The Raging Hounds Chapter I: The Misfit
#1 of The Raging Hounds
The Raging Hounds, the universe the story is located and all the characters are copyright of Rhazagal. No part of this series may be used without permission from the author. If you dislike reading about M/M action between two (or more!) soldiers, you can stop reading here.
Author's note: For all of you who enjoyed "When Worlds Collide" I have good-ish news. The universe in which the adventures of the Hounds take place is the very same as the one in When Worlds Collide, albeit these events take place way later.
On with the show!
The metal corridor of the space station A-12 "Goodwill" echoed hollowly as booted feet stomped over the grated floor. The spotted hyena to whom the boots belonged to walked slowly, taking his time, towards the one door he had been told to go to. Fresh out of the Boot, the hyena had been assigned to his new unit immediately.
Idly he adjusted the olive-green army pants on him, making the gesture without even noticing it himself before staring at his assignment orders -written onto two whole sheets of paper- with his stunning emerald-green eyes. Boots and pants aside he only wore a simple T-shirt that matched his pants, the rest of his belongings stuffed into a duffel bag (also green, what a surprise!) that hung casually on his shoulder.
"12th Marine Company nicknamed 'The Raging Hounds'... I wonder what kind of a group they really are?" The hyena thought to himself, watching from the corner of his eye at the numbers and texts painted onto the steel doors. Behind some of the doors faint noises and voices could be heard, though mainly everything was silent. The Goodwill station was merely a resting place for the various companies and both smaller and larger units before they returned to active duty again, and when it came to something as large as the Galactic Federation -spanning thousands of inhabited planets and space stations- Marine units were needed quite often to keep things in order.
Finally stopping by one of the doors, they hyena dropped his meager belongings onto the grated floor, staring at the number on the door and comparing it to the one in his orders. Perfect match. Closing his eyes the spotted hyena inhaled deep, exhaling then slowly before raising his paw to press the slate which would make the door slide open. He froze mid-motion as he heard a raucous laughter echoing from within the room.
Curious to find out a little bit more about his brothers-in-arms-to-be, he halted his paw and pressed one of his sandy-brown furred ears against the door, straining his hearing to find out what the furs within were saying.
"So how does the bunk-roster look like for today, lieutenant?" a deep, mature male voice asked
"Hmmmm...Just about the same as always, the way it has always been actually, though we DO have a new guy coming up today...In fact he should arrive any minute now. Another male voice replied.
A third voice chimed in "I wonder what he's like... Heck, I bet my packet of Grins it's a wolf!"
"No chance...Some breed of dog I say! The first speaker called and something landed onto what the hyena supposed was a table with a dull thud. In a moment the room was full of shouting as the other marines joined in the bet, each one staking different things, though the spotted-one wasn't sure just what, exactly, they were betting; there was just too much noise.
"Well...I guess they are in for a bit of a surprise..." The hyena mumbled quietly to himself and raised his paw to press the panel at the side of the door.
There was an audible click and then a hiss, the door sliding softly to the side and the hyena finally got to see what his fellow marines looked like. The sight was more than a little stunning; canines, nothing but canines -or at the very least canids. Several wolves in different colors, various breeds of dogs, a couple of foxes, a lone coyote and a black jackal, and they all were looking at the hyena, suddenly silent.
The room was somewhat scantly decorated with several simple bunk beds -all of which looked like they hadn't been made in quite a while- a couple of recliners and two small tables. On the centre of the left-paw wall of the dorm was the sign of the Galactic Federation (the profile of a black bear holding a hammer above its head, two lightning bolts crossing across the head of the hammer) and below the sign were the words Pride, Glory, Eternal Loyalty.
What caught the hyena's eye the most in the already familiar emblem was the fact someone had spray painted a black arrow down from the word 'Pride' and the arrow was pointing to a rainbow flag hung just underneath the Galactic Federation's sign, a thing that puzzled the hyena quite a bit.
The silence was broken by a wolf who sat cross-legged on one of the upper bunks, a standard-issue C-8 Pulse Rifle on his lap, slowly polishing it with a cigarette casually hanging from the corner of his muzzle.
