“Doctor Orr!” the reporter called, appearing from off-screen. “Doctor Orr, what do you have to say about the allegations that have been made against you?” “No comment,” Arthur answered, pushing her out of his way. “Is it true that you have been forcing patients to have sex with you in exchange for treatment?” Arthur turned. “Just what part of no comment didn’t you understand?” “Doctor Orr, are you concerned you might lose your medical license as a consequence of the allegations?” “This is bullshit,” Arthur said in a huff, turning away from her. A gunshot rang, and as the cameras turned away from Arthur, red was visible on the side of his head. The camera panned over the panicking people before returning to Arthur’s form, unmoving on the sidewalk. Blood was pooling around his head. The image changed to a koala seated behind a desk. “Late afternoon yesterday, Doctor Arthur Orr was gunned down by a religious fanatic as he exited Benioff Children’s Hospital. The shooter was apprehended two blocks from the hospital, still carrying the gun. The shooter claims he did it to protect the children. His full statement is available in the link below, but it is not for the faint of heart.” I picture of Arthur appeared over the koala’s shoulder; he wore a suit and stood in a large dining hall, among other people in suits. One of the many fundraisers he attended on behalf of the cities’ hospitals. “Doctor Orr was a respected doctor who donated his time at many of San Francisco’s hospitals and ran the surgery department at the UCSF Medical Center in spite of his young age. He was twenty-three when he was shot. “Arthur Orr was one of eight brothers who inherited the Orr fortune after their fathers death in the much-publicized car accident a little more than a year ago.” A picture of the eight of them at a funeral appeared, with Dietrich, massive, behind them. Dominic had refused to leave his club, even for this. “In spite of the wealth, Arthur Orr continued to work just as hard for the sick of the city, both at the hospitals and his private clinic. While the Orr families has always flirted with controversy, their fathers never hiding they were brothers who were intimate, and one of Arthur’s own brother being reputed to have links to organized crime, the good they have done for the city cannot be denied,” the image of his great grandfather replaced the group shot, “starting in the seventies when Robert Orr moved to San Francisco and used his wealth to push for tolerance, and then helping rebuilt after the gang war of 78 that left a large section of the city decimated. In the aftermath, new anti-discrimination laws were put in place in the city, and were adopted by the state six years later, making California the first state to fully protect the LGBT community, and led the way for further protections throughout the country until the adoption of the Matthew Shepard law on the federal level, in the wake of the young man’s beating and murder in 1998.” The image changed to Arthur again. A telephoto picture of him escorting a man out of his house. The man’s identity was blurred, making his entire form indistinct. Arthur was laughing. “Yesterday, allegations were made from an, as of yet, unidentified source that Arthur Orr engaged in gross misconduct in his private clinic, using it and the treatment he offered there as a way to coerce men into sexual acts. The Orr Family has never hidden that they were gay, each of the brother owning a gay club above their other duties to the city.” A picture of where Arthur died replaced his, with flowers and messages of thanks and love filling the screen. “People have set up a vigil, and the family has asked that anyone wishing to honor Arthur Orr’s memory donate to one of the city’s hospitals. The family has not indicated when the funeral would be held.” The koala paused to gather himself. “In other news, the city council—” Arnold reset the playback to the start and watched it again, and again, and again. He lost track of the number of times, fixating on his brother’s face, the annoyance at the reporter, the pleasure among his peers. The happiness at a joke well told. When he paused it, it was to play the message on his phone. “Hey Arnie,” Arthur’s voice came, he sounded tired. “I’m going to kill her, I swear. I don’t care how valuable she his to the hospital, she is just too bossy to live. Anyway, I just wanted to check in, I know I said we’d wait until this bullshit war was done with, but I miss you bro. How do you feel about having dinner tonight? I’m not saying we’ll resolve anything, I just want some quiet time in your company. Let me know.” The time on the message was three hours before he was killed. Arnold had been deep in conference calls with his brothers about the slew of allegations Damian had thrown directly at them. He’d had to send all calls to his message center because in spite of all the security on his phone, the news media outside the city had found ways around them. If he’d known about Arthur’s call, he would have been there, he would have noticed the shooter and protected his brother. He could have taken the shot in his place, it would have been chest height on him. Arnold could survive that. He’d actually been proud of the allegations, it meant they were hurting Damian. His family could survive allegations, as the