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Dirty Laundry

Chapter Nineteen

By Roofles

Intense chapters ahead. Blood, gore, violence warnings.

The Black Market, or just The Market, was a neutral ground for all the gangs and criminal underbelly of the city. Run by the leftover remnants of a colony of bats that had taken up residents in the tunnels underneath the city, it had become a city, a home, in itself to some who could profit off the sins and desires of others.

Be it the gluttony of drugs or wrathful desires to buy and arm oneself, sating ones lustful twisted desires or greedily wanting more and more… this place could sate all ones darkest wet dreams. There were even dens down here that one could slothfully rot away in, shoot themselves up with enough depressants to just forget the world above. And still other parts where an envious one could buy and dress up, act like others they coveted and resented.

And, of course, a place for one to loiter above others. To grandstand over others and showcase themselves as the biggest, baddest mofo’s there ever was. Gangs each reaching for the tallest height, the seat that was left open when The Pack imploded in on itself due to its own pride.

That was just the tip of concerns Logan had on his plate this afternoon.

Navigating through the tunnels lead one to a vast open space one would never think to be underneath a city as large as Seattle. There were several such spots, like this, located throughout North America and the world itself. Each of the tunnels winding together and eventually connecting to the center hub like a colony of ants or that was the idea.

Subterranean species didn’t care for the light of day. They would burrow underneath the earth’s surface to hide away from the sun and those above, creating their own communities, cities and worlds to live in. They served as miners back in the day; digging through the earth came natural to these species and even after such jobs weren’t as heavily sought after, they continued to do what they did best. Dig.

And dig they did. Deep, winding tunnels and passages that were later turned into sewer lines, quarries (depending on their location) and even mines when rich minerals were discovered. Even underneath large cities, still forming back in the day, couldn’t escape the natural instinct of these species to dig. Forming cities underneath cities…

It thus only seemed fitting for the criminal world to take it over then. Places hidden from those above; even knowing about it, they were overlooked and ignored. A perfect place to do ones illegal dealings. Be it junkies, gangs or even corporate heads wanting to get their fix in, these places weren’t somewhere you’d want to accidentally end up in.

And Logan was walking into it.

The human had slipped into a spare set of what those working here were wearing, finding something for a human his size to fit into… after knocking the person out and stealing a set that was. The dress pants were black and the white button up shirt had a matching black vest to go over it that looked like a pair of folded bat wings. Logan opted to roll up his sleeves, just in case, as he grabbed the last piece of the outfit he needed to fit in.

It was a mask.

A ceramic mask with metal fangs installed into the front of it. It looked like something from an age long since past. Logan knew it was supposed to look like a bat, or maybe a demon, and was supposed to relate back to the original family that owned these tunnels before the… hostile takeover took place.

Most of the bats were killed during the initial takeover and those left were merged into the gang that had moved into their territory. Which didn’t last long after others caught wind of it. One group after another fought for the space; some succeeded and others were wiped out. Eventually a truce had been called and those left behind, the bats, and original owners were allowed to take over the spot so long as all the others could come here to use the space.

The Market was the main focus but not the only one within these tunnels. There were plenty of other crimes that could go unnoticed by lady law within these dank, dark passages that didn’t need the light of day shining on them.

Logan tried not to focus on that as he fixed his hair, looking at himself in a bathroom mirror he’d hauled the person he’d “borrowed” the suit from. The goon he’d jumped was knocked out and locked away in one of the bathroom stalls behind him, his legs and arms strung up so no one would notice what he’d done to them. Logan had even locked the door, you know, to give them privacy.

They were as guilty as anyone else here as far as the officer saw it. Working in a place like this, Logan didn’t even feel guilt after jumping the guy and choking him out. They couldn’t be much older than Logan and yet the human could only feel disdain for them; after all. If they were Logan’s age, they could’ve chosen another route to get by. Than to work in a place like this.

“People of all sizes and breeds, species, nationalities and backgrounds come here…” Bosch had told Logan during one of his many visits to the jaguar. “It might not seem like it as such to a human, like you. But those, like me? We can’t just… get jobs. Even with a clean record, no one is about to go out and hire a jaguar.”

“Right…” Logan didn’t want to believe it. It made his job… harder. Able to look at things black and white made things so much easier. Rather than to try and understand them, these predators that chose to work in a place like this…

“They’re all not to blame… but that’s not saying there aren’t scumbags mixed into the lot, either. Just be careful, kid.” Bosch words had stuck with Logan since he’d met the jaguar.

It was why he’d given Domino a chance back at Vicky’s club. It was why he was fighting to help Sloan out, trying to give a lion a chance in all this. Trying to see them beyond the claws and fangs. It was hard, being in a place like this. Hard to forget.

Dusting off a shoulder and washing his hands, Logan adjusted the mask on his face.

Logan was a hair over six feet, on a good day. His messy brown hair was brushed back neatly today, needing to fit in. He’d even shaved for the occasion. The vest was well fitting and the sleeves of the shirt stretched against his arms. Maybe a size too small, but sometimes in a way that could help. His physique, his age, being in the prime of his life…

“Yeah.” He just said smugly, adjusting the bowtie he had put on to finish the ensemble. “I look good.” And with a wink at his reflection, Logan spun around on the black dress shoes he’d put on and headed out of the bathroom.

