The lobby was a stark contrast to the dimly lit, sensual atmosphere of the club. Bright lights, polished marble floors, and the hushed conversations of well-dressed businessmen and women created an air of sterile professionalism.
Fang, his presence commanding attention even in this unfamiliar environment, strode purposefully towards the elevators. Inside the elevator, his eyes scanned the panel of buttons, each representing a different floor of the towering building.
"Thirty-four," Dale stated, his voice a low rumble.
Fang leaned closer to the panel, his sensitive nose twitching. "I can smell Bozeman's greasy fingers on it," he growled, a hint of disgust in his voice.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, revealing a long, carpeted hallway lined with a seemingly endless row of offices. Each door displayed a polished brass nameplate, the names etched in elegant script. Kev's eyes scanned the plaques as they passed, a dizzying array of unfamiliar names and titles flashing before him. Lawyers, accountants, financial advisors... it was a world of suits and briefcases, a far cry from the dimly lit, sensual atmosphere of Club Fang.
Fang, his keen senses heightened, sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring slightly. He then strode purposefully down the hall, his confident gait echoing in the quiet corridor.
He stopped abruptly in front of a set of imposing double doors at the end of the hall. The brass nameplate, larger and more ornate than the others, read: "Bozeman and Bozeman."
Without hesitation, Fang pushed both doors open with a resounding crash, his booming voice echoing through the office. "Bozeman!" he roared, his anger palpable. "Get out here!"
The office was momentarily stunned into silence. A few tired-looking beastmen and women in suits glanced up from their paper-covered desks, their eyes wide with surprise at the unexpected outburst.
At the far end of the room, a door swung open, revealing a jackal in a sharp suit. He barked, "Who the fuck is yelling for me?!" His eyes landed on Fang and his demeanor instantly shifted to one of nervous deference. "Mr. Fang," he yelped, his voice cracking slightly, "I... I apologize for the disturbance."
Fang's growl deepened. "I'm looking for the chameleon," he said, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the office.
The jackal pointed towards the door next to the one he had just exited. "He's in his office," he stammered, then quickly retreated back into his own workspace.
Fang turned to Dale, his eyes flashing with a predatory glint. "Come with me," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Fang and Dale strode purposefully towards Bozeman's office, leaving Kev and Talon standing in the middle of the now-silent workspace. Kev's gaze swept across the room, taking in the curious stares of the employees who had witnessed the entire spectacle. He couldn't help but chuckle nervously, the tension in the air palpable.
"Well, this is awkward," he muttered under his breath, hoping Fang's confrontation with Bozeman wouldn't escalate into something even more dramatic.
Kev and Talon stood in the center of the office, the silence amplified by the hushed whispers and curious glances of the surrounding workers.
Suddenly, Fang's voice boomed from Bozeman's office. "Don't try to hide, Bozeman. I can smell you."
The workers' heads snapped towards the closed door, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and fascination.
A moment later, the door flew open, revealing a chameleon-man peeking out, his scales shifting colors in a panicked display. "Don't hurt me!" he pleaded, his voice a high-pitched squeak.
Before he could say another word, he was yanked back into the room, the door slamming shut behind him.
Talon's frown deepened, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "Maybe you should go in there," he suggested, his voice a low rasp.
Kev hesitated. "I have no idea who that is," he admitted, his voice laced with a hint of apprehension. "But Dale's in there too, so it should be okay, right?"
Talon shrugged. "You know Dale better than I do."
Kev thought back to his interactions with the bartender. Dale was friendly, jovial, always ready with a joke or a witty remark. But there was also a hint of steel beneath his easygoing demeanor, a sense of loyalty and protectiveness towards Fang that Kev had witnessed firsthand. And if Cindy was anything to go by…
"Yeah," Kev finally said. "I should probably go."
He took a deep breath and pushed open the door to Bozeman's office, Talon following closely behind.
The office was a stark contrast to the sleek, modern reception area. Stacks of legal documents and maps littered the desk, the walls adorned with awards and framed newspaper clippings. A large window offered a view of the city skyline, but the blinds were drawn, casting the room in a dim, oppressive light.
