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The lady sat on her chair, which creaked under her gentle weight. Delicate fingers tapped down on the wooden round table while she controlled the urge to make playful kicks at the table's legs. She was growing impatient by the second, and the stiffness at her feet did nothing to appease that. Her tapping reverberated, the sound bouncing against the narrow walls that she was on, followed by the crackling sound of wood breaking. She reminded herself to ask Sanders to replace this table with a metal one...or spray some repellant for the termites.

A torch hung on the wall behind her, casting more shadows than light. It accentuated the gloomy feeling of the atmosphere, her shadows danced along the walls as the flames of the torch twirled left and right. The dim illumination giving no help to reveal her features other than her thin figure, pointed ears as well her flashing caramel eyes.

Her finger-tapping was interrupted by the sound of heavy metal grinding against another metal. It boomed through the expanse of the darkened room and she could almost feel the table shaking as if it's legs were about to break off. A figure emerged from the raucous door, his sheltered eyes glaring at the door's hinges as if they were some enemy of sort.

"Dear, we really have to oil those hinges, they're gonna wake the dead" The lady said, casting her eyes on the figure.

The shadowy figure did not answer. He pushed the door, having to exert greater strength of doing so. It annoyed him that he had to make an extra effort of pushing the door due to the rust that has been building up for already a long time. But he was more annoyed of neglecting to clean it in the first place. With one final grunt, he pushed the door and it slammed to a close, shaking the unsteady foundations of the room that they were in.

He cursed for his carelessness, "Damn it,"

"Watch your language dear," The lady said, further tapping her fingers on the table, her eyes watched the shadowed figure as he went over to the chair across the round table from her and he settled to sit on it.

"I'm sorry mist--" He tried to say, but he fell hard on the concrete ground as soon as his buttocks made contact with the wooden chair, sending the sound of a solid thunk in the room. He rubbed his rump, cursing to himself because of his carelessness again.

"Damn termites!"

A soft giggle escaped from the lady's chest, apparently finding the other fur's carelessness silly, "I guess I should've told you about the termites,"

"You should have!" the fur said, a hint of annoyance at his tone, "It wasn't funny!"

Another giggle escaped from the female fur, "Now now dearie, no need to be upset," She said, "Up now," her tone was still upbeat, and the other fur scoffed at her, still infuriated with her playful shenanigan.

The lady heard him scoff and a sigh escaped from her muzzle, "Sanders, what's wrong?" She asked him, apparently sensing the oddness in the other fur's behavior. He usually didn't easily get mad like this.

Sanders stayed silent, he knew why he was here, and it was because of that that he didn't really feel like being tolerant of his charge's antics. He wasn't angry because he fell butt-down at the floor, or the termites or, the rust from the goddamn door or anything like that.

No. He was already stomping his way on the concrete floor before he even entered the room. He was about to do something for the mistress that he wouldn't even dream of doing. Now that he thought about it again, he wished he blew some cracks on the walls along the way.

'Goddamn it' He thought.

"Do I really have to do this?" He asked her, although he meant to say 'I don't want to do this', and now that he asked her, he wished that she would say no. But he very well knew that she wouldn't back down. Not from this one. Even if his life would be on the line.

A sigh escaped from her muzzle again, "Look...Sanders, I know that this would be difficult for you, but..." She hesitated, "This is just as difficult for me. Your life would be on the line...but so is mine"

It was Sanders' turn to sigh. This was the foremost reason that he was mad. He barely cared that his own life was on the line. It was because her life was on the line. He loved her too dearly--Joanna, too much that he'll never risk her life to be in danger. It was a gamble for both of their lives, one that people of Morality City would gladly take. For the many people in Morality City, a compromise of both lives would be the best deal. Not for Sanders.

There were numerous other ways to do this. Ways that the mistress would not be in danger, but she would never let it. She had this chivalrous way to her--an almost non-existent trait in Morality City. It was because he possessed the same trait that he would not let her do this. But he had no choice. One of them has to back down. He had to.

"Joanna...please, don't make me do this" He pleaded, his hand tried gripping at the ground, but what he found was pure concrete that he couldn't even grasp. He tried containing his despair, gritting his teeth, but his balled fist betrayed him and slammed hard on the ground, "Please..." A sob escaped him, followed by others that filled the room, they were weak but they sounded loud in their narrow silence.

Joanna's caramel eyes wandered over to Sanders' weeping figure. Her paw gripped over her chest, vibrating as she as well sniveled. The pain was not for Sanders to bear alone. It was unnecessary and downright stupid to leave herself vulnerable to danger. But Joanna would never let Sanders do this without her. No, she'd never forgive herself if she lost someone dear to her...again. If she did, then she might as well die with him. Sanders.

Her hidden frail body trembled as she fought to push herself from the chair, and the chair seemed to play an evil prank on her as it finally gave in and left her kneeling on the floor. She crawled over to the other crying figure, but before she was even able to make physical contact, the dim torch died on them, and they were both hidden in the darkness. Neither of them made any effort of lighting the matchsticks by their pockets nor did they even notice that the light have gone out. It was useless. No light could bring brighten this cold, dark night.

Her paws touched the ground, trying to find the only person that she shared her grief with. She crawled, her feet pushing her forward while her paws fell on the ground. Her cries grew louder when her paw fell on a stray broken shard that was supposed to be the lamp that she smashed in a fit of anguish earlier. It pierced her furred skin and exposed the softer, inner skin, raw, filling the ground and her paw with the live red liquid that was her blood. She did not mind the abrasion for a greater whip was lashing at their hearts. Harder, deeper. Bloodied paws searched for his face and they found him, Sanders, cheeks wet with tears, and now, blood. Together, they mourned.

They mourned for each other's possible deaths.

_ _

---

Godric Lucier grunted as he stomped his way through the wide hallway. His crimson eyes stared down at the walkway, refusing to stare anyone in the eye. He was sending them GODDAMN LOUD MESSAGE. 'DO NOT FUCKING MESS WITH ME RIGHT NOW!'. Thankfully enough, they all came running aside towards the walls. Godric wasn't in the mood to be polite, nor did he want to get his hands bloody. It's still too early for that. He was walking too fast and his surroundings barely registered on his mind. All he saw was white, white, and white. White doors, white floor, white walls. Everything fucking white!

