FSE

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Zayin leaned back against the sloped wall of the storm channel, humming softly as he wrapped a bundle of firecrackers around an old, scratched-up spray paint can. His eyes were narrowed slightly with focus as he carefully bound the fireworks with a strip of cloth, and led the fuse out, before putting the now highly explosive aerosol can on top of a wooden crate next to him. The white-furred wolf flashed a smirk under the respirator that covered his face, excited to finally be putting his new project into motion.

Zayin wore a red varsity jacket, often unzipped in an effort to keep himself cool while he ran about the city, usually sprinting to get to class or off preparing for his next street art project. His hair was a messy mohawk that often swept over his face and fell a little past his neck, dyed a bright red.

The young wolf looked to his right to the slightly portly rabbit that was his company and temporary assistant in this most recent art project of his.

"How's it coming, Max?" Zayin asked, his voice slightly muffled through the respirator. The rabbit tilted his head side to side in a "so-so" gesture while working on his small pile of rigged spray paint cans.

"It's... Coming, I guess." Max replied, not trying to hide the rising skepticism in his voice. "Dude, are you sure about this one? Like, you're already on probation from the other tags; this just doesn't seem smart." He spoke, his long ears swinging slightly behind his head as he looked over at the wolf. Zayin didn't look over, instead grabbing another can of paint to rig up.

"I already asked my probation officer. He said it wasn't 'advisable', but technically legal. There aren't any noise ordinances that apply out here." Zayin explained, tilting his head slightly to the right as he focused on tying the fireworks onto this can. "And this is a designated graffiti tagging spot. The drain isn't used anymore; it'll get filled in with concrete a few months down the line." He continued, finishing the can and placing it down on top of the crate. Max didn't seem convinced.

"And the whole... Improvised explosive devices thing? He didn't have anything to say about that?" Max questioned.

"Dude, chill. It's paint, not pipe bombs. It'll make a big splattery neon mess, we take a few pics, we move on. Literally, no harm done." Zayin continued, his brow furrowing under his mask.

"Uh-huh. Sure. Seems to me like you just want an excuse to just blow stuff up." Max spoke with a fair amount of condescension before shaking his head. The tone of his voice changed, suddenly a bit more serious. "Hey man, that aside..."

"Hm?" Zayin looked over, pausing his work on the cans.

"You... hear anything from Marcus?" Max asked, averting his gaze from Zayin as he asked the question. Zayin thought for a moment.

"Ah. Nah. Is he still uh..."

"Missing. Yeah." Max completed the sentence for him. "It's been two weeks now, man. I know he's flakey and vanishes sometimes. But he's never been out this long. It just... It doesn't feel right."

"He went camping again, yeah? Who'd he go with?" Zayin asked.

"Nobody. He went alone this time. Said he wanted some alone time." Max answered. Zayin raised his brow.

"He went camping alone? Isn't that like, dangerous and shit? And he didn't tell anybody where he went?"

"He's done it before, a lot, actually. He's pretty experienced. He didn't say where he was going, just somewhere around The Fringes. Which could honestly be anywhere, it's a huge place." Max explained, his distant expression still held on his face. "I let his family know; I'm pretty sure they've called the cops already. Said they were gonna a few days ago."

"Oh, you know his family, Max? That's cool." Zayin commented, only for the rabbit to shake his head again.

"Nope. Called 'em up just for this."

"Ah, shit. Well, still good of you to let 'em know and stuff. Didn't realize you were so worried about it. But I guess now that you mention it... Yeah, it's been a crazy amount of time for sure." Zayin reflected, scratching the back of his head and casting his gaze downwards.

"Uh-huh." Max seemingly didn't know how to continue the conversation, and neither did Zayin. An awkward silence hung between the two before Zayin cleared his throat and focused back down on his paint cans. Max half-heartedly continued, finishing another rig and setting it down. He began to reach for another one but suddenly stopped himself.

"Hey, man. I think I'm gonna go home. I feel like shit." Max spoke. Zayin, who would normally protest losing a willing assistant, but felt awkward about the previous conversation, decided to just let him go.

"Oh, yeah. Sure, I guess. Take it easy, man." Zayin said as Max reached the top of the inclined drainage ditch and continued walking down, returning to the street the two had initially come from.

The now lone wolf continued his task silently, humming softly to himself as he wrapped firework fuses around more and more cans of paint. After a few minutes had passed, he felt his phone vibrate in his jacket pocket. It was a text from Max.

"Cops headed in your direction. Heads up."

