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Lou & Lin Healthcare, Toronto ON,

Present Day, 2013

It was well past the closing hours of the firm that Feng Lou and Cai Lin sat quietly in their office, their employees having already left for the day leaving the two alone with a compilation of settlement reports from the day, summarizing all transactions made from new customers to their firm as well as the monthly payments for their current clientele. The two shared the work equally and would spend countless hours every night revelling on their profits.

The younger of the two Dhole's, Feng Lou, was brewing a pot of tea for them while Cai Lin studied his share of the reports in great detail, scanning the pages carefully to make certain that nothing was out of place. The office was lit only by a single desk lamp to the left of Cai Lin, under which he held the reports while he read. A ceiling fan hung down from above, though was currently turned off. The only sound in the room besides the whistling of the tea pot being the ticking of the clock on the wall, and the occasional shuffle of the papers in hand.

The city outside remained as noisy as ever, with the honking of car horns filling the streets marking a nearby traffic jam in the city streets. The lights of the city's most famous landmark -the CN Tower, shone between the plastic blinds of the window to the right of the desk, adding to the dim light provided by the desk lamp. A draft from the window -which they could never make close properly- sent a shiver up his back, causing him to scowl towards the window at the February weather.

"I can never get used to the frigid air of this country," complained Lin, speaking in Mandarin to his co-worker.

"Makes me long for my home in Gongyi," agreed Lou, placing a mug of hot tea on the desk for Lin while keeping a second for himself as he sat down. "Where do we stand this month?"

"Our profits are growing," replied Lin. "It is ironic, that one can make so much money providing health insurance even in _this_country with its world-famous healthcare." He chortled as he finished his remark, reaching for his mug of tea.

"Hardly compares to what we would make state-side," Lou returned. "What I wouldn't give to move this firm to Las Vegas -our profits would soar there."

"Assuming you did not lose it all to the card tables at the nearest casino," Lin returned, knowing that his partner was an opportunistic spender -especially on something that could make him even more money. It was for that reason their office needed to be so far from the casinos of Toronto, to prevent Lou from temptation.

Naturally the elder Dhole took offense to the comment, though. "Mind your tongue," he said, sharply before taking a sip of his tea.

"You know of what I speak," Lin returned. "Besides, if we were not in operation here, where would our brothers stay after a night's work?"

As if to emphasize his meaning, there was the sound of laughter from the next room over. Although the floor plan of the building showed that it ended at this office, outside of the door was a hidden entrance to a back area of the building, which was officially recognized as a warehouse owned by Qiang Construction, but Qiang was just an alias.

"Sounds like another drinking game," commented Lou. "They have been corrupted by this country's foul culture -or lack thereof."

"Let them have their fun," Lin returned, waving dismissively. "Keeps them from bothering us about ordering pizza."

But as the hour dragged on, the noise only grew louder. Laughing turned to shouting, and it was beginning to sound like there was fighting as well. The two insurance brokers looked at each other, and then jumped as there was the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the wall.

The 'fun' had clearly gotten out of control. Lou and Lin sprang from their chairs, running out of the office and towards the back to a dead-end hallway with a lone plastic plant and table. Under the plant, Lin revealed a red button, which upon pressing, caused the wall in front of them to groan and slide aside. But as the door slid open... the room beyond became deathly quiet.

The two marched in, ready to bring discipline to their in-house guests, but as they stepped into the warehouse, their jaws fell slack as they found the floor littered with the bodies of their fellows, many of them unconscious or at least writhing and groaning in pain, their arms twisted awkwardly and weapons lying scattered about, their slides pulled back and magazines nowhere to be seen.

Both Lou and Lin reached into the flap of their suits, each producing from a hidden holster a Type-77 pistol from their homeland. Pocket-sized and easy to conceal, loaded with large caliber rounds that could pierce most body armours. They chambered their first rounds into each, disengaging the safeties and began to survey the room, guns aimed wherever they looked for any sign of the assailant that had felled their cohorts.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lin spotted a flicker of movement. He looked up to the rafters where he had seen it and caught a glimpse of something round and metal falling towards him. Before he had a chance to react, a metal pole struck him in the head, sending stars dancing across his eyes. He crumpled to the floor, moaning. Lou spun towards him in time to see him go down and the pole that had struck him clatter to the floor, spotting movement in the rafters.

Immediately he raised his gun, firing two shots into the rafters. But with the muzzle flash of the first, the target vanished without a trace. He started to turn, searching for where the might have fled to, when a powerful hand seized his arm. He turned, and a red-gloved fist struck him across the cheek. He reeled, but in a spur of adrenaline tore his arm free of the grasp of the assailant. He turned his gun on them, firing five shots at them, only to immediately find his target gone.

Hoof steps sounded behind him. Lou spun around, this time finding his target in his sights. He squeezed the trigger. The gun clicked, and he looked at it in horror, realizing that the slide was back.

"It only holds seven shots, friend," the intruder, a pale caribou clad in white and red, with eyes the colour of one who had recently passed from the world of the living, spoke coldly to him in English.

Lou, panicked, hurled his gun at the intruder, who did not even react to it as it struck his chest. He lunged forward, fist swinging, but the caribou easily deflected the blow, retaliating with a punch to Lou's jaw that sent the dhole onto his back.

Lin, having begun to come around from the blow he had suffered from the metal staff that had been hurled at him, retrieved his gun, taking aim at the caribou. But without even looking back, the caribou vanished in a flash of light, and when Lin discharged, his bullet found nothing. A shadow fell over him, and white-hot pain exploded from the back of his head as the caribou fell on him from above, slamming their elbow into the back of his head.

By now, Lou had scrambled to his feet again, running towards the exit. The caribou looked up, glaring, and then put a finger to his ear. "Head him off," he said.

Lou burst out into the alleyway behind the warehouse. He hung a left, and was beelining straight towards the street, unaware of what was coming from above. A figure, swinging from a flagpole, swooped in out of the air and delivered a two-legged kick to the dhole's back, sending him flying through the air several feet before landing face-first in the snow. Seconds later, a weight fell upon him, pinning him to the ground with his face still in the dirty snow.

"Well done," the caribou spoke as he marched out to the scene.

"I believe the phrase is, 'piece of cake'?" Replied the other, a salamander in a single piece body suit with a voice bearing a French accent.

"Let's get them detained and then get moving, Whiptail -someone is bound to have heard those gunshots," the caribou urged, walking over and picking up the semi-conscious dhole, throwing him over his shoulder before turning and heading back to the warehouse.

"Right with you, Warp!" The salamander returned.

By the time the police arrived at the Lou & Lin firm after receiving a call about gunfire coming from inside, they found no less than eleven immigrant citizens from China, in possession of illegal, unregistered firearms bearing their prints as well as a stack of papers amid them all lying in the warehouse behind the firm upon finding the secret door open at the back. The papers, upon inspection, revealed the grim truth about the insurance firm, that the services they offered were not supported by any other firms -dental, optical or prescription alike, exposing them for medical insurance fraud.

In truth, the Lou & Lin firm was a front to a small sect of the Chinese Triad, its true purpose being a safehouse for their enforcers to hide between jobs so the police could not find them. All the men found at the scene were arrest, but as for who had detained them, they were nowhere to be found.

Watching from the height of a building across the street, Warp -and his trusted sidekick, Whiptail, watched with satisfaction as the men were led out to the police cruisers. As the cars were loaded with the suspects, Whiptail looked up at his mentor, a bright smile on his face. "A fine job tonight, oui?"

"Oui, but this is only the beginning, my friend," replied Warp.

"How do you even find these places anyway?" Whiptail asked. "You never told me how it is you identify these fronts."

"Organized crime may be a dirty business, but it's still a business," explained Warp. "And every business leaves a money trail -one that accountant Daniel Tonraq has little trouble finding."

"You do the accounting for these guys?" Whiptail asked in shock.

"Not to their knowledge," replied Warp in a sly tone. "Unfortunately, the firm I work for is also dirty, but I use it to my advantage in this case."

Whiptail looked down at the street, letting his mentor's words sink in before shivering at the chill in the air. "Okay... can we go back to the bunker now? There's a reason most amphibians hibernate in the winter."

"Agreed. Good thing I left a pot of coffee on," bade Warp before he placed his hand on Whiptail's shoulder, and with yet another flash of light, the two vanished from the rooftop as the last of the police cruisers drove off into the night.

Back at The Bunker...

"So, Dan," began Pierre, finally pulling back his mask to reveal the brown-skinned Salamander underneath. "You never did tell me how you first became The Warp. What was your motivation and, how'd you get your powers?"

"Kind of a long story, Pierre," replied Daniel, sipping on his mug of coffee. "Goes right back to when I was ten, so there's a lot of ground to cover."

"Not like I have anywhere to be tonight -it's my night off," Pierre pointed out.

Daniel let out a long sigh, considering how best to share the tale with his partner. "Well, I suppose my story starts off like any other hero's does... with a tragedy."

The Ghost of Toronto

Part 1

Even looking at it, plain as day, she could not believe what she was seeing.

Orenda Tremblay had uncovered evidence of criminal activity in the last place she had ever expected. While managing the financial records of one of her clients, she had stumbled across a pre-authorized payment to a name that stood out to her. The name was an alias -one used by a notorious weapon's smuggler, wanted for shipping illegal firearms across Lake Michigan from the United States, to the city of Toronto. Weapons that were later found in the hands of other criminals all over the city.

Her client was buying guns from a smuggler, and then selling them again to other criminals. She had the evidence to prove it -though doing so would violate the rule of customer confidentiality. But like hell she was just going to let this continue -people were dying out there in the streets every night, gunned down by street thugs or perishing to drugs and her own client was to blame for some of it.

If she could submit this as evidence, it would have her client and his associates off the streets in record time. However, in doing so, she would also break the number one rule of an accountant -to never divulge their client's information. In her mind, her career responsibilities battled with her morality, struggling for control.

But the answer came easily in the end. 'What's the point of a job if you can't use it to prevent bloodshed?' She asked in thought, making sure nobody was looking before slipping the files into her purse. She glanced at her watch, noting that her next coffee break was starting momentarily.

With that, Orenda continued to the breakroom for her coffee. The end of her shift could not come soon enough...

~~~~~

"I overheard my parents talking about it when I got out of bed to go to the bathroom," Daniel explained on, taking another sip of his coffee. "At the time, I didn't really understand what she was talking about -I was only a child, after all. I don't know what else happened after that, until about a month later..."

