Richard stood on the roof of a building, overlooking the city below. Here, the summer sun felt welcoming, the silence comforting, and the loneliness safe. The hyena closed his eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of solitude, basking in the sunlight with his tail waving in contentment. A little peek into normalcy, he really appreciated it.

“Boss, we got eight wolves until midday."

The hyena exhaled heavily and opened his eyes. He was not one of the agents, but he was still needed in the field. Although this seemed like a good idea back then—wait, no, it seemed like a bad idea even back then, and now it was getting worse and worse by the minute. He felt so dirty, so speciesist, watching a certain species of people like this. This brought many unpleasant memories, in one form or another.

He didn't look behind, but he could smell the one behind him. “Anyone suspicious?"

“No, they look normal. We're still looking after them for today."

Huffing a breath, he nodded. “Good. Get back there, Shinori."

“Right away, boss."

Poor dog, he thought.

Now, he understood Signore Octo's doubts about this operation. Not only did it take time to do, but it also took a lot of manpower. They were spread very, very thin. Somehow, they managed to spread about 240 agents in a city covering an area of about 220 square kilometres.

Signore Octo had all the right to doubt, and now he began to feel the same. Their incompetence to retain information about one fucking person is beyond pathetic. If he somehow met Red Wolf, the first thing he would do was to congratulate him for being the slickest eel he had ever met.

He sneered at their stupidity. Beyond his grave, Rodrigo would be laughing.

“Everything under control?"

Richard turned his head behind him. “Yes, sir. Everything is under control."

Pacal, a jaguar, was walking towards him with something in his hand. “Good. Here's some snacks. Looks like you're going to be here for a while."

The hyena accepted the snack, but he just pocketed it. “Thanks." While he and the jaguar weren't very close, he still felt comfortable working under him. Pacal was understanding and attentive to his subordinates, and he was definitely far better than Big Boss.

“Good, good." The jaguar stood beside him. “Now, let's watch our incompetence in peace."

At that, Richard gave an amused grunt. They didn't say anything after that. They were both the silent types, which was maybe the reason they worked well together. Often, they also shared the same view. Richard stole a glance at Pacal; the jaguar was closing his eyes and taking deep breaths.

This actually felt nice… until the jaguar's HT rang.

With an annoyed groan, Pacal answered. He was talking to someone, probably Signora Lucia. When he was done, the jaguar facepalmed. “Looks like I can't even get one fucking minute of break."

Richard huffed sympathetically.

“If you need me, call me, Richard." The jaguar said to him as he walked back.

“Yes, sir."

Now, back to gazing over the city, or more specifically, gazing over their stupidity and incompetence. Richard sighed and crossed his arms on his chest, the cloak still hiding his face. This would take a while.

He kind of missed the summer festival, though. The hyena cracked a smile and lessened his arms. Perhaps he could go there this weekend instead.

Køpmanshavn, city of canals and ports. Capital of Westfård shire. Living to its name, it had the biggest port in all of South Iceland facilitating trade with both Europe and North America. Thanks to trade, it grew from a small fishing village to the third biggest city in the country.

Octo looked around; it was still the same as when he visited all those years ago. The beautiful scenery, the colourful buildings, the numerous waterways, they all still looked the same. Beautiful, yes, but kind of boring in his opinion.

The panther sighed and looked back at the road. Køpmanshavn was indeed a beautiful city, but not something remarkable, at least in his opinion. People here were pragmatic, almost too pragmatic, but who was he to judge? He had always been here as a visitor, not a resident. The city was beautiful, but under it, lay a darker side.

…another drug trafficker was caught in Avondál Bay last night. He was caught transporting two kilogrammes of cocaine and one kilogramme of heroin into the city…

Letting out another sigh, Octo put his head on the steering wheel. Yes, that. Somehow, he had a very strong hunch that it was because Køpmanshavn was his father's second most lucrative city. The branch here was not very big, but they were active and effective. They alone contributed to almost thirty per cent of Cosa Nostra's revenue. Because of that, this city left a bitter taste in his mouth, as if this city was a constant reminder of the dirty mess he was inheriting.

He turned the car radio off; he had enough.

Taking his phone, he pulled out the conversation with his father. Apparently, his uncle and aunt's house here was also used as the headquarter. It was away from the central delta of the city, rather far from the city centre.

