“Adam,” Arnold called, grabbing one man by the collar and kicking a woman away, “did you manage to call Ernest.” He head-butted the man. Another took his place. They were tough, which meant he didn’t have to be gentle with them.

“No,” came the reply.

“Then make the time and call, we’re going to—” he broke the arm, swung to punch him, but the man crumbled to the floor.

“I did call. Couldn’t through.”

A woman jumped on Arnold’s back and pummeled his head. “What do you mean?” He reached back, grabbed her by the back on the neck and pulled. She hit the floor hard enough to be dazed.

“I Mean that unless whoever controls the jammer decides to let us call out. We’re on our own.” He let out a curse, then there were bones breaking.

Arnold punched the woman in the face for good measure and stood. Only a handful of people were down, and two of them were already getting up. Kevin was fighting surprisingly well.

“We can stay in here. Brislow still needs help. Adam, open that door.” Arnold grabbed the two men closest and knocked their heads together, they didn’t go down so he knocked them together again, harder. A man came at him with a knife, but stumbled and fell, not moving once he was on the floor. Arnold checked him. He was dead.

A body hit something, and he glanced at Adam smashing a woman against the door repeatedly. 

A table broke over Arnold’s back and he stood glaring at the man holding the two legs. He was the first one to show fear and Arnold smiled. Only to frown as the man crumpled like a puppet with his strings cut. What was going on?

“Kevin, are you doing this?” Arnold indicated the dead bodies.

The otter spun around a guy twice his mass’ neck and brought him down, head hitting the floor hard. “I can’t do magic,” he replied, rolling out of the way of an incoming and kicking the woman’s legs out from under her. He stood, ready for her to do the same, but she wasn’t moving.

Adam ran at the woman leaning against the door, disoriented. He jumped and slammed both feet into her chest, sending her through the wood. He landed on his feet with a satisfied expression.

Arnold planted an elbow in the man trying to sneak up behind him. “Did you even try to see if it was locked?”

“No, why?”

“Adam.” Arnold rounded on the man still trying to approach, letting the momentum carry his fist in the man’s face. This time he went down. “I thought you liked things to be expedient.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “I like a good fight as much as you.” He paused. “Well, as Aaron anyway, I get snapping at my drivers from you.”

“Very funny.” Arnold exited the room.

“Where to?” Adam asked.

“We should go help Mister Brislow,” Kevin said, “if the Gray Church us here that means Damian is here too, and Mister Brislow came here to get the last piece of the artifact Damian is after. If he gets it, it’s bad news for all of us.”

“We know that part,” Adam said. “Any idea where he is though?”

Arnold walked by the elevator.

“Mister Orr?” Kevin called.

“We’re using the stairs. Whoever is jamming calls might be in control of the elevators. We’re not helping anyone stuck between floors.”

He opened the door and echoes of running came from above them.

“Those sound like boots,” Adam whispered. “Church?”

Arnold shrugged. He didn’t care who, so long as he got answers. He took the stairs up three at a time. On floor nineteen he turned the landing to come face to face with four men who pointed guns at his face.

“Wait!” Kevin yelled, “They’re with me, they’re friends. Orrs. That Arnold, that’s Adam, we just fought a bunch of—”

Adam grabbed him by the muzzle. “You got the message across, no need to recite the whole day.”

Kevin mumbled something that sounded to Arnold like ‘but I like to talk’.

“Where’s Brislow?” Arnold asked.

The men looked at one another, then the one in the lead said. “Thirtieth floor. Tom sent us down to get out of the jammer’s range and call the office. The others are trying to get in the room, but there’s magic keeping us out, Fred’s not having any luck breaking it.”

Arnold moved out of their way. “We’ll go help.”

On the thirtieth floor, finding the room was easy, the half-dozen men glaring at the door gave it away. As did the dead bodies in Gray Church armor littering the floor.

“Tom,” Adam called, “You guys not having any luck?”

