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The Champion

By Cris Fireheart / Ken Anderson

Chapter 15 – Aftermath / Recovery

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!

After the chaos at the Harbor City Docks, the different members of the new alliance have all decided to rest and recover in their own individual ways. Some choose to reconnect, some choose to reminisce, and still, some choose to look towards the future... Let's find out what they all have planned!

--C

9:15 A.M., Ricky's Apartment, Four Days Later...

Ricky and Connor were curled up together in their large bed as the first true beams of sunlight began to stream in through the blinds on the bedroom window, bathing them both in its warmth and insisting that they rise to face the day.

For once, Ricky managed to wake up first, opening his eyes to find Connor's strong arms wrapped securely around his body, with the man's head pressed firmly into the red Fox's chest. He couldn't help but smile at the peaceful look on his mate's face as he tried his best not to move, so as to enjoy the sight for just a moment longer. However, Connor somehow managed to sense that he was being watched, and the Fox's emerald-green eyes slowly began to open as he was greeted with the smile drawn across Ricky's face.

“Mornin...'" he greeted the young man with a loud yawn. “You look like you're in a good mood today."

“In a way, damn right, I am," Ricky concurred, as he reached out an arm behind his mate's head and pulled Connor into a deep kiss. “I feel great, and I get to wake up with the most important person in my life laying right next to me... but what happened the other night? That still hurts..."

Connor let out a slight huff as he took a moment to untangle himself from their embrace before stretching out his arms and opening his maw to let out a long, drawn-out yawn. Reaching for a bottle of water on the small table next to his side of the bed, he unscrewed the cap and drained half of its contents before letting out an exhale of satisfaction. With a smile drawn across his muzzle, he turned back to face Ricky, who'd already begun his own morning routine of reaching for his pack of cigarettes on the opposite table.

“Are you feeling alright_?_" Connor asked as Ricky lit up a Marlboro and took the time to draw in a deep breath. “You've been on high alert ever since a few nights ago..."

“Honestly? No; not really." Ricky admitted, turning to face his lover and offering him the cigarette, which Connor took and placed between his teeth.

“I'm a fuckin' idiot. I put you in serious danger, fox-boy. I wasn't thinking clearly; you should never have been put in a position where you might've been vulnerable like that. I fucked up, babe, and even though I know that it's all over now and we're both safe, I guess I'm just... not ready to forgive myself for it yet."

“Hey, hey, come here; look at me." Connor instructed, as he wrapped a soft paw around Ricky's chin and turned his head to face him.

“I never felt threatened. Do you know why? Because I KNEW that you and the others would be coming for me. I never had any doubts, and you shouldn't either. You were the one who taught me that sometimes, you just have to trust in your friends; your unit, and know that they'll always be there to have your back. And you all did. Though, if I'm being honest, after what I saw Victor do to that rat... Let's just say I never wanna be the one to piss that old guy off..."

“Hah! You and me both, love," Ricky agreed with a slight nod of his head. Grinning slightly, he reached out his hand to retrieve the cigarette as Connor removed it from his muzzle and offered it in his direction.

“So don't think about it too much," the Fox continued, as he slid his furry body up against Ricky's side. “As a matter of fact, I think I've got an idea to help you take your mind off of things..."

The man let out a short chuckle, taking a deep breath from his smoke as his pale face easily revealed the blush which quickly filled his cheeks.

“I think the lube's over in your drawer," Ricky remarked, as he went to work removing his tank top and boxer-briefs. “And throw the radio on, will ya?" he called out, as he quickly stubbed out the cigarette into the nearby ashtray.

“Sure thing; what do you want to hear?"

“Just switch on something random," Ricky suggested as he reached his hands down to grip the lining of the fox's boxers, before tugging them down his thick legs, revealing his already plump sheath. With a sly grin spreading across his muzzle, Connor reached a paw over to switch on the small, old-style radio that he'd recently purchased from one of the many secondhand shops in the Heights. After a few seconds of fiddling with the analog dial, the sound of loud rap music began to fill the room as Connor reached down to pull open the drawer on his bedside table, removing a small bottle from it, and popping open the cap to spread some of the slick substance onto his claws.