He swung the key ring he’d stolen on a finger, finding the right key to lock the bathroom before heading out. No need for his cover to be blown sooner rather than later. Logan needed the anonymity to fit in. He was, after all, just another human worker as far as anyone would be concerned. Most here liked to pretend a mask or suit could hide who they were. Who they truly were…

It only made the human chuckle, laughing under his breath as he took a long one… before swinging the final heavy set metal doors at the end of the dark, dank hallway open and walked into the place. A warmth hit his face making him sweat slightly, the humid air was far cleaner than the tunnels had been. A ventilation system had been installed, that much was clear hearing the large fans running up above as Logan’s eyes adjusted to the light.

The dome shaped opening underneath the city had light fixtures strung up along the walls, hanging from overhead and even bulb shaped lamps hanging from above or sprouting from the cement floor like bioluminescent plants. It illuminated The Market before Logan. A round bowl that dipped into the very earth like a sinkhole, going down further and further as rows and layers of stands stood out.

The noise was picking up and Logan knew it wasn’t fully… open, not yet. He had arrived on time. Planning on mixing in, blending into the crowd, the workers before things got underway. He needed to check a few things out as it were. No need to rush.

“I can do this…”

Red tarp roofs, wooden stands and metal carts had been crammed into the seemingly small, yet open space. A spiraling mess that looped downwards seemingly to hell itself on a sloped ramp that ran around the sinkhole in the middle. Bars and support beams had been built into the walls to keep the place from collapsing in on itself; it was clear, though, only a small amount of… pressure could bring the very rivers above raining down on them.

Maybe it was because of that, or the event taking place tonight, that there was an energy in the air. An excitement, a thrill one wouldn’t see in the city above where everyone pretended to fit in. Trying to get to their nine to five job, wearing suits and ties and shoes… trying to fit in, blend in as Logan was doing now. Down here people knew their very lives were on the line. A eat or be eaten world where ones instinct and strength ruled above everything else.

Logan could only frown, taking a moment on it all.

There was a smell in the air. A mixture of sour and sweet, rotting and fresh… a mix that made his very stomach turn, forcing him to grip the metal railing in front of him for support. It was like a fish market crossed with a butchers shop and Logan closed his eyes, trying not to picture what it meant in his head.

That acrid smell, the iron of dripping juices and the sounds of people talking, laughing and conversing with one another as if this all… were normal. Crate workers, stall owners, the guards positioned and mixed into the crowd. Everyone treating this like another Thursday afternoon.

“I can do this.” Logan breathed out once.

“You can do this…” He took another breath. Bosch had been the first person he met, the first predator after Mikhail that he… liked. The jaguar was a stoic man that didn’t say much unless he wanted Logan to hear what he had to say.

Because of him, Logan had met Domino. A wolf at a club downtown run by a crazed junkie that was just born into the wrong family. After him, there had been Sloan, a lion who was trying to make his name in the world that scorned him for being born…

“We can do this.” Logan opened his eyes and headed around, moving down the side steps and blending seamlessly into the ever growing crowd. He could do this, for them, for his friends at the station and the new family he felt apart of.

Maybe… maybe Clem would let him come to Thanksgiving, next year, after all this. It would be nice to be part of a family again. The bittersweet thought kept Logan’s steps from stalling as the human walked into The Market square.

It had to be close to noon or just about and the… lunch rush, was coming in. Most the stands, the stalls, were trying to sell their product knowing that tonight the main focus would be on the auction event. The news of which were still spreading around this place like wildfire, everyone seemingly talking about it.

Nearby peddlers, or “hawkers,” these street traders were trying to catch the attention of anyone walking by. Trying to get them to buy “snacks” for the coming event.

“Eyes for sell.” A newt, ironically, was snapping his fingers at anyone who drew close enough trying to catch their attention. Mason jars of eyes of all shapes and sizes floated in mixtures of strange green fluids reminding Logan of hard boiled eggs. Pickled eggs or rather, pickled eyes.

“Tails, we got tails!” A gecko was set up right next to the newt and Logan, unfortunately, recognized most of the hanging appendages to belong to the gecko himself. Most likely the reptile had cut off their own tail to sell to hungry costumers.

The twisted, morbid reality of it made Logan nearly lose the breakfast he didn’t have.

It was an unfortunate thing Logan knew. Those in heavy debt, be it medical or otherwise, would sell parts of their own body to The Market in order to pay off the loan sharks, sometimes literally sharks, that would be knocking on their door at three in the morning. Body parts sold for a hefty price to the right buyer and in some cases, people would sell out their own family to save their actual skin.

Reptiles were the primary source of such horrific things; body mutilation and selling of parts. Though Logan had heard in case files of those who could grow antlers, or horns, could sell them if only once for a decent price as well. Ivory from a rhino horn or elephant tusk could sell for a small fortune to the right buyer and they could just buy an artificial one to replace it. The rich wanted the genuine thing while the poor was just trying to get by and Logan knew such people were threatened or even kidnapped for their very parts.

Being born a rhino could be as dangerous as being born a predator, though on the other side of the coin.

The next series of stands sold pelts of various colors, sizes and… quality. Some looked like they had been ripped off the person rather than surgically removed. A hack job, they called it. Where a none professional just took a cleaver and hacked away at the person while-

Logan shook the dark thought away, trying not to let it get to him. At least the pelts had been cleaned… mostly.

The people here. Those selling them. Those who had gotten the “product” for them to sell. And those buying them. Logan, walking through the crowd, kept his face blank underneath the mask he wore. His eyes darkening as he continued forward, his fist tightening at his side.

“People NEED this?” Logan gritted his teeth, not letting the anger show. Not yet.