And yet everything feels so red right now. Like his crimson eyes' bloody color have spread over his emotions and infected his brain like a bloody poison. Numerous terrified eyes glowered at him, and Godric saw some of them covered by their owner's little paws, in fear that they might turn to stone if they even meet eye-to-eye with him.

'I'm not fucking Medusa!' He thought, although he didn't say it. He definitely don't want to explain his words. The message might have come across as him, fucking Medusa, and he certainly wasn't in the mood for humor. Fuck humor.

A sharp squeal from his foot grabbed his attention and his neck slowly moved down like a rusty cog. He felt the blood pump hard on his head as his crimson eyes' bloody veins seemed to spread over the remaining whites like wildfire. He felt like a jackhammer was hammering repeatedly on his head and he felt like he had to kill someone. The small brown eyes staring innocently up at him did nothing to appease his anger.

Mumurs echoed from his burning ears, from "Oh my god he's gonna kill the kid" to "Please don't kill him!" truth be told, he might just do that. He hasn't had the chance to blow off his building steam ever since that incident with Cedric happened. The people in his way should've known better than to start judging him wrong...or right for that matter, and with this...he might have the chance to hurt somebody today.

The boiling in his ears spread to the tip, a sure sign that his well of patience had ran out. His gritted teeth changed to a snarl and he growled at the mouse under him, whom was slowly trying to push himself away from the angry dog in front of him. The small whimpers from the kid only served to fuel Godric's anger much further and the latter's claws unsheathed and he was about to raise his paws when a hand patted his shoulder.

"Ricky! How ya doin?" The person asked and Godric found his anger displacing at the bastard who interrupted him. The rottweiler would have punched him If only this wasn't his house.

"Sieg," he said, a tinge of annoyance in his tone.

"Ricky!" he repeated the rottweiler's name with a more upbeat tone. Godric faced the dragon, Siegfried who gave him a wry smile. The dragon spread his arms out and gave the rottweiler a bear hug, which Godric didn't return. He just let his tense arms rest on his side as Siegfried held him in place, "Good to see you man!" The dragon said and Godric felt something shuffle behind him and he turned to look, albeit still strangled by the dragon's arms. A female mouse--presumably the mother, picked the stumbled kid from the ground and eyed Godric with contempt before retreating with her son, whose life almost ended.

He turned back again at the dragon and their eyes met. The dragon's bright silver eyes gazed at Godric's, a look of sympathy in them and suddenly, Godric felt really sorry for bringing his uncontained fury at the dragon's home. He urged his eyes to look somewhere else...anywhere except Siegfried's eyes, but the dragon's hand moved to Godric's chin and made him face the dragon again, "You're really tense. What's wrong?" the dragon asked, but Godric didn't say anything. Just silence while Siegfried kept straddling him in his arms.

He tried moving his eyes again, in fear that the dragon's bright ones would read him, the sadness under his anger: The inner turmoil over what transpired days ago. But then, he's sure that Siegfried already knows what happened and he's just giving him the chance to speak the news from his own mouth. He tried to speak, to tell Siegfried what was wrong. But Godric never had the chance to do that.

Because he broke down in tears on the dragon's chest.

---

Siegfried Whitman unlatched the phone from his ears as he spoke his final words with the person on the other end of the line. He asked some of his own people at the club to take care of things for now, seeing that Godric wouldn't be able to return for the night. They had to take care of...business.

He looked over at the said rottweiler, standing in the middle of the room that he always brought him to whenever he visits. The room was vast, enough to hold hundreds of people at once, still having that signature whiteness that his mansion has.

It was Siegfried's function room and he'd held many events here: parties and weddings for his servants, political gatherings, children's parties for his servants' sons and daughters--almost anything that tickled his tastes.

Tonight though, it was Godric's. Siegfried's blue eyes cast a worried glance over at the rottweiler, who had relieved himself from his usual coat and is just left to his white undershirt and his black pants that hugged his ample buttocks tightly, forming huge dark hills that were attached to his underside.

The dragon found himself admiring Godric's physique once again and the sight of the dominant male in front of him gave a disconcerting sensation to his crotch. He rubbed his hands against each other, damp with sweat, finding his own reaction to Godric as unnerving as his own thoughts. He wanted to ask Godric if he wanted him to comfort him, in any way possible...sex. But he respected him enough to give him a plenty amount of space to breathe in, not fawn over him.

He couldn't do that to Godric. The rottweiler was confused enough as it is, the last thing that Siegfried would want to do to was to bring more emotional turmoil to Godric's already disordered mental state. Siegfried could only watch as his darling friend keeled over the life that he came to.

His eyes trekked through Godric's body. The tension on his black-furred godlike arms evident. He saw the rottweiler's fists ball into a firm circle and the dragon knew that rottweiler was gonna have another fit. He had to leave him alone, for now.

"I'll leave you now, Godric", he said, but the rottweiler didn't hear him. He was lost in maze that was his own mind.

'Godric...'

Siegfried willed his legs to move and found them weak, unwilling to give him the strength to walk up the flight of stairs. His mind told him to leave the guy so that he could some time alone, but his emotions seems to have shackled his feet down on the ground. Even his body seemed to be bearing down his own weight.

He wished he could give him a hug like old times and that would make everything okay. But such thoughts were useless. They were childish. Impossible. The years have changed the rottweiler into a miserable being. He wasn't the Godric that Siegfried knew anymore. But still...he stayed with him. Tonight though, he had to leave him, at least for a few hours.

His legs finally found the strength to move up the flight of stairs, having the need to support himself with the rails. He moved slowly, at times looking back at his friend, but he found him still unmoving, and this brought tears to Siegfried's eyes. He held his tears in; For fear that the rottweiler would see him in misery. It would be a sin for the dragon to show that he himself was hurt. He didn't want to be a burden to Godric.

