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The Champion By Cris Fireheart / Ken Anderson Chapter 20 � New Recruits/New Problems 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! -------Monday Morning, Two days after the fight, Connor and Ricky's apartment------- Connor was yawning widely, his jaw muscles stretching as he attempted to fill up a carafe with tap water for the old-style full-pot coffee machine in the apartment's mid-sized kitchen. In the background, he could hear Ricky grunting in strain as the stocky man worked on the punching bag in their second bedroom, which had long ago been converted into a small home gym. �HEY!� He shouted out over the bubbling of the dark-brown liquid, �You wanna cup?!� �Yeah!� Came the response, as the sounds of heavy punching and kicking suddenly stopped. �I've got an errand to run for Marco today! Gotta wake up right so I can move some stuff over to the West side!� �What's it this time? More coke and weed?� �Nah, Molly; Big Bad Wolf Boy's just gotten in a shipment of pure purple crystal, and the bikers on the West Side have already ponied up for a piece of it!� �The fuckin' BIKERS?! You mean that guy Dmitri's people?! I know he said that his club is supposed to remain neutral, but doesn't he work with that prick Klaus, too? After what R�my did to that guy at that casino last week, you're gonna go out and deliver fuckin' product to them?!� �Yeah, but don't worry about it too much,� came Ricky's voice, panting heavily as he stepped out into the living room wearing a sweat-soaked tank-top and a pair of Connor's red boxing shorts, the hole in the rear meant for his tail securely buttoned up. �I'm taking someone with me for backup. He's a bit green, to be honest, but I've heard some good things about him. If he's who I think he is, this is gonna be cake...� �Who is he?� As if to answer the Fox's question, a series of quick raps suddenly sounded from the front door. Grunting under his breath and lifting his mug of fresh coffee from the kitchen counter, Connor shook his head slightly as he went to answer the door. Unhooking the chain and twisting the multiple deadbolts, he let out a slight huff of annoyance of as he reached out to twist the doorknob. Pulling open the door, Connor couldn't see anyone at first; he thought he'd been duped. Then, lowering his gaze, he caught sight of the short, athletically-built brown-furred otter who stood before him. �Umm... Hi. I'm Kurt, and I'm here to see Ricky?� The otter muttered, refusing to meet Connor's gaze with his own. �He's in the kitchen, gettin' coffee,� the Fox responded with a wave of his head. �What brings you here around this time of the morning, kid? You look a little young to be hangin' around here.� �Well... I really needed some work, and I'm kinda desperate, so I asked around the Southside and the HCU campus, and I was told that if I could help him out with a run today, I'd get some good money out of it...� �Wait... YOU'RE his backup?! What the fuck--� �--Kurt, what's up, kid?� Came Ricky's cheerful voice, interrupting Connor's sudden exclamation of disbelief. �I'm all good, sir!� Came the otter's reply. Connor, standing nearly a foot taller than the young-looking mustelid, continued to look down at him with a look of confusion drawn across his muzzle as Kurt stepped in and walked up to Ricky, who welcomed him with a strong handshake and a slap on the back. Seeing the two side-by-side, Connor could guess that they were about the same height. �Ready to go to work?� �Yes, sir!� Connor couldn't help but let out a chuckle at the young otter's enthusiasm. �Hey, Kurt, right? How old are you, exactly?� He called out. �Oh, I just turned eighteen four months ago, Mr. Oliver, sir!� This made Ricky erupt into a belly-full of laughter himself. �Kurt! Hahahaha! Kid, don't-- just don't... Gods, you're killin' me, just call him 'Connor', alright?� �...But he's the national Middleweight Champion, sir! He... he deserves it. And You trained him yourself, if what I heard was right.� �Who told you about that? Just who have you been talkin' to?! And don't lie to me, kid; I WILL know if you try,� Ricky suddenly growled, setting down his coffee mug and clenching his fists. �Henry Rhah, sir! He's the TA in my Accounting class at Harbor City University! He knows me, and he told me that you were looking for some good fighters; soldiers, he said. And, well... I think I'm pretty good, sir. That's why I took down your number and called you last night.� �Oh, do you now?� Ricky responded with his trademark sneer. �Do you know exactly what I do for a living? Did Henry even bother to tell you about the job that you just signed up for?