Chapter 2

Vulpes made her way back to her vehicle or rather her grandfather's vehicle, like so much of her gear and equipment right now it was hand me downs or rather one might say her inheritance from grandad. She had only recently told her old friend John about what she was doing and he had put his engineering chops and mind to the task of updating and building her new gear. Her current body armor was the first work he had done for her and it was a fry cry from what he had been using a month before she met him. However much of the remainder of his tools or at least the one she couldn't buy without raising notice had been her grandfathers and they were the cutting edge of gadgeteering... back in the mid sixties when he retired. Even if best were ten or fifteen years ahead of their time that still made them a decade or so out of date.

The Silver Kit, as her grandfather had fondly named it, was a marvel of engineering—though definitely a relic by modern standards. The sleek, matte silver Jaguar E-Type was beautiful, its classic lines and streamlined body capturing the elegance of a bygone era. On the outside, it was a flawlessly restored vintage sports car, a perfect cover for anyone glancing its way on the streets of Toronto. But the Silver Kit’s true nature lay beneath the hood and in the hidden compartments scattered throughout its frame, all products of her grandfather’s time as the elusive gentleman thief, the Silver Fox.

Sliding into the leather driver’s seat, Coraline felt a familiar rush of connection to her family legacy. The Silver Kit smelled faintly of aged leather and engine oil—a combination that was strangely comforting. She reached over and flipped a switch near the gear shift, activating a low hum as the custom enhancements came to life. She could practically hear her grandfather’s voice, the pride and excitement he’d held for his “special toys.”

The modifications were impressive for their time: reinforced bodywork, a hidden radio frequency scanner, a compartment in the dash that stored extra smoke bombs and small gadgets, and even a rudimentary oil slick dispenser at the rear, just in case a quick getaway was needed. Most modern criminals probably wouldn’t see it coming—though John had already mentioned about five things he wanted to upgrade as soon as he could get his hands on the parts.

But Coraline loved the vintage charm of it all. Every time she drove the Silver Kit, it was a reminder that she wasn’t just fighting her own battles. She was continuing the work her grandfather had started, his quiet crusade against those who preyed upon the innocent under the guise of respectability.

As she revved the engine, she glanced down at the dashboard, her fingers tracing the faint scratches and dents left by her grandfather’s own adventures. This car, this life, all of it was her inheritance. And while John was building her armor and tools for the present, her grandfather had left her with the wisdom of the past—a legacy she intended to uphold.

She shifted gears, pulling smoothly onto the empty night streets, her eyes glancing in the rearview mirror to ensure no one had tracked her escape. Tonight had been a win, but she knew that Max and the Greeks wouldn’t take it lying down. And that was fine with her. Moreover she had and interest in the buyers and the tracker she had slapped on their bumper.

She opened a compartment revealing the car's radio and tuned it in until she got a clear signinal. “Wolf this is fox, the deal turned out to be more than I bargained for, wasn’t drugs like I expecetd, bunch of college kids were buying what looked like medical grade chemicals”

John “Wolf” Bane her friend, her confidante and the only person trusted to know her secret answered thoughtfully “They could be cooking the drugs, hope you got a bead on them”

Coraline snorted softly though loud enough for it to come across radio “Of course I did Wolf, used one of the long range limpet trackers you built, I’m just tuning in the handheld to see where the bread crumbs take me”

“Smart thinking, Fox,” Wolf replied, a hint of pride in his voice. “If they’re handling chemicals and not just buying the final product, this could be something bigger than the usual street trade. Keep me posted on the trail, yeah?”

“Always do,” she replied, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips as she adjusted the handheld tracker, watching as it started picking up on the pulsing signal from the limpet tracker attached to the buyers’ car. “By the way, you were right about the Greeks. Max ‘The Bronze Bull’ Drakopoulos himself was running the show tonight. Looks like they’ve got a lot riding on this little operation.”

Wolf’s voice came back, edged with concern. “Max is no small-time thug. If he’s involved, they’re not just pushing cheap thrills. Could be designer drugs, new substances, or… worse.”

