Reynard's Story – Part 1

Warning: I finally achieved something to rival the pain and anguish of Stephen King's The Eyes of the Dragon, but I am not sure if that is a good thing or not as taking your mind to such a dark place leaves a black stain on your soul. The first part of the story is the most disturbing yet powerful visceral imagery I believe I have ever written. Reynard's story is not for the faint of heart. It has the worst trauma imaginable without giving any spoilers. It is M+++ for unspeakable acts of sexual abuse, torture and violence. Anyone with sensibilities like Judy should skip ahead a bit. You have been WARNED. I'm not fucking around.

Zoodates: (-52 Years) (50 years before the events of Zootopia The Movie), 117 P.C.

Zoodate: (-52 Years) (50 years before the events of Zootopia The Movie)

The pain in his paws was matched only by the emptiness in his belly which was then shattered by the torment in his heart seeing his little baby sister so very sick and suffering. Her constant cries had finally dissipated due to exhaustion as death's silent embrace caressed her small helpless form and he realized he was powerless to do anything.

Reynard was only a small child of eight thrown out and abandoned onto the cruel streets of Zootopia by a system which professed to be all about protecting the innocent, but that only applied if you had a family that actually cared about you and you were not a fox. After the death of his mother two and a half years ago, the two were treated as yet another two pieces of discarded refuse. They never knew their father. They only knew that he was the same negligent scoundrel of a father for the both of them who had never helped their mother and them a day in his miserable life. The three had suffered daily trying to survive any way they could, but that existence was paradise compared to the strife they would encounter without their mother in their lives.

The only link now to his past and to that far off memory of his family was his little four year old sister Marion. They had been a victim of the system thrown from foster home to foster home each progressively worse than the next. The ones that only wanted a paycheck were the best, but they would soon tire of the foxes, swapping them to the next where beatings and abuse would be the best they could hope for. Marion had emotional problems and would cry constantly triggering the fury of the foster caretakers. Reynard was covered from head to toe from welts and bruises received from standing between their anger and frustration and his baby sister. He had fractures and cracked ribs which constantly reminded him of these encounters with every step he took.

The final straw was the last couple who saw his little sister as a toy for their carnal pleasure. He didn't know which was worse, the wife who stood by and ignored her husband's vile sadistic behavior, or the male weasel who would chain him in a corner by his ankle while he grinned malevolently approaching Marion ripping off her clothes and muffling her cries with one paw while he violated her repeatedly. Reynard would scream and claw at his chains desperately trying to pull his foot free rubbing the fur and making it bleed. His screams of agony only seemed to give the weasel pleasure and he would thrash with ecstasy as Reynard's screams would reach a fever pitch. He would then cackle hideously with glee and release her to curl into a ball and sob. The weasel enjoyed leaving the little fox boy in a corner helpless unable to go and comfort his baby sister. He seemed to get the most perverse pleasure of all from this particular action. The door would close and he would be left in the dark with only the soft sobs from the helpless little girl.

Reynard could take no more. His life and soul were forfeit. He knew this and accepted it. But he could not stand by and witness this horror again. He was still only a kit, but one who had grown up in a system of daily torture both mental and physical. The hatred inside him now consumed him and had given him strength. It lightly touched his soul replacing the helplessness of a small child with power and determination. It warmed him and fed him. It cradled him when he slept and became his new mother feeding him with the love he had been craving for so long.

The night began as every other. The weasel screaming at his wife giving her a loud smack across the muzzle and then locking himself in their room.

The weasel turned his head toward the door screaming, "Fuck you cunt! Mind your own fucking business!"

Marion and Reynard were in the far corner of the room. Marion was curled in a ball shivering in terror too scared to even make a sound. Reynard had been holding her tightly willing the strength he felt from his new mother to strengthen her as well. The weasel locked the door from the inside with a padlock and put the key in his pocket. Reynard had tried to escape before, but the weasel had gotten wise to him. The weasel strolled confidently over to the two kits standing over them with a wicked grin holding his belt in his paw. He loved to use the belt as a whip and the buckle as the tip which provided his extra special brand of love to the object of his abuse. Reynard would take every ounce of that punishment if only the weasel would leave his sister alone, but the weasel had plans for both the kits. He harshly cuffed Reynard across the head dazing him and grabbed his foot dragging him across the floor towards the corner with the bolted chain. Reynard's claws dug into the floor in an impotent effort to halt his progress until he felt the chain lock around his sore ankle.

The weasel then turned his back on the young fox focusing his full attention instead on the helpless little girl. Marion had her head tucked below her paws shaking in the corner. She tried to pretend she was somewhere else… anywhere else. She closed her eyes and remembered a friendly face… her first memory… the beautiful face of her mother. Her only memory of her. She still saw that face… it was the only thing that kept her going. The weasel picked her up by the waist with one paw so she hung limply by his side facing the ground. He carried her over to the small bed and threw her down on top. She lay on her side in a ball with her eyes closed keeping that image in her mind. Her slight smile… the bright gentle eyes… hush my kit everything will be okay... Momma is here. The weasel yanked her filthy panties off her and tied her front paws together with the belt and tied the other end to the bedpost.

There was some banging on the door. It was the first time Reynard remembered this happening.

