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The Ace of Spades – Chapter Two

By Cris Fireheart, AKA, Ken Anderson

Author's note: This story is a continuation of an old one-shot that I once posted ten years ago. I've decided to turn it into a series all its own, and I hope you enjoy it.

WARNING: it contains violence, drug usage, profanity, and some sex scenes. I hope you all enjoy my story of world-class thieves and the shenanigans they get into!

This Chapter and the story which follows is dedicated to an old friend of mind on SF, master1988. I promised you a Christmas present, and although it's a bit late, here it is. And don't worry; for those of you who liked the first installment, there's plenty of more to come. Now, without further ado, let's fuck someone's day up, shall we? (I'd like to thank my friends Z as well, once again, for helping me plan out this story. Fifteen years, and you haven't been caught once. Quite an accomplishment, you thieving prick. )

• Cris.

The Ace of Spades - Chapter Two

By Cris Fireheart/Ken Anderson

“GET AFTER HIM!"

“Damn it; where'd he go?!"

“Power's still out, boss; he couldn't have gotten far!"

A large, well-built black bear let out an angry snarl as he gripped hard onto the well-oiled nine-millimeter that was nestled in his right paw. Nobody steals from HIS place and gets away with it; NOBODY! He silently swore under his breath that he would find that bastard tiger, even if it ended up costing him everything he'd worked for! Once he'd managed to get his paws on the prick, he was going to skin him into a brand-new rug!

As the bear and his crew of goons continued to silently sweep through the pitch-black room, the sudden sound of shattering glass quickly drew their attention towards a pair of french doors which led out onto an exterior balcony. In a flash, a black-hooded figure darted out through the new opening, a small backpack bouncing over one shoulder as he took in a deep breath, before vaulting over the balcony, towards the ground below, taking care to tuck and roll his body as he landed forcefully onto the grassy lawn beneath him.

The sound of repetitive gunfire peppered the dirt around him, spurring the black-clad feline into action. He grunted with effort as he jumped to his feet, breaking out into a solid sprint as he made his way towards the compound's recently-disabled electric fence. He had to hurry. He could already feel his lungs burning with each breath he took as he silently willed his body to move even faster. The timer that he'd set on the compound's main power box was due to go off in--

A sudden burst of light coming from behind him quickly sent the feeling of ice and terror running through his veins.

Fuck. He'd screwed up.

Another shot immediately rang out, forcing him to stumble forwards on his feet as a searing pain instantly tore through his right shoulder, causing him to grit his teeth and cry out in pain. As he finally reached the fence, that last barrier between freedom and certain death, he used his free paw to pull a small metal washer out from the center pocket of his hoodie, and held his breath as he threw it with as much force as he could muster towards the electrified fence line. The small piece of metal made contact with the fence, and was instantly propelled away in a shower of powerful sparks.

The fence was live. He was going to die here... A growl of frustration passed through the injured tiger's lips as his knees threatened to give way beneath him. He barely had time to process what was happening, when a pair of thick, strong arms suddenly wrapped around his chest and muzzle, before pulling him forcefully to the ground behind a thick stand of bushes.

“The power's back on! He's not getting away !" Came a shout from one of the burly thugs as the sound of heavy footsteps began to race towards the fence line.

“Spread out! Remember, the boss wants the cat alive!"

The sounds of grunts and murmured agreements filled the cool air of the night as the heavy footsteps began to depart in multiple different directions.

Flat on the ground, his body being pressed deep into the damp grass by whomever had pulled him from his brush with death, the young tiger let out a growl of pain through gritted teeth as he suddenly found himself being lifted forcefully back onto his feet. Turning to face his rescuer, he was greeted with the scowling face of an older, black-furred otter, his muzzle twisted up into a grimace of frustration.

“Bill?"

“What the HELL are you doing here, kid?! I've been planning to hit this place for over three months now! I already had a buyer lined up for something that was supposed to be in that house! How the hell am I supposed to get in there now?! I haven't seen you for nearly four years, Caleb, and already, you're fuckin' shit up for me!"

