Act 1 Heat 1: All for An Arnold

>The city sagged under the cruel July heat
>As you rode through the city in a top down car, you friends driving and squawking like birds, you wiped a bead of sweat from your brow, despite the cooling air rushing past your face.
>They were a lively bunch, unlike you, and as you watched them guffaw, another bead of sweat found its way into your eye, irritating you.
>You would remain quiet, letting the wind whip your face and blow your buttoned-down-button-up around you.
>That is, until Antonio remembered you were still there. 
> “Yo! Earth to Anon!” the young Hyena said, leaning over the seat to peer into your face. “We’re stopping at the 8/12 to get some drinks, you want anything?
>You begin to decline, but reconsider. “Anything with with a lemon-tea combo. That’d hit the spot right now.”
>Antonio nods, before leaning back, resting his back against the dashboard in a dangerously casual posture.
> “So! Whatcha thinkin’ about over there, Mr. Silent?” He asked, but the grin he sported signaled he wasn’t looking for an answer. “Is it that girl your dad brought you to meet, from 6th? You two hit the shack?”
>Girls. 
>Antonio like to talk about girls.
>Big girls, small girls, anthro girls, humans, he didn’t care.
>You shake your head, annoyed that he’d brought her up.
>Esmeralda, was her name, right. 
>A lynx anthro, short, good, hair, glasses, pretty green eyes and the perkiest ass you could remember…
>You lick your lips, feeling them get dry just at the thought of her.
>Unfortunately for you, the date hadn’t gone well.
>You’ll skip the details but it was evident that she would not be calling you anytime soon.
>You weren’t exactly the…interpersonal type, that’s all you’ll say.
>”No, I’m not thinking about her,” You say, annoyed that he’d bring her up. Given Antonio’s lack of caring about other people’s privacy, you weren’t surprised if he already knew what had happened.
>No, you didn’t have doubt he already knew.
> “Guys, guys, listen to this…” He begins, his grin spreading into a full blown Cheshire. 
>So he did know.
>Typical.
>You roll your head back and look at the sky, ignoring the whoops of laughter that came from your friends.
>The city passed by quickly, and you watched from the back of the car as you sailed down the street at speeds that were almost illegal.
>Golden Bay was a huge city, a cultural stir fry.
>Anthros mingled with humans and humans mingled with anthros.
>You’d heard of places that didn’t care for human-anthro coexistence, but you didn’t care for those places either.
>The idea that one species was better than the other was simply unfathomable to you.
>In fact, you had realized (rather early on) that you were one of those humans with a taste for anthro women.
>Something about them was alluring, but you could never truly describe what it was.
>No matter.
>Life would go on, and you would find a girl to settle down with.
>It was an inevitability. 
>The car screeched to a stop, snapping you out of your own head.
>Annoyed, you swat the driver, Georgio, who happened to be Antonio’s identical brother.
> “Hey!” he protested. “What was that for?”
> “For being a reckless hooligan.” You reply.
>He doesn’t respond.
>Between the two of them, Antonio got the smarts, and the quick wit.
>Not that Georgio wasn’t an intelligent being, he just didn’t care to use it.
>With a start, the car glides forward, and into a gas station on the other side of the intersection, next to one of the gas pumps.
>This was pretty bold of you, as the heir to the Fortunefamily throne, to be out on the edge of your territory. 
>Lord knows father says holed up in his office up northside.
>Across from you, you notice, or are forced to notice a garishly purple car, being filled by a lion anthro.
>You take note of the unusual sight, but disregard it as Antonio hops out of the car, his grin still wide.
> “So Chief, you wanted one of those eh…Arnold thingies?” he asked. “I can never remember the name of those things for the life of me.”
> “I don’t care what the name is, just get me one.” You snap, glaring at the casually dressed hyena.
>Antonio mockingly winces. “Ouch! Don’t tell me you’re mad about me telling the boys about you little mishap with Esmeralda. I didn’t think you had that much pride in you!”
>You only glare at him, unmoved.
> “Whatever, I’ll be back.” He says over his shoulder.
>Georgio senses that you’re not happy and turns around to talk to you.
> “C’mon, we’ve all struck out with a girl some time or anoth-”
> “Not me!” Interrupted the fourth occupant of the vehicle, a deer anthro by the name of DiAngelo. 
