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The following is a Tales From Apartment 232 Production. Characters therein are used at the permission of I Damion St. James the author, and remaining characters are my trademark. Characters can only be used with my expressed written permission

The following story contains adult themes, strong dialogue, and an environment of a homosexual nature. If homosexual erotica or homosexual themes are offensive to you then please stop reading. If you are also a minor, please refrain from reading.

Among the above mentioned, this story also contains the mature theme of Bloodletting, devil worship and blood play. If these offend you in any way, turn away now..

Alex Fletcher, Heckyl & Jeckyl, and Fabian Grizzard are co-owned by myself and Kooshmeister. Neil, Khris, and Micah are used with permission of Micah Fennic (kitsune 25).

Tags: (M/M, Drama, Story, Long, Anal, Oral, Bloodplay, Dark, devil worship, semi-rape )

[Any foreign language portrayed in this story is done at the author (my self's) expense and readers bare in mind that they are not my primary language and please do not correct me on translations unless its pertinent]

I love LA lyrics (c.) Randy Newman

* * *

TALES FROM APARTMENT 232 - Part 20, "A deal with the devil"

* * *

Father was right, I suppose. Sometimes, running away is the best thing to do. Sometimes you have to do what's best in your heart and your soul, and do what you think is truly best for everyone and not just for yourself. Being a Satanist, it's near sacrilegious for me to put others before myself, but my friends meant more to me then than they had ever meant anything to me.

I was ashamed for running. I felt guilty. Images of Jay's burning body and pained screams as his life was snuffed before my eyes...haunted my nightmares and by day I saw Sparky's body tumbling and breaking as it rolled to its ultimate end. Jay's curse worked in a way, I felt his blood on my hands and the weight of their bodies on my heart. I couldn't bear the idea or thought of having another death on my soul.

For two weeks after leaving, I broke contact with the world. I hid. No one knew where I was. I laid as low as I possibly could, making as minimal contact with anyone as humanly possible.

I had stayed in Detroit. Someone had once told me that a great cat devil ruled the city, a powerful man with his hands in almost every part of the city, a mansion that was almost unfathomable, and a family that was worth dying 7 times over just for one glimpse of.

Sadly these were just rumors, and most of my queries pointed to me to an old and deserted mansion that didn't seem like it'd ever been in habited. It was truly a pity.

With no where else to go, I began throwing darts at the map, using my savings to just fly from city to city, staying clear of New England at all costs. The closest I got was North Carolina, but that was merely to spend the night.

The time came when I realized, I had to communicate with someone. I had to talk to someone real. I was running out of outfits to wear, I remember thinking. It seemed Damn important at the time but really having new outfits wasn't a priority.

I was in Huston the night I called dad. Dad was a wreck. He was so worried he'd become sick, and had taken leave. My step dad did most of the talking for me. In talking through him I was told that Cyric bore me no ill will, but was tremendously worried about me, along with everyone else. Neil himself was tearing his hair out in worry for his husband. He'd thought I'd gone and done something rash like Jay, mainly because I'd left our wedding ring on the nightstand. I sent the message along that I just couldn't bare to see him or anyone else hurt, so I had to go.

Dad in all his humor, threatened to have me detained the next time I tried to board a plane if I didn't come home. I knew he understood however, and respected my space.

...I also came to found out, Mother had been sprung. Through some miraculous means, mother had been released by the head doctor. I could only imagine that Alex had something to do with her release. Actually I didn't much consider her a threat. She was spiteful and vicious and crazy, but I doubt she'd be much harm to me.

Though, I did need to see someone, someone I hadn't seen in ages. Someone whom needed to know first hand what was going on.

So...I flew to Portland.

* * *

6 months after the deaths of Jay and Sparky

* * *

I awoke to the smell of bacon. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had bacon, and it started to bug me as I rolled over on the couch. The sky outside was light, but shrouded by clouds. Oregon I'd learned was notorious for sporadic weather changes and long periods of dismal rain and overcast conditions. It made for calm and cool weather though.

Several copies of the Oregonian newspaper lay sprawled around the living room floor where I was sleeping, the kitchen which was behind the couch and separated by a wall, was full of the smells and sounds of food preparation. I yawned, and stretched. I wasn't used to couch-surfing really, but living these last 6 months on this couch, I'd become more used to it than I had been. I'd slept on beds of nails before, and that can even be more desirable than a simple non fold-out couch.

A black Labrador peaked his head in, and smiled cheerfully. "Morning sunshine. I've made breakfast for you both today."

He was so chipper and so cheery, it was like sucking on chalk. If it wasn't for the fact that he was probably the most stunning Lab I'd ever met, I'd not pay him any attention. Sadly he was just eye candy...straight but metrosexual...all that jazz. It took me the first too months of being in the same house with him to accept that he just wasn't gay. I'd told him he was in mortal sin of course, leading me into temptation. He'd deny It of course, but the hip swishing, tail wagging, techno loving, well dressed, and properly groomed dog had to be gay...or at least should be.

"You make breakfast for us everyday." I moaned, turning over to bury my face into the musty old couch.

"Oh heavens, you know I just love cooking for you both. Now come on you lazy head, you get up right this instant and get your furry fanny into the kitchen."

"I'm not decent." I muttered, making excuses.

"Oh my stars." He said holding a hand over his mouth and shivering like he was going to faint, then standing erect and dropping his voice to a very butch and manly octave in order to say. "I've seen you naked...now up an at 'am buster."

I blinked and nodded. "Yessir..." I saluted in his general direction. I didn't see it but his normal cheer returned as he waked back into the kitchen.

I'd slept in the only pair of underwear I had left because of the others being washed, my faux-nude thong. I stood and shook off, piling my blankets onto the couch, and grabbing thick denim pants that I'd taken to wearing in the Autumn months in the Pacific Northwest.

The house was modern industrial built house; the kind that when they knock down a house like the one I had on Tumbler St., they manage to build 3 tiny homes on top of. The house was more long and tall than anything. In front of me was a bay window with the TV in front of it, door to the left of that, wall to the right which lead into the kitchen, and to the left of the front door was the stairs, and the downstairs bedroom where the lab was staying. The upstairs had the secondary bathroom and the master bedroom. I'd seen it, It was fairly nice since it took up most of the upstairs space.

I slipped into the kitchen and yawned again, scratched, and sat down onto a nearby chair. My hair had grown back nearly half it's length in 6 months, I was quite surprised. For a moment I had pipedreams of being given swirlies at Otto's but instead of water someone had doused me in Rogane. The lab was nothing much more than eye candy as I'd said before. He was shorter than me, but had a beautiful face, attention grabbing eyes and hips, and a well maintained body. He was wearing medical scrubs, today the typical "medical" green. Yesterday they were yellow because the sun was actually out yesterday - which he'd taken the opportunity to remind me of every chance he got.

"Well I'm not totally ready yet, but here's an appetizer." He said, setting a plate of peanut buttered toast with some scrambled eggs on the side.

"Thanks Phillip." I said, grabbing my flannel shirt off the back of the kitchen chair and shrugging it on. That's right...I was wearing flannel, tres butch oui?

"You're quite welcome. So tell me, is there any particular reason you never use the phone here? I mean you use the computer phone but...if you don't mind my asking, wouldn't be easier just to use a real phone?"

I shrugged. "Paranoia. You know that."

Actually I should be honest. After going to Portland, I sought mental help. I was so broken and fractured that I was costing myself a fortune and was hurting myself without realizing it. Not eating, not sleeping, not drinking...hell not even fucking a 2 dollar hooker...I wasn't myself at all. I don't like to talk about this part of my life, but I was actually in recovery; by witnessing 2 suicides and a death of a loved one, my little cross-country jaunt was proof of my mental breakdown. I'd been in counseling constantly, but was still so out of shape that I was required to be attended by a nurse. Enter...the Phillip.

Part of me resented and hated myself for being there. It felt like a crutch, an excuse for me to keep from my responsibilities so I could cope and mourn. It felt like a way for me to feel my comfort zone while others around me didn't have such luxuries. I was even embarrassed that I had to eat regular meals with surveillance, bathe with surveillance, and even sleep in the open where I could be watched. It was the sleepwalking, the nightmares, the violent night terrors which were endangering my health that required Phillip's watchful eye.

It was the post traumatic stress disorder more than anything that had given me these afflictions. It was a true shame. Once I stood atop the roof of a sky scraper where my husband had proposed to me in front of millions of people; now I felt reduced to something you read about...those people you call em. Those people who live in nursing homes...people who cant take care of themselves.

Even as I ate my munchies that Phillip had prepared before my main course, I still resented every part of myself. I resented being ill, and being so troubled by what Alex and Spike had done. I mean...for fucks sake I didn't even get the good medications. I had stuff that was supposed to knock me out...heavy sedatives, and then anti-depressants...then medications to take care of the side-effects of the first meds...I felt like a little pill popper.

My sole joys of my day was the little bit of exercise that I got to do each day with Phillip, and the fact of whom my housemate was. I was glad that his father had managed to set us up together, given the history the two of us had in the past.

Phillip sat my second plate, my tiny shot glass of pills, and a glass of orange juice for me to consume, as he grabbed a platter to head upstairs. "Now so help me if he's not up and about himself by the time I get up there...there's going to be heck to pay." He said as an idle threat.

"That's just because he gets up at dawn every morning to jog, he has for years."

"Ugh I know...it's like when I worked with a patient that had this bladder problem. Sweet Jesus every 2 hours he'd wake me up and need me to help him to the can...it was every two damn hours...I couldn't take it anymore."

"Well fortunately he's walking fully now and even running and doing weights. He's just recovering still from his surgery."

"I know...and sweet Betsy I know how happy he was with it. Oh Asher!" He said as he rounded the corner, hip and tail aswish as he ascended the staircase.

I looked down at my plate of food. Homemade hash browns, bacon and pancakes. It was all healthy and good...but a lot of my medications killed my appetite. Eating for me as a chore...like taking out the garbage or sucking off the dog...wait...err forget that last one.

Yeah, I was living with Asher alright. After his military father had come and scooped him up from our arms to be with the families private doctors, he'd since recovered fully from the gunshot wounds to his knees, and probably would even be fit to wrestle again if he played his cards right.

I was actually genuinely overjoyed at his most recent surgery. It'd taken a few months mainly due to court battles, but with mine and Neil's help we had managed to save Asher's sight. When Sparky had died, his feline eyes were prime choice for organ donors. Sparky had joined the program, but because there was no one to grant the rights to his body, it was left to the state. Neil and Dad did the best they could and after some effort they'd managed to procure my late lover's eyes. Despite being feline eyes, they'd fit well into Asher's body, and the connections worked. His sight slowly returned over the last few months, and most recently he's been walking around with the new eyes. "Walking the irises" he calls it. Lately he'd been having some vertigo and depth perception difficulties, as were normal with eye transplants, but Phillip assured me that would clear up in no time.

I stabbed at my food, and pushed it around. The problem with my medications was they killed my appetite, and food that one would normally enjoy seems uninteresting - all for the benefit of sleeping better and not feeling depressed. I had to eat though, otherwise I'd regret it later. I started to fork my food into my mouth, chewing and swallowing, and not feeling any gratification from it. I took a moment to button up my shirt, and resumed eating.

Phillip came back into the room, and placed his hands on my shoulders and gave me a reassuring squeeze. "Good, so glad to see you eating."

I shrugged and sighed. "You're right, I do need to eat. Besides, arguing with you isn't any fun." I said, forking another bit of food inside of my maw.

"Of course you don't. Then it's no fun for us." He said as he began to gather my hair and pull it back. I had a little tail forming, and we guessed in another 6 months my hair would be back to it's original luster. "Well what kind of hairdo would you like?"

"Cornrows." I said with my mouth full, swallowing and apologizing for speaking with my mouth full.

"But that's a wolf hairstyle...I mean; don't you want to wear a haircut more suited to your species?"

"No. I want cornrows please." I said. Not wanting to argue.

"Sorry I just hate doing cornrows." He said as he started to do my hair. "I mean...its so much easier to do a braid. I don't see how those wolves have done it so."

"The same way they've done it all their lives; with patience and diligence. You know, for someone as cheerful as you to have a prejudice against someone seems out of character for you."

"Not really, I just don't like wolves. Few years ago they kept to themselves, now they're all over the place with their...bling and their...hip-hop rap music...I can't stand it. I just wish they'd go back where they came from sometimes."

"Ever stop and think that someone may think that about a cheerful lab?" I said with a malicious smile.

"Honeychild, I don't put quite the stranglehold on the welfare system and the criminal justice system that wolves do. I swear, they must be born with the preordained knowledge that they're going to break the law someday."

"Well having lived with them I can tell you they're not all criminals."

"Was he or someone he lived with a gang member or drug dealer?"

"I don't think that's a valid argument."

"Just answer the question."

"Yes...he was a criminal but he changed."

"Says you Renee. But...you're right it's not like me to get all fouled up over someone's species like this. I have important work to do."

"Yeah like my hair for starters. I'm going out with Asher later."

"Good, cause I need a nap myself. Dealing with your night terrors can be a chore."

"Thanks...that makes me feel loads better." I said with a sigh.

Phillip placed his hands on my shoulders and gave me a reassuring squeeze. "No that's not what I mean. I'm not physically strong enough to fend you off every night. I just wonder whom or what it is you think you're fighting."

"Death...that's all I can really say."

"Death huh? Well you must be going after that jackal with a vengeance. You throw kicks like you were in a dojo or something. You almost put your foot through the TV the other night." He said softly.

"Really? Damn that would sure have been interesting."

"Shocking, is the word I would use. Electrifying perhaps, but shocking sounds more appropriate."

"Aww... that really hertz my feelings Phillip. I mean, with my short fuse that could really break up my circuits." I said, making a small smile.

"Sweet Jesus don't you dare make another electricity pun or so help me I'll write you off as a 'slipped in the shower'." He said rolling his eyes.

It took about an hour, but he finally finished my hair. I wanted my hair out of my face, and having lived with Rowdy enough, I was used to wearing my hair this way. Once I had complained, but figured it to be far more ideal than any other hairstyle for the purpose of low-hassle/low-maintenance. I could imagine why the ancient wolf packs wore their hair this way; It allowed you to have your hair long, but when it came to battle it made you streamlined and made you more combat efficient. I had to concur with this theory, because I seemed to favor the style when I was working out. No more braid slapping me in the face or eyes as I did my twirls; not to mention less to grab onto.

Asher then stepped into the room still walking with the white cane. The fur on his knees covered up most of the gunshot scars, so you couldn't tell he'd been injured there really. Probably the only thing that really seemed sinister about Asher's appearance, was a set of feline eyes looking at me from the skull of someone whom was most definitely canine...eyes that had once stared into mine in the last moment's life had filled them in the body of the previous owner. Asher could see pretty damn well, but still had his dizzy spells and vertigo and all that.

"Did I hear you talking crap about my Rowdy Phillip?" He asked, placing his tray onto the table. "Because I won't tolerate it."

"No I was expressing my opinions was all...from what you tell me Rowdy is an outstanding person, real swell."

"Phillip you'll feel the swell of my foot...in your ass...if you say one more bad thing about a wolf in this house. You work for me, understand? You're nice and chipper and I enjoy your cooking, cleaning, and housework - but it ends there when it comes to your speciest attitudes."

"You heard?"

"Try spending a few months totally blind...you learn to rely on your other senses. I'll let you off the hook this time if you let Renee and I go out this evening."

Phillip's jaw dropped. "Legally I'm not supposed to. I could get my license revoked."

"Or be fired...take your pick."

I smiled at Asher. Asher wasn't bitter or anything, he was just defensive about the man he loved. I wouldn't blame him in an instant. I get a bit miffed when I hear people say "dirty little rat", that's my little bedroom name for Neil...it's mine I tell you.