The tiger heaved a sigh, pulling back his black hood to reveal his face as he grit his teeth against the pain in his shoulder. Using his uninjured arm, he reached around and pulled away the small backpack he'd been wearing, thrusting it into the otter's grip with a grumbled curse. Reaching his paw up to the wound on his shoulder, he grimaced as it came away covered in blood.

Looking down at the bag in his paws, the old otter's white-stained muzzle twitched as he carefully pulled back on the zipper and reached inside. His paw came up holding a gilded, jewel-studded egg, which he carefully inspected, before returning it to its place inside the bag.

“How did you--" He started to speak, before the tiger interrupted him,.

“I paid a couple friends of mine to keep an eye out for you! When I found out that you were on the hunt for that Fabergé egg, I figured that stealing it first might get your attention! The bastards didn't mention the fuckin' Russian mob owned the place, though! I thought I had enough time to hit the fence and get outta here, but the break timer I put on the main power supply went off early! We're fucked! There's no way out now!"

Sighing, the otter shook his head sadly, running a paw down one side of his face.

“Caleb, you've had my attention since the night we met at the bar at that hotel four years ago! Since the diamond job! If you wanted to find me after all this time, you could've just handed my calling card to literally ANYBODY on the underground circuit, and the word would've gotten back to me! Now, look at ya! You've got a through-and-through in your shoulder, and a pissed off bear to deal with! Now shut up, stay low, and follow me. I already had an exit planned for this..."

The tiger nodded his head silently, his ears low in embarrassment as he followed the aging otter through a thick stand of bushes and willow trees, towards a partially-obscured section of the electric fence. As they neared a small clearing, and he saw what the otter had set up, he couldn't help but let out a small chuckle of relief. A section of the fence had been melted away using a corrosive and pulled aside, with two sets of car jumper cables anchoring the electric current directly into the ground below.

“Alright, you go through first," Bill muttered, ushering the tiger through the opening, before getting on his knees to follow through after him. Once they were both on the other side, Bill, the otter, gripped both of the heavy lengths of cables in his paws before giving them a swift tug, pulling them free from the earth. A short burst of sparks from the surrounding fence told him that the power had been reactivated.

Nodding his head towards his young friend, he pointed a claw towards the shadows near the end of the well-kept, fenced-in street. “My truck's over there," he remarked with a nod, “ Now come on, Let's go get you patched up. Then, once that's all over and done with, we can talk.

Caleb said nothing, gritting his sharp teeth against the pain to the point where blood was slowly starting to fill his mouth. As he struggled to keep up with the older otter, he somehow managed to stagger over to the passenger side door of the midnight-black F-250 parked near the end of the darkened cul-de-sac.

Once they'd safely ensconced themselves behind the heavy doors of the truck, however, Caleb suddenly felt the world begin to tilt on its axis as he slumped over in his seat, his breathing shallow and quick, the blood loss finally taking its toll as he began to lapse into unconsciousness.

“Caleb? CALEB?! Shit..."

The old otter's eyes lit up with panic as he fumbled with the keys and hurried to start the engine. He knew that he had no time to waste. Shaking his head to clear away the dark thoughts within, he just hoped and silently prayed that the person he was going to need to see was in a reasonable mood tonight. If he wasn't, the otter knew he was liable to end up with a few new holes in his body himself.

The loud report from the twelve-gauge shotgun caused Bill to freeze in his tracks, as he slowly began to exit his truck, which had been covered in mud from the dirt road he had taken to get to his destination. Peering off into the darkness, towards an old, unlit trailer which seemed to be deserted, sitting silently next to a slow-moving brown river, he raised both arms towards the sky, and took in a breath to let out a shout.

“Donnie! It's me, Ace! I'm not here to mess with ya, I swear! I need some fuckin' help out here, so don't shoot!"

“The hell are YOU doin' out here, ya bastard?!" came a gruff reply in a heavy southern drawl.

“I TOLD you what was gon' happen if you ever set foot 'round here again! I already said it once; I ain't gon' say it twice! GET LOST!"