"Yeah? Do they need us somewhere or something?" The wolf said with a voice which told he had been smoking for quite some time...steadily.
"They think I'm a messenger? Well...They are in for a big surprise." The hyena thought to himself, feeling a mixture of anger and embarrassment for being thought to be nothing more than a messenger. He traced the room around some more with his eyes, locking them finally onto the silvery markings of a lieutenant in the sleeve of a Great Dane's T-shirt.
"Private Vincent Raikov reporting for duty, Sir!" the hyena snapped a brisk attention and saluted the lieutenant, handing over his orders and getting some satisfaction out of the low, puzzled murmuring and mumbling from the Hounds around him.
The lieutenant took the papers slowly, reading them through thoroughly. The longer he read, the deeper the frown on his face turned, making Vincent feel a little nervous; even more so since the lieutenant kept glancing at him every once in a while.
"You just...Just wait there, private. I'll have to check a few things with the Colonel..." the Great Dane lieutenant said slowly, glancing then around himself and shrugging before storming out of the room, the door sliding shut behind him with a hiss.
Vincent looked around himself some more as he waited, suddenly feeling a shiver. All the eyes in the room were on him, every single one staring at him with varied expressions. From curiosity and confusion to cold glaring and even angry snarls. There, amongst all the canines, Vincent was an outsider. It was slowly dawning to him why the unit was called The Raging Hounds and as a non-canine... He suddenly felt the urge to turn around and run, the atmosphere in the room having turned from warm and cozy into cold and unwelcoming.
"Colonel! Just what the hell is going on in here? There's...There's a frickin' HYENA in the unit now with papers and the shit... The Hi-Com should know we pride ourselves as an all-canine unit!" Lieutenant Fletcher shouted at the considerably shorter German Shepherd sitting behind a wooden desk that had been crammed into the small office.
The Colonel fidgeted idly with one of the fangs attached to a long, thin strip of brown leather that he had wrapped around his left wrist, staring at the sharp piece of bone intently as his second-in-command yelled on the other side of the desk. Flicking his ear the Colonel lifted his chin and fixed his sharp, hard eyes into those of lieutenant Fletcher, the Great Dane falling immediately silent.
"Brad..." The Colonel began slowly "I'm already quite aware of the situation. A good friend of mine in the Hi-Com contacted me not long ago and told there had been some sort of big mishap in the Department of Transfers. Instead of corporal Vince Raukov we get private Vincent Raikov." The German Shepherd held a small pause, flicking his ear again idly, making the canine-fang earring on it jingle barely audibly.
"There's nothing we can do about it, Brad. Corporal Raukov and the unit he was accidentally assigned to have already departed, and are currently heading towards the Ahiri system, ten lightyears away from here, to quell a rebellion. Make no mistake, though... I'm not too happy to have a hyena in MY unit." The Colonel concluded, waving then dismissively with his paw.
Lieutenant Fletcher took the hint and saluted and turned around on his heels, exiting the room before heading to his own quarters, located across the hall from the dorm of the regular troops.
The Colonel stood up slowly from the luxurious recliner -covered with red leather- that acted as his chair and circled slowly to the other side of the wooden desk. Blankly the scarred dog stared at the brass sign at the front of his desk, reading the words carved onto it for the millionth time.
Col. Edward J Schaefer. 12th Marine Company
Slowly Colonel Schaefer stared at the walls around him, frowning a little at the multitude of medals, certificates and various other honors that decorated the metal walls. All trophies from the battles he had fought at, all bought with the blood of his men... Schaefer fidgeted with his necklace -another strip of leather with canine fangs dangling from it- as he watched and remembered.
All of the many fangs adorning him came from the fallen Hounds. One for every comrade that had fought and died within the company. Schaefer remembered them all, knew from whom every single fang had come from. It was his duty, he had led the Hounds since their early days, afterall.