"Fine, but so help me if there is any trouble, you to are going to be back on the leashes tomorrow morning." Phillip said with a sigh. "I really am sorry, I'll make you something special for desert tonight to make up for it. For now, you two go run, I got your bottles ready, oh and Renee your running clothes are up with Asher's things in his room."

"Thanks."

I stood, and took Asher's hand as I lead him up the stairs into his room. All of Asher's things in his room were soft, or had rounded edges. When he first moved in he'd fallen a few times where he'd tripped and had nearly cracked his skull open twice - saved by a few precious inches. Asher had his king sized bed that seemed rather empty without Rowdy on the other side of it, and otherwise was fairly empty. There was a bookshelf of brail books Asher had purchased, having taken the time to learn the language quickly, he said he was more fond of reading that way than with his eyes, saying he could fly through books like there was nothing to hold him back.

"So, what do you say, long spandex and T shirts?" I asked, as I picked up the outfits he'd laid out for us. Mine was an old Appetite For Destruction T shirt with a set of black tights. Asher's were the same tight, but Asher was wearing a Pesti's Pizza t shirt (oh how I missed it...).

"Sounds like a plan."

We stripped, and changed, setting our house clothes aside, and slipping on our jogging shoes, after heading back downstairs to grab our Gatorade bottles. Phillip was already back in his room, probably settling down for a well needed nap. We grabbed our hooded sweatshirts, and unzipped them down the middle, and just kept them on if it was particularly cool. As we ran outside into the South East neighborhood, we could tell we made a good decision.

Asher and I had a routine when we ran, we ran all the way to the river and back, and called it a day. We lived about 60 blocks away from the waterfront, so a good 120 block job was always nice. Unlike LA where the ground was level, there were plenty of hills and valleys to make the terrain more difficult. Asher always ran just behind me. I could spot little things like potholes, cracks, or even other cars. We did this even when he was still completely blind.

We limbered up and stretched. I got a bit playful and gave his ass a grope, and he gave me a firm kiss on the lips. That was about as playful as we got these days with my depression. I honestly didn't have the will to hardly paw off anymore. "Alright Renee, lets get to this."

And so we started our jog. I'd become very familiar with this part of Portland since I'd moved here. I'd even exchanged conversations with Rowdy over points of interest. He would give me good places to go to: bars, bathhouses, and scenic places of call. On one of my nights I had away from Phillip I tried a bathhouse called Steam Portland. They were small little rooms, with a hot tub out front, and group playrooms upstairs; but their most interesting feature was the large shower area and steam room. I'd spent some time in there over the weekend, just relaxing. Then, like always, whole groups of bears and skittish canines will come through.

The bears are nice, but many see me as undesirable due to my much smaller size. The ones that actually do come onto me are either in their 60's and too overweight to see their own penis when they stand up, or want to dress me up in leather and attach me to a St. Andrews' cross for the first group of bears to torture. Thanks but no thanks.

The skittish canines, are guys I'm guessing are only looking for certain body shapes, species, or situations - otherwise they clam up and shy away. Or the other thing I came to find out that many of them aren't completely gay or are only there for oral and nothing more. To me it seems like a damn fine waste of 18 bucks to go to all that trouble.

The place that Rowdy had once used as an underground spot for his crime ring was no longer running. It'd been torn apart and re-organized into some sort of glory-hole maze. Glory holes can be fun, as you may recall I told you I used one put into the bathroom at Pesti's with Khris, but for guys like me with knots, they can be dangerous as well. Unless that glory hole is particularly wide cut, we'd have to be very careful not to get stuck...otherwise you could set yourself up for a very humiliating night; or worse have some kind of freak with a penis fetish start doing something to it.

No, that wasn't me at that time. 6 months of abstinence was getting to me though, and I'd often wake up in the night with the most raging of erections, and my body begging for release, yet my mind felt no where in the mood to play, and even jacking off was rudimentary and unpleasurable. Asher and I occasionally play grabass, but that's about it. He'd been through a lot of medical surgeries lately and as such I could understand not wanting to play. Me...I was just plain depressed and it didn't help having a black lab staring over your shoulder all day.

"So what was the deal with Phillip today?" Asher asked as we crossed another side street intersection.

"Oh he got all hot and bothered over wolves because I asked him to do my hair in cornrows."

Asher, his own hair flowing free, rolled his new eyes, and shook his head. "So he gets all prejudice over a hairstyle?"

"Apparently; If you heard it, why are you asking though?"

"Because, it's better to hear it from the source as to why things happened than to assume things."

"Ah, always better to ask rather than assume, I was always told."

We actually ran in silence for about a good half of the way. It wasn't until we took our break at the waterfront that I found Asher looking at me curiously. I was eating an energy bar and drinking my energy drink, he was doing squats to stay limber.

"Renee, I've been meaning to have a talk with you."

"About?"

"I've been wanting to talk to you about Alex and Spike." He said stopping to sit down next to me, the Tri-met bus stop nice and sheltered in case of rain. "Renee I know you're depressed so I'll say this as sensitively as I can. You need to go down there and kick ass."

"It's not that simple. I'm not in the right frame of mind to deal with them."

"That's what bothers me Renee. For the longest time I knew you, you were always the old ironsides. If someone shot at you, you took it but you never let it get to you. Hell, I tried to rape you once and here we are, still best friends; so you mind telling me what's going on?"

I tipped my energy drink towards the ground, as if to shrug. "I really don't know. It all seems hopeless Asher, like a gauntlet match you know? I feel like just when I get one guy beat, another one is going to pop up and I get no break in-between. The worst part is I'm also racing a clock because if I don't work within a certain window, one of you guys gets hurt."

Asher crossed his legs. If I was a leg man, I'd have to say he had the nicest legs out of all of us. They were delicious to look at even through the spandex he wore. "Renee, did you ever stop to think that you can turn this around in their faces too? You tell me spike is the real brain, well...he still needs Alex to be the mouth of the pair. Have you ever thought about maybe fighting fire with fire? You know...take Alex hostage and lure the asshole Spike in? It'd be a fair fight then...and you'd be able to make demands of your own."

"It's not as simple as that. Spike's got his goons, and Alex has his...and Spike is like a frickin god with the way he has his eyes over the city."

Asher smiled softly. "Renee, again this is one of those times that you need to stop letting your paranoia and depression rule your judgment and your thought process. One thing my Italian ancestors were proud upon, was if they encountered a method the enemy used in order to get victories they used it as well against that enemy. Take Spike's 'eyes', having been blind I can understand the importance of eyes but don't forget...ears can sometimes hear better than the eyes can see."

"Meaning?"

"Spy on them Renee. Give them a taste of their own damn medicine. Find an insider that's unhappy with his job...someone willing to spill some beans against Alex, or even a gangbanger in Los Angeles that's willing to talk some smack...put a bad word out on him."

"So you are saying I sabotage them?"

"Fuck yes Renee. For the love of god man - sorry - but I just can't stand this. I mean, what actual hold do these guys have on you? I mean...they bought out your Studios, and they bought out the Camellia when you left LA. Kay...right there two of your worries gone. If you think about it, there's not much more they can actually do to you guys, Alex and Spike have pretty much taken out their aggressions on all of us."

"Well what about Rowdy? He's the only one left that has any kind of public face at the moment. Alex could blow his gang related past, the fact he raped and mutilated a boy."

Asher scoffed. "So? The guy's repaid his debt and has more than made up for it. And Rowdy is definitely willing to admit his past on camera if there is a problem, and his coach is willing to back him up."

"His coach is willing to back a criminal?"

"Rowdy is no more a criminal than you or I. I mean, no one is going to prosecute him in it. Rowdy is out of the gang, and the kid doesn't bare him any ill will."

I sighed, starting to feel all depressed all over again. I didn't know why, but I think my normal defenses were kicking in. "Well there's still Cyric, and Dad."

"Renee, nobody nowadays is going to give a rats ass if you are fucking your dad. Your son may be something iffy due to his age but he's at AOC, so really there's nothing that can be done legally."

"Well child services may take him away..."

"Renee, at the time they gave him to you they thought the first thing you were going to do was bend him over and shove it in, because that's what his mother's boyfriends were trying to do. Cyric came to the decision he wanted to be intimate with you on his own accord, no one in that apartment pressured him...no one told him that this was the lifestyle to live or anything. I certainly didn't. We all gave him the option to be intimate with us if he made that choice, otherwise we all kept our distance from him."

"Sparky wanted to fuck him from the beginning."

"Well that was Sparky and Sparky's dead now. You can't blame him for anything anymore because he's paid for his sins Renee. Yes he was fucking a little boy for a long time, and yes he wanted to fuck yours, but I'm quite sure he's carried much regret and self hatred because of that and was willing to pay penance at the hour of his judgment for his lusts."

I didn't say anything. I just decided to stare at my Nikes and listen, it'd been a long time since anyone had given me a pep-talk.

"Renee, I can't fight this battle for you. I am just barely being able to see again. In time, sure I'll be at 100 percent again, but I'm never going to fight your battles for you Renee. You're smart, beautiful, strong, and cunning. You're a fox Renee; foxes are more than just fuck toys, they are very powerful and know just how to get what they want. Renee, you don't have anything else to loose. They've taken your home, your family, your friends, your job, and now your health. I say it's either time to fight back, or roll over and die."

I looked at him, I never expected Asher of all people to say that. "You don't think I haven't thought of killing myself?"

"Oh I bet you have, but you haven't, which shows you have a bit more up in your skull than Fletcher and Jay did, otherwise you'd have been growing right alongside Jay in that forest of suicides as you call it. What I'm saying Renee is more or less as traumatic as this shit is, you can only cope and mourn and feel sorry for yourself for so long before it begins to really eat at you and wear you down; and to me it seems to have done it's job already." Asher said as he pulled his hair back, and let it flop, getting it out of his face. One of the busses drove up, and Asher waved it off to signal we weren't interested, before he looked me dead in the eyes. It was very creepy indeed.

"Renee, it's an Ironman match...you've got 60 minutes to get as many decisions as possible before the clock runs out. You got your ass kicked for the first 40 minutes, now you still have 20 minutes to make a recovery. What I'm saying is, you can either lay down for Alex and Spike and let them steal the title from you, or you can pull a good old come from behind victory and completely steal the show. Fight back Renee, or so help me Renee...get ready to spend the rest of your life with a nurse like Phillip who has the same affect as nails on a chalkboard."

Asher then stood up, and gestured for me to start running again. It took me a moment, but I finished my snack, and followed. What I was doing was the same thing I'd been doing for months; running from my problems. I had ran away before for my own and everyone's safety, but the last few months were just me avoiding my duties. I really did need to go down there and kick some ass.

"You're right. I do need to do something about this."

"I'm hardly wrong Renee, especially when it comes to assholes like him."

"Hey Asher, there's something I've wanted to ask you for a long time."

"Shoot...I talked to you about this, it's only fair."

"The old Fletcher wanted you. If I would never have introduced you to Rowdy would you have ever gone out with Fletcher?"

Asher snorted. "Renee, the first time I ever laid eyes on him I could tell he wasn't my type. He was too uptight, and too conservative. I mean...I could see it in his own eyes, he just wasn't the kind of person I could see going out with."

"Didn't he see you in a towel the first time you met?"

Asher cracked a smile and laughed, it was a deep, light hearted laugh - one I hadn't heard in ages from Asher. "You know I think you're right! I wonder if that had anything to do with it, that he saw me naked the first time we met."

"Could be, it's arguable that you and I have the best bodies in the household."

"What about your dad, Mr. Light-heavyweight champion and all that?"

"Household Asher, household."

"Ah, well all around I suppose you're right. Rowdy's kind of a hulk, and Jay and Sparky were the twinks...and Chong was always just Chong."

"Well Chong's doing much better now according to an email I got from him."

"Why did he go into relapse anyway?"

"Spike actually. Spike caught Chong with a bunch of his drug buddies and he got pressured into using again. They dumped his body on the steps of LAPD headquarters full of paraphernalia and left the extra drugs at Mitchell's house."

"And didn't you say Kurt lost his job because of that?"

"Yeah, but Dad knows it's bogus. For once something happened he could control since he's head of the Drug division at FBI. He's working on getting the decision reversed."

"What's Kurt doing for a job in the meantime, I mean it's not like he had a lot of money like we did, and then again we weren't overly wealthy."

"No, certainly not - watch out for that pothole - now as I was saying Kurt in the mean time has started up work as a bodyguard and bounty hunter in the mean time till he gets reinstated by LAPD."

"That's a scary thought, an angry and hormonal homosexual kicking down your door to collect the bounty on your head - he just might use his nails."

I fake gasped like Phillip had mastered, and covered my mouth. "Oh Betsy you don't mean his good nails do you? Those will take forever to get manicured again."

Asher laughed again, and said. "Renee why don't you come to the Silverado with me tonight. You can have a few beers and stuff and have fun at the bathhouse next door."

"Well I don't know how sexy I feel man."

Asher scoffed and gave me a play shove. "Come on, you haven't had much more than a piece of hand for months. Neither have I."

"And I thought you were monogamous."

"My ass and cock are, that still leaves my mouth free to range Renee. Doesn't mean I can't suck dick all night."

"Oh my..." I said in a mock surprised tone. "Well, to be honest my meds make me really unable to perform."

"So? Just don't take em."

"I can't, I probably wont get by Phillip without taking my meds."

"That's right, fuck. Well try your best Renee. If worse comes to worse, just let them use you for a while, and see if it doesn't turn you on."

"You make it sound so easy, being the doll for any number of strangers. Normally I would be very turned on by the idea of any number of men taking turns unloading their cum wads in my ass...but...even though my cock is getting hard I don't feel it up in my head."

"That's why you don't think...just act man."

"I'll think about it man."

* * *

The boardroom at the top of Fletch-Co.'s Boston headquarters was not only grand in its design but was also functional in its practicality. The two large oak double doors opened up and gave the employees a wide berth to the long and slender oval table that took up the center of the room, surrounded by 22 chairs, the tallest of which was meant for the CEO. Behind the CEO was a optional screen for more reports, and a mini bar with a nice light up statue of a statue of Eros that had been built into the wall. The walls were ceiling to floor windows, divided into large segments that allowed them to look out on the world, and still feel like they had room to breathe.

Alex remembered his childhood being well spent in that very room; sitting in the corner and watching his father conduct business. Alex pondered on how the suits, ties, styles, and social attitudes were different then, but now he was the man with the high-backed chair. Often Alex entertained the idea of holding a Persian cat in his arms as a prop, stroking it and saying, "At last everything is going according to plan."

But his better sense of business always won out ion the end. The Ivory Tower was never just fun and games; more it was cutthroat negotiations and bloody boardroom battle tatics. Alex admired Spike's knowledge and position in the crime syndicate, however Alex was not surprised to see Spike suffocated by the corporate cloak that was hanging over him.

Alex was waiting from Spike to return from changing, his normal grunge appearance would not have sat well with the older board members - that was all of them. Coincidentally the three most likely to find fault with Spike happened to be Alex's biggest allies. Alex didn't know how it would turn out, but he always expected nothing less than success.

Soon the board members began to file in one by one. There were 12 that were appearing today. Alex had to appear before the board that day to justify his funding of the Los Angeles project. Word from his father was that the board genuinely wasn't to thrilled at the spending of multiple millions of dollars on a corporate tower in LA, as well as confronting the issue of his business deals with me and to figure out where spike fit into all of this.

The namless pencil-neck-geeks as Alex liked to call them came in first, followed by his close council of allies. The first was Archibald Ford, called Ford for short, was definitely someone that had aged gracefully and had maintained his good appearance. The lion had his hair cut short, and had made his mane into mutton chops rather than the long locks that were typical of his race. He had a big body as well, a former power-lifter and weight lifting champion from 1955-59 for Maryland State. Alex remembered how much Heckyl resembled him when he was younger. Now instead of tight abs, the lion had a sagging and tired stomach, and a little bit of sagging skin in the face, otherwise he was still as muscular as ever. The old Irishman still had the mentality of having malt whisky flowing through his veins even now.

