoholic fox arose to his feet, dizzily wobbling about the hotel room, stepping over and spilling food and drinks, staining the carpets. He used his walking stick as a cane to keep himself from taking a tumble down into the filth. The aroma of vomit in his fur was not lost on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to give a damn about it. Shakily pawing at the doorknob, trying to figure out the contraption in all its splendor, he was, at last, able to make his leave. 

He might have shut the door behind him, though, the second his back turned from the door, his mind was too far gone to really turn again and make for certain. 

The surroundings of the hotel were much more glamorous and enticing than the confines of his room would have suggested. It had a shiny chandelier on the ceiling and dark-red carpeting that was much too blurry for him to articulate for himself. The walls were embroidered with decorative flowers and a brown trim at the floor. Beyond the scent of puke, Vulpecula smelled the scent of an air-freshener that reminded him of the great outdoors, for lack of a better description. 

The Fox hiccupped and attempted to fidget with the hairs on his chin, though, every time he made the reach, he found his hand on his ears instead. The stairs had a nifty rail, a safeguard to keep his drunkenness from sending him down the steps and out of consciousness. And, with that, Vulpecula took careful steps, one, two, and three, four, five, then, six. In time, he made it to the end of the staircase, entering the main lobby of the hotel, behind a desk, a finely dressed clerk stood, not far from him. 

Vulpecula didn’t make eye-contact with him. Looked away from him, in-fact, and while he heard formal greeting on the store clerk’s behalf, he ignored it. It was a matter of personal safety. 

The crowds of men and women about the exit discouraged him, he had half a mind to try again a later date. He had gone at night-time, assuming less people would be about, and perhaps there was less, but the unease didn’t subside. He knew that he needed food, that he was running low, and so, he mustered the courage to continue fourth through the exits. 

The store wasn’t very far, across the street and a couple of blocks. The highway scared him a lot, the only thing that scared him more was the lady at the counter of the small general store, her name was Marissa, V had a hunch she wanted to murder him. He had tried to schedule himself on the times when she wasn’t there, but he found that the other cashier-person, Rob, was probably a pedophile. Rob being a pedophile didn’t really pose much danger to The Fox, but he didn’t really like the idea of the guy being near his food. Marissa was the flip of the coin choice, really. 

The store was called Bucks and had a creepy fake human head on the sign, it sold the essentials, like soda and chips, booze and small microwaveable dinner trays. 

Vulpecula entered with his muzzle pointed down toward the slick, white linoleum floor. 

“Good evening,” the woman, Marissa commented, but Vulpecula couldn’t bring himself to return the pleasantry. 

Vulpecula knew, on some level, the chances of Marissa being a murderer or Rob being a pedophile were slim to none. 

They were small jokes for his entertainment that only ended up perpetuating his own paranoia. They were his over-the-top reason for feeling how he felt, which was, quite frankly, reclusive and afraid. And, while he knew the concepts were his own fabricated narrative, when he thought them, he couldn’t seem to un-think them. At the sight of them, he felt, … terrified. Terrified of what skeletons they made have hid in their closets, terrified of what he might, one day, prove himself capable of. 

He walked about the aisles of the grocery store, thinking over all the things he needed to survive the next week or so. His blank chalkboard being reduced to a makeshift grocery list in his head, written in chicken scratch. 

Vulpecula met the back of the store shortly, that’s where they kept the alcohol after all. He reached in the pouch on his scarf to make certain he had his I.D., and then, pulled open the cooler doors to grab a box. It was then, through the opened glass door, he made eye-contact with Lacerta and Apus. 

They stared back at him. They had worried looks on their faces. Vulpecula felt the box drop out from his hands and onto the floor, he could hear a broken can spitting beer out like a sprinkler system. 

“My God, V, what happened to you? Where have you been all this time?” Lacerta asked, an exasperated expression on his face that illustrated his concerns. 

“Are you okay?” Apus asked next, a somber tone. 

Vulpecula looked at them and didn’t feel a sense of comfort in his friends, didn’t feel a sense of shame in them seeing him in his current state. The Fox felt anger, in-fact, he felt a rage brewing inside of him, blisteringly so, it refused to relent. The Fox felt his teeth on edge, and with no control, ran in their direction. He made a lunge toward Lacerta, who attempted to block the attack with his forearm, instead, V drove his teeth into the Lizard’s flesh. Lacerta flinched instinctively, pulling away and falling on his bottom, bringing down an assortment of stocked items off the shelves as he did so. 

Vulpecula’s body felt the warm embrace of madness, and the white hotness of rage, but in his mind, he watched on, screaming at his lack of control. As if, somehow, he had been demoted to the passenger seat of his own self. Shoving Apus to the ground harshly, Vulpecula dragged him by his talons through one of the aisles, until, at last, snatching up a knife from a rack. In seconds, and without thought, in his mind, still screaming at the top of his lungs, Vulpecula brought the knife down into his friend’s chest, piercing him as the blood left Apus’ body. 

