A Hard Man is Good to Find
Warning, this is not porn but instead furry film noir. Inspired primarily by LA Confidential and i think several Quentin Tarantino movies,this story is gritty, violent, and the first of its kind that i have written. If you like that kind of thing give it a read.
Brett Guile is a wolf in wolves clothing who works as a third rate PI swiming through the muck of Los Angeles when the only decent thing he ever had in his life comes crashing through his door. Vicky Homes, Brett's feline former lover, is on the run from men who have already captured her husband and are hot on her own trail. Violence descends on them both as the pair is set on a collision course with the cities most powerful gangster, while Brett rushes to save the woman he once loved in, A HARD MAN IS GOOD TO FIND.
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A Hard Man is Good to Find
A paw moved quickly over a small cast iron skillet, testing the temperature. It sat atop an electric burner atop a rather battered and cluttered table in the corner of a rather dingy office. It was still a bit cold but the wolf was tired and hungry so the thin steak hit the skillet with a hiss. Some salt and a bit of pepper was all it got as Brett Guile stared dully down at his dinner.
He would rather have been at home doing this on his stove but at two weeks past due on his rent, his grouchy land lady had taken to camping out on his stoop. That meant he was sleeping here tonight after his dinner. Tomorrow might bring a paying client for a change and put him back above water, but until that happened he was just a poor washed up PI in LA.
His big fingers darted down stabbing the steak with one claw quickly flipping it before it burnt. A few minutes later it was rare and on his plate. The large framed gray canine settled into his chair before a hand slipped down to the boot below his slacks. A slim blade slipped into his paw. Scared and scratched, it was an old war buddy that had ridden with him since he had taken it off a dead friend in a hell hole called Iwo Jima.
He had lost something on that island but so had almost everyone who fought in that war. Brett had come back to California in 1946, old beyond his years and almost too comfortable with violence to fit back into civilian life. A friend had gotten him a job with the LA city police force and for a time it had been a good fit. The wolf was big, smart, and liked cracking heads. For several years things had gone well, but nothing lasts forever.
By the end of the 40's money and drugs were flowing into the city of angles faster than anyone could handle, and with it crime. Things had been simple during the war. You loaded up your gun and went over the hill to kill the man who was bent on doing the same to you. But now, it was hard to tell up from down. Half the force was on the dole and half the scum bags in the city were untouchable.
Brett found out just how untouchable when he and his partner had gone after one such scum bag. When the dust settled the skunk had succeeded in nearly maiming his partner and killing three other innocent furs. When Brett caught up to him he had cuffed him before throwing him off a five story building.
That had been the end of his carrier but PI work wasn't so bad when it was paying. Still it was mostly jealous mates paying him to keep his eyes on their other half, but occasionally something more interesting came along. His knife cut through his steak like butter as he woofed it down in a rather undignified manner as leaned back into his chair. The wolf soon remembered the half empty bottle of scotch in the bottom of his drawer, and it soon found its way into his paws. He was about to pore himself the first of what would be several drinks that night when he heard a car door slam loudly down on the street below.
Something stopped him as he put the bottle down and glanced at his watch. It read 9:47. Probably too late for a customer. His paw when for the cap on the bottle again when he heard the rapid staccato of footpaws on the stairs. He set it down as he looked toward the door and he heard the footsteps speed up.
His right paw was halfway inside his jacket as it opened and the last person Brett ever expected to walk into his office. The porcelain white figure of Vicki Homes stepped through the door as the big wolf froze. That curry feline figure wrapped tightly in a long over coat still entrapped him as he looked into the green eyes of his former lover. A lover who had left him for the very partner he had nearly gotten killed.
"You've got to help me Brett, they've got Steve. They've got him and mean to kill him!" The wolf rocked at those words as he stood and moved across the room towards her. She almost felt into his arms as he warped her up and felt her sobbing against his shoulder. He caught her sent and his mind was reeling.
It was his third year on the force when he had met her. She had been gorgeous wild young thing and for nearly a year they had been together. It had been a torrid relationship if you could call it that. The only time they weren't fighting was when they were fucking and something like that never lasted long. His firing had been the last straw and when he found about her and his former partner it broke something in him. He should have been happy that Steve had found someone. The fox had always been a bit more stable than his partner and he should have been happy he had found someone.
