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The Champion By Cris Fireheart / Ken Anderson Chapter 21 � Peace Through War 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, criticism, watches and faves are well appreciated! ------ 11:42 P.M., Friday Night, Ridgemont Park, Downtown Harbor City------ �Pardon me, while I burst into flames...� -- Incubus The full moon was casting its gentle glow over the restless city streets down below. The nearby tollway was filled with cars and trucks whose engines rumbled loudly and whose lights shone brightly upon the mottled highway surface as the uncountable numbers of tired, weary commuters or all-night truckers and gig workers attempted to complete their journeys back home, to the safety of their walls and the arms and the love of their families and significant others. These citizens, of so many species and genders, had no idea, or if they did, cared very little, for the kind of action which was also occurring at the same time as they moved along with their various nightly routines. For those denizens of the Heights, and the South and West sides who'd chosen to make the journey to the city's largest park, however, the mood was of an entirely different variety. There, in the massive gravel-packed parking lot which sat on the outskirts of the city's greenest natural sanctuary, a tremendous circle of various vehicles had been parked or left idling, their headlights all joining together to illuminate the violent scene which was taking place in the makeshift 'ring' between them. Shouts of encouragement and screams of hatred rained constantly down upon the four figures currently engaged in combat therein, the members of the crowd waving betting slips and wads of cash as their grunts, yells, and screams of pain were nearly drowned out by the size of the crowd of the people who had gathered to watch the bloody spectacle unfolding before them. In the center of the 'ring,' Ted Edwards and Kurt DiRocca were hard at work, the pair of them having jointly decided that taking part in a two-on-two fight against the strongest opponents that their bosses could find would be the best way to patch up the bad blood that had sat between them for some time. At least, that's what they'd told themselves to feel better about the uncomfortable situation, when they'd both been pulled aside and forced to address the issue. In truth, Rick Davis, Marco Binetti, James Clayton, and Damien �Iggy� Rhah had all banded together and insisted that the pair should fight as one; the opponents they'd found for them, after all, were a pair of fighters who were very well-versed in the intricacies of illegal tag-team matches. Unfortunately for them, however, they were currently losing, and losing very badly. Ted's opponent, a large, light-brown haired bull who'd obviously grown up on steroids and had his horns capped with solid silver tips, was visibly sweating as he kept swinging punches and changing up his tactics, trying his hardest to land a hit across the younger weasel's muzzle. Ted, however, wasn't going for the bait. He'd been almost constantly training under Lenny Rhah, whenever he wasn't in school and the older lion had been available, for over a month now, and he'd quickly learned better than to try to overpower an obviously larger fighter. The key, as the grizzled former Marine had taught him, was to learn to control your own body and emotions, and allow the other guys to slowly bleed away their own stamina, since most bigger fighters, the lion himself included, tended to believe that brute force could trump speed and patience in most combat situations. They were sometimes right, but more often than not, they were wrong. The military-style training had been brutal, endless, and extremely painful. Teddy's chest and back now bore the numerous scars from Lenny's claws and knives, both of which the large lion had made good use of as he'd taught the young weasel the difference between using martial arts for 'defending oneself,' and using the same, and even deadlier techniques, for 'killing one's enemy.' Old Jimmy Fender had nearly had a conniption upon seeing his son's fresh wounds, but he'd quickly shut his muzzle when Theodore had informed him, in no uncertain terms, that he'd specifically told the lion NOT to hold back anymore. If he was going to learn how to kill, using a combination of his own MMA skills and military-style combat training, he needed to be willing to bleed. In the words of Lenny and Marco, both as former Marine Sergeants and as his new bosses, alongside Ricky, he had to WANT it. ...And so, he got it. The large bull let out a struggled grunt as he once again tried to land a blow to Teddy's head, only to find his fist nimbly brushed aside by the weasel's forearm, before Ted delivered an extremely powerful punch directly to the bovine's throat. This fight had gone on long enough; he was through playing nice. This was a fight that he and Kurt had agreed to win, and he was going to win, no matter what it took. As the bull fell forward onto his knees, gasping heavily while grasping at his throat, Ted took a running start, and delivered a kick directly to the bull's face, sending him to the ground on his back. Knowing that he had plenty of time before his opponent was going to be able to get back on his hooves, he quickly turned his head and found Kurt, the younger otter busy holding his own against a Hyena who had to be at least a full two feet taller than him. �Yo, Kurt! You good over there?!