_ Yeah, yeah, yeah,_

_ Goin' on you with the pick and roll,_

_ Young LaFlame, he in Sicko Mode..._

_ Made this here, with_

_ all the ice on in the booth;_

_ At the gate outside,_

_ When they pull up, they get me loose;_

_ Yeah, jump out, boys,_

_ That's Nike boys,_

_ Hoppin' out coupes,_

_ This shit is way too big,_

_ When we pull up, Gimme the loot!_

Ricky let out a heavy sigh as he slowly turned around on the bed, laying down on his stomach to grant Connor access to his backside. The young man gritted his teeth slightly as he felt the Fox's claws begin to enter him slowly, preparing him for what was to come. After a moment of this treatment, Connor pulled out his claws and moved to maneuver his body atop of his mate's, rubbing his hardening cock against Ricky's entrance as the music continued to play.

_ Was off the Remy; had a papoose,_

_ Had to hit my old town,_

_ To duck the news,_

_ Two-four-hour lockdown; we made no moves,_

_ Now it's 4 A.M., and I'm back up_

_ Poppin' with the crew,_

Ricky let out an audible gasp as he felt Connor slowly slipping in. The Fox was always gentle, however, and he gave his mate plenty of time to get used to his length before he began to thrust steadily, moving both of their bodies as one as he did his best to bring them closer and closer to their peak, while the music, now ignored, continued to play in the background.

_ I just landed in; Chase B_

_ Makes it pop like Jamba Juice;_

_ Different colored chains,_

_ think my jeweler really sellin' fruit,_

_ And they chokin' man,_

_ know these crackers wish it_

_ Was a noose._

_ Somone said,_

_ To win the retreat, we all in too deep,_

_ Pla-play-playin' for keeps,_

_ Don't play us for weak._

_ Someone said,_

_ To win the retreat, we all in too deep,_

_ Pla-play-playin' for keeps,_

_ Don't play us for weak._

The Clayton Estate, 11:45 A.M.

“Damn! Can't you be a bit more gentle, love? That stings!"

Victor had his teeth firmly gritted and was trying his best not to flinch as James continued to liberally apply a thick mixture of antibacterial ointment and Novocaine cream onto the two large, recently-stitched slashes which now adorned the older fox's chest.

“Just breathe, yeah? You'll be fine, Vic; I know you can handle this much. Luckily for you, I've still got a few Percocets stashed away somewhere, so you won't be feeling much of it, once I decide you can have a couple."

“Oh, that sounds perfect..." The Fox mumbled as James finally finished applying the medicine, before reaching out towards the table in front of them to retrieve a very large roll of gauze bandage. Heaving a sigh and lowering his ears in submission, Victor raised his arms and allowed the man to wrap several layers of the sterile fabric around his chest, before tearing off one corner, and tucking it into the folds to secure it.

“There; now you're done. You should be good until tomorrow morning, if you don't shower, at least. Now that that's out of the way... How do you think Damien and his sons have been doing? I already know that Marco has been spending most of his time downstairs in the basement with his two 'guests.' Also, Jake has been a bit... cold towards me since that night. I honestly don't know why... Have your ears picked up anything?"

“Well..." The old Fox began as he stood up from the sofa and retrieved his clean, white, button-up shirt from where it had been spread out around one of the den's velvet-covered chairs, “Iggy, or Damien, if you prefer, has at least been attempting to mend fences with his sons, so to speak. His brother-in-law, however, refuses to talk to him at all, since he found out that 'Iggy' gave the order for him to be killed before we managed to retrieve him. At the very least, Damien and Lenny have been speaking. Henry still feels too pressured to take part; I don't think he's ready to forgive his father just yet. He's been spending most of his time out in the streets with Ricky, Jake and Connor, when they're around and have business to attend to. As for Marco, I'm well aware that he has his own agenda involving the two members of the Council that they managed to capture. The Golden retriever, Arthur, as it turns out, was the one who originally ordered for Connor's abduction. The Pit Bull, 'Dash', as he calls himself, has so far refused to give his real name, and has remained silent on his role in the matter. Hunter Klaus, the German Shepherd, has decided to go underground with what's left of his troops, as far as our alliance could determine."