He ought to apologise to Lucas when he got back to Westeravne later this afternoon. Not only had he lied to the coyote that he was just taking a drive around Westeravne, but he was also using the coyote's car to do this dirty work. Lucas would be horrified did he know. Maybe he could make him a meal later, or just to spite Kevin, offer a fuck.

He chuckled a bit, though it came out dryly. He was doing this because he was anxious, wasn't he? Lucas wasn't someone to just jump at the opportunity presented, unlike Kevin.

A text popped up on the screen. Papa: “Sei arrivato?"

Groaning, he ignored the message and just left his father on read.

Another text appeared. Papa: “Gli ho detto che verrai."

Tch. He tapped the microphone icon and said simply, “Sì."

He was sure his father was grinning widely right now, that Octo was licking his own spit. He had already told him that he was going to look into the operation, not to join it, but as he went deeper and deeper, he wondered if he had unknowingly been meddling with it for far more than he should.

Probably not, though. He was here just to look for clues to Red Wolf. Everything else was not important. Even when they inevitably gave him the reports; he'd just take them and give them to his father instead.

Finally arriving at the place, the panther gulped. Behind the trees was a big house, indeed, not very different from his own, but still, unexpected. He honestly expected the headquarter to be some run-down factory like Barrowisle, not joined with his uncle and aunt's house. He drove into the complex, leaving the main road. A guard came from the security post and walked toward his car, knocking on the window gently. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the window down.

“Identification?" The guard asked.

“Octaviano here." He replied, feeling a bit unnerved at the security. This level of security really shouldn't be needed unless, well… “I'd like to meet my uncle and aunt."

Instantly, the guard stood straight and saluted him. “Please come inside, we've been informed that you're coming. Your uncle and aunt are waiting for you inside."

He just nodded anxiously and drove forward as the gates were opened.

In front of the house were two guards. He turned the engine off and got out of the car, giving them polite nods. Although he was coming in rather casual attire, just a regular shirt and jeans with a jacket, they still treated him with respect.

He was used to it, he thought as he followed one of the guards inside. The interior of the house was beautiful, certainly far better than a Barrowislander old factory. Although, unlike those years ago, right now he didn't really feel safe here even though this was his uncle and aunt's house.

Tail waving nervously, he was led into the living room. There he saw his uncle and aunt and the breath he was holding back was let go. Upon seeing them, he faked a smile and hugged his aunt, a jaguar, as he came closer. “Good afternoon. Sorry for coming on such short notice."

“Nonsense! You're always welcome here, dear Octo!" she said.

The panther turned to his uncle, a leopard, and shook hands with him. “Good afternoon, Uncle Lorenzo."

Lorenzo smiled back. “Good afternoon, Octo. It's great to have you visit. We'll be preparing dinner."

“No-no, no need. I'm not visiting long, unfortunately." He sighed and pinched the base of his nose. This was Aunt Sofia, the one who gave him that too-expensive watch, and Uncle Lorenzo. He got along well with them, though he never expected them to be a part of this operation. “I think you already know why I visit?"

“Yes, Giuseppe has told us. It's nice knowing that someone capable is taking his role as the leader."

Coming from his uncle, it sounded nice. He chuckled and said, “Please, uncle, I'm not as capable as my father." And not as motivated about this as he.

“And you are willing to acknowledge it. That is a sign of a future leader." His aunt said with a smile. “Come on, sit, sit! Let's have some snacks!"

They sat down on the sofas. As they waited for the snacks, Octo just conversed with them easily, talking about stuff. He was glad of this; they unknowingly helped ease his anxiousness. His emotional side was telling him to just stand up and leave, but his rational side was telling him to go forward. Well, he had gone this far, no need to turn back. Kevin and Tom were safe in Westeravne, Richard was sweeping Barrowisle, and now it was his part to investigate Køpmanshavn.

The snacks came, and they ate them as they continued talking. Although he met them during that dinner with his family, he found out he already missed them.

“Ah, yes, about that, Oct." His uncle said, tackling the issue. “Feel free to ask us anything."

He sipped his tea, then took a deep breath. “Are you, by any chance, a part of it?"

“No, sweetie. Well, kind of."

“We're not directly a part of it, but we watch over the Køpmanshavn branch. Seems like they caught one of us again." Lorenzo gave a sigh as he glanced over the newspapers under the small table. “But that's not our responsibility. We are only to watch, monitor, and report as observers to your father."

That was… rather comforting to hear.

