Not So Retired Any More II

Story by Arlen Blacktiger on SoFurry

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#2 of Not So Retired Any More


Okay here comes Chapter 2

Critique is very welcome.

Also: Adult story! Ye be warned! Dead furs tell no tales (Except in CSI: Furry)!

Chapter 2 - Fate and Antagonists

A flash, then more blackness. The smell of something acrid smouldering. Heat on her face, heat which slowly resolved itself as pain. The fiery kind that would have led to screaming if it didn't hurt so badly. The kind of pain that made her try to curl into a ball, and realize she couldn't.

So much weight on her, she couldn't breathe. The feeling of suffocation, the panic...

The smashed car all around her.

Sirens in the distance...And the fear-filled welcome relief of blackness.

Arlen's stomach felt like it was slagging from acid as he sat on the phone in Tam's office. He'd followed her there that morning, begrudgingly planning to listen to her job offers, mostly just because he'd agreed to it and wasn't a man to back out of his word.

Across the desk, the pretty calico was tilted back in her chair, her brow furrowed in concern as yellow-green eyes searched Arlen's face for signs of a reaction. He didn't meet her eyes, which was pretty normal, and his posture was indicative of stress and frustration and growing anger, also normal for the grizzled veteran. The look in his eyes, though...That was what had her worried.

He looked frightened. Fear wasn't really normal for the black tiger. In the ten years she'd known him, through all the gunfights, all the bleeding wounds, all the jobs gone wrong, Tam couldn't think of a time she'd seen this kind of fear. The helpless kind.

"Still on hold, Arl?"

He didn't look up, and she could see the powerful muscles of his jaw clenching and unclenching under his fur, pulling on the white streak from a long knife scar under his chin.

"Yeah. Call me to tell me my niece has been in a car wreck and then leave me on fucking hold. Goddamnit, fuck...'

Tam sat up and reached over the desk to touch him, and felt the iron-like tension in his arm, cutting the muscles into sharp relief under his fur. He reacted by sucking in a breath and giving her the briefest of glowers, which quickly softened into a look of sadness and worry as he realized his anger at her was misdirected.

Then, he suddenly straightened from a coiled-in defensive slouch. Tam held her breath a second, knowing someone had just come on the line.

"Yeah, that's me. Are you the doc?"

A pause, interrupted by Arlen trying to speak and barely getting a noise out before he himself was interrupted in turn. The tiger turned a face written in renewed worry to Tam for the barest second, before looking down at the floor again.

"Are you kidding me? Yes I'll authorize treatment. What the fuck did you THINK I was gonna say, let her die? She's my niece you shit!"

Tam winced. Yelling imprecations at doctors wasn't a good way to endear people. Then again, Arlen had never been 'Mister Smooth', even before the combat fatigue and paranoia of the mercenary business had made him such a basket case of nerves and artillery-shock.

"She...She can't afford that. I'll cover it. I know the insurance is gone, she lost her job over a year ago." Another pause. "Doc, stop trying to console me about the economy, and get back to fixing my niece. Is she going to live?" An answer. "She had better.'

With that, the tiger punched the little red button on his phone. Then, with a look of aggravation, punched at it a couple more times before getting it.

"Fucking paws..."

He flexed his fingers, hoping that the ache in his knuckles was just from stress and not arthritis or something.

Long silence stretched out between them, as Tam drummed her fingers on the arms of her chair. Arlen looked to be lost in one of his internal grumble-rambles, and the calico tried to wait it out before getting impatient.

"Don't leave me hanging, asshole, tell me what's got you in such a huff."

Directness was why he liked her, he thought, before speaking.

"Sorry. Its Cecille. My niece. Car wreck. Two broken wrists, broken ribs, concussion, face is all cut up from glass. Collapsed lung. Fuck."

Tam winced and reached over the desk to him again, touching his cheek and raising his face to look. He was in agony, she could see it in the clenching of his jaw and intensity of his eyes.

"And they asked you how treatment was going to get paid for. No insurance because she lost her job..." She was commiserating and gather information all at once, of course. Tam never did anything with just a single thought in mind.

"He said it'll take about fifty grand to treat her. Doc was just warning me about the bill beforehand. No way she can afford that, and neither can her worthless husband. Said they couldn't operate without insurance, just stabilize her. So I'm going to foot the bill."

"Arlen, you know better. You've got enough money saved up to keep yourself afloat on Ramen and that shit-hole on the South Side for about six months. I know. I checked. Let me help."

He ignored the fact that she'd spied on him. Frankly it was standard for her to keep up on him like that. Probably did it with all of the 'clients' she was an agent for.