Following him in was Gerald Cramer. Gerald "Wheezing" Cramer was a vulture if anyone ever saw one, despite being a weasel. He constantly had his ears swept back, and had a drooping, hunchback like appearance. People say that Cramer should sue the Simpson's creator for ripping off his physical likeness for the character of Monty Burns. Cramer almost always kept his hands crossed behind his back, and his eyes shifted around the room from behind his wire-rimmed glasses. Cramer as the oldest board member as well, at close to 88 years old and still kicking. Cramer though was not by any means a weak vulture; he had more venom in him than blood Alex had to say. Despite his wheeze when he breathed, people often contributed it to a hiss of a snake. Like Fabian did when Alex was younger, Cramer also helped raise Ben his father. Cramer was like a grouchy grandfather - the kind that loved you but still wouldn't hesitate to whack you over the head with a blunt object if you mouthed off.

And last there was Nigel Goldberg. Goldberg who resembled nothing of his wrestling namesake, was actually rather pathetic. Goldberg was one of the few people that had contracted Polio as a child, and it had since destroyed most of his legs, forcing him to walk with heavy braces or wheelchairs. Other ailments had left most of his skin clinging to his bones, and weaker than a newborn kitten. Nigel was also the Oldest rabbit working for Fletch-co, and was the first one in the company when Tomas Fletcher founded the company. Since then, the almost all Lapine company had treated Goldberg well, despite his physical problems. Nigel was now the chief treasurer and accountant of the biggest fortune 500 company on the eastern seaboard.

Ford pushed Nigel's wheelchair over towards Alex, as Cramer made his chamberlain like walk about the room, his eyes darting all about as the other nameless stuffed shirts began to banter about trivial matters.

"He'll be ready on time?" Ford asked in a gruff Irish accent.

"Course he will. Then again he would have been completely ready if it wasn't so imperative he dress business appropriate."

"Call me fickle...but I don't think that the board...myself included...would want to see...some mink gallivanting around...with his ass hanging out..." Cramer hissed, focusing on Alex.

"Well at least let him just change his jeans, then you don't have a problem."

"Those clothes have no place in the office...it's so...trashy. You want everyone to think your tastes are...trashy?" Cramer asked, lifting his old gaze to emphasize his point.

"No."

"Then...by all means...let him dress...appropriately..." Cramer said with a snake like grin, stepping aside to allow Goldberg to be wheeled in closer.

"Numbers look good." He said in his tired and labored voice.

"Good. That's what I want to hear."

"So can you give me a little preview Alex boy, of what - if anything - this little street urchin has to offer?" Ford asked, checking the brakes on Goldberg's chair.

"A lot. But I'm going to let him speak for himself."

"Bold...but don't you think that's...short sighted of you...Alex? Allowing someone...with no...business sense try to tell us...how things are going to be done?"

Alex narrowed his eyes. "You know over a hundred years ago people would have considered your practices to be poor business practice. He's going to be the new wave in social economics."

"Social economics?" Goldberg said a bit worried. "I don't even want to think about the possible revenue loss."

"Oh hush. Here he comes now."

Spike entered the room, and closed the doors behind him. Collectively Alex, Ford, and Cramer all dropped their jaws, while Goldberg's eyes merely shot open as if someone had cut off his oxygen. Spike had his hair neatly combed and pulled back into a fancy braid that went down his back, his hair was his natural color of white, the first time Alex had seen it undyed. Spike had chosen a black suit, with a black and white pinstripe shirt, and matching black tie with tie pin. His often bloodshot and piercing dagger like eyes were hidden behind a pair of tasteful shaded glasses, and his feet were covered in shoes that had to have been Gucci.

"I hope I'm only fashionably late." Spike said, his British accent slurring slightly. Ford winced as if he'd been stabbed, and Cramer's weasel mouth curled into a smile as if he'd just spotted fresh meat.

"No you're fine Spike. Everyone take your seats."

Everyone sat in their normal seats, except for Spike. He was the one that was going to be interviewed, or as Alex called it "put before the board of inquiry". That's all this really was about, was Spike, and not him. Alex could read it on their faces...this was all about Spike and their opinions of him. Everyone around the room couldn't take their eyes off him, like he was a piece of meat and they were all rabid junk yard dogs.

Spike cleared his throat and walked around the room. Fitzgibbons, a chimp from accounting, fidgeted with his pen as Spike walked by, and Hanks the fat bloated Walrus from human relations had a cold stare that could melt the glaciers of Alaska. Alex didn't like it one bit.

"Gentlemen of the board, allow me to introduce myself. I am called Spike, and that's all you need to know. I'm here because you have called Alex in front of this board to inquire about his spending, but we all know what you're here for, you want to find out the skinny behind me, and why Alex would associate with someone whom by all rights probably doesn't even belong in this room."

"You can bloody say that again." Ford said under his breath, only loud enough to be audible without saying it fully out loud.

"But guess what people, I'm here. I'm not going to be leaving any time soon. I married Alex because he's just what I want in a man, and he treats me right."

Fitzgibbons choked on the water he was drinking. "Gah...did you say marry?"

"He most certainly did." Came the shrill nasal voice of Johnson from Media Relations.

"That's preposterous! You can't marry another man Alex! It's unacceptable in the eyes of god and the public." Fitzgibbons stuttered, attempting to fish his rolls of fat out from under the table.

"Oh get behind the times...you fat bloated excuse for a CPA. Gays are going to marry...wolves are going to ride in the front seats of busses...and you're still going to gain weight sure as the day...is long." Cramer hissed from across the table.

"But you have to think of what the public might think of that Alex. You were barely dating him a few months before you married him. The public may think that as a little short-sighted and doomed not to last." Johnson whined.

"I stand by my decisions..." Alex said closing his eyes. "And Walter..." He began looking at the walrus whom was dabbing himself with a handkerchief as if he was growing faint. "Don't quote scripture to me again...or the next people you preach too will be your new friends at the unemployment office." Alex said softly and yet curtly.

Another rabbit stood up, this one dressed like Colonel Sanders minus the cowboy hat, stood up and said. "Alex son, I do think you're in a bit of a pickle here. Now is my job as director of internal affairs to make sure that we don't have hubbub like this here. Now gentlemen, you may not agree with Mr. Alex's weddin' of the mink here, but by high heaven he's got his right to. If you want to make grievance then by thunder fill out the paperwork for it, and lets all simmer down here."

Alex clenched his eyes. He detested Teddy DeLaudder. Teddy was on loan from one of Ben's deals to buy out an oil refinery in the early 90's that went south...as it were. Teddy decided to stay on till he wanted to leave. It was over a decade later, and he was still director of internal affairs in Fletch-co. Alex only really kept him because he was valuable in his southern method of gossip. While under the guise of controlling the flow of gossip and animosity among other employees, it was really ending up as Alex's way of spying on his comrades without getting in trouble.

Goldberg wheezed and coughed for a moment and spat out an "I agree."

Alex then cracked his knuckles and said. "Then I turn it over to Spike. You may address him and any questions you have to Spike himself."

Teddy sat down, and the group eventually calmed. Spike, dressed in his borrowed suit, strolled back and forth about the room. Spike was almost like a vulture swoops around over his prey before moving in to eat, or like a shark circling it's prey before it pulled it under.

"What do I see when I look at you all? I see the best of what corporate America has to offer. I see the product of American education and American idealism. Well understand one thing gentlemen, I think you all suck." He said shortly. Fitzgibbons nearly fainted, and others made similar noises of surprise and objection. "Listen to yourselves, you're so full of your own success and power you don't look at the big picture, nor do you look at what's most important, the people around you."

"And I suppose you can show us the error of our ways?" Ford said with a gruff grumble. "Yer a redcoat, what do you have to tell us about 'American business'?"

Spike's face never changed. It rarely did. He blinked, but that was about the most of his outward reactions. "And you're a blarney kissing potato nigger, but I wasn't going to play the racist card till you opened your mouth. Yes it's true I hail from jolly ol' England, but what does that mean in this boardroom? Not jack diddly shit. By the way Ford, did they sell t-shirts and balloons at Ellis island when you got there? How was that for you?"

That struck a nerve with Ford. His parents died from consuming tainted potatoes during the famine. He was sent with relatives as a baby over to the United States, and had lived on the mean streets of New York. If anyone had anything in common with Spike, it was Ford. Yet, they were still as different as night and day. "Ye better mind yer tongue boy. I'm a former weightlifting' champ and I'll cresh your scrawny arse like a whelp!"

Teddy started to open his mouth before Alex raised a finger in warning, shaking it. Spike adjusted his coat, and let out a deep breath. "You don't want to fight me old man. You really don't. I'm here to help run a company, not to be picking fights with tired old bean counters and paper pushers."

Cramer's eyes lit up and he made another Dark Crystal's Chamberlain style noise meaning he was impressed. Goldberg fiddled around and reached for his oxygen, while Fitzgibbons was shaking so hard his blubbery cheeks jiggled. Johnson from media relations was gape-mouthed in shock, having never seen such a hostile boardroom, while Teddy was fidgeting and obviously wanting to interject.

Ford stood up to the cheer of a few board members, as he removed his coat. Spike, fittingly did the same thing, wearing a snazzy black leather vest underneath his coat. Ford whipped his nose, and moved in close. He definitely had a size advantage on Spike, but Alex new better. Spike knew how to make things hurt, and make them hurt a lot.

"I was never a paper pusher, nay was I ever a bean counter. I take offence to you, walking in here thinking you can just start telling us what you think of us and thinking you can run a buisness better than we can. I'm going to kick yer arse...then maybie we'll think about letting you in."

Spike then closed his eyes and shook his head. "And when I kick yours, I want you to understand, I'm going to lead this company. I'm not one of those men that says things and then doesn't do it...I say and I back it up. So...with that in mind old man, hit me with your best shot, your best. I want the best Dublin has to offer. One free shot...anywhere you want it."

Alex this time turned around in his chair, whatever confidence he had in his face before had drained. Alex perhaps had doubts in Spike's abilities, or perhaps he was overestimating Ford's strength. This of course was the man that could throw a beer keg over a 9 foot wall in 1957. He could possibly cave in the side of Spike's face, or break other bones.

Ford turned his knuckles up, and got into a stance he was comfortable with. It resembled the old bare-knuckled boxing stance of his age. Spike, smirked, and was ready for anything. Ford threw a left cross that connected with the right side of Spike's face, and turned his gaze to the side. There was a dull smack that resounded in the quiet boardroom of flesh and bone connecting with flesh and fur. The sound could only be described as that of a particularly good punch landing.

Ford smiled his feline fangs, which were yellowing slightly with age in triumph. He had expected that since Spike hadn't returned his gaze, that perhaps he'd even knocked him out on his feet. "Heh, now perhaps ye'll learn yer lesson boy." He said without thinking.

Spike slowly turned his head, and shook it. "That was it?" Was all he said, before Spike gripped onto Ford's arm, and wrenched it over his shoulder, and used his own momentum to carry Ford over his body and land on the ground. Spike then mounted the old man and delivered a few punches to his jaw, until he was kicked off. Spike regained his composure and turned around, as the large lion was slow to get up comparatively speaking. "Ye fight dirty..."

"As if there's any other way to fight."

Ford moved in, looking as if he was going to try to bowl Spike over with his sheer mass, but Spike was ready, throwing a series of low punches into the gut of the overweight lion, moving up to his chest, ducking a few lumbering punches and threw two vicious crosses to the face of Ford. Ford staggerd back but threw another straight jab which Spike grabbed, twisted, and broke his arm with a vicious elbow right to the joint of the arm.

Cramer clapped and laughed maniacally as Ford went down on his rump, holding his ruined punching arm. "Arg! That bloody redcoat broke me arm. That's not fair you bastard!"

As worried board members rushed to aid the Lion Alex applauded and smiled at his husband. "First rate work Spike. As always gentlemen, have no doubts of his capabilities for as you can see he can handle himself physically as well as politically."

"But the bloody bastard broke me arm Alex! What are ye goin' te do about that?"

"Same thing we do for everyone. File a workman's comp report and send you to the hospital. Fitzgibbons and the others can see to that. I think we've concluded the formal segment of this meeting."

Goldberg nodded, and Cramer stood up. "We'd...like some words with this Spike. I'm sure you wouldn't mind if...we stayed behind."

Spike answered just as Alex was going to answer. "Fine. Just get this overgrown potato nigger out of my sight for now. He has to go lick his wounds."

The ensuing scene was pretty much just Ford bellowing angry Gaelic as he was lead by the mass of board members down the hallway, spitting preverbal venom at Spike. When the boardroom was cleared, Spike collected his coat off the ground, and was surprised he'd managed to keep his hair intact. He exhaled, and rubbed his face. He didn't want to admit it, but that old codger could throw a punch. His face throbbed a bit, but he'd deal with it. His tongue felt cold and his face felt hot, it only aggravated him more because it was an old man that had hit him so hard. He wondered what it would have been like if the old lion had landed more punches, but he didn't want to imagine getting beaten by a man who probably qualified for AARP.

Spike saw that Cramer and the wheelchair bound Goldberg were still in the room, looking at him. "Well?"

Cramer stood and smiled a nasty grin - nasty in tooth color as well as malevolence riding his face like lady Gadivah once rode naked and bareback through the village streets. "That was...a most excellent display of physical prowess my good sir. I didn't think you had it in you."

Spike spat a fleck of spit at the floor and pulled on his jacket's front. "Nice to know you had confidence in the right person." Spike grunted. "I don't tolerate failure from anyone. I don't care how old and decrepit some of you fogies are, but rest assured I'm in the drivers seat of this company now."

Goldberg wheezed and nodded, "I don't think I'll contest."

"Good, cause if you did I'd have to pinch off the tube that feeds you and replace your oxygen with nerve gas."

Goldberg gasped, and turned his oxygen up higher, nodding rapidly. Cramer laughed once more in his weasel like laugh and walked over to Spike. "After that display, I don't think anyone will contest you being in charge."

"They had better not, or they can take their complaint straight to the ER. I don't pussy-foot around like you boardroom dykes. I'm here to kick ass, and make this company money. You can be assured that if this company does a take over, every bit of it is going to be hostile."

Cramer just continued to grin. Spike was beginning to infer that perhaps Cramer's jaw did nothing else but grin. "I look forward to it. I have to admit, I always got off on watching people get knocked down a peg."

Spike took step back, and narrowed his eyes. "Are you trying to say you got a woody right now from what I just did?"

Cramer snickered and winked. "Lets just say that you did more for me than any bit of blue pills ever did"

Spike took another step back and shuddered. "That's sick as fuck. You ever mention that you're rotten old prick gets hard again in my presence, the next thing that you get to see is the inside of the morgue."

Alex cleared his throat and said. "In his defense, he wasn't the only one that was...moved by that display."

Spike turned away from Cramer and walked towards the window. "Well I don't want to hear about some old man's hard prick thank you very much. I suddenly feel an urge to wash."

Alex nodded and said. "Excuse us for a moment, I wish to speak with Spike privately."

Cramer made his chamberlain like whine, and took Goldberg out slowly. Goldberg stuttered in protest, but was silenced by the amount of energy he was exerting and left as Cramer pushed his wheelchair out the door.

Spike shook his head and sneered. "So help me, the next set of wheels that walking pile of disease is going to need is the hearse that collects his wimpy remains. I want to kill them all Alex."

"I know you do, but much like clothes they're kind of required in this field."

"You know I loathe using people other than my own." Spike said, turning his gaze to meet Alex. "They don't know their asses from a TPS report. How can I ever expect them to help me organize crime when they can't even agree on simple diplomacy and political maneuvers."