He hadn't been. He had stormed out the hospital and hadn't seen either of the pair in the last three years. He knew that Steve had retired from police work and somehow come up with the money to start up a club in one of the nicer parts of town. Rumor had it that he was doing quite well, but that didn't explain the sobbing cat in his arms.
"Stevie got twisted up with some gangsters Brett, gangsters! He only told me a month ago it was them who fronted him the money for the club! He said they wanted it to wash their money but Stevie's manager ran off with this month's cut. Brett they think he stole it!"
A sick feeling twisted deep into Brett's guts as he stared down at her.
"Do you know who is after him?"
"No!" she said as tears ran down her chin. "Six brutes showed up at the front door and he told me to hide in the pantry. I hear them Brett, they were beating him. Torturing him even! I made a dash for it but I think one of them saw!"
"Clam down Vic," said Brett as his mind tried to make sense of it. If Steve's club had been a laundry for the mob it would explain why it seemed to be doing so well, and if the mob thought he had taken there money...
"Sit down and have this," said Brett as he filled half a glass with scotch. She moved it to her mouth with shaky hands as he saw the gold colored liquor vanish. For the second time that night Brett heard a car door slam. It was soon followed by hurried foot steeps up the long flights of stairs. They slowed as they approached his door and this time Brett's paw made it all the way to his Colt in his left shoulder holster.
A nightstick tapped against the door as a gruff voice shouted, "POLICE!" Brett's paw dropped as the door opened and a rat dressed in a trim blue uniform stepped through the door. He had his stick in one hand and his revolver in the other as the wolf caught the name on his badge, Shanahan. The name didn't ring a bell but he didn't like the way the rat was eyeing them.
"Nobody make any sudden moves," said the rodent as he stared down the larger canine. "You the owner, the PI?"
"I am," said Brett slowly.
"Guile, right. Use to be a Cop?"
"I was."
He lowered the barrel of his gun slightly as he seemed to relax.
"Well Guile did you know that you are currently harboring a fugitive from justice?"
"I did not."
"The lady there is wanted for murder, shot her husband to death over an hour ago. We've got witnesses." A sound somewhere between a sob and a wail forced its way of Vicki's throat as she all but collapsed to the floor. The cold dread that had been pooling in Brett's stomach moved up his throat as he forced a few more words out of his mouth.
"You don't say? The girl said she was having a spat with her old man and stopped by for a drink. I didn't think anything of it." The rat's eyebrows when up as Vicki froze, and stared at Brett with a look of disbelief etched on her face.
"It's always the pretty one's isn't it," said the officer as one of his paws slipped a pair of cuffs from his belt. He tossed them to Brett with a smile and said, "You still remember how?"
Brett reached down and picked up the trembling Vicki by the arms as he gently fastened the cuffs behind the cat's back. Gun still up, he motioned with his stick as Brett shoved and Vicki stumbled across the room.
The rat chuckled a bit as he moved towards the door holding tight to the cuffs behind the feline's back.
"Hope you have a good lawyer honey because you're going to need it. Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Guile. Hope you have a good night and thanks for the help."
"Happy to do it," said Brett through gritted teeth as the door shut slowly and they were gone.
The rat didn't say a word until he shoved the female roughly into his car and looked back up at the lit window. Everything had gone smoother than silk.
"Quite the little trouble maker aren't you," said the rat with a sneer as Vicki's eyes widened. "Don't worry, we haven't hurt your little hubby to bad yet. We're going to see how talkative he is when we start carving up his pretty little wife in front of him. Maybe then he will feel like telling us where the money is."
He slammed the door muffling her scream as he slid into the driver's seat and picked up his radio mike. "Third story, left office, one wolf. He's some private dick. Shouldn't be a problem should it?"
A crackling came back over the radio as a low male voice croaked, "No." The rat smiled as he turned his key and his car roared to life. He was quickly speeding down the street as a pair of light blue canine eyes watched him go.
Brett had been 90% sure that Shanahan's whole story was bullshit. It was confirmed as his car sped off in the opposite direction from the station. The wolf was almost surprised that the rat hadn't shot him as he slipped his colt from it's holster. He thumbed off the safety as his other paw gripped the slide and his eyes saw the low glow of brass in the chamber. His eyes were then on the street as a large black saloon pulled up to the curve. He watched as five males slowly got out of the car. All of them looked armed and one had something bigger in both hands as Brett moved quickly to his door.