Dale, his usually jovial expression replaced by a mask of cold fury, held Bozeman suspended in mid-air, by a single arm, the chameleon man's feet dangling helplessly above the floor. Despite Bozeman's build, Dale seemed to effortlessly support his weight, his grip on the chameleon unwavering.
Fang stood directly in front of Bozeman, his face inches from the terrified lizard's. "Always with the excuses, Bozeman," he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the room. "... Should have just brought it to court and fought it, you snake."
Kev's cough broke the tense silence, drawing Fang's attention. The wolfman's gaze softened slightly as he looked at Kev and Talon.
"Ah, Kev," Fang said, his voice regaining an iota of warmth. "Meet my new assistant."
Fang beckoned Kev closer with a wave of his hand. "Kev, meet Bozeman. He's the club's lawyer."
Bozeman, still dangling in Dale's grasp, sputtered, "What are you...?"
Dale gave him a shake, effectively cutting off his question.
"I'm a human," Kev offered, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness.
"Let me go, Dale!" Bozeman pleaded, his voice a strained hiss.
Fang ignored Bozeman's protests and fixed his gaze on the chameleon lawyer. "Bozeman," he said, his voice a low, menacing growl, "I came here for a reason."
Bozeman gulped, his eyes darting nervously between Fang and Dale.
"You're going to be working for someone new," Fang declared.
"You can't fire me!" Bozeman exclaimed, his voice rising in panic. "We're so close to winning those zoning appeals!"
"I'm not firing you," Fang clarified, his tone still firm. "You're getting a new boss."
"But... this is a private practice," Bozeman stammered, his confusion evident.
Fang's gaze swept over Kev and Talon, a subtle smile playing on his lips, before returning to the distressed chameleon dangling in Dale's grip.
"I've formed a new business partnership," Fang announced, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the office. "These new colleagues have their own legal teams who will be taking over my cases."
Bozeman's eyes widened in disbelief. "Which cases?" he sputtered, his voice a mix of panic and outrage.
"All of them," Fang replied simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Bozeman struggled in Dale's grasp, his scales flashing with a kaleidoscope of colors as his anxiety and anger mounted. "This is a bad move, Fang!" he hissed, his voice a desperate plea. "I've been working on these cases for years! No one knows them like I do! The council is trying to walk back on their deal, and we're going to make so much money when we win. You can't do this to me!"
Fang's eyes were cold, devoid of any warmth. "You'll be continuing your work," he stated, his voice firm. "Just working for them."
Bozeman's protests grew louder, his voice rising in desperation. "I don't want to work for some faceless suits! Let me win these cases! We're so close!"
Fang's laughter echoed through the office, a chilling sound that silenced Bozeman's pleas. "Put him down, Dale," he ordered, his tone still amused.
Dale released the struggling chemelion, who stumbled back, rubbing his sore wrist. "That was uncalled for," he muttered, his voice a petulant hiss.
"The boss said to grab you," Dale retorted with a shrug. "I grabbed you. Don't cry about it, Boze."
Bozeman retreated to his desk, collapsing into his chair with a defeated sigh. "This is madness," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. "It will take me weeks just to fill these people in on all the details."
Fang's grinned "The group taking over is called Nail and Kick," he announced, his voice a triumphant rumble.
Bozeman's head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Impossible," he gasped. "It's... who did you just say?" Bozeman's scales shifted rapidly, a kaleidoscope of colors reflecting his inner turmoil. "But they work for..." he stammered, his voice trailing off in disbelief. "Fang, what did you do? I have workers here, families to support..."
Fang's expression remained impassive. "Call yourself a consultant, I don't much care," he said, his tone dismissive. "Name your salary to them and keep your position here. It's not like you were working on anyone else's cases anyway."
Bozeman rubbed his temples. "Let me think," he muttered under his breath. "Stupid dog, making a deal with them."
Dale, sensing Bozeman's rising panic, interjected with a warning growl. "Watch it, Boze."
Bozeman's eyes narrowed, his gaze darting between Fang and Dale. "What did you give them, Fang?" he hissed. "What did they want?"
