A Chance Meeting
Damn it, a fight. Patrol was calm until now. No big deal, not enough people in this desolate city to merit thoroughness. Empty streets, empty buildings. Until now. I pick up traces of an argument from a boarded up shop-- two guys yelling at each other. A third man joins in, and there is the harsh sound of glass being smashed. All in all, I wouldn't call this uncommon.
My rottweiler companion tugs at his leash. Poor boy, the long periods of quiet have made him sensitive. He's bigger and stronger than I am... taller, too, but he'd never break away from the leash.
"Relax, Chain," I whisper, patting his full, squareish head. He leans into my hand, I feel him shaking. He's not really scared, just... edgy. I try to pull him away from the shop, and he pulls me back.
"Master." His brown eyebrow spots furrow. "Trouble." I freeze in place.
"What are they saying?"
His small, floppy ears perk up, and he recites as much of the conversation as he can.
"Hit her, just fucking hit her... I don't want.... damaged merchandise isn't worth as much... bitch has to learn her place..." Chain does a bad impression of each man's voice as he copies their speech. I can't help but laugh a little.
They're slave traders. We get them every now and then-- kidnappers and failed businessmen who band together because of their unfortunate "career" choices. They buy or take untrained people and furs for cheap, bring them out to the ghost towns and train them to be slaves, to be sold at a higher price.
For obvious reasons, my superiors frown on this practice.
"Alright boy, let's break it up." I hold my rifle in both hands, poised to use it as a battering ram. Chain rears back on his legs, ready to spring.
The thin and decrepit store window gives way to a wooden rifle butt. The sound is dulled in my head by adrenaline as we leap in tandem through the abyss of broken glass. Chain barks furiously, swept up by the heat of the moment, unable to stop himself.
The slave traders scatter, each one picking a different door or window to make their exit. Three of them are human; Two men, one woman. A full-sized grizzly bear follows suit. He's likely a mercenary, leaving when the money leaves.
I shoulder my rifle and take a shot at one of the men rounding a corner. There is a flash of deep red, a scream, but the rhythm of moderately expensive shoes hitting pavement continues uninterruped. I pull the bolt back, slamming it home and locking another round into the chamber, but find no target to loose it on.
"Find them, Chain!" I shout. But Chain doesn't move. He doesn't look around. He doesn't bark anymore. His eyes are fixed, alert and yet confused, at a large wooden crate behind the store's counter. A sizeable padlock adorns the front.
"What's in the box?" I ask. Chain leans his cold, wet nose against the grain of the crate and takes a long sniff.
"New people... furs, I'm pretty sure..." Chain's face flushes a deep red underneath his black muzzle. "She... one of them smells so good, Master..." His breathing is erratic, his chest heaving as he struggles to stay in control.
I press the barrel of my gun against the side of the lock. "Stand back." Chain hides beneath the counter and covers his ears. A flash, the sound of metal striking metal at high speeds. The crate splits open, and two lady furs come spilling out.
One is a ferret, tall, as evidenced by the kinks in her long neck. She twists her head this way and that to work them out. It could be the undisclosed amount of time she's spent trapped in two-by-fours against her will, but her sleek, masked face holds a striking look of contempt. She rubs her face with her small, nimble paws, adjusting to the light.
Her canine "accomplice" seems more anxious. An Alaskan Malamute, her bright brown eyes blink slowly as she stumbles to her feet. Her voluptuous chest comes into view, bare except for her white and grey coat. Her pert, erect nipples are the first thing that make me realize the two women are stark naked. I'd like to say I'm more observant than that, but they appear far too comfortable in their fur to let on.
Chain hasn't missed out, however. He looks his fellow dog over without shame. She must be used to that kind of treatment already, because she doesn't make any move to cover herself from him. She looks down at the floor, trying not to draw attention to herself.
"Chain, stop it! Let her be," I scold. He averts his gaze as he's told to, but his eyes dart back to the girl's naked body when he thinks no one will notice.
The ferret steps forward, her posture exuding confidence. "Thank you for freeing us. Don't mind Mutebitch, she doesn't talk... but she's thankful too."
"Just doing my job," I reply. "I'd like to ask you some questions about the people holding you captive, but we can't stick around here. They might come back, and I don't fancy our chances if that bear comes armed."
"Why don't you take us back to your place?"
Combining two of my older stories, The Box and Chain the Guard Dog. More to come?