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The Champion

By Cris Fireheart / Ken Anderson

Chapter 16 – Shadow Games

Author's note: This story contains scenes of extreme violence, profanity, drug and alcohol use, sale, and abuse, and some sexual situations. Reader discretion is DEFINITELY advised. That being said, if none of that bothers you, then enjoy!

As ever, any comments, watches, faves, or votes are well appreciated!

There's something fishy in the air. After the fight, days before, the group has retreated to the Clayton estate, in order to interrogate their two new hostages. One of them was more than eager to give up what he had to offer, but the other has remained silent throughout the treatment. When his identity is revealed, it brings into question exactly what role he plays in the grand scheme of things. There are too many secrets to go around. Even Victor, ever loyal, seems to be hiding a rather large secret of his own...

--C

1:30 P.M., The Clayton Estate, Basement Level

Once the notification had finally gone off on his phone, Victor had hurriedly gathered James, Marco, Lenny, and Robert together in front of the heavy, wooden door which concealed the staircase leading down into the basement below. As he held up his cell phone so that the others could see the screen, a chorus of gasps and growls began to fill his ears.

“You've gotta be SHITTING me..." Lenny muttered as he took in the sight of the photo and the information beneath it.

“NOW I know why people have been refusing to talk about him," Marco snarled, as he took in the new information for himself. “Robert?" He called out towards the panther. “This is more your area of expertise, isn't it? Do you think what Victor just found out is real?"

“No doubt about it," The panther responded with an incredulous chuckle and shake of his head. “I've seen personnel files like THAT before, though they're usually way more redacted than this. Technically, these guys shouldn't even be operating on U.S. Soil; this is the type of shit that would get anybody dragged in front of a damn Senate investigation committee, and I don't care who you are. Victor, how the fuck did you get your claws on this intel?!"

“Trade secret, Mr. Marshall," the old fox replied with a sly grin. “So... Who feels like going downstairs and properly introducing our new 'guest of honor' to his hosts?"

“Oh, I'm not missing this; in fact, I'm taking over his interrogation," James chuckled as he reached forward to grasp the knob on the basement door. “Let's go and tell this douche that we know exactly who he really is."

The hefty door slammed loudly against the wall as the group began to make their way steadily down the stairs. Once they'd reached the bottom, they were greeted with the familiar sights of Arthur, the golden retriever who was currently unconscious, his battered body sagging against the chains which held him firmly to the stone walls, along with the Pit Bull, who raised his head and offered them all a snarl of defiance. Approaching the large dog, James held out a hand towards Victor, who eagerly deposited his cell phone into the man's grasp.

“Reginald A. Kessler. Forty-two years old. You were born in Chicago, in a hospital on the Southside. You graduated with a 'B' average in high school, before you went on to attend a state college; nothing really notable there. Nice thesis on the correlation between religion and politics, by the way. But that's not what's interesting to me. Want to know what intrigues me the most? Go ahead; take a look."

The expression on the dog's face began to shift ever-so-slightly as James read out the contents of the file, before holding up the phone so that the Pit bull could see the information for himself.

“Want to tell me what a 'decorated' agent of the CIA is doing running one of the biggest crime families in this city? I'm sure ALL of us would like to hear the answer_._"

“Fuck you."

“Well... That's TWO more words than I've managed to get out of him in days," Marco chuckled as he crossed his thick arms over his chest.

“You're all through, you know that? I was supposed to check in with my handler on the night of the fight; I've been completely dark for almost a week! Want to take a guess what happens when a field operative suddenly goes missing?"

“Now, I'm not completely familiar with the U.S. Government's stance on the subject," Victor interjected, “But if your people are anything like those bastards from MI5 that used to hunt my family, I'd be willing to wager that they've already written you off, Reginald. As my friend Robert, over there, was so careful to point out to us, the fact that you're even operating on U.S. Soil could cause quite the stir if it were to be publicly revealed. If we were to, say, send this personnel file out to every major media outlet in the country, along with photos, video, and documents detailing EXACTLY what you've been up to while living in our fair city... I don't know; Robert, what was the term that you used when you described what you experienced after your last operation with the FBI?"