Dozens? Hundreds of people down here? Logan couldn’t know. His mind going blank as he passed a stall that was trying to catch his attention; he stopped long enough to hear their request for more room as they set down another box next to several other identical ones. It was bleeding.

Weeping blood…

“We got another three shipments to bring in!” The polar bear snarled at the small human who stood there, hands behind his back, as he let the Ursa go at it. He was growling, showing his teeth and was gesturing wildly forcing Logan to take a single step back.

Such actions would never be tolerated above. As fake as the city could be… at least it wasn’t like this. The lesser of two evils, it seemed.

“Usually, sir, a large shipment is good for sales…” Logan felt the need to point out. His voice was drowned out from the roar of the crowd around him. Too many people talking, and demanding, in such a small space as more and more people began showing up.

It was a wonder that fights didn’t openly break out in the space.

Logan knew it had to do with the clause put in place. Even the criminal underbelly had rules and laws; anarchy didn’t go well when you were trying to stay in power or make a pretty penny. Guns, for instance, weren’t allowed inside. Sure, a big enough bribe could keep one of the top figures armed but everyone else had such things taken from them.

Logan had, unfortunately, left his gun behind. Tucked away in a hiding spot in case he needed it. Dressed up as a worker, if he were caught armed with his forty-five it would be his blood staining the concrete floor. There was no tolerance when it came to such things.

After all, a predator stood above prey because of what they were born with. Fangs and claws. Not pistols or knives or man made weapons that had, over centuries, put them above them. No. In a place like this, it was what you were born with that made you stand above others. And that’s exactly how they liked it.

Leaving only one with what they were naturally born with.

“Natural.”

The single word made Logan shiver, though he wasn’t sure why as he quickly looked over his shoulder as if expected there to be orange, black striped fur standing there rubbing his shoulders as that single word whispered into his ear…

It seemed fitting, in a lot of ways. Letting their claws and fangs speak as a fight broke out nearby forcing Logan to take the long way around; he supposed you couldn’t stop people from fighting. With the blood in the air, the smell and sights… it was only a matter of time before someone broke down.

He watched as several figures moved from the surrounding crowd to break up the fight; guards that had been hidden within the crowd. Bats and jackals, foxes and even a rather stocky skunk. That could… complicate things, he made sure to note as two jackals pulled a honey badger off a rather beat up looking fox. It was hard to say if the vulpine looked that way before or after the honey badger got his claws on them.

“Don’t touch my bees!” The badger snapped at the fox, able to take several steps forward despite the two guards trying to stop them. Even being half their size, the honey badger showed no sign of stopping as the two jackals struggled against their strength.

The fox was curled up on the ground, tail tucked in as they cowered trying to protect their face with cut up fingers and broken claws.

“Get in front of a man and his bees,” Logan almost laughed as he moved up a set of stairs as he continued to loop around the place and then back down a long narrow flight of steps as he kept looking forward. Never letting his eye stray or wonder for too long.

These stands, these stalls were selling the front products. Things one could grab and go with. Not the big ones that Logan was searching for. Up above, among these stands, was where those who couldn’t afford a proper permit to sell or their product wasn’t legal on the open market could set up their shops. Those you would walk past, sure, but take little notice of as you made your way down and through to the real event.

Where the real big products were being sold off in cages instead of crates…

Logan was thankful Bosch had coached him as much as the jaguar had, still for reasons Logan wasn’t sure of.

The jaguar had taken Logan under his wing and helped him out in more ways than one. Teaching him how to fight, the art of the deal, the proper way to lie and even helped him familiarize himself with the various species he might be encountering down here.

All in preparation for this day.

To return here. To this place.

Logan used one of The Market’s workers doors, slipping inside another passage and headed towards the light at the end of the tunnel without stopping or making eye contact with anyone passing him by.

“The Market is separated into parts or sections. Each will have a main focus on what they are currently trying to sell.” Bosch had taught him. “It’s divided and ruled by different gangs. The above market is run by the Surfeit’s,” a group of skunks also known as the stinkers. “Small but organized, getting a rather large cut of any product that gets sold. As well as payment for land tax.”

Logan had laughed at that. That these guys referred to such locations, where their stalls could be set up, as land to be taxed. Even the criminal world couldn’t escape taxes it seemed.

“Death and taxes,” Logan just chuckled as Bosch had gone on.

“Now, underneath that is a giant winding stairway. Branching paths from here lead to the different… sections. The narcs, don’t bother with.” The jaguar had crossed that section off from the crude map he’d drawn on the white board at his house during one of Logan’s overnight visits. “Drugs? We don’t need to worry about any of that. Narcotics are a different branch of the police anyways, you aren’t even apart of.”

“If it doesn’t have to do with Milo, I don’t really care.” Logan couldn’t afford to care about anything, anyone else. He was just one man, it wasn’t like he could stop every criminal in the city by himself. “Drugs weren’t his thing, his vice anyways…” Though, in a way, Logan kind of wished the tiger had taken the stuff. Maybe drugs could’ve helped explain things to the human… explain why Milo did what he had done.

“Exactly.” Bosch just tapped the board once more, highlighting one of the divided underground sections on the crude map. “We call this the Wine n’ Dine section.”

Logan gave him a look.

“There’s a kitchen here,” Bosch crudely drew out. For as handsome, attractive, strong and captivating the jaguar could be… the feline did not have an artistic bone in his body. “This is the meat locker and,” the jaguar had to redraw the spot several times.

“I got it. I got it.” Logan held up a hand. “That’s where we’ll find him?”