~~~~~

Jeffrey Tremblay hastened to the door as he heard the knock, hoping that it was his wife having forgotten her key. It was well into the night, and she was long overdue to arrive home.

To get to the front door, he had to pass the stairs to the upper floor where the bedrooms were. As he passed, down which he could hear a light pair of hoofsteps. He turned to look up the stairwell, to see his son, dressed in his pajamas, coming down as well.

"Daniel, I told you to go to bed," Jeff said, scornfully.

"I couldn't sleep, pops," replied the young caribou. "Is that mom at the door?"

"I'm about to find out," returned Jeff as his hand closed around the doorknob, twisting it and pulling the door open, the elder male caribou ready to greet his wife with open arms to welcome her home safe and sound.

His heart sank when he saw the black Labrador garbed in a police uniform standing outside, arms folded over his front and hands clasped together in front of his waist as he looked at Jeff with a somber expression.

"Mr. Tremblay?" The Labrador asked.

"Y-Yes," Jeff answered, his heart thundering in his chest as the officer continued.

The Labrador introduced himself as Constable Aaron Wilson with the Toronto police, before continuing -that somber expression still worn on his face as he spoke slowly. "I'm afraid I have some bad news for you. Your wife, Orenda, has been shot."

Jeff was already reeling even before the officer had mentioned his wife's name. He fell back against the banister of the stairwell, leaning on it for support as his heart continued to pound in his chest, feeling a crushing pain in his chest. He remembered Daniel on the stairs and turned to look up at him. The younger caribou was staring at the police officer, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. Already he could see the tears forming in his son's eyes as he stood frozen on the stairwell.

"Daniel..." Jeff started to say, but the words died in his throat, holding out his arm to the younger caribou. But his son turned and fled up the stairs hastily, disappearing into the hallway at the top and followed shortly by a door slamming closed.

"I am so sorry for your loss, Mr. Tremblay," the constable said honestly, the somber look now replaced by one of sympathy. "If there's anything I can do..."

Jeff cut him off. "Do?!" He echoed sharply. "The only reason this happened is because my wife was helping you people expose some mobster!" He waved his arms, stepping up to the Labrador. "You were supposed keep her safe -whatever happened to 'witness protection'?!"

The Labrador made no response, knowing that nothing he could say would ease the caribou's woes, and so Jeff continued. "Now my son has to grow up without his mother, because you failed to do your fucking job, and all you have to say is 'sorry'!" He glared deeply into Wilson's eyes. "Did you even catch the bastard?!"

Wilson waited a few seconds before answering. "We did," he replied, knowing that he should not have been discussing details about the case with a civilian -even a family member of one of their witnesses. But he hadn't the heart to deny the widowed man some closure. "Her former client -our suspect, has been in custody for the past two weeks."

"If you caught him, why the hell is my wife dead -who killed her?"

"The buyers," replied Wilson. "The organization who were purchasing weapons from the suspect, who we have confirmed to be tied to the Triads. We believe they may have found out about your wife exposing their supplier and so eliminated her."

"You already caught their supplier -what was the point?! It's not like she could expose them for anything!"

"I do not have an answer to that, sir," Wilson returned honestly.

Jeff, angrier than ever, turned on the cop, looking like he wanted to say more but could not find the words for it. He settled instead with grabbing his antlers in frustration, kicking over a table next to the stairwell. "Fucking Chinese bastards!" He hollered.

Wilson opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again hurriedly, thinking better of it. "I will leave you be, then, Mr. Tremblay. Once more, I am sorry for your loss," he bade, stepping into the house and leaving a card on the stairwell. "If you ever need anything, please, give me a call." He offered.

"You and your lot have done enough," retorted Jeff, not even looking at the police officer as he spoke.

Taking the hint, Wilson turned to leave, closing the door behind him and following the sidewalk back to his cruiser while Jeff sat on the floor in silence. There he remained for some time, ears flicking as he heard movement upstairs, followed by sobbing. He knew Daniel was crying, and felt his mind telling him to go to him -to comfort him. They should be together in such a painful time, he knew... to mourn the loss of Orenda his loving wife, and caring mother to Daniel.

But he had not the strength to lift himself from the floor...

~~~~~~

"Your mother was very brave," stated Pierre.

"Yes, she was," replied Daniel. "It's why I changed my name to Tonraq -to her maiden name. I wanted to honour her. Made it easier to hide my identity from my employers as well as they only knew her by her marital name." He leaned back in his chair, sighing sadly. "Sometimes, I wish she hadn't been so brave -that she could have looked the other way. She might still be with me today if she had. Is it selfish to think like that?"

"I would not think so," replied Pierre, shrugging. "How is it wrong to miss your parents?"

Daniel nodded in reply. "I suppose you're right," he said.

"So, what happened after -did the police catch the shooters?"

Daniel shook his head. "They certainly tried," he returned. "They chased the buyers of the illegal weapons -not just the Triads either. Yakuza, Russian mob, Italian Mafia, even some lesser gangs all over the city. It got so bad, my dad and I had to be taken out of the city for fear of more retaliation against my mother's family. So, we went to stay with my aunt in Chatham. We arrived back home two weeks later, but my dad had put the house up for sale -the memories of it were too painful for him, I guess."

Daniel sighed sadly. "We moved into an apartment in the city, where he could be closer to his job. I came home from school every day to find him drunk and angry. I eventually found out he'd been caught drinking at work too, so naturally he was fired. I came home that same night to find him tearing the furniture to pieces -not all of which was even ours. Suffice it to say, we didn't get the damage deposit back when we were kicked out."

Pierre shuddered at that. "Turning to drink... nothing good ever comes of that," he said.

"No. But for my dad, it only got worse."

~~~~~

He had been glaring at them the whole night since the moment they had entered the bar. Jeff stared at the three Japanese males -two felines and a fox, as they entered the establishment and found to a booth to sit in. In their hands they carried kendo practice blades -blunt, wooden swords that they slid under the table and left them there. In his rage-filled, intoxicated mind he saw them as Chinese -ignoring the subtle differences between a Chinese and Japanese furson -he saw only the almond shaped eyes and saw an enemy...

How he hated the Chinese...

'Take my wife and you still think you belong here?' He thought, taking another swig from his bottle but never taking his eyes off the three. By now, they had discovered he was looking at them, staring back at him for a while before looking away, but that only made Jeff angrier.

'Fuck up my life, will you?' He thought, getting up from his stool and stumbling over to them. When he was in earshot of them, colourful slander was already leaving his mouth, shouting at the three so loudly that he even drowned out the guitar player on the stage with the volume of his voice.

Jeff had likely thrown every insult in the English language at the three before the bouncers finally stepped in. They tried to calm the intoxicated caribou to no avail -Jeff would not hear them. He barely acknowledged their presence, kicking the table with his hoof and causing it to splinter. By then, the two bouncers had seen enough -they seized Jeff by the arms and dragged him, kicking and cursing out of the bar. Never for a moment did he lose his grip on the bottle. The bouncers did not even bother trying to take it from him -even though it was the bar's- as they dragged him out through the front door and dropped him into the street, closing and locking the doors as he tried to come back in.

"Ah, fuck you all too!" He screamed through the glass. "Fucking Asian-loving pricks!" He stumbled away from the door, raising his bottle to take another long drink as he tried to get his bearings. "Where's that fucking car?" He asked, forgetting that he had taken a taxi that night -he may have been a drunk, but he was not without common sense when he was sober.

He didn't notice the doors to the bar open again as he wandered into the parking lot, or the three that stepped out, found him and made a beeline towards him. Jeff did not see them until they stepped under a street lamp, and through his bleary eyes he recognized them as the three men he had been shouting at.

"Ah, so you have something growing between those skinny legs after all," he spat, slurred. "Finally, ready to take your medicine, are you? Well come on then!" He hurled the bottle at them, eager to see it shatter against the head of the fox.

The fox caught the bottle in midair with one paw without even looking at it and then threw it aside as the three advanced on Jeff. Even drunk, Jeff knew he was about to get the fight he wanted -a chance to finally show these 'asian bastards' how he felt about them.

He never saw the sword until it had already been drawn from its sheath, flashing across his vision. In an instant, his bleary eyes cleared, feeling a warm moist sensation on the front of his neck as he saw the weapon for what it was. A long, curved blade was held in the fox's hand. The weapon that Jeff had previously thought a martial arts practice sword had been hiding a real sword inside of it. A sword that had slashed cleanly through Jeff's neck.

The wielder held his arm outstretched after completing his swing, staring at Daniel with a cold, remorseless stare before he returned the blade to its sheath and turned his back on Jeff as the caribou slipped away into darkness.

~~~~~

"Mon dieu!" Exclaimed Pierre, horrified. "Daniel... I had no idea! First your mother, and then..." He stopped, not wanting to pour salt on the wound.

The caribou nodded sadly, never elevating his gaze. "At that point I felt like my life was over. I lost my mother to the Triads, and then I lost my father to who I found out later was a Yakuza enforcer, and his reason for killing my father was because he had 'insulted his honor'. It felt as though my whole world had come crashing down around me."

Pierre felt the need to reach out and place his hand upon his mentor's shoulder, gripping it firmly as he watched his friend endure the painful memories of his past. His childhood ruined, by the actions of foreign criminals -now Pierre felt he understood more of the reason for Daniel becoming who he was. For becoming the Warp -the Ghost of Toronto and the terror of foreign criminals.

Still Daniel carried on. "Ironically, it was Constable Wilson again who came to the apartment to tell me of what had happened to my dad... But things only got stranger from there."

~~~~~

Not a second after the black Labrador in police attire had told Daniel of what had happened, the young caribou turned and ran into the apartment, with the officer calling after him, telling him to wait. It seemed like Wilson had Daniel cornered, when the youth deftly dodged around him and fled out the door to the apartment.

"Wait, son, please!" Wilson called, running after him. "Let me help you!"

"Just stay away!" Daniel cried, running down the corridor as fast as his hooves could take him.

He threw open the door to the stairwell, running down the steps to the ground floor exit. He heard Constable Wilson following him all the while, but the fleet-footed, twelve-year-old buck stayed ahead of him. Out the door he ran, running into the parking and then on to the sidewalk.

He ran all the way down the block. Still he could hear Wilson coming after him, but he ignored every call he made to him as he ran down the street. It couldn't be true... it had to be a lie -his father, dead? They had just buried his mother only two years ago but now his father too?! Was he destined to lose everyone he loved -was the world that intent on ruining his life?