Reading the text made Zayin's heart instinctually race. He perked his head and looked up towards the street. Nothing, yet. He tried to calm himself and take a deep breath. He already got permission for this; he didn't hide a single detail from his probation officer. He was fine. And yet...

After a few more moments, a patrol car eventually rolled up on the street at the end of the drain. A single officer stepped out of the driver's seat. Even with the distance between Zayin and the officer, he could tell at a glance who it was.

Alexander. A toweringly tall lion man who was assigned to be Zayin's direct probation officer. He walked quickly along the top rim of the ditch and before long was within earshot of Zayin. The lion had a warm red mane of swept-back hair and wore a uniform that always seemed to be uncomfortably tight on him. Zayin decided to speak first.

"H-Hello, sir!" His voice shook slightly as Alexander stopped. He crossed his arms and looked down at Zayin from the top of the drain. The lion had a sour look on his face. "Is there something I can help you with?" Alexander shook his head.

"I gotta say... This really, really sucks, kid." He spoke, his deep voice full of genuine disappointment. Zayin's ears flattened against the top of his head.

"What? This? I got approval for this this morning. You said it yourself. Remember?" Zayin asked defensively, putting down the paint can he had just finished on the pile. He was just about done before Alexander arrived.

"Yes. We approved your project here." He responded before walking down the inclined ditch, shuffling his feet a bit to keep his balance on the way down. Zayin took a few small steps back.

"So... What's the problem?" He asked.

"The operative word being here." Alexander responded. Zayin looked puzzled, his brows furrowing above his mask. "Not anywhere else."

"I don't get it. I've been here since I asked you this morning, and I only just got set up. I didn't paint anywhere else, man."

"We got reports of vandalism back downtown earlier today. Said they heard pops and bangs, like firecrackers." He explained, still with an expression of disappointment on his face as he examined the stack of cans that Zayin had just finished rigging up. "We checked it out, and the paint was still fresh. Covered almost an entire damn alleyway. There were cans blown to bits and evidence of fireworks used to detonate them."

"Well... I don't know what to tell you, man; it wasn't me. I got a witness, too. You want me to call him? He was with me since I left your office." Zayin said, his voice rising with tension. Alexander raised an eyebrow but shook his head.

"There's no need for that yet. We can call him later. But for now, I'm gonna have to ask you to come with me, please." The lion man spoke, his arms still crossed as he looked over back at Zayin.

"What? This is a misunderstanding, man; I swear it wasn't me." The young wolf tumbled over his words as he took a few steps back, visibly getting defensive now. The officer took a few steps forward in response.

"Hey, don't make this harder for yourself. You fucked up. You made a mistake. But it's not the end, just come with me and we'll get it sorted out, alright? Don't do anything-..." Alexander's voice quickly cut off. Behind Zayin, a high-pitched noise began to hiss softly.

Zayin looked behind him, and just barely saw the last trace of a fuse that was burning and slithering toward one of the cans on the bottom of the large stack. He looked quickly back at Alexander, adrenaline immediately surging through the wolf's body.

"SHIT! LOOK OUT!"

Boom.

There were a few initial pops followed by louder bangs, with neon splotches of paint flying into the air, and splattering over the concrete and any nearby surface, leaving non-objective streaks and spots of practically glowing, saturated color. Zayin would have deemed the project an incredible success if it had been executed under better circumstances. Less beautiful, however, were the razor-sharp pieces of aluminum shrapnel that also burst and were propelled outwards from the cans.

A bit quieter than the initial clamor, underneath the loud explosion of the aerosol containers, were the sounds of Zayin's sneakers rapidly sprinting off and away from the scene, the anxious wolf's back getting splattered with paint as he fled towards the end of the drain, sliding into a drainage tunnel. After a moment, the sound of Alexander's heavy boots quickly followed suit.

Shit, shit, shit... Zayin thought to himself as he sprinted through a complex maze of concrete drainage and sewer tunnels, illuminated only by the light of the sun shining through an occasional overhead grate. The light outside was beginning to turn a warm orange. Twilight was upon him.

He was hopelessly lost and had lost all sense of direction soon after he entered at the drainage ditch. The worst part was: he wasn't alone. Alexander was hot on his heels. Just when Zayin stopped running to catch his breath for a moment, his heart would rise, hearing nothing but his own breath, and then immediately sink again when he heard the heavy footsteps echoing from some far-off chamber behind him.

