The Prologue
This story will begin as many do...
On any given day, one could be the happiest man in the world. One could have the perfect job, sharing one's life with a faithful love, such a bright future. Alas, life can never be so simple or even forgiving. Even those who do no wrong can have everything go wrong. None would fit this more than one black rat by the name of Jacob Marshall.
Jacob, the stories that could be told of him; The hardships he went through, the pains he endured. The sensible thing would be to start at the beginning.
Jacob had little to no memory of his past before he came to live in the seemingly lazy coastal city of Corpus Christi, TX. Aged 26 and living for the past few months in a cozy apartment with his childhood friend and the love of his life, Hannah, he had it made.
He was strong and at 5'8, not to be toyed with.
Jacob worked as a bouncer at a popular nightclub called Studio 23. His godfather, a kindly old hippo named Frank, was a bartender here and had helped the rat get the job to help pay the rent. He was good at his job. He was particularly good at just being able to stare down most troublemakers. Even if someone did try to fight him, they usually ended up either tossed out back by Jacob or spending the night in the drunk tank downtown.
Tonight was to be to be different, however. Jacob arrived looking more chipper than usual. A few of the regular patrons recognized him and greeted him as such. He acknowledged them with a wordless gesture or two. He personally made little attempt to familiarize himself with anyone. For two years, Jacob had been working there and his only true friend was Frank.
The old man saw his godson and shouted, "Jacob, you young son-of-a-gun you!"
The friends shared a quick friendly embrace.
"Heh, good seeing you too, old man." Jacob smiled to see his godfather.
Frank pulled away after feeling the lump in the young rat's left jacket pocket. "So, tonight's the night, eh?" the bartender asked.
Jacob shrugged and smiled as he showed his old friend the small box in which was a silver diamond ring.
The bartender raised an eyebrow. "Well, good luck with that then. You'll find her upstairs." He gestured to a picture behind him of Jacob with Hannah. "You two are perfect together. In all my years, I have never seen devotion quite like it; let alone that I expected it to be my own godson... your old man would be proud." He put a friendly hand on Jake's shoulder as he finished his statement.
Jacob smiled, "Thanks, Frank. Well, till then."
...
Somewhere else in the club, Lucas Sharp, a medium-sized weasel in his mid-40s, was just hanging around, drinking his beer, when one of the other patrons, a German shepherd, had gotten a little too close for comfort with one of the waitresses.
She slapped him leaving a red mark on his cheek.
He responded by grabbing her tail and pinning her to a nearby table. That was when a black rat grabbed him by the collar of his shirt then pulled him off the girl.
"Now, there won't be any need for that, sir." Jacob spoke calmly, his strong violet eyes stared down the dog.
The shepherd growled and pulled out a pocketknife only to have Jacob snap his wrist and backhand him across the muzzle. This made the dog drop his knife on a nearby table. When he reached for it with his free hand the weasel, Lucas, grabbed the knife from him and jammed it through his hand, nailed him to a nearby table.
The shepherd let out a cry of anguish.
Jacob quickly thanked the stranger then grabbed the shepherd's head and turned him to face the girl. "Now, say 'sorry' to the nice girl, so we can leave here with a clean conscience."
The dog slurred in his attempts. "S-s-sorry..."
"What's that? I didn't hear you!" He grabbed the dog's groin and twisted it hard on his last word.
"AAHH!! Fuck, I'm sorry alright!?"
This generated a cheer from the crowd.
Jake pulled out the knife, wiped it off on the dog's jacket, borrowed a kerchief from another patron and wrapped it around the dog's wounded hand. "There, now! No hard feelings, right? You just gotta understand, you don't treat girls that way. You can come in whenever you want, indulge in whatever you desire because that is a privilege; a privilege you just lost."
He picked up the dog and death-stared him in the eyes.
"If I catch you beating on any other girls, whether it is here or on the outside, I won't be so forgiving." His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "Something about that just pisses me off to no end."
He pushed the shepherd into the surrounding crowd.