“The branch here is headed by a fox named Rothgar, or Róðgar, sorry, my South Icelandic isn't really good. But don't worry, we've handled all the reports."

He took another sweet. “So you handle them and give them to my father?"

“Yes. So, feel free to ask if you have any questions."

“I'll just… read them later, knowing that my father already knew about them, anyway. However, I would like to talk to this Rothgar, please." He said, carefully choosing his words.

“Quick to get information from its source, aren't you?" His uncle just laughed, oblivious to him choosing words. “Just like your father. Come, I'll lead you to him. Sofia, you know where to find us."

“Of course. I'll have the maids take care of this."

He followed his uncle and went deeper into the house. The panther let out a relieved sigh, glad to know that his uncle and aunt didn't find him suspicious. He didn't want to ask them about Red Wolf on the basis they might tell that to his father, but he had a plan. First, he would ask Rothgar about it. Then, if he couldn't get an answer, he would ask them. That way they would think that he got the information from Rothgar instead of coming up with it himself.

He smiled a little, feeling a bit proud of his own analytic and planning skills. There was a reason he used to be a class captain and Max's vice-captain. While the shepherd mainly handled the team's morale and coordination, he handled their planning and small details. He wasn't putting himself above Max, though; the shepherd had far more patience than him. He wasn't one to get angered easily, but Max still had far more patience.

Especially when dealing with Andy.

“Here it is." His uncle said, waking him up from his thoughts. “Here's Rothgar's office. He's inside, last time I checked."

They were standing before a door. It wasn't special, not at all different from the other doors. However, Octo felt like he was going to knock at his father's study instead. His father wasn't one to be hard to reach, but he rarely had the need to go into his study unless there was something important to be discussed.

Lorenzo knocked at the door softly and said with a louder voice, “Rothgar, are you inside?"

There were some noises from inside, then a reply. “Yes, signore." The door then opened, revealing a rugged-looking red fox with very dark brown hair inside. “Please come in."

The leopard nodded at the fox. “Here is Octaviano Zoccarato, your future boss. He wishes to ask some questions about the operation."

“Yes, Signore Octaviano. Pleasure to help." The fox nodded at him. Somehow, Octo couldn't tell if the fox really was pleased or not. His expression remained flat. Did he not get along well with Lorenzo?

Said leopard then turned to Octo. “Do you need me inside?"

He took a breath and clamped his tail close to his legs. Here he was, no use turning back. “It's okay. That won't be necessary."

“Right. If you need me, I'll be in my office. The maids know where it is." Lorenzo smiled and put his hand on Octo's shoulder, then walked away towards whence they came.

He watched as his uncle left, then a cough from the fox made him turn.

“Signore, if ye will."

Right, no time to waste. He walked inside the surprisingly cosy-looking room. It was big, half the size of his father's office. There were many things inside put around rather messily, but they made the room look more comfortable with a personal touch. It seemed like Rothgar had long made this office his own. He noticed a small vase with roses in it on the table beside a photo frame, a pile of boxes in one corner of the room with written labels in Rune letters which he read as fúlsak—rubbish—and a short sword just above the fireplace.

He had a hunch that it wasn't just for display.

The fox, who was shorter than him, led him to his desk. It was clean, but the smell told him that he cleaned it up just after they knocked at the door. Octo felt sorry for disturbing the fox’s dinner. “Signore Octaviano, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Signora Sofia told me beforehand that ye were coming.” The fox started, and right away Octo could tell that while he looked rough, his loyalty lay on the panther. Then, when the fox surprisingly cracked a small, gentle smile, his nervousness slowly dissipated. “Please have a seat. I’m sorry for the mess.”

He sat down on the chair, facing the fox. An ex-army, from his air. “Just call me Octo. Also, I’m sorry for coming on such short notice. I have some questions I’d like to ask.” This wouldn’t be as hard as Ludwig.

“I'll be happy to answer. Would ye have a look at our recent reports first?"

Well, he guessed no harm there. “Of course."

The fox stood up—somehow Octo thought he looked quite defined through that plain brown t-shirt despite his visible age—and walked to one of the bookcases. He took a rather thick folder and a less thick book, then sat back down and gave him them. “This is the report from last month," He pointed at the book, then at the folder. “while this is the unfinished draft from this month. The reports are usually finalised on date 5 of every month, so this one is still a draft."

He took the book first and opened it. As he read it, his stomach sank. Cocaine shipment, available agents, monthly capacity, monthly earning… he could feel the urge to vomit rose up his gut. Under the charts and graphs, there were positive numbers, so… that was a good thing?

