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Bad to the bone. (1)

Wolfie Steel & Wolf Seeker.

A gang of youths walk down the street, it is late and the youths are all armed with various weapons ranging from knuckle dusters, baseball bats, knives, one of the gang members even has a small pistol which is fully loaded and ready for use, it is fair to say that these guys are all looking for trouble. All is not how it seems however, for one of the gang members is even at this late hour having second thoughts.

The youth in question is Basher, real name Tyrone Jackson, he is a mean looking Rottweiler standing at 6' 6", he's a nineteen year old who has been led astray, he wields a large wooden baseball bat hence his nickname of Basher. He gained his place within the gang when he was attacked by them nearly six months ago.

Being a Rottweiler with some hefty muscles he was able to defend himself quite well, though he has gained himself many cuts and bruises for his trouble. After he defended himself he was left with a choice by the gang, he could either join with them, or stay as a lone dog that would constantly get pain from the gang.

In truth Tyrone is accustomed to pain, as he suffers it most days and nights at the paws of his drunken father, and so Tyrone decided that he didn't need the gang beating down on him as well as his dad so he joined the gang.

The gang offered Tyrone a degree of security, you know, honour among thieves and all that crap, but Tyrone knew that it was a fragile security at best, what he couldn't tell anyone was the fact that all he really wanted was to feel and be loved, there was something else too which if the gang found out about it Tyrone's life would be over, you see Tyrone just happens to be a gay Rottweiler.

You may ask how come I know so much about this youth, well that is easy to answer, I know so much about Tyrone, because I am Tyrone 'Basher' Jackson. My mother died when I was still a pup, I guess I was four or five at the time, dad had never been much of a father when mum was alive, but when she died it pushed him over the edge. I remember one day as I returned home from school I opened the front door and walked into the house, a gust of wind blew through the house and knocked over a vase, well the vase hit the floor before I could catch it and shattered sending porcelain pieces everywhere.

Well dad was in one of his drunken rages again and he took me apart using just his bare balled up fists, the punches rained down on my young body hard, a few punches connected with my muzzle and chipped a few of my teeth. To finish off the beating my father then pulled my school trousers and my boxers down and then took his thick leather belt to my butt.

At the time I did not cry, though I was shaking like a leaf, when dad finally stopped strapping me, I pulled my boxers and trousers back up gently and then limped up to my bedroom, once inside my room I slammed the door hard and then made sure that it was locked, I then fell on my bed and cried a river.

Later that night when my dad finally crashed on his bed too drunk to stay awake, I unlocked my door and made my way to the bathroom, I looked into the mirror and what looked back was a bloodstained muzzle, with a slightly closed left eye.

I cleaned myself up as best as I could, but I still got the awkward "What happened to you" questions at school the following morning, as usual I lied through my teeth because if the school had got involved then I would be assured of another beating, probably worse too.

I'm brought out of my reverie by the sound of the gang leader's voice, I swear one day I will grow some balls and do the right thing, but for now I will be loyal to the gang.

"Yo Basher, look ahead of us, there is an old codger, the price for you remaining in this gang is going and beating that Shep up and gettin' whatever money he has"

Damn, for six months now I have managed to keep my paws relatively clean, the only blood they have seen while in the gang was the day when the gang attacked me, the gang member that I beat up, a Horse known as Stride, has hated my guts from that day to this, the only reason that he want attack me again is because the rest of the gang won't allow it.

Now though it seems that it is time to pay my dues and show the gang that I am worth keeping, and so with a heavy heart I hide my baseball bat up my sleeve and make my way towards the Shep.

I move away from the rest of the gang members and make my way towards the Shep alone. He is wearing nice clean clothes, and reading a newspaper with his back to me. When I am about ten feet from him I pause for a moment and look back over my shoulder and see the gang leader looking at me with a judging eye. It's now or never.

I step closer to the Shep as I grip the bat in my sleeve tighter. When I am a just a couple feet from the Shep I open my mouth to begin demanding his money and valuables.

"Yo, dude, give me your wallet and stuff and I won't beat you too bad"

The Shep doesn't move to look at me, twitch an ear, or even bother to fold up his paper to acknowledge that I am even there. It actually annoys me to be ignored like that. I let the bat slip from my sleeve and into my paw as I speak up again.

"Hey you deaf or somtin', I said give me your stuff or I'll beat you. Do you hear me?"

All the Shep does in response to my threat is turn his paper to the sports page and continue reading. I was expecting begging, fighting, maybe even running, but I certainly wasn't expecting to be ignored by this guy. Frankly it is starting to piss me off. My anger gets the better of me and I swing my bat at the Shep's head closing my eyes as I do so. Some part of me fears seeing what I am about to do and can't face it.

Instead of the sickening thud I was expecting there is a soft whack and my bat freezes in mid air. I open my eyes and for a moment my mind can't comprehend what it is seeing. The Shep is still reading his paper with one hand while the other has caught my bat in mid air and is holding it in place. My jaw drops.

I look back over the rest of the gang but they are standing there with stunned looks like my own. Some of them look ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. This Shep may be more than I bargained for. Just then there is a rustling followed by a deep voice which draws my attention back to the Shep.

"It's not polite to try and take what isn't yours pup. It is even less polite to hit someone when his back is turned."

My eyes go wide as the Shep folds the paper with one hand and tucks it under his arm as he turns around to look at me still keeping a firm hold on my bat. I swallow hard as I look at his face. It is hard and determined but when I meet his eyes there is something else there as well. There is warmth there and a loneliness that is so familiar to me, it is the same loneliness that I feel every night when I go to bed alone.

Either he saw the same thing in my eyes or maybe something else. I don't know. All I know is that in that moment I felt a connection with this Shep and was both excited and terrified of it. My grip loosened just a bit and the Shep took instant advantage of it. In a flash of movement he ripped the bat from my hands, flipped it around in his grip, and used it to knock my feet out from under me sending me crashing to the ground.

The pain from my now bruised rear only adds to the panic that builds up in my chest as I look around for the rest of the gang only to see them running down the street and turning down an alley. This seems to have gotten too hot for them and they left me to my fate at the hands of this freak of a Shep. I look back up at the Shep and he is looking down at me. For several long minutes he studies me as though trying to make up his mind about me. Then he does something that surprises me, he drops the bat down beside me then turns and walks off. As I watch him move away he turns his head and speaks over his shoulder.

"When you pick yourself up pup you should really think about what you are doing with your life. I can tell you from experience that the path you are on now will only lead to your death sooner or later. You have too much potential for that to happen to you"

With that the Shep turned a corner and left me laying there on the sidewalk sore and scared, his words echoing in my ears. Again I look back towards where the rest of the gang had run only to find no trace of them, a thought runs through my thick skull, "Well I guess the honour among thieves bit really is a load of bullshit, well Tyrone, either you pick yourself up and try to find the Shep, or you try and hook up with the gang again"

In the end there is no contest, I get back on my footpaws and head in the direction of the kindly Shepherd. I didn't know what to expect from him, but his words were telling me that he was looking out for me and that maybe, just maybe he wanted to offer me help, possible friendship, possibly more, but right here and right now, I knew that whatever he was offering had got to be better than my life in the gang.