Damn nimble for his size. Zayin continued to think, regaining his breath as quickly as he could, slowing his pace to a steady jog, and constantly glancing back the way he came to check for his pursuer. His fur was damp with sweat, and his legs ached. He had been running for what felt like hours, although checking his phone revealed it had only been about 40 minutes since his explosive art piece detonated.

Zayin turned a corner and had to immediately squint his eyes, covering them with one of his hands. There was an exit from the drainage system, the light of the evening sun outside momentarily blinding him. Without looking back behind him, Zayin walked forward and out of the tunnel, hoping that Alexander would take a wrong turn somewhere and continue running laps in the sewer.

The first thing Zayin noticed was the sound of crickets and cicadas around him, something he wasn't used to hearing often. The sound was foreign to him, something that he had only really ever heard in movies. His eyes adjusted, and he noticed that he was standing in a patch of thick trees and overgrown ferns, with the twilight sun shining a hazy, soft light through them. Zayin walked forward and did his best to slow his breathing. He looked down at his paws; they were shaking.

With a very slow, deep breath, Zayin balled his fingers into fists and lowered them back down to his sides. He walked forward between the trees, the sound of leaves crunching under his sneakers. Just beyond the first layer of trees, there was a road. He looked down the road to the left, and just a ways down, he began to see some of the city's larger buildings, where he came from. A distant police siren in the direction made him cringe, his canine ears flattening and his expression tightening. He turned the other way and continued to walk down the road, trying to collect his thoughts.

Alright, alright. So, right now, Alexander is right on my tail. He's chased me all the way to the outskirts of town. Who the fuck lit that fuse? And why today of all days did someone else decide to detonate paint cans downtown? This is fucked, man... Zayin thought to himself, an expression of stressful contemplation on his face. My probation is fucked, and if I get caught, I'm fucked. So... Keep running. Face it later. Zayin paused and turned his head back. Heavy footsteps on concrete, immediately switching to heavy footsteps on leaves. His eyes widened, and his tail immediately froze. I'll face it later.

Zayin turned and broke out into another sprint, baffled at both the resilience and accuracy of the lion on his tail. It was getting really dark now; surely there was a place he could hide in the darkness here. He looked ahead to see a wooden sign in the ground, with chipped paint and dingy letters carved out in relief on the surface. 'Pinewood Trails', the sign read. The young wolf grimaced. He had scarce been to Pinewood Trails himself, but the neighborhood didn't have the best reputation in the city. Situated in the large wooded area around the city known as The Fringes, it was often reported to be shady at best, and dangerous at worst. Still, if he could just shake Alexander, he wouldn't have to stay long.

Zayin cut right, darting behind the sign and hopping a short fence that sectioned off a hill, weaving between a few loose trees and bushes. Towards the top of the hill, there were miscellaneous junk vehicles and scrap littered about. It was nearly fully dark at this point, with only a deep blue glow coming from the horizon where the sun was just setting. Stars began to show themselves overhead, several more of them than Zayin was usually accustomed to seeing in the city.

There was a trailer roughly offset in the center of the junkyard, with windows completely darkened. It was in considerably poor shape, so much so that Zayin was confident that it was long since unoccupied. Perfect.

Once again struggling to catch his breath, Zayin took a quick look back from where he came. No sight or sound of Alexander; yet, anyways. He knew he wouldn't give up the chase. The wolf approached the trailer and put his hand to the door handle, taking one last look back, his ears turning slightly. The crunch of leaves underfoot. As expected, he was coming. Zayin looked forward again, and tested the handle. Unlocked, thankfully. He muttered a small prayer to whatever god would listen, asking for help in hiding from his pursuer, and quickly opened the trailer door.

Zayin pressed his back against the closed door behind him, trying to slow his breathing down. He listened closely, trying to pinpoint the location and direction of the footsteps outside. The steps approached, the crunching of leaves and shuffling of dirt growing louder as the heavy steps drew near the door. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, his ears flattening to the top of his head, preparing for the worst before the footsteps stopped suddenly, before picking up quickly once again, but this time getting quieter. Alexander was leaving.

"Fuck... Thank G-"

The sound of a sliding pocket door getting thrown open made Zayin's eyes bolt wide open. A figure emerged from the back corner of the trailer; a wolf man with gray fur, and a shaggy mane of messy hair that fell below his shoulders. He looked older than Zayin, but not by too much. He appeared to do a double take as both of the wolves stared at each other, wide-eyed.

"Who the hell are you?! Get the fuck out!" He shouted, reaching back into the room where he came and returning with a large wooden stick that he brandished in his hands.

