A Child's Vengenance; Chapter 2
(Continuing the RP. Still feeling bad about not being on enough to finish it, AND leaving all of my beloved readers without more 'romance'. Forgive meh)
'Well, I would figure that I would have to visit this city once in my life,' Genira thought as his flight was nearing the landing straightway. Earlier that day, he had accepted the contract presented to him, and was already sent to work. He was groomed beforehand, his hair and beard combed and given the chance for a bath. Looking into the nearby side window, Genira wouldn't have recognized the man in the reflection the change was so drastic. Rubbing his beard, Genira figured he'd have to deal with the facial hair soon.
The rather attractive waitress came by his first class seat, a wide smile on her face. Surprisingly, Genira didn't find any hint of falsehood in her face. "We'll be landing soon sir, anything you need before we dock?" The human shook his head, smiling in return. "No, no thank you ma'am. I'm fine." She would nod, and then leave the cabin, assuming her duties. Genira rubbed his temples tenderly as if contemplating the absent hangover. Usually at this time his head was in turmoil, but today things were different. As the aircraft landed, ad Genira would depart, he would eye the massive sky scrapers from the distance and chuckle. Today things were different indeed.
New York City was the unlikeliest of all destinations for Genira to visit. He never really had it in mind to visit the landmark city, rather than acknowledge it's important instead of making the effort. He recalled having a cousin that was mugged in Downtown. Going through the terminal Genira collected his baggage, and was waving down a taxi in no time. He remembered that Samantha had offered him a very nice room in a luxury hotel. Genira turned down the offer, having other plans in mind.
His driver was surprised at where Genira wanted to be placed within the city. But, a twenty dollar tip provided enough persuasion to keep the focus on the destination. 'The Bonny Lass' Inn had been established in New York's younger days, and had stood over through time proudly. Unfortunately, the Inn had the curse of financial misfortune; its location placed far from tourist locations and popular notice. Genira happened to know the current owner, a rather large and old bear by the name of Jack Smith. The human's only worry was if the old bear would recognize him after nearly two decades.
Setting foot on the dirty sidewalk, Genira took in that industrial air. Kids played in the streets, mysterious characters hung together in groups at the street corners, the numerous apartment buildings worn with age, all eyes on him as he passed; Genira certainly felt that he was not wanted. Genira didn't see a single human being while approaching his destination and his suspicions on the matter only continued to be honed. The sign of the Inn came into view at last, and the human breathed a sigh of relief.
As Genira pushed the door open, a ringing bell anointed his presence. There was a shuffling noise from behind the admission counter, and a small muzzle poked itself over the stack of papers piled upon the surface. A little gasp soon followed, and the muzzle vanished. Genira's eyebrow rose, but soon his confusion was replaced by amazement as a small bear appeared from behind the counter, big round eyes looking up at him. "Customer!" Came a childish exclamation from the little bear as he ran back behind the counter once more, this time entering a door out of Genira's view.
All alone, Genira took the time to observe the Inn's interior. Numerous artifacts from the ages were put up for display, a single mass of chairs and a rather large couch in the center of the room, accompanied by chipping paint in some areas of the wall. Upon closer speculation, the artifacts on the walls were dusty, as if no one decided to pay attention to their up keep. In no sooner had he taken in the observation, the door from behind him slammed open.
A large and aging bear stood in the door frame, round spectacles reflecting the light from outside right in Genira's face, a large smile on the bear's face. "Welcome!" Boomed the fellow, the smaller bear at the larger's feet, continuing to look up at Genira's face. "Can I help you today good sir?"
Genira nodded, chuckling. "And am I to assume you are Jack Smith? Honored owner of this fine Inn?" The bear nodded proudly. "Indeed I am sir." He raised a paw, gently scratching his fluffed chin. "Pardon my curiosity sir, but usually I don't get very many human customers." Genira merely offered his hand, and smiled. "Well. Ever since you threw poor Johnny Cilgar and me straight out the door when we flattened the tire on your old Springer back in Portland, all the other humans got a hint! 'Don't mess with this bear!'"