Finally Schaefer looked at the display of an antique clock on his desk. It was getting late and he didn't want to disturb the evening rituals of his boys... not tonight, at least. He decided he'd check out the new guy next morning.
The lights turned off automatically as Schaefer left his office, leaving the small room into total darkness.
The intercom within the Hounds' dorm buzzed and the voice of lieutenant Fletcher drifted through "Private Raikov, find yourself a bunk and settle down. As for the rest of you lads...Remember not to make too much noise, will you...?" During the last sentence the lieutenant's voice was almost pleading which made Vincent quirk an eyebrow. Back in the Boot the officers didn't politely ask for their charges to do something, they demanded it. The Hounds responded in a very raucous way, whistling, jeering, shouting random approvals or giving the intercom The Dirty Bird.
The hyena walked over to one of the empty bunk beds, dumped his gear to the unlocked footlocker and plopped down onto his back on the lower bunk. Feeling the fur on his neck standing at its end, Vincent turned his head towards the corner of the room to his right. Staring at him, sitting on a simple chair, was the Biggest wolf Vincent had ever seen. Easily a little over seven feet in height, said height crammed full with muscle, the graying wolf was a sight to behold.
As the wolf noticed Vincent was staring back in awe, the canine simply huffed and turned his head, fixing his arms that he held crossed over his chest a little.
From the lower bunk on his left side someone spoke "That's Sergeant Dan 'Longfang' Austin. Don't mind his physique or his staring too much, it's all because of the Warrior Gene in him."
Vincent turned his head to regard the speaker, one of the black jackals, with his brow raised "Warrior Gene? I thought only dragons had those and those scalies died out like...three centuries ago."
The jackal laughed "Yeah, but Longfang there is one of the few to whom the Gene was successfully planted. Part of some failed scientific military program-thingy way back when. I mean...Geez, Longfang is well over hundred and twenty of age and still going strong as ever. Only Colonel Schaefer has been in the unit longer than Longfang has."
"A-And just how old is the Colonel, then...?" Vincent asked slowly, his eyes wide with awe.
"Oh...The Colonel is just thirty five. The Hounds, as a unit, has existed for fifteen years or so and Longfang came in about thirteen years ago." said the jackal "The name's Martin 'Preacher' Galloway, by the way. A devout follower of Machala and the closest thing to a priest you'll find in this company. No need for introductions, pal, I already heard your name not long ago."
"Hey now! Don't go getting him entirely to yourself, Preacher!" A cheery voice from the bunk above Vincent's called, followed by the upside down head of a smiling dalmatian peering at Vincent over the edge of the bunk.
"I'm Jim Winters, Private First Class and, apparently, your bunk-pal." the dalmatian said, smiling a tad broader.
Winters opened his muzzle again to continue his introductions, but was interrupted by a sour-looking timberwolf who knelt by Vincent's bed, the wolf's fangs bared in a snarl.
"Look pal...Don't think you are one of us just cuz Winters and Preacher are being nice to you. Preacher does it cuz it's his job as our makeshift chaplain, and Winters -most likely- just wants to fuck your brains you." The wolf said.
Vincent frowned and snarled back at the wolf "The fuck are you whining about? Look...I don't intend to give you any trouble and I'd appreciate if you did the same."
"Just leave the guy alone, Jericho..." Winters chimed in, narrowing his eyes dangerously at the grey-white canine.
Jericho's expression turned into a mocking sneer "As I thought...Oh, I don't believe Winters here told you his nickname. You see...Just about all of us have got us one and Winters is better known as 'Boytoy'."
The Dalmatian growled quietly at the wolf and pulled his head back up, meeting the other canine eye to eye. Others, too, had gathered around Vincent's bunk and judging by their expressions they all supported Jericho's side of the little conflict.
For almost a minute the tension in the room kept rising with no one saying a thing, all eyes locked onto Raikov and/or Winters.
"...Just watch your back you spotted freak..." Jericho finally said and turned around, effectively dissolving the situation. Jericho slapped another timberwolf -this one with a scar that trailed from the corner of his left eye over the cheek and ended on his jaw- onto the rump and growled playfully into his ear "Tonight we'll have fun, eh, Rose?"