� Ted called out, as he checked on the bull from the corner of his vision. Just then, the short otter used his forearm to block an incoming swing, before delivering a punishing blow to his opponent's liver, thrusting his open paw under the Hyena's rib cage and up into his internal organs. With a loud scream of pain, the Hyena quickly stumbled backwards, clutching his stomach. Before he could retaliate, however, he was quickly silenced by a full-force roundhouse kick, which slammed into his right temple and sent him tumbling to the ground, unconscious. �Just fine, man!� Kurt yelled back, giving the weasel a slight grin and a nod as he motioned silently towards the bull, who was already starting to get to his hooves, his eyes blood-red with rage. �How about you?� Ted was about to open his muzzle to respond, when he suddenly sensed that he was being approached from behind. Clamping his mouth shut, he quickly swung his body sideways, dragging his left leg low to the ground, ducking the incoming punch as he kicked out the bull's right knee from under him. With a low growl rumbling from his throat, he caught his opponent's arm in one paw, and grabbed ahold of one of his horns with the other, before forcibly twisting his opponent's body to one side, bringing him down face-first towards the front of one of the large pickup trucks which had been parked outside of the 'ring.' A loud 'crack' resounded as the bull's head impacted violently against the truck's front bumper, the silver cap from his right horn coming away in the weasel's paw as he collapsed to the ground, not moving and still struggling to breathe. �Yeah, I'm alright!� Ted responded, panting slightly while holding up his shiny new trophy as he shot the otter a toothy grin. The fight was over. The crowd, as usual, erupted into a series of cheers and screams of anger, with the winning bettors clamoring for their earnings, while the losers voiced claims that the entire event had been fixed from the start. Off to one side of the crowd, a small group of well-dressed spectators stood away from the rest of them, passing around a pair of bottles, joints, and cigarettes as they simply shook their heads and watched as the post-fight proceedings continued. �I never thought we'd all be here, like this, again...� Damien Rhah muttered under his breath, as he took a large hit from the joint he was holding between the first two claws on his right paw, before handing it over to a tall, slope-shouldered stallion, who stood paralyzed at his side. �Y--yeah, and I never thought I'd get to see something like this in person.� the brown-haired equine responded, as he retrieved the joint from the lion's paw and took a few large inhalations for himself, before reaching out to trade it for a bottle as he passed it to the older man standing to his left. �Well, that's the world we live in now, Jeff,� James chuckled slightly, as he handed over the bottle of vodka he'd been holding, before reaching out to retrieve the joint. �It's been a long time since we were all back at Harbor Hills High. Hell, it's been decades since we've all even been in the same place together. Why do you think I invited you both out to watch the show tonight? Didn't your son tell you that I was arranging fights in the streets these days?� �Bill? Yeah; he told me... a lot... about the two of you. Gods; I still can't believe that even half of what he told me over the phone was true, but after seeing all of this, I'm pretty inclined to say that he was right.� The tall equine raised the bottle to his lips, draining a large amount before shaking his head to clear away his dark black mane from in front of his eyes. Coughing slightly from the burn, he turned to hand the bottle off to an older, gray-muzzled weasel, who chuckled lightly as he took the bottle from the horse's hoof-tipped fingers. �Yeah; my boy's really turned out to be somethin', hasn't he?� Jimmy Fender smiled as he raised the vodka bottle to his lips to take a swig. �Hell, he's just earned the family name with that last move! And that new kid that Ricky found? He ain't half-bad, by the looks of 'im. That's that Chinese game he's playin' with, isn't it? Kung Fu, or somethin'?