A new short, and first thing written and posted from my new computer. This one I had for a littlle bit and thought it was time to clean it up and get it done. Also first time posting with a new file format since my old one, didn't seem to want to upload for some odd reason.

Anyway, this one is simple, Michael the Folf Vigilante aka the future named Volt Shock, reflecting on his life after a night fighting crime.

Also going to upload a bio as well.


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A long, drawn out sigh, escaped the muzzle of the folf, as he slumped against the wall. The slamming shut behind him, as he made the effort to pull himself towards the bathroom, his right hand covering a part of his left arm. He grunted a bit as he walked through his home, leaning against the wall for some support. It only took a few seconds, but it felt much longer for him, as he fumbled for the switch, the light bulb springing to life.

With a grunt, he leaned against the sink, his gaze facing downwards, before he looked up in the mirror. Reaching up, he ripped the mask off and threw it to the ground, before he stumbled to take off the bullet proof vest and under shirt off. His toned body still heaved, as he opened the cabinet above the sink, pulling out a first aid kit. Each movement bringing a wince from him, as he tried to avoid causing the wound to open again. But that was a bit of a loosing battle as he winced again, his tail going straight as fresh pain shot up through his arm. His ears flattened as he started to wash the cut, wincing more as it started to sting.

A sharp hiss escaped his muzzle as he cleaned the wound, dabbing it lightly with a wet cloth. The hiss increased when he applied disinfect to it, before he wrapped a bandage around it, making sure the wound wouldn’t open, or bleed. He exhaled, as he looked back up at his reflection, his tired face looking back at him as his fur changed. He couldn’t explain it, but for some reason his fur was able to change colour, nothing to extreme, in fact it had very limited, as he watched it change from the electric yellowish-blue to a reddish-brown as he let out a huff, pushing away from the sink and back into the living room. But not before a quick stop to the kitchen, grabbing a drink.

After making sure the front door was closed and locked, he slumped into the sofa putting his feet up, as he turned on the tv. Though he wasn’t really paying attention, just some late night talk show came on as he went into thought, taking a sip from his drink. His mind wondered as he started to reflected.

While Michael wouldn’t outright admit it, but there was a time during his teens where he, had a rebellious phase. Normally that wouldn’t cause much regret, since well most people had that phase, but Michael… he became a hoodlum, joining a gang and getting into trouble. Stealing, vandalism, and other things, it was also at this time, that Michael had discovered his ability, changing his fur to a dark grey colour. It was the default look he used when he was part of the gang.

He was apart of the gang for a while, until one day, he had misgivings about why he was doing it, as the rebellious phase died, smart enough to realise that if he continued this way, his life would more then likely end early. He left the gang, never turning back to that fur colour again as he tried to get his life back together.

It wasn’t until a year or two ago he moved to Neolythia, gotten a small time job and got a small place to rent. But he still had some worries about his past catching up. Michael paused in his musing, glancing up at the tv, seeing a late night news broadcast, one of the police chief of Neolythia.

There was someone he did worry about finding out about him. Chief Leylyn Faircross, now she had a reputation that she more then lived up to. The folf had seen her once in public, and it scared the hell out of him, making him wonder how could the criminals not of crapped themselves out of fear. Or maybe it was cause he was an outsider, or that his guilt was catching up. He remembered well, when she had glanced in his general direction, fearing that she would catch on. But of course, she was more then likely just looking at the crowd, he had thought at the time.

But even with his thoughts, he saw that crime was still a problem in the city. He thought of joining the police, to help attune for his crimes from his youth. But fear had gotten the better of him, as he let out a sigh, his eyes looking up towards a painting of a Phoenix statue, one of the landmarks of the city. Music now drifting from the tv as he let out a sigh, bringing up his hand to rub his face.

It was hard work, and dangerous as well, he wasn’t stupid, he knew that even with the protection he got, one lucky shot and he was done for. A thought that made him pause, as he thought back. He had came to a decision a few weeks ago, after seeing the news of Whitescar, and knowing that he may not be able to be up there on that level of skill. He had thrown on makeshift gear, gotten a cattle prod, enough to stun and gone to the streets. Sticking to the suburbs, to stop crimes here, that and he had hoped it would keep him out of the eyes of Whitescar.

But, he knew that didn’t last long, so he rather keep to himself, as he tried to repay his dues. But, if he was caught, if he was linked to what he did with the gang in his teens. Well, he would go, but until then he would be a vigilante.

Michael paused again, as another thought crossed his mind. Maybe he should give his parents a call tomorrow. It’s been a while since he talked to them, and he wanted to make sure to stay in contact with them. But he will not tell them, no he would keep quiet.

Avoiding the police, avoiding Whitescar, as he carried out his crusade, he will repay for what he did. But for now, he was going to take a few days off, to let the wound heal.