Vincent lifted once more his eyebrow and, like clockwork, Winters' head appeared again.
"Yeah...In case you wondered, The Raging Hounds are just about THE Gayest company of Federate Marines you'll ever meet." The Dalmatian said softly, followed by a somewhat nervous smile. Truth be told, Jericho had been all too correct with his statement about Winters' intentions. Being something of a boytoy for the Hounds, Winters was starting to crave for something else than canines; if for no other reason than for variation's sake.
"I...I see..." Vincent managed after a couple of seconds, the hyena completely dumbstruck by the news.
"Just...Don't worry, okay? Jericho can be full of shit from time to time. I swear I don't 'intend t fuck your brains out' like he so nicely puts it." Winters said, flashing the hyena a big smile again before vanishing from Vincent's view, laying on his bunk with his arms crossed under his head.
Little by little the Hounds started to slouch into their beds, the last one of them -a collie whom Vincent still didn't know- literally punching the lights out by hitting the light switch lightly, plunging the room into a comfortable twilight.
Vincent's eyes swiftly adjusted to the dark, a trait that was his birthright as a hyena. He found he couldn't sleep properly, shifting and turning under his blankets restlessly. The reason, he thought, had to be the welcome he had received combined with being in a totally new environment.
With nothing better to do, Vincent stared at the digital display of his watch, idly staring as minutes ticked by, listening to the silent breathing of his comrades.
As the clock turned eleven PM, something started to happen. Vincent watched curiously as several furs rose from their bunks and sneaked over to some other bed, slipping underneath the blankets. Lying silently on his side, Vincent watched at the show unraveling on the bunk to his right.
A fox let out a playful yip as the ebony-black jackal Martin slowly pulled the blanket off of him and lied onto the fox. Martin kissed the fox's neck fiercely and murred something into his ear, which made the fox giggle, his poofy tail swishing excitedly from side to side.
Vincent swallowed silently and turned his head slowly. It was unmistakable: in most of the beds something was definitely going on, quiet murring and moaning soon filling the hyena's ears. Apparently Winters hadn't lied about the Hounds...
Shaking his head slowly in disbelief, Vincent turned his head back to Martin and the fox. The fox had risen onto all fours with his tail curled to the side, Martin's muzzle buried deep between the orange-furred mounds of the fox's butt. Vincent saw how Martin slowly moved his tongue in and out of the fox's tailhole, the jackal's eyes held loosely shut as he twirled his tongue in the lovehole of the fox.
"E-Enough..." The fox suddenly gasped out loud and looked over his shoulder at Martin. Mesmerized, Vincent saw how Martin pulled his tongue out of the fox and licked his lips with a grin -evident even in the shades of the room- before the jackal pushed his hips against the fox's rump. Slowly Martin rocked his hips, sliding his rigid jackalhood in the crevice of the fox's butt, both of them moaning softly at the gentle stimulation.
Vincent realized with a shock he was slowly getting an erection himself, a wayward black-furred paw of his idly stroking over the very tip of his maleness as he watched Martin slowly penetrate the fox, inch after inch of slick, precum-soaked, rigid cock sliding with ease into a willing tailhole. The fox yipped softly in delight as Martin's hips came flush with his loins, the jackal's maleness making him feel warm and comfortably filled.
A quivering breath left Vincent's muzzle as Martin started to slowly work his hips back and forth, letting Vincent get a good look at eight inches of sturdy cock sliding slowly time and again into the fox's rump.
With a lusty murr Martin bent over the fox's back and buried his nose to the lush orange fur on the vulpine's neck, gently licking and adding in the occasional affectionate nip as he slowly and gently made love to the submissive fox. Idly Martin whispered something into the fox's ear, though Vincent couldn't discern what it was; the other couples were making too much background noise.
With a frown Vincent withdrew his paw away from the piece of rigid flesh that persistently jutted out from between his legs. He knew he found fellow males to be attractive -one of the reasons he had joined the Federate Marine Corps in the first place- but the clearly swingy and slutty behavior of the Hounds didn't appeal to him.