'If you want to cause me such despair then kill me now!' He screamed in his mind, though at who he didn't know. He wasn't raised as a boy of faith -he did not believe in God. But right now, he just wanted to hate something -to hate everything, until they gave him back what they had stolen from him...

So blinded by tears, Daniel did not see where he had run. He strode off the sidewalk, losing his footing as the curb sidewalk curb came suddenly and sending him dropping onto his front. He was already tried to scramble back to his feet when he saw the lights approaching from his left. He turned, and there was the car. A red sportscar, speeding toward him, horn blaring and tires screeching as the driver tried to stop.

He saw his life flashing before his eyes, beginning with memories long lost to time of the day he had first looked upon the loving faces of his parents. The day he had taken his first steps as a fawn and the difficulty he'd had walking on his two hooves. He remembered being startled by the noise they made on his wooden floor when his father lifted him into the air and lowered him back to the floor again, whooping giddily to make his son laugh.

Then came Daniel's first day of school, walking into the office clutching his mother's hand tightly. He remembered her reassuring words, telling him that everything would be fine. He even remembered similar words when he was taken to the hospital after catching Pneumonia when he was nine years old. She had sat by his bed every day to care for him for the three weeks he was confined, helping him pass the time by reading to him or watching movies with him while he rested.

He shut his eyes, waiting to feel the metal bumper as it inched closer. The last memory he saw was of his house where he had been raised from day one. The house where he had lived so happily with his parents...

How he wished things could have stayed that way... in that house...

Suddenly a weightless sensation engulfed him. He felt the world rushing around him -as though he were soaring and falling at the same time. The feeling of the pavement vanished, the headlights of the car disappeared from beyond his eyelids leaving only darkness...

Fwump!

Daniel gasped sharply as he hit the floor, eyes jolting awake as he found himself surrounded by darkness. He sat up in alarm, looking around himself to get his bearings but he could not see anything through the blackness. His heart thundered in his chest as he struggled to right himself -to get his thoughts together and process what had happened to him.

What happened to the car? Why was he still alive? Where was he?

As he came to his senses, he felt a soft material beneath his hand. He rubbed his palm over the floor, a wave of familiarity washing over him as he felt that softness. His eyes, having finally adjusted to the dark, turned to the floor, looking between his legs to the red checkerboard patterns under him.

He knew that carpet... That colourful roll-out carpet he had begged his mother for when they had seen it while going through a furniture store one day. He had fallen in love with the colour, however retro and tacky she found it, but she surprised him on his following birthday when she bought that carpet. The carpet that he had lay upon, crying and mourning for his lost mother for weeks at a time -being on it had made him feel closer to her, as it had been his favorite present that she had given him.

But that carpet had been left behind when their house had been sold, as his father refused to let him take it with him. He remembered hating his father for this decision, claiming that it was a memento of his mother, but his father would not hear it. So, it had remained with the old apartment. But why was it here -why was he sitting on it?

Finally he looked around the room in which he sat, to the dome ceiling light above him -currently dark- to the window across from where his bed had once stood -a window that, during his younger days he had feared and always needed to keep shut as shadows cast in from outside -shadows that his youthful mind had often conjured into nightmarish figures come to take him away.

It finally dawned on him where he was. He was in his old room, in his old house! But how did he...?

His thoughts were interrupted as the door to the room flew open, and a face he didn't recognize stepped in. A female cat, eyes wide with shock and alarm and bearing a baseball bat in her paws, switched on the lights and found the caribou boy on the floor. He had only seen her the one time when his father had shown her the house -it was the same woman who had bought it, but she did not recognize Daniel. She saw only an intruder.

"What're you doing in here?!" The orange-furred female cat demanded, waving the bat threateningly. "Explain yourself!" She screamed at him.

Daniel scurried away from the cat instinctively, reaching the wall and curling into a fetal position as he whimpered in fear. The cat continued to watch him for a moment, her expression remaining intense for a time until she heard him crying. Her expression softened, hearing him sobbing, and she stepped closer to see the pained, fearful expression on his face as he lay in the corner.

Though she refused to leave the room or take her eyes off him, she left him alone in that corner, picking a cellular phone from her pocket and calling the police...

"You found him?" Wilson asked his fellow police officer, Constable Rey-Anne Parker, in disbelief. "And he's okay?"

"Shaken, but unharmed," replied Rey-Anne assuredly.

"Where was he?"

"He was found lying in the upper floor room of a townhouse down on Finch Avenue," answered Rey-Anne.

The mention of the location struck a chord with Wilson. "Finch?" He asked. "...Which house?"

"The house number was..." She looked at her notebook, and then told him the number.

Wilson stood in stunned silence for a moment, his mind wandering back to the day he had first met Daniel and his late father -the night he had come to their home to tell them of the fate of Orenda Tremblay. He remembered how much he liked the neighbourhood, and the beautiful multi-story houses that lined the street...

"That's his old house, before his mother died," said Wilson. "But... that's impossible."

"Why? He could've fled there," Rey-Anne offered, her canine tongue licking her lips after she sipped her coffee. "Most people will run somewhere they feel safe when they're distressed."

"But I lost him in Scarborough -that's over twenty kilometers away from his old house," Wilson pointed out. "How could he have possibly made it there so fast on foot?"

Rey-Anne shrugged. "He probably hitched a ride or something. On foot it would take hours but by car -and knowing the right route, maybe twenty minutes."

Wilson wasn't convinced, but he could think of no other explanation to the sudden disappearance of the caribou boy, now lying sound asleep, on the couch in the lounge area of the precinct. With a defeated sigh, he changed the subject. "Any luck finding his next of kin?"

"He has an aunt in Chatham," answered Rey-Anne. "Rob called her earlier -he said she was on her way."

"Chatham, eh?" Wilson asked, nodding in approval. "Been there before. Nice town -definitely a lot less crowded than Toronto."

"Sure is. A good place to raise a kid -way better than this city," Rey-Anne returned, a sour tone in her voice. "Away from all the noise and such."

Wilson stood in silence for a moment, staring out the window of the station out to the streets of Toronto that lay beyond, lamenting. He let out a sigh, and asked, "you think he'll be okay?" He asked.

"The kid?" Rey-Anne returned.

"It's not easy to lose both of your parents before you're even a teenager," Wilson said. "That can really damage you, inside."

"Wilson," Rey-Anne stated. "You're a good guy, but don't overthink it. Bad things happen to some people -we can't save all of them. We're not like those... crazy, superpowered people out there. Did you hear the UN is creating a sanctioned group of them too?"

"Of what?" Wilson asked, only half-listening.

"Of those costumed vigilantes what keep popping up all over the place!" Rey-Anne exclaimed. "Is your head in the clouds, officer?"

"Sorry," returned Wilson, flushing with embarrassment. He glanced at his watch, seeing what time it was. "Well, my shift is over soon... I'll go get out of this uniform and go home."

"Yeah, mine's over soon too. I won't be far behind," returned Rey-Anne. "Goodnight, Wilson."

"Night, Rey-Anne."

Hours later, as Daniel sat alone on the couch, tears flowing from his eyes every few minutes, he heard hastened footsteps coming his way, followed by a man's voice saying "In here," before the half-closed door flew open and a caribou doe stepped into the door.

In her face, Daniel briefly saw his mother. He sat up sharply, looking at her, but quickly saw the distinguishing features that were not his mother's -the pink-white of her undertones were the wrong shape. Her eyes were a lighter brown, and she was taller than his mother. Still, it was a face he knew.

The female ran over to Daniel, falling to her knees before him with a grievous expression on her face. "Oh Daniel," she said, reaching for him slowly and pulling him into an embrace, a sob escaping her lips. "I'm so sorry. I came as soon as I heard."

"Aunt Tuuwa," Daniel said in a whimper.

She held him so tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks as she held the seemingly lifeless, broken child in her arms, slowly pulling back from him to look at his face. "I know I can't replace them, Daniel, but I promise you I will try," she said, pained.

From behind Tuuwa, another caribou -approximately the same age as Daniel- stepped into view. He had slightly darker fur than Daniel, with budding, developing antlers -smaller than his own. His eyes were the same tinge of brown as Tuuwa's, but his undertones were lighter and less pronounced, and his base fur colour was darker than Daniel's.

"Hi, cousin," the younger caribou said in a weak tone.

Daniel couldn't answer him. He still stood in Tuuwa's arms, barely moving except for raising a hand and reaching out to Hania. His cousin grasped his hand and clenched it tightly, before walking closer and joining in the embrace, holding it for what seemed like hours as the three wept...

~~~~~

"And that was when I went to live with my aunt," Daniel concluded. "Spent the rest of my childhood and my teenage years under her roof." He grimaced. "It wasn't easy for her... single mother, raising both her own son and her nephew. Keeping both of us fed and clothed. Most nights, it was just me and Han at home as she worked twelve hours a day as a full-time nurse and part-time housekeeper."

He smiled. "I loved that house of hers though. Rustic, spacious, always smelled of lavender. Those soft carpets on the stairs heading up to my room that my hooves seemed to sink into. That sunroom that I'd sit in after coming home from school to do my homework, the spacious basement where we'd sneak down to play video games in the middle of the night." He chuckled. "She caught us most of the time though -we didn't quite register in our little heads at the time that her room was literally above us and she could hear us through the floor." He shook his head. "But it was great. She made good on her promise -made sure that I would have a good life, and I love her for that."

Pierre shared in Daniel's smile as he reminisced on his childhood. But the smile faded as the somber look returned and Daniel went on. "The scars never completely healed, though. I still could never forget how I lost my parents to foreign criminals. Could never look at them the same way -was always leery around Chinese and Japanese exchange students especially, even though it was wrong. I couldn't help it -I knew my mother had been gunned down by Triad enforcers, and my dad got his throat slashed by a Yakuza thug. I knew these students weren't them, but I was young and just wanted to blame someone."

Pierre nodded, and decided to divert the subject to a curiosity that had been in his mind throughout most of the story -and hoping it would prevent Daniel more pain. "Quick question -you mentioned once that you gained your powers from your mother's side of the family. Does that include your Aunt and Han as well?"

"Yes," replied Daniel, nodding. "As I would find out a few years after I moved in, my Aunt used to be a superhero."

"She was?" Pierre asked, surprised. "Who was she? Was she a member of the Bureau?"

"I asked her that myself when I found out. But no, she was never a member -the Bureau formed shortly after she retired. I have little doubt they probably asked her to enlist with them -let's just say the powers she has would've made hunting down rogue supers a lot easier."

Pierre nodded in understanding. "Speaking of powers, it sounds like you discovered yours the night Constable Wilson went to your house, right?"

"Well, that is when I first used them, yes," replied Daniel. "But, that was not when I realized I had them. Everything happened so quickly I chalked it up to a memory lapse from the shock of losing my father and that I had just gone to the house on my own. I eventually discarded it completely, until my powers manifested again three years later." A grimace crossed his features again. "In... quite possibly, the most unceremonious way imaginable."

Pierre chuckled, shrugging. "Why, what happened?"

"Let's just say there's probably a pretty good impression of my face on the door of my old locker at high school," replied Daniel.