� �Yes, sir,� Kurt responded with a determined nod of his head. �We're running some Molly, to be taken from a stash house on the Southside to the Pack House on the West Side. I know a few of those biker bastards, personally; I've put a few of them on the ground both in the streets and on campus, sir!� �...Wait...On campus?� Ricky stuttered, �And before you do it again, don't call me 'sir,' Rick or 'Boss' is fine.� �Got it... Boss. But yeah; there's a good dozen or so of those guys enrolled at HCU, half of them are pure-bred German Shepherds and other canines, along with some herbivores, mostly football and basketball players on international scholarships, and a few members of the MMA club. But that's alright! I've knocked most of them out myself, sir! �...I just told you, don't call me-- wait, you've knocked them out? As in unconscious? Officially, or unofficially?� �Both.� �Yeah... I think I'm actually gonna be alright,� Ricky smiled, nodding towards the Fox. Connor couldn't help but shake his head as he crossed his arms over his bare chest. �Kid, if anything happens--� �--No disrespect intended, but I could probably take you both down right now, in less time than it took you to break Ming Hun's jaw a couple of nights ago. I know who you both are; ask around HCU, the West Side and Harbor Heights. Ask who 'Rocker' is. You guys aren't the only ones in this city with a reputation, you know.� It was the first time that Connor had ever seen Ricky take an actual step back from somebody. The short, stocky man actually took two full steps backwards, before turning his head to one side as he looked the young otter up and down. �'Rocker'? So, you're Kurt DiRocca?� �That's me. Got it in one, boss.� �You conveniently neglected to mention that over the phone,� Ricky chuckled, shaking his head slightly. �I've heard about your family for years. Your dad is Marquis DiRocca. Over fifty official ring fights, more than three-quarters ending in knockouts. He even went up against old Jimmy Fender in the streets, back in the day. But your old man was an old-school boxer, straight-up. I heard stories that say you took what he did and made it to the next stage. Are the rumors about that true?� �That would depend on which rumors you're asking about, Rick.� �That's better. Thanks for paying attention. I actually heard that you fought against Teddy Fender in street matches a few times, and that you put him right on his ass. And Teddy Fender happens to be one of mine. Is that true?� �Hah! That guy?! If even a third of what I've heard about that weasel is true, you should be able to ask him for yourself!� �You know what? You're absolutely right about that, kid. Gimme a minute...� Connor stepped in between the pair as Ricky turned his back to the otter and marched directly over to the kitchen, where he retrieved his cell phone from its charger, which was plugged in next to the electric range. In a matter of seconds, the Fox heard the familiar ringing of a connecting tone. A moment later, Ricky's voice began to mumble softly; obviously, Ted may have been in a class at the moment. �Seriously?!� Ricky suddenly exhaled, as he turned back around to face the otter once more. �For how long?!� After a few more seconds of indistinct conversation, Rick slowly lowered the phone from his ear and ended the call. Drawing in a deep breath, he let out a heavy sigh as he slipped the phone into a pocket. �Your Dad is an inpatient at Harbor General. He's been in the cancer ward for the last year... Ted just spilled the beans. That's why you asked around about me, isn't it? That's why you need the money...� The young otter's eyes began to trace the carpet beneath his feet. Before he could open his muzzle to speak, however, he found himself standing face-to-face with Ricky. �Congratulations, you're going to work with me today. If everything goes well, I'm going to introduce you to some people. People who can help you and your Dad. Do you know who James and Jake Clayton are?� Now, it was Kurt's turn to take a few steps backwards. �Yeah... Yeah-- I know who they are. That family is well-known for running shit around the Heights and Harbor Hills. They've been putting some things together with the Binettis and the Rhahs, right? At least, that's what I heard on the streets...� Ricky leaned in closer, so he could speak directly into the young otter's ear. �Well, I guess you didn't hear the whole story, kid, because I happen to have a fuckin' seat at that table, too. Why do you think I had the word put out for people who were willing to do a little 'bleeding'? It's not just the Binettis and the Rhahs that are working with the Claytons. Jake and I actually go way back, we were Marines together, and we've known each other since long before that, in fact. You should've just led with your situation, Kurt. I would've helped you out for free. But be that as it may, I really do need backup for this run. If you're anywhere near as good a fighter as you and everybody I've heard from say you are, then, at least for today, you're working for me. Give me a few minutes to go and get changed; we've got a pickup to make.