“Adam,” the badger replied, “Arnold. What are you doing here?”

“We fought church guys,” Kevin said, then shut up, glaring at Adam.

“I mean what are you doing in Kansas City.”

“Brislow messaged me, asking for help,” Arnold replied, stepping over the bodies.

The badger frowned. “Okay, but there’s nothing we can do to get in.”

“Magic,” one of the two lions said. He was hands on knees, panting. “Not Society, and stronger than anything I’ve ever encountered before.”

The badger indicated the bodies. “Those would say Damian’s here, so it’s probably his magic.”

“Yeah, one of the guy we dealt with said ‘their lord’ wasn’t ready for me.” Arnold looked at the door, ran a hand along the avoiding the surface splinters. “You tried kicking it in, I take it?”

“Shot, kicked, elbowed, you name it, we tried. Colby used all his strength trying to get in.” The armadillo gave a wave from where he was lying on his back.

Arnold tried the handle. The door was locked.

“The magic’s below the surface,” the lion panted. “The surface layer was phrases that hid them, got rid of that, but the rest’s still there.”

“Give me space,” Arnold said. “Let’s see if I can do it.”

The armadillo snorted, but the badger had people move away.

The hall wasn’t very large, but Arnold wouldn’t let that stop him. Brislow had asked for help, and he was going to fucking provide it. He slammed his elbow in the door, and other than a stab of pain it had no effect. He pulled away and left behind a drop of blood rolling down the door. He pulled the large splinter out of his shoulder as the lock clicked.

“Did the door just unlock itself?” Tom asked.

Arnold tried the handle, and the door opened. He pushed both in onto a room with dented walls, streaked with blood. Damian was naked on his knees on one side, panting hard. Brislow was on the other, on all four, looking barely conscious.

“Dear nephew, you’re timing is impeccable,” Damian said.

“Stay out!” Brislow yelled, then he was flying up to the ceiling hard enough to leave a dent and blood. When he crashed to the floor something clattered beside him.

“Yes!” Damian yelled, and Arnold ran it, ignoring the sudden horniness that hit him. His uncle wanted it, so he was going to keep it from him. Five steps in, He tripped, and by the time he was up the object, a large fang was in Damian’s hand. The tiger laughed.

Arnold made fists. “Damian,” he warned.

“Don’t,” Brislow whispered.

“I can’t let him do it,” he replied.

The cheetah locked eyes with Arnold. There was no exhaustion in them. “Trust me, please.”

Arnold watched Damian stand and fought the urge to charge.

“Sahataan! Your time has come!” The tiger called. “Join me in this momentous moment.”

Arnold blinked as he thought he saw someone move behind Damian, but there was no one there. Or was there? He thought he was a hand reached for the tiger’s shoulder just as Damian spun and slammed the fang’s point in the air. Except there was someone there, no something, a being not quite right in form, and blood red.

“That was you deserve, you son of a bitch,” Damian growled. “I am not your son, I am not your thing. I am Damian Orr, and I am in charge!”

Arnold shook his head. There was something wrong with what he was seeing. The being’s substance flowed into Damian, turning the orange of the fur he had left deeper, almost red itself, the white became vivid red, like fresh blood.

Something clattered to the floor, as Damian laughed maniacally. The fang, somehow he’d dropped and hadn’t noticed. Arnold took a step toward it.

“Don’t get too close,” Denton said. He was standing, dusting himself off. “This part I’m not entirely sure of.” His shirt and pants were in tatters, but he’d manage to keep them on.

“You.” Damian fixed his gaze on the cheetah, and Arnold had to blink. Was Damian turning translucent. “Finally, I am going to be rid of you. I am going to make you suffer for the hell you put me through.” He pointed at Denton and Arnold turned, expecting the cheetah to scream in pain.

Denton smiled.

“No!” Damian screamed, his voice resonating through Arnold. “I am a god! You will not resist me!”

“You’re a god alright,” Denton replied, “but you’re not my god. The gods can only affect their followers, Damian, and I’ll never follow you.”

