Soon, after their report reached the highest levels, marked as max classification at the risk of their jobs, resources on the case expanded rapidly. More advanced agents arrived, ready to assist, though the team was intentionally kept small. They were consulted, but the study moved faster. As they developed more devices to track the "Fox Frequency," as it was now called, they identified that it took roughly two weeks after each hunt to target again. During that window, the frequency pulsed randomly across the country suggesting it had a massive range. One that could cover the entire U.S. Then, it locked onto a new target, and they followed. This time, the agents moved the family to a safehouse, but the signal pulses followed their new location. If the father and child were separated, the pulses tracked both. The signals pulsed at random on both father, and child, showing they were being... tracked, or were already linked to the entity. Meaning it would hunt them no matter where they went. With concerns about provoking the entity, or it noticing there activities. They kept the family in a advanced safe house, and they did not explain anything to the family. With SHEILD, even allowing the abuse to continue without much interference.
Miller sat at a desk. Tom nearby. They reviewed files and notes. Miller said, "Whatever this thing is... nothing on record matches." Tom nodded. "It's not Asgardian, not alien, and not mutant. Or... if it is, it's so advanced we can't tell." Miller nodded slowly. "Advanced. Powerful. Worse... it's moral, or cares of morals. How do we even stop it, if it decides to take someone?" Tom was quiet. "We don't, honestly... we negotiate. Or hope..." The room felt colder than before. The main reason for the word 'morals' is there new data. The children. After the observation of the shadow fox marking a child. They looked into it more... a consistent pattern. For most children, or the ones less shaken by Mr. Fox intervention, soon after they shut up on the story, and began to improve in mood rapidly. Better grades, better mental health, they avoided discussing there experiences entirely after a week of any incident. Thou it was clear, as children are bad liars most of the time... they remembered clearly, but were not talking of it for more reasons then just 'no one believes me'. Despite initial trauma, for the more traumatized. After 3 weeks or so, they got better, and began to seem to heal, unusually fast as well. Going quite about Mr. Fox as well. All showing one key reaction to Mr. Fox after the switch... a lack of horror, or fear. But they showed uncertainty about there parents, or concern for them... no longer dread. Another oddity is the children being obsessed with the TV, often watching cartoon channels, or even boring channels late at night, or sneaking to the TV at night. Leading to one conclusion, something is communicating with them. Given the evidence, most likely Mr. Fox. Yet no fox frequency from these events. In health checks, and therapist inquiry. They learned that there was no detected drugs, chemical manipulation, or detectable oddities in the brain. And therapists assigned to study the kids, given knowledge of Mr. Fox for the case, one reported in a rather detailed report "Its... odd. From all my inquires... it does not feel... manipulative... or at most not that manipulative... it feels... parental. The relationship... and... my instincts, and judgement say... its more... healthy then it appears at first. But its clear... without support the children would be traumatized for months, and need years, or even never get over there trama truely... its the first few days or weeks after a trauma that matter most for its recovery... and... this thing... is coming in at that timeframe."
Eventually, a child psychologist uncovered more details. "Mr. Fox... he talks to me still. Every night, when I go to the TV. He gives me... lessons. Lovely ones. About math. Or science. He's very nice!" They learned that each night, a small 5-meter time bubble occurred around each child, as a Mr. Fox broadcast played. They began trying to record them, but the event only occurred when the child was alone, most refused to bring a camera to record the event. They refused to allow recordings, angrily or with fear. "The lessons are for me! Why do you want to record them?" Hidden cameras near the TV were disabled. It was clear Mr. Fox could sense cameras. Making it more unclear why he allowed Ally, and Tom to record him. But the few kids who admitted to it... didn't want to share. "Mr. Fox says to keep it secret," they said.
They managed to get one recording of one of his private broadcasts after managing to convince one of the more traumatized children Mr. Fox was taking longer to convince. Mr. Fox immediately noticed the camera, as time paused, and the broadcast started. "Oh... i see you are recording? Is that for those grown ups?" The kid shrinks in shame, unsure. Mr. Fox shakes his head "Silly, its ok. But... i will give them a message, and teach you about secrets today Jake! Ok..." The format for the rest of the 20 minute episode is of a hyper-responsive sentient cartoon, as he gives a educational song, his 'Privacy Song', answers questions of the kid, and more. Until the episode nears its end. "Anyway, Jake... i think its time we end it for today. Don't bring a camera next time please." The kid shakes, crying. "I am sorry..." Mr. Fox shakes his head, as shadow foxes float across the floor. "its ok..." One seems to pat his shoulder on his shadow on the ground, clearly showing physical push on the real fabric. Mr. Fox says "They are... curious... they should not interfere with my Kits... like you Jake... so... don't worry... even if they demand things from you i am here... i will protect you." Mr. Fox smiles brightly, caringly. Then he says "Now then... bye." Jake nods. The TV turns off, time unpauses.