The weasel turned toward the sound and walked over to the door yelling, "Shut the fuck up bitch! It is all your fault for looking like the ass of warthog."

There was was some faint crying from outside the door.

The weasel then looked back toward the small form on the bed with a malicious gaze as he continued his tirade, "Fucking cunt!"

Marion was whimpering and shaking uncontrollably. The weasel came over to the bed and climbed on top grabbing the little fox and flipped her over pushing her face first into the filthy mattress. He crouched down on his knees and then grabbed her tail and pushed it out of his way and began to mount her from behind. As he entered her, the little girl yipped and then began to howl. The pain from numerous times before was back, but where the weasel had been somewhat gentle before, any pretense of care was gone and she screamed in agony as droplets of blood poured down her back legs from his effort.

The weasel then glared at Reynard jeering at him, "What the fuck is wrong boy? Where is your serenade?"

Normally the little fox would scream and plead. The weasel missed those wonderful sounds. They helped to really make this all worthwhile. The sounds were like a lover screaming in ecstasy as she enjoyed each thrust. Maybe the boy kit's voice was all gone. Maybe he had all been screamed out finally. The weasel would miss that. No matter, maybe his cunt of a wife would serenade him through the door with her cries and pleading. He was having fun. The little fox beneath him was annoying him though with her pleading howls.

The weasel took his left paw and wrapped it around the little girl's muzzle preventing her from opening her mouth pressing it into mattress as hard as he could. He could feel her convulsing, fighting for air, gasping for a breath that would not come. She shook uncontrollably. He thought wow this actually felt good for a change. Finally she was acting like a participating partner... as if she was enjoying it. Why hadn't he done this before? He would have to try this again.

Was Reynard ignoring all this? Had Reynard finally given up? Reynard had taken the blackness into his soul and embraced it replacing the red in his veins with the inkiness of hate. He had spent the day ripping the fur away from his ankle and then hidden his instrument of liberation from the weak bitch who stood by and watched her husband violate at least a dozen other innocent victims if the conversation he had heard earlier was to be believed. He had no reason to doubt its truth. As his baby sister screamed in ghastly agony, he jammed the knife between the hinges of the clamp around his ankle and pulled with all his might. With each howl of horror, the blackness flowed into his paws warming him, giving him the strength and sustenance that had been lacking from many weeks of malnourishment. Jamming it with all his newfound strength from his loathing, he felt the hinge loosen. Holding it jammed, open he began to pull his raw naked ankle and foot against the metal. He pulled and pulled feeling excruciating pain. But the pain was welcome. It was his friend. The pain fed the blackness that consumed his soul. The pain provided him the love he had been missing for so long. Finally he felt a snap and felt the foot slick with blood slip from the metal clamp as he tumbled back onto the floor.

The weasel had a look of utter pleasure and elation on his face. His sister's shaking had stopped and her paws lay dead at her side. Reynard did not hesitate a second as he jumped up on the bed behind the weasel and plunged the jagged edge of the knife upward through the back of the weasel's neck jamming it all the way through his throat and emerging from the front. The weasel shook as in orgasm for a second until a fountain of blood poured forth decorating the bed with a shower like a sprinkler in the summer providing life giving liquid to all the grass and plants. Except this shower fed the blackness of his hate and avarice. The weasel's paws grasped at his throat in horror, but Reynard had pulled the blade out and had jammed it in again with such vigor that his meager paw following the blade into the throat itself. The blood caused the blade to slip and fall from his paw, but the deed was done and the weasel fell forward onto the small naked ball of red fur in front of him.

Reynard did not pause in shock as most would as he was finally one with the darkness becoming a true disciple of retribution, and instantly flipped the weasel off his little sister without a thought and grabbed the bloody knife on the bed cutting the belt from around her paws. He threw the blade away mindlessly and pulled the little girl's head to him.

She was not breathing!

He tilted her head back listening for any breath… even a slight wheeze.

Nothing!

He laid her on the bed on her back and began pressing into her chest with both paws and then releasing.

He repeated the motion several times.

He focused his hearing towards her praying for any sound.

Nothing!

Tears sprang from his eyes.

He could not lose her! She was all he had!

He prayed to the angel of death to bring her back to him… allow her acolyte to have his little sister back if only briefly to live a life worse than death. He could not live without her. She was the only light he had in his wretched pathetic life.

He repeated pressing down harder and then releasing.

He repeated the motion several times faster.

He repeated the motion again several more times.

Precious seconds were passing and the pall of death clung to everything as the walls and room itself began to transform into a world of shadow and blackness.

He repeated the motion again in desperation.

He felt a spasm from underneath him and then a cough.

Marion shook and coughed again and he turned her over on her side.

He then heard the greatest sound he would ever hear in his entire miserable life as he heard her take a ragged breath in and then exhale.

He lay against her spooning her, holding her in his arms as she continued to breathe, her sides moving up and down steadily, her throat sore and raspy.

He wept uncontrollably holding her.

She shuddered and curled into a ball.

Zoodate: 117 P.C.