Godric was strong, really strong, but even the strongest man can't bear the weight of the world. Compared with Godric's worries, Siegfried's were light as a feather, and right now, Godric can't bear any more load...much less Siegfried's. That would be selfish.

He reached the final step of the stairs and pressed on the globular end of the railings, pulling himself upwards for that final step. The moment that both his feet moved down, his legs turned to jelly and he found himself falling face down the floor but not before he had his hands on the ground to prevent the impact.

As if falling down wasn't enough, his stomach contracted, caving in and pushing the empty contents of his guts out. Bile gushed out of his muzzle and sprayed on the floor, and he cursed himself as he was unable to cover the sound of his retching. For a second, he could taste the acidic flavor of his bile but then his stomach contracted again and more of the vile liquid sprayed, mixing in with the plenty amount on the floor.

He couldn't stop himself from sobbing, so he covered his muzzle with his hand, even if that meant that he'd bear the stinging smell and taste of his own vomit. He tried moving but found himself paralyzed like that for minutes as he tried to calm himself down. His hands crossed over to the opposite arms, hugging himself, thinking that it was Godric's arms around him.

'It's okay Sieg' He imagined Godric say to him, 'Everything's okay...Ssshhhh,ssshhh' The dragon felt the rottweiler give him an empty smack on his cheeks and this brought a smile to Siegfried's face, even if it was only his imagination.

'Soon... he'll notice how much I love him' He reassured himself, and just like that, he stopped crying.

'Think positive' Everything would get better for him...and for Godric. He couldn't bear to be weak; He had to be strong for both of them. Godric was already at his limits and Siegfried wanted to be strong enough to carry both of them up, if needed. He pushed himself upwards with those bile-soaked hands of his and saw just how the vile enveloped his hands...and suit...everything.

'Blech' he thought. He had to get himself clean. He rubbed his wet eyes with his arms and looked over at the puddle on the floor...It was...quite alot. He had to ask somebody to clean it up, maybe Cynthia. He had to apologize to her anyway.

He moved over to the door that was beside the stairwell, twisted the knob and entered, closing it behind him. He looked over at the place that he entered. It was the viewing booth which oversaw the whole of the function hall. It was empty, save for a high chair and a square table with a telephone on top.

He ignored the chair and sat on the table instead, picking up the corded handset and bringing the receiver to his ears. He rolled the desired numbers and it rang. Three rings later, the familiar voice of Cynthia answered him.

"You're still alive," She said,

A cackle escaped from the dragon, amused at the mouse's humor, "Of course I am!" he said, the anxiety that he had just a few minutes later nonexistent in his voice.

"I could've sworn that he'll kill you this time,"

"Ha.ha. He'll never do that, maybe to your son, he will," he said, and he regretted it immediately when a surprised huff escaped the mouse's mouth,

"Siegfried!"

"Oops! Sorry, sorry!" he apologized,

"Mind your manners, kid...anyway, what is it?" She asked,

He gave off a sigh, relieved that Cynthia let him off the hook, "Could you come up here? Bring a rag...I..." he hesitated, "I kinda vomited on the floor,"

Another gasp escaped the mouse's mouth, she was about to speak but Siegfried cut him off, "Before you say anything, NO, he didn't punch me in the gut, I just felt sick"

"HE made you feel sick,"

'She's not letting me off after all' he thought about her accusation, an accurate one.

"Cynth, please, just come up here,"

She groaned, "I WILL," she said, "You better get ready because I am gonna DRILL your ass when I get there!"

"Wait--" he tried to say, but she was already gone.

'Oh dear' He sighed, here she goes again...

The dragon really appreciated Cynthia. She was very much like a mother to him. But most of the time though, she could be overbearing, and she tends to nose into his businesses, alot. He thought it a good thing that he had somebody to talk things through other than Godric. On the other hand, she always overreacts making the problem look like the problem was bigger than it really is. Though maybe, it's because she saw herself as his guardian, now that his parents weren't around anymore.

She was a good person, and very strong-hearted. The first time that he really noticed her was when she was brave enough to speak out against him for her son Timmy--over some disappearing cookies from a cookie jar. Siegfried later remembered that he himself ate those cookies...he just forgot. Her courageous protest was the reason why she stood out among his servants. She had the tenacity to speak out against her master. It doesn't even feel that she was a servant anymore. More like his nanny. Siegfried sometimes calls her his mommy.

"Aaahhh" he said, 'Pleasant memories...I hope they last,'

"RAAAGGHHH!"

Siegfried heard the yell from downstairs, the function room. Godric must have started. Siegfried stood up from the table and neared against the glass; a one-way mirror. Although Siegfried's sure that Godric can't see him, he's pretty sure that Godric's knows that he's watching him, he just didn't care.

The function hall was transformed into somewhat a 'break room', which Godric always requests whenever he comes here. Godric only called him an hour before his arrival, and Siegfried had to scramble his servants to arrange everything. They were able to finish on time, although they didn't have enough time to vacate Godric's path. Poor Timmy, he must have been so terrified.

The break room...it was kind of a way to relieve stress for the Rottweiler--breaking stuff. There were many pots, urns, glasses, plates--anything that was breakable. They were scattered around on tables and chairs that were also randomly placed, which, he knew, Godric would also break later. The hundreds of people that were supposed to be clubbed to death by the dog were replaced by hundreds and hundreds of ceramics--which would later be shattered into thousands of shards.

The idea was proposed by Siegfried, "It's better than breaking people," he said, pitying the slaves who were on the receiving end of Godric's beating. Fortunately enough, he accepted, and now Siegfried has to go through the headaches of his antiques being smashed by Godric.

He tried to humor Godric once by placing plastics instead of the usual glassware...Well, he almost got his ass handed to him by the rottweiler that time. He figured that plastic cups and plates just didn't have that "BANG" that glass had. He exhaled a deep breath. He wished Godric would talk to him instead of doing this.

They had been friends for a long time, since childhood. They laughed and cried together, went through puberty together, fooled around with each other. He knew Godric more than anyone in the world! But now...they barely even talk. The only languages that Godric seemed to speak were screams and the sounds of breaking glasses. Maybe...maybe he was wrong of knowing Godric after all. It certainly feels like he barely even knows Godric anymore.