At that, it looked as if the bear was hit by a boulder between the eyes. Jack's jaw dropped, the glasses falling down his muzzle as he leaned forward. "Michael Genira? Can that really be you?" He rushed forward, taking the hand offered, and looking eye to eye with Genira. "It really is you!" The bear exclaimed, gathering Genira in a back crushing hug. With a grunt, the human merely nodded. "Yup, all hairless and simple minded as you used to call me."
Setting Genira down, Jack grinned. "You'll never forget those days, will you son?" Genira shook his head, continuing to chuckle. "So, tell me boy. I suppose you aren't just here to say hello to an old bear and his family, are you?" Genira shook his head sadly, wishing it were otherwise, but getting over the feeling of guilt quickly. "No. Actually, I needed a room, if you wouldn't mind me paying straight up with cash." Pulling a wad of one hundred dollar bills, Samantha had properly armed Genira financially, Jack's eyes hungrily settled upon the money. "I'll need to stay here for a few months, five at the most. Will this cover it?" Jack nodded, gathering the money in hand. "Bill, show our customer his abode!"
The younger bear nodded, running towards the steps in the far corner, waving for Genira to follow. First door on the right, Genira's apartment was modest at the best. The right size for one, including one bed, a couple drawers, a television, and a small kitchen, it was a bachelor's haven. Genira gave Bill a twenty for a tip, and the bear happily ran off. With a sigh, Genira set his suitcase upon the bed, rummaging through its contents carefully. Inside was his Bowie knife, buried in his socks ad pants for cushioning and protection. Removing the knife and its sheath, he slid it into its customary spot in his sock, and went about placing his clothing in the drawers.
Honestly, he was surprised at the apartment's condition. Genira suspected that the quality of the apartment was poor, but he was proven wrong at how well his was in order. Locking the door behind him, and pocketing the keys given to him by Bill, Genira nodded to Jack as he began to depart. "I'm off for some business Jack. I'll be back later this evening." Jack nodded, and pointed toward the facial hair on Genira's chin, "Son, out of my own personal opinion, shave. The beard isn't you." Instead, Genira only laughed, remembering fondly all those years of scolding and advice from the old bear as he left the Inn.
Down the sidewalk, however, he was confronted. Two youngsters, no doubt supposed to be in high school, stopped him at a lamp post, both looking determined. The one on the left, a female panther dressed in interesting attire, began a conversation. "Hey, human, what are you doing in the Bonny Lass?" Genira shrugged, "Renting a room. Is there a problem with that?" The other on the right, a rather large jackal, grumbled. "Perhaps," the panther began, "If you aren't willing to pay the fine." Genira let an eyebrow raise, "Fine? I suppose you two are government tax collectors still at work?" The pantheress smirked, nodding. "You could say that. It goes along with protection and the like." Internally, Genira felt the urge to retaliate. Despite the jackal and the pantheress's tough attire, both looked rather timid than intimidating. Instead, he played along, offering two crisp twenties. The pantheress eyed the money, the Jackal keeping a stern appearance. "Will this cover the fine?" He asked politely, the pantheress snatching the money from his hands in a heartbeat. She nodded, waving him on, "Go ahead, Hank here will let you go on." Genira smiled, bowing his head to both of the kids, and was on his way.
Once out of sight, Genira grumbled, biting his lip in frustration. He certainly didn't like being pushed around, especially by amateurs, but if he acted out, he would blow his low profile. In a casual sport coat and slacks, Genira had the appearance of an average New York human going off to work in the day. The timing was off, mid day was hardly the time to go to work, but maybe he could call it a 'lunch break' if asked.
Right now, Genira had to accomplish two things. According to the address scribbled down on a piece of paper, the human was close to his first destination. Finally, he found a neon sign reading 'Leon's Auto Shop'. The run down appearance was deceitful, the amount of cars parked out front of the run down auto shop was a good sign that the place was still in business. Genira grinned, and approached the front door with slight anticipation. Inside was a pack-rat's fantasy. Rows upon rows of auto parts, accessories, and tools made up the majority of the front room alone, save for the counter and a sign pointing towards an open door with, 'Seek service in here'.