� �Kung Fu is right,� came the high-pitched voice of the younger otter, who, along with Teddy, had left the ring to make their way over to their 'sponsors.' �I studied under a pair of Masters in Hong Kong for three years while I was over there on an exchange student visa. Let's just say that it was well worth the money that my Dad had to pay, believe me.� �Hell, this kid's knocked ME out twice,� Ted nodded his head in agreement as he reached out to take the bottle from his father's outstretched paw. �And he's, like, four years younger than me! But I don't hold it against him. We both work for Rick now, right? So why hold onto the bullshit?� The weasel let out a short laugh as he raised the bottle to his lips, downing a good amount, before offering it to Kurt and holding out a closed fist, which the otter tapped with his own as he reached out to retrieve the bottle for himself. �That's right,� came the familiar human's voice as Ricky approached from behind them. �When you can make friends out of your enemies, then you no longer have enemies to worry about.� The short, stocky man was carrying two brown bags, one in each of his taped-up hands, which he dutifully handed over to the pair, before reaching out to take the joint when James offered it in his direction. �That, right there, is ten grand, apiece, for winning the match tonight, just like I promised. And this...� Ricky reached into the pockets of his dusty, desert-camo cargo pants, and pulled out two very large wads of bills, which he turned and offered to Kurt, �--is what I won by betting on you two. That makes it thirty grand even. Take it. Pay your dad's medical bills, kid. When he gets better, maybe one day, he'll be able to come out and actually see you fight.� The young otter stared, slackjawed, as Ricky repeatedly attempted to hand him the money. In the end, the older man settled for reaching out for one of Kurt's taped-up paws, and slamming the stacks into it, his usual confident smirk drawn clearly across his face. �Don't ask me no questions,� The man spoke, his natural Southern drawl coming through as he took the time to inhale from the joint, �And I'll tell you no lies. You work for ME now, Kurt. I told you that my friends and I would help you take care of your Dad. When I give my word to somebody, I mean it. No matter what you may have heard about me or my crew on the streets, you can ask anybody about that, and they'll tell you the same thing I just did. I always keep my promises, kid. Now here, take a couple hits off of this--� He reached out to pass Kurt the joint, which the otter took gingerly into one paw as he handed off the bottle and continued to stare down at the money he held in the other, �--and remember that for the next time you decide to ask me for anything. In MY crew? We stay true. The ones who try to bullshit their way through this life never tend to live long enough to enjoy it...� -------The next Morning, Harbor City General Hospital, Oncology Ward------- The sound of the EKG monitor made Kurt wince slightly as the series of high-pitched beeps assaulted his sensitive eardrums. The young otter sighed heavily as he stared down at the sleeping body of his father, his thin body covered in a thick blanket, his head held comfortably aloft by a pair of pillows. �Hey, old man...� he whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he forced himself to look towards his father, lying still in his hospital bed. �I won... Well, it wasn't just me, but... we won. I actually fought side-by-side with Teddy Fender, if you can believe it... I just wish you could've been there to see the fight; I know you would have loved the action. You always did... Marquis DiRocca... Almost a hundred fights, and nearly every one a knockout... And this is what's trying to take you away from me? You've never even smoked a day in your life...� Kurt could feel his eyes welling up with tears as he sniffled loudly, before raising his arm to wipe them away on his fur. He continued to stand, almost statue-like, as the constant beeping of the echo cardiogram continued, breathing shallowly as he watched his father's chest slowly rise and fall in tandem with the ventilator he'd also been hooked up to. It hurt him to see his father like this. It always did. But, he knew that now, at least now, he finally had a chance. He could finally afford the expensive cancer treatments; James and Marco had even personally offered to grant him access to even more controversial and 'immoral' options, the kind that were considered illegal in the States. Heaving another sigh, the young otter allowed the tears to flow freely down his cheeks as he took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and began to sing: �Well... This is what it looks like... Right before you fall... Stumblin' around, You've been guessin' your direction, Next step, you can't see at all... And I don't have a name, I don't have a name, no... Who am I to blame, Who am I to blame, though? I cannot be changed, I cannot be changed, no... Trust me, I've tried... I just end up right at the start of the line, Drawin' circles...