This is Chapter 1 of a commissioned novel. It is set in the Caretaker Universe and is universe canon. The story follows moonshot, a socially lost bat in his 20s who walks into the wrong place at the wrong time, and winds up embroiled in the internal politics of a secret society.

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Story Text: (FA formatting is crap. Download to read it the way it was meant to be read.)
Black Sheep: Chapter 1

Moonshot plodded along the leaf covered concrete sidewalk, dressed surprisingly light for the weather in only a coat that looked more suited for March than October, but the bat’s winter coat made up the better part of the difference. He was still cold, but he wasn’t going to freeze to death or anything, despite the harshness of the winters this far north. Times had never quite been easy, working as a late-night bartender, tech support in the afternoons, and odd jobs here and there paid the bills, but there was never much left over. That had been a month ago, and, on a sudden whim that he could neither explain nor justify, Moonshot had gotten it into his head to move to the big city, the capital. Surely there would be more, and better, work in such a massive place for someone with his talents, right?
It hadn’t taken long for that to prove false. Upon arriving in the capital, Moonshot had been perk-eared and eager to seek out a new, better life, fit for him, but one had not yet shown itself. The bat had arrived at noon two days earlier, checked into a nearby tourist motel, and gone door-to-door around the city looking for work, or housing, expecting job applications and vacancies to be plentiful. But, in a sprawling urban metropolis of six million people, there was very little to be had, and nothing to be had for cheap.
That had been three days ago, and now, drudging through the six inches or more of decaying autumn plant matter, having had to return the car he had rented due to concerns about his funds now that he knew a job wasn’t forthcoming, Moonshot was searching through the various smaller, outer districts of the city with the hopes that maybe, just maybe, there would be an opportunity for employment.
It was nearly noon, and relatively nice by the standards of the region at this point in the year. The trees were golden brown and red, their leaves shedding and coating the many city parks in the fallen leaves. It might have been romantic under normal circumstances, but Moonshot, Moony as he typically went by, had much bigger concerns. He’d already been past three restaurants, a bakery, four gas-stations, and a public library asking for potential employment, but the reply had always been the same: we’re sorry, but no. We couldn’t hire you, with the even if we wanted to omitted for decency’s sake. And yet the bat walked on, shoulders hunched in slowly ebbing depression and desperation, especially with summer a distant memory and winter on the horizon. Things really couldn’t get much worse.
There was a thunder crack overhead, and Moony looked up to see a thick blanket of clouds growing dark in the sky, despite the local weather network having said it wouldn’t rain until the afternoon. “Figures,” the bat said, long, tall ears going back in discomfort as the fat clouds broke, releasing a torrent of cold, late autumn rain down on him, and everything around him. He grumbled inwardly, cursing his poor recent luck, and sprinted across the street, into the outlying regions of an upper middle class district, one of the expensive gated communities that had started springing up a few years earlier, but Moony, having come from a much smaller urban center, was unfamiliar with. There was an eighteen foot fence all the way around, and a large iron gate with a booth that kept the riffraff out. Immediately across the street was a town center, a mall of sorts, albeit a small one, and, pulling his coat over his head for protection, Moonshot aimed for the first door he saw, his clothes quickly soaking through to his fur.
There was a light, playful ringing from the door as he opened it, stepping inside without even looking at the marquee overhead to see what he was going into. That would require him to raise his head, and taken the brunt of the rain, nearly hail in its temperature and weight, directly in his face. When the bat came through the door, dripping wet and stepped on a doormat of some kind, the coat still pulled over his head, he glanced around, wondering what he’d gotten himself into, now.
The lobby was a gleeful, colorful construct with painted murals on the walls, and nicely lit with large windows. The door faced a rather typical writing desk with a mink lady, maybe in her early thirties, humming to herself while typing away at a laptop. Above her head was a small marquee that read, Young Hearts on a plastic rainbow, and the bat realized he had walked into a daycare to escape the rain. He pulled his coat back down off his head, and the woman behind the desk looked up at him.
“Hello!” The mink said cheerfully, “And how may I help you?”
“Oh, uh,” Moony stammered, normally having prepared himself to meet a potential employer beforehand, and reached for his packet of resumes that he’d tucked into the inside pocket of his coat. Naturally, they were all a mushy, soaked mess, so, abashed, he just said, “I’m looking for a job. Any chance you’re hiring”
“Oh, I’m afraid we hire by reference on…” The mink stopped in her tracks, looking up at him, much closer this time, then whispered something. “Starfall?” Moony’s bat ears perked as she murmured, so quiet that even he could barely pick up the sounds, and what she said didn’t make any sense anyway. The mink, who, according to her name tag was named Rachel, didn’t respond to him for a moment, typing like lightning on her computer while leaving Moony confused, and ready to leave if asked to, for whatever reason. When the fit of typing passed, and the bat was still there, Rachel glanced at her screen, then at Moony, then did a double take. She reached for a small intercom, leaving the bat almost concerned about her behavior, and spoke into it, looking at him for a second, then used a few words in pig Latin, which Moonshot was in the process of piecing together when the reply came, and the mink became all smiles. “Well now, it turns out we may have a position for you, after all! If you’d just, uh… come with me, we just need to ask you a few precursory questions, if that’s okay?”
Moonshot suddenly smiled with his whole body, ears going straight up and cheeks going red. A job at a daycare wasn’t exactly what he had come here looking for, but, at this point, he was ready to take anything he was offered, and followed the mink through the back door, moving quickly to keep up with her, despite the shock of the sudden job offer. “So… err, what kind of job is it?” Moony asked, inquisitive and curious at the same time, “That you’re offering me, I mean.” Behind the desk was a long hallway with doors on the left and right sides. With his expert hearing, the bat caught sounds of kids playing, squeaks, typical things to hear in a daycare and whatnot, but they all came from the doors on the left, and the mink, Rachel, led him through a right-side door, into a small office, without ever answering his question.
“Have a seat,” Rachel said, nodding at the chairs on the other side of the desk, and immediately started making coffee. Moony was… tentative, somewhat put off by her odd behavior, especially in contrast to how warm she’d been when greeting him, but put aside thoughts of leaving. This might very well be the only job in the entire city. Just thinking of turning it down, or even just the opportunity, was moronic and he refused to think about it any further, even if it did mean a quirky boss, or quirky coworkers. He sat down in the chair, folded wings rustling behind him, still dripping wet, and watched Rachel pour a cup, for herself presumably, then handed it to him instead. “Here, you must be freezing after getting caught out in that storm,” the mink said, inexplicably returning to her previous, caring demeanor, maybe having realized that she was on the verge of driving him away. Moony was, in fact, freezing cold, and accepted the cup with a smile.
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Moonshot said, drinking deeply from the hot, brown liquid, and was surprised to find that it wasn’t coffee. It was, oddly enough, hot chocolate. Not that he minded, of course, Moony was just happy to drink something hot after being drenched, but that seemed somehow important to him. Nevertheless, he continued to drink, eventually finishing almost the entire cup before blushing, realizing Rachel was waiting on him, and setting it down. “Oh, sorry… I got carried away…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Rachel said, giving him a knowing, almost sinister smirk, “Everything is going to be alright…”