Not long ago, the Hospitality Officer Arch-Inquisitor Supreme Maleficos Dunbarre issued a summon to Melchizedek to meet him in his office. Now the poodle paces back and forth, his fur bone white where it can be seen through his dark purple robes. He fingers some rosary beads.

Outside the office, Inquisitor Melchizedek, dressed in red and black robes, walks up to the door. He is not accompanied by the cheetah attendant who follows him almost everywhere he goes, save for particularly intense interrogations. The absence is not lost on the wolf guards who cycle the door open for him after he announces himself.

Maleficos snaps, "Enter."

The black unicorn enters, bowing his head deferentially to his superior. "I have come as you have bidden."

The poodle nods. "Excellent. Close the door," he says to the wolf guards. "And secure the intercom. I want absolute privacy."

Maleficos sits in the chair behind the desk and motions for the unicorn to sit in the other seat. "You may have heard the rumors going about the Temple that a person highly placed has died recently… At canine hands."

The unicorn takes the seat, nodding, not glancing back toward the door, which has already cycled shut once more. "I have heard suggestions that the assassin 'Shadowspite' may be suspected to have a hand in this."

"That is so," the poodle says. His exposed fur manages to be not just white, but a dead white, and his eyes glitter. He leans forward. "I have reports that a prince in the Himaat desert was assassinated by this Shadowspite, perhaps three weeks ago. However, we have also received… An anonymous tip. Shadowspite has been hired to assassinate someone very highly placed in the Temple."

Maleficos raises an eyebrow, waiting for Melchizedek to comment.

Melchizedek pauses, pondering this suggestion … comparing it to recent events. "It would be most helpful to know what sort of person would be targeted. If, for instance, an Inquisitor were to be targeted, it would be a most intriguing way of gaining entrance … by getting oneself put into the dungeons."

The poodle nods. "An interesting gambit, indeed."

The Inquisitor pauses in thought again. "I have not been able to verify much about the killing of the noble you first mentioned. It does not help that the noble's entire household looted the place and fled promptly upon word of his death."

"Unfortunate, but true," Maleficos agrees. "The police have succeeded in apprehending some of the servants you speak of, however. They claim to have seen some sort of canine… A wolf, or perhaps a dog of some sort. They claim that she was eight feet tall and dripping blood from her claws, but undoubtedly hysteria can deceive one easily."

The unicorn nods, smirking. "And, after all, a fox would not inspire great fear or an image as a killer. Far easier to imagine a wolf – granting a bit more to the stature in retrospect – who was 'doused in blood', say."

"Any road, the Zelak guards are vigorously keeping watch for someone who matches the description of a poorly outfitted lupine," the Inquisitor Supreme says with a shrug. "Lord Fierrs's estate has been passed on to his son, who was travelling at the time." He raises an eye. "You perceive some sort of connection between the killings, Inquisitor?"

The unicorn pauses, shaking his head. "The chronology might be in question. But I cannot discount such possibilities, and the coincidences are too much to ignore. But there are many problems to be resolved yet before I would seriously entertain such notions."

Maleficos nods. "We must consider all possibilities. And, at all cost, we must catch and try this assassin, Shadowspite, before he is able to kill his target." He frowns. "He might even try to assassinate… One of the Bridge. What a stain that would be, when we are so close to the New Year!"

Maleficos raises a finger warningly. "But you must be certain that you have caught Shadowspite, Inquisitor."

The robed unicorn drums his chin, and nods. "Certainty is not what I have, my superior. There are too many flags calling for my attention, but far too many doubts. Perhaps I could simply have a fool of a pawn who has been thrown into trouble's way to serve as a decoy, after all."

Maleficos nods. "Shaving him was a mark of genius, Inquisitor. It will help to… Identify him." He smiles grimly. "Here. Take this."

"I do think, however, that it may be soon time to pay a visit to him again, to see if he has had a chance to cool down in our 'guest suites'. If he has not changed at all, I will be more suspicious that … " Melchizedek looks to see what his superior indicates.

The Arch Inquisitor Supreme hands a sheet of paper to the unicorn. It appears to be… A blank authorization form. With this, Melchizedek could requisition a full battery of mages or an army.

