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The Road From Hell

It's going to take more than the mediocre beer and a few smokes to calm myself down from that horror. As soon as I can move my own arms again instead of whatever fake thing I was appearing as in that weird as hell hole in my head, I jump off the couch, take a deep drag off of the lit cig in my muzzle, and stomp off to the nearest liquor store. Being trapped inside your own body, watching as someone else walks you around like a puppet, is the single most terrifying experience I think I've ever had. I'm so happy that my work with "Dead Eye" has left me rather numb, because that meant that I could jump straight to anger to cover it up well enough.

So I have another person in my head. Not just a voice, not the remnants of trauma from contracted heists, or the faces of people I've watched die (in the slums themselves, or elsewhere) but a real person. Real enough to possess my body and pilot me like a fuckin' car.

Money gets tossed onto the counter of the store the moment I walk in; Valerie knows me from some of my odd jobs. I try not to think about any kind of paid work that I do for the drug lords and gangs, but hey, if it gets Dominique to stop by again outside of jobs, or even for Valerie to give me the time of day outside the store, I'll take the money for something I'm good at.

She knows what I come in for, but her eyes go wide at the sight of the unfamiliar amount of money. I need something stronger than my normal low shelf whiskey, and I grab a bottle of Wolfhound instead. 8% may not seem like a big difference, but believe me when I say that it's well worth it.

I'm desperate for a bit of fluidity to my thoughts so I don't keep throwing them around in circles around the person that has set up shop in there. So the moment I leave the store and turn the corner, I crack the cap off the bottle and tip it to my muzzle. I drink fire for a full three seconds before I pull off the glass and cough hard. It's a hacking cough, one that I've felt more recently on my heavier drinking stints, but I weather it and wipe my muzzle when it ends. I can already feel the world blur a little as I raise my head. Ah, Valerie. You always sell the good stuff.

The payphone on the corner of Sixth and Peterson, four blocks from home, is my next stop. A smoke gets lit and I puff on it while I slide a quarter into the phone and punch out a local number.

"Yeah," comes the answer, three rings in. The voice is deep, gruff, and is a perfect match for the coyote that it belongs to.

"'S the ringtail. Boss man around?"

"Thought youse died, kid. Lookin' fer work?" I can hear the sneer in his voice. I close my eyes and take another drag.

"Not from you, Yates. I still got bruises from the last time."

"Har dee har. At least one of us had fun." I grimace. Not a big fan of Yates. "Yeah, matter o' fact he said Dead Eye was lookin' fer youse. Lemme see iffin she's still 'round." I coil my tail around my ankles and wait, holding the silent phone to my ear for a few more moments.

Calling in isn't the best idea I've had, but I figure that another job from "Dead Eye" will help me brush up on my focus, keep the visitor I have from tipping over anything he shouldn't. I don't even know how that works, but I had some nasty things showing up when I was the spectator, so I know that he can at least look around. That shit ain't for people to see.

"Yo, kid," the voice on the phone has changed. No longer the gruff bass of Yates, I'm greeted by the smooth, dulcet tones of my old mentor, now partner. I relax, but only a little. "Fleabag said you're lookin' for work."

"Sure am, partner. Whatcha got f'me?"

"Riverview Park, two hours. We'll talk there."

"Gotcha boss. Toodles."

I replace the phone and take a second, more controlled swig of my drink. Luck finally turnin' my way, you could say.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Dakota, listen, what the hell have you- is that a gun?

Leave me alone, has-been.

The weight of the only thing that isn't clothing that I own is comforting in its holster. I strapped on my uncle's harness from when he was a beat cop before coming down to the park, knowing that my partner would need me to be packin' heat.

Look, Dakota, are you alright? Are you really working with the mob?

Nope.

You're really set on making me try and figure out how to navigate your memories, aren't you?

Don't know how that works at all, but I damned well couldn't care. Amuse yourself.

Did I really piss you off this much?

I roll my eyes. Is this guy really as much of a blockhead as he puts on? Some sappy, entitled boy, thinks he knows what's best for everyone, just wants someone to hold. Fuckin' perfect. Now I have to play babysitter and mentor to some high born snob.

Yes, now stuff it. I need to focus.