news anchor said, those weren’t rare for them. He’s been proud, he was winning this war of bad publicity. Albert had been the one to interrupt the council with the flash news. Arnold had been so proud up until that moment. He listened to the message again. If he’d taken the call, it would all have been different. He ignored the commotion on the other side of the door. No one should have known about this house, but of course, disappearing wasn’t possible for someone like him. He didn’t know which one of his brothers had gotten Simon to talk, but they’d found him and tried to get him to come back. Arnold didn’t think he’d hurt Alex too badly, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to be left alone. He’d even sent his list of fathers to Simon’s phone before deleting it, to remove any temptations he’d leave this house. The male voices raised in pitch, growing fearful before being silenced. There was a soft knock. “Go the fuck away!” The handle rattled. Good fucking luck, deadbolt without a keyhole on your side. Only option is for you to try to kick the steel door in. The deadbolt turned until it was undone. Arnold stared at it as the door opened and the cheetah entered. What the fuck was he doing here? Denton closed the door and stayed there, looking uncomfortable. Arnold looked at his phone, ignoring the cheetah. He wanted to hear Arthur’s voice, but not while he had an audience. “What’s with the dad bods in the other room?” the cheetah asked. “What the fuck do you care?” “I don’t.” The cheetah said after a hesitation, “just seems odd for you, and to keep them locked out.” “I’d think a locked door would be fucking clear as a message, but no, Denton fucking Brislow won’t get that. He just barges in wherever he wants.” “You taught me that one, remember? Barging in me apartment, demanding I help you rescue your brother.” Arnold glared at him, but the bastard looked at ease now. “How are you doing Arnold?” “Fuck off!” “That good, huh?” Arnold was on his feet, his phone already flying at Denton’s face. It stopped in mid-air. Zoomed toward the dresser. Denton cursed as it stop barely an inch from the wall and dropped on the dresser. “What the fuck?” “Sorry, this power didn’t come with sensitivity controls. It starts at ‘tearing cars apart’ and goes up from there.” “Of course, you show up to rub my muzzle in how special you fuck are.” “I didn’t—” the cheetah sighed. “Would you prefer I let your phone shatter against the door?” “Your face.” He smiled “that wasn’t going to happen. I like my face the way it looks. So, what’s the deal with those men?” “Are you stupid or something? Get the fuck out!” “Oh, it’s been established over and over I’m a certified idiot.” The cheetah grinned and Arnold wanted to go there and punched it off his face. He looked at the phone, recalled the way the commotion ended in the other room and stayed where he was. “Now that I’ve confirmed I’m too stupid to know what’s good for me,” Denton said, “how about you sit in that bed and talk to me?” “Don’t you fucking tell me what to do.” Denton sighed. “Just talk, okay? I fucking hate this part of being a friend, because I suck at offering comfort that doesn’t involve us making the bed slam against the wall for hours on end.” “We’re not friends,” Arnold snorted. “Believe me, I don’t fly a thousand miles on short notice for just anyone, so get used to it. You actually have one friend, two, if I understand your relationship with Detective Ithaka correctly. And before you repeat yourself, I’m not leaving, so talk to me Arnold.” Arnold stared at him, the anger fading to dismay. He didn’t know how to deal with this. He didn’t to talk, not to him. Not to that self-entitled Society asshole who’d flown here to shove himself into his grief. At least his brothers had respected his decision after he broke Alex’s arm. “He’s dead.” The words resonated in the silent room. “I— He— we were going to patch thing up. He called me Arnie again. We were going to have dinner, talk. I was getting my brother back, and he stole that from me!” Arms kept him from crumbling. Held him tight as he wailed in the fur. His Midge was gone. He’d never get to look at him wistfully, to dream of a life where the two of them were happy, together. He’d never hear Midge scream at him for being weak, for loving him. “I didn’t keep him safe. That was my job, and I didn’t do it. What kind of brother am I that I let him die?” “You didn’t let anything happen to him,” Denton said. “You told me he didn’t want the bodyguards, it was his—” Arnold shoved the cheetah away. “Don’t you fucking dare put that on him. I run security. I decide who gets what protection, not Midge! I should have ignored what he wanted!” “You’re not that kind of brother, Arnold. You—” “No, I’m the kind who lets the brother he loves die!” Denton let out an exasperated sigh. “Arnold, you were kind of busy trying to stop a madman from destroying us.” “Like that helped.” The cheetah rubbed his face. “Arnold, you can’t stay hidden here.” Arnold snorted. “Watch me. They’re all better off without me.” “Yeah, not so much. You haven’t been gone twenty-four hours that half the families are fighting each other for leadership instead of fighting Damian.” “I don’t fucking care. You take over. You kick them in the balls and put them in line. Anyone will do a better job than I did.” “Oh no. I am not taking charge of that bunch of intolerant assholes who would love to see me dead in spite of what I did for them.