� -------Twenty Minutes Later, Giancarlo's House, the Southside------ Ricky let out a heavy sigh as he opened the driver's-side door of his truck, before jumping out of his seat to the ground below. Behind him, he heard the passenger door shut as Kurt quickly hopped out as well. As Ricky held out the remote, a short 'chirp' sounded as the truck's alarm was activated. Stuffing the keys into the pocket of his heavy camouflage cargo pants, The short, stocky man gave a nod of his head towards the modern-day ranch-style house they'd parked in front of, which had a neat, manicured lawn and appeared to be the sole house on the block that was well-maintained. �This is it.� �Are you sure? I mean, when you hear someone say 'stash-house,' you tend to think more guns-and-gangsters, and a bit less little-house-in-the-city, you know?� Ricky felt a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as the front door of the house was suddenly pulled inwards, before a tall, red-furred maned wolf stepped outside, dressed only in a large red t-shirt and a pair of loose boxer shorts. �I'm sure. This is Gianni's house.� �Giancarlo?! As in, the Beta for the Binetti Mob?!� �That's me, kid,� came the red wolf's tired-sounding voice. �And who might you be?� �Kurt DiRocca, sir!� The young otter suddenly perked up. �I don't know if--� �--We know that name,� Giancarlo interrupted him with a slight nod of his head, looking the younger otter up and down. �You've been making some noise in the underground lately. There's rumors floating around about you. Is it true you knocked out Teddy Fender a couple of times a few months ago?� �Yes, sir. That's true.� Giancarlo let out a throaty chuckle as he shook his head slightly. �Well, you might have your work cut out for you the next time you try it. Ted's been training with a... higher caliber of fighters these days. You've already met Rick and Connor; do you know who Lenny Rhah is?� Kurt's eyes went wide as he found himself involuntarily taking a step back. �That guy's damn near insane! He's a military-trained killer! Are you serious?!� �Dead serious, kid, so be careful. Now come in, both of you. I already packed up everything last night; the bricks are in the living room. Don't mind the whores.� �Don't mind the what?!� Ricky parroted as they both followed Giancarlo towards the front door. �Somebody had to give that new batch of Molly a try,� the red wolf muttered with a shrug of his shoulders as he motioned for them to follow him inside, before turning around to close the front door behind them. �And? How was it?� Giancarlo let out a burst of genuine laughter as he turned to face Ricky. �Fucking glorious,� he let out in a low growl. �I must have fucked from evening to sunrise; I swear, I woke up a few minutes ago, and I'm pretty sure I'm still rolling. Anyway, the bag's in here,� he motioned towards the spacious living area near the entrance. Kurt and Ricky both followed him as he led the way, stepping into a well-furnished den area. Almost immediately, Ricky noted the naked forms of two buxom female wolves stretched out on a sofa, apparently unconscious. From further into the den, he could hear the sound of sizzling coming from the kitchen area. As Giancarlo marched towards one corner of the room, where a zipped-up backpack lay against the wall, a tall, well-built gray wolf stepped out from the kitchen, completely nude, and carrying two plates of food. Upon seeing Ricky, he suddenly froze in mid-step. �Danny?� Giancarlo called over, �Go ahead and put those on the table. I'm not very hungry; I've got some business to handle today, so you're in charge of getting the girls home safely once they awaken.� �Yes, sir, Beta. Do you want me to--� The tall wolf's words were cut off as the red wolf quickly crossed the room, before gripping him by his neck, and pulling him into a hard kiss. �No...� Giancarlo intoned with a slight shake of his head. �Not this time. I'm pretty sure we'll be fine. After all...� he nodded towards Ricky. �I've got some good backup.� �Yes, sir.