Fang laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed through the office. "Nothing," he replied, his voice light and carefree. "They just wanted to be able to book parties at the club. A little exclusivity for their clientele."
Bozeman's skepticism was evident. "That can't be the only thing," he insisted, his voice a mix of disbelief and frustration. "They're not known for their... subtlety."
Fang's patience was wearing thin. "That's it, Bozeman," he growled, his voice a low rumble. "Take it or leave it."
Bozeman frowned, his scales still shifting colors in agitation. "Sounds like the deal you made with the city council," he muttered under his breath. "And I've been working on that for six years!"
Fang's growl deepened. "This isn't me asking, Bozeman," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "This is me telling you what's happening. If you want to quit and retire, I won't stop you. But if you're going to keep being a lawyer, this is what's happening."
Bozeman slumped in his chair, defeated. "How do you all deal with this wolf every day?" he lamented, his voice a weary hiss.
Fang's hackles rose, and he lunged forward with a menacing growl. Kev, sensing the impending outburst, quickly reached out and grabbed Fang's arm, his touch a silent plea for restraint.
Fang's muscles tensed, but he slowly released a breath, his anger subsiding slightly under Kev's calming influence.
Kev, taking advantage of the momentary lull, addressed Bozeman directly. "Bozeman," he said, his voice gentle but firm, "what makes you hesitant to work with the other lawyers? Is it just a matter of money?"
Bozeman grimaced, his scales shifting colors in a display of frustration. "They'll steal all the glory," he finally admitted, his voice a petulant whine. "Their names are awesome - Nail and Kick! No one's even going to remember me, Bozeman." He dramatically flopped forward onto his desk, his voice muffled by the piles of paperwork. "I knew I should have used a stage name."
A snicker escaped Talon's beak before he quickly coughed and looked away, pretending to be engrossed in his surroundings.
"You don't get it," Bozeman said, his voice rising in frustration. "Good lawyers are everywhere, but… if you know a lawyer's name? They're rich! They're celebrities! I don't even make the papers since Fang shut himself up in his mansion!"
Dale, leaning against the wall with a smirk, chimed in, "The boss doesn't care about making the front page. He just wants the club to be taken care of."
Fang's gaze softened as he looked at Kev. "I was making the papers too much," he admitted, his voice a low rumble. "It was... distracting."
"Those were wild times," Bozeman reminisced, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "The office was buzzing. Every day was a new headline, a new scandal..."
Fang's hand rested warmly on Kev's shoulder, a silent reassurance amidst the settling tension in the room. "Those days are in the past, Bozeman," he stated, his voice firm yet tinged with a hint of melancholy. "I'm not the wild fighter I once was. I'm realizing the benefits of... solidifying my future."
Bozeman's gaze flicked between Fang and Kev, taking in the possessive gesture and the unspoken intimacy between them. A sly smile crept onto his face. "Alright then," he conceded, his voice a resigned sigh. "Let's hit the jackpot and sail off into the sunset. I guess I can get my glory after we're rich."
Fang's smile returned, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "I'll leave it in your capable hands, then, Bozeman," he said, his voice a low rumble. "They should be here tomorrow to begin the document transfer.... Why don't you come by the club now and then, keep me updated on the progress? You know we can talk freely there." He glanced at Dale, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And of course, our esteemed lawyer will get free drinks."
Dale nodded, a broad grin spreading across his face. "Can't let our friends go thirsty, boss," he replied, raising an imaginary glass in a toast.
Bozeman chuckled, a hint of his usual arrogance returning. "Twist my arm," he quipped, a playful smirk on his lips.
As they stepped back into the main office, the jackal lawyer poked his head out of his doorway, his gaze settling on the eagleman. "Talon," he called out, his voice a hesitant bark, "come here for a few minutes."
Fang looked back at Talon, a questioning glint in his eyes.
"Excuse me, boss," Talon said, his voice a low rasp. "I'll be down at the car in five." He turned and walked into the jackal's office, closing the door behind him.
Fang shrugged. "Lawyers," he muttered under his breath. He then led Kev and Dale back down to the waiting car.