It's just frightening how people change over the years.

His eyes loomed over the black-furred figure at the hall. He just looked so lost in his anger. His pointed ears twitched as he saw the rottweiler's muzzle spread and he heard a muted shout. Siegfried held his hand over his chest, gripping it, his breaths feeling a little heavy. The screams went on and on.

These walls were thick, and the fact that Siegfried could still hear the rottweiler's scream, even if muted, meant that Godric must have been screaming his throat out.

He watched as his desperate friend ran around the huge hall, grabbing a plate and throwing it in the air and while the plate was in the air, he grabbed another urn on a table before the plate even crash-landed on the ground and threw it down near his feet.

The dragon twitched when he saw how near the rottweiler threw the urn to his feet.

'No! You'll hurt yourself' He thought, but he kept his emotions in check, reminding himself to be strong for Godric.

The rottweiler stomped on the urn's shards, his weight bearing down on the poor fragments as they turned into dust with his heavy-footed shoe.

Godric looked so mad...and yet he haven't even told Siegried what was wrong with him today. Not that the dragon even needs to know--he already knew. But wouldn't it feel better for himself if Godric told him? Siegfried wished he did.

Does he not trust Siegfried anymore? No! Siegried doesn't want to think that. Of course Godric trusted Siegfried! Why would Godric run to him when he's like this in the first place?!

But still..._Siegfried would be lying if he says that he doesn't feel like he's being used by Godric as an emotional support. Running to him when he needs someone to lean on. It's true that they were political allies, _but they were also childhood friends. That has got to mean something...right? _But..._If Godric wanted to use him...then...

He could use Siegfried all he wants, because Siegfried loves him too damn much to care.

_ _

---

Alex hesitated to go in the cat's room. His hand, already clutching the knob, yet unable to muster the courage to give that final twist that he needed to meet face-to-face with the cat. He couldn't stomach the fact that he placed the cat in the same situation that he had a few days before. All chained up.

'I had to' he kept telling himself, and maybe he was right. The cat had to be safe...from himself. He knew horrible things have been happening in the cat's mind ever since the incident with Cedric. It was all too obvious.

It was strange though that Godric downright left before even checking the cat's state after Cedrick left. He had been gone for three days now, and with only a few words before he left.

"Close it down," Godric said, and Alex knew that he was talking about the club. And they did, in fact, close it down. Still, it proved to be difficult. There was almost a riot on the first day and Alex took it to his own hands to prevent any bloodshed from Godric's 'dogs' and the angry mob--_Even if he had to make false promises of free beer and sex when they come back up. For _booze and sex, they're willing to leave them alone. Sick bastards.

Tonight, the club was empty, the Dungeon, silent. It felt so unnatural not only to Alex, but also to the few guards that were left. There were no moans of pleasure nor screams of pains. Just...silence.

Over the past days, Alex had made it a point to feed these tired slaves, buying them food with money coming from his own pocket. He felt like he owed them that much. He hadn't been guarding them as carefully as he did Ryleigh. Although it made him uneasy that they asked him questions, "Why aren't anybody coming for us?"

All he said was, "Godric wants you to rest" and they all just nodded without much of another question coming from their mouths. They must have been mystified with Godric letting them rest. They must have been trained so brutally that they learned that it was forbidden to ask questions. Still, Alex knew that his story was far-fetched, taking into account Godric's character. Alex had to agree himself that he wouldn't have believed his own story. Good thing they didn't probe...or tried to escape.

The rhino fliched when he felt a slight stinging sensation on his hand, wet and hot. He looked over at it and saw that the soup that he was holding had spilled some on his hand. He was supposed to feed Ryleigh, but he was unsure whether the cat would even take a sip.

He hasn't eaten at all ever since the incident happened. But then again, Alex thought that anybody who would go through the same thing would be devastated, and others would act out. Ryleigh didn't, and still, Alex thought that Ryleigh was going through much much worse. What Ryleigh was showing was more disturbing than someone going berserk. He was dead silent. Not much of a squeak came out from him, and that terrified Alex.

On the first day, the cat wouldn't move. He just stayed seated like a statue, looking like he was lost in the haze of his own world. He barely even cared that his bed went unwashed and still smelled of the night before--just like he didn't care that his fur waist-up was drenched in dried blood. Alex tried to get him to eat some of the food that he bought, but the cat's muzzle wouldn't even budge. The rhino tried redirecting the cat's face to look at him but the cat's blurred eyes suggested that he wasn't looking at him, but through him. Gone.

On the second day, Alex walked in to see the Ryleigh's chest a tinge redder than the night before. At first, Alex thought that it was the same blood from the incident with Cedrick, but it wasn't. Because when Alex touched it, it was still wet. Fresh. Ryleigh had his paws at his chest at that time, claws unsheated. Then it occured to Alex that the cat was scratching himself bloody. It shocked the rhino that Ryleigh did not even show any expression of pain, no twitch, no flinching...nothing. Alex tried talk some sense into the cat at that time, but it was useless. He tried telling the cat that that was the time to escape. Godric wasn't around, only a few other guards were around, but still. No answer. He doesn't even know what the cat was thinking at that time. But if he had to make a guess, it was Cedrick.

On the third day, Ryleigh's chest and paws were full of blood. By that time, Alex knew that he had to do something--even if that 'something' would make the cat hate him for it--chain him up. After he did so though, he knew it wasn't a good idea. The cat seemed to have popped out of his haze and change into a more rebellious state. Like all those sweltering emotions that he buried under his silence just came out and ran amok. He thrashed and cursed at the rhino for a really long time and it was hurting the rhino that the cat kept calling him 'dipshit' and 'fucker' but Alex couldn't do anything to stop it. Alex tried talking about 'escape' again amidst the cat's squabble. But it never got to the cat's ears.

Alex spited himself for what he did, never thinking that the cat would act like this. He gave himself a smack in the head for not even thinking it over in the first place. The chains must have reminded the cat of the two horses' devious tricks. It was an act of desperation, he couldn't have Ryleigh hurting himself. Again, he thought himself stupid. But he had to do it! The cat was skinning himself raw!

