Friday, May 2, 2014

Story: The Fox and the Conspiracy

The year is 2014 and the world is on the brink of a war. As global powers engage on the battlefield of international politics, puppeteers are stretching their fingers. The Cold War might have ended, yet its echoes linger on. Although the major powers don't dare clashing directly, they test their strength in a game of chess, fighting their struggle through proxies.

Although this is an adult world full of grown people, an unforgiving and harsh reality, it might be astounding to hear we have much to learn from lessons intended for children. From tales where there is the good and the bad and a moral to be understood. From fables.

However, this fable is far from being meant for children... and the lesson is a grim warning which we'd best heed before it is too late...



Table of contents: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Chapter 1

There once was a slumbering land where geese and ganders liked to watch and grumble and comment every misery from the safe confines of their homes. Far to the west lived the eagles, far to the east dwelled the bears. Roughly in the middle was the Animal Collective. The realm of geese and ganders was a part of it.

But that was the Old Division. An obsolete definition of the world. Animals could settle anywhere and enjoy various freedoms nowadays. In this new and connected age, everyone had access to all known information. Or so it seemed.

Jack the Fox was a traveller by nature. He never spoke too much, yet animals in his presence felt as if his scarce words weighed in thousands. He silently paced through the serene forests and rolling hills, stopping on the highest of them to rest and beholding the land below.

He saw rising smoke in the east. A hint of brewing trouble.

"The bears are at it again," said an old ram. It appeared as if he had emerged out of nowhere, yet Jack had spotted him with the corner of his eye a while ago. He didn't respond, carefully observing the smoulder being twisted by vicious winds.

The ram sat next to him, staring covetously at the fox's backpack. Jack understood the gesture. But he didn't have any food with him. And he certainly didn't call for company. So without uttering anything, he set out to a village below.

The ram followed, though not for long. Jack could thus enjoy those moments of quietness he treasured the most. He was guessing these would be few and far between very soon.

The settlement stretched before him. An orderly array of streets with houses made of wood and iron. Processed greenish leaf gas puffed out of every chimney, harmonious with nature itself. Wheelicles, slender four-wheeled vehicles powered by leaf gas, paraded on the dirt-paths. A peaceful sight.

Yet he didn't even arrive there.

"Stranger," someone grunted ominously. Like he issued a command. Definitely a bear. Haughty and peremptory. Jack stopped. Turned around to confirm his theory. An imposing grizzly towered above him like a titan. "You must have heard of the unrest in the east. Have you travelled from there, perchance?"

"I came from the north," Jack replied truthfully.

"I see," the bear snarled, eyeing the fox like a fine meal. "Well, stranger. We're not exactly common here, are we? An advice. Be careful what sides you pick. There are many who lie and you don't want to be swayed by liars, trust me. Animals can get big-mouthed sometimes. Now they're safe and sound, but mark my words. Things change. Maybe one day, the contested grounds will be here." He paused, squinting to accentuate his message of warning. "And we bears remember who is a friend and who is a foe. We remember and act accordingly."

Jack shrugged. He wasn't used to threats. "Thanks for the info," he responded and passed by the grizzly, pacing down to the village. While most would have pondered the encounter and shivered upon realizing the undertones, he didn't even flinch. The strongest always force their will on others.


Chapter 2

He ended up in a pub. There were lots of ganders grumbling and lamenting. He silently listened to every conversation, yet he didn't gather anything different from the stuff on the grainy screen on the wall. An ingenious device with a plethora of brass tubes serving as both conveyors of energy and gas pipes.

"Wanton aggression from the east calls for a reaction. The bears can't run around doing as they please, trampling their poor neighbours along the way," a bespectacled mole elaborated. Bariono. A high-ranking representative of the Animal Collective.

"Do you expect the Animal Collective will impose sanctions on the Bear Federation for violating the sovereignty of the Raccoons?" a giraffe reporter inquired.

"Certainly. The raccoons have toppled a bear-backed oligarch in their fight for freedom and now the bears want to meddle..." Bariono replied, continuing to blabber with his political accent. Jack didn't hear a word though because the patrons suddenly became agitated.

"He's a big-mouthed liar. Just like the rest of the Animal Collective," a gander shouted, commenting on the situation about unrest in the land of the raccoons. Its government had refused to associate with the Animal Collective, a revolt had sparked and bears had decided to step in. "Who asked those cheats govern us? They're a bunch of inept bureaucrats incapable of tying their own shoelaces. Imagine them flexing their pansy biceps in front of the bears. And we elected them to control it here. Such a travesty! They're going bankrupt, printing money to postpone it and leech off us some more. The raccoons are next to join the scam."

"Excuse me, but are you a bear lover?" a boar wondered.