“The Butcher of Seattle.” Bosch nodded, putting the cap on the dry erase marker.

“Thanks,” Logan had gotten up, moving over towards the feline planning on repaying him in the only way he really knew how, these days. A simple touch. A simple caress as his hand drifted lower.

The jaguar had caught his wrist though.

“This isn’t a game, Logan.” Bosch warned.

“I know.” The human pulled his hand free with a twist of his wrist and a quick jerk. One of several techniques Bosch had showed him how to do. Usually things that worked once, though. Catching the predator off guard. They’d learn quickly enough however not to underestimate the smaller human again.

Logan just had to make sure not to give them a second chance too…

At the end of the corridor was a light. There was no door. No guards and Logan easily slipped inside as if he truly belonged there. With the main event going on tonight, there was enough chaos within for those inside to easily overlook some lone human dressed up as one of them.

“Table five will be here in thirty. Make sure everything’s prepared!” The host was quickly directing the staff around the kitchen in a flurry as waiters and waitresses came in and out the side doors that might as well have been revolving at this point. “Make sure seven and ten have extra chairs on standby! We don’t want a fiasco like last time happening.” The older, portly shaped wolverine had a chef hat on and a white apron over the front of his bloodstained outfit. It was covered in red stains matching the ones on the meat cleaver in his hand he’d been waving about directing, and somewhat threatening, his staff with.

Logan was sure if something went wrong, they’d end up on the table instead of whatever… food, they had prepared. And sure enough…

“If table nine doesn’t get their wine on time, you’re gonna end up being their dessert!” The wolverine threatened a bush dog that just nodded her head quickly.

It was hard to tell if they worked here or if they, too, were just a prisoner. Something Logan was trying to figure out; Bosch’s drawings weren’t exactly the best and the human was trying to figure out which exit from the kitchen would lead to the prison cells where the mayor was most likely being kept under lock and key.

Where the produce… was being kept.

“You!” The wolverine turned to Logan, waving that meat cleaver in his face. “Don’t just stand there, ya’ daft fool!” The wolverine took a step closer to the human, getting up in his face now. Logan had half a mind to swipe the cleaver from the mustelid’s hand and bury it in his skull. “Get table thirteen set up for our guests!”

“At once, sir.” Logan gave a flourish before snagging a nearby waiters tray and skillfully maneuvering through the crowd and out the side door entering the pseudo restaurant set up for their… guests. It would give him time to scope the place out, anyways. “Bosch really needs to learn how to draw…”

“Remember,” Bosch’s words might as well be on repeat in his head. “Always make sure to have a way out. There’s no point going in if you can’t get out.” The jaguar had been lounging out at the time, butt naked on the leather sofa in his apartment. “In this place, alone.” The cat motioned around the two. “How many exits are there?”

“The front door. Side window in the kitchen… I think there was an out in the bathroom.” Logan just noted, putting his pants back on at the time.

“There’s one more.” Bosch pointed out, waiting for the human to look over at him. The feline let the human’s eyes linger long enough on his naked body before continuing with a smirk. “Me.” Bosch finished with.

“You?” Logan had been rather confused at the time.

“Simple. If you killed me, you could easily escape.” Bosch just grinned showing off his fangs. “It works far better than you’d think. Take out your captor and you’d be… free.”

“True.” Logan nodded at that before walking over and placing a hand on the jaguar’s chest. “Or I could just…” And the human leaned closer, able to smell the jaguar’s morning breath, feel it on his lips. “I could just do that.” And Logan pushed off with a laugh.

“That won’t work every time, you know.” Bosch’s tail thrashed behind the feline who sat up now, resting his arms on his knees.

“I rather not… have to kill someone, I like. Okay?” Logan wasn’t looking over at the jaguar. Not wanting to say it. Or admit it. Despite, these days, Bosch knowing how Logan felt for him.

And why the human was slowly pushing him away because of it.

“You might have too.” Bosch needed to point out. Needed to say. If the human couldn’t… then he’d need to make sure Logan wasn’t involved in it.

Logan couldn’t answer him then.

And even to this day, in that place, he wasn’t sure if he could as he walked further inside.

The concrete floor had carpet installed onto it. It was thick and soft underneath Logan’s steps, figuring it was for the rich carnivores that were in charge that were too good to wear shoes. A lot of… them, didn’t like wearing shoes. They saw it as a human thing and preferred to go bare paw whenever they could. His mind instantly went to Sloan and the human felt a weight sink into his chest.

The lights had been dimmed in here, despite no one being here yet. Every table was having last minute touch ups being done to make sure everything was perfect for the guests tonight. Every seat was dusted off of fur or scales, every table cloth had been press dried and cleaned. Each candle placed in the center of the table. Each of equal height and length; no table stood out from another.

That alone could cause a fight to break out.

If one group thought they were being looked down on and another being treated better than the rest… then there would be a different kind of bloodshed this night.

It was why, after all, most of the people here did what they did Logan knew. When society as a whole looked down on you, mistreated you, singled you out and called you on each and everything you did… Those people would want to stand up and challenge the system, in their own way. Wanting to be on top for a change. They, society, created the monsters here this night…

Logan couldn’t speak about their ancestors, no. He knew those here today, or rather tonight, were just a byproduct of the culture in which they lived.

People had issues with eating eggs. Freaking eggs! Let alone meat.

Logan wasn’t here to change the world. He knew, in a way, it would never be able to fully change. He was here for his own personal reasons, as well as maybe… in hopes, of making tomorrow a bit brighter than today. He was sure the mayor would be able to do that.