At this point Judy was sobbing hysterically in such utter despair there was nothing Drew could do to control her. Her inconsolable form convulsed. Her tears soaking his chest as he held her tight. He felt all her anguish and it had multiplied ten fold. He felt the sorrow from Reynard as well and knew it was the truest emotion ever. The heartbreak and grief endeavored to overtake him and he now realized this was true anguish in its purest form. It was like liquid sorrow had been injected into his veins. The thought of these small innocents going through such torment was too much to bear. For an empath such agony was so powerful it threatened to consume him completely. He poured a generous glass of nearly priceless scotch and downed it in one gulp embracing the burn in his throat.

Reynard gave them a moment to recover as he knew the story did not get much better, but Judy was in no state to listen to anything. The very few who knew his true story had never reacted remotely as badly, and he recognized the two before him as two of the purest hearts he had ever known. He felt sorry for them as his tale was not one for those with such sensibilities. But the truth of that story was important as it was the basis for that which he would become. He knew the cruelty and injustices of the world and understood that life was not always a pretty picture, but for those like himself it was ugly and brutal. Innocents like his sister existed all around with no one to help them. Evil such as the weasel existed in all forms hidden from sight, and there were plenty of others like the weasel's wife who allowed it to happen. Both were equally guilty and should be judged accordingly. He had touched the blackness and survived, but was certain his soul was now lost. What he did from that point forward would decide whether his life was a worthwhile one or yet another meaningless empty existence.

Once he saw Judy was finally looking at him sniffling he continued.

Zoodate: (-52 Years) (50 years before the events of Zootopia The Movie)

Reynard knew the job was half done and had risen from the bed once he was sure his sister was breathing okay. He retrieved the key from the weasel's pocket and wiped the blade off on the corner of the weasel's shirt, the one place not covered in blood. He absently unlocked the door and removed the lock and waited gathering the blackness into himself. He knew the bitch could only wait so long before checking on her husband as he usually would have left the room by now in a wonderful satisfied mood after sharing his brand of love on his innocent victims.

He knew he only had one chance. She was still much larger than him and could deal out quite a bit of damage on her own. His only hope was shock and surprise. Without that he knew that he and his sister were lost as she took her vengeance out on them both. He stood behind the door in the corner praying to his deity for more strength to once again provide him the love and nourishment he desperately needed to become her disciple and agent of earthly justice. After a wait, he heard footsteps approach the door and then heard a slight creak as the door handle was slowly turned. He felt the cold chill turn to warmth in his body as he took the darkness into himself spreading blackness through his veins and felt his heart ice over. Cold gloom enveloped the room and he could see his breath in the air in front of him. He now knew his mistress was with him and he felt joy… joy for the first time. The door openly slowly and he pushed his back into the wall as the door approached his face. He heard footsteps move towards the bed and his helpless little sister. He knew where those footsteps would take their owner and moved accordingly.

The female weasel was moving towards the bed looking at the little female kit shuddering in a bloody ball and then advanced toward the bloody form on the floor letting out a shriek. This was the signal Reynard has been waiting for as he plunged the knife into the back of weasel's thigh twisting it sharply then pulling it downward as he yanked it free. He didn't wait for the result as he repeated the action in the other leg twisting the knife violently as it entered. She shrieked and fell to her knees grabbing toward his form, but he was now one with the darkness. He had become death incarnate. He was the reaper. His mistress was screaming for blood and he was her willing slave severing the tendons on the back of each weasel bitches legs and waiting for her to turn. He met her turn with the blade of the knife stabbing into her gut as her claws reached for him. He slashed across her belly with all his might as he felt those claws digging down his front with desperate strength. The pain did not stop him, but gave him greater resolve as he grasped the handle with both paws and pulled upward tearing into her cavity feeling warm blood flowing down his paws in torrents. He now worshiped at the altar of his mistress and spread his offering over the floor for her approval.

He was completely silent. He was like a whisper of death. The only sounds were the wife's screams and gurgling as he hung onto the knife refusing to let her wrest it from his grasp gripping it with all his remaining strength. She dug her claws down his front repeatedly shredding the rags he called clothes, but he had long since embraced the pain as a giver of love and a friend. As she collapsed on top of him with weight several times his own, he slid to the side and let her fall forward finally relenting and releasing the instrument of his liberation. He looked down on her form emotionless. He did not feel relief or regret. He only felt justice and finally felt the feeling of satisfaction for the first time in his wretched life. The blood covering his body was his baptism and he was now her servant forever.

He checked on his little sister and picked her up carrying her out of the room towards the bathroom. He ran warm water in the bath. The same bathtub they had never seen since they had stepped foot into this house of torment. He checked the water and once satisfied with the temperature, he lifted the little girl into the water watching it instantly turn red. She had been covered in so much blood, it looked as if she was swimming in tomato soup now. He wished it really was tomato soup as the strength he had once felt was dissipating rapidly. He drained the water and refilled it rinsing her body off. She barely noticed it, but seemed to like the warm water. He cleaned her all over the best he could with shampoo he had found and rinsed her off. He lifted her out and dried her off and then dragged her into the weasel couple's bedroom and pulled her up onto the bed. At least the bed was not black and filthy in here he noted, and Marion seemed to be breathing easier. He got some more towels and tried to dry her off the best he could and then finished bathing himself tossing what little remained of his clothes into the corner. He would rather be forever naked that wear that filth ever again.