"No, I'm not. Are you?"

"If you weren't, you wouldn't babble like this, you fool."

"Fool? You'll regret this."

The prelude to a brawl was concluded. Jack finished his drink and headed to the exit, dancing through arrays of skirmishing drunkards, dodging stray punches.

When he departed from the room choking in cigarette smoke, he gladly breathed in the fresh air. However, the sour aftertaste didn't leave him that easily. The noise still resounded behind. No matter how fast or far did he go, he couldn't get rid of the echoes.

Until he realized those weren't echoes.

He walked straight to a wide avenue with various animals holding banners condemning the situation in the east. Bears occupying the land of the raccoons. Acting as if they owned it.

A single glimpse in the right direction revealed the reason for the commotion. The protestors had congregated in front of a bear embassy. It occurred to Jack instantly. This was a village with a bear minority, hence his previous encounter.

There also was a newscaster. He could hardly hear what she was saying. "Bears are known for their disregard for animal rights and freedom. It's obvious they'd do anything to ensure their neighbours remain in their clutches, devoid of liberties and democracy..."

Jack didn't watch any longer. He felt as if he had outlasted his welcome. The breeze somehow reeked of corruption. Animals glancing at him frowned. This might not have been the best time to visit this place, he thought.

So he paced out to the surrounding forests, intending to find shelter elsewhere. However, he wasn't alone. A group of geese sneaked on him from behind, armed with metal pipes and wooden sticks.

Jack wouldn't have noticed them hadn't it been for a rustling sound. He froze on the spot. Turned around. Beheld the band.

Familiarity may breed contempt, but unfamiliarity easily spawns hate.


Chapter 3

"Gentlemen. I believe there must have been a mistake," Jack stated coolly.

"You're a bear lover. We saw you," the toughest of them spoke.

"Appearances are deceptive."

"Don't try to bamboozle us. We're aware of what you're up to. We don't tolerate foreigners like you. Attempting to influence. Newsflash. This is our land. Our rules. You're not welcome here."

"Point taken. May I leave peacefully?" Jack asked with a patient smile even though the outcome had already been decided and he wouldn't alter it.

They spat in front of him. Stepped forth. He stepped back. They charged at him. He ran. Strayed from the trail. Jumped over thick bushes. Crisscrossed amongst trees. The numbers of his pursuers thinned as fatigue claimed one after another. Merely three ganders remained. He could have carried on for minutes, but he didn't.

He faced them. Clenched his fists. They gripped their pipes and sticks. Their leader made a bold move and swung at the fox. Jack dodged. And again. The other two wanted to flank him. Time to change the odds.

The boss pressed on relentlessly. Yet Jack grabbed his pipe. Used it to pull the gander to him. Punched him hard in the cheek. Wrung the weapon from his grasp. Sent him down with a cleverly aimed strike.

The duo managed to get to his sides. A good strategy if they knew how to exploit it.

They didn't. He hit the first, turned swiftly and maimed the second. In a moment, there were three beaten birds on the ground. Jack walked to their chief. He was unconscious. There was no point in waking him up. The fox ditched the pipe and paced away.

He guessed he had taught them a lesson. One should always check if they can take the victim on before intimidating.


Chapter 4

He understood it couldn't have occurred just because. Geese and ganders weren't exactly attentive. Someone must have spurred them to hunt him. Someone with ulterior motives. But who would wish to chase down an unknown traveller? A nobody?

Jack hoped they would be more hospitable in another city. The sun was beginning to set, after all, and he needed a place where he could lay his head down. He wasn't particularly fond of sleeping in these woods, especially after the recent conflict.

Thankfully, the village he stumbled upon next seemed much calmer despite being fairly larger. Maybe the approaching night did the trick, but he didn't ponder it. Instead, he watched the factories at the outskirts with their smoke stacks producing the supposedly safe processed leaf gas. The substitute for its harmful cousins like crude oil. Strangely though, walking in the vicinity made him feel uneasy and a bit dizzy.

He found the local tavern. A busy pub where various animals tippled their drinks and quarrelled. He assumed a free spot by the bar. Ordered a pint and listened. It was his favourite pastime.

"My wheelicle broke down yesterday. Engine's busted. Pumping system is done for too," a boar lamented.

"Odd. I remember they used to last much longer," his fellow commented.

"I'll tell you what's the problem, young gentlemen," replied an elderly gander, joining them in their debate, pausing to cough fitfully. "The leaf gas. Back in my day, we didn't have that. I swear the air was better."

"Makes sense. If wheelicles break down sooner due to the properties of the leaf gas, factories have to churn out more and thus pollute the environment faster. Same goes for the majority of industrial products," the first boar argued.