He had been patient with the cat, but the final threads of his patience have run out on him. Three days have passed. Three days without any sign of Godric. THREE DAYS of wide open chances that they could've taken if only Ryleigh would listen and move.

Alex doesn't even know when Godric would be returning, but it's only a matter of time before he does, and by that time, it would be too dangerous for both of them to leave, or maybe it would even be impossible for both of them to leave. Cedrick put Godric at his limits, and there's no telling what kind of security that Godric will put on Ryleigh when he gets back.

Clock is ticking and time is running short. Today, he knew he no longer had a choice. This was for Ryleigh's own good. This WAS for Ryleigh. No matter if Ryleigh tries to struggle nor tells him that he doesn't want to go. No matter what, whether Ryleigh likes it or not, he's coming with him!

But Alex made a promise to himself. This was the last time that Ryleigh would be forced to do anything against his own will. With a grunt, he dropped the soup and turned the the knob of the door. His other hand slipped to his pocket to draw an injection of tranquilizer.

---

'Slut...slut...slut! SLUT!'

His own thoughts tormented him, the mental voice growing louder with every declaration of the word. They were accusatory, and with every pronouncement of the word, another voice seemed to speak the same thing in a more condemning tone, not even giving him time to breathe.

He felt like he was chained at the bedpost again while several mental images of the other prostitutes that he called 'sluts' were present, gathered all around him. He saw none of their faces because he never bothered to even see the faintest details of how they looked like. To him, they were just sluts, and now, he joined their pitiful ranks. He wasn't above them anymore. He was a slut...just like they are. Their sharp teeth dripped with saliva as their muzzles twisted in a grin. They knew! They knew that he had fallen from his imagined hierarchy.

They came closer to him, invisible eyes looking at him hungrily, flopped tongues sloberring with spit. They could already eat him! And they will! Their unsheathed claws raised at him, reaching for him as they swarmed below him, ready to feast on the slut soon as they could get him.

His eyeballs felt like they were bursting out from their sockets as he stared at the many animals beneath him. His lungs refused to function; The hungry images below him seemed to steal every hint of air that should have been his. They gave him no rest as they spouted their condemning words to him and his eyes felt like they were welded to only one viewpoint.

The horrors below him.

There were sounds of snaps, like bones breaking, and they clinked through his ears. Every second, more of the snaps crackled as his eyes saw how the arms of the hungry animals extended towards him. They grew and grew, and their skins ripped off from their arms and only their skeletal hands remained, still reaching for him. Inch by inch, their bones stretched, cracking.

The cat tried to move, to try to set himself free and climb higher so that these monstrosities won't reach him, but the chains felt like they were slithering against his skin, wrapping themselves tighter around the cat's body.

"Let go...Let go..." he pleaded. He felt insane for even trying to talk to the inanimate object...just as insane as the whole scenario that was unfolding under him, but the chains seemed to have heard him and suddenly, they disappeared. For a second, Ryleigh wished that they didn't because a second later, he was falling. The plunge towards the monstrosities was sudden...and yet, it was slow at the same time.

Their sharp-teethed muzzles spoke slower, and the curses that they inflicted on him sounded bigger, deeper. It sounded like there were many giants speaking to him, and he couldn't understand them because their voices boomed in his ears, but yet he knew what they were saying. Slut.

He descended towards the abyss of monstrosities and as soon as their talons could reach him, they gripped him by his furred skin. Their talons cut through him and he was reminded by the same blazing heat that he had during the intercourse with the two horses. It was pure pleasure.

He was a real slut, and he couldn't deny it anymore! What was supposed to be pain was pleasure. He was despicable, filthy, dirty, corrupted and he's loving it. He fell in between their filthy ranks, and their rude skeletal arms engulfed his whole body, caressing him, spreading that marvelous heat that he could never forget. He wanted more of it...more...more...more...MORE!

"NO!"

Ryleigh woke up from his nightmare. The nightmares that had been hunting everytime he slept. He didn't even know how long, but it all started when he fell asleep after the incident with the two horses.

'How long was it?!' even his mental voice was disgruntled. It felt likes it's been a week since it happened with the two horses, and now that he's thinking about it, he tried forcing the memory back to his subconscious, but they kept gushing out. Like boiling water struggling to get out of the feeble pot that was his head.

He refused to remember the incident, even tried to forget it. But the memory was as vivid as day. The intensity of the sex were engraved on his mind, his thoughts. Every caress of his own hand to their cocks and their bodies. Every lick and slurp for their skin and sweat. Every thrust on his mouth and tailhole. He willingly did it. He begged for it.

Because he loved it.

He could still feel their dried essences inside him, their semen that he willingly took in. The memories from the two ran deeper than anything that Godric ever did to him The two have sown their seeds into his insides, just as well as they're seeds into his mind., and the thought of them spread like a creeping grapevine. At least Godric gives him a chance to hate the act. Those two didn't.

But then again, it was Godric's fault that that...act, was done to Ryleigh in the first place. Why he was stuck here. Why he was being used by everyone day by day. Why he was miserable. It was Godric's fault. Everything! And now...this. He found another reason to hate Godric all the more.

'It's your fault, it's your fault, it's your fault. IT'S YOUR FAULT'

Beads of tears welled from his eyes and he tried to move his arms to scrub his face clean of the liquid but he couldn't. It was then that he remembered that he had been chained...again.

More tears escaped from his eyes. He wanted to wipe them, to wipe the evidence that he even cried. If someone saw him crying then they'd be on him in a second. Demons, he branded them, disgusting demons. Demons who feast upon his flesh, who took advantage of his body, who feed upon his misery. Who...who...who...

He couldn't even think straight anymore, the sounds of his cries overshadowed the screams of his thoughts. He wanted to fall to a deep slumber--he didn't want to think of those repulsive memories, but he also feared that his slumber would bring forth those terrible nightmares again. He couldn't do anything. He was helpless.

Helpless, because Alex chained him.

"Fuck you!" The cat yelled to nobody. But he wished that the rhino was on the other side of the door, hearing Ryleigh's curses. Those curses were for him.

