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The Champion

By Cris Fireheart / Ken Anderson

Chapter 10 – Truth and Consequences, 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!

And now, things start to take yet another wild turn. Multiple plans must come together. So many things could go wrong... Needless to say, things are about to get VERY serious... this chapter was actually so long that I had to split it into two parts, but bear with me. I'll make it worth it. (Edited for typos.)

--C.

10 PM, The Clayton Estate

The unopened dossier still sat on the table in front of the roaring fireplace. Standing around it, Jake, Marco, Rick, and Lenny were all filled with apprehension as they prepared for whatever it was that they might find. James, having grown tired of the day's events, told the group he was headed up to his room to go to bed for the night, but promised to be on his feet in time to assist them with the coming day. After all, there was plenty of work to be done...

After bidding goodbye to the older man, the group once again turned its focus to the thick file which lay before them.

“Well... I guess it's time we found out the truth about that day..." Ricky muttered under his breath.

“Agreed." Marco echoed, taking the time to catch his breath as he continued to stare down at the file.

“No matter what we find in there, we'll probably be the ones who have to handle this in the end..." Lenny added, turning to face his former brothers-in-arms, meeting each of their gazes. “Ted may be the one who has to fight him, but Rats is OUR problem. And if it comes down to it, we'll handle it together, a_s a Unit._ Like we used to..."

“Til' Death." Jake reminded them, with a nod of his head.

“Til' Death," Marco repeated with a solemn nod.

“Til' Death," Lenny nodded in agreement.

“Til' Death..." Ricky parroted, taking a deep breath to steel himself, before emptying his glass and letting out a heavy sigh.

With a sigh, Lenny leaned forward and used a claw to open the folder. As James had previously described, it was full of valuable information; including copies of airline boarding passes, along with photocopies of numerous fake ID's and passports, pages detailing the locations of many second-rate motels and low-class watering holes where Kenneth 'Rats' Markus had ostensibly stayed, and a few plastic-sealed SIM and Micro SD cards containing digital data, likely recordings and phone calls. What stood out the most, however, were the photographs and what appeared to be a series of printouts of news articles from the internet. Moving the heavy paperwork aside, the group gathered around closely as Lenny took the time to spread some of the photos out on the table.

The first shot that caught their eyes was one of 'Rats' Markus himself, taken recently, without a doubt. The grizzled-looking gray rat appeared determined, even slightly deranged, with a wicked, toothy sneer permanently drawn across his heavily-scarred muzzle as he appeared to be casually walking down the street in some small, rural town. Attached to the back of the photo was a cutout of a large, printed news clipping, which came into view as Lenny flipped the picture over. The headline read, “TWELFTH BODY RECOVERED NOW CONFIRMED TO BE IN CONNECTION WITH THE 'INTERSTATE CANNIBAL' MURDERS."

As Lenny read the short article aloud, it described all the markings of a serial killer's M.O. The latest victim, a large male Doberman, had been found in a wooded area near his home in rural Kentucky, with his throat slashed, multiple stab wounds, and the killer's horrific signature: His chest had been carved open, pulled forcefully apart, and his liver, heart, and a lung had been found to be missing. This revelation caused all of those gathered to draw in a tense breath as Lenny set the photo and clipping back onto the table, before looking for another one to check out.

“Guys... You don't think..." Jake almost whispered, as he drew the others' attention. As if reading his thoughts, Marco's ears suddenly perked up as he remembered what Victor, the butler, had told them not too long ago.

'...A rather gory series of still photographs, recorded by a security camera on Fire Base badger in Kenya, on the third day of April, 2019...'

“MOVE!" The wolf suddenly commanded, nudging Lenny aside as he began to dig through the mound of photos, searching for the ones he was looking for. Finally, at the very bottom of the stack, he found them, drawing in a gasp as he recognized the area where they'd been taken. There were a series of five still images, which he took the time to lay out in a row atop the table before them.