"Now there are more animals. More wheelicles. The world is industrialized. Ecology is important," the second boar countered.

"Yes it is, but to them it's not," the gander uttered, pointing upwards. "There's money to be made. Whether it's ecology or whatever, to them it's a cash cow."

Jack gestured at the innkeeper. He paid for a bed and almost headed there. However, the old ram sat next to him as he was about to rise up. "Pleasant night, isn't it?" the woolly animal spoke, inhaling the unpleasant vapours of cigarette smoke.

Jack shrugged, not wishing to be impolite and leave. He decided a few more minutes wouldn't kill him. "You live here?"

"I do. I've been born here. Spent my best years here. And I'll die here."

Jack nodded. He had heard many narratives like this, but each was unique. Sentimentality was always a key ingredient though.

"I won't bother you, friend," the ram cut it short. "You're probably sleepy after hours of travelling. I'll merely give you a tip to enjoy the night. Keep your window open. That way, you'll be able to breathe the invigorating air. They say it does miracles for our health. Great thing for old farts like me." With those words, the ram got up and walked away.

As for Jack, he remained still, contemplating for a while. Then he departed for his room upstairs. Before dozing off, he did as instructed, wondering whether the ram had told him the truth.

Reclining on the rather uncomfortable bed, he tried to inhale the freshness outside, only to feel unbearable cold permeating his body. So he closed afterwards, delving into thoughts, turning away from the door. He didn't expect any problems. Besides, ganders were loud and clumsy. He would know if they arrived.

And as he drifted away to the realm of slumber, he remembered the discussion of the three down there about leaf gas. Behind every seemingly good intention, there is someone who stands to gain.


Chapter 5

It was a rude awakening. Must have been around four in the morning. They opened the door carefully. Sneaked in. Three dogs in total. By the time he scented trouble, they already blocked his bed. He rose up. Watched them. Analyzed the situation.

"Don't move!" they ordered him.

Jack didn't really have a choice.

They brought him down to the floor. Without pleasantries. They cuffed him thereafter. Laughed at him. Ensured nobody was around. Then they battered him until he fell unconscious.

However, the period of floating away in the world of forced dreams felt short to him. Like a mere second had passed. When he woke up in a chilly environment in the depths of an unknown facility, he immediately realized the bed had been a luxurious comfort in comparison to this.

Glancing around, he figured out he was in a small cell. Getting up and ambling to it, he noticed his prison wasn't the only one. The whole chamber housed about ten more. Five on the opposite side, five on his.

There was nothing. Just a hole in the ground for obvious reasons. It stank as expected. Without a window, the place was left to rot in its own stench. Mildew infested the cracking and decomposing walls smeared with blood.

Where could they have dragged him?

He heard footsteps. They prompted him to sink to the floor and feign unconsciousness. It didn't help. The cell opened. Someone walked in. Grabbed his wrists. Judging by the unnecessary strength applied, it must have been a burly brute. Or a band of brutes. Had bears orchestrated it? He guessed having a look would reveal the truth, but he didn't dare to do so. Not yet.

The movement stopped. They put him on a metal chair. He did his best to ignore the freezing cold biting his skin. They tied his wrists and ankles so he couldn't escape. He listened carefully for any suspicious noise which could explain what was going on. But instead of subtleties, he recognized not so distant voices. Probably a room or two away. Considering the words, it must have been an interrogation.

"They have democracy there. The president had been elected according to the rules."

"A corrupted animal with a clique running the whole country without compromise? I don't call that democratic."

"Well, what do you call this then? You stuff animals in correctional institutions like this. Or depict them as loons and cast them out. When animals protest in your countries, you call them extremists. When raccoons protest, you call them freedom fighters. Let's be honest. It's not about democracy. It's about politics. Bears are your sworn enemies. Anything to weaken the bears is useful for you. Hence this rhetoric. To give the public a reason to hate the bears and keep them on your side."

"You truly are an incorrigible case, aren't you? No matter how many methods of convincement we employ, you always resist. What are you, gluttons for punishment?"

"I refuse to accept your lies."

"They're not lies. They're just a different outlook. And the correct outlook, might I add. To restate it again after the umpteenth time, it's not what the individual thinks. It's what the collective thinks. The truth must be ratified. All for the greater good. If someone doesn't agree, they're clearly misled. And misled animals disrupt our freedom. Our democracy."

"You're brainwashing me so that I'll be a happy citizen of a more democratic democracy. How convenient."

The debate ceased. Jack imagined what must have been going on. The stares. The tools of torture on display. The interrogator picking the right item very slowly.

Jack was wrong. A pneumatic gun barked.

"Are you sure it was necessary, sir?" an unknown voice asked.