With another scream that almost brought Arnold to his knees, Damian lunged for the fang. Arnold fought the pain and stepped in that direction, only a few steps away when his uncle’s hand closed on it, passing through the fang. He tried again and again, with the same result. Now Arnold was certain he could see through his uncle.

Damian raised his gaze to him. “Take it. Take it and I’ll make you supreme, nothing will ever hurt you again.” Arnold took a step forward. Denton called his name, but he ignored him. The power to be safe. To make sure what had happened to Arthur couldn’t happen to any of his brothers.

“Take it and you can rule over everyone at my side. You’ll be above everyone in our family except me.”

Arnold head snapped up to star in his uncle blood-red eyes. “What?”

“You will rule them—”

“Fuck that. You think I want to be like you? Like my old men? I’m not a ruler! We never were! Fuck you and your lies. My family are my equals. Do you hear me? Not one of us will ever be above the others again. Do you own fucking dirty work, Damian.”

“Raphael!” Damian called, “Now’s the time for your vengeance. Take it and kill them all, and I will grant you power like you’ve never dreamed of.”

A rat appeared next to Arnold, reaching for the fang. He started at seeing his hand and Arnold hit him hard enough to send him skidding across the room.

He glared at a surprised Damian. “I told you to do your own fucking dirty work.”

“No!” the tiger wailed. “I won! I get what I want!”

Yes, there was definitely less of Damian.

“At what price?” Denton asked. “How many of your followers did you sacrifice to fight me? I don’t think you were playing at being out of strength like I was. A god is only as powerful as the number of people who worship him. I’m thinking there are very few of those left.”

“No,” Damian sounded like he was further away. “You can beat me again!”

“I didn’t beat you. You got exactly what you wanted, you just forgot to consider the consequences of your action. Speaking as someone how has done that mistake far too often, let me say this. Enjoy eternity.”

Damian lunged for Denton with a vanishing scream, passed through him and disappeared himself.

“So, did we just win?” Arnold asked, still trying to understand what he’s witnessed.

Denton shrugged. “We didn’t lose. That’s usually enough for me.”

“But he’s gone.”

“He’s a god. I don’t know how things work on that level, but I doubt he’s done. Sahataan was the god of blood and sacrifice. That’s who Damian is now, and there’s always going to be people willing to spill blood for power, so he’s not dying anytime soon.”

“Oh.” Arnold crouched to pick up the fang.

“Please don’t touch it.”

“Why not?”

“How do you feel about having unending power? Understanding everything there is to understand about our magic?” He chuckled. “Of basically being able to do just about anything you want?”

Arnold looked at the fang dared hope bringing Arthur back, but he knew enough to know the horror show that would be. “I could do a lot of good with power like that. Keep my family and my city safe.”

“You could, how long do you think until you decide you know better than Him? That His ways are too archaic? That you should take His place? Could you resist that temptation?”

Arnold looks at the cheetah. “Can you?”

Denton laughed. “Fuck no.” He stretched a hand, and a briefcase broke out of the wall to fly to his hand. It slowed, and he grabbed the handle. The fang rose in the air and he closed the case over it.

Arnold almost fell over at the sudden absence of power and desire to fuck.

Arnold stood. “Now what?”

“Now, I’d suggest we leave quickly. That’s an elder you hit, and Raphael doesn’t take well to being thwarted. He and you uncle have that in common.”

“That wasn’t my uncle. Damian Orr died decades ago. Good riddance to him.”

Denton turned to the door. “Stopped gawking and get out of here. Raffy’s men are going to figure out thing aren’t right fast and I don’t want to have to kick any more Lewiston ass today.”

“I kicked his ass,” Arnold corrected.

“I don’t want to kick any Lewiston ass today.” Denton grinned at the tiger. “After you. You have to convince your brothers you guys are all equal now.”

“Yeah, about that,” Adam said. “Dad.”