� Danny nodded, before taking a seat next to the two females and placing the plates onto the wooden table in front of the sofa. Taking one last look at Ricky, the tall wolf simply shrugged his shoulders, before reaching over to retrieve a TV remote. �Give me a couple of minutes,� Giancarlo nodded towards a second sofa, which was unoccupied. With a groan, he reached down to pull away his oversized t-shirt, revealing his chiseled body, covered in numerous scars which crisscrossed his chest and abs. From where he was standing, Ricky could immediately tell that the wounds had come from someone's claws. �I'll go get dressed.� �So, you're coming with us, sir?� Kurt called over, not removing his eyes from the naked bodies of the two females across from them. �That's right,� Giancarlo nodded, as he made his way towards a closet which was situated between two bedrooms in the hallway. �After the last drop, with what happened to Jake, my Alpha insists that I go along.� As Ricky and Kurt took their seats, Danny let out a slight huff as he watched them. �What?� Ricky called over, �Jealous? That's not a good look for you.� �Of you? Get real, human,� The tall gray wolf snarled. �In fact, I hope you get sho--� The wolf let out a slight yelp as something heavy suddenly smacked into his body, and landed in his naked lap. Turning his gaze from the pair, his eyes traced their way over the twelve-gauge shotgun that had suddenly made contact with his chest. �I've changed my mind,� came the low growl from the hallway, as Giancarlo stepped out into the den, dressed in his usual designer suit, with a red undershirt. �You ARE coming with us. Don't ever insult the Alpha's friends again. Now, wake up Sarah and Kara. Make sure they're both paid, and put some fucking clothes on. We'll drop them off on the track before we make the drop. And Danny? Keep your fuckin' muzzle shut.� -------One Hour Later, The Pack House, West Side------ As the group pulled into the parking lot of the 'Pack House,' the dilapidated, two-story structure that served as both a bar and a clubhouse for the Pack Motorcycle Club, the main biker gang on the West Side, Kurt could be heard letting out a sneer from the backseat as he popped the joints in his knuckles and took the time to check the small, nine-millimeter pistol that Ricky had given him for this excursion. �Man, every time I come around this place, it just pisses me off...� he muttered, as Ricky pulled his truck into a spot right in front of the building, next to a long row of motorcycles, parked directly near the entrance. �Why? Do they know you around here?� Giancarlo asked from the passenger seat. �You could say that...� With a slight huff, Danny, the gray wolf seated next to him in the backseat, took a moment to adjust the twelve-gauge shotgun which he had stashed beneath a heavy coat he'd borrowed from Giancarlo. Heaving a sigh, Ricky killed the truck's engine, before nodding towards the backpack on the floor of the passenger side. �Are you carrying it in, or do you want me to?� �I'd better be the one to do the talking,� Giancarlo muttered under his breath as he reached down to grab it. �Dmitri may have said that he'd remain neutral towards our 'alliance', but if Klaus happens to be there as well, it may be better for us all if I did the negotiating.� �Alright then. Let's go see what's waiting for us,� Ricky nodded, as the group opened their doors, and stepped out onto the concrete. Giancarlo led the way, with Ricky at his side, and Kurt and Danny taking up the rear. As a unit, they marched directly up to the unguarded front entrance, a heavy steel door which had been painted solidly black, with a single, brass handle jutting out from it. Regardless of Giancarlo's reassurances, Ricky still felt that familiar, nagging feeling in the back of his mind. Something was about to go wrong... As soon as they all stepped into the dimly-lit, smoke-filled atmosphere of the Bikers' clubhouse, the long row of black-vest wearing canines, felines, and herbivores sitting at the bar suddenly went silent, as they turned around in their bar stools and stood from the corners to gaze at the new arrivals. As predicted, the Doberman Dmitri, the Club President, was the first to rise from his chair near the pool table, before making his way over to them. �Giancarlo! Ricky Davis! I didn't know you were both coming here together!� �It was just a precaution, Dmitri,� Giancarlo explained, as he took the time to straighten out his suit, before reaching out with the backpack. �I'm sure you heard what happened to Klaus at The Flush last week. My Alpha wanted to be certain that there would be no... repeats of what happened the last time the Family did a deal with the Rhah Pride.