He struggled against the chains once again, no matter how useless it was, but he still did, "Fuck all of you! FUCK YOU!" he shouted louder, but he stopped when a harsh sting came on his chest. He looked it down and once again winced when a vast region of redness on his torso came into view.

'Fuck you...' he thought, but even his mental voice sounded desperate, in pain. In pain because he hurt himself.

Ryleigh never thought that it would come to this. He never thought that he would ever hurt himself. Those other slaves that tried to kill themselves, suicide, they called it, were weak. They were unable to keep up with the 'demands' of their job, they couldn't deal with it. Since they couldn't run away from Godric, they tried running away from the next thing that shackled them to this miserable place. Their lives. And now, Ryleigh finally knows what it feels like. How pathetic he felt.

A while ago--he didn't know how long, but it felt like it's been days maybe two or three days ago; he woke up unable to stop crying. The first thing that came to his head was the way he felt during the intercourse. He actually liked it, which only made it that much worse. It was disgraceful. He couldn't take it. The shame was too much. He wished he could change the way he reacted, but no, he can't.

He knew he could never change the way he acted, it was inevitable that he'd do it with them. He was confined to being a prostitute. But that wasn't what bothered him. It was how he felt during the sex. It felt so wrong that he loved it.

Those same thoughts kept repeating over and over again as he cried, and cry he did. He wished that those thoughts would flow away from his head through the tears that he shed, but they refused. They stuck to him like a hand in a stranglehold.

He cried for so long, or at least it felt like that, because his tears ran out on him. Even these useless liquids that were his tears left him.. He felt so dehydrated, so hungry. So...Empty.

Ryleigh sat on his bed, unable to think anymore. Unable to feel anymore. His shadowy eyes gazed at a corner, seeing nothing but air. He felt so...weak and yet he also felt nothing. Like he didn't want to move. Like his mind refused to get his body make even a single motion. Like the thought of moving never came to his head. Nothing did.

His emotions ran out of him.

Ryleigh remembered somebody coming by his bed, the hazy memory of feeling something metallic and warm touching the tip of his muzzle...it must have been Alex, trying to feed him and yet nothing registered to him during that time. All that registered was that he couldn't feel, and yet his mind knew that he was sad and that he was supposed to be crying. He couldn't cry.

The feeling of emptiness was as intense as it was dull. Even his own emotions weren't in his control anymore! His mind told him to do something, anything to make him feel again. To make him feel that he was in...control.

Somehow his mind told his claws, no matter how blunted they were, to come out of their sheathe and scratch himself. Raw. Even if they could barely graze him, they persisted. Ten, fifty, three hundred and his claws minced his skin and blood came oozing out, and feeling. FEELING came in. Pain.

It was so long that he was devoid of feeling. He'd grown a thousand years old in seclusion with no one to comfort him. But here it was...feeling...greeting him again with a bloody smile.

Somehow, no matter how painful it was, he kept scratching the raw flesh beneath the skin. More pain, more blood...but it felt so good.

He remembered his eyes spasm in the sensation. His pupils disappearing into whites as the euphoric feeling of pain washed over him. He felt like he was in control; That his emotions were in his control! But the goddamn rhino had to take it away.

He was brought back to the present when the barely-repaired door came slamming down and the sordid image of the goddamn rhino came bolting for him. Ryleigh was about to curse again when the rhino suddenly stabbed something sharp at his neck.

He tried to act against the stinging pain on his neck, as well as the rhino's heavy palm on his chest. But the liquid from the injection drained themselves too quickly down into his veins before he could react. He willed his arms to move and consciously commanded them to punch the rhino's face, but all his paws could do was give a slight stroke on the rhino's face. He felt weak, he felt sleepy, and once again, he felt helpless. The energy seemed to drain out from his body, replaced by the sedating effects of the syringe that he now knows would make him fall asleep.

The rhino stared at him but even Ryleigh's mind wouldn't even register what the rhino was thinking, nor what his motives were. He was too tired to do that.

He tried investing the last of his energies to gaze at the rhino, a flutter of his eyelids, and trying to speak. But all that happened was his fall into unconsciousness...once again.

Just before a tear dropped from the side of his serene face.

---

"He's on a rampage!"

Siegfried grinned at the brown mouse who had her both of her hands planted on the mirror, her eyes almost popping out as she watched the scene unfold behind them. Although...Siegfried preferred it if she came up after Godric had finished because--

"Hey! That's my plate!" She said and scowled at the dragon who had his ears folded. His eyes looked up at her innocently with googly eyes, trying to look as innocent as possible.

"Sorry? We ran out of stock for Godric. Am I in trouble?" He said, pouting his lips like a puppy.

"You bet you are mister!" She said, crossing her arms and frowning.

Siegfried giggled at her. She was much smaller than he was, probably a little just more than five foot, but still, she likes to take control. It drew a giggle to the dragon's muzzle when he saw how cute that pink apron looks on her. It contrasted sporadically with the combination of the tan brown of her fur. Her eyes had a darker shade to it, chocolate brown, pretty...but unfortunately, they were staring at Siegfried.

She pointed her small fingers at the dragon, "YOU ARE GONNA BE IN TROUBLE, YOU! YOU...you..." she sighed, "Gah, you and your antics,"

The dragon giggled again, Cynthia could never stay angry with Siegfried.

"Yay Cynthia!" Siegfried stood up from his chair and hugged Cynthia, who almost choked herself to death if only the dragon didn't release her from his excited death hug.

He was about to give her a smooch on the cheek but not before she stopped him, "Not with puke on your muzzle!" Cynthia held up a wet towel that she was holding and rubbed it around the dragon's muzzle and nose like a mother does to her kid before his muzzle even landed on her.

He had a wide grin on his muzzle flashing his teeth that were as white as his skin, and Cynthia had to smile back. Then after a second, heave of breath that exclaimed that she was tired exhaled from her mouth, "Whatever shall I do with you?"

The dragon replied with an apologetic look on his eyes, "Sorry," he said, already knowing what she was talking about.

Godric.