He flipped the latch and the light locking it and plunging the room into darkness before moving back to his desk. He set the open bottle of scotch on the floor before both paws gripped at the heavy oak thing. With a grunt and a heave he up ended it on to its side as he crouched and his left paw slipped inside his jacket pocket. It fished out his two spare mags as he placed them upright on the floor just behind his makeshift barricade. His eyes slowly started to adjust to the gloom as he heard the sound of several pairs of footsteps on the stairs.
He could tell they were trying to be quite as they slowly crept down the hall and stacked up outside his door. His .45 was pointed at the door and braced on the edge of his desk as he saw the knob slowly turn then stop. Someone outside jiggled it harder again before he heard a voice whisper, "Is he inside? You think he split?"
Brett never got to hear the answer to that question as a shotgun went off in the hall. Buckshot tore through the lock and the door flinging it wide open as Brett saw a wild eyed weasel standing there with a sawn off double barrel. The wolf's ears were ringing from the deafening noise but his hand was steady as his finger squeezed the trigger. He fired four shots into the figure in the door way and saw him stumble back into the hall. A head poked its way out of the left side of the door frame staring curiously into the room. It looked like some type of canine as Brett's hands moved and two more shots rang out.
He saw one of them take a chunk out of the doorframe and other a chunk out of the side of the dog's face. The head disappeared with a yip as two revolvers appeared around either side of the door. The wolf dived for cover as he heard a volley of shots sink into the oak desk in front of him.
His near empty mag slid from his gun as the firing stopped and he heard a shout.
"I'm gona eat your fucking heart dog!" shouted a low gravely reptilian voice. Brett peered around the edge of his desk to see a crocodile raising a Thompson and taking aim.
Brett threw himself sideways and away from the desk as a volley of 230 grain slugs tore through his cover. The crock saw him move and without even bothering to take his finger off the trigger jerked his gun left. The Colt in the scrambling wolf's hand went off again as the bullet passed inches above the crocks left eye. The second round slammed into his right shoulder as his arm seemed to lock up, pulling the gun with it.
The trail of lead the Thompson was spiting passed just above Brett's head as the lizard turned, with the remaining rounds going into the celling. Brett got off another shot that tore through the big lizard's knee and two more into his heaving chest as he went down.
The Thompson ran dry and sudden quite was deafening. The only sound was the soft ringing in Brett's ears and the almost soft death rattle of the crocodile's dying breaths. A pained whimper came from the hall before the wolf heard a solid wooden thud and the whimper died. Brett slowly maneuvered till he was again behind his slightly perforated desk.
"Is he empty?" whispered a voice from just outside the door. Brett squared up and sent his remaining three rounds into the wall just to the left of the doorframe about waist high. There was a high pitched squeal as Brett's gun locked open. His empty mag hit the floor as something moved in the doorway. A panther appeared, revolver raised high as flame roared from the barrel of his gun.
Something hot kissed one of Brett's ears as the bullet exited though his now destroyed window. One paw was moving with his last mag but it wouldn't make it in time as the big cat lunged firing again. His round tore a furrow in Brett's right shoulder as one paw came up to try and knock the gun away.
As the panther's body cleared the desk his finger moved a third time and the hammer of his gun fell on a spent round. In the next instant the cat crashed into Brett as he felt claws rake at his chest. His arms came up to guard his face as the panther tried to wrap his paw around Brett's neck. The wolf felt a wrist bump against his chin as his jaws snapped shut and his teeth sink into fur and flesh. He twisted as he felt bone crunch and the Panther yowl above him. Claws raked at the side of his face as he managed to get on top of the flailing feline.
One of his free paws bushed against something slender as he grabbed at it and swung blindly at the cat's face. The bottle of scotch slammed into the crown of the cat's forehead blinding him and leaving Brett holding only half a bottle.
The wolf released the cats arm as he shoved the sharp neck of the broken bottle up and into the underside of the panther's chin as a hot gush of blood decorated the cat's dark fur. Brett could feel he body under him thrashing as he forced the bottle deeper and more blood appeared while a noise half way between a scream and a gurgle. The wolf didn't stop pressing until the body under him grew still and silent before he slowly stood.
