FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The Champion

By Cris Fireheart / Ken Anderson

Chapter 7 – Rest and Reunions (Part 1 of 2)

Author's note: This story contains scenes of extreme violence, profanity, drug and alcohol use, sale, and abuse, and some sexual situations. Reader discretion is DEFINITELY advised. That being said, if none of that bothers you, then enjoy!

As ever, any comments, watches, faves, or votes are well appreciated!

It's been a rough ride so far; perhaps it's time for some downtime... Maybe? This chapter and the next were written back-to-back, and are a bit more focused on the history, character development, and future plans for this story. They also mark the halfway point of this Book, which I hope to continue on until I can finally come up with a proper way to end this 'quadrilogy' of stories, which has taken me over a decade to complete. Ehh, who knows? Maybe there doesn't have to be an ending... Harbor City still has many more stories to offer. Only time will tell.

--C

Connor and Ricky had been nearly shell-shocked after seeing the condition that Marco and Lenny had arrived in. The two wolves that Marco had originally sent to watch over them sat equally slack-jawed, their bruised bodies and concussed minds likely trying to formulate a viable explanation as to why the pair, who'd once openly declared themselves to be sworn enemies, now stood side-by-side, dripping steady amounts of blood onto Ricky's expensive carpet near the front door.

“Okay..." Marco let out with a slight wince, raising his right paw to gather everyone's attention before opening his muzzle to speak. “First things first--" he pointed a claw towards his two bodyguards, whose bruised muzzles and slightness of breath told him that they had been beaten utterly senseless.

“YOU two... I specifically remember sending you both over here to WATCH OVER Ricky and the others, not to FUCK AROUND and find out exactly how weak you really are! You see that Fox, sitting on the couch over there?" he motioned towards Connor, “He was trained by Ricky; a Marine who was PERSONALLY trained by me and Lenny ourselves! And Ted, the weasel holding that bag of ice against his knuckles? That's Jimmy Fender's son. One of the best home-brewed brawlers in the city! Did either of you seriously think you stood a chance against them in a no-holds-barred fight?!"

The two wolves let out a pair of submissive whines, their ears folding as their eyes began to trace the carpet at their feet. Almost imperceptibly, they shook their heads slightly in unison.

“GET OUT OF HERE!" Marco's voice suddenly erupted in rage. “Go back to the Family's manor, and tell Giancarlo that I'm turning you BOTH over to him for 'retraining' for the foreseeable future! And tell him that I'll make my way home when I'M ready to go back!"

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence; none of the parties involved being willing to make the next move. Gathering what strength he had left, Marco let out a deep growl as he turned towards the two wolves once again, bearing his fangs in a menacing snarl.

“Cazzo! What are you two idiots waiting for?! I said GO, NOW!"

Both of them quickly rose to their feet without a word and began to limp and stumble towards the front door of the apartment. A few seconds after they made their exit, the sound of their vehicle could be heard rumbling to life, before burning rubber as they sped away onto the streets below.

Smirking slightly, Marco turned to face Lenny, who had an almost identical expression drawn across his own muzzle. A soft chuckle came from Ricky as well, as he took the time to lean back on the tattered couch in front of them. Suddenly, without warning, the three of them burst out into howling laughter, Marco and Lenny struggling to hold back as each spasmodic burst caused more pain in their fresh wounds, leaving Connor and Ted sitting stunned as they watched the trio continue in in their loud release of revelry.

“"Hahahah!...shit," Ricky muttered, as he finally managed to calm himself down. “That was great; it was almost full 'Godfather,' the way you went off on those pups!"

“Heh, yeah!" Lenny agreed, “You've grown a much bigger set of balls since we were overseas, Binetti. That's for sure."

“Um, does anybody wanna fill us in on exactly what the hell THAT was all about?" Connor commented from his place next to Ricky on the couch. “Yeah!" Ted echoed, “I almost pissed myself! That threat felt real!"

The injured wolf let out a pained chuckle as he shook his head once more. “That's because it was real_,_ pup. Pack politics; it had to be done. Plus it'll keep both of them, not to mention my Beta off my back for a few days while Lenny and I... figure things out."