>Georgio is having none of it, and leans over the seat to grin at the cervine. “That’s cause you’re a fag.”
> “Well, I’ll leave you to deal with these idiots, I’ll be back in a few.” Antonio called over his shoulder as he walked into the store. 
>DiAngelo doesn’t take that well, and draws his gun, a .9 millimeter pistol designated ‘Sword’. “What’d ya just say to me, you smiling fucker?” 
>Georgio doesn’t falter. “I saw you a week ago lifting tail at Broth-”
>The hyena didn’t get to finish his sentence, as DiAngelo lept over the headrest, tackling Georgio into the driver side seat.
>You barely had time to jump into the fray before you heard clapping.
> “Good job, good job, Fortune scum, you really do know how to make utter baboons of yourselves.”
>Slow, the two cease their quarrel, to peer over the door of the car, along with you.
>There, a few feet away, stood Prince Jones, an imposingly tall lion anthro, and the heir to the Aquilla family fortune, flanked by two humans, dressed in similar fashion to their lord.
>The man was dressed in purple, a dapper vest matching his purple slacks, two guns, also Sword pistols hung under his arms in their holsters.
>You stood, inwardly hoping that the car gave you enough height to make you look intimidating.
> “Prince Jones! To what do we owe the pleasure?” You say, putting on your best grin.
>He smiles, the lion’s teeth shining in the hot summer sun.
>You were pretty sure the degree to which his fangs were sharpened was illegal, but a lot of things you did these days were illegal, so you push that thought down.
> “What you owe me, Anon, is an explanation of why I’ve caught a pack of rough housing Fortuneidiots on my family’s territory.”
> “Your territory? If I’m not mistaken, this is Fortuneland, not Aquilla.” You counter.
>Jones’s grin widens. “You are mistaken, Anon, there has been a little…renegotiation.”
>So this is what it was.
>A hostile takeover.
>You wouldn’t let this stand, and you draw your Sword, pointing it at Jones’s chest.
> “If I were you, I wouldn’t say another word Jones. There will not be any land swooping today. You can take you lapdogs and get out of here, and there will be no trouble today.”
>Jones glowers, his face twisting in anger. “Trouble? No, there will be no trouble.” He drew is guns, pointing both at you. “This is Aquilla land now, here, and everything west of Pier Nine. We’re sick of having to skirt around the Fortuneterritory, and now, we’re taking what’s ours.”
>DiAngelo climbed out of the seat, holding his hands up.
>The cervine got out of the car, and strode over to the lion prince, staring him in the face.
>The two humans drew their weapons as well, and Georgio had his pistol in hand. 
>This was spiraling very quickly, and you hoped DiAngelo had a plan.
> “Listen…” He said. “I think we all got off on the wrong foot, so lets just put the guns down, and we can work this out peacefully, okay?”
>The prince lion sneered. “Peace? I hate the word. It brings nothing blunt weapons and soft men. Fuck peace. Fuck those who love peace. And fuck House Fortune” He spat into the pavement.
>Your eye twitches.
>Jones laughed. “I kid, I kid, in purpose to see the look on your face. What say you, Prince? Would it not make bad of us as the future heads of house to spill blood over a territory dispute? Should we not strive for peace between our two houses?”
>You nod. “I agree. It would be shameful for bloodshed to occur over little more than an 8/12. My boys and I came for drinks and we will depart, we hope you will do the same as well.”
> “Well said, perhaps you Fortune aren’t s-”
>A gun shot rang out.
>One of the humans at Jones’ side clutched his chest.
>Behind him was Antonio, holding a bag of sodas and a smoking gun.
> “Don’t worry, I’ve got this!” He says, gun trained on the prince.
>You reach out to grab DiAngelo but its too late.
>The other human pulled the trigger.
>DiAngelo fell.
>Jones whirls, firing two shots
>One rips through the bag , the other through Antonio’s chest.
>He makes a choked laughing sound as he falls.
>Jones lets out a roar. “Fortune SCUM! You tricked me!”
>He tries to shoot at you, but you duck down, Georgio throwing the car into gear.
>You fire a few blind shots over the edge of the door as you speed off.
>The only thing you hear is the sound of the engine and the squeal of tires on pavement.
 	 	

> “Two dead Fortune, Anon. Two dead.” Your father growled through his teeth. “Do you know what would have happened if one of them was you?”