� ------- The Clayton Estate, Midday------ �So, what's the prognosis? How is your father's current treatment coming along?� James' voice was tinged with sympathy and concern. Kurt, his hazel eyes tracing along the carpet beneath his feet, allowed his shoulders to slump slightly as he let out a sigh. �That bad?� �Stage four...� �So there's not much time left... I know that I've already made the offer before, but there are certain... doctors that I can talk to...� �Yeah, I remember, but what's that gonna cost me? Nothing in this kind of life ever comes for free; I learned that lesson pretty early on...� �For this? For the son of Marquis DiRocca? Nothing. And when I say that word, you can believe it, Kurt. I'm not going to let you pay a single cent for my help. Between you and I, kid, I don't say it very often, but believe it or not, I was actually raised to GIVE charity; RECIEVING it is a foreign concept to me. Tell anybody you know that I said that, and I'll make sure you don't wake up the following morning.� �Really? You'd go that far? Just to hide the fact that you're basically the 'good bad guy'? They tell stories about you on the streets too, you know?� �I'd have Victor introduce himself to you personally. You know who he is, right?� For once, Kurt went silent, closing his muzzle and nodding his head slowly in response. James let out a slight huff of air as he reached into his slate-gray suit coat to retrieve his pack of cigarettes. Pulling out one by the filter, he stuck it between his teeth before offering the pack towards the younger otter, who hesitated for almost a second, before taking a smoke for himself. �I can have him moved from Harbor General tonight. I have a... let's call him a friend, who specializes in, shall we say, 'unconventional' medicine. Your father will be put on a regimen of aggressive laser and rad-shot treatments, along with stem-cell injections to help regrow and repair the damaged tissue and DNA. I can't really go into the technical details of the process; my knowledge of medicine is basically limited to which drugs work for which conditions, but the guy I'm going to introduce you to? He'll explain everything, and he'll make sure that you can understand it. So... Do I have your permission to make the necessary calls?� �...Do it. Please... And thank you, Mr. Clayton. I don't-- I don't really know what to say...� �You already said 'thank you,' Kurt.� The older man replied with a smile, retrieving a lighter from the pocket of his suit coat to light his cigarette, before offering it to the otter, who did the same. �Those words are more than enough for me. Now, I'm pretty sure that R�my, Ted, Henry, and Jake are all upstairs in one of the grow rooms. They were still harvesting and going over the highlights of your match the last I saw of them. Go and have a few joints and some conversation. I'll take care of the rest.� �Thank you... sir.� �'James' works fine for me, kid. I don't dwell on honorifics; I leave that kind of thing for Lenny, Marco and Rick. They're the ones who insist on the recognition. As for me? These days, I'm more content to be without it. After all, I've learned to love my shadow. As a matter of fact-- Victor?� Kurt let out a gasp of surprise as the older, gray fox seemed to suddenly appear at his side, his gloved claws folded calmly behind his back as he gazed down at the younger otter with a slight smile drawn across his scarred muzzle. �You heard all of that, I assume?� �Of course, sir. I shall have the elder Mr. DiRocca transferred to the care of the Surgeon at once. I'll make certain to remind him that we expect progress reports on-call, and that if anything should... happen to him...� �That'll do, Vic. Thank you.� James nodded in appreciation as he took another drag from his cigarette, flashing the older Gray Fox a warm smile. With a slight bow at the waist, Victor silently slipped away from the pair, quickly disappearing into one of the many hidden servant's doors which blended in almost seamlessly with the mansion's walls. Turning to face James once again, Kurt had a look of impressed awe drawn across his muzzle. �That was him, wasn't it? That's Victor 'Two Moons' Silver, right?� �That's him, all right. His son R�my isn't too bad either, if you can catch my drift. Why? Are you looking for some extra training?