“Yeah; you know... WOLVES," Ricky added with a smirk, “They always have to assert their DOMINANCE over each other..."

Rising up from his seat on the couch, the young man crossed his thick arms over his chest and let out a sigh of disappointment as he finally approached Marco and Lenny to examine their wounds.

“Alright," he began, “Like you said a minute ago, 'first things first.' You two, SHOWER_, right now._ Throw those bloody clothes in the fuckin' trash, and make sure you clean out those cuts while you scrub down. Teddy?"

“...Y-Yeah?" The young weasel half-stuttered, unsure of how to react.

“Go into our bedroom. In the back of the closet, there's a giant-ass green rucksack. I want you to go through it and dig out the med-kit; don't worry, you'll know it when you see it. Bring it out here to me, along with two pairs of rubber gloves from the box in kitchen for me and Connor. Go!"

“Connor?" He addressed the Fox, who was already on his paws and waiting for action. “We need rubbing alcohol, or some hundred-proof vodka from the bar; whatever we have is fine. And go grab one of my old white cotton shirts from our drawers, shred it into strips with your claws and set them to boil in some water on the kitchen stove! Get moving! I'm gonna clear this table, and put some old towels down on the couch!"

The four of them all hurried to complete their assigned tasks. Marco and Lenny both knew that Ricky was more than capable of patching up their wounds; he'd done so for them both on several occasions on the battlefield. Thus, they wasted no time in stepping into the blue-tiled bathroom and stripping down to their fur, tossing their bloodstained articles of clothing into the nearly-empty trash can, after taking the time to recover their weapons, devices, and other things they wanted to keep.

“You want to go first?" Marco offered, as he grasped his good paw against the knob for hot water and gave it a powerful twist, which turned the shower on to full blast.

“Just shut up, and get in the tub, Binetti. You ain't got nothing I haven't already seen before."

Nearly ten minutes later, Marco and Lenny had emerged clean, though slightly damp, from their shower. They were clad only in matching pairs of gray sweatpants that Connor had generously donated to them both, as they silently took their places on the couch, which had been covered with unwashed towels to soak up any errant blood. As Ricky and the fox donned protective latex gloves and began methodically to check over the pair's wounds, Marco and Lenny took the time to tell them both their story.

They explained the initial plan to go after Jonny Scars; how Marco had ended up going to his one-time enemy for help, and the unexpected assistance and news that they'd received from Lenny's 'Uncle' Rory. Lenny paused to draw in a sharp, pained breath as he finally described the conclusion of their confrontation, from the unexpected, industrial sized methamphetamine lab on the club's top floor, to the final assault, which ended with Scars having his head half-removed by a single bullet, which, as it later turned out, had been fired by Ike from his vantage point atop the building across the street from the club.

Just then, Marco noticed something familiar out of the corner of his vision.

“Ted?" Came the wolf's softened voice, having been lowered to a more sympathetic timbre as he watched the younger weasel trying his best not to shake and squirm uncomfortably in one corner of the room. He'd seen plenty of soldiers who'd become squeamish and clammed up in the middle of combat before; especially after getting a first-hand look at the wounds of war.

“Y-yes, sir?" The weasel half-muttered in reply, still doing his best to avoid eye contact with the bloody scene unfolding before him.

“Look at me," Marco's voice returned to its normal commanding tone. Slowly and anxiously, the young weasel turned his head, until his dark brown eyes came into contact with the wolf's sky-blue orbs.

“Why don't you go and call it a night, pup? Old Jimmy's probably up in arms about you; you've been gone for days! Go ahead; go home to your old man... but tell him what happened here. Tell him everything you heard about what went down tonight, and tell him that I said to put the word out; if anybody comes around looking for any of us, to turn them away. That includes my Family and Lenny's crew. It also goes for you too, kid. We're all gonna need to take it easy for a few days..."