"He was a lost soul. Stubborn ox. These are the worst for mind conversion. I wonder why we have to bother with them. Executing them outright would solve the trouble."

"We're humane, sir. We don't murder those who don't share our beliefs."

"Yes. We have other equipment. I'd say far more threatening. Yet animals like that ox, they always manage to overcome it. He was a risk to the integrity of the Animal Collective. Okay. What about our bear agent?"

"He should be ready."

Jack's muscles stiffened. His heartbeat jumped up involuntarily. They approached. He could hear their footsteps. He could notice them walk in. Observe him. Then a slap landed hard on his cheek. A prompt to open his eyes and behold the seamy room tainted brown with dried blood.

Tied to a cold chair, he could barely move. To make matters worse, there were two dogs beside him, ensuring ideas of escape would be curbed in their wake. On both his sides, there were small metal tables with various utensils and knives. All stained by their previous victims.

But his main problem was a tall otter accompanied by an armadillo. The otter was the leader. A strange, gentlemanly grin rested on his face, yet Jack could see through the facade and sight the evil individual beneath.

"You're a rare animal in these parts, my friend. It is an honour to interview someone from the opposing side of the conflict."

Jack remained silent as the otter strolled left and right, arms folded behind his back.

"You're aware of what's going on, aren't you? We stand at the turning of an age, my friend. The days when the bears could trample on their neighbours without repercussion is at an end. You may consider yourself diplomatically immune, but allow me to enlighten you." He paused and leant closely to him. "You've lost this round. Raccoons aren't in your servitude anymore. They'll join our democratic conglomeration soon. We've did our best to reassure it succeeds. Nothing you can do about it."

"I'm not a bear agent," Jack uttered in response.

The otter guffawed. "We've had a seal, a penguin, a hyena even. They said the same."

"I'm not sure where do you get your intel, but it's wrong. I'm not a bear agent," Jack repeated.

The otter took a step back. Breathed in deeply as if preparing a long monologue. "Okay, okay. I guess we've made it past the initial stage now. There's no need to try any more cheap tricks. In fact, I'd advise against sophisticated ones too. You see, you are underground. Nobody can hear you or help you. On the other hand, we are watching you. This place is impenetrable. You can't escape." The otter spoke with uninhibited pride. Like he himself had designed and built it.

"I'm telling you. You have the wrong animal."

The otter ignored his remark. "What is your mission in these lands? To influence the public opinion? Or is it something more important?"

Jack didn't reply.

"Which cell do you belong to?" the otter suddenly barked, glaring portentously at him.

They weren't getting an answer from Jack. Sometimes, he believed it was better to keep his mouth shut rather than to waste the effort.

Yet this might not have been the proper case. The otter nodded at the armadillo, who grabbed a tiny object from one of the tables. A slender tube with a handle. It resembled a blow pipe, but it had a very different purpose.

Jack didn't resist. There was no point in doing so. He tried to be calm, though stress couldn't be avoided. The cold metal touched his forehead. Then an electric shock permeated his whole body. He gritted his teeth and shook as it tormented him.

Thankfully, it ceased shortly afterwards. Although it weakened and dizzied him, he still remained conscious, sighting a dagger at the otter's hip.

"Me personally, I prefer cutting ears and lopping arms of such treacherous fools like you, yet I'm willing to put up with the ordeal just so you squeal," the otter menaced. "Again. What cell do you belong to?!"

Jack didn't respond. He attempted to open his mouth, but he felt so exhausted he couldn't even overcome the shivering of his body. The otter noticed. And laughed.

"Side effects, sir. Some animals have frail hearts which don't cope with it," the armadillo elaborated.

"What do you propose?" the otter inquired, sounding too eager to use another means of torture. "Waterboarding like our good old friends to the west? Or the experimental microwave weapon? The one which makes your skin seem like burning? Which creates agony so powerful you can only writhe and scream?" The otter didn't stop staring at Jack while delicately outlining the methods he could employ. Quite obviously, he was a sadistic maniac revelling in his craft.

"Sir, he looks faint. I suggest we return him to his cell and wait until he recovers. Maybe administer painkillers."

"You're such a spoilsport," the otter snapped at his colleague. "Fine. Fine. Drag him back there and let the pansy rest."

The dogs proceeded to do the otter's bidding. They undid the straps.

Yet Jack had feigned his weakness.

He jumped at the unsuspecting otter. Snatched his dagger. Stabbed him in the chest. Turned to the dogs, whose brains didn't even recognize what had happened yet. He swung the blade at the closest. Slashed his right arm reaching for a pneumatic pistol. Then he stole it and aimed it at the other dog.

Time appeared to freeze at that moment of decision. Should he pull the trigger? Be a cold-blooded murderer? No. He couldn't think like that. They were taught to kill. If he didn't do it, they wouldn't hesitate to exploit the chance.