"Guess I'm just a hopeless romantic..." Vincent thought to himself.
The hyena snapped out of his thoughts just in time to witness the climax between Martin and the fox. Martin's body went suddenly entirely stiff save for waves of clear shivers escaping his muzzle as he unloaded one coil of warm cum after another into the fox's passage, his knot plugging the hole so none of his seed managed to escape. The fox, on the other paw, was furiously pawing himself off and -not long after Martin- the fox came all over his paw, the rest of his juices staining the blankets, making for one heck of a mess.
Slowly Vincent exhaled, only then realizing he had been holding his breath for a while now. He rolled onto his back, staring at the bottom of the bunk above him. Someone had burned with a lighter a heart with the carving S+D within it. Vincent reckoned it was probably done by one of the previous occupants of the bunk. Yawning widely Vincent started to drift asleep, weary from the new and well...new experiences of the day.
"Fucking good morning to all you little sweethearts! It's a brand new, beautiful day here in Goodwill Station. It's also 'bout frikin' time you drag your lazy arses out of the bed!"
The voice of Lieutenant Fletcher snapped Vincent wide awake in a second. A quick glance at the watch confirmed the time to really be seven in the morning.
"Awwww...Man...Do we have to, eltee?" A weary voice asked from somewhere in the room.
"Oh yes, sergeant Frost. Or would you prefer to have breakfast served right into your bed, huh?" Fletcher replied. Vincent thought the Great Dane had too much energy so early in the morning.
"That'd be grand. I'd also love to have my pink fluffy bunny sandals right here by the bed." Frost shot back and rose into a sitting position, the collie idly scritching his crotch as he did so.
Vincent's eyes widened a bit in shock. A mere sergeant talking shit right into the face of a lieutenant? The sheer idea of it just felt too absurd for the rookie hyena!
Fletcher's smile quivered for a moment before he -calmly- spoke "Well, as always, it ain't gonna happen, so get your lazy furred arse out of the bed before you notice you have my boot so deep in it, that you need a fucking wrench to get it out...comprende?"
"Hai...Hai..." Frost mumbled in return and hopped out of his bed.
Vincent shook his head a little and stood up, kicking his trunk open to fetch some clothing when someone swatted him onto the butt. With a yelp the hyena straightened his back, mostly out of surprise, only to see the grinning face of Winters.
The Dalmatian wagged his tail a couple of times and winked to Vincent "Good morning, handsome, how was your first night in the unit?"
"It was...alright, I guess." Vincent replied at length.
"Grand." Came Winters' merry reply, the dog padding off -with slight skip in his steps- towards the doorway at the back of the room where the label Showers & Toilets was painted onto the wall.
Little by little the Hounds started to slouch towards the mess hall to have some breakfast. The mess hall was bare and scantly decorated, most of the space being taken by long, boring metallic tables with long, boring metal benches. All in all the room looked bare and appalling, just the way things should in an efficient army.
There were also marines from other units currently stationed onto the Goodwill Station in the hall, and they all cast sideway glances towards the bunch of canines, muttering something amidst each other, some of them even laughing or snickering at what their friends said.
Little by little the line moved onwards and the pile of chow on Vincent's tray grew. The meal seemed to consist of some sort of porridge, a jelly that looked sickly green, coffee, bread and some strange, grayish goo which Vincent identified to be protein slop with added vitamins; a dish very popular in the Bootcamp that either had no taste at all or tasted horrible, but made you feel comfortably full and kept you healthy for long periods of time.
Lost in examining the contents of his tray, Vincent didn't see the paw that came from below and slapped the tray out of his paws, sending the foods and drinks flying in every direction. As the metal tray clanged to the floor, several heads snapped around and soon after raucous laughter filled the mess hall, Vincent feeling his face and ears turning red in embarrassment and shame. He felt all too self-conscious standing there with his breakfast dribbling down his chest and everyone laughing at him.