“..._This _is it," Ricky muttered under his breath, as he reached out to take one of them from the row.

The first photo showed Kenneth 'Rats' Markus, walking side-by-side through the base with a taller Hyena. The two appeared to be having a friendly conversation as they headed towards the large tent which had once served as the mess hall, in the distance.

“That's Bobby Sargent," Lenny noted, as he took the photo and had a look for himself.

“Yeah, that's him," Jake agreed with a nod. Lenny placed the photo back onto the table and reached for the next one in the row.

This image showed the same two people, only this time, it appeared that Markus had suddenly shouldered Sargent towards a gap between a large pair of tents, the Hyena's form blurry as he appeared to be stumbling from the unexpected hit. Placing this photo down as well, Lenny reached out to retrieve the third image from the series. This one appeared not to have been taken directly from a security camera, but from a reflective surface to which a different camera had been pointed. A professional digital forensics specialist had obviously taken the time to clean up the image so that it could clearly be seen. In this one, Robert Sargent appeared to be on his back in the sand, with Markus directly on top of his chest, both of his paws raised as he appeared to be gripping the handle of a large combat knife.

The group tensed up in unison, as they could already deduce what was about to happen next. His paw slightly shaking, Lenny set the photo down and lifted up the next one. This one drew gasps from them all. It showed Markus thrusting both of his paws into a large, vertical incision on the Hyena's carved-open chest. He appeared to be trying to forcibly pull the chest cavity open using only the strength of his bare paws. Blood covered his face, arms and uniform, and the Hyena had a permanent scream drawn across his muzzle. He'd have to have been dead by this point, thankfully.

A snarl was growing on Lenny's muzzle, as the tall, tattooed lion slammed the photo down on the table, before reaching for the final image. The group all leaned in closer as they prepared themselves for what they were about to see. In the final photo, Kenneth Markus appeared to be sinking his teeth into something bloody and almost unrecognizable. As Jake leaned in closer, he took a good look.

“Is that... his HEART?!" he exclaimed, backing away slowly.

“Fuck the Gods..." Marco muttered, bringing a paw to his head as he began to shake.

“You're telling me this bastard killed Bobby Sargent, just so he could cut out and eat his fuckin' HEART?!" Ricky yelled, his anger quickly building as he continued to study the photo. On a whim, Lenny, who still held the picture in his claws, decided to turn it over, and study the back. There, written almost elegantly in classical penmanship, was a simple, precise message.

'First confirmed victim, Robert Sargent, third April, 2019.'

The sound of loud heaving and retching could be heard from behind them. The group turned to see that Jake had run to find a nearby garbage can, where he'd begun to forcefully empty his stomach of that evening's dinner.

“FUCK! That sick bastard!" he managed out in between breaths. “And that top photo said there have been TWELVE just like it?!"

“That's right..." Marco muttered with a sad nod, lifting up the whole stack of photographs and spreading them out on the table, taking care to check the back of each one to determine the correct order in which to place them. Ricky quickly bent over the table to try to piece together the timeline.

“He went AWOL in Kenya after he killed Sargent, in April 2019," Ricky began, checking each photo in turn. “From there, it looks like... He made his way back to the States. His second recorded victim was a wolverine in Colorado, then a black Panther in New York City... It looks like he stuck to the east coast for about a year or two, before heading west. There's one more; a grizzly bear in Montana... The prick's been moving unfettered, with no real pattern to his victims or where he chooses to go," Ricky noted, as he took the time to read some of the travel paperwork before nodding towards each photograph.

“Yeah," Lenny concurred. “Only pattern I can notice is that he's been killin' people who are bigger than him. He always was pissed off about his size. That's why he always made it a point to put the bigger guys on their asses back during training. Anyway, it says here, he moved west again, this time to Seattle, where they found a Bull who'd had his heart and liver torn out. Then to L.A., Vegas.... as of this year, the son of a bitch has pretty much left a body in damn near every major state that counts. That last one in Kentucky was barely even a month ago! Now he's here in Texas... in OUR city..."