Do what he couldn’t…

The vast open space was wider than it was taller. It felt… claustrophobic, in a way. Despite how wide the space was, various tables and chairs set out over the carpeted floor, there was a looming pressure to this place Logan couldn’t place his finger on. It was like the ceiling itself was slowly closing down on them.

A cage. That’s what this was. A lid being placed over the opening, the surface, closing them all in together…

“The cage, here, sir?” A nearby steward asked. She was wearing a mask much as Logan was, matching the one he had on but of a lighter blue than his. She was a human. In fact, there were a lot of humans working here tonight…

“We’ll put the gazelle, here.” The wolverine had come out of the nearby kitchen and was sorting things out in the main room. The heavy cleaver was tucked into the front of his apron. “Get a little bit of a show going on for the lions.” Logan’s heart jumped at hearing that. “They always liked their game… caged.” Even the wolverine shivered in distaste from that.

“Lions?” Logan asked, not to the wolverine knowing better. He asked the stewardess who was soon dismissed to confirm where to put the cage. Logan frowned at the idea; these men and woman wanted to be free and yet gladly caged others. No better than those in charge, apparently.

They, these criminals, didn’t want to change things or make it better. They just wanted to be on top. To reverse the roles rather than to break them.

“Oh, yes. The main event tonight,” she started up getting caught off guard. Logan knew he had a warm, friendly voice and he was sure she was blushing underneath the mask she wore as he moved, if only a step, closer to her capturing her entire attention. “We’re having a lot of… guests.” She chose the word as if still rehearsing referring to them as. “Tonight.”

Logan was sure she was new to this, in more ways than one. She kept looking over at the cage that had been brought in. It had been cleaned up and the bars had even been polished, making it almost shine in the dimly lit room. It was positioned directly underneath a light reminding Logan of a certain club he used to attend…

“Ah, that’s true. It does make sense. Thanks,” Logan added at the end adding a large smile. He knew she couldn’t see it but was sure she at least felt that positive energy radiating off him. “I’m new.” He started up, brushing a hand against hers as if on accident. “It’s real nice to be able to have someone to help me out.” He lowered his voice; bowing is head and looked up at her slightly. “Someone else, like me…” He added, figuring it would work.

The gesture worked far better on canines than it did on humans but she took the bait anyways; most likely due to the fact he was a human. Something Logan had been using for a long time. Might as well use the hand he was dealt with.

“Rachelle,” she offered a hand and he took it with his only to place the other on top of hers.

“Lonnie,” Logan lied easily enough using his side name. It was easier to go with both starting with an L. “Us humans, you know, got to stick together.” Logan continued to butter her up and she gladly fell for it as he rubbed the back of her hand with his own.

“Y-yeah,” Rachelle brushed her dark blonde hair behind an ear and turned away slightly making Logan wanted to roll his eyes; he’d done that move too many times to know she was playing it up. “That sounds good.”

“Have each other’s back, just in case.” Logan just nodded as he brought the conversation back around easily enough. “And with those lions coming in!” He said in a hushed tone, dramatically looking around if looking for them now.

“I know!” Rachelle gladly jumped on it. “My dad’s part of the Brotherhood and so,” she offered as if explaining why she was here. “I didn’t know I would get stuck working with… with… them!” She hissed the words between her teeth and Logan gave a, fake, laugh in turn.

“Exactly!” Logan just said, walking past her as he looked around the room. It wasn’t the dimly lit circle of tables and chairs he was confused about. It was the massive open space in the middle that had been left untouched. People were purposefully going around the empty blank spot that seemed to be made of metal rather than cement like the rest of the place was.

Sure, they had put some carpet down. Slapped some wallpaper on and brought in plants from above… it was still nothing more than a cesspool as far as Logan was concerned. They could slap a new coat of paint on and try to sell it as a restaurant but Logan wouldn’t possibly have an appetite in such a place.

“The venison is really good here.” Rachelle brought up, getting a look from Logan.

“I like it peppered.” Logan just said walking over to the empty spot. He tapped the metal with a foot and pulled it back as if expecting it to electrocute him.

“Me too!” She said following after him and forgetting her job. “Careful,” she warned. “That’s where the stage is.” Rachelle, pointlessly, pointed out as if Logan couldn’t see the wide open space in front of them.

“Stage?” Logan thought about it, rubbing his chin. He knew Bosch said something like that but thought it was a bit…

“Well, they call it a stage.” Rachelle just confirmed his suspicions. “It’s more of a sort of…” And she got closer, lowering her voice as she glanced towards the side doors they had entered from to make sure the wolverine wasn’t around. “It’s a fighting ring.”

Logan frowned at that.

“Excuse me?” He wanted to laugh but didn’t find the humor in it.

“They make the uh… auction pieces, fight.” Rachelle stepped beside him, brushing her hand against his. Logan had to will himself not to pull his hand away from her and continue up the pretense that he liked her. “If they win, they get to go free.”

“Win?” Logan worries only increased. Were they going to make the mayor, an elderly old woman, fight for her life?

“Yeah! They put on a show for the uh… guests,” she motioned at the nearby tables.

“You then bid and bet on whose going to win…” Logan nodded as if understanding the twisted logic in this cruel game. “Dinner and a show…”

“And the one who win the bet, or pays the highest bid… end up getting the uh… leftovers.” Rachelle tried to smile at that. Despite her upbringing, it was clear even she was unable to just blindly accept how messed up that was. Logan never had the misfortune of running into the human cult, known as The Brotherhood. He’d heard enough about them however to know the basics.