“What about Dmitri, that Doberman biker?"

“He's kept his word thus far; in fact he called me personally last night, just to make sure that I understood, once again, that he and his street crews intend to remain as neutral parties until you and your partners finally come to a decision about what to do with his former comrades. I still haven't figured out how he got hold of my mobile number, though..."

“I told Marco to give it to him; it's like you said, he kept his word and set Connor free after the fight, not to mention handing over Damien and his bodyguards to us without any issues. Sorry for not telling you in advance, but according to Marco, Dmitri is either extremely scared of you, or desperate to show you some form of respect. He's actually part German, and also Russian-Irish, from what Marco says. Did your clan ever have any business with him or his family in the old country that you know of?"

Victor paused in thought for a moment as he finished buttoning up his shirt, before reaching out to retrieve his coat and slipping his arms through the sleeves. “Not that I can remember," he noted with a shake of his head. “But there may be a connection that I'm not aware of. As my father once taught me, 'Fear or Respect. Both will make you allies, and both will make you enemies. Take care how you wield them.'"

“Wise words to live by," James agreed with a nod as he reached out to help Victor finish donning his butler's uniform. “Alright. I'm gonna go upstairs and check on the Twins. Ike is still holed up in a bed on the third floor, and his brother hasn't left his side since the Surgeon finished his work five days ago.. Something tells me that I'll be owing Benny at the diner a serious favor for making him call up his brother to help us out so late on that night..."

“Understood. I'll return to my usual duties as well... Until you call for me, of course."

“Of course." James smiled, as he stepped back to admire his handiwork, before turning to make his way towards the ornate staircase which led to the upper floors. Victor smiled slightly as he watched James depart, before turning on his heels and heading towards the kitchen, where he planned to brew himself some strong coffee in order to start his morning properly.

As he made his way to exit the den, however, the sound of someone clearing their throat loudly suddenly caused his ears to perk up and drew his attention. Turning around, he came face-to-face with Jake, who'd been leaning against the wall near the entrance to the kitchen.

“So..." The Coyote began, “We've known each other for at least three years, now. You've always been pretty sneaky, and after what I saw the other night, you're a serious badass; I'll go ahead and admit that. But not even you or my dad could've hidden that kiss that he gave you from me..."

“...You saw that?"

“Yeah... I don't think anyone else did, though. For the past few days, I've been keeping to myself; doing some serious thinking and trying my best to come up with some way to bring it up to either of you. But if I'm being honest? I've got nothing. Between you and I, all I want to know is just one thing: how close are you to my dad, really?"

“...Would you prefer the truth or a lie?"

“Vic, I'm a soldier. You've known me since I came back from overseas. I'm pretty sure you'd know the answer to that question by now."

The older Fox let out a heavy sigh as his eyes began to trace the floor beneath his feet. After a few seconds, however, he finally drew in a breath, and raised his gaze to meet Jake's.

“I'm close enough to him that I can reach out for him when he has his nightmares. And I'm close enough to him that I'm more than willing to kill or die for him, as you saw that night at the warehouse."

Jake suddenly let out a breath that he'd likely been holding in since he'd asked his question. Meeting the older Fox's gaze with a thin smile, he offered a simple shrug and a nod of his head, before crossing both of his arms over his chest,

“Good... Gods, if I'm being real, it's been so long for him; I never thought he would really move on, especially after Charlie died...yeah; this is good. Just... Can you promise me one thing?"

“Name it, Jakob, and see it done."