Straightening up, the young weasel nodded his head solemnly, before reaching down to retrieve his backpack next to the couch, heavy with his university textbooks, along with his share of the drugs from the previous job. He let out a sigh of genuine relief as he made his way across the living room to the front door. Before he left, however, he turned to give one last look towards his friends.

“You know... I honestly think all you guys are fuckin' nuts. But somehow? That's alright... I mean, seeing how you all just sort of fit together, even after what you've been through... I think I can finally understand just how you manage to pull through all of this... insane shit." the young weasel shook his head slightly as he turned to unlock and open the door.

“I'll give my pops the heads-up, and I'll be back around here on Monday, after my afternoon classes let out. If anything happens to come up in the meantime; you all know how to reach me."

With that, Ted stepped out into the humid summer air, closing the apartment door quietly behind him as he began to make his way downstairs.

“The kid's not wrong, you know," Connor quipped as he took ahold of Lenny's left arm, tracing the deep horizontal gash with his eyes as he silently contemplated the best way to close up the cut. “You guys almost seem a little TOO comfortable doing stuff like this all the time..."

“We served four years together in the damn Marine Corps, Champ," Lenny responded through gritted teeth as Connor unscrewed the cap from the large bottle of hundred-proof vodka on the table in front of them, before tipping it slightly over into the wound on the lion's arm. Lenny let out a pained hiss as he gritted his teeth against the burn, the claws on his free hand involuntarily digging into the cheap, wooden-frame couch as he struggled not to lash out at the Fox.

“We've been through way worse than this..." he finished, exhaling loudly through his muzzle as the burning pain finally began to subside.

Ricky, seated next to Marco at the other end of the tattered couch, had already managed to clean the wolf's shoulder wound as best as he could. His friend's ears suddenly perked up as Marco watched the younger man unlatch the Corps-issue medical kit on the table, before digging around inside, and coming up holding a pair of long, thin tweezers in one gloved hand, and a small syrette in the other.

“W-what's that for?" The wolf asked, his voice wavering as his ears folded back in fear and alarm.

“Morphine," Rick replied in a neutral tone. “ I can see some pieces of clothing fibers inside the wound; that knife that hit you was serrated, wasn't it? And you pulled it out? You're still the same headstrong idiot I used to serve with; If I don't dig out those tiny pieces of your expensive-ass suit, you'll be going septic in a day; maybe two. Connor? Here's one for Lenny; he'll be needing one, too, before you go to work on his arm," the man called out, tossing another one of the small syrettes towards the fox, who caught it expertly between two claws.

“Damn, Champ," Lenny muttered as he watched Connor quickly remove the cap from the needle with his teeth, before spitting it out onto the table. “You actually look like you know what you're doing..."

“It was one of the conditions that Ricky made me agree to before he would teach me how to fight," the fox explained, as he managed to locate the lion's thick jugular vein, and injected the drug with a practiced motion.

“If I wanted HIM to train me, I had to learn both basic and advanced combat medicine, too. So I could patch myself up; or in this case, patch you up..."

The large feline let out a soft groan as the drug immediately took effect. Reaching his gloved paws into the med-kit, Connor reappeared holding a small, curved needle and a long spool of clear, medical-grade suture thread.

“Yeah..." Ricky agreed, before administering his own dose of morphine to Marco, who nearly went slack on the couch as the familiar feeling of the opioid began to course through his veins.

“...But even with the morphine, you're both seriously fucked up right now. So... Sorry, guys, but this is still gonna hurt like a bitch."

With those final words, he immediately plunged the surgical steel tweezers deep into Marco's shoulder wound, causing the wolf to unleash a deafening howl of pure, unadulterated agony which shook the thin walls of the apartment, and could likely be heard by the neighbors and people on the streets down below.

---Sunday, Two days Later...---

Connor and Ricky awoke on their large bed, intertwined in each other's arms as the first rays of sunlight crept over their blanketed forms through the cracked-open blinds on the bedroom window. Stirring slightly under the covers, the fox came to first, stretching open his muzzle and letting out a loud yawn, the sound of which caused Ricky's head to twitch, as he began to open his eyes as well.