~~~~~

Daniel was gasping for breath, his backpack slamming against his back and side repeatedly as he strode down the street that led to his school. He had missed his alarm, waking up three-quarters of an hour later than he had intended. His aunt had gone to work early that day, and Hania had left for school even earlier to meet a bus for a field trip, leaving him the only one in the house when he had unwittingly hit the 'off' button instead of snooze on his clock.

Skipping breakfast and haphazardly stuffing his algebra homework into his school bag, he was out the door, then ran back inside when he realized he forgot his wallet and house key, catching the door just before it closed and inevitably locked him out.

His first class of the day was math, which he was never late for. It was his best subject. How could he have been so careless? Even at his running speed, he would never reach the school in time -it was a twenty-minute walk on average, his running speed would only cut that time in half, and first class was in three minutes! His perfect attendance record would surely be tarnished.

As he ran, he was already playing the scenario in his mind. He would get to the school, run to his classroom to explain to Mr. Jones what had happened. Then he would go to the cafeteria after class for something to eat. If he got something light he should have still have time to get to his locker, grab his History textbook and get to his next class.

Oh, he could just picture himself at the locker, fumbling with that stupid combination lock that mismatched his combination because of a loose gear or whatever mechanism was inside those things. Every week, at least once, he would try to rotate one of the wheels to '2' -the last number of his combination, and it wouldn't unlock, forcing him to dial it back the other way, all the way around to fix whatever malfunction it was having, and_-_

BAM !

Stars exploded across his eyes. He keeled over as if he had been tranquilized, landing on a hard floor. The impact on his head had left him so dazed he didn't immediately notice the searing pain coming from his face, but as it registered, he clutched his muzzle with both hands and moaned in pain.

He could hear voices around him, but between his busted nose and sudden headache, he barely acknowledged them. He felt someone helping him sit up, opening his eyes to see a male rabbit, well past his prime, supporting him -the computer teacher, he registered after blinking the flashing lights and tears from his eyes.

Wait a minute... the computer teacher? What was he doing out here? When Daniel's eyes finally cleared, he realized he was no longer running down the street from his house. He was on a laminated floor of white, sitting on the floor in front of a row of school lockers, one of which was dented from him slamming into it. It didn't take long for him to recognize the locker -sixth from the left, between the Electronics classroom and the cafeteria hallway.

His locker, which he had been picturing in his mind only a minute before. How in the hell had he...?

"Hey," the teacher said, shaking him gently to get his attention. "Daniel Tremblay from 204, right? Your nose is bleeding."

Oh crap, he thought, cupping his hand under his nose to catch the blood. The teacher helped him to his feet, a student bringing over a bag of Kleenex to offer to Daniel. The teacher thanked him, giving Daniel the cloth to stem the blood loss from his nose and escorted him to the officer.

Daniel had no real explanation for what had happened. One moment he was out on the street, the next he was in the school hallway, slamming his skull against a hard metal locker in sight of dozens of students. It was made more complicated when, while speaking to the vice principal -who brought him a tissue for his bleeding nose, he had caught a glimpse of the wall clock.

It was barely past eight o'clock. Even if he had run the whole way, it should have been later, even if only by minutes. Somehow, he had made it to school on time when he should have been late. He even asked the vice principal if the clock was broken, which he confirmed it wasn't.

Okay that did it -screw the perfect attention record. Something was very wrong, and he needed time to figure it out. He made an excuse that he wasn't feeling well and received permission to go home. Given the circumstances the vice principal had no reason to think he wasn't being sincere about it -besides the terrible headache, that much was true.

He walked home with his mind in turmoil, trying to make sense of what had happened. He had awoken at quarter to eight... hastily showered and collected his schoolbag with his homework, writing supplies and notebooks. By the time he was out the door, it was five minutes to eight. It should have taken him ten minutes -even if he had run the whole way. Yet it was exactly eight o'clock when he was brought to the office, when not even two minutes could had passed since he left home.

The most logical conclusion would be that he had drifted off while walking and somehow ended up at school, and that is what he would normally chalk it up to. But he knew that it wasn't the case -he knew his own running speed. He knew what time he had left home, how long it would take to get to the school, and how long to go from the door through which he usually entered to get to his locker, and then his classroom. That would have put his arrival time at ten after eight at the earliest.

Only two minutes had passed from when he left home to and he knew he had been running for that entire time, then out of nowhere, he's in the hallway. Illogical as it was, there was no other explanation. He had somehow gone from running up the street to running into his locker in the same second. But that was...

He was so lost in thought, he managed to overshoot the sidewalk to his aunt's house. Backtracking, he headed for the back door -they didn't use the front door for anything besides meeting a pizza delivery. Through the iron gate and up a short flight of steps, Daniel entered the sun room, breathing in the crisp scent that the room always had in the morning.

He loved it in that sunroom, especially in the cool, crisp morning. Normally it would be where he would go to clear his head, but not this time. He unlocked the back door, dropping his book bag as he closed it behind him. Before him sat the basement stairs, down to the family room, laundry, spare bathroom and a backroom used for storage... and where his aunt kept the soda pop.

He went down, making a left at the bottom and cutting across the family room, past the bathroom to the door in the corner. He opened it, hit with a wave of cold as he stepped inside. This room was always cool, he mused. So much so that the root beer he took from the box in front of him didn't need to be refrigerated -it was already cool enough to drink.

With his can of root beer in hand, he headed back upstairs, through the kitchen and to the hall. Straight ahead of him was the master bedroom where his aunt slept, with the main floor bathroom just before it. Daniel took the first door on the left which opened to the staircase leading up to the top floor.

He climbed the stairs, shutting the door behind him -it blocked the hallway if left open- and headed up to the top floor. At the top, he made a U-turn to the end of a short hall, with a door on either side. On the right was Han's room, door left open to reveal the messy room inside, while the let room -the smaller of the two, was Daniel's.

Into his room he went, popping open his root beer and sitting at his desk, tucked in an alcove next to his door. He chugged half of the drink, enjoying the sweet taste before he set it on the desk, folding his hands across his lap and searched desperately for an answer to at least one of the many questions racing through his mind.

He sat there, lost in his own head. He lost track of time until he heard the door at the bottom of the stairs pen, and his aunt's voice calling his name. "Daniel?" She sounded quizzical.

He looked at the clock. It was noon -he had been sitting there for hours! Aunt Tuuwa had come home for her lunch break between her two jobs and no doubt saw his school bag by the door. Crap, he thought. He hadn't even worked out an explanation for his aunt for his absence from school. He wanted to tell her the truth, but would she even believe him?

His door opened. She stepped inside, looking around the room until she saw him sitting at his desk. Her expression was cross, no doubt her initial thought being that he was skipping school. "What're you doing here? Why-" She trailed off as she gasped in horror. "Oh my god, you're bleeding!" She fell to her knees in front of him, looking at his nose.

The nosebleed had stopped quite a while ago, but there was still a blood stain around his nostrils. She pieced this together herself when she saw the blood flow had stopped and begun to dry and crust on his face. She pulled back and looked him squarely in the eye.

"Daniel, what happened to you?" Tuuwa asked. "Did you get into a fight?"

"N-No! Of course not!" Daniel protested quickly. "I was... I was late waking up and well..." He struggled for an explanation, but the logical side of his mind still hadn't come to grips with the events of that morning. "To be honest, Aunt Tuuwa, I don't know if you'd believe me if I told you."

She arched an eyebrow at him, giving him a wry smirk. With that, she stood up, backed over to his bed and sat down on the edge. "Try me," she said. Daniel was still hesitant, though, prompting her to add, "I'm not angry with you, nephew. I just want to know what happened. Start at the beginning."

Daniel remained silent for a few more seconds as he struggled to collect his thoughts. Tuuwa directed him to take a few deep breaths to calm himself -as his sensei in his Muai Thai classes would have him do before the class began. He recalled a self-hypnosis trick his sensei had taught him to help him clear his mind of everything but what he needed to focus on -to envision a lake, and several pieces of floating debris. The debris represented his thoughts, like litter in the lake, and before he could concentrate he needed to move some of it aside.

He sorted through the clutter on the lake, taking from it what was important before throwing a net over those irrelevant and then sending them to the bottom. With his mind now cleared, he could concentrate on what remained -what he wanted to think about. Finally, he was able to give his aunt an explanation, recalling the events from the moment he had got out of bed, to when he arrived at school.

Tuuwa listened attentively. He had expected a look of doubt to appear on her face, and fully anticipated her calling him a liar and grounding him for skipping school -or at least hurtle him out the door and tell him to go back. But to his surprise, her expression remained mostly neutral -save for when he mentioned he had no recollection of the journey between the house and the school, let alone what possessed him to run headlong into his locker and bloody his own nose as a result. He concluded at asking the vice principal if he could go home sick, which he was allowed.

"And that's the whole story," Daniel concluded, still expecting his aunt to think he was lying, or that she had come to the same conclusion he had -a memory lapse between the two points and was finding out how best to explain to him. 'Nephew, you might be a little crazy' he imagined, or something along those lines.

But what she said next was not what he expected. "Daniel... has this ever happened before -any other time that you were one place and then another in seemingly an instant?"

"No, not at..." He paused as the memory came flooding back to him like water from behind a broken dam. He sat, silently recollecting the memory of the night his father died, and then looked at Tuuwa again. "Actually... yes. One other time."

"When?"

"The night... my dad was killed," replied Daniel. "When Constable Wilson came to the apartment to tell me what happened, and... to take me to the police station to wait for you. I ran from him... I got out to the street, wasn't looking where I was going and suddenly, I stepped off a curb and fell into the middle of an intersection. There was this car coming at me, and..."