"Whoa! Whoa whoa whoa, hey! Look, I'm sorry, I didn't realize anyone was in here! Honest mistake, I swear!" Zayin stammered, holding his paws out in front of him in an attempt to show he meant no harm.

"Didn't realize no one was in here? This is my fucking HOME, jackass! You break into people's homes when they ain't around?! That acceptable to you?" He spat out, his voice a good bit deeper than Zayin's. "Out!" The shaggy wolf took a step forward as he barked the order again. His yellow eyes were fixed fiercely on Zayin, who nervously shifted under the gaze, looking back at the door.

"H-Hey man... Hear me out, please. I'm desperate here." Zayin said shakily, doing his best to de-escalate the situation. The wolf didn't respond, but also took no further steps toward him. Zayin thought he saw his expression change, a brow raising in curiosity. He took this as a sign to continue speaking. "Look, I uh... I'm on the run right now, man. But it's a huge misunderstanding. There's this cop out there who thinks I did some shit that I didn't, and I'm kinda maybe... Not in the best standing with law enforcement right now. I just need a place to chill for a second." Zayin explained, doing his best to reason with this stranger. "Please, just a little while. A few more minutes, and I'll go. I won't steal a thing, you can watch me. I swear." He finished, his voice fast, desperate. The grey wolf slightly lowered his stick and tilted his head.

"Kid... You're dumb as shit to run into a random building in this neighborhood. You're fuckin' lucky, most other buildings; you've got a good chance of getting shot." He spoke, his voice seeming a bit less agitated than it was before. He took a long look at Zayin, looking him up and down before he sighed and lowered his stick all the way down. "Lucky as hell. So what, you're from the city, yeah?" He asked.

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Easy to tell?" Zayin responded awkwardly, uneasy by the sudden casualness of the question. The wolf nodded.

"Yup. You don't get people wearin' flashy shit like that around here unless they're askin' to get mugged."

"Oh. Uh. Yeah... I guess." Zayin awkwardly mumbled, shifting on his feet and gently rubbing the edges of his sleeve with his fingers. "So... Uh. A few minutes, that's okay? I don't have anything I can pay you, but-"

"Forget it, man." The grey wolf cut him off. "Just park your ass and chill. Nothin' really here you can steal anyways." He tossed the stick aside and turned, opening a fridge nestled against the wall of the narrow trailer. A nearly blinding light came shining out of it, and Zayin was able to easily see the interior of the trailer now.

It was incredibly modest, to put it nicely. Directly across from Zayin laid a floral-patterned couch, worn with age and with a handful of small tears. There was a tiny table, one side lightly cluttered with snack containers and cups, the other with a laptop open. There was a tiny bar with a portable stovetop burner, a sink, and a microwave oven. Zayin also noted the pocket door that seemed to lead to a bedroom in the back, although couldn't see much further into it. Just a large bed that seemed to take up the majority of the space in the room. There was an ever so slight smell in the air, a smell that this trailer had been well lived in by this wolf for a while now.

The grey wolf pulled a can of soda from the fridge and sat at the table behind the laptop, pressing it on, and waiting for it to boot. Zayin finally moved himself away from the door and took a seat on the upholstered couch.

"Thank you." he spoke softly, doing his best to relax. There was no response from the other man, and Zayin began to awkwardly pat at his thighs, his legs shaking a bit. A series of clicks and occasional keystrokes came from the table. The light of the laptop illuminated the dark trailer into soft cool hues, occasionally shifting into other colors.

Not knowing what else to do, Zayin reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Three notifications: A missed call from Max and two texts. One text was a follow-up from Max. The other was a picture sent from an unknown number. Zayin raised an eyebrow, looking over at the wolf on the computer for a moment before turning so his back shielded his phone screen. He read Max's message.

"Did you get arrested?"

Zayin responded:"no"

He quickly backed out of the conversation, far more curious about the image that was sent to him. It took a moment for Zayin to process what he was looking at, but once he did, a gasp escaped his muzzle.

It was a picture of Marcus. The cat man was standing in the dark, with only the flash of the camera illuminating him in otherwise pitch-black darkness. His arms were gripping something behind his head, what appeared to be a hatchet. It, along with Marcus' face and clothing, was covered in blood. His face was held in a grimace, with wide, distressed eyes and his teeth gnashed.

Coming in from the dark margins of the photo was just the slight hint of something else in the frame, the source of Marcus' desperate expression. Zayin had no idea what it was, other than that it was just... There. And that something was horribly, horribly wrong.

After staring at the photo in shocked silence for a moment, Zayin's phone fell out of his hand, landing face-down on the stained sofa.