� At this, Dmitri let out a bellyful of laughter, shaking his head as he motioned for one of his underlings, a tall buck with brown fur and white spots, and a full rack of antlers, to approach them. The buck came carrying a duffel bag, which he dutifully handed over to his boss. �Klaus has been banned from this House,� Dmitri explained, as he led them all over to an unused pool table, where he proceeded to open the bag, showing the neatly-bundled stacks of cash held within. �As I told Mr. Clayton and Mr. Silver, my club remains neutral in the affairs of the Council, at least, until such time as the... feuds between them and your new alliance remain in effect.� �Good. That's very good...� Giancarlo nodded, as he placed the backpack down upon the green felt, and unzipped it to reveal its contents. �Five kilos of pure MDMA. Fresh from the factory. Don't worry, I tested this batch myself, last night. Let's just say I had a VERY good time.� �Excellent. Well-met, Beta Giancarlo. I should like to have a taste of it for myself!� The two of them erupted into friendly laughter, as they zipped up their respective bags, before sliding them over the pool table towards each other. As they each shouldered their bounty, Dmitri was quick to offer them all drinks, which the members of the group eagerly accepted. Calling back towards one of his club members, a prospect, if the lack of patches on the back of his vest were to be believed, Dmitri ordered that a bottle of whiskey be brought to them, along with five glasses. The prospect, a German Shepherd, simply nodded his head, before heading to the bar to retrieve their drinks. As he returned to the pool table, where the group was standing around chatting about random news, including Connor's recent win against Ming Hun, he set the bottle and glasses down. Just then, the Shepherd's eyes happened to brush over Kurt, who'd been standing, nearly hidden, behind Danny and Giancarlo. �Holy shit!� The lively conversation between the group immediately came to an end. �What's wrong, Adam?� Dmitri called over, as he reached forward to grasp the bottle and pour the drinks. �That fuckin' otter!� his prospect exclaimed, a snarl quickly forming across his muzzle. �I know that little prick! That's 'Rocker,' he goes to school with some of our brothers! A few of them tried to mess around with him on campus, and he laid them all out in the courtyard!� Turning to face Kurt once again, he brought his gaze down to meet the otter's. �What the FUCK are you doing here?!� �He's been hired as backup for this drop, pup, �Giancarlo responded, his own muzzle contorting into a snarl as he stared the Shepherd down. �Rick Davis brought him along to make sure that everything went as planned.� �Fuck that!� came another voice from the bar. A tall, lanky black Labrador rose up from his stool, slamming his open beer down onto the counter. �That's the kid who took out my two younger brothers just last week! They're still holed up at Harbor General! I don't care who he's with; I want fuckin' payback for that!� Giancarlo, Ricky, and Danny suddenly tensed up as they felt the temperature in the room beginning to rise. Luckily for them all, Dmitri quickly placed himself between his two cohorts, shaking his head, before turning to face Kurt. �Is this true?� �It is.� Kurt responded with a nod. �Those three assholes tried to shake me down, and have me send them money from an app on my phone! I don't take that kind of bullshit from anybody; I put them down!� At this revelation, a third figure stood up from the bar, a tall, well-built Dingo who had numerous scars across his face and his tan-furred chest, which was visible under his black vest. �You hearin' this, Prez?� he called out in his gruff voice. �Seems like we got a little problem...� �Layne! Shut your muzzle! We're not going up against the Binettis and Davis' crew! Not in my fuckin' clubhouse! If you want to commit suicide, you can do it yourself!� �I may have a solution to this issue...� Giancarlo intoned calmly, holding up a single claw to grab everyone's attention. �Obviously, there are grievances which need to be aired. What would you say to a fair, straight-up fight? NO GUNS, NO WEAPONS. Just those who have an issue against our young friend here, and Kurt himself. One-on-o---� �---Send all three of them at the same time.� Kurt sneered, using two claws to remove his pistol from his belt, before reaching over to hand it to Ricky. �I'm not in the mood to stick around this place for three fights; let's just get it all over with at once!� A tense moment of silence permeated the atmosphere of the clubhouse, with all of the bikers looking towards Dmitri for an answer. After almost a full minute, the large Doberman let out a heavy sigh, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly as he took a few steps back, nodding his head slowly in approval. �If that's what you want, kid. The Pack is always happy to provide. �Adam, Layne, Kelly, front and center! Leave your pieces on the bar! He wants to go paw-to-paw with all three of you; we're gonna go ahead and grant his wish!