Godric really bothers Cynthia alot, and it only got worse when her own son, Timmy was put on the line. Siegfried bet that if only Cynthia could punish Godric for his actions, she would have.

"I just don't know what you see in him Sieg," she said, eyeing the rampaging rottweiler at the hall. Siegfried read her expression. Pity, he saw. It was the same feeling that he had when he looked at Godric, sometimes, "All he does is...break things,"

"We're childhood friends, Cynthia, you know that," He said and he looked down at the rottweiler. As the frantic appearance of Godric entered his eyes, he had the urge to look away, but he suppressed it. He had to look strong in front of Cynthia and show her that Godric was a good person. He couldn't do that if he broke down again.

"I know that Sieg, it's just that I didn't expect that a fine guy like you would be friends with a person as rotten and corrupt as he is,"

Corrupt, rotten. The words stabbed Siegfried's heart, and he winced as Cynthia said them. He wished that Cynthia would be careful with her words when talking about the dog. But she was never one to hold back on her words. Sadly enough, what she said was true.

"Cynthia," he sighed, "He had a very rough past," he said, looking at her for a second to spare himself the sight of Godric stepping on a shard then looked back down again, "He didn't use to be like this,"

"Then what was he like when he was young? Innocent I suppose? Didn't we all?" She spoke, and there was a hint of sarcasm as she said 'Innocent'

"You're right Cynthia...But him," he reminisced, "He couldn't even hurt a fly! He loved riding the carousel and he liked butterflies, and...and--You should've seen him when he accidentally stepped on my tail back then. I didn't cry but he did! It was like he got hurt instead of me!"

"Then what happened to him?" she asked, and now she wasn't looking at Godric anymore, she was looking at Siegfried with a critical stare, anticipating his reply.

Siegfried saw this and turned to look at her as well, he had a remorseful look on his face before he even spoke, "I...can't. He's a very private person. He'd get mad if I told anyone,"

"Mhmm," Cynthia wasn't buying it, "You love him don't you?"

Siegfried almost was taken aback, but he caught himself just in time. He stroked his neck and said, "Yeah...as a fr--"

"I mean MORE than that" She prodded,

'Dang' Siegfried thought, there was no escaping her.

He sighed and conceded, "Yeah..." He sat on the chair in front of Cynthia, his back feeling heavy all of a sudden. Like his admittance took all of his energy out of him. Cynthia then sat on the table cross-legged and cross-armed in front of the dragon. She rubbed her temples with her small light brown fingers as if she was having a headache, "I just hope that you aren't blinded with your emotions, Sieg"

"I'm not!" He said almost reflexively,

"Uh huh, that's what I also said before Christian left me,"

"I..." he sighed, and he felt his blood pulse on his temples. He was about to get a headache as well, "I...just don't know how to answer you Cynthia. But really, Godric's a good man, he's just..."

"Confused" Cynthia finished for him, and when Siegfried looked up to meet with her eyes, she had a sympathetic and kind gaze on him, "You're an intelligent man Siegfried," She said, "But more than that, you're a good man. I trust your judgment wholeheartedly, but..." She stopped and her gaze turned into a serious stare and Siegfried was all ears to what she was about to tell him, "Do realize that if he goes out of control, YOU'RE, gonna have to stop him...Take him down if you have to. You promised justice for everyone. And you can't do that if you're just as confused as he is."

Siegfried didn't answer, and Cynthia took that as a cue to repeat herself, "Promise?"

Her repetition snapped Siegfried from his deep thought that was induced by Cynthia's lecture. But still, he forced a melancholic smile from his muzzle, "I promise"

"I hope so," she said, then she stood up from the table, "Anyway, I have to go see how Timmy's doing, just call me when he's done ransacking the place,"

"I will!" Siegfried said, sounding cheerful as possible and he waited for Cynthia to be fully out of the room before he went back to his train of thought, thinking back on what Cynthia said.

As much as downgrading to Godric her lecture was, it was undoubtedly true, and the truth that it bears were as heavy as his feelings for Godric. He promised his people that he'd change this corrupt city. Change it for the better, for them. For his servants. For Cynthia and Timmy. That nobody would be scared of even just walking the streets, dreading that they would get killed. That nobody would be fooled into believing that everything would get better when it fact, it won't. He vowed to change that.

And that's why Godric was with him. Siegfried had morals, and it forbade him to hurt anyone. But anybody in this godforsaken place would get away if they went through a legal war--Their enemies wouldn't even do it legally anyway. Money was all it needed for them to prance away from jail.

The rottweiler knew that Siegfried would never break his moral codes...and that's why Godric entered the Underworld life of Morality City, because Siegfried was too much of a coward to even set foot in the shadows. It was either him or Godric.

The reason they're doing this: Both of them wanted to make Morality City a better place, and to do that, they had to work through the different sides of the city. Siegfried worked through heavens. Godric worked through hell.

Thinking through this, another stream of tears surged through Siegfried's eyes and he covered his face with his hands in shame.

It kills him to think that he was part of the reason that Godric was like this.

_ _

---

Godric Lucier followed Siegfried Whitman's lead as they trudged through the path. It had taken Godric more than an hour to cooldown after he raged at Siegfried's makeshift 'break hall'. His rampage itself took more than two or three hours--although he couldn't exactly tell how long it was. He tried checking the time, looking at his wristwatch but he found that it cracked and the clock's arms were stuck in one place.

'Damn it' He cursed himself. He must have broke it at the hall during his rampage. His ears flattened on his head when he remembered that this was the watch that Siegfried gave him last year, and now he feels like a total asshole for being careless as to not taking it off before he started.

He had to get it fixed. He just hoped that Siegfried haven't noticed yet, he'll surely get upset if he knows.

But maybe Siegfried already knows, the dragon had been silent ever since they went out of the hall and he hasn't even tried making eye contact. The dragon had his back to him, and Godric had a good view of the pleasant specimen that was his friend. Godric doesn't even need to look at Siegfried anymore to tell how he looks like. He had Siegfried's in's and out's planted on his head.