The other cacomistle in my head grumbles more, but I tune him out. It's easy enough once I see the sleek form of my partner crest one of the bridges that this park is known for.

And of course, she's dressed the way she always is, probably with a wrapped chest underneath her black rain slicker. Never known her to let her assets hang out when she's on a job. Either way, she's a dame with enough fire to warrant the bright orange fur that covers her.

"Still as keen as your switchblades, Dom."

"Still as wiry as a bean pole, Kota."

I close the last few paces between us and slip my arms under hers while my tail coils around her calves. She leans into me, a weight against my chest that I've missed in the past few quiet weeks. "Sorry I been gone, Dom. Been cookier than a dime store the past week."

I can feel the butt of her gun against my side, sure as she can feel my piece holstered on my harness. "You never been anything but knocked off since I metcha, Kota. Don't be givin' no excuses. I'da come around iffin I thought you was in any real trouble."

My muzzle finds one of those coal furred ear tips. "You could always come around for more 'n just business, y'know. Been missin' ya."

"I got a reputation to keep. Can't have Bossman thinkin' I'm dizzy with mah partner, yeah? Could be dangerous for us both." Her breath, then her lips are warm on my muzzle. "I couldn' do that to mah favorite ringtail."

"Glad I'm still your favorite, you skirt hound. I been seein' how you was eyein' Lacey on the last "outing." I give her a teasing jab in the side with a finger and get her to giggle for me. I think I'm still the only one that can.

"She's a fine one, but she doesn't appreciate me like you do," she says, trying to sound haughty. It doesn't work as well as she would like.

Then again, if she could do that around me after this long, I'm sure she wouldn't romp with me like she does. It takes halfway to a miracle to get this dame to open up.

You really transform your speech for the people around you. Are you so shallow?

Of all the rotten- Will you keep yer trap shut, bucko? I'm trying to work.

"Ain't no one can appreciate a women like yerself, Dom. Well, maybe me," I grin at her, "but we'll have to test that one 'gain real soon, just t'be sure."

She pushes off of me in mock disgust, but I don't miss the brush of her tail across my front, lifting her slicker and skirt with the motion. As I said, as keen as a well honed switchblade. She jerks her muzzle for me to follow, a twinkle in her eye, and I follow with a paw on her back. "Skirthound yerself, Kota. But I didn' ask ya out here to talk pleasant with ya, nice as it is. Been missin' yer eyes when I'm stalkin' 'round the slums. Still a buncha unsavory folk about." She nudges my side with an elbow. "Ain't nobody better at prowlin' around the slums than you. Plus, you already know where most o' our targets are hidin' out. Yer like a bloodhound but without the smugness 'bout how much better yer nose is."

Which brings us back around to business again. She's smooth enough about it, so it doesn't feel jarring. "So, what's the plan today? New mark or recon?"

"Still got the sticky fingers, Kota? Because we're going to need them for what I got." Her eyes cloud and I know that she doesn't like what she's been given.

"I know that look, Dom. What does the boss want? Who are we going after?"

"Alan Giovetta. We need the skinny on what he's been doing and if possible, where his lackeys are. He's new into the family business, so he still has a list of his contacts on 'im. He's been pacing the slums in disguise and we need to lift that list." Her face is grim and I don't blame her. This is bigger than I've heard in a while.

The Giovetta Family is, as can probably be guessed, part of the crime syndicate known to most as just The Mafia. They comprise one of the larger branches of it in Caras, actually, and they're the primary rival to the Fangs, the gang that I do work for on occasion. We're a little bigger, but they have access to more resources outside of the city, so we can't keep them in check all of the time.

But if we can get the names and locations of the direct underlings to a part of the family itself... well, Yates would be busy for months pulling information from them. We'd be able to solidify our footholds across the richer side of the city as well as across the slums, and decisively establish ourselves as the owners of this turf. Discourage anyone else from moving in.

Not "we" particularly, I remind myself. I'll do the odd job for Dominique, and that means that I'm in the employ of "The Boss" and I don't want to cross him, but I'm not invested in the gang. I'll do construction contracts too, sometimes. I like to stay a bit straight edged, keep the claims to my loyalty few. Pretty sure only Dominique can claim it, right now. I hesitate to put Carter in that list, but I begrudgingly do it so I can keep Zachary from whining even more. At least he's been quiet.