“Damn you, Donnie!" Bill's well-educated Eastern accent suddenly began to slip into a matching southern pitch. “You can hate me all ya want! I don't give a rat's ass! I just need you ta help me for once! I got a kid in the truck; he's been shot! If I don't get 'im patched up soon, he's gonna fuckin' DIE! I know you don't want that on your conscience! Now, I've left you alone for more than ten years now, and this is the only time I'm gonna ask you for help! You save the kid, and You'll never hear from me again! I swear it!"

A shadow seemed to materialize from one corner of the unlit trailer. Stepping out into the moonlight, Bill's eyes met a matching brown pair, belonging to the black-furred otter who stood before him, shotgun resting comfortably over one plaid-covered shoulder as his white-furred muzzle twitched up into a snarl of anger.

“Fuckin' FINE, then," the other otter snapped back, lowering the barrel of the shotgun until it was pointed towards the ground. “Go get 'im, and put him inside on the kitchen table. The kit's in the room, where it always is, and I'll go get some water from the boilin' pot out back. And Ace?"

Bill stopped his hurried jog back towards the truck to turn around and face him.

“Brothers or not, when this is over, if I EVER seen you 'round this property again, you'd best believe I'm puttin' a slug right up your thievin' ass."

Caleb's eyes felt heavy...

There was a dull, throbbing pain in his shoulder. Stifling a hiss through his teeth, he attempted to sit up and get his bearings, only to find a firm paw gently shoving him backwards onto what he now assumed was a bed.

“Boy, you'd best stay down on that there mattress! You pull out them stitches, and I ain't puttin' em' back in ya again!"

Caleb gave a slight groan as he obeyed, using a paw to wipe away the crust in his eyes as he attempted to make out the source of the familiar, yet strange voice. As his vision began to clear away, he caught sight of a familiar-looking black otter seated on a folding chair next to the bed.

“Bill?" he gasped out. The otter let out an annoyed huff, before shaking his head and looking back down at the tiger.

“Wrong brother, kid. He's gone off into town to punch in on one of the pharmacies 'round there. Gotta replace all the morphine and the antibiotics and shit, not to mention the suture kit I had to burn through to sew your dumb ass up last night. Name's William Reese; but you'll find that our parents weren't really 'creative' when it came to namin' us. We're BOTH 'William Reese;' only difference is the middle names. His is 'Ace,' and mine is 'Donald,' but you can call me 'Donnie,' everyone 'round here does."

“You're his... Brother? I'm, sorry, it's just-- you look so much alike--"

“--We're twins," Donnie interrupted, removing a hand-rolled cigarette from the breast pocket of his flannel shirt, and striking a match to light it before he continued, “Used to be really close, too, back in the day. That was before he went all—" The otter flared out his arms for emphasis, “--'King of thieves' and that shit. To tell the truth, before last night, I ain't seen nor spoken to him in a little over twelve years now. Yeah, he still sends me and the family a little money every now and again, though. I used my share of it to buy up these forty acres of river-land that we both grew up on. Fixed up this old trailer and moved back to the riverside years ago. Now... I know it ain't much, and the taste is probably gon' turn your stomach somethin' fierce, but..." The old otter's paw reached down by the bedside, and came up holding a sealed mason jar.

“Wanna drink?"

The wounded, bandaged tiger couldn't help but let out a short laugh as he reached out his paw to retrieve the jar. Uncapping it with a twist, Donnie handed it over, before seating himself back on his folding chair, his cigarette dangling from his lips as he crossed both arms over his thick chest. Caleb tried his best to avoid inhaling through his nostrils as he reached out for the jar and raised it to his lips, squeezing his eyes shut as he forced down a mouthful of what, to him, felt like drinking liquid fire. Almost instantly, his eyes went wide, and he found himself doubled over, coughing violently towards the floor below.

“What the?!-- The FUCK did you give me, man?!"

“HEY, now! Don't you go wastin' my good 'shine, cat boy! Now hand that back over here before ya drop it!"

Taking the jar out of Caleb's trembling paws, the otter allowed himself to relax in his seat, before raising the jar to his own lips and easily downing half of the contents within in two large gulps.

“What the-- how the hell did you do that?!"

“Years of practice, kid. Now, sit back and rest up a bit. I don't need Ace wantin' to beat my ass to a bloody pulp 'cause I let you go an' hurt yourself. You're pretty damn lucky, by the way..." Donnie let his voice trail off as he reached behind his chair to retrieve a dusty, old acoustic guitar, which he carefully laid onto his lap.

