Family of the Feral - 1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

“No.”

“What do you mean no?” The exasperated yell that echoed in the back room originating from a short, stocky, and rather rough-hewn man was surprisingly loud.

“I mean no.” I repeated in a deliberately calm voice. Usually Doren did not trigger the urge but with me just winning a frustratingly easy fight again and then him starting right up into this old argument, and my temper threshold was very low right now. Why in the hell did he want to bring up me fighting in the exclusive Inner Circle again? I told him over and over that I wanted to stay free as an underground fighter, that it was bad enough that I have had a mysterious patron since I was fifteen, I did not want to be ‘owned’ and marked by my patron like a slave. I’ve seen the tattoos covering the faces of those Inner Circle dogs. And there was something about those fighters that gave even me the shivers.

My manager sighed in exasperation and narrowed his eyes at me. “Look, you have no choice, your opponent for your next fight just pulled out.”

“So? Just ask someone else to fight me,” I said calmly as I stood up from the bench and started waking towards the door, “and this time make sure they are a challenge. This last guy Carver barely got two hits on me before I took him down.” I got irritated again as I though of my opponent and how he seemed afraid of me.

“His name is Carter not Carver, and getting a replacement is the problem.” Doren’s voice suddenly got calm and serious, causing me to freeze in the act of reaching for the door handle.

“What do you mean?” I got the sinking feeling in my belly that I always got when anticipating bad news.

“No one wants to fight you.”

At that I spun around. “What the hell you do mean no one wants to fight me?” I snarled at Doren as the Urge almost caused me to loose control and leap at him. It had been a long time since I had last felt like this towards him as I trusted him and considered him a rare friend as well as my manager, one of the few people who I interact with on a regular basis. It had taken years of working with Doren before he no longer triggered the Urge but now it was back in full force.

“Look,” Doren said reflectively taking a nervous step back away from where I stood scowling at him, “it took three months just to get carter to agree to fight you, and your Patron had to bribe him just to do that.” He said soothingly seeming to realize the danger he was now in. “You have a bad reputation for not being worth fighting.”

“The Fuck! Not worth fighting? I have not had a decently hard fight for over a year now! I have won all but 5 of my fights in the last two years. How does that mean I’m not worth fighting?” Now that I knew the reason he was dragging out this old argument the Urge dwindled suddenly to almost nothing. I was still angry, but it was a safer anger, at least for my manager.

“It’s not worth fighting you for real because win or loose your opponent ends up so damaged it takes months to get back into fighting shape, if they are even able to ever fight again” He said calmly watching me intently but relaxing slightly. “The Patron told me to give you a choice, either fight in the Inner Circle or the money stops coming. And honestly David, like you said, you have not been fighting that much this last year. Even if it isn’t your fault the Patron is not making money off of you when no one is willing to face you.”

And it was true, I realized, it had been harder and harder for Doren to find people to fight me in the underground over the last few years. The more scars and the older I got, the fewer fights there were. And I needed these fights, it was the only way to release the Urge before I lost control and killed someone, like I almost had when I was 14 and fresh on the streets. As I looked at my manager, my friend, and the only person other than my sister that I had any trust in whatsoever I knew I had to make a choice.

“Think it over David, he’s giving you two months to either find at least three opponents or…” at that point neither one of us needed to finish that sentence.

Three weeks of me hitting the streets fighting literal random ‘street fighters’ with Doren hitting brick walls trying to get real opponents from the Underground with daily reports and I was starting to think of seriously giving in and accepting my Patrons offer. The random encounters I have had were causing a rumor to roll around the city of a Street fighter killer, witch was already causing the normally abundant potential opponents increasingly difficult to find. As if I have ever killed anyone… yet.

I sighed as I closed my front door and walked the few steps to the kitchen counter to place my keys in the decorative wooden change bowl sitting there. I sighed again as I saw the phone light blinking indicating that there was a message, probably Doren again saying no luck. Honestly I did value his determination, since I think he had the same opinion about the Inner Circle that I did and did not want me to accept. But these daily reports were irritating and always the same, that he had no luck.