“Burned." The panther growled. “They'd get rid of every record and erase every trace that he's even existed to them. Still feeling confident in the 'agency,' Reggie?"

“You wouldn't..." The pit bull muttered as he raised his head to meet their eyes. “It would mean admitting to your OWN activities. Even if they DO burn me, it'll still end up costing you more in the long run."

“Hmmm..." James raised his head to look towards the ceiling, while rubbing a hand through the thin stubble on his chin. “Yeah; that would be the government-approved answer. But you're forgetting something important."

“What's that?"

“We don't work for the government. We're criminals, in case it slipped your mind. This means that things like your so-called 'law and order' and 'rules of engagement' mean exactly fuck-all to us. SO WHAT, if we have to take a hit to our bottom lines just to make sure that the spotlight shines directly on you? In our world, reputations can be rebuilt, soldiers and customers can always be replaced, and here's my favorite part, by the way: no matter how bad it might get for us, WE can still sleep comfortably in our beds at night. You, though? I'd be surprised if you got ANY sleep, ever again, if we chose to follow through on Victor's threat."

Raising the phone back to eye-level, James continued to scroll through the information on-screen. After a few seconds, he suddenly paused, his eyes widening as a smile began to form across his face.

“Kiera Kessler, thirty-eight. She works for Harbor General as an EMT. Alan Kessler, ten. That's a cute picture; what is that, the playground at his school? Samantha Kessler-Michaels, sixteen. Your daughter had herself legally emancipated in July of last year, citing neglect and mental abuse; she hyphenates her name now. Are you starting to see where I'm going with this yet, Reginald?"

“Don't you fuckin' DARE..."

“OR WHAT? Are you gonna bore me to death, or try to pull those chains out of the wall? 'Cause I'll warn you, they're spiked in about two feet deep, and that's solid bedrock, by the way; I wouldn't bother. So... Now you know exactly where we stand; we are NOT on equal footing, and you are NOT in control. Should I keep going, or could we just skip to the ending, already?"

“...What do you want?"

“There, you see? That's much better. Now, look me in the eye, Reginald." James bent slightly at the waist so that the Pit bull could see the glint of light shining against his emerald-colored eyes.

“I want you to go back home. Get back to your crews, clear things up with your handler, and make sure that you kiss your wife and son when you see them again tonight. You work for us now. Do you understand what that means? If we want information, and you have it, it's ours. If we want a problem taken care of, discreetly of course, your crews will pull the trigger for us. If the 'agency', or any other three-letter group, for that matter, decides that they suddenly want to take a closer look at us, you will make sure that we get to know FIRST. And finally? You're gonna persuade the other members of your Council that it's in their best interest to fall in line with us. Other than those conditions, I could personally give a fuck less what you or the CIA choose to do in our city. And make no mistake: it is OUR city. You, your people, and your family just currently have our permission to live in it."

“Fine... You've got my word; I'll fuckin' do it_... Don't_ touch my family_._"

“Excellent! Marco, when Gianni gets here, could you have him unchain Arthur over there, and bring him upstairs? I think he's pretty much down for the count; we'll patch him up a little and have him sent back to his own side of town, before Ricky decides to come down here and finish him off. As for Reginald? I want you and Gianni BOTH to escort him upstairs once you're done with Arthur. He gets a shower, a hot meal, some painkillers, and a ride home."

The Pit bull let out a huff of relief as he sagged slightly against the pull of the thick chains. Turning his head to face James once again, he cleared his parched throat before opening his mouth to speak.

“You know, the agency has always used code-names for its high-value targets, ever since its inception. There's been people named after playing cards, words in the dictionary, and even random alphanumeric generations. For the past decade, or so? Some analyst decided, probably as a joke, to suggest that we start using the old comic-book villain names. Unfortunately, the top brass decided to run with it. Do you know what the name on your file is?"

James shrugged his shoulders and shook his head in response.

“Two-Face."

“As in Batman? Weirdly enough, I can live with that."