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m already not getting enough sleep as it is with dealing with the mess that’s Denver right now, Eddy and those fucking dreams He keeps sending me.” Arnold stiffened. He heard the capital letter. “He talks to you?” Denton looked surprised. “Not like that, He—” “He sends you dreams?” Arnold ground his teeth. “What kind of dreams?” “Bullshit stuff, His live story. Like I give a damned what his excuse is for letting my parents die.” Arnold grabbed the cheetah by the collar and slammed him against the wall. “How long?” “I don’t know.” “How fucking long, Brislow? Before this whole mess started?” “I guess? Look, He started at the beginning, repeated it over and over for no reason. I didn’t—” “He chose you.” Arnold had trouble breathing. He’d been so sure, he’s felt it in his balls. He was chosen, his family was chosen. They weren’t just around to fuck. They’d been picked to rule. “Hey, I did ask for this,” the cheetah said. “As far as—” Arnold’s punch sent him to the floor. “Ask for this?” Denton glared at him, his muzzle straightening. “He chose you, and you have the gall to complain?” “He killed my family!” Denton stool, wiping the blood from his intact muzzle. “Damian did that, the same guy who’s now busy killing the rest of us.” The cheetah pointed up, “He let it happen! He let me parents die my entire line die! Just so what? I’d be some sort of powerhouse for him to point at His enemies. Well fuck Him!” Arnold punched the cheetah again hard enough he flew against the wall before falling to the floor, holding his chest. “He’s our god! We are His!” “I am not his fucking slave!” “You’re His fucking champion! Are you fucking blind? He picked you to protect Him. Who fucking care the cost? We’re not talking one line, or even twenty! He is all of us! If He dies, what the fuck do you think happens to us? Forget what Damian will do, what’ll happen as He dies? As He tries to hang on the life because you fucking refused your role in front of all of us! You’re supposed to be there, reminding us why we’re fighting, who we’re fighting for! You—” Arnold’s voices failed him as he understood something. “You were supposed to lead us.” He tried to swallow the bile down. What had he done? What had Denton let him do? With a scream he rushed the cheetah. “How could you let me take over?” he punched the cheetah in the face, the chest, anywhere he could see. “He chose you!” Arnold screamed through his sobs. “How could you turn away from that honor?” The hand pressed against Arnold’s chest and he flew back across the room, cracking the wall where he hit before falling on the bed. “Honor?” Denton spat as he took a step forward. “What fucking honor is there it letting my entire family fucking be wiped out!” Arnold pulled his knees to his chest. “Don’t you get it?” he could barely see Denton through the tears. “Midge is dead because you let me take charge.” He wiped at his eyes. Denton stood in place looking at his hands. “Fuck,” Denton whispered. “Fuck,” he said, then screamed it, the walls cracking. He looked up. “I didn’t ask for this, do You hear me? Why me? I’m nobody!” Arnold snorted and earned himself a glare. “Nobody my fucking ass.” He wiped at his eyes again. “Fucking look around, you see anyone else here? No, of everyone out there, you are here, and shut the fuck up with your friend bullshit. I never gave you a reason to be a friend. Even my fucking brothers ran the moment I broke Alex’s arm. You haven’t turned your fucking back on any of us in spite of all the reason we’ve given you to take your stuff and leave. God’s balls, how many in the Society can even say your fucking name and not spit? What are you fucking doing still talking to any of them?” Denton leaned against the door and shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s who I am, I guess. I want to help.” He chuckled. “I even saved Alice’s life in spite of her hating my guts.” Arnold was tempted to ask who that was, but getting sidetracked here wouldn’t help. “If you saved her, why won’t you save Him?” “How can I? After everything he took from me?” “He didn’t take anything.” “Yes, he did!” “Says fucking who?” “Da—” Denton closed his mouth, then his eyes with a groan. “Are you fucking telling me you took Damian’s word on something like this?” Arnold looked for anything positive to say. “Are you a fucking moron?” Denton sighed, then chuckled. “Evidently.” Then he was laughing. Arnold stared at him. What the fuck was wrong with the cheetah this time? A Denton slid down the wall, Arnold found himself chuckling. He tried to stop, absolutely nothing in this situation was funny, full-on laughter exploded out of him and he couldn’t think for a while. His laughter turned back into snickering before Denton, and then they were both silent. The knife in his heart when he thought of Arthur was gone, replaced with an ache so deep he wasn’t sure it wouldn’t still kill him, in time. “So,” Denton said, from across the room. “What are the dad bod porn actors doing in the other room?” Arnold sighed. “Think of them as a get-well gift from my family.” Denton tilted an ear and Arnold sighed again. “I have issues, okay?”