"So he just carries around a piece of paper? Sounds way out of the Giovetta style, what little I know." I take her around the next corner, heading towards the other side of the slums.

"Nah, he's got a little black book. I only know that it's his contacts because he keeps lookin' at it and frowning before making turns, constantly referring to his little book. Iffin not his list of contacts, we can use it anyway." She's dropped into "job mode," so I don't try to make her smile or joke with her anymore.

"Or it means that they don' trust him as much. Boss does that with new recruits from time to time, doesn't he?"

She snorts as we take another corner. "He's part of the family, so they trust him by default. Iffin he's stupid enough to betray that trust, they grease him themselves. I seen it happen before."

I feel like I have too, but it's probably back in the mess of things I don't like to think about. "Keep family business within the family. Makes sense."

"But Alan seems to be goin' about his job differently. Either they're tryin' t'branch out, or he's not the brightest bulb. After followin' him for the past week, it could be either. He ain't exactly smart."

That's info I can take to the bank. Dominique didn't get into the Fangs' good graces just because of her looks. She's their best shadow, and information gathering is by far her specialty, if you don't want someone killed. She's also a perfect shot from at least three blocks with a pistol, farther if she's got a rifle. I used to joke that if I ever broke her heart, I'd be dead before I got home. She laughed, but she never denied it. I've been learning from her ever since, and I dare say that she's still a better shot, but I've grown to her equal in shadowing someone.

I'm still a better thief, but I'm no stranger to whacking a guy.

"Alright, so we tail him, I work my magic and you take the list back to Yates? Sounds easy enough. Where we picking up the mark?" I drape my tail around my neck to look more the part of the homeless, transitioning into the disguise I'll be using to lurch through alleys after our target. Never hurts to be in practice.

She takes the lead as I adjust my step. "19th south and Yosler. He walks down there from the high rises a few blocks away. Careful though, he always has muscle with him."

I wave the worry off as I tug on tattered gloves and kick up some dust to cover my paws. "Of course he does. I'm careful as a clam, Dom. Worst comes to worst, I drop into the alleys and lose him through Charon's place. I'm a ghost here, y'know."

I get a pat on the base of my tail before we switch places. "I can always find ya, Kota."

"That's because I always want ya to." I wink back at her. "Just wish it was more often that you was creepin' around my door."

"Maybe you be seein' more of me 'bout yer door soon. I been thinkin' o' gettin' out o' the business." Her voice sounds more wistful than I've heard it. That's not the Dominique "Dead Eye" Valterres that I know.

"Yates finally start rubbin' ya the wrong way? Happens to everyone sooner or later. That 'yote is seriously creepy."

"Nah, Yates knows not t'bother me after I nearly took his balls. Jus' been figgerin' that I could do with a calmer life. Find somewhere quiet an' take a few years off, y'know? Relax, feel like I can walk out o' my house without lookin' over mah shoulder. I ain't gettin' any younger bein' the gang assassin." I can hear the truth in her words. I frown. We're both still fairly young; I haven't exactly been keeping track, but I'm not that old. Dominique can't be much older than me.

"I been tellin' you to get out o' the Fangs for what feels like years, Dom. What'd make someone like you get out o' the game? We're the best team there is." I flick my tail from around my neck against her chest.

She bats at it and scowls. "Y'ever stop an' think 'bout what we been doin', Kota?" She turns me around with a shove and pushes me back against the nearest wall. "Stealin' fer the boss, takin' on the Giovettas, the Triad, and even the small fries. We got targets painted on our backs from jus 'bout everyone in town, but we know the ins an' outs. Why not get out while we can, run away and not look back."

I search her clear blue eyes and frown. You're not even listening to what she's saying, Dakota. I've been looking around in here and she's hinted at this in the past.

There's something different. Something wrong. My anger at Zachary simmers, but it's less important. Something new that wasn't there a month ago.

"Dom, talk to me. This ain't like you to be so hot about gettin' out o' the business. What happened?" I narrow my eyes at her, then glance up at our corner. We're only a few blocks out from Yosler. "This ain't 'bout this job, is it?"