“How do you figure that?" Caleb groaned out in reply, the stitches in his shoulder pulling painfully as he attempted to get comfortable.

“Bullet punched clean through the muscle. If it had been an inch or two to the left or the right, you'd be drownin' in your own blood right now. I may not have to like it, but it's a good thing Ace brought you straight to me. Hell, even I can tell that he's pretty sweet on ya, the way he was crying when I was sewing you up. Ain't seen him cry like that in years..."

“He was crying?"

Donnie gave a sad nod as he began to strum on his guitar, a bluesy tune beginning to fill the air as he ran his callused paws along the frets.

“That and he drank a full jar of my moonshine, to himself. Ended up puking half of it into the river out back. Couldn't stand the sight of you, all bloodied up like that. He always was a little on the squeamish side, if you ask me..."

“THAT guy? Squeamish? I'd never have thought..."

“Yup... Tell ya what; you ever heard of him havin' to kill anyone, or doin' any real hurt while he's out pullin' those 'jobs' of his?"

“That's right. Every time he plans out one of those jobs, he always makes sure there ain't no way in hell anybody can get hurt..."

Caleb thought silently to himself for a moment, before slowly shaking his head. Nodding towards the guitar, he decided to change the subject.

“You play on that thing?" he asked.

Donnie let out a huff, and sighed as he ran his paws over the instrument. “Taught myself when I was a pup. Ace tried to learn, too. When he wasn't out doin' his schemes, and our Pa wasn't drunk and takin' it out on us, I used to play the blues, yeah? Originally, our family's from down Louisiana way; only came out here to Texas when we were real young..."

“Think you still got it in you, old man?" Caleb jabbed at the older otter, smiling through the pain as he nodded towards him.

“Kid, you don't know nothin' 'bout no blues. Now listen here..." The otter heaved a sigh as he set his finished cigarette down into an overflowing ashtray and raised the guitar up to his chest. “This one's one of mine. Wrote it years ago. Didn't take much know-how to play it, just G chords and blues slack. But here it is..."

Caleb's ear perked up as Donnie began to strum the guitar and the old otter let out his voice in a melodic southern drawl.

Saw an old man by the riverside,

lookin' 'bout half past dead,/

Gave him two dollars and a penny,

for to get a bottle just to cool his head,/

He turned 'round to hand it back to me,

and I looked at him like he was mad,/

Turned his gaze up to my eyes,

and he gave a single shake of his head,/

Said, “I've been here for a many year,

and I'll stay 'til I'm good and dead,"/

It's been a long time since I sat down,

and I'll stay 'til my kingdom come."/

Didn't know just what to say to that,

so I asked, “Hey, mister, where you from?"/

He took a minute, thinkin' over everything,

then I saw a stir from his head,/

Gave the biggest smile I have never seen,

and he turned to me, and he said:/

“I come from over yonder,

where the mountain starts, and the river ends,"/

“The first thing I saw was the water;

it'll be the last thing I see again!"/

“Yeah, I was born on the water,

and if you meet a friend of mine,"/

“Tell him he's still got a brother,

who won't let him be left behind..."/

Caleb couldn't help but smile as the heavily-accented blues music filled the room around him. As the song wound down to its end, he watched as Donnie let out another sigh, before retrieving another cigarette from his breast pocket.

“That was actually... amazing..." Caleb muttered, as he shook his head slowly in shock. “You could've made it on the circuit back in the day, if you'd been given the chance. Got another one of those?" he asked, pointing towards the crudely rolled cigarette in the otter's paws. Nodding his head, Donnie retrieved one for the tiger as well, before lighting them both up and setting his guitar aside.

“So where's Bill? You said he headed out last night?"

“That's right... when he finally stopped crying over you, though, he had this look in his eye. That same kinda look we used to get from our Pa when he was drunk and about to go off on one of us. He said somethin' 'bout goin' 'bear hunting,' grabbed up my shotgun and a box of shells, and said he'd have my supplies and everything else worked out by the time he gets back."