He could not tell.

Done with the book, he closed it and opened the folder. It was messier than the book. Apparently, it was just a collection of scraps, daily reports, etc rather than a final report. However, he caught some negative numbers here, and somehow, he felt glad.

After a while, he closed the folder and released the breath he didn't know he had been holding. Rothgar did not say anything, perhaps he was waiting for him to ask something. Octo wasn't really interested in those things, though; if anything, he felt disgusted.

“I noticed there are some negative numbers this month." He said, trying to sound like he had been reading the reports and to hide his anxiously waving tail. “However, there's still an increase in income."

“Yes, sir. The shipment is decreasing thanks to the police's tries to crack us down. We're still trying to overcome that. They were persistent."

It looked like they didn't have any control over the police here, unlike in Barrowisle. Octo leant closer in mock interest.

The fox let out a sad sigh. “It's unfortunate to see our agents being caught, or worse, MIA. Last week they caught one. His name is Chase, he's a good person."

Well, Rothgar was really interesting to him now. Unlike Ludwig, he sounded like he actually cared about his underlings. “My condolences."

“Thank you, sir." Rothgar straightened up in his seat. “If he were charged the same as the other agents, we wouldn't see him in the next five years. Poor cat."

He nodded along, secretly glad of that. Chase would be rehabilitated and reintegrated into society, far from this operation. “Ah, about that, I was meaning to ask about one of your… er… former members, if I'm not mistaken."

The fox turned to him. “Yes, sir?"

“How many wolves do we have under you? Or, had."

That friendly-ish gaze turned curious. “Wolves? Hmm… I think 10 or more." He tapped his claw on the table, deep in thought. “Yeah, 13."

“How about in the past? Preferably ten years ago or older?"

“If I remember correctly, there was this one wolf about ten or twelve years ago."

“Please tell."

“I was just a new-joiner back then. He was a good guy, bit harsh and uncontrollable but still a good guy on the inside. He… I wasn't sure what happened, it was twelve years ago. He quitted the operation, there was a fire…" The fox trailed off again. “Ah, he quitted the operation and somehow managed to burn all files related to him. I don't know how he did that. We lost… four men that day."

“Four men?"

“Yes. He managed to kill four guys and burned all files about him. Although, it was more of an accident. He was in the archive room with… his boss, if I'm not mistaken. Then they came to the personnel files… he, uh, from what I remember, he set a fire and two other guys happened to be there. One other was dead later during the chase."

That aligned with Richard's explanation about Red Wolf. “Do you know what happened after that?"

“I'm not sure as I wasn't a part of the higher commands back then. All that I knew was we tried to get him back in. When it didn't work, we tried to pressure him not to tell anyone about us. It also didn't work. After that, he was gone. We'd never seen him in the city again, and we'd never heard from him ever again. Some thought he had been caught by the police, but nobody knew what exactly happened after."

Octo leant back on his seat, holding his chin in thought. Westeravne's wolf population was so minuscule, no wonder. “Any additional information? Do you know his name?"

“Unfortunately not, sir. I used to help him with shipments sometimes, but we were so used to having him as the only wolf till we just called him wolf." The fox chuckled a bit at the memory. “Rather speciesist, I might say, but he was fine with it."

“Did he, by any chance, use to be called Red Wolf?"

“I've never heard that." Rothgar said, leaning on the table. “No, his fur colour wasn't red. It was… I don't remember, but it wasn't red. I was the red one."

Octo furrowed his brows. So, he wasn't red? What did the “Red" part mean, then?

Whatever it was, he obtained new information. Red Wolf's fur wasn't red, so Ludwig's plan to focus on red wolves in Barrowisle was useless. At least they screened all the wolves there, though.

He hummed. What he knew about Red Wolf so far… he was a university student, he came from Køpmanshavn, his fur wasn't red, he used to be an agent…

It didn't make any sense, and he was glad of it. Kevin obviously wasn't from Køpmanshavn as he said something along the lines of “I wanna visit Køpmanshavn but you make it sound boring.", signalling that he had never been to Køpmanshavn. Tom was from Barrowisle, it was safe to assume that since he also said the same thing as Kevin.

He ought to tell this to Richard. This would help them find Red Wolf.

“I think that's all." Straightening up in his seat, he looked at Rothgar. “My father will look over the reports. I'll tell him about the increase."