“Mornin'," the young man muttered, as he wiped away the crust in his vision with a tired hand. Letting out a yawn of his own, he turned to one side, leaning towards a small table next to the bed, which held only a simple lamp, an ashtray, and his pack of cigarettes, which he reached out for without hesitation.

“Mornin', yourself," Connor replied with a drowsy smile, leaning over to draw his long tongue over the man's cheek lovingly as he pulled himself up into a sitting position on their bed.

“So..." the fox began, “Do you have any plans for today?"

“Ugh..." Ricky shook his head slightly, as he placed a Marlboro between his lips and sparked it to life, drawing a deep breath before tossing the pack back onto the bedside table.

“Well, last night, Marco said he was gonna be taking off early this morning; something about 'settling' a few things with his Pack about the upcoming 'merger' with Lenny's crew. Lenny's lazy ass is probably still out in the living room on the couch, watching 'Flix and smoking up all my good fuckin' weed... again. That damn cat could never get enough, even back in the day..."

Ricky paused to inhale once more from his cigarette, before offering it to Connor, who wasted no time in taking it between his claws and biting the filter solidly between his teeth.

“Anyway," Ricky continued, “Marco asked me to do a favor for him this morning. It's nothing dangerous; just an errand he wanted me to take care of for him..." The young man reached a hand between the mattress and the spring box on his side of the bed, before coming up holding a thick, sealed manila envelope.

“I gotta drop by Benny's Diner in the Heights, to pay for the damages from the shootout the other day; Marco insisted on it. You know, you're welcome to... come with me, if you want."

The comment made the red fox's ears perk up.

“Seriously? I finally get to take a walk on the 'dark side' with you, for once?" Connor laughed aloud, choking slightly as smoke gushed out from his open muzzle. Reaching over to retrieve the cigarette, Ricky placed it back between his own lips, before offering a shrug of his shoulders in response.

“Honestly? After the past week or so that we've all had? I'm pretty sure that you and I crossed and burned that particular bridge a long time ago," Ricky remarked, before stubbing out the cigarette in the bedside ashtray, and sitting up to stretch out his arms.

“Now, get up, fox-boy. We've gotta get dressed and I've gotta make sure that a stubborn-ass cat remembers to take his fuckin' pills."

With those words, the couple barely managed to drag themselves out from under the bed sheets, before slowly making their way towards their shared, moderately-sized walk-in closet.

A few minutes later, Connor and Ricky emerged from their bedroom, the fox dressed in a simple black tank-top, followed up with his red boxing shorts, while Ricky had opted for a black t-shirt which ominously read 'FUCK YOU, FIGHT ME,' and a faded pair of heavy black jeans, to go along with an old, scuffed up pair of his black, military-issued combat boots. As was his usual 'ritual,' the man had also wrapped his hands and arms completely in fighting tape, all the way to his elbows, as was his norm.

When the pair began to walk past the small kitchen, Ricky took note of an orange pill bottle balancing precariously at the edge of the granite counter top. He gave a slight grumble and a shake of his head before reaching out to snatch it into his palm, before continuing to lead them both down the small hallway which led out to the spacious living room.

Shaking the bottle loudly, the young man cleared his throat, causing Lenny's ears to perk up as the bare-chested lion turned to face them from his position on the couch, his heavily tattooed, flexible body splayed out almost regally upon the tattered and torn surface of the old piece of furniture. As expected, the feline held a rather large cone between the first two claws of his uninjured paw, and Ricky could spot his personal rolling tray laying atop the antique glass table, piled high with buds and surrounded by empty packs of cheap cigars and rolling papers. The man heaved a sigh and shook his head once more as he tossed the orange pill bottle towards the lion, who managed to catch it effortlessly between his sharpened, yellowed teeth.

“Take the fuckin' antibiotics," he let out with an exasperated sigh. “The last thing we need is you dying on our now blood-stained couch, your Highness..."

“Yeah, yeah; fine. You got any water around here?"