>You don’t say anything. You knew he was right. The city would have been caught in a massive gang war.
>It probably would have torn the city apart. 
> “Being that far out of our territory? Are you crazy? And starting a gun battle with Prince Jones? Anon, I simply, cannot fathom…” He trails off, looking away.
>You open your mouth to speak, but he holds up a finger, and you know not to interrupt him.
> “Look…son, I’m simply worried about you. You’re my only child and…I know a warzone isn’t the place for kids, but…I just don’t want to lose you. There’s too much as stake here. You’re my son, but I’m going to have to punish you for your actions.” 
>Georgio steps forward, the fur under his eyes still wet from when he was sobbing.
> “S-sir, I can explain what happened. Anon was going to make peace and get us free b-but…”
>He broke off, another round of tears coming forth. He had been like this since you got back to the compound. The poor hyena lets out a howl of sadness, and breaks down, covering his face as he openly wept in front of you and your father.
>You lean over, pulling him into one of those awkward side hugs. He didn’t resist.
>You father sighs, and looks you in your eyes.
> “I’m sorry about what happened but I have to make sure this doesn’t occur again. You are forbidden from leaving the compound.”
> “But father-!” 
> “No buts! This is for my sake more than yours. Be glad I’m not locking you in your room. Now get out of my sight. I’ve got two funerals to plan.”
>You nod in understanding, and collecting Georgio, you exit the office. 
>You close the door as quietly as you can, supporting the downtrodden Georgio with one arm.
>When you step out into the quiet hallway, he straightens, wiping the tears and snot away from his face. 
> “Gotta be tough for you Chief, I can’t be looking sorry like this.”
>You give him a concerned look.
> “You don’t have to act tough for me, I you’re my friend, let it out.”
>He gives you a painful smile, shaking that slow manner like people do at funerals. 
> “No, I’m alright, just shaken up, is all. We chose this life. We knew what the consequences were. It was gonna happen one day or another…getting hung up will just lead to more danger.”
>You grimace. “Look, this isn’t healthy, you gotta-”
> “I told you I’m fine.” He snaps. “Just, give me a day to rest, I’ll see you later.”
>Haven spoken his word, the brotherless hyena plodded off down the darkened hallway.
>You watch his back as he goes, only looking away when he disappears around the corner.
>You stand there for a moment, confused on what to do, before making up your mind and deciding to head to the Fortune’s estate club.
>It was outside the compound, but, it was where you went when you needed to cool off.
>Keys jingling, you keep your head down and walk to the garage where your car was parked.
>The Fortune’s compound, known throughout the city as ‘F-District’, was in actuality, not a singular building, but a burrough, that extended existed around the family’s headquarters.
>It had cropped up as the family gained power in the late 80s and early 90s around the main building, a skyscraper with ‘Fortune’ emblazoned on the top in immeasurably gigantic neon lights.
>The bigger the better, you guessed.
>Your father was tacky like that, with an old school sense of style and taste for design.
>He had started in the real estate industry, buying and selling houses on the beach, but he was approached by the former Fortune family head, and made an offer he couldn’t refuse.
>Soon, he was diving head first into illegal and illicit operations and any and all kinds.
>Drugs, brothels, gun running, illegal car sales, pornography pirate rings.
>All primarily victimless crimes, but profitable ones.
>Your father basically had a thumb in every pie, if that made sense.
>You yank the car door closed, and put the keys in the ignition, and twist.
>The engine roars to life like a hungry lion, and you pull out of the garage. 
>The summer heat hits you like a brick to the face when you drive onto the street, your AC unit struggling to combat the sun.
>Right turn.
>Right turn.
>Left turn.
>Wait at the red light.
>You drove almost aimlessly, trying to get your mind off of the shootout from earlier this morning.
>The city melts together, and you shake your head before you get into a wreck.
>You see the club in the out ahead, and maneuver into a parking spot along the street; you wanted to walk a little bit. 
>Shutting off the car, you reach into the glove compartment and pull out a pistol, another sword, for you left your initial one with your father.
>You put it in your shoulder holster under your button down, and hop onto the sidewalk.
>You get a few odd looks, and a few people who recognize you wave, but no one gives you any shit for what happened earlier today.
>You grimace, wiping some sweat from your brow before crossing the street.
>The club was a long and squat building, with most of it underground to escape the deadly sun.
>This was what you needed.