There were ragged tears in the front of his suit, of which many were bleeding. Cuts covered his forearms and as the adrenalin slowly burned out of his system the place where the bullet grazed his shoulder began to ache. He spat trying to clear his mouth of blood as he stood and looked around the room.
The panther lay dead at his feet and the crocodile was sprawled out in the middle of the room still clutching his Thompson. The weasel with the shotgun sat sprawled against the hallway wall opposite his door, chest was a mass of red. His dead glassy eyes stared back at the wolf as his other arm lay dangling limp from the left side of the door way.
Brett groaned as he bent low and retrieved his pistol and his last remaining mag. The fresh magazine slid home as he released the slid and brought the gun up. A small whimper sounded out in the hall as he moved slowly towards his destroyed doorway. There slumped against the wall closest to his office was a ram with his paws clutched to his chest.
Movement flicked at the corner of his vision as he saw a coyote cringing on the floor. He had one paw over the ruined remains of the left side of his muzzle. He began to crawl backward and away from the wolf as he sobbed, only stopping when the barrel of Brett's pressed into the space between his eyes.
His sobbing intensified as he tried to speak and blood and drool spilled out of his mouth in equal amounts.
"Quiet," barked Brett as the coyote shut up. "Who do you work for?" If it was possible to look anymore scared the dog canine managed it as the barrel of Brett's gun pressed harder between his eyes. The wolf didn't say a word as he slowly drew his knife and watched the scared thugs eyes widen further.
"One more chance," he said darkly.
The coyote suddenly vomited nearly hitting Brett's shoes as he tried to speak again.
"Ffarr-coonne! Farl-cone!" said the coyote as the feeling in Brett's guts dropped a bit lower.
"Where were you suppose to meet? Where did they take the girl?" growled the wolf and the coyote started shaking.
"Hhrrbor-wurrhars," coughed the canine as Brett slid the knife back into his boot. The blued steel of his 1911 slipped back into his shoulder holster as he stood straighter.
"Keys?"
The coyote gave him the strangest look as he pointed to the dead rat with one paw. Brett stepped over the dead rat and found a set of car keys as he checked his pockets. The wolf reached into his own and tossed own keys into the coyotes lap and briefly looked down.
"I don't need to tell you to skip town do I?" said Brett as the stunned gangster shook his head.
With that the gray furred wolf tuned began the long walk down three flights of stairs. The black saloon was still out front as he slid inside it and inserted the borrowed keys. A throaty V8 rumble greeted his ears as he pointed the car in the direction of his place as he stepped on the gas.
The car screeched to a halt in front of his small bungalow as he ripped open the door and marched up the steps to his house as the wolf tried to formulate a plan. The coyote had said Falcone and that was bad for everyone involved.
Everyone in the city knew James T. Falcone. He was the cities head mobster and had built an empire atop the bodies of countless furs. The media of course loved the dapper Falcon. He had anyone of note charmed and those who he couldn't charm bought. The bird regularly preened and strutted with all the notables of Hollywood while running most of the cities vice. The Teflon Don they called him, because he was completely untouchable. And he had Vicki and Steven in his claws.
Brett knew why they had wanted Vicki. Clearly they still thought Steve had stolen from them and they wanted to know where the money was. Only he obviously hadn't been very forthcoming. That was why they needed Vicki. If Steve had any secrets then he would be giving them up just as soon as they got their hands on her.
Brett moved through his house with a singular purpose as he reached his bedroom and moved into his closet. There in the corner was a wooden chest in olive drab green. He undid the latch and reached inside as he pulled out a Winchester 1897, an old war buddy from days gone by. He racked the shotgun opening the breach as he grabbed a box of buckshot from inside the chest. One shell went into the chamber and five more followed into the tube as he dumped the rest of the rounds into his pockets.
As he stood up he saw an old dark overcoat of his that he never seemed to wear anymore. He slipped it over his shoulders before moving out of his bedroom and towards his door. As he neared it he saw that he had forgot to even shut it as the stooped figure of his landlord came into view.
The ancient looking shrew held up a finger and was about to say something to her tardy tenant when she saw the shotgun in Brett's hands. The wolf kept walking straight past the shrew and straight on to his borrowed car. She still hadn't managed to get a word in as the motor roared to life and tires squealed as he pointed the car towards the waterfront.