The sound of his friend’s plaintive screams did not fall on deaf ears, Apus shouted and hollered, begging for mercy, but The Fox did not oblige to his requests. Instead, he continued, carving the owl up like a jack o’lantern. With blood staining his white fur, The Fox looked down at what he’d done. A dead friend by his hands. 

“You still with us, V?” A voice asked, a voice that Vulpecula recognized as belonging to Lacerta. 

Vulpecula’s eyes shot open the very second they were permitted to do so, the second the dream’s clutches released him. His body shook fiercely, and he searched about his environment with hopes of explanation. His head ached, presumably from his hangover. Lacerta looked on at him with an unpleasant gaze. Around him, Vulpecula soon realized he was in the lobby of the hotel. He could hear quick footsteps, and saw a paramedic walk in-front of his line of sight. He looked down at his hands and saw they were covered in blood. A feeling of shock and fear jolted in him, and he tried to spring to his feet. 

“Careful, V, why don’t you just sit there until the paramedic has his say, okay?” Lacerta said, putting his hand on V’s chest and pushing him back down into his chair. 

Vulpecula felt his breathing speed up, his eyes roamed about crazily, until finding Apus. He brushed Lacerta away from him and ran toward his owl-friend. Apus stared back at him with a wide-eyed look. Vulpecula grabbed him and hugged him in an embrace. “I’m so sorry for what I did, I’m so sorry,” Vulpecula confessed, feeling the tears rush down, dampening his fur. “I would never hurt you, … wouldn’t hurt you,” he rambled repeatedly, “Wouldn’t hurt you.” Vulpecula felt Apus’ arm over his head. 

“I know, you wouldn’t,” Apus said, though, it did little to calm Vulpecula’s nerves, in-fact, it might have worsened it, because The Fox only cried more profusely. 

* * * 

Vulpecula felt his eyelids spread by the doctor, a bright light was flashed in his eyes that stung, still, he did his best to remain compliant. Afterward, the doctor, a penguin, handed him a towel to wipe the blood off his paws and from his fur. A more thorough cleansing would be needed to fully remove the discoloring on his white fur, however. 

“What exactly happened?” Vulpecula said, pulling the stained scarf from off his neck. He still felt light-headed, but his intoxication had been greatly slept off. 

“The amount of alcohol in your body made a flight of stairs more complicated than open-heart surgery. On the way down, you hit your head and knocked yourself unconscious. You were responsive a few seconds when the hotel employees moved you, for long enough to hit the speed dial on your phone, and then, your friends came as soon as they could,” the paramedic said, seeming neither amused with himself or concerned, just a by-the-books professional disposition. 

Vulpecula didn’t respond to him, simply sat quietly while he did his procedures. He looked around the hospital room, looked at the informative posters on the walls, the little brochure-shaped literature on what to do if you or a loved one is experiencing chest pains, and dug his claws into the paper sheet thrown over the small examination bed. Lacerta and Apus sat in chairs not far from him, themselves, also quiet. They barely said a word to him the whole ambulance ride there, though, he was far too out of it to be sociable anyways. 

“Today’s your lucky day, Mr. Noel. Your head was hard enough to keep yourself from having a concussion. Some moderate-to-severe bruising, but you’ll only be sore for the next few weeks, at the most.” 

“He’s free, then?” Lacerta blurted out, both Vulpecula and the doctor, Doctor Nash is what it said on his name-tag, looked at him. 

“I have run a few other tests as well, but we won’t find those results out for a few days. Other than that, all I can advise is that you take it easy for the next couple of days. I’ll prescribe some ibuprofen for you, for if you experience any pain. I would also recommend not drinking heavily with it, assuming you care more about your stomach lining than your liver.” Doctor Nash smiled at himself, clearly amused. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a penguin and you’re sassy,” Lacerta started, then, took Vulpecula’s hand, “Come on, V, let’s go!” 

Vulpecula obliged, following Lacerta and Apus out from the doctor’s office, walking haphazardly with each step. A small amount of paranoia overcame him with each nurse, doctor, and patient they past, but something about being amongst his friends made it easier for him. 

“Where are we going?” Vulpecula said, a somber tone behind his words. 

“You left the door open to your hotel room, amongst that tornado aftermath of garbage you left, it dawned on me you’re in need of a decent meal. There’s a small diner that isn’t far from here, we’ll have some coffee and food, and we’ll talk.” Lacerta replied, a calm tone. 

“Okay,” Vulpecula answered, following close behind them, his eyes pointed down, watching their feet for his guide. 

Lacerta stopped in his tracks and let out a breath, looking up at Vulpecula, The Fox returned his gaze. “I’m very happy we found you, friend. I don’t know where your head is at, but we’ll get through this, alright?” 