Logan wished the ring was open up so he could see the entrances and exits to it. He’d be able to figure out, by following them, where the prisoners were kept. Figuring they’d just be brought up directly from their cells to be brought in here to be auction off, sold and made to fight for these bastards amusement.

“It used to be used as a dog fighting ring.” Rachelle did laugh at that making Logan want to push her face first into the ring. “They’d pit those canines… those dogs against one another! Put them into the pit and place bets on them. Make them fight it out until they were bloody and raw…” She laughed again, finding humor in it whereas Logan felt anything but.

Logan grimaced at the thought. He knew a lot of dogs and the idea of any of them being in this place made his stomach turn. This entire place had been set up then, and built, by humans in order to get their dog fighting ring on. Illegally gambling underneath the cities nose before someone got wind of it and took it from them.

They kept the idea though, Logan looked around. They dressed it up, dolled it up and made it look nice and pretty… then probably forced the very humans who’d owned it to fight for their own lives as they watched from above.

“So, it only opens up during the event?” Logan inquired, seemingly innocently enough as he put everything together.

“Yeah! It’s locked down, like real tight. No one can get in or out until it opens up tonight!” Rachelle gladly gave him the information, maybe in hopes of something in return. Or maybe just glad to have another human to talk to in this place. “My dad and his friends used to come here often…” She said as if offering to bring Logan next time.

“I see.” Logan said without asking further. He honestly couldn’t care less about a bunch of racist pricks, not even enough to fake it any more than he already was. “When does the even start…?”

“In a couple of hours!” Rachelle just said as the two made their way back over to continue setting up. “The guests will be arriving shortly but won’t be down until well… dinner time.”

Logan nodded at that, needing to put up with her insistent brattling as she began talking about her dad and his whole group of friends while he mentally made notes of everything as he tagged along. His mind began wandering elsewhere as they kept going back into the pristine kitchen to get something else. His eyes wandering towards the far set of plastic flaps used for a door into the walk in freezer.

“We don’t go in there…” She just said. “Thankfully the uh… butcher, isn’t in. Yet.” She grabbed his arm pulling him away, his steps already leading him towards it as if by their own volition.

“Right.” Logan just said flatly as he turned and followed after her, only glancing back at those eerier black plastic doors once. At least he knew where he needed to go after rescuing the mayor.

The hours would tick by as the guests began to arrive. Each coming from their own entrances, each with their own entourage allowed to accompany them. Mostly close family or their personal guards. Each and every member was of the same species and were most likely related to the leader of the group.

There were the two sisters, a pair of hyenas that took the far corner. Even on the other side of the room, Logan could hear their cackling laughter as their guards, all males, stood behind them. The two sisters already pouring each other drinks and making bets while discussing what to have tonight for dinner.

“Marrow,” was the biggest thing on the menu. Something that couldn’t be bought at the store. Meat was common enough that it would be overlooked from those trying to get something special for such a day.

As some ate the “leftovers” of birds or fish, as Logan saw it, such as foie gras or caviar… there were other parts of the animal that would otherwise be discarded be rebranded, renamed and charged obscene prices for to be sold to the rich and fat to partake in. As if it were some kind of delicacy.

Unfortunately these weren’t the domesticated farm animals but the sentient kind that Logan was charged in protecting being served up instead.

“Just bring the bones! We can do the rest!” One of the two hyenas cackled. Her dreadlock mane kept falling in front of her eyes, the golden beads at the end of each clinking together.

“I want kidney pie!” The other got in on it. She had a wicked snaggletooth that was capped off with a gold tip. Her rich dark brown fur was spotted with black marks and several other designer style fur dyes giving her a wild almost tribal look.

“This is why you’re a fat ass that can’t land a man!” The other sister snapped her jaws at her and Logan had to force himself not to recoil as he took their order. Hyena jaws were strong enough to snap bone.

“Bitch.”

“Whore.”

“Slutty cunt licker.” The sisters went back and forth and the human had to restrain rolling his eyes at their childish behavior; one of the three guards was watching him closely and he rather not get sniffed out so soon into the party.

“Of course,” Logan gave another flourished bow before departing. He walked past the guard and noted how they were armed; unlock those above at the open market, those here were armed. He might need to go back and get his gun from hiding at this rate.

A group of weasels and minks took a spot next to several otters and other various marine mammals Logan recognized as one of the gangs from the docks. A mix matched union of, well, unionized workers that decided they wanted a bigger piece of the pie. They were the ones working the docks, the ones that had to deal with the fires and weren’t the ones even profiting off it. Yet.

They wanted their own hand in the pot along with all the others here.

“Shark fin soup.” The Asian small-clawed otter flicked the menu at Logan’s face. It hit the mask he wore and Logan, without missing a beat, caught it and gave a small bow after as he eyed the orca standing nearby; the otter was half their size and yet was in charge? That was saying something in itself.

“Right away, sir.” Logan just said professionally as he maneuvered through the ever growing crowd filling the spacious room until it became even more cramped and claustrophobic than it already was.

He was used to this dance. Moving between large and small bodies on the dance floor. Working at the club for the past year helped Logan fit in, in more ways than one. Logan had the body, the appearance and the personality of someone who worked here… but moved as if he were one of the criminals. Walking with an air of confidence but not arrogance, knowing when to bow his head and when to hold it high.