The coyote had said the harbor warehouse, and everyone knew where that was. It was the primary place of business for Falcone Import-Export. Just one the bird's many businesses and a dead zone for the city's cops. No patrol car passed within 3 blocks of the place and many on the force simply pretended it didn't exist. It was the type of place that had more bodies coming in than leaving.
The wolf tried to imagine what was waiting for him as he sped towards the shore. There had to be at least four guys and probably a look out. The one silver lining was they were probably waiting on the five heavies to show up after they took care of him. That gave him an in. A slim in mind you but it was there. Luck seemed to be on his side today but after that last scuffle he was probably bone dry. Either way after plugging four of Falcone's men he was driving in the wrong direction if he wanted to stay on this side on the ground.
Ideas about how to get into the warehouse were not coming as the canine neared his destination. The lookout and whoever was inside had to be wondering where the hell the rest of the men where and why they were so late. Brett's mind flicked briefly back to the sputtering blubbering coyote he had left alive when it hit on something. Whoever was guarding the gate had better be nose deaf and stupid.
He rounded the corner to see the gate to the place was closed as he pulled off the road and onto the sidewalk as close as he tucked the shotgun into his coat with one hand and slowly opened his car door. The street was almost pitch black as he leaned against the door and waited till he heard someone come to the gate. Brett ducked his head slightly as he tried to work a hitch into his voice before letting out a garbled "help!"
He herd the fur at the gate swear and the jingle of keys as the scent of boar floated to his nose.
"Christ Jimmy is that you? Where the hell is everyone else? Boss is about to lay an egg in there! What the fuck happened?"
"Emm shot," Brett grunted as he tried to cover his face with one arm and leaned more heavily on the door. The pig moved towards the car as the wolf's knife slowly found its way into his paw.
"You got clipped?" he said moving around the door. "Where'd you get pegged and where the fuck is everyone else-" Brett saw the boar's his face go pale as he got close enough to see the wolf's face but it was too late. A knee slammed into his groin as Brett grabbed the thug and threw him against the car. The big wolf managed to get a paw around his muzzle to stifle his cries before the cold touch of steel at his neck silenced him completely.
The wolf's free paw searched the boar's waistband until he felt the wooden handle of a revolver. He slowly pulled it out and tossed into the driver's seat with his shotgun as he turned his attention back to the pig. He could smell the other man's feat and see confusion in his eyes as he adjusted the knife, as his hard stare bored into the unfortunate swine.
"If you want to live past tonight you are going to tell me everything I want to hear. We clear?" The pig gave a short nod as Brett's eyes darted to the open gate.
"You've got a cat and a fox in there right?"
He nodded again.
"Both alive?"
"The bitc- the c-cats still kicking, the fox though he looked pretty rough. You can't be thinking of going in there though. You know who's warehouse this is? You know who that fox stole from. Guys got an expiration date on him already."
"How many are in there," said Brett with a growl as his knife pressed harder.
"I c-can't, I CAN'T. He'll kill me if I tell you get in there."
"Its either him latter or me right now slick but hey if you want to take your chances with me that's fine. It sure worked out well for your friends. You'll be meeting them soon." Brett felt his prisoner nearly convulse as the fear smell spike and blind unthinking panic began to fill his beady little eyes.
"F-f-five guys not counting Falcone, but y-you can't save them so please just let me go. I won't tell any-
The frame of the cardoor silenced any further words the boar had as Brett slammed it as hard as he could into the boars forehead. He crumbled quietly against the car as Brett hurriedly picked him up and all but threw him into the back seat of the car. The impact put a huge dent in the door and shatterd the glass which felt out in clips and flakes when Brett moved it again. He reached into the driver's seat and withdrew the browed revolver as well as his shotgun and tucked the pistol into his right pocket. He quietly slid the slide of his trench gun back half an inch as he checked the chamber and brought it to his shoulder before sliding between the open gates.
The smell of dirty oily shoreline hit his nose hard as he moved toward the big building. It was a dingy metal structure that sat with one end by a heavy wooden pier and the other by the gates. Brett saw a pair of heavy freight doors on one side of the building and a smaller entrance on the other as he slid up beside it and pressed an ear against the smaller door. He waited for almost a whole minute like that before easing it open and sliding inside. A tack board and a punch clock greeted him in a lobby that contained only three chairs and a lonely looking coffee machine.