I had actually heard the rumor myself while sitting in my neighborhood bar a few days ago, not that I dared to actually get drunk what with the Urge constantly there when ever I was around other people. The guy, half sloshed as he was, didn’t notice me. He must have been a manager, and was spouting off to his friend about how even though I had lost the fight, I had caused irreparable damage to his fighters arm and left eardrum, ruining his guy’s balance and destroying his career as a fighter.

I honestly don’t remember any of that fight at all, only walking into the ring and then waking up in the temporary makeshift clinic they had set up in the warehouse for that night. I was hurt so much that Doren had to get help and a ride to get me home, and I had been out of commission unable to even get up for over a week. He had even been worried enough that he almost sent me to the hospital. As it was my Patron paid for a real doctor to come patch me up. After that some in-home care worker came in every day to baby me until I could actually get out of bed. After I managed to chase him out I suffered the aftereffects for weeks before I was in any type of fighting condition.

I couldn’t help feeling guilty a little, but these things happen, anyone who fights in the underground knows the risks.

Finally picking up the phone just in case my manager had actually found someone I dialed the voicemail number and instead of hearing Doren’s voice I heard the voice of a strange woman.

“Mr. David Brine, I am Carol Wincher at Anthers & Preen Associates. I am calling about an important matter regarding Ms. Ashley Reece who I understand is your sister. If you are indeed the David Brine who is related to Ms. Reece please call me at…” I quickly hung up and hit last call return. My sister... why would anyone, let alone someone from what sounds like a lawyer’s office calling me about my sister.

Ever since I had been kicked out of the house at age fourteen I had managed to keep in contact with her, at first through letters and then when my Patron sent Doren to me and arranged for this apartment and financial support, weekly phone calls. And her last call was… shit it had been nearly two weeks since we had last talked, and I had lost track of the time having been more concerned with other things.

With no answer from the returned call and feeling the horrible feeling of fear in my sinking stomach I listened to the message again and this time wrote down the number which was different then what was on the caller ID.

One, two, and on the third ring someone picked up. “Carol Wincher speaking, how may I help you?” Came the same voice as what was on the message.

“I… I’m David, David Brine. You left a message about my sister?” I managed to get out in a horse voice through my suddenly tight throat.

“You are related to Ashley Reece, is that correct?” She asked in an irritatingly cautious voice.

“Yes! She’s my sister, now tell me what this is about!” My voice went higher in fear and impatience, not a good combo for me.

“I am calling to inquire as to when you would be wiling to take in the children? If you are unwilling or unable to accept the children I need to know now so that I can contact social services and arrange other permanent placement for them.” She said in a more relaxed tone of voice despite my own tone of voice.

“Children?” I echoed questioningly as I wondered what in the world she was talking about. “What children?”

“Your sisters children...” she trailed off in a puzzled tone of voice and then suddenly continued. “Wait, you don’t know do you?” She stated sounding less formal and filled with a tone of voice I didn’t like.

My sister had children? When did she have children? No once did she ever indicate that she was pregnant, and children meant more than one, at least two. Why would I be picking…

“Wait, why would I be picking up MY SISTERS CHILDREN THAT I DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT, THAT I DIDN’T KNOW THAT HE HAD! What happened to Ashley?” My voice that had quickly risen into a yell suddenly dropped into a low deadly tone as I gained control over it again. Vaguely I was surprised and impressed that she hadn’t hung up the phone yet.

I heard her take a quick breath before she spoke. “Mr. Brine,” She suddenly became formal again as dread engulfed my entire being, “I am sorry to inform you that your sister and her husband were both killed over eleven days ago.”

The last thing that I was aware of was of someone screaming.

Due to the informative and helpful reviews I received, and due to the fact that I found it very hard for me to find the problems pointed out to me in my own work, I have decided to try to get a beta. I am reading up on how to do that on GA, so Ill probably post an ad in the writing support forum. I have done some tiny editing of Ch 1 and probably now have half of Ch 2 written, so when I do find a beta I will have something for them to check over.
I also found out that my word is wonky a little, it will not search for "..." at all, as that seems to be one of my problems in writing. And sometimes it wont show a spelling error for some words until I close the file and open it again. I used to know this stuff without the program telling me how to write, really, I did.