They tumbled down before they could respond. He dashed out of the room into a damp and dreary corridor. Trusting his instincts and common sense, he navigated the winding hallways, taking stairs whenever he spotted them.

Jack almost ran into a patrol. He stopped by the corner, peeking in cautiously. They didn't notice. They must have been standing there for hours already, being too bored and sleepy. Yet they posed a problem. Either he could confront them or backtrack and find another route.

He nearly decided in favour of the former, but footsteps ahead curbed that notion. Soon enough, two surplus dogs emerged in there. Jack retreated from the view, relying solely on his ears.

They paused in the middle. Probably by the guards. A change of posts? Should he attack when they were at their most vulnerable?

He didn't do it. Mainly because there was somebody behind him.

A dog poising to strike, believing he had the upper hand over Jack. Yet the fox reacted with blazing reflexes. He slashed the dog in the arm. Leapt to him, covering his mouth and pushing him away.

But the dog was trained not to surrender. When he recuperated from the initial shock, he tried to grab a weapon resting in his holster. Jack sighted it. Jabbed the end of his pistol into his hostage's throat. "Don't even think about it," he whispered.

The situation seemed contained. A specious illusion. Jack completely forgot to check his rear.

"Halt!" a guard shouted at him.

Cold chill rose up his spine. The guard was about to grasp his gun and do away with him for sure.

Instincts spurred Jack to act. To pull the trigger. Ignore the yelp of the tumbling dog. Turn to the new enemy. Open fire at them.

They retreated beyond the corner. He paced backwards. They stuck their firearms in and flooded the area with bullets. Yet he was already running, disappearing behind the closest bend.

They chased after him. He navigated the maze of corridors, locating another route. He should have done so before. Alas, now was not the time to reflect on past mistakes. He supposed minutes or seconds remained until they sounded the alarm.

Strangely, nothing like that occurred. Did this facility lack it? Or did they have unobtrusive means of alerting personnel? Jack doubted the latter because there would have been an army of troopers converging on his position. He concluded they must have been haughty and wished to claim the prize for themselves. Or were afraid of reprimand for failure to contain the threat.

He arrived at a crossroad with numerous rusting doors. Correctional institution. How fitting. The whole world of the Animal Collective teemed with euphemisms like this. Regardless of that, he focused on his goal. Opened all the doors in blind hopes that prisoners were in there.

He didn't look behind. Just listened to the noise beyond him gathering strength. He must have unleashed hell.

Still no alarm. It was getting suspicious.

Jack finally reached the exit. A sturdy metal door with an operating panel next to it. He studied it carefully, yet when a stampede began echoing in the depths of the facility, he picked up the pace. Shouts soon joined in. Gunshot as well. The commotion was approaching fast.

He mashed the buttons like mad. Tried to force the door open. But it resisted. Danger was nearing.

Jack felt his doom was palpable. Almost within grasp. His efforts were to no avail. Mere yards separated his enemies from entering the corridor and making a sieve out of him.

Then it suddenly opened. A flummoxed dog with a submachine gun gaped at him like at a ghost. Jack knocked him out cold and dashed forward. He was ensnared in a small walled compound with only a single guard now out of action. Climbing over the walls was out of the question.

The sole way out out of the place was a giant metal gate. He sprinted to it. Yet before he could have bothered with the minutiae of his flight, it slid to side, revealing a familiar face. The ram. He gestured at Jack to speed up.

Once the fox stepped out, the gate started closing. But it wasn't a moment for a breather. When he was out of view, his foes already got out of the underground facility.

The two were in an empty alleyway. Both ends had wooden fences with padlocked doors in them. Bustling streets echoed beyond. They rushed to the left.

"Ditch the pistol. You'll be less suspicious," the ram suggested. Jack heeded the advice.

They stopped before the exit. The ram unlocked it with remarkable alacrity.

The enemies slipped through the gate at the last second. Aimed their guns at both sides. Alas, their target wasn't there. So they darted left. Stormed out to the avenue.

They halted in front of the hordes of animals flowing like rivers. They cursed. There was no chance of chasing after Jack.

Meanwhile, the fox and the ram paced along with the crowds. Or at least Jack thought as much, having received a roll of cash from him a while ago.

"How did you find me and why are you helping me?" he asked. "You disrupted their alarms, didn't you?"

Yet the ram didn't respond. In fact, he wasn't around. He had vanished. There was more to the elder than met the eye.

As for his captors, Jack smiled when he remembered the boasting of the otter. Pride precedes the fall, as the old adage went. However, there was a different lesson resounding in Jack's mind. Under the right circumstances, even a solemn pacifist could become a cold-blooded murderer.