He moved across the room silent as could be and through another doorway into what looked like an office. It had a window out into the lobby and another door in the rear which was cracked. A bit of light was coming through the open door. As he moved closer he could hear muffled speech and what sounded like quite sobbing. He pushed the door open a hair more and saw that it led into the main room of the warehouse. A wall of cargo in wooden boxes stacked nearly to the celling greeted him as he moved towards them.
The dim industrial lights hung from the rafters did little to dispel the gloom of the place as Brett carefully picked his way towards them through a maze of narrow isles till he could make out individual voices. The wolf slid up against the last full row of freight between himself and the voices as he peeked through a slit between boxes. The end of the room was clear of any crates save a single waist high pallet between him and the other occupants.
Just past that stood seven males in loose circle around two chairs. Tied to the chair on the left was a red furred fox that looked like death warmed over. His face was a mass of bruises as blood drooled down onto a bare chest that looked like it had been tenderized by a baseball bat. His one good knee now bent at a slightly crooked angle. The only sign he was alive was the slightest movement of his head each time he breathed.
In the other chair sat Vicki. Clothed in only her underwear, she sat tears rolling down her cheeks as a massive horse sat just behind her with a paw on each of her shoulders. The hungry expression on the equines face made Brett seethe as he noted the rat policeman right beside them. Behind Steve were three other thugs. A hyena, a stag, and some breed of canine Brett didn't recognize. All of them were armed with revolvers in shoulder holsters save the cop who wore his on his belt. What worried the wolf the most was the falcon pacing slowly back and forth between his two prisoners.
Falcone looked out of place among his men dressed in an impeccably tailored suit as he strode across the concrete floor. He held a cigar in his sharp clawed fingers as he slowly crewed on it. Bits and pieces off it littered the floor as he swore and threw the thing away and whirled on the bleeding fox.
"Mr. Grant you are doing your level best to test my patience, and I don't think that your health can afford to do so again. Since it seems that you put so little stock in your own wellbeing we're going to try something different. If you don't tell me where my money is I'm going to turn my head and let Mr. Fronz here do anything he likes to your pretty little wife."
Vicky let out another loud sob as the dog behind Steve grabbed the top of his head and yanked him upright.
"I told you I don't have it," he coughed as a wad of blood and spit hit the floor.
"Then who did you give it to?" asked Falcone.
"I DIDN'T TAKE YOUR MONEY," shouted the fox on the verge of tears as the horse slipped an arm around the cat's neck and sniffed at her hair.
"Grant, I don't know how you imagine this turning out for you both but let me enlighten you how it's going to go. You're never going to leave this room. The only thing you can control is the state you leave your wife in when you go so TELL ME WHERE MY MONEY IS!" screamed the bird as he bent over the batted fox.
A primal sense in the wolf told him that if anything was going to happen it had to be now as he picked his targets. His body went tight as a wire as the surge started in his legs as the wolf sprang out from behind the corner. The brass bead of the shotgun was square on the big horse's head as Brett's trigger finger moved.
The shotgun roared and most of the horse's head vanished in a cloud of red mist. Brett was a step closer to his intended target, the wooden pallet, before anyone reacted. It was the rat who moved first. He was covered in brain and gore but his paw was already on the butt of his revolver as he turned and it cleared his holster. Brett's forearm was already moving forward again as an empty shell was thrown out of the gun and a fresh one slid into the chamber.
It takes a brave man not to freeze up when he is showered by the brains of the man next to him. The rat was brave. He was also quick as his gun made it horizontal, but he wasn't as fast as Brett as he pulled the trigger again midstride. Nine double ought lead balls tore through his wrist just below his paw on the way to his heart as the impact turned and spun his upper body.
Brett realized at this point that he was roaring at the top of his lungs and had been since the first shot as his forearm kept moving feeding his Winchester. The barrel of the shotgun began on its ark right as he drew another step closer to cover. There was a flash of feathers across Brett's field of vision as Falcone dived low and toward Vicky. He couldn't stop the motion of the gun as Steven and the three furs behind him came into his sights.