"Whoopsie!" Said Jericho with a laugh, the wolf flashing a nasty grin at Vincent before turning on his heels and walking away.
Vincent knelt down to pick up his tray with the intentions of fetching himself a new load, all the while cursing Jericho to the lowest depth of hell.
"What the hell...?" An unpleasantly familiar voice asked. Vincent turned his head up and found his assumption to be correct: lieutenant Fletcher was standing in front of him with his paws on his hips, an angry expression distorting his face "Private Raikov, do you think The Federate Marine Corps are rich enough for you to carelessly toss around your food? Clean up that mess, and if you want to eat you'll eat the food given to you...Don't bother lining up for seconds."
With that said Fletcher turned around and marched away.
Vincent didn't know whether he should scream in rage or cry. There was no way in hell he'd eat from the floor. He'd never give the sons of bitches that pleasure. Boiling with violent anger the hyena cleaned the floor as best he could, ditching then the mess that used to be his breakfast to the waste disposal. With nothing else to do, and with his eyes burning as he struggled against the tears of rage and humiliation, the hyena started to almost run out of the mess hall. A sudden yank to his tail made him stop and yelp out loud.
Vincent curled his paw into a fist and turned around, ready to knock whoever it was that was bothering him at that moment out cold. Only barely he saw through the red haze that had landed in front of his eyes, that it was Winters, smiling as always, who had a hold of his tail.
"Whoa! Hey...Take it easy, man. Don't bother letting those sons of mutts get under your skin. They tend to be dickheads to all non-Hounds and non-canines." Winters said, patting then the free spot next to him "Come on, sit down. I'll give you half of my chow."
Vincent hesitated for a moment, but in the end he took the offer and sat down. Afterall Winters had so far been nothing but nice to him.
"Thanks...Though you don't have to go hungry because of me..." Vincent said slowly with hoarse and broken voice.
"Hey, it's cool. I've gotta watch my lines anyways." Replied Winters, giving Vincent a playful wink and a nudge to the side "Cheer up! It'll just take some time for them to get used to you. You'll see there are no better comrades to have by your side than the Hounds when the real action begins."
Vincent turned his head slowly as Winters spoke about "real action" and in such a casual tone too "Have you guys seen a lot of fighting?" He asked.
"Yeah..." Winters said, suddenly looking serious and staring to oblivion "I'm fairly new to this unit and I've already been in twenty eight mission, out of which twenty two were active engagements against live enemies. I...We've all had our fair share of death and destruction and blood."
Winters shook his head and slapped Vincent onto the shoulder, smiling warmly like he used to "Just don't think too much about it, okay? We'll be here in Goodwill for four more days to get some well-earned R n' R before we get hauled back to action."
The rest of the breakfast Vincent and Winters sat in silence, the hyena going through all the dog had told him within his head.
After the breakfast the Hounds were back at their quarters, reading, relaxing, cleaning their C-18 Mk.VII Pulse Assault Rifles (or PARs for short) or -in some cases- just cuddling with each other, showing the softer side of the unit to Vincent, who simply sat on his bed and listened to some music.
All of a sudden the door slid open and a second later someone yelled "Officer on deck!" as hard as he could, resulting in all of the Hounds springing up into attention.
From the corner of his eye Vincent saw him. The German Shepherd adorned with many, many canine fangs and clad into an olive-green, slightly worn greatcoat that had clearly seen quite a lot of action judging from the multitude of small scorch marks and bullet holes it had at the hem.
The Colonel was slightly on the shorter side, but none the less he had like an aura of authority and command about him which awakened some pack-instincts in Vincent. Clearly Colonel Schaefer was the Alpha of the pack, no questions asked.
Schaefer walked briskly into the room, his sharp eyes scanning the room until they found Vincent, the piercing gaze of the two brown hues locking onto Vincent like a vice.
"So...You are the new private...Raikov, correct?" Schaefer asked simply.
"Y-Yes, Sir!" The hyena replied.