“Regardless of what he's already done, not to mention our personal feelings about it, we all need to come up with a plan for this." Marco reminded them. “Ted's supposed to be fighting him on Thursday. That gives us very little time to make sure he's prepared, not to mention to help James with whatever plan he's cooking up to pick up and recruit Lenny's uncle Rory. I gotta say, we've all been through some serious shit together, but this? This mission takes the cake. This isn't a street or military-style operation; this is some real cloak-and-dagger shit..."

“Agreed," Jake nodded in response, the coyote shifting his shoulder uncomfortably as the wounds on his back itched. “So far, from what I can see, we're gonna have to divide and conquer if we want to have even half of a chance of getting all of this done. At least one of us is gonna have to keep an eye on Markus, now that we know where he's been holing up. We may have to pull the twins off of their current assignment; I'll talk to my Dad about it in the morning; He might have some input. Still, someone else is gonna have to take the time to go and train Ted in how to fight to a higher standard, and the rest of us will probably be linking up with my Dad, along with Henry tomorrow to go and pick up Rory. So... any suggestions or complaints on the split?"

“--I'll go watch Rat--" Lenny began,

“--We'll look into Markus," Ricky interrupted pointedly. “It's SUNDAY. We have exactly four days to get Ted up to fighting speed, not to mention grabbing your uncle so we can figure out WHY your Dad decided to go with the fuckin' nuclear option on this fight. YOU are gonna be spending some time with Ted and Jimmy Fender. You're the one who TRAINED the bastard; hell, you even trained me and the twins, too. Connor and I will keep an eye on the rat, along with the twins, If Clayton agrees, while you make your way over to the West side and get that kid prepped as best as you can. Don't worry, we won't be seen. Counter surveillance was my thing back in the day, remember? ...And Lenny? DON'T hold back."

“That leaves Me and Marco to go with Henry and my dad and try to pick up Rory tomorrow," Jake nodded his head slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. Marco nodded his head in agreement. Heaving a collective sigh, the group stood in silence, processing what they had learned so far. Suddenly, out of the blue, Marco voiced a question that had been weighing on his mind from the beginning,

“Hey Jake, how exactly DID your dad come up with all of this information? We've barely had about forty-eight hours since this whole thing started; there's nobody I know who works that fast, except maybe someone who works for the government."

The coyote shrugged in response. “I have absolutely no idea, man. I honestly think it has more to do with Victor, our butler that you guys all met earlier. He's been working for my dad since we were all in Africa, but I pretty much know next to nothing about him. I've been back here for years, now, and even I've barely been able to get a word or two out of him. He seems to always be shadowing my Dad, no matter where he is, though. You guys all remember what he said earlier? 'Following him wasn't easy.' _And when he mentioned those pictures from Kenya? '_I hope you know what I had to go through to get ahold of them.' Makes me wonder about that guy, to be honest; I seriously gotta find out how my Dad meets these people..."

“Ex-Military, maybe?" Lenny offered with a shrug. “I heard some of those old retired vets in Britain choose to go that route."

“Who knows?" Ricky concurred. “We can find out about 'Victor' later. Right now, we're all clear on our roles, and we all need to get some sleep. Jake, are there any more empty rooms?"

“There's plenty," the coyote replied with a curt nod. “Come on; I'll get you guys set up."

The Next Morning, West Harbor City, Coleman Mobile home Park

“You can do better than that, kid!" Jimmy Fender panted heavily, the fur on his graying chest soaked through with sweat as he stared down at his son, who lay flat on his back against the dry, reddish dirt in front of him. “Gods know, you're gonna have to do a helluva lot better than this if you're gonna face that Rat."

“FUCK, old man! You nearly knocked two of my teeth out with that one!" Ted complained as he quickly rose to his feet, and shook his body to release some of the red dust which clung to his brown fur.

