The Hunters Headquarters was in the one place the police would never find it—right in broad daylight.

They didn't have some underground bunker or a heavily armed compound. It just looked like some run down restaurant, inside and out. No one bothered to question abandoned restaurants, and no one bothered to notice as Cyrus Mossberg, hat tucked low, stepped inside.

The Headquarters had a homey feel to it, with warm wood paneling and a wooden bar lining one wall. Benny stayed behind the bar while other members lingered about the room. If anyone happened to stumble in by mistake, it would look exactly like a dive bar instead of a gang headquarters. Exactly how Cyrus wanted it. He had an office in the back, where most of his duties took place, but he liked to check in with his guys, see how they were holding up. They were friends, after all. Some of them were even family. It was hard to be loyal to the end to someone without getting a bond like that, although Cyrus supposed it was also hard to consider people family when you paid them. He often wondered how many of the gang's members would stick around if he stopped paying, and it made him happy to think that most of them would. Benny would, of course. They had been ride or die with each other since forever.

"Hi boss," Felicia waved at him from the other side of the room, and he offered her a smile and a wave in return. The Headquarters was like a second home to its members, and it was one of the rare places where everyone's ranking fell away. There was no need for him to act tough and demanding here. He had a reputation to uphold, yes, but everyone already knew who he was. They didn't dare cross him, and had no reason to pick fights with him. Or so he thought.

"Mossberg!" The gang leader sighed, having just sat down at the bar when Marcus slid up beside him.

"Marcus," He nodded in return. "What can I do for you?" Marcus was a newbie. He was entitled to ask questions, just until he figured out how everything worked.

"Well," Marcus started. "I had an idea that could really get the cops off our tail, seeing as we've had some close calls. But I ran it by a couple guys, and they all shot me down. It's a foolproof plan. I don't see what the problem is."

"The problem," Cyrus explained. "Is that we don't touch the cops. You stay away from them. We keep a low profile here."

"But why? Wouldn't it be better to have the police a little afraid of you?" Cyrus nearly laughed. As if most of the cops weren't a bit scared of them already. Spiro had looked ready to puke at the mere sight of him at Kramer's. Granted the man was being choked at the time, but still. The Hunters had enough power and rumors around them that nearly every officer they came in contact with hesitated for a second, and that second was all that was needed to get away. The only two cops that had never seemed a bit scared of them were Theo, of course, and Chief Edwards. But the Chief feared nothing, according to Theo, so Cyrus didn't think much of it.

"Marcus, going after the cops is like poking a sleeping tiger. You poke it one too many times, and it'll wake up and eat you for breakfast. You get what I'm trying to say?" Marcus scowled.

"But you never go after the cops. Even when we come into contact with them and they're trying to kill us, you scream at us if we fire back. It doesn't make any sense!"

"I have reasons for what I do, Marcus, and you just have to accept that. Rule number three, buddy. Don't touch the cops." Cyrus studied him for a moment. "Anything else you'd like to add?"

"...Yeah," Marcus scoffed, standing up a bit straighter and raising his voice a little louder so that the others could overhear. "What aren't you telling us?"

"Excuse me?"

"Obviously there's a reason you don't want us touching cops, and it's not like that's the only secret you're keeping from us. Frankly, I'm getting a little sick of how little information we're actually given."

"You're told what you have to know," Cyrus warned. "And I suggest you change your tone."

"No. You go on and on about loyalty and how we're all in this together, but the only person who knows anything is you. That's super shady, and I don't understand why no one else has called you out on it before."

"Mess with the bull, you get the horns," Martin called from the other side of the room, a warning from someone who had been down the same path before, and knew how this discussion would end. Cyrus sighed.

"What's this about, Marcus? You want a pay raise? All you gotta do is ask. You want some of the drugs? I'll have a bunch sent straight to your house. You want it, you ask. But don't think you're going to get anywhere around here by throwing accusations in my face."

"I want answers," Marcus hissed.

"You're told everything you need to know."

"Well I want to know more than that."

"Why?"

"Why? Because face it, Mossberg. You might rant about trust and loyalty, but you don't trust us at all, do you?"

"Honestly, Marcus, the only person here who I don't completely trust right now is you." Cyrus gestured to the rest of the Hunters in the room, all of whom were staring at Marcus. "These guys have been on my side, no questions asked, since day one, and we've never had an issue."

"You'll start having issues when they realize they know nothing."

"And what? You think you can do my job better than me?" Marcus stiffened, attempting to stare him down.

"Maybe I can." Cyrus smirked, staring right back.

"Then let's find out, shall we?"

***

Marcus had challenged his honor. You didn't get away with something like that. But since Marcus had practically begged for the challenge, Cyrus was happy to give it to him. The back of the Headquarters had a boxing ring. Mostly it was a training space for Felicia and their other fighters, but occasionally it made the perfect space for a battle of honor. Cyrus stepped into the ring with ease, Marcus following him more reluctantly.

"What's this?" He asked, the other Hunters surrounding the ring, ready to watch and bid on how fast Marcus would drop like a sack of potatoes.

"You challenged my honor," Cyrus said. "And in return, I challenge your pride. One fight, hand to hand. I win, I'm right; you get back in your place and stay there. You win, and I'll tell you whatever you want to know, Curious George." Marcus stared at the gang leader for a moment, and then stepped into the ring.