Once he dried off, he searched the apartment for sustenance. He greedily gobbled down some crackers, moldy vegetables and dried fish. He searched everywhere and found some more crackers and some fruit which he saved for his little sister as he knew she needed them desperately. His stomach rumbled, but she was far more important than any hunger or pain. She was the only thing that mattered. He went to her bed and woke her cutting the fruit into small pieces and holding her while he fed her each one. She had not eaten in awhile so he made sure she ate slowly so her feeble body could handle it. It took an excruciatingly long time, but he was in no hurry. Once she had finished every morsel, he gently kissed her and held her close feeling her warmth and then lost consciousness from exhaustion.

And now they were on the street again wearing the best rags he had found in a closet containing the trophies of the weasel's former victims. But being out here in the cold and wet of the street was far preferable to ever seeing another foster home and the chance of a tormentor possibly even worse than their last. He was unsure how that could even happen, but he never underestimated the creativity of evil and fate. He hid them in an abandoned upstairs room in a warehouse near the docks. He spent his days scrounging the empty buildings and warehouses finding the two of them any scraps of food, clothing or anything they could use to trade to stay alive. He already had some skill at scrounging as he had done it for years to help his mother as she cared for his sister, but the danger was much greater as she was exposed here, and he hated to be away from her for even a brief moment. The thought of anyone discovering and harming her tore his insides apart every time he was away, but it could not be helped as they needed food to survive. She would get her terrors all the time now, and he was afraid she would be heard as she would cry out uncontrollably at random times. Normally these would result in beatings when he was in the foster homes as he tried to protect her, but now he feared they could expose her to even more uncertain dangers. He needed someplace to take her where she would be safe when he was away, but he was unsure where.

He had tried to approach some fox families, but even they shooed him away as a vagrant. Apparently no one loved a fox, not even other foxes. He was regularly kicked and cursed at, threatened and chased. But all of this was nothing compared to what he had suffered, and he laughed at such things. He began to learn to focus his hearing and smell in order to find food or pretty much anything he could get his paws on. Someone would always trade for nearly anything he found. He had located a few regular vagabonds who would at least not try and just take what he offered and at least gave him a few meager morsels in exchange. Most mammals he had approached just took his offering and laughed at his impotent struggles to get his items back or grab the falsely offered goods. The life on the streets for a small child was merciless, but he was very clever and a quick study adapting quickly and never making a mistake a second time. Mistakes could easily get you killed or worse. One of the most important skills was learning how to read other mammals and know their hearts. He even learned to sense and smell varying degrees of malicious thought.

Unfortunately his little sister was not doing well. Even with a bit more food than they received in the foster homes, she was sick constantly and was not getting better. He had to try and force feed her as she was too weak to eat and would many times refuse to eat anything until he had to almost shove food down her throat. She was losing the will to live. The trauma she had suffered was too much to bear and the sickness was sapping the minuscule amount of hope and strength she possessed. His mistress was calling her back to the darkness. Her brief reprieve was expiring and she would soon be dead for good to join their mother. The little girl was far too young to die, but Reynard didn't know what else to do. The torment and torture of her life had taken its toll. Oh how he wished he could nourish her with the strength and love of his mistress! How he wished he could cut open his veins and share the blackness that drove him to remain alive.

As he held her, he could feel her breath had become shallow and her body so weak she would not last much longer, a day at the most… she may only have hours. He had to do something! He had to take some kind of desperate chance! In his time on the street he had found only one mammal he had remotely any trust in and knew this was his only hope. He tucked all the meager possessions he found in the front of his grimy shirt to trade for the information he needed.

He approached the old scarred bear carefully making sure he was alone. He waited awhile straining to hear or smell anything but the bear sleeping in his normal corner. He hesitantly approached, the many beatings, rip-offs and dishonesty fresh in his young mind. He approached the old bear with trepidation.

Reynard hesitantly called out, "Growler?"

He heard the bear sniff and open his eyes slowly.

The bear finally focused on the small kit and asked in annoyance, "What is it whelp?"

"Um… I'm a kit." Reynard corrected.

Growler responded apathetically, "Whelp, kit, what the fuck does it matter?"

Reynard explained, "Just a whelp is a wolf pup, a kit is fox pup."

The bear got a wicked grin on his face and suggested viciously, "Well how about I call you little shit?"

Reynard gave him a shrug, "I have been called far worse… so fine with me."

"Bah… what the fuck do you want you red piece of shit?" Growler barked growing more annoyed with every passing minute.

The fox kit replied, "I just need some information. I can pay."

At that the bear appeared curious, "What could a little shit like you have that I could want?"

Reynard lowered his shirt and showed the bear his collection of coins, jewelry and all sorts of little knickknacks he had collected. He watched the bear closely ready to run if the bear made any movement. He had no chance if the bear got his paws on him as he could kill him with a single swipe, but where the bear was strong, he was fast and nimble.

Growler was impressed that such a small kit had been able to amass such a nice collection of goodies. He thought perhaps humoring the kit might actually be worth his while asking the kit, "Okay boy you got my attention. What do you want to know?"

"I need medicine and care for someone important to me. I need it fast. I need someplace I can trust to make sure she is well cared for. I will do anything if she is treated well." Reynard responded trying to hide his desperation.