“Take care of my Dad. That's all I ask. Protect him. Counsel him. And make sure that no matter how far this crazy shit that we've all started goes, tell me that you'll be there for him."

Victor was honestly taken aback by Jake's straightforward request. Originally, when it had begun to develop, he and James had mutually agreed to keep their intimate relationship a secret, not only to keep James protected from his association with Victor and the fox's history, but because the older man had been worried about how his son would react to the news if he ever found out. Now, hearing that Jake only wanted his father to be happy and protected, the old fox could feel a slight buildup of warmth in his chest. He couldn't help it as the corners of his gray muzzle twisted up into a smile as he locked eyes with Jake once more.

“On my honor, I'll swear it," he spoke clearly, straightening up his posture and nodding his head. “Your father will always be in good paws with me. And I also swear that I will never let him be hurt, by myself or anybody else, for that matter. If I ever break that promise, I'll offer you my throat myself."

“That's... A little bit of overkill, man. But I'll take it. One thing, though; do you guys have some sort of special rule or something? I'm only asking because every time I see my Dad, you're always nearby, even if you're not in the same room with us. Is that something that you both agreed on?"

“Special rules? Well, no... aside from 'The gloves stay on during sex,' ever since I started working for him, I've always been his shadow. I am wherever he needs me to be, at any time, and for whatever reason."

“Wait-- , WHAT?! NO-- I didn't mean--... FUCK! I've got shit to do today, man! Now I've gotta do it all with THAT image in my head?! I'm outta here; I've gotta go move some of Marco's product over to Henry on the Northeast and resupply some of my runners on the Southside, before I come back here and swallow enough fuckin' Xanax to forget I ever heard that shit!" The flustered Coyote turned on his heels and began to make his way towards the main entrance, muttering slightly to himself as he shook his head as if he were attempting to banish the thought.

Victor couldn't help but chuckle in amusement as he reached a gloved paw into one of the inner pockets of his coat and removed a pack of Marlboro menthols. Tossing a cigarette up into the air, he expertly caught it between his teeth, before replacing the pack and retrieving a battered old Zippo lighter from another pocket, which had the words 'Argentum pro tuis cogitationibu_s' etched onto its surface. '_A Silver for your thoughts,' indeed_,_ the old Fox chuckled as he lit his smoke, before continuing to make his way towards the kitchen to prepare his morning coffee.

No matter what happened, he was going to enjoy this day.

The Clayton Estate, Basement Level

Marco was extremely frustrated, and it was showing. He hadn't bathed or had his fur trimmed in almost a week. He and his Beta, Giancarlo, had been taking turns working over the Retriever and the Pit Bull in the basement of the Clayton Estate for almost five days, and only one of them had broken enough to admit to his part in the attempt to sabotage the fight at the warehouse. Arthur, the golden retriever, had been more than forthcoming with his information, including his involvement in Connor's abduction, which had quickly earned him a short, but brutal beating at Ricky's hands, before Marco had finally pulled him away, reminding the younger man that the dog might still have valuable information left to offer.

The real problem was the Pit Bull, 'Dash', as he called himself_._ After a few days of interrogation and combing the streets, it became apparent that the dog was very highly connected; the mere mention of his name in the Heights and Harbor Hills had caused many muzzles and mouths to clam up when Jake and Ricky had put out their feelers. No matter what was done to him, he'd refused to give up his real name or his affiliations; Marco knew that the other members of the Council wouldn't have the information in their possession either. It had been one of their laws; if your Pack or Family was powerful enough to have a name, then it was spoken with respect. If your gang or crew had yet to earn its place in the underworld, then you were nameless and helpless.

But that was obviously NOT the case with this Pit. He was hiding something, and the wolf was willing to do anything it took to learn his secrets.

Marco's jumbled thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of the basement door opening. Turning to face the small staircase which led up to the ground floor, he let out a sigh of relief as he recognized Victor, who was descending the staircase holding what appeared to be a large cup of coffee balanced on a saucer.