The poodle nods. "Excellent. I appreciate diligence on the part of my Inquisitors," he advises Melchizedek. "You understand of course, the need for descreetness."

Melchizedek looks at the form – by most observers entirely passive, but to one who knows him as well as Maleficos does, he is surprised. He nods. "Of course, my superior." With that, he quickly rolls up the form and tucks it away in one of the many folds of his voluminous robes.

Sensing that the meeting is done and that it is time for him to be taking action – effective action – Melchizedek rises, bows his head to his superior, and backs to the door.

Maleficos nods to the unicorn, then begins sorting through more papers.

As bidden, the wolves cycle the door open, and the Inquisitor strides out into the corridor, disappearing along its length as the chamber seals shut behind him once more.

Meanwhile, down in the dark and dreary depths of the dungeon, a lone fox is shackled to the wall, his legs bound in crude splints and bandages in need of another change. His ribs are likewise bound, and intermingled with the mouldering stench that permeates the cell level is the pungent, penetrating aroma of medicines and salves.

Footsteps approach – a familiar sound to Zephyr's ears, distinctive enough to where he can tell the approach of any given guard. This guard is not alone. There is a visitor he has not had for quite some time, announced by the clip of hooves on tile.

With a protesting grind and squeak, the cell's door slides open, a light held by the guard bobbing into view. The lighting at this level has been far from reliable, and as of late, the prison level has been dominated by unbroken shadow.

An ebon unicorn with a fiery red mane – dressed in flowing robes which echo the scheme in black and scarlet – steps into the cell, his clean drapes a stark contrast to the filth around him – but how do they compare to the being within?

Zephyr looks up, the glow of the lantern reflecting in his eyes as they narrow to vertical slits. He says nothing.

The Inquisitor stands there for a while, examining the fox and his apparent demeanor. He eyes the patches of fur missing from around the vulpine's wrists and ankles. "Hmm. It would seem that slowly but surely, Subaltern Fiji is determined to make you fashionable in some circles."

Zephyr finally speaks, quietly. "Among his sort, perhaps. Which I have no desire to be regarded as."

The Inquisitor paces to one side. "My. That was rather mild compared to what I was expecting. Hmm. Unfortunately, as much as you dislike having your fur shaved, it might well prove to be a moot point. These splints they've put on you are, while effective enough for field surgery, not appropriate for long-term care."

Zephyr nods quietly. "No, they're not."

"I regret to inform you that if your bones are to heal, you may very well have to be sporting a cast," the unicorn adds in a flat voice.

Zephyr nods again. "As I expected."

"And, as skilled as you may be, as impervious to pain, and as dextrous, I cannot think that you would be able to accomplish much while your lower half is held rigid in plaster. This I find curious. Why do you persist in these charades?" the Inquisitor waves a hand. "What is it you have to hide? Cargo you purportedly transported in another universe? Bah. I assure you, there's little chance that we could turn you over to the fellow who supposedly transported you here, even if we desired to."

"What I am interested in," the unicorn punctuates with a poke of his index finger in Zephyr's direction, "is the truth. Not vengeance. Not some sort of obscure personal gain, but purely and simply the truth. Cooperation could open the door to many other possibilities that have yet to be explored."

Zephyr watches the unicorn for a long time, no expression in his eyes at all… and then idly gestures out into the corridor with his muzzle. "Your power frequency's too low and unstable. You're burning out all your fluorescent ballasts. I've been listening to it."

The Inquisitor waves his hand. "The lighting is in the jurisdiction of the priests in charge of maintenance. They are slow and inefficient, obviously due for another … Audit."

"Now then. Let us not digress. Let's go back to the beginning. Be very careful about your tales. I have managed to do some more research that has given me further doubt to your original stories. You would do best not to take any gambles with any further … 'coloring' of the truth," the Inquisitor warns.

Zephyr's ears flick slightly. "Oh? Research? Of what sort?"

"Even if you prove to be a criminal – even if you are guilty of very serious crimes – it is in our interest to bring closure to these matters. Certain allowances can be made in the face of cooperation … " the unicorn suggests. "… to an extent. And as for my methods – "

The Inquisitor slaps Zephyr. "Need I remind you that *I* am the one doing the questioning here?"