Arlen growled low in his chest and met her eyes again, this time leaving them there, and she sat back in the chair and let her hand drift down to the desktop as she realized this was his game face. A face she hadn't seen in a while.

"You're a bitch for manipulating me with sex. I was gonna come here and tell you to fuck off. But now its not about me any more. 'Cille and her kids need my help. Get me jobs, Tamra. Just...Try to avoid the killing jobs, okay? I..." The game face was gone. She could see it, eating at him. The killing, the faces, the brutality...

"Arl, what about her father? Remember the drama you had with him last year?"

"Yeah. Broke my hippy asshole little brother's jaw for calling me a shit-heel baby killer. What about it?"

Tam put her face in her paw at how obtuse the damn tiger could be. How the hell he came to be one of the best, smartest, most reliable mercs on the market and yet was this idiotic with people was still a total mystery to her.

"Let me guess. He can't afford it either, and you aren't going to ask him for permission."

"She might die in the meantime. And if he doesn't like the fact his little girl is my favorite relative, he can go to hell. Or...Whatever the fuck hippies believe in."

"Arlen, isn't this his problem? I mean...She's his daughter." She knew this was dangerous ground, but she had her reasons.

"He can't afford it and I'm not waiting."

She sighed and made to say something, then bit it back, instead bringing up a paw to rub at the bridge of her nose.

Sorry, Arlen. I'm so sorry for what's about to happen...Well, here we go. Step one.

"I've got a few jobs for you already lined up. Easy stuff, easy money. Bodyguarding."

"Who's the client?" Arlen sat back in the chair as he talked, suddenly calmer as he put on his business face, oblivious to the workings going on behind Tamra's eyes.

"Computer programmer named Carlos Bayter. Saw a murder a couple of days ago and needs some babysitting until he's sure nobody's out to get him. Frankly, he's being silly. The kill wasn't a hit, it was a driveby. Five grand for two days' work watching some homebody who doesn't go out at all."

"Sounds too good to be true." The black tiger considered the situation, then pulled out a pen and started jotting on one of Tam's notepads.

"Indulge him. He's watched too many mob movies or something. You meet him tomorrow at his home. Address is in the envelope."

With that, she gestured to a manila on her desk marked 'Bayter, Carlos'.

"Now get outta here for a bit. I've got another client to meet."

Sergeant Grenaby stalked through the precinct with a growl rumbling up from his gut. The aging wolf had had enough of the new girl detective, transferred in just a month ago from Vegas, and was stomping his way up to a fracas in the cubicle area he was sure she was involved with.

Sure enough, there she was. With her knee on a unform's lower spine and his arm twisted at an unnatural angle thanks to a grip she had on his wrist, the lithe ferret was making a trilling growl into his ear.

"We done?"

"Bitch, get offa m-URK!"

A slight twist of her wrist and a bit of pressure had the officer abruptly gasping and instinctively tapping the ground, as if this fight were just a spar. Noting that, she gave a sunny, impish grin and hopped off of him...Though she did take the chance to give him a toe in the ribs just a bit too hard to be friendly.

"Reach for my rear again and I'll break it off next time, got it?"

Grenaby's glare felt like it was boring a hole into the side of her head. She was persona non grata around here and she knew it, ever since she'd given those files over to Internal Affairs. Nothing had come of it, but now everyone thought she was somehow a traitor for doing her damn job.

"Something you need, Sergeant?"

The veteran cop gave the situation a once-over. Given none of the other uniforms gathered around had stepped in, her statement was likely true. The officer had tried to cop a feel. The detectives were notably not taking a side either. If he pressed the issue out of personal dislike for her, the silly bitch would turn this into a sexual harassment debacle. Chief Steric wouldn't be happy about drawing media attention, not right now. Who knows what else they might figure out if they looked closely?

"You're being reassigned." Grenaby scowled, unhappy to be the bearer of news, to her, of what amounted to a promotion. "Out of Vice, into Homicide. Hopefully they'll be happier with you.'

The perky smile turned down and a raised brow came up on the ferret's face.

"Out of Vice and into Homicide, huh?"

She walked right past the Sergeant, on her way to the Chief's office, and as she did gave an offhand comment targeted to sting.

"Guess the boss thinks I'm actually making progress."

Only reason you're not dead, you nosy little brat, is that IA has their eye on you right now. Give it another six months and you'll be dead as hell.

The thought made him smirk, though he was careful not to let her see it. Or the fact that he was giving her ass the once-over. Toned and slinky enough that the office slacks set it off rather than hid it. Too bad, really. Sort of seemed like a waste.