Chapter 6

Jack had mulled over his options. They didn't look very favourable. He was certain the whole Animal Collective would be hunting him soon. So he needed to flee beyond the borders.

As ironic it might have appeared, the bears seemed to be his best chance. So he set out towards the east. Moving through less frequent paths and avoiding contact as much as he could.

Yet he had to visit a village or two for supplies. He tried to stay in the lowlier parts of the settlements where lawfulness usually didn't have much of a foothold. Still, the echoes of discontent and protest surfaced. Masses were entranced by the agitation, losing their inhibition, sheltered by anonymity and power of the crowd. They yelled and condemned the deeds of the bears.

Jack noticed a giraffe newscaster and her crew standing at the edge of the swarm, barely audible due to the shouting. "The government considers imposing sanctions on the Bear Federation."

Funny, Jack thought. Considering was quite a common word in the diplomatic domain of the Animal Collective. One of the highest levels of threats. No wonder, since the Animal Collective was clumsily recovering from the aftermath of an economic recession while the Bear Federation was rising.

To make it more ironic, many eastern countries of the Animal Collective depended on the commerce generated by the Bear Federation. Taking action against it would be like cutting a branch on which they rested.

He decided not to linger around. Who knew what trouble he could march into if he passed straight through the street? Instead, he disappeared in a forgotten alleyway. Then his stomach began rumbling and he realized the hunger he needed to satiate. So he located the nearest inn and went inside. The bartender nodded at him when Jack found a free seat conveniently waiting for him in a corner.

Yet he didn't sit. A large screen on the wall forced him to reassess it. The news full of the unrest east of there were replaced by an urgent message to the public. Along with his headshot. Where they had gained it was beyond him, but he guessed they had tools to edit any photo they wanted. Regardless, it wasn't time to ponder. He had to flee.

"Earlier today, this terrorist claimed the lives of twenty innocent commuters. Sources indicate he is clandestinely backed by the Bear Federation, which sparked immediate tensions between the Animal Collective and the aforementioned Bear Federation. Diplomatic insults are bouncing across the negotiation board as the bears vehemently deny involvement despite overwhelming evidence..."

He wasn't there anymore to listen to the newscast. Suddenly, he became an enemy in an alien land, no longer a traveller exploring a realm unknown to him. He avoided the major streets. Kept his head low. Not that it would help. A single fox in the whole region where geese and ganders were prevalent made him a prime target. Hard to miss.

So his steps led out of the settlement as fast as possible. Slipping into the forests, he heard agitated yells behind him. They were already on the lookout for him. He picked up the pace, climbing a hill and vanishing beyond it. He didn't care about the trails, just rushed forth. His heart was beating, his breath was running low. Yet he didn't stop until he was sure nobody could find him.

Then he sank to the ground, leaning against a tree and recovering. This wasn't good, he thought as he contemplated his options. The border wasn't far, but traversing the domain of the geese and ganders would take some time.

Besides, he couldn't subsist on hope and perseverance alone. He required food and drink. His possessions had been stolen by the otter and his cohorts. The roll of money was practically useless because animals would rather report him.

He considered foraging. Not very useful, but he had learnt a few skills during his younger days. So he got to work. Without much success. Instead, he stumbled upon a cave. Shelter, he surmised.

He paced in and his eyes accustomed to the gloom. He walked beyond a corner. And the trap sprang. A bear pounced on him. Floored him. Gripped him firmly with his claws. Roared straight into his face.

"You pathetic worm! What have you done?!" he bellowed in rage.

Jack recognized him. It was the bear he had met earlier. He chose not to reply. Not yet.

"I knew from the start you were trouble! A stranger appearing in the middle of an ongoing operation! Why haven't I been informed of this?! You've ruined my mission! You exposed us!"

"An ongoing operation?" Jack wondered, prompting the bear to realize he talked too much.

"Silence, worm! You're not as sly as you think. Because I've caught you. You're my prisoner now. Do you understand what harm you have done? You've destroyed months of meticulous effort!"

"You're mistaken here," Jack defended. "They kidnapped me. They believed I was an agent of yours, wanting to interrogate me and kill me. I had to escape. This is their retaliation."

The bear wouldn't be placated so easily. "I'm not interested in your nonsense! You'll answer to my fellows. But not before..."

Jack easily completed the sentence prior to it being voiced. And he acted. Unsheathed the dagger. Hit the strapping ursine in his thigh. The bear grunted in pain, weakened by the sudden shock. The fox exploited it. Set himself free in a flash. Rose up.

The bear recollected. The injury was a mere scratch to him. Something which enraged him. Made him immeasurably ferocious. He charged at Jack. Heaps of muscle threatening to crush him in a split second.