The dog directly behind the bound Steven was trying to jerk him upright to shield himself as Brett's shotgun fired again. He went limp and released the fox as a load of buckshot slammed into his neck. Brett was feet from cover when his luck ran out and the remaining pair shot nearly simultaneously.
Both shots were true as the hyenas hit him in the side and glanced off a rib. The other blew through the meat of his thigh as he felt his whole left side light up with in pain. The wolf's leg buckled as the floor rushed up to meet him. The shogun when flying out of his hands as his back slammed into the pallet.
Silence reined over the room for a long moment as Brett tried to test his leg and gripped at his side. It didn't feel like his leg would last long if at all as he looked at the shotgun on the floor several yards away. It grew no closer as he slipped his borrowed revolver out of his pocket.
"Listen here whoever the fuck you are! You got five seconds to come out of there before my boys come around there and put you down," shouted the falcon as he grabbed Vicky and pulled her in front of him. Brett heard her whimper as he the bird began move her toward where the others were. Brett chanced the briefest of glances around the pallet as he saw the stag trying to untie Steve while the twitchy looking hyena tried to keep his shaky gun paw steady.
Brett took the revolver and pointed over the pallet as he rapidly fired all six rounds blind above the heads of the two thugs. He heard the bird shout something but the shots had the desired effect. Two guns started firing almost simultaneously above and all-round the wolf as he waited and slid his .45 from his holster. As quickly as they had started the shots stopped as his he heard a metallic click and then the sound of a pile of brass hitting the floor.
Brett swung out from behind the crate as he gun came up and saw the hyena fumbling with his gun, cylinder out and tipped backwards. Three forty five slugs slammed into his chest as his aim shifted to the stag. The buck pulled the trigger of his revolver again as the hammer fell on an empty chamber. Brett's colt again fired three times, each shot ringing true. The deer sagged, his chest bleeding crimson as his wheelgun clattered to the floor. The wolf swung towards the falcon only to find that the bird with a colt pocket hammerless pressed against Vicky's head as he held her upright and in front of him.
The bird's free arm was warped around her with his talons at her neck as he stared Brett down. His gun didn't waver as he tried to get a shot but Falcone quickly tucked his entire body behind his living shield. Limping slowly Brett kept his gun on the falcon as he moved over to the wide eyed fox still bound to the chair.
"I don't know you and I know everyone," said Falcone as he stared down Brett while the wolf's left hand found his knife.
"Its my partner you fuck," coughed Stevie as the wolf's knife began to chew through the ropes around the fox's wrists. Realization flashed across Falcone's face as he griped Vicki tighter causing her to whimper.
"You're the flatfoot that threw Freddy off the top of that building a few years back. What a bit of police work that was, saved me a good bit of trouble on that one wolfy. You help this fucker steal my money?"
"No," said Brett as the muscles in his arm began to burn and ache.
"Yeah I didn't think so. Fox boy there is not smart enough to keep someone as useful as you around which means you are here for her then. Does the mister know about your thing with the miss here or does he like to sit and watch while you fuck his piece?"
"I'd worry about your own head right now," said Brett as he tried to ignore the pain in his leg and side as it began to throb. The bird squawked and cackled as he took a step backward and his claws dug a bit deeper into Vicky's neck.
"Time is on my side you fucks. I got a whole car full of hard cases like your wolf friend here coming if you two don't manage to bleed out before they get here. And when they do get here we're going to paint this whole warehouse red with your guts, and I'm going to feed each of you the others balls."
"You mean the panther and his friends? They won't be joining us. Neither will the boar outside," said Brett as Falcon's gun began to tremble just a bit.
"Well I guess I have to do it all my self then," spat the falcon. "Wolf if you don't drop that piece in the next ten seconds blondie's head gets a new hole.
"I swear to god Falcone, you touch hair on her I'll-
"Do what you fucker? You knew what would happen when you took my money. Maybe she even had a chance if you had given it up but now it has come to this. Both of you two are going to be in the ground before the end of the day and I'm going to chain this one to my bed until I get tired of her. Then she's going into the same hole with the both of you, ALL BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD FUCK WITH JAMES T. FALCONE!" screamed the bird.