She shakes her head and takes a step back, looking like the most nervous vixen I ever laid eyes on. "I'm tired o' killin' folk, Kota. I can't think you're not feelin' the same. I'da turned myself in already iffin I thought that new DA would do anythin' to protect me iffin I testified. I wanna get away. Word is 'at he's ruthless about gang members, even the ones who're comin' in to give the skinny on their gang. I don' wanna go to prison."

"Dom, lissen t'yerself. This ain't the vixen I know an' love. Stop trottin' around what it is and spill it." But before she speaks, I have an idea of what could cause this. She even mentioned it earlier. The Fang boss knows she's dizzy with me. Thinks I'm a liability.

Is he stupid? If you know the slums like I believe you do, there isn't anyone who could stalk us through here. Unless...

Unless he set Dom after us.

Her eyes don't come back up to mine. "They got Rads and put 'im away. Boss tol' me that there was only two ways 'at the DA and police chief coulda found Rads, and one was iffin you ratted us out, or if I did." I can draw the right conclusion from this.

"So there ain't no job today, is there?" I narrow my eyes further and twitch my tail, then rest one paw on my gun.

Her eyes go wide. "I ain't gonna whack ya, Kota! The boss did find out that I'm tied up in ya, so he tol' me to make sure you was loyal too. He wants us on the Giovetta tonight, but he wants us to try an' take out the new DA, or see iffin he can be bought." She bites her lip and I can see the ivory of her fangs against the white of her lower muzzle. "But he was sayin' that iffin you don't cooperate, I should be greasin' you. I ain't gonna do it, Kota. But I don' wanna cross the boss, an' I don' wanna go to the slammer!"

I look up at the sky. There's still some light left, so it's not too late in the day. Winter days are the death of my time telling skills. I don't think any Giovetta, regardless of how dim they were, would dare show their face around this area before nightfall. The Fangs would be all over 'em.

I think she's asking you to run away with her, Dakota.

I think she's asking me to hide her. She wouldn't run out on this city, not like this. Not without makin' sure the rest of her family was okay.

Maybe we should find out who the new DA is? I almost can't believe I'm talking civilly with the person who hijacked my body. That was just this morning! But he's not wrong and he's listened to me. I'm not rude without reason, most of the time.

"Calm down, Dom. C'mon, let's walk a little, stay out of sight though. Talk with me." I motion her into the alley to our right and I follow right behind her. "Now, what's with this about a new District Attorney? When did ol' Bones quit on us?"

She shakes her head and shudders enough that I feel the need to walk alongside of her with my tail curled around her waist. "Right after you up an' vanished on us. Bones resigned, sayin' he was too old an' too fat to be dealin' with the waste of the city on a daily basis. Retired t' the south, I heard. They brought in some young firebrand tha' I haven't seen yet. Boss gave me a brief idea o' where I can find 'im, but I don' wanna stalk around there just yet. I figger we can do 'at together and talk s'more, find a way out that won't get us both greased. You game?

I shake my head to clear it and grope at my pocket. I haven't had a smoke this whole time and it's getting to me. "Aw, geez Dom. You know I'd do jus' about anythin' y'ask me to. Here," I pass her a smoke, "I owe ya. An' to answer ya, I'll keep ya under wraps too, when it comes down t' gettin' out. You know ain't nobody but yerself 'at knows all o' my hidey holes about town. An' if the next week turns anythin' else up, I may have another place fer ya." I stick a cig in my muzzle and hold it close enough to hers to light both with one flame. After the first puff, I sneak a kiss to her cheek. "I take good care o' mah favorite vixen."

She pulls my tail around her shoulders and nods, delicately dragging smoke into her muzzle. "You do, at that. I couldn't ask fer a better partner to get me outta here. Yer mah guardian angel, Kota."

I stuff one paw into my pocket and huff out a breath, then take a pull on my smoke. "I ain't in the business of bein' an angel. Heaven don't got kind words f'me, y'know. I'm jus' on the road outta hell, same as yerself."

"Then I gotta say yer one hell of a guide."

My eartips flush and I flick them back against my head. I don't mind the affection, but it doesn't sit well with how I view myself. Always thought I was too much of a ruffian with too much blood on my paws to be the object of those kinds of words. But here she is, lavishing me with them and she knows, better than even myself, what I've done. What we've done. "'S long as that road takes us outta here in one piece, I'm all for it, Dom. C'mon, it's almost dark."