“He said WHAT?!" Caleb shot up in the bed to a sitting position, only to be forced back onto the mattress as Donnie rose to his feet and placed a heavy paw on his chest.

“Hey, now! Don't you go off worryin' about my brother; he can damn well take care of himself! God knows we done had to 'handle' our fair share of trouble when we were younger..."

“N-No... But... He's going back to that house?! With those fuckin' Russian mob bears after my ass?! That's not revenge; that's suicide! That's a death sentence; even you should be able to see that!"

“Hmm?" Donnie turned his head casually, before stroking the white fur on his chin with a claw as he became lost in thought. “Oh! You mean the old Deckard Manor near the outskirts of town? Where that big ol' Black bear and his goons moved into late last year? Huh... This might actually be more fun than I thought... I should probably go and find some rope or duct tape; get the place ready for a visit.."

“WHAT?!" Caleb repeated, unable to believe his ears. What the hell was going on here? He'd barely known Ace, having only met him once as he'd built up his career as a thief; the otter had always been his idol. But this was quickly turning from his comfort zone into a place that seemed much darker... Before he could react, however, he felt the chill of cold steel wrapping around his right wrist, followed by a 'click' as his arm was quickly handcuffed to the bed frame.

“Now, you stay right there, and I'll go get things set up for the game. Don't need you getting' in the way, and the two of us can handle this ourselves, anyway. Shit, now I really wish he'd told me what he was plannin' earlier..."

“What IS he up to?"

“Well... Let's just say you're about to find out why us Reese boys tend to live as far away from the city as possible. One of us gets a little wrecked, gets his dander up, and well... Let's just say this probably won't be pretty. But don't worry; ain't our first rodeo with these mafia types..."

The deafening screech of truck tires skidding to a stop in front of the trailer caused both of them to pause. The sounds of loud yelling and protests could be heard reverberating through the thin walls of the trailer as its front door was loudly thrown open, followed by a shout of pain and a loud 'thump' as something obviously heavy landed forcefully onto the floor.

“Git in there! NOW!" The order was quickly driven home by the sound of a shotgun shell racking into place.

Caleb could barely recognize the sound of his idol's voice. Gone was the smooth, bassful baritone of someone who had obviously been educated back east; it had now been replaced by a thick, gruff southern accent, one full of rage and hate.

The tiger slowly sat up in bed as the door to the small bedroom was hastily thrown open, and a hulking, blindfolded figure was shoved face-first onto the floor at the foot of the bed. It was the large black bear from the night before. Caleb could already feel the fur on his tail beginning to stand on end as his anxiety threatened to overtake him. The bear was obviously panicking; he looked as if he had taken a club or some other blunt object to one side of his skull, the blood from the wound soaking into the bandana which had hastily been tied around his head.

With a low growl rumbling in his throat, Ace, his face a mask of fury, lifted up a large duffel bag in one of his paws, before tossing it at his brother's feet.

“There's enough H, meth, pills, and other supplies in there to keep you stocked up 'til doomsday," he muttered, not removing the shotgun from the back of the bear's head. “The prick had plenty of it in his safe. Did you know that they turned the basement of the old Deckard place into a fully-staffed operatin' room? Guess they didn't want anyone going to any hospitals around here. They had everything you asked me to get. Was actually pretty impressive."

“Who are you people?!" The bear screamed in his guttural voice, turning his head to and from in an attempt to make out the voices.

“Oh, wouldn't you NEVER like to know..." Ace growled through clenched teeth as he snaked a claw under the blindfold, before tearing it away.

Raising his heavy paws to shield his eyes from the light which was pouring in from the windows, the black bear squinted as he turned to take in his surroundings, before allowing his gaze to fall onto the two tall figures standing in front of him.

“Otters... Twins..." The bear mumbled as he took in the sight.

“That means you're-- No!... It's not possible... They said you were long gone..."

“Well, I'm Donnie, yeah?" spoke the otter to his left, who jerked a thumb in the other's direction. “And this here's my brother Ace. I'm sure you've heard of him... And if the condition of THIS guy is anythin' to go by..." He turned sideways, so that the bear could see Caleb on the bed, “... He's pretty pissed off at ya. You mafia types... Always out there, thinkin' how we're a buncha hicks who can't be bothered to hold our own... Honestly, I'm actually surprised that Ace over here hasn't split yer damn melon, yet. You see, my little brother here, he can't handle blood all that much..."