Coraline nodded to herself, recalling the case files she’d poured over. Wolf had a point; the Greeks’ smuggling network was expansive, and they didn’t waste resources unless there was big money to be made. “I’ve got a feeling this trail’s going to lead us somewhere… dark. And expensive. I’ll keep my distance for now and follow where it leads, but I might need you on standby for backup.”

“Roger that. Keep an eye on your six, Fox. They don’t play nice when things get complicated,” Wolf reminded her, his tone a mix of caution and confidence in her abilities.

“Understood. Fox out.” She ended the call, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the road ahead. This wasn’t the first time she’d run into the Greek syndicate, but something about tonight felt different—bigger, and far more sinister than the usual skirmishes. If they were taking orders from Max Drakopoulos and selling high-grade chemicals to college students, it hinted at something beyond petty crime.

She shifted gears, feeling the hum of the Silver Kit beneath her as she hit the accelerator. There was no turning back now; she’d started this, and she’d see it through.

The handheld tracer device led her to an old road just off the main, she cut her lights and pulled to a stop a distance from where the tracker was located before she exited to make her way closer under the cover of the darkness. She noticed there were multiple sets of tire trackers in the muddy earth, recent ones and had the suspicion there was a second vehicle, likely a van or a truck that had picked up the contents of the trunk. The car itself was here, planted tracker and all but its trunk was wide open and empty as were the doors and car itself. 

The buyers were smarter then she gave them credit for, the car was very likely stolen and had been abandoned after the trade off. Well time to put her criminology and forensics skills to use she thought as she took a pen light from her belt and deactivated her night vision goggles. “Lets see what you boys left behind when you ran”

She swept the pen light carefully over the car’s interior, noting every detail as her trained eyes picked up the smallest traces left behind. The seats were wiped clean, but faint smudges on the steering wheel and a few muddy footprints on the floor caught her attention. They may have tried to be thorough, but no one was ever completely meticulous in a hurry.

Focusing on the ground around the car, she crouched to examine the muddy tire tracks more closely. The deeper, wider ones belonged to a larger vehicle—likely a van, as she suspected, or maybe a small truck that could carry heavy cargo discreetly. The trail of mud told her they’d turned back to the main road, heading west. 

She then turned her attention to the open trunk and slowly started to examine it until she found a torn label from one of the boxes of chemicals. It looked like it had come off when they were moving the goods and no one noticed and might give them some idea what they were up to.

She stepped back from the vehicle, carefully considering her options. The Greeks may have provided the chemicals, but they had no other apparent connection to these young buyers. Whoever they were, they’d gone to a lot of trouble to cover their tracks, and the fact that they used a decoy car only heightened her curiosity. This operation had layers.

She went back to the Silver Kit and turned on her radio. “Wolf, I think there’s more going on here than just a few college kids trying to score a high. The Greeks sold them the chemicals, but these guys covered their tracks with a stolen car and a decoy location. They’re more careful than they look.

”"I also found a label from one of the boxes of chemicals they had. It says, 'Dimethyltryptamine Hydrate, you know chemistry better than I do, can you give me a quick heads up on what that is?”

Wolf’s voice crackled back, cautious. “DMT Hydrate... they’re either making some custom psychotropics or experimenting with some strong psychoactive formulations. Whoever these guys are, they’re operating way outside the party scene.”

Wolf’s voice turned thoughtful. “You’re saying they’re just the middlemen, or they are trying to cook something?”

“Possibly. There are tire tracks leading west—a van or truck picked up the supplies and left this as a red herring. I’m going to follow the trail and see where it leads. If this is organized, I might be walking into something bigger than expected.”

“Understood, Fox. Keep me posted, and I’ll keep an eye out where I can. If you need backup, you know where to find me.”

With a last look at the decoy car, Vulpes slipped back into the darkness, tracing the tire tracks westward, her senses alert. Whoever was behind this was cautious, and that only meant one thing—they were hiding something worth uncovering.