“YEAH?!" The older weasel panted, as he shook his limbs to loosen his muscles, before squaring up in front of his son once again. “You should've heard the call I got from them boys this mornin'," he continued, as Ted took the time to steady himself and take his own fighting position.

“That Rat, as it turns out, is one SICK SON OF A BITCH!" Jimmy bellowed, as he rushed in with a combo of fast punches and kicks, which Ted nimbly dodged, before suddenly switching into a Southpaw boxing stance, and landing a heavy left-pawed uppercut directly under Ted's chin, which lifted the young weasel slightly off of his feet and put him onto his back against the hard-packed dirt once again.

“This boy's been goin' around, l_eavin' bodies_ in every place he stays! And I ain't talkin' about bodies like you an' me leave em'... The way he carved them folks up, and what he did to em' after...Gods..."

Jimmy shook his head sadly as he remembered the phone call he'd received, and the photos which had been sent to his phone afterwards. Lost in his thoughts, however, the older weasel had let his guard down and failed to notice as his son used his body to slide towards him through the loose dirt on the ground, before scissoring his thick legs around his father's, tripping him backwards and bringing the older weasel to the ground with a heavy 'thud.' . Mounting his father's chest, Ted drew his fist back, and threw a straight punch with full force behind it, stopping his fist within centimeters of his father's surprised muzzle.

“So, the guy's a serial killer. A good one, apparently. I get it; but it still doesn't mean I can't take him down."

“Oh, Really?" The soft hissing voice hit Ted's eardrums before his body had time to react. In one smooth, practiced movement, a thick paw entered his field of vision, a pair of sheathed claws suddenly digging into his eye sockets as his skull was forcibly pulled backwards to reveal his unprotected throat. A fearful gasp left the young weasel's muzzle as he suddenly felt the presence of a razor-sharp claw piercing the skin directly above his jugular vein.

“Rat's is a trained killer; I trained him myself," the voice continued. “So am I, and so are Marco and Ricky. Luckily for YOU, after the fucked-up shit I learned at old man Clayton's place last night, I've decided to go ahead and take the others' advice. For the next few days, you're gonna be training with ME, pup. And I've got a LOT to teach you in very little time..."

The grip on Ted's skull was suddenly released, and he whirled around in the dirt to face his attacker. It was none other than Lenny Rhah.

“Ummm... Dad?" Ted whimpered slightly, turning towards his father, who'd already risen to his feet, and was busy lighting up a cigarette. “You're really gonna let HIM do this...?"

“Like I said, they called ahead and told me he'd be coming over here to sharpen up your skills, kid," Jimmy explained, taking a long drag before continuing, “Now, I've been teaching you how to fight since you were eleven years old. Four different styles, and that's not even including the stuff you learned out on the street for yourself. But this next one isn't gonna be a fight, kid. This guy doesn't want to see you down on a mat, or knocked out on the concrete; he wants my son DEAD..."

Stepping towards his son, the older weasel bent down at the waist and looked his pup in the eyes. “Did you really think that I would send my own son down into hell to fight the devil himself, without makin' sure my boy has all the tools he needs to beat him?! You ALREADY know how to fight, kid; everybody around here knows that. But for the next few days... Lenny here is gonna be teaching you how to KILL."

“Well spoken, old fuzz," The tall lion remarked with a respectful nod.

“Just remember our agreement, Lenny..." Jimmy warned, pointing his lit cigarette in the taller feline's direction.

“No broken bones, no brain damage, and no claw cuts besides the basics or accidents,"

Lenny repeated their agreement with a nod of his head. Heaving a sigh, he quickly removed his black Polo shirt, before tossing it away into the dirt, revealing his heavily scarred and tattooed chest. The cast on his arm had been forcibly torn away, revealing the long row of stitches that lined up almost perfectly along the muscle. Rolling his shoulders and popping the joints in his thick neck, he drew in a deep breath and released it slowly, calming himself for what he was about to do. Gazing towards Ted, who'd managed to pick himself up from the ground, he allowed the corner of his muzzle to rise in a sneer.