Time seemed to slow as Brett caught a hint of movement out of the corner of his eye as Stevie lunged forward with a feral snarl. Falcone's gun came off of Vicky's temple as he leveled it at the charging fox and began to fire. Vicky jerked and sank her teeth deep into the elbow of the arm around her neck as Falcone twisted sideways trying to get his arm free and away from the snarling vulpine. His gun went off once, twice nearly at point blank into the fox's chest as Stevie latched onto his wrist. The slicking crunch of bone was heard as the falcon's gun hand went limp and he screamed louder as Brett tried to line up a shot without hitting his former partner.
The fox was still latched on the bird's wrist trying to tear his arm from his socket as Vicky at last fell away. Falcone's good talons raked up Stevie's chest slicing it to ribbons as he tried to get the fox off him but it only made him bite harder. With another sickening snap the fox's fangs severed the last of the tendon and bone in the falcon's wrist as his entire paw was ripped from his body.
He screamed a sound Brett didn't think mortal throats were capable of as the fox dropped to the floor grisly prize still locked in his jaws. Falcone seemed to step backward staring at the stump where talons had once been as Brett brought the sights of his gun up. The bird jerked as Brett fired and he saw his bullet tear a furrow in the mobster's neck just a above his collar bone.
Brett felt his gun lock back as his other hand began to reach for another mag when the half dead bird of prey let loose another ear bending streak. He moved faster than Brett thought possible, deadly claws of his only remaining hand outstretched. Murder filled his eyes till there was nothing hate as Brett tried to bring the butt of his gun down on the head of the charging raptor only to have him bat it away with his bloody stump. Fingers wrapped around knife hilt in his boot as he brought his gun arm up to protect his neck and five razor sharp nails sank deep into his forearm.
They were falling backward now. Brett's foot had caught on something or someone as he saw Falcon's beak dart forward as the bloodied bird's body crashed into his. He meant to take at least one of the wolfs eyes.
"DIIIIEEEEEEEEE!" screeched the bird as Brett felt his rancid breath on his face and he felt the bird twist the talons that impaled in his arm. The tip of Brett's blade plunged upward into the bird's chin just as the hooked point of the falcon's beak stopped less than an inch from his eye. He felt the bird's body jerk and shudder as his beak snapped again trying one last time to blind the wolf. He shoved the knife in harder till he felt it grate against the bone inside the top of the raptors skull. He twisted the knife and he felt the body atop his twitch and shutter as he let go of his blade and shoved the body atop his off.
He slowly rolled over onto all fours only now feeling where his back had slammed into the hard cement floor. His arm hurt so bad he couldn't even move it as he pressed the bleeding limb against his chest.
"STEVIE! OH GOD BRETT HE'S DIEING" screamed Vicky as Brett managed to get to his feet. One look told him all he needed to know. There were several bloody bullet wounds in his upper chest and Brett could see the blood starting to ooze onto the floor below him. There was a rend that started at his navel and ran nearly to his sternum he was holding closed with own paw. He already smelled like death and the wolf could see the light fading from his eyes.
He motioned for Brett with his one hand as he whispered something to soft for even the canine's keen ears as he turned and placed on near Steven's lips.
"Brett I'm... so... sorry. I took it. The... money... it's under the floor of... bandstand at the... club. Take it... take her... please," he whispered as Brett went ridged. His good paw gripped at the scruff of Steven's as he pulled the dying fox till they were eye to eye. A snarl formed on his lips as he began to shake gripping the vulpine tighter and tighter until he let out a soft pained wine. The fox could not meet his former partner's eyes as he tried to look away. Vicky sobbed as Brett's head jerked upward. She flinched away from the wolf him as he stared up at her. Brett shook his head tried to drive the murderous look from his eyes before slowing looking back down to hide them only to see that Steven was gone.
Brett slowly released the foxes gently as he could before standing up slowly.
"Oh god.... Is he... is he?" asked Vicky as Brett slowly nodded before she let loose another sob and collapsed on top of his body. Brett stood there as the calico wailed and cradled her husband's body until at last her tears stopped flowing. She got to her feet shaking like a leaf as the wolf stepped forward. The cat grabbed onto his larger frame as he held her slim body upright with his good arm.
"What did he say to you?" said slowly looking Brett in the eyes.
"He said to tell you he loved you," said the wolf as he gripped her tighter. "He loved you more than anything else in this world." She began to sob softly again as Brett squeezed her tighter and prayed that she believed him.