"And?" Tuuwa pressed, leaning forward.

"And then I was at my house. Not the apartment -my parent's house, before my mother died. I was in my old room, lying on the floor. Someone came in -this feline woman, carrying a baseball bat -I think she mistook me for a burglar." He tried to remember more, but the fog wouldn't clear from his mind. "Yeah... this was just like that. In one place, then another instantly."

Again, Tuuwa fell silent, biting her lip as she let Daniel's explanation sink in. "Well the only way we can really discover the source of this, is to make it happen again."

Daniel went blank. "Excuse me?"

"Meet me downstairs. I need to make a phone call," she said, rising from his bed and heading for the door.

"Please don't send me to the crazy house, auntie!" Daniel pleaded, jumping up from his chair.

Tuuwa laughed heartily before replying. "Daniel, I'm not calling an institution, I'm calling work to tell them I can't come in tonight. This might take a while."

"What might take a while?" Daniel asked.

"If I told you now, you would think I am the crazy one," she replied plainly. "Just meet me in the kitchen."

Daniel watched her walk out the door, blinking in confusion, but doing as she suggested. He followed her out the door as she went to the phone on the table between his room and Han's, picking it up and dialling a number. He heard her conversation as he went downstairs. "Hi, Carol, it's Tuuwa. I really hate to do this to you, but I need to stay home tonight... It's my nephew -he came home from school sick today. I think he's got the flu or something." A short pause. "Oh, thank you so much -I'll make it up to you. I'll be back tomorrow. Thanks, bye."

She hung up, turning and following Daniel the rest of the way downstairs. "You still think I was calling the 'crazy house'?" Tuuwa asked when she saw he was waiting on the steps.

"Sorry, auntie. Today's just been really... weird so far."

"Believe me, I know better than you can imagine."

Now what could she have meant by that?

In the kitchen, Tuuwa and Daniel shared a pot of tea -Tuuwa claimed it would help Daniel relax and make what they were going to try much easier. With that, she sat down, directing Daniel to stand before her. "Now," she began. "Both times that this 'lapse' happened, you were thinking about the place in your mind, yes?"

"Yes," Daniel answered. "Both times it was somewhere I know really well, if that helps at all."

"It does, actually," Tuuwa affirmed with a nod. "Now... I want you to picture somewhere here in the house, the same way you did for when you went to school today. Try not to land on anything though."

"Land on -what?" Daniel asked, quizzically.

"We're testing a theory, nephew -just bear with me," she directed. "The basement, perhaps -you spend so much time down there, you probably can picture it perfectly."

"Well, yeah, I guess so."

"Good. Start with that. Close your eyes, and picture it in your mind," she directed. "Just the basement, in front of the TV perhaps where you and Han spend playing those video games. Try to picture just yourself there."

Daniel did as directed, closing his eyes and clearing his mind, picturing the basement of the house. He recalled the last time he was down there, when he and Han were playing together the weekend before. He remembered Tuuwa directing him to picture only himself there, and removed Han from the scene, leaving just himself alone in the room.

"Do you have it?"

"Yes," Daniel replied.

"Now, will yourself there. Want to be there, command yourself -try it," she explained.

Daniel was skeptical, but he did as he was instructed. He tried for a time, hearing no other words from his aunt -assuming she was just letting him concentrate. He didn't feel anything happen -what did he expect to feel anyway? He commanded himself to go to that spot, willed himself to be there, but still felt nothing change.

He opened his eyes. "Auntie, I don't think..."

His mouth clicked shut.

He was in the basement, standing in front of the television, just as he had been picturing in his mind. Now he was there, and knew for certain he had not walked there...

"What...?" He began to ask, but the words died in his throat.

He heard Tuuwa's hoofsteps coming down the stairs. He turned, watching as she descended the stairs and looked across the room at him with a smile.

"Well?" She asked.

"What. Happened?" Daniel asked.

"You vanished from the kitchen, in a blink of light," replied Tuuwa. "I think you teleported."

"Teleported?" Daniel echoed, his mouth hanging agape. "But... that's not possible!"

Tuuwa let out a low sigh. "The only way you'll understand, I think, is if I show you something," she said as walked across the room towards the door leading to the back, where Daniel had been before to retrieve a root beer. "Come here," she said as she opened the door, looking back at him expectantly.

Reluctantly, Daniel walked across the room, following his aunt into the back room. "Let me ask you something," she began. "Did you ever wonder why I kept this house, despite how expensive it is?"

"You inherited it from Grandpa Shawátis," Daniel answered. "Both you and my mother were raised here. I always guessed it was important for you to keep it."

Tuuwa smiled. "Well, you aren't wrong," she admitted. "But, there was actually more to it. A little... secret, I couldn't risk anyone else finding." She went on as she walked around the corner heading towards the rear of the back room, to the black metal cabinet built into the back wall past the large freezer. She produced her keys from the pocket of her smocks, selecting an odd-looking one among them and approaching the cabinet.

"Uh... what're we back here for?" Daniel asked. "Isn't that just Grandpa's old gun locker?"

"Yes, it is. But guns are not what it contains now," she said as she unlocked the cabinet, opened it, and...

Nothing. It was empty.

Daniel opened his mouth to speak, but Tuuwa then reached up to the top of the cabinet, pressed a button, and then the back of the cabinet moved, sliding into the wall to the left and bringing with it a trail of dust and cobwebs that elicited a sneeze from Tuuwa, followed by coughing from Daniel as he accidentally inhaled some of the dust.

"I suppose it has been a long time," she remarked, waving her hand into the opening. "The light is out. Wait here a moment."

Daniel made no reply, staring into the opening in stunned silence as his Aunt turned and sought a light source. The darkness of the room was hiding something, he knew, and soon enough his curiosity got the better of him, stepping through the cabinet and into the room behind, trying to see through the blackness to find what secrets lay within, but his eyes couldn't adjust to the low lighting.

Then, as his aunt shone a flashlight into the room, he saw someone standing in front of him! He let out a startled cry, falling onto his backside and staring up at the intruder, only to see that it wasn't moving. The light of his aunt's flashlight was shone upon a wooden mannequin, carved to a feminine shape and clad in strange-looking clothes.

Daniel stared up at the suit, shocked at what he was seeing. He didn't look away until his aunt took the flashlight from it, shining it up on the ceiling as she unscrewed the burnt-out lightbulb in the ceiling, tucked it under her arm and then put in a new one. The light came on, filling the room with its brightness, and that's when Daniel saw the full suit, consisting of a gray and black leotard with no sleeves or legs, thigh-height boots leaving the rest bare. The arms of the mannequin wore elbow-length black gloves, and a cape with a silver broch hung upon the shoulders. The face was clad in a black mask, conformed to the skull with an opening left in the back for the hair of one who might wear it.

Daniel's mouth fell agape, and slowly he began to scan the rest of the room, finding an assortment of weapons and tools -three bolas, a pair of handcuffs and a telescopic baton and a silver disk he couldn't identify, on the wall to his right, while on the left, he saw the wall was tacked with numerous newspaper clippings, yellowed and crinkled with age, but still discernable. Every one of them covering the same subject, of someone known as 'Dispella' featuring a variety of headlines such as 'The Phantom Mistress of Toronto' 'Terror to other Supers?', and 'Submit to her spell' -'My god what were they thinking with that one?' he thought, his teenage mind only able to imagine what ridicule she might have faced.

But then he looked at the suit, studying it carefully, and slowly turning his gaze back to Aunt Tuuwa, mouth still hanging agape as the realization dawned on him. "You...?"

"Your grandpa made this room as a panic room during the second world war," she said. "But when I discovered my gifts, I used it for something else."

~~~~~

"La vachel, je ne peux pas le croire!" Pierre suddenly exploded, breaking Daniel's train of thought as he recounted the story. "She's Dispella! Your aunt is Dispella!"

"Was Dispella. Don't interrupt."

"Oh... sorry," Pierre returned sheepishly, sinking back in his seat and letting Daniel resume.

~~~~~

Daniel and his aunt sat in silence in the kitchen for what felt like a long, semi-awkward time as Daniel struggled to find words to express what he felt after what had been revealed to him.

His aunt... a superhero. Was his mother one as well? How many others in his family knew about this? This power Daniel had inherited -this... teleportation. What did it mean?

Tuuwa set down a cup of tea in front of him, taking a seat across the table and watching him for a moment. Their eyes met, the silence remaining, until Tuuwa spoke at last.

"You have questions, I'm sure. Go ahead -no holding back."

"You're a freaking superhero -where do I even start?" Daniel asked.

"I was one, long ago," replied Tuuwa. "Just start with any -they don't need to be in any particular order."

"Okay..." He began, sorting through his mind to try and find a question to settle on but he had so many coursing through his brain that it was difficult to choose just one among them. It took him a moment, before he finally settled on one that was a little closer to heart. "Was my mother one as well?"

Tuuwa shook her head. "No," she replied. "Your mother did not have any powers, at least that we were aware. When she didn't inherit any, we thought you wouldn't either, once you were born. It seems we were mistaken."

"Does... Han know?"

Tuuwa nodded. "Yes. He found out by accident, and I made him spend hours promising to never tell anyone else -not even you. Not all of my... 'enemies' from my time are gone. There are just others out there to deal with them now, but I wager they would jump at the chance for some payback if they knew who I was. I didn't want you two to be put in danger for my past life."

"And you were 'Dispella'," began Daniel. "What're your powers?"

"I could lock out the powers of other meta-furs like us," she replied, smiling. "I could generate a mystical field around them that would leave them unable to tap into their powers, or if I got close enough, a touch of my glowing palm and their powers were cut for a few minutes."

Daniel whistled. "Meta-furs must've been terrified of you," he said.

Tuuwa snickered. "Well, not to toot my own horn, but, yes -some of them were. Hence that article that was started about me being a terror to other supers."

Daniel nodded, and then his ears pricked upright as he asked his next question. "Were you a member of the Bureau of Superheroes I've heard about on the news?" He asked.

Tuuwa chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh no -I hung up my cape long before the Bureau was founded, though I'm sure they would've invited me in if I hadn't retired."

Daniel nodded again, satisfied with the answer. "So, when did you retire?"

"April of nineteen eighty-nine," she replied.

"Eighty-nine... that's the year Han was born," said Daniel.

"Precisely."

"So, you retired because of Han?"

She nodded. "Yes. It was not the hardest decision I ever made, but it was still one I struggled with for many weeks. In the end it was my husband who helped me decide -your uncle Michael."