Vulpes paused as a thought came to her “Now that I’m thinking about it, find out what universities in Toronto are working on experiments with psychoactive drugs, those kids couldn’t have been much older then their early twenties and I suspect they would need an education and a proper lab to work with those kind of chemicals” 

“Got it. I'll pull up what I can on local universities and any research facilities working with psychoactive compounds. Might take a bit, but if they’re students or recent grads, there’s a trail to follow,” Wolf replied, the hum of his keyboard faint in the background.

Vulpes eased the Silver Kit back onto the main road, headlights still off as she blended into the darkness. “Good. And check for any recent funding or grants related to neurological or psychological studies, especially anything experimental. These kids might think they’re the next big pioneers in psychopharmacology—or worse, that they’re untouchable.”

"Already on it. Give me a few, and I’ll have a list of likely labs. Keep your coms open in case anything pops up.”

She nodded, even though Wolf couldn’t see her. “Will do. With any luck, they left more than just a label behind."

The Silver Kit prowled through Toronto's streets like a fox on the hunt, its powerful engine giving off a low predatory growl. There wasn’t much else Vulpes could do tonight other than a basic patrol then head back to the Fox Den. That was the name her grandfather had given the secret lairs he had built under the families manor just outside Toronto and the family lake house. It was perhaps a bit campy but it had a certain charm to it.

She was the only member of her family who knew about the Den, the only one in over twenty plus years since he retired who had ever stumbled on it. She remembered fondly she had been staying with her grandparents one balmy Ontario Summer at the lake house whenever the curious and bold little girl had taken to exploring the family lake house in all its various nooks and crannies. 

One day, her grandfather had left her alone for just a few minutes—just long enough for her to find a hidden latch in the wall behind his study. The latch opened to reveal a narrow staircase leading down into a world that seemed like it belonged in one of her adventure books. She’d been wide-eyed, taking in the dimly lit room filled with old gadgets, maps, and strange-looking costumes. The place was cluttered with tools and blueprints, even an old-fashioned computer humming in the corner. It was a treasure trove of secrets, and in the center of it all had been her grandfather’s pride and joy: the Silver Kit.

The Fox Den had become her secret too, the place where she’d spent countless hours after school, learning everything her grandfather would teach her. He hadn’t intended to bring her into that world, but once she’d found the Den, he’d embraced her curiosity, indulging her fascination with old heist stories, gadgets, and disguises. He had told her tales of his days as the Silver Fox, slipping through society’s shadows to right wrongs and swipe fortunes from the greedy. And while he had a mischievous streak, he’d instilled a strong sense of justice in her, a determination to do something meaningful, even if it meant working in the shadows.

As the Silver Kit cruised down Toronto’s empty streets, Vulpes felt the weight of her grandfather’s legacy on her shoulders, just like she always did. She was still green, still making mistakes, but every night she donned the mask, she honored the life he had taught her to value. It was that blend of thrill and duty that kept her going, pushing her forward into a world of danger and darkness, where each night was a step closer to making Toronto and just maybe the world itself a better, safer place.

It was almost funny that out of her father, mother, aunts and uncles it was her who discovered the truth. Maybe that’s why her grandfather had decided to teach her, to show her the secret world he had lived in before he settled down to raise a family with the woman he loved. She had to admit grandmother did suit him, she was a rich heiress to an old money family here in Ontario but like granddad was the sort to break the mold. She had been big in the social rights movements of the sixties and was an avid supporter of charity.

She had taken the loss of husband with a quiet strength that Coraline had to admit she admired though the family knew deep down her heart must have been shattered the day she lost her Reggie. 

Her grandmother had always been the picture of grace and resilience, a woman who could command a room with her presence yet was just as comfortable in protest marches or rallying for causes she believed in. While her grandfather had slipped through the shadows, her grandmother had worked in the spotlight, channeling her wealth and influence into advocacy and charitable work. Together, they had made a formidable pair, each complementing the other's strengths in ways that Coraline only fully appreciated now.

After her grandfather’s death, her grandmother never spoke about his "other life," but Coraline suspected that she knew more than she let on. That quiet strength and resilience had become a model for Coraline in her own quest, a reminder that there was a way to fight without compromising who you were.

