Four Dogs in Exile 2
#2 of Exile
Ares stood and looked out the window, at the city which sprawled and spread before him. "Ares" is not his real name. It's just what he calls himself, these days. The city sprawled on and on, miles and miles of it, into the distance. There were tall buildings, and neon lights, and cracked sidewalks, and more traffic than was ever meant to be endured by anthro folk, and there was grime and dirt, and there was a lot of steel and concrete and glass and metal.
This is the second chapter of this story. In the first chapter, I wrote this: "Yes, this city has lots of distractions. There are shops and eateries, of course, and a ton of tourist attractions. There are galleries and museums, and parks, and oh, what else, a thousand, thousand ways to spend one's time. This city has a lot of bars, and a lot of males. If Ares wanted to, he could spend nearly all his time indulging in what some call 'pleasures of the flesh,' and he knows it. This Pit Bull who calls himself Ares is in exile, but he is in danger of becoming lost as well. He could so easily get lost amongst this city's myriad distractions, and if he does . . . if he does, he will never find his friends. He will never complete his mission."
Ares was in his office, on the top floor of a seven-story building. The walls were sturdy, and the wiring had been recently replaced, but the plumbing was ancient. The building was old, quite old, and there was a history there for those who cared to look for it. Each floor was a warren of offices, and one could find all sorts of anthros in those offices. There were tattoo artists, and fortune tellers. There were criminals and lawyers. There were prostitutes on the first floor, and a colony of artists on the sixth.
As he looked out the big window, he sensed a storm coming. The air felt full of electricity, and his fur bristled with the thrill and power of it. Ares was a Pit Bull with reddish-brown fur, leaning toward the red side, and his blue eyes made one think of the ocean.
It was morning, a few hours before noon, and Ares was holding a mug of cooling coffee.
And then his solitude ended, because Ezekiel came into the office.
"Hey, boss," Ezekiel said.
"Hey, Eze," Ares replied, turning away from the window.
"I brought donuts," Ezekiel said, setting a large bag down on one of the two desks. He went to the coffee maker, found a semi-clean mug, filled it with coffee.
Ezekiel was a muscular Boxer, lean and sculpted.
He and Ares first met in a bar: Ares had been drunk, and Ezekiel had been trying a new designer drug called Nightshade. They'd gone back to Ares' office (because it wasn't just an office - Ares lived there, as well) and the sex they'd had . . . it was messy, and wild, and over far too quick. Hours later, they'd awoken together on the couch. Ares was no longer drunk, but his head ached and he felt much more hungover than he felt he should've. The designer drug had passed from Ezekiel's system, but his stomach felt wrecked and his nerves tingled with a dangerous edge. The two male dogs had looked at each other . . . and they'd immediately begun making out. They'd kissed, and they'd held each other, and - well - I'll not go into all the details (for this story isn't about that night) - but - the sex was much better, more memorable. It started out more gentle, and almost tantric, and they had to be considerate of Ares' headache and Ezekiel's upset stomach. And then it ramped up, got faster and more intense.
Hours later, somewhat close to noon, they'd awoken in each other's arms a second time. After yet more sex, and then some conversation, and then some greasy food, Ezekiel and Ares realized they were meant to be friends, rather than lovers, and both were fine and happy with that.
A bit later, Ezekiel began working for Ares. The Pit Bull had gotten his private investigator's license, and anthros (mostly from the neighborhood) had been coming to him for help with various problems.
Ezekiel set his coffee down on the desk, and he went to the bathroom. As he tended to do, when it was just the two of them in the office, he didn't close the door. The office had two bathrooms - one for males, one for females. The males' room had a cracked sink, a cracked urinal, and an ancient toilet lined up along one wall. There were no dividers or walls between any of the old fixtures. Ezekiel pissed a passionate stream into the urinal, and the sound echoed out. After, he washed his hands, briefly, and then he returned to his coffee. He peered into the bag, and pulled out a pink donut slathered with sprinkles.
"Thanks for getting these," Ares said, helping himself to a large, glazed donut. The interior was smooth cream, the exterior dark chocolate.
"So, I heard a rumor," Ezekiel said, casually.
"Oh?"
"Might be one of your guys." He looked at his boss.
"Yeah?" Ares raised a single eyebrow.
"I know," Ezekiel said, with a nod. "We've chased down - how many? How many rumors have we investigated? How many leads? But - we can't stop, right? Or, shouldn't."
"You think this latest one is worth checking out?" Ares asked.
"Maybe," Ezekiel said, with a shrug. "I'll give you the details. Supposedly, there's a male in the Willowdowns neighborhood who's a healer. Not, like, a magical one. Just someone who's really good with medicine. And he doesn't always ask for credits. Sometimes, for payment, he'll ask for food. Other times, he'll tell his patients to pay when they can."
Ares chewed, swallowed, while thinking.
"Thing is, " Ezekiel continued, "One guy told me he heard this healer was a Golden Retriever. However, someone else heard he was a Labrador. And - and - folks are also saying that this healer has a lot of compassion. He seems to really care about everyone who goes to see him."
Ares' heart skipped a beat, and he forced himself to calm down.
He'd been exiled to this city along with three other dogs. He had no idea where they were, and he hadn't been able to find them. When he wasn't busy working a case as a PI, he and Eze spent their time listening to news stories and rumors, hoping that one or more of the three missing would reveal his whereabouts through his actions.
One problem, of course, was that the city was just too fucking big. It took up nearly half the planet.
"Willowdowns is a long way away," Ares said.
"Four days journey by passenger train," Ezekiel said. "And it's not the safest place, now, is it?"
One of the three missing dogs was a Labrador named Than. He'd been a doctor before . . . before everything started. So, Ares told himself, it was possible that Than was the mysterious healer in Willowdowns. Of course, the city had millions of inhabitants. How many of them were Labs? Many, that was how many. If the healer even was a Lab. He could turn out to be any type of dog, Ares knew. He might even be a feline, or an equine.
"Might be worth checking out," Ares said, slowly.
"Yeah?" Ezekiel asked. "Do you think this healer might be Than? Does that sound like something he would do?"
"It does, yeah," Ares replied.
"What kind of name is Than, anyway? Is it short for something?"
"Yes," Ares said, simply. He didn't say what it was short for.
"Well," Ezekiel said, cracking his knuckles (for dramatic effect). "Last month, we did travel all the way up north to Palace Glades, because we heard a rumor about a Lab. That was an epic journey. If we're willing to do that, then I guess we should be willing to go to Willowdowns. Yeah?"
"And we don't have any cases at the moment."
"Guess we'd better eat all these donuts. We'll need full stomachs."
"Oh, we'll need more than that," Ares said, with a slight smile. "You see about getting train tickets. I'll pack the booze."
Ares plucked another donut from the bag. He went to the window, so he could gaze out at the large city while he ate.
He tried very hard not to think about a certain Labrador with pale yellow fur and a compassionate smile.