The Inquisitor steps away a couple of paces. "Now then. Let's start over, at the beginning, shall we? What is your name?"

Zephyr thinks o O {He's going to lose one of those fingers doing that… But not now. From what I've heard, they _don't_ know of Genesis, so what can it hurt… }

Zephyr glares at the inquisitor, careful to not show any pain. "You want my name? Fine… It's Blackpaw. Zephyr Blackpaw."

The Inquisitor's expression, even with Zephyr's keen senses, betrays no reaction. "And, where did you come from, Zephyr Blackpaw?"

Zephyr sighs, and looks straight ahead as he recites. "Formally Captain Zephyr Blackpaw, Special Projects Division, Republic of Vulpaea Space Forces. Also captain of tradeship 'Shadow's Run', registry FCN-176524. Last residence, technology-prohibited world known as Genesis. And that's all.

Zephyr looks over at the unicorn. "There's more worlds out there than you'll ever know."

The Inquisitor's ears flick. "Apparently not quite so many out there, given the statistical likelihood," he murmurs.

There is the sound of rattling down the hall, and distant shouting and screams and yelps, getting louder – and closer.

Zephyr's ears swivel as they try to focus on the sounds…

The Inquisitor, unfazed, retains his composure, raising his voice only a little. "And, by what accident or adventure did you come to here from this world of 'Genesis'?"

"Let me go! I'm innocent! I'm innocent, I tell you! AIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!" This is followed shortly by pitiful sobbing.

Zephyr shrugs. "There was powerful magic there. I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when something went wrong, after one who controlled a good bit of it was gone. I don't know what you'd call a tear in the universe itself. If you've got a name for that… I don't.

"Aha. So, did you come here alone?" the unicorn asks.

Zephyr nods. "Yes, I did. As I said… it was an accident."

"You can't DO this!" protests the same whimpering voice down the hall. "I'll talk! Honest! I'll talk!"

A gravelly voice growls in reply, "You've been doing quite ENOUGH talking already… "

Zephyr looks straight at the unicorn now. "I arrived there in a crash of the aforementioned tradeship. And I am being honest when I say I do not have magic, and that I do not understand what force brought me here."

Zephyr winces slightly at the voice down the hall, but tries to show nothing…

Zephyr says, "I was there, then I was here, in the desert, and was being beaten on by ferretlike beings. That's all I know."

The victim whimpers and sobs loudly in reply. There is a sound of a door closing, and the sniveling fades away.

The unicorn nods. "Well then. That all sounds rather uncontroversial."

The Inquisitor's gaze narrows. "And, given your behavior, controversy of some sort is to be expected."

Zephyr shrugs slightly again. "The Solu who rescued me from the… Kavi?, I think they were called, gave me medication to aid in healing. I seem to have had an… adverse affect, from some of it.

Zephyr keeps his voice level. "Maybe they didn't account for my biochemistry being different. I have no idea."

The Inquisitor's eyebrows raise. "Oh – Really? That is most intriguing. Why, we know a great deal about Kavi medicinal practices here. And, the medical examination was rather thorough. Hmm."

"Of course, how convenient. Purely as a matter of trivia, some assassins are known to use certain dangerous drugs to speed their reflexes and enhance their strength and energy … and resistance to pain," the unicorn adds in a darker tone. "Behavioral side effects are not unheard of."

Zephyr mrfs, and seems deep in thought. "But I'm not of your world. Nor have I had the same biochemistry of any of the races I've encountered, and… what?"

The unicorn snaps his fingers. "I think it is high time we stopped babying you with these ineffectual splints. You should have proper care. Casts are in order. But, mind you, we can't have your fur getting stuck in the plaster… "

"BARBER!" the unicorn calls.

Zephyr stares up at the unicorn. "Are you insinuating that _I'm_ an… assasin? You take me to your power source, I'll have a look at it… and hopefully convince you that I'm not even from this world."