Siegfried was dragon, just a little bit smaller than Godric's imposing height, but tall nonetheless. His sleek scales were of a snowy white color, just as white as his perfect teeth were when he smiles. His shoulders were broad and yet not too muscular. The dragon's chest was a little bit above average but they still have muscles in them, ripped, even, and his ribs curves a small angle towards his hips and curves sporadically on his great buttocks. It made Godric think that Siegfried prefers working his glutes more than any of his other body part.

Siegfried was never one to be a slipshod in anything, and although he wasn't really interested in being too imposing like Godric was, he still kept himself in shape. Not too imposing, Godric repeated in his head. Siegfried preferred persuasion rather than intimidation, not the way Godric likes it, but then again, they had different opinions and methods.

The best way that Godric could describe Siegfried's body would be that he was atheltic. Still...Godric wished that the dragon's buttocks were proportional to his body.

He was staring, and he stumbled at something before he knew he was.

"Careful," he heard Siegfried say, and by the closeness of his voice and the vibrations on Godric's face, the rottweiler knew that he stumbled on the dragon's back, in between his wings.

Godric pushed himself off, and he'd almost pulled on the dragon's snowy wings but he stopped before he even grabbed hold of it. He didn't want his friend to be smeared with his blood.

He stood and balanced himself in his own legs and the dragon faced him. His silvery eyes gazing at Godric's while the latter gazed back. It calmed Godric down that he had such a great friend as Siegfried, the way the dragon's eyes seemed to always have a cooling effect on him. Compassion, that was what Godric sees in his friend, but this time though, he could see a few red roots crawling around the white of Siegfried's eyes. Has he been crying?

"Sieg? Is there anything wrong?" Godric said, worried. He never lets anyone see this side of him except for Siegfried. He knew he could trust him with all his heart, and he's sure that the dragon would never betray him.

"No," Siegfried said, his tone was bland, and Godric didn't buy it.

"There is something wrong Sieg, tell me!" Godric clutched the dragon by his shoulders and shook him, but the dragon didn't answer, all he did was give Godric a smile, and yet Godric felt that there was a forlorn meaning behind the smile. Siegfried wrapped his arms around Godric and the rottweiler was surprised, but he just let his dear friend hug him.

'There IS something' Godric thought, but he didn't prod. He'd let the dragon tell him if he was comfortable enough.

To comfort the dragon, Godric returned the gesture and wrapped his burly arms around the nimble figure of the dragon, letting his hands rest on the dragon's back. The dragon's chest shuddered against Godric and he felt the dragon's embrace tighten around his body. Godric felt the dragon's warmth wrap themselves around his own body, calming him, caressing him, and yet the dragon also felt so cold to the touch, like the warm gesture had ice engraved under it.

'What's wrong Sieg...' He was desperate to ask, but he, again thought better of it. He planted a soft kiss on Siegfried's neck and caressed the dragon's back, "It's okay Sieg..." He said. He just wished that it was true.

They stayed like that for a minute, relishing each other's warmth. Bathing in each other's scents that they barely catch anymore. Soaking themselves in the physical contact.

After a minute, they withdrew and they were left staring at each other's eyes again. A few seconds and Siegfried retreated his gaze and walked again. Godric followed without question.

Godric looked around, but still kept his ears tracking where Siegfried was walking at.

They were in a warehouse...or maybe, it used to be. There weren't any humongous metallic crates nor small wooden boxes placed around anymore. What's there were the stench of burnt wood and the damp smell of soaking water which greeted Godric's nose. He twitched them, as if they would bounce off of his nostrils if he did so. They didn't really bother him though, he's smelled much worse.

They were in the warehouse that almost burned down less than a week ago, the reason: unknown. To Godric and Siegried, it wasn't. This was a storage base of a group of drug pushers that were left uncaught by the police of Morality City.

Why they weren't caught? Either the police were incompetent or they're being paid to look the other way around while those bastards ran amok with their drugs.

They didn't really think things through though. They didn't think that the police was their only enemy.

Apparently, these guys were stupid enough to threaten the kingpin stationed here in Morality City: Cedrick to 'give up'.

Look where it got them to. They almost got themselves burned to death with their cockiness and idiocy. Godric despised the bastards. It was a matter of testosterone and pride that got them killed. They didn't know who they were messing with or maybe they did, they just thought that they could take Cedrick down. Idiots.

All in all, it resulted to a few deaths by gunshots and some burnt dead...alive.

Even now, Godric could still imagine that the ghastly reek of burnt bodies would still be in the air, somewhere along the wet remains of wood and metal, gunpowder and...Godric sniffed for it...drugs.

Tonight, the warehouse was all empty with only the two of them, plus one.

Godric just followed Siegfried's footsteps. There were barely any lights on in this warehouse tonight save for a few bulbs that they put on that would be barely visible outside. He seemed to know where he was going so Godric just followed close behind.

They came here in the middle of the night, undetected and they want it to stay that way. The last thing that Godric want to happen was for him to get caught together with Siegfried. He wanted Siegfried's image to stay clean to the public, and if anybody sees him with Godric, it'd go downhill like a boulder. Godric didn't want that.

"We're here," He said in a whisper, and Godric felt the figure stop in front of him. Godric as well stopped and listened as the sound of a creaky door knob open before him, along with the pops of wood breaking as Siegfried slid the door with its broken ledge.

He felt Siegfried beckon him inside and Godric eagerly came in. The breaking earlier was just a warm up, really. A prelude to the bigger event. The bigger event that was gonna happen, now. Godric had to say that he was really excited for this, no matter how sick it sounds. After all, he vowed revenge.

He heard the door close behind him, and he saw Siegfried held up an electrical lantern that he was carrying and lit up a dark figure, tied up on a wooden chair. Godric traced his blood-colored eyes on the seated figure in front of them and Godric almost had to stifle a laugh from his throat. No, not now. Business first, laugh later.

He moved over to the figure, and he almost squealed in delight when he heard the heavy breaths from him. He stayed silent, but judging from the way the tied up figure's breaths grew ragged, he must have known that there was somebody else in front of him.

'Delicious' Godric licked his lips.

Without much of gentleness, Godric ripped the sack on the fur's face and grinned, "Good evening Cedrick"