"I thought you never studied the two subjects in school." Alex said, rocking back and forth in his chair.

Spike produced a cigarette, and a lighter, and blazed up, staring out at the cityscape of Boston, sneering. "If you recall, I never went to school babe. My whole life was educated on the streets. A cardboard box was my desk, and a back alley was my classroom. I learned politics that these codgers could never understand - true warfare; the in your face cut-throat politics that can only be brought up on the meanest streets of the world. On top of that, imagine trying to raise your inbred child at the same time. It's not easy, and I resent anyone that can't respect the amount of turmoil I've had in my life and how the world really works."

"But you're a crime boss, you're a Don, all that stuff, what more could you want."

Spike shook his head and blew some smoke out of his nose. "You know, that's possibly the only question that I could never answer, and the deepest question anyone has ever asked. You know the truth Alex? I don't know what I want. I just want everyone else to suffer and be in pain so I don't have to feel like I'm the only one hurting in this world. I want these rich assholes to understand what poverty is, I want the poor to stop whining and get off their asses and fight for what they want. The only wealth worth having is the wealth they took for themselves." Spike said, snarling now at the window. "How many people, including you, had wealth thrust upon them? How many had mummy and daddy's gentle hand guiding them?"

Alex cleared his throat. "Well...err..."

"You can't answer it because you're one of them. That's why. As much as I love you Alex, you're still one of these faceless zombies that don't understand. And then, there's the Morningstar." Spike paused and took a deep breath, and growled slightly, before he took another drag off his cigarette, and blew out his smoke. "He vexes me, he vexes me in every way. His mere existence now plagues me like a thorn imbedded into my foot that I just cant reach. How is it that someone I hate so much has anything in common with me? Answer me that Alex? How is it that he too rose himself up from nothing and became a social success while I'm facing the death penalty on 3 continents? He is blind to his luck and his avarice."

Alex rubbed his chin and raised his eyes. "Darling I thought we agreed we were going to take a break on our Renee plans, at least until we had updated information."

Spike stamped his foot and shouted at the window. "I KNOW!" He took a breath and turned to look at Alex. "I am ever frustrated at my men's lack at success at tracking down the fox. Apparently he is just as cunning as his species is believed to be. For over half a year he has eluded us, and I cannot stand failure! He has to be on this planet somewhere, but where? I know he didn't leave the country, so he has to be on this god-forsaken continent."

"What was our last sighting?"

"He had spent the night in Huston, my connections with port authority gave me the tape. He disembarked his airline, and made his way swiftly out of the airport. They're not sure when if ever he returned. My Texas connections have kept their eyes pealed, and there is nothing there, not so much as a glance of the fox."

"You think he made it back to LA?"

"It's highly doubtful, though if he ever would have picked a time to come back home, it would be now. While we would be here in Boston, there would be nothing we could do to him from here. Though our watchdogs haven't seen anything of a trace of him - even his friends and family are laying low."

"Speaking of family, I keep getting a sinking suspicion I know this one eyed Fox."

"Oh?" Spike said, as if half interested.

"Yeah. I'll never forget this annoying little prat in high school. You know, the nerdy type. Hall monitor...debate club...track and field...just everything you could think of when you think geek. Well this fox just has that look in his eye that reminds me of a guy I knew."

"How so?" Spike said, even less interested all of a sudden.

"Well, I killed a girl in high school. I raped her and killed her on accident. I panicked. Hell even Steve Buschimi said that most crimes are crimes of necessity. Anyway, the police declared it an unsolved case, but that fox always thought it was me. He kept following me around and poking around my goons. I found out his dad worked for mine, and had his dad transferred to Florida."

Spike rubbed his temple and tapped the ash of his cherry into one of the water filled drink cups of the board members, creating a nasty film. "Have you ever stopped to consider that perhaps he would do the same math and recognize you too?"

"I don't think his memory is what it used to be. He did get shot in the head in the line of duty and was in a coma for a long time. It's possible he hasn't even realized I'm the same Alex he went to high school with. And if he does remember, the FBI files aren't going to say much on me; definitely nothing he could arrest me on."

"And you're sure of this how?"

"Father has his connections, I have mine, and you have yours. If my father says he's taken care of something, that's a guarantee you can take to the bank."

"Well most of the time my dealings with banks were involving me wearing a mask and holding a long-nose revolver."

"Just try to understand that when Dad says he's got business taken care of, he does. The FBI, and Interpool accounts show me as an outstanding citizen."

"Until the Fox and his friends come out with what you've done."

"As we've discussed Spike, I've got the dirt on each of them. Besides, I have the credibility and shield of a fortune 500 company to hide behind, and they have themselves."

"A fortune 100 company is more like it. Alex, have you realized this company of yours is in danger of folding?"

Alex shifted in his chair. "It's always been like that, ever since the late 90's when insider trading really started to cripple companies. Now I don't even know if I'll be able to keep this company afloat for much longer. We need the success of the Los Angeles market in order to keep it going."

"Of course that's where I come in."

"With your street-crime connections, word should be able to travel fast, and money should come in."

"Many hands make light work, yes I know this Alex - but realistically how do you expect to keep this company going?"

"With the fox of course. Once we get that flaming fag back in our grasp, I have a new plan that will get him to earn us money."

"I hope for your sake Alex, it works. Cause if it doesn't..."

* * *

Portland is different than Los Angles in the way it lays out its gay bars. Most, if not all the gay bars In Portland all line one particular street or the streets near to it with the occasional offshoot bar in the middle of no where. Portland's most famous and prominent gay district is an avenue around 13th and NW Stark. There is at least 5 or 8 gay bars, clubs, bathhouses and hotels within just that simple stretch of road.

Phillip was definitely reluctant to let me go. He knew it was his ass if I went and got myself in trouble again, as well as the fact he was legally responsible to make sure he gave me my medicine. Of course there was no guarantee that I'd even take the pills, but he still had to give them to me.

To put his mind at ease, I took the pills, and I probably shouldn't have in retrospect, because when I actually strolled into the Silverado bar which is adjacent to the Club Portland bathhouse, I was already half asleep.

Unfortunately my gay-gear was all at home, and the gayest outfit I had was my tight jeans, thong, and my flannel shirt opened in the front. The bar itself wasn't that much different from your other gay bars. Rainbow Flags hung from the bar which was to your immediate right when you entered, the coat room to your left. The building had a few support columns for the ceiling, and hanging from them were television screens that were playing gay porn. Forward of the columns was the "dance floor", which for tonight contained some tables, and then there was the strippers stage in the back.

About the only thing I knew of that really set this place aside was the trough like urinal in the bathroom. Yes, you just urinate into a trough. It was here that I knew Watersports play was to be rampant, and if I was actually in a mood for that, I'd have been set. However I was feeling rather unsexy as it was.

I sat down at the bar, sitting on the old bar stool, and stared at the people there. Bartenders here wore little more than tight underwear. Some wore pants, but mostly the bartenders and cocktail waiters wore undies - and scant undies. The barflies were a sorry bunch of reprobates and quite possibly the dredges of homosexuality. Asher was having a great time mingling with a few of the dancers whom were about to go onstage while I was fit to get lost in my pint of rolling rock.

In fact, I really don't recall anything more of the bar, or drinking. I don't know how much I drank, but aside from the constant pounding of the techno music and cigarette smoke...everything was a blur.

What I do remember was meeting this Roo. He was so exotic to me, I fell into an almost instant lust. It must have been my drugs mixed with the alcohol, but the next thing I remember was we were on the dance floor, making out, while he openly jerked me off in my pants. I was hard, wet, and loving it.

"Lets go next door." I suggested.

"You read my mind." The Roo said, leading me to the club. I don't even think he bothered to zip my fly back up.

Once more, everything was a blur, but I really woke up inside of the steam room. I remember it felt like I wasn't breathing, like I was drowning...blackness all around me...a choking deep stabbing blackness - and then there was light and heat and air. I took a deep breath, and realized indeed...despite the buzz of being a bit drunk, I was fully awake and aware. I was nude, standing in the steam room at Club Portland. I was sweaty, and my fur was matted to my body. My long hair was still in the braid that I'd put it in, and My clothes were no where to be seen, yet the key on a chain around my Ankle lead me to believe I didn't have to worry too much.

The Roo was truly a vision of beauty, and perfect for a one night stand. He

Had a long rigid penis that was human styled just like Sparky's. He had a few piercing in the shaft: a PA in the head and a Jacob's ladder through the middle of his penis. It looked like fun. The roo had strong and muscular legs the likes of which I'd never seen before on another man. He had a muscular and tight stomach like mine, and a fair set of pecs. His arms weren't as defined as the rest of him, probably because his legs were his most worked area of the body. I could concur that my legs were also my strongest limbs.

The Roo was moving his mouth over my chest, sampling my nipple piercing. A finger of his was tracing the lines of my tattoo, and another was under my tail, rubbing back and forth between my taint and my hole. He was definitely good for a one night. I don't know what it was, but I was actually hard for once. My shaft was out, hard and kissing the 6 gauge piercing in the glans of the other man whom was molesting me. I didn't protest in the least, whatever was happening, I was going to let it. I didn't even remember this man's name, and here he was sexing me in an unknown place. For the life of me, I didn't know why I didn't care, I just felt like going with the flow and letting whatever he was doing go on.

He moved his strong lips over my right nipple and sucked on it. He wasn't gentle about it either, it was your strong and meaningful and earnest sucking, almost like he wanted to suck my piercing right out of my body. I moved my hands o his head, and whimpered softly, moaning politely. His unique shaped head stayed there on my chest, the steam surrounding us and entrapping us in its moist heat. I could feel my heart thudding and pounding in my throat, and my cock throbbing like there was no tomorrow. I grunted and groaned, wondering how this had all come to pass...what had I said or done to get this far? I honestly remembered nothing.

Then I felt something different, something I hadn't felt someone do, at least not since I was a little teenager with a group of Satanist boys. I felt him take a bite out of my nipple, a strong bite. I yelped and groaned in pain, as well as pleasure. He opened up a good wound, and through the steam I could see I was bleeding nicely. Thankfully he didn't do what I thought for a second he had done which was to rip my piercing right out from the nipple, but no he had just bitten hard with his strong incisors into my nipple's flesh. He moved his mouth upon the wound and began to drink, sucking the blood from my nipple and flesh, staining his lips red.

I then recall feeling his hand moving off my chest and down to my cock, stroking it and jerking my vulpine shaft. He knew just how to grip it, in the middle between the flared head and the knot, and stroked it nice and evenly paced - not to fast to get me to cum too quickly and not to slow to make it uninteresting. Oh this Roo was good.

I saw a glint of steel and the Roo, pulled off, and made a sudden swipe across his own chest. His wound was a bit bigger, and the blood poured down his body, dripping down his flawless torso and off his cock. Like a vampire I suddenly hungered for him, and moved in, and pressed my face against his open wound. I lapped at his blood, tasting it's bitter but tangy flavor. I spread it against my body, his very liquid that kept him alive now covering my body. The cut wasn't bad enough for him to bleed out, but he'd probably just cover it up with a good bandage and he'd be fine. I slid up his body, pressing our bleeding wounds together, as I kissed him. Our mouths were alive with the flavor of our saliva skin, and blood. I felt him lifting me, and I didn't protest. My arms and legs too hold around his back and gripped, his pierced cock finding its proper place underneath my tail.

I felt the metal of his ring press, and push inside. It'd had been ages since I'd bottomed, but the familiar sensation of a cock passing through me soon gave me that lovely memory of loosing my virginity for the first time. To say that it was a bit uncomfortable at first would be accurate, yet I definitely treasured every inch of agony as it slid to his base into me, un-lubed and un-wrapped. It was the way I liked it.

The ring served the purpose of teasing my insides, as well as keeping himself locked in, he just had to really slam his hips, as my bloody body moved across the tile bench I sat on. My senses were completely overwhelmed: the temperature in the room felt like it was 140 degrees and rising, my ass was being stuffed and hammered by an aggressive Roo whom I didn't even know the name of, I was drugged up, and I honestly didn't know what was going on.

Soon I felt more hands on me...a mouth on my cock, the Roo making...Roo like noises in triumph as he hammered my ass. I felt body parts crawling all over me. Cocks, tongues, hands, feet. A cock slid into my mouth, and I sucked instinctively...the air around me so hot and steamy. I guessed a group of people must have heard us and had decided to join.

It went like that for a completely intractable amount of time: the roo pummeling, and pumping, the cocks rubbing me, in my mouth, I could count three touching my body, and one in my mouth. Someone sat on my dick, and rode it, and knotted himself, spraying his cum all over my face and chest. Soon the roo came in me as well, spilling his semen into my bowels. The others came in turn too, jacking off above me while I fucked the unknown male atop me. I didn't last long either, firing my cum into someone I didn't even know the looks of, while I just deposited my semen anonymously into him. Oh...it was indeed wonderful and reminded me of when I was a kid.

The male I sucked off filled my mouth with cum, and one by one they all left, disengaging, and leaving me there. It was then I realized how hot I really was, and I was dehydrated as well. The room was spinning slightly, and the steam was so intense, it was almost like smoke. I stood, and made my way through the steam to the showerhead they had inside, and turned it to cold. Unfortunately all the cold water must have been diverted elsewhere, possibly the showers, because all I got was warm water. Well, at least I could wash my wound.

The wound stung when the warm water hit it. My blood ran down my chest, and stained it a bit, and it wasn't until then I didn't realize the roo had cut me very deep, and I must have bled a lot before the wound finally stopped bleeding. My chest fur was stained reddish purple, my tattoo was about all that made it stand out, and for whatever reason it felt like it was on fire, like when I got it for the first time. The tattoo burned hotter and more painful than ever before, and I actually fell to my knees, sobering up quickly do to the pain. I was suddenly more aware of my surroundings than I'd ever been in my life. The steam was dark, almost a black smoke amiss the white tufts. It was like the building was on fire yet it wasn't. The floor, walls, and tiles were hot to the touch, like being stuck in a skillet, my throat felt parched and my eyes stung. For the moment I thought someone had let one go during the sex, but I smelled what I thought was sulfur.

Then I saw a set of naked legs dangling off one of the raised platforms. There was no fur, only skin. A dark purplish red skin, like the color of burned skin. Black toe-claws adorned the webbed feet that hung over my shoulders. The legs were very toned and athletic and sinewy with no fur to hide them. A human style penis, stood semi erect, also that same color, but was wrought with so many piercings that there seemed to be less flesh and more metal. His scrotum hung with two large orbs of masculinity, his toned torso decorated with navel and nipple piercings that were linked with black chains. Around his neck was a collar, and matching restraints on his wrists and ankles. His tail - that of an aquatic mammal - wagged slowly, like a cat overlooking his victim. His head was bald, and his face looked vaugley familiar, despite the glowing red eyes.

On closer inspection, his chest had been branded with an intricate inverted pentacle, with full runes added, as if a sigil had been branded onto his body. As he pushed his way down off the platform, he extended large set of draconic/demonic wings that were much flesh, claws and sinew. It made quite the extravagant cowl as he moved his way to stand over me.

"Just as I thought you'd be...on your knees, covered in another man's semen. You never change."

Despite the eerie disembodied quality the voice had, much like hearing It all around me rather than projected, the voice was a voice I knew...and like a ton of bricks falling on top of me, I got the distinct sinking sensation I knew just who this devil was.

"Jay?"

"Well lets give you a fucking medal for being observant - you are ever the perceptive one." He said as he stood over me, folding his masculine and muscled arms. As I was nearly point blank, the skin really was burned, and it was scarring from fire or something extremely hot. The branding on his skin could have only been made by something that burned hotter than what killed him...and I didn't want to imagine.

"Jay...where am I? Am I dead?"