Genira complied, and followed as directed. The garage was currently occupied with an old Challenger, a busy mechanic going to work at its underbelly. A black and grey tail swished back and forth, a familiar red tip on the tail signifying something even better for Genira. Apparently the mechanic had his ear tuned to the doorway. "If you want your service, you'll have to wait a few more minutes' sir or ma'am," came a crisp statement from the leopard beneath the vehicle. Genira merely coughed to clear his throat, than raised his voice suddenly.
"Staff Sergeant Leon Kanden, you miserable piece of mechanical leftovers!" The human hollered, causing the leopard to bang his head against the vehicle's underside as he began a hasty retreat.
Standing up, Staff Sergeant Leon Kanden stood at shorter than his previous superior officer, his red hair maintained underneath a backwards baseball cap, his greasy face locked in surprise. "Lieutenant?" Came the puzzled voice, followed by a smile and a rapid embrace. "Lieutenant Genira! You sonofabitch!" Genira chuckled, "What? Can't an officer misuse his powers once in service?" "Bah. No uniform, no orders sir." Leon grinned, leaning against the Challenger as he looked at his former squad commander. "Gods Mike, it's been awhile. Almost thought you were dead." The human replied with a wink, "You were right to assume that Leon. I've been silent for some time, but, I found myself in need of your services."
The leopard nodded, pointing out of the garage entry door and into the parking lot, "Well, then just pull up your car and I'll get to work on..." "Not your trusty mechanical skills my friend, more like your contacts." Instantly, Leon's eyes narrowed his voice a mere whisper.
"Are you back working for..."
"No. No I'm not Leon. I'm working for someone else," Genira reassured, Leon easing slightly.
"Why would you need my 'contacts'?"
"I'm doing a job. A clean job, I swear. But, in the near future, I might need their assistance, alongside yours." Leon scratched his chin gently, thinking it over. "Well. What is in it for me?" Genira snickered; already contemplating that Leon would shit his pants over this. "Well, how about five million? All crisp dollars?" From the look on the leopard's face, Genira was satisfied that his prediction might have hit the nail on the head.
"Five million?!" Was Leon's startled reply, "Are you jerking me around man?"
Genira shook his head. "What would I get to gain from doing that to you? I'm dead serious man. Once the job is done, you'll have five million." Why keep all ten million for himself? Genira could be generous to quiet the friend, and Leon was that exact friend. "I only ask that you find the best and most discreet of your contacts." The leopard nodded eagerly. "Good." Genira handed Leon all the information of a silver platter; the form of a note card with his phone number and hotel room, contact information and HQ.
"Wait for me here. I have one last stop to make."
Genira whistled, looking up at the towering apartment building overlooking Central Park. He had hoped he followed the proper address supplied by Madame Kanya, or else this was going to be the most awkward situation Genira had ever gotten himself into. 'Hello good sir, a little girl asked me to talk to you about murdering a particular syndicate of bad guys? What? Wrong address? I'm terribly sorry'. Walking through the revolving doors, he was greeted by a polite receptionist. He asked for the person of interest, and was pointed to the elevator.
Genira paled. He absolutely hated elevators; having developed the fear from childhood after being stuck in one for nearly two days straight, not to mention the bad luck that haunted him whenever he entered one of those metal boxes. Nonetheless, he braved the lack of stairs, and would find himself on the ninth floor in no time. Going through the row of doors, he finally found the proper door and knocked.
The door creaked open slowly, followed by a gruff, "What the hell do you want?"
Genira replied with the answer, "The little girl sent me to market."
There was a grumble, followed by the door being slammed shut in Genira's face. Following was a period of silence before the door opened slowly. A stern faced rat standing roughly at Genira's height, though easily his elder, gestured for Genira to enter. "So, are you suicidal or stupid?" The rat asked, apparently in a sour mood, either customary or merely foul today. Genira chuckled, "I believe brave with a bad sense of humor would fit my profile." The rat would grunt, mumbling, "A bad sense of humor indeed."