The bear knew the child was quite motivated and might be worth helping, informing him, "Hmm yes I know you. I can imagine you would do anything. I know someone, but I would be taking a risk. I am not sure it would be worth my while."

Reynard responded, "What can I offer?"

Growler informed the kit of the price, "Well your meager collection is a start, but I would want my usual cut for the introduction."

"What cut?" Reynard asked.

Growler demanded, "I want 25% of any of your pay for the first year."

Reynard would pay 100% of any pay to save his sister, but he knew the way of the streets and if you took the first offer anyone gave you, they knew you were desperate and would just ask for even more. He knew the game and he was a quick study. He had made the mistake once before accepting the first offer. It was a mistake he only made once like all mistakes now.

"25% is way too high. That is bullshit. Fine… I'll do 15% and that is generous." Reynard negotiated confidently.

Growler chuckled realizing the kid was a sharp one, "Good one kid. You are not half bad for a little shit fox. You might do well with them after all. Very well... 20%."

The bear spit in his giant paw and extended it. Reynard spit in his tiny paw and extended it to meet the huge paw of the bear ready to flee at any sign that something was amiss and then shook the paw.

The bear noticed the body language of the kit and chuckled, "I'm not gonna rip you off kid, but I don't blame you for being cautious. Anyone out here who is not gets fucked."

"I've been fucked every day of my miserable life. I'm just trying for one day that I am not." Reynard admitted.

Growler laughed at that, "Well, can't promise you that with these guys. But if you want your little sister helped, they're your only hope."

"How did you know it was my…." Reynard responded in shock.

Growler pointed his paw at his nose explaining, "Free lesson. Never try and fool the nose of a bear. You may have a decent sense of smell, but it is nothing compared to this sniffer. Stay here… kit… I need to go see someone to set this up. Be here when I get back or you better leave and never show your scent around here again cause I am taking a big risk."

The old bear slowly got up and headed out of the alley ignoring the kit who had moved to flee if the bear made any suspicious movement. Reynard put all his little possessions in a bag he found on the ground and waited. The bear had left food, money and many possessions behind, but the little fox didn't dare touch it as that special nose would know who touched any possession of his and track them to the ends of the earth to deal murderous retribution. Besides this seemed the only chance his little sister had, and he had to take any chance offered before she succumbed to his mistress who had been lovingly caressing the little girl for days.

After an hour he heard the bear return and motioned for him to follow. He followed the bear through a maze of buildings underground and through some hidden passageways. He only hoped this wasn't a trap. He was ready to flee, but he would have no chance if he was cornered. He was fast, but against any large older mammals he was helpless if he was grabbed. He still had his knife, but against something as large as bear it would barely tickle it. They finally arrived at a door and the bear gave a special knock and a slit above the door opened and a voice asked, "Purpose?"

Growler responded, "Got a package for the boss. He knows I'm coming."

The voice asked, "Who?"

At this the bear began getting annoyed growling loudly, "You fucking know well who!"

They heard the noise of several bolts sliding open. Growler led Reynard inside and he saw the weasel at the door get down from the steps and jump down.

The weasel asked, "What's with the little runt?"

"New meat." Growler explained.

The weasel wondered, "What use is this little shit?"

"None of your business… but I would imagine he is ten times as useful as your sorry ass." The bear responded sounding quite cranky.

"Bad mood eh?" The weasel figured.

At that Growler started chuckling, "Actually I'm in a good mood. You don't want to see my bad mood. That I can assure you."

Growler led the little fox through an underground maze finally arriving at a door. He knocked and heard a voice from deep inside yell, "Send him in."

Growler held out his open paw palm up.

Reynard looked at it with a questioning glance.

Growler glanced at the bag he was carrying.

The little fox was hesitant, afraid to hand over his entire collection of amassed wealth as he had been screwed over more times than he could count, "Umm, I wanted to make sure I had a deal first."

Growler was growing impatient, and wanted to be about his business, "Kid, I negotiated your deal. You in exchange for your sisters care. Hand it over. You think I would go to all this trouble to rip you off for a few baubles? I am more interested in my cut. I expect it paid weekly."

Reynard reluctantly put the bag in the bear's paw and prayed he was not ripped off again. But he had no choice.

Growler issued a low rumble saying his goodbye, "Good luck kit."

Reynard gulped and nodded his head walking hesitantly into the room.

Reynard definitely didn't expect to see the sight that met him as he entered the room. He saw a wolverine wearing a blue suit and glasses reading a book. Both walls were full of books old and new as well as stacks of papers. There were all kinds of fancy writing instruments and charts and maps all over the walls. There were many ancient devices Reynard recognized, but couldn't think of the names of. The figure in front of him and the entire room certainly were not what he expected from this questionable boss of the underworld.

The figure looked up from his book taking off his glasses and welcomed him, "Ah… sit down my brave little kit."

The wolverine seemed to remember something and introduced himself, "I apologize. I am Xander Barb… who might you be?"

Reynard simply replied, "Reynard."

Xander looked at the kit curiously asking, "No last name?"

Reynard responded, "No father worth having a name to keep."

This explanation seemed to satisfy the wolverine who remarked, "Ah... well we will find one for you sometime… we will just call you the Reynard the Red for now. You wished to sell your services?"