� �From them?! I'd kill for it. Their Clan was fuckin' legendary. I mean, I'm a good fighter, everybody knows that. But these guys? Most of them also have military training; even Ted, since he's been training almost non-stop under Lenny Rhah! But... yeah... I look at them all, and I don't really see myself as... equal?� �You ARE their equal, Kurt. Don't ever let me hear you call yourself anything less again. But... if that's what you think you want? Then, take my original advice, and go upstairs. The grow room they're all in is the first door on the left on the second floor. Talk to R�my and the others for yourself. Decide if you're really willing to go through with it before you throw yourself into their world. You've already taken a few steps into the shadows; you might not like what you find when you reach the end of the tunnel.� �...Huh... That actually sounded--� �--Like something one of your Masters might have said? I'm a sociopath with permanent paranoia, underworld connections, and an education in psychology, kid,� James chuckled as he shook his head slightly, �Manipulation is my fort�. The only difference between myself, and someone like, say, Jim Jones or Charles Manson, is the fact that when I choose to manipulate someone, I tend to do it for their own good. Not for mine. I hate myself, and care too much about other people to twist them around. And do you want to know why? Because it's always too easy. I hate the fact that I can start a conversation by asking for a cigarette, and end up with a few hundred dollars in my pocket, along with any drugs and whatever else I might want from someone. To a person like me? EVERYONE in the world is a mark. From the homeless person begging on the street corner, to the current Mayor, who's actually invited me to her wedding this Thursday afternoon... Hello, Kurt DiRocca, My name is James Clayton. It's an honor to make your acquaintance. And now, you know who I am... We're gonna have to get you fitted for a suit...� �A suit? Why? I've almost never worn anything like that before; the few times I have, they've been uncomfortable as hell.� �Didn't you just hear me? The Mayor has invited me to her wedding next Thursday. Do you really think that I would go to such a public function without protection? The shadows are my home; I'm comfortable there. But out there? In the world? With the sun shining down on me?� The older man shook his head sadly as he took another drag from his cigarette, �No. Not anymore... Maybe once, years ago... But not now. I can't exactly bring along Marco, Lenny, or even Jake for that matter; all of them are too well-known and will likely draw the wrong kind of attention to me. So I've asked R�my to accompany me as a bodyguard, and now, I'm asking you. As for the suit? Don't worry; Michael, my tailor, will make sure that it feels almost as if you're wearing nothing. There will be no hindrance of movement, and the fabric will be soft enough not to brush against your fur. So? What do you say?� �I'd say that I understand what you mean by 'manipulation' now, Mr. Clayton. And yes. I say yes.� �Then go upstairs, and talk to the boys. Be sure that this is the road you want to travel along, before you take my hand, and I lead you down it. Don't worry about your father; he will be taken care of. Victor will see to it himself. And Kurt?� �Yeah?� �After you've spoken to the others, I want you to take a walk around the property, and pick out a room. Then, I want you to go eat, and get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow morning, Victor and R�my are going to be waking you up in a very unpleasant manner. If you decide that you truly want what they have to offer, then your training starts right now.� ------Wednesday Afternoon, Backyard, The Clayton Estate------ �Oh, fuck!� Kurt's bloodstream was pulsing with adrenaline as he dodged a swipe from Victor's steeled claws, only to be side-kicked by R�my and sent tumbling onto the soft grass below. He'd taken James' advice to heart; after spending hours talking to the others, and helping to harvest nearly five full pounds of cannabis, he'd decided that he did, indeed, want the kind of training that the two foxes could offer him. At the moment, however, he was seriously starting to second-guess his own decision. �Don't you dare look away, boy!� Victor snarled, causing Kurt to turn his head in the elder fox's direction, only to freeze in place as his vision was filled with the shining steel tips of the vulpine's first two claws, positioned directly where they could have been used to gouge out his eyes. �That's three times that you've been killed today, already,� R�my noted, as the younger gray fox took a few seconds to stretch his arms and shake off his legs. �Well, I guess it's better than yesterday, or the day before. Hey, Dad, what was the kill-count on Saturday?