The fox nodded, a bit surprised. “Yes, sir. That was rather quick, though."

Despite himself, the panther chuckled. Rothgar seemed nice under that gruffness. He looked at his phone; as much as he wanted to stay for a bit longer, it was already half to 19. “I'm on a tight schedule, unfortunately. Thank you very much for the information, Róðgar." He said, making sure to pronounce the fox's name correctly.

The fox nodded in appreciation. “Glad I could help you, Signore Octo." They then stood up. “I'm looking forward to working with you."

They shook hands with friendly smiles on their faces. He wanted to reply that he was, too, but he actually wasn't, not because of Rothgar himself. The fox then escorted him back to the door. They nodded at each other again, then Octo opened the door and exited the room.

Now that he was alone, Octo let his façade down and leant back against the wall. The operation still sickened him, but he was glad that at least he got a new clue about Red Wolf. Rothgar was a nice one, too, so this whole trip didn't completely burn all his good mood down.

His phone rang with a message. Right, he had to go back before 19… if he could get to his car without going to the bathroom to puke.

Every year he always came here, but he could never get tired of it.

Richard walked through the festival, an almost empty can of soda in hand. He might be a part of a fearsome mafia group that formed a large part of the city's underground, but he still enjoyed the summer festival. This was one of the rare moments when he could just blend in with so many people without a care.

The festival was big, both in size and importance. People loved it along with the Yule festival in winter. That was why the mafia group never bothered to mess with it; the festival simply worked in everyone's favour. It was managed by a team of volunteers under the city's supervision. The funding was mostly from sponsorships and donations, though the city also contributed. That made this festival largely independent, although it was not uncommon to see young politicians volunteering to join the committee to kickstart their political careers.

He smiled, the memories of being one of the volunteers coming back. It was a few years ago when he decided to join. His boss, Pacal, back then didn't mind that; he even encouraged him.

Eh, fuck the operation. He was here to have a good time. If Red Wolf were here, he'd drag that bloody wolf and drink some beer together.

Going into one of the booths, he ordered some fish sticks and checked his phone. Not that there was much to check, anyway, he didn't have many friends. He just mindlessly scrolled through the news and opened Instaram. His timeline was full of summer festival stuff.

“Here are your fish sticks!"

He gave the boothkeeper the money. “Thanks."

“You're welcome. Enjoy your meal!"

Walking away, he ate one of the sticks and hummed happily, his tail waving from side to side. Not the best fish stick he'd ever tasted but still good.

He was about to take another bite when someone then ran into him. That someone ran into his back, making him stumble forward and lose his hold on the fish stick package. The hyena narrowed his eyes and snarled at the one who almost ran into him, his food on the ground in front of him. “Use your fucking eyes, you bastard!"

The taller croc in front of him stood back up and held his head. “Ow! Sorry, dude!" He looked at him apologetically. “Sorry!"

“Nate, wha—whoa." A Doberman came and looked at them. “Sorry, yeen, we'll get that back. I'm really sorry on my friend's stead here."

“Sorry, yeen! I lost control with my tail!"

Richard huffed. Good thing his drink didn't fall. He was just about to turn back and buy another, but the croc called him out. “W-wait!"

He growled lowly. “Fuck off."

“How about we get you another as an apology?"

Taking a glance at the croc, Richard sighed and crossed his arms. At least the croc looked apologetic. “Well."

Richard led them back to the booth where he bought the fish sticks. It didn't take long to be served. The Doberman handed the money and he took their order. “Next time, don't fucking run in the festival." said the hyena to them.

“Sorry, sorry!"

“That's just Nathan. He likes trouble."

“I don't!"

He huffed, already looking forward to walking away from them. However, the crocodile had another thing in mind. “You're alone here, yeen?"

Richard snorted. “Yeah, now fuck off."

“Sad. I get the feeling, though." The croc ignored what he said and continued. “We were supposed to meet our friends here, but they left for the holiday."

“They did tell us, Nate, you just want to come here." The Doberman remarked.

“Same thing anyway. Anyway, the name's Nathan." Nathan offered his hand.

Richard looked at it, then shook it after some thought. “Richard."

“I'm John."

“Richard."

This wouldn't be back and bite him in the arse, right? He just eyed them from the corner of his eye as they started walking away, making sure that he followed them. They seemed to be content just inviting him to their conversation. The hyena let out a sigh, maybe he really needed some distraction.