Miller steadies herself, remembering the psychological training—the Fox responds to emotion, not power. "We're trying to understand you," she says carefully, each word chosen like stepping stones across a river. "We didn't mean to threaten your... kits." The Fox tilts his head, tail flicking. Then lays down, yawning lazily. "I see... reasonable. Your kind has seen many things, and yet you have never seen anything like me." "You've taken people," she said slowly. "You've punished them. We don't fully understand why. We're worried about your... methods." Mr. Fox watches her from his side, lazy, with an ear flick from his perfectly animalistic form—animated with black fur and living eyes. He sits up. "Well... they deserved it. You have not seen their minds. You don't understand what is needed. Your legal systems are horrible. Your education systems worse. And the children are the future. Yet you allow private education to teach whatever the hell they wish—and make cultish slobs that corrupt the world." She speaks again, nervous and slightly afraid, feeling a cold brush across her back as a shadow fox passes behind her. "W-With... all respect. There are lines... justice should not cross. Disappearing people from life is one of them, I feel."
Mr. Fox replies, "It's a simple reality. I hate blindness. The refusal to see. I fix it. But I have limits. So I fix the children—the ones that would be given the worst blindness—I fix. Remove them from the wrong, and heal their blindness. That's why I'm their caretaker. Father. Fox. They are my kits. My cute little kits. I will not allow them to get hurt. They deserve a good world. A good life. I shall make it for them—one household at a time." "What happens to them?" she asked suddenly, her voice cracking under the weight of what she might hear. "Where do they go?"
Mr. Fox says, "Look around you..." She does. And sees the shadow foxes on the wall. "Those are their blindness. The blind ones are stuck in the horde... until they can accept their blindness and heal. Then... I give them a chance at life once more." She is confused. "What do you mean? You're saying they're alive?" she asks, her voice now a whisper—as though saying it too loud would wake them. "Very," Mr. Fox replied. "I keep them safe. Away from the world they broke. Those shadow foxes are not me... they are people turned inside out. Blindness made visible. Following my healings and methods as a form... of retribution. Until they recover." She asks, "Why... cartoons?" He replies cheerfully, with a cheeky smile. "Eh... marketing. Children like cartoons. I like cartoons. They're fun! Plus, I'm kind of too committed now to change the style."
She asks, "How did you get here... why now?" Mr. Fox... stops. Quiet. Serious for once. He says, "Not by choice. They put me here. Dragged me here. So I'm just making the best of it." She's confused. And afraid. "Who?" she asks. Mr. Fox says, "I should not say." She asks, "I—I guess... what happens when... the parents do recover?" Mr. Fox answers cryptically, "They get a choice." "What choice?" she presses. Mr. Fox smiles. "Between joining me in the show... or protecting those outside." "What... even are you?" she asks. Mr. Fox answers, "Your science works. But it is weak. Small. Incomplete. Ask me when you discover how spacetime truly works. And you'll need some better research on psychology—standardized, reliable. That's required to truly understand reality. But... I will tell you... I was once human."
Her horror-stricken face seems to amuse him. "You are a funny one. I will give you a gift. A blessing of mine. But beyond that, I will call that it for today... hmm..." He turns, looking at a shadow fox as it forms. "You will get to be with her, Karlen." The shadow fox nods excitedly. Then exits the TV—and enters her shadow. She shakes. Staring as fox ears rise inside her shadow. The glowing eyes. Then—flash. A burst of light. The TV turns off. The shadows return to normal. The lights come on. And... the abuser of a father is gone. No longer standing there with blank, static-filled eyes. Miller shook. Bent down. Looked at her shadow, horrified. Nothing. Her shadow was normal. But she still felt it. Something was off. Watching.
Fury sits in his office. Natasha stands nearby. He watches the recordings, flipping through the reports. Natasha looks... unsure. She's seen them too. Fury says, "No signs of anything wrong with Miller... I don't trust it. That thing." He pauses. "Though... I can agree with its morals in some ways." Natasha says nothing. After a moment, Fury speaks again. "We're going to treat Mr. Fox as an external force. One we cannot interfere with. Non-hostile. Non-containable. But we'll continue monitoring. Quietly. Track the children he marks. And Miller. Keep her on the case." Natasha raises an eyebrow. "You sure? That fox trusts her. He gave her a... something." "Exactly," Fury says. "She's the closest thing to an ambassador we've got. She's in—whether she wants to be or not. For now, no more communication attempts. Unless needed. It wants to make the world better. I can trust that. But I'm unsure about its methods... or even who put it here." Natasha says, "If he turns..." She trails off. "There's no fighting him." Fury nods. "That's why we don't give him a reason to." It was the oldest rule in espionage: know when to step back. "You think we'll ever find out who sent him?" she asks. Fury doesn't answer right away. He stares at the screen—paused on Mr. Fox's smile. Eyes glittering with secrets. Finally, he speaks. "If we do... we'll wish we hadn't." He sighs. "I miss the days when Captain America was the weirdest damn thing out there."