Daniel opened his mouth to speak, until a thought occurred to him. "Wait... uncle Mike? But he was a..." He paused, mouth hanging agape for what was possibly the fourth time that day.

"Yes. A police officer. A tale for another time, but let's just say living a double life as a vigilante superhero dating a policeman was complicated enough without bringing a baby into the mix. So, the time had come to hang it up and leave it all behind."

"But Han's older now... have you ever thought about getting back into it?" Daniel asked.

"I think I'm too far past my prime for that," she replied with a chuckle.

"Come on -you don't look a day over thirty," Daniel returned with a smile.

"That's sweet of you to say so, nephew," she replied. "But it doesn't change the truth. I am not the same as I was back then. I am out of shape -probably wouldn't fit the costume now and I haven't even used my powers since I retired. I am not sure I remember tap into them anymore." She shook her head. "The costume is a memento, but Dispella's days are long gone. There are newer, more talented heroes out there today than I ever was when I wore the mask."

"I'm sure you were better than you're making it sound," Daniel pressed, eager to hear more. "I mean, take away their powers and what do they have?"

"Their fists," she reminded. "A lot of metas escaped me back then, because I could not subdue them. After all, it was practically unheard of for young girls to attend martial arts classes back then, so I was mainly reliant on the tools you saw below. Tranquilizer darts, bolas and handcuffs."

"You never thought about bringing a knife? Or even a gun?" Daniel asked.

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth -Tuuwa fixed him with a stern glare that chilled his blood, fearing for a moment that she would slap him for what he had said. "Those are tools for killing, Daniel. Killing is a last resort, never the first."

"You could just... shoot their legs, right?" Daniel asked, again regretting the question.

Tuuwa shook her head, standing up from the table. "I think we have talked about this enough. I don't want you getting any ideas, just because you have found powers of your own." She pointed a finger at him, adding strictly. "You are not to use them, for anything beyond a potentially life-threatening situation. You will act as if nothing has changed, and you will definitely not go out at night looking for trouble."

"But with them, I..."

"No!" She said sharply, cutting him off. "As long as you are under my roof, Daniel, you will do as I say. Do not make me impose a curfew on you." She turned away from him. "Having powers can be a burden -the responsibility that comes with it is far more than you can imagine, and you are not ready for that."

"I..." Daniel began to say, earning an expectant look from Tuuwa -though her eyes still carried that warning glare within them. Daniel let out a sigh, pushing aside his words and settling with something else. "I understand, Aunt Tuuwa."

~~~~~

"I suppose this is the part where you mention that you were the rebellious teen, and went out to try fighting crime regardless of your aunt's wishes?" Pierre asked.

"You don't know my aunt like I do. If she had even suspected I was going behind her back, I would be for a nuclear blast of scolding that would leave me deaf, dumb and blind," Daniel replied in blatant exaggeration. "Not to mention being grounded until I was in college." He added wryly. "I would have needed to be a master of stealth to go without her knowing, but I'm a fighter, not a ninja. So, I waited until she was out of town for the day."

"Mon dieu, you actually did go against her?" He asked. "I had thought only I could be so foolish."

"Pierre, if ever you meet any of those heroes in the Bureau, I can guarantee you that plenty of other heroes have done the same. I doubt you or I are the odd ones out."

"Oui, you are probably right," the salamander admitted. "So, what did you do?"

"At the time I didn't think it was anything big. I busted what I thought was a marijuana sale going on behind my school -everybody knew about them except the cops, so I thought it was a good place to start. I learned a valuable lesson that day," he added with a somber tone. "That something that appears so simple may actually be more... complicated than it appears."

~~~~~

Daniel fell upon the scene like a hammer to a nail.

The school had been closed for hours, with the sun having already begun to set in the west when the two figures arrived to meet behind the gymnasium. One of them was a student at the school -senior year, likely on his last semester before graduation, but the other was well past high school age, and bore the stereotypical look of one conducting shady business -including a dark hoodie, baggy cargo pants and black gloves.

The moment Daniel saw the bag of narcotics appear from the hooded man's pocket, he struck, leaping from his hiding spot on the roof and dropping onto the seller, knocking his to the ground. Daniel himself was wearing a white hoodie and a gray bandana around his face. Though crude, they did well to hide his identity as he grappled with the dealer.

The student, horrified, backed up as Daniel and the dealer struggled, producing a cellular phone from his pocket and raising it to dial. Daniel did not see him and struggled to subdue the dealer. He felt the handle of a knife digging into his hip, and then had to focus on keeping the dealer's hand away from the blade.

Fortunately, he did not have to keep up his struggle long. Loud voices were shouting at him, a pair of hands seizing him and pulling him off of the dealer as two uniformed officers fell upon the dealer and held him down. Daniel found pavement rushing up at him as the officer pinned him to the ground. When he heard the rattle of handcuffs, he tried to twist out of his grasp.

"Hey! What's the deal?" Daniel shouted. "He's the guy selling drugs -why are you cuffing me?!"

The officer pushed him down. "Stop resisting!" He commanded.

Daniel ceased movement, though his resistance was not over. He had stopped struggling in order to concentrate, collecting his thoughts and picturing a location in his mind. He pictured the edge of the parking lot, willing himself there, and in a flash of blue light, he was gone -along with the officer.

They reappeared near the parking lot entrance. The officer swooned, as though struck by a sudden feeling of light-headedness. Daniel was able to slip easily out from under him. Thee officer collected himself and was about to advance on Daniel again when he stopped, looking around and gawking at his change of surroundings.

"What the...?" He started to ask, looking at Daniel. "How did you-?"

But the garbed caribou was gone in an instant, teleporting away before the officer could attempt to catch him again.

Daniel reappeared from teleportation on the other side of the school, reappearing in the parking area normally used by the school administration. He stopped to catch his breath, ducking behind a wall and leaning on it for support. The police had arrived faster than he had thought possible -the student could not have gotten through to them that quickly, not to mention their arrival time, the number of officers and the lack of sirens.

Then, it dawned on him. They must have been watching the school -contrary to what he had thought before, the cops did know about the illegal activities that had taken place... and he had gotten in their way.

He shifted uncomfortably, hearing a click. He looked at his hand, and gawked as he saw the police handcuffs on his wrist, which had accompanied him when he had teleported. "Oh shit!" He hissed, trying in vain to shake and pry them loose. He looked over his shoulder, back in the direction of the cops, and then back at the cuffs.

With no other choice -at least none that he was eager to take, he pictured his home in his mind and once more teleported.

Daniel appeared in the kitchen...

Hania screamed at the top of his lungs, falling flat on his back as the hooded figure appeared out of nowhere, with nothing but a brief blink of blue light to announce their arrival. "Holy shit!" He barked, scurrying backward with his hooves scraping the floor.

Daniel spun around, shocked to find his cousin there. _'Shit! Should've teleported to my room, not the kitchen!' _ He thought, mentally slapping himself. "Han! Han, it's me! Chill out!" Daniel urged, pulling back his hood and the bandana off his face.

Han paused, staring up at him. "D-Daniel?" He asked. "What the hell, man -where did you come from, and what's with the getup?"

"Long story," he replied, lifting his hand to show the cuffs. "We have a hacksaw around here?"

"Hacks- what the frick?!" He shouted. "Why are you in cuffs?"

"Look, I'll explain later -I need to get this thing off before Aunt Tuuwa gets home!"

Han's expression softened. "Uh okay... but we don't have a hacksaw! Maybe... we can pick the lock on it?" He offered, standing up.

"How? Do you know how to pick handcuffs?"

"Not a clue."

Unfortunately, Daniel's panic would soon turn to horror as the back door opened, and Tuuwa stepped into the house -having come home earlier than previously anticipated, and saw the two fumbling with the cuffs, trying to pry them open enough for Daniel to slip his hand out. Their eyes met her, a silence falling over the room.

Her expression darkened. "Living room. Now."

Within moments of Tuuwa arriving in the living room, the handcuffs were off, thanks to a pick that she had retrieved from downstairs before she had joined them, seating herself by Daniel on the sofa to remove the cuffs.

"You're fortunate I kept this pick, young man," she stated firmly. "In the event I lost the keys to my own."

Daniel hesitated to reply but decided to start with something that felt obvious to him. "Aunt Tuuwa, Han's not involved in this -he just happened to be home when I got back. This is all me."

Tuuwa looked up as she set the opened handcuffs aside, glancing at Han. "Yeah. He just appeared in the kitchen. Like... teleported or something. Did you know he had a superpower too?"

Daniel looked at Han. "Wait, what?" He asked. "Are you saying you...?"

Han nodded. "Yep. I have one too. First appeared last year when I..." He paused.

"When you were snapping your fingers and blew out your window while listening to music," Tuuwa finished.

Daniel gawked. "Blew out a window... with a finger snap?!" He demanded in disbelief.

"Yep! My power is sound manipulation -I can lower or amplify the vibrations like adjusting the volume on a stereo."

"But... to break an average window takes at least a hundred and forty-five decibels, and that's not even counting a second pane or the factoring in weather!"

"...I'm going to pretend I understood some of that," Han returned.

"Wait, is that the same window I found broken when I got home from Muai Thai last year?" Daniel asked. "You said that was a rock!"

Tuuwa let out a huff, knowing the conversation was going off-track. "Han, give us the room. I need to talk to Daniel in private," Tuuwa requested her son.

"Oh. Okay, mom," Han returned, rising to his hooves from his seat and walking out of the living room.

Tuuwa waited until she heard the hallway door to the stairs close, and then turned to Daniel. "I have to say, nephew, I'm very disappointed in you. I told you that you were not ready for the responsibility that comes with these powers."

"I know, auntie," Daniel replied quickly, "and I think I understand now why I'm not."

"Do explain," she said.

"I did something foolish today," he said. "And I mean besides going behind your back -that was wrong, but what I did was bordering imbecilic." He sucked in a deep breath before carrying on. "I heard about drug deals going on behind my school, and I wanted to put a stop to them as my classmates and I all knew about them, but the cops didn't seem to be doing anything about it. I figured with my Muai Thai training, I could handle anyone."