“Take your time, pup, and get ready. These next few days are gonna hurt like hell, and I know you might hate me for it in the meantime, but trust me when I say that what I'm about to teach you is for your own good. On my word, I can promise you two things: First, by the time I'm done with you, you're gonna be one of the most dangerous brawlers in the city, right up there with Ricky and Connor. And Second? You're gonna be able to at least hold your own against that prick Rats. I fuckin' guarantee it. When this is all over? If you want to keep going, I MIGHT be able to make some time to train you some more. MAYBE... IF you manage to survive. Is that all good with you, kid?"

The young weasel's face quickly went from anger and surprise, to a toothy, determined sneer of pure resolve. “Yeah. I mean-- Yes, SIR, Mr. Rhah!"

The tall lion laughed long and heartily at that. After he'd managed to stop his guts from spasming, he shook his head slightly, before letting out a heavy sigh, and turning to face Ted once again.

“Okay; first, never call me 'Mr. Rhah' again. Second, you already know everybody that I know; hell, you're part of Ricky's crew, for fuck's sake! You've even done work for the rest of the Family! Just call me 'Lenny,' kid. I don't need any honorifics."

“Wait; WHAT?!" came the sudden yell from Jimmy Fender, who'd dropped his cigarette from his lips upon hearing the news. Turning to his son with a wide-eyed look, he waited for an explanation.

Ted heaved a sigh, scratching the back of his neck with a taped-up paw, before slowly raising his gaze to meet his father's. He'd always known that this conversation would have to take place eventually. He'd just wished it had been during better circumstances.

“Yeah... I always meant to tell you about that. I just never found the right time, you know?"

“How long?"

“Freshman year at Harbor City U... I met Ricky and Connor, and I was looking for work at the time. And well, thanks to you, there's at least ONE skill I know I'm pretty good at. So I started having him set up fights for me. That part, you already knew about. I always used my winnings to help out with the bills and everything we need; I still have plenty saved..."

“From what I heard, Mr. Fender, your son has done plenty of good work with Ricky, Jake, and Marco for the last few years. Nothing too dangerous, though, mostly running errands and keeping a cut of their bigger business."

“....Sorry, pops...." Ted muttered, his ears flattening as he lowered his gaze to the ground. He could hear the heavy pawsteps as his father quickly closed the distance between them, letting out a heavy sigh as he exhaled smoke into his son's lowered face. Lowering a taped-up paw under his son's chin, he forced Ted to raise his eyes to meet his own.

“Kid, you know who I am, right?" He spoke softly, his smoke gripped tightly between his teeth.

“Yes, sir..." Ted whispered in reply, expecting that his punishment would be coming swiftly and decisively. Instead, he was snapped out of his mental shame by the sound of his father's wheezing, smoke-filled laughter. He had to raise his head and really look at his Dad to see that the older weasel had tilted his own head back, pulling away his cigarette as he let out a loud guffaw of pure laughter.

“...And you thought that you runnin' drugs and fightin' in the streets was somethin' that was gonna surprise me?! Hell, pup, I was just waitin' for you to come out and say it! I knew since after the shootout at Benny's and the hit at the Serengeti! Not to mention the night you came home with a backpack that had half a kilo each of weed and white girl stashed in it! Yeah, kid, you should know me better than that by now!"

“...I should've figured you might go through my shit... So... You're not pissed at me?"

“Nah, son. A job's a job. I don't much care how you do what you do; you're my son; you've got the right to live your own life the way you want to, and I ain't gonna be the one to stop ya. Though, we WILL be having a little talk about this later on. If you're gonna be bringing in money, you and me ought to start talking about rent, or at least MY cut of the profits..."

"But that's for later, Right now, you got a way bigger problem! BEHIND YOU! DUCK LEFT!" The old weasel cried out in warning.

Ted barely managed to duck out of the way of the heavy punch which had been aimed towards his right temple. Turning to face Lenny, he nimbly jumped back a few feet, took a series of deep breaths, cleared his mind, and readied himself to take what he was sure would be the most punishment he'd likely ever get to experience....