In a meeting room, a higher-level agent, Agent Lawton, assigned personally by Nick Fury, sat reviewing that handheld recording. "Estimate on how long until the next kidnapping?" he asked. Miller replied, "Data analysis shows five to eight days." She added, "His tone... at the end." The screen played again, showing the fox on the screen, "they should not interfere with my kits." Miller muttered, "It's... parental. Almost too emotionally real." Tom frowned. "Perhaps. He does seem to have real emotions. But still, he could be manipulating the kids. Brainwashing. Calling it good." Miller shook her head. "Doesn't make sense. Look at the parents he's taken. Brainwashers. Abusers. He'd be the very thing he punishes, if he was doing the same." Lawton added, "According to the child psychologists we sent in, there's no sign of indoctrination. No fanaticism." The footage reached the part where Mr. Fox sang his 'Privacy Song'. It was well-written. Clear. Deep. He sang about privacy, about when it matters and when it doesn't. When it protects, and when it hurts. Lines like "It's okay to be curious, but the curious may hurt" stuck. The song was not some childish, surface level children's education. The entire engagement was complex, deep, nuanced. Lawton sighed. "I've talked with Fury. He says do not engage. Try to communicate." Tom looked deeply uncertain. Miller said, "Yeah. Makes sense. We're holding the current family in a house built with thousands of sensors, every camera under the sun. I recommend... we try to communicate peacefully."
Eventually, the day came. Agents sat hidden within the house. Monitored from a secure room. The father, an addict, and the child were unaware why they'd been relocated. The father attempted to sneak in drugs. They let him. Monitored everything. The child, Jameson, was stressed. Unsettled by the moves. Then... the Fox signal pulsed. All outside contact vanished. The bubble was precisely measured to be centered on the TV screen in the living room. With the bubble being 28.38m in radius. A perfect sphere. All this detected with complex array of clocks underground, in 3d, that when time stopped, there electricity paused, and thus the control room got no response. A bubble had formed around the house. Inside, time flowed normally with only a slight time dilation edge at the edge of the bubble. Like a sudden but not instant shift in the speed of time at the edge.Inside a hidden room, a few operators sat working, monitoring data. Frowning as they looked at each other. Mr. Fox was near. Miller, chosen to be the communicator given Mr. Fox allowing them to observe last time, sat stiff. Uncertain. As the fox frequency was active, slowly tuning, clearing up, becoming a TV signal. The TV turned on. The broadcast began.
Mr. Fox appeared. Black-furred. Disney-style. Animated. A fox that looked more fox-like right now then anthropomorphic with detailed fur, some small natural grey patterns, and clear uncannily human eyes. Lounging under a tree in a dead grey animated forest at daytime. With a small amount of nearly dead grass under him. Mr. Fox smiled. "Welcome all to tonight's wonderful performance. Tonight's performance shall be... an interesting one." As he spoke, lights in the house flickered off. Most sensors lost signal, except their cameras and basic power. Then the music started. Pop-style. Catchy. Carefully animated. A dance party, but with darker themes beneath. The father stumbled out of his room. "What is that horrible racket? Stupid-ass TV." He yelled, rubbing his head. As the fox danced anthpromorthiclly, a casual cartoonish distraction, unreacting to the man, thou staring uncannly at the man with a frozen smile, pretending to be a cartoon. The man reached for the remote. Nothing. Dead. Then, cut. A sudden, tight close-up on Mr. Fox. No more backup dancers of purple-eyed shadowy black figure foxes. Mr. Fox stared directly. "Sorry for the lack of performance today. But I've got a meeting to deal with. So, Mr. Arthur, you will be taken, to prevent interference." The man flinched at his own name. Stepped back in utter fear. Then, a shadow fox slid along the wall. Stylized. A cartoon drawn over the wall, overwriting its textures and colors. Solid cartoon on the surface. Purple glowing teeth. Eyes. The man ran, turning, "FUCK!", running. The fox moves suddenly, as it bites his shadow. The man's eyes turned static. As the fox drags it back to the TV, disappearing into the TV's shadow on the wall. The man is frozen in place. Mr. Fox steps back, and lounges casually. Comically, in the background of the cartoon the man fell from a tree, as a shadow fox dropped him from a tree it emerged from, he flailed, panicking, shaking, as his body was a cartoon. More Shadow foxes appeared, drooling at him. Then comically chased him off screen. Mr. Fox turned back to the screen, stopping watching the chaos. "Heh... Anyway... I know you're watching. Let's see... names... SHIELD. Yes. So come on out now. No need to be shy my stakers." The child sleeps in the bedroom, not waking up. As a shadow fox hovers over the child, and enters the child's shadow.
Miller stood. Visibly shaken. But moved to the table where a microphone sat. The AV intercom systems were not working. She frowned. Mr. Fox said, "In person, please. It's rude not to speak with a guest." Miller shook. The others in the room looked at her unsure. He can see her? Miller stepped out. Slowly. Heart pounding. Her training covered combat, aliens, enhanced threats. But not this. Her hand hovered near a gun. And a EMP grenade. She didn't know if either would matter. She walked into the living room. The Fox stared. "Hello there. I prefer you over that Tom. I've noticed you watching. Following me. Stalking is a crime, you know." He gestured theatrically. Tail flicking. Shadow foxes moved across the walls. Purple eyes glowing. The only light in the room, the glow of the TV.