He lowered his head. "Turns out we were wrong -we as in the students, were wrong, about assuming the cops didn't know about it. They were there seconds after I jumped the dealer. I think the guy buying the marijuana might've been a snitch, or maybe they were casing the place -I don't know. What I do know is, I got in their way, and nearly ended up getting arrested for it myself." He leaned back on the couch. "So, you're right -I'm not ready. Not just because I still don't understand what it is I have, but because I didn't properly analyze the situation, and very nearly revealed myself to the cop when I accidentally teleported with him from the scene-"

"You what?!" She exclaimed in horror, cutting him off "You brought him with you- where is he now?!"

"No, not here!" Daniel assured. "I teleported across the school grounds and he was still on me. Only reason I got free was because he was too dumbfounded by what happened to focus on me. But he already had the cuffs on one of my hands."

Tuuwa breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay... continue."

"Not much else to say, really... I didn't have knowledge of the situation, I acted without getting said knowledge and very nearly made some screw-ups I could not have corrected," he said, sighing. "You were right, Aunt Tuuwa, and I'm sorry I disobeyed you."

Tuuwa let his words sink in for a moment, leaning forward with her arms resting across her lap and sighing as she formulated her response. "I know you, Daniel. You have your mother's heart, and if any part of you thinks you can make a difference with these gifts you have I know you'd stop at nothing." She looked at him squarely. "But before you can do that, you need to be able to grasp just what it is you're getting yourself into. Not all 'superheroes' have powers, nor do their enemies, but the responsibility and risks are the same with or without them."

"Yes," Daniel nodded in understanding.

"Let me ask you this, Daniel," she went on. "If you were given the opportunity to do so, what would you do with your powers? And answer me honestly -my own powers may not have been mind reading but I have grown quite good at sensing when someone is not being truthful."

Daniel nodded again. "I know," he said, before going silent as he deliberated on what answer to give his aunt. "If I was to be perfectly honest... I'd want to take my new powers back to Toronto with me."

"To go after the criminals who took your parents?" She asked.

"Yes, but not as an act of vengeance," assured Daniel. "I don't know who it was on either side who killed my mom or my dad. As far as I know, they were just thugs -hired muscle and taking them out wouldn't bring the change that my mom wanted. I'd be disgracing her memory if I went after them for petty revenge instead of following her example." His brow furrowed, knuckles whitening beneath his fur as he clenched his hands together. "No... I'd use my powers to find the employers of those thugs and take their whole organizations apart, piece by piece."

Tuuwa listened attentively to Daniel's claim, hearing the honesty in his voice. She knew he was being honest about vengeance not being his motive and seemed pleased. "I am glad to hear that, nephew. Revenge rarely leads to anything but misery. I have seen it often enough to know."

"Understood." He said.

Tuuwa put an arm around her nephew. "Fortunately, as a veteran of the trade, I am willing to contribute my knowledge."

"R-really?" Daniel asked, surprised.

"I am not eager to put you in harm's way," Tuuwa clarified. "But I know you aren't the type to sit on the sidelines. Still, you are a long way from prepared. Besides the obvious -keeping your identity a secret, the best advice I can give you is do not make the same mistake I did -do not rely solely on your powers to fight."

Daniel nodded in understanding. "Tools in the toolbox, right?" He asked.

"Exactly. Master your craft, and then see what you can do to make it into your greatest asset. You do not only need great strength or skill to succeed, nephew," she pressed her finger to his forehead. "This will always be your greatest weapon. Especially with the way you run calculations," she added with a chuckle.

"You think math will help me here?" Daniel asked.

"That's for you to find out for yourself," Tuuwa answered. "You may never know what might prove useful some day -skills that seem trivial now might become your claim to success."

Daniel considered what she said for a moment, humming in thought, before his expression softened as he had an idea. He remembered that his mother had discovered the criminal activities of her clients via their accounting information. She had seen the signs and found the money trail that led back to them, providing enough evidence to convict them. It had cost her life, when the police had failed to protect her, but it had worked.

Organized crime might have been dirty business, but it was still business, and business required accounting. The accounting firm she had worked for in Toronto was known to provide accounting to many people of questionable reputation... and as far as Daniel knew, it was still there, unchanged. Still providing safe, secret accounting services for the masses.

"I may have an idea about that," he said, smiling. "I think I know what I have to do."

"Good."

"But what about a costume?"

Tuuwa laughed. "Don't get too far ahead of yourself, nephew!" She said with affirmation.

~~~~~

"So, she was all for it in the end?" Pierre asked. "I couldn't imagine my parents being as supportive of my decision to become Whiptail."

"I'm sure they would, if they knew the good you were doing for Toronto," Daniel offered.

"I doubt it. My dad flipped his lid when I once entertained the thought of joining the Canadian armed forces," Pierre replied. "And again when he found out I wasn't considering going to college immediately after I graduated -that spending the rest of my life selling music and video games was a 'meaningless existence', making it sound like it was his choice, not mine, what I should do with my life."

"I'm not sure your father understands the concept of finding one's own path," Daniel remarked grimacing. He was certain he would not get along with Pierre's father if the two were ever to meet.

"Maybe, maybe not," Pierre returned with a shrug, muttering some French words under his breath, then looked at Daniel. "So, anything else to the story?"

"Not much more to tell," admitted Daniel. "I dedicated myself to my schooling and my after-school Muai Thai classes, eventually hitting the highest rank you can achieve -short of becoming an instructor yourself, and graduated high school with honours. Upon my graduation, my inheritance and my parent's life insurance were released to me and I returned to Toronto and continued my schooling there, I changed my name to my mother's maiden name, so that nobody would recognize her marriage name, and gathered all the information I could on the foreign criminal elements in the city."

~~~~~

"Most impressive resume, Mr. Tonraq," stated the manager of McKenzie Accounting as he finished reading the credentials of the young caribou seated before him. "You may not have much experience yet but with a master's degree in mathematics, I can hardly pass up the opportunity to have you aboard." The middle-aged male lynx stated, smiling broadly at Daniel. "I think we just might have a place for you here at McKenzie Accounting."

"That's great to hear! When can I start?" Daniel asked.

"Let's say come in on Monday. Nine o'clock," the manager replied, rising from his seat. "We'll get your work space set up and show you the ropes." He offered a hand to Daniel.

Daniel rose and shook it eagerly, smiling at the male lynx. "Thank you so much, sir. I won't disappoint you."

"Just remember," the lynx stated as he walked out with Daniel. "Confidentiality is everything here. We don't ask questions of our clients -we simply do as they expect of us. You understand that, of course?"

"Of course. Protect the confidentiality of your client -one of the first things I learned at the university," Daniel assured.

The lynx held up his paws triumphantly. "Then you're all set!" He said proudly as they reached the front door. "We look forward to seeing you after the weekend. Oh! And before I forget, every Monday is a Dunker's day -how do you like your coffee and what's your favorite snack to have with it?"

"Vanilla latte," replied Daniel. "And... I guess anything fruity, like an apple fritter."

"Got it," the lynx returned, tapping the side of his head. "I'll make a note of it. We'll see you then!" He held open the door for Daniel, who stepped through and waved one last goodbye to the caribou before closing it behind him.

'Step one, complete,' thought Daniel, adjusting his red necktie as he reviewed his last few nights up to this point, gathering information -confirming that McKenzie Accounting was still the go-to firm for the foreign crime elements in the city. The next step had been ensuring he could get a job at the firm, seizing the first opportunity.

Now it was on to step two. His aunt Tuuwa had been kind enough to give him the contact information of an old friend of hers from her days in the city as Dispella. Daniel had already been to see said friend during one of his nightly excursions the week before, and as he walked down the steps from the front doors of McKenzie Accounting, his phone vibrated to notify him of the arrival of a text message.

'It's ready,' was all the message said.

"Now on to step two," he thought aloud as he followed the sidewalk up the street, pocketing his phone and waiting until he found a private spot before he vanished in a flash of blue light.

"You make good time, Mr. Tonraq," Sokolov told Daniel as he led him to the back room of the store. "I send you text only five minutes ago. I'm surprised you got here so fast."

"Let's just say I have ways to get around quickly," offered the caribou as he followed the Russian lynx to the back. "I can't thank you enough for taking this commission, Mr. Sokolov."

"Dispella was a good friend, and a great hero," the aging Russian lynx replied. "I admit, I was surprised to hear from her after all this time -after she retired, so long ago."

"She feared you had retired as well, but saw your number was still in the phonebook, so she gave it a shot."

The Lynx let out a snort of laughter. "And what would I do with retirement? Boredom would kill me long before the age," he said dismissively. "So long as I can keep my paws steady, I need not retire. Especially since I appeal to... particular clientele, da?"

"Of course," Daniel returned.

Once they were at the back of the store, Sokolov approached a table in the corner. At first glance, it appeared to be a built-in table for playing cards, and even had a deck resting in the corner as if to add to it. But Sokolov reached under the table, feeling around until he found a switch, flicking it, and then a resounding thunk emanated from the wall behind Daniel, parting itself to reveal shelves of various masks, gloves, boots and body suits, arranged by category on either side.

But in the middle was Daniel's order, resting within a glass case. A form-fitting body covering everywhere from the neck down. The suit was starch white, save for a red maple leaf in the center of the chest, two red gloves, red calf boots -boots meant to cover the shins only, and not the feet, as having hooves made that awkward- and a red eye mask.

"I must ask, why did you choose these specific colourations -identical to national flag?" Sokolov inquired.

"I've always been supportive of Canada's acceptance of people from other countries, looking for a fresh start," Daniel explained. "But those foreign criminal enterprises that take advantage of our leniency need to be reminded that not everyone out there is going to roll over for them, no matter who they are." He looked at Sokolov. "So that Canadians, native and immigrant alike, can feel safe in this nation."

Sokolov nodded, as if satisfied with the answer, and approached the cabinet, where he began to explain the suit's functions. "Double-woven KM2 Kevlar body -will hold up against conventional firearms at a distance, but beware rifles," Sokolov began, opening the cabinet as he reached for one of the gloves. "K119 for high tensile strength and elongation," he rapped his knuckles against the stiff portion atop the glove. "Titanium plate woven into the glove, gel backed for absorbing impact, fireproof and heat-resistant polycarbonate hands -just in case you need to handle something hot."

He replaced the glove in the case, gesturing to the legs. "K119 boots, also with titanium plating, but designed more like splinting -gives your legs additional support." He reached behind the suit, pulling out the cape. "Fire-resistant, Kevlar XP -lighter and still offers some protection." He looked at Daniel. "Most heroes consider capes to be more symbolic than practical nowadays -sometimes get caught on things, so as safety precaution, I made clasp breakaway -if anyone or anything pulls on it hard enough, it will pop off."