"Very well." Schaefer started to pace slowly back and forth in the room as he spoke "Since you are new, you'll have to learn the rules of the pack. Rule number one!"
"Anyone, at any time excluding active duty, may challenge the Alpha for the rule of the pack!" The Hounds yelled.
"Damn straight! The day one of you snot-nosed whippersnappers beats me one on one, I'll personally promote you to captain and retire myself. Rule number two!"
"Everyone fights, nobody quits. Those who do the Colonel will shoot personally!" The choir of Hounds roared.
Schaefer nodded "Exactly... Just don't get me wrong, kid. I've seen many enough young and good soldiers die in vain because their commanders, in their pride, didn't pull their troops back. Last stands are not my style, I've tried it once and I tell you all it sucked dick harder than all of you put together ever could!"
The Hounds burst into a laughter, and even Vincent found himself giggling silently at what the Colonel had just said.
"Rule number three, boys!"
"Nobody gets left behind, the pack protects its own!"
"Eeeexactly...This also means, that what happens amongst the Hounds, stays with the Hounds. Don't bother going crying to some other officer if one of your comrades does something. If something bothers you, just come talk to me and I'll act as needed. That, or you can solve the problem amongst each other, your pick." Schaefer said, still pacing back and forth "Fourth rule, lads!"
"Unswerving loyalty, obedience without questions!"
"You heard the lads, Raikov..." Schaefer stopped in front of Vincent and stared him right into the eyes. Vincent thought the Colonel was slowly burning a hole right through him and into his very soul "Forget what they taught to you in the Boot. When I tell you to jump, you bloody well will jump. Don't go giving me any of that 'how high, sir' crap. You do as you're told, simple as that. And now the final rule!"
"Don't drop the soap!" This time the shout was followed by a lot of whistling and cheering. Vincent, on the other paw, had no idea what this rule was all about.
Schaefer nodded with a wicked grin "One last thing...You can bunk during the days and fuck all night long, I don't care, but make sure you are ready to act fast when the order comes. That is all. At ease, Hounds, carry on."
Vincent had to sit down to digest the amount of information that had flooded his brain, only vaguely registering the Colonel left the room. Oh well, at the very least the Colonel seemed to be a nice guy.
"So...What do you think of our Colonel?" the voice of Winters asked right by Vincent's ear, startling the hyena.
"He uhh...He seemed like a nice guy."
Winters nodded "He is, but he can also be cold and cruel when needed, so make sure you don't end up on his wrong side, okay?"
"Okay. Just uhh..." Vincent hesitated. He wasn't sure if he should ask, but in the ended decided it couldn't hurt to do so "What the heck is the fifth rule all about?"
Winters blushed a little, mostly out of pleasant memories but also out of embarrasment "Ah yes, you don't know about the shower sessions."
"Huh?"
"We have one rule here among the Hounds. Anyone who drops the soap during the shower time is free game to anyone. Basically...You bend over in the shower, you are inviting people to uhh..."
"Fuck your brains out?" Vincent filled in for Winters.
Winters giggled and grinned at the hyena "I was going to say 'dom you silly' but yeah, that's just about the jist of it. Only exception is when Longfang, Desolator and Hitman have a shower...They are the only straight boys amongst us, and we've agreed to leave them be."
"Desolator and Hitman...?"
Winters rolled his eyes and, with the patience of a father teaching an ignorant child, he carried on "Corporal Flash 'Desolator' Strife is that husky over there, the one with an eyepatch, and Roy 'Hitman' Hartmund is that dingo in the corner...Yeah, the one cleaning his claws with the knife."
"Do you all have nicknames or something?" Raikov asked.
"Yeah...More or less. It's sort of a call sign, just like pilots have, and it tells at last partially something about the person."
"Ah...I see."
"You already have one, too, you know..." Winters said slowly.
"Really? What is it?"
Winters was silent for a moment, staring at his feet before answering quietly "The Misfit..."
Looks like Vincent is having a hard time getting into the group...I wonder what will happen to him in the next instalment "Wildfire"?
Comments and votes muchly appreciated