The rat's apartment was modest at best. Clean floor, well kept furniture, but the kitchen table and a nearby desk were nearly invisible due to a massive pile up of documents. Folders, papers, boxes, all piled themselves in an oddly organized sense. But what gathered Genira's attention the most was the coat hanger. A navy-blue jacket with NYCPD on a shining badge accompanied by a Colt 1903 holstered in a belt caught his eye. Apparently, a cop was to be his source of information in the matter.
"Ah, an observant one, eh?" The rat had noticed Genira's wandering eye, and approved of it in his own way. "Name's James Calvadania, Samantha's Uncle, if you must know. That's Captain of Homicide and Abduction, if you must be formal." The rat went about mumbling and grumbling to himself, bending over at what appeared to be a liquor cabinet. "Please, have a seat Mr. Genira, and let us get to business."
Genira sat at the kitchen table, his mind going to work. This rat was related to Samantha? Well, obviously there was a defined motive and loyalty towards the cause then. He was surprised to find James here in this location rather than with Samantha down at the manor. Genira's thoughts were disturbed as James returned with two shot glasses, a bottle of fair brandy, and three folders in hand. "Here, I've found brandy to be the drink of formalities, so help yourself." Genira, never one to turn away from a good drink, happily accepted the brandy.
James set the files down upon the table, his voice becoming monotone and serious. "The three targets that your client wants dead are all humans. I sincerely hope that species relations won't discourage you in your efforts?" Genira shook his head, the rat nodding. "Good. These three are the men." He opened each portfolio in turn, a very detailed profile and description tagging the first two. The first was a slim, sharp and timid looking man. The next was a brutish sort, a larger form of the previous, both with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. The last wasn't all that impressive; with an average build, brown hair and eyes, he was common compared to the other two. Genira memorized them under names easier to remember than their actual names, Skinny Blond, Big Blond, and Daddy Big-Bucks were their unoriginal designations.
"The first two are Franz and Heim Goravack, the third is unregistered." Leaning closer over the table, the rat's features became even rougher, if not angry.
"They're all part of the same organization, they kidnap, rape, and prostitute furs out of sheer hate, they claim to fight for the rights of humanity against the ever increasing anthro population, and they killed Samantha's parents under that pretext, "saving that poor human girl from evil anthros" or some such stupidity." The rat's glaring eyes seemed to bore through Genira's soul, years of sheer hate pouring out in a few brief sentences. "Franz? He raped Samantha's mother before slitting her throat. He spent hours on her, absolute torment. Heim? He beat Samantha's father to death; the sight of my brother dead like that was something that haunts me to the day. That third bastard bribed every single law official and enforcer related to the case until the point they might as well be his lapdogs. These men have been on my most wanted list for years, yet our damn law system can't touch these fuckers!"
James slammed a fist down hard upon the table, its surface shaking and disturbing Genira's empty shot glass. The rat took a sharp inhale, running a paw through his thinning hair. "You'll find Franz Goravack at a club in the slums, it's hard to miss. Heim and the Boss are both out of the public eye at the moment, but I'll try digging around." James continued, regaining his controlled posture from earlier, taking deep breaths. Genira poured the rat's glass of brandy, offering it as a soldier would to a comrade. James took the drink gracefully, downing the content in a single gulp.
Genira nodded, "Do you have architectural designs for the club?" James shook his head, slightly surprised at the question. "No, no I don't." 'Well, I know someone who will' Genira thought to himself. "I'll take care of it then. Will Franz be at the club?" James chuckled, "Like a gearhead with his self-built car, they are inseparable. Franz's club is his home and base of operations. He is there every single day of the week."
Genira absorbed the information like a sponge. Gathering the profiles and tucking them underneath his arms, he settled upon a personal plan. Extending his hand, which was shaken, James offered one last statement. "I'd wish you luck, but then again, luck won't help you." The human merely shrugged. "Luck and I have never agreed in the first place."