� In an instant, a large space was quickly cleared between the pool table and the bar. Layne, the Dingo, made a show of slamming his .45 caliber pistol and a large knife down onto the bar, before making his way towards the center of the room. Kelly, the Labrador, quickly disarmed himself and did the same, while Adam, the German Shepherd, raised up his vest and turned around to show that he was already unarmed, before joining his 'brothers' in surrounding Kurt, who'd stepped away from Ricky and the others, popping the joints in his knuckles and neck before smiling as he walked directly into the middle of the three bikers. �That suits me fine,� he nodded, shaking his arms as he prepared for the coming onslaught. �Hey, kid?� Ricky called out as he, Danny, and Giancarlo backed away to take up a position against the wall near the door. �Are you sure you can handle this?� The young otter took a second to turn his head to face his friends, before giving them all a solemn nod. �I don't take any pleasure in this...� he muttered, lowering his gaze slightly. �...But I'm a fucking DiRocca, and I am NOT my dad!� Ricky almost shouted out a warning as the Shepherd took advantage of Kurt's momentary distraction to rush forward to deliver the first blow. As the canine charged ahead, with Kurt still turned to face Ricky, he couldn't see the confident smirk crossing the otter's muzzle as his round ears suddenly perked up, and his muscles immediately tensed. As the Shepherd's balled fist shot forward, attempting to hit Kurt at the base of his neck, the otter suddenly ducked and spun around on his heels, dodging the punch, before catching the canine's wrist in mid-air, and using his forward momentum to easily twist his body over one shoulder, sending him crashing face-first onto the dirty floor below. As an afterthought, he took hold of his attacker's wrist, bending it behind his back as he circled around to his opponent's rear. Raising his free arm, he brought his elbow down directly onto the Shepherd's arm, and a loud 'crack!' resounded throughout the room. �I'm BETTER than my dad!� The Shepherd, Adam's howl of agony echoed off the walls as Kurt dropped his limp arm, and stepped over him to face his other two challengers. With a look of pure calm and discipline in his eyes, he held up both paws, and motioned for the others to come forward as well. Layne, the Dingo, and Kelly, the Labrador, took a quick look at one another, before nodding their heads in an unspoken agreement. Turning to face the young otter, they rushed towards him together, with Layne attempting to flank Kurt on his left, while Kelly circled around to his right. Ricky attempted to step forward to assist, but was quickly stopped as Kurt held out a paw behind him to keep him at bay. �Don't worry,� came the otter's calm, almost reassuring voice. �Let them try.� With a pair of snarls, the two canines suddenly rushed forward, with rage in their eyes and murder on their minds. For his part, Kurt stood perfectly still, with both arms lowered calmly at his sides, as he watched his opponents close in. Suddenly, once they were both within reaching distance, the young otter finally made his move. Swaying his body gracefully out of the way of the first punch, which the Labrador had aimed towards his muzzle, he reached out to grab the dog's arm, which he calmly redirected towards his comrade, the punch meant for him landing solidly across the Dingo's face, causing him to stumble backwards in surprise. Using the momentary distraction to his advantage, Kurt spread both of his paws out flat, and proceeded to deliver a lightning-fast series of fingertip jabs to the Labrador's gut, chest, and sternum, before finishing by driving the first three claws on his right paw directly into the dog's throat. A hoarse choke exited his opponent's muzzle, as he immediately fell to his knees and began gasping for air. Layne, the Dingo, had finally managed to regain his senses, and with both fists raised, he rushed towards Kurt once again. This time, the young otter simply smiled, placing both paws calmly behind his back as he allowed his opponent to continue his approach. With a loud yell, the Dingo began to swing multiple heavy punches towards him, which the otter nimbly ducked, dodged, and swayed away from, laughing softly as Layne continued to press his attack, to no avail. �Gods damn it! Stop moving around so I can fuckin' hit you!� Suddenly, Kurt had quickly closed the distance between them, his muzzle only inches away from the Dingo's. �And why would I do that?� he calmly intoned. �YOU wanted to fight ME. That means I get to fight MY WAY!