He sneered, and wagged his tail. "Technically yes. You died as a result of bleeding out caused by a lapse in judgment resulting in mixing in alcohol and prescription medicine. But...you wont be dead long...so don't celebrate yet. I just wanted to talk to you before the big man talks with you."

I blinked. "Big man?" I asked stupidly.

"You never were the brightest light on the tree - all that blood rushing away from the brain was not only your flaw in life it was your cause of death as well Renee."

"But you're dead."

"Again, your powers of observation are about as sharp as a syringe. Yeah I'm dead Renee. The last time I saw you was staring through the tongues of flames before my eyeballs burst from the heat. I can tell you, you looked just as pathetic as you do now."

I frowned and sat back down where the hot water hit my back, suddenly realizing that no matter how miserable my body felt, It'd never get any better...least until I talked to this big man. I could only assume whom he meant. "Jay, why do you hate me so much? I thought we were cool."

The devil that was once Jay, sneered, black fangs had replaced the once normal set of teeth that filled his mouth. "We were once. Yes it's true that when you die, all is revealed to you, and I suppose that's why I was chosen for this just like Sparky was chosen for me. Sparky told me when I died that it really wasn't your fault, and that I was wrong to judge you. But, I have my own reasons for hating you Renee, and aside from what I already said, it's my own private baggage that I'll carry with me for the rest of eternity here in Hell."

I looked around, It seemed as if we were still in the steam room at Club Portland, albeit a bit more ominous than before. "We're in hell?"

"Yes. Oh hell can be anything Renee. Hell is just meant to be any situation most mortals would find inhospitable and unwelcoming and utterly hostile. Yeah there's part where it's all volcanoes and lakes of fire, and the sky burns, and the ground is nothing but hot jagged brimstone. Other parts are festering bogs of toxic waste, gas, noxious fumes, and muck. Then of course there are frozen wastelands that are bitterly cold, and completely barren except for the never ending snow dunes and stinging drift snow that bites your skin. And even further still there are parts that are merely just a never ending maze, or office cubicles. Hell Renee, you'll find one day to be the most infinite dimension imaginable - here there is no limit to what can make someone suffer and ail. And I'm proud to say that my sacrifice went off without a hitch."

"Sacrifice? You committed suicide. You should be a tree in the forest by now." I said, starting to stand and regain my composure. I noticed, the wound wasn't healing any more than it had, and was just festering. Nice...

"The big guy didn't see it that way. Because I gave my life in the most painful and gruesome way possible at the time, guaranteeing a slow and agonizing death I proved my loyalty to the dark lord: Lucifer welcomed me into his arms and into his bed, and now I am among the many legions in his army that are proud to serve him, rather than those that suffer under his rule."

"So...you mean..."

"Yes...he wants to see you. You had better behave Renee, otherwise you're going to be mine for the rest of eternity to use for my own perverted pleasures."

I nodded and said. "Well take me too him then."

Jay smiled, and gestured to the glass door that I'd walked through. As I walked, my feet sizzled as if I was still on a skillet, and despite the pain, I realized there wasn't much I could do about it, my suffering was only meant to get worse. Part of me was in joyful rapture, and yet, my conscious mind was scared out of my wits.

When I opened the door, I stepped onto a carpet. There was no carpet there before, it had just been the tile bath area of the bathhouse - but now it was most definitely a new room. It was Alex's office. Every detail, every placement, even the Los Angeles skyline was there. Jay stood behind me, idly stroking his scarred and burnt prick, as if he got some sort of arousal at seeing how uncomfortable I was now. I couldn't say I blame him, I often got hard at the idea of making Christians uncomfortable.

The high-backed chair where Alex would normally be sitting, turned around, and for a moment, I could have sworn it was Alex but no, there was something different about him. He was bigger, more muscular, and filled out his suit better - like his goons. His eyes were also glowing a piercing red...more piercing than Jays could ever hope to be. It was like trying to stare into a pair of high beams, and yet still being able to make everything else out around them.

"Uncomfortable?" A smooth, deep and sexy voice spoke. Like Jays' it was disembodied and seemed to be coming from all around me. Yeah, I'd say I was pretty fucking uncomfortable.

"Yes I am my lord."

I noticed by now my tattoo was glowing red hot, and felt just as warm, but I also realized I was already dead, so no matter how painful I got, crying out in agony would be moot. I think he too realized this which just made him smile even brighter." And even after learning that you're in hell, and that it's not the most desirable place you'd thought it'd be, you still call me your lord? Or is it that you call me your lord out of respect for the fact you're standing in front of a deity?"

Actually it was a bit of both. "I'm very afraid sir...I wasn't prepared for this...and to say that its not comfortable as I'd hoped it would be would be an understatement."

"Wonderful. I wouldn't be my normal mischievous self, if I didn't do my best to make one feel uncomfortable at some point. After all Renee, it's not just sex and 'oh my Satan's', there is much work that goes into the dedication of oneself towards the worship of me. Granted Renee you did an excellent job living a life of indulgence, but I wanted to see a bit more from you."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Think about it Renee. Where are you right now? You're in Alex's office. You hate Alex Fletcher and his lover more than you've hated any other person in this world. More than you're mother, more than the first Fletcher, even more than the bullies and bible thumpers that plagued you. Renee I'm a busy man, and it's not like the movies where I just pop up out of no where every single time everyone utters that they'd do anything to get what they want. Do you realize that if I took the time to listen to every deep rooted plea for some guidance that I'd probably have the biggest following on the planet? But that's not what I'm about. I'm not about making deals with just any other worm that crawls its way around in the dirt for most of it's life.

"Renee you simply need to understand is all. You're here because I allowed circumstances to take place that would lead up towards your temporary death, allowing me to gain an audience with you. I don't do that often Renee, perhaps once a generation...or every time a republican is in the white house. So that being said, I am a man of business..." Lucifer said as he slowly mimicked the way Alex adjusted his tie. The tie upon closer inspection was a cheesy tie that could have been bought in any satanic enthusiast's shop, covered with several Baphomet sigils, and a 666 tie pin. A black rose was in his suit pocket. But slowly the resemblance towards Alex faded away, and he became the most unfathomably beautiful Ram I'd ever laid my eyes on. His horns were adorn and carved out of what looked like black ivory rather than bone, his face was so stunningly beautiful and handsome it almost hurt to look at. Like Jay, he sprouted a set of stunningly fabulous wings, only his were horribly scarred and scabbed like they'd been burned, clipped and injured. My jaw dropped, and my tattoo was so hot against me it felt like it was going to burst from my chest.

"Renee, here's what I want. I want you to get off that ass of yours, and kick some ass. You're acting like pathetic little whelp running away like that. I don't care how much you hurt, because I can bestow a kind of pain that will be far more exquisite than even the best of the best could thrust upon you - Renee, this Alex Fletcher is ruining a good thing in you and turning you pathetic. He's taken the lives of two of your friends and forced the suicide of my black night here. Renee, this man is coming down to hell and there's nothing you can do about it...except perhaps make me take more favor in you than him."

I looked at him incredulously and for the first time, felt like shouting. "What? What do you mean more favor? I thought I was doing fine serving you."

"There's doing work in my name, and then there's doing my work. Renee, Alex would gladly kill you without much forethought, Spike is the same way. Renee, you've hesitated and I can't stand hesitation. You're supposed to react! You're not supposed to adapt or conform. When he strikes you, you strike back twice as hard, and when he kills someone you love you had better kill right back. I am willing to forgive your 'kind' nature and socialization, but you need to quit being so weak. Now, I propose this. I'll give you the power and means in order to destroy Alex and Spike before they grow too powerful and destroy you forever, if you at least fight back and kick some ass. I know your soul already belongs to me, I just want your obedience."

"It seems like a fair offer to me, I am just so overwhelmed." I said, and meant it. I was getting lectured and ordered around by Lucifer himself. I made the decision that fucking around at this point was out of the question. "I accept."

Lucifer then snapped his fingers, and a Goat's skull shaped chalice appeared in front of him, along with a knife and plate underneath. The chalice was studded with opals and rubies, and looked as if it was made out of the finest bone and flesh. Lucifer then extended his right arm and took hold of the serrated blade and brought it to his wrist, and slit it, a thick blackish red blood poured into the glass, and before I couldn't even blink the wound was gone. Lucifer then held the goblet up and looked into my eyes.

"This is my blood, the blood of the old and everlasting covenant - it has been shed for you so that your sins may be embraced...drink this in honor of me"

And then he raised his hand once more, and cut off a finger. The finger turned into something resembling a worm, and before I blinked again, he'd spouted a new finger where the old one was.

"This is my body, which has been given to you so that your sins may be embraced...partake of this and live again"

I took the goblet when he handed it to me, after lowering it. I was in awe, it was a dark consecration from the blackest of priests ever in existence. The worm floated around on the surface of the water, slithering around. On closer inspection, it resembled a leech more than anything, but I was suddenly aware of how thirsty I was, and how hot it was. I'd had sex and been dehydrated to begin with, and now here I had this drink in front of me. I lifted the glass to my lips and drank. The blood was soupy and thick, and it was a taste so strong and pungent, like tomato juice...yet...I thirst for more. It was as if it made me thirstier with each glass, my body feeling more and more wanting. The worm bumped my mouth, and I sucked it down into my throat from years of drinking tequila worms. My eyes shot open when it hit my stomach, and suddenly I felt the most uncontrollable urge to inhale, as if I hadn't taken a breath in hours.

I was no longer standing in the office of Alex Fletcher in Hell, I was laying on the floor of the Silverado bar in my blue jeans, flannel, and briefs. A few men were around me - a mouse held my head and was looking my eyes while the bartender was checking my pulse.

"Huh? What happened?" I asked. I looked down my body and saw that I was indeed still fully dressed, but sexually drained. It was the oddest feeling. In my hand was what looked like V-8 juice, half consumed.

The mouse spoke softly. "There you were having a drink, and then you didn't look so good, so the bartender handed you the juice to try to stabilize you, and you passed out all of a sudden. It was weird, you started talking all funny...sounded almost like my own Hebrew but...like backwards or something."

The bartender shrugged. "Well, if you're passing out, I need to ask you to go, or at least move away from the bar till you sober up a bit."

The thing was, I never felt more sober in my life. I felt, as if the weight of the world was off my shoulders - it was as if I could tear my clothes off and run naked into the night, and nothing could stop me from my berserker run. I was so charged, I felt as if I was 20 all over again. I wasn't that much older than that, but still, as my 30th birthday was getting closer, it made all the difference. I didn't feel like superman, but I definitely felt good.

"Actually I feel fine." I said, not slurring my words at all as I stood up, and shook off. The bartender and mouse exchanged looks, and the pit bull bartender clad in the most scant of briefs, shrugged and walked back behind the counter. I looked over the mouse curiously.

Actually the thing about him that was so remarkable was that he was so unremarkable. His face was plain, skinny build, beige khaki slacks with a matching polo shirt tucked in, modest 9.99 Wal-Mart watch, modest gold wedding band on his finger. Even the sandals he wore looked like he could have picked them up anywhere. He had chalk white fur, with a mess of brown hair with two grey streaks down his temples. His eyes were even the same brown as his messy hair. Though in my expertise his hair wasn't messy from being unclean, just that perhaps after he washed his hair he never combed it.

"So, what brings you here mousey?" I asked, checking my own hair. Mine was still braided, and still slicked down just how I wanted it. It was rather nice.

"Well I just had this urge to come down here. Sometimes I get these urges that I have to listen too."

I shrugged, and figured why the hell not. I'd just died and gone to hell, but then really didn't die, so...why not. "Say you want to sit and have a drink? Get something to eat?"

The mouse, tilted his head to the side, pondering it and said. "Well if you feel up to it, I don't see why not."

We walked to a booth in the back corner, along the rainbow painted walls, and pictures of famous drag queens that had been kind enough to donate autographed glossies of themselves to be framed on the wall. I sat beneath a picture of a rather enchanting looking desert lizard drag queen. She was truly a marvel, and statuesque. She was wearing a vintage 60's women's modest swimsuit, her package taped down to the barest of minimum, fake breasts at a fair C cup, and her body perfectly shaped for her looks. The signature was such a scrawl I couldn't make it out, but it read. "Thanks for the memories Silverado!".

The mouse looked at me, and I looked at him. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but then again I was the one that had just passed out all of a sudden. Maybe I could safe face and chalk it up as an epileptic seizure. But with the way he was staring at me, I was beginning to recognize that way he was looking at me. He was trying to see if he recognized me or not.

"You...you're Renee Morningstar aren't you?"

Yup, thought so. "Yes, let me guess, you saw my movies?"

He shook his head and said. "No actually I read about you doing your endorsement for Fletch-Co, and before that I remember you from the last martial arts tournament you competed in."

I blinked. That was over 3 years ago. The last time I'd taken part was before I decided to work at the Camellia. I came in second place. "Wow, um, not many remember that."

"Nope. Then again, I remember things that not many think about, it's my talent. That and selling real-estate."

I blinked. He did kind of have the air of a real-estate agent. It wasn't a bad thing of course, just a character observation. "Real-estate huh? Sounds nice; making all those people happy with getting their first homes, or getting the homes they always wanted."

The mouse chuckled. "Well actually now, I'm the co-owner of the company. My partner and I own it, and a good friend of mine runs the day-to-day operations. A lot of the agents I have are castoffs from my job when I worked at 'You Bet Your Life' life insurance. They're great people. Oh? Orders? Hmm, nothing with ham in it, so If you have any kosher beef I'd appreciate it. Some of those greasy and salty fries would be great too. Um what would you like Renee?" the mouse asked as one of the scant clad "waitresses" came by. I gave him a playful grope of his crotch, and the waitress smiled.

"If I were to say a hot dog would that be too corny? No in all seriousness, I'll have a steak - as rare as you can possibly make it, loads of potatoes and gravy." I said as I released the groin area of the waitress. He nodded and took our orders down on his tablet and left with a shake of his fanny. It was certainly delicious to watch, and I consciously thought that was the first time I'd ever been so bold as to initiate groping another man like that in a while. I was so different, and I loved it. It was as if I didn't have a single inhibition anymore. The best part was, I didn't feel guilty about it one bit, part of me tempted to give the waitress a blowjob then and there on the floor, regardless of weather or not it'd end up getting me 86'd.

"So now you know my name, but what's yours mousy?"

The mouse smiled and extended his hand. "Ben Swerdlowe."

I shook his hand, and looked him over. He was do-able, but yet still didn't seem to quite fit into the whole gay-scene. There was that air of naivety and innocence that screamed newbie. It was as if god was handing out gay genes one day and he accidentally dropped one and hit this mouse. He didn't seem like a prude of course, but he just had an odd air about him I couldn't place other than newbie.

"I can't believe you endorsed Alex Fletcher's company though. He is such a dick. Personally I'd love to have seen him endure the hell my grandparents went through in the camps, but that's just me."

I blinked. "You know Alex?"

"Yeah," he began, adjusting the advertising tray full of bar slips, and moving the pepper shaker away from him. "The cold bastard has been sending intimidating e-mails as well as faxes and memos to my staff and personnel - telling them that he's the new sheriff on the west coast and that he'll be handling the west coast's conglomerations soon and that little piss-ant companies such at myself shouldn't get in the way of his fortune 500, Forbes magazine success."

"Yeah that sounds like Alex."

"Forgive my language, but I think he's a fucking idiot. On top of that, that Mink partner of his is no less rude, it's no wonder no one likes him."

"I can tell you from experience how horrible they are. First they just used to rape me, then they forced me to portray my own humiliation on pornographic video. I feel like such a heel now. My sexual talents aren't meant for things like that."

"I would hope not. Your body is yours, and you give it to who you want. I don't think a body was ever meant to be taken." Ben said as he fiddled with the salt shaker. "Like, I'm Jewish, and I hate it when people mistreat them because of stupid reasons."