"Good thinking. Thank you."

He then gestured to the belt of the suit. "Ordinary leather, but on the back here," He turned the armour around, revealing a flattened back with pockets for housing a pair of bolas, several zip-tie handcuffs and leather holster for some kind of... rod? Or baton?

Noticing Daniel's questioning look about the empty compartment, Sokolov smiled, and reached for something on one of the upper shelves. "Now this, this not my design. Contacted old business partner across the border," he said as he showed Daniel a short metal pole, roughly the width of his back -explaining the holster on the back of the belt.

"A baton of some kind?" Daniel asked.

"Better. Your aunt informed me you mastered Krabi-krabong staff-fighting," said Sokolov, sliding a piece of metal aside. The staff clicked, and then the length of the 'baton' tripled, continuing to click and rattle as the weapon reshaped itself, conforming seamlessly to the extensions until it appeared to be a single solid piece. "His finest work."

"A telescopic staff?" Daniel asked, taking the weapon and studying it. It was light, much to his surprise, and after giving it a few test swings, he saw that it did not bend in the slightest with is movements or retract when he tapped it against the floor.

"Titanium exoskeleton with carbon-fibre core, and the smallest servo-mechanisms that today's technology allow," Sokolov described. "Not find staff like this anywhere else in the world."

"It's years ahead of its time," said Daniel, "yet primitive and effective simultaneously." He turned to Sokolov and smiled. "I like it."

"I took the liberty of paying for it in advance -I'll add it to commission," Sokolov informed. "The last thing to show you is the mask." He reached in, taking the mask and bringing it out of the cabinet.

Daniel reverted the staff back to its compact form, exchanging it for the mask and studying it carefully. It was an eye mask, oval and surprisingly elastic. Sokolov went on to explain the functions, "K119 for the inside frame, though it does not offer much protection on its own -try to avoid taking hits to face with sharp objects, da?" He said dryly, before continuing. "The rest of mask is woven intricately to fill in dimples and hide any other distinguishing facial characteristics, along with thin scratch-resistant lens that make your eyes appear gray."

"Why does it need all that?" Daniel asked.

"To fool facial recognition software," answered Sokolov. "Have to keep ahead of the times, da?"

Daniel nodded slowly. "Yes, that will be very helpful."

"Save money on contact lens too," Sokolov added, earning a chuckle from Daniel. "Now just bear in mind, like any Kevlar this suit is susceptible to solar degradation, so keep it out of sun."

Daniel nodded to the lynx before looking down at the mask held in his hands once again, turning it over and feeling almost hypnotized by it, eager to try it on. "May I?" He asked.

"You paid for it -it's yours," replied Sokolov, smiling.

Daniel looked down at the mask, taking in a deep breath. He knew that the moment that he put this on, he would be taking his first step into a world which only existed in his wildest dreams, as though the mask itself were a portal to take him into that world. Once he adorned this mask, he would be in that world, and there would be no coming back...

With only slight hesitation, he raised the mask to his face, pressing it into his eyes to conform it to his facial features...

As Daniel lifted his head to stare out at the city before him, the wind caught his cape, sending it billowing out to his side and waving like a flag in the wind. His white-dyed fur waved and flattened against his face as the wind blew around him, his eyes protected by the tiny lenses of his mask as he stood on the ledge of the skyscraper, watching the passing cars below. The dim lights from below cast little light on him, illuminating his white suit and the red maple leaf on his chest. His fingers flexed and clenched in the tight-fitting gloves covering his hands, and his hooves scraped the concrete edges of the roof as he lifted his foot.

Here, he made his silent declaration. 'Yakuza, Mafia, Triad -every one of you who bring the injustice of your countries to my own. Know that starting today, I'm coming for every last one of you.'

On that day, the Warp -the Ghost of Toronto, was born...

~~~~~

Pierre whistled as Daniel finished his story. "It was quite a trek for you into this life, wasn't it?" He asked.

Daniel nodded. "It sure was. And for the two years since I first put on this uniform, my progress to catch up with the foreign criminal elements has been slow, but certain. They know the Warp is after them, but Daniel Tonraq continues to track them in secret. I do all their dirty work by day, but at night, that's when I make my move. I gather evidence of their crimes on the scene, all while leaving no trails back to the workplace. They have no idea that their own accounting firm is where I am tracking them."

Pierre nodded back. "As you taught me when we first started working together, 'follow the money trail', oui?"

"Exactly."

"So how did you find this 'bunker' anyway?" Pierre asked, waving his tail around to indicate the tiny concrete basement, resting beneath a gas station in an old, mostly deserted part of town.

"Found it within the first few months of my 'crusade'. Some cocaine dealers were using it for their storehouse until they were caught by the police," explained Daniel. "I cleared out the items and made sure the cops found them, and put up the door," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "It's off the grid and the dealers are in jail for the next five years or so, so there's no way to know this is here unless somebody finds the door, and since the building above is condemned no one honest is going to come around."

He paused as he saw Pierre let out a yawn, the salamander covering his mouth with his hand until it passed. "What time is it?" He asked.

Daniel looked at his clock on the table. "Oh damn, almost five in the morning," he said.

Pierre tensed. "Five? _Merde -_I work at noon today!"

"You said it was your night off."

"Night as in, yesterday night -it's Thursday now," Pierre pointed out.

"Sorry, Pierre -I guess that story took a lot longer than I thought."

"Non, non, I was glad to hear it," Pierre returned dismissively. "Knowing a little more about you and what motivated you to become the Warp in the first place makes me feel even better about you choosing me as your sidekick."

"I prefer 'partner'," replied Daniel. "I'm sure once we finish your training, you'll be more than ready to strike out on your own."

Pierre nodded, but was silent, his gaze drifting off to the side as he pondered something, though Daniel could not know what. He decided not to pry though. "If you want, I can take you home," he offered. "Can have you there in four seconds."

"I think I'll take you up on that," returned Pierre, nodding.

They powered down the bunker, shutting off the generator, coffee pot and police scanner before taking their leave. Daniel held Pierre's arm and triggered his teleportation. Comparing his teleportation range to the distance to Pierre's home, he had to make at least two jumps to reach his house, ensuring his first one ended atop the roof of an apartment where no one would see them.

With the second jump, they appeared in Pierre's dimly lit bedroom. A noticeable furson-shaped lump on the bed at first had Daniel thinking someone else was in the room, until Pierre pulled the covers aside to reveal a foam dummy that he used to make it seem like he was in bed.

"Just in case my mom checks on me in the night," he whispered when he noted Daniel's curious look.

Daniel nodded in understanding, giving Pierre a two-fingered salute before he vanished from the room in a flash of light, letting the salamander go to bed and get as much sleep as possible before it was time for his day job. Daniel did not have to worry as much, as it was the weekend and he could sleep in as late as he wanted, but he felt bad, distracting Pierre from a good night's rest and hoping it wouldn't affect the boy negatively in the long run.

Surely the hardest part of being a superhero was the double life... especially when it came to making time for sleep.

Daniel reappeared in his own small, studio apartment. Located in an older part of town within the city, it was a small, somewhat cramped place to live, with only one room -aside from to bathroom- to make up the whole thing. A tiny kitchen without an oven, limiting him only to stove-top and microwave meals, and a small refrigerator that could hold only a week's worth of groceries. Looking out the window, one could make out the CN Tower in the distance, and the colourful lights of the surrounding area below the tower.

It was small, but it was perfect for him. He loved that apartment, the direct-deposit payments, the easy access to downtown, and best of all, teleportation range of the bunker -he could come home from work, let everyone who knew him see him come home, and then be gone with none the wiser.

Kicking off his clothes, he went into the shower, washing the white dye from the fur around his face before stepping out, checking himself in the mirror to make sure he got all of it -he had once almost arrived at work with the dye still on, but thankfully saw his reflection in a window and noticed the pale spot before that happened and went home to wash off the spot before going back. He had been a few minutes late for his shift that day, but to keep his identity secret it had to be done.

He looked himself over in the mirror. Recounting his story with Pierre reminded him of how much he had changed since he had first put on the mask. When he had become the 'Warp' -two years of fighting dangerous criminals, some with little more than petty street-brawling for fighting experience, some -especially among the Yakuza and Triads, with advanced training in several martial arts.

He had been in some close calls before, and it showed in the form of bald spots on his chest, stomach, sides, and even one on his back if he could look -that one might have ended him if not for the additional Kevlar layering his cape provided. These scars though were just from blades -he had been shot before and managed to extract the bullets on his own each time. The scars left by the bullet wounds were harder to spot, but they were there.

He was the Warp. He could not be restrained, but he was not untouchable. He was strong and skilled, but not invincible. Beyond his teleporting prowess he was as mortal as any of the criminals he fought.

But he was at peace with that.

With that, he stepped out of the bathroom, crossing his studio apartment to the bed located under his window, which he opened to let the air in before collapsing onto his mattress, sliding up to rest his head on a pillow -and minding not to bash his antlers on the wall as he made himself comfortable. He lay there, practicing his breathing exercises to help him unwind quickly, before quickly falling asleep.

~~~~~

Unknown location...

_ _ The private contact line's loud beeping alerted Carlos to the call as his fists stuck the punching bag hanging in front of him. He stopped in the midst of a kick as the ringing caught his ear, eyes rolling to look at the phone resting on the table next to him.

He grasped the punching bag to stop its swinging, walking over to the table. Next to the phone rested his pride and joy, and the reason for his underworld name of 'Chu-ko-nu'. A magazine fed machine of death, it was, with a carbon fibre lathe, high tensile polycarbonate bowstring, and the draw strength to punch through any body armour. Alongside this beautiful weapon sat more conventional armaments -a Chinese pistol, an American KABAR knife and a garotte.

The white furred tiger picked up the phone, not answering the caller -choosing instead to let them speak first, just in case it was a wrong caller. He didn't want anybody tracing him, after all, or recognizing his voice, but even his secret number could be dialed by accident. If no one answered, he would know it was an attempt to trap him. If they said 'hello' he would know it was a wrong number.

But the caller did speak, and he did not lead with 'hello' or even spoke english. He spoke in Mandarin, and Carlos could hear the displeasure in his voice as they spoke.

"We have need of your services."

Carlos rested his paw upon the table, as he held the phone at his ear, and replied coldly into the phone. "Who's the target?"

END OF PART 1

Next:

The Ghost of Toronto: Part 2

CHU-KO-NU