Caleb could only watch, stunned, as Donnie casually sauntered up to a nearby wall, before pulling away a framed document from it. It read “William D. Reese, PhD, DS, DIM."

“But to be honest? I kinda LIKE it..."

“You're an actual DOCTOR?!" Caleb blurted out, causing both brothers to turn and face him. Smirking, Donnie gave him a single nod, before clearing his throat.

“Trauma Surgery and Internal Medicine. I practiced for over twenty-five years. I was sewing up knife wounds and gunshots since before you were born, cat."

Turning back to face the bear on the floor, his expression suddenly became a grimace of anger. “But do I get any say-so?! NO! Every single time, when I roll out to meet the cousins and the rest of the family, all they can talk about is ACE!"

He shot his brother a glare as he continued.

“Did y'all hear what ACE did?! ACE musta made a mint off that last haul! Damn, ACE went and robbed a fuckin' DIAMOND EXCHANGE! And he sends us all MONEY!"

Caleb could see Bill's head droop slightly as his twin brother kept up the verbal assault.

“At least I had the decency to pursue something greater in life... Something respectable!" Caleb blinked in shock as Donnie's accent immediately switched over to the more recognizable educated tones he was used to hearing from Bill. “And I knew... KNEW that what I was doing made people's lives better... But now, you and your fuzzball bastards have gone and taken my peaceful little slice of retirement, and turned it on its head! So, as payback for pissing off my brother and hurting someone that even I can tell that he cares for deeply, a punishment, or restitution; whichever term you prefer, is required. Now... Before we begin our little 'operation,' tell me... Which one would you like to keep? "

Turning to face Bill, Donnie's muzzle slid open in a toothy smirk, which his brother quickly matched. The sight was enough to make Caleb wonder what kind of family he'd managed to blunder his way into.

“W-What?" The bear stuttered, visibly shaking.

Grumbling once more under his breath, Donnie's paw went behind his back, where he gripped the large handle of a Bowie knife which he'd had stuck between his belt and his waistband. Pulling it out, allowing the sunlight to glint off of the finely-polished blade, he turned once again to look down at the bear.

“Left or right nut?" he casually remarked, his southern accent taking over once again. “I mean, ya can decide now, and I'll only take one of em' off ya, or you can keep stutterin' like a half-retarded mule, and I can just go ahead and take em' both."

“One thing doesn't change, though..." Bill piped in, looking the black bear in his eyes as his next words passed his lips, “Before you leave this trailer tonight, you're gonna be eating one or both of em'."

Caleb's ears perked up as Donnie's southern accent suddenly returned.

“So either you picks one, or I takes em' and I make you eat em' both. I may not like my brother; hell if we're bein' honest, I DESPISE him. But I'll be damned if I let anyone make him break down like he did last night but me."

The last sentence made the tiger's eyes go wide.

“NO! BILL! ACE! I mean--"

“Don't worry about it, kid," came Bill's response, reverted to 'proper' English. “It'll be alright. His goons didn't see me when I snatched him up and raided his house. My truck's gonna need a new front bumper, though, but I'll live... I found out why you were looking for me, by the way, when I went through your gear last night. Hell of a job you've got set up, kid. Makes me proud, and you can bet we'll be discussing that later on... along with a couple other things... But Now..."

The room fell into a hushed silence as the shotgun was pumped with a fresh round once again.

“Apologize to my... my...--" Ace struggled to get the words out of his mouth.

“Aw, hell, little brother, you know what you want to say, so just say it and be done with it!"

“APOLOGIZE TO MY MATE!"

---

Well, here it is, everyone. Chapter Two of the Ace of Spades. You can look forward to more romance, drama and criminal shenanigans as it continues to develop. You might even see some characters from my older stories such as Charlie and James, and the family come into play. Until then, as always, I look forward to any comments or reviews. It helps to keep me writing.

The lyrics to Texas Blues are mine, by the way.