I tilted my and said. "You catch much flack for that? I don't really know how it is for the Jews anymore."

"Depends on your point of view really. Many people think that being Jewish is good for business, like we're less likely to screw you or something to that effect. Really I think it's because most people find Jew businesses to be quaint and almost amusing. Take Ma and Pa Kettle for example are looking to buy their new home. Surely they could go to Lucky Lapine or Century or any other company, but a Jewish real-estate company...that is something that not many really see in their day-to-day dealings. This pushes their interest up in the company and they ask themselves 'I wonder how the Jews do it?' and we get their business. On the other side of the coin there are those that think we're the most horrible people in the universe and won't even acknowledge our existence, let alone the genocide of our people. So it's a coin toss in my opinion. Do you ever get flack for being gay in the acting career?"

It was a good question. As our food arrived, and my barely dead stake was plopped in front of me I answered. "Well some people still can't get over the fact that I spent most of my life working as a porn star, and think that's all I can do is lay on my back and moan for a few hours. Then some think that I play gay very well, and it makes my performance much more genuine. Course you have your zealots that would love to see me burned at the steak for even daring to portray the lifestyle that we lead."

"It is a lifestyle isn't it? When people used to say that to me I never really thought much on it, I just kind of put it out of my mind but now that I think on it lifestyle seems an appropriate word." Ben said as he began to munch on his beef patty burger.

"Ever since I discovered I was gay as a kid, it's been a most interesting life just trying to get by. I couldn't imagine what it's like being gay and Jewish. It's like a double whammy."

Ben shrugged. "Well how's that satanic thing going?" He said as he raised a knowing eyebrow, and took a bite out of his burger.

I nodded. "Much better than you'd expect...you could say I'm dying to make it work for me."

Ben and I spoke for the next couple hours about this and that. I told him my life story, staring from when mommy dearest decided to drop me in that toilet, to being raised by the Kubrick's and then meeting the gay teens, and getting the tattoo. He winced when he found out that the ink used was not only your standard tattoo pigment, but it also contained the combined blood of the 4 teens along with my own. He was fascinated when I showed it to him and asked if It hurt when I got it done. I couldn't really answer it because I honestly didn't remember the physical semantics of the tattoos application, only the time before I had it, and the time since having it. In fact it was such a regular part of my life I hardly gave it a second thought.

I went on to tell him about how my parents wanted to give me a proper upbringing and therefore sent me to Otto VonBarton's Boarding School for troubled and misguided youth. I told him about how I was picked on and bullied, and how I was beaten within an inch of my life almost daily. I went on further to tell him about how I took martial arts courses and started to defend myself. Then I told him about how after Otto's I didn't have much of a future and it was from being a prostitute for a brief time that I found my dual careers of working in the dojo and acting on film.

I told him about how I met Chong, and Asher, and how we moved into the derelict home on Tumbler Street, and how we were constantly trying to keep from plunging into the pit of despair that was the basement, and how the basement turned out to have a pair of old suicide victims still locked up down there. I told him about how I moved into the Churchill Estates, and met Fletcher, found my long lost son and father, got married, and ended up where I was - running from Alex Fletcher and Spike Duke-Conroy.

Ben was impressed. "That's quite the story. That must have been quite the meeting - your mother."

I rolled my eyes and imitated a hangman's noose around my neck. "Yeah if you fancy having your balls ripped off. That woman is undeniably the worst mother I've ever heard of. I mean, Mrs. Kubrick just wanted to raise me the way she felt was moral. That was it. She really wasn't a bad mother, I just didn't agree with her religious beliefs or the way they looked down on my sexual stuff. But that woman...a few fruit loops short of a full bowl."

Ben then lifted his head up and stared at the ceiling for a moment before he smiled. "You know, I wonder what would happen if you locked up Alex Fletcher up with your mother in the same room with no doors or exit, whom would last longer?'

I spit my drink all over the floor and burst out laughing. That was the funniest thing I'd ever heard up until that point. Imagining the woman hating bastard being stuck with the man hating bitch for the rest of their ill-gotten lives was an image that I could entertain myself for hours. I was almost tempted to take bets with myself but I was too busy laughing, and trying to clean up my spilled drink on the floor. When it was clean I smiled and said "I like you."

Ben smirked. "Well I'd hope so, cause I'd find it to have been a terrible waste of time if I thought I got this in with you just to have you beat me up or something."

"Nah I wouldn't beat you up." I said as I let out a sigh of relief, catching my breath. "So, tell me about yourself. I rambled on for a while, how about you tell me about you?"

"Is this an inquisition or a date?" He said as he raised a coy eyebrow. Damn he was smooth for a married man....wait a minute...

"I'd call it a date. I tell you I haven't smiled this much in a very long time." Which was a true statement, I really hadn't.

"Well if you're really interested in knowing my history I kind of got to go back a little ways. My grandparents were both captives in a concentration camp in Nazi Germany. They were meant to assist the Medical Examiner there till he grew bored with them or till someone better came along then they were to be executed. The Medical Examiner actually fell madly in love with my grandmother, but at the same time, saw the love that she had for my grandfather. It was because he loved my grandmother so much that the Nazi decided to sneak them out on a transport, hiding in coffins."

"They had a large collection of children, and my parents met before missing a plane that ended up crashing. They decided it was fate, and got married. I was born a few years later. My life was simple - I was never really wealthy but I was taken care of. I grew up in a private school, private high school, private college, and then after that I started work for You Bet Your Life, Life Insurance Company. After a (cough) unexpected accident the Anti-Semite bastard that ran the company ended up burning down his own building. I moved in with my current husband, whom is actually of the same family line of the Nazi soldier that saved my grandparent's line. Who would have thought that I a Jew would be married to the same family line as a Nazi? Well I got a job working for my husband's funeral home where he doubles as the Chief Medical Examiner for the city of Portland, and I worked there for a while but in the last year or two I just realized it wasn't for me. Well this rather stunning Tiger moved his real-estate company from New York up to Seattle and then set up an office down in Portland. I got hired on, and now I'm the chief executive in charge of public relations. The vice president is also a good friend of mine, handsome red-haired rabbit."

"Isn't that Stern-Corp? The soul rival of Fletch-Co?" I asked, remembering something I'd read in one of the many newspapers I'd read recently.

"That's correct. Mr. Stern is the first person with any real swing in his dick to make a bid against the Fletcher family. Stern isn't easily intimidated by Alex Fletcher, nor was he intimated by Benjamin Fletcher when he was in charge."

I smiled softly and realized, here was my perfect opportunity, thank you sweet devil. "You said you really dislike Alex? Well how about I endorse your company instead?"

Ben blinked and set down his drink. "You've already endorsed Fletch-co and you're name is associated with it."

"Well yeah but what if I go on television and make a stink about Fletcher and stuff, and just really endorse your company? The people of LA already think the fucker is dodgy at best, and only really gave him a second thought because I told them to - otherwise Fletcher is just another rich bitch with too much cash."

"Well no offence Renee, but I have to ask the question: What do you get out of this?"

"I don't need big heaps of money, just 3 simple things; the first being I'd like the air-fare back to LA. Secondly I'd like you to pay for my son's tuition to go to school or for a private tutor. Third and the biggest, I want a new apartment, one big enough for me and all my friends."

Ben then lowered his head and licked his lips, as if thinking deeply. He didn't say anything but gestured for me to follow him out the door. We walked outside, and the brisk Portland evening air hit my open shirt like a clammy hand, and I shivered. I closed up my flannel, and followed him. "Are you good for it?"

"Good for what?"

"The stuff you said, would you really downplay what you said about Fletcher and up-play Stern-Corp?"

"Well if you make it work for me I can make it work for you. I just want my life back."

Ben nodded and said. "Alright, I can understand that, I'll tell you what - I'll send you home, and get you set up with a new apartment, but I want you to start right way and break your ties if you would."

I shook his hand and nodded. "Like I said, all I really want is to get my life back. I want to be free from these people that are hurting me and want my chance to reclaim what was taken from me."

"And you'll help me out if I help you out, I understand how it works. Well, the best person to talk to would be my husband, so let's take you to meet him."

* * *

Portland, Oregon's famous Laurelhurst district was definitely worth writing home about. Each house was unique, and no two looked alike. Each hose had tall walls, multiple floors, great big swooping and rolling yards, and awesome driveways and big trees growing in their front yards. I wasn't surprised Ben and his beau were well off to the point of being able to afford such a pretty dwelling.

His house was Victorian in design, 3 stories, multiple faceted bay windows on the left, and a wrap around porch on the right, there was a detached garage that looked big enough to be it's own home, and not to mention the summer yellow rose paint job was welcoming in the evening light.

While Ben had chosen to ride in his mundane little SAAB, the driveway was an antique car collector's dream. A 1929 Mercedes Roadster painted lime green was in the far back, next to it a 1936 PT Cruiser, and next to that a 1943 Roles Royce Phantom II (yeah the kind you see in Indiana Jones), along with a 1944 Bently Town Car, and a 1988 Jaguar - the make of which I wasn't to sure on from the angle it sat. But I was impressed.

Stepping out of the car, parking on the street, I couldn't help but admire them "These yours? Or your husbands?"

Ben shrugged and said. "Well when I moved here he only had the Phantom and the Jaguar, but since then we've invested in the rest, so I think of the SAAB as mine, the Jag and the Phantom as his and the rest as ours. I really love the PT Cruiser though, the suicide doors are such a kick, and the look and feel of it makes me think I'm going to get in a shoot-out with the FBI or something."

I recalled a scene out of history class; Bonnie and Clyde laying sprawled out in front of their vehicle after being gunned down by vigilante cops and civilians. Not even the thick metal of the car kept them safe from the hailstorm of bullets that they had to endure. I didn't know if that's quite what Ben had in mind for his little fantasy, but it was definitely the image I got when I looked at the Cruiser. There was that, and the image of men in pinstripe zoot suit's wielding Tommy guns driving around Chicago and New York and gunning down anyone that crossed them. The other cars such as the Bently and the Royce's all seemed like just the collector's items for the rich: "We rich don't just collect art for ourselves, no we preserve them for future generations to appreciate" was a quote that came to mind when I looked at the cars.

Passing the cars and walking up the steps, the sound of music came to my ears, and it was the most eerie sensation that it was so good it made my scrotum tingle. No the music I heard was not sexual, but the sound of the violin being played was so well done and so chilling, I wanted to clutch my heart and expire then and there. It was just so stirring. Ben just smiled as he opened the front door, and called out that he was home.

The music promptly stopped with a final note, and If I didn't see it myself I wouldn't have believed it. He stood in front of an ornate fireplace which was lit and ablaze, above which was a portrait of a Doberman in regal antique German garb. The mantle was covered with various trophies, including a rather interesting looking tome in a glass case. But the man himself was a Doberman whom looked identical to the man in the portrait, tall, regal, with the most Arian of cut features on his muzzle and body. He wore a maroon "rich man's" robes with a snazzy scarf and undershirt, with a violin still poised at his neck, and the bow still in his hands. He was an athlete just like me, but big like Rowdy. He had a set of blue ice that looked like the color of glacier blue, and were almost grey. I noticed he hadn't blinked once since I stepped into the room. I was definitely in awed.

Ben swept into the room and walked over to the Doberman, and placed a kiss on his cheek, though the violinist's eyes never left mine. "Meine Liebe, dies ist der Schauspieler, der unseren Rivalen unterstützt hat, das ein von der Stadt der Engel. Er ist hier, uns für einen kleinen Preis zu helfen."

I was familiar with the German language from having worked for Gustauv, but I was rusty on it, and had no choice but to sit back and listen without understanding. "Und wie wird viel von einem Preis dies mich kosten? Ich bin sehr müde und sehr hungrig heute Abend, und Sie wissen, wie ich erhalten, als ich meine Mahlzeit nicht gehabt habe."

Ben squirmed and nodded. "Gut weiß ich nicht, wenn er in das sein wird, hat er eine raue Nacht gehabt, als es ist. Aber für den Preis von einer Flugzeugkarte und einigen neuen Unterkünften für seine Freunde irgendwo im Los Angeles Gebiet, sollen wir völlig seinen Dienst erlangen können."

The man nodded and lowered his violin, and set it on a near by easy chair, before he folded his large arms across his chest. "Haben Sie Geschlechtsverkehr mit ihm Ben gehabt? Sie wissen, dass Sie nicht sicher sind, irgendjemand zu verbinden, aber mich."

"Ich weiß, der ist, warum ich mit ihm nicht spielen werde. Ich bin nicht in der Stimmung für irgendjemand aber Sie Heinrich. Sowieso werde ich auf für Bett führen, weiß ich, dass Sie auf die ganze Nacht sein werden, aber ich werde Sie auf dort treffen." Ben said as he laid a gentle hand on the man's chest

Then the man spoke with the most crisp English I'd expect for a German, despite the light accent. "Then good night my love, I will see to the fox." He said as Ben moved out of the room and up the stairs leaving me alone. I suddenly felt like I was staring down Lucifer himself once more, only this time I was actually afraid.

"Ben tells me you are the same fox that works for my rival, and that for a price you're willing to help me out. Is this true?" He asked, taking a long graceful stride in my direction.

"I told him what I'll tell you - all I want is my life back. I'll do whatever TV ads you want movies, whatever you want me to do but all I ask is just for the airfare home and a place I can call home."

The man now blinked for the first time, and it was slow and considering, as if he was wrapping his mind around it, almost like his eyelids were lips that were savoring the meal of his eyeballs...it was creepy. His lips curled into a smile and I witnessed a set of teeth so white I had to wonder if it was bought. "You seem so willing to help out the rabbit, you seem so sincere when you tell me his restaurants are first-rate, his real-estate makes good houses, and his company's stock is worth more than Microsoft. What makes you think that I believe you let alone the people of the nation and world Mr. Morningstar?"

"Well, celebrity is as celebrity does - if a celebrity farts and tells you it's periwinkle the public will listen, and even if he changes his mind and says its roses, they'll still listen just because we keep them entertained. Besides, I have a lot of information I'm willing to give you about Fletcher and his company."

The Doberman narrowed his eyes and said. "I've lived a long time, and I've learned a thing or two on my own Mr. Morningstar; but please do share for I'm interested if you have anything new to share that I don't already know."

I took a deep breath and put my hands in my pockets. "Alex Fletcher is responsible for the deaths of several women in the city of Los Angles, including the death of the daughter of the owner of one of LA's last savings' and loan establishments. Aside from that his partner Spike Duke-Conroy happens to be the uncrowned head of street-crime in the united states, and he is the man behind the death's of Jeice my screen partner, Sparky Deberoux the late Nascar champion, and behind the wrongful discharge of Neil Simonsen and Lt. Kurt Mitchell, and also behind the necessity for rehabilitation in my friend Chong."

I exhaled and then inhaled before I continued. "Not only that but they have raped me, humiliated me on camera, and destroyed what faith I had in myself. They shaved my head and they threatened my family."

The man then raised a finger before I could say anymore. He took a few more steps closer and looked me right in the eyes. We were about the same height, in the higher 6 foot range and could truly appreciate one another's size. "And this is all true?"

"I swear." I said with true indignation

"All of it? You swear on your soul that you haven't lied to me?"

Without even hesitating to think I answered, "My soul already belongs to the devil himself, but my body is ripe and up for grabs. I do swear that I've told you the truth, all of it."

He then gave a slow nod. "People like this Spike and Alex would have been considered great countrymen back in the fatherland I suppose. They, like the red baron of old, pick out a single target and never relinquish their hold on it till it's crippled and incapable of fighting back. To your friends and your family, I think the Reich itself would have done the same thing if you were alive back in that time. You remind me of a great man, you and him are almost many years apart, but you and him seem the same. There was this man...gay like yourself...but he and his love were followed often by the Secret Police, and it ended up getting the man sent to a camp. One day he meets up with this other man they fall in love and they manage to escape and exact their revenge on the German officer. They move to the United States and live happily ever after...that is till they find out that the man never really died and that he kidnaps their son and so forth."