"Ummm Growler said you could help my sister?" Reynard asked hopefully.

The wolverine considered the kit, not wanting to make any promises he could not keep asking, "Can you tell me what is wrong with her?"

Reynard explained, "She is very sick. I don't know what is wrong, but she will be dead soon."

"I see. I was wondering what drove you to someone as scary as Growler. Desperation breeds bravery. Well I can see what we can do for her." Xander vaguely promised not knowing the full extent of her condition.

"If you can heal her and keep her safe, I will do anything you need." Reynard honestly declared.

This piqued Xander's curiosity as he wondered, "Hmm, what can you do?"

Reynard then listed all the skills he had learned surviving on the street, "I am good at sneaking, stealing, looking out for any danger. Really anything you need. I can kill if you need, but I am afraid I am not very strong yet. But I am quick, and if I get the jump on them I can do it."

Xander raised his eyebrows at this last statement commenting, "Hmm, I take it you have had a colorful history."

"I'm not sure what you mean by that sir. I have received a lot of color all over my body if that is what you mean." Reynard answered not quite understanding what the wolverine was referring to and thought he was talking about the many beatings and abuse he had received.

Xander chuckled in amusement at the kit's response, "I daresay you have. Times have not been easy for you I take it. I am very surprised you have survived as long as you have on the streets alone. That takes some skills. You have killed?"

"My last foster family." Reynard admitted.

"I take it they deserved it?" Xander figured.

Reynard quickly answered, "Yes sir. Most definitely!"

The wolverine nodded seeing some potential in the child, "Good then… I will have that story sometime then, but right now we need to take care of your payment."

Reynard was confused, "I'm not sure what you mean sir."

Xander realized now his mistake, "I'm sorry Red. I am not used to speaking to employees so young. We need to get your sister."

This brightened the kit's mood considerably, "Ah yes sir! Please... as soon as possible! So we have a bargain?"

Xander nodded, "Yes, you are mine as long as we keep her safe correct?"

"Yes sir." Reynard answered.

Xander reached out his paw to shake Reynard's. But Reynard spit on his paw and extended it towards the wolverine.

Xander informed the kit, "You don't need to do that with me kit. A bargain with me is a bargain sealed for good."

The wolverine shook Reynard's paw firmly.

He then told the kit, "Wait here a moment."

The wolverine left the room and returned a few minutes with a grizzled black panther who was covered in hundreds of scars causing his fur to appear ragged and uneven.

Xander then introduced his companion, "This is Coal. He will bring your sister to a place where she can receive help. I will assume you will want to be with her?"

"Yes sir." Reynard quickly responded.

"When she is out of danger I will send for you." Xander informed him.

"Thank you sir." Reynard sincerely told his new boss.

Reynard quickly led Coal out of the complex and to where he left his sister. This took quite some time as the boss' hideout appeared to be several kilometers away. He ran up the stairs to the closet where she was hidden.

She was gone!

Reynard panicked and searched frantically around the room for a clue and then remembered to sniff and ran down the stairs following her unmistakable scent. He could smell the sickness. She could not have gone far on her own, but if she had been taken, she could be far from here. But her scent was still fairly strong. At this point he ran. He ran as fast he could following the scent. There was no way she could have gone this far on her own. She could barely move a few steps out of her makeshift bed. Reynard pulled his knife out of his pocket and began to growl as the scent became stronger. He didn't even wait to see if the panther was following as he had only one thought and that was to become death once more no matter the target. He had finally struck a bargain to save his only light and to have her snatched from his grasp right before her only chance of survival was beyond cruel. He grinned thinking this did seem to fit his life and it was a fitting end when he died in moments at the paws of whatever monster captured the baby kit to perform unspeakable acts on her dead body as if she hadn't suffered enough already in life.

Ahead he saw a form pushing a buggy and the unmistakable scent of his sister was coming from the carriage. He headed directly towards the form with his knife flashing in the moonlight preparing a slashing attack from the back. The creature was a bit bigger than the weasel, but if he was fast, he may be able to cripple it and grab his sister and flee if she still remained alive. The blade was out and was slashing down on the exposed leg when suddenly he felt a massive weight from behind slam into him throwing him onto the ground. The knife bounced away as his body slammed onto the pavement and a heavy weight pressed on his back so he was unable to move.

The panther picked up the knife and then stood up keeping Reynard pinned beneath his foot.

Coal then spoke to the marmot, "Damn kid was looking to take you out. Shell, you owe me big. Brave little shit. Stupid, but brave."

The marmot looked down at Reynard with some understanding but no compassion, "Ah, I take it this is the owner of my little find. Fuck, I figured I could sell it for a decent penny. It was pretty dead, but hoped I could get something for it."

"Fucking leave my sister alone you cunt!" Reynard yelled furiously at the marmot.

Shelly looked to Coal and commented, "My, a spirited little cuss isn't he."

"Give her back!" Reynard demanded.

Shelly then explained the realities of life to the kit, "I'm afraid it is finders keepers here on the streets. You should know that. I may be able to get something for you as well. But the little girl is a lot more valuable to certain clients of mine."