11:30 A.M., The Clayton Estate

“Alright... Now that everyone's awake, we're gonna have some coffee, or some food if any of you are hungry. Then, we're gonna sit down in the den for awhile, and I'm gonna try my best to explain the plan that I've come up with, which I hope is gonna be good enough to make sure that Rory Tebota ends up safe and in our custody before the day is over..." James spoke with a tired grumble as he stretched his arms and let out a suppressed yawn. Marco and Jake nodded their heads in agreement, before turning to face the nervous-looking young lion who'd been standing between them. His arms and muzzle were shaking slightly as he let out a quiet sigh, before nodding his head and lowering his gaze to the carpeted floor.

“Hey, cub..." James called over, stepping forward to place a hand on Henry's shoulder, causing him to flinch. “You need to relax. Everything's gonna be FINE, I promise you that. You've got me, Jake, and Marco on your side; you're probably the safest kid in Harbor City right now."

James' off-hand remark brought forth a small chuckle from the young lion, as he turned his gaze to face the older man's green eyes. “Yeah... It's just... my dad always used to tell me these crazy, fucked-up stories about you, and about Marco and his pack... He always told me that if you guys ever got ahold of me, you'd probably send me back in pieces..."

Jake and Marco couldn't help letting out short bursts of laughter as they shook their heads and reached out to take hold of each other's paw. Turning to face the Coyote, Marco used his free paw to lift Jake's muzzle so that their lips met in a deep, passionate kiss. After a moment, they pulled away, turning to face Henry once again, who had a look of shock drawn across his face.

“Do we LOOK like the kind of people who'd go out of our way to do something like that?" Jake remarked with a sly grin.

“Yeah! I mean, sure, my Family does plenty of business, and yes, sometimes that business includes murder, but we've never just attacked anyone without a solid, verifiable reason." Marco concurred.

“Case in point, Jonny Scars," Jake pointed out. “That one was a revenge hit for me, on Marco's part. For your brother, it was just revenge, period. For what he did to Lenny when your dad had him thrown out of the Pride."

“Yeah..." Henry's voice came out almost as a whisper. “I heard about it from Uncle Rory a few days ago, when I asked him about Lenny, and why he'd left the Pride... Come to find out, my own Dad's been lying to me about a lot of things this entire time..."

“...And THAT brings us back to our mission for today." James interjected, “I've gone and reassigned the twins to work alongside Connor and Rick, tracking Markus and his movements until the day before the fight. Lenny should already be on the West side, training up Ted at the Fenders' trailer. Personally, I like this particular group for this mission; Rory may feel less apprehensive once he sees some familiar faces. Now, let's all have at least some coffee, and maybe a joint and a couple of xanax each, before we get down to how, exactly, we're gonna do this. Victor?" James called out as the four of them took their seats in the den next to the still-smoldering fireplace.

As if on cue, the older gray fox, dressed in his butler's uniform, with his paws covered in thick, black leather gloves, appeared from the shadows, approaching them in almost complete silence as he carried a silver tray topped with four steaming cups of what smelled like very strong coffee.

“Four flat whites, with a hint of sugar," he explained, his British accent coming through as he passed each one of them a cup and saucer. As he lifted the last one to hand to James, he nodded his head slightly. “...And a hint of vodka in yours, as you like it, sir." he added with a slight smirk.

“Oh, excellent..." James gave a moan of appreciation as he took his first sip. “By the way, Victor, do you think you could find me some pot and a bottle of xanax? I believe a couple of us are going to be needing them for the day ahead..."

Standing to his full height, the fox reached a gloved paw into his coat, digging around inside, before coming out holding a small, white pill bottle. “Two-milligram 'bars,' as I believe they're called here in the States," he explained with a smile, before offering the bottle to James. Reaching into another pocket, he also produced a large, pre-rolled joint, which he courteously placed at the edge of the clean ashtray set in the center of the table.