“Yeah, but don't you want to know why?"

“Enlighten me."

“Ten years ago, you were one of the most highly-recommended psychologists in the country, treating war veterans and drug addicts, with one of the highest rates of recovery ever to be documented. This city, which used to only see you as one of its more hardcore junkies, actually ended up respecting you. You actually had a good life for awhile. Then, seven years ago, your husband gets killed by a dirty cop who was paid off by HIS father--" He nodded towards Marco, “To teach you and your son a lesson. A few months after that, that same cop's body was found underneath a bayou in Harbor Hills, killed execution-style by two .50-caliber slugs in his skull. Fast-forward a week, and old Arturo Binetti himself ends up taking a load of buckshot to the face for his trouble. Then, shortly after, Marco, Leonardo Rhah, and your son Jakob, all suddenly decided to join the Marine Corps for a quick tour of duty in Kenya."

“You're not telling me anything that I don't already know."

“But you never really stopped feeling betrayed by the ones who held the power in this city, didn't you? For the next two years, the was WAR in the streets. Multiple bodies were being picked up every single day. In the end, we know that someone managed to find out that it was the former Mayor who'd been orchestrating all the violence, not to mention stealing funds from the people who actually needed them. Then, one morning, his secretary opens the door to his office, and finds him sitting at his desk with his throat completely torn out, by somebody with VERY sharp claws..." He nodded towards Victor.

“That was a seriously professional job, by the way. No cameras managed to catch sight of the perpetrator, and not even a single stray piece of fur was found in the Mayor's office. Originally, we thought that one of the local gang leaders had ordered his execution. Hell; that's still what's in the file. I only started really putting the pieces together when you subbed out that kid at the warehouse for a fuckin' Silver, of all people. You wanted to know why your code-name is 'Two-Face?' Because, like the villain, you're constantly running either completely hot, or completely cold. You can be the nicest man in the room, or the worst nightmare that your enemies ever had. Originally, your psych profile had you listed as suffering from possible PTSD-related psychosis, but now, after seeing you for myself? The scary part is, I actually think you're perfectly sane."

“At least we can both agree on something," James nodded with a smile, before turning to hand off Victor's cell phone. “And thanks. For letting me know exactly what the agency has on me. Don't worry, I'll get a complete copy of that file before the day is out, just like I got yours. I'm sure it'd make for some interesting reading."

“How DID you get my unredacted file?"

Smiling towards Victor, James gave a slight shake of his head in response. “As a good friend told me earlier, that would be a trade secret, Mr. Kessler. And I'm not in the habit of revealing my friends' secrets to strangers. Especially strangers who work for the government. You should get some rest, if you can; you'll be back on your feet in another hour or two, once we take care of Arthur first."

“After hearing all that, you still want me to hold up to that agreement we made?"

“Of course! After all..." He pointed a finger around to their group. “WE still have a few more obstacles in our way before we can actually say that we own this city. And having you in our back pocket? That's just icing on the cake."

“What are you going to do about Damien Rhah and his Pride?"

“Damien? Damien is currently upstairs, waiting for his son, Lenny," he pointed to the lion, “To make his way back up there so they can work on rebuilding their fractured relationship. I'll admit, I helped out a bit. Damien IS one of my oldest friends, after all. It didn't take much to make him realize that what he did to his sons was wrong. It took longer to make him realize that HE was the one who needed to make up for it."

“You're actually FRIENDS with that psychotic cat?!"

“Since High school, actually. But that's enough for now. Let's head upstairs, everyone. We've got some phone calls to make now that we're done with our... new friend."

The Pit bull stood, flabbergasted, as he watched them all silently depart, marching up the staircase leading back into the house. When he heard the door close behind them, he let out a ragged sigh, and took in several quick breaths. All at once, it had finally hit him. He had shown his hand, and it had been outplayed.

“Holy fuck... You actually planned for all of this, didn't you?" he spoke to nobody in particular, chuckling slightly as he hung his head and began to consider the deal that he'd been forced to make.

“You knew someone from the government was bound to make a move... You've got someone in the right places, don't you?"