Vulpecula felt the tears swell up in his eyes, and nodded his head, a weak smile that he couldn’t hold for very long. 

“But first, might I recommend a shower?” Apus interjected. 

* * * 

The diner’s sign introduced itself as My Place, an on-the-nose name for a restaurant, Vulpecula thought. The restaurant was small, a mom and pop’s store by all definitions of the phrase. They opened the door, sounding a small bell at the entrance and heard the warm, gracious greetings of the host. Lacerta reciprocated, meanwhile, Vulpecula twiddled with the fur on his chin while he walked. Lacerta was very kind to a woman that was mostly definitely a terrorist, Vulpecula jested to himself. 

They had seats at the table and began searching through the menus, which were hand-written and lamented. The area had a certain charming coziness about it. Plain beige carpeted flooring and plastic colored tables that didn’t really seem to have a clear pattern or theme about them. It felt like someone’s home in that sense. The waitress left them at their table, giving them time to decide on what they wanted to eat. He started them off with some drinks, however, bringing them coffee. Vulpecula usually took his coffee with milk but couldn’t find it in himself to ask. 

“I feel like we’ve seen less and less of you as of late,” Lacerta said, blowing on his cup of coffee, readying it for when it came time to take a sip. 

“I’ve been preoccupied, life outside the case work is a busy one,” Vulpecula replied dryly, though, he knew his thinly veiled lie could be seen through. 

“I bet,” Lacerta concurred, “You worked a real number on your hotel room.” 

“The hotel will be reimbursed in full for the damages I’ve caused,” Vulpecula replied, looking at his black coffee, reaching for one of the sugar packets at the side of the table. 

“But, what about you? I mean, you don’t exactly look your best, friend.” Lacerta said. 

“I’m not my best,” Vulpecula seconded. “I’m far from my best. I am my worst, a million times over, I have fallen further than I have ever fallen before.” 

“And, how are you going to get up from it all? What will you do about it?” Lacerta asked, the waitress returned, Lacerta smiled at him and explained they’d need a little bit more time. After the waitress left, however, his attention went back to Vulpecula. 

“I don’t know,” Vulpecula said, he felt a warmness in his chest that told him the water-works were about to rush in again. He fought them back. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about it, Lacerta.” 

A couple of moments passed of silence, Vulpecula used it as a chance to rifle through the menus of food. He figured it best that they had a clear answer the next time the waitress came, or else she might be mad at them. The next time the waitress came by, Vulpecula asked for a BBQ veggie burger, seasoned with peppers and spices. It also came with a side of fries. The waitress asked him to spell his name, meaning to write it on the Styrofoam box as was, apparently, customary for the restaurant. However, he found himself unable to remember how. Lately, the nervousness caused by social interaction with a stranger made him light-headed and forgetful, he’d forget to breathe which caused the light-headedness … which caused more forgetfulness. He had the waitress write “V” instead. 

“Do you remember the first time I met you?” Lacerta said, at last, looking over at V. 

“You called me Vulva Noel and took my walking stick and shoved it in the exhaust pipe of the Principal’s car, knowing she’d find me and give me detention for a month,” Vulpecula said, chomping down on his burger. 

“Yeah, but do you know why I did it?” Lacerta asked. 

“Because you had a mean, alpha father who instilled feelings of deep insecurity in you and your lack of masculinity, and so, you felt the need to overcompensate by harassing someone weaker than yourself.” Vulpecula answered, a weak, but sly smile on his face as he did so. 

“Hmm,” is all Lacerta said, at first, “I also did it because I was envious of you. You were Henley Noel’s kid, that guy took down The Canes, and everyone loved you. But then, when I met the real you, I realized that you didn’t really like you. You didn’t like your father, and, at first, I thought it was ego. That you didn’t like him because, no matter what you did, you’d never be anything but Hensley’s son. But, then, I realized it was the exact opposite, and that you empathized with, well, everybody. Even the Canes.” 

Lacerta chuckled some at the thought, “After all they’d done, you stood up for them. I remember one kid, something Russ, you,” Lacerta continued. 

“Emmett Russ,” Vulpecula corrected. 

“He was being bullied and you went out of your way to befriend him, the son of Henley Noel, the king of foxes, the guy that brought the dogs back to their place, was a dog lover!” Lacerta explained. 

“Emmett wasn’t part of The Canes, but by association, was vilified. His Dad was an angry man and lost his job when The Canes fell from power, Emmett came to school with black-eyes and bruises. Nobody cared,” Vulpecula said. 

“Everyone was busy celebrating their freedom, and celebrating that dogs were finally getting what was coming to them, but you saw things differently. And, in the years after, I only saw more of that from you. I found that you were pure,” Lacerta smiled, biting into his food, “And, that, the only time you liked you, was when you felt like you actually helped somebody or stopped an individual who was bad.” 