As Coraline slipped deeper into her role as Vulpes, she often wondered what her grandmother would think if she knew. Would she disapprove of Coraline’s choice to step into her grandfather’s shoes, or would she understand the calling that had taken hold of her? In a way, Coraline liked to think that her grandmother already did—that she could sense something of the fire she’d once shared with her husband burning now in her granddaughter.

The Silver Kit’s engine purred as she navigated through the quieter streets, the night was proving to be a slow one for the Vulpes and a part of her was eager to see if she could track down a lead about the chemicals and who had purchased them from the Greeks. 

Vulpes weighed her options carefully as the Silver Kit glided through the city streets. Leaning on the Greeks for information was tempting; they might have a loose-lipped associate or a careless supplier who could spill the details she needed. But she knew that any attempt to pressure them would come with its own set of problems. The Greeks were a proud syndicate, deeply entrenched in their traditions and loyal to their own—and Maximos Drakopoulos, the Bronze Bull, was fiercely protective of that loyalty. She could still practically feel the imagined memory of his seething rage after her stunt with the dye bomb; no doubt he’d be spoiling for a rematch, and she had no illusions about the danger that came with it.

Max was a bruiser, and his mastery of pankration—the ancient Greek art of all-out combat—was as brutal as it was efficient. It was a far cry from her own techniques, which relied on agility and strategy over raw force. The Bronze Bull was the type who would endure blow after blow just to land one devastating strike. Engaging him would be a gamble, one that she couldn't afford right now if she wanted to keep her focus on the bigger mystery unraveling before her.

Besides, the Greeks were unlikely to know what the buyers planned to do with those chemicals. They dealt in profit, not science. Whoever these college kids were, they’d gone to great lengths to mask their intentions and throw her off the trail, which only piqued her curiosity further. Someone with both the resources and the careful planning to pull off such a clandestine deal had to be working for a larger operation, or they were hiding something dangerous, knowing her luck it was probably the worst of both.

Down a lonely back road, shrouded by thick trees and illuminated only by the silvery glow of moonlight, the Silver Kit prowled closer to the hidden rear entrance of the Fox Den. The path was secluded, and Vulpes knew it was nearly invisible from the main estate—a deliberately concealed route her grandfather had arranged decades ago. Her grandfather had spared no expense when he relocated to Canada after the war, marrying the young nurse he had met in Europe. Together, they built a life here on Penrose Estate, an enormous castle-like manor surrounded by sprawling woodlands that cloaked his secrets beneath layers of luxury and tradition.

The Penrose Estate itself was the picture of quiet, old-world elegance. The manor sprawled across acres of land, its impressive stone façade veiled in ivy and towering evergreens that loomed protectively around it. Rolling gardens and pristine lawns stretched out behind the house, leading to a small lake or perhaps large pond depending on whom one asked that was framed by willow trees—a perfect setting for the stately home, with its hidden paths and tranquil retreats. The manor boasted numerous balconies, and sprawling wings; but beneath its polished exterior, the estate concealed a network of hidden passages and secret rooms. Her grandfather had always been one to plan ahead, and he ensured that his private world could operate unseen even within his own grand residence.

The entrance to the Fox Den was nestled at the back of the property, accessed through a nearly invisible stone archway partially camouflaged by the dense underbrush. This concealed passage led to an underground road that opened into the heart of her grandfather’s lair—a remarkable feat of engineering considering he had it built in the early 1960s. The entrance was disguised as an old gardener’s shed from above, blending seamlessly with the surrounding estate grounds, and hidden from view by trees. A single twist of a certain stone on the shed wall would slide open a panel and reveal the hidden road, large enough to fit the Silver Kit and any other vehicle required for a quick exit. She slid through the entrance and began her descent, leaving the night and city life behind as she entered the hidden world her grandfather had so meticulously built.

The Fox Den sprawled across several underground levels, each layer connected by reinforced steel doors and outfitted with the finest equipment of the time. Despite the years that had passed since her grandfather's active days, much of the equipment still held up, evidence of his forward-thinking investments in quality materials. Vulpes drove into the main vehicle bay, where the echoes of her engine bounced off the sleek metal walls. Here, her grandfather had stashed the remnants of his double life: the sleek suits he had once wore, his extensive collection of gadgets, and blueprints for various underground exits and security systems that allowed him to escape undetected at a moment's notice.