� With a loud screech, reminiscent of a martial-arts yell, Kurt brought his paws out from behind his back, and delivered a rapid-fire series of punches to the canine's stomach, before switching his targets to his opponent's shoulder joints. Layne let out a loud cry of pain as both of his shoulder joints were instantly dislocated, before being silenced by a sudden high-kick, which crashed directly into his left temple. Without another word, he tumbled to the ground, unmoving. Ricky, who'd stood by to bear witness to the carnage, had an impressed look of awe drawn across his face as he nodded his head approvingly. Turning to face Dmitri, he gave a tilt of his head and a shrug of his shoulders. �I guess the fight's over now,� he chuckled. �Are we good, Dmitri?� �Y-yeah...� The Doberman nodded his head, shaking slightly as his eyes swept over his three fallen men. �We're good. I apologize for the trouble, Mr. Davis.� Ricky waved off his apology with a flick of his wrist. Motioning to Kurt, he jerked his head towards the entrance to the clubhouse. �Hey, Gianni? Me and the kid are gonna take off. Are you guys alright with finding another ride back?� �That'll be no problem,� The red wolf nodded in response, not taking his eyes off of the three injured bikers splayed out on the floor. �We'll handle the cleanup for this. In the meantime, here--� Gianni slid the duffel bag off of his shoulder, before tossing it towards Rick, who caught it by the strap effortlessly. �Take that home with you. I know my Alpha trusts you, so watch over it for him until you get the call, alright?� Nodding his head in silent reply Ricky tapped Kurt on his shoulder, and motioned for him to follow, as they turned and made their way towards the entrance. �I guess the rumors were true, kid,� he chuckled as Kurt jogged over to join him. Together, they made their way out of the clubhouse, and strode calmly back towards Rick's truck. The two of them quickly entered the vehicle, before Ricky turned the key, and put the heavy vehicle into reverse. Backing out of the parking lot, they pulled out onto the main thoroughfare, before changing lanes and heading towards Harbor City's inner-loop freeway. They rode in silence for several moments, with neither of them having anything to say, until, halfway back to Ricky's apartment on the Southside, he finally turned his gaze towards the younger otter seated next to him. �So... Kung Fu, huh?� he stated matter-of-factly. �Yeah, I knew your dad was good in the ring, but he was a boxer. Now I see what everyone meant when they said you'd taken it a step further...� �That's right,� Kurt nodded, smiling slightly as he returned Ricky's stare. �Dad taught me how to box when I was younger, that much is true, but by the time I was thirteen, I'd had enough of it. I wanted to get stronger, you know? I needed to get stronger... People always used to pick on me because of my size, no matter where I went... So I signed up for an exchange student program to Hong Kong. I spent three years over there, training as much as I could under a couple of different masters who'd accepted me as a student, when I wasn't busy with school. I'm a pretty fast learner; even THEY were surprised by how quickly I picked up the movements. By the time I came back home for my senior year at Harbor Hills High... Let's just say that nobody ever picked on me again. And that goes the same for those jock bikers and the other assholes at Harbor City U...� Ricky let out a burst of genuine laughter as he shook his head, pulling onto the main street which led towards his and Connor's home. Reaching over with a taped-up hand, he gave Kurt a few hard smacks to the shoulder. �Well, you impressed me, kid, I'll tell you that much,� he smiled, nodding his head approvingly as he returned his hands to the wheel. �In fact, you've impressed me so much, that I'm gonna make you an offer. How'd you like to join my crew? It's not easy work, but I can promise you a steady supply of cash, weed, whatever you want, and you'll get paid weekly... Plus you'll get to meet some pretty powerful people. I know it's probably not the kinda life your dad would want for you, but--� �--I'm in, Boss.� Kurt interrupted with a nod of his head. �I don't care if it's running shipments, collecting debts, or just doing what I'm best at. If you and the other Bosses can really help out me and my Dad... you can think of me as your right-hand man.� �Alright, then... As long as you're sure, then you've got it.� Ricky turned to face the young otter once more. �Where I go, you go. If I fight, you fight. And if things go bad, and I tell you to kill...� �I'll do it. Without hesitation.� �Alright, hen. Welcome to the crew, 'Rocker.'� ---END CHAPTER 20