“...And you just carry all that with you all the time?" The man questioned, as he looked over the bottle in his hands. “...Wait, this is an actual pharmacy bottle! This thing is sealed; there's two hundred in here; how'd you even GET this?!"

“I aim to please. You have your connections, Sir. And as you well know, I have some connections of my own. Now; if you'll all excuse me, I have another task I must attend to." With a slight bow at the waist, Victor turned on his paws and walked silently back into the shadows, disappearing, once again, through a servant's door hidden in the wall.

“...Dad?" Jake called over from his seat. “...Who exactly IS Victor?"

“That's... not my story to tell, son," James responded with a sad shake of his head, tearing away the plastic seal on the pill bottle, before untwisting its cap. “One day, and if, Gods forbid, anything goes wrong with this operation, it might be soon, he'll feel ready to talk to you and everyone else about it. He's not the only one I have watching over me and my operation, and I have already discussed it with both of my associates at length; I really feel that it's about time that everyone gets to know about them; how much they do for me... for US. But that's a conversation that'll have to wait until this is all over and done with..."

With his piece said, James reached in two fingers, removing a thick ball of cotton from the pill bottle, which he tossed onto the table, before tipping the bottle gently towards his palm and dropping out three of the white, wavy tablets. Tossing them into his mouth, he used his coffee to swallow them down, before offering two of them to Henry, seated next to him on the couch. The young lion took them without question and repeated the procedure. Marco settled for one, while Jake took two as well. Closing the bottle, and sticking it into one of the pockets of the pair of thick, black-denim cargo pants he'd chosen for the day's event, James let out a sigh, and leaned forward from his seat on the couch to address the group.

“Alright... Here's what I've got in mind so far..."

12:30 P.M., Northside, BIG KATZ GYM

“And you're sure he's going to be in there, cub?" Jake questioned, as Henry grabbed the gym bag he'd borrowed, and gave a quick nod of his head.

“Every morning, he starts his workout here at 10 A.M. He keeps going until about 1P.M., every time. I should know; I've tried the routine with him a few times. It's pretty fuckin' brutal."

“Alright then," James called back from the driver's seat. “Like we discussed earlier, we're gonna go ahead and try the friendly approach first. Marco? You're going in with the cub. Jake, I want you right here, locked and loaded, just in case they've already got someone keeping an eye on Rory. At the first sign of any serious trouble, we try our best to snatch him up and run. Worst-case scenario, we shoot our way out, and call it a loss. And you KNOW there's no way in hell I'm gonna be the one to tell Lenny that we lost his Uncle..."

“He's MY Uncle, too," Henry remarked. “And don't worry. I know exactly what to say to him to make him understand. If he does have guards, though, you guys should know I'm not very good in a fight. I mean, I've trained with Rory a little, but I'm nowhere near as strong or fast as most of the crew..."

“And THAT'S why you've got an Alpha backing you up," Marco responded with a toothy grin, offering the young lion a pat on his shoulder. The wolf had also dressed himself in a tank top and gym shorts and carried a gym bag of his own. “That's not a title that gets handed out lightly. If it comes to it, I can handle two or three cats, myself."

“Alright. I'm setting a timer for ten minutes; if you're not out of there with Rory by then, we're gonna assume something went wrong. If you're not out that door two minutes after that..." James removed a .40 caliber pistol from the slot in his door and took the time to check the magazine and rack the slide. “...We're coming in after you." His voice held a dark undertone that even scared Jake, as the four of them nodded their heads solemnly in agreement.

It was time to go to work, again....

---END CHAPTER 10---

That's chapter 10, everyone. Sorry it took me awhile, but this chapter was so large, I decided to break it down into two parts. I hope you all enjoy the story as it progresses; things are going to get better soon enough! Chapter 11 will likely be posted in a day or two.

As always, please comment, vote, or fave if you like my story! It's the readers that keep me going!

--C