The walls were lined with maps of Toronto from decades ago, with routes, hideouts, and secure locations marked. Shelves displayed rows of vintage tools, weapons, and files on old associates and enemies alike. Even the furniture retained a bit of his touch, evoking the style and precision he had wielded in both his private and public life. 

The Silver Kit rolled to a quiet stop in the spacious underground bay of the Fox Den. As she parked and climbed out of the car, her thoughts drifted to her family and the unusual legacy she’d inherited. She adjusted her gloves, glancing around the Den with a sense of quiet satisfaction. It was more than a lair; it was a place where she could embrace both her family’s name and the mantle of justice she had vowed to uphold.

Her family’s legacy, in more ways than one, had influenced her journey. Her grandmother, once a fierce social rights advocate and tireless philanthropist, had instilled in her a sense of duty toward those less fortunate. Despite the wealth that cushioned their lives, her grandmother had always ensured the family understood the responsibilities that came with privilege. Then there was her grandfather, the elusive Silver Fox, who had quietly shown her the other side of justice—a life that took matters into its own hands when laws failed. The secret world he had created beneath the estate was a testament to his unique brand of heroism, one that she could hardly ignore.

Her father’s influence had been no less significant. A partner at Penrose and MacLeod, one of Toronto’s most respected law firms, he had spent decades navigating the complexities of the legal world with precision and dedication. He embodied professionalism, upholding justice within the system and earning a reputation as a lawyer of unshakable integrity. Though he had recently retired and moved to Florida with her mother, his impact on her choices lingered. It was, after all, his career that had inspired her to pursue law in the first place. She had admired his ability to bring justice to the boardrooms and courtrooms, a skill that aligned with her own vision of justice, though she now pursued it in a different guise.

As she moved through the dimly lit halls toward the operations room where she knew Wolf would be waiting, she felt the weight of her dual life pressing on her. She had pursued her law degree with ambition and intention, studying criminology and forensics as meticulously as any law student. She wanted to be prepared on all fronts—not just as a vigilante, but as someone who could influence justice in the light of day as well. She’d passed her exams with flying colors, and she knew more than a few law firms had taken notice of her achievements. Though she hadn’t yet taken up a formal position, she’d seen her studies as a means to an end, a way to carry on the Penrose legacy in more than one way.

At the heart of the Den, she finally reached the operations room, where Wolf was hunched over his workstation, monitoring various feeds from her recent mission. The glow from the screens cast a sharp light across his focused face, and the air was thick with the hum of machinery and the faint scent of oil.

"Welcome back" he greeted her, not looking up from the screen. “How was the hunt?”

She smiled, feeling the familiar rush of purpose as she stepped further into the room. "Interesting. Our buyers were clever enough to cover their tracks, but I still have a lead. Oh, and I strongly suspect the Bronze Bull won't be happy "

Wolf chuckled, a knowing smirk crossing his face. "I bet. I’m just working on leads on those chemicals like you asked, that and working on gutting this place and updating the tech"

As she settled into the chair across from him, she felt a deep satisfaction. Here, within the walls of the Den, she was free to pursue justice on her own terms, blending her family’s legacy with her own unique vision. Here, she was not just a lawyer-in-training or a socialite’s daughter—she was Vulpes, protector of Toronto and heiress to the Silver Fox.

As she pulled up the wheeled chair next to John, she couldn’t help but grin. Her friend and confidant, John Bane—known as "Wolf" to those who dared get close enough to know him well—wasn’t what most people expected of a tech genius and mechanical prodigy. With his towering frame and broad shoulders, he looked more like a bouncer than a graduate from one of Canada’s most prestigious engineering programs, the University of Waterloo. At 6'3" and solid muscle, John’s presence was intimidating yet humble in his mechanics overalls and his dark brown eyes, sharp and observant, always seemed to notice everything in the room. His black hair, usually tied back in a ponytail, and his ruggedly weathered, copper-toned skin spoke to a life shaped by both rough work and outdoor passion.