“Still nothing from the Pit, then?" The Fox asked, as he held out the cup and saucer towards Marco, who took them into his paws gratefully.

“Not a word. From what we've found out on the streets, he's apparently a big-time hustler, but people have been saying less about him than they'd say about ME. That tells me two things: either this guy is some sort of blue-blood, or he's VERY important to somebody else. I still can't figure out which one is the case."

“...Would you mind if I made some inquiries of my own, Mr. Binetti?" Victor asked, as he watched the grizzled wolf raise the cup to his lips and take a sip.

“At this point? By all means, Silver. You managed to somehow compile that dossier on Ken Markus, and even I don't know how you managed to do that. If you really think you can find out more about this dog, then, please, help me."

“Alright, then," The older Fox nodded his head as he reached into his coat. After a few seconds of digging, he came out holding a cell phone. Marching sternly over to the makeshift cell, where the Pit bull was solidly chained by each limb to the basement's heavy stone walls, he bent at the waist as he attempted to get the dog's attention.

“Oi! You! Did your ma fuck a pug?! Let's see that mug of yours."

The Pit bull raised his head, a sneer of violence drawn across his bloodied muzzle at the Fox's words. The chained dog let out an involuntary grunt of pain as the light from a camera suddenly flashed in front of him, rendering him temporarily blind.

“Give me two hours. And before you ask, NO, I'm not going to share my connections with you, Marco. While I may fully respect you as James' partner, there are still some secrets that deserve to remain secret; you understand. Enjoy the coffee. I'll be back once I have something new to share."

Marco could only nod his head, slightly stunned, as Victor spun on his heels and began to climb the small staircase once more.

Backyard, The Clayton Estate

“Son... I don't really know what I should say...." Damien 'Iggy' Rhah addressed his eldest.

“Well, shit, you could always just start with WHY. But that's just my opinion," Lenny replied, reaching for one of the beer bottles nestled in the six-pack that he'd carried from the kitchen out to the heavy oak table, which hadn't been removed since the last time they'd seen each other, standing on opposite sides.

“Honestly? After what I've learned in the past few days... I don't think that my reason why would make sense to you. Hell, it hardly makes sense to ME now... Between you and I, I know I don't deserve it; I don't even know what I was thinking... How I treated you back then... But... Would you accept my apology? Is there a chance? Can I make things right between us?"

Lenny heaved a sigh as he used a claw to pop the cap from his beer. As he stared down at the glass bottle, a million different thoughts were rushing through his mind. Part of him wanted to jump up from his chair and tell his father to take a fuckin' hike; he'd been through hell and back and had been tossed out into the street like he was nothing! But still... The years away from his family had taught him that sometimes, a bit of forgiveness could be worth the pain. Or, at least, he'd hoped it would be worth it..

Raising his eyes to meet his father's, Lenny held out the open beer, his muzzle displaying a neutral affection as he gestured for the older lion to take it from him. Damien, remaining equally silent, wasted no time in leaning forward to receive the offering. Reaching for another bottle, Lenny used his thumb claw to remove the top once again, before raising his bottle towards his father.

“You get ONE chance...Dad. ONE. And if you ever turn your back on me again, I can promise you, you'll be losing TWO sons for the price of one. Do we understand each other?"

Damien responded by knocking his beer against Lenny's, a hint of tears forming in his eyes as they both raised their bottles to their muzzles to take a drink.

“Perfectly, son. Perfectly."

“I think I'm going to have to apologize to one of my oldest friends after this..."

--- END CHAPTER 15 ----

LYRICS TO "SICKO MODE'' ARE COPYRIGHT TRAVIS SCOTT AND DRAKE, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Well, now, it's time for a change. I really wonder how things will work out for the crew, now that they've achieved what could be considered the 'pinnacle' of their world?

And I also wonder how things will work out for their enemies? As usual, y'all are gonna have to read on to find out. That was 3 chapters in a week; two in a day. I think my brain needs to rest for a little while... Maybe a week or so.

.

--C.