"What finally happens?" I asked, not liking how that sounded.

"Not many know. I never heard the rest of the story, and people keep asking for the rest. I tell them, that's all I know of it so far. If there's more too it, they'll know. Rumor has it that the man and his family tracked him back down to the neighborhood in Dresden where it all started and they have one final shoot out. From there the details get minced because everyone adds their own twists."

"So do you think I'm going to end up the same way?"

He turned and looked at the tome on the fireplace. He didn't say anything for a long time, before he turned and regarded me. "It's very similar, the rivalry between you and that officer, and I'd hate to see it end tragically. You are one of the few good people left on this world Renee weather you think of it or not. I'm not what some would consider a nice person, but I'm fair. To be honest, aside from my husband, our little bed partner, and the lizard intern down at the funeral home the only people I see from day to day are policemen, detectives and the dead. And of those above mentioned, with the exception of my husband I find the dead to be the most interesting."

"And," He continued "Therefore I can't say weather or not I can hold much promise in your future Mr. Morningstar. I have learned that the only people aside from the one you love you can rightfully invest your money in is the dead - because the dead stay that way and are guaranteed never to change. So If I make an investment in you, I can't be sure at this point that you're going to be worth it. However if it involves taking down the Fletcher empire that is being built on what I feel is my coastline then by all means I think you deserve a shot."

"I'm honored sir." I said as I let out a breath.

"So what kind of arrangements would I need to make to get you on your merry way?"

I blinked and realized this was actually happening and I took my hands out of my pockets and scratched my head. "Well - uh - airfare to Los Angeles, and hopefully something getting me cleared from my home-care. I had myself committed and assigned to home therapy. The courts actually say I'm supposed to be home tonight, but my nurse is willing to look the other way."

"That makes thing's a bit difficult. I suppose I can use my influence as the chief medical examiner to help things along with the court psychologists. I want you to pack your things tomorrow, and be ready to be on a flight tomorrow evening. I'll have you back in the morning day after tomorrow, and from there you'll receive further instructions."

I nodded and then extended my hand. "Sounds like a deal."

We shook hands and his grip was so soft, it betrayed the physical nature of the man in front of me. "Heinrich Heidenreich is my name, and I already knew yours. It is interesting meeting you, and I hope it turns out to be a pleasure."

"I have to say Mr. Heidenreich, I'm very tired. I just kind of want to curl up and go to bed."

He nodded and whistled softly. From around the corner, came someone I hadn't seen in about 3 years. "Ty?!"

I may have mentioned that Sexually Transmitted Diseases were cured off, or mostly don't exist. Well he was one of the last none cases of AIDS before the cure. Because he was type 2 diabetic it caused complications with his cure and I'd heard he'd passed on. How extraordinary. The skunk was everything I remembered from when we used to whore ourselves out. He was a buff and athletic skunk, same build as me. He had several barcode tattoos over his body, and had a few piercings in his ears. He also had a septum ring in his nose. His eyes were still that pale maroon that they get when some people are far along in the AIDS state, and he was probably still close to death. But today seemed to be a much better day for him. He approached me in just a pair of green pajamas, and his jaw dropped as well.

"Ne-ne!" He said as he ran over to me and embraced me in a hug. I hugged him back, and felt the power behind his hug, so I enjoyed it. "I thought you were dead!"

"I thought you were dead!" I said, exasperated at the situation. "You disappeared 3 years ago and I thought the big A got you."

He shook his head and smiled at me, almost in tears as I was. "No. Heinrich was able to help me out. He developed a method that was able to keep me alive. He managed to cure me."

"How?"

"Well he works as a mortician, and basically he bled me to death, froze me, let the virus die off inside me, and then brought me back before there was too much damage."

I blinked. I didn't want to try to figure out how it worked, but it worked. "I'm still a carrier for the big A but you know with some Xelex tablets you can get it treated and cured."

"Well still I'm just amazed. How'd you wind up here?"

"Well I hooked a ride with a trick who wanted me to go with him to his wife's house to make her jealous. So that was all I was needed for was for her to catch us in the act. Well he dumped me on the streets with 2 grand and said adios. Well I put money down on a house, and Ben there became a good friend of mine and my roommate. He even became an on again off again lover for a while. Well that was till I poz'ed him up, but we're both cured now, we're just waiting for our systems to clean out."

That was mainly how it went, disease was a thing of the past thanks to medical science. Its why I mentioned there not being much point anymore, there was only one or two cases a year of anyone coming down with a venereal disease, and it seems that the only two I've ever heard of live together. "Sounds great!"

Heinrich cleared his throat. "Then since you two know one another an introduction would be pointless. Ty, please take him to your room, and share the bed, but nothing more you have duties to perform tomorrow."

Ty nodded. "Sure thing, this way Ne-ne, I was just about to tuck-in."

He lead me upstairs to the 3rd floor. There was a large spacious room that seemed almost like the size of the old upstairs of the house on Tumbler street. Ty stripped down to a pair of bright yellow briefs, as he helped me down to my thong.

"Jesus, when the news said you'd attempted suicide then they didn't say anything else about you, I thought you were dead."

"Dad covered it up, the FBI didn't want the people after me to know where I was."

Ty blinked and lead me to a large four poster bed complete with bed curtains. "Wait, hold the phone, you said Dad? You said you didn't know your dad, and who's after you?"

"Alex Fletcher, and yes Dad and I met up a while back when his partner thought it would be a good idea to have me judge the Southern California body building competition and be the celebrity guest presenter. Dad won by the way."

"Oh your dad is a body builder?" He asked before he paused and skipped a few beats. "Is he cute?"

"Yes and yes. He is ungodly sexy, a charmer, and great in bed."

Ty held his hands out to me as we sat girly style - knee to knee and face to face - on his bed. "Woah, you slept with him? Renee what's gotten into you. You always seemed the more careful type"

"Well yeah I was, but a lot of things have really opened my eyes. For instance, my father really did care about me and think about me all these years, unlike that bitch that tried to drown me."

"And how did this all come about?"

"We just kind of admitted our mutual feelings for one another that sort of lot and one thing lead to the other."

"Amazing, and you say he works for the FBI?"

"Yes, he used to be on homicide, but now he's on Drugs and Alcohol division."

"Wow I'm still amazed, is that intimidating at all?"

"To be honest it was kind of disarming when I found out dad had been looking over my shoulder my whole life, and that he knew right where I was the whole time and everything that I had done. Every single time I'd been in papers, or even made a movie he was there to collect information. His cubicle in his office is pretty much a shrine dedicated to me, and not many know I'm his son - they just think he's an obsessed fan."

Ty nodded and then laid into the bed next to me, his long tail wagging a bit along with my own, it was such a surreal night I couldn't believe it. I was sitting next to someone I thought was dead, I pretty much died earlier, and on top of all that I'd be going home soon. Wonderful!

"Well I'd love to meet him someday, for now lets get some sleep, we both have long days tomorrow."

"That we do."

* * *

I was still in that kind of disbelieving stupor when I awoke that when I found myself in a 69, sucking off my friend Ty whom I hadn't seen in forever; it was about the same amount of shock as when I saw him walk into that sitting room. Don't get me wrong I finished what I must have started in my sleep and his cum was always quite delicious, but it was very surreal I had to admit.

I showered, dressed, and got a ride from Ben back to the house. Ben had a meeting to attend, and so he couldn't stay. I knew what I had to do anyway. I strolled into the front door, and right into the angry eyes of Phillip, whom was sitting on my normal bed, the couch.

"Listen here you little hussy, I waited up all night for you after Asher came home plastered. I even made you breakfast like normal and prepared your pills, and was half tempted to drive and look for your California sunshine fanny, but what do I find when I wake up this morning? An empty couch that's what. You know you're little leverage doesn't mean much when you can get in big trouble for staying out like that."

I stopped in my tracks. "Whoa Phil, calm your ass down, I'm here." I said as I moved towards the hamper where I kept my changes of clothes. I stripped there in the living room, and grabbed one of dad's Faux-nude style briefs, and a new pair of jeans with a flat-black flannel.

Phillip stood up and walked over to me, and moved in front of me. "I know that look of yours Renee, and you get that when you're feeling rebellious. You need to take some of your meds before you do something rash. What did you do last night? Did you get drunk and sleep with somebody?"

Actually by all technical accounts, that was kind of accurate. "No."

"Then what's all this then, you should be dressing down not up. I let you two have your night out, now its time for your day-in."

I stopped grabbing clothes and looked at Phillip. He'd been so much the nurse and motherly type, it suddenly reminded me of everything I disliked in the Kubricks and mommy dearist. I don't know why I did it but,

I grabbed him by his scrubs, and threw him against a wall, moving over him and placing my foot against his chest. "Listen here. I'm done sitting around feeling sorry for myself, watching TV, sitting on the couch for 12 hours a day and then rolling over and going to sleep for another 12. I'm sick of sitting here while my son grows up without a father, and my husband goes through life without his soul mate, and my friends go through life without their friend. Listen good Phillip because from now on, no one is telling me what to do, and I'm doing what I goddamn well please. You did a good job of taking care of me during my down-time and for that I thank you, but if you so much as get in my way one more time, I will lay your ass down on the carpet faster than you can moisturize. You feel me?"

Phillip stared up at me as if he'd never seen me before. To be honest, this was me, and the person he'd met was a docile, watered-down version of me. He nodded his head slowly, and shook a bit. "I think...you need your medicine."

"This is the only medicine I need..." And then I did something I'll never forget...

I picked up Phillip, a man whom I'd never once thought in a sexual light, and carried him to his bedroom. I tossed him on his bed, and pulled his pants down, his eyes wide in fear. I placed my hands on his chest before I scooped up his manhood, and plunged it into my muzzle. Phillip gasped and started to protest, placing his hands gently on my face as if to push me away, but I would have nothing of it. I shoved his hands away and sucked, and sucked, getting him nice and hard.

When I was satisfied with a 6 inch piece of black canine dick in my hand I ripped his scrub top and dropped my pants and pulled the Faux-nude briefs aside. "Top or bottom?"

It took him a moment to realize this was really happening. His eyes were watering, and he squirmed under me. He was really afraid, and for some reason I was getting a kick out of this show of dominance. I couldn't recall when - if ever - I'd been this aggressive with someone, except perhaps Neil that one evening. I continued to stroke his doggy prick, as he looked up and mouthed the word "Top."

I scoffed and said. "With an attitude like yours, you a top? Sister Mary Francis, we have to change that..."

I rolled him over, and presented his little pink star to my own prick. I wasn't short by any means, and was a fair piece of cock from what I've been told. I lubed myself up with spit, stroking my foxy dick, and began to stuff it under his tailhole. To my surprise, it went in with a long slurp, and I was almost buried to the knot.

"Well my my Phillip, holding out on me?" I said as I started to hump immediately, opening up my flannel, and fucking sharp and quick. I knew this wasn't going to be long, already I could feel my member starting to boil with pleasure, Phillip's cock was spurting precum like silly string with each thrust.

"I...have...my...secrets..." Phillip whimpered. "Please...Renee...don't...."

I started to increase the speed of my thrusts, and the power, my knot starting to plop in and out, getting ready to lock us together, making that infamous queef like noise as I drilled the ass of my caretaker. "Please don't what?" I asked, moving my mouth over his and planting a lurid kiss on his face.

"Please...just...don't...don't...stop..." He cried.

And I didn't. I pounded him for all I was worth. Soon my knot locked in, and I fired off my cum into his rear, his own spraying up and splattering all over himself. He gasped, and laid helpless on the bed attached to me, as I sneered triumphantly down at him.

"Now...here's what you're going to do. You're going to sit and enjoy my cum up your ass, and lay here for a few hours. I'm going to pack my things and leave and go home. You're going to take care of Asher till I send for him as well, and you're going to do it well otherwise I may have to come up here and stick my cock in your rear again, understand?"

Phillip nodded feverishly.

"Good, now we have a few things to discuss while my knot is shrinking."

Actually all I really ended up discussing is how he was going to keep his mouth shut that I raped him, and that he was going to enjoy the fact that I used him for pleasure, and that he was going to pretend it never happened. Phillip agreed like a good boy.

When my knot shrunk, I redressed, and met with Asher and told him what I'd done. He slapped my ass and congratulated me on being the one to do it first, because he was about 10 seconds away from raping Phillip too if he didn't shut up. Asher never stuck me as the raping type after his experience with Fletcher, but I guessed that anyone would want to rape Phillip after spending 6 months of cavity-inducing sunshine.

Asher actually went a few rounds with Philip, and from the sounds of it Asher was used to the rough sex even more than I was. But packing didn't take long, as I really only had one suitcase and one roller bag full of clothes and stuff to pack. I was packed up before 2 in the after noon when Asher was busy with his second load up the already buttermilk ass of Phillip. I then remembered I was supposed to talk to Heinrich. Ty had given me his number in the morning, but he said that Heinrich worked nights and that he never really woke up until after sunset. Very vamp like, but I didn't complain. I figured I could talk to Ben.

I called Ben and said that if I wanted I could take an Alaska Airlines flight at 6pm to Los Angeles, but that was the earliest. I didn't really care, so I took it, and Ben made the reservations. I then went into my old stuff from when I first moved in and dug out my old wallet with all my California ID and stuff, and pulled out my list of phone numbers.

I looked longingly at Neil's number, knowing that I hadn't talked to him in so long. I wondered if he still loved me as much as I loved him. I looked at the other numbers for other people's cellular phones, and saw that I still had Sparky's and Jay's numbers listed. Part of me was tempted to dial, even though I knew in the bottom of my heart all I'd get was a service recording.

I did however move down to the name at the bottom of the page, Ritch Arran.

I picked up the phone and dialed, and sighed, knowing that it was going to be a well of emotion for me. On the third ring, my father answered. "Hello Agent Ritch Arran FBI speaking."

"Dad? It's Renee."

There was a pause, and then a sigh of relief on the other end of the line. "Renee It's been months. I've missed you."

"And I've missed you too."

"You should see Cyric, he's getting taller, I think he may be taller than the both of us when he grows up."

"Well Dad, I want you to know that I'm done here. I've struck a deal with some people in high places, and I may finally be able to come home now."

There was another pause, and my father's tone changed to curious but cautious intrigue. "Go on."

"I met this charming German who works for Sterncorps here in the north west, and they're the chief rivals of Fletch-co. If I endorse them like I did Alex, and publicly denounce Alex's company and them personally then they'll take care of all of us."

"And you sure this is not going to wind up where you get screwed?"

"No dad, this is all on the up-and-up, I just need a favor from you."

"What kind of favor?"

"When I get to LAX tonight, I'd like some kind of cover or protection, because I know Spike's men will be watching the airport for me."

Dad sighed, as I guessed he was rubbing the bad temple, and adjusted himself. "Okay, when does this need to be done?"

"Tonight, I should be landing this evening."

"Alright here's what I can do. I can have the agents board the plane and escort you off of the pilot's route and take you out through the bowels of the building. It's likely that Spike's men won't be watching the actual tarmac, but will be watching the terminals themselves. From there, I'll meet you in the security garage and pick you up, I don't think I've been watched too much recently."

"Good. Tell the family that I'll be home soon, and that come hell or high water I'm coming back to my boys."

"You know I will. In the interest of security and keeping everyone safe, I'll be the only one picking you up."

"I understand."

"Then I'll see you tonight, my precious son."

"And I'll see you tonight my loving father."

We made kissing noises into the phone, and that was that. I hung up, swung my bags over my shoulder and walked out to the bus stop.

I felt light hearted, so I threw my head back in song, and stood at the buss stop singing with no music but the music in my mind.