Jack dodged him. Swung the blade precisely. Slashed his arm. Jumped back as the bear turned and flailed his other arm at him. "You'll pay!"

The bear attacked relentlessly and without pausing. Strike after strike he pushed forth, pressing Jack towards a wall. His sharp claws flew in Jack's direction. About to tear him to bits.

The fox barely evaded his doom.

Just to find himself in a corner.

The bear smirked. Spread its arms wide, briskly creating a trap from which there was no fleeing. Then he leapt at Jack.

The fox crouched. Squeezed out between the bear's legs. Stabbed him straight in the back. Wriggled the cold metal in the wound. The ponderous creature roared and shook in a desperate attempt to get rid of Jack. To no avail. Jack persevered and the bear's effort only worsened the injury. Then he tumbled. Jack managed to spring aside and avoid being squelched.

"What ongoing operation?" Jack asked the panting enemy on the ground.

"My comrades..." he wheezed in pain. "They... they will chase you. They will kill you." With those words, he breathed for the last time as if his soul exited on the wings of the air expelled from his lungs.

Jack cursed silently, searching the corpse yet finding nothing. Sometimes, being close to a goal didn't necessarily ensure safe crossing of the finish line.


Chapter 7

He was neck-deep in trouble. Hunted by both sides in the unannounced conflict, he had to escape before either party got its hands on him and strangled him. Yet in order to do so, he had to drink and eat along the way. Cannibalism was out of the question, but he was forced to give in to another nefarious deed. Theft.

In the dead of night, he crawled into a small town, staying out of sight. He procured a few comestibles. Not enough to satisfy the stomach, yet it counted. However, his quest was cut short when he heard a news channel echoing from an open window. Curious to learn the reason behind shouts, he listened carefully.

"Animals are taking the embassies of the Bear Federation by storm. The one in Brenn had to be evacuated before angry mobs occupied it. Civil unrest is on the rise..."

Jack pondered. The situation was becoming more tense than he had anticipated. But maybe for the better. If there was chaos, it might provide him with cover.

Meanwhile, Bariono spoke again, "The Animal Collective stands one hundred percent in support of its member states. We act united against the aggression of the Bear Federation, which will not be tolerated."

Jack glanced left and right. Didn't spot anybody.

A newscaster continued, "As tension mounts and bears are viewed with distrust after their contemptible deeds in the realms of the raccoons, the representatives from the Bear Federation demand safety of their citizens abroad. They assert they will not hesitate to employ military strength if necessary, which threatens to escalate the current incident into a fully-fledged conflict. Global leaders plan to discuss the pressing issue at the hastily assembled summit, hoping to relieve the sparking trouble."

Cold chill climbed up his spine. He felt his time was up, so he fled from the street towards darkness.

He considered stealing a wheelicle, but all those he encountered were locked and he couldn't barge inside.

However, he had more urgent matters to deal with. Someone was following him. A silhouette in the distance. Pacing swiftly. Jack turned wherever he could, yet the pursuer always caught up.

He started running. The mysterious animal did the same. Jack understood confrontation was inevitable. So he stopped round a corner.

It was a tiger. He scented the ruse. When Jack leapt at him, he evaded him. In the middle of a seamy alleyway, two enemies clashed, both armed with daggers.

"What do you want from me?" Jack asked as they walked in circles, observing each other and waiting for a perfect moment.

"Isn't it obvious? I've come to kill you," the feline spoke calmly.

"Without a weapon?"

"Weapons make noise. Razors do not."

"So your government is sweeping this under the carpet."

The tiger didn't respond. He charged. It was a precise and brisk strike. Jack dodged. But the assassin gained the momentum and pressed on. It appeared as if he was on drugs, swinging his blade with alacrity and not ever ceasing. Jack was on the defence. The tiger showed no fatigue, yet Jack felt exhausted already. It was clear the assassin aimed to tire his prey first.

They paused. The hired muscle probably wished to check Jack's condition.

"You're not working for the Animal Collective, are you?" Jack inquired.

"No."

"Who then?"

"That's confidential."

"Why do you want to murder me?"

"You've outgrown your usefulness."

Jack wondered what did he mean. But he also noticed the tiger was about to resume the attack.

"Help!" he shouted, hoping to draw attention from the surrounding streets and put an end to the skirmish.

Yet it enraged the tiger, prompting him to increase his effort. He lunged at the fox and the battle raged on. Jack tried to counter each strike, but the tiger denied him.

Worse still, Jack's yell didn't seem to do the trick. He was running out of breath. His exhaustion showed.

The tiger's blade scratched Jack's wrist. The assassin grinned. Pushed on. Jack nearly tumbled.

"Fire! Fire!"