Connor quickly turned around and made a detour towards the kitchen, where he raided the refrigerator, before coming back with an ice-cold bottle of locally-sourced water. Handing it over to Lenny, the couple watched as the large lion begrudgingly unscrewed the cap from the pill bottle, before tipping two of the large, white tablets into his muzzle, swallowing them down with a quick swig from the water bottle.

“There; done. Before you try to remind me, again, I KNOW; I gotta choke down two of these nasty things every six hours for the next WEEK. And like I told you guys yesterday, don't even worry about the couch or the carpet. After what you guys did for us the other night, I owe you both one, so I'll have something newer and more modern delivered, once I can reach out to my crew and get back on my paws... OH, yeah! Before I forget--" The lion took a long drink from the bottle turning to face Connor and Ricky once more.

“Marco gave me a call a little over a half-hour ago. Apparently, Jake's finally awake, and he's gonna be getting released from the hospital this afternoon. According to Marco, and I quote, 'We've all been given a formal invitation to the Clayton Estate this evening.' Apparently, old man Clayton wants to show his appreciation for us taking care of his little 'problem,' and make sure that Jake knows he still has plenty of friends who'll always have his back. I'll say it again, that's an invite from James himself, and he did mean ALL of us. So, while you two are out handling your business for Marco, I'm gonna call up a couple of my guys and head over to my place. Gotta get changed into something at least halfway 'respectable,' though the way wolf-boy sounded when he passed on the news, I'm pretty sure it's not really gonna be a 'formal' affair. And don't worry; I promise, I won't smoke up all your shit while you're gone," Lenny added as an afterthought, as he raised the large cone to his muzzle to take another hit.

“Bullshit..." Ricky muttered under his breath as he and Connor made their way to the front door, stepping out into the humid heat of the Harbor City morning as they closed and locked the entrance behind them.

Twenty minutes later, Ricky pulled his large truck up against the curb next to the familiar alleyway which led to Benny's Diner.

“So... you could've died that day..." Connor muttered as Ricky turned the engine off, before pocketing his key

“Yeah..." Ricky sighed, giving the fox a single nod. “To be honest, I still don't know if it was Scars' ego or just pure fuckin' luck that the old cat let me live... I haven't really been thinking about it too much; it's like Lenny said; we've been through worse. Still; you and me, we've been together for a long time, now; we've been through hell and high water together, these past ten years... You know what I do, why I do it, and that I TRUST you. I can't say that about many people. I know it's been dangerous lately, but you know I'll never lie to you when it comes to my battles; hell--fuck it, I love you, fox-boy, and you know that."

“I love you too, you fuckin' asshole. But next time, could you at least try to tell me about your near-death experiences BEFORE you go out and have them? Who knows, maybe I might want to be there with you one day."

“Yeah; like I'll ever let THAT happen..." Ricky muttered under his breath as he reached over to retrieve the cash-stuffed envelope from the truck's glove compartment.

“Now come on, let's go see Ol' Benny and get this done, so we can get ahold of Marco and find out exactly when we're supposed to be showing up to this party."

Connor gave an affirmative nod as the two of them hopped out of the truck, the sound of its alarm chirping behind them as they began a slow walk down the perpetually deserted alleyway. Once they'd reached the rusted, brass-handled entrance, Ricky pulled the heavy door open, before gesturing for Connor to step in first. The fox took in a deep breath through his nostrils as they stepped into the grungy, smoky atmosphere of the Diner. Almost immediately, his mouth began to water uncontrollably.

“Yeah... Now THAT'S the reaction I was expecting from you..." Ricky chuckled as he led the way into the dining room, heading directly for the bar. As they approached the dusty, bullet-damaged granite counter top, however, Ricky suddenly stopped in his tracks before stepping out in front of Connor, holding out an arm to block him from going any further.

There, seated upon a simple, backless bar stool, was an athletic young lion whose golden mane had only recently started to grow out into its full thickness. Dressed in a simple black business suit with a gold inner shirt and a single, heavy gold ring at the end of his tail, the young feline's ear twitched slightly as he acknowledged their presence, lowering the bottle of beer in his paw slowly onto the bar as he swiveled in his stool to face them, his expression nearly unreadable.