“...What's goin' on?" Came the concussed voice of Arthur, who had suddenly begun to stir against his bindings.

“Don't worry about it, Art. Go back to sleep. They're gonna let you go pretty soon."

“Oh, thank the Gods..."

Thirty Minutes Later

“You're tellin' me we've got a CIA AGENT chained up in the basement?!" Jake exclaimed as he, Henry, Rick, and Connor all struggled to take in the information that James, Marco, and Victor were giving them.

“That's fucking nuts! And he's on the Council?!" Ricky agreed, suddenly feeling a powerful urge to stay as far away from the basement as possible.

“Reginald Kessler will keep his word to us. I can guarantee it." James chuckled as he made his way over to the bar in one corner of the den, reaching out for a bottle of over proof rum, which he poured into a lowball glass, before tossing in a few cubes of ice from the small container which was built-in to the bar itself.

“How? Those fuckin' spooks are completely unpredictable; we never used to trust them when we were all back east. How can we trust this guy now?"

“Because, the second we all left him downstairs, I'm pretty sure he figured out that we have WAY more leverage over him than he originally thought. Victor, did you see the look on his face when I told him that I'd be able to get a copy of my own CIA file?"

“Incredulous. Unbelieving." The old fox confirmed with a nod. “And by the way, you should be receiving that file on your own phone within the next hour or so. My source works quite fast."

“Yeah; we're actually gonna have to talk about THAT," James noted, causing the old fox's ears to droop slightly as he let out a resigned sigh.

“He's a hacker, extremely talented. He's currently attending classes at Harbor City University. Bypassing the agency's so-called 'elite' digital security systems was, as he called it, 'a fun little game.' He's also the one who helped me to compile that dossier on Ken Markus."

“Your source is a kid? What's his name? And how does he know about you? Or US, for that matter?"

“...The name on his official paperwork is 'Remington Devereux.'" Victor hesitated slightly, sighing deeply before continuing. “Ironic and inappropriate; I know that now... But the name that I gave him, when he was born, is Rémy Silver. He was a... surprise for me. I was still active and bouncing around the States when I'd met his mother. For as long as I could, I paid well for him to have a comfortable life. The family who adopted him after she decided to drop him onto my doorstep took excellent care of him for me, and tried their best to conceal the fact that I was still around from him. However, when he turned eighteen, he suddenly picked up and moved here, to Harbor City, into a 'hacker-house' as I believe it's called, and within a month of hearing about it from his adoptive parents, I got the first phone call... From my son. That was slightly over two years ago."

“That's right about the time you found out about... Holy shit..." James gasped, taking a step back.

“I'm sorry... I know I should've told you all. Especially you, love. It's just that I've been protecting him for so many years, now... Rémy has always been my best-kept secret. He's the only other Silver left, aside from myself, and now, you all know about him."

“Does he know about... US?" James asked nervously.

“Of course I told him," Victor responded with a smile, “And surprisingly? He's quite open-minded about it. In fact, when I told him that you and I were... together, he actually congratulated me. Told me he was glad that I'd finally managed to settle down..."

“Hey, did you say he stays in a 'hacker house?'" Henry called over from his position next to Connor and Ricky. “Are you talking about the one directly across the street from the cheap twenty-four-hour coffee shop in the neighborhood just off campus; the one that most of the students go to when they need to stay up late to cram for their exams?"

“You know where to find him?!" Victor exclaimed.

“Well, yeah; that place isn't much of a secret, to begin with. One of the girls that I was dating last semester actually lives there; she's pretty talented in her own right, but I don't think she's on THAT kind of level..."

There was a moment of silence as the older fox took in this information. He was snapped out of his thoughts, however, when James walked up and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Do you want to meet your son, Vic?"

“I...I don't know. Is it safe? I don't want to put him in any more danger than I already have."

“Victor, have you MET my Dad?" Jake called over. “Do you really think that this guy--" he pointed towards James, “--Is ever gonna let you live it down if you don't at least take the chance? Family means EVERYTHING to us in this house, and as far as we're concerned, you and your son are a part of that family too. It wasn't a question he was asking, by the way. Go see your boy. I'll stay back here with the guys, and we can handle Arthur and the spook down in the basement. Don't worry, they'll both be released unharmed, just like you asked."