He’d have to give credit to Vicky. She ran things well at her club. Creating the perfect balance of arrogant pride and obedience. It seemed far more fitting than this place. There were too many airs being put on. Each group wanting to stand out, to puff out their chest and showboat for the others.

This might be an auction but Logan could tell this was just a safe place for each gang to flaunt their power in front of the others. Open, and loudly, talking about their business and dealings. How well they were doing or what they had done to a snitch. They might as well whip out their dicks and compare sizes from the show they were making.

Logan ducked into the kitchen to place the order, snagging a tray to bring to another table without even bothering reading what was on it. It wouldn’t be his head that rolled if they got the order wrong. He was just the messenger and gangs like this knew they needed that kind of… communication, in order to keep the pretense of peace between them.

As long as it didn’t get in the way of profit or insult their pride, that is, Logan could get away with murder.

Save for the lions. The very table Logan was walking towards.

They had grown in numbers, despite their ranks having lost members taking out the wolves. The lions took up practically half the room as the tables were filled and chairs were taken. Spreading out with their guard standing on one side of the room, all the others forced to fight over the leftover scraps… just like in the city.

Their territory had grown and with it their power, something they were glad to rub in everyone else’s faces without needing to say a word on the matter. Those in the back corner were in charge, watching over their pride in more ways than one as they sat at a table slightly elevated from the rest.

“Mademoiselle,” Logan said pulling the chair out for the lioness before pushing it in for her. He slipped a menu in front, keeping his head bowed as he spun the wine glass around before popping the cork off the bottle and filling it with such a dark shade of red wine one might’ve mistaken it for blood in the dim light.

“Why, thank you.” Lorrell smiled at the server helping her out as she held the menu with three clawed fingers, glancing over it once before placing her order. “Kobe short ribs, for starts.” She practically purred the words out, needing to use a napkin to wipe the drool from the corner of her muzzle.

In a tight fitting suit that left little to the imagination, she really did just look like a animal in a suit… drooling over the menu and from the smells seeping from the nearby kitchen doors. Even with her hair down, makeup on and acrylic nails… she was nothing but an animal in the end, wishing to partake in her dinner as Logan saw it.

Just like the rest of them. She could sit up here, above everyone else and still be no better than the scum suckers on the bottom of the ocean.

“Hungry, aren’t we?” Enzo popped up on Logan’s other side making the human suppress an urge to jump. His gnarled scar side of his face was directly next to Logan’s own; not that the human minded feeling pity more than anything else for the disfigured lion. “I’m starving!” It was the salivating, drooling fanged muzzle dripping against Logan’s shoulder that was irking the already stressed police officer.

Being around so many hungry predators about to be fed… left Logan on edge for a reason.

“And you, Monsieur? What will you be having?” Logan skillfully pulled the chair back in time for Enzo to take a seat in it before, as well, pushing him into the table as if he were a child sitting with his mother. Logan had half a mind to grab the napkin and put it on the lion as a bib.

“We’re Italian, not French.” A deep voice spoke up from behind Logan making the human shudder. It was a low growl that rolled off their tongue in an almost purr. Logan felt it in his stomach, shoot up his spine and tickle behind his ears.

A growl he’d grown very accustomed too over these past months. Logan didn’t need to look to know who the lion was…

“My apologies,” Logan glanced over at the large imposing lion standing behind him. “Sir.” He added with a knowing smirk as the lion gave him a look unable to distinguish who it was behind the mask he wore. “What can I get for you?” He added stepping aside before pulling back his chair as well.

“What about my order?” Enzo whined loudly, letting out a low meow that rose in volume.

“Water. Only.” Sloan stated as he took the chair from Logan’s grasp and pulled it back roughly, dragging it on the carpeted floor before taking a heavy seat. The chair protested at his weight and the group fell silent as the lion growled at it.

Lorrell was suppressing a laugh as Enzo got distracted by the lit candle in front of them, the burned lion recoiling back away from the small flame as if afraid to be burned, again.

“We have a whole selection of appetizers.” Logan offered a menu and got it swatted out his hand. It spun in the air and landed on the floor nearby. There was a moments pause at that.

“I said. Water. Only.” Sloan snarled, not even looking over at the human waiter.

“Of course… sir.” Logan walked over and bent his knees before scooping up the menu before standing once more. He noted how Sloan was one of the few people here wearing shoes. “And for you?” Logan offered towards Enzo, speaking in a far softer tone than he had with either of the other two. “What would you like, this evening?”

“I…” Enzo hesitated, looking over at his older sister. His older brother… then back at Logan. To an untrained eye it would be like a child looking for assurance from their parents before speaking to a stranger. Logan could only imagine the toll the lion had been through in his life.

It reminded him of the words Bosch had told the human after first meeting the jaguar.

“Lorenzo will have the slow roasted garlic butter stroganoff with a side of the… Swedish,” Lorrell hissed softly. “Meatballs.” And then she was all smiles as she offered the menu without even looking at Logan. As if he weren’t good enough for her eyes to see. Just like the Swedish meatballs weren’t good enough for her Italian roots.

Something Logan preferred. He didn’t like the way Sloan was looking at him or how… Enzo was. The feline looked at him with a mix of confusion and excitement. He really was just a child trapped in the body of a man. Logan almost wanted to comfort him but withdrew his hand with the menus.

It would be best if he wasn’t found out. In more ways than one… Logan had never told Sloan what he was doing today. Just sending him a single text before going dark…

With another bow, Logan turned to leave.