Zephyr blinks? "Are you sure there's no magical healers about? I've dealt with those, much… easier… "

"Oh ho! Let you near our … power source? I am afraid that is NOT standard operating procedure for persons of unknown identity, 'Zephyr Blackpaw'." The unicorn steps out of the cell and nods to the guard. "I am done here for now. I will return after the subject is properly … 'cared for'."

A door opens down the corridor, emitting further yowls and yelps. "Ahhh! You're CRUEL AND HEARTLESS! You … you … MONSTERS! AIEEEEE!"

The barber steps in, accompanied by four of the Zelak guards. "'Ey, another cut, sir?" He listens to his instructions. "Of course! A little off the bottom it is."

The barber, a raccoon-type, bows low to the Inquisitor. "Your will, m'lud."

The Inquisitor nods, and makes his way down the corridor, the tap of his hooves diminishing in the distance … to be replaced by the tentative snipping of the barber's shears.

The barber frowns at his shears. "Sharper. 'Ey, yes. You appreciate sharp things, don't you?" He grins at the prisoner and rubs a whetstone along the shears' obviously dull edges.

Zephyr says nothing for the moment, only watches. o O {Don't upset the person with the knife… wait till _you_ have it.}

The barber approaches the prisoner, once his shears are properly glistening. The fox notices two shadowy presences behind the barber, one reaching up with a strand of something stretched tight between its hands…

Zephyr shows no emotion whatsoever… o O {Now _that_… is an assasin. I hope they're on my side… }

Zephyr, despite showing no expression, feels hope rising within him once again…

The strand comes down and pulls tight around the barber's neck… The raccoon's head comes off. "A little off the top," a dark voice chuckles. Then the other assassin streaks forward and lays a cloth soaked in some heavy-smelling chemical over Zephyr's nose and mouth.

The fox's last sight is of blades flashing through the cell…

Zephyr thinks o O {Monofilament! Ow! They're *MRF!*}, and then fades out into unconciousness…

As the fox comes to, he notices that he is shacked at wrist and ankles to heavy bolted plates in the floor. Another fox waits before him, sitting casually on a crate, surrounded by other guards and robed figures.

This fox is digitigrade, like Zephyr, and of nearly the same fur color. It is difficult to tell the fox's sex, from the loose-fitting clothes of black, but it appears quite well armed judging from the daggers and the sword slung over the back. It's strangely like… Looking in a mirror.

Zephyr *SNUFFS* loudly, his sensitive nose burning from the aftereffects of the chemical, and then groans and opens his eyes halfway. o O {Great… shackled _again_. That's three times now? Is this a standard way to greet visitors? Oh, they gave me a mirror… wait… That's not… }

"So, you're the one who's been making such a ruckus in the Temple," the fox says in a quiet, dangerous voice. Slightly female. A dangerous edge. "I suppose you expect me to be grateful. I'm not. They've tripled security since you showed up."

Zephyr opens his eyes wide, just… staring. "Who… " His tongue feels like cotton from the chemical.

"You are… Cylan Redtail. Or some such ridiculous story. But not anymore," the fox says with a chuckle like daggers rattling in their sheaths.

Zephyr tries again. "I… You look like… I mean… "

The fox smiles exposing thin black lips.

And a hint of glistening white canines.

Zephyr shakes his head to clear the fuzz, then focuses on the other fox, ears flattening slightly. "Who… are you? And what does my attempt to escape from that… k'thair'd horse have to do with you?"

"Convenient of them to give you such easy to reproduce identifying marks," the fox says quietly. "Who am I? No one important… But in three days, you will be Shadowspite, the hunted assassin. And within the week after that, I expect you to be dead."

The assassin stands and pulls back her sleeves. She calls to one of her assistants. "Shears."

Zephyr thinks, watching the assassin. {This could work out. I'll have her equipment, and if she messes up and is killed as 'me'… I'll cease to exist. Plus… who knows? This might well get me the respect I need to survive here. If… I survive _this_.}

Shadowspite smiles at Zephyr. It might have been sweet at another time, if the fox hadn't known who she was. But here and now, it is the quiet, cold smile of another predator. Who knows just what Zephyr is thinking. "Maps," she orders one of her assistants. "Cut."