Turning to face James, Victor wore a look of mixed confusion and desperation. “He's right, you know," the man said with a nod of his head. “Family IS everything to us. And if you want him to be safe? It would probably be better if he knew he at least had the option to set up here... Where his father is."

“I'll go with you both, and show you where the place is," Henry nodded. “Let me go and tell Lenny and... our dad, where I'm headed first. Are they still here?"

“Upstairs." James informed him. “Second floor, sixth room on the right; it's the one your brother has basically claimed as his own. They both went up there with a bag of my weed and a bottle of vodka once we'd finished interrogating Kessler. Go ahead; we'll wait for you out front."

“Alright. I'm on it."

“Here, it's right here!" Henry suddenly exclaimed as the trio crept up the crowded street in Victor's car. Slowing to a stop, the old fox craned his neck to see the dilapidated-looking two-story house that the lion was pointing towards. Heaving a sigh, he started searching for a place to park his vehicle.

“Wait-- You're going to park THIS car out HERE?" Henry asked, sounding concerned. “This isn't exactly the best neighborhood, you know! You're going to park a Maserati on this street?!"

Turning to meet each other's gaze, Victor and James shared a short laugh, before turning around to face the young lion. “Cub, you DO know who we all are, right?" James reminded him as Victor managed to pull the luxury vehicle up against the curb directly in front of the house.

“Of course..." Henry sighed, rolling his eyes slightly. “I guess you ARE going to park a Maserati on this street."

“Yep," the man nodded in reply, before reaching a hand into the folds of his suit, and coming out with a nickel-plated 9mm pistol. Turning around, he offered it butt-first to the lion.

“Which is why you're gonna be on guard duty while we go in and see Rémy. We might be more than a few minutes, so don't worry about us. If it gets too crowded, send two shots into the air, and we'll head out. If anybody decides to press the issue, aim for center mass."

“W-- What?! You know I don't have much experience with guns!"

“Take it easy, Henry. We're not askin' you to start a shootout in the middle of the street. Just take the gun and keep it close, will ya?" James smirked as he opened the passenger-side door and stepped onto the curb, before allowing Henry to climb out from the back. Victor quickly cut the engine, before making his own exit and locking the car securely with his key fob. Walking purposefully around to the opposite side, he held out the small remote towards Henry, who took it with a confused look drawn across his muzzle.

“The windows and body panels are all impact resistant and bulletproof. They'll withstand direct sledgehammer blows and rounds up to a .45-caliber without even a crack or a dent," Victor explained. “Did you think that we would drive around in factory-standard models? It's like James said; we're not expecting you to start a shootout in the street. But keep the doors locked until you're sure you need to get back in."

The older fox made sure to lock eyes with Henry while he spoke. With his mane standing slightly on end, the lion swallowed loudly, before giving a nervous nod of his head.

“Y-- yeah. Alright; I'll stay here."

“Good man." Victor nodded, as he and James turned to face the rundown property, before slowly starting to make their way through the tall, unkempt grass towards the front door.

“Yeah, we're definitely gonna need to get him out of this place," James muttered with a disapproving shake of his head.

“Remember what we discussed on the way, love," Victor reminded him as they stepped up onto the cracked concrete steps which led to the entrance.

“If he wants to come back with us, then he can. If he doesn't, then he doesn't have to. I'll admit I'd feel safer with him close by, but it has to be his choice."

“Yeah... But seriously? If it was Jake staying here? This is one of those choices that I'd go ahead and make for him."

“Alright, I'm not going to say I completely disagree..." Victor replied, as he raised up a glove-covered paw, and gave three swift knocks on the door.

---END CHAPTER 16---

Well, here's a calm before the storm. I wonder what's gonna happen once this new development concludes? Heh... Give me time, and you'll see. This rollercoaster ride is far from over, bu right now? I need a serious drink and a think.

--C.