Reynard sensed a familiar sensation in his veins. He felt his mistress calling and welcomed the blackness once again. That darkness consumed him and he was her acolyte once more. The panther had relaxed his foot and Reynard rolled and slid out from under the panther throwing him off-balance causing him to fall back as Reynard wretched the knife out of the panthers paw and in one motion slammed the blade into marmot's foot. He pulled it out as she screamed and spun driving the knife up into her belly with both paws.

But the blade never reached her abdomen as the panthers paw stopped him. He helplessly attempted to scramble through the paw spinning to the side and under, driving the knife upward, but was thrown off his feet and across the street into a wall, and landed in a crumpled heap, the knife landing beside him. The impact had knocked the breath out of him, but his mistress was still with him and would not be denied.

Once again a corruption had taken his baby sister, and he would see justice done. The blackness filled him fully and he saw everything silhouetted in black, his target shown illuminated. He picked up the knife and drove forward anticipating the panthers actions running on all fours under the creature. As Coal reached for him, he rolled and dove under the marmot and drove the knife up into the thigh of the shocked creature. He felt the blade enter the flesh and cut the sinew as he twisted the blade and yanked it out ripping downward. He didn't bother watching the reaction as he pulled the blade free and jabbed the knife into the belly of the marmot with both paws. He anticipated the blade entering the flesh, but felt himself violently pulled backwards, and a massive black weight of pure muscle and power pressed onto his chest. The panther grabbed the knife from Reynard's pinned paw and then released him.

The marmot was screaming in anguish. The panther looked from the marmot to Reynard and shook his head admitting, "I underestimated you kid. I won't ever make that mistake again. You are deadly."

Shelly demanded vengeance, "Don't just stand there. Kill the little shit!"

The panther chastised Shelly explaining, "You deserved everything he had planned for you. But I can't stand by and watch you killed in front of me. No one dies without direct order by the boss. You know that. The kid doesn't know that yet, so he has an excuse."

Shelly then reached for the knife shouting, "Fucking let me kill him then!"

"Sorry, you took his property, and he is one of ours now." Coal explained.

The marmot responded angrily, "What the fuck are you talking about? He's a little shit. How can he be one of yours?"

The panther ignored her questions pointing out, "That little shit just fucking owned you, and would have gutted you like a fish if I hadn't stopped him. Keep talking and I will let him do it, Xander be damned. He will understand."

Shelly shut up then and looked at Reynard. After seeing the look on his face, she thought better of saying anything. Reynard had taken the angel of death into his soul and his eyes burned with that hate as if ignited by a thousand suns. He looked possessed by a demon, and Shelly started to feel real fear and understood the truth of Coal's words.

She sat on the ground appearing shaken holding her paws to stop the profuse bleeding from her thigh screaming, "Ahhh can you help me? The pain is unbearable!"

Coal glanced at the marmot and then looked at the kit, "Kid check on your sister. Let me patch this one up. Don't kill her if you want your sister helped. I guess Xander figured he didn't need to tell you that rule. Don't blame him… never seen or heard of anything like that before. A baby kit… a baby assassin."

Coal cut strips from his shirt and made a makeshift tourniquet and bandage for the marmot's leg and then wrapped her foot.

The panther then looked over at the kit who was checking his sister over in the carriage, "She okay kid?"

Reynard had carefully lifted Marion out of the carriage and was listening to her shallow breath. She was burning up with fever and was yipping in a delirious state. Most likely she had been calling out in her delirium and the marmot had heard her. He gently touched her muzzle with his paw.

Reynard looked at Coal with deep concern, "She's in a really bad way. She is too weak to survive this fever."

The panther quickly assessed the situation, "Well we don't have time to waste. I am not going to have anyone die while I am in charge. Push her in the cart and I will take care of this one. Try and keep up."

Before the marmot could open her mouth to argue, Coal picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder and took off at a run. Reynard sprinted after him pushing the cart following the panther. The marmot screamed in agony with each step and jolt, and Reynard admitted he felt a little bit better with each scream. The blackness was still swirling around him and his mistress was calling for the marmot's sacrifice at her altar, but taking care of Marion was more important and that worship would have to wait for now.

The panther had run through various streets at quite a fast pace and was very hard to keep up with. He almost got lost a few times until the panther looked back and slowed his pace so the little fox could keep up. After several kilometers they finally reached a door in front of a large house and the panther knocked soundly upon it. There was a discussion through a small opening near the top of the door, and it then opened up and the panther entered followed by Reynard pushing his sister in the carriage.

They were in the foyer of a very wealthy home. Reynard had never seen or imagined such a place as this. He guessed this was what a palace he had read about in stories looked like. He didn't have time to really take in the details as he saw a female wolverine in a beautiful pink dress wearing a fancy necklace of gold and pearls run down the circular staircase and look at the bloody marmot and the little girl kit in Reynard's arms. She felt the forehead of Marion and looked at her pallor seeing the little girl was nearly dead, and snatched her from Reynard's paws screaming into another room for help. Several servants had run in and one went to look to the marmot while the other servant and the female wolverine carried the little girl into room on the lower floor lying her gently on a bed. She screamed for ice to be poured into the bathtub in the bathroom attached to the room and yelled for medications and cloths.