It worked. Who would have assisted someone probably mugged by a ruffian? Nobody. But flames endangered everyone. Footsteps echoed. The tiger stopped. Glanced behind. Snarled as he beheld silhouettes.

Jack took to his heels in the ensuing commotion. Alas, his ruse had backfired. Police patrol consisting of a duo of dogs had happened to wander around and they darted to the scene. Jack emerged from behind a corner and almost bumped into them.

"Freeze!" they ordered him.

Of course, he didn't obey. So he collided with them. Knocked one dog down. The other grabbed his pistol. Aimed. Pulled the trigger.

A thunderous roar resounded in the avenue. The bullet barely missed Jack.

The fox reached a side alleyway. He plunged in. The law enforcer dashed after him.

Yet luck seemed to shine on Jack. As if spawned out of nowhere, the ram briefly appeared at the end of the passage. The fox sped up despite fatigue. Soon he found himself in the next street, glimpsing left and right. The ram was standing by a house not far away from him. He waved at him and vanished within.

Jack followed suit. Rushed inside a single second before the dog got to the street. It was a close call. It wouldn't have occurred without his shouting for aid. Jack once again learnt how important it was to look before he leapt.


Chapter 8

"Have a seat," the ram said coolly, as if the commotion outside didn't exist. He himself assumed a place at a table in a spacious kitchen.

Jack heeded the suggestion, sitting opposite the ram. Yet there was a surprise waiting for him. A shadow was cast over him. He didn't need to turn around to realize who it was.

The tiger.

"We can't allow you to become some sort of an unwanted martyr, can we?" the ram spoke amicably as if they were lifelong friends and this was a cordial debate.

"I thought you were helping me," Jack snarled.

The ram guffawed. "Jack. You of all animals should know the world isn't black and white," he paused for a spell. "Politics. International politics. We're each a piece in a grand mosaic. It would be foolish to presume there's nothing besides our immediate area."

Jack left that without response.

"But you aren't a simple traveller, are you? You have your own agenda."

Jack dodged answering by switching the topic. "I fail to see your profit from this gambit. The Animal Collective sought to weaken the Bear Federation and gain a client state..."

"Bureaucracy and deceit at its best," the ram interposed. "The heads of the Animal Collective don't know what they're doing. They're playing with fire, hardly able to put out the small flames, yet they are only delaying the inevitable downfall. You can't absorb new countries indefinitely, can you? Sooner or later, you run out of them. Or you stumble upon a formidable enemy."

"That doesn't explain anything."

"It more than does," the ram said with a smirk on his face. "The geese and ganders have been manipulated into these protests and discontent. So close to the domain of the bears. Blind to the danger, believing to be shielded by the Animal Collective. The bears are stepping up their military effort, amassing forces. Does any news channel inform the locals about this? I think not. Behind every news article, there is an intention. Telling about it would be against all intentions.

"Is any friendly army assembling as we speak? Guess why. Although a conflict might not be one hundred percent sure, the chosen defence of the Animal Collective, vain words, sends out a clear signal.

"International politics. Not playing along with this petty muscle flexing depicts you as weak. Yet it's the sole thing they can do, given that they still have self-preservation instincts and are waking up to realize what blunder they have done."

"You seem pretty content with the situation," Jack noted.

The ram laughed. "Beginning to understand, aren't you?"

"I'm a foreigner," Jack pondered aloud.

The ram nodded. "An enigmatic piece on the chessboard. Appearing to be without allegiance. Myths and lies were easy to spread. A clever tool to accelerate the brewing trouble. I admit things didn't exactly go according the plan. Like the window. You should have left it open. But the result is good nevertheless. None stand to gain. Everyone loses."

The fox scented his time was short. The tiger poised to strike.

Jack didn't wish to end it like this. No. He rose up and they clashed.

Even though he was pitted against an apparently greater foe, he didn't yield, for the path of fate was unpredictable and just a single twist could easily turn the tide of battle.

Jack lived by a simple credo. One should never give up before the outcome is known.


Chapter 9

When the police assumed Jack had fled out of town, the commotion simmered down. Then, in the dead of night, a silhouette emerged from the house. It slipped out of the main street into the depths of forgotten alleyways and out to the surrounding forest afterwards.

Nobody ever heard of the fox and the ruckus caused around him eventually withered into silence. The incident with the bears continued though and both sides eagerly massaged the populace with propaganda and therefore deepened the schism.

But recognizing the manipulation wasn't that hard. After all, the world isn't black and white and what is presented to us might not be true. It is up to every individual to inquire, doubt and examine before accepting anything as factual. Yet freedom spurs convenience and convenience spurs ignorance. Most never bother to learn and thus the conflict always carries on.


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