"Rollin' down the Imperial Highway

With a big nasty redhead at my side

Santa Ana winds blowin' hot from the north

And we as born to ride

Roll down the window put down the top

Crank up the Beach Boys baby

Don't let the music stop

We're gonna ride it till we just can't ride it no more

From the South Bay to the Valley

From the West Side to the East Side

Everybody's very happy

'Cause the sun is shining all the time

Looks like another perfect day

I love L.A. (We love it)

I love L.A. (We love it)

Look at that mountain

Look at those trees

Look at that bum over there, man

He's down on his knees

Look at these women

There ain't nothin' like 'em nowhere

Century Boulevard (We love it)

Victory Boulevard (We love it)

Santa Monica Boulevard (We love it)

Sixth Street (We love it, we love it)

I love L.A.

I love L.A.

(We love it)

I drew stares when I boarded the 71 northbound bus headed towards the Max station singing Randy Newman's "I love LA", considering Portland's ongoing rivalry with my hometown, but I didn't really give a fuck. Portland couldn't win a sports game if they tried.

Max, if I hadn't already mentioned, is a light-rail system not unlike a subway but instead of being underground it's outside and above ground. There were a few lines: the blue which ran between Gresham and Hillsboro bisecting the city, the Red Line which ran from Beaverton to the Portland Airport (PDX), and the Yellow line which ran to the Expo center but I never really rode that line. The Green line was still being constructed which would run from Downtown to the Clackamas town center which was under reconstruction itself. It would be nice when Se Portland would finally get a better form of mass-transit, and take some pressure off the 71, 72, and 33 buss lines.

I boarded the Max at the 60th transit station and caught the Red-Line max headed towards the airport. It's a long ride yes, but it's a smooth ride and for some reason much quieter. Teens actually shut up for some reason but once they get on that bus they're yakin and smackin their gums and wont stop. There was something about the relaxing glide of the Max that made everyone be quiet, and I truly enjoyed.

Portland Airport was cozy and felt like a fun place to be rather than the hustle and bustle of LAX. Here people actually took time to look around at their surroundings in stead of just running about. My plane was long the C gates, which had a nice series of motorized walkways and airplane models hanging from the ceiling along with nice little floor patterns. Every so often there were shops for food or novelties. I personally wasn't interested in remembering Oregon for anything else than the fact that I spent the most depressed months of my life there.

I did however buy some cigarettes, chewing gum, jerky, and other snacks for the plane. Airplanes suck nowadays in their meals, and they barely feed you anymore. It's nice to just get a soda let alone food.

I spent most of my time at the Powel's express they had there, checking out the nice books they had there. I was able to find copies of Laurell K HamIlton's Anita Blake series. I'd read the older issues but the most recent ones were quite risqué, making the rather exotic vampire hunter-necromancer somewhat of a slut, but to me in a good way. Now if only there was more gay action, I'd be set.

I had finished her short installment, Micah, and looked up at the clock and realized I was running late. So I swift-tailed it down to my terminal and boarded the sweet bird of freedom that would bring the bitch back.

Look out LA, the bitch IS back...

* * *

Alex was also back. Back in his office, and back to business as usual. After the fight in Boston, he took his father's advice and went back to his own little kingdom while the old nights of round discussed the new law that was in effect. Alex was glad to be rid of those old codgers - as necessary as they were. Alex sat at his desk, looking over a stack of papers, drumming his fingers against the old-wood desk, and gazing at the eyes of his three associates. Heckyl was polishing his wire-framed 3-d style glasses, while Jeckyl was chewing on the end of a match stick, and Fabian was whipping his balding head with a handkerchief.

"Gentlemen, Spike is getting restless to the point that not even I can control him. I admit that we all have an addiction to killing, but he's like a child, and he constantly needs to have his addiction fed. This absence of the fox has only fueled his displeasure further."

"And what pray tell are we supposed to do about it? Pull him out of a hat?" Fabian asked, exasperated.

"Oh come no, no need for racist jokes." Heckyl grumbled. "Alex boss, we can only do so much. We're body guards, not bloodhounds."

Jeckyl nodded and adjusted his chew on the matchstick. "Besides Spike's got this city covered like a blanket, how are we even going to get to shoot anyone with them in the way? We all got our guns polished up for nothin' boss?"

Alex rolled his eyes. "Oh yes I forgot you have your own burning desire to shoot things. Well you're going to have to wait just like I'm going to have to wait."

Fabian looked at the gun he had in his shoulder holster, and then at his boss. It was as if he was looking at some unsightly blemish for but a moment, but then he recovered, adjusting his glasses and fidgeting.

"What is it Fabian, you're going to start a fire with all that fidgeting you're doing."

Fabian sighed and looked over at Alex, as he ruffled his mustache. "Look I know how it was when we were kids, and you were great back then, but you have to understand times are different now. We're the grown ups and we should act accordingly."

Heckyl hissed and looked over at his partner. "That sounds a bit like hostility doesn't it Jeckyl?"

"Course it does Heckyl, and we don't like hostility do we Heckyl?"

"No of course not Jeckyl. Why are you being hostile fat boy?"

Fabian sighed and shook his head. "I just think this is nuts. I thought I disliked the fox and his friends too for their lack of family values, but what I see here is just a decent into madness Alex. You're loosing your touch I think."

Alex cracked his knuckles and slammed a fist against the desk. "Loosing my touch?! I'll tell you when I've lost touch you overweight windbag! I am so close to getting this all wrapped up. Once I know where the fucking fox has hid himself, I will put his ass against the wall so hard he'll be begging me for a bullet! No the only thing I've lost touch on is my faith in you 3. You three have been great muscle and great gophers, but that only goes so far with me. I want this fox found, and I want his head on a fucking silver platter so spectacular Martha Fucking Steward would sing it's praises from her jail cell."

Fabian cringed and lowered his gaze. "Its that kind of talk sir that makes me loose faith in you. How do you expect us to find him?"

Alex stood and kicked his chair out behind him. "For fucks sake! You three have college degrees! Fabian you have a doctorate! Christ, and you can't think of this on your own? Why do I even put up with you - Oh wait I forgot because you need me as much as I need you right? Well listen up it's time we tighten the noose again. I want to see results! He's bound to have friends around here somewhere we can torture."

Heckyl jutted a thumb over his shoulder. "What about that fat whop that runs the pizza joint across the street?"

Jeckyl shook his head. "Nah, that's more of Asher's bag. Renee actually tries to avoid him from what I hear."

"And what of his mother since you decided to let her out?" Fabian said with a slight stutter.

"Don't remind me. I figured she'd find him faster than we could since it's her life's mission to retroactively abort the child she made. However she's just plain nuts and seen or heard a word from her or of her since she got out."

"I say we go after the kid." Heckyl said with a nod. "Sure it's overdone, but he's taken a shine to him, and who wouldn't want to protect their kid?"

"Need I answer? Who were we just talking about? No, the FBI agent is keeping the child too well hidden, and it's dangerous having federal agents followed, despite the moles we have in the agency. No, that child is a well-kept secret and getting our hands on him is dodgy at best, we're not even sure what school he's been attending."

"But we see the kid, we snatch-em right?" Jeckyl asked with enthusiasm. "It's been a while since we did a good old fashioned kidnapping."

"True but it should be a last resort...well when you think about it it is sort of the last resort. We have tapped every resource we have and have hit every single one of his friends and family with the exception of the agent and his son. I've underestimated the Fox...it seems that either he's incredibly smart, or incredibly uncaring of the people around him. Maybe he's thinking like a Satanist and is just looking out for Number 1?" He said, more as a statement than a question, but with enough mystery in the sentence to still justify a question.

Fabian cleared his throat and said, "Well I...err..."

The group of rabbits all turned their heads to gaze at Fabian. Normally when he stuttered it was something important. "Quit gibbering! Spit it out!"

"Well...err...I...oh....err....I kinda know where...the kid is."

You could have dropped a 56 megaton nuke on the city and that still wouldn't have cut the silence in that room. No one breathed, no one blinked, they all just stared at the fat rabbit. Alex was the first to breathe, taking in a sharp breath, before he stared down the line of his nose at his associate. "Where?"

"He's going to a private school in Beverly Hills, gets a ride from a black sedan every morning and evening, and sometimes has a bodyguard with him."

Heckyl and Jeckyl both dropped their jaws in surprise. Who was this man and where was Fabian - Jeckyl's matchstick hung on just by a hope and a prayer before tumbling end over end to the floor.

"And you were going to share this...when? It's been over 6 months since we last saw the fox and we needed some sort of leverage, and now in our darkest hour you decide to reveal this little tidbit? How did you know?"

Fabian cringed in his seat as if struck. "I didn't wanna say nothing because I believe hurting kids is wrong Alex. But I figured if you had the fox you'd be happy so I told you now. But I knew where the kid was cause my kids are in his class, you sent them to that school remember?"

Alex sneered and his eyes bulged like a person about to endure a stroke, but then he smiled softly and reached over and patted Fabian on the head. "Well turns out those brats you turn out are good for something after all Fabian my man. Who thought that the only breeder among us would put those genes of his to good use?"

Fabian whined and cringed under the patting. "Don't hurt the kid Alex, I never ask for nothin' but just don't hurt the kid. I couldn't rest if I knew that I sold my soul for that kid."

Alex clapped his hands and shook his rabbit tail in victory. He began to make a proud march around the desk. "Oh no Fabian I wouldn't dream of hurting one little hair on that kid's scrawny little neck. We only need the threat of violence to get the fox's obedience. We may have to rough the kid up slightly but it's only business and we have to appear tough."

Fabian stood up and threw his handkerchief to the floor. "I won't have any more to do with it. I don't care what you do from now on, but I'm not doing anything else to help you Alex."

And with that, Fabian turned, and walked out the door. Alex blinked in surprise, before adjusting his tie and spitting symbolically. "Fine, I don't need him holding me back and holding me down. He's been a sniveling little ball of complaints and whines since I've known him. I normally would cut you off for walking out on me, but since he shared this little tidbit before he decided to tuck tail and run like a scalded dog."

"No you don't Alex."

"Not at all!" Heckyl and Jeckyl chimed in.

"Then gentlemen we're going to go to that school sometime in the next couple weeks, and we're going to apprehend, the fox cub. We're going to indeed rough the kid up and teach him that his father really doesn't care about him. He's going to be the last straw before we finally break the fox for good."

"Sounds good Mr. Alex sir!" Heckyl said with relish.

"He will learn, never to forget the name of Alex Fletcher."

* * *

The flight was uneventful but landing at LAX was sure fun. When I landed, a pair of security officers boarded the plane, and escorted me off the plane to many stares and curious murmurs. I walked down the steps, and got onto the little vehicle they transport people around on, and was driven down to the security level. It didn't take long, but soon I was in an underground parking garage. There, standing in front of me for the first time in half a year, my father stood before me.

He was just as handsome as I remembered, his hair shaved short with two grey streaks going down his temples. He had the eye patch over his eye, and had a fine smile. He was wearing a leather jacket, blue jeans, and white tank top.

"You know, I thought the Fonz look was dead." I said as I ran over to him and threw my arms around him. He did the same, as we hugged tighter than we had ever hugged before.

"Who cares, I wanted to look casual. Oh my sweet boy."

I brought my hands to his chest, and held him tight. "Lets go home."

He brought me to his car and we slipped inside, firing up the engine, and pulling out of the security garage, undetected by any of Spike's men. We pulled out onto the familiar California freeways. I let out a sigh of relief as I looked out to see my home sprawling out in front of me.

"Were you followed?" I asked.

"No, I suspect Alex knows that I know who he is, and all that, but you have to keep in mind that I'm a hard man to keep track of when I want to be secretive."

I blinked and said. "How many one eyed foxes are there in the city of Los Angeles?"

"24 that I've seen." He said with a grin, not missing a beat. "Don't worry Renee."

"I just worry is all, I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

"Well leave the worrying to me."

"I think I'll be doing just that, because I'm tired of worrying about things."

"So tell me about this man, the German?"

"Heinrich Heidenreich. I don't know much more about him except that he is related to a Nazi pathologist that worked in a concentration camp. He's the Chief Medical examiner for the Portland Police department and one of the higher ranking officials of Sterncorps. He likes to play the violin, and is married to a Jewish mouse named Ben Swerdlowe. He seems to take his job very seriously, and seems to be fascinated with the dead - not in a sexual way."

"Hmm the dead? I can see that. You can learn a lot from a dead body."

I shook my head. "Yeah, like you can learn that it's a dead body and that it was once alive."

"It's not that bad. When you've seen as many as I have you get used to it."

"No what happens is you turn into a weird person who become obsessed with the dead."

Dad scoffed and shook his head. "Well I know it's been rough for you, and I'm glad you're home. I bet it'll be nice to see everyone."

"I'll probably rape them all, like I did Phillip."

Dad blinked. "You raped your nurse?"

"Yeah. I just got so angry and horny that I just kind of shoved it in and all that. He got me so frustrated that I just took him..."

"I know I understand. Sometimes I feel like doing that to your step-dad."

"Why don't you?"

"Because he can kick my ass. Sure I might get it inside of him but the instant I let my guard down that panther will have me on the tiles before you can sneeze."

"Doesn't time stop every time someone sneezes?"

"If it does I certainly wouldn't know about it."

"Why don't you two get some marriage counseling?"

"Because, that would mean he'd have to admit that we have problems and he does not want to admit that we have problems."

"And why won't he admit that he is the one that's causing the problems."

"Think about it, would you ever like to like to admit that you were wrong? Or that you caused problems for people?"

"Not particularly."

"Well he's the same way. He thinks that his day-counting and his germiphobia is actually okay. I can't stand it."

"Either way dad I want to recommend that you two at least try it. Counseling worked for me."

Dad looked at me with his one eye, and smiled. "That it did. Glad to see that you're back, I didn't know what I was going to do if I lost you again."

"You never really lost me this time, I just needed some time to think and get things rolling."

"What kind of things?"

"Aside from my life, I want to bring down this fucker."

"I know, so do I. I know he's responsible for the murders of 3 cheerleaders back from high-school, and if I can tie him to them, it may be enough to get him in court and hold him for everything that he's done to you and to the guys."

I paused and did a double take "High school?"

"Yes, it's interesting the stuff you learn over time. I thought I remembered him. It took me a while and even after I searched his files it didn't jump out at me until I remembered a young upstart punk with the same name with a wealthy father that my dad worked for. Then when the misogynistic kid started making slanderous statements and cheerleaders started showing up dead, I knew he was the only one that could have been responsible. But the fucker had my father transferred to Florida and the rest is history."

"What did grandpa do for a job."

Dad sighed, and said. "Pencil pushing on off days and managed a Karrot's restaurant."

I had to laugh. "Looks like we all end up working for the Fletcher's at some point."

Ritch scoffed. "Bet my ass, I've never worked for a Fletcher in my life and I'm never going to."

"Maybe you do and you don't realize it. What if he's got people in the federal agencies too?"

"Then Alex's dick is a bit bigger than we've thought, but that just mean's it'll be easier to spot. Now if we're going to take Alex down this is going to take careful action and lots of planning."

"What do you have in mind?"

"First, we need to find Spike's men and take them out one by one. Multiple crack-downs and so on. This Spike doesn't realize that I am the head of Drug and Alcohol. The FBI realize it keeps me out of trouble but guess what, that puts him in my jurisdiction. Drugs are the sweetbreads of the crime industry, and If I can just catch even the simplest of crooks it works it's way back up. Think of Spike like a weed, you have to kill the plant before you can get to the roots. That's what we got to do."

"How do we do this?"

"You walk around in public. I follow you and I can see who's following you. From there, we can take care of those punks."

"And go all good-cop/bad-cob thing?"

"Something like that, trust me. Just let me handle this and you enjoy being back."

"I think I can handle that, I think that'll be some of the best orders anyone's ever given me."