“Wait.” Sloan spoke up. Logan’s heart jumped into his throat. Not worried about being caught, no. He was worried… Sloan would order something. From this place. What that would mean for him, for the lion and any chance Logan had at saving him when the shit hit the fan. “I’ll have a drink. A-,” Sloan started to say.

“Cabernet Sauvignon?” Logan finished making the lion pause. The human just glanced his way, his face hidden underneath the bat mask he wore. There were so many mixed scents here, the smell of food and… blood, would cloud their judgment and senses.

They wouldn’t be able to smell Logan, he was sure. Not in the mix that was around them. He was the least appetizing thing on the menu, after all. Well, maybe for everyone else… the way Sloan looked at him though worried the human.

As if… he might be on his menu.

“Yes. That would be perfect, thank you…” Sloan said in a softer tone looking at the human for a moment longer.

“It pairs well with what we serve,” Logan just gave him a small bow. Wanting to say more. Wanting to take the mask off. To talk to Sloan. To interrogate the lion and yet… was worried what answers he’d get in return.

Why Sloan was here. In this place. Now? Today of all days! There were so many things left open. So many concerns and worries that Logan wasn’t sure where to start.

“Our orders?” Lorrell said tapping a finger on her wine glass. Her nail made a sound snapping Logan out of it. Reminding Logan… of the hidden claws they all had. It made his back ache and his thoughts clear up, his fears rooting him in their own way in.

Grounding the human, reminding him just who and what these people were at the end of the day.

“At once.” The human turned away from the trio and walked, quickly, towards the kitchen. He nearly stumbled at the end before making it inside. His heart was pounding but he couldn’t stop there as he relayed the orders before planning on making a break for it.

To get out of here.

Away from them. All of them. He’d find another way, another means of getting the mayor out of there. Only for a strong hand to catch his shoulder, stopping his retreat. The human nearly punched the person in the face before they spoke up stopping the hyperventilating man from snapping there on the spot.

He had given Sloan so much leeway… to see him in a place, like this, might’ve been too much for the human who still wanted to believe they all weren’t the same…

“Another order,” the wolverine chef said passing him a tray. Logan took it, looking it over. Several steaks were on it with a single wine bottle balanced in the middle.

“Which table?” Logan just asked, keeping his voice neutral much to his own surprise. That he managed to continue wearing the mask underneath the bat one he had put on.

The wolverine only chuckled at that. “It’s for our… private, section.” And with a snap of his fingers, Rachelle showed back up to help Logan out as the two made their way through a side door, up a flight of stairs and to a balcony Logan didn’t even knew existed.

Overlooked the tables below was a single balcony reminding Logan of the one he’d seen back at Reese’s home, the dog house. Overlooking the backyard like this one was overlooking the tables below. There was a dark, one way mirror that separated the two groups leaving them concealed from prying eyes. And on the balcony was a single table with two wolves standing off to the side and a single one sitting down at it, facing away from the two humans walking up the stairs to their side.

“Your meals,” Rachelle started up with. She was shivering. Her whole body shaking as she nearly dropped the tray she was carrying on the wolf sitting down. Logan stepped in, saving both the tray and possibly her life as he motioned for her to go.

“I got it.” Logan just said softly, even knowing the three wolves could hear him. Rachelle gave him a look and a soft thanks.

With a clumsy bow, Rachelle quickly excused herself.

“She’s new.” Logan just said with a cocky smile as he set the tray down on a nearby wooden stand before dishing out the meal and drinks to three canines; two were watching him. Neither of them took a seat despite the three steaks served up. Both the guards, a mix of salt and pepper fur, kept a close eye on the human and a hand on their gun.

“Easy,” the female wolf said with a flick of her wrist stopping the two. “He’s practically family…”

And Logan stopped at that. Once more hearing a voice he was all too familiar with as Vicky turned to face him.

Her dark black fur was washed and cleaned, for a change; some sort of product had been half-assedly run through it keeping most of it from sticking out. Her teeth were still grimy and stained yellow, looking like a meth mouth if Logan had ever seen one. It was her eyes that caught the human off guard.

They seemed almost… lucid, at the moment. As if she hadn’t snorted up her own weight in coke before coming here. Or whatever drug she preferred.

“Logan, please. Join me.” Vicky motioned and one of the two guards pulled out a chair for him roughly.

“It’s not a request.” The larger of the two guards growled low at the human.

Logan was already sizing him up, quickly looking at the other off to the side. Could he take them out and handle Vicky by himself? He still had Domino’s switchblade hidden away on his person but he’d left his gun hidden away on one of the lower floors…

The larger of the two guards growled, showing his fangs to the human who didn’t back down. Logan was getting used to wolves growling at him.

“Now, now.” Vicky motioned with her hand and the guard withdrew himself, reluctantly so obeying his alpha. “Logan is practically family, at this point…”

Logan just stood there, unsure what to say to that. Unsure what game Vicky was playing.

He’d never had the misfortune to speak to her before. He knew her well, everyone in the underbelly did. Logan figured she’d be here tonight though and had even texted Barreth such things. To think, though, he’d run into her so soon…

“Isn’t that right?” Vicky glanced once more at the human, longer than needed before turning back towards the stage before them. The round metal circle cracked, three lines forming as it began to slowly open before them all and Logan could hear the roar of the crowd below going quiet as things began to get underway. “The event is about to start. Won’t you join me? Front row seats… It’d be nice to have company… For the carnage ahead.”

And Logan didn’t have a choice as he took a seat next to the crazed wolf that had gone missing for the past month. Taking a seat as he was forced to watch the show start…