� �Seventeen times. Starting with that little 'gas bomb' that you came up with, and ending on the ground of the third-floor bathroom when I dropped in on him by removing one of the tiles from the ceiling.� �Hey, cut me some slack, alright?!� Kurt grumbled as he pulled himself back to his feet. �This isn't like the Martial Arts schools I studied at! What you two can do... I don't even...� the otter's words were quickly becoming slurred as he began to waver slightly on his feet. �R�my! Catch him, now!� Victor shouted, as the younger fox suddenly rushed forward to block the otter's fall. �Oh, shit!� R�my exclaimed, as the smaller otter's body suddenly fell limp into his paws. �What the fuck was that?!� Victor gave a slight chuckle as he shook his head, letting out a heavy sigh as he calmly strode up to his son, before holding out his right paw. �Take a sniff.� R�my did as he was told, before suddenly recoiling with a look of horror drawn across his muzzle. �Are you fucking serious?! You dipped your claws?!� �Coated them in a thin layer of candle wax mixed with Propofol, actually,� the elder fox remarked with a smile. �He'll be out for about an hour, but other than that, he'll be fine. Hopefully, it teaches him the lesson that I was trying to impart.� �What fuckin' lesson was that?� �Never underestimate your opponent, especially when you're fighting against a professional. My grandfather used to coat his claws with poisons; he was known for being able to leave his victims with nothing but a single, light scratch on their bodies. My father took the lesson to heart, and he made certain that I did, as well.� �Gods, just how crazy was our Clan?!� �'Was'?� Victor smirked slightly, as he lowered himself down to one knee, so that he and R�my were face-to-face. �Whoever said that we stopped?� With a slight tilt of his head, he motioned towards his son's left bicep. Turning his own muzzle to see it, R�my noticed that there was a single, light scratch bleeding from his upper-left arm. �Oh, you have GOT to be fuckin'... shit...� The world seemed to spin around the younger fox as he fully collapsed onto the ground, Kurt's comatose body still cradled in his arms. �You'll be alright, my son...� Victor muttered under his breath as he shook his head, rose to his feet, and turned to walk away. �You're a damned Silver, after all... It's in our blood.� ------Thursday Afternoon, Sunset Point, Harbor City Limits------- The festivities were in full swing. There must have been nearly a hundred people, of all ages, genders, and species, crowded around the center aisle as Harbor City's current mayor, Jennifer Crown, ne� Banks, had walked down the aisle with her new husband, Johnathan, a fellow Tabby Cat. The crowd was properly filled with food and drink, and offered the new couple cheers and well-wishes as they both made their way towards the cliff at the end of Sunset Point. There, the pair amicably allowed themselves to be constantly pulled away by their friends and relatives, who offered even more congratulations to add to those that were being given by so many people that the two of them had known only by name. Standing at the head of the line, James Clayton, in his best true-black suit, with the head of a single, Turkish-white Poppy flower poking out from the button-hole near his collar, offered the newlyweds a smile and nod of his head, as he clapped his hands in tandem with many of the others in the crowd. Upon sighting him among the partygoers, the Mayor turned to whisper in her husband's ear, before he suddenly straightened himself, and turned to face James. Giving his new mate a single nod, he allowed her to detach herself from his arm as she strode towards the older man, taking the time to show off her beautiful wedding dress as she glided through the line of people. �Mr. Clayton!� She exclaimed, opening her arms wide to embrace the older human in a gentle hug as she approached him, �Oh, it's so good to see you! I didn't think you'd actually accept my invitation when I sent it out! Are you here alone? Is your son Jakob here with you?� �No, Madam Mayor, he is not,� James responded with a sad shake of his head. �Between you and I, I'm fairly sure that that was the right decision to make, or am I wrong?� �Unfortunately...� The female tabby let out a heavy sigh. �I apologize; I wasn't thinking very clearly when I wrote out your invitation. I didn't consider the undue burden that it might place on you...� Her ears suddenly perked up as James was quickly approached by a young gray Fox on his left, and a shorter otter on his right. �Oh! Are these some of your new... people? I wasn't aware that you tended to hire them so... young.� �I don't, Jenny; if you know anything about me, you'll know THAT, at least. No; allow me to introduce my bodyguards to you, Madam Mayor. To my left--� The man made a slight sweeping motion with his arm, �Is R�my Silver. He's Victor's son, and the newest addition to our little family. To my right--� he motioned to the younger otter, �Is Kurt DiRocca. I'm fairly certain that he needs no further introduction; his father's reputation would speak for itself.