“Rick Davis and Connor Oliver," came the young lion's smooth, baritone voice. “I can't say that I expected the two of you to frequent this part of town... Especially you, Champion," the lion raised his beer towards Connor, before downing its entire contents in one large gulp. Exhaling with satisfaction, the well-dressed lion gingerly placed the empty bottle back onto the bar, drumming his extended claws rhythmically against the solid stone surface as he studied them both with a curious, critical gaze.

“Henry Rhah," Ricky bowed his head slightly in respect. “The 'Second Son.' Last I heard, you'd graduated from Harbor Hills High early and were supposed to be in college, not running around doing bullshit errands for your dad. But well, you seem to know all about us, kid, so how about you? What would bring YOU, of all people, to Benny's in the Heights?"

“The same as you, apparently, Mr. Davis," Henry smirked as he nodded towards the envelope in Ricky's hand, before reaching into his suit coat and producing a very large, rubber-band secured wad of hundred-dollar bills.

“Paying for the damages, of course."

“Huh... Well, Marco insisted on chipping in, as well, so I guess we're both making a nice-sized donation today..."

“Indeed."

Just then, the heavy hoof-steps of Benny, the owner, could be heard approaching from the swinging doors which led back into the kitchen. Ducking his large horns under the entrance, the extremely large Bison came out holding two plates of what smelled like steak fajitas, with a healthy mixing of caramelized onions, and red and green bell peppers tossed in. Noticing Ricky and Connor out of the corner of his vision, he gave them both a curt nod, before motioning for them to take their seats at the bar.

“I could damn near smell the two of ya comin' in," the old Bison admitted, as he set one of the plates down in front of Henry, before carrying the other over to Connor. “Blood, steel and stress. Here; this plate is compliments of the house, Champ. After that knockout I saw last week, your money's no good 'round here. Anytime you get a hankering for some REAL cookin', you come 'round here and see me an' my boy, yeah? We take care of our own." He grinned slightly as Connor snatched up the fork on the plate and began to dig in hungrily.

“Oh, hell yeah, I'm definitely comin' back, sir--" the fox nearly choked on a piece of beef as he attempted to answer.

Benny let out a loud, wheezing burst of laughter as he watched the fox try to swallow down far more than he could chew.

“No need to go so fast, kit; slow down! Tell you what, I'll go and grab you all a fresh round of beers to wash it down with, alright?" The old Bison continued to shake his head in amusement as he ducked back into the kitchen area once again.

“You know, it's true what they say; this place really is a hidden gem," the feline purred slightly as he took in another forkful of beef and green peppers. A few seconds later, Benny reappeared with three open beers, which he placed almost reverently in front of his three patrons.

As he took hold of his bottle, Ricky slid the manila envelope across the bar towards the older Bison, who took it without question, before placing it into one of the front pockets on his grease-stained apron. Not to be outdone, Henry cleared his throat loudly, before holding out the wad of hundred-dollar bills with a toothy grin drawn across his muzzle.

“That's from Marco--" Ricky began,

“--And on behalf of my Father and our Pride," Henry interrupted, nodding respectfully towards Benny as he went back to work on his lunch.

“...Hey, Benny?" Ricky called over, causing the Bison to turn in his direction. “Would you mind making up a few large trays of this stuff, to go? Oh, and throw in some hot tortillas, if you've got any. An old friend is having a little get-together this evening, and I was thinking that it might be a nice gesture to bring something along..."

Benny nodded his head, understanding both the spoken order and the unspoken implications. Turning on his hooves, he ducked into the kitchen area once again, leaving the three of them alone in the dining room once more.

“Alright, Henry, you can go ahead and drop the act, kid," Ricky chuckled as he raised his beer to take a sip.

The younger lion let out a relieved sigh, allowing his shoulders to sag slightly as he suddenly picked up his plate and began to devour his meal with an almost primal relish.

“Yeah... Sorry about that," He noted with a smirk, placing his now-empty plate onto the bar. Retrieving a pack of menthol cigarettes from inside of his coat, he offered Ricky and Connor a pair of cigarettes, which they took, as Connor hurried to finish his own plate.