"You got yourself a fight." Cyrus grinned.

"I usually do." Benny stepped up on the side of the ring, ready to act as an official.

"Alright boys, let's make this fair. No weapons, nothing below the belt, keep it clean. Understood?" They nodded. "Then start whenever."

Cyrus and Marcus circled each other in the ring. Marcus awaited an attack, not knowing, of course, that Cyrus never threw the first punch. He was a quiet man when it came to fights, a firm believer in ending things instead of starting them. But if you provoked him, he'd end you. Cops weren't the only tiger you didn't want to poke.

"So, what is this, some test to prove your masculinity?" Marcus taunted. "You need to compensate that much?" He bounced on his feet, anxious, and Cyrus picked at the dirt under his nails, slightly bored, yet amused by the statement.

"Nope," He admitted. "I just fight whoever challenges me, masculine or not. Hell, if Felicia challenged me, we'd fight and I'd get my ass handed to me. Why do you think I never argue with her?" Felicia laughed from the sidelines, and Marcus threw the first punch, which Cyrus quickly dodged, landing a punch to Marcus's gut as he did so. Marcus bit back a groan.

"You should know better than to poke a tiger," Cyrus growled.

***

"Oh. My. God." Theo declared as he crossed his apartment. Cyrus sat at their kitchen table, an icepack in his hand, and a shit eating grin on his face. "What the hell happened to you?" Oh, right. Cyrus was also sporting a black eye. A miserable, vividly colored bruise that swelled his eye up to the point where he could barely open it.

"It's fine," Cyrus insisted. "You should see the other guy." Indeed he should. Benny and Mills had practically had to scrape Marcus off the ring.

***

They had dragged him to the bar after, Benny slapping down a first aid kit and some ice for their use. Cyrus had split the ice between them and grinned at his newest member as he nursed his throbbing eye.

"You've got a good punch or two in you, I'll give you that," He offered. Marcus stared down at the bar, wiping blood off his face with a pathetic wet wipe.

"Well, you won." Marcus said roughly. "I know my place." Cyrus half smiled.

"I don't tell you much because if you know nothing and get arrested, then they let you go. That answer your question?" Marcus looked up at him, surprised. Cyrus only reached over the bar, snagging a bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses. He poured out drinks, figuring they could both use one. "I'm not a bad guy, Marcus. I have my reasons for what I do, and I know you can take whatever I want to throw at you." He sipped at his drink. "You're getting a little restless around here, aren't you?"

"A bit," Marcus admitted, slowly taking his own glass.

"Then I'll tell you what. I've got a new job. I was gonna give it to Martin, but now I'm thinking a newbie would work better. Besides, if I give you the job, there's a better chance you can handle yourself and we won't have to come rescue you."

"I don't need rescuing." Cyrus scoffed.

"We'll see."

"So what's the job, sir?" Cyrus grinned. He got the feeling Marcus definitely remembered where he stood now.

"How much do you know about The Cardinal Rebels?"

***

"The other guy," Theo echoed, his eyes still wide with concern. "What did you do?" Cyrus put the ice back on his eye, hissing at the sting.

"Remember how I told you we got a new guy—Marcus? Yeah, well, he challenged my honor."

"So you fought him?"

"Gotta do what you've gotta do."

"Cyrus." Theo sat beside him worriedly, and took the ice pack away to get a closer look.

"Hey, I'm fine. It looks a lot worse than it is." Cyrus half smiled. "I'll give him credit for it, kid put up a fair fight. I put him on a special assignment for it."

"Why would he even challenge your honor in the first place; doesn't he know how stupid that is?" Theo pressed the ice pack back and held it there, hoping it would make the swelling go down. Cyrus leaned into the touch and shrugged.

"He said I wasn't giving him enough information and that I didn't trust him. He also wanted to go after cops, so maybe I beat him a little too hard for that, but oh well. He'll live." Theo opened his mouth to protest, but then his phone rang. He groaned at the Caller ID and handed the ice pack back over to Cyrus.

"It's Spiro, be quiet." He warned.

"So now is not the time to practice my yodeling, got it." Theo scowled at him and answered the phone.

"What's up?" Theo paused to listen. "Right, I completely forgot. I'll be right there." He hung up and turned back to Cyrus, who was picking at a corner of the pack.

"What did you forget?" He asked.

"We got a lead from Oak Mayfield a little while ago when we interrogated him after Kramer's." Cyrus smirked at the memory. That had been a fun day. "Some big meeting was supposed to happen between everybody in his gang, and even though he's in jail, it's still going on. Spiro and I figure it's going to be nothing but a fight as to who takes over next, or maybe the whole gang will dissolve, who knows. Either way, we're going on a stakeout."

"Nice," Cyrus forced a smile. "Be careful, okay?" Theo smiled back at him.

"I always am," He insisted, pressing a quick kiss to his husband's forehead. "Go rest."

"I'm fine, you big worrywart."

"I can already hear you complaining tomorrow, so shut up and rest." Cyrus groaned.

"Cruel demanding husband."

"Love you too dear," Theo called, shutting the door behind him.