“I don’t think I am as good as what you think of me, I’m not that person. I’m bad. I have these thoughts and I don’t know what,” Vulpecula started to confess, defiant against Lacerta’s false claims. 

“But, I learned that, with extreme highs, come extreme lows, and soon, I realized how bad it could take its toll on you. And, it does take its toll, doesn’t it?” Lacerta interrupted him. 

“…. Yeah,” Vulpecula said, “Yeah, yeah, it does.” 

“The ability to empathize with so many, in so many situations, when you see cats like Akil and Ajou, it takes its toll because you try to understand them and that hurts.” 

“I didn’t expect it. I walk hand-in-hand with good and bad, on a path, and it all works out, but doing what I do, it makes a fork in the road. I venture into the darkness to make myself understand, I venture on, but lately, I’m having trouble finding my way back. And, it seems like, now, I’ve went beyond the point of return, I can’t forget what I’ve already seen. Alcohol helps with that.” 

“That’s no way to live though, is it?” 

“I don’t know how to live, all I know is how to solve cases, and if I keep doing that, it will probably kill me.” Vulpecula said, resting his hands on the table. 

“But if you keep up like this, it will kill you too.” Lacerta countered. 

Vulpecula laughed. “So, either way, I’m a martyr, it’s all about the cause I choose.” 

“No, you can choose to join a Twelve Step Program, nip alcoholism, Apus and I will stand behind you with that. You don’t ever have to solve a case ever again and have your whole life ahead of you. Your inheritance left you enough to pursue a plethora of opportunities to help people. You can walk away from all of this. This doesn’t have to be you, if you don’t want it to be. Just don’t stand in the way of yourself and choose happiness, choose the life you know you deserve.” 

2. 

Vulpecula arose from his bed and headed down the stairs, it was time for a new day. His fur better kempt than it had been in weeks, he wore a suit and a hollow smile. He hoped that one day the smile would be something more than simply a facade. Holding his phone in his hands, he thumbed through the text messages he’d been given by Psitticus. He had been ignoring them in recent weeks but was surprised that the parrot’s offer remained on the table. 

With many events befalling the Marybeth Police Department, they had been in search of new blood. Vulpecula fit the bill in that regard. 

The texts gave him an address, advising him that Urgway’s Head Detective (the man standing even above Psitticus) had requested to personally conduct the assessment and oriental period of his replacement. 

Vulpecula did his best to feign sociability when he entered the taxi driver’s vehicle. It was one of the many missions that found itself written on his black chalkboard. In the hope that he’d one day be able to find himself co-existing with everyone around him on a happier level. Part of him didn’t believe it, but the other part of him did. He wanted it to work. To find happiness and do what needed to be done. He really wanted it to work. 

As they arrived at their destination, The Fox Detective smiled at his taxi-driver, who reciprocated the grin. Vulpecula handed him a mess of coin, letting him keep the change. 

Up the stairs he went, until, at last, meeting the entrance into the massive building, one of the biggest, most likely the biggest, building in all Urgway. It was the building where all the taxpayer’s money had evidently been invested. How the rest of Urgway looked like an eye sour, this building had a marvelous integrity about it. The aesthetic stood out like a sore thumb. 

Vulpecula walked about the building, smiling and nodding at everyone around him, faking it up with his finely tailored clothes and upright disposition. In due time, he found the elevator, it was Floor 22 where the Head Detective’s floor was located. 

Vulpecula pressed the button and let out a breath as the doors closed before him. He knew what he was signing up for. People like Akil and Ajou that would pose dead corpses for their own entertainment, and groups like The Shock that would terrify people like Comet Fowley into amputating themselves. He was signing up for more of it, and likely, a lot worse things than that. But, if nothing else, at least he was working among the same group of people that brought The Shock to justice, people that could make a difference. It was the life he knew he deserved, after all. 

The elevator doors opened, a feeling of anxiety came over The Fox Detective with every footstep he made. He wasn’t certain if it was the worrisome kind or the excited kind, but he walked forward, looking about the Head Detective’s enormous office. 

The office was mostly bare bones, with renovations surely to come in later days. 

Vulpecula took a seat in-front of the oak desk. A mirror stood behind it, one where Vulpecula was able to get a good look at himself. 

Vulpecula adjusted his collar but found that it wasn’t himself staring back at him in the mirror. It was the familiar face of the gray fox, more vivid than ever. V took in another breath and let it leave him, he closed his eyes, and looked again. 

At last, he saw himself in the mirror. Things were going to get better. To set himself on the proper path and find light within the dark or risk the yin and yang of himself turn completely dark, a black dot. 

He turned when he heard the dinging elevator. The elevator opened. 

“Hello, Sanec Barker.” 

Every door closed is a door open to another, greater opportunity.