“Gotta keep up appearances; you know how it is," He continued.

“Yeah," Ricky nodded his head in agreement, as he lit his cigarette and slid the lighter across the bar, so Henry could do so as well.

“So..." the young lion began, “Is it true? I saw the security footage from the alleyway behind the Serengeti Club, before I had it deleted from the servers. Marco Binetti took out Jonny Scars, with my older brother?"

“Yep," Ricky responded with a simple nod. “According to Marco and your brother, Scars had a major-level meth cooking operation going on up on the top floor in his 'office,' so they had to handle things the old-fashioned way, with knives and balls. A sniper actually finished the job, though, from what I heard."

“I saw the aftermath; it was all over the news! The old cat's brains were splattered on the sidewalk! Even my father saw it! Though, to be honest, he was more upset at the fact that we're going to have to shut the Serengeti down for at least two months while we clear out all of Scars' lab equipment. When I asked him how he felt about losing one of his Captains, all he said was, 'It's about time someone put the old cat to bed.'"

“No shit. Old man Clayton pretty much had to give Marco an ultimatum to get the job done; I was there to see it happen." the young man took a long pull from his cigarette before continuing, “But your brother? Now, THAT was a surprise. It was all Marco's idea to go and find him and get him involved. Before a few nights ago, I hadn't even seen him since we were all back in the Corps; crazy bastard..."

“So, he's alright?" Henry's voice rose a few octaves as his hazel eyes shone with hope. “I saw him bleeding pretty badly on the footage!"

“He's fine, cub," Connor piped in, having finally finished his own meal. “He's been staying around at our place for the past few days, recovering from having his left arm sliced open and stitched shut, while smoking up all the weed we have left in the apartment."

“So, he's okay... Thank the Gods. Is there any chance that I might be able to come by and see him? Please; it's been almost a year since the last time I've spoken to him. He never calls me from the same number twice..."

Connor and Ricky exchanged glances, before the man let out a soft sigh, raising his beer to his lips and draining the bottle, before tossing his cigarette butt down its neck.

“According to Marco, James is having a little get-together as a kind of reward for a job well-done, and to celebrate Jake getting out of the hospital today. That's why I ordered the food. From what I heard, it's pretty much an open invitation. We'll both be there; so will Lenny. Maybe a few other friends of the family, too; depending on who the old man feels like calling up. If you really want to, you can show up with us. Your brother basically said he'd meet us over there."

Henry's hazel eyes seemed to light up as he quickly retrieved his cell phone from one of his pockets.

“What time does it start?"

“We don't know yet; I was planning on giving Marco a call once we got done with our business here. I should know for sure in a bit."

“That's fine; just give me a minute..." Henry muttered as his claws flew at lightning speed, firing off what sounded like at least a half-dozen text messages at once.

“There... done. I just cleared my entire schedule for the day. Now, you said you were bringing the food? Do you think it would be too forward if I brought something, as well?"

Ricky gave a slight shrug of his shoulders in response. “Who knows how James thinks? But, if you're asking for my advice, you might as well spring for some good booze. It is supposed to be a party, after all."

“Alright then, I've got just the stuff in mind. I'll go and get it all together-- and get out of this fuckin' suit. The old man still insists we wear them, even in the SUMMER. Here, Rick, let me give you my number. Text me when you've found out the time. I'll have myself dropped off a few blocks from your apartment, so my dad's driver won't see me heading out to the Clayton estate..."

“Alright, deal; go ahead and tap it in," Ricky nodded as he handed over his phone. Then, a sudden realization hit him:

“Wait; just how the hell do YOU know where we live?!"

Well, this is Chapter 7, the first in a two-part series which will focus more on character development and personal drama, instead of straight-up violence for once. I apologize if it seems a bit long-winded, but I like it when people get to know my characters, instead of just seeing them as pawns on a chessboard, so to speak. But bear with me. This chapter, and the next, will build up to something much greater in the end. I promise.

--C