John’s journey to her side had been far from ordinary. Raised on a Cree reservation in Northern Ontario, he’d been fascinated with the way things worked from a young age, often disassembling household items just to understand their inner workings. 

University had brought John to Toronto, where he and Coraline had met during his time studying mechanical engineering, automotive technology, and robotics among other subjects. Unlike most students who saw the classroom as a means to a corporate career, John viewed engineering as a way to preserve his independence, giving him the tools to build whatever he needed without relying on anyone else. His talent for vehicle modification and his sharp eye for detail quickly earned him a reputation among Toronto’s underground racing circles. One night, a gang attempted to lethally sabotage his racing bike, and it was Coraline, in one of her early appearances as Vulpes, who had saved him from their scheme. The experience bonded them, and it hadn’t been long after, Coraline trusted him enough to reveal her double life as a vigilante.

That had only been a month and a half ago, since then, John had become her one-man tech team, building and upgrading her gear with a level of precision and innovation unmatched by anything she could have bought on the market. He had built her armor, the Fox-Ear amplification system, her night vision goggles, and was either upgrading or making his own additions to the countless other gadgets that were her grandfathers and now her arsenal of tools, a testament to his skill and dedication to justice. Though he preferred to stay behind the scenes, supporting her from the Fox Den, his presence was as essential to her operation as any weapon or strategy.

On the books John was her mechanic and handyman, off the books, John Bane had always been more; he was the one person who could piece together her often-outlandish requests without batting an eye. Coraline woefully overpaid him for his services, but she justified it as compensation for  the high-quality work that went into keeping her gear and vehicles in perfect condition. Plus, John was practically overqualified for the job, given his background in engineering and his ability to build a custom piece of equipment on a whim. Still, he never seemed to mind working under the guise of “full-time mechanic”—especially considering that Coraline’s love for collecting and restoring classic cars provided him with more than enough work to keep busy.

As she unwound for the night, Coraline pulled off her mask and wig, shaking her hair loose from the matted tangle that hours of rooftop crawling and combat had caused. She caught John giving her a sidelong glance from his station. “I can handle the rest, John,” she said with a half-smile. “You should get some sleep. If your girlfriend finds out I’m working you this hard, she’ll have my head.”

He chuckled, finishing a final adjustment on one of her gadgets. “Please, you know she approves of me spending time working for you rather than tinkering with other people’s junk all day. Besides,” he added with a smirk, “some of those cars of yours are practically family heirlooms by now. Keeping them running is more an act of respect than a job.”

Coraline grinned, brushing a hand through her hair. “Maybe so, but you’re still too generous for this gig, you know that? I’ve heard more than a few engineering firms would pay a fortune for you to sit at a desk all day and come up with tech they could patent.”

“Yeah, but none of them have anything as interesting as you, Vulpes,” he replied with a grin. “Besides, working for you is more than a job, it’s a lot more fun. That beats a corporate paycheck any day.”

With that, he gave her a respectful nod, his way of saying goodnight. For Coraline, having John on her team meant knowing she had someone she could always count on—someone with the skills, loyalty, and unflinching support that even the fanciest corporate tech team couldn’t provide. “Tell Sarah I said hi when you see her” Vulpes added as John was about to disappear. 

“Lucky woman,” she murmured under her breath, a faint smile on her lips as the door clicked shut behind John. Coraline reached for the cup of coffee he’d left on the workbench, a small but constant gesture that had become his signature. For all his brilliance with machines, John Bane could also make a mean cup of coffee, and she savored the rich warmth as it flooded through her, rekindling her energy for the long night ahead.

She took another sip, the steam curling around her face, and set to work, her mind switching gears as she began pulling up maps and files. Tonight’s work would involve a deep dive into the connections she’d uncovered—the young buyers, the elusive chemicals, and the Greeks’ sudden expansion into new and uncharacteristic ventures. The silence in the Den allowed her to focus, her fingers moving quickly over her keyboard as she followed up on each clue, piecing together a puzzle that only grew more intriguing the further she went.

Wouldn’t be the first time this fox had gone down a rabbit hole, nor the last not by a long shot.