She put a towel over the ice and lay Marion in the bathtub. She then wrapped some ice in a towel and pressed the compression of ice on Marion's forehead forcing her to drink water and take medications. Once the fever was brought down, they moved the little girl back to the bed and fed her more liquid and water as well as antibiotics. It was a quite difficult task as she would frequently choke and vomit the liquid and medications back up. The female wolverine sat with her while they called a specialist.

Reynard sat in a chair next to her bed helping to fetch anything Mrs. Barb wanted as once things had calmed down the female wolverine had introduced herself as Mrs. Fran Barb. Reynard was just very pleased to help in any way as he knew Marion was far from out of danger. She was so weak suffering so many illnesses on top of malnourishment and physical abuse that any of them could kill her at any time. He could see the blackness of death hanging over her form like a shroud.

The doctor had arrived and was checking her over completely. When he had removed her clothes and put her in a gown, he had screamed in shock seeing the devastation to her private area glaring accusingly at Reynard. The young kits eyes had filled with tears and he was only able to croak out the words 'foster parents'. Mrs. Barb's face turned from sorrow to anger to fury and back to sorrow as she grabbed Reynard in her arms hugging him to her. Reynard was too shocked to react as no one had ever hugged him except his mother and Marion. It was very strange for anyone else to hug him, but the lady was trying to help his sister so he allowed it.

The doctor had setup a bag of liquid and attached it to the little girls veins through a thin tube. Mrs. Barb assured Reynard he was not hurting her as she needed a great deal of liquids in her system. The doctor then said she was anemic and would need a blood transfusion if possible. He tested her blood and Reynard's and determined they were a match. The doctor then pricked his veins and filled a bag with blood. Reynard noticed it was very dark but not pure black as he had expected. He supposed it would have been if his mistress had still been inside him. The bag of his blood was attached and fed into his little sisters veins. Finally, Reynard thought. He had wanted to feed that nourishment and darkness into her veins for so long. Maybe she can finally experience the love and power of the life giving force of his mistress. He stayed with her constantly for hours. Her breathing seemed stronger and her shivering and terrors had seemed to calm.

The staff had brought him food as he refused to leave his little sisters' side. He slept in the chair with his head against the bed for an hour here and there. He would hold Marion's paw in case she needed anything so he could sense any change in her condition. It took nearly four days before the doctor finally said she was out of danger and the medications and intravenous therapies had seemed to help. She still needed a great deal of care and substantial amounts of healthy food as she was suffering from extreme long-term malnourishment. The doctor had also treated her for numerous injuries including the extreme damage to her private area. Reynard had been very upset by the doctor touching her, but he was wearing gloves and carefully cleaned and shaved the area treating it with ointments even some stitches. He seemed to understand the concern of the kit and explained every little thing he was doing so Reynard would be assured she was not being harmed.

Apparently the area had been an open wound and had become infected. The little girl had cuts and marks all over her body. Not nearly as many as Reynard, and the doctor spent quite a long time treating him as well. The doctor kept shaking his head as he checked the little kit and mumbling to himself about demons, devil-spawn and unspeakable evil as Reynard explained where each mark had originated. They had moved a second bed into the room so Reynard could sleep next to his sister as he was suffering from extreme sleep deprivation.

Reynard had noticed his new boss Xander had visited the room checking on his investment. His wife would shoo him out telling him to leave the kits alone, that they needed rest. Reynard wondered how Mrs. Barb had ended up with such a figure. She seemed to be nothing like what he would have imagined a wife of an underworld boss would be like. Of course this Xander didn't seem to fit his idea of a mighty dark figure controlling all the lives in his domain either. The times ahead appeared to be quite confusing and interesting. Only he had no idea how truly interesting they would be.

Zoodate: 117 P.C.

Reynard seemed to relax in his chair and put his paws behind his head. Drew and Judy seemed to come out of their trance as they had been captivated by his every word hanging on his every syllable. Neither had ever heard anything even remotely as fascinating and tragic. Judy had been sobbing almost non-stop and was exhausted. Reynard indicated they should take a break and gather themselves and gather some refreshments.

Reynard: "I will take a break before the next part of the story."

Drew: fascinated "I knew there was vivid history to you, but not remotely how much."

Reynard: smiling "Ah, I am only just beginning the tale. My young friends, your story is only just beginning as well. You two have many years to accumulate such a history yourselves and very possibly you two will be far greater legends someday. You already are legends to many."

Judy had returned from the restroom and had filled a large glass with juice and was drinking it greedily. She had lost a great deal of fluids all over Drew's chest.

Judy: sorrowful "Oh your suit. I am so sorry."

Drew: "I knew what I was getting into when I became involved with you my little bunny, I can afford the dry cleaning bill."

Judy hugged Drew and looked back to Reynard.

Judy: concerned "Was she okay… Marion?"

Reynard: grinning slyly "Ah… well that is another part of the story. I figured we needed a break from my tale. I want to hear the first part of your story… the real story."

Drew wrapped his arms around Judy as he felt and saw her concern and trepidation. He knew how difficult it was for her relive those memories. He had become an expert in relieving those painful emotions and remembrances.

Drew: softly "It's okay my cherished bunny. I am here with you the whole time."

Judy then started the story as it was hers to begin.