� �Marquis DiRocca's son?!� �That's correct, Madam Mayor.� �...How do you even MEET these kinds of people?� �Well...� James chuckled slightly, �A combination of good luck and happenstance, as it were, Madam. But please, let's not dwell on that. Today is YOUR day, and you look absolutely beautiful.� �Heh... Thank you,� She muttered under her breath, the insides of her ears turning slightly pink as she reached down do adjust her dress. Clearing her throat, she motioned with a nod towards a more secluded area, where there were less ears to overhear their conversation. Nodding his head discreetly, James gave a flick of his wrist, motioning for R�my and Kurt to follow, as he offered his arm to the Mayor, and she threaded her own through his. �I... have a �problem,� she whispered, as she and James stepped away from the crowd. �It's not the kind of problem that I can solve for myself. It's more among the line of what my... predecessor was attempting, if you can understand my concern...� �Don't beat around the bush, Jennifer,� James muttered as he shook his head. �You and I both know that you didn't invite me to your wedding just so I could put in a public appearance. If you want what I represent, then I need to hear you say it.� �Mr. Clayton... please...� �No, Jen. I may have supported your election because your father and I have known each other for many years; his debts to me are his own to pay, but if you wish to start running up a tab? Again; I'm going to need to hear you say it...� �...James?� �Jennifer Banks, I want you to look at me--� James hissed slightly, as he released the Mayor's arm from his own, �And tell me who needs to bleed. As I told you the last time we met, if you ever asked me for a favor, I would do my best to accommodate it. But I need to hear you say it...� �... I want to run for governor after my term ends next year... but Silas isn't likely to be voted out anytime soon... He's corrupt as hell, but he's too well-loved. If I want to throw my metaphorical hat into that particular ring, I need him... removed from contention.� �...So, the Governor? That's a very tall order, Madam Mayor...� �But can it be done?� Tilting his head to one side, James gave R�my a questioning glance. The younger Gray Fox simply offered a smile and a slight nod in return, holding two claws out discreetly in front of him, as Kurt shot him a confused look. �Two days,� James muttered with a nod of understanding. �Two days, and you can have the damn Governor's mansion, if it's what you really want. Now, Jen, we spoke last night, and you already know what I'm going to ask for in return...� �The police presence will be bumped up in the Council's territory. Marco Binetti and his people will be allowed to slide...� �...And Hunter Klaus?� �Unfortunately for him and his little band of 'purists,' Mr. Klaus suddenly decided on one night to go out, and try to play suicide-by-cop.� �Good. The bastard spat on my son...� �Will that make us even, Mr. Clayton?� �Not even close. But it's a start...� �Then, I believe we have an accord?� �That we do, Madam Mayor. Now, you should probably look surprised; your husband is approaching us. In this case, I'll do you the favor of disappearing from your sight.� �With all due haste, if you don't mind, Mr. Clayton.� �Not at all, Madam Mayor...� ------Inner-city Freeway, North Harbor City------ �I still can't believe my fuckin' ears,� Kurt muttered from behind the wheel of James' dark-black Mercedes. �Did the MAYOR seriously just ask us to take out the GOVERNOR for her?!� �That she did, Mr. DiRocca,� James nodded from the backseat. �And before you ask, yes, I'm going to arrange for it. In fact, I'm fairly sure that R�my, sitting next to you, has already come up with a few ideas on how to make the Governor's untimely passing seem a bit more... natural.� �Five, actually,� The Gray Fox smirked, as he turned back to face the road. �After that little claw-dipping trick my Dad showed us yesterday? I've got about five similar ideas, all of which could be misconstrued as things like heart attacks, strokes, or accidental drug overdoses.� �Wow, your Dad seriously taught you all of that?� �Not really. Actually, he and I have only really known each other for the past month! But I've had training, before we met. That, and I really studied up on our Clan, and all of the 'old methods.' Don't worry, Kurt, you're not gonna be taking part in this one. This is strictly a job for me and my Dad.� �...And what if I WANTED to take part?� ---END CHAPTER 21. --- The lyrics to �Circles� are copyright Mac Miller, all rights reserved.