As the human exited the room, James would sigh as the door closed. Samantha had given the man's profile for examination, and James thought his service record was interesting. A member of the 101rst Airborne, James Calvadania had seen World War II on the front lines. He was no stranger to conflict and war, but he had a feeling about Lieutenant Michael Genira. His profile was bleak; infantry was his designation, alongside a specialty demolitions and medical basics, but upon his promotion to Lieutenant his record went blank. Most of the information was censored, but the information was there nonetheless.
It made him cringe in mere thought of what the human was capable of. Genira was a killer, James was sure of that. The rat was even more certain that he would soon have to deal with a flow of homicide cases in the near distant future.
As the sun began to set, Genira decided it best to being some reconnaissance. Returning to the Bonny Lass, he made a quick change of clothes. Aiming for a casual look; he ruffled his beard, wearing a baseball cap to conceal his face all the more. Exiting the Bonny Lass after gaining a surprised look from Jack, Genira followed the directions given to him by James earlier that day. It didn't take too long to find the flashy club, surrounded by bouncers and individuals of questionable moral. Surprisingly, Genira was able to get in without any trouble, but quickly became disgusted with what he discovered.
The building itself was not up for complaint in the slightest. Its architecture was of Gothic origin, mixed with the elegance of the Roman tastes. The club was more than functional, including a massive bar counter, an operating stage, strip dancing tables, and even a motel built into the back section. What did disgust Genira was the stench; the placed smelled of fear, blood, vomit, and too much alcohol. Immediately upon entry, he was greeted by 'staff' in the form of a young husky, whose eyes were puffed as if from fresh crying and the smile pained and fake.
"Hello! And welcome!" The husky began, the smile on his face slowly diminishing to a crease on his face. "How may I be of service to you this evening?" Genira scratched his beard, maintaining the appearance that he was enjoying himself. "Well, lead me off to the bar, and call me satisfied."
The husky acted in a heartbeat, taking Genira by the hand and guiding him through the crowd. This gave the human a better chance to observe the particular patrons this club attracted. The majority were human, all of them looking as if they belonged to the seedy underbelly of hell. Muscular bouncers lined the doors, each one carrying a small nine millimeter at their side, giving Genira reason to laugh internally. Nothing compared to the Colt 1911 MEU, he told himself.
Finally, the husky led him to a seat at the bar, and turned to leave but was stopped when Genira set a hand on his shoulder. "Please, have a seat." He felt the husky tremble gently, but the poor boy obeyed. He looked young, if even barely legal. He was evidently frightened as well, though he maintained a façade of smiles. "So, care for anything to drink?" Genira asked, his eyes not focused on the husky but rather on the crowd.
The husky shook his head shyly, as if unaccustomed to such treatment. "I... I'm not allowed to drink sir." Came the eventually reply. Genira turned the awkward moment with a pleasant smile, "Well. Something none alcoholic then." He whistled over the bartender who, surprisingly, produced a soft drink for the husky alongside a glance. The husky merely accepted the glass and sipped occasionally, very timid, Genira observed.
From there, Genira would begin to drink to his hearts content. Gathering the attention of those surrounding him, both welcomed and otherwise, eventually the human was driven into a drunken stupor. Perhaps his most daring stunt of the evening was to stand alongside the strip dancers, gatherings cheers and boos from the crowd below. Kissing the lovely ladies in turn on stage, eventually a rather unhappy bouncer was called to intervene.
Grabbing Genira roughly by the shirt collar, the bouncer dragged the drunken soldier out an alternative route, roughly throwing him into the alleyway. "Tough luck pops! Next time, don't drink as much!" Came the mocking tone of the bouncer as the door slammed shut moments later. Genira groaned, standing up, he made a mental note of an alternative exit through the back alley. Walking down the alleyway, occasionally looking up to eye the two story building, Genira was careful to make sure that his observations could not be noted over anything too serious.
Soon, Genira reasoned with himself, placing a call to Leon.